#i had a marvelous visitor this weekend and was Very Busy and then I had some mr blake maintenance to do | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

resowrites · 2 years ago

Text

What We Do In The Shadows - From Russia With Love (oneshot).

Summary: Laszlo discovers Nadja’s long kept secret and Guillermo has to dissuade Nandor from going on a treasure hunt (this oneshot predates the events of season 4).

Characters: WWDITS cast.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+only MINORS DNI, language, allusions to smut, mention of a homophobic slur, adult themes/humour, Laszlo being Laszlo, lovelorn Guillermo, lightly beta’d.

WC: 2835

My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! No copyright infringement intended, gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!

From Russia With Love - a What We Do In The Shadows oneshot.

At the vampire compound.

"Ok, good evening everyone, thank you for attending tonight's house meeting. I'll get straight to it, last night I had an unfortunate encounter with a young woman…"

"Wasn't it more unfortunate for her?" Laszlo smirked at Nandor, eliciting an exasperated sigh from the older vampire.

"Laszlo please… this is serious. I don't care whose guest she was, you must allow visitors back out again if you don't intend to finish them off…" this elicited giggles all around. Nadja, who'd been darning an old pair of stockings, suddenly looked up having missed most of the conversation.

"What are you talking about Nandor? I never leave my dinner unattended… do you know what he's talking about Laszlo?" The vampire to her right shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Oh alright, it was me, I invited the young lady back here but when she started droning on and on about her blasted student exchange programme… well, it was enough to put a chap right off his dinner." Nandor stared at him confused.

"Well, why didn't you show her the way out?"

"I dunno… I got bored and wandered off. Shit happens." Nandor rolled his eyes and moved on to the next item on his agenda.

"Is that why you decided to sign me up for online dating? Boredom? Really Laszlo, that wasn't very nice and I'd appreciate it if in future you--" Nadja then cut him off.

"What's this? Is loves biggest loser finally putting himself back out there? Good for you Nandor…" he tried to respond only for Guillermo to pipe up.

"Wait… how would that work exactly, is it a vampire dating site?"

"Don't be stupid Guillermo, why would Vampires need help dating?" Nandor avoided Nadja's eyes and shot a look at the cameraman.

"Okay everyone, great meeting, but I think we should continue this some other time…"

"Hang on a mo, Gizmo raises a good point, a vampire dating site is an excellent idea. Why, a man could get all the chuff he desires at a click of a button." Nadja rolled her eyes.

"Since when did you need help finding chuff? You are practically a chuff hound, my love…" Lazlo doffed his imaginary cap and decided to repay what he considered the highest compliment.

"As are you, my love. We have both been highly blessed in the sexual arts." Guillermo now rolled his eyes though he couldn't help but feel bad for his master, who was now shifting uncomfortably in his heavily booted feet.

"That is true… my loves have been broad and wide. And I'm not just talking about the variety…" at that Nandor stormed off, leaving Guillermo to trail after him.

Nadja and Laszlo to the interviewer:

"You know my darling wife has always been in high demand… personally, I thought she would have made an excellent courtesan…"

"Yes… but I don't like working weekends. Or in the day." The pair nodded in agreement.

"I do however think a vampire sex exchange website is a marvellous idea…"

"I think they call them 'hookups' Laszlo…" he waved his hand at her.

"Whatever… but I may look into the idea, by which I mean I'll get Gizmo to cook something up." Nadja shook her head.

"He's too busy with his head up Nandor's arse…"

"He wishes…" the pair then shrieked with laughter.

"You know now that I think about it, I don't actually think it is a good idea… I mean what if an ex-lover uses it to contact you?" Laszlo looked at her confused.

"And what's wrong with that? I've had many a woman desire a return trip to mount Laszlo…" Nadja scoffed.

"I don't know… look what happened with Gregor, there are some lovers I definitely wouldn't want to hear from again…"

"Oh yeah? Like who?" Nadja considered the long list in her mind for a moment.

"Well, there's Reginald the butcher's son, though I think he died going to work too early one morning. Then there's Rolph… though I think he's settled in New Orleans with a nice shapeshifter now…"

"Oooh, I bet they have fun…" Laszlo sucked on the end of his pipe saucily.

"Then there's Rasputin but I'm pretty sure they eventually managed to kill him…" Laszlo choked loudly.

"Come again? You were courted by Rasputin?" Nadja pursed her lips trying to recall such long ago memories.

"Well, it wasn't so much courting as rogering in every room in the palace… I'm pretty sure we did it in the gardens as well because I remember my bum getting frozen stuck against the lawn…"

"Hold on, hold on… how did you even meet the guy?"

"Well I joined a travelling band of gypsies and you know Rasputin…"

"No, I don't. No one does."

"Well anyway, I showed him a few tricks and he became quite taken with me…" she smiled proudly at the camera.

"Well that I don't doubt my darling, but why did you never tell me?" He looked at her with a woundedly.

"What do you mean? It's not that much of a big deal…"

"It's a huge bloody deal, we're talking Rasputin. Russia's greatest love machine as the song so aptly describes. I don't mind telling you I'm rather upset…" she looked at him bewildered.

"What about? Believe me darling, it was a more mental than physical thing." Laszlo turned to look towards the camera.

At a Substation near the vampire compound.

"You know it's really too bad you can't try some of this, it's sooo good…" Guillermo stared down lovingly at his food while Nandor just sighed and rested his head in his hand.

"You know it's very drab and depressing in here… I can see why you like this place, Guillermo." The familiar looked towards the cameraman exasperated.

"You know master, if you're feeling that lonely, maybe we could give the dating website thing a try…" but Nandor seemed fixated on something in front of him. "Master? Did you hear what I was saying?"

"Shhh Guillermo, look what I've found!" He then held up the same kid's activity sheet that was placed on all the other tables.

"Yeah? What about it?" Guillermo glumly took a bite of his sandwich, annoyed at the conversation already having moved on.

"Don't you see? It's a treasure map? They've hidden treasure somewhere near here for us to find!" Guillermo choked on his drink.

"No, master, that's just a game. I'm pretty sure there's a QR code that links to their app--" but Nandor sprung to his feet, leaving Guillermo to hastily wrap up his sandwich and chase after him.

"Master - where are you going? There's no treasure near here, it's just a made up map…" but Nandor was holding it up to a streetlight, carefully examining the details.

"It says if we walk twenty paces in that direction…" he held out his arm to the left, "we'll find the next clue… come, Guillermo, we have no time to waste."

Back at the vampire compound.

Nadja and Laszlo were sitting in less than companionable silence. Colin Robison sat between them, torn between wanting to break the awkward silence but also finding it an opportune feeding moment. "That's it… I won't sit here in silence any longer, tell me the truth, was he a better lover than I?" Laszlo had jumped to his feet and began pacing back and forth. Nadja glanced up from her book with a look of exhaustion on her carefully powdered face.

"Who are you talking about my love?"

"You know damn bloody well who I'm talking about, your little Russian conquest…" she rolled her eyes and flipped to the next page of her book, determined not to engage him in this foolishness.

"You know it's interesting you mention Russian conquest…"

"I highly doubt that Colin Robinson…" Laszlo was determined to cut him off before he could get started but the energy vampire was undeterred.

"No, it's true, did you know that Alexander the second, who actually abolished serfdom in 1861, was killed on the very day he signed a document agreeing to political reform?"

"That's wonderful Colin Robinson… you know I heard he employed witchcraft, I bet that was responsible for his hold over you…" Nadja threw her book to the side, clearly, she wasn't going to be allowed to read in peace.

"For God's sake Laszlo, it was hundreds of years ago, give it up…"

"No, you can't tell me you 'hooked up' with the same man who had his hand down the pants of everyone in Russia, and not expect me to react."

"Are you guys talking about Rasputin?"

"Quiet Colin Robinson." The energy vampire simply shrugged his shoulders at the cameraman. "Laszlo my love, you know you're my main guy, why get so upset about something that happened so very long ago?"

"Because the man was a legend!" He bellowed out dramatically. "And what's there to remember about me?" Nadja frowned.

"So this is what it's really about? You're worried about your legacy?" She sighed as she slumped back onto the couch.

"You don't understand my love, there are certain things men have to do to remain men…"

"You know that reminds me of that song, you know the one where the question is asked, how many roads must a man walk down, before you can call him a man?" The other two vampires shouted in unison.

"Shut up Colin Robinson!"

Somewhere near a parking lot at midnight.

"Master please, it's cold and it's late, why don't we just go home?" But Nandor frantically consulted his map.

"No - we are getting close I know it, just a few more steps in this direction." He began goose stepping several feet forwards. Guillermo had had enough.

"Master stop… what treasure could you possibly want? You're hundreds of years old, you've accumulated so much stuff in that time, so much knowledge… what could some random parking lot give you that you don't already have? Don't you see what's happening? You're upset about being alone, so you're latching on to whatever comes along. Look at us, we're standing in an empty car park!" He gripped his master's arms harder to comfort him. But Nandor shrugged him away.

"Get off me you little imp. And I'm not making you stay here you know… go on, away with you, be gone."

"No… no, I'll stay master…" Guillermo looked guiltily toward the cameraman. Just then, a small group of burly looking men appeared from behind a suspicious looking van. "Er… master, I think we better get going, we don't wanna get mixed up with those--"

"Hey, hey you there! Phantom of the opera?" Nandor hurriedly looked behind him causing Guillermo to shoot the cameraman another knowing look.

"Excuse me? Are you talking to me?"

"Yeah I'm talking to you nancy boy, what the hell do you think you're doing here?"

"Looking for treasure, what else? And who is Nancy?" Nandor chuckled lightly, confused as to why he was being asked such questions.

"Is that supposed to be funny asshole?" The grin quickly disappeared from Nandor's face.

"Perhaps I should teach you and your boyfriend here a lesson…" Nandor then laughed again.

"Oh… no, he's not my boyfriend." Guillermo cast him a sad sideways glance.

"Oh yeah? I bet he squeals like he's your boyfriend…" the man then hoisted Guillermo up by his shirt collar.

"Hey! You leave my familiar alone! Only I'm permitted to manhandle him!" Nandor delivered a swift roundhouse kick, which sent both the man and Guillermo soaring through the air. He quickly scrambled to his feet and fled along with other men. Nandor stepped up to Guillermo casually and extended his hand.

"… Are you alright Guillermo?" His familiar was badly shaken but otherwise unhurt.

"Yes… I am, thanks to you. You saved me master… why?" Nandor furrowed his brow.

"You're my familiar… I… I have come to depend on you." He then awkwardly placed a large hand on his familiar's shoulder. Guillermo beamed from ear to ear.

"Come on Nandor, I know a place where we can get some treasure.

Sometime later at the vampire compound.

Nadia sauntered into the living room to find a miserable looking Laszlo and a dozing Colin Robinson. "What's up with him?"

"He fell asleep… I guess he gorged himself on my misery…" Nadja bit back a smirk and unscrolled the piece of paper in her hands. She cleared her throat.

"Laszlo Cravensworth, I have here a list detailing all your exploits since your time on this earth. Once I'm finished, I hope you'll see that you really have nothing to be jealous of--"

"I'm not jealous… why, was he bigger than me?" Nadja avoided his eyes and made no reply. He tutted and sunk back in his chair scowling.

"One - you kept all the major whore houses in London in business, they even named a street after you, Helmet Row." Laszlo nodded in recognition. "Two - you were Jack The Ripper, London's most notorious murderer even if no one knows it." His frown then returned. "Three - you're a sexy bad boy who follows his own rules and there is a baby hundreds of years old in another state to prove it." But Laszlo was unconvinced. "And finally - you not only captured my heart, but you have also kept it, after all these many years. I may have broken up with Rasputin, but I'll never break up with you…" it was the kind of statement worthy of an applause break but Laszlo jumped to his feet in alarm.

"What the devil do you mean you broke up with him? Nobody turns down the great Rasputin! But if he couldn't keep your heart, with his magic tongue and black magic powers, what chance do I stand?" He slumped back down onto his chair dejectedly.

"Oh, my love… he had something you'll never have…"

"Oh, and what's that my deadly nightshade?"

"It's simple my love, ambition…"

"What? What the deuce do you mean, ambition?" Nadja bit her lip, hoping he wouldn't take it the wrong way.

"What's there to understand my love? He was a big crazy megalomaniac who wanted to take over the world, all you want to do is shag your dinner and suck blood - what more could I need?" Laszlo furrowed his impressive brow.

"Are you calling me lazy my dear? Because I'll have you know, one can't make hundreds of adult films sat on his jacksy…"

"Of course not, and you needn't worry, there's still plenty of time to continue building your legacy." Laszlo jumped up again.

"By God woman, you're right, I could even make more films, vampires have never been more popular! I'll show them a Twilight they won't soon forget…" Nadja rubbed her forehead.

"No, that's not quite what I meant my love…"

"I could even recreate the one I did with Betti Page… I think I still have the feather boas somewhere…" Nadja looked up at him suspiciously.

"What do you mean Betti Page? You made a porno with America's premiere burlesque sweetheart?" Laszlo gulped nervously and stared at the cameraman. He then dashed from the room with Nadja chasing after him. Suddenly, Colin Robinson stirred in his seat.

"Hey… where'd everybody go?

Later that evening.

"Look everybody, look what Guillermo got for me!" Nandor's booming voice bought everybody into the hallway.

"I say… what on earth have you got there chap?" Nandor grinned as he held up the tiny metal award.

"It's a trophy! It says 'best master in the world!'" Nadja and Laszlo stared at each other.

"Oh is that from Don's trophies and collectables? Yeah… they framed my employee of the month certificate. Great prices, they also have a good range of--"

"Yes that's very nice Colin Robinson, come, Guillermo, we must find the right spot for this…" he then swept out of the room, again with Guillermo trailing after him.

Guillermo to the interviewer:

"You know it's important to recognise that vampires are actually pretty sensitive. You might think that because they've lived for ages, they don't care what others think about them but it's the complete opposite… take tonight. I mean, Nandor might not have cared about some guys threatening to beat him up in a parking lot, but the minute they threatened me he came to my defense. There was no way I'd let him go home empty handed. Because when all's said and done… he really is a good master.

Nandor then burst in carrying his trophy and one of its handles in his other hand.

"What is the meaning of this Guillermo? I go to polish my trophy and it breaks in my hands! Is this any way to treat the best master in the world? Fix it immediately…" he then threw it to the floor and stormed out in a huff, leaving Guillermo to sigh into the camera.

End credits.

A/N: Hi guys, as a huge fan of the film and tv series, it’s my pleasure to present this oneshot! I hope you all enjoy the story and feel I captured something of the spirit of the show. Any feedback is appreciated and I hope you’ll continue to stick around and enjoy new stories in the future!

To be updated on when I post please follow @resowrites and turn on post notifications.

#what we do in the shadows #wwdits #comedy #wwdits fx #funny

7 notes · View notes

holdingforgeneralhugs · 3 years ago

Note

hi there!! so happy you're in the BoB fandom :) could we get a fluffy/romantic imagine with Winters please?

Twinkling lights

You bumped into Dick while on leave in Paris and you two decided to explore the city together.

A/N: Thank you so much anon for this request 💓 I absolutely adored writing this tooth rotting fluffy romance so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it. My asks are still open to all so feel free to drop me a request 🥰

Find here on AO3

As you ambled down the streets of Paris you wondered if you'd ever find a cafe that wasn't completely packed. It seemed like all the officers in the entire US Army had been given leave to Paris this weekend. You continued scanning the tables, at this point willing to find any unoccupied table. You stopped mid stride when you spotted a familiar head of ginger hair sitting alone.

You made to approach him but then paused. Yes, you worked together almost everyday, and you would hope that he considered you a friend, but you were unsure of whether or not he would appreciate you imposing on his weekend off. You'd never spent any time together in a social setting and you found yourself on uneven territory.

"Lieutenant Y/L/N?"

You jumped in surprise, looking up and meeting the concerned eyes of Captain Winters. You'd been so lost in your thoughts you hadn't noticed him approaching you.

"Sorry for startling you," he apologised, "you seemed like you were lost in a daze."

"Oh don't worry," you laughed nervously, "I was looking for a quiet place to get a coffee when I spotted you and I was debating whether I should disturb you or not." You felt the heat rising on your cheeks, embarrassed that he'd caught you looking like a fool standing in the middle of the street.

"This place is a bit too rowdy for my taste," he explained. "I was just heading off actually."

You nodded and looked down, shuffling your feet. Looks like you wouldn't be imposing on his weekend after all. "Yes I can see why you'd want to skip out on this joint," you chuckled. "Well, I don't want to hold you up..." You moved away, letting him know it was alright if he wanted to leave. He placed his hands and bobbed his head, clearly contemplating something.

"Why don't you join me?" He asked quietly. "If you don't have a better offer that is."

"I suppose you wouldn't be the worst company in the world Captain Winters," you teased. He huffed out a laugh at that before sweeping his arm and gesturing for you to join him. You smiled gently as you fell into step beside him.

"Where would you like to go Captain?" You asked as the two of you wandered the streets. You paused outside a bakery and peered in the window, marvelling at the fresh croissants and delicious looking éclairs. He smiled when he noticed how your eyes lit up as you stared in at the lovely looking pastries.

"Why don't we make this our first stop?"

You grinned when he held the door open for you, ever the gentleman. You sighed in delight when you entered the little bakery, the delicious smell making your mouth water.

"Bonjour et bienvenue mademoiselle et monsieur," greeted the kind owner. "Comment puis-je voucher aider?"

"Bonjour monsieur," replied Winters. You stifled a laugh when you noticed the Captain trying to think how he could respond to the rest. As amusing as it was though, you thought you'd better spare him the embarrassment.

"What would you like to get Captain?" You asked him. He smiled at you sheepishly and pointed to a chocolate glazed éclair.

"Bonjour monsieur, pouvons-nous avoir deux éclairs au chocolat s'il vous plaît?" You asked kindly. The man smiled as he picked out the pastries and placed them in paper bags. Before you could pull your francs from your purse, Winters had stepped up to the counter and paid.

"Thank you, you didn't have to pay for mine," you said gratefully as he handed you your bag.

"Don't worry, you spared me from embarrassing myself with my very basic French." He waved you off as he said goodbye to the man and headed for the door. You said your goodbyes and followed him out, looking forward to tasting the amazing looking pastry.

"Alors, l'amour á la guerre, c'est beau."

You stumbled in the doorway when you heard the soft sigh from the man behind you, but when you turned around to correct him he was already gone. You blushed crimson when you closed the door and came face to face with Captain Winters again, but he was too busy enjoying his éclair to notice. You sat on the little window ledge beside him, humming in delight when you took your first bite and desperately trying to ignore the fluttering in your chest. It was the nicest thing you'd ever eaten in your life, all chocolate sauce and sweet vanilla cream. You'd never had anything as nice back home. It's just a pity there wasn't more of it.

"I think that was an excellent first stop, don't you Lieutenant?"

"You know what Captain, I have to agree," you smiled, turning to face him. You tried to surpress a chuckle when you glanced at his cheek, but he noticed you smirking and grinned, and you couldn't help the giggle that passed your lips.

"What's so funny?" He laughed, "have I got chocolate on my face? Where is it?" He asked, running his palm along his jaw and missing it completely.

"Not chocolate, cream. And you've missed it completely, it's here," you grinned, pointing to the spot on your own cheek. He swiped at his cheek again but still missed. You sighed in amusement and rolled your eyes before reaching across and wiping it off with your thumb.

"There," you murmured, your thumb rubbing his cheek softly. "All gone." You looked up at him through your eyelashes and your breath hitched slightly when your eyes met his. He was looking at you intently, and if you didn't know any better you'd swear you saw his gaze flicker momentarily to your lips. You pulled your hand back then and cleared your throat, standing up and brushing off your Class A's.

"Would you mind if we went to that bookshop down the street?" You asked quietly, pointing to the shop you'd just spotted as you looked around, desperate to look at anything but the man beside you.

"Of course, lead the way Lieutenant."

You walked down the street in silence, which was only punctured by the sound of the bell as you entered the little bookshop. As you walked through the stacks you inhaled that familiar smell and felt instantly comforted. You'd always felt at home in libraries and bookshops, and the smell made you long for home.

As you plucked out various books you felt Winters materialise beside you. He said nothing, content to allow you to browse in peace and look around by himself. You looked higher up the shelf and spotted a book you'd wanted for a while. You stood on your tiptoes and stretched out your hand but it was just out of reach. You tried to stretch just a little bit more, but it stubbornly remained just beyond your fingertips.

"Here," murmured Winters, leaning over your back and plucking the book from the shelf. "You've got good taste Lieutenant, I've always liked Hemingway myself," he commented as he handed you the copy of For Whom the Bell Tolls.

You smiled up at him as you ran your fingers over the cover. "Thank you," you said, all previous awkwardness gone. He nodded and turned, wandering back down through the shelves.

"You don't need to call me Lieutenant sir," you blurted. He spun around to face you, eyebrow raised in surprise. "You can call me Y/N," you murmured, cheeks heating despite your best efforts to tamp it down.

"Well Y/N," he smiled, "only if you call me Dick. All my friends call me Dick," he explained sheepishly, running a hand over the back of his neck.

You beamed back at him as you walked towards him. "Okay Dick, why don't we pay for our books and do a little more sightseeing?"

He stepped aside and gestured for you to lead the way, and once you'd paid for your books he held the door open for you as you left.

"Here, let me carry those for you," he suggested, leaning over and plucking the wrapped books from your hands. You protested, telling him he didn't need to, but he insisted and eventually you gave in and thanked him for the kind gesture.

"Wow, I didn't realise how long we were in there for, it's almost dark," you exclaimed as you looked around and noticed the street lamps coming on.

"I hadn't even noticed the time going by," he smiled softly. "Is there anywhere else you'd like to go?"

"Oh I couldn't, I've already taken up too much of your precious free time," you insisted, shaking your head.

"Don't be silly Y/N," he said, "I've enjoyed the rest of the day, why end it now? Why don't we go to the Eiffel Tower? I've been dying to see it I must admit."

"Well if you're sure," you laughed, "lead the way." You chatted amicably as you strolled through the streets of Paris, quieter now that night had come and most of the visitors were holed up in the various bars around the city. You were in the middle of telling him a story about the time you'd embarrassed yourself at the local fair when you turned the corner and paused mid sentence.

You'd seen pictures of it in books, but they couldn't prepare you for what a marvel it was in person. It appeared to reach right up to touch the twinkling stars, highlighted and shadowed by the flickering streetlights all around it.

"Amazing isn't it?" whispered Dick as he walked along beside you. You nodded, and as you reached the base of the tower you tilted your head straight back and stared up at it in awe. It was simply magnificent. Your attention was drawn from the structure when you heard music wafting from down the street. There was a man leaning against a lamppost, playing a lovely waltz on the accordion.

Dick placed the packages on the path beside him and held his left hand out to you. You looked at his outstretched hand in surprise and glanced up at him questioningly.

"Care to dance mademoiselle?" he asked gently. You blushed under his earnest gaze, placing you right hand gently in his left and resting your left hand on his shoulder. You shuddered slightly when he put his hand on your waist. He took the lead, swaying you gently but making sure to stay at a respectable distance. As you swayed together you looked up at the twinkling stars and the soft lamplight all around them.

"It's beautiful isn't it?" you sighed, gesturing your head for him to look around.

"Yeah, it really is," he nodded, never taking his eyes off of you. Your breath hitched in your throat and you felt butterflies in your stomach. You'd always thought him handsome and he was even more so in his Class A's, with the soft lamplight dusting his cheeks and making his eyes twinkle in the dark. If you were completely honest with yourself you knew you'd had feelings for him for the longest time. You'd buried them deep, unwilling to even acknowledge them because nothing would ever happen between you and him.

You looked up at him through your lashes and smiled softly. Maybe it was the gentle music, or the twinkling starlight, or maybe the location, but something made you curl your hand around his neck and step closer to him, resting your cheek on his chest. He stiffened briefly, and you worried that you had been too forward, but then he slid his hand up your back between your shoulders and held you close and you sighed in content. You didn't know how long the two of you danced, each song blending into each other as the accordian player continued on. It was honestly the most wonderful moment of your life.

Neither of you said anything, both content to sway together and enjoy the moment. Dick sighed after a while, and you raised your head from his chest to peer up at him. He didn't say anything for awhile, his twinkling eyes staring intently back into your own. He had the most gorgeous eyes you'd ever had the pleasure of seeing. He licked his lips slightly as his gaze lingered on your and the butterflies in your stomach fluttered even harder than before.

"Y/N," he murmured, his hand against your back fidgeting slightly, "May I kiss you?"

You swallowed nervously. You tried to respond but the words wouldn't come out, so you simply nodded slightly and leaned up towards him, eyelids fluttering shut as his lips met yours.

It was soft and slow, his lips pressing against yours with a gentle pressure. You swayed on your tiptoes as you leaned into him more, taking your hand out of his and resting it on his cheek. His hand on your back rubbed up and down tenderly, the forefinger of his free hand propping up your chin gently. He didn't push to deepen the kiss, and you were quite content to continue with the sweet tempo.

He pulled back then, his nose bumping yours and his breath ghosting across your cheeks. Your eyelids fluttered as you peered up at him and met his eyes. You couldn't keep the smile from your face, and you grinned even wider when you saw his eyes crinkle up in happiness.

"How would you like to go for dinner?" He asked quietly.

"I'd love to," you responded, hardly able to breathe with the intensity of the butterflies in your stomach.

"I suppose I'd better walk you back to your hotel after that, huh?" He whispered, eyes glistening with mirth.

You looked down shyly and blushed at his teasing. You hadn't felt so happy in so long, in fact you were sure you'd never been happier than you felt in that moment. "Only if you'll kiss me goodnight on the front step," you teased, giggling as his eyes widened in surprise.

"Well," he replied, bending down to pick up the abandoned parcels, "I think that's a deal I can agree to."

He held out the crook of his arm to you, and you smiled at him shyly as you placed your hand in his. As you passed the accordian player he tipped his hat at you and smiled knowingly, and in that moment you felt like the luckiest person in the whole damn world.

#dick winters #dick winters x reader #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers fandom #band of brothers fanfic #ask response #request #band of brothers #hbo band of brothers #hbo war #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #romance #ask box open #dick winters is such a gentleman #holdingforgeneralhugs

104 notes · View notes

reinerispretty · 4 years ago

Text

rotations. bonus! y/n is in labor

Hey hun. So sorry for asking for a rotations thing bc idk if you still wanna do those. Anyways y’n going into labor with her first child and Zuko loosing his shit bc we all know he would. And the rest of the gaang having to wait with a literally insane Zuko while they just hear y/n screaming in the distance birthing a child. Thanks

happy weekend everyone :) i thought it would be fun to do a rotations request!! tysm for requesting ily <3

(Y/N) laughed, but as she tossed her head back she felt a sharp pain in her stomach. She leaned forward, cradling her bump as she hissed in a breath of pain. Katara grabbed her arm. “(Y/N), are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just um, a cramp or something.” (Y/N) gave her friend a reassuring smile. “I’ll be okay.”

“I thought you were impulsive when we were kids,” Katara said as she walked by (Y/N’s) side. “But flying halfway across the world in the middle of night while pregnant just to have me make you sea prunes really takes the cake.”

(Y/N) hummed as she waddled, using chopsticks to shove sea prunes into her mouth. Her distaste for them had been clear for years, but she had woken up last night with an insufferable craving. She could have ordered the servants to whip up the traditional Water Tribe dish, but she was craving both Katara’s cooking and her companionship.

“I’m the Fire Queen,” (Y/N) said. “I’ve gotta give the people something to gossip about.” Katara laughed and rolled her eyes.

“You’re just lucky I was still here. We’ve been traveling so much lately.” (Y/N) had taken a stab in the dark by flying to Republic City. Katara’s last letter, dated almost three weeks ago, had said that she and Aang would be traveling there to see to some building projects. He, Zuko, and Sokka had been taking turns overseeing the development of the cultural epicenter of the four nations. It was coming together rather nicely. A few housing developments had been erected here and there, and the city hall was nearly finished.

(Y/N) stopped as they walked down the sidewalk to inhale a few deep breaths. Constantly carrying a child in her stomach had proven to get more challenging as the pregnancy continued. Katara looked at her with a worried frown. “You shouldn’t be traveling so close to your due date.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

“You sound like Zuko.” (Y/N) had been traveling all over the world lately. When she woke up with a craving, she sought to satisfy it. Since reaching the ninth month of her pregnancy, her doctors and Zuko had urged her to relax her duties as queen for the time being.

“Maybe he can be right sometimes.” (Y/N) gave her friend an exaggerated gasp.

“Blasphemy!” Katara giggled, taking (Y/N) by the arm as they continued their walk to the center of the city. Aang stood in front of city hall with his hands on his hips as the construction workers did their jobs. Katara called out to him and he turned around, a wide smile on his face.

“(Y/N)!” Aang cheered, walking over to them to give her a big hug. “What are you doing here? You look great! Are those sea prunes?”

“I had a craving,” (Y/N) said with a shrug, eating another prune. Aang’s face contorted in amused disgust.

“She took an air balloon and left the Fire Nation in the middle of the night.” Aang shook his head.

“(Y/N)-”

“No one can scold me!” (Y/N) insisted. “I’m pregnant, I’m pulling the pregnancy card.”

“How about we fly Appa back to the Fire Nation? It’ll be nice to see Zuko,” Aang’s smile was bright and hopeful.

“That would be amazing! We haven’t had visitors in so long.” She looked to Katara. “You’ll come right?” Katara had been so busy these past few months. Between traveling with Aang and building up her own tribe, she and (Y/N) hadn’t spent proper time together in ages.

“Of course.”

Getting on Appa’s saddle with large belly had proved to be almost impossible, but with a little of Aang’s airbending, (Y/N) was able to roll onto the sky bison. “I’ve missed Appa so much,” (Y/N) sighed as she tilted her head back. It was nice, to feel the wind on her face and blow back her hair. Being on Appa, she felt young again.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Katara said, nudging (Y/N) with her elbow. She smiled.

“I’ve missed you too!” Aang called back. “In case anyone’s wondering about me.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just um, a cramp or something.” (Y/N) gave her friend a reassuring smile. “I’ll be okay.”

But minutes later, the feeling returned, lasting for a much longer amount of time. Katara stared down at (Y/N) in shock. “I think you’re going into labor!”

“That’s ridiculous,” (Y/N) muttered.

“Is it? You’re practically about to burst.”

“You said I looked great for being nine months pregnant!”

“You do! But your baby’s coming, whether or not you’d like it.” Katara turned to her husband. “Aang! Is there any way we can land Appa?”

“We’re over open water, there isn’t anywhere to land!”

“Alright, then we’re going to have to go faster! The baby’s coming.”

And (Y/N) had never seen Aang become so serious and determined, not even when he was about to fight the old Fire Lord.

Aang and Appa had managed to cut the travel time by nearly half. The poor sky bison was panting by the time they landed in the courtyard of the Fire Nation Palace, but even as her contractions were occurring, (Y/N) was shouting at servants to get him hay and water. Aang was attempting to airbend (Y/N) off of Appa when Zuko arrived.

“What’s going on?” He demanded, a light smile on his face. “I arrive in the morning to find my wife missing and then walk out here to find the Avatar practicing his airbending on her?” Katara hopped to the ground, her face grave.

“She’s going into labor. Where are your doctors?”

The smile instantly faded from Zuko’s face. “I-I sent them into town if the citizens needed anything. Should I send for them?” Katara sighed.

“There’s not enough time. Have the servants bring hot water and towels into one of the guest bedrooms.”

“The guest bedrooms? But the master bedroom is bigger.”

“Do you want blood all over your sheets?” Katara questioned. Zuko was too stunned to answer. “That’s what I thought.”

Aang helped (Y/N) land on her feet, but she cried out and doubled over as another contraction formed. Zuko rushed to her side and lifted her into his arms. “I can’t believe you, (Y/N)! You’re so--so--”

“Insufferable?” She asked, grinning sleeping up at him. Sweat beaded on her brow, but she still lifted her hand to pat his cheek. Zuko shook his head, but a smile still crinkled at the edges of his lips.

Servants were ordered around as Zuko set laid (Y/N) into bed. Katara immediately went to work. (Y/N’s) contractions were becoming increasingly more painful as she lay in bed. Zuko flinched as he heard his wife shout. He and Aang hung toward the back of the room, watching Katara. She whirled around on them.

“If you’re going to stay, you’re going to help. Otherwise, stand outside.” Aang ducked out immediately, giving Zuko a quick pat on the back. The Fire Lord had a decision to make.

“I’ll stay,” He decided, but his voice was shaky. (Y/N) smiled at him from her position on the bed.

“Alright, grab some towels.”

The birth of their child was proving to be more difficult than (Y/N) had expected. The pain that tore through her body was unlike anything she had ever felt before. Tears streamed down her face as she shook her head, laying back on the pillows and sobbing. “I can’t do it, it’s too much!”

“You can, (Y/N), you can do this.” And while she loved Zuko very much, he had never been very good with words. She sobbed again.

“What if I won’t be a good mom? I can’t do it! I don’t want to do it!” Katara came round to the side of the bed and took (Y/N’s) hand.

“You are the strongest person I know. You are brave, kind, and inconceivably wonderful. You will be an amazing mother, (Y/N). I don’t have any doubts about it.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re my friend,” (Y/N) said as she calmed down.

“We’re not friends, we’re family. And I would never lie to you.” She stroked (Y/N’s) sweaty hair. “You are more than capable of doing this.”

(Y/N) looked up at Katara and saw the honesty in her eyes. Silently, she nodded, and Katara moved back down to the bottom of the bed. “Alright, now push!”

And in just three more pushes, a beautiful, healthy baby girl was born. The room was filled with her wails and (Y/N) couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief. She had done it. She and Zuko were parents.

Katara cleaned up the child to the best of her ability and handed her to (Y/N). She took the baby in her arms and cradled her close to her chest, smiling up at Zuko as she beamed down at her. He kissed his wife and then kissed the baby girl’s head ever so gently.

Katara stepped out of the room to give them a moment of privacy and met an eager-looking Aang waiting in the hallway. “How is she?” He asked. Katara smiled.

“She’s great. They have a healthy baby girl.” Aang grinned and took Katara into his arms to hug her.

She and Aang reentered the room to find Zuko and (Y/N) still cooing at their baby girl. “She’s beautiful!” Aang breathed as he rushed over to (Y/N’s) bedside.

“She looks just like Zuko, I think,” (Y/N) said. Zuko shook his head.

“No way, she’s way too pretty. She looks just like you.”

“Have you decided on a name?” Katara asked as she joined Aang’s side. (Y/N) nodded.

“We both decided to name her Izumi,” (Y/N) said, and Katara inhaled a sharp breath and her eyes glistened with tears. “It means spring of water.”

---

Tag List!

@beifongsss , @aroyaldarknessblr , @musicalkeys , @thefandomimagines , @blondie0458 , @kairiririri , @awesomelupe , @zukosvice , @tomshollandz , @lavendercrystals , @astralsaf , @realimbo , @mycollectionofnuts , @wingeddemonclub , @gingersnap126126 , @aangsupremacy , @marvel-ing-at-it-all , @davnwillcome , @someoneovertherainboww , @bigbuckyenergy , @breadqueen95 , @buttholland , @noodlesfluffy ,

#writing #fanfiction #atla #avatar #the last airbender #zuko x reader #aang x reader #katara x reader #sokka x reader #toph #zuko #aang #katara #sokka #suki #azula #iroh #momo #appa

254 notes · View notes

madllamamomma · 4 years ago

Text

The Visitor~ Part 4

Rhemi x Muriel fanfic. [Warning: the following contains graphic language and mentions blood.]

Part 4~

Père~

Nearly fully sprinting at this point, Rhemi tries her best to make it on time to the palace gates to meet her father. The time really got away from her this morning, despite her waking up before the crack of dawn. Luckily, it’s not raining today, the sky is nice and clear and there’s even a light breeze, but it’s still rather chilly. At least the sun is there to keep her warm today, a good day for walking around.

As she hurries through the busy streets inching closer and closer to the palace, she can’t help but feel so nervous, yet rather excited at the same time. An entire morning with her father! Oh how excited she was to have someone else to talk to about advance spells, incantations, and all other sorts of magic! Her friends were always there to talk to her, but she doesn’t remember having someone this groomed and experienced before.

Not to mention, she couldn’t wait to show him around the city that she is so proud of and loved. Countess Nadia, Consul Valerius, Portia (who is now a chamberlain) and the citizens have been so busy building and improving the city in the last year. Where there were once slums, sinking, underwater neighborhoods, or rough and sketchy places are now where new homes, restaurants, and shops are thriving. Vesuvia has honestly never been better. It seems like everyday Nadia and the citizens have been improving it more and more each and every day.

Turning the final corner to the central part of the city reveals the palace and all its marvelous splendor. Rhemi can feel her heart fluttering in her chest as she sees Martin just exiting the gates by two guards. Dressed in fancy foreign clothes like the day before but different colors and the same silk blue cape and jeweled cane… Except there was no hat on his head, and no badger draped across his shoulders. Martin peers down at his pocket watch with a sore expression, before he notices his daughter jogging towards him. A bright smile takes over his lips, that icy exterior partially melts away yet again.

Nearly out of breath, slowing down her stride as she prances towards him giddily. “Good morning!” She huffs with a tired grin and a little sweat on her brow.

“Well, good morning to you too, Rhemielia.” Martin replies, blindly putting away his pocket watch. “Running a wee bit behind are we?”

With a nervous smile, she scratches the back of her head. “Sorry, I was practicing a new spell. Lost track of time—You know how it is…. I-I hope? Or maybe it’s just me.”

Thinking he’d be interested, and ask what kind of spell she’s working on, she prepares herself to gush about it. But instead, he offers her arm not seeming to have really listened to what she had just said. “Mmm—Shall we?”

Rhemi shakes herself out of her mindset, her grin wide, happily taking his arm. “Oh—We shall.” There are plenty of other things to talk about other than magic.

As soon as the two start walking down the street an awkward dead quiet suddenly takes over. Never has silence been so loud, even when Rhemi started getting to know Muriel, it wouldn’t feel this awkward. After a couple of minutes, it becomes unbearable for both of them as they continue to walk aimlessly down the street.

“...So—”

“Did you—”

Both of them try to break the silence at the same time. But as soon as the other one started to speak, they hushed up quickly again thinking one of them would continue.

“... My apolo—”

“... Sorry—”

Blush starts to take over both of their cheekbones as they both fumble terribly for a proper foot hole to start a conversation.

“After you—”

“Go aheaaa—Ahhhhh.”

Finally the two stop in their tracks and look at one another a bit embarrassed. Unable to contain herself anymore, Rhemi snorts through her nose at this complete ridiculous awkwardness, breaking all the exhausting tension. After breaking down this unneeded discomfort, Martin then lets out a soft startled chuckle along with her, making his laughter lines next to his temples come out for once.

“Go ahead.” Rhemi says with a cheery smile, giving him a small nudge with her elbow.

But he shakes his head, patting her hand still loop through his other arm, a smile remaining on his face. “No, No—Please, ladies first.”

“Alrighty then…” She replies and they both proceed to stroll down the street again. “Did you sleep well?”

He sighs and thinks about that question with a shrug rolling off his shoulders. “Well enough, I suppose. However, I discovered it difficult to fall asleep after finding out your long lost daughter is still alive and well after all these years”

She laughs through her nose giving him a knowing look. “Yeah—I can relate to that… Except finding out about having a father.”

A fond grin faintly spreads on his lips as they stand there for a moment. Finally, Rhemi had to ask. “So where’s Beatrix today?”

“Oh—I left her behind today so she could get some rest. The damn badger never sleeps on the ship… She’s always hunting for filthy rodents on the deck at night.”

“I hope she’s get some rest then….. Is your hat resting too?”

“.... Beg your pardon??” He quickly replies, tilting his head rather confused.

“You’re not wearing your hat today. So is it resting too?” She kids.

“Oh….” Realizing what she is asking, Martin grins a little wider making the wrinkles in his cheeks visible, and a faint flash of cold in his glance. “... You can say that…”

“I think you look better without it anyways.”

Warmth in his eyes returns, and he looks at her rather flattered. “..... Really?”

“Tee-hee~ I like your hair… I wish I inherited your color. It’s different.” Rhemi says with a smile.

“Ha! I don’t remember the last time someone complimented this overly ripe hair of mine.” Her father instinctinky slicks his thick plum and gray mane back with the other hand. “Thank you….”

“You’re welcome.”

“.... So, my Pigeon—” He says taking back his cane with his free hand. “What part of this…. lovely…. quaint little city… are you going to show me?” He sounds half sarcastic when he says lovely and quaint, but Rhemi doesn’t seem to even pay any attention to that, too distracted with her own thoughts.

Ooooooh no—I haven’t thought that far… she thinks to herself, tapping her pointer finger on her chin, pondering hard.

She looks left and right still thinking of the best place to start. Then she finally has an idea. “Hmmmm…. Well, have you had breakfast yet?”

“As a matter of fact, no, I have not.”

“Perfect. I know just the place!” She says excitedly as she tugs him along with a wide silly smile on her face. “Hope you're hungry!”

“We’ll see…” He mumbles to himself not convinced in the slightest.

It isn’t too long before the two come across the heart district where the marketplace is. Even though it’s early on a weekend day, the market is still bustling with people, buying, selling, haggling and negotiating goods.

Of course the apprentice first took her father to one of her favorite bakers named Selasi in town to get some fresh pumpkin bread to start the day.

The poor Selasi’s stall was left in ruin just like everything else in the market after Lucio’s and his army of mercenaries took over the city after the Masquerade. But every since then, he had gotten recognized by the countess when everyone was refugees in the forest next to the hut. All the Parkain royals along with Nadia were impressed with the baker's delicious food, even with what little he had, it was amazing. After everyone returned and started rebuilding, he turned his simple stall into a full on shop and cafe and named it, ‘Selasi’s Bakery’.

He even picked up an apprentice of his own named Agrippa. A very tall and handsome person with powdery white skin, long light-grayish hair styled in pigtails tied and a loop at the ends, blue eyes and a smooth mid-ranged voice. They made Rhemi’s favorite cakes and sweets, and even somehow improved the baker’s pumpkin bread recipe. They even recently started dating Portia after she finally asked them out and the two have been going steady since the fall.

“Well—This is the market!” Rhemi introduces to her father, still leading him towards the bakers.

Her father scans the bustling market with an unimpressed look on his face. “Doesn’t seem like this part has changed.” He mutters to himself forcing himself not to sneer.

“What was that?” Rhemi asks, unable to catch his muttering with all the loud noises from the market goers.

“I asked, ‘where are you taking me to’, Pigeon? ”

“Oh! To one of my very favorite places to get pumpkin bread~” She says as they arrive at the baker’s shop, the air is filled with sweet, buttery and savory aromas and Rhemi opens the door making the bell chime.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t trouble~” Agrippa teases with their charming smirk.

“Oh yeah, you should talk!” Rhemi giggles back, coaxing her father inside with her hand. He enters unenthusiastically looking at all of the food as Rhemi continues with their small talk. “How are you, Ippa?”

“Good, thank you, Bean! Business has been steady like always.”

“Where’s Selasi today?”

“Getting some more flour. I told him I’d go, but he insists that he has to ‘let the flour speak to him’ or whatever. How’s the wedding planning going? Portia told me you’ve been stressed out a little.” They say as they lean into the counter that they normally tower over.

“Things are coming together finally.” She says with an exhausted, but relieved sigh. “With Julian and Portia taking care of the little things, I could focus on the bigger things. All that is left is my last fitting for my dress now. So I think it’s safe to say it’ll be all smooth sailing from here!”

“Muriel dropped off the toppers yesterday. They look amazing! Your bow has some amazing talent. I can’t wait for everyone to see it.”

Rhemi’s eyes brighten up and her lips twist up even more. “Oooo! Let me see!”

“Nooooope~ I have very specific instructions to not let the bride see. It is supposed to be a surprise.” Agrippa says while straightening up their long trunk and folding their arms across their chest. “Sorry~”

Rhemi gives them a smile, pouts, then gives them a quick raspberry like a ten year old. She then rolls her eyes knowing they wouldn’t let her see them, and turns to her father and walks over to him.“OH! There is someone I’d like you to meet!”

“Oh? Who?”

Taking his arm once again, she leads her father to the counter. “Père, this is Agrippa, the baker’s apprentice.”

With one look at the nobleman, Agrippa's eyes widened. “Père? Doesn’t that mean…?” They trail off slowly connecting the dots. “I didn’t know you had a father!”

“Well neither did I!” She says with a giddy smile. “Not till yesterday.”

“Well… How do you do? I’m Agri—”

“Agrippa… yes I heard.” Martin replies a bit snootily. “I am Sir Remington Martin Alarie III, the Archmagister and head chamberlain of his Royal majesty of the Great Charlès.”

Realizing rather quickly what kind of man Martin was, Agrippa puts on a smirk and stops themself from sputtering. “Well, ‘Sir Remington Martin Alarie III, the Archmagister and head chamberlain of his Royal majesty of the Great Charlès’.” They double over the counter in a long bow deepening their voice playfully to mimic him. “I am but a humble baker who is blessed to be a friend of your lovely daughter.” They say bringing their body back up. “How do you do, Sir? ”

“I was told by my daughter that this was where her favorite pumpkin bread was made.”

“You’ve come to the right place! In fact—” Agrippa replies with a smile dashing off to the brick ovens for a moment donning oven mitts on their hands. “Got a fresh batch right here!”

Rhemi eyes light up with joy and hunger and she wiggles her hips in sheer happiness. “You are going to love it!” She sings to her father and he gives her a half smile.

The baker’s apprentice cuts them both a generous piece wrapped up in a bit of parchment paper. “Here ya’ go!”

Just as Rhemi digs into her coin purse, her father stops her. “No, no. Do keep your money.” And digs into his vest. “A gentleman should always pay for a lady.”

But Agrippa stops him sticking out their hand and waving. “It’s on the house.”

“Really? You won’t get into trouble will you, Ippa?”

“Nahhhh~ Besides, gods know you and your friends keep this place in business!” They laugh.

“Thank you so much!” She says with a big happy smile then looks to her father expecting him to say thank you as well.

He blinks blankly, for a moment then opens his mouth with a click of his tongue. “Oh—Yes… ah, thank you, Agrippa… Although if you're giving this away for free... I’m not sure if I should be concerned or not.... could this be a poorer batch you messed up on?”

Rhemi laughs thinking he’s joking, and Agrippa joins in to not make things awkward, but knowing that he wasn’t kidding.

“Well we’ll get out of your hair before the weekend rush comes! See ya later, Ippa! Tell Selasi I said hello!”

“See ya!” Agrippa says with a smile as the two head out the door hiding a middle finger behind their back as they glare at the Archmagister and his unnecessary dickish comment.

As soon as they leave the bakery and walk around the market, Rhemi digs into her hot pumpkin bread. “Mmmmm! Sooooo goood.” She happily moans, tearing up the moist and tasty bread; but as she looks over to her father, he hasn’t even touched his food.

“Smmthin’ woong?” She asks covering her mouth, her voice muffled with bread still in her mouth.

The Archmagister just shrugs, taking a very small piece and forcing it down his throat. “....Hmmmm.”

“I’m sorry, do you not like pumpkin bread? I should have asked—”

“Oh no, it’s just…. I don’t take handouts.” Martin replies, his face stone cold and serious.

“Hand out?” She blurts out. “It’s a gift! Ippa was being nice.”

“Well… whatever you call it. I don’t take gifts unless I know what people want…” He says with a sneer. Rhemi’s happy smile then drops into a frown and Martin starts to feel an unfamiliar pull in his heart as he nearly tosses the bread to the ground for the birds to eat. “...I ah…. I also don’t care for pastries for breakfast.” He says adjusting his tone while wrapping up the pumpkin bread into the parchment paper and handing it to his daughter. “... Nor do I typically have breakfast now that I mention it. Perhaps you’ll save it for later.”

“O—Okay. Thank you. I’m sorry you don’t like it.”

“Not your fault, Pigeon. I don’t expect you to know everything.” He reassures her. “Well where else in this pathe—I mean… petite city of yours are you going to show me?”

With a determined grin, Rhemi takes a deep breath knowing another place to go to.

“Follow me!”

——————————

As Rhemi shows Sir Martin around the city, the Temple district, the Heart, South end, and even the now newly rebuilt shopping district (previously known as the flooded district). But still, Rhemi couldn’t shake the agonizing feeling like the Archmagister was rather unimpressed with everything she threw at him. Even after all the renovations completed in the past year—Even when Rhemi told her father the story about the Devil converging with the ex-count—The battles with Lucio and his mercenary-ghost army— The competition to keep the world out of chaos.

Nothing—truly, nothing seems to impress him at all.

He still sneered, and scowled at the city, like he made up his own mind about it long long ago. Strangely, when the two were traveling around, it seemed like her father was familiar with the streets. He even knew many of the alleyways and short cuts that she didn’t even know about. But that hardly seemed to matter to Rhemi— the man wasn’t impressed with her beloved home… and she wanted to change that.

Persistently, she continued to show him Vesuvia, gushing her heart out, and even showed him the best places to eat and shop. Yet still, all her attempts to impress himself still left him with a sour expression on his face or a yawn.

As noon slowly approaches, Rhemi works back their way back to the palace. Feeling the morning wearing her down they approach the city center next to the large fountain where an old tacky statue of Lucio on a horse used to be. Now it’s only a lone cheetah holding a spear. For once. the Archmagistor seemed to have noticed it and stopped staring at this slightly perplexed.

“Say, Mileia…” (Another pet name for her apparently.) “...... Didn’t that used to be a gold statue of the Count riding a horse?”

Rhemi peers over to the top of the roaring fountain. “Oh yeah…. that was destroyed when Lucio attacked the city a year ago.”

Suddenly, the tangy scent of freshly smoked eel engulfs the plaza. She wasn't the only one who noticed either. Martin's teal eyes light up as if he sees an old long lost friend.

“Fresh eel!! Come and get your fresh eel heeeerreeeee!!!” The stand keeper shouts waving the delicious food in the air for everyone to see and smell.

Without another word, Rhemi hurries over with her coin purse before her father could stop her. “I’ll take two, please.”

The cheery venter takes her coins and gives her two kabobs. With food in hand, she runs back over to her father, she gives him one eel with a joyful smile. “This is a gift from your daughter. Not a hand out.” Half expecting him to refuse it, he surprisingly takes the food then stares at it almost nostalgically sniffing the tasty treat.

“What’s the matter?” She finally asks, stopping herself from shoving the food down her throat.

“Hmm??” Martin shakes his head, but still stares at the kabob oddly. “Oh, nothing… I just haven't had a smoked eel in a very long time.”

“Oh! I didn’t know you had it in Charles too.”

He gives her a small annoyed glance from her mispronunciation. “It’s Charlès, darling…. And we don’t. The capital doesn’t have any seas or ocean around it. It’s surrounded by treacherous mountains. The only fish we have is salmon, bass, and trout from the icy rivers...”

“O.. oh… So… where have you had it before?”

“I….—” Martin sharply stops himself and his eyes grow colder again and he seems to shake himself out of his nostalgic trace. “... M-my father, your grandfather, Remington II used to bring me and my siblings some when he traveled to the coast. He placed a spell on them so they wouldn’t spoil.”

“Oh… Neat!” Rhemi says with a smile. So far he’s mentioned her grandparents once the day before. Apparently that's where she gets her dark reddish-brown hair from her grandmother.

Unable to resist the sweet, salty smoky flavor, he actually takes a bite out of the eel and seems to rather enjoy it. “Still even tastes the same…” He chuckles before scarfing the eel down.

Finally. Something he likes. Feeling a bit accomplished she feels the tension in her shoulders relax. This man wasn’t like any of her friends. Gods know he was much harder to read as well. It’s like he has this invisible wall around himself. Trying to get to know him was proving to be difficult. But Rhemi liked a challenge and wasn’t one to give up easily.

“So, I suppose they had a reason why did they replace Luico with this… cheetah?” Her father asks after making it half through his eel looking at the piece of art of the new fountain.

“Lucio nearly tore this city and the world apart… He killed a lot of people to gain power. People that Muriel and I really cared about… He even killed his father years ago. Then killed his own mother in the Scourge Lands… Her name was Morga…” With sad somber expression, she stares up at the bronze sculpture and all its power and beauty. “If it wasn’t for Morga… I don’t think we’d be here right now… Muriel and I probably wouldn’t have gone to the south together… Lucio might have even won.”

“.... So I presume that cheetah is supposed to represent her?”

Sadly, Rhemi slowly nods her head, still gazing at the fountain statue.

“Interesting…. Excuse me for slightly changing the subject… but you mentioned that Lucio became merged with the…. devil? From the Arcana realm?”

Taken a little by surprise, she glances over to her father realizing that he did in fact listen to her earlier while she was showing him the other parts of the city. “Yeah… I’m not sure exactly how. But I think he made a lot of deals with various demons— I mean that literally…. And like I said… kill a lot of people... including his own mother.”

“... Just so he could live forever?”

“.... I think it was for power and to live forever??... Or it was so he could regain a physical form…. or maybe he wanted to dominate the world too—Or that was the devil influencing him? I honestly have no idea. And if you ask me, it was too heavy of a price to pay. The Arcana realms must be occupied by someone… if not, our world is thrown into chaos and ruin. In the end, he was forced back.”

“Hmmm…”

After making quick work of his eel, Martin throws the bare stick into the water of the fountain. Poor Rhemi’s eyes widen in silent dismay and hastily fishes it out with her magic when he isn’t looking. She’d have half a mind to tell him not to litter… But it didn’t feel like the time or place to lecture her own father.

“It is strange to hear about a dead man coming back to life… When rumors came that Count Lucio of Vesuvia was murder in his own bed, it came to many courtiers a shock. Even the king was appalled….Personally, I always saw him as a bumbling fool.”

“So you've been here before?”

“A handful of times, yes.”

“And you knew the ex-Count?”

“Unfortunately. King Francis rather enjoyed his company much to my dismay….. His Majesty thought he was and I quote, ‘The best kind of host, charmingly idiotic and stupidly generous’.... He did know how to throw some entertaining parties, I suppose. So the King seemed to have taken a liking to him… but I never cared for him.”

“Good!! He was a freakin’ asshole is what he was.” Rhemi snarly adds before taking the last bite of her smoked eel, stewing on all the things he’s done to everyone, especially Muriel. “That stupid humanoid-goat could go fuck himself in the devil’s realm for all of eternity for all I care! Good riddance!” She sneers under her breath.

With an shocked and appalled expression, Martin glances at her mildly scolding. “Well, that’s some colorful language for a lady such as yourself.”

Pssssh! I’m no lady… She laughs to herself and she pulls on her lips to stop from spilling them out. “... So you disagree with me?” She asks with a smirk and an eyebrow raised, throwing the two bare sticks into a nearby rubbish bin, still chewing a half mouth full of eel.

Despite his distaste for her language, he’s unable to control his snickering. For now he lets it go and he shrugs. “I never said that.” Martin chuckles. “.. You are right in that regard... that man was an encompident ass.”

“—Miss Rhemi!!!” A childish voice all of a sudden calls from a far.

Rhemi and Sir Martin whip their heads around to where the young voice was calling from. Low and behold, they see three children all under the ages of twelve barreling towards them, the youngest in full sprint. Really at second look, it looks like the other two were chasing after the younger one.

“Hold onto your coin purse, Rhemielia.” Martin whispers with a vicious sneer, standing in front of her with his cane at the ready.

“Huh?” She mumbles looking over his shoulder, not getting a few view of the children.

As soon as her voice escapes from her lips, Rhemi can sense her father conjuring his magic into the jeweled handle of his cane. The gem starts to glow brightly giving off a sort of metallic smelling aura... He is conjuring a spell?? To use on these kids???

Now getting a full glimpse over her father’s shoulder, she realizes she knows the children running up to them both and a large bead of sweat forms on her brow unsure what her father was intending to do.As soon as Martin brings up his cane to let loose the spell, she gently places her hand on the top of his jeweled handle, scooting him out of the way and forcing him to set down his weapon.

“—Ohhh! Lilly! Zachary! Nathan! How are you silly kids??” She says with a ginger smile. Martin face twists as he realizes that she knows these little peasants, but he keeps quiet, observing her as the three snot nosed brats approach them, two boys and one girl.

Rhemi kneels down and the children all embrace her with a tight hug nearly knocking her over to the cobble street. “Rhemiiiiii!!!”

“Sorry! I couldn’t stop him.” The girl apologized.

“That’s alright! Well—Hello, hello, and hello! What are you three rascals doing here?” Rhemi greets cheerily.

“Getting some eggs.” The young girl says lifting up an empty basket. She was the tallest and the oldest. If you couldn’t immediately, she was the responsible one in the trio, the ‘mother hen’ of the group. Her hair was a bright blonde with tight curls styled in two puffy pigtails. Her skin is a beautiful dark black, like a fresh brewed coffee, and eyes a bright hazel.

“Where’s Mr. Tall Man today?” The youngest boy asks looking all around making his wild and curly brown toffee colored hair, bounce all around. He has pale ivory skin with flecks everywhere, and dark brown eyes, and couldn’t be no older than six or seven, about one of Muriel’s cousins named Ida’s age, and just as cute. However he wasn’t the faintest bit shy like Ida is.

“Oh—I’m sorry, Nathan. Muriel isn’t with me today. He’s busy doing other errands.” Rhemi answers him tilting her head feeling rather guilty.

“Awwww.” The little boy whines looking at the ground disappointedly, holding the eldest child and the girl's hand and pouts. “I wanted to show him my newt. I found him in a pond.” He opens his pocket and out comes a little sticking looking bright orange creature with various sized brown and gray spots covering his head to his tail (freckles, just like Nathan).

Martin makes a revolted little noise and looks away for a moment, a hard sneer twisting his features, Rhemi doesn’t see him cringing behind. To his surprise, his daughter isn’t disgusted or afraid at all, she actually seems to think it’s cute, and pets his little head with her pointer finger. “Ooooh~ What’s their name, Nathan?”

“Wart! He’s a boy newt.” He says as he turns his neck and sticks his tongue out at Lillian and she just shakes her head, with a long-suffering look on her face.

“Well isn’t he just lovely. He has a wonderful color, orange is one of my favorite colors. I’ll be sure to tell Mr. Muriel about him! I’m sure he’d love to see him.” Her eyes glance behind to her father, still looking rather prudish and she smiles realizing she hadn’t introduced anyone yet. “OH! Right!…. Sooo, everyone, this is my father, his name is Sir Remington Martin Alarie III. He’s a King’s magician.”

The young girl lets out a shallow quick gasp as she looks up at Martin and he half turns his nose up at her. “I didn’t know you had a father.” She whispers to Rhemim shielding her mouth with her hand.

Rhemi plays along and whispers back the same way, “Neither did I… We just met yesterday.”

Little Nathan clings onto the Archmagister’s pant leg and Martin furrows his brow and somehow manages to frown even more. “You’re a neat magician too, like Miss Rhemi, Mister??”

Martin rolls his eyes scoffs. “....What gave that away? The cape or the cane, Oh-Child with a newt named ‘Wart’ ?” He sassily remarks, slowly unhinged the child’s arms off his leg.

Realizing that her father was confused about how she knew these children, she stands up and loops her arm around his. “Père, these are some children that were on the streets before the battle with Lucio…” Rhemi then points to each of the kids one at a time. “This is Lillian, Lilly for short. That strapping young lad is Zachary. And last but not least, little Nathan.”

The youngest child excitedly waves his hand at the old grumpy magician adorably despite Martin's lack of caring. “You look like a fancy magician!!” Nathan giggles cutely, finally letting go of the Archmagister’s leg.

“..... Mmmmm hmmmm….” The old gentleman grumbles. “... Nathan… was it??” The boy nods his head not noticing the nobleman’s disgust as he continues to sluggishly push him away, now gently using the butt end of his cane. “Pleasure to make your…. acquaintance…” He mutters trying to sound kind as he quickly brushes off his pant leg he touched.

Zachary, the older boy, notices the man’s dislike for Nathan touching him and stares at him shamelessly and the two start to have a silent scowling staring contest all unbeknownst to Rhemi who is still looking away. But Lilly catches and just stands there shaking her head unimpressed with either of them.

But then Nathan just rambled on adorably blabbing and now clinging onto Rhemi’s right leg and she ruffles his messy hair untamed hair that she admired. “Miss Rhemi and Mr. Muriel and Ms. Countess lady and—*achoo*—and all of her other friends helped made us all a home.”

A little bit of pink quickly stains Rhemi’s face as her father's eyes fall on her. “Well it was all Muriel, Asra, and Nadia’s idea to build an orphanage. All I did was help.”

“The Countess lady comes and reads to us eeeevery Wednesdays.” Nathan continues to rant. “And—And Miss Rhemi and Mr. Muriel comes by and sometimes they bring us arts n’ crafts and-and-and teach us magic!!”

“Is that so?” Marin fakely smiles. “Magic is so freely taught here I see…”

“Yeah! We each have our own beds! Mr. Muriel helped make them for us!”

“—And get three square meals a day. We don’t have to fight or steal food anymore….” Zachary finally chims in, scratching the back of his head. “Which is…. okay I guess…” His skin is olive-ish brown and his hair is a dark umber color, but has bright crystal blueish gray eyes that stand out.

Zachary was always normally very quiet. He used to be a part of a group of kids that were terrible bullies and even thugs. But ever since he saw Muriel, a hero and champion to the city, who was an orphan who grew up on the docks just like him, something changed in him. Perhaps knowing that someone like him could be a hero someday, strong and brave, he left that life behind and started a fresh path at the orphanage. He was still very young, no older than eleven, but really looked up to Muriel and Rhemi and saw them both as his role models. Even now, he tries to act all tough and aloof, but he’s really a little sweetheart and cared about the orphanage as much as the other two did.

“Well isn’t that ….nice.” Martin says with a bit of surprise in his face glancing at Rhemi. “Very appropriate for a young lady such as yourself to get involved in.”

“How’s Mrs. Edilen doing??” Rhemi asks, turning her attention back to the children.

“Old…” Zachary mutters blankly. Without warning, Lilly smacks him across the back of his head with such a scoldingly look on her face. “—OW! WHAAAAT??” He grumbles just above a whisper, his bright eyes angrily beaming at her as he holds his head.

“Shut your mouth, Zach!!! That woman is good to us and you know it!” Lilly snaps before answering Rhemi. “She’s fine, but her back has been bothering her lately.”

Lillian has been the little mother figure for these kids at the orphanage. She was always scolding and ensuring everyone minded their manners even though she was half their strength. You could tell she was in charge, but she was a very good kid with a heart of gold. She reminds Rhemi of herself in a way.

Rhemi stifles a laugh to spare poor Zachary’s pride and just continues with the conversation. “She’s actually coming by later for her potion, I hope that’ll help her.”

“Me too, I guess….” Zachary grumbles with his arms folded. “I’m sick of reading bedtime stories to the younger kids...”

“Oh stop acting like you don’t like it! You’re the one who does it without anyone asking you too!” Lilly rolls her eyes.

“...T—They whine if I don’t!” He quickly retaliates, blushing crazily.

Lilly just stares at him with a knowing smirk. “Oh yeah, I’m sure they whine when you don’t do the voices either!” She teases.

Poor Zachary’s face looks like it's going to explode and he gently shoves her, covering his burning face with the neck of his shirt like a turtle. “Shut. Up. LILLIAN!!” He grouches, words muffled by his shirt.

Kneeling back down with a giggle, Rhemi can’t help but love to see these two banter like they do. I can see these two getting married in ten years. She thinks to herself. “Well, I better get going, kiddos. I’m showing my father around the city and are expected for tea.”

In unison all of the kids sink their shoulders disappointedly.

“Are you both gonna come to see us soon?” Nathan asks with the biggest puppy dog eyes, holding onto her shaw.

“Awwwww!! Of course we will! It’s just all this wedding has just been keeping us busy. But I promise Muriel and I will come soon. Ok?”

All three kids excitedly say, hooray in unison and give her one last group hug before they all head on their merry way, waving her goodbye as they’d end towards the market.

“Bye, Fancy Mister Magician Man!” Nathan calls with a big goofy smile while holding onto Lilly’s hand.

As the kids wander off, Martin just looks at Rhemi with such fondness as he takes a seat next to the water fountain ledge.

“What?” Rhemi asks with a grin.

Martin just shakes his head with a chuckle. “You’re just like your mother….. even just now… you are just the spit of her… She loved working with children. She wanted to become a governess before she met me.”

Rhemi smiles a little wider and sits next to her father on the fountain’s edge. “.... I wish I could remember her face….”

The water fountain behind the two keeps endlessly roaring with the water and the two sit then content for a moment, watching as people go by, happy to take a seat for the time being. As they both sit there enjoying the warmth of the sun, Rhemi’s mind wanders to yesterday to her unanswered questions the other day. It kills her to want to know, but it’s terrifying to ask.

Finally, she swallows her fears, and tightens her fists as she summons the courage. “....Père?”

“Yes, my Pigeon?”

“I… I wanted to ask you this yesterday, but it didn’t necessarily come up in the conversation… But…. ummm… What exactly….. happened?....” Her father's smile fades as soon as she utters that question, and he turns his head away from her. His reaction just makes her want to know even more. “...W-Why hadn’t I seen you for so many years?”

Martin’s cold eyes shimmer with a glimpse of pain with that question and swallows hard. “..... I…. I think that's for another day, dear child…”

She sits there for a moment, considering to let it go, but her mouth moves before she can really stop herself. “…. Could… could you at least tell me something? P-Perhaps? It’s been killing me to know what happened….”

Martin still keeps his eyes averts from hers, hoping she’d stop being so persistent.

“... If I could remember any of it myself, I wouldn’t have asked.” She adds sheepishly twiddling with thumbs in her lap.

The old magician stews on her words for a while, still very hesitant to speak of what happened and she thinks he’ll just ignore her plea. But then he sighs very deeply before muttering unenthusiastically, “.... Very well….”

Taking out a pipe out of his vest pocket along with a little tobacco from a fancy tiny metal tin. Conjuring his magic to his finger, he lights up the pipe, and takes in three short puffs followed by one big one. Pondering his words, he holds it in his mouth peering at the crowd, then finally blows out all the smelly smoke slowly. “...You and your mother…. were stolen from me around fifteen years ago.”

Rhemi quickly whips her head towards him with her eyes wide, staring at her father completely dumbfounded.

S-Stolen? She shouts to herself in her mind, her poor heart starting to beat a little faster by the second. By—by who?? What does this all mean??

He draws in another larger puff before continuing this obviously painful story, apparently being soothed by the tobacco. “You both were kidnapped.... By a terrible evil witch named Phara….”

Phara… he mentioned her before the other day. Why doesn’t that name sound familiar to me?? Why can’t I remember that name???

Squinting her eyes as if that would somehow help her remember as she follows with another question. “...W-Who was Phara? I don’t remember that name at all.”

“I was afraid of that. But I also could only assume that was the case as well.” He takes in a quick puff and nods solemnly before beginning again, bellowing out the smoke as he spoke.. “.....I ….I hired her to be your tutor. You were about…. ohhhh I believe it was seven or eight at the time?—It was shortly after I was promoted to head chamberlain to his Majesty's court and I became increasingly busy with my new duties. Anyways…. One day, you scared your governess half to death… She was teaching you handwriting. You apparently threw a tantrum and lit your parchment paper ablaze with your magic. According to some servants, she came out of the library screaming.”

Rhemi’s cheeks start to feel like they are burning, that sounds about right knowing herself and how angry she can get even now. Sometimes she still wants to destroy things now when she is pissed off…. Apparently some things never change.

“... And so...You needed to learn how to control your magic.” He continues, “... And mother suggested someone she grew up with.”

“.... Phara?” Rhemi knowingly asks, placing her hands on the cold marble stone she’s sitting on.

Martin nods slowly, waving his pipe around as he spoke. “Yes…. Phara….. She was a Throthian woman, a professor for some intellectuals. For a time, she taught foreign dukes, duchesses, and even a few princesses in Parka and she was highly regarded, even for a woman.”

Throthian… Now that sounds familiar… Where do I know that word from?

“... She even taught many commoners and the poor to read and write so they can make better lives for themselves… which didn’t make the king very happy…. But most importantly, she was also a witch. Apparently a skilled one at that, which is what you needed at the time. Your mother swore that she trusted this woman with her life, and that Phara was bound to secrecy and confidentiality.”

…. Wait—Secrecy??....Why secrecy??

He pauses for a second, and draws in another deep puff on his pipe, then lets it out. Quietly Rhemi covers her mouth and lightly coughs, the smell of the tobacco burning her lungs. “....Despite my better judgement—I felt at the time that we had no better alternative. So, I hired her to be your tutor. She didn’t know the basics of aristocratic life, such as playing classical music on the piano, needle point, edict, or anything like your previous governess, but she was what we desperately needed at the time… And I’ll admit she was much more intelligent. Years went by, your magic was under control and you were being properly educated…. or so I thought.”

“.... So you thought? What do you mean??”

“.... Well… it came to my attention that she was teaching you things no young girl of nobility should know.” He pauses once again and looks his daughter in the eyes very seriously and sincerely and Rhemi feels her heart tug down. “...Phara was teaching you terrible things... evil things, Rhemielia.”

Rhemi’s eyes fall down to the cobblestone street as she tries to swallow all of this information. ….I… I was taught… evil things?... Perhaps that’s why I didn’t bat an eyelash at the blood magic, yet Muriel was so bothered by it…. am I… evil at heart?? Rhemi wonders to herself, her heart tugging even more. Is that why I was such a jerk before I died?

“.... One night about a week after your twelfth birthday.... I came home a day early after going on a diplomatic trip with the king. I was bringing you a late birthday present… But to my surprise, no one greeted me at the gates, nor the door. Soon I realized that all the servants were gone, the chateau was dark and empty and something sinister was afoot.” Rhemi’s nails started to dig into her thighs unconsciously as she hung onto every word… This part was starting to sound almost familiar. “.... I made my way to the parlor, and I saw Phara shoving you and your poor mother out the veranda and was planning on throwing you both out off the balcony for god knows what reason.”

Rhemi swallows the lump in her throat hearing all of this for some reason its starting to feel a little more familiar. “.... We fought. It was her magic against mine…. Soon, the fourier was in shambles, the furniture and decor littered the floor, and I had her nearly beat… Then the next thing I see out of the corner of my eye that your poor little head was cracked open…. You were bleeding everywhere, barely standing straight in the corner of the room...”

Vision starts to become dizzy, Rhemi closes her eyes to stop her head from spinning. But as soon as Rhemi closes her eyes, the short glimpse of her small childish hands trembling and covered in blood come into her mind. It’s too vivid to have been her imagination. Her right hand instinctively goes to her forehead to the right side of her frontal skull where there are two stubborn cowlicks that never grew much hair. She couldn’t part her hair any other way because of them. It’s only at this very moment she can feel a slight dip in her bone that she realizes why that hair never grew past an inch or two… it was a hidden scar, it was small, no bigger than an inch now, however it felt like it went rather deep.

A quick twinge of pain returns to Rhemi’s temples for a split second and she shuts her eyes yet again and stifles her groan. Flames of the burning mansion in her dreams illuminates behind her eyelids—the other Rhemi, the dying phoenix, faint muffled screams and yells they all start to rush into her mind and ears, making her almost sick to her stomach. Focusing on her breathing, she diverts her thought away from her nausea not wanting to see the eel or pumpkin bread a second time. She dare not make a scene in the middle of the city and she stays silent, quietly suffering as her father continues on.

“I… I underestimated that witch, she was more craftier than I had originally thought. Somehow I found myself with a knife in my back. You were just standing there, looking paler by the second… So I ignored my pain and staggered straight over to you. I knew you needed a healer immediately with the amount of blood you were losing and—” Martin stops mid word, you can hear him choking back some tears with his voice cracking. “... I reached out to save you…. to pull you into my arms—but….” He softly trails off.

Rhemi closes her eyes again, and for a moment, she sees a large eerie hand slowly coming at her from the dark—As she opens her eyes it disappears once again.

In the corner of eyes, she can see as Martin pulls off his right leather glove for the first time, and she notices that he pulls up part of his long sleeve of his fancy shirt. Underneath them both hid a terrible looking old burn that started from the top of this hand, ran up his forearm, and wrapped all around his bicep. It was awful to look at, it must have been so incredibly painful. “... Phara proved to be craftier than I expected… she always was… I just wish I saw it sooner… That damn witch used the last bit of her magic to start a terrible fire, even put you in harm's way to do it.”

The fire…. Is that what the other me was trying to tell me about? The fire?? Is Phara that monster?.... I don’t know if I still want to know...

The nausea and dizziness subsiding as quickly as it came, she stared at her poor father’s arm a burning in her nose. “I’m…. I’m so sorry, Père.” She softly says with tears in her eyes as she gazes at the terrible scar seared into her father’s flesh. “Does it still hurt?”

“You mean…. This old scar?” He scowls with an eyebrow raised, appearing a bit puzzled.

Rhemi nods sheepishly, her large eyes beaming with such a somber empathetic expression.

Seeing this sincere look, he’s face softens and he even gives her a reassuring grin and shakes his head. “No… Not anymore, Pigeon.”

Gently she touches it with the tips of her fingers inspecting the shriveled tough pinkish skin. “Did you have a doctor's help? It looks like it healed rather well.”

“I did actually…” The Archmagister holds up his arm, opening and closing his fist, wiggles his fingers, and flexes his elbow to show that his range of motion was at least spared “... The doctors and healers had to use some unconventional methods to salvage all of my fingers and I regained feeling in my forearm… And it took quite a while to recover from all of it—I even had to learn how to write with my left hand... But honestly, I hardly remember it.”

He stops flexing his arm and hand and gently rests it back on top of his leg with the palm up. “... All the while I was healing, I was focused on finding you and your mother. I put a very high bounty on Phara’s head along with countless posters, fliers, and I sent letters to neighboring kingdoms everywhere. I hired men and the best bounty hunters all over the country to comb cities to the countryside in Charlès for you and your mother… But then, weeks turned into months, months into years, years into over a decade. Everyone all but gave up, the story of the Archmagister’s kidnapped wife and daughter became all but a tragic distant memory.... To some, it twisted into a bedtime story. About a demon witch who came in the night who lured beautiful mothers and their poor children out of their homes in the dead of night during the witching hour. The witch would kill them and drain all of their blood so she could bathe in it to restore her youth and power. Then she’d chopped the bodies all up into tiny pieces and cooked their flesh into a stew, serving it to the unsuspecting poor.”

Martin draws back his arm, rolling down his sleeve, donning his leather glove yet again. “But only few knew the truth.”

“That must have been just terrible for you…. You must have been so lonely.” Rhemi finally utters after sitting there quietly.

“... I never released how empty a house felt without you both in it.” He mumbles looking away into the crowd. He shrinks into himself as soon as those words leave his mouth as if he didn’t mean to admit that. But Rhemi could tell, that came directly from his heart.

Martin suddenly clears his throat quickly slicking back his hair, shaking himself out his thoughts and glances at his pocket watch. “Oh would you look at that. It’s nearly time for tea.” He straightens up and lightly pats her head and she tries her best to stop herself from sneering to be polite. “Come on then. Let’s get a move on, don’t want to be tardy now, do we?” He says standing to his feet and shaking out his cape.

“N-no… No we don’t.” Rhemi answers, sluggishly standing her feet as well brushing out the wrinkles in her shirt.

———————

The walk back to the palace was a bit more quiet, but Rhemi and Martin now seem to be comfortable with it and just enjoy each other’s company in comfortable silence. She’s somewhat used to it being with Muriel.

As the two made it back to the Palace, they were greeted by a handful of Nadia’s servants and an older man in dark green and blue that her father called Bartholomew. He must have been his servant; his uniform and disposition was very different from anyone else.

Judging from the lack of people around, Rhemi and Martin apparently had arrived a bit early and were both left in the common room for the Countess’ arrival. Bartholomew whispered a few things to Martin’s ear before very elegantly leaving the room.

Suddenly, Beatrix comes scurrying around the corner making a few of Nadia’s servants comically shriek in surprise. The grumpy badger quickly prances over to Martin and climbs up her over the armchair close by, then on to his shoulders.

“Making yourself a nuisance yet again I see, Beatrix.” Martin teases her and she chatters back.

“Good afternoon, Bea~.” Rhemi says with a smile as she puts her hand up to her to sniff. Surprisingly, the animal lets her scratch under her chin after giving her a few pumpkin seeds from her pocket. It’s unclear if she likes Rhemi or if she just likes the food she gives her. Either way, Rhemi likes her. She’s cute in a scruffy kind of way.

“Pardon me.” Says Pascal, a servant who took over Portia’s position after she was appointed to Chamberlain comes in with a bow. “The Countess wanted me to inform you both that she will be arriving shortly. In the meantime, please make yourself comfortable.”

A sharp scoff ejects out of Martin’s mouth. “Of course she’s going to make us wait….” He grumbles, and Beatrix growls a little at the poor servant showing her teeth. “I was invited into her own palace, haven’t seen the damn woman since I arrived and now she’s gonna make us wait?”

“My apologies, Sir Martin… She’s just returning from a Heart District reconstruction meeting.”

Rhemi steps in front of her father and before he could mutter another word and feeds his badger another pumpkin seed and she ceases her aggressive noises. “Thank you, Pascal. How’s your father doing?”

The servant smiles sincerely and cups his hands together. “Oh, great after that sleeping remedy you gave him!”

“Good! Any more chronic night terrors about jellyfish?”

Pascal laughs as she mentions that and Martin has a perplexed scowl on his face looking towards his familiar as if she knew the answer to that. “No! None since Muriel gave him that dream catcher over his bed. My family can’t thank you both enough for that.”

“Ooooh please, it was nothing! I’m just glad to hear he’s doing better—”

Martin stands in front of his daughter before she can finish her sentence. “—Yes, yes. That’s very nice indeed. Now if you wouldn’t mind...” The Archmagister says, shamelessly shooing the poor thing away, waving his cane guestering towards the door. “I’m sure your Countess would like you to return to her without dallying.”

Rather taken off guard by his rudeness, Pascal blinks blankly for a moment before bowing out and leaving the room. “Y-yes, your Excellency.”

Just as shocked as Pascal, Rhemi shakes her head staring at the back of her father’s head. Finally she taps on his back and her father turns to face her. “... You could have been nicer…” She mumbles to him a bit pouting.

He sighs, then pinches the bridge of his nose. “You really shouldn’t make chummy conversation with the servants, Rhemielia… It’s distasteful.”

The Archmagister walks around Rhemi towards the other side of the room to a small table by the fireplace, Rhemi’s eyes following him. “..... But I like Pascal—”

“—Well, Rhemielia, how about we play a game of chess to pass the time?” He says rather jollily (for him) gesturing towards the small table where the game is set up.

“Chess?..” She repeats him tilting her head. She can’t remember the last time she ever played the damn game and she sheepishly scratches the back of her head. “...Oh… I don’t really like playing. I don’t think I remember all the rules anyw—”

“Very well. I’ll teach you the rules again.” He replied, taking a seat next to the white pieces and setting his cane on the outside of the chair. “... We used to play when you were younger. If I remember correctly, you were getting quite good too, but never could quite beat me.”

“S-... Sure… why not?..” Rhemi reluctantly gives in, taking a seat behind the black pieces in the armchair.

Quickly, but thoroughly, her father explains the basic rules, and part of it is starting to come back to her as she stares at the pieces a bit longer.

“Any questions?” He finally asks as he pets Beatrix and she leans into his touch.

The apprentice gazes at all the pieces studying them carefully. Rook, king, queen, bishop, knight and….. and…. hhhhmmm…

Forgetfully, she points to the smaller pieces in the front. “These small ones… they're called, pawns or fawns?”

“Pawns. You were right the first time….. Are you starting to remember the rules, my little Pigeon?”

“Maybe?... It all sounds rather familiar.” Her finger gently grazes the top of the small cold piece and she has a sad frown. “I think I remember how.... I didn’t like how people treat these little pieces.”

“What?” He softly scoffs, an entertained grin growing on his lips. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Well….. T-These pieces represent people don’t they? This is a strategy game…. To represent a war or battle.”

Baffled at that assessment, Martin gazes back at the marble pieces and shrugs. “I…. I suppose you are correct in that regard… what is your point, child?”

Rhemi looks back down finding the right words to explain how she felt. “In this game… pawns are dispensable, their movements are limited, unlike the other pieces behind them. But because there are more of them, they are more expendable than the other taller pieces.” She pauses as she looks as she picks up one of the pawns with a few chips and cracks in it, reminding her of her poor Muriel for some reason and the way Lucio used him for so many years for his own entertainment. “People really shouldn’t treat others like that. Some…. object that can be used and taken out with little to no consequences. They are just some game piece to them, not another person…”

Martin stops himself from mid sputter trying his best not to laugh out loud. “Well…. now your spouting off nonsense.” He mumbles as he leans his back into the lounge chair, crossing his legs and resting his hand on his temple. “... This is just a game after all—”

“—I would happily agree with you, Rhemi.” Nadia’s silky smoothe voice interrupts and Martin and Rhemi stand quickly to their feet slightly taken by surprise. Stunning and beautiful as always, she strolls into the room, her heels clicking the floor, dressed in her white and green outfit and her hair half up and half down. Pascal trailing behind her with a grin on his face. “... If you think about it that way, the game is rather horrible that some pieces are labeled as not being as important as others. But in reality, the good leader should acknowledge that all of the pieces are important, no matter how small or limited they are.”

Martin bows very traditionally and elegantly, Beatrix hanging off his shoulders looking lifeless. “... Countess.”

However Rhemi just casually rushes to Nadia and wraps her arms around her and he raises an eyebrow at her informalness and lack of edict or manners.

“It’s so good to see you! Thank you so much for lending me your tailor again!” Martin’s child so boldly and informally converses making him stunned for words.

The Countess just smiles and hugs her back with a bright smile. “Oh, the pleasure is all mine. I hope you don’t mind, but Pierre let me get a sneak peak of it.”

“Ohh! Really???” Rhemi’s cheeks get all flushed and hot once again and she cups her face with her hands. “W-What do you think of it??”

“Oh, it’s just lovely, Rhemi. Just perfect for you. I can not wait to see you in it—Or Muriel seeing you in it for that matter.”

“Ooooo!! Realllly???? Thank you, Nadia!”

Suddenly, Martin clears his throat rather loudly, cutting through the two’s giddy laughter. “Countess Satrinava.”

The countess's eyes suddenly darken hearing the Archmagister’s voice and she forced back on a smile. “Ah yes… Monsieur Martin.” He approaches her with his chest puff out and she returns a polite curtsy. She then extends her hand out and he kisses to top of her knuckles, very diplomatic and traditional like. “...It has been ages, I haven't seen you since King Francis’ Spring ball six years ago… How have you been?” The Countess asks, fakely attempting to be interested.

“Quiet fine, thank you for asking.” Martin smirks back with a devious look. “... However I do fear that you haven’t been receiving my letters because I haven't gotten any back over the years. In fact, I have been around your city this morning, no flyers have been posted either.”

Nadia’s shoulder slightly tenses as if she knew and dreaded what he was about to say. Yet, she keeps a calm and composed face. “I do owe you my apologies. I have had other obligations this past year….. just a small war to save the world and clean up my city after pure evil attempted to rule our realm….”

“Ahhh…. yes… so I’ve heard... Most understandable. Things such as that are to be expected when a woman is in a position such as yourself… You really shouldn’t be so harsh on yourself, Nadia.”

“And what position would that be, Sir Martin?” Nadia remains poised and collected, but Rhemi could tell, she was getting irritated.

Martin smirks while placing both hands on his cane out in front of him. “One with great responsibility and little power, of course, Countess…. Ruling a city is a man’s job after all.”

An awkward tense silence takes hold for a moment and Nadia just flutters her eyes and fakely smiles a bit wider at his blunt rudeness. “... So nice to see you again, Archmagister. Do enjoy your stay.”

Eloquently, she turns her back to Martin tugging Rhemi along, giving her attention back to her champion, ignoring that rude and very sexist comment. “So, my dear champion. What brings you here? I do apologize for my tardiness. Especially when you had such ‘lovely’ company that also failed to show up for tea time yesterday.” She says that last part loud enough for him to hear.

“Well… ahhhhhh, we had tea scheduled for this afternoon—” Rhemi replies awkwardly.

The Countess shakes her head, instantly remembering. “Oh! Yes of course! How could I forget, I have sandwiches, biscuits, and tea being made as we speak—Oh, and your favorite~”

“Oooo—Agrippa’s strawberry lemon cake???” Rhemi says wiggling her hips excitedly.

Nadia nods with a bright smile, laughing at Rhemi’s pure overjoyed expression. “Portia was so kind to pick it up. Her and her brother should be here any minute, won’t they? Shall we have it on the balcony? It’s a lovely day.” She says looping her arm around Rhemi’s.

“Yes, but, ahhhh….” Suddenly, the apprentice stops her feet and politely pulls away. “Actually, I, ah, wanted to introduce someone to you, but I gather you’ve already met.”

Nadia interlaces her fingers together and rests her hands in front of her, wearing a rather confused expression. “...Oh?”

Her eyes follow Rhemi as she walks back over to Martin and loops her arm through his. “Nadia…. Sir Martin is my father….”

Nadia’s eyes widen, completely shocked. “Your…. father…?”

The Archmagister smiles at her with his nose high and stares at her condescendingly. “Ah yes…. Without any of your help I ended up finding my daughter myself—-But to my pleasant surprise she was alive. And in your city no doubt. What are the odds of the place that refused to comply with posting my wanted posters was the exact place where I found her.”

“Your…. His daughter?? The child who was stolen by an evil witch?”

Rhemi’s face suddenly flushes. Even Nadia knew about me?

“I…. I guess so.” She shrugs slightly embarrassed.

Nadia can’t help but flutter her eyelashes, gazing speechlessly to her champion. Finally she opens her mouth and looks toward Martin with a bit of guilt. “But…. you’ve been looking for her for—”

“—For fifteen years, seven months, a week, two days, and seven hours…. Yes…” Martin interjects with a sour and slightly angry, yet smug expression. “... But who’s counting?”

With Nadia completely gobsmacked and silent, Rhemi mutters. “I was hoping it would be alright if I invited him for tea time with Julian and Portia, so he could get to know my friends….. U-Unless of course that’s rude—”

“—No! No. It’s quite alright.” Nadia says shaking out of her stupor. “... Besides this afternoon was for you anyways, this may be the last tea you have as a single woman.”

“Oh you’re right. Didn’t think about that!... But it's better to ask right?”

“Of course.” Nadia looks towards Pascal as nods to cue him to lead them all towards the balcony.

“If you would follow me…” Pascal quickly says before whipping around to escort them all to the balcony.

Nadia hangs back staring at Rhemi and Sir Martin as they link arms having a terrible feeling about all of this and her temples start to twinge with slight pain.

—————————————

As soon as Portia and Julian arrive Rhemi greets them with a loving hug, but they immediately notice Sir Martin and a look of horror and confusion strikes their face. They only remember this man from the other day. But Rhemi explains the situation and they change their attitude quickly, happy for their friend for being reunited with her long lost father.

The Devoraks do their very best to be kind and friendly to the Archmagister, evening apologizing for their behavior (even though they did nothing wrong). Julian introduces himself with a small bow as he reaches his hand to offer to shake it. But Sir Martin slightly turns his nose up at the commoner and waits a grueling amount of seconds before finally taking his hand with only saying almost sarcastically, “Charmed…”.

Portia bows as well, and even puts donns her diplomatic hat being a chamberlain herself now, in attempts to easily converse with him on a relatable level. But the old magician just smirks and quietly chuckles at her attempt to presume that her position, a chamberlain to a mere Countess was anything like being a head chamberlain and Archmagister to a very wealthy and powerful monarch. Nevertheless Martin does at least take her hand and kisses the top of her knuckles and even says, “How do you do.”

As all four sit down and get settled and the tea is being brought out and being poured. The inescapable tension was relentlessly building with the silence. A servant pours the Archmagister’s tea and sets down a plate of biscuits in front of him and he mutters in an irritated manner, “Please, do wear gloves, girl. I don’t want to see your revolting cracked hands when you're handling my food.”

The poor servant’s face turns red with humiliation and she hasilty hides them behind her back. “Y-yes Sir… My apologies, Sir Alarie.”

Baffled at his rudeness, Rhemi, Julain and Portia stay quiet and glance over to Nadia, who stares at the old foreign diplomat with her head gracefully tilted with a fake, yet amused grin. “Oh, and how do you suppose her hands became cracked in the first place, Sir Martin? My servants shouldn’t have to be ashamed that they work diligently for a living. For you to judge her for it all the while you have a silver spoon in your mouth… Well… Should I just say that is rather ignorant of you.”

It appears that Martin was about to retaliate with a snide comment back to her but Rhemi awkwardly fake coughs. “Thank you Claudia. It looks amazing. Please tell the chef thank you.”

Her interjection to smooth things over seemed to have shut her father up for now and the terrible silence takes hold yet again. Rhemi stirs her tea, making it the way she likes and tries her best to fight the flush warming up her face from her father’s behavior. A wave of dread washes over her as she takes a small sip and thinking perhaps she made a mistake introducing everyone to him like this today. It was rather sudden and last minute after all, and she didn’t expect him to act this way. In her mind, this would have been more like a fairy tale or a book, a long lost father reuniting with the heroine’s life at the end of the story and they all lived happily ever after… But then again…. this is reality, and fairy tales and books are in the end, just that. A story. Things don’t anyway go the way you want them to….

Finally, the Countess decides to make some small talk asking Portia about the reconstruction progress of the Temple district and the tension starts to finally subside a bit. Martin even engaged in the conversation at least with the parts about Charlès’ part in supplying raw materials such as iron, bronze, and steel. The conversation then went to Rhemi with the wedding planning, then to Julian and how his clinic was going…

“Things have been keeping me busy, that’s for sure! Lately it's been a lot of springtime cold, but nothing too serious…” Julian goes on taking a long sip of his tea.

“Mmmm. Interesting.” Martin attempts to engage in the conversation for his daughter’s sake. “Tell me Doctor, are you married?”

“No, actually…” But perhaps one day I’ll marry the person I love.”

“Hmmm I’m sure she’s just lovely…. Hope she doesn’t mind having many late nights by the sound of your business.”

“...Err... ’He’ actually.” Julian corrects him with a faint bit of red on his face with a love stuck expression.

But the old nobleman really chokes on his sip of tea and he bats his eyelashes, perplexed. “....Sorry?”

Julian’s left eye darts back and forth to him and Rhemi, shrugging his shoulders. “Ummm- Errr…. About-?”

“You correct me… And said...?”

“Yes….” Rhemi jumps in thinking her father just didn’t hear him right. “Ilya said ‘he’. Asra, the one you met yesterday. White-ish hair, also a magician. That’s Julian’s partner.”

A snide and almost vicious scowl contorts the man’s face. “.....So….. You are having relations…. withhhhhhhh….. another man?” Martin inquires further as he gives Beatrix a few berries.

“Yeeeeeeeeeeesss.” Julian replies, not understanding the issue here starting to furrow his brow as well.

“So you have a….. male… bbbbooooyfriend?”

Nadia whispers to her servant rather quietly, helpless to watch as this all unfolds in front of her. “... Pascal, do bring us a bottle of wine.”

“....Asra actually prefers to use the term partner.” Rhemi adds bring her tea to her lips. “He doesn’t identify with gender specific roles. He’s male leaning, but he’s non-binary.”

“Oh, good god…” Martin grumbles rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Before Pascal gets too far, Nadia tugs his sleeve, and whispers again with her nostrils flared. “Better make that two….”

The Archmagister catches a glimpse of his daughter's saddened face. He adjusts his sitting and swallows his opinions… badly. “I ah, see….” He takes a sip of his tea slowly swallowing it. “So….. Which, ah, which one of you takes it in the ass then?” He quickly adds, unable to help himself.

“PPPPPPFFFFT—” Rhemi slightly sputters in her cup at that, her eyes wide.

Portia nearly drops her teacup speechless at this comment. If this was in a tavern she’d have thrown his ass down by now. But her brother just smiles, calmly placing his tea cup down with a hard clank and leans in closer to the Archmagister. Despite his smug smile, it’s clear that he’s deeply offended. “Well…. I guess that depends on the night. Because we use a schedule. At least we don’t have something constantly shoved up our—”

BOOM!! CHATTER CHATTER!--

“—Ooooooookayyyyyy!!” Rhemi loudly interjects slamming down both of her hands on the table making everything rumble and shake as she nearly jumps to a stand.

“—Well, Nadia, it has been loads of fun, thank you so much for having us—but would you look at the time!” She quickly rants, pulling her father’s chair out then tugging his arm and pulling him out of his chair. “My father and I wanted to check out the library for a few things together, isn’t that right?” She says slightly gritting her teeth. “Didn’t we??”

“Oh… yes of course… If you would excuse us.” He begrudgingly complies with her lie and he bows to Nadia. “Countess…”

Nadia nods her head with a forced grin. “Archmagister….”

With that, Rhemi waves her friends ta-ta for now and nearly drags her father into the palace and straight to the library feeling so terrible for her friend right now.

As soon as they approach their destination silently, Rhemi opens the doors with a wave of her magic and nearly sprints in and shuts the doors behind her. For a moment, she presses her back against the double doors and sighs feeling relieved that she managed to escape that terrible scenario with one of her best friends and her father. A stone cold silence washes over the large room while Martin casually strolls about talking in the splendor of the stained glass windows. Unable to think of a way to tell her father what he had said was unacceptable, she continues to stay silently and decides to walk over to a mountain of books she was actually borrowing about Parka.

“So… that went well—” Martin murmurs and Beatrix jumps off his shoulders and sniffs the couches scouring for some old crumbs. “Well, I am sure you had a reason to carry me away from good tea—”

Martin turns to look at his daughter, but he realizes she's no longer behind him. “R-....Rhemielia?”

Rhemi awkwardly rushes up a ladder, rummages through some more books in the section she was in before, trying not to look at her father. She doesn’t mean to give him a cold shoulder, but she really thought tea would have gone better. How could he have asked such a rude and homophobic question to one of her dearest friends? She loves that Julian and Asra are together, they just make sense in an odd way. Now that she thought about it, Rhemi didn't remember the last time she heard anyone mock someone else’s sexuality. Here in Vesuvia, and in most places of the world for that matter, people are incredibly open-minded and don’t bat an eyelash when someone is attracted to the same sex or both—No one really cares! And neither should they. It’s no one else’s business honestly.

Martin notices her silence and he walks over to where she is. “Well, Pigeon. Your er-ummm.….choices in friends are…. well… rather curious—”

“—Heads-up.” Rhemi knowingly interrupts, throwing down a book and Martin catches after a little fumble with a bit of shock.

With the room quiet yet again, he stares at her as she tries to ignore him for a while. The only sound being made is Beatrix’s sniffing and his daughter flipping through the pages then places a book back on the shelf.

Martin lets out a sigh, as he conjures his magic into his hand, making the book levitate in the air so he didn’t have to hold it. Feeling a little annoyed at the moment, he straightens his cravat on his neck and begrudgingly asks. “.... Something on your mind, Rhemielia?”

Rhemi then kicks the ladder making the wheels roll a few feet away to hunt for a few books in a different section.

Her father following her at the end of the ladder. “Rhemielia?” He repeats.

Finally she huffs heavily heartedly and replies. “... Père, you don’t ask those questions to people.”

Martin just looks up at his child and scoffs with a half grin. “.... And why not?”

“W-Well…. It’s just… ahhh— well....” Rhemi fumbles over her words as she continues to skim through the books looking for that particular subject about genetics. “...Despite his openness, Ilya might not want to converse to a stranger about his intimacy… No one ask you about your sex life. You shouldn’t just make assumptions about his—or any of my friends for that matter.”

Martin fidgets in his spot, unable to remember the last time someone talked to him like this. “Perhaps not, but my sex life didn’t involve another man, Rhemielia…. Forgive me for being intolerant, but it’s just not natural and disgusting-.”

“Disgusting to you perhaps! And how is it not natural?” Rhemi quickly responds with her nose in another book. “... Most herd animals spend their time with other males except for breeding season and engage in sexual activities. Nope… already read this one.” She quietly mutters that last part to herself as she returns the dud book back.

Martin’s brow starts to furrow as he stifles the rage in the pit of his stomach with the thought of that. He can’t believe his only child is defending such behaviors. But he keeps his feelings buried, but just barely. “Humans aren’t filthy animals, Rhemielia…. at least most aren’t... And I really don’t believe a conversation about copulation with my long lost daughter is appropriate—”

“Too late—” She adds, handing him another heavy book, and he makes it float in the air as she slides down the ladder and faces him very boldly. “If that's the case, then isn’t wearing shoes, or undergarments, or overly fancy capes made from dead worm cocoons also deemed ‘unnatural’?.”

“Rhemielia, I really do think this highly distasteful topi—” Martin suddenly stops, eyes wide in bewilderment realizing what she had just said. “I-.... I’m sorry, did you just say, ‘dead worm…. cocoons’?”

“Yes.” She says with a very as-matter-of-fact look on her face.

Martin just stares at her, completely confused and looks down at his expensive garment. “Wha—??”

Instantly, Rhemi grabs one of her books her father is floating in the air and quickly flips through the pages. “Do-too-doo…. Silkworms, silkwoooorms… Ah! Yes—Right here.” Rhemi then takes a hold of her father’s fancy cape and shakes it with one hand while handing her father an open book with the other. “... ‘Silk is made from inorganic fibers that are made from creatures called ‘silkworms’. They’re found in places such as Parka and Nopal and other northern places. Silk is harvested by the cocoon that the silkworm makes. The worms are boiled alive while incubating in a said cocoon, then the thread is extracted so it can be woven into fabric.’..” She points to the left page as she turns around. “It’s all on page 194, paragraph eight.”

Rhemi then pulls out a spare biscuit and gives it to the poor hungry badger. The happy little animal takes it and scarfs it down, she even allows Rhemi to pet her gently on the head some more, no hint of aggression or mistrust.

Bewildered and with squinting eyes, Martin hastily skims the paragraph then tilts his head. “Hmmm… Well… that’s ah, fascinating?... I…. I suppose—However…. I believe I fail to understand what this has to do with anything, my little Pigeon...”

His daughter turns back around dropping her shoulders, the look in her eyes are almost hurt. He can’t help but admire how much she looks like her mother right now. “....Those people you meet today are my friends, Père. Really good ones in fact. I see now that Charlès must not be as…open minded?—Like the rest of the world. But these are my friends. Asra and Julian are in love and I really do think they belong together. So, please, at least for my sake, be nice to them...”

“A rather steep request to ask when your friends have such terrible lifestyle choices. I don’t agree with, I don’t understand how you—”

“—That isn’t a choice, Father.” She interrupts, collecting the books out of the air and placing them onto the table next to Beatrix still licking her little claws clean. “... And you don’t have to understand it in order to respect it.”

“..... Rrrrrrrrrespect it?” He snootily sneer, both eyes half closed.

For one reason or another this expression on his face makes her uncomfortable. “Well… Yes… At least for me. They are all a huge part of my life.” She says. Then, rather dramatic and ominous pause starts to take residence in this tense conversation.

“.... Hmpf… My god what has that witch done to you?” Her father says as he shakes his head slowly.

The man’s icy teal eyes pierce Rhemi like a freshly sharpened blade and she feels it cut her to her core. Obviously what she said has upset him. The longer he stares the smaller and smaller she feels under his gaze. But this is about her friends after all. They are practically a part of her family and they have fought by her and Muriel’s side, the least thing she can do is stick up for them.

She pushes down her uneasiness and puffs out her chest like she always does when she needs the confidence. “I…. I think I’ve always been this way. Perhaps you just didn’t notice.”

Beatrix suddenly jumps off the table and hides underneath it abandoning her precious biscuit. And a strange, yet powerful tense energy fills the room. It feels like a low rumble almost like an earthquake, yet nothing in the room is shaking or rattling. But Martin’s cold eyes are fixed on his daughter, increasingly becoming more intimidating as he just glares, visually trying his best to keep himself from contorting his face in disgust.

At last his eyes leave his poor daughter and she can feel her body start to unclench as he glances to his gloved hands, clicking his tongue before speaking. “I fear that the sinful place has tainted you, my dear….” His face softens when his head lifts back up to look at her once again, a half fake smile on his face. “But, fear not, we’ll correct that in due time.”

Rhemi’s eyes flutter with that last comment almost afraid to ask. “....What do you—”

“—Oi! Rhemiiiiii!!” The large double doors creak open and Portia calls from the library entrance. “It’s four o’clock!”

“—OH! CRAP! I’m late again!” Suddenly Rhemi runs up to her father a quick hug and gives him a peck on the left cheek. She can feel his shoulder stiffen as she embraces him, taken back with her rather loving affection despite the tense conversation that was just had. But his face softens, icy glare deteriorates like snow melting away on a warm spring day as he hugs her back. “Sorry, I have to get back to the shop before five. I have a rheumatism potion I have to finish before a customer comes for it this afternoon.”

“Oh. I see. You’re a busy one I see...”

“Yeah. Guess so.”

“.... Could I see you tomorrow then, perhaps for tea? I must attend a trading meeting after that, and I believe Portia… I believe it was?... She will be there too.”

“Oh…. umm, Y-yeah… Sure! That’s fine. That’ll be great.” Oddly, she’s unable to stop the feeling like she’s fibbing when she says that, her eyes avert towards the large stained glass windows.

Perhaps, tomorrow won’t be as bad as this afternoon… She thinks to herself. Yeah—He’s just not used to people who are different from him, that's all—Yeah!.... He just might need some more time, get to know them all. I’m sure he’ll come around... Realize that he’s wrong about them.

“See you tomorrow then.” As she turns to leave, Martin keeps a hold of her left wrist. She pulls it back instinctively, but her father squeezes even harder, almost too tightly.

“Rhemielia, my child?”

She cranks her head back around, that sincere and pleading expression returning to her father’s face. “...Aren’t you tired of brewing potions for mere pocket change?”

What? What kind of question is that? Puzzled at this question she tilts her head and asks, “.... I’m sorry?”

“Do you really want to be working all your life in that dusty little shop?”

For a moment she ponders on this thought. She never thought about it to be honest.

As Rhemi tugs her hand once again to take it back, thinking a little harder on what he asked. Yet, he doesn’t let go. In fact, his grip actually tightens around her wrist, and it starts to hurt her. Her face starts to bead sweat, her temples pulsate with twinges of pain yet again and she feels her stomach drop. “P-Père, you’re—you're hurting me.” She whimpers.

Blankly he slowly blinks, as if he didn’t hear her.

“P-Père?.... My wrist… You’re hurting it.”

Finally he glances to her small wrist before finally letting it go. “Ah… Ahem—My apologies, my sweet Pigeon.”

Once Rhemi's wrist is finally released, she stands there rubbing it a bit with her opposite hand. Her skin slightly stinging from his firm grip and the friction of the leather gloves. She didn’t like it when people held her too hard like that, it made her feel so uncomfortable, like she was vulnerable and weak. But she never felt her head ache like that before.

After the stinging dissipates, she places her hands to her side and she sheepishly replies, “.... Well… the shop me and Muriel’s livelihood. How else am I supposed to live?”

An entertained chuckle erupts from the Archmagister’s lips and Beatrix climbs his arm and rests across his shoulders. “Why, back home with me in Charlès of course. You’ll live much more comfortably there. I want you to rejoin the court… back with me.”

Lost for any words, Rhemi stands there feeling like an explosion had just gone off in her head. “Back home… to Charlès?” She repeats.

Her father adjusts his cane, making a faint clank while he straightens back up, puffing his chest out and nodding. “You’re conflicted I see. I half expected you would be. It is a rather bold question for me to ask when we’ve only been reunited for two short days….. Don’t worry, you don’t have to answer me now… just think about it, Rhemielia.”

“O-.... okay. I will.” Uncomfortably she replies, her head now spinning. Finally she shakes out of her own thoughts and smiles awkwardly. “Goodnight, Père… I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, my little Pigeon…. Think about what I said.”

“I… I will….” She mumbles as she shuts the door leaving the Archmagister alone in the library with his familiar.

Beatrix sniffs the air cautiously. “Master angry at Pigeon?”

Martin takes a deep breath as he tries to stop his anger and magic from overflowing. “This is all Phara’s doing, Beatrix... That fucking cunt of a witch… Teaching my child such disgusting tolerance for filthy homosexual deviants. That’s precisely why the rest of the world is behind Charlès, Bea. They let perverted cock-sucking fools muck about and run things… this city was nearly all in ruins just a year ago. And that is all because of these fucking liberal fools...”

Trying to calm his anger he takes one of the books Rhemi was reading through in his hands and it bursts into purple and green flames with his magic and he watches with gratification as it burns into dust.

“The world outside of Charlès is disgusting…..” He says picking up one of the books she was reading in disgust. “...It isn’t Rhemielia’s fault she doesn’t remember better… Surrounded by such books, people… and ideals about a backwards way of living. Deprived of morals or sensibility. I will just have to…. remind her of what the correct morals are.”

✨To be continued...

**April fools =P Sorry I had too! XD

Anyways! Thanks so much for reading my hot garbage! I hope you guys didn't mind the very very long chapter!

For all you thirsty trash pandas, the smut will be next chapter *wink wink*

**Agrippa (the baker’s apprentice) belongs to @victorscribbles

#the arcana #the arcana game #muriel fanfic #the arcana fanfic #muriel x mc #muriel x apprentice #muriel x rhemi #the visitor~#part 4~#enjoy my hot trash #enjoy my garbage #for my hungry trash pandas #sorry for the long ass wait #april fools #arcana fandom #non smut

25 notes · View notes

tact-and-impulse · 5 years ago

Text

Basically, since I saw the novel translation that Akane meets with Kougami’s mom, my mind ran wild with speculation. Spoilers for up to First Inspector.

Stouthearted

Tomoyo is accustomed to living alone. Wake up, brush her teeth, have breakfast, check the news offered by her AI secretary.

The golden starfish cheerfully spins as it announces her Hue. “Mint green!”

“Thank you, Hoshiko.” She finishes her coffee, the bottom of the cup sweeter than the rest. She has a lengthy schedule for the weekend but just before she can bring it up, there’s a knock at her door, loud enough to scare Hoshiko into vanishing.

She fastens her bathrobe and runs a hand through her unruly hair. No one’s visited her in a long time. Uncertain and cautious, she only opens the door a crack, enough to see who this stranger is. “Hello?”

“Good morning!” Her visitor is a young woman, whose face is briefly obscured when she bows in greeting. Behind her, a storage drone patiently waits. “I’m sorry to disturb you. Inspector Tsunemori, from the Public Safety Bureau.” She holds up her ID in confirmation. “Are you Kougami Tomoyo-san?”

“Yes…please, come in.” Tomoyo pulls the door further. It’s best that whatever conversation will follow, it should happen inside.

“Ah, just a moment.” Tsunemori unlocks the drone and removes a box from the metal interior, almost too big for her to carry.

“Do you need help?”

“N-no, I’ve got it.” She sets it down and sighs with relief as Tomoyo closes the door.

“I know who you are.”

“Eh?”

“Well, a little.” She concedes. “Shinya called me now and then, and your name came up often. He said you were a good boss.”

It’s comforting to put a face to the name, and she does look young, but tragedy colors a person in a specific, indelible way. Tomoyo recognizes it as Tsunemori’s gaze clouds over. Her answer is strained. “Not as good as I would have liked to be.”

An awkward pause follows, before Tomoyo offers. “I was finishing breakfast. Would you like anything?” Even as she asks, she heads into the kitchen and grabs a cup.

“I don’t want to bother you-”

“No, not at all. It’s been a while since I’ve had a guest, so I apologize for the clutter. Tea? Coffee?”

Tsunemori gives a little smile. “Coffee, please. And I don’t mind, my apartment is far from organized. Oh.”

“What is it?”

“I just realized I might have made things worse for you. Um, the box has books and clothes. Personal items. Not the dishes though, the Bureau took them for reuse. Anyway, I thought, since you’re his mother, you would like his things.” The girl is very nervous, stumbling over her words, but she doesn’t break eye contact. It reassures Tomoyo.

“I would. Thank you very much.” She softly replies. “For now, unpacking can wait. Have a seat.”

They sit across from one another, Tomoyo having refilled her own cup halfway. She’s unsure of what to discuss; there must be protocol to adhere to, and she doesn’t want to make things more difficult for Tsunemori.

Thankfully, Tsunemori speaks first. “I’m sorry, if I interrupted any plans.”

“Nothing urgent. When you live alone for a long time, plans become flexible. I should be the one apologizing, if you’re on the clock.”

“No, it’s okay. I haven’t taken time off before, and this had to be done.”

Hm. She decides Tsunemori isn’t bad.

They sort through the box together. Tomoyo doesn’t recognize most of the books, the titles unfamiliar. The clothes also seem foreign, tinged with bitter cigarette smoke. She never did approve of that habit, and she frowns as she piles the different articles around her. And yet…underneath the acrid smell, it still smells like her boy.

One of the bulkier items is a fur-lined coat, something for the winter months. She sees the way the girl’s fingertips brush over the collar, how her eyes become weighted with melancholy.

“You can keep it.”

“Eh?” Tsunemori looks up at her, startled.

“I can’t keep everything in my place, and besides, you were his boss. Thank you for looking after my son.”

Tsunemori murmurs a half-hearted protest, but she folds the jacket in her lap. It goes with her when she leaves, and Tomoyo assumes that’s the end.

***

But it isn’t. Tsunemori continues to visit, every month or so. Each time is fairly short, enough to drink tea or coffee together. She’s a sweet young lady, unfailingly polite and conversational. They talk about nonconsequential things. The weather, novels, cooking tips. The latter proves to be a bountiful topic, since Tsunemori is inexperienced.

Once, Tomoyo asks about her work. She’s curious if anything’s changed since Shinya was an Inspector. It really hasn’t, and it doesn’t surprise Tomoyo, yet she can’t help but feel disappointed.

In turn, she describes a little of her job, that she analyzes data sent from the local hospital. The majority of her work is remote. She does not share why, though she’s certain Tsunemori can guess. Although the Sybil System can insist it only punishes criminals, family inevitably suffers too. They are carriers of some insidious factor or ticking bombs of the same defective nature but with longer fuses.

Tsunemori also doesn’t ask, though she receives an interrupting message. “Something just came up. I’ll see you later…Kougami-san.” It’s not the first time she’s hesitated addressing Tomoyo.

“Please, ‘Tomoyo-san’ is fine.”

She visibly relaxes. “Then, you can use my name too. It’s Akane.”

“Akane-chan it is.” And for the first time in a while, her smile feels natural.

***

On a rare night, she wakes up crying.

Hoshiko, dimmer in night mode, hovers over her. “Your Hue is Aquamarine. Would you like mental care?”

“This is my mental care. Tears are like stagnant water; sometimes, they need to flow out to feel better.” Satoru told her that once. She couldn’t remember where he read it from, but in moments like now, she could easily recall his voice. “And tears tire me out, I’ll go to sleep soon.” She forcibly shuts the AI down and dabs at her swollen eyes.

It takes an hour, but she does fall asleep again. In the morning, she dusts Shinya’s old room.

***

On her visits, Akane offers to help around the house, but she insists that the younger woman sit and relax.

“It’s enough that you keep an old lady like me company.”

“You’re not so old, Tomoyo-san.”

She gives Akane a flat stare. “But you must have friends your age, or a boyfriend or a girlfriend.”

“I do have friends, we meet up sometimes. As for a boyfriend, I’m too busy for one.” She pauses. “I hope your husband doesn’t mind me intruding.”

She’s perplexed for a moment before she remembers the steel band on her finger. “Oh, this isn’t a wedding ring.” Out of habit, she gives it a twist. “It’s an old gift from Shinya’s father, Satoru. We grew up on the same street, although he was ahead of me by two years. He helped me in my literature classes. Shinya has his father’s scholarliness. Always reading, always thinking inward.” She remembers glancing up from her essays, light pouring from her childhood bedroom window, to steal looks at Satoru’s thoughtful profile.

“It sounds like you still think highly of him.” Akane carefully says.

“I always will. When I was young, they had just introduced the compatibility matches. Satoru and I were a good match, but he had a better one with someone else. A rich girl, in the city across the lake. He left by boat to speak to the family in person, to explain that he couldn’t accept, but there was a bad storm. He drowned.”

There had been an investigation, a pair of detectives who had questioned her. In hindsight, they were very kind to her, but she was aggravated and terse and though she didn’t know it at the time, hormonal.

“You must have been very upset.” Akane softly says.

“My Psycho-Pass was…volatile. Crime Coefficients were not available then, and I’m not sure what mine would have been. But after I found out I was pregnant, I committed myself to living for the child.”

Her son was born in the dark, cold, early time before sunrise. Towards the end of her labor, she had been so exhausted, it took effort to breathe. Her eyelids felt weighted when the doctor urged her to see her baby. One look upon Shinya’s squalling little face, and she was no longer tired.

“My parents helped before they passed. Satoru’s family had pushed him to accept the other woman, so we weren’t close. But they sent money to Shinya, at least until he was an adult.” They cut off ties completely after his Hue clouded. “And now, he has no one, wherever he is.”

Tsunemori’s expression is troubled, but she doesn’t speak.

It’s been one year since her son vanished into the outside world. She wonders if he’s eating enough.

***

She dreams of traversing her high school’s corridors. She doesn’t know why she’s here. The faces of long-gone teachers and classmates blur around her. She has to leave, she can’t stay, though she doesn’t know why. She decides that it’s because Satoru isn’t here. The hallways seem so much longer, and the stairs widen at an exaggerated angle. Other students crowd around her, and it’s agonizing to finally reach the exit at the ground floor.

She opens the door, and runs headlong into the rehabilitation facility’s visiting area, almost colliding against the glass screen that separates her from her boy. Shinya’s in white robes, his face gaunt and unshaven. When he looks up at her, his eyes are shadowed from lack of sleep. His darkened Hue floats above his head, and she relives this memory, the dread of learning her son’s become a latent criminal.

He smiles at her in recognition, but it quickly turns bitter. “Sorry, Mama.”

***

“Your Hue is very clear. That’s quite surprising. Most parents in your situation fare worse.” Her therapist marvels.

“I do what I can. I get by.”

“Well, I think you can excel in group therapy.” A short explanation follows. “The advantages are well-documented. I believe you’d be a good addition. You can take your time to think it over.”

She’s given a pamphlet, which she pockets and leaves on her kitchen table. It stays there while she’s eating. This time last year, she would have thrown it away by now. She’s been self-sufficient for so long, it’s become her gut instinct to reject anything that disrupted her carefully crafted solitude. However…Akane’s presence has reminded her it could be pleasant to talk to other people. Healing.

She’ll go once, and then she can reevaluate if she needs to. After dinner, she has Hoshiko add group therapy to her schedule.

***

“You smell like cigarettes.” Tomoyo points out. “Have you picked up smoking?”

“Not exactly.” Akane looks embarrassed. “I just light them and leave them on an ashtray.”

“Secondhand smoke is still dangerous.”

“It isn’t too often. Only to help me think.” The connection to Shinya is blatantly obvious. Not for the first time, Tomoyo wonders what their relationship was. From what she recalled, Shinya had thought well of Akane; he had said she had an optimistic perspective and a detective’s instincts. Once, he mentioned she was kind. That was high praise from him. Tomoyo couldn’t forget it.

“I didn’t like it when Shinya started and I still don’t.” She bluntly says. “But as long as you’re careful, I won’t say any more.”

Akane nods. It’s not a promise to quit.

***

There’s a period of time when Akane doesn’t visit for three months. When she finally knocks on Tomoyo’s door, she’s welcomed with open arms.

“How are you doing, Akane-chan? I assumed your work was keeping you busy.”

“It was.” She stares blankly for a moment, before she crumples and begins to cry.

Immediately, Tomoyo helps her in and sits her down in the nearest chair. She grabs a tissue box and pushes it toward Akane, as she murmurs. “There, there. Take your time.”

Eventually, after a handful of wadded tissues, she’s able to speak. “…My grandmother passed away.”

“I’m sorry. You said you were close to her.”

She nods. “It was…very sudden.”

“Have you had mental care?”

“I have. My Hue’s alright. It still feels difficult though.” She looks so young, and Tomoyo remembers she’s only twenty-two.

“It might feel that way for a while, but it should pass. Your grandmother wouldn’t want you to suffer for her sake.” She reassures. She brings tea and water and crackers, while Akane recovers herself.

“Thank you.”

“Of course. Any time.”

Before Akane leaves, she seems pensive, in the way a question is brewing in her mind. But she doesn’t, only reiterating her gratitude. Tomoyo suspects she was going to inquire about how she copes. In truth, she doesn’t have a definitive mechanism. Maybe, she’s just accustomed to carrying the pain, so tightly embedded in her Hue that not even Sybil can filter it out.

***

“Even artificial flowers brighten up the place, hm?” Tomoyo says out loud, as she arranges a vivid bouquet in a vase. There is no reply from the porch. Sae stares emptily into the distance, the wind ruffling her hair.

Now that Nobuchika-kun’s become an Enforcer, he reluctantly requested that should she happen to be near Okinawa, that Tomoyo visit his mother. “She always seems a little better after she’s had company.”

Tomoyo wasn’t confident, but she wasn’t in a position to judge and she trusts Nobuchika-kun. Her work had no issue with extending her trip by a day, since it was for mental care. Well, she never said who it was for, but as long as it was to help someone else, she had no qualms about bending the truth.

Satisfied with her work, she steps out into the fresh air. She adjusts the blanket over the woman’s lap, though it’s hard to tell if she’s comfortable. A set of beautifully crafted chimes sways and emits a haunting melody. Sae doesn’t react, and Tomoyo feels an irrational anger. They’re not alike at all. She could never imagine being in such a state, she’d rather be dead. But it wasn’t Sae’s fault either. The other woman never asked to be like this, not her or the other eustress victims.

Tomoyo sighs. “I’m sorry. I’m not a very good companion. But…we do have something in common. We’re among the countless women in history who were left behind by the men we love.” Akane’s face also pops into her mind.

Movement in her peripheral vision draws her attention. Sae’s lips purse, as if she’s about to speak. But her expression relaxes again into a blank slate.

Her hands itch with the need to do something useful, so Tomoyo takes hold of Sae’s wheelchair. “Let’s go for a stroll. The weather’s so nice, isn’t it?”

At the end of the day, she tucks Sae into bed. The woman falls asleep almost instantly, like a child. Tomoyo leaves her be, with the drones to care for her.

***

“I met him in Shamballa.”

Tomoyo’s throat goes dry, as emotion floods over her. “How is he?”

Akane smiles. “He’s well. He’s alive and intact, the last time I saw him. He’s on the move, helping people. I told him I visit you, and he said thank you. And that you never show any weakness.”

Shinya’s alive. Four long years, and finally, she has something to hold onto. “As long as he’s still breathing, that’s enough for me.”

“I thought you would say that.” Her good humor slips. “I wasn’t able to bring him back though.”

She reaches out, to reassuringly pat Akane’s back. “To be honest with you, that might be for the best. As much as I want to see him, his Psycho-Pass…”

“I know. I just wish there was a way. And now that I’ve met him again, I don’t think I can give up. I’ll keep trying, Tomoyo-san.”

A thank you pales in comparison to the intensity of her determination, so Tomoyo bows her head. “I believe you can. In the meantime, we’ll wait. We’ve already done plenty of that, haven’t we?”

“Yes.” Akane agrees. “But I hope not for too much longer.”

***

Her son is home.

He’s more solid now, but his face hasn’t really changed. Her nose wrinkles at the tobacco clinging to his clothes; she hugs him tightly anyway.

“Hi, Mama.” He says, and she fights back tears. She won’t cry in front of him, or Akane, or their friends looking on. And definitely not out in a driveway. “I’m sorry for leaving you alone.”

“I’m just glad you’re here.” She answers, ignoring her clogged sinuses. “And I haven’t been alone, not in a long time. Akane-chan’s been visiting me.”

“Akane-chan?” He repeats. His eyes dart to Akane, brows lifting. “That’s funny, I didn’t hear about that either.”

“Well, now you know.” She beams. “Come inside, Tomoyo-san.”

As he takes her jacket, Shinya mutters. “She calls you ‘Tomoyo-san’, Mama.”

“And?”

“I don’t get that same treatment.”

“If it upsets you, you should do something about it.” She dryly responds. Her son’s unamused expression makes her laugh, and she pats his cheek as she heads for Akane’s living room.

There’s a pair of women who she’s met today, sitting on the opposite couch. They’re friendly enough but she’s most familiar with Nobuchika-kun, who strikes up a conversation with her. His countenance lightens every time she sees him. He’s changed very much since his school days with Shinya, and she’s as proud of him as if he were her own.

She’s happy. Truly, unbelievably happy.

In the kitchen, Akane is making coffee for everyone, and Shinya’s stepped over to help her out. She’s never seen them together before, and now that she has, it’s like they’re tethered by a gravitational pull. It stirs the romantic in her to life after so long.

It is also the last time they meet for many months.

***

In the ensuing whirlwind of events, Tomoyo does her best to occupy herself. Group therapy has helped in that regard. She’s taken more of a mediating position as of late. It’s not long before an unfamiliar couple joins the monthly session. They introduce themselves with the name Tsunemori, and Tomoyo maintains a stoic expression. She treats them neutrally, trying to parse them out. They’re about what she expected: subdued and fearful of uncertainty, especially with regards to Akane.

Afterwards, she takes her time putting on her coat, watching everyone else walk out. When the Tsunemoris emerge, she strides a little ahead, so she can turn to them and speak.

“Your daughter’s strong. Have faith in her.” They blink at her in confusion, but she continues. “She’s helped me so much. If you have time, would you like to have tea?”

***

She calls him after washing her breakfast dishes. “Today’s the day, right?”

“Yeah, finally.”

She can hear the restrained impatience in Shinya’s voice and smiles. “Is your car clean?”

“Mama.”

“I don’t want Akane-chan to be driven out of that place in a dirty car.”

“Of course not. Don’t worry.” He grumbles.

“Well, I do. She’s like the daughter I don’t have.”

“…working on it.”

“What was that?” Of course, she knew what he said, but she wanted to hear him say it clearer.

“Nothing. We’ll see you at dinner tonight.”

She purses her lips. “We’ll talk more then. Have fun, be safe.”

He sighs, but his reply is fond. “Alright. See you later.” The call ends.

Hoshiko announces her Hue for the day. “Powder blue! Would you like me to pull up your shopping list?”

“In fifteen minutes. Thank you.” The starfish blinks out and she exhales. She’s alone, but not for long. She finishes her coffee with a smile.

#psycho pass #shinkane #very slightly #also references my shinkaneweek fics

152 notes · View notes

ipaintwithwords · 4 years ago

Text

Christmas Short Story Exchange

Wolves Without Teeth

Fandoms: Life is Strange, Life is Strange 2 Characters: Sean Diaz, Lyla Park, Daniel Diaz, Chloe Price, David Madsen (mention), Brody Holloway (mention) Tags: Post-Redemption Ending, Post-Save Arcadia Bay Ending, light angst with happy ending, mentions of depression/antidepressants, reminiscing, ambiguous/open ending, POV heavy, pretty scenery and dogs and ghosts

And I run from wolves breathing heavily at my feet And I run from wolves tearing into me without teeth

♪♫♪♫♪♫

Millions of stars lit up the vast, deep indigo canvas of the night sky along the coast of Oregon. It was a quiet, peaceful night, the kind that was made for intimate strolls and heartwarming conversations and marveling at the beauty of the ocean, hand in hand, barefoot on the shore, accompanied by the light April breeze and the soft whispers of the waves. It was made for campfires and laughter, grilled fish and cold beer, and acoustic guitar covers of songs that people don’t listen to enough on Spotify, even though they really should - it was a night made for moments ephemeral and eternal at the same time, a series of overexposed polaroid images in the sand.

However, for the young man driving under the endless rows of majestic pine trees, the night was but a spectacular backdrop for his hours spent on the road. Slightly more memorable than the day before, and infinitely longer than any other day of the past week he’s spent driving, one hand on the wheel, the other one either stroking the gentle crosswind with a cigarette between his fingers or buried in the thick, brown fur of the adolescent wolfdog snoozing on the passenger’s seat, curled up like a content, well-fed little roll with her favorite blanket between her front paws.

That night, he was holding onto the wheel with both hands. Eyes fixated on the highway, his anxiety was skyrocketing in his chest, flooding the back of his mind with dark thoughts and his head with an unbearable migraine, building up slowly but steadily, creeping into his skull, even the empty - and otherwise numb - socket of his left eye. Not that he was a stranger to headaches, but unlike all his past encounters with nasty migraines, this time he had no idea what to blame: the cigarettes, the lack of sleep, all the synthetic food he shoved down his throat the past few days, his ridiculous deadline drawing near by the minute… Or perhaps the fact that for the first time in fifteen agonizingly long years, he was back on a road he never thought will see again.

The only difference was that this time, he was on his own. There was no comforting presence beside him, no hula dancer figurine on top of the dashboard, no excited chatter coming from a kid high on adrenaline on the backseat. It was just him and the shores of Oregon, his sad music and his snoring dog (who wasn’t exactly the chatty kind, which, honestly speaking, never truly bothered him; he adopted her for the very same reason) and this stubborn, intrusive, demanding migraine that seemed to have made a cozy little home for itself in his forehead like it was meant to live out the rest of its life under his skin. And somehow, it managed to grow even stronger when out of the blue, the music was interrupted by the steady, low buzzing of his phone.

All of a sudden, violent waves of frustration crashed down over him as he took a quick glance at the device’s screen. Tightening his grip on the wheel until his nails started digging irritated crescents into the faux leather, he grit his teeth while staring at his phone, its buzzing resonating in his temples as if someone was trying to drill into his brain. The buzzing lasted for a solid two minutes before the screen would finally turn dark again and the pulsating sensation in his temples quieted down a little - only giving him a few moments of calm and quiet, though, as his phone started ringing again the moment he was about to sigh in relief.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!”, he grunted loudly in anger, waking the peacefully sleeping wolfdog pup with either his hoarse voice or the annoyed dash of his hand as he reached out for his phone to pick up the incoming call and be over with it as fast as possible. He knew exactly what’s coming for him, and he was in the mood for anything but fighting with his best friend on the phone right now.

“What the fuck, man?!”, hissed a young woman on the other end of the call with a furious whisper-shout, as soon as he pushed the green button. “Are you being serious with me right now? Where the fuck are you, Sean?”, she hissed, and Sean heard a door slamming shut behind her, most likely the backyard door, to be precise, as she stormed out of the kitchen for a smoke.

“You knew I’ll be busy this weekend”, much to his surprise, he magically managed to keep his voice calm and his words collected when he answered after a few moments of hesitation. “I DMed you and I also texted the group chat yest-”

“Yeah, and I thought you’re just trying to back out of going to Walmart with us!”, his feeble attempt of coming up with explanations was met with an angry snap from the young woman. “And I actually can’t believe that we’re having this conversation? Like I can’t comprehend the fact that for whatever fucked up reason, you are actually ditching your own brother’s birthday weekend”, she scoffed, lighting up a cigarette with two impatient click-clacks of a cheap 7-Eleven lighter.

“I have a deadline, Lyla, and it seems like you’re the only person who can’t accept that”, answered Sean with a deep, resigned sigh, only trying to resist the sudden urge of smoking for a brief second before he rolled down the window and reached for his cigarette case. “I talked to Daniel about it, alright? He was the first person I called”, he murmured under his nose, shoving a crooked cigarette between his lips. “And to be honest, I still don’t understand why you guys insisted on throwing this huge ass party for him for an entire weekend... Y’all know he prefers his PS4 and pizza over twenty of us being all over him for three days, right?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was me who’s about to ruin his birthday! Fuck, man, thanks, now I can see that it was me all along”, Lyla let out a burst of dry laughter, more threatening than the sharpest blades in the world. “You are unbelievable, Sean.”

“I’m doing everyone a favor by skipping, y’know”, said Sean, sticking his hand out the window, unleashing the tiny smoke-dragons of his cigarette into the night. “‘Cause let’s be real, we both know that it’s me who’d ruin his birthday” he added with a shrug, making Lyla snort in disbelief.

“I can’t think of a single reason why his favorite person in the world would do that, so please enlighten me with your wisdom, Sean-Wise”, suddenly, her tone softened, bringing a massive lump to Sean’s throat.

“The last thing he needs right now is his useless, depressed brother”, he answered quietly, unable to resist the suffocating grip of anxiety on his neck. “And thankfully, he understands that his useless, depressed brother needs to submit an unreasonable amount of work ‘til next Wednesday, so… Yeah. We’re both doing each other a favor, to be honest.”

“Sean, I… Useless? Why would y- What do you even… Hollup for a sec” sighed Lyla, slightly frustrated, as a small voice suddenly called for her. “Yes, baby, what’s up?”, she said, words and smile warmer than the morning sun, and Sean couldn’t help but smile too when he heard her switch to Korean the next moment, most likely reaching for her daughter Hannah, and gently pushing a strand of dark, silky hair behind her ear like she always did.

“Sorry for that, Miss Thing is getting cranky because she only ate five times today”, Lyla returned to the call after a good minute, and Sean could clearly see her roll her eyes as the door shut close behind Hannah. “So where were we…”

“You were about to give me a Ted Talk on self-love because I called myself useless”, said Sean with a faint smile, before carefully flicking the cigarette butt out the window. Lyla didn’t answer immediately, at least not with words - her silence, on the other hand, was heavy with worry, a calm before the storm Sean knew too well. After all, thirty-three years of friendship teaches a thing or two about another person, especially a friendship like theirs was.

“You know, I had a feeling this is gonna happen”, when Lyla finally broke the silence, she couldn’t conceal the sad, resigned bitterness in her voice. “At least tell me where you are, man…”

“I’m in Oregon… Driving along the coast, actually”, Sean answered, giving his dog an affectionate scratch behind the ear, and making her turn her all-knowing, golden eyes from the night view on him. “Don’t worry, I’m not alone. Chestnut’s here too.”

“Dude, she didn’t even bark when she heard my voice”, said Lyla, with a very obvious and even more dramatic pout on her face. “But wait, what the fuck are you doing there? In Oregon?”, she asked, and this time, it was her confused frown that Sean could see crystal clear as if Lyla was sitting right next to her.

For a brief moment, he truly wished she was.

“I’m chasing ghosts”, when he spoke eventually, it felt as if there was someone else talking with his mouth, unseen powers forcing the air out of his lungs and his tongue and teeth to form the words that echoed for a seemingly endless moment in the car and inside Sean’s head.

And before he could even blink, the echo sunk even deeper, into the darkest pits of his scarred, hurt, lonely soul, as he found himself staring at the unmistakable silhouette of Arcadia Bay in the distance after a slight turn in the road.

He spent the night at Otter Point, in his car, right next to the very same visitors plaque he broke down at, for the first time since fleeing Seattle on that nightmarish afternoon all those years ago, to a man he just met - a man who changed everything, although fifteen years later, Sean wasn’t sure anymore that it was for the better. He wasn’t sure whether he’d still be alive at all if it wasn’t for Brody and his golden heart that night, but he was certain of one thing: that compared to all the horrible things that happened to him, to them, death would’ve been but a merciful release.

Death didn’t come for them, however, at least not in its form that’s known to most people. Instead of taking them, it decided to befriend the Wolf Brothers and tag along on their journey, from the suburbs of Seattle to the iron gates of the Mexican border - and after that, the lifeless, ashen grey walls of a suffocatingly small prison cell in Washington. It was there that night too, in Sean’s car, a worn, cherry-red station wagon just like Brody’s, and inside his head, too, buried deep under the quiet, unsteady chaos of his thoughts. It was in every breath he took, every pill he swallowed, every minute he spent awake wondering what is he even doing, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing that could make it go away, that could make death change it’s stubborn mind and to leave Sean Diaz alone, because, throughout the years, it simply grew too fond of him.

And with time, Sean just… Accepted it. He accepted being handpicked by death itself and stopped fighting it because no matter how hard he tried to avoid it, to get rid of it, to pretend that everything was fine, nothing helped; nothing but the acceptance and the handfuls of numbing bitterness he consumed at least two yellow tubes of each month for the past, God knows how many years. Of course, things could’ve been a lot worse, and Sean was fully aware of that - he knew that he was extremely privileged for being able to settle back into society relatively easily after being released from his sentence of nearly two decades spent in one of the country’s biggest federal prisons.

Frankly speaking, it wasn’t about settling back into society as much as it was about doing something he secretly always dreamed of, even before the story of the Wolf Brothers began on that chilly Friday afternoon, in a completely ordinary, perfectly average October of a past, long-lost life. In fact, if someone told sixteen-year-old Sean that everything that’s about to happen to him will eventually lead to a new life in which he is a comic book artist who gets paid for drawing the weird shit in his head, sixteen-year-old Sean would’ve probably laughed until his stomach hurt and happy tears started rolling down his cheek.

And yet, there he was that morning, on top of a hill above the Oregon coast, moderately enjoying his cheap instant coffee in the back of his station wagon (and after a glance at his peaky-faced reflection in the mirror, extremely judging his lack of self-discipline regarding taking care of his beard) while waiting for his tablet to charge fully so he can proceed with the next strips for the fifth chapter of The Adventures of the Pack. Chestnut was running around in excited circles, chasing grasshoppers and butterflies and occasionally, her tail, not particularly minding either her owner or the breathtaking view of the coast, and along with it, the quiet town of Arcadia Bay.

At first, he didn’t even think of making a stop at a seemingly insignificant place like Otter Point on his not-so-spontaneous journey - for some much-needed inspiration or for bittersweet reminiscence, he wasn’t entirely sure anymore -, but while going through dozens of maps and routes and painful memories on a sleepless night before his trip, he stumbled upon a picture Daniel sent him for one of his birthdays spent in prison. A picture from Away, to be precise, of a cozy little bonfire and four people with marshmallow sticks in their hands and tipsy smiles on their faces - a picture that kept him up awake for the whole night, with tears stuck halfway in his throat, desperately trying to fight their way through the walls Sean has built around himself. And the moment he saw David in the picture, he decided that after all the phone calls and visits and almost fatherly check-ins from the man throughout the past fifteen years, the least he can do is stopping in David’s hometown for a quick page or two on his way down South.

“Man, it must be tough being you”, Sean chuckled as he put his empty mug on the small writing desk in the corner of his on-the-go bedroom, looking at Chestnut playing in the dry dirt alongside the road with a wide, amused smile on his face. “Careful, though… I’d rather not break my neck trying to rescue you if you fall down” he added, climbing out of the back of his car with nimble reflexes, the sudden movement answered with excited bark coming from the wolfdog pup.

“Would you look at that”, said Sean with an impressed little snort, walking up to the fence and bending over to rest his arms on it, eyes roaming the endless, unbelievably blue ocean and the gentle waves washing up against the pale sands of Arcadia Bay’s shores. “Can’t decide if it’s beautiful or the most boring shit I’ve ever seen, to be honest… What d’ya think, huh?”, he raised his eyebrows, peeking down at Chestnut yelping next to him, and giving her a loving scratch behind the ears. “Come, check this out”, he beckoned to the visitors plaque next to them with his chin, patting Chestnut’s side gently as he stepped up to the laminated board, full of colorful images of the local wildlife and the town’s various attractions.

“Yeah? That’s where you wanna go?”, he laughed, as Chestnut suddenly stood up on her rear legs, front paws propped against the plaque, curious golden eyes fixated on the picture of Arcadia Bay’s imposing lighthouse. “Y’know what, why the fuck not, we got all the time in the world… At least ‘til next Wednesday'' Sean sighed, looking up from the slightly faded photograph to the actual lighthouse in the distance, peeking out from countless majestic pine trees, its bright, white light rotating with a slow and steady speed on the opposite end of the bay on top of a cliff.

There was something strange, something unsettling about the tall, robust tower that Sean couldn’t exactly put his finger on. He found himself staring at the lighthouse as if it held all the secrets, all the answers to all the questions he’s been searching for all his life - he couldn’t move, he couldn’t blink, he couldn’t even catch his breath for what felt like an eternity, even though it was but a mere moment. As if something was calling him, an invisible, eerie force locking his eyes on the lighthouse, Sean just stood there petrified, and if it wasn’t for Chestnut and her eager little woof startling him back to reality, he probably would’ve stayed there like that until sunset.

“Yeah, why the fuck not”, he murmured under his nose, shaking his head like he just woke from a weird dream as he turned away from Arcadia Bay and walked up to his car, trying to ignore the uncanny tingling in the back of his head - and the unmistakable feeling of being watched by a pair of all-seeing, otherworldly eyes.

It took surprisingly long to get to the other side of the bay from Otter Point. By the time Sean reached the lighthouse, the sun was high in the spotless blue sky, radiating its warm light so dazzlingly he had to shield his eyes with his hand as he exited the car. He parked the station wagon in a small clearing surrounded by fragrant, sky-high pine trees, at the bottom of a meandrous set of wooden stairs half-eaten by the soil, and began his short hike up to the lighthouse with Chestnut trotting by his side. The forest around them was peaceful and bustling with cheerful and welcoming Spring life; they saw busy bees and chirping birds and dancing butterflies everywhere as they made their way uphill, following the glimmering sunspots on the ground.

“Alright, same rules apply, okay? No running along the edge, it’s rocky down there”, said Sean when they reached the top of the stairs, grabbing Chestnut’s collar the very last minute before the pup could just storm off to explore the uncharted territory. “Stay… Staaay…”, he raised his eyebrows as the pup looked up at him with giant eyes full of excited sparkles, wagging her tail like the clearing in front of her was the last one on Earth to roam. “Good girl. Run along now, but carefully, please”, he said after a moment or two, as he let go of Chestnut, watching her dart off as a fired arrow with a proud, fatherly smile on his face before following the pup to the clearing.

The lighthouse stood tall on the edge of the cliff, watching over Arcadia Bay like a robust, all-seeing guardian. Seeing the tower up close, Sean felt the same magnetic energy that practically hypnotized him from all the way across the bay, only this time, he felt it ten folds stronger, as he stood there and stared at the lighthouse, tilting his head back as much as he could to take in the breathtaking sight in all its mesmerizing entirety. It felt like he arrived in another dimension where time didn’t work as it did on his own; as if a heavy, velvety curtain fell on the world, closing around the cliff and creating an odd, languid void where the pace of time just wasn’t the same. It was quiet, yes, peaceful, even, but at the same time, the air was strangely disturbed, unsettling and mysterious - and eerily inviting.

After what felt like half a lifetime of staring at the lighthouse, Sean noticed a worn bench on the edge of the cliff. He watched Chestnut sweep across the clearing, very much occupied with chasing something that looked like an azure-blue butterfly at first glance, before walking up to the bench and sitting down on it, turning his gaze towards the magnificent view of the bay below him as he reached for his cigarette case in his pocket. With the first puff of bitter smoke, he closed his eyes, and for a while, he just listened to the waves crashing against the rocks at the bottom of the cliff and the squawking of a few stray seagulls circling around the lantern room, before bringing himself to unzip his backpack and pull out his tablet and sketchbook from the messy depths of it.

He only hesitated for a brief moment before he put the tablet back in his bag, and along with it, his deadlines and professional responsibilities, settling with his trusted sketchbook instead. He preferred drawing on actual paper with an actual pen anyway, and he felt like procrastinating a little before letting his work swallow him in one bite. Flipping through dozens of pages of unfinished drawings until he finally reached a blank page, Sean started sketching Arcadia Bay with strainless ease, his eye constantly moving back and forth between the sketchbook and the view until the chaos of thin, black lines started to come together and he didn’t have to look anymore.

And this is when the time truly stopped around him, as it always did when Sean took the pen. It was just him and his vision of the world under the sun, and of course, Chestnut running around the clearing, her lanky, brown form always somewhere in the corner of his eye.

“You’re really pressed about this butterfly, aren’t you”, he chuckled as Chestnut ran across his feet relentlessly, making Sean look up from the content little wolf he’s been sketching for a while without even realizing that he started adding it to the drawing. He didn’t even notice anymore, since this was the case with many, if not most of his drawings - as if he was physically incapable of finishing a drawing without wolves in it, or for that matter, drawing for someone who wasn’t his brother.

“I mean, it’s a pretty fucking stunning butterfly if you ask me”, answered a mischievous voice beside him, completely out of the blue, startling Sean so unexpectedly that he almost fell off the bench.

“De puta madr-!!”, he exclaimed in fright as he turned his head, and the next moment, he found himself staring at a young, slim girl, leaning against the crooked fence on the edge of the cliff. “I mean, ugh Jesus. Sorry, I didn’t see you there” he added quickly, clearing his throat as he looked the girl up and down, wondering how long has it been since she got there - and most importantly, how in the world didn’t he notice her when she arrived.

“It’s kinda rare that anyone does, to be honest” shrugged the girl, stepping away from the fence, piercing blue eyes shifting from Sean’s colorless face to the sketchbook in his lap. She was tall and slender, wearing ripped jeans with a leather jacket and a black beanie, electric blue hair framing her narrow, elfish face. She looked like she was in her late teens, early twenties, maybe, and even though Sean was certain he’s never seen her before, somehow it felt like he’s known the girl for his entire life. “What are you drawing? Can I see?”

“Sure, take a look” he said, scooting over a little so the girl could sit next to her. “It’s a… I don’t even know what, that started off as a landscape sketch” he explained, scratching the inner corner of his empty eye socket and suddenly wishing he put on his eyepatch before coming up to the lighthouse. The girl, however, was way too invested in his sketchbook to even notice that there was something unusual about his appearance, and even if she did, she didn’t seem to be taken aback by it - or at least she didn’t feel the urge to stare, unlike most people Sean has met throughout his life.

“This is really cool, dude” the girl said after a while, looking up at him with a wide, impressed grin before turning her gaze back to Sean’s drawing. “Are you like, an artist or something?”

“Artist is an overstatement but yeah, I draw comics for a living” Sean answered, reaching out for Chestnut when he noticed the pup is running towards him. “This one isn’t for work though. It’s a… Gift. For my brother”, he added, his smile suddenly fading with the words, and not returning even when Chestnut wriggled her way in between his legs and placed her head in his lap, staring up at him with giant puppy eyes.

“Something gives me the impression that he’s the small one”, the girl chuckled, pointing at the younger wolf on Sean’s drawing, chasing a butterfly on the edge of the cliffside looking over Arcadia Bay, next to his bigger, scruffier, one-eyed brother, relaxing under a pine tree.

“I have no idea what makes you say that” said Sean with a faint smile on his face, gently fondling Chestnut’s head in his lap. “The older I get, the more it feels like it’s the other way around, to be honest”, he sighed quietly, feeling his entire chest harden all of a sudden as he took a glance at his sketchbook between the long nails of the strange girl next to her.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” asked the girl bluntly the next moment, carefully closing Sean’s sketchbook and putting it between them on the bench. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in Arcadia Bay before, and that’s pretty shocking considering that we’re talking about a town of 200 people where nothing ever happens…”

“Yeah, I’m just traveling. Thought I’d drive through town and check out the view from here” Sean answered, and as he pulled out another cigarette from his pocket, he couldn’t help but notice the sudden sparks of longing in the girl’s eyes. “You want one?”

“Not gonna lie, I could kill for a smoke… But no thanks. I… Can’t”, the girl gulped, watching with eager eyes as Sean reluctantly put the cigarette in his mouth. “Oh, no, it’s okay, I don’t mind. The smell’s gonna do the trick” she said, exhaling the smoke of the first huff with a strange, almost euphoric smile as Sean lit his cigarette at last.

“Oh man… You got some superior shit right there” she said, her smile slowly growing into a content, wide grin. “But anyway… As much as Arcadia Bay is the most boring shithole in the whole wide world, I hope your trip was worth it in the end.”

“Sounds like you lived here for a while, huh?”, Sean asked, eyebrows raised, to which the girl let out a sarcastic snort. “Oof. That bad?”

“There are no words to describe just how bad, my dude” the girl answered, shaking her head and wrapping her arms around her long legs pulled up to her chest. “I’ve been stuck here my whole fucking life. Wanted to leave since I was fourteen” she continued, the playful cheer suddenly leaving her voice and leaving behind gloomy shadows on her face. “Should’ve gotten the fuck outta here the first chance I got”, she said sourly, planting her chin between her knees and staring blankly in the distance, to a faraway place Sean couldn’t follow her to - and even if he could, he wouldn’t want to.

“So why didn’t you?”, Sean blurted out before thinking twice, but before he could even think of a way to apologize for possibly having crossed a line, the girl laughed out loud and dry.

“Have a wild guess, dude. ‘Cause of love, of course”, she snorted again, only this time, sarcasm was replaced with something much darker in her tone. “I was just waiting for the right time y’know. Back then, I had no idea that no such thing exists. Not for anything, not for anyone. There is just you and time, and time is nothing but a massive fucking trap, waiting for you to get stuck in it” she said, eyes darker than the coldest nights of winter. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to explode like that.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize for anything”, Sean shook his head, placing his burnt-out cigarette butt under the bench next to the previous one. “I’m just not sure I get what you mean.”

“No worries, I wouldn’t expect you to get it anyway” the girl shrugged, and the next moment, she turned her gaze to Sean, all-seeing blue eyes staring right into his soul. “You know, people hardly ever come to the lighthouse anymore, except when they should be somewhere else. And even if they come, they barely notice me. It’s nice that you did. And that you listened, too. I’m not sure where you’re supposed to be now, but I’m glad you’re here” she smiled, patting Sean’s hand with a surprisingly cold palm briefly, retreating almost immediately as he shuddered next to her.

“Yeah, I’m glad I took a little detour too” he smiled back at the girl before his glance wandered off to his sketchbook lying between them on the bench. “But I think I should get going now. I’d love to stay and chat, but… I’m ridiculously late already”, he added, a concerned frown taking over the upper half of his face, and a bewildered grin the lower, as somehow, at that moment, he realized there’s a chance that perhaps he has given into the nonsense of his own depression slightly more than he should have in the first place.

“Yeah, you probably are”, said the girl with a playful wink, standing up from the bench and stretching her long arms above her head. “Man, what a spectacular fucking afternoon. I mean, look at the Sun. Such a radiant bitch boss, for real”, she declared lovingly, making Sean laugh out loud for the first time in the past few days, or even weeks, maybe.

“Need a lift?”, Sean asked the girl as they turned their backs on the lighthouse, and started walking towards the staircase leading to the small clearing at the bottom of the cliff.

“Nah, thanks, but I’m not done here yet”, the girl said, shoving both her hands in the pockets of her skinny jeans. “Got some wandering to do, y’know… Contemplating the beauty of Spring and all” she looked at him with a somewhat shy smile, and Sean decided not to risk crossing any more lines with any more questions.

“I guess this is where we part ways then” he nodded his head when they reached his station wagon, waiting patiently next to the tourist map of the cliff. “Enjoy contemplating the beauty of Spring, I guess?”, he smiled at the girl, opening the door of the passenger’s seat for Chestnut.

“Yeah, thanks, man. You take care too, okay?” answered the girl, and the next moment, before Sean could say anything, her eyes suddenly widened. “And don’t forget to sketch up a cool portrait of me or something if you got the time, will you?”

“Stop reading my mind, a’ight?” Sean laughed, waving at the girl before sitting in his car, a sudden burst of energy washing over him as the door closed behind him. The urge to drive as fast as he just can was stronger than he’s ever felt it before, but somehow, he managed to control it, closing his eyes and leaning back on his seat for a long, silent moment before reaching for his phone. Swiping away dozens of notifications, he then opened his contacts and pressed call on the first name on top of the list - the only number he’s ever called, really.

The ringing stopped right after he pressed his phone between his ear and shoulder, and turned the car key under the steering wheel.

“Hey enano. I’m on my way.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Hey! Thank you for reading! ❤

This short story is my contribution to a Christmas Short Story Exchange we did with my best friends. (It is also my first ever fanfiction in English!) I was writing for one of my best friends who got me into Life is Strange years ago, so when we pulled each other’s names and I found out I’m writing for her, I immediately knew that I’ll work with the Diaz brothers and Chloe.

2020 Christmas Short Story Exchange Word count: 5353 | Written December 22nd-27th. I’m on AO3 now! Head over for more fanfictions. ❤

#fanfiction #Life is Strange #Life is Strange 2 #Sean Diaz #Daniel Diaz #Lyla Park #Chloe Price #Post-Redemption Ending #Post-Save Arcadia Bay Ending #under 10k #story #writing #writers on tumblr #short story #fan fiction #fanfic #light angst

3 notes · View notes

anthropologicalhands · 5 years ago

Text

ceg fic: miss do it right

title: miss do it right gift for: @clemdhoffryn for @crazyexvalentine word count: 4,885 summary: Valencia is ready to propose to Beth. The question, however, of when and where requires expert advice. Valencia & Heather, Beth/Valencia. notes: Happy Valentine’s Day!

“I need your help,” Valencia announces, breezing into Heather and Hector’s foyer, straight into the living room and perching on the arm of the couch adjacent to Heather’s current seat. “Also you really need to get a gardener—that trellis is leaning over.”

“Hector’s getting around to it,” says Heather, looking up from her magazine. “Hi, welcome back to West Coast, Best Coast or whatever. Didn’t I tell you to start texting if you were gonna come over?”

“I told you I was planning a wedding this weekend,” Valencia says archly, as if the mere statement of fact automatically absolves her of visitor’s etiquette. “Remember? In the group chat?”

“Oh, I remember. I just kind of generally assumed it was in New York. Since you do, you know, live there.”

Valencia pouts. “Come on, aren’t we hashtag gurlgroup4evah? Physical walls are meaningless. And I totally gave you a key to my place. You could do the same exact same thing to me and I wouldn’t mind.”

“That argument worked when you were in East Cameron, not East Coast. When am I ever gonna go to New York?”

“For me, obviously,” says Valencia. “Or for a Home Base conference, I guess.”

“They’re a West Coast chain.”

“So? Weren’t you planning on revolutionizing their corporate headquarters, or something?”

“I was, but that’s like, halfway through my five-year plan that I’m going to start next year.”

“Oh. Are you really not happy to see me?” asks Valencia, and she sounds just a tiny bit deflated, like she’s actually worried that that’s the case. Heather drops her magazine on the side table (occasionally, she marvels at how adulthood came upon her so fast—these have mermaid feet, irony unintended, that make her ridiculously happy).

“I’m happy to see you, Vee, can’t you tell?”

Valencia narrows her eyes. “Usually you’re happier.”

“You literally just walked in when I wasn’t expecting you for three weeks. Let me have a reaction time. And given your stance on Hector is lukewarm at best I’m still surprised to see you here.”

“I follow Hector on Instagram, and I happen to know that he has a surfing competition in Monterey this weekend,” says Valencia knowingly. “And I definitely know that you are always down for adventures, especially if there is just the right amount of drama.” Valencia wiggles her shoulders for emphasis.

Heather leans forward, studying her friend. There’s something surprisingly spiky and Rebecca-like about her energy –not out of whack, not in a bad way, but it’s there.

“Everything all right, Vee?” Heather asks. “You’re weirdly hyped up. Are you on a Guatemalan coffee kick again?”

“Please, you know I’m on a kombucha cleanse right now.”

“Kombucha can do all this?” Heather gestures up and down Valencia, like her “this” is the new “it” and she’s Clara Bow.

(Heather took a film class for like, three weeks in freshman year before she dropped it for being insanely pretentious.)

Annoyed, Valencia swats Heather’s hand away—all right, she’s not too far gone.

Valencia gives an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “No, it’s not the kombucha. It’s something way more important.”

There is a very meaningful pause; Heather waits, unsure whether it is done out of Valencia’s natural sense of making an entrance or for Heather’s benefit is a sincere question.

“I’m going to ask Beth to marry me.”

“Oh,” Heather blinks. “Wow.”

It’s not an unexpected announcement and given with Valencia’s usual careless confidence. But there is trepidation there, if one knows how to look for it.

“Does it seem weird? Tell me if it’s weird.”

“Uh, not weird, no,” says Heather carefully. “But given what happened a few months ago, I have to ask…”

“Yeah, we’ve been talking about it,” says Valencia irritably, waving a hand. “We’re on the same page. But I want it to be right, and I need help to make that happen.”

“Okay. And you’re asking me because…”

“Because Rebecca has a lot going on, and while I love the girl, I need someone who won’t let me get carried away with something way out of my budget.”

“That makes sense,” Heather agrees. “What about Paula?”

“She has that big case she’s presenting on Monday, and she doesn’t know Beth as well as you do.”

“True. That afternoon at the Korean spa means we’re bonded for life now, united by a great and terrible event.”

“You loved it. Didn’t you feel all nice and fresh?”

“Only because I had to grow a whole new layer of skin. I’m amazed Beth liked it; she was completely pink.”

“I mean, that happens if she steps out in the sun for five minutes without a hat,” says Valencia fondly. “But I’m not asking you to climb into a sauna, I’m asking you to help me propose to my girlfriend. Will you do it?”

“I mean, obviously. I’m a total romantic, so of course I’ll help.”

Valencia’s forehead wrinkles in a very pointed way. “You got married because of health insurance. I just need someone to tell me if I’m getting out of bounds with like, budget and expectations.”

“Wanting your partner to be healthy for the long run is very romantic.”

“Not enough to try to skip the actual wedding part,” grumbles Valencia.

“Who is asking who for help getting married, again?”

“Fair,” concedes Valencia grudgingly, though her smile undercuts some of her pretense. She kicks herself up and off the couch and gestures imperiously at Heather. “Now come on, we need to get going if we don’t want to be late.”

“Uh, we? Where?”

I have a vineyard in Temecula to make sure it is an ideal venue for my client, remember? We can multitask on the drive up.”

“Uh, now?”

“Why not?” With a flourish, Valencia pulls out a notebook that is already crammed full of post-its and other notes. “You can look at this on the way up. Plus, I can guarantee that we can ask to sample some of their viticultural offerings.”

“Well, when you put it like that.” Heather stands and stretches. “I did have a busy afternoon planned for contemplating my existence, but I’ll move for free wine.”

Valencia’s planner, much like her initial dream wedding plans, is elaborately and meticulously tabbed. Leafing through the pages, Heather briefly recognizes one of the strange commonalities between Valencia and Rebecca that reminds her that, as strange as the beginning of that friendship was, there’s a reason that their bond is as strong as it is. Valencia drives. It gives her a weird burst of fondness for them.

“You really thought these out,” says Heather, reading through a meticulous list of what it would take to plan a flash mob in Times Square with a reasonable budget.

“Right? I mean, I have ideas for days. It’s what I do��dolling up other people’s bad ideas and persuading them that mine are better. I can do this forever.”

“Great. So, why do you need me?”

Valencia’s fingers drum against the wheel of her rental car, clearly annoyed. “Because I’ve been striking out. Like, these are objectively great proposal ideas, right? But I can’t decide which one is actually, like, the best one.”

“I can see that,” says Heather, eyebrows shooting up when she turns a page and sees an elaborate plan for a hot air balloon proposal scribbled out with angry red marker. “What are you looking for, then?”

“Something that speaks to both of us. Like, as awesome as my spacing is for the choreo, I know that Beth wouldn’t want a flash mob in Times Square.”

“Yeah, that seems like a you thing. A pretty specific you thing.” Heather shoots her an inquiring look. “Did you?”

Valencia shifts uncomfortably. “There was a time where I might have mentioned it to Josh.”

“Wow.”

“Hey, Josh is terrible, but if he choreographed a dance proposal, it would have been amazing.”

“Can’t argue with that.” One of the pages just seems to be a froth of white lace paper surrounding a list of names at its center. Heather squints at the neat penmanship, idly wondering if she needs glasses or if Valencia’s handwriting is just really that small. “Is this a guest list?”

“No. I also really always wanted to do it at someone else’s wedding. Preferably Denise Martinez’s—”

“Valencia…”

“But that’s also not Beth’s style,” finishes Valencia slightly irritated. “Like I said, the proposal has to match both of us. I did learn from my mistakes, you know.”

“I’m not saying you didn’t,” says Heather mildly.

“And that list is out of date anyways. Denise got married last month and I hear that her and her new husband are already fighting.”

“Don’t sound so gleeful.”

“Sorry,” says Valencia almost contritely, merging off the highway. “We have a long history.”

“So I heard. We definitely need to unpack that some time.”

“Oh, this is perfect,” Valencia breathes, overlooking the gently rolling hills and the rows of twining grapevines.

“It’s pretty great,” Heather agrees, coming up besides her, hands tucked in her pockets. “It’s practically worth the sticker price.”

“Nothing’s worth the sticker price. I’ll get a better deal.”

“That winery owner guy seemed pretty stodgy.”

“I have my ways,” says Valencia enigmatically, which both impresses and concerns Heather in equal measures.

“I don’t doubt it.” There’s a pause as they survey the scenery together.

“Why wouldn’t you propose to Beth here?”

“Hm?” Valencia turns to look at Heather, the arch of her eyebrows more inquiring than sharp.

“You and Beth. I mean, this place makes a wicked rosé—”

“Since when do you use wicked? That’s an East Coast word.”

“’Cause it’s a great word? And I’m from Michigan, which is kind of East Coast.”

Valencia pulls a face.

Heather rolls her eyes in response. “Whatever. But seriously, this seems ideal. It has a view, it’s romantic—it’s everything you wanted. And you and Beth have family here, so you can have a big party after she says yes.”

“It has a lot,” agrees Valencia wistfully. Then she sighs. “But it won’t work.”

“Why not?”

“Josh and I used to come here. Too many memories.”

“Oh.”

“Right? Josh just ruins everything.”

“Okay, it’s been three years, I think you can lay off of Josh.”

“Nah. I’ve dedicated too much time into it. I’m going to be doing this until after we’re both married. Speaking of Josh, you’ve met Rosa, right?”

“Yeah. I like her. I didn’t know that you met her—”

“Oh, yeah. Nice girl,” says Valencia, sounding vaguely surprised. Given Josh’s previous type, Heather can’t entirely blame her. Valencia continues, “But for whatever reason, they work well together. We had a long talk - I warned her about all of his flaws, and she said that she knows and she was positive she could handle it. Then she complimented my earrings.”

Heather has to smile at that. She is the least well-acquainted with Josh of their friends (though she’s probably seen him in far more intimate situations than most people ever have to see their friends), so her personal frustrations with him tended to be from far briefer interactions, over much more quickly. She’s glad to see that Josh seems settled in a way that he hasn’t been since she’s known him.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” admits Valencia, softening a little. “I am actually happy for him. But I have to keep up appearances - we were together way too long.”

“That’s fair.”

Once the vineyard has been approved (and Valencia has worn down the owner to her terms), they head back to Heather’s place, open a couple extra bottles of rosé and buckle down.

“Too much hassle,” says Valencia, X-ing out what seems to be a plan for a private yacht.

“Too showy,” agrees Heather, marking off a flashing billboard. She turns the page and squints at a picture of a dark room lit by hundreds of tiny flames.

“Isn’t Beth allergic to those candles?” she asks.

“They would be soy,” Valencia protests, but rather hastily reaches across the page to mark it out. “Still, you have a point.”

“That’s also a fire hazard, right there.”

“I’m not Rebecca,” says Valencia irritably.

“That’s still a lot of open flames. I’m just saying. Why not just go Big Fish and propose with a bunch of flowers?”

“I can’t. Beth’s allergic to flowers.”

Heather blinks.

“Seriously?”

Valencia shrugs. “Look, there’s a reason she hired me to do certain events that she couldn’t. She’s all about the hands-on activities. Pollen and natural phenomena - not so much.”

“Got it. So Big Fish is totally out?”

“Totally.”

Despite what Heather expected and the width and breadth of the notebook, they are burning through the ideas in the planner at an alarming rate. Valencia is clearly panicking too, if the two glasses of rosé are any indication.

“You know what would be great? The Met! Yeah, you could hide behind one of the exhibits to record, we’re surrounded by all this history, I’m sure they have something by Sappho in there, Beth loves her stuff—”

“Okay, just so we’re setting reasonable expectations or whatever, I can tell you right now that I am not going to New York just to help you propose,” Heather warns. “I have like, a household budget, and there’s only so much that I can dip into Hector’s accident fund and still have enough.”

Valencia lets out a little huff that indicates that while she respects Heather’s commitment to her budget, she continues to be less-than-impressed. It reminds Heather to text Hector and tell him that he might need to spend the night out with the guys—just because him and Valencia are no longer on murder terms doesn’t mean she can feel like she can guarantee his personal safety.

“Okay, fine. Skip to page sixty-eight.” At Heather’s disbelieving look, Valencia shrugs defensively. “What? A girl can dream in destinations.”

Heather does as she’s asked without further commentary. It’s not that Heather expected that helping Valencia plan a proposal would be simple. But Valencia knows her tastes—Heather was reasonably certain that her role would be as a yes woman and occasional financial wisdom rather than active decision making.

They aren’t using the couch or even the coffee table anymore—they’ve pulled off all of the cushions and have created a sort of nest on the floor.

“I can propose at a concert!” says Valencia, entirely too brightly.

Heather raises her head off one of the cushions. “You guys like going to concerts?”

“Not really? But everyone proposes at John Legend’s concerts, so it would work.”

“Beth likes John Legend?”

“Kind of? She doesn’t mind him but she loves Chrissy Teigen. And maybe we’d get some good karma from their marriage.”

“Not bad. You might also get drinks spilled on you,” Heather reminds her. “It could be sticky. Plus, other people might propose at same concert and steal your thunder.”

“Ugh, true. Plus, the scheduling doesn’t work out—he won’t be on tour for a good few months.”

Perhaps it is the tiredness, or remembering that she still needs to write up the shift schedules for next month, that prompts her to suggest, “Why not Home Base? I mean, you guys did agree to meet there. So, like, it’s sentimental.”

Valencia somehow looks affronted, disgusted and poorly hiding it, and despairing all at once. Heather would almost be impressed.

“I’ve been going to Home Base longer than you’ve been working there, Heather. I really don’t want to propose marriage at the bar where I used to pick up Elena from softball practice. It doesn’t feel right.”

Heather props herself up on her elbows so that she can look at Valencia properly. “Okay. What doesn’t feel right? It’s not going to be perfect.”

“I’m not going for perfect,” says Valencia irritably. “I gave Rebecca perfect, and look where that landed her. A perfect proposal would mean an island vacation, and dessert for Beth, and possibly sky writing. But it would also mean debt and she would so not be happy about that.”

“Great. Is that the only thing you’re worried about?”

Valencia’s hands twist against each other in her lap. Then they untangle and she dives into her purse and pulls out a small black box, which she sets on the table between them. Gone is her haughty event planner bravado, now Valencia just looks lost, more than Heather has ever seen her.

“This proposal has to feel right because I messed up the first time.”

“The first time?”

“The ultimatum,” says Valencia glumly. “I don’t want it to be too much—it needs to be something that Beth would love to accept. Something that proves that we know each other and can be a part of each other’s lives.”

“Can I see it?” At Valencia’s nod of permission, Heather reaches over and opens the box to look at the ring.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it? Moshe has a good collection. I’ve known this is the one for her for ages now. And…I want that feeling about how I propose. Does that make any sense?”

It does. Heather nods, waiting for Valencia to continue.

“It’s just…I made such a big deal about wanting to get married, and I want this proposal to show her that I know her, and it’s not all about me me me.”

“Of course.”

“That’s why I asked you. You might not be the biggest romantic of all of us, but you follow your gut about what feels right. And I want that confidence when I ask her.”

It’s both touching and terrifying to have that much faith in a person. Awkwardly, Heather pats Valencia’s shoulder. Valencia leans into the touch anyways, seeking whatever awkward comfort that Heather tries to give.

“You know, she’s going to love you whatever you do,” says Heather slowly. “And obviously, you know her well enough to know that these insanely awesome proposals are still awesome, just not right. We’ll find something better. And, like, I’m not gonna give up. You’re not going to leave California without a game plan.

Valencia gives her a tiny smile.

“Thank you, Heather,” she says. She looks ready to say more, but then there’s the sound of a very small gong being struck.

Valencia frowns, pulling her phone out of her pocket, scans the screen, and sighs. “I have to go. The client with the vineyard wants to meet now, of all times. I’m gonna go to her place, but when I get back, maybe we can just have a girls’ night in? No more proposal talk?”

“Sure, whatever you want. I can just duck out and like, get some more rosé. Just wines. Ablutions to drown our frustrations.”

Valencia smiles wanly and sees herself out. Heather waits until she’s sure that Valencia’s car has pulled away before hitting her speed dial. Heather is the coolest of her friends, even now that they are all responsible adults, and sometimes that means admitting that you are out of your depth.

Still, Heather isn’t lying when she says she needs to go pick up wines. She does.

At Il Cabino. Where Rebecca is waiting at a table for two, astonishingly early.

“You need to help me,” says Heather, not bothering with niceties. As frustrating as Rebecca’s flakiness can be, it is refreshing that she never gets insulted by Heather’s brusqueness.

“Oh, absolutely,” says Rebecca, eyes wide. “I know I haven’t been very good at that in the past, but like, right now I’m all ears.”

“Valencia is going nuts about proposing to Beth—”

Rebecca nods sympathetically. “Oh yeah, I know.”

“You know?”

“Yeah. She’s been texting me.”

Heather looks closely at Rebecca and only sees frank interest in the other woman’s gaze, no impression of jealousy or hurt. “Okay…so you know and you don’t feel left out?”

“She made it very clear that I’m not supposed to help, and given my past record for helping Valencia with anything, I figured the least I could do is let her do her thing,” says Rebecca with remarkable understatement. “Anyways, I’m actually crazy busy. My singing lessons are turning my brains to mush.”

“Hm, and I was hoping to hear that you were actually working your pretzel stand so we could swap tips as fellow businesswomen.”

“Nah, I just let AJ take care of it. His rent is less than a hundred bucks, he can manage.”

“Right. Enough about your life, back to my problems.”

“Shutting up now.” Rebecca mimes zipping her lips.

“Thank you. But Valencia is driving me insane with rejecting every single proposal idea I have. And, like, my ideas are good. I’m good at organizing events.”

“Right. You guys are crazy good at that.”

“I suggested Home Base, kind of as a joke, and she nearly bit my head off.”

“I mean, Home Base is not super romantic. I had enough sex in the back room there enough to know.”

“What a coincidence, so did I,” says Heather dryly. “Which means I probably should pay for an extremely thorough cleaning, but that’s besides the point. If Valencia isn’t feeling it, it’s not going work. So I figured, I’ve been striking out, I might as well ask our local romance expert for tips.”

“Aww,” coos Rebecca, placing her hand on her heart. Then her expression shifts from soppy to self-deprecatingly wry. “You guys must really be in a tight spot.”

“Yep. So…what do you have for me?”

Rebecca looks thoughtful, not unfocused like when she goes in her head or is too absorbed in her problems.

“I mean, Beth isn’t a total romantic, but she likes to make things meaningful,” says Rebecca after a pause. “She wouldn’t be in these kinds of events if she didn’t. Maybe for Valencia, she’s asking Beth to spend the rest of their lives together. Ask her about if there’s any specific moment when she knew that she wanted Beth to be in her life forever. Like, I know you are big on how there isn’t one moment of magical epiphany and I totally agree, for the record—but she made the decision that it was gonna be Beth at some point. Maybe asking when and where would give her a few new ideas.”

It's an almost stupefying simple idea. Heather nods slowly. “Right. Like, what do they do together that makes Valencia want to spend every day doing the same thing?”

“Exactly. Like, it’s just about finding resonance, right? Something that reaffirms how they feel, but not in an artificial or contrived way. Just love.”

“Right,” says Heather, starting to smile. “Thanks, Rebecca. That helps a lot.”

Rebecca beams. “Any time. And uh, not to be mercenary or anything, but since I gave good advice, does that mean you can pick up the tab? Music lessons have really tightened up my budget and you did offer to take me out to happy hour, so.”

“You’ve been gone a while.”

There’s a faintly accusatory tone to Valencia’s words when Heather gets back. She’s already sprawled over the couch, reading the magazine that Heather dropped earlier that morning.

“And yet, you still let yourself into my house. How was the meeting?”

“Okay. Honestly, it’s a good thing I’m in a personal crisis right now or I would have never agreed to do their wedding. Ugh, what annoying people. But, I promised, no more wedding talk. Tell me what’s been going on at Home Base. Don’t spare any details—I know you love that drama.”

“I do love drama. But before we get into that, I think I have one more suggestion that might help you with the whole proposal situation. Just one.”

“Okay?”

“I’m not a traditionally romantic person. You know this.”

“I do.”

“And I married Hector when I did because he really needed the health insurance. But I knew that I wanted to spend my life with him before that. He makes me laugh. He makes things light in my life. Even when he does something stupid like almost lose his toe.”

“That’s…surprisingly sweet, Heather.”

“Don’t say it’s wasted on Hector,” Heather warns.

“I’m not, but trust me, it’s hard.”

“Good. But that was a very roundabout, Rebecca-like way of asking: maybe think about when you decided you wanted to marry Beth?”

Valencia exhales noisily, slumping back against the sofa arm. “I’m almost never not thinking about it. When we’re at work together, when we’re talking, whenever I see her when I wake up in the morning with all of the light in her hair—” Valencia abruptly stops speaking, eyes wide.

Heather takes the opening.

“So there is a moment?”

“Yes.”

“In the morning?”

“Yes!”

“So you’re basically saying that she’s your sunshine?”

Valencia is too excited to be annoyed by Heather’s teasing. “Yes, exactly. She’s my sunshine! Which believe me, was sometimes the only thing that got me through this winter. It was cold.”

“I’ll bet,” agrees Heather. “New York isn’t exactly balmy.”

“Yeah, yeah. No, this is perfect.”

“So you know what you’re going to do?”

“Uh huh.”

“Are you going to tell me? Where will this event take place?”

“Our apartment. That’s our home now. It’s a shoebox and extremely uncomfortable, but it’s also ours. And mine. And that’s the first time I ever had something like that.”

Valencia actually sounds giddy.

“What do you think?” she appeals to Heather.

“That sounds just like both of you.”

“I think so.” Valencia looks conflicted. “But I want to share it with you guys too. Like, I want a little fun, otherwise I’ll just start crying and in the sloppy way, not the movie-style pretty way.”

“Again, I can’t go to New York. Paula’s too busy and Rebecca is equally broke.”

Valencia’s eyes sparkle. “Okay, but what is the best way to visit New York without visiting New York?”

Heather has an inkling of where this is going.

“You’re going to livestream your proposal?”

“Of course not. I’m going to livestream after she says yes.”

“Oooh boy.”

Valencia flutters a hand. “I think she’ll be fine as long as the actual moment itself is private. She’s not like me—she doesn’t want to get a proposal in front of people. So…you think it’s good?”

“It’s perfect. Out of curiosity, why did you want to be proposed to in front of people?”

“I mean, it used to be a social-capital type of thing, but honestly, I don’t want all of West Covina there. I would want you guys, and my family to share the moment. Cause you love us, you love Beth…and it’s still nice to be the center of attention once in a while. But that’s me, not Beth. Now, enough proposal talk. Let’s crack these wine babies open.”

Heather nods, a little distracted, a new idea forming in her head.

“The drone was a nice touch,” Paula observes as the three of them crowd around Heather’s laptop in her kitchen a few weeks later.

“Not mine. That was all Valencia.”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe Valencia’s engaged!” Rebecca’s squeal is exactly what Valencia seems to want, she just beams all the brighter. From within the camera, Beth seems amusedly resigned, leaning her head on Valencia’s shoulder, admiring the ring.

“Well, since you have your girls on the line…” says Beth, and Heather smirks, the only woman of the lot of them who knows what’s coming, as Beth disappears out of their sight line, and emerges with a small velvet black box of her own.

“Oh my god!” Valencia’s squawk has all three of them jerking away from the laptop, but the general cacophony from Paula and Rebecca more than make up for it.

“A double proposal!” Rebecca’s grin is so wide that Heather’s own face aches in sympathy.

“Valencia, Valencia stop shaking me, I have a whole speech prepared, and I know it’s not a flash mob in Times Square—”

“I don’t care!” Valencia shrieks. “How did you—when—”

Beth laughs, giddy with adrenaline.

“Thank Heather,” she says, her voice clear even over the faint buzzing of the drone. “I called her for advice, and she didn’t give me any details, but she did say that if I wanted to propose, I might want to consider keeping the ring in the apartment. Preferably under the bed.”

“Heather!!” Valencia glares at her across the country, mascara running, but the smile on her face is impossible to repress.

“Told you I’m romantic,” says Heather mildly, but still smiling, pleased.

“I know,” says Valencia. “Thank you.”

She turns back to Beth. “But I thought you wanted a private proposal. Everyone’s watching us right now—”

“I did, and I’m glad I got one. But you’re not me. Valencia, you are a sun, and you draw all of us in your orbit—”

There is more, but Heather can barely hear any of it, between the screamlets coming out of the laptop and the shrieks echoing around Rebecca’s kitchen. Rebecca is punching Heather’s arm and saying something about she knew Heather was secretly a romantic at heart, she just knew it, and Paula is looking misty again, but Heather only has eyes for the two women on the other side of the screen, wearing rings and embracing so tightly it’s like the drone isn’t there at all.

What? She said she’s a romantic.

#crazy ex girlfriend #beth x valencia #heather davis #valencia perez #beth #crazyexvalentine #ellie writes fic #this was a lot of fun

23 notes · View notes

rsfannan2 · 3 years ago

Text

Day Five: Bath to Bradford on Avon

This will be the day we start the actual canal walk. Up until now, we have been walking mostly along the Avon River. A short jaunt from our rooms at The Black Fox Inn took us to the start of the Kennet Avon canal, a marvelous and somewhat exhausting 9 miles along the tow path. It being Sunday with warm temperatures and clear skies, there were lots of folks enjoying themselves. Many bicyclists, walkers, runners, and of course, longboats of weekend visitors going upstream and down through the calm waters and numerous locks. People walking their dogs, families of waterfowl with their recently hatched chicks, birds overhead, and other critters dotting the countryside shared the wondrous English landscape.

There were about ten locks on the way to Bradford, each rather narrow only allowing two boats at most to pass through at a given time. Unlike the Thames, where the locks were electronically operated (the push of a button opened and closed the gates, letting the water in and out depending on which way you were going), these locks involved manually cranking. But, being much smaller than those on The Thames, the task didn’t seem to be terribly taxing. Most bridges across the canal had plenty of clearance for these rather low profile longboats to pass under, but some were swinging bridges, which involved pushing the bridge open and closed. Again, it didn’t seem to involve much force, and was really a pretty cool way to get the job done.

In addition to the many rental longboats plying the waters, there were many permanent residents living along the canal in longboats of their own. Most, I would say, are people living off the grid, in vessels that I would describe, charitably, as needing a tremendous amount of TLC. Almost unlivable. Some sad shit. Some are very nice, but not many. The rules of the canal stipulate that with a permit, you can only stay in one spot for two weeks at a time before moving on. We spoke to several boat owners who told us that the reality is that these unfortunate souls move their homes on the water several feet at most, and many not at all. There are yearly attempts to remedy this, but like the “homeless situation” in the US, there seems to be no clear answers, and little or no motivation to act. The only exception to the moving rules is if you operate a business from your boat.

I struck up a conversation with a lovely couple from Bath, who told us about a coffee boat not too far from along the canal, so we stopped there for a rest, some coffee, and another of the wonderful flapjacks so popular here in the U.K. A delightful lady originally from Ireland and now living near the canal, joined us for a chat on her morning constitutional. She was grand.

Another business we passed was an old guy right out of the sixties who operated a floating record store selling old vinyl from a bygone era. My brother Richard would have loved flipping through random albums by Sam & Dave, Rare Earth, and Prez Prada, among others. At one pound each, quite a bargain.

About halfway through the day’s journey, we stopped at the Angelfish Cafe for lunch. This restaurant next to a very small marina with riverside dining was doing a very brisk business on this glorious sunny Sunday. And, this was no surprise. The food was real good, the beverages cold, and the people friendly and helpful.

After lunch, we made our way on towards Bradford. The walk from the canal into the town through several small parks led us to our hotel, the Swan Hotel. Odd start to our stay, however. The door was locked, and the place did not really seem open. A note on the door told us that nobody was on duty and left a number to call. We called. No answer. Hmmm…. There was an outside stairway leading to what looked like an open door so Diane went up and found a gent who turned out to be the cook for the restaurant at the hotel. This gentleman, who was in his bed resting when we intruded on his day off, ended up letting us in while he called Nicky, the hotel jack-of-all-trades, who gave us the keys to our rooms. He also was kind enough to help with schlepping our bags up to the 3rd floor (4th here in the UK). Carol’s suitcase weighed about 500 pounds.

Funny story. After securing our rooms, we wanted to take a bit of a rest before getting a bite to eat and seeing a little bit of the town. While Carol and Diane freshened up a bit, I made my way to the nearest pub, a nice place along another beautiful canal, to work on this blog and have a brew. There were many people arriving to enjoy the early evening, so when a group of three came in and asked for one of the chairs at my larger table to occupy a much smaller one, I changed tables with them. A married couple was celebrating the birthday of the third member of the party, the woman’s mother. Well, the next thing you know, I was talking (too much) about our journey, our previous walks and ukulele (of course). Claire, the daughter, was very intrigued with the long distance walks and seemed eager to try one. Her husband, Ian, very nice, but probably not going to join her on her journey. They asked if I was alone, and I told them that I was waiting for Carol and Diane to join me. Ian went to get drinks for the three of them, and when he returned, he was with Carol and Diane. I found out a little bit later that when the gals were looking about the bar for me, he stopped them and said, “Are you looking for Bob? Come with me.” As I said, when I get on a roll, I talk too much.

We were not particularly hungry, but we had a hankering for something sweet. Not a whole lot was open on this Sunday night, but we found a nice Italian restaurant and ordered three decadent desserts and split them. Just what the doctor ordered.

I cannot say that I have ever experienced a nicer or more beautiful walk. If you ever wanted to take just one long walk for just a day, this one would get my vote.

0 notes

onesmallspark · 7 years ago

Photo

Welcome to my new fic - For You

I still haven't decided if this will be a T’Challa fic or an Erik “Killmonger” Stevens fic, but it is slightly AU. It is my first Marvel Universe fic, so please be gentle. This will get smutty af. Let me know if you enjoy!

Chapter 1

Ava Yates was in over her head. This isn’t at all where she saw an internship taking her and she was without a doubt, 100 percent in over her head.

Ava had spent the past year - and the last year of her graduate assistant internship - working at the newly established Wakandan Outreach Center in Oakland. There, she was on staff as a photographer, hired by the Wakandan council to document the progress the outreach center was making in its first year of service to the surrounding community.

Images she captured lined the walls of the three initial buildings, were used in promotional news material and lived on social media sites that were run by other graduate assistants to show what incredible work the Wakandan agency was doing.

In her time, she had taken a particular shining to Shuri, another girl she met during her internship. It was months before Ava realized just how instrumental the young girl was to the entire operation – nevermind the fact that she was a Princess. It was actually one of the things that Shuri loved most about Ava, she treated her just like anyone else.

That, and Shuri had plans for her friend Ava who she had come to love dearly. Big, important plans.

- - -

Parking her little Volkswagen Jetta, Ava slung her camera bag over her shoulder and pulled the sunglasses from her face as she walked toward the entrance to the main campus building of the Wakandan Outreach Center. Looking up, she saw a large group of kids and adults playing basketball on the refurbished court just to the right of the entryway. Shuri was standing off to the side watching, occasionally filming with her kimoyo bead.

“Watch this?” Ava asked, dropping her purse at Shuri’s feet before pulling her camera out and hopping into action. Some of the kids she recognized, they were regulars at the center and came for after school activities and on the weekends. She assumed that they didn’t have much to go home to – if anything at all.

She didn’t, however, recognize any of the adults at first. Risking life and limb, at least in her mind, she posted up under the basket, kneeled on the sidelines and got just close enough to capture some great content

“Can you tell me who everyone is?” She asked, pulling out her phone. Shuri was always a help to identify any visitors to the center for captions. Shuri listed off names, left and right for Ava, watching as she typed them into what she insisted was her primitive iPhone. Ava just loved remembering the day that Shuri had to get an iPhone in order to best communicate with the rest of the staff.

“Erik, E-R-I-K,” Ava looked up to see one of the players standing incredibly close, watching as she typed the names into her phone.

“And last name?” She asked. Erik glanced to his cousin, who harbored a smug smile.

“Stevens… with a ‘v,’” he added.

“Got it, thanks!” She said, picking up her bag at Shuri’s feet, her camera with attached lens still hanging around her neck and hoofing it back to the building. The sooner she could get these uploaded the better – she always liked her photos to be timely and that way, the social media staff could put them up as soon as possible, too.

Uploading and labeling the photos didn’t take long, but she took a moment to edit them for best possible light exposure and shadows.

Growing up, Ava wanted to be a journalist – breaking news and sharing information with the world and doing good. Then, as she got older, and her mother gifted her with her first Polaroid camera, she learned that she could do a lot of good through the medium of photographs. She liked to take pictures of her brother’s baseball games, her father hard at work as an architect, and her mother, who ran a small daycare out of their home. She was a mother to many children in their neighborhood.

She now clung to some of those photos as a lifeline, they were the closest things she had to her family after a car crash on Pacific Coast Highway claimed the lives of the nearly all of the Yates family.

Ava missed the accident, staying at home to sleep off a cold while her family traveled out of town for one of her big brother’s baseball games.

She hoped after undergrad at Berkley to get an internship in a newsroom or with a paper, taking photos. When she delayed joining what her friends teased as the “real world,” by pursuing her master’s degree, she was required to take a practicum and somehow, through a photo essay and presentation, secured her internship at the WKOC.

Ava knew she was lucky – beyond lucky – to end up where she did, but now, after finally finishing the last credits of her Master’s, her internship was coming to an end and she was officially job hunting.

Twenty minutes after sending the photos from today’s pickup game to social, she began archiving, selecting a few that she thought would look good projected on the walls of the center’s indoor gym.

“Are you done yet?” Shuri asked, sitting on the side of Ava’s small desk, nearly knocking a picture frame off of the structure.

“I just got here,” Ava laughed at her young friend. Some days it was easy to forget that Shuri was only seventeen – nearly eighteen. Other days, it was glaringly obvious.

“But I don’t want to work today,” Shuri whined, “I want to go shopping, my Mother is visiting next week and she’s going to kill me if I don’t wear something a little more… well, less this,” she motioned down to her distressed Metallica band t-shirt she had dressed up with some silver jewelry.

“You have more clothes than anyone knows what to do with,” Ava said, not tearing her eyes off her screen. “Plus, I’ve got to run and meet with an advisor to sign up for health insurance at two,” she sighed. “Don’t grow up, it’s a trap.”

“I don’t understand why Americans have to pay for health care,” Shuri sighed, “no one benefits from that,” she pointed out.

“Sure they do, babe, just not us peons,” Ava winked. Shuri rolled her eyes.

“My brothers are going to take us to lunch today,” She said casually. Ava paused her scroll through her inbox.

“I can’t, I’ve got lunch plans,” Ava replied, picking up her phone.

“Yeah, with me,” Shuri insisted.

“I swear, I had something else…” Ava scrolled through her phone.

“I told you to mark off a meeting weeks ago, it’s for me,” Shuri grinned. “And do you think we can do something with this before then?” She asked, fluffing up a bit of Ava’s brunette hair over her shoulder.

“Why would I need to do that?” Ava asked, eyeing up her little companion.

“We have a surprise for you,” Shuri said excitedly.

“Oh no,” Ava frowned. Shuri could be incredibly generous and incredibly giving – to the point of discomfort, but Ava couldn’t dampen her spirit.

“It’s a very good surprise, I promise,” Shuri tugged a little bit on Ava’s hair.

“Okay, let me get some work done and I’ll be ready for lunch,” Ava insisted. Shuri rolled her eyes dramatically, but agreed to it nonetheless.

Ava had never met King T’Challa, and she didn’t know that Shuri even had another brother… but she was never one to meddle in royal business. Except, that is, to stay up late into the night and watch Prince William and Kate’s wedding.

Sure, she had seen photos of King T’Challa, his mother and other members of the Royal Guard from their portraits, but that covered the extent of her exposure. Though the family had made visits to the WKOC, she wasn’t there all the time thanks to the last few classes she had taken this semester. Soon, she wasn’t going to be there at all, which made her heart heavy.

Over the past year, she had come to think of the WKOC as a second home – somewhere she often spent more time than her actual home. To be able to be a part of the organization in it’s first year of operation made her feel like part of something great and wonderful. Walking away next month after graduation was going to be incredibly hard. Well, that and not having a job yet.

The first three hours of the day went by quickly. On Thursdays, Ava got to spend the entire day at the WKOC thanks to most of her classes being Monday through Wednesday and a morning class on Friday.

Thursdays were also a big catch-up day and she often found herself working over the weekend to make it a little less overwhelming. Soon, Shuri was back at her desk, a wide smile on her face as her feet swung over the floor.

“Hello, are you hungry?” Shuri asked.

“Starved,” Ava replied honestly. “Let me run to the bathroom quick and then I’ll be ready to go,” she said, hopping up form her seat.

“I’ll be out front,” Shuri called as Ava stepped toward the restroom. Quickly relieving herself and washing her hands, she grabbed brush out of her purse and ran it through her hair, fixing her side part. Sure, her hair was a little limp, but it had certainly been worse. She grabbed her trusty drugstore lipstick from her purse, touching up the deep red before checking her teeth. She was always finding little lipstick spots on her pearly-whites that drove her nuts.

Glancing over her outfit, she knew she was a hopeless case for lunch with royalty. Skinny blue denim and a white v-neck under a pink button-down wasn’t the worst she’d ever thrown together for work, but it certainly wasn’t the best. At least Shuri wasn’t too dressed up or she’d really feel like a shlub.

“As good as it gets,” She sighed, popping in a breath mint.

With no sign of Shuri at her desk, she turned back toward the entrance, spotting Shuri and two other forms on the other side of the glass doors.

“Here she is,” Shuri smiled. Ava always found Shuri’s smile reassuring.

“I’m here,” Ava grinned.

“Brother, this is Ava, my favorite person in all of Oakland,” Shuri introduced. Ava turned to face King T’Challa.

“It’s very nice to meet you, your Highness,” Ava smiled connecting her hand with hi own.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he greeted, “please, call me T’Challa,” he insisted. “Shuri never stops talking about you,” he added, making Ava laugh.

“Ava, this is my other brother, but you’ve met,” Shuri teased, introducing the man she somewhat met earlier at the basketball court.

“Erik,” the man in question reminded as he noticed her drawing a blank.

“Nice to meet you, Erik,” Ava greeted.

“Okay, okay, let’s go I am going to whither away I am so hungry,” Shuri insisted dramatically. As soon as she finished her statement, a slick black town car rolled to a stop in front of them.

“I’ll meet you there,” Erik called, walking over to a vintage Indian motorcycle parked near the side of the second building.

“Ladies, please,” T’Challa opened the back door for the two women.

Shuri crawled into the car first, leaving the next seat for Ava as T’Challa sat up front.

The ride to Wood Tavern wasn’t long and unbeknownst to Ava, the King in the front seat found his eyes drifting to her in the rearview mirror as she spoke gently with Shuri. It was incredibly obvious to T’Challa that his baby sister thought the world of this woman. He could admit that he, too, was rather curious about her. She was beautiful, there was no denying that, but a few of the things Shuri had mentioned had him curious as well. It seemed she had no family, was just finishing school and was living just outside of Oakland near Berkley.

He trusted Shuri more than anything else and knew that he was going to be making the right choice today.

That, and he wondered what those red lips would look like mussed from his kiss.

Arriving at Wood Tavern just behind the town car, they heard the Indian motorcycle come to a stop beside the town car.

“Ah, ah,” Erik said, opening the door to the restaurant, “ladies don’t touch doorknobs,” he winked, pulling it open for Ava. She smiled softly and filed in, the staff immediately taking note of the patrons and ushering them quickly to a private room.

Squared away at a grandiose table already lined with charcuterie and wine glasses, the foursome took their seats.

“I told my brothers this is your favorite restaurant,” Shuri smiled. She had an overeager puppy quality to hear that Ava always found endearing.

“They have the best pork chops,” Ava grinned. They fell into a comfortable conversation, mostly led by Shuri, who seemed at peace between her two brothers. Ava noted the differences between T’Challa and Erik. They could be related, she figured, but they didn’t share many of the same features. T’Challa spoke with a thick, regal accent and Erik sounded like any other guy she’d meet in Oakland. There was certainly a story to the family. She was glad to have a big plate of food set in front of her not too long after placing their orders.

“Ava, my baby sister tells me you’re graduating from Berkley in a month’s time,” T’Challa called to her attention as their meals wound down.

“That’s right, I’ll finish with my Master’s in fine arts with a concentration in photography communication and archival,” she nodded.

“Photography communication,” Erik parroted, taking a drink of his gin and tonic.

“Yes,” Ava nodded, “using photography as a mode for storytelling and the capture of transient information,” she suggested. “I think in the same way that early man painted on walls, we can communicate information from generation to generation through photography,” she explained. “It’s actually a minor part of my thesis,” she offered.

“I’d take a look at that,” Erik said, studying the exact shape of her bowed lips as they pursed around the rim of her water glass.

“And the end of the month signals the end of your time at our outreach center,” T’Challa commanded her attention once again, though, T’Challa’s presence always commanded an awareness.

“Yes, that’s correct,” Ava agreed again. “I’m so sad to finish, I love working here so much,” she said with utmost sincerity, “I feel so lucky to be able to tell the story of the people who benefit from your presence in our country – and more specifically, in Oakland.” Erik eyed her carefully. “Though I was fortunate enough to live in a safe, well-maintained neighborhood as a child, not all of my friends did. I know I was much more fortunate than others, but Oakland is my home,” she continued. “To see the strides that have been made in this community in just one short year have been… refreshing. I know that Oakland is better off now than it was a year ago thanks to Wakanda.” She expressed.

“Shuri has shared with us many of your images,” T’Challa began, “some of which hang in the halls of the Wakandan capitol.” That was news to Ava, and momentarily, took her breath away.

“I-in Wakanda?” She asked, eyes as wide as saucers.

“You know what you’re doing,” Erik complimented.

“Wow, I never… I didn’t realize that my photos would be in – would be there,” she nearly lost her composure entirely.

“As we bring more and more people into our country and become a larger part of the world around us… we need someone to help tell our story – in Wakanda,” T’Challa explained, to which Ava nodded, taking another sip of her water.

“We are hoping that it is an undertaking you are willing to attempt,” he added. Ava nodded again setting her water down. A beat passed as Shuri nudged her friend with her foot under the table. Ava jumped a foot in her seat.

“Wait, I’m so sorry, I just – what?” She gasped, “You want me to stay?” She asked.

“No, Ava!” Shuri laughed.

“We want you in Wakanda,” Erik’s deep voice interjected. “Telling the story of our people,” he explained. She looked over at Erik, who was cool and collected in his seat, leaning back as he examined her. T’Challa was alert, and while still cool and collected, more engaged physically in the conversation.

“You want me to come to Wakanda?” She asked, completely gob smacked.

“Your role would be official staff photographer of the Royal family,” T’Challa explained. Ava was still speechless.

“Move to Wakanda?” She resembled a baby owl, her innocent face and big eyes unblinking.

“Yes!” Shuri exclaimed, “We want you to come to Wakanda and work with us! Are you going to do it or not?” She asked impatiently

“Shuri,” T’Challa scolded.

“I, wow, this is…” She didn’t think she’d completed an entire sentence since they sat down. Even just being here at lunch with the King of Wakanda and his siblings was hard enough to wrap her head around, but now, a job offer. Could she move to Wakanda? She wouldn’t know a soul there… where would she live? Would she be paid a fair wage? How secure was the need for the role? Would she just be looking for a job again in a year?

It was the opportunity of a lifetime… and she’d be crazy to turn it down.

“I’ll do it.”