#SHE'S the one who's only known to the public as an extension of him to everyone but the most dedicated fans

[agnesandhilda]

imagine: tashi duncan hears the bridge to good luck babe! by chappell roan and looks into the distance with a thousand yard stare

[zzeraphilm]

Fight For Me (II)

Part one Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader (GN) word count: 3,803 Summary: When industries collide, Kuroo is reunited with the one that got away. But nobody is pleased to see each other.

“Oh Y/N!” Alisa Haiba screeched, bringing her old friend into a hug. “I’m so glad you took the role! Ah I can finally have a friend amongst my team.” 

With a laugh, Y/N only rubbed their friend’s back lightly, not to crease her outfit that will soon be shot in the new YSL photoshoot. It had been back in Melbourne did Y/N L/N and Alisa Haiba became acquaintances. At first it took Y/N a while to realise how they recognised Alisa, thinking it was just because they saw her face plastered on every major billboard on their way to campus. But the illusive fantasy of a celebrity was shattered when she spoke in her accented English and their high school memories came flashing before their eyes. From that day forward, their worlds collided. 

After a gruelling last ditch push to complete their masters, Y/N was lucky to have Alisa as one of their few friends in Tokyo. Since coming back to Japan, Y/N had forgotten how lonely the city could be. How they would blend into the crowd of faces, becoming another statistic on a long list of residents. They hated the city, they hated how the streets they used to walk down during high school remain untouched, how the faces of the shop owners only grow older, their frowns sagging to the floor. Getting out of Japan felt liberating, to come back to it all Y/N found themselves wallowing in the same self-pity that they found themselves suffering with during their teen years. Alisa was a reminder of the world outside of the city, she allowed Y/N to follow her on trips and try new exciting things to brighten their full life. When Alisa became the face of YSL Japan and her modelling career expanded beyond Asia, Y/N was thrilled to join their friend at the request to be her assistant public relations secretary. 

If I could get Alisa to be the most known face across the globe, I can finally start my life again, out of Tokyo. 

The desire to finally leave Japan behind, leave their past behind and explore the world beyond. Maybe, that could get rid of the sour taste in Y/N’s mouth every time they thought of Tokyo. 

Despite their extensive years in academia, books could not compare to reality. Piles and piles of paperwork, emails and meetings meant Y/N lived and breathed the Haiba siblings. Being a part of Alisa’s PR team meant being a part of Lev’s, it was a given to see the fellow Nekoma alumni at work. At first, Y/N was resentful. Nekoma was supposed to be long past them, just a floating memory of guilt and regret. Lev was advised by his sister to not pester Y/N about high school, about anything related to Nekoma especially anything about Kuroo. The first few months with the Haiba siblings were stressful. Lev was growing increasingly popular amongst younger fans, booking him on daytime television to speak about his latest projects was a breeze. More fans meant more fan meets and thus more work for Y/N. 

More work means bigger reach, and getting even closer to leaving.

With winter around the corner, Y/N knew there would be an exponential growth in events that would need to be covered. Press conferences, online campaigns, brand collaborations. Whenever Y/N closed their eyes, all they could see was the Haiba siblings plastered on the inside of their eyelids. Amidst the pile of work, Y/N noticed a oddly hand written note; 

‘Please please pleaseeee consider this one! I wanna work with Kenma and Chibi-chan T^T’ 

Lifting up the sticky note, the title page screamed out to Y/N. 

“Bouncing Ball Corp ft. Hinata Shoyo and Lev Haiba.” 

“Helloo~”

“Where’d you get this plan from? Who gave it to you? Is this some kind of joke? You’re a high end luxury brand model with limited television guest appearances, what makes you think I’d let you represent sports now?” Y/N’s voice boomed into the phone, causing Lev’s eardrums to burst and bleed from the noise shattering scolding on the other end of the call. 

“Kenma gave it me! He said his team told him it would be good to reach out to other famous people who knew!” He whined.

It was partially the prospect of being with Kenma and Hinata again, but more so, he craved the feeling of slamming a volleyball with his bare hands again. After years of maintaining his pristine image, his calloused hands had smoothened out, as soft as a baby’s bum. He was yearning for the thrill of the game again. 

“No. This proposal makes no sense anyways. Who even wrote this?” 

“Well it was someone on Kenma’s side! Anyways, he’s got a hugeee following on Youtube and Twitch! All people talk about on Twitter is his stuff! Y/N you’ve always wanted a big international gig, and I’ve found us one! Please, please, please, pleaseeee!” If Lev wasn’t in public he would’ve been on his knees begging, kissing Y/N’s feet till they said yes.

Indeed, all Y/N needed now was a major international break for the siblings, if they could book either a global brand ambassador position or an American modelling debut, then Y/N could finally relocate to anywhere but Japan. The Tokyo smog blocked their lungs each daily commute to work, the buildings never changed and the familiar scents of old stores and parks they used to frequent as a student became sickening. 

“Give me Kodzuken’s contacts and we’ll see.”

It was a wild goose chase to get the right person to contact. Email, after email. More and more useless contacts that lead Y/N to no helpful responses. Different representatives of Kodzuken and Hinata Shoyo till finally the Japanese Volleyball Association. After two weeks of this ordeal, Y/N was finally sent through to the person in charge of organising the project. But of all people, it just so happened to be Kuroo Tetsurou. Shit. 

Despite getting to chase around his old volleyball rivals across the world for scouting, interviews and just regular catch ups. Kuroo hated the mundane parts of his job, emails and project meetings. Managers up his arse about deadlines. His fingers were beginning to cramp into a contorted version of itself with all the typing he had to endure. He swore his email page was burned into the scleras of his eyes. 

Ping. 

Another one to the read later pile. It was fifteen minutes till the end of his shift, he wasn’t going to stay for overtime this week, he had made plans with Kenma tonight. After weeks of rejection, the self-made entrepreneur finally was willing to leave his room to grab a drink with his long time friend. Before he could shut off his monitor, he read the Sender’s name.

L/N Y/N. 

Holy fuck. 

He thought he had buried the last sparks of affection he had for Y/N the morning they blocked them. But no, like a phoenix, the embers within him burst into an inferno. Nothing could quench the burning desire he held inside. Kuroo had forgotten where he was, he was no longer stuck in a mechanical cubicle with the robotic tapping of keyboards echoing throughout the room. He was back in his Nekoma uniform, back with Y/N by his side. He could smell them, touch them and most of all kiss them. Their laugh was ringing in his head, he was high on their perfume. Kuroo begs to any mighty power above him or anyone who could hear his heart, for his yearning to cease. He thought he could leave it all behind but his body, no his soul calls for Y/N. 

A few clicks was all it took and he plummeted to the pitiful man he once was without Y/N. His eyes darted at the few sentences, he could hear Y/N’s echoing in his head reading to him.

I hope this email finds you well…Lev Haiba…with Bouncing Ball Corp…please contact me…best regards L/N Y/N. 

By some wicked power that festered inside him, Kuroo saw this as a sign from the universe. Finally letting Y/N back into his life. He could once again feel true happiness, the love that had left his heart with a gaping void for the last few years. 

Within a few weeks, each team was able to schedule the first table reading for the promotional video. The main plan to have it filmed over a course of two weeks, just in time before the Olympics in Tokyo. Time was of the essence and the only reason why Y/N was pushing themselves to succeed in this collar was the promise of a better life for themselves. The table reading was in a spacious meeting room curtesy of the Japanese Volleyball Association, the room stretched far beyond any hall Y/N had seen before. A titanic monitor casts its shadow over the table, a long aisle of varied refreshments framed the corners of the room. The chairs were individually cushioned, the carpet was soft with the richest woven fibres from the farthest corners of the world.

Y/N had arrived with Lev and multiple representatives from his team, Kuroo was stood under the frame of the entrance door, his jaw ajar. To Kuroo Tetsurou the mere sight of Y/N took his breath away, all he wished to do was run as fast as his legs could take him and embrace them with the strength of a thousand suns. Claiming them to be his all over again. He didn’t notice that Y/N’s face was getting closer and closer towards him, till they were stood shoulder to shoulder, face to face. 

“Mr. Kuroo, a pleasure to be working with you.” Y/N held out their rigid hand.

“…Y/N,” he whispered, as if saying their name aloud was punishable by death. 

“My name is L/N. I expect you to refer to me as such. We will see you inside.” Five seconds. Their reunion lasted five seconds, Kuroo couldn’t help but watch Y/N’s figure walk away, the closest he’s ever been to them, and all he can have in return is the sight of their back. 

“My god, they’re as beautiful as the day I lost them.” Kuroo uttered. 

The meeting went as smoothly as planned. Any issues were discussed thoroughly and everyone was confident in the project. But Kuroo paid no attention to any of it. His eyes could not keep off of Y/N. The way they’d speak so eloquently, unlike how childish they were in high school. He admired Y/N’s new found maturity, this chic version of his love, he was still entranced by their allure years after their split. However, his eyes would dart to the presence of Lev Haiba next to Y/N. A deeply rooted feeling of jealousy to the boy he once considered his underling. The Haiba siblings could see and be around Y/N every waking hour, yet the only time he had with them within his reach, lasted only five seconds. It wasn’t fair. He had assumed that Y/N had no more ties to Nekoma, so the thought of Y/N never cross his mind, till now. Seeing them beside Lev Haiba, sparked a new fire within his chest. Distant memories would flash in Kuroo's mind, younger versions of themselves, a first year Lev begging to meet and be around Y/N, his partner of three years. Jokes that he would push aside, confirming how Y/N was separate to volleyball and he had no intentions of merging these two sides of him. Yet there they were, in union with each other. Y/N and volleyball. He felt sick. 

“I understand that the sport is the focus of this project, but we mustn’t ignore the everyday audience who aren’t fans of the sport.” Y/N spoke with a tinge of spite, they never mentioned the sport by name. In case the moment they uttered its name, they would be shackled down to its legacy for all of eternity. 

“Lev is the public’s rising heartthrob, for both his looks and his humour, use it.” 

“Aw! Thank you Y/N!” The half-russian man tried to coddle Y/N only to be pushed back into his seat by them.

Kuroo Tetsurou was torn. He wished to be the one to coddle Y/N. He hated how formal this all was, never had he thought of Y/N as this pragmatic android that spouted the same endless bullshit his co-workers would repeat. He wanted to see them laugh again, he wanted to bring them crying on their knees from tears of laughter. Maybe if he did that stupid impression of their father that always made them laugh, maybe then Y/N would go back to how they were in school. 

The meeting came to a close and the rounds of production was set in stone. Kuroo’s work continued to pile, he couldn’t stay on set with the boys anymore than a day and any moment he did have on set, Y/N was never there. Filming ceased and everyone returned to their original teams, muttering away on their desktops and laptops to meet the deadline their bosses’ had set. Lev Haiba went back to modelling for big brands, Kenma increased the number of live-streams in the weeks forward after having a week off for filming. Whilst Hinata was preparing the announcement of him joining the Japanese National team.

Kuroo was stuck in his monotone cubicle again. The sight of his friends succeed in things beyond the mundane 9 to 5, that he was a  slave to, was not an idea that came to mind at first. Originally, he loved the thrill of working behind sports promotion. But now, as a settled employee, he felt his life drain by the second. Only the thought of Y/N pushed him, once the project is uploaded and succeeds, he could see them at the celebratory party. If everything goes to plan. Then he could finally speak to them. Apologise. Tie everything up in a pretty bow so he could feel, complete. 

The promotional video saw millions of views and trending hashtags across multiple social medias. They had, of course, prepared for this case. Releasing behind the scenes content, exclusive photographs and interacting with online fans.

It was as Y/N had planned, down to the T. It was like a weight was lifted off their shoulders, they knew within a few days the money would come rolling in through sponsors and new deals for their company. The Japanese Volleyball Association along with Bouncing Ball Corp allowed the teams to work in a private office space for the collaboration to increase cross communication. Y/N had spent night after night working endlessly on multiple PR plans that would cover all of Lev’s possible mishaps. The moment everything succeeded, they crashed. Their face plummeted to the keyboard and drifted into a deep slumber.

Y/N was at the entrance of Nekoma High, their uniform was slightly creased because they forgot to iron their shirt the night before. First day of high school and they already felt nauseous. They hated how their uniform sat on their frame, they hated how they had they ended up in a school where most of their old middle school classmates joined them. They felt stuck in an endless cycle of the same boring, mundane life they always lived. 

“Ya gonna go in?” 

The light spring breeze blew the tall boy’s black hair to fly upwards, revealing his other eye. He quickly flattened it to hide his forehead. He looked ridiculous, his jumper was slightly too big for him, his parents probably went a few sizes up awaiting for his eventual growth spurt. 

“L/N c’mon, let me copy your English homework! Just this once!” Kuroo pleaded, training behind Y/N like a cub to its mother. 

“Kuroo this is the fourth time! Remember last time, the teacher called your mom in for a meeting about you cheating!”

The boy had grown to tower over Y/N now, he was freakishly taller than the day they first met. His long limbs made him be twice as fast as well. “I’d much rather get told off for copying than get told off for bringing nothing at all.” 

With a huff, Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle. Their dynamic was a breath of fresh air for Y/N, who previously was so used to an isolated world. But by Kuroo’s side, Y/N felt like they belonged. Somewhere within Kuroo’s circle, Y/N had a place fit just for them. 

Kuroo would always tell people that he asked Y/N out first, that he prepared a romantic dinner at his place and popped the question as if it was their last night on earth. In truth, Y/N caught him amidst his plans and cut him to the chase. But Kuroo Tetsurou, the ever-so secret romantic, wanted everyone to believe that he swept them off their feet. 

“If we’re going to be together we’ve got to do good morning and good night texts,” he huffed whilst Y/N’s arms cradled him into a tight embrace. They laughed in response for his childish acts, as a way to get back on ruining his plans on asking them out, Kuroo insisted on being as romantic as he could be with them. Holding hands, spooning, kisses in public. He didn’t care for the stares, he didn’t care for the whispers. He was happy. Y/N was happy. 

“Y/N,” Kuroo’s face was so close yet each time Y/N reached out their hand, it faded into nothingness. 

“Y/N! Y/N!” He kept calling their name yet Y/N couldn’t reach him. 

“Tetsu?”

A sudden jolt caused Y/N to shoot back up, their shoulders were covered with a distinct black jacket. Beside them was of course, the man who emerged straight from their dreams. Kuroo Tetsurou.

“Sorry but, they’re shutting the building soon. You shouldn’t sleep here, it’ll hurt your back. I know that very well,” he chuckled beneath his breath. 

Y/N hadn’t realised this before, but Kuroo’s eye bags had sunken deeper into his face. He had more noticeable crows feet and the wrinkles between his eyebrows had settled in already, quite concerning for a man still as young as him. He had changed his cologne again. He went back to the faint powdery scent, with hints of elderflower. The cologne Y/N bought him for their second anniversary. They didn’t know they still made that scent. His hands were still as calloused as they were years ago, bulging veins decorated his wrists and forearms. He maintained his built form, Y/N could see it through his button up shirt. He hadn’t changed much but was still an entirely different person.

“I was just tired Kuroo.” Y/N shimmied out of the man’s coat to return it, but Kuroo remained still. 

“It’s weird to hear you call me that.” He chuckled, “I was always Tetsu to you.”

“Yeah well that was when we were kids.” 

Kuroo smiled, a sad empty smile that held the years of regret that he harboured. Kids in love, he thought. 

“I’m going home now, thanks for waking me.” Before Y/N could step out of the office door, Kuroo grabbed their wrist. He knew this was the last time he would ever see them, he sensed it. The moment they walk out that door it’ll be over. He had to fight, it was now or never.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I’m sorry for how I treated you all those years ago. I’m sorry I didn’t pay attention to you. I’m sorry I was never there for you.” 

Disgusted. Pained. Relieved. Scared. Y/N’s stomach felt like a pit of snakes colliding into each other, trying to consume one another but failing miserably. Kuroo Tetsurou was a shell of a man now, the pain of heartbreak that lasted an eternity was killing his body slowly. He hadn’t mourned Y/N properly. He hadn’t mourned their relationship properly. 

“Why?”

“Huh- What?” Kuroo asked, dropping his grip on Y/N.

“After all these years. Why are you apologising to me now.” You could hear a pin drop from the deafening silence between the two.

“Because I love you. I’ve always loved you Y/N, I won’t ever stop loving yo-“

“Shut up.” This was straight out of teenage Y/N’s dreams, the Kuroo Tetsurou who was begging them to stay. The Kuroo Tetsurou that they used to cling to in hopes of a final embrace. He was finally right in front of Y/N. With glassy eyes, proclaiming his undying love to them, his body craving Y/N’s own. He was right there, and he was pathetic. 

“You don’t get to talk to me like that. If you did love me, you would’ve done this the night we ended it. But no, you barely said anything to me. In fact what you did, hurt me more than our actual split. You left me. You left me alone. Not just in our time together. I was never included in any part of your life beyond me. Despite being together for three years, I was completely, utterly alone." Warm tears that Y/N had suppressed for years began to arise from the dead. 

“I thought you wanted me by your side, that you needed me because I had a place in your life. But you proved me wrong time and time again! I came second to everything in your life! Not once did I feel like a person to you. You took me for granted.” 

It was like a slap in the face for Kuroo Tetsurou, he hadn’t realised it till now. In his eyes, Y/N was someone he once wanted to possess, to have and hold forever. He saw them just like his old pair of glasses he lost down the coach pillows. It took a few blinks to realise in front of him, was a person who had seen love and loss, found liberation and had it taken away. A person who had worked their life away to see the riches of their hard work. When they were in Nekoma, Y/N would always cheer him on from the sidelines, he thought it was fine. He thought they were okay with just watching them afar, he knew they didn’t really like volleyball but he didn’t care to talk about it anymore. He didn’t care. He didn’t care for having Y/N meet his teammates and hang around them, he wanted to keep them to himself. He didn’t care. His indifference was his demise. After over five years, he realised this. 

“I have lived a thousand lifetimes since I left you. I think it’s time for you to do the same Tetsurou. Stop clinging to the past.”

Kuroo Tetsurou, the man who yearned the joys of his youth, could see clearly now. Y/N didn’t look back at the man. They picked up their bag and stepped out the door. Phone in hand, ready to dial up their friends, to celebrate a life well lived. 

[manikas-whims]

Hii!! I want to request some headcanons for LADS boies ~~

How about them with a very famous reader!! How will they plan dates and attend any celebration with their partner!!

interesting request! imo, the biggest issue (in canonical sense) that they all will face due to the Reader being famous is protection. if she's always in limelight, it'll become difficult for them to act as they please in order to protect her..

now on to the request! hope you like it! ♡

LADS men dating a famous reader

XAVIER

⭐ He may be able to erase traces of his own history but he's very bad at dealing with the paparazzi. Any time he senses paparazzi spying on you two during your dates, he uses his evol to teleport you both away.

⭐ However, that doesn't always work. And when it doesn't, he walks right up to them and forces them to delete the pics taken.

⭐ He's never had any issues with your fame but what he doesn't enjoy is the attention it brings upon you, and by extension, upon him as well. Once the news of you dating some deepspace hunter breaks out, he starts getting scouted by random entertainment labels. They think his handsome face and skills will prove amazing for action movies.

⭐ Your fans will try spreading conspiracy theories about how he could be the one behind the infamous masked vigilante named Lumiere. There's also fans who seem to like him and have spread rumors about how he saved you from a hoard of wanderers, causing you to immediately fall for him.

⭐ He's very compliant when it comes to anything to do with you. If there's an event significant for the sake of your career, and if it requires his presence, then he'll quietly accompany you.

⭐ Your stylists are quite taken by him. They always insist on doing his makeup and picking out the outfits that suit his sleeper build. And Xavier complies, his only request being that they make sure his clothes are complementary to yours and that you two look like a couple. No matter what image you've crafted for the world, he'll ensure everyone knows that you two belong to each other.

ZAYNE

❄️ He's a nightmare for the paparazzi. They never manage to sneak a single good picture of the two of you when you're out on dates. They always end up looking blurry or Zayne makes sure his tall frame entirely hides your smaller one behind him.

❄️ This one time when they do spot you leaving the Akso Hospital with a tall, dark haired man, none of them manage to take any pictures. Many claim they suddenly felt the temperature around them dropped so low that it felt chilly, and that their hands went numb due to the cold.

❄️ The news about your dating life only breaks out when you and Zayne yourselves decide to make it public. However, not many seem to like Zayne. Many fans claim he's too aloof and wonder if he's even good enough for you (ofc you reassure him that he's the only one ever!)

❄️ Other fans discover some pictures of the two of you from highschool days and come to the conclusion that you two must be highschool sweethearts. And they find it admirable that you two stuck together for so long.

❄️ Due to his profession, he doesn't get much time and its difficult for him to attend your public events. This does lead to some criticism about how he's not a very supportive boyfriend. But he only finds such remarks amusing. Afterall, what the world thinks of him doesn't matter. He only cares about how you feel for him.

❄️ The rare occasions when he does show up at your events, he always keeps a hand on the small of your back, his intimidating figure allowing no room for comments or slander.

RAFAYEL

🌊 Since he himself is pretty well-known, he's quite used to the paparazzi. But that doesn't mean he likes them or tolerates them. He's straight up calling them out because he hates the possibility of his dates with you getting ruined due to so many intruding eyes. And he doesn't want people prying into his and your personal lives.

🌊 When he sees a paparazzi taking pictures, Rafayel is the type who pulls out his own smartphone and starts clicking pictures of them in retaliation.

🌊 You two openly hang-out in public and there is speculation about you two dating. It's just you never confirm it. And ofcourse, you two are questioned during your individual interviews about each other. You never give a direct response to those either. You let the people keep assuming whatever they want to.

🌊 Both yours and Rafayel's fans ship you two together. But there are many of his fangirls who've called you horrible names. One time, you even got attacked by a crazy fan, who was immediately banned by Thomas. And Rafayel personally put out a statement about how he'll not entertain any crazy or violent fans.

🌊 Whenever you're working on a new project, he sends you rare species of flowers for goodluck. He also makes sure to convey his support in the form of sending food trucks and such for the entire staff.

🌊 He doesn't enjoy public attention. You've seen how much he despises having to attend formal events related to his own artistry. Still, he doesn't like the idea of so many strangers openly approaching you, so he makes sure to attend as many of your events as his schedule allows him to. And you do the same for him.

If you sent me a LADS related request, then rest assured, i am working on all your requests slowly..♡

SEND ME REQUESTS FOR LOVE & DEEPSPACE HEADCANONS VIA ASKS.

» MASTERLIST «

[wheneverfeasible]

🧠🪱Wriggly Wednesday🪱🧠

Thanks for the tag @augustjustice! I was actually just thinking about how I had something for one of these.

So I’ve been reading a lot of historical fic lately, and it really got me wanting to do a royalty au. I don’t have a lot of solid details for it yet, and I don’t know if I’ll ever actually write it as I have a lot on my plate currently, but my basic idea is this:

The kingdom of Hawkins is ruled by a tyrannical king; lazy, prejudiced, and greedy. His queen is beloved by the people for the charity work she does, yet the king never hides the fact that he’s disloyal to her. He doesn’t have to, he’s the king. He doesn’t care if the woman he’s interested in is married or not herself, if he sees her and wants her then he’ll take her and the husband just has to deal with it. It’s almost an honor at this point. (Think very JFK.)

The queen hates it, however, and is just as vicious as her husband, only behind closed doors. She married for the crown, not for love, and her kindness is only a front she puts on for the public. Behind closed doors she is cold and vain and uncaring of the plight of others.

And then they have a son. The prince. He is just as rotten as his father. Lazy, greedy, thinks himself above all others. When he grows bored, he demands a plaything. That’s when the soldiers will sweep the streets and bring him beggars and street urchins and, sometimes, the prince will also demand for a petty criminal to become his plaything instead of being shipped off to slavers or executed. The playthings never seem to last for long, and they’re never seen from again.

One day, Eddie is brought forward as a criminal. It wasn’t actually him, or course, but his father. His father however skipped town and left Eddie to fall in his place. It’s known that Alan Munson was the worst sort of miscreant. A petty thief with a silver tongue that somehow managed to avoid being caught. Until one day he strove for too much and the kingdom was out for his head.

With Al having fled, however, sights turned to his son, Edward. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it? Of course not. At least, that’s what everyone says. So Eddie is brought to trial in his father’s stead. Eddie is certain he will be sent off as a slave or worse. Except.

Prince Steven whines that he’s bored, and he doesn’t want to sit through a whole trial. Can’t he just have the criminal as a plaything since his last one broke?

The king grants his son’s request.

Eddie has heard rumors of what sorts of things the prince gets up to with his playthings. According to some, it was a fate worse than death. At least a judgement of death was swift.

Except.

Well, Steve learned how to wear a public mask from the best of the best: his mother. His mask is more extensive, however, because he wears it inside the castle as well. Even his parents believe him to be nothing more than a spoiled, pampered brat. But in truth, it is quite the opposite. And the playthings?

Steve purposely seeks out the destitute, the needy, the ones who one more night out on the street could mean their death, and brings them in. Criminals too, if he knows they’re innocent, or only stole from necessity to survive, or if he believes the punishment far too harsh for their crimes. He takes them in too, as many as he can without his father growing suspicious.

He takes them in, acts for the public like a monster, and only when it’s just him and the “plaything” does he drop the act and let them know the truth. He’s going to get them out. He’s greedy and materialistic to the public because he gives the items away in secret, helping his playthings start a new life elsewhere. He helps them sneak out of the castle and out of the kingdom, if only they promise to leave their old life behind. It is the only way to keep them and those after them safe.

Eddie, of course, believes the worst of the prince, even when Steve’s mask drops alone in his room. He learned long ago not to trust royals. There’s a little bit of enemies-to-friends-to-lovers here then, as Eddie doesn’t trust Steve at first, and also refuses to leave the kingdom without his uncle.

So Eddie and Steve bicker about it, and Steve says fine but Eddie has to play the part of his plaything for the public and his parents, which involves a lot of being caught in compromising positions sometimes to sell it.

Except Eddie starts to grow real feelings when he realizes that Prince Steven really is a good man. Eddie soon has another reason why he doesn’t want to leave the kingdom, even if he believes a prince could never return his feelings.

Plot Possibilities:

- Steve’s last “plaything” was Jonathan. A rare volunteer to be the prince’s plaything in exchange for goods for his poor family. He initially does not trust Steve for a while, but eventually they build a kind of wary friendship.

- Steve was in talks for a betrothal with a noble lady, Nancy. She thought him a cretin as she only knew the mask he wore, while her lady-in-waiting, Barb, would mutter insults about him to her making Nancy have to cover her laughter. Steve heard them and thought they were hilarious, but pretended to be clueless.

- Jonathan sees Nancy and falls in love immediately, making Steve have to figure out a way to get the two of them together without blowing his cover. He eventually succeeds and Steve makes everyone believe Jonathan “broke” and was discarded when on reality he helped smuggle him out with Nancy’s entourage when the betrothal talks fell through and she returned to her land.

- Steve still anonymously takes care of Jonathan’s family like he promised he would, the only way Jonathan would leave with Nancy.

- Robin was originally given to Steve as a tribute, the daughter of an enemy soldier, and Steve keeps her as a plaything for a while (she attacks him the first night before he can explain the truth) and when she “breaks” he shortly thereafter obtains a new servant who looks remarkably like her, named “Rob”.

- During one of the times Steve is manhandling Eddie in public to keep up the act, Eddie gets a very ill-timed boner at the fake threat Steve growls at him, finding out the hard (pun not intended) way that maybe he might like some of the things evil Prince Steven is supposed to be doing to him.

- Eddie seduces Steve realizing the man would never force himself on Eddie. They try out some of things Prince Steven threatened him with and eventually Steve can make his mask’s threats seem far more genuine when Eddie follows him with bruises and a stiff gait afterwards. (Eddie loves every second of it.)

- A minor nobility cannot pay taxes so the king takes his young daughter for his son as payment and to humiliate the noble as a lesson for others. Her name is Chrissy.

- Robin is instantly smitten with Chrissy. The feeling is swiftly mutual once Chrissy realizes “Rob” is a woman.

- something something something

- Steve’s parents die/are murdered/are executed/idk

- Steve is made king and people are wary at first expecting him to be like his father. He can finally drop his mask and it’s revealed that all the good things people thought was his mom was actually him doing it.

- One of the first orders of business he does is grant Rob a title of nobility for loyal service and saving his life (stripping another noble of their title for their disloyalty/treason?).

- Steve tells Rob “he” can have any one wish of his granted. Rob asks for Steve’s concubine Chrissy as his wife (as per previously plotted by the three of them) and Steve grants it.

- Steve frees Eddie from his bondage, expecting Eddie to leave and never look back. He tries not to show how much that hurts.

- Eddie stays. Obviously.

- They go to bed with a bit of role reversal. Steve loves every second of it.

- Steve remains a bachelor king with a questionably close friendship with one of his advisors that the people of the kingdom knowingly smirk about but support because he’s an amazing king who always takes care of his people.

- Steve appoints his heir as this loudmouth whippersnapper with an attitude he takes under his wing for whatever reason. He questions his sanity every day after.

- Years later, King Dustin and Queen Suzie rule the land following in his predecessor’s footsteps; with care, humility, and equal justice for all.

~

(No pressure) Hostage Hotties: @derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump @honeii-puff @scoops-aboy86 @dotdot-wierdlife @everywherenothere

Other no pressure tags: @steddiecameraroll @mundaneone @endlessmusings1801 @stervrucht @hotluncheddie @eddiethebrave

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Mae West (She Done Him Wrong, I'm No Angel)— Legendary sex symbol. Like 500 vintage iconic quotes and double entendres. "Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me? " "When I'm good, I'm very good. But when I'm bad, I'm better" / "It's not the men in your life that count, it's the life in your men" / "I feel like a million tonight. But one at a time." , "Marriage is a fine institution, but I'm not ready for an institution. " / " How tall are you without your horse? Six foot, seven inches. Never mind the six feet. Let's talk about the seven inches! " Look the pictures don't do her justice just watch a compilation and tell me that voice doesn't do it for you

Flora Robson (Fire over England, Sarabande for Dead Lovers)— It's a testament to her power that despite an extensive film career, that a single role has cemented itself firmly in my mind as one of the best. That of Elizabeth I in Five over England

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

Mae West:

Her voice! Her body! She was thick as hell and SO confident.

Mae West is often called the queen of the sexual pun or innuendo, she was an early sex symbol and a comedy icon. She also has a quote saying "When I am good, I am very good. But when I am bad I am better!" which is possibly the peak of hot girl energy ever. (Including the clip here)

for an era that didn't have much wiggle room when it came to women that studios wanted in their films, it's refreshing that she was in her late 30s when she skyrocketed to movie fame. she was also curvy and witty and raunchy, an absolute icon!

She is an absolute icon, the OG sex symbol. Every word from her mouth was an innuendo and she was proud of it. I guess one could say she slayed. She got Cary Grant his first acting role, as well. How could you NOT vote for someone who says such iconic stuff as "I do all my writing in bed; everybody knows I do my best work there" or "You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough." SHE COINED THE PHRASE "IS THAT A GUN IN YOUR POCKET OR ARE YOU JUST HAPPY TO SEE ME?" I LOVE HER!!!

“I created myself and I never put up with sloppy work”-mae west

great short compilation of mae west mae westing:

She was a SEX GODDESS at a time when that was an extremely scandalous thing to be, and she worked it! She was sardonic, sarcastic, funny...and stacked! Favorite quote (from Night After Night, 1933): Random woman: Goodness! What beautiful diamonds! Mae West: Goodness had nothin' to do with it, dearie.

i personally love this silly production number from one of her lesser known movies

She was arrested for indecency and chose to serve 10 days in prison instead of paying the fine for the publicity, and she claimed that she refused to wear the ugly prison outfits so she wore her silk lingerie the entire time. Also one of the first historybound vintage fashion icons (although vintage for her was the Victorian era)

Flora Robson:

[mariacallous]

Six months into the Russian occupation of the Ukrainian city of Kherson, in September 2022, the director of Liza Batsura’s college arrived at the dormitory where Batsura lived and told the students to pack up their things: They were going to Crimea. If the students refused, they would be put in the basement, Batsura said, speaking through a translator. The director gave no further explanation.

The next evening, they were taken to a camp called “Friendship” in Crimea, which was occupied by Russia in 2014. Although she couldn’t have known it at the time, Batsura—now 16 years old—was one of almost 20,000 children the Ukrainian government estimates have been deported or forcibly displaced to Russia. Only 388 have been returned.

Initially, the prospect of a couple of weeks by the sea didn’t sound so bad. But Batsura quickly began to realize that that wouldn’t be the case. The food was terrible, the days were long, and the children were pressured to sing Russian songs, including the national anthem, which made her very uncomfortable.

Foreign Policy is unable to independently verify Batsura’s account, but her experience closely tracks with the findings of investigations by the United Nations as well as researchers at Yale School of Public Health and other human rights groups who have documented a “systematic” effort to relocate and reeducate thousands of Ukrainian children over the course of the war. She also recounted her story to Reuters as part of an extensive investigation into the deportations.

Batsura was one of five Ukrainian teenagers who visited Washington last month with representatives of Save Ukraine, a Ukraine-based nonprofit that helps to rescue Ukrainian children from Russia and the territories it occupies. They stoically recounted the stories of their abductions again and again for journalists, members of Congress, and attendees at public events.

It was the group’s first visit to Washington. Batsura felt like she was in a movie, she said.

With long limbs and round cheeks, the teenagers filed into the conference room of a Washington-based nonprofit with their minders from Save Ukraine for an interview with Foreign Policy. Once the Wi-Fi password had been secured and the bathroom located, they began to tell their stories.

They were teenagers like any other you’d see hanging out with friends at a cafe or shopping mall. Yet they were also victims of Moscow’s large-scale deportation of Ukrainian children—a potential war crime and the reason that the International Criminal Court (ICC) issued arrest warrants for Russian President Vladimir Putin and the country’s children’s rights commissioner, Maria Lvova-Belova, in March 2023.

Like Batsura, they all hail from regions of eastern Ukraine that were quickly occupied by Russian forces in the early days of the war. They recount being coerced or forced, sometimes at gunpoint, to go with Russian forces, and they were taken to schools and summer camps where they were held for several months and faced pressure to accept Russian citizenship.

In many instances, Ukraine’s most vulnerable children have borne the brunt of Russian deportation. Before the war, Ukraine had one of the highest rates of child institutionalization in Europe, with more than 100,000 children living in residential institutions. The vast majority have living parents but were placed in institutions because of poverty, difficult family circumstances, or because the child had a disability, according to Human Rights Watch.

The deportations have been carried out in plain sight. Early in the war, Putin signed a decree making it easier for Ukrainian children to be adopted and to be given Russian citizenship. Lvova-Belova herself claims to have adopted a teenager from the besieged Ukrainian city of Mariupol, and she has spoken publicly about her efforts to Russify him. In November, a BBC investigation found that a 2-year old girl who went missing from a children’s home in Kherson when she was just 10 months old had been adopted by 70-year-old member of the Russian parliament, Sergey Mironov.

Lvova-Belova has made a number of visits to institutions holding Ukrainian children, including to a college in the occupied Ukrainian city of Henichesk, where Batsura had been transferred from Crimea and placed in a culinary arts program.

The dormitory where Batsura was placed was freezing cold at night, she said, and the teenagers were forbidden to close the doors to their rooms. Russian troops patrolled the halls.

Lvova-Belova offered the children 100,000 rubles, roughly $1,000, and the opportunity to study at a college in Russia on the condition that they remain there. Batsura refused. Officials tried to find her a foster family, and she feared she would be sent to a remote region of Russia and would never be able to return to Ukraine.

For eight months while she was in Russian custody, Batsura had been unable to contact her mother, but she learned through a friend that her mother was working with Save Ukraine and applying for a passport so that she could travel to Russia and collect her.

With the border to Russia closed since the invasion, families face a daunting overland journey through wartime Ukraine, traveling into Poland, Belarus, and then Russia and—in Batsura’s case—down into occupied Ukrainian territory.

In some instances, children are turned over to their relatives without too much difficulty once the family members arrive to collect them, but the Russian authorities have also been known to present obstacles, said Olha Yerokhina, a spokesperson for Save Ukraine. The organization has helped families retrieve 240 children to date.

Officials at the school told Batsura that the journey was too arduous and that her friend was giving her false hope that her mother would ever arrive. “I didn’t believe them, and I kept telling myself that ‘No, my mom can do it, my mom will come,’” she said.

In May 2023, Batsura was rescued by her mother and now lives with her in Kyiv, where she is working with psychologists to process her experience. She is back in school and describes her hobbies as writing poems and making TikTok videos.

I asked her, given the atrocities that Putin has been accused of committing in Ukraine and during his presidency, how she felt about the fact that it was experiences like hers that had led the ICC to issue an arrest warrant for the Russian leader.

Yerokhina, who acted as our translator, interrupted to say that because she was rescued after the court order was issued, Batsura had likely missed the news about the ICC arrest warrant.

After Yerokhina explained the court’s decision, Batsura said, “It’s just.”

[queenlua]

ok, this Kevin Woo guy is the most fantastic chad i've heard of in a while:

The journalist who exposed Lambda School wasn't a journalist by trade. Vincent Woo was a successful entrepreneur best known for CoderPad, a collaborative coding website used extensively in programming job interviews. After he sold CoderPad for millions of dollars, he focused on the public interest, such as housing activism.

Woo's work on CoderPad gave him expert insight into the programming job market, and in 2019, Austen's outrageous hiring numbers set off red flags. Whenever pressed for more details on his outrageous claims, Austen said a full report was coming soon, but six months would pass without any updates.

Woo obtained an investment memo Lambda School sent out to Y Combinator titled, "Human Capital: The Last Unoptimized Asset Class." In it, they disclose, “We’re at roughly 50% placement for cohorts that are 6 months graduated,” contradicting the very front page of their website.

Where did the 86% on their homepage come from? In 2018, Lambda School submitted a single report about 72 graduates to CIRR. CIRR is an organization formed by the boot camp industry following the boot camp crackdown of the 2010s, to cleanup their image. Bootcamps are supposed to submit their hiring stats every six months, in one standard format, to prevent underhanded boot camps from fudging the numbers. In two years, Lambda School had produced nothing beyond that single, small report.

Woo reached out to Sabrina Baez, Lambda School's former Director of Career Readiness. Baez oversaw job placement in those early days, and Austen had reprimanded her for low hiring rates. She told Woo that probably only 50% to 60% of graduates found jobs.

Finally, Woo obtained private communications with investors revealing the quiet deals with hedge funds. This flew in the face of their marketing's, "We don’t get paid until you do," and Austen's now-deleted tweet, “We never, ever get paid upfront for ISAs.”

With all the damning evidence, the story was ready. Most reporters would now email their subjects for comment, but Woo elevated the story to performance art. He asked Austen for a recorded interview, without revealing its nature. Austen, lulled into a false sense of security by tech press puff pieces, agreed. What followed was the most riveting hour of tech journalism I've ever heard.

Austen: "Our goal right now, is that if a student is endorsed, call it graduation, that we place 80% within 120 days."

Woo: "Why did you tell investors 50?"

Austen: "What… I don't know… what communication you're referring to."

The interview went downhill from there, as Austen scrambled to invent excuses.

#rekt

bonus: check out this dude's hilariously understated linkedin:

(also, the whole article's worth a read. i'd been following the Lambda School saga for a while but there's a bunch of new fuckery here that even i didn't know about. smh)

[girlactionfigure]

THURSDAY HERO: Benjamin Levin

Killing Nazis at age 14

Benjamin Levin was a young resistance fighter who, as one of the notorious “Avengers,” spent World War II hiding in a Lithuanian forest, emerging only to kill Nazis or bomb their supply chains.

Benjamin was born in Vilna in 1927. His father Chaim was a successful businessman and the family lived a comfortable life. In 1941, however, Chaim was tipped off that Nazi Germany was about to invade Lithuania. As Jews, that meant the Levins’ days were numbered. Chaim quickly sold his business at a loss, used the proceeds to buy weapons, and went into hiding with his family.

At the time, Benjamin was a 14 year old juvenile delinquent who’d started smoking at age 8 and was member of a street gang. After the German invasion, he chose not to stay with his parents in their hiding place, instead joining the fierce resistance group known as the “Avengers” led by Abba Kovner. Benjamin was an immediate asset to the group due to his unique combination of exceptional bravery and diminutive size. His baby face and unassuming appearance enabled him to avoid attracting attention, even in enemy territory.

Hidden in a Lithuanian forest, the teenager and his fellow Avengers killed Nazis, bombed their transportation lines, and smuggled life-saving food and medicine into the Jewish ghettoes. It was later estimated that the brave band of guerrilla fighters had killed 212 Nazis. Their policy was “take no prisoners.” In 1944, the Jewish fighters helped the Russian army liberate Vilna, after which they marched through town looking for Nazi collaborators to execute.

Benjamin’s parents survived the war in hiding, but when they returned to Vilna to reclaim their home, their former neighbors murdered them on the spot. With nothing to keep them in Europe, Benjamin and his sister moved to pre-state Israel, where he joined the Jewish militant group Irgun, fighting the British occupation of Palestine. Benjamin was in charge of helping Jewish survivors in Europe relocate to Israel. Benjamin’s street smarts and people skills served him well as he traveled through Turkey and Syria with European Holocaust survivors.

The Soviet army did not appreciate Benjamin’s work rescuing Jews from behind the Iron Curtain, and in 1947 he was arrested and sent to a Siberian gulag. After a year, Benjamin was released from the gulag and hitchhiked his way to Southern Europe, where he reconnected with the Irgun in Italy. The organization arranged for him to enroll in college and earn a degree in mechanical engineering. He was assigned to the engine room of a ship that sailed around the world, collecting money, weapons and volunteers to fight for the Jewish state.

The ship was called Altalena, and headed to Israel with hundreds of Holocaust survivors on board, as well as Jewish volunteers from around the world, and a cache of heavy ammunition secretly donated by France. When the Altalena reached Tel Aviv and tried to dock, the ship came under fire by the Haganah, a rival military group. Under machine-gun fire, young Benjamin leapt off the ship and swam to shore, then snuck into the country unnoticed. He had been through so much in the previous several years, had lived so many lives and assumed so many identities, that he actually forgot his own birthday. Later, he decided to make Passover – the festival of freedom – his official birthday.

Benjamin met his wife Sara, a Hungarian immigrant, in Israel, and ironically she was serving with the Haganah when they fired on the Altalena. Together they had two children, and moved to New York in 1967, where Benjamin worked as a mechanic and owned a gas station. In the 1990’s, Benjamin was interviewed extensively by Steven Spielberg as part of the Shoah Foundation oral history project.

For decades, Benjamin was an in-demand public speaker at New York high schools, where he spoke about the Holocaust and his remarkable life. Toward the end of his life, Benjamin was unable to speak, but he insisted on continuing his school appearances, with his son Chaim – named for Benjamin’s father – doing the speaking for him. Chaim remembered how much Benjamin loved interacting with students, and described his father as having “an enormous amount of energy and joy and love.”

Benjamin Levin died on April 13, 2020 at age 93. The last survivor of the Avengers, Benjamin died during Passover – his adopted birthday.

For heroically fighting Nazis and saving European Jews, and for educating generations of New York schoolchildren about the Holocaust, we honor Benjamin Levin as this week’s Thursday Hero.

[yamayuandadu]

Horned hermits and immoral immortals: an inquiry into Zanmu's background

As you might remember from my previous post covering Zanmu, I was initially unable to tell how her historical background led to ZUN choosing to make her an oni. The historical, or at least legendary, Zanmu seemed to be, for all intent and purposes, a human. That has since changed, and the matter now seems considerably more clear to me. Read on to learn more about the real monk Zanmu is based on, and to find out what she has in common with the most famous Zen master in history, Taoist immortals, and Tsuno Daishi. Even if you are not particularly interested in Zanmu, this article might still worth be checking out, seeing as the discussed primary sources are also relevant to a number of other Touhou characters, including Byakuren, Yoshika and Kasen.

As in the case of the previous Touhou article, special thanks go to @just9art, who helped me with tracking down sources advised me while I was working on this.

The historical Zanmu

Statue of Zanmu from the Sazaedo pagoda (Fukushima Travel; reproduced for educational purposes only) As already pointed out by 9 here even before my previous post about Unfinished Dream of All Living Ghost, Zanmu is based on a real monk also named Zanmu. His full name was Nichihaku Zanmu (日白残夢), and he also went by Akikaze Dōjin, but even Japanese wikipedia simply refers to him as Zanmu. ZUN basically just swapped one kanji in the name, with 日白残夢 becoming 日白残無. The character 無, which replaces original 夢 (“dream”), means “nothingness” - more on that later.The search for sources pertaining to the historical Zanmu has tragically not been very successful. In contrast with some of the stars of the previous installments, like Prince Shotoku or Matarajin, he clearly isn’t the central topic of any monographs or even just journal articles. Ultimately the main sources to fall back on are chiefly offhand mentions, blog articles and some tweets of variable trustworthiness. The only academic publication in English I was able to locate which mentions Zanmu at all is the Japanese Biographical Index from 2004, published by De Gruyter. The price of this book is frankly outrageous for what it is, so here’s the sole mention of him screencapped for your convenience:

The book referenced here is the five volume biographical dictionary Dai Nihon Jinmei Jisho from 1937. I am unable to access it, but I was nonetheless able to cobble together some information about Zanmu from other sources. Not much can be said about Zanmu’s personal life. He was a Buddhist monk (though note a legend apparently refers to him as “neither a monk nor a layperson”, a formula typically designating legendary ascetics and the like) and a notable eccentric. Both of these elements are present in the bio of his Touhou counterpart.

The Sazaedo pagoda (Fukushima Travel; reproduced for educational purposes only)

Zanmu’s tangible accomplishments seem to be tied to the temple Shoso-ji, which he apparently founded. He is enshrined in the Sazaedo pagoda near it, though this building postdates him by over 200 years. It’s located in Aizuwakamatsu in Fukushima. You can see some additional photos of his statue displayed there in this tweet. It’s a pretty famous location due to its unique double helix structure, and it has a pretty extensive article on the Japanese wikipedia. It’s also covered on multiple tourist-oriented sites in English, where more photos are available (for example here or here). There’s even a model kit representing it out there. Sazeado’s fame does not really seem to have anything to do with Zanmu, though. While many Buddhist figures ZUN used as the basis for Touhou characters in the past belonged to the “esoteric” schools (Tendai and Shingon), Zanmu was a practitioner of the much better known Zen, specifically of the Rinzai school.

The kanji mu (無 ) caligraphed by Shikō Munakata (Saint Louis Art Museum; reproduced for educational purposes only) Since the concept of “nothingness” or “emptiness” represented by the kanji 無 (mu) plays a vital role in Zen (see here or here for a more detailed treatment of this topic; it’s covered on virtually every Zen-related website possible though), and there’s even a so-called mu kōan, it strikes me as possible this is the reason behind the slightly different writing of the names of ZUN’s Zanmu, as well as the source of her ability. Granted, the dialogue in the games makes it sound like Zanmu (and by extension Hisami) just talks about nothingness as a memento mori of sorts, which is not quite what it entails in Zen. Of course, ZUN does not adapt Buddhist doctrine 1:1 (lest we forget Kasen seemingly being unaware of the basics of Mahayana in WaHH) so this point might be irrelevant.

The legendary Zanmu

The eccentric monk Ikkyū (center), as imagined by Kawanabe Kyōsai (Egenolf Gallery; reproduced for educational purposes only)

A number of legends developed around the historical Zanmu. If this blog post is to be trusted, there is a tradition according to which he was a student of arguably the most famous member of the Rinzai school, and probably one of the most famous Buddhist monks in the history of Japan in general, Ikkyū. He is remembered as the archetypal eccentric monk, and spent much of his life traveling as a vagabond due to his disagreements with Buddhist establishment and unusual personal views on matters such as celibacy. As I already said in my previous article pertaining to Zanmu, long time readers of my blog might know Ikkyū from the tale of Jigoku Dayū and art inspired by it, though since this motif only arose in the Edo period it naturally does not represent an actual episode from his very much real career. 

A page from Ikkyū Gaikotsu (wikimedia commons)

In art a distinct tradition of depicting Ikkyū with skeletons developed, as seen both in the case of works showing him with his legendary student Jigoku Dayū and in the so-called Ikkyū Gaikotsu. Skeletons also played a role in Zen-inspired art in general (for more information see here). Whether this inspired ZUN to decorate Zanmu’s rock with bones is hard to determine, but it does not seem implausible. It would hardly be the deepest art history cut in the series, less arcane of a reference than the very existence of Mai and Satono or Kutaka’s pose. Obviously, it does not seem very plausible that Ikkyū ever actually met the historical Zanmu. Ikkyū passed away in 1481, and Zanmu in 1576, with his birth date currently unknown. Even if we assume he was a particularly long-lived individual and by some miracle was born while Ikkyu was still alive, it is somewhat doubtful that an elderly sick monk would be preaching Zen doctrine to an infant. However, apparently legends do provide a convenient explanation for this tradition. Purportedly Zanmu lived for an unusually long time. The figure of 139 years pops up online quite frequently, and does seem to depend on a genuine tradition, but even more fabulous claims are out there.

Kaison Hitachibō, as imagined by an unknown artist (wikimedia commons)

According to another legend, Zanmu was even older, and in fact remembered the Genpei war, which took place in the Heian period - nearly 400 years before his time. Supposedly he told many vivid tales about its famous participants, Yoshitsune and Benkei. A tradition according to which he was himself originally a legendary retainer of Yoshitsune, the warrior monk Kaison Hitachibō (常陸坊海尊) developed at some point. This has already been pointed out by others before me in relation to the Touhou version of Zanmu. From what I’ve seen, some Japanese fans in fact seem excited primarily about the prospect of Zanmu offering an opportunity to connect Touhou and works focused on the Genpei war. The tradition making Zanmu a centuries-old survivor from the Heian period must be relatively old, as his supposed immortality is already mentioned in Honchō Jinja Kō (本朝神社��; “Study of shrines”) by Razan Hayashi, who was active in the first half of the seventeenth century, mere decades after Zanmu’s death. While I found no explicit confirmation, it seems sensible to assume this legend was already in circulation while Zanmu was still alive, or at least that it developed very shortly after he passed away. Perhaps he really was invested in accounts of that period to the point he sounded as if he actually lived through it.

The choice of Kaison as Zanmu’s original name in the legend does not seem random, as there was a preexisting tradition according to which this legendary Heian figure was cursed with eternal life for betraying Yoshitsune by fleeing from the battlefield instead of remaining with his lord to die. You can read more about this here. Apparently there is a version where he instead becomes immortal to make it possible to pass down the story of the Genpei war to future generations (this is the only source I have to offer though), and there's even a well-received stage play based on it, Hitachibō Kaison (translated as "Kaison, priest of Hitachi") by Matsuyo Akimoto. Another thing worth pointing out is that Kaison was seemingly a Tendai monk from Mount Hiei, which means that even though Okina isn’t in a new game, you can still claim she’s metaphorically casting her shadow over it in some way if you squint (and that’s without going into the fact sarugami are associated with Mount Hiei). I've seen two separate sources which mention that according to a legend he trained Benkei there, and that the two did not get along because Kaison was a corrupt monk (lustful, keen on substance abuse, greedy, the usual routine). You can access them here and here,but bear in mind they're old. Zanmu’s Genpei war connection does not really seem to matter in Touhou, though, as ZUN pretty explicitly situated his version in the Sengoku period, with no mention of earlier events. Granted, if you like it, this should not prevent you from embracing the view that Zanmu is an alter ego of Kaison as your headcanon - as I said people are already doing that. It seems equally fair game as “Okina is Hata no Kawakatsu”, easily one of the most popular “historical” headcanons in the history of the franchise. According to this twitter thread, the legends about Zanmu’s longevity (or immortality) have a pretty long lifespan themseles, as they were referenced by relatively high profile modern writers, like Orikuchi Shinbou and Tatsuhiko Shibusawa. 

Buddhist immortals

A word carving of a sennin, "immortal" or "hermit" (wikimedia commons)

Legends about long-lived (or outright immortal) monks, such as Zanmu or Kaison, are hardly uncommon. A work which seems to be the key to understanding their early development, and by extension possibly also the portrayal of Zanmu in Touhou, might be Honchō Shinsenden, “Records of Japanese Immortals”. This title refers to a collection of setsuwa, short stories typically meant to convey religious knowledge or morals. Its title pretty much tells you what to expect. Honchō Shinsenden is an interesting work in that while it in theory deals with Buddhism, and largely describes the individual immortals as, well, Buddhists, it ultimately reflects a Taoist tradition. There is a strong case to be made that it was an inspiration for another Touhou installment, specifically Ten Desires, already, seeing as it mentions prince Shotoku and Miyako no Yoshika and its Taoist-adjacent context has a long paper trail in scholarship, but I will not go too deep into that topic here - expect it to be covered in a separate article later on. Stories of immortals are pretty schematic, and their protagonists can be categorized as belonging to a number of archetypes. I think it’s safe to say this has a lot to do with the self-referential character of this sort of literature - compilers of new works were obviously familiar with their forerunners, and imitated them for the sake of authenticity. In China, literary accounts of the lives of immortals circulated as early as in the first century BCE, with the concept of immortals (xian, 仙, read as sen in Japanese; this term and its derivatives have various other translations too, with Touhou media generally favoring “hermit”) itself already appearing slightly earlier. It seems Shenxian Zhuan (Biographies of Spirit Immortals) by a certain Ge Xuan, certified immortals enthusiast and cinnabar-based immortality elixir connoisseur (discussing and developing immortality elixirs was a popular pastime for literati in ancient and medieval China), can in particular be considered the inspiration for the later Japanese compilation. While the concept of immortals was largely developed by Taoists, tales focused on them were already not strictly the domain of Taoism by the time they reached Japan. They were embraced in Chinese culture in general, both in strictly religious context and more broadly in art. In Japan, they came to be incorporated into Buddhist worldview, and in fact Honchō Shinsenden states that their protagonists can be understood as “living Buddhas” (ikibotoke), a designation used to refer to particularly saintly Buddhists. Their devotion to both Buddhas and other related figures, and to local kami, is stressed multiple times too.

Presumably this was the result of the influence of the Japanese Buddhist concept of hijiri (聖), a type of particularly rigorous solitary ascetic in popular imagination regarded as almost divine. Needless to say, most of you are actually familiar with the hijiri even if you never read about them, as this is the source of Byakuren’s surname and a clear influence on her character too. In Honchō Shinsenden, it is outright said that the sign 仙, normally read as sen, should be read as hijiri in this case.

A portrait of Huisi (wikimedia commons)

The notion of extending one’s lifespan was not incompatible with Buddhism, as evidenced by tales of adepts who lived for a supernaturally long period of time to show their compassion to more beings or to get closer to the coming of Maitreya. Even the founder of the Tiantai school of Buddhism (the forerunner of Japanese Tendai), Huisi, was said to meditate in hopes of extending his life to witness Maitreya. At the same time, Chinese compilations of stories about immortals do not list Buddhists among them, in contrast with Japanese ones. This might be due to the rivalry between these religions which was at times rather pronounced in Tang China, culminating in events such as emperor Wuzong's persecution of Buddhism. Let’s return to Honchō Shinsenden, though. Its original author was most likely Ōe no Masafusa, active in the second half of the eleventh century. No full copy survives, but the original contents can nonetheless be restored based on various fragmentary manuscripts. Some of the sections are preserved as quotations in other texts or in larger compilations of stories, too. I have seen claims online that the historical Zanmu is covered in some editions of the Honchō Shinsenden or works dependent on it. So far I was only able to determine with certainty that Zanmu is covered alongside the immortals from Honchō Shinsenden in at least one modern monograph (Nishi-Nihon-hen by Kōsai Chigiri; if anyone of you have access to it I’d be interested to learn what exactly it says about Zanmu) and a number of posts and articles online. However, he lived around 400 years after this work was completed, so he quite obviously does not appear in its original version, contrary to what the Touhou wiki says right now. Masafusa does not necessarily portray the immortals as pinnacles of morality, and indeed moral virtues do not seem to be a prerequisite for attaining this status in his work. It is therefore possible that despite being setsuwa, his tales of immortals were an entirely literary endeavor and were not meant to evoke piety, let alone promote the worship of described figures.

A recurring pattern which unifies all of these tales is describing immortals as eccentric. As I already noted, this is a distinct characteristic of the historical Zanmu too, and it comes up in the bio of his Touhou counterpart as well. She has “reached the absolute pinnacle of eccentricity”. It seems safe to say ZUN is aware of that pattern, then, and consciously chose to highlight this. He also stresses that Zanmu has lived through an era of marital strife, specifically through the Sengoku period. The inclusion of such episodes is another innovation typical for Japanese immortal tales, and does appear to be a feature of the tradition pertaining to Zanmu’s counterpart too, as discussed above. Horned hermits?

A modern devotional statuette of Laozi with horns, found on ebay of all places; reproduced here for educational purposes only.

There is a further possible feature of Zanmu that might be tied to Honchō Shinsenden. While there are numerous physical traits attributed to immortals in Chinese sources, Masafusa decided to only ever highlight two. One of them are unusual bones, the other - horns on the forehead. Tragically one of my favorites, square pupils (mentioned in Liexian Zhuan), is missing. Masafusa relays that an anonymous hijiri, the “Rod-Striking Immortal”, grew stumpy horns as a sign of attaining his supernatural status.This might be a stretch, but perhaps Zanmu, due to being the Touhou version of a legendary immortal, also already had horns before becoming an oni. You have to admit it would be funny.

The two horns - or rather small bumps, based on available descriptions -  characteristic for some immortals were known as rijiao (日角; “sun-horn”) and yuenxuan (月懸; “moon crescent”). Such unusual physical features were already attributed to various legendary and historical rulers and sages in China in the first century CE, so this is not really a Taoist invention, but rather an adoption of beliefs widespread in China in the formative years of this religion. They also intersected with the early Buddhist tradition about the so-called “32 marks of the Buddha”, documented for example in Mahāvastu and later in Chinese Mahayana tradition which Taoist authors were familiar with. Yu the Great, the flood hero, was among the legendary figures said to possess horns in Chinese tradition. It is even sometimes believed Laozi had them when he was born, which according to Livia Kohn was meant to symbolically elevate him to the rank of such mythical figures as Fuxi.

While this is ultimately a post focused on Zanmu, I think it’s worth pointing out this belief in horned ascetics has very funny implications for Kasen. Being a “horned hermit” is not really an issue, it would appear. If anything, it adds a sense of authenticity. Clearly Kasen needs to study the classics more.

Immortals (and mortals) in hell

One last connection between Zanmu and legends about immortals is her role as an official in hell. However, this is much less directl. Early Chinese sources mention “Agents Beneath the Earth” (dixia zhu zhe 地下主者), a rank available to low class immortals choosing to serve in the land of the dead. They could be contrasted with the immortals inhabiting heaven, regarded as higher ranked than them. However, note that there are also many narratives focused on mortals becoming officials in hell - in Japan arguably the most famous case is the tale of Ono no Takamura, a historical poet from the early Heian period. In Chinese culture there are multiple examples but I think none come close to the popularity of judge Bao. It does not seem any immortals playing a similar role retain equal prominence in culture. Ultimately this paragraph is only a curiosity, and a much closer parallel to Zanmu's role in hell exists - and it’s connected to materials ZUN already referenced to booth.

Corrupt monks, oni and tengu

Ryōgen, the most famous monk turned demon, and his alter ego Tsuno Daishi (wikimedia commons)

In addition to characterizing Zanmu as eccentric, ZUN also wrote in her bio that she is a corrupt monk. As we learn, she developed a belief that the best way to reconcile the Sengoku period ethos which demanded boasting about the number of enemies killed with Buddhist precepts was to focus on spirits rather than the living, since she will basically deliver salvation to them. She ultimately “absorbed some beast-youkai spirits, thus discarding her life as a human”. This to my best knowledge does not really match any genuine tradition about the historical Zanmu, related figures or anyone else. As far as I can tell, it’s hard to find a direct parallel either in irl material or elsewhere in Touhou... at least if we stick to the details. More vaguely similar examples are not only attested, discussing them was for a time arguably the backbone of Buddhist discourse in Japan, and neatly explains why Zanmu became an oni. The idea that monks who broke Buddhist precepts in some way turned into monsters is not ZUN’s invention. It first appears in sources from the Heian period, and gained greater relevance in the Kamakura period. Particularly commonly it was asserted that members of Buddhist clergy who fail to attain nirvana turn into tengu. However, oni were an option too. Bernard Faure points out that Ryōgen, the archetypal example of a fallen monk (see here for a detailed discussion of this topic, and of his return to grace as a demon keeping other demons at bay), could be described as reborn as an oni, for example. The Shingon monk Shinzei is variously described as turning into an oni, a tengu or an onryō (vengeful spirit). Oni are also referenced in a similar context in Heike Monogatari alongside tenma, a term referring to demons obstructing enlightenment in general.

Corrupt monks turned into tengu in the Tengu Zoshi Emaki (wikimedia commons)

Typically it was believed that monks who turned into demons went to a realm variously known as makai, tengudō or madō. As you may know, normally there are three realms one should avoid reincarnating in - beasts, hungry ghosts and hell - but this was basically a bonus fourth one. Granted, this view was not recognized universally, and the alternative interpretation was that it was just a specific hell with a distinct name. At the absolute peak of this concept’s relevance, the foremost Buddhist thinkers of these times, including Nichiren, were accusing each other of being demons. Additionally, some of the past emperors, especially Sutoku and Goshirakawa, could be presented as tengu, for example in Hōgen monogatari. There was also an interest in finding gods who could keep the forces of disorder at bay. You can see echoes of these beliefs in rituals pertaining to Matarajin, which ZUN rather explicitly referenced in Aya's route in Hidden Star in Four Seasons. Typically the reason behind transformation into an oni, tengu or another vaguely similar being were earthly attachments. Alternatively, it could be pursuing gejutsu, “outside arts”, essentially teachings which fell outside of what was permitted by Buddhism. Note this does not necessarily mean anything originating in religions other than Buddhism, though, the term is more nuanced. So, for instance worship of kami or following Confucian values are perfectly fair game. A synonymous term was gedō, “heretical” way (on the use of the term “heresy” in the context of study of Buddhism see here). We can make a case for Zanmu’s bio alluding to that - she wanted to adhere to the social norms of the Sengoku period by symbolically taking in a headcount by absorbing spirits, I suppose. That’s not really a thing in any Buddhist literature, though, and I assume ZUN came up with this himself. Conclusion While this article is slightly less rigorous than my recent research ventures pertaining to Matarajin, let alone the Mesopotamian wiki operations, I hope it nonetheless sheds some additional light on Zanmu. I will admit I already liked her even before I started digging into the possible inspiration behind her, and finding out more only strengthened my enthusiasm. While there are clear parallels between Zanmu, her namesake and a variety of other characters from Japanese and Chinese literature and religions, as usual for a character made by ZUN her strength lies both in creative repurposing of these elements and in adding something new.

Postscriptum: Zanmu and Tang Sanzang?

Xuanzang, as depicted by an unknown Qing artist (wikimedia commons) While much about Zanmu’s character - her backstory as an eccentric fallen monk who became a demon, her apparent zen theme, and so on  - all form a coherent whole, there is a tiny detail which does not really match anything else discussed in this article. It does not come from her dialogue or bio, but rather from Enoko’s. As we learn, she became immortal herself after eating a piece of Zanmu’s body back when the latter was still a human. Or rather, the combination of that and subsequently consuming a magical gemstone as recommended by Zanmu did it - I’m pretty sure I misread this before. As 9 pointed out to me, probably the implications are just that Enoko’s backstory is a partial reference to Perfect Memento in Strict Sense, which does state that consuming the flesh of a monk would be a particularly suitable way for an ordinary animal to turn into a youkai. Still, comparisons between this tidbit and Journey to the West have been made by others before already, so I figured it would be suitable to address them here even if they lie beyond my own argument about the inspiration behind Zanmu. In this novel, many demons want to devour its protagonist Tang Sanzang because his flesh is said to make anyone who consumes immortal. This is because he is a reincarnation of Master Golden Cicada (Jinchan zi, 金蟬子), a disciple of the Buddha invented for the sake of the story. Interestingly, Sanzang is portrayed as an adherent of Chan Buddhism, the school from which Japanese Zen is derived (note that his historical forerunner Xuanzang belonged to the Yogācāra tradition instead). Despite the vague similarities, I ultimately do not think there are particularly close parallels between Zanmu and Sanzang. For starters, Zanmu is meant to be a corrupt monk, while Sanzang is the opposite of that. Their respective characters couldn’t differ more either. Throughout the entire novel, Sanzang is a pretty poor planner, shows doubt in his own abilities, and regularly misjudges the situation. Needless to say this does not exactly offer a good parallel to Zanmu. Sure, she creates a bootleg Wukong, but Sanzang did not create Wukong, the famous primate was just assigned to him as a bodyguard. Therefore, until evidence on the contrary appears (for example in an interview) I would personally remain cautiously pessimistic regarding a possible connection here.  Recommended reading

Bernard Faure, Rage and Ravage (Gods of Medieval Japan vol. 3)

Noga Ganany, Baogong as King Yama in the Literature and Religious Worship of Late-Imperial China

Zornica Kirkova, Roaming into the Beyond: Representations of Xian Immortality in Early Medieval Chinese Verse

Christoph Kleine & Livia Kohn, Daoist Immortality and Buddhist Holiness: A Study and Translation of the Honchō shinsen-den 

Livia Kohn, The Looks of Laozi

James Robson, The Institution of Daoism in the Central Region (Xiangzhong) of Hunan

Haruko Wakabayashi, From Conqueror of Evil to Devil King: Ryogen and Notions of Ma in Medieval Japanese Buddhism

Idem, The Seven Tengu Scrolls. Evil and the Rhetoric of Legitimacy in Medieval Japanese Buddhism

[ms-all-sunday]

please give us your Nami thoughts, I love your takes on her. It can be about anything you're currently thinking about but if I could pick then could you talk in depth about what you think about the Nami & Ussop dynamic ? Like yeah it doesn't need explanation about why they're my favorite duo among the strawhats but some of the things you've said about Nami and Ussop individually were not things I had thoughts about before so I want to know what you think of Usopp & Nami

i love nami forever thank you anon this is so sweet and i feel so appreciated. i hope i dont let you down. i'll do both!

i think i havent talked formally on this blog about how nami is written in most fanfiction to other people, but i try to emphasize in my fanfiction the fact she's an abuse victim since I feel that's one of her most apparent traits. the way that she deals with trauma is very reliant on exclusively herself, something i don't think is talked about a lot is that her expectation of what she is told is true is not only reflective of how pirates are known to the god fearing public (indicative of propaganda) but that she exclusively sees herself as the exception to a lot of rules, there's this inherent close-mindedness she has but won't ever really get rid of, that naunce and the room for things to go positively can't fit within her self perception.

this is because she believes she is the only thing in life she can control, and it's a necessary self-perception to maintain the inner worldview she has.

this of course is a survival instinct inherited from her childhood. but what it speaks to i think is that in real life and one piece the anime, that abuse victims (children and teens especially) can come out with a cynical view of the world and externalize that onto others (advocating for the current dysfunctional societal systems for example like nami does in repeating wg propaganda) simply because of how much we alienate them and how that continues to give no hope to people looking for community and understanding.

i like usopp and nami. theyre my favourite dynamic as well! i think something nami is able to do with usopp and nobody else (even with women) is give him the benefit of the doubt. i think this is because she relates to him

(i think she has bpd as well but i cant decide whether thats my legitmate reading of the text or me projecting. i write her like she has bpd. you decide.)

if we look at water 7 i think she's the most sympathetic of the usopp apologists because she was very obviously coming at it from a place of understanding from usopps emotional perspective (because she relates to him and loves him) in a way that nobody else really was articulating. because she's been in that situation where she's successfully alienated herself from everybody she loves in a way nobody else on that crew related to usopp (and by extension robin) on that crew during water 7.

nami doesnt just have a relationship to usopp she could have with no other man she has a relationship to usopp she couldn't have with anybody. i think. usopp is the only one who can cross the invisible boundary of the fact she expects you to be a kiss ass towards her lest you get consequences but usopp isnt a kiss ass to her and there are no consequences. (in fact usopp is quite snarky/mean to her, which is how he is when he isn't masking and completely confident in himself: see end of enies lobby) she apologizes to him when he's snarky to her in thriller bark.

since this is a nami themed post i won't talk about usopp as much. but have you noticed? usopp is mean when he's comfortable with people. he has this attitude at the end of enies lobby as they're escaping on the merry, i think i registered it subconsciously but i only did register it consciously a few weeks ago, but if usopp is truly comfortable he's not a kiss-ass whatsoever. and he's never a kiss ass with nami.

we don't really think about it like this because people are so prone to dismiss usopp is one of those characters that have a facade of palatability when he feels he's not on the same level as someone, coming from his insecurity, but in regards to his genuine attitude we see in enies lobby and with nami that admiration is not the true breath of how he thinks about zoro or sanji or luffy. he thinks they're fucking stupid as well. and he's right. (this exact thing is another reason nami is able to emphasize with him. she thinks similarly)

this ties into both nami and usopps implementation as shonen characters. they're smart and witty and have big personalities to differentiate them from the more powerful characters, i feel this juxtaposition with more traditional shonen characters has made oda feel like he has to justify both usopp and namis existences in the story in a way he doesn't with the other characters. i think it's this element that makes them the most consistently well written throughout every arc they appear in as opposed to the other 7.

[thegreymoon]

The Story of Minglan

Let's do one more episode tonight. The sooner we wrap up this stupid Emperor plot arc, the better.

***

LMAO, there goes maternal uncle Bai.

He should have just sat home and eaten his food and he would still be alive, but no, he just had to be greedy. Serves him right.

***

Eh, you fought for this marriage.

***

Moar plot holes and shitting on established characterisation.

I'm supposed to believe that the Princess (and by extension, the doormat Duke) suddenly became loyal and benevolent to Minglan and Gu Tingye, especially since there is now an actual perceived risk to associating with them? Please.

***

LMAO, I love Lady Zhang 🤣🤣

Molan has certainly lost none of her talent for making enemies and then she moans and whines about how everyone is excluding her. LOL, bitch, have you ever wondered why?

***

Oh, great 🙄

She gets on my very last nerve but I suppose that today is the day when all of Minglan's true friends must show their faces. She can cross everyone who doesn't show up off her list for life.

***

Wiping tears rn, ngl 😭

Danju, my beloved 💙

***

Aww, her cousins from the countryside are here too!

Truly, all the important people!

***

WTF.

This baby has been alive for a whole month and has already suffered TWO assassination attempts 🤬 Madam Qin is not giving up on the marquis title!

***

WHAT THE FUCK?

SHE IS AN ACTUAL ASSASSIN??

I DID NOT SEE THAT FIGHT COMING!!

FENGXIAN, WHAT RIGHT DO YOU HAVE TO BECOME INTERESTING ALL OF A SUDDEN? AND AFTER TRYING TO KILL A BABY, NO LESS!!

***

Aww, Zhao'er is looking good and coming throuuuuuuugh!!

***

LMAO, suffer.

If you had only let Minglan in on your whole plot, she would not be making an embarrassment out of herself and everyone here now.

***

LOL, he is a whole mood 🤣🤣

***

This is why Minglan and Changbai should have been told.

They have the potential to screw up the entire plan and bring down the Sheng family in the process.

The stupidity of writing here, I cannot even.

***

LMAO, they are almost making me feel sorry for Sheng Hong 🤣🤣

Such unreasonable children!

***

OMG, she's going to tell her!

Please, tell her! Please, someone, have some brains and compassion here!

***

LOL, I have absolutely no love for Gu Tingye at this point, but this is hilarious.

Girl, your marriage is a hellscape and it's your own doing. You're so full of bile and wretchedness, you would not be happy if you married and Emperor.

***

LOL, no matter what their status is, they will STILL look down upon you.

***

How am I supposed to be rooting for Gu Tingye after all this?

She is having a mental breakdown in public because of his dumbassery. He's one of the worst male leads I've ever encountered in a c-drama ever. No love.

***

LMAO, look at the pot calling the kettle black 🤣🤣

With that said, what did she expect, marrying this guy? He probably has every STD known to man by now.

***

LOL, you treated her well?

IN WHICH LIFE??

***

What? WHAT?

She killed Chunke? Like her mother did??

I didn't even realise Chunke had died, wtf.

[theveniceangel]

So I made a Poppy Playtime OC a long while back, and she plays a big part in my Poppy Playtime AU.

Meet Holly Jolly! A kind porcelain doll who has a brave heart, and a strong connection to a certain purple feline.

BIO.

Name: Holly Jolly.

Age: She was 27 when she was turned into a doll, and she'd be 37 if she were still human today.

Specie(s): Sentient doll.

Gender: Female.

Height: 18 Inches.

Headcanon voice: Elsie Lovelock.

Likes: Catnap, art, writing, designing, helping others, tea and crumpets, Christmas, sewing, croquet, painting, reading, classical music, and daisies.

Dislikes: The Prototype, Leith Pierre, being trapped, isolation, liars, people hurting the ones she cares for (Especially her son), needles, and blood.

Crush, Partner, ETC: N/A.

Oc design based on: She's kind of based off China Girl from Oz The Great And Powerful.

Parents? Relatives?: Catnap (Adoptive son).

Friends: Kylie, Jessie, Manticat, Poppy, Kissy Missy, Dogday.

Personality: Kind, caring, compassionate, empathetic, smart, creative, courageous, strong-willed, a bit anxious but she tries not to show it, crafty, sassy, graceful, generous, protective, she's mature but can be sensitive at times, loyal.

Birthday: December 19th.

Markings: None.

Abillities: Having studied anatomy and medical science in college, and having watched the way the bigger bodies experiments are done, Holly is quite good at patching people (or toys) up, she's also a very good planner, she always tries her best to think her plans through before leaping into action.

Her creative mind also allows her to come up with creative ways of not only bringing a bit of creativity in life, but also keeping herself and by extension others alive.

Favorite drink: Fruit tea.

Favorite color: Light blue.

Favorite type of outfit: When she was human, she really liked wearing cardigans.

Story info for Oc: Long ago, there was a woman named Evelyn Snow, she was the head of the creative department at Playtime Co, and helped to make such incredible toys, but her best creation was a Christmas themed, ball jointed porcelain doll named Holly Jolly, a doll that became quite popular overtime, especially during the holiday season.

When the orphanage program began, Evelyn ended up befriending an orphaned boy named Theodore Grambell, a troubled boy who was very closed off, and didn't really trust others, how she managed to befriend the boy no one could understand, but she seemed to be the only one in the factory that Theodore actually trusted.

The two ended up becoming so close that they started to see each other as mother and son, and on Theodore's birthday, she promised the boy that she would adopt him.

Unfortunately for her, Evelyn got caught up in a disastrous situation, she discovered that the scientists in the factory were taking kids and experimenting on them, turning them into sentient toys, enraged by this, Evelyn started secretly collecting evidence of the bigger bodies experiments, and ended up learning quite a lot about how the experiments worked.

On a rather dark day, her soon to be son Theodore was in a terrible accident that left him hanging on for dear life, Evelyn begged the scientists to let her see her son but they cruelly refused.

Evelyn knew in her heart it was only a matter of time before Theodore would be experimented on, so she decided enough was enough and decided she was finally gonna reveal these twisted experiments to the public, before she could even leave however, she was caught and outted to the scientists, and her scheme was revealed.

In order to silence her, the scientists experimented on her and turned her into the very doll she created.

Despite her terrible situation, she was still determined to reunite with her son, unbeknownst to Holly, her strong bond with Theodore posed as a threat to the entity known as The Prototype, he knew that Theo's bond with her could throw a wrench in his plan, so with that in mind, The Prototype captured Holly and locked her in a closet in the school, where she has spent an entire decade, heartbroken and alone.

Little did she know that a certain brunette and her rag-tag group of friends would end up freeing her, and would end up being the key to reuniting with her son.

Credit to Ghostly-NightOwl on DeviantArt for the base.

@bumblehoneybee @citruslullabies @queenofwerewolves

[rom-e-o]

"New Beginnings and Second Chances" (Ebenezer/Constance)

It's proposal time, all.

I've been tweaking and writing this as an epilogue to "Begin Again", and I think we're ready to share.

Thank you to everyone who has come along on this amazing journey! (Oh, it's not over. We're STILL trucking along strong, but man ... you can't deny that we've come far.)

Enjoy!

Ebenezer Scrooge, on most days, was an exponentially composed man.

He had tackled business negotiations, fortified good clients (while tastefully dismantling the smarmy ones) and cemented deals with estimated costs comprised of more numbers than most phone numbers, plus extensions.

However, on this very morning, the man was practically carving a path into the walnut floors of his home as a result of his pacing. He was in his study, and had been for the better half of the morning, waking and readying himself even before the arrival of his maid, Magda.

The day had come. He was going to do it. It was the second time he’d taken on the upcoming task, and yet this time, he felt more nervous than he had the first time.

He was going to propose to Constance DoGoode – the woman he’d been privileged enough to meet, fall in love with, and even receive her love in return.

He was going to ask her to marry him. To be his … wife.

Gods, the words gave him chills.

“Be steadfast, man,” he mouthed aloud, hand flying to his chest as his heart threatened to burst from his ribcage. It was soaring beneath his fingertips. “Don’t kick the bloody bucket before you even ask her!”

His treacherous heart continued to race, and he resigned himself to stepping close to the window for some fresh air. That actually helped, and he filled his lungs with the green-tinted, early morning haze of the early spring morning.

He’d acquired the ring a few days ago after sneaking one of her other bands to a jeweler to get the correct sizing. Now, every time he glimpsed the glittering stone, it took everything in him to not sod all his proposal plans and fall on one knee at the next sight of her. The ring had been burning a hole in both his pocket and mind since he’d purchased it; the stone seemingly just as excited to sparkle upon her finger as he was to place it upon it.

The ring had been an easy choice. A solitaire, square-cut diamond on a polished gold band. Simple. Elegant. Classy.

He’d known it was the ring from the moment he’d spotted it glittering in the case at the jeweler’s shop. One resize later (using one of her everyday rings that he’d silently apologized for taking from her jewelry box) and it was ready. He fitted it into a blue velvet ring box, and kept it in the very back of the only drawer in his work desk that required a lock to open. Just in case.

The ring, all things considered, had been a straightforward acquisition.

The proposal itself? That was a slightly more complicated matter.

Ebenezer had spent the better part of the last month seriously envisioning different scenarios for how he could pop the question. While the gesture itself had dominated his thoughts for the better half of a year, he’d seriously started noodling around ideas and putting pieces together in recent weeks.

It had to be as perfect as possible, he reasoned. Not so perfect that he put it off forever, of course, but it had to be worthy of her.

It had to be completely different than the experience that rat bastard of an ex-husband had given for her. That meant not proposing in a public place (quite fine with him) and not proposing while stumbling over himself drunk (exceptionally fine with him).

So …

Suddenly, like the first call of a meadowlark ending the silence of night, a knock sounded at the door.

“Mr. Scrooge, sir?”

Without waiting for an answer, another giddy knock came from the other side of his study’s door, the sound practically dancing across the lacquered. He bid the guest entry, knowing it was Magda just from her voice.

When the Hungarian woman slipped inside, an excited grin decorated her face. She practically glided through the door’s crevice, careful to latch the door noiselessly behind her before she spoke. “My stars, sir! Today is the day, is it not?”

He nodded, taking a deep breath as Magda bounced on her heels. After an energetic clap, she reached out to take the man’s hands and give them a reassuring squeeze. “Oh, don’t fret! She’ll say yes!”

He hoped. Gods, he hoped so. He hoped she said yes, and he hoped she said yes out of desire and not obligation, like she had with Orin. Although she loved him, it had been too soon, she’d said.

…Gods, was it too soon for them, too?

No, his mind raced to think, there was no going back. He didn’t want to wait, like he had with Isabel.

No, he had to ask. To make his love known and open. The rest was in her hands.

“I sent for the carriage this morning,” he said, breathy with nervousness, “By the time she awakens and dresses, they should arrive.”

Reaching into his pocket, he procured his silver pocket watch and glimpsed the time. The hands sat at 6:48 a.m. It wouldn’t be long before his love began to stir.

“Shall I prepare any breakfast? Or are you lovebirds going to eat in the coach?”

“Much obliged, Magda, but I went ahead and prepared something.”

She waggled her brow in intrigue. “You.”

He waggled his brow somewhat defensively. “Yes, me, as a matter of fact. Thank you for that sign of confidence.”

“I didn’t know you could cook, sir!”

“Magda, may I remind you that I survived many, many years – decades, actually – without a maid helping me cook? While I am infinitely grateful for all the help you’ve provided me, I assure you I am quite capable of…”

“…”

“…Ethel assisted me. Happy?”

Magda let out an amicable laugh. “Happy, and less worried for the poor lady’s stomach, as well.”

Scrooge hmph!-ed at her playful teasing. He knew her jabs were all in good faith, and presented a welcome distraction from his nervous pacing and racing thoughts. Whether it was intentional or not, he appreciated her company in that moment, just like had every single day he’d had the pleasure of employing her.

“Magda, I—”

Then, the faint sound of creaking stairs from outside the study door caught their attention. Both ceased talking just in time to hear a gentle knock on the study door.

“Come in, love,” Ebenezer called, knowing exactly who was on the other side.

Sure enough, Constance peered in, blue eyes wide and her smile bright, but still a touch sleepy. “Ah, there you both are,” she said, chuckling as she slipped inside, shutting it behind her just as Magda had.

Even fresh from bed, Costance was a sight to behold. Her red hair was pulled back in a loose chignon and fastened with large, satin ribbon. She herself was donned in a blue velvet peignoir with golden trim and matching sash that highlighted the hourglass curve of her waist.

“I must confess, I was a little worried,” she said in an adorable, sleep-bitten rasp. She was still waking up, bless her. The woman had awoken to see that her partner was missing from his side of the bed, and had taken little time to wait before investigating fully. “The house is never so quiet in the morning.”

She’s made the comment as a light joke, but upon seeing the main master and maid of the house gathered together so close in the study, she suddenly lowered her voice in concern. “Is everything alright?”

Before Scrooge could think of an excuse, Magda was quick to the rescue.

“I was just asking Mr. Scrooge if he wouldn’t mind if a took a bit of a last minute day off,” she said, “I have some personal errands and appointments, and thought it might be easier to take a full day than mince apart various other working days.”

She glanced at Ebenezer, giving him a coy smirk that matched the mischievous slant of her eyes. She looked like a tabby that had just filled its cheeks at the nearest birdcage, and gotten away with it, too.

“Why, I believe that sounds like a capital idea,” Scrooge agreed, clapping an agreeable hand over her puff-sleeved shoulder. “After all, the house will be vacant all day today.”

“It will?” Constance asked, her surprise palpable but pleasant.

“Indeed so,” he said, turning to her, hands reaching out to take one of hers. “I’ve arranged a bit of a … surprise for us today. A surprise outing.”

“Oh, really?” A flush of joy made her freckles pop across her sun-kissed cheeks.

He laughed softly, pleased by her excitement. “I’ve prepared breakfast, and a coach should be here on the hour for us. I-If you’d be so kind as to join me, I would be most honored.”

Magda tried hard to not roll her eyes as Constance enthusiastically agreed, both leaning into a embrace and chaste kiss that Magda had the decency to avert her eyes from.

Of course Constance had agreed to the outing, the maid thought secretly. She had no work that day, and when the happy couple wasn’t at work, they were spending time together in some capacity. Reading in the sitting room together, taking a stroll together, sometimes even rowing out on the Serpentine in Hype Park to bask in the sun and watch the swans skate across the waters.

Today was no different, but he had still kindly asked her if she was free to spend time with him.

Silly man, she thought kindly, though the maternal side of her longed to pull them both into a hug and wish them luck. Especially him.

“I’ll get dressed this instant,” Constance said with a nod. “I won’t be long, promise.”

“I’ll help.”

“Oh, Magda, I thought…”

“I’ve got a moment to spare,” she said lovingly, fluttering to the young woman’s side and giving her a nudge. “Come now, let’s make you look like an absolute vision! I have the perfect dress in mind, as well.”

“But…”

“Please, love. It would be my honor.”

As the carriage pulled up to the house and Scrooge loaded the basket and blanket they needed, he called up the stairs for Magda and Constance to come down.

While they waited, he made small talk with the driver, paid him in advance, and offered him a vague outline of the day’s itinerary. As for the directions, he’d scribed those carefully as well, and even provided a map, though the driver gave him a reassuring look.

“Been doin’ this ‘ob for many a year, Mr. Scrooge,” he said, taking a long drag of his pipe at the end. “I’ve got many maps, compasses, and back-ups of all me back-ups. You and yer lady are safe wit’ me.”

Well, he had hired the best, he reasoned. It seemed the sterling reputation of the driver and business was true, even if the man himself was a little rough around the edges. “Good man. Thank you again. Oh, um…here’s some breakfast for the road.”

Scrooge handed him a slab of cheese and an entire loaf of bread wrapped in a cloth. This excited the driver more than the directions. “Cheers, mate! I’ll take th’ smoothest paths for you and yer lady!”

“Much obliged.”

“Oh, and betw’n you and me, feel free to close those curtains if you lot would pr’fer some alone time, yeah? I can’t hear a peep fro’ where I’m sittin’.”

“…I’ll remember that.”

He would not act on that, but he supposed the gesture was … kind? Thoughtful? It was something, he ultimately decided.

While the conversation with the driver had been interesting in and of itself, all memory of the conversation seemed to fly out of his head as Magda rushed out with Constance on her arm.

As always, Magda met and exceeded expectations by leaps and bounds.

Dressed in a gown of chocolate brown satin with golden-white petticoats shimmering beneath the skirts, Constance stepped carefully down the stone steps of the house, her heels a matching shade of deep coffee. A matching shawl, trimmed with pearly fringe, concealed her shoulders from the morning chill. Her hair was adorned with a white ribbon nestled in a perfect bow in the back, the curls falling in loose spirals around her shoulders.

He noted that she also wore the freshwater pearl earrings and choker that he’d gotten her for her birthday a few months ago. Also, on her right ring finger, a fire opal ring she had inherited from her father blazed brilliantly. She rarely wore the piece, treasuring the item too much to risk losing it.

Magda really had worked her magic.

“Are you sure this isn’t too much?” Constance asked as she plucked at the skirt of her dress. Magda distracted her tentative movements by helping her into a pair of satin gloves, occupying her fingers for a moment. “This dress is beautiful, but is it too much for…um …”

She laughed and glanced at him somewhat bashfully. “Oh … I just realized I never even asked you where we were going.”

Gods, she was lovely, he thought.

“A picnic,” he supplied vaguely, almost breathless as he took in the sight of her. “And no. P-Please don’t change. You look absolutely beautiful…and you’re comfortable, yes?”

“Oh, very comfortable.”

“Then that’s what matters.”

Prudence bounded down the stairs, barking excitedly at the sight of the sleek, cherrywood carriage.

Of course, she would be invited along for the proposal. Why, it was largely because of Prudence that he and Constance had bumped into each other in the first place on that fateful December day, as he’d been in the butcher buying bones for her. As sch, it seemed only right for her to be present on the day that he asked Constance to be a part of his life for the remainder of his days.

Seeming to sense the importance of the occasion, she trotted up to her master and pawed at his leg.

Scrooge chuckled, then opened the door so she could hop in. “Go on, Prudence.”

After an excited spin, she leapt up and instantly made herself comfortable on one of the long, leather-clad benches, just beside the picnic basket and rolled up blanket. The mastiff flopped down and let out a satisfied huff.

Thank goodness he’d sprang for the larger cab, he thought as he surveyed the remaining space.

“We may need to cozy up just a tad for the trip,” Ebenezer warned Constance playfully. She returned an amused look, her smile only broadening when she peeked into the carriage and saw Prudence curled up on the opposite bench.  

After bringing Constance her purse (which contained only her pillbox, a book of poetry she’d been reading, a money clip, and some rouge), Magda then turned her attention to him. She helped Ebenezer slip into his black overcoat, smoothing the fabric as she did so. She also produced his top hat and cane, which she’d pulled from the entryway closet ahead of time.

As she skimmed the lapels of his coat with her fingers to make sure they laid flat and symmetrically, she gave him one last, reassuring stare, the burning resolve in her eyes all the more magnified by the thick lenses on her spectacles.

He took one last deep breath …and nodded.

“Right. T-Time to go.”

Assuming his post at the carriage’s open door, he extended a hand to Constance. Slowly, he helped her mount the step to the cab.

Once she was seated, he slotted himself into the space beside her.

“We’ll be back before sunset!” he called before shutting the door. He gave her one last wave.

“Have fun, you two!” Magda called innocently, stealing a handkerchief from her apron pocket to wave as the driver snapped the reins and the carriage rolled forth across the cobbled roadway. “Be good! I won’t wait up!”

Prudence let out another bark, and Constance leaned out the carriage window to wave excitedly. The maid also saw the woman lose her balance, and Ebenezer’s arms frantically circle her to pull her back to safety.

As soon as the cart was out of sight, Magda was off like a shot back inside. She raced to grab her coat and hat, practically flinging them on her body. The maid didn’t even bother to check her reflection as she shimmied down the strop steps of the house and made her way down Lime Street and into the churning streets of Cornhill. The woman had a few key destinations in mind.

First, she’d traverse Lime Street to a residential neighborhood a few blocks over, where Harry and Hela lived.

Then, she’d wind her way through the alleyways and cobbled roadways until she reached Camden Town.

 The carriage ride out of town lasted all but two hours, but inside the cab, the minutes all but flew by.

The couple shared bites of breakfast (orange peel-flecked scones that he’d practiced in secret for days) and read passages from the small book of poetry Constance had tucked into her purse.

« Mon bras pressait ta taille frêle Et souple comme le roseau; Ton sein palpitait comme l’aile D’un jeune oiseau. »

« Longtemps muets, nous contemplâmes Le ciel où s’éteignait le jour. Que se passait-il dans nos âmes ? Amour! Amour! »

« Comme un ange qui se dévoile, Tu me regardais, dans ma nuit, Avec ton beau regard d’étoile, Qui m’éblouit. »

Ebenezer pronounced the words graciously are carefully, Constance using her French lessons from long past to speak alongside him.

“It has been quite a while since I’ve spoken French,” he admitted, “Not since I was a boy, reading some of the classics for my studies. I fear I’m rusty in the romance languages.”

“You are doing well,” Constance enthused.

Ebenezer knew Constance was fluent In English and Dutch, but Frensh was a … more recreational language for her. A nifty party trick, although it was a vast help in situations just as this, where they crowded over a small book and took great care to read the delicate writing accurately.

“My arm clasped your fragile waist that’s supple as a reed; Your breast beat like the wing Of a young bird.

“In a long silence we contemplated The sky where the day was fading away. What was happening in our souls? Love! Love!

“Like an angel who reveals herself, You looked at me, in my night, With your beautiful star’s gaze, Blinding me with … light.”

A comfortable silence settled over them as the words lingered a beat.

“I do so love that one,” she said with a dreamy, wavering sigh. “Especially the ending.”

“Very beautiful indeed,” Ebenezer husked, deepening his voice to a burr to attract her attention. When she glanced up and saw the smirk upon his visage, seeing only her own reflection in his icy eyes, her cheeks bloomed with pleasant color.

All the while, the sun continued to climb in the sky outside. By the time they near the spot that Ebenezer had directed the driver to, it was nearly midday.

Another turn of the page, and Ebenezer spotted a familiar piece of literature. “Venus and Adonis, by Shakespeare.”

“Oh, that one is wonderful, but quite long,” Constance chuckled.

“Certainly longer than his most famous sonnets,” he said, “Sonnet 29 comes to mind. Shorter … and easier for a man to memorize and recite to his lovely lady.”

His last remark harbored just enough cheekiness for her to wonder how many men he’d witnessed recite the same sonnet over and over across the city during romantic, spring days. Probably dozens, she thought in intrigue and amusement.

“I saw it performed a few summers ago in New York. By a theater troupe in Central Park. They memorized the entire thing – amazingly impressive for such green performers! A duo, in fact.”

It was a tragic poem, of course. It was also an erotic epic. Not necessarily appropriate for the occasion. Still, right as she was about to close the book, he reached out and paused her. With the tap of his finger, he urged her eyes to fall upon a specific passage.

She read:

“Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty:  

“A summer’s day will seem an hour but short…”

As the words finished leaving her painted lips, he leaned down and placed the gentlest of kisses upon her mouth. In that moment, the sentiment on the parchment manifested into warm, breathing reality.

“Now that,” he said, reaching up and thumbing the curls about her cheeks, “Reminds me of today.”

She blinked slowly. Again, dreamily. “Does it, my Adonis?”

An airy chuckle left him, but his fingers tightened their grip just slightly. He did grip her tight, he held her tight. “With you, the hours blend into beautiful, fleeting moments. Evey second with you feels…healing.”

He thought of yet another line from the poem: “Love comforteth like sunshine after rain.”

A perfect summary, he thought as he leaned in again, kissing the tip of her nose. “My Venus.”

A few precious moments later, the couple heard the driver gently urge his horses to a gentle stop. They obeyed with a few clicks of the man’s tongue, and once they were fully stopped on a well-trodden side path, the driver alerted them of their arrival.

“Splendid,” Ebenezer said, praying his voice didn’t convey the nervousness he felt. “Shall we?”

He opened the door to allow Prudence to jump out (which she eagerly did). As the mastiff busied herself biting at butterflies and rolling in the dust like a chipmunk, Ebenezer stepped out and instantly felt the heat of the sun above them. It was considerably warmer than it had been the morning before.

He shed his hat and coat, leaving them in the carriage with his cane.

Constance followed suit by shedding her shawl, then tilted her head back in bliss as she stepped into the sun. “Mm. Warm.”

Sun was a rarity in England, he noted. It was rare to see the sun or moon in their true glory.

In that moment, she appeared to be drinking in the light, her tanned skin and vibrant hair giving the blazing a star a run for its money in radiance.

“Here we are, lovebirds,” the driver said, giving his horses a pat as they dipped their heads to graze. “Spot to ya likin’, Mr. Scrooge?”

“Very much so. Much obliged.”

Just like before, he reached into the basket and produced some food and drink to help bide the time while they made merry, so to speak.

Surprised and pleased by the next round of gifts, the man took a large bite of a mincemeat pastry from his share before waving the couple off and telling them to “have a bit o’ nanty narking, ya hear! I won’t ‘ell, haha!”

Constance gave Ebenezer a playful grin while he blushed red as a beet.

“T-Thank you, sir,” he mumbled, ushering Constance away with one arm while carrying their picnic basket with the other.

 The air was scented with the sweet fragrance of wildflowers, and the distant melody of birdsong accompanied their amicable conversation as Ebenezer led her up an ambling stone path to the spot he’d picked. Their destination was atop an overlook with a perfect view of the swaying fields for miles around, different patches dotted with clouds of fresh blossoms.

The couple set up their spot, then sat on a blanket spread across the lush grass, surrounded by the serenity of nature. The smog and incessant chatter of the city was long forgotten as they basked in the aroma of sun-warmed wildflowers and relaxed to the melody of the babbling brook nearby.

As they enjoyed a picnic of sandwiches, fruits, and a bottle of sparkling cider, Ebenezer couldn't shake the anticipation bubbling within him. For the entire duration of their outing, he stole glances at Constance. In fact, he would have been hard pressed to remove his gaze from her on any occasion, and especially in this moment and setting. It was a scene he knew he didn’t want to forget for the rest of his days alive, and as he drank in the details of her, he knew he never would.

By the time they’d finished eating, they lounged for a while against the shade of the oak, even making a trip to a nearby stream to dance in the ankle-deep water and splash around a bit. Prudence even followed, running circles in the riverbank under her entire belly and paws were dripping with river water and mud.

When they returned from that, lazily strolling up the hill hand-in-hand, it was the golden hour of sunset.

In the halo of warm light that radiated from the horizon’s dark edge, it was a treat marveling at the way the sunlight played in her hair, making it glow like strands of molten bronze. The way her cornflower eyes glittered like the sea captivated him further.

A moment of silene stretched between them … and with the sun slowly vanishing, he knew the seconds of his opportunity were literally ticking away.

Constance, catching the anxious way Ebenezer fumbled for his coat, glanced over. “Are you alright, love? Are you cold?"

Love. The endearment bolstered his resolve.

“Quite alright,” he said. “In fact, I’ve never been happier.”

Ebenezer took a deep breath, steadying his nerves.

Something touched her expression as she realized when was happening. She didn’t say a word, but her eyes widened almost knowingly, the blue color shining like the isles of Neptune.

Now or never, he thought.

“Constance. The Christmas of my 50th birthday, I…became a changed man. I realized the error of my ways, and became transformed. I realized that I’d wasted much of my life in misery, content to be alone and deprive others, and myself, of happiness. I remember thinking that I would never go back.

“Then, the moment we met, you did the impossible … you transformed my life again. Since then, you've brought … warmth to the coldest corners of my heart, and every day with you feels like a gift. A gift that was almost stolen away by circumstance …”

Stolen away by a past of abuse, falsified medical records, a razor blade, and a man with eyes like the coldest fog.

“As turbulent as the start of our time together was, facing those trials, it made me realize that parting ways from you was never even a consideration. Even if we only remained friends or coworkers, you were always in my future in some capacity. As we continued to court, I stopped imagining you as just a coworker or friend, or even as just a lover. I-I know some might roll their eyes at the ide of a man of my age wanting such pomp and circumstance, but…I do.

“I’ve thought of little else in the past few weeks … hell, honestly, the past few months. What would life without you be like? I … can’t fathom it. Or if I could, I can’t bear the thought of it.”

Sensing the weight of his words, she nodded with a nervous swallow. “A-And I can't imagine mine without you, Ebenezer.”

With a tender smile, Ebenezer reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. The sight of it made Constance's breath catch.

He opened the box to reveal a delicate ring, the sunlight catching on the glimmering diamond in the middle.

“Constance, my angel,” Ebenezer began, his voice filled with emotion, “I-I never thought I’d ask this question of another, but I have to know. I must. W-Would you do me the honor of remaining by my side, in spirit and name? Will you marry me?”

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause. His emotions were suspended in stasis as well.

Then, a wave of joy swept over her face, and she nodded, tears of happiness glistening in her eyes.

“I-I will.”

He blinked, huffing out a laugh. “You will.”

“Yes! Ebenezer, a thousand times yes!”

A delighted smile broke across Ebenezer's face as he took the ring from the box. Laughing in equal parts disbelief and bliss, he leaned forward to meet her as she rushed to kiss him.

Prudence, who had been watching from the edge of the blanket, barked in excitement as the two kissed, arms wrapping around each other and holding on tight.

“Oh, thank you,” he praised, lips moving against hers. “I’ll be good to you, my angel. I promise with all my heart.”

“I know you will.” Her tears, warm and fresh, fell upon their laps. “I-I know. Oh, I’ve dreamed of this.”

“You have?”

In tandem, sharing a desire, their raised their hand in tandem to entwine their fingers.

“Y-Yes, and today…it’s been even more perfect than I ever imagined,” she confessed, bumping their noses together as another joyful sob threatened to clench her.

A pause. Then, her fingers gripped his arm firmly, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “It’s just … m-me? Are you certain?”

A redheaded New Yorker of questionable pedigree, former socialite and divorcee, married to a wealthy Englishman and philanthropist. It was certainly an eye-catching combination, he supposed, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Absolutely yes,” he replied, voice breaking at the sight of her tears. He brandished a handkerchief and dabbed them away, pepping her forehead with more kisses all the while. “I’m beyond certain. You have my heart, Connie.”

Gently, he slid the ring onto Constance's finger, sealing their promise beneath the setting sun.

“And you have mine.”

With another kiss, their commitment was sealed.

From afar, the Scrooge manor looked quite vacant. No lights shined from inside, no smoke plumed from the chimney, and no shadows busied themselves beyond the windows. It was almost an uncanny sight.

“Goodness, it looks so ominous from here,” Constance joked, arm-in-arm with her fiancé as the carriage approached the estate. As the sun had dipped below the horizon, and they reentered the scrutinizing eyes of the city limits, they donned all their proper layers.

“It used to always look this dour, I’m shamed to admit,” he said, giving her hand an affectionate pat “We’ll fix that straightaway once we’re indoors. Get a good fire going – well, maybe just some candles. It’s a little warm.”

“Too warm for celebratory glass of wine?”

“Oh, never too warm for that! Especially on such an occasion.”

“I think you’re quite right,” she agreed, eyeing a very muddy Prudence from across the car. She lifted her heeled shoe and gave the mastiff a light tap. “And you need a bath, miss. I don’t think it would be very comfortable to sleep in muddy fur, yes?”

Averting her eyes (as if that made her invisible), she pretended to not hear the woman’s theory. In turn, the couple chuckled at the sight.

The carriage pulled up to the house, right under the light of a gas lamp to provide better visibility. Ebenezer, having redonned his coat and top hat, stepped out with his cane in hand. Then, he helped Constance out. In the process, he glimpsed the sight of the dazzling ring upon her still ungloved hand, and his heart started up again.

The ring also caught the attention of the driver, who let out a whistle. “Oi, hearty congratulations ar’ in or’da to ye both!”

After a few last goodbyes, the driver tipped his hat one last time and wheeled himself away into the foggy night.

There, they stood before his home, arm-in-arm again. He carried the dirty, rolled-up blanket and while carried their now empty basket.

After a glimpse to make sure they were truly alone on the quiet street, they shared a lingering, public kiss. It was the kind that always sent Beryl and her boys reeling when they did it outside the privacy of their bedroom.

As they parted, he offered her a grin and squeeze of the arm.

“Welcome home, Mrs. DoGoode-Scrooge.”

She returned his affection with a gleaming smile of her own. She noted that he’d included her maiden name, her father’s name, in the title. If possible, that sentiment was the final, stone-enforced in the proud, tall tower of certainty.

“It is my honor to bear the name, and have the heart of the man who gave it to me,” she replied.

Giggling like excited teenagers, they shimmied up the stone stairs leading to the massive front door. He fished out the substantial key from his coat pocket and slipped it in, the tumblers of the lock giving way with the same, comforting melody they always had.

They opened the door, expecting the same darkness within that they’d glimpsed from the outside.

Yet, once the door opened, the room lit up as the gas-burning chandelier roared to life. The rest of the wide foyer was decorated with glittering, gold crepe paper and vases bursting with fresh lilies, daisies and sunny daffodils from the flower market.

Friends and family stood shoulder to shoulder around the circumference of the room, clapping and cheering as they came through the door.

The Cratchit children jumped up in greeting from behind one of the chamber’s marble-top tables, and Beryl’s gang of boys cheers from the railed hallway overhead, clapping and cheering as if they’d just watched an amazing stuntman at one of the London fairs.

“Surprise!”

Magda, looking pleased as punch, uncorked a bottle of icy prosecco from the cellar with a swift yank of the corkscrew. “There you are, the two turtledoves!”

Tim, who saw Scrooge as a second father, ran to the man and hugged him. “Congratulations, Mr. Scrooge! You’re gonna be a good husband, I know it!”

He was too overjoyed to be stunned for long, the man’s heart melted as he returned the boy’s hug with a tight embrace of his own. “Thank you, my boy.”

“Congrats, Miss Connie,” the blond boy turned and said sweetly. “You’re going to be a mighty pretty bride.”

She dabbed at the corner of her eyes with her fingertips. “Thank you, Tim.”

“C-Can we see your ring?” Kathy asked timidly, fiddling with the end of one of her braid as she approached.

“Yes, the ring!” Martha echoed excitedly, her chignon bouncing as she danced closer.

Constance nodded and held her hand aloft. Immediately, an audience gathered around her.

“Blimey, girl, that’s a stunner,” Tom Jenkins noted, appraising the gem with a keen eye. “Good job, mate.”

“Oh, it’s positively beautiful, uncle!” Harry agreed, before breaking away to pull the former curmudgeon of a man into a teary bear hug. “I-I never thought I’d see the day! My uncle getting married to a woman he loves! Oh, the way my mother must be smiling now!”

“H-Harry, ow.”

Meanwhile, Bob and Ethel embraced Constance tightly, Ethel pecking her cheek joyfully. “Oh, a wedding! I hope you know that Hela and I would be absolutely enthralled to help, my pet.”

“Indeed,” said woman agreed, her earrings jingling in agreement as she nodded her head. “I know you’ve done this before in New York – getting married I mean, but it’s intimidating to do in a new country! I would be honored to provide the names of those Harry and I worked with and found pleasant. I’m also happy to share a list of those I did not enjoy working with, haha.”

“Oh, that would be very helpful! Thank you both, truly.”

Constance then turned her attention to Magda, smirking and giving out crystal flutes of prosecco to guests.

She paused at Constance, their eyes meeting in a moment of understanding. The redhead flew to embrace her tightly, skirts swinging around her ankles. “This morning. You knew.”

Magda patted the redhead’s back affectionately. “I did, love. I’ve known for a while, in fact.”

“Have you?”

“I knew it the day you came to live with us,” she said, “The day your former husband’s boat left that dock, I knew you’d never leave. I know I’m always right, but I’m extra pleased about it this time.”

She laughed airily, but the way her grip tightened was sincere in the deepness of her gratitude. “Thank you.”

Nodding between happy tears, Ebenezer came behind Constance to lay a delicate hand upon her shoulder. She stepped away at that moment, now wanting to detain Magda for uncomfortably long, and accepted a flute of celebratory bubbly eagerly. She also passed one to Ebenezer, who kissed the top of her hand in thanks.

Errol, Magda’s ballet dancer husband, passed out cider to the young children in small, purple-tinted glasses. He’d also had the good sense to wrap Prudence in a thick pestemal to protect the guests. It would take only one shake for the guests, and wallpaper, to become polka-dotted in pattern.

Once all the glasses were passed out, Ebenezer hoisted his high. Everyone followed, anxious for the former miser’s toast.

“Everyone, to each other,” he said, wrapping an arm around Constance’s waist and glancing down to meet her gaze. “To second chances and new beginnings.”

She then glanced around the room, taking care to make eye contact with each smiling face. Each person who had helped her. Each soul that had believed in her, and her redemption.

“To second chances and new beginnings,” Constance agreed proudly, tapping her glass against his. “And all those who help us find them.”

Thank you to everyone for your support, likes, comments and more: @quill-pen, @crimson-phantom-designs, @thedivinelights, @alolaamii, @bluestarliight, @vixx-ari, @ray-painter, @shipshroom, @akitauma, @blueapplesiren,

I see you and appreciate you! <3

[valsnonsense]

Prince Finley Heath of Techno

Parents: King Trollex and John Dory Heath

Siblings: N/A

Age: 13

Pronouns: He/Him

Sexuality: Questioning

Genre: Undetermined

Voice Claim: N/A

The only son of King Trollex and John Dory, and sole heir to the Kingdom of Techno. Shy, reserved, and unsure of himself and his title, Finley is known as the "Prince of Silence".

Finley is one of the most unique Trolls to have been born, as he was born without vocal chords. Extensive research has been done as to why his vocal chords never grew properly, but nothing has been determined. As a result, Finley speaks using sign language, and usually is seen with someone who can interpret for him.

Because he has no voice, Finley often hides himself from the public eye. He's incredibly shy and hates being out for all to see. The only time he comes out is when he's with his fathers', and he often hides behind them as they walk or swim around Techno Reef.

Finley is often seen reading stories in his spare time, specifically stories about the history of music. He hopes that by reading about it, it will help him understand music. So far it hasn't worked, but it has made him quite knowledgeable about history, and he can answer almost any question about any musical history.

Finley is very close with his dads. Even though he doesn't have a voice, Trollex and JD adore Finley. He's their little miracle, and nothing could ever change that. Despite the judgement that he receives from the general population due to the fact that he can't sing, Finley and his dads are super close.

Music wise, Finley is one of the few Trolls with no connection to any kind of music whatsoever. Because he has no vocal chords, Finley can't sing at all. He can't seem to get a handle on instruments or mizboards either. A lot of Finley's self-worth issues are caused by this, has many Trolls have high expectations for a royal troll's musical talent. The only musical skill Finley has a handle on is dancing, and even that's a strained skill. He mostly taps his feet along to the beat, like his body wants to do more, but can't as it is.

Finley currently resides in Techno Reef alongside his family.

Fun Facts!

When Finley turned 10, JD gifted him a caterbus egg laid by his own beloved Rhonda. Finley named her Lasi after a character from one of his favorite books. Since she’s so small, she spends her time curled up in Finley’s hair, spending her time resting so she grow bigger.

Finley’s closest friend is his cousin, Iris. The two actually hatched on the same day, hence them spending so much time together. Iris is Finley’s main interpreter, and is often seen near him.

Finley wears a giant sweater to hide his rainbow colored arms. The rainbow on the arms is representative of the Techno Royal Family, and Finley hides to his out of shame due to his inability to sing and his lack of understanding of Techno music.

Finley has incredibly twitchy feet. He doesn’t understand why, but he’s never been able to keep his feet still. He feels like he needs to be doing something with them, like dance, but not like others do. It frustrates him to no end.

And that's my JD/Trollex baby!! Also HI IM NOT DEAD LOL

Sorry this took so long, I got the seasonal depressions hdbcjdbcfh

At long last, we meet the main character of my AU, Prince Finley! A sweet little baby who doesn't understand music like other Trolls do. Finley's vocal chords are severally underdeveloped, making it physically impossible for him to sing, much less speak. I've got big plans for this little guy~

I swear I'll try to continue uploading more often, but life's been tough djxbjdbdh

No voice example cuz he got no voice hdhdbdb

[melis-writes]

Hello Melly, I started watching a film by Malena and her story is very sad, she is mistreated and abused by men and women just because of her beauty, if it seemed that in her place it was Victoria where it takes place in Sicily, some man try to touch her and then find out that she is a Don's wife and what would Michael do, because we know that Victoria is very attractive and attracts attention too, it's just an idea.👀

Ooh yes, Malena! I haven’t seen it but I did skim through it a while ago and from what I already saw, yeah, it’s pretty depressing. 😢 In the Godfather book, there’s a mention that in Sicily if a man went to flirt/touch/seduce another man’s wife, it would result in death if I remember correctly, sooo… 😳

She is Everything.

You, it was always you. You never cease to amaze Michael in any regard and the things Michael loves and admires about you only continues to grow years on into your marriage.

From your motherhood and giving birth to five children to your kind and compassionate teaching that’s only an extension of how you treat others around you to who you are as a person with all your skills, talents and intellect—Michael’s always known for you to be his one and only.

Just as Michael’s aware of your professional reputation, your career’s experience and your influence as Don Ferrari’s daughter all attracting attention, he’s also aware of your beauty doing the same.

Everything from your hair down to the shape of your cheekbones, jawline, your lips, your supple skin, height, figure and how you carry yourself radiates and intensifies your beauty.

Naturally, Michael wasn’t your only potential suitor in the past and curious eyes and gazes are impossible to be ignored every now and then as you’ve noted.

In Sicily, everything’s completely different. As an attractive young woman who carries herself well, you attract double the attention consistently than you have anywhere else.

Passerby’s let their gaze linger over your longer, heads will turn just to take another look at you from men and women alike, compliments from old women praising your beauty and shopkeepers mesmerized by you mid conversation were certainly not expected by neither you nor Michael.

Michael will never deny his wife is beautiful and a sight to behold; he knows this himself and firmly believes in it, and in the small town of Corleone where a new face appears only every now and then, there’s no helping the curiosity swarming around you.

You pretend for the vast majority of it that you don’t recognize the looks, stares or changes in body language towards the individuals you speak and engage with, although you do remain flattered.

It’s positive attention that doesn’t manifest towards anything else or come to bother you in any way, but it does spike up your shyness every now and again.

Michael sees it very differently, however. One may gaze and look upon you as long as they don’t follow you or make you uncomfortable in any way. The curiosity can’t be helped and neither can the attraction towards you, but everything else can.

At the end of the day for as far as Michael’s concerned, you’re his and he’s yours. The same can be said about Michael’s striking attractiveness as well, but he’s grown far more than accustomed to ignoring attention from any woman that isn’t you and Michael can’t possibly care less either.

Because of that, Michael prefers to be with you in the streets and marketplaces of Sicily to spend time with you and be by your side; holding your hand in public or keeping his hand wrapped around your waist. If the wedding band on your ring finger isn’t seen by those curious eyes, your husband will be.

“Oh, they’re right next to each other,” you let out a soft laugh, looking up to see the local herb store next to the fruit market. “How convenient.”

“Mhmm,” Michael nods—his hand laced with yours. “What are you missing?”

“Honestly, a little bit of everything,” you tell him. “I’ll buy the herbs by the bag and put them in containers at home for safekeeping so we don’t run out. Ooh, and darling,” you turn towards the fruit market, pointing at it. “Vincent and James absolutely adore peaches. Could you get some too with the rest of our list?”

“I’ll handle it, darling,” Michael nods. “I’ll be right there if you need me.”

“Okay, baby,” you blush, pecking a kiss over Michael’s cheek before letting go of his hand and stepping into the herb store.

From time to time since you landed in Sicily weeks back, you’ve been popping into local shops and stores every now and then to pick up groceries and deli meats—stocking up on herbs and various spices.

It’s not the first time you’ve been to this small herb shop, but that the fruit market has opened up stall right next to it which makes it all the more convenient for you and Michael to get your weekly grocery shopping done together.

As always, an elderly man who you assume owns the shop remains behind one of the tills—giving you a polite smile and working away on polishing the countertop whereas his younger grandson, Bruno—a man in his late twenties who assists him by weighing and packing all the herbs is to be seen there again.

“Hello, Miss Victoria,” Bruno greets you as always, unaware of your last name or any other details about you other than how often you come to shop, your first name and of course, what you look like.

“Hello,” you say back politely, slowly began to wander around the store and let your eyes search for packs of herbs neatly stored on shelves against the walls throughout the entire shop.

“It’s good to see you again,” Bruno carries on the conversation, smiling and stepping out from behind the till. “We missed you last week.”

“Did you?” You turn your head to face him, smiling. “I was on holiday in Rome with my family.”

“Oh, how wonderful,” Bruno’s eyes light up. “How was your trip? I hope it went safe and well,”

“It did, thank you. It was lovely,” you attempt to focus on the bags of herbs before you rather than get too consumed in insistent small talk.

“There is a new glow about you, I could tell,” Bruno adds, admiring your figure from head to toe. “Relaxation and vacation is always good.”

You pick out a bag of paprika and dried basil, setting them down on the counter as Bruno quickly moves back to you, continuing to talk. “As I had once said, you’re our best customer. We’ll miss you if you leave Sicily. You know, I hear all the stories about America—” he begins to weigh the herbs. “The American Dream and everything in it, but this is also your home, yes?”

“It is,” you nod, putting a bag of rosemary on the counter too. “It always will be.”

“I wish you would stay longer,” Bruno says to you, causing your eyes to widen a little bit from his forward statement.

Even Bruno’s father momentarily looks up, feeling the secondhand embarrassment of his grandson attempting to pitifully flirt with you.

“Then you would have all the time to connect back with our homeland and roots. It would be good for you here in Corleone.”

“How do you know I’m from Corleone, exactly?” This sparks up your attention—as nothing’s been said about where in Sicily you’re from versus where you’re staying other than the United States.

Carrying a small bag filled with a variety of fresh fruit and extra peaches, Michael smoothens out the side of his hair before walking back to approach the herb shop and wait for you.

“I can tell,” Bruno takes your hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Everything about you tells me your hometown is Corleone, like mine. I can tell from your Sicilian beauty.”

From where Michael stands, he can see clear through the window that you remain at the till with the bags of herbs that you’ve picked out but it’s Michael’s gaze instantly hardening at the sight of the merchant inching so close to you, let alone touching your hand that makes him approach.

“I’ve got a trained eye,” Bruno grins, “we see some many people everyday. Some tourists, some locals.”

“I see,” you pull your hand back, watching Bruno bag your herbs.

Michael pushes through the door of the herb shop, making eye contact with Bruno’s grandfather first who drops the cloth he was using in his hand to polish the counter in shock.

Bruno’s grandfather stares back at his grandson in worry in hopes he won’t attempt to flirt or embarrass himself further in front of your husband, but Bruno can’t even get his eyes off of you to look up and worry about Michael in the first place.

“Not many women as beautiful as you come by to—”

“Hi, darling,” you smile up at Michael who now remains by your side, cutting off anything further Bruno has to say with just one look.

“Just about finished?” Michael asks you in a calm voice, beginning to ignore Bruno.

“Just about,” you hand Bruno the exact amount of money in cash as Michael takes the herb bag off the counter.

“What’s your name?” Michael asks a dumbfounded Bruno.

“Bruno, sir,” Bruno stammers back.

“Is this your store?” Michael continues to ask, lacing his free hand with yours.

“Oh no, this shop belongs to my grandfather, I just help—” Bruno turns to look at his grandfather, only to notice he’s gone and in the back of the store already to refrain from further humiliation and fear. “I just help him out sometimes.”

“I see,” Michael ends it off at that, nodding at you as you both begin to exit the shop side by side.

Bruno frowns, watching Michael give your forehead a kiss before leading you out of the store and back out into the marketplace’s streets when Bruno’s grandfather bursts back into the front of the store from the back room.

“We’re dead!” Grandfather exclaims, “we’re dead! Do you know that?”

“What?” Bruno blinks, stepping forward. “Grandfather, calm down. What’s the matter with you?”

“Bruno, what did I tell you? What did I tell you?” Grandfather wails, resting his palm over his forehead. “You just couldn’t keep to yourself and keep your mouth shut, could you?”

“What? Oh, with her brother or her—”

“Brother?!” Grandfather cries out, “that is her husband! Do you not recognize him?”

Bruno freezes in his spot, thinking momentarily. “I… I don’t know. I’ve never seen him, I didn’t even know that was Miss Victoria’s husband, I just assumed—”

“Your assumptions will get you killed, boy!” Grandfather scolds, “that is Don Corleone’s wife! It is as clear as day! From America! And what do you do? Disgrace us all in front of him by touching his wife? Tell me, boy. Tell me you did not do it before, that you were mistaken—” Grandfather puts his hands over Bruno’s shoulders. “That you were just making silly, harmless conversation with this woman when I was not in shop! Tell me you wouldn’t do this!”

“Grandfather—” Bruno’s breath hitches, “I d-don’t know. I don’t know. She comes here sometimes, I see her, I try to talk to her—”

“No, you can never try to talk to her like that! You should lower your head in shame when you speak with the Don’s wife—with any woman,” Grandfather shakes his head. “So many come in here, so many bachelorettes your grandmother knows of in the villag and yet her? This woman above you and why?”

“Because she’s everything,” Bruno confesses, feeling his eyes prickle with tears. “Don’t you see her?”

“And you’re nothing,” Grandfather frowns, “nothing now like me. I am nothing. We are nothing, because the Don’s men will pay you a visit for what you’ve done.”

[rjthirsty]

To Protect My Love

Gilbert/Dahlia (OC) Dahlia/Roderic

Words: 4.7k

Tags: Spoilers! Gilbert Main Route Spoilers! No Smut. Spoilers right off the bat.

Gilbert waited impatiently in his room, confined to his bed once again, drudging up unpleasant memories of his childhood. He had always been a sickly child, and grew into a sickly adult, his life expectancy cut shorter and shorter the more he pushed his body past what it was reliably capable of. Something he was okay with happening. It was his goal, after all, to remove the ruling class, to cleanse this world of the corrupt which came from having power.

But then she asked him to live.

Dahlia, the little rabbit that had captured his attention years before, a traveling book salesman - a friend from his childhood - had told him stories of a good-natured young girl, who grew into a virtuous young woman. And he had grown interested in what sort of world she could create if she had been in his place instead of him. What would have happened if she stayed pure and continued to love people rather than turn to violence and bloodshed like he had?

He was still writing that story. He was still watching her and seeing if she could truly change the world with her good heart. Somewhere along the way, he fell in love, despite knowing he had weeks left to live. And surprisingly, somewhere along the way she also fell in love. Now Gilbert was watching her with Dahlia at his side.

He whisked her away to Obsidian, and gave her the opportunity to put her bid for peace into practice. Along with that plan, she begged him to live. He wouldn’t know if she could make the world a better place without seeing it himself, she had said. So he did what he had been refusing - he went through with an experimental surgery to help his imperfect heart. Walter, his physician, wasn’t even certain if the surgery would be a success, but he was sitting in bed now, recovering, and it seemed his life might just continue on a little longer.

Was it a blessing, or a curse, he wondered.

Gilbert truly loved the little rabbit.

He hadn’t expected things to turn out this way. There was a plan in place since he was a young boy, one he put into motion himself. He had once heard about a noblewoman replacing her sick child with a boy who looked the same as him, and he thought it was a brilliant idea in order to keep his mother and older brother, Albert, from being sad about his passing. So he had found a boy who looked nearly identical to him, and trained him to be so much like him that no one could tell. That was the day he started wearing the eyepatch, to cover one of the few inconsistencies the two of them had.

It worked so well that at this moment he was out there handling matters the Supreme Emperor of Obsidian would be handling. Matters Gilbert would normally be handling if he was not recovering from life saving surgery.

Dahlia knew– of course she would know. She saw through most people, and it seems she saw through Roderic even without knowing the secret he had under his eyepatch. Since then, Gilbert had revealed his heterochromatic eye to her, but like his illness, only Walter and Roderic had known about this defect of his before she was included. Yet she had known from the moment Roderic had portrayed himself as Gilbert that it wasn’t really Gilbert, and that was fascinating to him.

It did, however, bring with it some additional complications. Mainly that she was now his wife in name, titling herself as the Empress of Obsidian, and because she knew that Roderic was an imposter posing as the Emperor, she tended to portray a cold and distant relationship between the two of them– between public Gilbert, and his wife, Dahlia. It was a problem. They couldn’t act like strangers - as much as he loathed to consider that another man would put hands on his lover, Roderic was an extension of him, and appearances should be kept.

What would happen if someone tried to step in while he was confined to his room? Roderic would kill without hesitation, that was certain. But to think anyone would consider him weak enough that someone could claim his little rabbit made his bloodlust malleable. It would flare unintentionally when his thoughts wandered, and according to Walter, it was one of the reasons his healing was taking time.

Just like the two of them were taking their time answering his summons, Gilbert thought to himself. He’d have to add this to the punishment he was already concocting for Dahlia. She hadn’t yet taken part in what she was going to be punished for later, but she would. His wishes were absolute - she knew that, and she accepted it.

Roderic was the first to enter Gilbert’s room. It was a strange feeling to see yourself across the room, but if Gilbert had to put a name to the feeling, it would probably border on delight. Roderic was impeccable in his faux persona, and Gilbert was sure he would easily fool anyone– anyone but Dahlia and Chevalier, it seemed. But that was to be expected. He was sure Roderic would easily pass in front of any of the other Rhodolite princes, and anyone in his own kingdom would accept him as well.

There was a moment that Gilbert wanted to be mischievous, to have Roderic take up his spot in bed and he could hide behind one of the many bookshelves throughout his room. He wanted to see how long it would take Dahlia to realize they’d changed places. Teasing his little rabbit was one of his favorite pastimes. But the moment passed as soon as Roderic kneeled before him, supplicating himself.

“...You called, my lord.” Roderic spoke in his own manner, not the way that Gilbert had taught him in order to replicate himself. He fell into this habit every time they exchanged words, even when wearing Gilbert’s clothes and looking the part.

“We’re waiting on our wife.”

The way Gilbert had said ‘our wife’ planted an uncomfortable seed in the back of Roderic’s mind. He was aware he was not Gilbert, despite currently portraying himself as the man. He was merely a stand in, a copy, there to keep up appearances until Gilbert could once again resume his reign as Emperor. And if Gilbert passed away, he was to continue to keep up appearances - but he knew he would never be a match for the man himself.

Roderic nodded and rose from his kneel. “We’re hearing reports of issues near the southern border. The open trade treaty has spurred several nobles into–”

“We’ll deal with the filth later. Something else is more pressing.” Gilbert interrupted. “Roderic, how do you feel about Dahlia?”

Gilbert’s dark red eye was steady on Roderic, and Roderic could feel the malice emanating off of Gilbert. He had been in the presence of Gilbert’s bloodlust more times than he could count, and knew by now how to manage against it. Though he couldn’t repeat the same paralyzing aura, Gilbert had trained him with it so he wouldn’t falter even against Gilbert himself.

“...The little rabbit is extremely taken with you.”

“Roderic, that is not what I asked.” Gilbert’s displeasure was clear on his face - he wasn’t even wearing his signature smile.

“I…” Roderic was slow with his words as he searched inside himself for his own answer to this question. How did he feel about Dahlia? He hadn’t explored his own feelings into the matter because it didn’t matter how he felt. If she was Gil’s wife, he would treat her with the respect and care she deserved. Anyone precious to Gilbert was precious to him. “I think she is unique.”

“Unique?” Gilbert pressed.

“...Yes. She is unlike anyone I’ve ever met. And she has a way of seeing right to the heart of someone. I experienced it in Rhodolite– she knew almost immediately that I wasn’t you.”

“You admire her.” Gilbert gave a facial shrug as he turned the thought over. “That could work.”

A knock at the door had both men turning their attention to it as Dahlia announced herself and entered. No one bothered Gilbert in his room. Roderic or Walter were the only two who were allowed entrance - and now Dahlia, but the other two didn’t knock politely. Despite Gil’s request for Dahlia to also come and go as she pleased - she was his lover after all - she continued to announce her presence.

The oozing animosity in the air dissipated immediately. Gilbert really was a different man when it came to her. Roderic stole a glance at Gilbert, who seemed to perk up as soon as Dahlia came into the room. It reminded him of the child Gil used to be before everything he loved was taken from him. Roderic had lived through that as well, having already been at Gilbert’s side for several years by that point.

Dahlia’s eyes moved from Gilbert in bed to Gilbert standing by the bed - the two men looked identical. It was surprising each time she saw them together, knowing that they weren’t related at all yet they could pass for twins. Of course, that was the point of it all - she knew that now. She had been filled in on Roderic’s role in Gil’s life not long after finding out about his illness, a secret she shared with only three others - Walter, Roderic, and Gilbert.

Standing Gilbert glanced at Gilbert in bed and Dahlia knew instantly that the real man she loved was not toying with her today, and was taking his rest seriously. She smiled and moved across the room to greet Gilbert, taking a seat on the side of the large bed and pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“Aww, that’s it? You haven’t seen me all day, and all I get is a peck on the cheek?” Gilbert tilted his head in a manner that made him look boyishly charming, his smile devious and unbelievably handsome.

Dahlia knew this game by now, and she gladly played along. She had a feeling he did it for her, gently pushing her to be more receptive to the constant affection he lavished her with, and requesting more from her without demanding it.

“It’s good to see you, Gil. I missed you.” She placed a hand on his cheek, her body temperature much higher than his. His cheek wasn’t as cold as it had been before the surgery, and while she didn’t understand everything dealing with the medical procedure, she knew his warmth meant he was alive and he had a future with her.

“Is that all the love you have for me?” Gilbert leaned into Dahlia’s hand, his one red eye never breaking from her gaze.

She glanced down at his lips, pulled into a smile so gentle that it made her heart ache. Slowly, she leaned in and brushed her lips against his, delicately ghosting a kiss. When she pulled back to look at him again, she stopped only inches away, just enough to be able to see eye to eye with him.

“No more than that.” She whispered, aware that Roderic was standing within arm’s reach of the both of them.

While Gilbert didn’t seem to mind an audience, Dahlia wasn’t used to displaying physical intimacy with anyone else who could see her. It had been a shock with the way Gil had hugged and hung on her the day after he brought her to Obsidian, unconcerned about who might witness their closeness. They weren’t even lovers at the time. They weren’t anything at that point. Yet he treated her like they had been long time friends, and more than that on occasion.

Gilbert slowly blinked, and the warmth that radiated from him disappeared. He continued to smile, but the smile had changed from being genuine to his practiced, unreadable mask. The way he straightened away from leaning into Dahlia’s touch was more felt by her than seen, and yet she understood the distance he was putting between them. She watched him, studying his face for an answer and unable to come up with one, knowing something had changed drastically in the last few seconds. It wasn’t like him to pull away from her, even when she set her boundaries. He respected her wishes– more than that, he seemed to do everything in his power to make them a reality, and never had she been punished for wanting to keep their intimacy between the two of them.

“Gil?” Dahlia asked as she brushed her thumb against his cheek.

Gilbert took her hand from his face and brought it towards his mouth where he sunk his teeth into her flesh, biting her roughly. Dahlia hissed through her teeth at the sudden pain, but just after she sucked in the breath, it floated back out of her in a soft sigh as Gilbert caressed the spot he had bit with his tongue, easing the pain into pleasure.

Biting was a sign of affection from Gilbert - or at least that’s what he claimed. He also claimed that he didn’t bite anyone besides Dahlia, and knowing how much he detested lies, Dahlia had to assume it was the truth. Still, it was another thing that she was getting used to, never having been the type to enjoy being hurt - but something about being the only one made it special and she was finding the love bites easier to deal with each time he set his teeth on her and marked her.

“Little rabbit, do you love me?” Gilbert questioned as he released Dahlia’s hand.

“Of course.” Dahlia blinked in confusion. “Why the sudden question? Have I given you the impression otherwise?”

“No,” Gilbert chuckled, his voice softening a little. “I’m aware of how your heart beats only for me. However…” The bed-ridden emperor looked past Dahlia to his mirrored image. “Roderic, you ask her the same.”

Dahlia and Roderic both went wide-eyed. Roderic shook his head and took a step back. “I can’t do that.”

Dahlia spun to look at Roderic, finding his face twisted in as much confusion as she was feeling. It was a look so unwholly like Gilbert that it made the entire situation seem even more unreal to her with Roderic dressed in Gilbert’s usual wear and being completely unlike the man she loved.

“You will.” Gilbert commanded in an even tone.

With eyebrows furrowed, she studied Gil, trying to understand what the point of this was. Suddenly, her heart lurched and her stomach dropped, the confusion gave way to fear so powerful that she instantly broke into a cold sweat. “Are you…” She whispered hoarsely, the words refusing to form in her tight and dry throat.

Gilbert met Dahlia’s gaze and continued to smile without answering. He knew it was a terrible thing to do. He understood where her thoughts went - that she believed his health wasn’t improving. He was honestly doing better than he ever had in his life, but letting her sit on the misconception that he wasn’t long for this world would make this easier for all of them.

Roderic looked between the two of them staring at each other. It was clear that Dahlia thought the worst was about to take place, and while Roderic wasn’t sure what was going through Gil’s head, the fact that he wasn’t answering meant he didn’t want to change Dahlia’s mind on that. 

His own head was a chaotic mess of conflicting thoughts. He trusted Gilbert more than he trusted himself, and if it was an order, there was a reason for it. He wanted to fulfill any command given to him by Gil, but this felt like crossing a line he shouldn’t be allowed to cross.

Recomposing himself, Roderic looked to Gilbert for one last confirmation. “...Like you?”

Gilbert broke eye contact with Dahlia and gave a nod. “Just so.”

Roderic fell into character, or it would be better to say that he grew into character. Gilbert was a man that could command a room with his presence alone, and Roderic had to mimic that. Despite not actually taking on any size, his aura swelled and filled the space.

Dahlia could feel the pressure from both Gilbert and Roderic being in the same room, portraying the same person. She turned to watch, and while there wasn’t anything she could pinpoint as being different, Roderic looked more like Gilbert than when she had entered the room. His visible eye was the same blood red. His smile was placid and unreadable, just like Gil’s. Holding his cane and wearing his clothes, there was nothing visually that gave him away.

“Little rabbit, do you love me?” Gilbert’s words came from Roderic, but in Gilbert’s voice, in Gilbert’s manner of speech, and even his conversational mannerisms with the tilt to his head and the way he looked at her.

She had seen him do this multiple times by now, but never asking something like that. That was something only Gil asked her - that only Gilbert said to her. It felt wrong to hear it knowing it wasn’t him. But somewhere in her reasonable mind it was telling her that this was right. It sounded just like him, and it looked like him, who would it be if not her lover? Her head and heart were at odds, refusing to agree on what this meant.

“Gilbert…” Dahlia muttered and looked back at the man sitting next to her in bed.

“Uh oh, you should answer him. I hear the emperor of Obsidian isn’t a patient man.” Gilbert said, speaking as if he wasn’t the emperor, and as if Roderic really was him.

Dahlia shook her head, her eyes dropping to the floor. “I don’t want to…”

“Do you see the problem, Roderic?” Gil turned his attention to the faux emperor.

“We’re not a convincing couple.” Roderic responded, keeping up his Gilbert portrayal.

“The Empress doesn’t hold love in her heart for you. There will be messes to be cleaned up.”

“Her safety will be at risk.”

“The filth will look for weakness to exploit.”

“Dahlia?” The two had been speaking to each other in the same voice, in the same manner, and if Dahlia hadn’t been sitting between Gilbert in the bed and Roderic standing a few feet away, she wouldn’t have known who was saying what. But now her name came from the man on his feet, the one who looked and sounded just like Gil but wasn’t him, and it came in such a gentle tone that she knew he was much too human to be her lover.

Dahlia lifted her gaze and set it on Roderic. “What are we supposed to do about it?”

Gilbert leaned into Dahlia, his warm words gusting against her ear and neck. “Make it believable.”

She shivered at his words, her eyes kept on Roderic. Gilbert detested lies. She wasn’t sure she could manage to make something believable while knowing it was a lie. She felt in her heart that it belonged to one man, and that man was not replaceable, no matter what he believed. It was difficult to mimic that closeness with someone who was practically a stranger to her - with Roderic. They weren’t even friends. They barely knew each other. The number of times they’ve spoken could be counted on one hand, and now she was being asked to pretend he meant something to her? It wasn’t possible.

“What if we don’t?” Dahlia turned her eyes on Gilbert. This wasn’t fair of him to ask of her. He knew how she felt.

“You could choose to keep yourself confined to my room.” Gilbert barely moved far enough away that they could see each other, needing less space due to using only one eye. “You won’t be moving about the castle without one of us escorting you.”

“I thought you said the castle was safe.” Dahlia muttered.

“As long as I’m alive, you will be protected.” His words were absolute. He had no doubt that he could manage any situation that came their way, but… “Protected doesn’t mean safe.”

That’s where the problem was for Gilbert. His reach was not without limit. There would be people who would attempt to use Dahlia just to get to him. There already had been attempts to hurt her and he hadn’t even met her at that point. He had been watching out for her for a long time, and now that they were closer than ever before, more people would turn their malice on her.

The thunk of Roderic’s cane echoed eerily through the quiet room as he moved closer. “I’ll make it easy on you. Call it a gift.”

Roderic sat on the bed, thigh to thigh with Dahlia, giving her no room to herself. He set the cane against the edge of the high mattress and scooped Dahlia up into his arms and pulled her onto his lap. Gilbert watched as Dahlia’s eyes flew wide at being suddenly repositioned, and he let out an amused laugh. Dahlia sat stiffly on Roderic’s lap, who wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned his chin against her shoulder, cuddling against her the same way Gilbert often would.

“I won’t hurt you, little rabbit.” Roderic murmured sweetly to her.

Dahlia’s heart thumped roughly into a quick pace, her lover’s voice sounding sweeter than it ever had. Her eyes, however, were trained on her real lover, and his voice was not coming from next to her ear, not from the man who was holding her so tenderly. He was so warm , too. Gilbert had always been cold as ice, but Roderic was alive and warm and with the way he was draped about her it made it extremely noticeable.

“I know.” Dahlia had no doubts about that, even if he wasn’t acting as Gil. She would trust Roderic with her life if it ever came down to it, because she knew how much he cared about Gilbert– HE knew how much she cared about Gilbert, too. The day she had found him posing as Gil and learned who he was, they had cried together over their shared worry for Gilbert’s health. They had connected in a way that two people didn’t often connect.

Thinking of that time, and the position she was in now, tears started to well up in her eyes. If Gilbert wasn’t getting better - if his life was only extended for a few months, hopefully years… That’s still something to be thankful for. She would have to make those years the best years of his life, and keep encouraging him to keep living so she could only make them better and better.

Absently, Dahlia brought her hand up to her shoulder that Roderic was leaning on, her fingers sliding into his dark locks of hair, letting the strands glide between them. His hair was more coarse than Gil’s.

She quickly wiped at her eyes to prevent the tears from falling, then took a deep, calming breath and focused on her posture and body language. ‘Make it believable,’ Gilbert had said. She knew she could do this because Gilbert had asked it of her, and he wouldn’t make requests she couldn’t fulfill. Dahlia leaned into Roderic, forcing herself to relax in his lap. It was a strange thing to her, trying so hard to make it seem like she wasn’t thinking about every little detail and action so she would look as natural with Roderic as she did with Gil.

Roderic’s arms around her waist squeezed lightly, and she felt him press against her. The urge to jump off him was overwhelming, but Dahlia managed to keep her innate reflex tightly under wraps, only tensing slightly in response. “You won’t be biting me, will you?”

“Is that a request?” Roderic sounded amused. Dahlia could feel the way his muscles tensed as he shifted.

“No!” Instead of jerking away from him, she grabbed a fistful of his hair that she had been playing with, holding him in place.

Roderic’s eye went wide as Dahlia tugged his hair, snatching it up to keep him from moving in position to bite her. He wasn’t planning on going through with it, he was just going to toy with her a little. He hadn’t expected her to be so rough in refusing him, and he had to wonder if she was like this with Gilbert - perhaps there were things about Gilbert that even he didn’t know. Did she always talk to him like this? He had never heard it before.

“Dahlia can be bold and demanding when she is set on something.” Gil answered with a laugh, reading the surprise on Roderic’s face.

“The little rabbit has teeth, I should have expected that if she has managed to survive you for so long.”

“You two don’t have to talk about me like I’m not here.” Dahlia huffed, slowly letting Roderic go and rubbing her fingers against his scalp to ease any sort of pain she might have caused. “I just don’t want you biting me… Please?” The last word came out pleadingly.

Roderic felt a twinge of guilt. Gilbert was relentless in his teasing of Dahlia, but clearly he had crossed a line in replicating that. He wanted to make this easier on her by being as close as possible to the real thing, and here he was pushing her limits already. He turned to look at Gil for guidance on whose request he should be listening to.

“That’s a reasonable request.” Gil answered.

“Thank you.” Dahlia sighed with relief. “How long will we have to be like this? I think I can be convincing, but only if there’s an end in sight.”

Roderic remained silent. He was also curious to know how long the charade would go on. As far as he knew, Gilbert was getting better and it wouldn’t be long before he was himself again. While it was important in the interim to keep up appearances, he’d like to offer Dahlia some hope where Gil had decided to let her misunderstand the situation and snuff out that small hope.

“Who can say?” Gilbert kept it ambiguous. Roderic tilted his head at Gil, trying to figure out what it was that was going through the other man’s head. Dahlia all but sunk in Roderic’s lap.

“It won’t be long.” Roderic reassured her. He felt Gil staring at him, giving him a cold look that said he had disappointed the beast. The hairs on the back of his neck responded to the sudden discontent, but he kept his composure and pretended he didn’t notice the emperor’s disapproval.

“Then we’re done for today?” Dahlia pushed herself out of Roderic’s lap before either man could answer. “I have an idea of what needs to be done.”

She rounded back towards the bed and sat next to Gilbert again. It wasn’t lost on anyone the way her hand clung to his sleeve, or the way she leaned into him. The whole ordeal had certainly caused a chaotic tempest of emotions inside her, and yet she continued to look only vaguely distressed. She was learning to better school herself around others.

“For today,” Gilbert agreed.

He wrapped his arm around Dahlia and pulled her against his chest, leaning his head down to rest his cheek on the top of her head while her ear was pressed against his heart. The wound wasn’t yet healed, not surprising with the size of the incision needed for his surgery, but even the pain that came from him squeezing her against his chest was minor compared to the pain he had been living with his entire life. And he would suffer through it and more for the woman in his arms.

Dahlia had put on a brave front and worked through her own reluctance to perform what he had asked of her. He could feel her emotions trembling even though her body wasn’t. The rapid beating heart of a rabbit caught in the arms of a beast just endeared her more to him; he knew who it was that truly conquered who in their relationship. Perhaps he could forego the punishment he had planned, this time.