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cinnamoon-roll2 · 8 months ago

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The Famished Doctor and Their Devoted Ghost

Danny takes on a new murder case for the Roseville Gazette that people presume is his, but he's never taken the organs of his victims. His curiosity gnaws at him, he needs to know who is this new homicidal partner he shares the town with, and who is this new girl that's making him doubt about his future plans.

Chapter 3: So… Wanna be friends…?

Chapter summary: Quick fatigued breaths were what they both shared at that moment, their gazes under their respective masks were focused on each other, what they were going to do at that moment.

Chapter Trigger Warnings: explicit mention of murder, cannibalism and violence, a crow and a ghost fighting, authors voice kink showing, slight mention of SA

Wc: 4,7K

AO3 Link. Previous Next

Taglist: @mariamyousef702 , @weaponxgames

Their gazes met for it felt like a thousand seconds, Fanny felt the adrenaline release in her blood system, her mind started racing a hundred miles an hour, God, if she existed, what would she do now, run, fight, or start fangirling over meeting the other famous murder in town.

She watched as Ghostface cocked his head curiously at the position he was in, she gave a quick glance at the prosciutto to verify that he could no longer move anything but his eyes or his breathing. She raised her hands in surrender in the direction of the ghost, before taking a quick jog towards the bathroom of the flat.

Danny didn't understand what a person dressed as a plague doctor was doing in his victim's appartement, he had been watching him for a week and a half, he paused two days of watching him because he was trying to gather more information about Luna, he wanted her to be his brightest star (yes he understood that the moon was a natural satellite, even so, the context was understood), which would make him remembered and feared for the rest of Roseville's history. Curiously he made that little gesture, which he couldn't help making every time he didn't understand something, he tilted his head at the image in front of him, he saw the doctor raise their hands in front of him in a sign that they were not a threat to him.

As he was about to enter to come face to face with this mysterious individual, they began to run away from him towards a room in the flat. As he entered the room he noticed how John was lying on the floor, he approached him and moved him with his boot, he only noticed the terror in the eyes of this robust man, he looked so weak, exposed, so powerless, in a different situation he would have laughed at him for the situation he was in, but now he had to focus on trying to make the other character come out of their hiding place.

Before approaching where they had gone, he wanted to investigate more about whatever the person had done in the place, first he went to the kitchen, he didn't see anything very out of the ordinary, until he saw two black boxes, he knelt down next to those boxes and noticed that one was a cooler and a leather briefcase, When he opened it he saw many medical tools that seemed to be used to extract something or operate on someone, oh who would have thought that his luck had finally changed, he had already found the beloved organ sucker, a little nickname that had occurred to him with the facts that he had seen the first time he met this individual, now he understood why they both went for John.

Both saw that he was a perfect specimen, in the case of the organ sucker, since he was healthy, they must have been looking for excellent quality content. What he was looking for in that typical high school jock was a challenge, he needed something that would revive his assassin essence, something that would make him feel that adrenaline rush he was addicted to, that would make him feel the satisfaction of seeing all his senses fill with red, and then ruin his reputation after he was dead, revealing how he had no respect for women, how he had more than once taken advantage of the fact that he had to escort the drunken housewives of millionaires back home, the very thought of it caused him a mortal disgust that would make him want to stab him all at once and not even wait for the other killer.

However, now he could no longer see any fun in this scenario, John was totally paralysed, he didn't prove to be a fucking threat to him, now what fun would it be to stab him if he couldn't even seem to speak, let alone cry for help or mercy He sighed at this fact, he was distracted by hearing a loud moan, which caused him to cringe, yes he could have carnal desires, but at this level of letting everyone know that you had someone to satisfy them, that was disturbing the poor lives of others. Keeping that disgust he continued towards John's main room, there he saw a very clever move, it was a small speaker that sounded very loud, what a clever guy. If John struggled with it, he had no way of disguising what was going on, but this cunning little organ sucker was bringing a distraction, God this guy is unbelievable, should he take him out or ask for an alliance? Fuck, he didn't know what to do with this madman, but he seemed like an excellent addition to Roseville. He was about to approach the speaker to see how much playback he had left until he heard a door opening.

Steam was all he could see through his mask, he felt his breathing quicken in that state of panic, he paced in circles in the small space that was the bathroom, he paced and paced in that nervousness. Her brain was screaming between all the divisions inside her, she listened to the thousands and thousands of ideas that were formulating in her head. What will be the damn solution of this matter?

She untied the mask straps to improve her breathing, turned her gaze to the mirror, looked at her light blue eyes full of despair. She looked at the inside of her mask, seeing the bundle of herbs at the end of the spout, inhaled sharply before taking some toilet paper to clean the lenses of the mask. When she was satisfied with the result of her cleaning, she placed it back on her face.

She decided to take a seat on the toilet seat reflecting a little more deeply on what she was going to do with her life at this point, it was time to be positive, positively she was going to get out of that flat without getting hurt, no that was a clear lie, fuck, damn brain think what the hell are you going to do at this point.

She in her reflection managed to hear Ghostface's footsteps outside her hideout, from the direction she assumed he was going to John's room, maybe if she were quick enough, she could run away from that situation, no she couldn't her cruel life hadn't bred a coward, she continued to take deep breaths. She had decided; it was time to face the lion in the room.

The door opened, Ghostface immediately peeked out from the entrance to see what was going on there, both were surprised as the first time to find themselves face to face again, again they were facing each other with the same gesture, the stoic raven mask and the permanent scream tilted in curiosity, or was it confusion, it was uncertain. The tension between the two felt too thick, so thick that either of them could cut it with a knife.

"I seem to have taken the one who appeared to be your next victim, shame on me for getting in your way." She held up her hands in a sign of peace, as she watched Ghostface who was still in that stoic position, who seemed not to move his head and continued to watch from that position. "This is a very strange way of a first impression, I hope that a good relationship will be achieved between us, Mr. Ghostface." She moved her hands, one behind her back, the other to the front waiting for a handshake.

But of course, not everything can go as smoothly as it seems, if her reflexes had not saved her, she would have surely received a nice stab in her right hand, reflexively jumping to her right side, she took a big step to be on the other side of the sofa. At that moment she needed to keep as much distance from the other man as possible. She saw out of the corner of her eye John's motionless body in the middle of the kitchen-living room.

She heard Ghostface's boots approaching her position, purely on impulse, pulled her hand to where she had dropped her cane, held it tightly in her left hand and stepped out. She ran towards the window from where she had entered, in the corner of her eye she saw Ghostface following in her escaping. She placed her staff in her belt, and began to climb quickly to the rooftop, she hoped he would last longer climbing and chasing her.

She finally saw the light at the end of this madness, she looked up at last at that flat floor of the small rooftop of the building, she took a good push to get more distance from the ghost. Being about four meters away from the entrance of the staircase she saw Ghostface peeking out, he was peacefully entering the rooftop with his knife in hand. Fucking hell, she was fucked, really fucked.

It was very curious for Danny to see someone who had done something as cruel as harvesting another human's organs run away from his self. As he climbed up to the rooftop he noticed that the medic was a long way from the entrance, it was amusing for him to see how that person who took organs from others was afraid of someone as simple as him, well that was in his words he considered himself just a stalker who finished off his victims in a very artistic way. The raven had reached the edge of where they stood, the crow had no choice but to raise its hands again in surrender. He playfully cocked his head again, he wanted to challenge them to go against him, he wanted to face the reality of this guy, how strong they were, could they go against him, he wanted to see if the organ sucker was what he was looking for, someone strong to look to for inspiration, an alliance or another body to leave tonight.

Fanny had her mind in desperation, if you wanted a reference she felt like thousands of office workers running around like mad trying to save the most important documents from a giant fire in the building, she still had her hands up she had to show a bit of submission to who she assumed to be a man, she still had her cane in her belt and her two knives in each boot, it was a matter of Ghostface letting his guard down and her acting with speed.

Danny still had his trusty hunter's knife in his hand, still holding his head in the same position, he approached with small steps. He had managed to hear the voice of the raven, yet through their mask it was difficult to identify the gender of whoever was under that suit.

Both criminals just stared at each other, again they were in that trance of looking at each other. This was finally broken when the taller of the two lunged at the other, the doctor was quick to dodge him and drew their baton to hit a painful area for Ghostface.

Danny was smart enough to bend down, avoiding the metal of the tip of the baton that his adversary possessed, he tensed his jaw to try again to stab or even graze the raven. The result was again a dodge and another attempt at a lunge for the baton. They went at it for quite a while until the mismatched eyed one decided to play a little dirty and took the staff to push his opponent to the ground causing them to fall to the ground just enough to stab them perfectly.

Even so, he didn't count on something that the raven was quicker to roll to the other side and avoid his attack, just when she was thinking of getting up from the ground she was pulled towards him by the ankle, that pull made her be dragged towards the assassin, the only thing her instincts thought was to throw a kick towards Ghostface's middle abdomen, if she succeeded it would be an accurate hit right in his diaphragm causing him difficulty breathing, his lungs would have spasms that would take all the air out of them.

However, no matter how hard she tried to hit Ghostface in the abdomen, she only succeeded in getting his hand up to her calf, pulling her body harder. With her upper torso still free, she decided to take her staff with all the force she needed for a good blow and threw it at the dominant hand of the man dressed in black, causing the knife to fly out of the man's hand.

Upon the act, the man was taken by surprise, giving the raven a chance to kick him in the face and speed away from him. However, as she was planning to leave, she felt Ghostface also pull her baton away from her. The man slowly picked himself up, the raven was in a perfect attack position to deliver blows to anyone who came at them with speed. He assumed a similar position, taking note of where his knife and the other person's staff were, they were far away from each other, they had no choice but to return to melee.

Fanny stretched her neck sideways, her fists were placed diagonally, the right one in front of the left one, the situation of her legs was the opposite, her strongest leg was the left one, keeping it in that position she could create a quick strike to any part of her adversary's body.

Danny analysed very curiously the posture of the crow in front of him, this person has experience in some martial art, he took a similar but different posture, he used his own posture, he used his fists at the same distance, he kept his legs at the width of his shoulders.

At that moment Fanny decided to take a few quick steps to proceed with a Muay Thai style kick, which was aimed at a person's half guard, liver, and ribs.

Danny managed to run before the impact but managed to grab the woman's calf to make her lose her balance, what surprised him was to see how she took advantage of the situation to pull him to the floor with her body weight.

Both on the floor struggled for who would take control of everything, the raven had managed to position himself on top of the ghost with the intention of taking his wrists to prevent him from dominating the situation again. While Ghostface sought the same point of power.

Both circled the floor in their quest for dominance, though in the end the medic had won again, taking advantage of the situation to deliver a punch to, where she assumed it would be, the man's nose. Danny felt the sting of the blow, though it had been somewhat muffled by the mask.

Fanny quickly got up from where she left Ghostface and went for her cane, she had to get out of this place, she didn't want to keep fighting, she didn't want to get in trouble, maybe she could go from this town to North Carolina, they said the bears helped keeping the bodies from being found by eating them, she could leave this town alone for Ghostface.

"Stop where you are." A deep voice said into the air, sounding before her, that was Ghostface, the voice of the father of death. It sounded synthetic, made through some device she assumed was inside the screaming mask he wore.

She had such a situation in front of her that she could only follow the other guy's order. Danny was in pain as he felt the choppy breaths he took as his nostrils ached from the impact; he had taken a few moments before. He had finally spoken after not saying anything during the long standoff the two of them had had that night.

Sore Danny got up from where he stood, if he had to accept anything it was the raven had good strength and combat experience. He felt some of his joint’s thunder as he stood up, he analysed where they both stood, the raven seemed to have intentions of retreating from the spot, he didn't know whether to be flattered that the organ sucker was terrified of him.

"Well, well, Crow, are you afraid of ol' Ghostface." He said mockingly as he watched the raven still standing stiffly in his place, he now standing fully upright, he played a little with his hands thundering his fingers.

Fanny had her head like a Windows of the moment, stuck and unable to function very well, she felt bad to be stuck between swords, but that deep voice hit that troubled relationship she had with her father, she felt the blush burn the entire strip in the distance between her ears. Fuck me, concentration was what she needed not to be attracted to that maniac. Every word that came out of him mesmerized her, whoever had made the voice synthesizers she was grateful with all her heart.

Danny analysed the raven's body language well; he thought well his words what he was going to say to lighten the situation between the two of them. After some time in his head, he decided to give his opinion on the subject.

" Let's make a little deal little crow, you leave the guy downstairs as good as new, without the shit you put in him, and I'll leave you alone, what do you think?" Ghostface started walking towards where Famine was in her paralysis, she was still in that trance in front of this powerful and dominating being.

"I'm... I'm afraid that the effect of the cocktail of drugs I gave him will take an average of 12 hours to stop being active in the body of the affected person." She said with that nervousness of coming out of being focused on who she had in front of her, her accent was thickening with her stuttering at the start of the sentence. She herself was disgusted to hear that she sounded like someone from Birmingham.

"So, you can talk then, eh, little crow?" Danny mocked at the nervousness the doctor seemed to be displaying, processing a little of the data he had given his person. "I mean you left that idiot paralyzed for almost half a day, and for what?" He questioned as he circled her at least five feet away from her, it was like a predator enclosing its prey in a circle of intimidation.

"It... it facilitates extraction and my work; I don't like the difficulties when it comes to extracting supplies." Fanny explained herself to Ghostface, it was complicated to operate with tensed muscles because of what she had previously done to the victim, she knew that doxacurium chloride was widely used in operations and medical procedures. Besides, in an emergency, she could give them another drug and cause a lethal reaction.

Danny was impressed by the medic's words, so if it was true that they stole the organs of their victims and their medical knowledge was professional, maybe he had a professional in front of him.

"Any other suggestions, Crow, speak now or you won't speak again for a good long while." His patience was slowly wearing thin, this was getting them nowhere, he estimated it was now just a little before 3am, there was almost no time to conclude this.

Fanny heard the anger coming out of him, her mind was still in crisis, so she let it plan as quickly as possible a solution to this conflict.

"An alliance... let's have an alliance, Mr. Ghostface, you can kill the gentleman below, I'll take just a little of his blood, we could inform each other about each other's targets so this event will not happen again." Playing with her hands Fanny speaks in nervousness, which was the only plan she had produced in her mind.

His mismatched eyes did not believe what was coming before them, an alliance was that possible, he had thought it, but it had never occurred to him that it would come true, under his mask he had a very curious facial expression, he was amazed and confused, this organ sucker was a box of surprises.

"Oh, no, no, that good-for-nothing is of no use to me in the fucking condition you left him in, Raven." Ghostface continued to circle the woman as he saw the signs of nervousness in his opponent. "Keep what you already damaged, but next time, I hope you get me a victim just as good as that idiot down there, then you'll have your alliance." He stopped his circling to stand in front of the doctor, cocking his head again to convince him.

Fanny was shocked by the fact that the stupidest plan her head had ever made in a moment of stress, she took a deep breath, she nimbly mulled over all the pros and cons it would take to start collaborating with this being of evil. She sighed softly proceeding to speak.

"Mr. Ghostface, I find it an excellent deal sir, I really do re-express my apologies about this incident." Fanny played a little with her belt, she disliked showing a feeling of weakness at times like these.

Danny was pleased to see the submission that the raven took before his person, it was curious to see how at a few simple words they were already allied.

"Well Raven, gather your stuff, it's time for you to show me if you're worth it." He turned to start going for his knife after it had been ejected from his hands during the fight. He turned to look out of the corner of his eye noticing how the medic took slow steps of hesitation towards where their baton was.

Being the gentleman that he was he decided to let the other go down before him, gradually Famine came down the same staircase they entered. Both went down patiently until they returned to where the future corpse was.

The doctor entering through the window, went to where she had left her briefcase, during the entire process she felt Ghostface's gaze on her back. Her posture was now calmer, she was in her comfort zone, this was what she was dedicated to her could not fail, it had to be perfect, peace, peace that was what she needed.

Her expert hands opened the kit, she extracted her main tools as she sat on her calves next to John's paralyzed body, she saw his terrified look before her, she adjusted her gloves a little, she felt him sweat from the effort he had made during the struggle with Ghostface.

She inhaled deeply to cut John's shirt with the scissors from the kit, she saw the scalpel she had in her dominant hand, she brought it close to the man's neck, a clean cut was what she needed. And that's what she did, she cut the man's jugular vein leaving a container where she began to collect the blood that began to come out of his neck, she heard how the man's breathing began to become difficult, she had to act carefully for what was coming.

She went to the torso, agilely took the scalpel to stick it in the beginning of the sternum and began to lower it to where his hip began, she took out her autopsy scissors to break the man's sternum, took the scalpel and began to cut the connections of the organs she needed for her supplies, took the rest of the vials she brought with her and filled them.

With discretion she turned to see where the other murderer was, he was mesmerized by every movement she made from how she moved her hands on the scalpel, to how she extracted everything from the chest cavity that was edible, to her collection of blood. Turning her focus back to her work she pulled out the thread and her metal needle to proceed to sew up the opening she had made in the man, with her hand she steadily began to penetrate the skin and cell the damage she had done to it. When she managed to finish closing the entire incision in the thorax, she proceeded with the neck incision as she saw a little more than half of the vessel filled with that thick red liquid.

Seeing her work finished she got up from where she was sitting and went for her cooler to put the necessary contents, when she finished, she turned to see Ghostface face to face, waiting for at least a comment on her actions.

"Interesting, you're an excellent surgeon for a bird, Crow." Danny commented observing from his position the retouching the medic had done on the corpse, he was impressed, he needed a picture of this work. "Dear Raven, I hope you don't mind me documenting with a photo your artistic work we have here, do you?" he questioned the other, his only response being a nod.

He pulled out his trusty instant camera, Philly, and proceeded with the captures, he wanted to leave rune on the scene as a small clue that he had also been present at the scene. To Fanny this fact was somewhat strange, why he wished to see and preserve her crime, it would be to later extortion her if things went wrong, but she decided not to comment on it.

"It's time to go, Raven, I hope you are satisfied to know that we now have an alliance, at some point I will give you the details of our meeting points, until the next funeral, dear Raven." Danny being happy with what he had witnessed and documented decided it was time to withdraw from the scene altogether, though he decided to add something before he withdrew completely. "Oh, by the way, a little warning, betray me and you'll end up gutted like a fucking fish, got it. Bye." He modified his tone to emphasize the seriousness of the matter to Famine, made a stabbing gesture with his knife with his hand and proceeded to retreat out the window with that cute "Bye" that elongated the "e" at the end of the expression.

The blue-eyed girl was impressed by what she had experienced that night, she was watching the terrified look of the corpse she had caused, she sighed and went to close his eyelids so he could finally rest after all the stress he suffered that night, she bent down next to the body and lifted it with both of her arms, she took the body and went to John's room to leave him there.

She placed him in a pose where it looked like he was sleeping peacefully, she arranged him and covered him with his sheets, she took out her card leaving it on John's bedside table, she was happy thinking about the recognition that could come out of this.

The downside of tonight was that now she would have to find someone with the same profile as John to make amends for her problem with Ghostface, she would have to balance very well how she used the supplies she extracted from here.

Ha, who would have thought she would now be friends with another serial killer. She had to go to sleep if she wanted to function a bit the next day. She took her items and proceeded to go out the window leaving everything locked, except the door which she had unlocked so it would be easier to find the body.

Now she would love to get to her bed and proceed to go into a comatose state until she had to go to work, unless she gave the excuse that she woke up sick and couldn't go.

Friends, eh, how bad could it be to have a friend.

#danny johnson x reader #dbd x reader #ghostface #ghostface x reader #ghostface dead by daylight #dead by daylight ghostface #danny jed olsen johnson #danny johnson #ghostface dbd #dbd ghostface #slasher x reader #slashers #ghostface x you #ghostface scream #dbd fanfic #dbd x female reader #dbd x you #dbd danny johnson

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camelspit · 7 months ago

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Note! Definition of a sexywoman:

According to the sexywomanpedia, a sexywoman is "a character who shows the 'lanky suitman villain' tropes, is popular with wlw, and/or is highly divisive." Some factors to consider are morality (or lack thereof), overall mysteriousness, and strength (physical or abilitywise.)

Propaganda:

Livvy Sonden:

"shes a mad scientist. she joined the revolution but she thinks secret identities are stupid. she has fabulous fashion sense. what cant she do" @necromycologist

Mai Song:

"She hides.

She hides so much, she hides behind her clear, unbreakable face of utter nonchalance, of pure ice and purer anger, even when all she can do is care. She cares about her kids, despite what's she done and what she'd do all over again. She cares about her husband, and her friends, and the world (she supposes, she's not put much thought into it).

But the thing is, she cares, most of all, about herself. It's hard and it hurts, but she knows that she'd do whatever it takes to survive: she'd hurt and push and claw her way to the top; she's forced her way there before. It's where she belongs, it's where she'll end up when everything is said and done. She doesn't like it. But it's who she is, what she is.

But then it hits her again . . . she cares. Angrily, regrettably, she cares, not just about herself, as much as she'd like to claim. About everyone, and most of all about her family.

Does caring for all of them, combined, equal the total amount of which she cares for herself? Can she fix what she's done and what she will do because even though she values herself most she also values everyone else? Does that count for something?

Will it ever?" @wow-youre-so-pretty

Councillor Zarina:

"idk man she's pretty cool and could electrocute me at will if she wanted" @corruption-exe

Lady Fayina:

"she mysteriously vanished one day and is presumed dead. her body is never found. her memory is buried in kenrics cache. shes so mysterous guys i love her." @camelspit

Grizel the Goblin: None

Councillor Ramira: None

Master Cadence:

"she’s a linguist. she’s a woman in stem. she’s tired of everyone’s bullshit. she’s fruity as hell. her house is cool as fuck (a howls moving castle style boat-thing made of metal that she built herself because she didn’t want to live in the elven cities???? come on). she’s a MASTER. what more could you want." @let-them-sing-of-others

"she’s an academic. shes smarter than u. she hates on the council and she’s RIGHT. she hates sophie actually you know what she has a hater complex but in a hot way. i love her yr honour." @necromycologist

"she spent YEARS researching on ogres and their culture. idk about you, but i would try keeping her in my good graces because she KNOWS ABOUT DEADLY POISON. WHY ARE PEOPLE NOT TALKING ABOUT THIS. I WOULD SHIT MYSELF IF I CAME ACROSS HER IN REAL LIFE EVEN IF IT WAS IN A GROCERY STORE ON A RANDOM TUESDAY AND SHE WAS BUYING OREOS. FOR ALL WE KNOW, SHE COULD HAVE LOADS OF THAT IN HER HOUSE/ON HER PERSON!!" @corruption-exe

"ok not to be a lesbian or horny on main (<- ace) but HOLY SHIT i want her to step on me. this lady has intensified my sexuality crisis" (anonymous)

Want to submit propaganda? Do so here and it will be added in the next round!

#kotlc #keeper sexywoman 2024

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beomgyuslilracha · 2 years ago

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you don't go to parties ☆.* 4

⊹ pairing: choi yeonjun x f! reader

⊹ genre: exes to ... complicated

⊹ warnings: none?

⊹ wc: 4k

summary: back in your college days, you were living at the prime of your life alongside your boyfriend, yeonjun. you couldn't remember most of it, though, considering it was a blur consisting of mostly parties and many drunken nights. eventually, you reached your limit, and you and yeonjun no longer saw eye-to-eye. after many fights and endless tears, you disappeared for good and left that life and your boyfriend behind. but, five years later, yeonjun was still waiting for you at every party.

when the following day came and went with nothing to show for it, you presumed it safe to assume that the secret admirer fiasco was nothing but a complete misunderstanding.

not that you were even remotely surprised. with no card attached or even a clue as to who the silver-haired mystery person was, it only made sense that it all ended up being one big mistake.

that wasn't to say that it wasn't a little disheartening anyway when the next day came along with no delivery at reception.

or the next day.

or the next...

your gaze from the computer monitor traveled over to land on the floral arrangement, which now resided beautifully in a vase atop of your desk. a small sigh escaped your lips as you caressed one of the blooming petals, feeling slightly ridiculous for partially hoping to be surprised with another gift again.

not that it was through any fault of your own! you couldn't remember the last time anyone had gone out of their way to cutely buy you any gifts, so you couldn't help being a little greedy for another.

"do you want me to get you something, y/nie?" kai had asked you that afternoon, having spotted you staring longingly at the reception desk as you walked by — secretly hoping for miss mina to call for you. "i can get you more flowers!"

your frown had quickly perked into an appreciative smile as you looked back over at your adorable friend. "that's so sweet, but you don't need to do that, kai," you assured him, though you felt your heart flip a little at the thought.

"you're right, i should've just done it without telling you." kai's brows furrowed together as if he were truly upset with himself.

this made you laugh as you two entered the elevators, and it was the most beautiful sound kai had ever heard. he loved it even more knowing that he was the reason behind the melody, and he would give anything to do it again and again.

as he silently pondered over what kind of gift he wanted to surprise you with, you made sure to pull out your phone and remind beomgyu to meet you both in their usual practice room.

you and kai had just returned from the KBS broadcasting hall, where kai would be special hosting on music bank this week and beomgyu would be there to determine his place on the k-charts for his most recent EP release.

with work ahead of the three of you for the remainder of the day, you were able to distract your mind from being disappointed about the nonexistence of your 'secret admirer'. even though you pretended you weren't bothered by it, it would still silently sit at the back of your mind as a small 'what if' every time you walked through the lobby.

it was for the better, of course - allowing you to finally focus on more important things and forget all about it.

and you almost did!

up until the next day, when you were strolling into the office to visit kai for a last minute fitting for music bank tomorrow, that your attention was suddenly called for in the lobby.

"miss y/nnn~" mina's sing-song voice called for you from behind reception, her pursed lips finding it difficult to suppress the grin desperately trying to break through.

"yess?" you monotonously mimicked her singing, a little wary of her good mood as you strolled over to the front desk.

it took her no less than a second to reveal a heart-shaped box of chocolates from behind her back. "look who came to deliver another gift for you!" she announced giddily, handing over the sweets into your hesitant hands.

you were more than ready to deny the gift, assuming it to be a mistake yet again, but that's when you noticed the cursive font of your name printed atop of the attached card.

A CARD??

you could feel the pounding of your heart in your eardrums as you stared down at it.

"did- did you happen to recognize who it was that dropped it off?" you found yourself asking, having to pull your eyes away from the card that was practically screaming your name.

"no, i'm sorry, honey," mina apologized. "he was wearing a hat and a mask, but i'm pretty sure it was the same gentleman from last time."

with a slow nod, you smiled politely and quickly bid mina a goodbye, making your way to the elevators in order to read the note without having to react publicly.

what if he left a name?

or maybe a clue to who they were??

before the elevator doors could close, another staff member had raced inside to join you on the way, thus preventing you from being able to read the card in private.

although, it did give you a chance to calm down and think rationally to keep you from getting your hopes up. as you watched the numbered floors slowly increase, you were reminded of the day before when kai had briefly mentioned about getting you a gift himself.

you figured it made far more sense for the gift in your hands to be from kai, considering it conveniently arrived the immediate day after he had suggested such an idea. in which case, you found no harm in peeking at the card's contents with that thought in mind.

with one deep breath, you flipped open the card ... only for your heart to drop in disappointment.

whatever it said before, it was entirely illegible underneath the frustrated scribbles. you couldn't even make out a single character to read anything, leaving only a tiny heart by itself in the only corner that the scribbled mess hadn't reached.

would kai really have written this?

no, of course he wouldn't. you knew kai, and he would have written something adorably cute to make you smile. there was nothing he could possibly say that would permit him to scribble it out so harshly.

was it ... was it really a secret admirer?

you were chewing harshly on your bottom lip as you first rushed to the floor of your office, wanting to drop off the cryptic gift before heading to the fitting rooms.

once you arrived, you were almost instantaneously greeted by the brightest smile and a cheerful exclamation of your arrival.

"y/n!! you're here!"

you blew kai a quick kiss as your own form of greeting, earning a deep red flush that covered the entirety of his face. not wanting to disturb any of the stylists hard at work, you stood off to the side and patiently waited for a spare moment to talk to him.

although you were more than confident that kai was not the culprit behind the gift, it still didn't hurt for you to ask anyway to be entirely sure. maybe he had written something embarrassing and gave it second thoughts?

"hey, huening, quick question," you came up to his side the second he was dressed back in his normal clothing.

"sure, what's up?"

you began to fidget nervously with your fingers, suddenly embarrassed at the idea of having to ask him. "did you- did you happen to get me a gift today?"

your face was growing drastically warmer.

kai's smile seemed to fall slightly. "oh, no, i'm sorry. did you really want me to? i can go get you something now! it's not a problem at all, i can get you the prettiest-"

"no! no, no, kai, it's fine!" you were quick to stop him, your embarrassment having doubled by this point. "i was just asking 'cause i got one today and the message was ... well, it was weird."

kai tilted his head curiously, though his brows furrowed in confusion. "it was weird, so you thought it was from me?"

"no, that's not what i meant!" you shook your head. you were beginning to wish you had thought this conversation through before initiating it. "i just remembered you saying something yesterday about it, so i thought it was from you."

by that point, you figured it was best to show him for yourself - so once he was cleared for the day, you both headed out together to your office.

surprisingly, beomgyu was already waiting for you both inside - standing by the window and adjusting the note in every angle of the light to try and decipher something from it.

"wow, you really can't read a word this says," he commented suddenly, as if continuing the conversation that you had been having from the start.

not even questioning his presence, nor the reason why he snooped through your things to begin with, you sighed and agreed.

kai had attempted to examine the chocolate box itself, wondering if there were any hidden notes inside that you might have missed. of course, seeing as he had snuck a few pieces to eat for himself, you wondered if that was his real intention.

"miss mina didn't tell you if she recognized the person at all?" beomgyu questioned, now trailing back over and tossing the scribbled note onto the table before reaching for a chocolate as well.

you shook your head, resting your chin atop of your hand as you released another sigh. "no, she said that he covered everything this time."

"well, if nothing else, we at least know that he doesn't work here," kai shrugged, though it didn't exactly make the situation any better.

instead of responding sarcastically, as you had originally wanted to, you instead opted for sending a half-hearted smile in the sweet boy's direction. you knew he was merely trying to find a positive light to the situation, but it only made it worse to imagine the ocean of suspects out there.

you didn't like having to wait around for whoever this admirer was to gain the courage to approach you. you just wished you could thank them personally for their sweet gestures.

"well, in other news, do you want to see the dance practice for my performance on music bank?" beomgyu asked you, pulling out his phone in hopes of changing the subject in order to lift your spirits again.

luckily for him, he chose the best topic.

your head perked up eagerly from your resting position, an excited smile now happily replacing the defeated pout from before. "you recorded it?"

"yeah! you didn't get to make it last time, so i wanted to be able to show you."

the second beomgyu managed to achieve a smile on your face, the dilemma from before almost instantaneously got pushed to the back of your mind.

after watching and praising beomgyu's practice video, kai then begged for you to help him practice his mc lines for tomorrow - which ended up being a lot more messing around than any actual rehearsal.

thanks to your two friends, you were able to forget all about the discarded note.

at least, up until kai had tried to throw it away with the empty chocolate box on the way home.

"you actually want to keep it?" he questioned you, genuinely confused on why you'd want to keep a bunch of meaningless scribbles.

you shrugged, truly unsure as to why you'd want to keep it for yourself. you stared down at the lone heart in the corner, bringing a tiny smile to your lips.

if nothing else, you still found it endearing.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

"do you know how hard i worked on that?!"

yeonjun was pacing back and forth in his studio, scolding his younger friend after he had returned and admitted what he had done to the note that yeonjun claimed to work so hard on.

"i don't think copying song lyrics counts as hard work," taehyun scoffed, rolling his eyes. "and it wasn't even your song, it was mine!"

yeonjun crossed his arms and huffed, his eyes averting away from his friend to stare down at the notebook filled with other discarded lyrics from taehyun's songs. "you should be flattered i even liked your music to begin with."

taehyun shook his head, annoyed.

he ultimately came to regret ever befriending yeonjun all those years ago in the first place. lately, it seemed that any time he came over to visit the idiot, he was then somehow dragged into following along with his ridiculous behavior.

this time around, taehyun ended up succumbing into his own pity for his pathetic friend and now found himself becoming yeonjun's personal delivery boy.

"if you were going to copy my lyrics, then at least choose a line that makes sense next time," taehyun told him, his expression now bored.

yeonjun appeared baffled, genuinely taken aback by taehyun's words. "what part of 'just put your heart in my hands, i promise it won't get broken' doesn't make sense?!"

"i don't know, try .. all of it." taehyun was a minute away from pulling his hair out. "for one, you already did break her heart. and for two, this is supposed to be an apology, not a high school confession."

"why can't it be both?"

taehyun could only curse at himself in his own head, wondering why he still continued to entertain yeonjun this much.

"other than the fact that you're in your mid-twenties?" taehyun asked rhetorically, smirking mischievously from taking a jab at yeonjun's age. "because you still have yet to actually say the words 'i'm sorry' to her."

yeonjun opened his mouth to retort, but one glare from taehyun warned him not to.

man, he hated when he was right.

yeonjun defeatedly threw himself down into his studio chair, spinning around in slow circles as he pondered over what to do next. if there was one thing he did know, it was that you deserved more than just a tiny note with a half-assed apology written inside to fill the small space.

the only problem was, yeonjun had absolutely no clue as to how he would ever get the chance to see you again.

the one golden opportunity he had, where you were practically served on a silver platter right in his very home, he absolutely blew it. instead of listening to the tiny voice of reason in his head, he chose to be his arrogant self instead and ruin his chance with you for the second time.

taehyun sighed, once again unable to watch from the side as yeonjun wallowed in his own despair. as much as he liked to act like everything he did annoyed him to no end, he still hated to see yeonjun in such a sorry state.

he couldn't believe he actually missed his obnoxious personality from before.

"alright, clearly you can't think of anything for yourself," taehyun sighed, rubbing his hands across his face in frustration. for as long as he remained friends with yeonjun, he was never going to learn his lesson. "so this time, i'll help you think of something."

at this, yeonjun's mood seemed to perk up. he couldn't be sure if it was from the offer itself or simply knowing he wouldn't have to struggle thinking for himself anymore.

seeing as he now had yeonjun sat and silently waiting, taehyun figured now would be a better time than any to admit an idea that had occurred to him earlier in the day.

"you have music bank tomorrow, right?"

yeonjun nodded, though he didn't appear at all excited at the thought. it would be the last week of his two-week promotion period for his latest EP, so he was already exhausted to no end and couldn't wait for it to be over.

"do you know anything about who's going to be there?" taehyun questioned, hoping to slowly lead yeonjun along to realize the rest for himself.

"does it look like i care about who's going to be there?" yeonjun deadpanned, eyes rolling in annoyance.

deep breaths, taehyun, deep breaths.

trying to calm himself down enough to keep from smacking the idiot, taehyun continued. "you will when you find out that a certain two people that a certain someone is friends with are going to be there."

thankfully, it took only a matter of seconds for yeonjun to piece the words together. his bored eyes suddenly widened, and his heart started pounding a little too hard against his ribcage.

you were going to be there?!

"shit, what should i do?" yeonjun suddenly started to panic, standing up from his chair to continue his earlier pacing across the small room. "do i go up to her? do i- do i ask her to meet me?"

he looked over at taehyun expectantly, waiting for him to begin spewing his usual words of wisdom any minute now.

"i'm not going to hold your hand; you can figure out the rest yourself," taehyun smirked, standing up from where he was sat. "but keep in mind that she's probably going to have one or two bodyguards with her at all times."

seeing yeonjun's eyes almost bulge out of his head, taehyun figured the least he could do was clarify one or two friends, rather than actual bodyguards.

then before he knew it, yeonjun was left alone in the studio room. the silence was deafeningly loud, and even his thoughts appeared to have gone entirely blank.

what the hell was he supposed to do now?!

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

later that evening, as per usual, both you and kai were to be found lounging around in your apartment once again. this time, kai insisted on referring to it as a celebratory sleepover for his special mc position the following day.

in reality, he merely just wanted any excuse to spend an evening alone with you - otherwise he would've suggested inviting beomgyu over for the same reason.

overall, it was a very cozy and domestic night. you had ordered a large pizza for you both to share and even started a series to binge watch together on netflix.

although, much to your own surprise, you both somehow ended up settled beside each other in your bedroom – doing your own things, of course.

kai was playing animal crossing on your nintendo switch while you did last minute work on your laptop.

every time that kai had come over before, the two of you would normally reside in the living room for the entirety of the night. glancing over at him now, you suddenly couldn't remember how it came to be that the boy was now laying comfortably beside you under the covers.

"look, y/nie! look who our new islander is!" kai interrupted your thoughts, turning the switch screen over to reveal the adorable character for you.

"you got dom!!" you cheered excitedly, leaning forward to see just how precious the little sheep was up close.

kai's smile widened, though a bit shyly as a small blush crept up to his cheeks at your sudden proximity.

when you first bought the game, you had told kai that your main goal was to obtain dom for your island. after about two months of playing, you gave up on your search and put the game to rest.

in which case, kai created his own profile to move into your island and pick up where you left off. now here he was, almost a year later, with your dream character moved in right next door to your home.

"you're the best, i can't believe you found him!" you pouted happily, admiring the adorable garden home that dom belonged to.

meanwhile, kai's gaze was more focused on you. he just found you so cute, and it made him all the more giddy to know that he was able to put that smile on your face. every bit of effort he put into the game was now worth it to make you happy.

"here, you should see how i decorated the island too," kai quickly suggested before you could hand the game back, scooting ever closer to you in the bed.

his head was leaned over your shoulder as he guided you around the island, pointing out cute little things that he had decorated for you — most especially the small garden with a heart pond right in the middle.

as you cooed and awwed at everything he made, along with visiting all the islanders you didn't recognize, kai had subtly rested his head against yours. for some reason, the simple action had his heart racing and he was very unsure as to why.

it wasn't like the two of you haven't been close before?

after you had seen everything there was on your shared island, you suddenly let out a much louder yawn than you had originally expected. it was so strong that even kai found himself reciprocating a second after.

"we should get some sleep," you told him, rubbing at your now tired eyes. "i can set up the mat for you if-"

"actually," kai stopped you, his hand reaching out to lightly grasp your wrist and prevent you from standing up. "is it okay if we just ... stay here?"

you blinked. "stay ... here?" you pointed down at the bed, wondering if you were truly understanding him correctly.

unknowingly to the other, both your hearts suddenly began to pick up speed at a similar pace.

kai nodded. "i don't want to sleep alone on the floor," he pouted now, his eyes resembling that of a puppy.

how could you possibly say no?

your stunned expression quickly shifted into a playful smile. "okay, but i better not find out you kick in your sleep."

"no, of course not! i'm more of a slapper," kai joked, making you giggle that beautiful melody that he adored.

after you both washed up and settled back in to your designated sides of the bed, you bid each other a cute goodnight and sweet dreams before shutting off the bedside lamps.

unfortunately, it was not as easy to fall asleep as you had hoped.

with the foreign presence laying just a mere foot away from you, you couldn't help but be all too aware of every breath and rustle of movement.

you weren't uncomfortable, no, you just found it ... weird.

the last person you ever shared a bed with was yeonjun, and, even after five years, it never occurred to you that there would be anyone else.

if it weren't for the fact that you knew kai was trying to sleep beside you, you probably would've groaned out loud in frustration for allowing yourself to think of yeonjun again. you hated every time he crossed your mind because you would then find yourself helplessly reminiscing over the past.

even now, as you pictured the way his arms used to wrap around you so perfectly, you had to press your hands against your face in order to suppress your thoughts. tossing over to your side, away from kai, you squeezed your eyes shut and prayed to think of absolutely anything else to fall asleep.

meanwhile, kai was too caught up in his own thoughts to sense your exasperation. he was more focused on wondering why his heart was pounding as erratically as it was this late at night.

he couldn't be sure as to when exactly it started, but he did notice it occurred much more frequently as of recently.

as he was rested on his back, kai tilted his head over slightly to see the faint outline of your figure laying beside him.

did his heart rate pick up just now?

but why? why would it do that?

kai couldn't have been more confused. the two of you have been friends for three years now, so why does it feel different all of a sudden?

a heavy exhale escaped his lips without him meaning to, and he quickly glanced over to see if it disturbed you at all. when you didn't move or make a sound, kai realized that he should follow your lead and focus on trying to sleep before he drove himself crazy.

it was his suggestion to sleep here in the first place, so he couldn't understand why he was suddenly feeling so nervous about it after the fact.

you were so calm and unbothered, yet here he lay completely restless and his mind overthinking.

you two were friends - you were close - so this was more than okay. in fact, it was normal.

so then why did he want to be closer?

previous | masterlist | next

a/n:

okay LISTEN- i know it's very hyuka x y/n focused, but i SWEAR i have a plan in mind and i'm NOT just succumbing to the bias wrecking brainrot... and even if i was, can you blame me?

anywayyyyyy pls pls pls pls let me know if you enjoyed this part ?? it took me over a week to write out the first draft, and then i scrapped everything .... so i hope this second draft does well <;/3

series taglist:

@cookiehaos @hafsa-hoofsa-heefs @junzwrld @gyuuluvrs @goldennika @nobodyshallenter @lubtou @soobsfairy444 @2ynjns @cherriruto @baekberrie @youraggedybitch @eundiarys @jwicore @bokk-minnie @cha-raena @sparkswhoz @wo-ai-ni-yong @strvlveera @ghostfacefricker6969 @blondsoobinenthusiast @whippedforbeomgyu @l0stindigo @angelbythewindow @hkplushier @aloverga @ineedsomezzz @themiddlefingerinthesky @idkhoomanmaybe

permanent taglist:

@human-misery @dongmeiii @softcabur @marekmybeloved @aishidaishi @taekwondoes @wccycc @jjhmk @mjlasagna @eclecticeggknightpsychic @yjusei @beachbabe4ever

both taglists open !!

#tomorrow x together #tomorrow x together imagines #tomorrow x together imagine #txt #txt imagine #txt imagines #choi yeonjun #choi yeonjun x reader #yeonjun #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun imagines #choi yeonjun imagines

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scribbleseas · 2 years ago

Text

Straight Laced, Chapter II: To Be A Decent Friend…

Description: After the London’s Royal Ballet company’s prima ballerina goes missing within a string of mysterious disappearances among the ballet’s young ballerinas, you finally get your chance to debut in the leading role, taking on the position’s physical toil and immense social pressure. Although this role was supposed to be your grand jeté into the spotlight, it is quickly complicated when these disappearances catch the eye of Ciel Phantomhive — the Queen’s Guard Dog. He is a captious and shrewd man who also happens to be one of London’s most eligible bachelors.

For enough profit for you to secure your freedom for the first time, Lord Phantomhive double casts you as both his accomplice to solving these dancer disappearances and… his pretend lover. While debuting as London’s new prima ballerina, you must perfect a brand new routine: deceiving all of the nation’s polite society while actively searching for a serial killer — all while being an immigrant from France with a dancer’s reputation.

What could go wrong when you realize this off-stage performance of yours may not be an act at all?

Story Warnings: detailed description of gore, pain, and violence, detailed death, smut & explicit sexual scenes, objectification, prostitution, allusions to under-aged prostitution, smoking, drinking, eating disorder tendencies (food restriction, frequent references to wanting to maintain a certain weight, over-practicing & exercising), infidelity, fake courtship, swearing

Author’s Note: I have nothing to say for myself, except: I started a summer job & also three new fics. Two of which nearly have debut chapters that are set to come out very, very soon. Get ready, Levi fans. You’re getting fed. Soon.

I digress; I hope you all like this chapter! It took way longer than I wanted, and I’m so serious when I say that finishing up what I had done 2 weeks ago took like a 2-hour sitting. Yikes, but at least this one is heavily edited!!

Happy Reading,

Dan

MASTERLIST

⇐ PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER ⇒

Early October, 1895

The Royal Opera House, Backstage

You couldn’t seem to escape Ciel Phantomhive, though it had been about a week since you last encountered him. There was a paper clipping adhered to your vanity mirror reading presumably, his office’s telephone number and his initials: CP. No matter what you tried, you couldn’t seem to scrape the paper off. All you managed to do was pick uselessly at the edges of the clipping.

It was his means of mocking you, reminding you of your perceived selfishness. You were not selfish. You were reasonable. You were looking out for yourself— something a woman of your age and stature had to.

You watched your reflection in the mirror as you began to retouch your ballerina bun (it was somewhat loose from the performance’s first three acts) as you reflected on that exchange. The terribly patronizing conversation that transpired between you and the noble lord. The insufferable noble lord who was the product of European society favoring wealthy men.

“You need to realize that these dancers — who are either dead or abducted — are from your company! Or are you too content in your new role to care?” Ciel demanded.

Of course you cared! How could he accuse you of such selfishness? Because of his warning, you were hypervigilant when you left the theater, wary of new subscribers, observant when it came to other company member’s attendances.

In fact, it was your newfound caution that led you to realizing Amélie had not been present in days. The last you saw of her was Sunday’s night performance — she went home, and according to Natasha, had been suffering from some kind of stomach ailment.

After tonight’s show, you planned to check on Amélie. Throughout the years you knew her, she was a kind friend to you, from growing up in the same dance school to moving to Britain together. Even if you were reluctant to consider her your friend, since you last interacted with her about a month ago— even if she was from home.

You had no inkling of what you might do if you were about to find her dead. Call the Yard? Given that you were a ballerina, there wasn’t much else you could do. How could Ciel possibly need you to solve these disappearances if all you could do was make a call in the instance of finding a corpse?

There was nothing you could do that Ciel couldn’t himself, as much as you hated admitting so. At the end of the day, caring did not save lives. Solving real mysteries took real logic and precision that went beyond flawless composure on a stage. After all, this wasn’t some idealistic book where the heroine is merely reluctant to step into the light. All you were was yourself— a dancer who grew squeamish at the sight of blood and enraged at the thought of another privileged noble taking advantage of you.

And yet, Ciel’s telephone number continued to etch itself into the front of your mind. Without meaning to, you had the digits memorized.

You shook your head, chastising yourself. You only had a few moments left before the final act of the night. There was no room in your mind for any other concerns. It was a perfect performance and you refused to lose focus now. All you needed to do was finish the night perfectly, and you would be able to check on your…friend.

Midnight

A Small Townhouse in Birmingham

“Amélie, it’s Y/n,” you tapped your knuckles against her room’s door. She shared a townhome with a number of other dancers her age— though not all of them worked in London’s Royal Opera. One of the roommates let you inside, though she warned you that Amélie hadn’t left her quarters all day.

“We don’t know her enough to just barge in, but we were gettin’ worried— headaches don’t last for more than a coupla days. Thank you for comin’ by.” the roommate shrugged her thin shoulders before showing herself back down the old stairway. “Help yourself to anything. I need to get to rehearsal,” she added before proceeding down the stairs.

Headaches? You were told she was suffering from a stomach ailment.

Technically, you didn’t know Amélie well enough let yourself into her bedroom either, but she hadn’t picked up the house telephone nor sent word to Natasha. You couldn’t help but worry after Ciel told you why so many company members were disappearing.

“Yes. Thank you for allowing me inside,” you replied after roommate. She acknowledged your gratitude with a thin smile, a gesture of goodwill. The expression was slightly colder than a smile you would offer a patron.

“Lock the door on your way out!” The roommate’s distant voice reminded you, interrupted by the sound of a closing front door.

“Amélie!” You turned back towards the bedroom door and raised your voice. “I brought you ginger tea and a loaf of bread,” you reluctantly twisted the doorknob. It was unlocked. “From that bakery by the opera house. They can help calm your stomach…or the warmth with your head, I suppose…” You waited another few moments before fully twisting the knob and opening the door. The old hinges rasped, complaining because the townhouse had to be built decades ago. You weren’t sure it even had a washroom.

Her room was neat, everything in its rightful place— there was nothing more like her than a tidy living space. It only took moments for you to note her mess of brown hair on her pillow, the frizzy waves motionless as if she wasn’t respirating. She laid on her side, face shrouded by her riotous hair.

“…Amélie?” You took tentative steps closer towards her bed, a sense of dread gnawing at your stomach. The closer you were, the more noticeable the foul scent in the room became. One of your trembling hands reached out and pushed some of the dancer’s hair out of her face with a newfound urgency.

Moving Amélie’s hair revealed her slack face; her hazel eyes glazed over and bloodshot. Her skin, once sunkissed and tan, was ashen with death. She had deep bruising against areas of her body that pressed against the pillow or the mattress beneath her.

In tandem with your shocked scream, you dropped the bag containing her gifts. You removed your hand from her body as if it were burning. Your breath came to you in short, panicked, bursts as you forced yourself to squeeze your eyes closed. Your other hand flew to your mouth, your gag reflex more than triggered by your incidental staring contest with your childhood friend’s corpse.

This cannot be real, this cannot be real. This. Cannot. Be. Real…This cannot be….

“No, no, no, no,” you repeated the word so quickly that it began to resemble the French equivalent, non. Your frenzied voice matched the horrified thoughts voiced in your mind. Your eyes welled with tears as you choked on a sob, wary about vomiting but nearly unable to fight the rising bile and excess saliva in your throat. It hurt to look at her, but you couldn’t seem to force yourself to look away.

She was dead. The only part of home you had with you was dead. The only person you would consider a friend was dead. Finished. No more. She was dead because someone killed her.

Someone killed her.

“You need to realize that these dancers — who are either dead or abducted — are from your company!” Ciel’s words repeated once more, forcing another sob to rip out of your chest. Your tears fell in steady streams, warm and salty. They blurred your vision as you continued to stare into her eyes, the whites stained with blood. Could you have prevented this? Were you just as guilty as the true perpetrator because you refused to help the investigation?

“I am— s-so…sor—...so sorry,” you managed, your trembling hands unable to wipe your tears fast enough. You squeezed your eyes closed and tried to collect your thoughts. How could you have the audacity to cry, in the first place? After you stopped being her friend to focus on your professional career, you hardly had the right to grieve. Truthfully, you could hardly recall her surname. Was it Langston? No—Langford.

Even if you did grow apart, it was still beyond difficult to be in the same room as a decaying corpse. There was only nothingness behind her eyes but they continued to watch you, unable to move elsewhere. They reprimanded you and forced you to mull over whether or not you could have helped prevent her death.

You reluctantly closed her eyes for her, sighing when she looked more like a sleeping figure, rather than a decaying corpse.

In search of help, you noticed a candlestick telephone on Amélie’s nightstand. The roommates must have allowed her to keep it in her room for the duration of her illness, in the event she needed a doctor. The receiver was off its hook, motionless as it hung next to the nightstand. The knot in your stomach only clenched harder at the thought of Amélie being in a medical emergency and reaching for the telephone, only to die before the call could go through. Medical emergency. Could she have been poisoned? You didn’t believe in coincidences enough to think that Amélie’s illness was an instance of accidental food poisoning. Not after Ciel’s warning.

Hesitantly, you held the receiver to your ear and used your free hand to dial the number you memorized. There was an ebbing doubt in the back of your mind that no one would pick up. It was nearly midnight, after all. The Earl had to have retired for the night already.

Despite the time, there was a confirmative click that indicated that someone answered the call.

“Is-is someone there? I need to speak with Ciel Phantomhive. My— I… it’s Y/n Y/l/n. Please, I need to speak to him,” you managed to keep your words steady until you finished your piece — your voice weak and nasally from crying — but you burst into a fresh sob afterwards.

Lord Phantomhive, the corrective thought surfaced briefly. What difference did it make? You found a dead body. A corpse. A corpse that you very well could end up like, if this killer continued.

“Lord Phantomhive.” A serious, yet drowsy voice chastised once you managed to control your crying, minimizing it to staccato inhales through your mouth. Your crying clogged your nose too much. “What is it, Y/n?” he asked boredly, as if you would be calling for a trivial issue in the middle of the night.

“My-my friend is dead,” you glanced back over your shoulder to look at Amélie as if you were confirming that she was truly gone. There was a throb of guilt in your heart when you referred to her as your friend. “I just found her, and I don’t know who, or if someone killed her, or if there was an accident, but…I—” you rambled, explaining all of the events of the night. Ciel listened silently, and there was a soft rustling over the line as he wrote down the townhouse’s address.

“We will be right there. Do not call the Yard, and do not touch the body. Stay there, Y/n. Do you understand me?” Ciel asked sternly. You could hear his scowl over the telephone, it was a look so distinguishable that you could paint it in your mind with only a few words.

“I said: do you understand me? I need you to answer the question and stop blubbering.”

“I… yes. I understand, but— please do not end the c—” you started to beg, despite yourself.

“Good. Stay put.” The line died.

While you waited, you opted to sit on Amélie’s fire escape and light a cigar. After checking for an even light at the cigar’s foot, you took a long drag of it. The familiar feeling of smoke filling your mouth caused your eyes to flutter shut, comforted by the bitter taste on your tongue. Your head pounded from the stress that finding her body put on it.

You removed the cigar from your mouth and drew the smoke into your mouth. Watching it flow out of your mouth and into the dark atmosphere in front of you was almost as therapeutic as a standing ovation.

Amélie was dead. You were the same age as she was. You grew up together, mastering your pirouettes in the same classes and having your first kisses at fourteen. You let her become a minor character in your life because you felt that the only person there was room for in your life was yourself. If you cared more, you would have checked on her days ago, and she might have been alive. You could have helped her.

Or if you accepted Ciel’s offer, you might have been able to help stop the murders with Janet. Why did you refuse so vehemently? The guilt gnawed at your conscience like a rabid, starving dog.

You watched another lungful of smoke billow out into the night sky.

If, if, if….

“It is unladylike to smoke,” Ciel’s disdainful voice said. It came from behind you, causing your head to jerk back in a panic. In your surprise, you dropped your cigar, forcing you to crush it under your heel. What a waste of a good cigar. He arrived sooner than you thought he would— only a handful of minutes passed since you perched on the outdoor stairway.

“There are more important matters to concern ourselves with, are there not?” You smarted, rubbing any fresh tears from your eyes. You weren’t aware you were still crying, but your body indicated that for you now that you were back to your senses, forcibly removed from your thoughts.

“I suppose,” Ciel replied flatly, too calm, too bored for someone summoned to a crime scene. He took a glance over his shoulder, checking in with his butler in a wordless exchange. His head tilted down in a subtle nod. “We have everything we need from the scene. The Yard will be here promptly and I would like to make my leave before that happens.” He said the police force’s name like a curse.

“Everything you need?” You questioned, shifting on the stair before pulling yourself to your feet. Having to crane your head upwards at him was too awkward, and even with the gesture you could barely see him. Save from the bedroom behind Ciel, it was almost completely dark outside. You could hardly see the Earl’s face.

“Yes,” his gaze followed your body, analyzing the graceful way you carried yourself, even when you were distraught. It was instilled into you, worked into your muscles like forged steel.

“Are you able to get yourself home?” Ciel asked, an uncharacteristic gesture of empathy. He opened the door and let himself in, leaving a hand on it to make room for you behind him. “Or at the very least, someone we may call for you?”

Your first instinct was to ask him to call Natasha, but he doubted he would comply, given his clear contempt for your director. She was the only person you trusted. You had systematically removed everyone else from your life to focus on your career.

That didn’t make you selfish; it made you smart. If you were a poor friend for the sake of your career, that was perfectly—

The face of Amélie’s corpse flashed into your mind as you stepped back inside her room. The butler covered her for the time being, but that didn’t stop your guilt from continuing to eat at you. It was painful and terse, too real for you to ignore.

“No, there is not.” You took a trembling inhale, coming to terms with why you felt this guilt.

You were selfish, to a degree. Ciel was not entirely wrong in his assessment of you, a vain person who had and only expected to rely on herself. You were self-made down to your core. No one perfected your dancing for you; no one moved you from France; no one handled your suitors for you.

“Then I suppose…you may join us in the carriage. If you would like,” Ciel said, noticing your look of confusion. He didn’t care for your well-being; you were a commoner. Why pretend to? “It is unsafe for a lady to travel alone at this hour.” He hurriedly explained, causing you to nod your understanding. It was past midnight, after all.

Before you could respond, Ciel’s butler returned to the bedroom, briefly sizing you up before addressing his master. “My Lord, I was able to confirm that the young woman was indeed poisoned. Dimethylmercury,” he pronounced the chemical’s name perfectly and without a hint of hesitation. “It is a strong neurotoxin, a colorless liquid and easily absorbed through the skin.”

The Earl’s lips pulled into a grim line, but he didn’t seem surprised. That secured the incident as a murder. And your fault, directly.

“Did she suffer?” You asked before you could stop yourself. You doubted you wanted to know the answer.

“Miss Y/l/n, this particular poison attacks the body’s central nervous system, but it is incredibly slow acting. Your friend was likely infected weeks ago, and only recently started feeling the symptoms…blindness, difficulty hearing, paresthesias, dysarthria….” Sebastian explained, his handsome features creasing into an expression close to pity. He made a pointed effort not to directly answer your question, but it was safe to assume that the short answer to was yes, she suffered immensely.

You couldn’t imagine losing your sight and your hearing gradually over the span of a few weeks, much less any of the other symptoms Sebastian named. You didn’t know what they were— you weren’t a doctor — but you imagined they were just as horrifying.

Tears welled in your eyes as you looked at the sheet that covered Amélie once more. You thought of the guilt pooling in your stomach, crushing your heart, and crowding your mind.

The back of your dominant hand aggressively wiped the tears away.

It wasn’t too late to be a decent friend. To join the investigation and take down the bastard who brutally killed her and so many other company members. A new m fire burned bright in your heart— not a desire to find out what happened to other missing dancers — a need.

Their families deserved the truth. Your surviving colleagues deserved to be vigilant. The victims deserved justice. Amélie deserved some friendship from you. You owed her this.

“Ciel,” you said quietly, taking stabilizing breaths. For a moment, you squeezed your bloodshot eyes closed, giving yourself the courage you needed to say the next few words. On either side of you, your fingers clenched and unclenched with uncertainty, and with a new vehemence you struggled to express. You swallowed with difficulty.

“How may I be of use to your investigation?”

In his surprise, the Earl didn’t even correct the way you addressed him. Instead, his exposed eye widened, replacing the stoic expression that his elegant features normally settled into.

The Next Morning

The Phantomhive Estate’s Dining Table

There was an impressive spread laid out on the table in front of you— more food than you had ever seen in one place. Potentially, more food than you consumed in a week. Even so, you convinced yourself you were full after scooping out a few spoonfuls of sliced strawberries and a half a croissant. You hated yourself for the croissant, and then you hated yourself for focusing on your diet when you needed to listen to what Ciel was saying.

You are not hungry, Y/n. That pastry was plenty, Natasha would tell you. Then, she would suggest you practice for an extra half hour to make up for it. You made a mental note to do so after Sebastian brought you back to your home.

“I need you to be discreet. I want to find patterns: which ballerinas are getting killed, who are their patrons?” He explained, putting a generous smear of butter over his croissant. You tried your best not to cringe at the addition, more than aware of how much butter was used to bake the pastry to begin with, and how much fat Ciel was adding to an already fattening delicacy.

You took a short sip out of your café serré, comforted by its familiar bitterness. For a British man, Sebastian made the drink rather well.

“At this point, we are assuming all missing ballerinas are dead, yes?” Your voice wavered at the question, because it would indicate that ten company members have been murdered at this point. It made you sick, a feeling that you nearly embraced for two reasons: keeping yourself from eating the other half of your croissant, and to punish yourself. That number could have been nine if you agreed to help sooner.

But logically, you knew that wasn’t true, either. Sebastian distinctly said that Amélie was poisoned weeks ago— before Ciel approached you. Before you turned him down. There was nothing you could have done, besides be there for her…

You didn’t do that, either.

“Yes. This killer does not hesitate, clearly,” Ciel replied, unsure of how to comfort your crestfallen expression. He settled on ignoring the look. “You need to keep a close eye on all of the ensemble. Gauge their relationships with their subscribers, with your director, and if anyone misses so much as a practice, tell me no matter what she tells you.”

“Rehearsal,” you corrected automatically, causing Ciel to scoff. You knew what he was thinking— if you couldn’t deign to address him correctly, why should he employ accurate terms for your profession? You could tell him why.

“If you are going to be my patron, you should be aware that we call our Nutcracker practices rehearsals,” you reminded him. Ciel had suggested he continue posing as your only subscriber in an effort to both keep you safe (if a particular patron was the killer) and keep Natasha from growing suspicious— though you doubted she was. All Natasha was concerned with was maintaining the company’s perfection. You had never met anyone so unaware of any insidious agenda because she, like you, had no room for anything else in her life. Not even her marriage.

“Minute details such as that are irrelevant. No one will question us,” he answered without missing a beat, the double meaning in his words as clear as day. ‘No one will question me.’

No, of course not. Who would question the Lord Ciel Phantomhive? A God amongst men? You thought you kept the words to yourself, until you noticed the sour look the Earl was sending you from across the table. Uncertain, you tilted your head, biting back a sarcastic smile. You tried to purse your lips into neutrality.

“Pardon me?” Ciel asked, raising a disdainful eyebrow. “You should understand that we are not courting. Whether or not I refer to your dancing as practice or a rehearsal is entirely irrelevant,” he insisted, more offended than he was willing to express because it goaded you. However, making a mockery of his title made you feel more like yourself. A bit lighter after what you endured last night.

“I still think you should have a basic understanding of the arts, Ciel,” you shrugged dismissively.

“You must refer to me as Lord Phantomhive!” Ciel snapped, raising his voice for the first time that morning. You assumed he was attempting to be patient with you because you had finally agreed to fulfill his intended role for you. “You are a commoner. We are not friends. We are—”

“On a first name basis,” you interrupted, raising your voice to effectively cut off his tirade. “If we are investigating these murders together, we are doing so as equals. I will not stand for being degraded when you came to me, asking for my help!” You retorted, exasperated. You both held steely eye contact, both unwilling to back down.

“I am the Queen’s Guard Dog. I am no one’s equal, save for the monarchy itself,” came his predictably insufferable reply.

“What you are, is one of the most arrogant men I have ever had the misfortune of meeting!” you exclaimed. This investigation was going to take several years off of your life, truly. Perhaps, you’d be seeing Amélie sooner than you expected— and for reasons unrelated to her killer. “You need to think about your priorities, Guard Dog,” you ordered.

“Now, I am looking forward to our partnership. Thank you for the meal, I will show myself out.” You added rapidly, standing from your chair and pushing it back in with a vengeance that nearly tipped it over.

“Report back to me every other night!” He yelled at your back as you left the dining room, smiling wanly at his servants. The three of them made a weak effort to appear busy, as if they hadn’t been listening in on your conversation for the past half hour. You wished them a good day before replying to their master, shouting your reply over your shoulder.

“Fine!” You’d see what the next two days had in store for you and for once, do as told.

For Amélie.

#black butler fanfic #anime fanfiction #historical fiction #historical romance #ciel phantomhive x reader #sebastian michaelis #ciel phantomhive #black butler fanfiction #straight laced #ciel phantomhive x you #ciel x you #kuroshitsuji #black butler x you #black butler x y/n #black butler x reader #ciel x y/n #ciel phantomhive x y/n

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conditionaljewel · 2 years ago

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(I hate tumblr mobile. Anyway. Imogen is pregnant. She’s in for a beautiful surprise days before the baby is due. This is completely self indulgent but there ya go. Enjoy.)

Imogen sat in the rocking chair in the corner of the nursery facing out the window, watching as the sun began to set on the day. It was not yet breaking through the horizon, but she wanted to take in as much of the sun and relax as she could, having just spent much of the day decorating the nursery with Laudna’s help.

A set of beautiful oaken furniture that was made by Chetney with his colleagues from Oltgar’s new shop had been delivered by couriers earlier in the day. After paying the group of young half-orcs a rather generous tip to move the several large, heavy pieces of furniture inside and upstairs into the nursery, Laudna was finishing putting clothing and other necessities away into the various chests and drawers they had to offer.

Imogen had mostly provided moral support at this point, using her magic to help where she was able but otherwise very limited to what she could do physically. She was due any day now, so it was just a matter of when this baby was going to arrive. She hoped it was soon, the anticipation and not knowing was killing her.

Laudna finished laying out a purple blanket that she had crocheted on the crib’s bedding and walked over to where Imogen was sitting. She sat down at her feet as Imogen continued to rock back and forth in front of the window, the sun now beginning it’s departure below the horizon. Imogen, sat unevenly in the chair as she was leaning toward one side for comfort, placed a hand on Laudna’s shoulder as the two of them watched the sun go down.

“I can’t believe she’s going to be here any day now,” Imogen said.

Laudna craned her head back and looked at Imogen, appearing upside-down to her. “Any day now,” she said.

(Read more below the cut or on AO3)

They still had not decided on a name. They had a few conversations about potential names, they even took suggestions from their friends but none really spoke to them. Even now, just days before the baby’s arrival, they had nothing. They’d agreed that they would wait until the right name came to them, even if it took some time after the baby was born, but they wanted to pick the right name for her.

“Maybe after we meet her, she’ll just tell us her name instead,” Imogen spoke up after a moment’s silence.

Laudna chuckled at the thought, before retorting, “perhaps you could just read her mind as soon as she’s born.”

Imogen laughed, before that quickly turned into a slightly morbid curiosity. How would that work? Could you read a baby’s mind? She shook her head of the thoughts, not wanting to wander down that rabbit hole.

“I just want to do right by her,” Imogen said as she sighed. Laudna turned away from the window to face Imogen, putting her arms across Imogen’s lap and resting her head on them, looking at her longingly.

“You’re going to be a great mother,” Laudna said. “You’re very strong, very capable, you’re compassionate, and she’s going to love you.”

Imogen smiled at hearing this. She never got tired of hearing Laudna compliment her, or telling her that she is capable. Imogen appreciated that reminder more than Laudna would ever know.

“You’re going to be a great mother, too” Imogen said. “Don’t forget that you’re just as much her mother as I am.”

Laudna smiled and winked at Imogen. “Okay, mom.”

It was not clear just how Imogen became pregnant. That was a question that would be a mystery for the ages, as she’d never had any sort of intimate contact with a person who could have done this to her naturally. The two of them could only presume that one or both of them were afflicted by something during the solstice, or on one of their many trips to the Fey Realm to visit Fearne and Morri, that they were unaware of. All they knew was, after many trips to several Clerics, their baby was going to be a healthy baby girl, and that she would soon be here to grace them both with joy and happiness.

After some time, the sun had finally set; the oranges and reds had receded to deep purples before it all slowly gave way to the dark of night. There was no Catha out, not yet tonight at least, but for now the starlight over their little home here in the outskirts of the Heartmoor Hamlet lit the night sky, numerous beyond count.

Laudna got up from the floor and reached her hand out to Imogen. “Come, let’s go eat dinner,” she said as she helped Imogen to her feet. Imogen was the first to leave the nursery. “I’ll be there in a moment,” Laudna said. Imogen smiled and left the room, heading to the kitchen.

Laudna, meanwhile, headed for their bedroom and walked over to her nightstand. She grabbed Sashimi from where she was sitting and headed back into the nursery as she called out into the house, “Pate?” Entering the nursery, Laudna walked over to the crib and lifted the blanket that she had just laid down not a little bit ago. She took Sashimi and placed her in the crib, laying the blanket gently over her.

Laudna called out again, a little louder this time, “Pate?” It would take a moment before he actually appeared, as he had been floating around the house invisibly out of boredom. She learned this as he came into the nursery a little too fast and flew into the door, causing it to swing open without anything apparent hitting it before becoming visible himself shortly after impact. “Ow,” he said as he picked himself up. Laudna was now standing before him by the door, and she was reaching her hands down to him.

“Pate,” she said as he clamored up into her palms, “once the baby is here, your job is going to be to watch the nursery at night. Do you understand?”

Pate was looking at her very attentively. “Yes ma’am, I can do that.”

“We’re going to practice, okay?” Laudna stood and turned so they could both look into the room proper, glancing particularly at the crib. “Do you see Sashimi there, in the crib?”

Pate had now noticed that his birdhouse mate, Sashimi, was nestled in the blanket in the crib. “Yep, I see her alright,” he said as he looked back to Laudna.

“You’re going to pretend she is the baby. Now,” she paused as she stretched her hands out to the dresser she was standing besides, “don’t make it weird, but you are to pretend like you are watching the baby. Don’t actually do anything, but just get used to spending some time in here, okay?” Laudna looked upon Pate and he straightened his posture at these words, understanding the gravity of the request that she was asking of him.

“Got it, you can count on me,” Pate said, perhaps a little overeager but Laudna trusted him through watching criminals before, surely he can manage a baby.

“Good boy, Pate. Now, go on,” she said as she patted him on the head before exiting the room. The last she saw was Pate flying over toward the crib, and perching on the side before beginning to sing some horrible nursery rhyme. Laudna was about to stop him, but she thought better of it and let him go for now.

Meanwhile, Imogen had made her way to the kitchen and began to pull out everything for dinner. They’d had a pot of everyday stew on the fire that she figured they could ladle a few helpings out of and into bowls with some potatoes, something simple for the evening. She dug into her extra dimensional cupboard and pulled out the sack of potatoes, finding a few quality spuds and beginning to clean and chop them up. While she got the potatoes on to boil, she began to mix various herbs and seasonings together and prepare the stews when Laudna emerged from the nursery.

She walked over to Imogen and wrapped her arms around her from behind, her embrace enveloping all of Imogen and the baby as well. Imogen craned her neck back so it was at the side of Laudna’s and smiled, giving a sigh of relief. “Do you mind,” she asked softly. Laudna released her from her hug and stepped aside.

“I would be happy to,” Laudna said. She showed a hand out as if to lead Imogen to the table, guiding her and pulling a chair out before stopping. “Actually, wait,” Laudna said. “Lets eat out in the sun room tonight.” Imogen smiled and nodded, and kissed Laudna’s cheek as she made for the sun room just off of the kitchen. Laudna blushed as she turned and began to tend to the potatoes and the rest of dinner.

As Imogen crossed back through the kitchen an exited out into the sunroom, a modest but spacious enclosed outdoor space, the darkness of the night struck instantly, the starlight not enough to light the room comfortably. Imogen sent her dancing lights up into the space, illuminating the room with a soft dim glow that didn’t otherwise distract from the starlight that was visible. Imogen sat down and put her feet up on the footstool that accompanied the furniture set, and began to relax.

As Imogen really let her walls down for the day, she opened her mind and began to listen to the silent hums of the world going by. The usual silence and stillness that was present of the wind blowing the trees, of crickets chirping and owls hooting, mingled with the silence that lack of other minds presented to her - other minds except for the soft, sweet melody that Laudna’s mind emitted as she came within “hearing” distance, of course.

In, and out, Laudna’s mind would come and go as she would flutter around the kitchen. Imogen didn’t mind. She loved the silence, but she loved the sound of Laudna’s mind even more.

Laudna’s mind drifted out of range again, this time for an extended period. Imogen let herself just rest in the silence for a moment, feeling the most relaxed she had felt in so many years.

That’s when she noticed it. A new sound was heard amongst the silence. Not suddenly, not immediate. It seemed very faint, fading in and out, but this was the first that Imogen had caught it.

Imogen sat up, putting her feet back on the ground. She peered around the corner, she could not see Laudna. She thought to herself and focused again on the silence. Another soft, quiet, but benevolent melody. Not unlike Laudna’s, but it wasn’t hers. Imogen noted that it was still very quiet. She almost didn’t notice it, were it not that it’s literally the only sound she can hear right now in the silence, and only now that Laudna was well out of earshot, as it were.

Imogen got up. “Laudna?” She began to think, Could it be, but she had to be sure. She peered around the corner, and still no Laudna there.

She walked back into the kitchen, not finding Laudna there. She walked back across the room towards the hallway leading to the stairs when the melody of Laudna’s mind began to become more audible. “Laudna? C’mere,” Imogen shouted once more.

Imogen walked back out to the sunroom, keeping her mind open, hearing only this soft, quiet melody for these few moments until Laudna lingered back into range. “What is it darling, are you okay?” Laudna approached and sat down next to her, taking her hand. “Did something happen? Is it the baby?”

Imogen looked at Laudna and then glanced down at her stomach. “I … I think I can hear the baby,” she said.

“What do you mean,” Laudna asked looking rather puzzled, before elaborating as if the realization was dawning on her in real time, getting her words out with a stammer, “you can- her mind- are you able to hear her mind?”

Imogen was grinning cheek to cheek, tears forming in her eyes. “Yeah, I-I think I can,” she said with emotion coming through now, “I was just sittin’ here, and I could hear you here and there as you were moving, but then you must have gone upstairs and so it was silent for a minute, and that’s when I heard somethin’ new.”

Laudna gasped at this, still clutching Imogen’s hand, as Imogen gave hers a little squeeze “Oh, Imogen, that’s so exciting! Why, I was just joking at first, but … oh goodness, is there anything she’s saying, what can you hear? Is she speaking to you?”

Imogen’s face lit up as she looked at Laudna. “I can’t hear much, and its not… it isn’t anything coherent, in fact, it’s the opposite. It’s nonsensical, but not in a bad way. She’s not saying anything, there’s no words, but… she’s musical. In fact,” Imogen reached out and took Laudna by the hand, “it sounds like you.”

Laudna’s mouth fell open as she processed this. “She… her… it sounds like mine?”

Imogen nodded, “yeah.” She sniffled now, beginning to cry a little more intensely. “It’s quiet, and just a little discordant, like its still tuning, but, it’s beautiful, and it it sounds a lot like you Laudna.” She squeezed Laudna’s hands once more, Laudna seemingly in a state of simultaneous shock and happiness.

They both sat there for a few minutes as Imogen shared her telepathic bond with Laudna, and let her listen to what she heard. Much like they had sat together and felt the baby kick, this was a new experience for the soon-to-be mothers, one they had not expected. Laudna pulled a chair close and just held Imogen’s hands for a while as they continued to listen.

“So this is what I sound like to you?” Laudna asked, her heart warmed by the thought.

Imogen, who had had her eyes closed for a little while as they just sat and enjoyed the melody, now opened them and looked at Laudna. She took a deep breath and gave the biggest smile. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Laudna smiled in return, leaning forward and kissing Imogen gently. “I love you,” she said.

“I love you too,” Imogen replied.

As Imogen’s telepathic bond wore out after some time had passed, Laudna wiped the tears from her eyes. Imogen closed her mind for the time being, and just looked at Laudna as she in turn looked at Imogen. They both just smiled at one another, before Laudna took a breath. “Dinner?”

Imogen nodded, and moved to get up before Laudna rose and stuck her hand out. Imogen smiled, taking her hand once more, and standing to her feet kissed Laudna one more time before side-stepping her to head back into the kitchen. Laudna smiled and wiped another tear from her cheek as she turned and headed in behind Imogen.

Time passed, dinner was served and eaten, and Laudna had finished cleaning away the mess of the evening when Pate began to float down the stairs. Imogen had retired to bed by this point, but Laudna was still up in the sun room. Catha had just begun to appear in the sky overhead from their home’s perspective and was now shining her light down rather brightly, filling the space of the sun room with enough visible light that you could almost think it were midday.

As Laudna sat there, she heard a groaning coming from the kitchen, and as she turned she spied Pate coming around the corner.

“Pate,” she said as she stood up to intercept him in his path, “I thought I told you to watch the baby, what are you doing down here?”

“I got bored,” Pate said with much emphasis on the latter word. “I am not fit to be a babysitter, I’m sorry,” he crooned.

“Well we’re just going to have to practice,” Laudna said as she stuck a hand out and plucked him from where he flew. “Come here,” she sighed as she shoved him into the scruff of her hair on her neck, draping him over one shoulder very loosely whilst exiting the sunroom. “We’re going to bed,” she added as she then walked through the kitchen and heading down the hall to the stairwell.

Laudna double checked that the front door was locked, and then made her way up the stairs into the now softly lit hallway, Catha’s light spilling into the second floor hallway from the windows at the end. She crept quietly into the bedroom, slowly opening its door when it began to emit a gentle creak in the stillness of the night. Almost immediately, Laudna stuck her finger out and a faint purple glow flashed and sparked at the hinge of the door, before she continued to open it, it now completely silenced by her spell.

She tiptoed over to her side of the bed, inconveniently on the far side of the bedroom, as quietly as she could while passing Imogen, trying her best to not wake her. She crept by carefully, the wood floors thankfully staying silent tonight and not creaking themselves as they’re wont to do.

Having made it to her side of the bed, she removed Pate from her shoulder and placed him on her nightstand. “Goodnight Pate,” she said as she pat him on the head once more. He hopped down onto the ground and scurried over to the makeshift cot Laudna had made for him several months ago and began to curl up there for the night.

Laudna, meanwhile, slid into bed and pulled the blankets up over her gently, the final act of her trying to remain as quiet as possible while Imogen slept complete. She let out a soft sigh, believing that Imogen had not stirred as Laudna came to bed, and let herself loosen up, her guard lowered.

A moment passes.

“I’m still awake,” Imogen said abruptly, and loud enough to startle Laudna considerably. This made Imogen chuckle a little, as she had also heard Pate groan from his cot on the floor before rolling over.

Laudna sighed in feigned disgust, “Every. Time.”

“You could just ask if I’m asleep,” Imogen said as she opened one eye to look at Laudna, seeing the dramatics unfold. Laudna resisted arguing; she hated to disrupt Imogen’s sleep, and Imogen knew this, but truth be told Imogen usually couldn’t sleep unless Laudna was there anyhow. Tonight was a little bit different, though.

“Why are you still awake anyway,” Laudna asked, Imogen’s singular eye now closed again. “You’d gone to bed some time ago, I thought for sure you’d be asleep.”

Imogen shifted in her position so that she could be more upright, meeting Laudna more eye-to-eye now that she was attempting to keep her eyes open.

“I just couldn’t stop listening to her,” Imogen said as she glanced down, “and as you came to bed, hearing your mind just mingle in with hers… it’s just magical.” Imogen was looking back at Laudna now, smiling from ear to ear, unable to contain her joy. For so long, she only knew pain and frustration when it came to maintaining the walls that kept others’ minds from being perceived. But now that she was realizing that she had not only Laudna but also their child who weren’t so intrusive in her life — in fact, they were soothing — her emotions swelled and tears formed in the corners of her eyes.

Laudna smiled as she too couldn’t help but get misty-eyed, knowing how long Imogen had suffered with this ability. She placed a hand on Imogen’s, prompting Imogen to turn her hand over and lace their fingers together.

The two of them continue to lay there as their eyes grew heavy, slowly falling asleep. The night was still and calm, quiet through the house, all except in Imogen’s mind. She let the walls stay down, listening to the symphony that played for her, and only her, as a beautiful angelic voice began to fill in the gaps. It was a soothing, soft velvety voice delivering a glowing aria that filled Imogen with love and hope.

Imogen opened her eyes. That was it.

“Aria,” Imogen whispered under her breath. “Her name is Aria,” she whispered out loud to Laudna as she gave her hand the most delicate of squeezes, unsure if she were still awake. Laudna, still just awake, smiled as she nuzzled into Imogen’s neck and kissed her.

“Aria,” Laudna repeated to herself. “It’s a beautiful name.”

They both squeezed each other just a little tighter as they settled into their slumber. With a new peace and tranquility in her heart, as she held onto Laudna’s hand, Imogen closed her eyes and fell asleep to the most beautiful lullaby she’d ever heard.

#critical role #fan fic #cr fan fic #fan fiction #critical role fan fiction #critical role fan fic #imogen x laudna #southern gothic #imogen temult #imogen #laudna #imogen is pregnant #just a self indulgent piece #imodna #Limogen #fluff #cr fluff #fan fic fluff #critical role fluff

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the12thnightproject · 1 year ago

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Chapter 16: Coffee Talk: Katsu begins to unravel the mystery of her parents, and discovers a previously unknown connection to Sasuke.

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Logline - With Mai, Hideyoshi, and Aki missing, Mitsuhide and Katsuko reluctantly team up. Disguised as a merchant and his concubine, can they outsmart the man known as the God of Deceit?

By the time Sho arrived the next morning, Mitsuhide had already left for his reconnaissance du jour. I was disappointed to find myself alone (well, alone with Sho). Maybe ‘Kyubei’ and ‘Kaya’ weren’t a suitable pair for any detective work, but one would think that ‘Katsu’ could accompany Mitsuhide. Four eyes are better than two.

Last night, I thought that we’d managed to move our working relationship to something more equitable. More friendly. Apparently I was wrong. Maybe it had been the sake after all.

It would be an exaggeration to say that I was sulking, but apparently, I was in enough of a #mood that Sho asked me if I had had a fight with ‘Master Kyubei’.

“He doesn’t fight. He issues orders and presumes we’ll follow them… and why do you ask?” It occurred to me that she might have passed him on his way out the door. “Did he say anything to you?”

“Oh yes!” She pulled a folded paper out of her kimono. “He said to give this to you and told me to remind you that you were not to leave the house.” She frowned and looked rather pouty herself. Since our visit to the docks was not to be repeated, I suppose she was feeling deprived of a Shojumaru stalking opportunity.

The message was sealed – if Sho had opened it to read it, she had done a good job erasing the evidence. But once I scanned the two lines he’d written, I realized there was nothing in it that needed to be hidden from her anyway. “Kaya, I am headed inland to consult with a clan about a wayward shipment. I expect you will not leave the machiya during this time.”

Not exactly a code, but the unwritten message was that he had gone to Azuchi to talk to Nobunaga. It would have been nice if he had told me this last night. Or, given that he was so autocratic, he could have awakened me to give me his instructions in person. I sighed. “He’s gone out of town for a day or so.”

“Oh.” Sho sighed too, probably at the realization that there would be no trips to the docks for a while. Then she suddenly smiled. “That gives us plenty of time to play with your hair. I can practice different styles on you.”

Oh. Joy.

After four days – four! - of being Sho’s human Barbie doll and four evenings of searching the machiya for Aki’s letter (only to conclude that Mitsuhide must have taken it with him), with no word at all from Mitsuhide, I was ready to tear the building down. By hand. Azuchi was half a day away. He could have gone there and back twice over – or at least sent Kyubei with a message.

Even a message telling me to continue to stay put.

Maybe he hadn’t realized he’d be gone this long. Maybe, in fact, if he had thought he would be gone for almost a week, he wouldn’t have put me under soft house arrest. I’d learned my lesson about investigating on my own, and I was smart enough to know that our investigation had reached a point where I needed to step out of Mitsuhide’s way. However, unrelated all that, there was a certain Portuguese merchant who had information about my father.

Maybe when Mitsuhide said, ‘don’t leave the building’ what he meant was ‘don’t investigate Shojumaru without me.’

If I were just going to visit an old friend… surely that would be ok.

When Sho arrived for my daily hair model punishment, I put the question to her as well. “Do you think that Kyubei meant that we couldn’t leave at all, or just that we couldn’t go back to the docks?”

“He said don’t leave, but… perhaps he really meant don’t go anywhere dangerous.” And with that statement, she became not my maid, but my co-conspirator. “Is there somewhere you wish to go?”

“A family friend – a merchant – I would like to visit him… and his wife.” I mentally married Francisco off, as Sho would likely feel more comfortable with that sort of duty visit. One that I intended to pay by myself. “His machiya is near the warehouse district. If you want to visit Hiko” (and by that I meant take a peek at Shojumaru), “you could do that while I was on my visit.”

No, I had no shame using her crush on Shojumaru slash Motonari to my advantage. Granted I also wanted to hear his voice again confirm that with my memory of Motonari’s from five years ago, but that might be pressing disobedience too far. No, instead, I would find out what Francisco knew, about de Sousa, about Shojumaru… about my father.

With the potential for catching sight of Shojumaru spurring her on, Sho rushed through our morning beauty tortures and in no time, I was walking into Francisco’s office – this after first strolling into a booksellers to put Sho off the scent (I did realize that she would wonder if I visited a Nanban merchant).

Francisco was at his desk, using a western style quill pen that scratched across the surface of whatever document he was working on. When he looked up and saw me, he literally turned pale and put his hand to his heart. He opened his mouth and nothing came out.

Was he having a heart attack? “Francisco? Are you ok? In pain?”

“Oh. Katsu. You gave me such a fright. With your hair like that, you looked just like…” he caught himself, and turned the end of the sentence into a cough.

I reached up and touched my hair. When Sho had been experimenting with styles, she had given me bangs. Without a mirror, though, I had no idea what I looked like with them. I’d never worn my hair like this, not even when I lived in modern Japan. A conscious effort not to look like--

“My mother? Is that what you were going to say?” I hadn’t been sure whether Francisco had known her too, but this confirmed it.

He startled again, then opened the desk drawer and rooted around. “The letter. You took it?”

Time to play offence. “It was addressed to me. I wanted to know if it had anything to do with his disappearance.” I sat down across from him and gave him my best imitation of Mitsuhide’s authoritative stare.

“I told you that it could not be so, since he wrote it so long ago – and now that you have read it, do you not agree?” He sounded defensive about it.

Ok, note to self, need to work on that authoritative stare.

“Well, Mitsuhide took it from me before I could read all of it, but I did get through the bit that revealed you and Aki are also from the future.” Maybe there would be important stuff in the rest, but since Francisco did not know my father’s code he wouldn’t know what was on that last page either. “You knew her?”

“Not that well. “ He continued to dig through the desk drawer. “As you are aware, I have trouble understanding your language –“

“If you were in Japan before I was born, and you’ve been here ever since, then you’ve had over twenty-five years to learn it.” Granted, Francisco was incredibly bad at languages, but… seriously?

“Not all that long ago. When I first went back in time, it was to Portugal of 1573. I’ve been in this century for almost ten years.” He scratched his head. “I think. When you do as much time travel as I have, things tend to blur.”

Ok. That sort of made sense. I supposed that would also explain how Aki could be my father and yet not appear old enough to have a child my age. I had so many questions, questions like, why did you time travel? When are you from? Did he love her?”

“I am certain of it. We… we were not supposed to get personally involved. He would not have taken that kind of risk unless there were strong feelings attached.” Francisco put up his hands. “Please. Let me explain what I can. We were consulting with some prominent historians. Kokomo? No. Mikomo…?”

“Mikumo?” That would be how Sasuke had connected with Aki. He had said that ‘Professor Yamaoka’ was a family friend.

“Yes. Mikumo was their name. They were married. I remember that the woman had a baby during that time and she would put him in a,” he mimed a playpen, “while we went over the research.”

Baby Sasuke. Getting to hear about history before he could even speak. “Sasuke.” I said his name out loud to confirm.

“Yes. That sounds right. Your mother was his ama seca.”

The Portuguese phrase was unfamiliar to me. “Secretary?”

Francisco shook his head. “No. She cared for the baby. So that his parents could study without being bothered.”

Nanny. My mother had been Sasuke’s nanny? I wondered if he would remember her, although… no, he would have been an infant.

“She was paying for her training that way. I believe she wished to be a dancer and there was some difficulty with her parents over that choice.” He rummaged through the drawer one more time. “When you retrieved the letter, you did not continue to look through here, or you would have found this.” He handed me a drawing of a woman dressed in a Noh costume – my mother.

I had never seen her like that – she held an open fan over her head, while she gestured gracefully with the other. She was smiling.

“You don’t smile very often.”

Through most of my life, my mother had not smiled. And though I knew that her depression was clinical, apparently originating from an episode of post-partum depression that worsened and never, unlike most cases, left, part of me had always believed my unknown father had stolen her smile. It was Aki who had taken it when he left. That was the one thing I could never forgive, even if I allowed him the rest.

“I drew it from memory for him – your father – but he found it too painful to keep.” Francisco rubbed his chest as if her memory was painful to him too. “In the middle of our historical research, an urgent situation arose, and we had to leave. Aki tried to find her to say goodbye – in fact, though it would have been forbidden, I believe he would have asked her to come with us – but, we ran out of time.”

“Time travelers ran out of time.” One would think that would be the only thing they had plenty of.

Francisco caught my sarcasm. “It’s not as if time travel can be done at the click of a button. Or rather, that was in fact the problem. A prototype for that – a device that could eliminate the necessity of waiting for a wormhole – was stolen.”

At that moment, what should have been obvious to me earlier suddenly was clear. “You and my father weren’t casual time travelers – you’re from a time when it’s common knowledge. When?”

Francisco refused to look at me. “Although yes, it is a future beyond yours, but even so, time travel is not a thing we attempt lightly. Wormholes, such as the one you travelled through, are still the primary method of travel. Those are not things we can control.”

It was clear from his body language that there were things he wasn’t telling me, and I suddenly saw Mitsuhide’s point about the frustration of knowing there was more information that was being held back.

“You and my father urgently needed to catch a wormhole here in order to retrieve this stolen device?” I could see why that would have been chaotic, but I wasn’t willing to let Aki, and by association Francisco, off the hook. “He must have come back for her at some point though. Otherwise he would not have known about me or Toshiie.” And I knew, from talking to Sasuke, that Aki had been in modern Japan recently enough – otherwise Sasuke wouldn’t have recognized his name.

“He did. I do not know the details, but it sounded like your mother refused to have anything to do with him then.” Francisco shut his eyes. When he spoke again, it was very slowly, as if his word choice would be the difference between life and death. “I remember her as being somewhat volatile.”

That wasn’t my memory of her, but it was easy to believe she had changed. I didn’t know she once dreamed of being a dancer. Having twins must have put an end to that dream. Especially when she had no help from my father. No way to find him. And he… had only found me when I was old enough, skilled enough, to be useful to him. “Did he on purpose bring us to-“

“Dear me. Once again, a little bird has flown out of her nest.” That comment preceded Mitsuhide’s entrance into the room.

“Senhor Mitsuhide, welcome!” Francisco got up and bowed very clumsily, somehow managing to bump his head on the desk on the upswing. “I am happy to eat you in my home.” Francisco’s Japanese was as execrable as always, and after a pause he switched to Portuguese. “Do you want tea… or, I have coffee from the Dutch.”

Coffee? Aki had had access to coffee all the time he knew me?

Francisco took ceramic jar from a built-in shelf. He pulled off the lid, and the smell of coffee beans filled the room. “Katsu, do you want some coffee? I imagine it has been a long time since you were able to drink it.”

In truth, I didn’t like coffee all that much, but Francisco’s moving around to prepare it would give me a chance to explain things to Mitsuhide, so I said, “Yes. Sure. Refresh my memory.”

Mitsuhide raised that eyebrow, reminding me that I needed to provide translation service for Francisco’s Portuguese (actually, with Francisco, sometimes his Japanese needed translation too). “Francisco is offering us a drink that the Nanban and other Westerners drink – their version of tea, although it doesn’t taste much like it.”

“If he is already going to be preparing it, then I will try it.” Mitsuhide’s attention was still on me, and he glanced over to the drawing I still held.

Not wanting him to have access to this private part of my past, I flipped it over. While Francisco was occupied smashing up the coffee beans, I told Mitsuhide, “I thought Francisco might know something about de Sousa or Shojumaru.”

“Ah.” An ‘ah’ that could have meant a dozen things – most of them boding ill for me. “Does he?” I couldn’t tell anything about his mood from his tone of voice. He might not have wanted me to leave the townhouse, but if that had been really an important order, maybe he should have told me in person and then not left me alone for four days.

“I haven’t had the opportunity to ask yet. We got sidetracked.” I glanced down at the paper. He looked at it again too, and with one questioning finger, he tapped the edge of it. “Yes. It’s a portrait of my mother. We were talking about her.”

“Neither you nor Aki have ever mentioned her.” He didn’t invade my privacy by turning the portrait back over – at least he allowed me that.

“She died a long time ago.” And, I couldn’t talk about her. Not with Mitsuhide, who likely wouldn’t understand. Or worse, understand too much. “How did you figure out where I was?”

“Sho was making a spectacle of herself at the harbor. She told me where she left you and it didn’t take much effort to realize where you were headed. Ah, thank you, Senhor,” he added when Francisco brough over three steaming cups of coffee.

Francisco understood ‘arigato’ at least, so he smiled and seated himself behind his desk. In terrible Japanese, he managed to convey that coffee was a delicacy.

I wouldn’t go as far as to say that, but then on the rare times that I had drunk coffee in modern Japan, I preferred to drink it with a lot of milk. I picked up the cup in my hands, letting it warm them, while I eyed Mitsuhide to see how he would react to the flavor.

No reaction at all, though he gave Francisco a friendly smile. “I imagine this would be bracing on a cold morning.”

Unlikely Francisco would understand all that, but not really worth translating. Mitsuhide turned to me. “Well as long as you’ve gone to the trouble of escaping again, you might as well ask him your questions.”

Switching to Portuguese, I asked Francisco to tell me what, if anything, he knew about Shojumaru and de Sousa.

“Shojumaru – I do not know him well. He owns a few warehouses, but does not import or export any goods on his own. Many people use the warehouses though. He deals honestly with Japanese and Portuguese merchants alike.” Hm, yeah, I had gotten the impression that Shojumaru had a positive reputation here in Sakai. But that did beg the question…

I translated Francisco’s comment to Mitsuhide, then asked, “Didn’t you purchase the fabrics from Shojumaru the other day?” Or had it been Tadayo’s shipment? No, that couldn’t be right – it would be a waste of time to put a shipment in a warehouse when you had a storefront.

“I believe that was indeed the case. Ask him if he can think of any reason why Tadayo would think Shojumaru was importing fabric.”

I relayed Mitsuhide’s question to Francisco, who only shrugged. “I could have it wrong, Katsu. As for the other man, de Sousa, he brings in weapons and wishes to take out silver.”

After I translated that for Mitsuhide, he simply nodded, but said nothing. I didn’t know if that meant he had no other questions, or if he wanted to see how I interrogated Francisco without any particular prompting. Then again, Mitsuhide wasn’t aware of the time travel (unless he had managed to decode Aki’s letter… and I did not think he was capable of doing so, or if he had been capable that he wouldn’t have immediately asked me about time travel). I turned back to Francisco, as that thought prompted me to ask, “What is your role here? I mean in this time period? Are you actually a merchant, or is there some crazy time travel mission that you are on?”

“It is both, Katsu. My being a merchant gives me a cover that allows me to stay. Perhaps I should have chosen the role of a missionary.” He glanced at Mitsuhide then back to me. “It is a long story and now is not the time to tell it. All I can say is that I try not to get too close to people who would be able to find problems in my backstory. de Sousa is one of those people. As for Shojumaru, he is not always in Sakai, I believe he has business interests elsewhere, for he travels frequently.”

Cutting out the first part regarding the time travel, I passed on the remainder of the information to Mitsuhide. “Is there anything else you would like me to ask him while we are here?”

“Insert Shojumaru’s other name into the conversation and see if it gets a reaction.” He leaned back in the chair, appearing quite at ease in this western style of furniture, and took a sip of the coffee.

“Have you ever met Mouri Motonari?” I dropped the name in quickly, and allowed Mitsuhide to do that body language/ face reading voodoo trick… that he really needs to teach me how to do.

Francisco appeared to give the question some thought. “No. Is he not dead? In history at least he was dead at this time? If he is not, then… it is not a good thing.”

Well history has been topsy-turvy for years now, and who knows whether Aki and Francisco’s time travel had been a catalyst for what was now possibly a paradox.

“He thinks Motonari is dead,” I finally remembered to translate for Mitsuhide.

“I had gathered that… oddly, ‘morto’ is one of the Nanban words I do know.” He stood up. “Come along now. Thank your friend for the information and this … bracing beverage. We must return home so that I can chain you to me.”

He was joking.

I think.

Spoiler alert. He wasn’t joking.

@selenacosmic @lorei-writes @bestbryn @akitsuneswife @lyds323 @tele86

#10things #10 things i hate about mitsuhide #ikemen sengoku #fanfic #ikesen fanfic #ikesen mitsuhide #ao3 link #mitsuhide monday #ikemen sengoku fanfic #mitsuhide akechi

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yurisorcerer · 2 months ago

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This took a while to win me over, but it did, and I'm glad it did, although it leaves me in an odd position going forward.

Some context: some friends and I are doing a monthly anime groupwatch starting in November, and since it's almost November I figured I'd get a head start on Tamayura, since the tentative plan is to do both this OVA and both seasons of the TV show and maybe the presumably direct-to-bluray movies as well. That's a fair amount of stuff, so I wanted to get an early start.

As for Tamayura itself, it follows the shy schoolgirl Potte and explores her love of photography. Potte, in particular, is interested in the phenomenon of what are often called ghost orbs over here in the states. She associates them with photos of her late father, thus giving her a personal connection to the phenomenon (which is, evidently, called tamayura in Japanese and is thus also the namesake of this series), and thus giving the show some emotional stakes. (The fact that backscatter artifacts as they're more properly known are a well-explained phenomenon doesn't seem to enter into the equation here. I could be a dick and nitpick this, but that seems like not taking the show on its own terms, and I don't like being that person.)

More generally, she is fascinated with the mysterious nature of photography itself, and this is what propels our plot, such as it is, forward. She spends most of these OVA episodes at least tangentially attempting to find the location where she took a picture of her dad several years back. The ephemerality of the tamayura orbs, and thus the ephemerality of things in general, is a factor here as well. The cycle the series focuses on is thus; experiences become memories, memories can be preserved by pictures, and pictures can in turn drive new experiences, such as our main character group venturing to a particularly scenic hill in the last episode of this OVA. It's a simple thesis, and hardly one unique to this series, but it works well enough, and Tamayura plays it pretty effectively.

On a craft level, it's fitting that a show about photography was able to win me over mostly off the strength of its environments. We have a setting on the border of the suburban and rural here, and the townscape and nature alike are rendered with a grounded timbre that nonetheless imparts them with a little bit of sparkle. If you're the kind of person who gets easily bored by shows like this in which "nothing happens" and much of the focus is on the environment, Tamayura is unlikely to win you over and I can imagine such people finding the show dull. Still, for what it's going for, I think it scores high in these areas.

The character art is pretty nice as well. Done in a very straightforward moe` style, with big eyes and round faces, the show often wobbles its characters around in lightly amusing ways when something funny is happening. It's worth mentioning though that the humor is probably Tamayura's weakest point, most of it is not so much bad as it is simply kind of basic, but there are a couple of moments that *really* don't work and veer close enough to ecchi humor to feel wildly out of place with the rest of the work. Characters are a mixed bag too. Thankfully, Potte herself is great, but some of her friends have very one-note personalities (at least here in the OVA), and one in particular, Norie, is just kind of annoying in a way that actively clashes with the rest of the series. (Of course, I also like some characters a lot, including Potte herself as mentioned, Potte's grandma, and Maon, who mostly communicates by whistling. Give me some context for why the heck she does *that.* There's an interesting story there, I'm sure.)

In any case, these criticisms aside, my biggest question about Tamayura on the whole is what exactly they're going to do for stories as I move into watching the TV series. Potte's quest to find the place she took her father's photograph ends with the end of this OVA, and it's a nice enough ending, a real full-circle moment, that I struggle to think of how we're going to wring 24 episodes out of this. I suppose I'll find out in the coming days.

#Tamayura #yurisorcerer talks about media #mugwatch

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quotergirl19 · 2 years ago

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Deep dive into Penelope & Eloise’s perspectives:

In many ways, Eloise and Penelope are suffering through the same thing during their fight: resentment & heartbreak. Eloise called her friendship with Theo, “one of the only good things in my life,” and she feels she gave it up because of Penelope’s self-serving behavior (keeping her Whistledown secret).

On the flipside, Penelope calls writing Whistledown, “all I have had,” because she only has one good thing in her life apart from her friendship with Eloise, and she gave it up because of Eloise’s self-serving behavior of taking every opportunity to rebel simply because the opportunities have presented themselves (which she did by visiting Theo unchaperoned often, even during her brother’s wedding which is how she was caught and presumed to be Whistledown forcing the events that followed leading up to Penelope ruining her to keep Eloise from making things worse by lying to the Queen).

Both women were pursuing their own happiness, and sense of purpose. For Eloise her happiness was spending time with Theo who had interesting ideas and new perspective, and their relationship also brought her closer to what she was tasked to do by the Queen, which gave her purpose.

If Eloise managed to discover who Whistledown was, she would be able to look back on that accomplishment for the rest of her life. Even if she’s not allowed anything else because she’s a woman. Even if she has to marry someone and conform because of the expectations of the society and family she was born into, she would have done something instead of just talking about doing something which is all most women could do at the time.

Investigating and figuring out the big mystery of who Whistledown is at the request of the monarchy itself would have been the way Eloise Bridgerton was remembered by future generations. Not just because she was mentioned in Whistledown’s columns, but because she discovered who the anonymous writer was when even the queen’s Bow Street Runners (who were men) failed.

Eloise said that she, “gave up Theo,” and while she didn’t give him up for Penelope. She gave him up because of Penelope through Whistledown. So while Eloise’s anger and resentment is directed towards Penelope, her real problem is the cage she feels society has trapped her in. Whistledown (Penelope) serves as the enforcement of the rules that Eloise finds so restrictive because Whistledown will reveal what you do that doesn’t conform which is stifling when most people are just trying to live their lives and pursue their interests and happiness.

Unlike Eloise, Penelope truly has no outlet other than her writing and her relationship with Eloise. Her family is not as big, loving, supportive, powerful, connected, respected or wealthy as the Bridgertons. Her mother and siblings have shown Pen no genuine affection or respect, Portia does not care about Penelope’s interests or education and she has even less interest in securing a good match to safeguard Penelope’s future the way Violet Bridgerton has done for her children. Penelope is not encouraged to be herself, she’s told to be quiet and put down her books, and where any other mama would be eager to use their daughter’s friendship with a popular, handsome and rich man like Colin Bridgerton as a stepping stone towards making a match between him and her daughter, Portia assumes the same position that society has which is that he would never choose Penelope. Portia won’t even entertain the notion that Colin is even truly Penelope’s friend. Pen has no one who encourages her or tries to help her find purpose or happiness. She found that for herself in secret through writing Whistledown which has been a massive success and has secured her the fortune which will ensure her future. Giving up Whistledown because of Eloise would naturally bring about feelings of resentment for Penelope but it’s a testament to how much she loves her friend that she would do that to help Eloise from doing something as dangerous as making an enemy of the Queen.

Both women are just desperate to find happiness and purpose when society doesn’t care about what women want or need or if they’re happy at all. Their fight is deeply rooted in the fact that they have tremendous love and trust for each other but have also contributed to taking from each other the joy and freedom they’ve each secretly secured for themselves. Maybe that could have been avoided if their respective secrets had not set them apart, which was exactly what Eloise didn’t want to happen and that was her reason for confiding in Penelope about Theo in the first place.

I’m eager for these two to reconcile, but there’s still a lot we don’t know about how Whistledown began and why, and I believe that is going to weigh heavily on how Peneloise move forward from this.

Jealousy also plays a huge part. Because while on the surface Eloise has everything, beauty, support, love from her family, respect from the ton, admiration from eligible gentlemen, money, and intelligence, Penelope is not considered beautiful because she plump, she is talked down to by her family, gentlemen ignore her completely, her family is known to have been in debt, and nobody cares about whether she’s intelligent or not. In the eyes of society there are the “haves,” and the, “have nots,” Eloise has and Pen does not. Yet Penelope’s success with Whistledown is something Eloise is definitely jealous of.

Penelope is jealous and resentful of the fact that she wasn’t born a Bridgerton but she’s also aware that she can’t help what family she was born into and she recognizes that neither can Eloise but that doesn’t mean that she’s not frustrated by her own more challenging circumstances. Eloise however, seems oblivious to the plight of the “have nots,” because she’s never needed to consider it. She needs a massive reality check with regard to her privileges as a Bridgerton. I like both Eloise and Penelope a lot but Eloise has a sense of entitlement to do what she pleases as she pleases which is entirely due to her privilege as a Bridgerton which makes her consistently oblivious to the feelings and perspectives of others. That will have to change if she’s going to mature.

Time apart for personal growth and gaining perspective will do these two a lot of good. The same can be said for Polin but I digress.

Thoughts?

#quotergirl random thoughts #bridgerton #penelope featherington #Eloise Bridgerton #peneloise

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wamtorical · 2 years ago

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September - November 1890

Life was still steady and smooth for the Pence's, and money was as stable as ever. Though Claudia had run farms all her life, the introduction of farm animals was something she never knew she'd needed. Whether the chickens liked her or not, and whether the rabbits she watched all day even knew of her lingering presence, the company was swell while Elmer was busy at work. The incubation of the farm's first chick (whom she'd named 'Sonny') was a tricky process, but having now been introduced to the household next door and a few new faces from the neighboring town, she was learning how to take care of these curious critters down to the outright nitty gritty details.

In other news, Claudia had been keeping her eye on a certain stray cat for a few months, unable to ignore the lack of limb the feline possessed. Despite this, it seemed to manage fine - perhaps the animal was born with one less leg rather than having been victim to other more disturbing conclusions she'd pondered. It came out at night, presumably to hunt rodents, so if you'd wanted to see it roaming the streets you'd have to keep a steady watch for a three-legged, bright orange cat as soon as the clock struck twelve. Naturally, this is exactly what Claudia did.

The next morning, Elmer was woken up by his fatigued-looking wife and a questionable looking cat huddled in her arms. He merely sighed, stroked the newest addition to the family, and went back to sleep. Tibbles found comfort in fresh food and places to nap within the Pence household, but spent most of his days outside - not without causing a little mischief first, of course.

Tibbles - The Pence's three-legged feline ♂

Not long after Elmer left his mother alone with his father, letters started to come in. Through his replies he'd caught her up with everything that had happened since - admittedly not much - and she reciprocated the rush of communication by asking what had seemed like over a dozen questions, most of which comprised various variations of:

"Are the neighbours nice?"

"Elmer dear, how do you deal with the smell of the farm...?"

"Claudia has been feeding you well, yes? Lots of meat?"

"Have you thought about children yet? You know I'd so love to be a grandmother."

Ethel, on the other hand, stayed absolutely silent towards her side of the predicament. This mystery that surrounded her shut mouth attitude was later revealed to Elmer as shame - shame towards the act of adultery she'd committed. And the all too familiar vomiting. Elmer was shocked, of course, but found it hard to find a reason to hate Ethel for something he'd done sooner if he was his mother.

It was no secret to Elmer that Ethel had been seeing other men anyway. Naturally, the situation she found herself in was certainly still absurd, and worry filled thoughts flooded Elmer's brain; was his mother too old to bear children? Was it safe?

At the very least, this had meant they had another heir. Another one of Henry's money props. However, it did beg the recurring question about bearing children that was so heavily encouraged in society, despite their young age. While Elmer was neutral on the matter, Claudia was strictly adamant.

Contrary to what everyone had set in mind, Claudia had thought about the idea of being a mother every day. Still, if Claudia hadn't existed, if she hadn't been born, her mother would still be prospering today. Charlotte had forever reminded Claudia it wasn't her fault, but she was stubbornly positive it was and always would be, even if she couldn't control that eventual outcome. The overarching point was clear; who was to say the same thing that happened to Janet Deane wouldn't happen to her? Who was to say history wouldn't repeat itself?

During the 11 months Claudia and Elmer had lived in Brindleton Bay, both had befriended a small group of friends. There was Ruth and Jeanette who resided in Henford upon Baley, Anne from across the road and Alma from the nearby forest, who out of the four of them managed to somehow be able to conjure up the most helpful of advice that had most likely sprouted from living in a high-maintenance, run down cabin with twin babies (Minnie & Walter Reed) Strangely, the fact all her peers had children of their own only made her long more for the courage to have one herself.

Alma: "... So why haven't you? They can be troublesome little critters, but I assure you - they simply light up your life."

Claudia: "I'm afraid, Alma. My mother ... She had serious complications from my birth. It could happen to me - no, it could happen to any of us. Don't you find that awfully unfair?"

Alma: "You're saying she passed?" Claudia nodded and a frown became prominent upon Alma's face, deep thoughts swimming behind her dark eyes.

Alma: "I'm terribly sorry for your loss, Dear. I guess to me, as long as I birthed my own children, whether I lived or not, I would not truly die. Perhaps I'll pass this week from something as stupid as tripping over my own dress! Or in 40 years as anyone would long to. Either way, my legacy continues on forevermore. Do you see what I'm saying?"

By her 18th birthday on November 21st, 1890, Claudia had made up her mind after weeks of contemplation and treated her husband to a fun, late-night, much deserved, woohoo session. She brushed away the outcomes that could arise from her actions - Alma's words had really touched Claudia. If she now were to bare a child, well, to hell with it! Admittedly, Claudia had drank a few cheeky glasses of alcohol beforehand.

Her attitude, unsurprisingly, was not as careless and confident two weeks later as soon as the nausea began, confirming her lingering worries. Fear had rushed up to the surface again but Claudia recited what she'd been told and let herself relax in the comfort of her husbands presence. Whatever were to happen now, Claudia would have to brace herself. Deep breath in, Deep breath out. At the very least, Claudia's maternal instincts had kicked in and despite her anxiety a part of her was ecstatic that her very own child was inside of her, waiting to come out. If all went well, this would be the best thing to happen to her - Alongside Elmer, of course.

📜 next / previous / first

#The Pence Legacy #ts4 decades challenge #ts4 #Claudia Pence #Elmer Pence #1890 #1890s #simblr #pencelegacy #1890spence

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roanofarcc · 2 years ago

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PROJECT SUNSHINE CHAPTER TEN → LIARS AND LOSERS

summary: steve harrington x oc | on Ao3

when another product of Hawkins National Laboratory escaped a long-survived nightmare alongside her sister, she crashed into one unsuspecting teenage boy and dragged him deeper into the dark mysteries that made up their hometown.

word count. 4.7k | masterlist

warnings: cannon typical violence, child abuse, horror, gore, and depictions of mental illness. parts of this story were written pre-season 4 release. cannon divergence.

notes: the plot is plotting...

previous chapter ← → next chapter

Steve Harrington had a lot of regrets in his short life. He regretted how his seventh-grade Snow Ball was forever remembered by a botched buzzcut. He regretted cheating in his sophomore-year English class, forcing him to retake it. He regretted never asking his mother if she was okay.

There were a lot of things he wished he could take back or do over, but at the top of his list, at that moment, was befriending Tommy H. and Carol, letting the anger he inherited from his father possibly ruin any chance he had with Nancy Wheeler, and not chasing after the strange girl after she ran out of his house.

It wasn’t his idea to spray paint the movie theater marquee, but he didn’t stop Tommy from doing it. He was angry and upset at Nancy, at Jonathan, at himself. Seeing the two of them together, seated close together on her bed hurt more than he thought it would.

He didn’t know if there was a way for him to come back from that, any of it. He felt an instant wave of regret and shame, and he was humiliated. His face was busted up, his ego completely deflated, and he felt insanely guilty for several reasons.

Everything was fucked up in Hawkins. Barbara Holland was missing, presumed to have run away like she was some trailer park dropout and not a shoo-in for valedictorian. Will Byers was dead. And Sunshine, the girl that refused to leave his head, was running away from something bad.

He still couldn’t come up with a logical explanation for what happened in his kitchen before she bolted, and no matter how hard he thought about the whole ordeal, the more confused he became. He almost called the police after that, and he almost called them the day after when he couldn’t find her anywhere in Hawkins. Steve stopped himself though, maybe she was right, maybe they’d only make things worse; what the hell did he know? Nothing. He knew less than nothing, and it drove him crazy.

Somehow, she ended up with Nancy and Jonathan, of all people, and that made even less sense to him. At least he knew she wasn’t dead or something. He thought the worst had happened when he couldn’t find her. The people she was running from, Steve thought maybe they found her, and that was his fault.

After his embarrassing loss against Jonathan Byers in the alley, he wanted to talk to her, but the cops showed up and Tommy dragged him away before he got the chance to.

Sunshine didn’t run away when the cops arrived as he, Tommy, and Carol had. She stayed behind with Nancy and Jonathan, meaning she was probably hauled into the police station. That was exactly what she had been trying to avoid.

“You owe me $1.20,” Tommy said, tossing Steve a can of pop and a bottle of painkillers.

Between Nancy, Sunshine, and whatever was happening in town, he’d forgotten that his face was pummeled to hell. That was until he pressed the cold can against his split-open cheek and let out a short hiss of pain before the cold numbed his skin.

“Don’t worry, he’ll need more than aspirin when we’re done with him,” Tommy tried to reassure Steve, but he wasn’t exactly hellbent on revenge. He wanted the pain in his head to stop so he could try to fix the mess he made for himself.

Maybe if he’d taken the strange girl more seriously, he could have actually helped her and her sister, and they’d be long gone from Hawkins. Maybe if he did that, he could've paid more attention to Nancy and the fact that her best friend was missing, with the last place anyone had seen her alive being his house. Maybe then he wouldn’t have looked like such an asshole and maybe Nancy wouldn’t have run into the arms of Jonathan Byers.

Steve had no idea that whatever was taking place in his hometown was well beyond anything one teenage boy could fix. As far as he was concerned, if he hadn’t been so selfish, he could've solved all of the world’s problems.

“Yeah, if that creep ever gets out. The cops should just lock him up forever,” Carol said. “I mean did you see the look on his face?” She balled up her fists and pretended to throw weak punches at Tommy’s chest.

Tommy chuckled. “He probably had the same look on his face whenever he killed his brother.”

Pain flared up across Steve’s face as his anger boiled.

“Oh, God,” Carol scrunched up her face. “I just got an image of him making that face when he and Nancy are screwing.”

Steve’s last straw broke, and he couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand them, not at that moment. Between the guilt that swarmed his brain and the pain that coursed through his body, he couldn’t sit and listen to another word from the two of them.

“Carol, for one in your life, shut your damn mouth!” he snapped.

She blinked in surprise at his sudden outburst, like it hadn’t been simmering under his skin for a while.

Tommy and Carol were Steve’s friends and they had been since middle school. Most of the time, he felt like they were the only people who understood him. Everyone else at school tried too hard to be someone else as they’d actually outrun the curse of their parents and get the hell out of Hawkins for good. Tommy and Carol didn’t; they knew better and knew right where they’d end up. They weren’t okay with it, not exactly, but they accepted it. They didn’t want to waste their teenage years fighting their way through school for a slim chance they’d receive a one-way scholarship golden ticket.

Instead, they drank cheap beers and went to parties. Steve liked it. He liked being young and having money to make stupid decisions with, but he was different than Tommy and Carol. He didn’t need the scholarship to get into school; his parents had the money to send him wherever he wanted. If he wanted to leave Hawkins, he could. But, in the reality of it, Steve enjoyed pretending he was just like Tommy and Carol. He liked their mentality to an extent; he liked not worrying about the future.

However, in his junior year of high school, he saw the future loom closer, and the possibility of what that meant or could mean made him nauseous. He couldn’t live like that forever, which was why it felt right to him to form a crush on Nancy Wheeler. Not only was the beautiful and smart, but she saw the future and wasn’t scared of it.

As a sophomore, she already has a sticky note of colleges on the desk in her bedroom. She had their pamphlets and essays drafted. It gave Steve a little more hope.

He wasn’t going to throw that all away because of some mistake he made with the help of his friends.

“Hey, what’s your problem, man?” Tommy said.

Jumping off the trunk of his car, Steve huffed in annoyance. “You’re both assholes! That’s my problem.”

“Are you serious right now?” Tommy rolled his eyes, and more anger flooded Steve’s veins.

“Yeah, I’m serious! You shouldn’t have done that.” And he shouldn’t have let them. It was stupid and humiliating and now the cops were involved. Hell, he didn’t even mean half the things he said. The Byers family had a reputation, sure, but the words he spat at Jonathan were just hollow echoes of what his father had said about the Byers family. They weren’t even Steve’s insults which made it even more pathetic, he thought.

Tommy stepped toward Steve, challengingly. “Done what?”

“You know what.”

A dry laugh sounded from his friend. “Oh, you mean to call her out for what she really is?”

Steve’s face felt hot, and his fists clenched at his sides as Tommy continued, “That’s funny because I don’t remember you asking me to stop.”

Stepping closer, the two boys were face to face and it seemed like Steve had found himself, once again, ready to get into a fight. One of his eyes was nearly swollen shut and dried blood was crusted around his wounds, making him look not nearly as intimidating as he wished. He knew that any fight he tried to start with Tommy at that moment, in his state, would only lead to more embarrassment.

“Neither of you ever cared about her,” he said, looking between the two of them. “You never even liked her because she’s not miserable like you two. She cares about other people!”

It was Carol’s turn to roll her eyes. She threw her arms up and yelled, “A slut with a heart of gold!”

“I told you to watch your mouth!”

Tommy grabbed Steve by the collar of his jacket and shoved him hard against the side of Steve’s car. “Hey! I don’t know what’s gotten into you man, but you don’t talk to her that way.”

“Get out of my face.” He struggled under his friend’s hold. Tommy didn’t budge and Steve was pretty sure Jonathan had bruised one of his ribs.

“Or what?” Tommy shoved Steve again, causing him to wince in pain. “Huh? Are you gonna fight me now, too? Because you couldn’t take Jonathan Byers, so I wouldn’t recommend that.”

With another, half-hearted shove, Steve managed to shake Tommy. He shot the two of them one last look but said nothing else as he fished his keys from his pocket and climbed into his car.

Tommy continued to yell at Steve, in some attempt to rile him up, but all of his words were drowned out by the rush of blood in Steve’s ears.

He swallowed down the swarm of emotions that threatened to consume him and threw his car into drive. His tires spun as he pulled out of the lot and took off down the lonely roads of Hawkins in hopes of clearing his head. There were a series of apologies on his tongue and a night laid out in front of him that he hoped would make things right.

→←

Sunshine felt she was going to be sick, seated in the uncomfortable chairs inside the Hawkins police station beside a pair of teens she hardly knew.

Her hands shook tucked into the sleeves of her borrowed sweater. She had run over an escape plan at least a hundred times in her head, but it seemed like everyone inside the station couldn’t have cared less about her.

Or, it had seemed that way until two adults rushed right for them.

“Jonathan?” A rather disheveled woman approached them first, with her eyes focused on Jonathan. “Jesus, what happened?”

“I’m fine,” he mumbled, staring at the desk in front of him and not meeting her eyes.

“Why is he wearing handcuffs?” she asked the two officers who had taken all three kids into the station. Powell and Callahan were their names, which Nancy had told her quietly when they first entered the station.

Callahan, who nursed his nose with an ice pack, sighed before he said, “Well, your boy assaulted a police officer. That’s why.”

Sinking in her seat while the adults conversed, Sunshine wished she could disappear from their sight. There were too many people, too many adults in authority. She expected one of them to haul her up by her arms and drag her away kicking and screaming at any moment.

The woman, who Sunshine gathered was Jonathan’s mother by the way she fussed over him, and Callahan referred to him as ‘her boy’, was short in stature and wore dark circles under her eyes similar to her son.

“Take them off,” she demanded.

“I’m afraid I cannot do that,” Powell said.

Behind Jonathan’s mother was a taller man in a similar-looking uniform to the other officers. His face was set in a stern annoyance, with wrinkles across his forehead from how he pinched his eyebrows together.

“You hear her, take ‘em off,” the man said.

Sunshine should have run after the fight. She felt backed into a corner and treading in dangerous territory.

“Chief,” Powell stated, “I get everyone’s emotional here, but there’s something you need to see.” He nodded his head in the direction of the front door and the chief followed him outside.

Sighing quietly, Sunshine rubbed her thumb over the fabric of the sweater that covered her tattoo. She watched from the corner of her eye as Jonathan’s mother held his face in her hands and examined the scraps and bruises that littered his skin.

The sight caused a sense of longing within Sunshine; she couldn’t help but wonder if her mother was out there somewhere and if the woman was still looking for her after all this time. Sunshine didn’t even know how long it had been since she had been with her real family.

They only existed in fractured and blurred images in the very back of her mind. She remembered someone holding her hand and leading her across a road, the color blue, and flowers.

The Lab had done a good job of erasing whoever she was before. They made sure she was almost completely scrubbed clean of the normal life she led before, but they couldn’t erase everything.

The two men returned after a couple of minutes and dropped a heavy box on the desk in front of the three teenagers. It was their box of monster hunting supplies, and it was followed by a narrowed gaze from the man everyone called, Chief. The look filled Sunshine with even more nerves, which she didn’t think was possible at that point. Her hands balled into fists that were held in her lap in an attempt to stop them from shaking.

“What’s this?” Jonathan’s mother asked, gesturing to the box.

“Why don’t you ask your son? We found it in his car,” the Chief replied.

Jonathan shifted in his seat, uncomfortably. “Why are you going through my car?”

The chief looked pointedly at Jonathan and said, “Is that really the question you should be asking right now?” The boy stayed silent. Frustration bloomed across the chief’s face. “I want all three of you in my office.”

Sunshine’s eyes widened before they met Nancy’s.

“You won’t believe us,” Jonathan said.

“Why don’t you give me a try?”

The group, which consisted of the three teens, the chief, and Jonathan’s mother, piled into an office not big enough for all of them. It smelled like smoke and bitter coffee.

Nancy stayed close to Sunshine’s side, sitting right beside her on the small couch up against the far wall of the office. On the other side of Sunshine sat Jonathan’s mother.

The mother’s leg bounced, and her hands shook with a persistent unease.

Nancy and Jonathan launched into a full explanation of what they encountered in the woods the night before. From the deer to the hole in the tree, to see the monster face to face.

Nancy skipped over any mention of Sunshine’s abilities, which she was grateful for.

Even without the light that Sunshine was able to create in her palms and the bad men she told them were after her, their story still sounded insane. She was sure everyone in the room knew that.

Sunshine had lived most of her life in the insane and the impossible for as long as she remembered, but everyone else inside the office had not, from what she had gathered. The normalcy of the sleepy town was slipping out of their grasp faster than they knew how to handle, and they were only scratching the surface of how sinister their hometown was.

There was a long stretch of silence as the chief and Jonathan’s mother soaked everything in.

Finally, the chief asked, holding the photographs Jonathan had of the monster, “You said blood draws this thing?”

Nancy shrugged. “We don’t know for sure; it’s just one theory.”

Leaning back in his seat, the chief’s gaze fell onto Sunshine for a moment, and she felt panic coil tighter inside her chest, but he didn’t say anything to her, yet. Instead, he let out a heavy sigh and ran his hands down the length of his face.

“And you guys…what? You were going to test this theory out on your own?”

That time, Jonathan shrugged and said, “We just wanted some answers. We didn’t know how else to get them.”

Their plan wasn’t well fleshed out, and the two adults in the room picked up on that right away.

His mother stood up from the couch and pulled a cigarette from the pocket of her shirt. “I need to talk with you, outside,” she told Jonathan. He didn’t argue and slipped out into the hall with her right behind him.

It was just the chief, Nancy, and Sunshine left inside the room. The tension seemed to rise along with Sunshine’s heart rate.

“Is he in trouble because of the fight?” Nancy rushed out. “I-”

She was cut off by a wave of the chief’s hand. “We’ve got bigger problems than that right now.” Nancy sank back against the couch as the chief’s attention fell back onto Sunshine.

She tried to keep her gaze fixed on her hands in her lap and avoid his scrutinizing gaze.

He knew she didn’t belong there; Sunshine was sure of it. He was going to send her back to the Lab, she could feel it.

“What’s your name, kid? How’d you get wrapped up in this?”

Sunshine's eyes snapped onto Nancy, pleading for some kind of help.

“Sunshine. Her name is Sunshine. And she, uh, well, she’s new…?” Unfortunately, Nancy wasn’t a great liar and she stumbled over an unconvincing answer.

The chief raised his brows. “You do know that I’m a cop, right? I know you’re lying.”

Nancy rolled her lips into her mouth and apologetically glanced at Sunshine. Whispering, she said, “Maybe he can help.”

Sunshine knew better than to believe that. In her mind, there was no difference between the men inside the Lab and the men outside of yet. No one had proven her wrong, yet.

There were less than a handful of people she trusted, and most of them were dead by that point. She had started to trust Steve, despite the events that had transpired between them, and she started to trust both Nancy and Jonathan, even if she had just met them. She trusted them because they were all kids, like her. She’d never been hurt, lied to, or betrayed by a child; they had always been a safe place, as opposed to adults who were nothing but cold stares and cold hands.

“No,” Sunshine said, her voice sharp.

The chief folded his hands on top of the desk and visibly tried to soften his approach.

“Look, kid, whatever kind of trouble you’re in, we can help. But you’ve gotta help us out first, okay?” Sunshine stayed silent, causing him to sigh. “Is there something, anything, that you’re not telling us about this…this thing?”

“No.” That was the truth. She had no idea what the monster was or where it came from, but she did have a hunch that the Lab was behind it, somehow. But she couldn’t tell him that without opening up a whole new can of worms.

The chief’s eyes drifted onto where she dug her fingernails onto her exposed tattoo. She noticed the shift in his gaze and quickly rolled down the sleeve of her borrowed sweater, hiding her inked wrist.

“Okay, what about this,” he began. “Do you know anything about another kid I’ve been chasing all week, thinking it was Will Byers? A little girl with a shaved head who’s robbing convenience stores and shattering doors. Sound familiar?”

Sunshine felt her stomach plummet at his words. Her expression gave her away instantly, and the chief opened his mouth to ask more questions, but he was interrupted by the sound of yelling from the front of the building.

He groaned and looked pointedly between the two girls. “Stay here. We’re not done.” Then he left.

Eleven was still in Hawkins and people were starting to figure that out; Sunshine needed to find her.

Tugging on her hand, Nancy pulled her to her feet and right out of the chief’s office, despite what he had just told them. Together they crept down the hall and stopped just before they could be spotted by the officers at their desks.

Jonathan and his mother had finished their conversation and joined the girls. All of them watched the chief confront a yelling woman and her frowning child.

“What the hell is going on here?” he asked the two officers that had taken Sunshine, Nancy, and Jonathan into the station.

The yelling woman gripped her child’s arm, the one that wasn’t resting in a sling, and seethed. “These men are humiliating my son!”

Officer Callahan shook his head. “No, no, no. That’s not true.”

“There was some kind of fight, Chief-”

“A psychotic child broke his arm!”

“A little girl, Chief. A little one.” The lady shot daggers at Callahan as he spoke.

“That tone! Do you hear that tone?” she scoffed.

Sunshine glanced at the clock on the wall and held her breath. With each second that passed, she grew more and more anxious. Her eyes darted between the small group gathered around the young boy and the entrance of the station.

As much as she did want to help Nancy and Jonathan, she needed to help Eleven. Her sister was still there, but the more people who knew of her, the shorter their window was to escape before they hauled both of them back into that awful place.

“I’m just trying to state a fact!” Callahan defended, throwing his hands up in defense.

The chief rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I don’t have time for this,” he grumbled before looking between Callahan and Powell. “Will you please take a statement?” They nodded and he moved to return to his office.

“What’d this girl look like?” Callahan asked, opening a little notepad he pulled from his pocket.

The young boy didn’t meet the officer’s eyes and stared at his shoes instead. “She had no hair and was bleeding from her nose, like a freak.”

Sunshine felt herself sink further down into the rabbit hole was that Hawkins. Too many people knew about her, too many. They weren’t running out of time; they were out of it already. She needed to find her and get the hell out of there before they never escaped.

Any plan that involved helping those strangers slipped from her mind. Maybe it was selfish to abandon her promise, but she had only agreed to help because she thought maybe Eleven had been taken by the same creature. There was more at stake for the two of them. There were people out there who knew about them, and what they could do, and Sunshine could feel the Lab’s looming presence hanging over her. They were closing in; they had to be. Sunshine made a promise to Eleven long before she made one to the residents of Hawkins.

“What’d you just say?” the chief asked, returning to the child and his mother’s conversation.

“I said she’s a freak.”

“No, her hair. What’d you say about her hair?”

The kid glanced at his mother, who silently urged him to speak. He sighed and his cheeks flushed pink. “Her head was shaved. She doesn’t even look like a girl. A-And…and she can do things.”

Sunshine's hands shook, despite one of them still being held by Nancy. She felt the brunette’s gaze burn into the side of her face, but Sunshine couldn’t pull her eyes away from the kid with a broken arm.

“What kind of things?” the chief asked.

“Like make you fly. And…” he paused. “And piss yourself.”

Callahan sorted, “What?”

Stepping closer to the kid, the chief asked, “Was she alone?”

“No, she was hanging out with those losers.”

“Losers? What losers? I need names, kid. Now.”

With another sigh, the kid listed off a set of four names. “Lucas Sinclair, Dustin Henderson, and Mike Wheeler.”

Beside Sunshine, Nancy’s eyes widened before she muttered, “Oh, shit.”

She hardly heard Nancy over the heating of her own heart. Sucking in a shallow, uneven breath, Sunshine allowed her own panic to cloud her rational thinking. The only thing on her mind was finding her sister. So, she did the one thing she hadn’t stopped doing since she escaped the Lab that week; Sunshine ran.

Bee-lining for the front entrance, she shot out into the parking lot and bit down on her tongue, hard, to stop herself from crying. Her sore legs burned, and her eyes stung; she wanted to scream. Everything inside and out of her ached.

The bottoms of her feet her still nastily cut up, not allowing her to move as fast as she needed to. Before she was even halfway across the parking, a hand clamped down around her wrist and pulled her to a harsh stop.

A startled gasp fell from her lips as she spun around to meet the police chief and the rest of the group close behind him.

Sunshine struggled to pull her wrist from his grasp, yelling, “Let me go! Don’t touch me!” Her voice was laced with an unnerving amount of fear; so much so that it caused him to drop his hold. She stumbled backward and held her arms close to her chest which heaved with each breath she took.

“I need you to calm down,” he said, but her whole body trembled. Sunshine's mind raced too fast for her to keep up with. Once again, she felt held underwater with no hope of reaching the surface.

“That girl the kid was talking about, you know her, yes?”

She nodded slowly, her eyes drifting past him and onto Nancy and Jonathan. “I have to find her. B-Before they do.”

“They? Who’s they?” the chief asked.

Nancy stepped closer to the two, eyes full of sympathy and worry. “The bad men, right?”

“S-She’s in trouble,” Sunshine croaked out, on the verge of crying. “We’re in trouble.”

“All of those kids are in trouble until we find them. But we can’t do that without you, understand?” Sunshine frowned. “We’re on the same side here, kid. We’re fighting the same people.”

He sounded unsure of his own words, and she knew why. He had no idea who exactly they were dealing with. None of them had a clue, aside from her and Eleven. They had spent nearly their entire lives entangled with the Lab and the bad men inside. They knew the lengths they’d go to in order to cover up their series of mistakes.

Jonathan’s mother offered Sunshine a careful smile, but her eyes remained wary. “We aren’t going to hurt you, sweetie. He’s right, we just want to help and find my son.”

Looking between the two adults with eyes full of skepticism, she frowned.

Sunshine didn’t believe them, but she did need to find her sister in a town that she was a stranger to, with all of the odds stacked against them. If they could just lead her to Eleven, she wouldn’t have to follow through with whatever the rest of their plan was; she could grab her sister and leave.

She didn’t like the idea of going with them, but she knew her odds were better.

With slumped shoulders, Sunshine mulled over it as she ran her hands down the length of her face, smearing the makeup Nancy had used to cover up the new and healing bruises that adorned her face.

They knew Hawkins; they knew how to find the group of kids Eleven was with. That gave them an advantage over Sunshine.

“Okay,” she sighed after a while.

The group visibly relaxed at her agreement.

“All right,” the chief said before he turned to Nancy. “Now, where is your brother?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably at home?”

“Then let's go.”

Tagged list (let me know if you would like to be added!)

@sattlersquarry @suniloli @lovefrom-theother-side

#stranger things #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #joyce byers #jim hopper #steve harrington x original character #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington slow burn #steve harrington fic #stranger things 1 #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction

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unproduciblesmackdown · 2 years ago

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tonight's highlighted element of mitzi and mordecai's murder mystery is "fr why does mordecai Not just hate mitzi full throttle no caveats" like, seems like the reason he doesn't is: something we don't know at all surrounding something else we don't know at all, which is:: what specific reason atlas was killed when he specifically was (vs. like, more generally/thematically, like how it's introduced as "that's the business & an unsurprising inevitable fate for some in it")

mitzi mentions the "reassurance that it's still my fault" which leaves room to interpret it only as [she's framing this from mordecai's presumed perspective but doesn't herself think it was her fault] but i think it's more likely she agrees with that herself. wherein it's like....so why doesn't mordecai too begrudged about this to even speak to her, or later on not defend her at all (to someone who may die in 5 sec anyways but hey (gracie))

which, speaking of, i Know we did not see dramatic flashbacks ft. identical revolvers for mordecai to Not have been the one to shoot atlas....i Know mordecai was not: Not guaranteed to have quit lackadaisy afterwards, the only Employee we see at atlas's funeral (or identifiable character besides mitzi (widow) and asa (friend)), and currently going around never not describing his approach to his current "uniquely terrible" job as being one driven by Work Ethic and Professionalism to Not have shot atlas because atlas was in on that happening and requested/ordered it to happen such that mordecai can think of it as him having done it For His Boss, For His Job. i also know that regardless of dealing with it through a lens of professionalism(tm) and mere work ethic and etc there's no way a prominent character doesn't get to be in on all these emotional hangups and i doubt he got much of any [father figure] out of atlas for having a gun thrown at his head and then his self shoved into the line of fire Professionally(tm) but there's more room for him to simply be standing around like atlas's ferocious little gay ass shadow like oh so he's Competitive with atla's wife huh. well that is interesting. wherein like i'm not even sure that mordecai is helpfully expositing rn because he's (with very little interest) defending mitzi so much as he's like, actually protective of his own role in the murder mystery (and not just protective like, No One Can Know. i mean mordecai has how many murders that nobody's supposed to know about? that's not special) like excuse me the fact that SHE didn't shoot him and EYE did is actually important to me. whilest it's also like hang on, why was she not even living with him at the time (i extremely doubt that mordecai was instead, but. well, maybe not extremely. let's say Quite doubt. verily) why had things visibly deteriorated? mitzi seems to be entirely affectionate towards atlas's memory, and i don't think mordecai's lying about mitzi not shooting atlas or even being there (why would he be, anyways)

so it's like, what happened to deteriorate anything? it could've been for mitzi's safety or something, if what was deteriorating was atlas's handle on Not being murdered by nonrequest....which is leading back to that question of "what was her fault" which is alone a real [???] and then even more mysterious when it's like....the fact that mordecai's main deal is being aggrieved about atlas's death (and clearly more generally caught up in it such that For Some Reason he (but not really mitzi???) feels there's room for Important Things He Thought He Knew But Might Not and is now motivated to be riskily detectiving about it) and has whatever further emotional particulars surrounding that sure would Seem to point to like, yeah he Would just supercharged entirely hate mitzi now, right. and yet that doesn't seem to be the case, or else he has like, incredible restraint lol like Yes i feel that way No it actually doesn't affect what i do any more than this. but i Do extremely doubt that's the case, he's Not actually here to destroy what she has left or even bother backbiting in a situation wherein he has no reason Not to if he feels like it even a bit. it's also like, how could mitzi have such a role in things as to Be at fault for something that even indirectly got atlas killed? Maybe she was helping run things before he died, but that's pretty much the only idea i have since otherwise all we know is [she was his wife], which is unhelpfully vague, but [she was his wife who helped run his business] is Also unhelpfully vague.

mitzi's also this fairly isolated figure, despite us knowing how she connects to pretty much everyone currently. like, she showed up with a band (who's still around / we know what they're up to (probably Not: having played a role in atlas's death)) then she marries atlas, now she runs his speakeasy operation....but there are no figures involved here who atlas also wouldn't have been involved with. and, in fact, now mordecai is all riled about the possible unknown role that asa had in things (by potentially having something to warn atlas about by way of the mysterious thorn in marigold's side), with asa seemingly being someone more directly connected to atlas, while being a guy who mitzi and mordecai were previously just kind of Around Sometimes through their being wherever With atlas. it's like, okay, can't imagine mitzi up to something that involves herself and only herself that would make it her fault atlas died; But Whom Else could she have been involved in anything with whom atlas would not have been as, or more, directly involved with too....mordecai's a candidate there, of course, but if they were in cahoots about anything you might think they'd have Stayed in it (more than they have, i.e. by their sharing some secrets between themselves out here) rather than mordecai violencing out (this is a play on "peacing out," wherein you also shot at least one person)

(half-joking tangent about "maybe wick" wherein i'm mostly unserious like "lol maybe he's the mystery highest up at marigold" but i'm also forever like "well...yeah maybe" lol like maybe mining operations are his front and that's why he's also so busy with that. you'd think for all her involvement that lacy would have to know about something like that, but hey, maybe she does. maybe the only thing at risk re: wick being too nice to go seeking reprisals is, you know, ways of operating that mitzi didn't want to turn to, the potential loss or cooling of an alliance here....or maybe other people seek reprisals for him, what with that being the job of all the hired guns. i'm also just not so sure that lackadaisy really has any such Twists set up at all, even if there's things completely secret to us; but i'm also not sure what wick's role in things could be otherwise, if/when it comes to him taking any particularly active role at all. versus just being some kind upstanding (but not prohibitively. lol) citizen hanging out out here. being quietly robbed here and there)

finally for now, also a note wondering if simply The Feds alone are that thorn in marigold's side / what asa had to warn atlas about....i have to suppose that mordecai saying "i think i met your lawyer" to gracie is also the "c. trumble / no show" in drago's calendar book, is also the "local attorney and assistant missing" page beneath that book, is also that guy way back when (so like a day and a half or two back in the comic's timeline lol. eventful week out here) who got hatcheted up, truly f but hey man the savoys are calling mordecai their petit hache about it, so a small price to pay for the mostly postmortem mess....but fr like, is marigold running up against the problem of like, some more ambitious investigations, versus marigold having more room to focus on That rather than paltry competition, but wherein now the issue is just how far up the ladder of [informants] they can go? mordecai being tasked to take out gracie And his lawyer of yore seems to be a zany mission of killing these informants who drago's trying to meet with before he can do so....but it's also like, what's Necessarily new? gracie's Been meeting with this guy, they could maybe pay people off instead, and mordecai's saying an Ambitious agent (apparently like drago) could maybe shut a venue down for all of ten minutes. maybe drago specifically has some Particular information that makes it worth the risk and expense of Elevating Activity....marigold still seems concerned as well with potential competition, though maybe the Monitoring is all about seeing whether anyone else is reporting on operations. it's also sure possible that the total unknown of whoever runs marigold, for whomst asa can be no more than a messenger about these mysteries missions (like, if the marigold dream team triumvirate was trying to make sure people weren't being informants, couldn't they just be told as much?), has some kind of key context in their Motivation that isn't just peak straightforward cut & dry Business Matters. maybe they're like "wuhoh re: atlas dying. Could be me; what if i'm next." and is just making that everyone's problem by ramping up efforts to stamp out competition and informants, all while withholding info from everyone to be "safe"

not like Any Of [the mystery of what marigold's up to] theories necessarily illuminate "how does mordecai think there's some important things he could be wrong about? what would it be? why's mitzi seemingly know everything he knows, but is unfazed?" nor "how could mitzi be at fault for atlas's death, with atlas Probably being in on it, and mordecai definitely being in on it and mad at her but he Hasn't dedicated his life to destroying everything she has, as a hater, even though he could?" like hmm questions of the day. maybe atlas was being protective (of whom? in what situation would he think he could only protect them by himself dying? like, if he was warned by asa about the thorn in marigold's side being federal investigations....what else is new, and why would he die about that) maybe atlas thought his being killed was so unavoidable he was like well at least mordecai would certainly take me out as effectively as possible and where i can arrange my affairs and then not live my imminently numbered days in suspense (and why would it be so certain? did the head of marigold actually get like paranoid about shit Before atlas died such that asa could be like "they think you're too much of a liability and instead of initiating a war w/lackadaisy, marigold's ally atm, they're just gonna take you out to cut to the chase") in which case it's like, again, how would it be mitzi's fault. how would mordecai feel he has Enough information to have not previously suspected marigold (although he does specifically say there was no Overt reason to suspect, not that there was No reason to suspect at all) and feel that mitzi's culpability is Established and have shot atlas but not felt there was enough of a mystery there to investigate anything further if like, such a key piece of info was presumably unbeknownst to him before this brunch of disappointment just earlier.

(also, maybe mitzi and mordecai just have enough of a truce not based only on like, how they, in theoretical isolation, feel about each other, nor on sharing secrets about a murder mystery, but probably mostly based on this Understanding about their being the ones out here who had personal emotional ties to atlas (even if those were like, more unilateral in the cases of people in competition with atlas's wife. f) like, if mordecai's at the funeral then mitzi would know about that, not like viktor or any other loyal employees or affiliates were there, asa is also there presumably as that friend....atlas could also be like okay you have to shoot me but do Not kill my soon to be surviving wife, alright? thanks lol)

(wait also technically ivy's dad is kind of a mystery factor. but it seems most likely that he's just another lackadaisy affiliate who drew back when atlas died....hilarious if it's like "well my daughter who sees all of these goings on as Like A Movie is gonna keep hanging around this speakeasy, so i'll look out for her by taking atlas out so operations are greatly diminished and it's just Kinda dangerous" lol. the perfect plan. but he also does seem to have been involved in no tiny part in any of lackadaisy's more dangerous operations, see: that train depot funeral parlor smuggling gig, which had the proper slaughter at the lodge, the organ player shot, mordecai shot but he's fine thanks....risky business)

anyways i guess the theme is mostly like "what could be the basis of mitzi's culpability" and "mordecai gay. happy pride (and for the asexuality already as well)"

#lackadaisy #mitzi and mordecai murder mystery #nothing has been resolved here but typing it out = thinking it out lol #writing previous such posts have sure developed my Insights & Theories by the time i was actually posting them #no epiphanies yet as i type these tags but some simple marination always helps anything along

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unbreakable-oaths · 1 year ago

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Au Ra August Day 24- Mystery

Or, one retainer’s journey to find his charge after the Bloody Banquet.

Khutulun was missing. The Scions had promised him that she would be safe with them while he answered the khatun’s call home because they needed more warriors to fight in the Naadam. The injuries he sustained in the battle had delayed him and now she was missing, and the Scions were all missing or presumed dead. The blue coated warriors once led by a teenager turned out to be snakes, and one attempted to take his head when he returned to the Rising Stones looking for her upon his return.

Rumours swirled around if you knew where to listen, and Jaghatai knew how to listen. Some said she had gone into hiding after assassinating the sultana. Ridiculous. Preposterous. Khutulun was too consumed by her forge to ever bother involving herself in politics, especially the convoluted cesspool that was Ul’dahn politics. And no Dotharli warrior would ever lower themselves to assassination. There was no honour in that and Khutulun was an honorable warrior. Other rumours said it was she who was nearly assassinated and had fled for her life. Perhaps likely, but unlike her to not meet a threat head-on. Official channels had been unhelpful in parsing out the truth, and so he was left listening to the underworld. Reliable information eventually made its way to him. She had gone north- to Coerthas, a neutral state that owed her a great debt. And so, he made his way to Camp Dragonhead.

It was cold here. Not as cold as a steppe winter, but far colder than anywhere else he had visited in Eorzea and he was not dressed for the weather. No matter, a Dotharli warrior carried on and he was a Dotharli warrior with a mission.

“Where’s your commander?” he gruffly asked a guard at the gate, “I have important business with him that cannot wait.”

The guard directed him towards one of the large buildings surrounding the aetheryte and he stalked inside.

“Where is she?!” his thickly accented voice rang out through the hall, “where have you hidden her?”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to be more specific, my friend,” the blue-haired elf behind the desk said placidly, “I haven’t the faintest who you’re talking about.”

Jaghatai closed the gap between him and desk, and drew himself up to his full height, “Khutulun Dotharl, the Warrior of Light, Defender of the Steps of Faith, or whatever other idiotic title you have since saddled her with. I know she came to you. So- Where. Is. She?”

Haurchefant stood to meet the irate xaela, “I’m afraid I haven’t the faintest idea who you’re talking about,” and his smile became something sharp, “are you sure you’ve come to the right place?”

Jaghatai growled and reached for his axe only to be stopped by the sound of drawn steel behind him. Several knights had moved to flank him, and he dropped his arm back down.

“Now my friend,” Haurchefant continued, “there’s no reason to lose our civility. However, unless you had other business to attend to, I would suggest you leave my camp posthaste.”

The xaela glared at the man before turning around and walking out the door, several knights behind him to make sure he left Camp Dragonhead. Once well outside the walls, he sank down behind a tree in a break from the wind.

“Sadu-khatun is going to kill me,” he mumbled as the khatun’s charge to him rang in his horns.

“By all means let her soul burn bright in the blacksmith’s forge,” the khatun had intoned, “But, if she were to fall in battle, you will bring her bones back to us or you will die trying. The Steppe and the Dotharl will not lose the Warrior-of-10,000-Horses to another nation’s war.”

“Khutulun, where could you be?” Jaghatai rose and set off towards the Shroud- determined to find some warmer clothes before continuing the search for his wayward charge.

Meanwhile, in Camp Dragonhead, Haurchefant let out a relieved sigh. “Well done men,” he said, “Full glad am I that we have finally gotten the Warrior of Light safely ensconced in Ishgard proper. To think, the Crystal Braves are resorting to hiring far eastern mercenaries to track her down. I would hate to see what would happen if they could afford to hire more fellows like him. Just as Khutulun once kept us safe, we now owe it to her to keep her safe from men like him. Let her whereabouts continue to remain a mystery to those who would do her harm.”

#ffxiv #auraugust #auraugust2023 #ffxiv fanfiction #au ra xaela #haurchefant greystone #my writing

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dykebeckett · 2 years ago

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november 2022. my younger siblings are back in town from their colleges for Thanksgiving. My brother (who is a Cool Dude) wants to get high. I (Not Cool) have never been high, and being the ripe old age of early twenties, I have an id to purchase whatever nonsense they have at the gas stations (the legal status of which is a mystery to me). so my brother says hey. here's dollars. I'll tell you exactly what to get, you purchase WeedGummys for me, I give you one. and I said hm well I'd feel weird just getting that so you'll have to sweeten the pot and fund a Snack for me as well. my brother agrees and goes on a little recon mission at Woman's Name Corner Store across the street. He returns and gives me very specific instructions, which is great, so I go over there and I get my funyuns and I hesitate nervously for a bit, eyeing the Weed Cabinent nervously, and eventually I say "um how much are these uh blue ones. with the monkey on." and the woman behind the counter (we have spoken many times over the years, she recognizes me and I her, we do not know each other's names) comes to take a look. there is no price label anywhere. so she picks up one of the little packets and says "well how about 4.99 does that sound good" and I don't know if that sounds accurate but it does sound good because I love when things don't cost very much. so I get two packets and my funyuns and I go home. I give the gummy packets to my brother, and awhile later he brings one gummy to me. "dude. it tastes exactly like blue gatorade it's crazy" he tells me, and I am skeptical, but I eat the gummy and it does in fact taste exactly like blue gatorade. and he says it'll be about 90 minutes. and I've spent the past several days playing dragon age origins and don't anticipate that changing so I just go back to my game and assume that I will know when something is happening. Time Passes. Presumably, ninety minutes. My dad calls me in to berate me for a task poorly done, but I cannot recall what task, because as I am leaning on the kitchen counter, I begin to experience Effects of a Substance. I described the feeling to my brother and then to a very good friend as the pattern paisley if it was a feeling. the fact I remained upright during that conversion with my father is frankly miraculous (I didn't Feel like I was upright but I assume if I hadn't been someone would've reacted) and eventually I made it back to my room and I sat at my desk chair and stared at my laptop. and it was very difficult to play dragon age at that point

anyway I learned last week that it's apparently a super stupid idea for one's first high to be edibles based. oopsie!

#story time with ace #cw drugs #writing tip: tell a simple story in a fun and flowery way as a little exercise. it's fun

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tortledimlr · 1 year ago

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The Princess Who Was Promised: A Game of Thrones Fanfic

Chapter One: Elayne

She dreamt that she was flying. That she was a huge bird, flying over the bluest ocean she’d ever seen. She could see everything from here. From the sprawling city of Kings Landing, to the icy Wall in the North. She could even see the Black Brothers working from here. She swooped left and right, up and down on great, cream colored wings. She felt powerful. Invincible.

That was, until, the scene changed. She was in a dark room, and she was shorter than normal. A child. She heard the stomping of footsteps, the clanging of swords against armor, and scrambled under a bed in the dark room. As soon as she was safely under it, the door to the room swung open. Bright sunlight cascaded into the room, but was quickly darkened by a tall figure walking in. The figure stalked over to the bed, and she scurried back as far as she could, but to no avail. The figure tossed the bed to the side as if it weighed nothing, but before she could see their face, she jolted awake.

“Elayne!” She jolted, looking around for the person calling her name. A piece of parchment stuck to her face, and she watched as Kaenna Frey pulled it off. Elayne let out a sigh as she realized she wasn’t being killed by a dark and mysterious figure, but instead being woken up by her best friend.

“Morning,” She greeted, taking the parchment and looking at it. She cursed mentally as she looked at the drawing she’d done that was now smeared by drool. She set it on the windowsill so it could dry.

“Morning? It’s nearly noon,” Kaenna said, crossing her arms. Elayne flinched, knowing that meant her father was probably furious. “When did you go to sleep?”

Elayne mused for a moment, watching Kaenna grab her fresh undergarments from the closet. She could hear guards training in the courtyard and servants bustling in the hallways. “Dunno. I stayed up pretty late working on my newest project.”

Kaenna huffed at that and threw her clothes at her. “You and your projects. You’ll never find a good husband doing that, you know.” She said, frowning as Elayne mimicked her in a high pitched voice. “In any case, you need to bathe. Your father has been trying to summon you for hours.”

“I see,” Elayne stood up, taking her clothes and getting out of her chair. “Do you know why? And if so, are you going to tell me?” She asked, walking over to the bathroom. The bath was already filled with water, and she could tell it was warm from the door. Good. She liked warmer baths.

“No, I didn’t hear what it was. He did receive a letter with the royal seal on it, though,” Kaenna said, following her into the bathroom. She helped Elayne get undressed before taking her dirty clothes to a basket in the other room.

‘A royal seal?’ Elayne thought as she stepped into the water and settled. ‘What could the king possibly want with Father?’ She mused silently as Kaenna returned to the bath. She dumped some bubbles into the water before moving to Elayne’s head to wash her hair.

“Ouch!” She hissed, pulling her hands back. Elayne looked back at her questioningly. “How can you stand water so hot and not burn?”

Elayne chuckled a little, closing her eyes and Kaenna got to washing. “This is just warm water, you’d hate to see how I really prefer my bath water.” Kaenna shuddered in response.

—

Elayne stood outside of her uncle's bedroom, fiddling with the sleeve of her jacket nervously. Her father was in there, talking to her bedridden uncle. She couldn’t quite hear what they were saying, but Brynden Tully sounded serious. One of her fathers guards, Marvion Paege, stood to the side of the door. After a few moments, they locked eyes.

“Did you hear?” He asked nearly silently, looking away quickly. Elayne raised an eyebrow. “About the royal letter?”

Elayne nodded, wondering if he would tell her what it meant. He opened his mouth, presumably to say something, but the bedroom door opened and he bit his lip as Brynden stepped out of the room. Elayne looked at her father.

He was tall, and handsome, as she’d heard servants and noble ladies say a million times. His auburn hair was slightly gray at the roots, and he had slight wrinkles on his eyes and forehead. But when he smiled, he looked younger than ever.

“Ah, hello, little fish,” He said gently, kissing her forehead in greeting. “It’s nearly noon. How late were you up?” He asked, putting a hand on her shoulder as they walked down the corridor. Elayne smiled sheepishly.

“Very late, sorry, Father. I was working on a new project, you know, and I was so excited I guess I lost track of time and fell asleep at my desk,” She explained, folding her hands in front of her.

“And this is another one of your…firearms?” He asked, looking at her with his bright blue eyes. Elayne couldn’t help but think about how polar opposite they looked, with her black hair, brown skin, and dark brown eyes. Then again, she always knew that she wasn’t Brynden’s birth child.

“Indeed,” She answered, nodding. “With a longer barrel this time, better for hunting. I think so, at least.” She shrugged. She didn’t want to reveal too much, in case the longer firearm didn’t work the way she was hoping. “I’m hoping to test out the hand held firearm before my next nameday.”

“Well, good thing I collected you, then,” Brynden said, winking at her as they stepped into the Great Hall of Riverrun castle. Inside, a few guards stood around, muttering to each other, no doubt gossiping about the royal letter Brynden had received. Elayne tried to listen to them, so she could hear what it might mean, but she was more interested in the blacksmith standing near the High Table with an ornate box in his hands.

Brynden led her over to the blacksmith with a smile, and Elayne narrowed her eyes suspiciously. He took the box from the blacksmith, thanking him quietly, before turning to Elayne. “Happy early name day, little fish.”

She nearly squealed when he flipped open the lid of the box and revealed her gift. It was her handheld firearm invention, made with dark steel and gold details on the grip. She hesitantly touched it with her fingertips, feeling the cool metal. “You had this made for me? Where did you get my plans?”

Brynden smiled sheepishly as he watched her. “I…may have had Kaenna sneak it out of your room for me.” Elayne couldn’t bring herself to be bothered by that revelation, looking at her invention. Her invention. She picked the weapon up out of the deep blue velvet it rested on. It was heavier than she was expecting, but it wasn’t unmanageable. The blacksmith presented her with another box, holding the ammunition she’d drawn details for. She suppressed another squeal of delight when she popped the cylinder out and loaded it. It held six bullets, and she popped it back in before looking at Brynden.

“Can I test it out?” She asked, feeling overly excited. She knew everyone could tell, but couldn’t bring herself to be embarrassed. Brynden nodded, handing the box back to the blacksmith. Elayne was already halfway across the Great Hall when the doors swung open and an exhausted servant stepped into the room, panting.

The Baratheon royal seal was quite obvious on his clothes, and Elayne felt her stomach drop. She looked back at Brynden, and his face had gone serious.

“The King and his party are an hour's ride out from here,” The servant wheezed out, looking as though he may keel over. “He requests that you keep him housed until he is ready to continue the journey to Kings Landing, my lord.”

Brynden told a servant to collect his brother, Edmure, and put a hand on Elayne’s shoulder. “I’ll join you in the courtyard in a few hours. Marvion, Decran, accompany my daughter and get her a few targets to practice on.” The two guards nodded, and Elayne followed them into the courtyard silently cursing King Robert for ruining her father-daughter moment.

#creative writing #writing community #writing commissions #game of thrones #got #daenerys #bryndentully #blackfish

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