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antihero-writings · 4 years ago

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Premonitions

Fandom: Pandora Hearts

Character Focus: Glen (Oswald) Baskervlle, Jack Vessalius, Vincent Nightray, Gilbert Nightray, Kevin Regnard, Oz Vessalius

Summary: Jack, Glen, Vincent, and Gilbert thought they were going on a relaxing vacation in the mountains, but a creature from The Abyss has a bit of an adventure in store...or is it a warning?

(Written for the Phmonth19 Tragedy Trio prompts "Wolf," "Ruins," and "Winter.")

(For those who’d like some Glen, Jack, Vince, and Gil cuteness. There's at least a little of that here, which was super fun to write. )

Notes: If you can believe it, this is actually a fic for Phmonth19! It was for the Tragedy Trio prompts "Wolf," "Ruins," and "Winter."

I liked a lot of the prompts during Phmonth19, and wanted to find a way to use multiple simultaneously. I liked the idea, but ended up struggling with where I wanted to go with it, and having too much to do during Phmonth19, so it didn't get written then. But I liked it enough to continue it and return to it eventually.

I hope you enjoy it even so!! Please know that when you comment you are both making my entire week, and motivating me to keep writing more fics like this one!!

Premonitions

A young boy weaved in and out of the crumbling artifices, hopping down from a half-broken wall to a mossy ledge on a lower level of the ruins. It was probably a room in the past. It wasn’t now.

They’d warned him not to go in here. But if forbidding something was incentive for most kids, it was practically a command to him.

They told him it was dangerous, unsafe, that anything could fall and crush him, or crumble beneath him, not to mention that there was a sort of energy here: it infected people, made them into madmen and monsters, and if said monstrosities didn’t attack and kill you…you might just become one yourself.

As if he needed a better invitation.

Most regretfully, he hadn’t found any horrifying monstrosities yet. Just a bunch of cracked stones and sewer rats looking for corpses to clean off. Occasionally something shimmered in the dirt, but more often than not it was just a rusted piece of metal, or cracked bit of glass.

He kicked up a board to see a dagger laying there. He frowned, considering it, before picking it up, examining the details on the hilt. Might make a nice souvenir if he could manage to clean the rust off.

He couldn’t help but wonder what happened here. People said this place was dropped into the Abyss, that it had become a hole to swallow all that dared to enter. But what exactly did that mean? He’d heard of the Abyss, and the Chains that lived within, but never of anything other than sinners being dropped into it. What kind of atrocities had everyone there committed to warrant the whole city being dropped into the Abyss?

He kicked another rock, before glancing up, his red eyes widening.

A wolf sat in front of him.

He hadn’t even heard its footsteps. It just sat there on the wall above him, swishing its tail. He took a few steps back.

It was gold and ethereal, its tail long and wispy, like a gust of wind frozen into flesh. Said tail flicked back and forth. White eyes left trails in the air—like slits in a mask, only letting the golden light inside it break through the eyes—yet they held no mal intent—(he’d learned to be able to see that, to feel it, almost). It seemed intelligent.

Was this one of the monstrosities they warned him about?

His hand tightened around the dagger.

The wolf stood, but after it took a few steps forward it looked over its shoulder as if to ask “Are you coming?”

The boy took a step forward himself, to run after its disappearing tail, compelled by some inclination; he knew he ought to follow it, that it wanted to show him something.

“Kevin! Kevin!” A familiar voice called from far away. “I’ll not have you sullying the Regnard name with another one of your insolent games! If you get eaten by some Chain you’ll only have yourself to blame!”

When Kevin looked back the wolf was gone.

*****

Jack breathed deeply through his nose, as he entered the cabin, then breathed out just as noisily.

“Smell that mountain air! I just love the snow, don’t you? I always feel like something’ amazing is going to happen!”

Glen rolled his eyes, dropping their bags—(which Jack had made him carry inside, citing the fact that he was carrying Vincent).

“Say, Jack…” the boy sitting on his shoulders spoke, “do you think we’ll see the northern lights up here?”

“I don’t know! …What do you think, Glen?”

“Probably not.”

“Aww!” Vincent pouted, bumping his fist on Jack’s head.

“Ow!” Jack reacted in an over exaggerated way.

“Eh! I’m sorry!”

When Jack had found out about the cabin the Baskervilles owned in the mountains he knew it would be the perfect place to spend a few days relaxing and playing in the snow—and what better way to remember how to have fun than to bring Gilbert and Vincent along?

When Jack brought up this idea, Glen had blatantly refused. Ever the responsible leader, Glen didn’t take vacations from his duties. But lately he had started having conversations with the rose bushes, and everyone agreed he could stand a few days off.

Glen was just starting to unpack their stuff when—

“You guys want to go sledding?” This was Jack’s voice, of course.

It was a resounding “yes,” from the kids, complete with jumping up and down and shouting.

“We just arrived,” Glen grunted. “Wasn’t the point of this trip to relax?”

“And what better way to relax then hurling yourself down a snowy mountain on a thin piece of wood?”

Glen blinked. “Reading.”

Jack grabbed his arm, pulling him out into the snow. “Don’t be such a fuddy duddy. Come on!”

Glen glared at his friend as he promptly dragged him off into the snow.

Soon they were flying up to the tallest hill they could find on Raven, then, after they successfully reached the top, they proceeded to push each other down it on sleds, with much giggling and whooping (from everyone except Glen). When they reached the bottom, they would fly back up on Glen’s chains—(who seemed to enjoy the show).

At one point, a little while into the festivities, Vincent was waiting for his turn when something in the corner of his eye flickered. He turned to see in the woods, behind a tree, a creature.

Vincent froze when he met the wolf’s gaze, a shiver running up his spine, more than just the cold, his face twisting in fear.

“What’s wrong, Vince?” Jack put a hand on his shoulder, glancing from the terrified boy to the empty air he was fixating on.

The wolf ran in a figure eight around two of the trees, brushing up against them, its form leaving tracks in the air. Then it paused again to stare at the boy with white, smoky eyes.

It didn’t look completely there.

Vincent pointed shakily towards it.

Jack put a hand on his shoulder. “…Where?”

He pointed more emphatically.

“I’m sorry Vince, I…I don’t see anything.”

“What’s going on?” Glen asked, hopping off Raven and landing beside them with Gilbert in a flurry of black wings.

Vincent just kept pointing, his finger a vibrating signal.

Glen’s eyes widened.

“What is it?” Jack demanded.

“It’s a wolf. Or at least…” he paused, noticing the strange color, and misty nature of the creature.

“I don’t see it,” Gilbert said softly.

“That’s okay,” Jack crouched down by him, “Neither can I.” He stood back up to his full height, reasoning with Glen, “If you two can see it, and we can’t…”

Glen nodded at him, before taking a few steps forward, and finishing the thought:

“I think, more likely than not, its something from the Abyss.” He squinted at it, watching it playfully thread the trees. “I think it wants us to follow it.”

Vincent tensed at the idea.

Glen looked over his shoulder, his eyes flicking to the boy. “I can always go after it by myself if you’d like to return to the cabin.”

“Oh it’ll be fine! Don’t worry!” Jack took the hands of both boys. “With Master Glen with us, nothing’s going to hurt us!”

Glen rolled his eyes, but Jack’s words seemed to comfort them.

Un-summoning Raven, Glen walked in front, the other three following a short distance behind.

When the spectral wolf saw they were going to heed its call, it moved further into the forest, always dancing around the trees as it waited for them to catch up.

They followed it quite some ways—(especially since they were tired from all the sledding)—until the trees stopped abruptly in a cliff edge. Jack had to put his arms out in front of the boys to keep them from walking any further.

As they raised their eyes, they saw across the gorge a plateau.

“I-Is it still there?” Gilbert asked softly, looking all around them.

Vincent and Oswald looked around but the wolf wasn’t anywhere close to them.

“There!” Vince pointed after a moment. The wolf was across the gorge, weaving in and out of a stone ruin on the plateau.

“Are you sure that’s safe?” Gilbert asked nervously. “Maybe we’ve followed it far enough…”

Glen had already summoned Jabberwocky, and was currently climbing on its back.

“You coming?” He asked the group flatly, holding out his hand.

The three glanced at each other, before Jack helped the kids onto its back, and hopped on himself. Jack hugged the boys tightly, as Gilbert held just as tightly to Glen’s coat.

The wind was cold and biting as they flew through the air, but the ride was very brief, and they landed moments later in a puff of dust in the center of the ruins.

“What is this place?” Jack asked the air, and no one answered.

They ventured cautiously into the ruins, at first sticking together, but soon curiosity overtook them, and they each wandered in separate directions, captivated by different rooms. The place wasn’t too vast though, and thus didn’t allow them to stray too far from each other.

Glen found the throne room, or where it most likely once was; a huge empty room in the center of the ruins, empty, save for the collapsing chair, backed by the skeleton of a large window, holding broken pieces of colored glass. He slowly marched up to it, running his fingers along the ghost of the chair, looking out the window at the now frozen water far below, wondering what sort of king ruled here.

When he turned around, the wolf was sitting in the center of the room, swishing its tail at him. Glen was sure it wanted him to understand something, but he couldn’t quite discern what.

He noticed at the side of the room there was a large structure. At first he mistook it for a collapsed bit of wall, but upon closer inspection, he realized it was a piano. He set his fingers on a few of the notes, but they only gave a croak.

It’d been too long.

He lifted his head and raised his voice to ask the wolf about the place, and learn if it could respond, but it had moved on.

Gilbert found the old kitchen, the food there long since turned to compost for rats and roots. Then he found the servants’ quarters not too far from there, full of rotting bedframes and hungry mice, wondering what sort of servants were here, and if their king was as noble as Glen-sama.

He didn’t see the wolf pass beneath the doorframe behind him.

Vincent found a room that likely belonged to a child. It was faded, but there was paint on the walls: designs of flowers and vines. He almost stepped on a clay sculpting of a bird that may have served as a toy, once.

On a broken dresser he found a box which, once opened, turned out to play music, the notes discordant after years of rust and neglect.

He thought he saw something else, and lifted up the half-bug-eaten board. He immediately dropped it, wishing he hadn’t, the something that was there making him cover his mouth in shock and horror.

He felt a nudge at his back, and almost screamed, whirling around to see the wolf behind him. Fear glued his lips, welled his eyes with tears.

The wolf cocked its head to the side, as if confused by his fear. It licked his hand, and Vincent drew back, though it felt like a brush of wind.

“W-W-What do you want?!” He stammered.

But he could not understand the wolf’s words.

Jack descended a staircase a bit further out of the way and found—more in tact than much of the buildings—a dungeon.

It was a large stone room, lined with cells, sectioned off by rusting bars. He pressed one open with a creak and found an empty room, and a skeleton. He continued on until he found one without a skeleton, whose bars were bent, as if the person within had managed to escape through them. He entered through to find there was a journal in this one. He picked it up, brushed and blew off the dust and frost, the pages just as creaky and unwilling to budge as the doors.

He sat on the floor where he found it and began to read. Many of the pages were too damaged by time to read, the ink fading, the pages crinkling and crumbling, but he could make out at least bits of the story. It seemed the writer was in love with a girl, but, due to her being the ruler of this kingdom’s queen, they could never be together. As the pages continued, the writer seemed to grow more and more obsessed with her; his phrases containing less and less sense and sanity. Jack couldn’t tell exactly how he ended up in the dungeon, nor how he apparently broke out—if the bends weren’t made by weather or time—but in his not-quite-sane state, he must have done something very stupid. Maybe a lot of things.

When the final pages became too illegible, he looked up and saw in the waning sunlight, the tally marks on the wall. As he began to dust and defrost them, he realized the whole wall was covered in them. He ran his hand over the grooves, thinking of how long this person must have been left alone inside himself, and what that might do to a person.

He couldn’t see the wolf pacing around his feet, reading over his shoulder, couldn’t feel the wolf trying to nudge him, nor hear the wolf try to ask him voicelessly: “Do you understand? Do you understand?”

“There you are.” A deep voice broke the silence, almost making him jump.

Glen was standing in the doorway, Vincent and Gilbert at either side of him—(Vincent clinging to his coattails rather tightly).

“Did you find anything interesting?”

Jack set the journal on the floor beside him, standing and stretching, yawning the words: “Not really, no.”

Upon noticing the pink light cast on the floor through the small window, Jack asked, “Do you think we should head back?”

Glen gave a curt nod, turning around to leave, and Jack ran to catch up.

*****

A young boy with golden hair and green eyes stood in the midst of a ruin; a caved in part of the city—or what once was the city.

After putting his hand to his chin in thought, and a good dose of looking around, he pulled a watch out of his pocket. When he flipped it open it began to play the soft tinkling notes of a somewhat sad song.

“I still don’t know what exactly happened here,” Oz muttered softly to himself, “but…I’m going to do everything I can to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

He didn’t see the wolf poking its head out from around a wall behind him, didn’t see its ears perk up, nor, now that someone had finally heard and headed its warning, hear its satisfied howl;

“Thank you, Dear Rabbit.”

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phmonth · 5 years ago

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Phmonth19 (and Vncweek) Prompts!!

The voting period has come to an end, and we have our prompts for Pandora Hearts Month 2019!! A huge thank you to everyone who voted!!!!

For anyone who hasn't seen the other posts, this is an event that regards the main Pandora Hearts trios (Golden Trio, Rainsworth Trio and Tragedy Trio) and a bonus week in which we focus on any ships/friendships/ot3 fans chose and love. You can create edits, fan arts, drabbles, fanfictions, amvs and mms.

You guys voted for there to also be a fifth week for Vanitas no carte this year!! (Also, for anyone who saw my earlier post, i decided to keep VNC as the fifth week. That made the most sense chronologically, and i realized looking over the results that not everyone was interested in it, so maybe it won't be as active as i thought..)

You are free to have fun with this!! As long as you tag it, NSFW is allowed!! (and writing/tagging the ships is nice too, since we have a wide selection of tastes as far as ships go within this fandom). You can pretty much do whatever you want with the prompts!!

In the end, in almost every category there was a tie for the last prompt. I’m not sure how Maddy dealt with ties in the past, but since I liked both prompts for almost all of them, and it was clear you guys did too, I decided to just keep both prompts, and have one day have two prompts (for all except Vncweek). I hope that isn't too confusing. You can create something for one, both, or neither, prompt/s for those days!!

And remember, you can join any time, and use as many or as few prompts as you want during phmonth!! And you don't have to post on the day if you can’t make it!! We’ll keep reblogging through Dec 31st!

There were definitely certain prompts that got a lot of votes, so I worked backwards, putting the prompts with the most votes at the end of the week, giving you guys the most time to work on them, and those with the least votes at the beginning.

I realized as i was making this post that time may be an issue since we live all across the world. (Even though its the evening of Nov 4th when I’m posting this for me, it’s probably already Nov 5th for many of you). You are free to post whenever the day is for you, but i myself will be making posts according to my time, which is Central Standard Time in America. (Maddy and @song-of-amethyst are on the other side of the world though, so they’ll see your stuff when i don't!!)

Without further ado, here are the prompts!

Golden Trio Week (Alice, Oz and Gilbert), November 10th—16th:

Day 1, Sunday: Cat, and/or Blue

Day 2, Monday: Gratitude

Day 3, Tuesday: Sleep

Day 4, Wednesday: Clock

Day 5, Thursday: Remembrance

Day 6, Friday: Trust

Day 7, Saturday: Tears

Rainsworth Trio Week (Sharon, Break and Reim), November 17th—23rd:

Day 1, Sunday: Liquor, and/or Wind

Day 2, Monday: Faith

Day 3, Tuesday: Cookies

Day 4, Wednesday: Fireplace

Day 5, Thursday: Nightmares

Day 6, Friday: Flowers

Day 7, Saturday: Laughter

Tragedy Trio Week (Lacie, Jack and Oswald), November 24th—30th:

Day 1, Sunday: Wolf and/or Tradition

Day 2, Monday: Sentimental

Day 3, Tuesday: Lock

Day 4, Wednesday: Breath

Day 5, Thursday: Runaway

Day 6, Friday: Ruins

Day 7, Saturday: Winter

Fan’s Choice Week, aka any ships/friendships/ ot3 fans chose (For example, Elliot x Leo, Lottie x Jack, Elliot, Oz and Leo, Oscar x Sarah, Ada x Vincent, etc. Any characters you wish. But it doesn't have to even be ships, romantic, platonic or otherwise! You can basically use this week to write about whichever characters you want, especially those not represented by the other weeks—it’s your choice!!),

December 1st—7th:

Day 1, Sunday: Candy and/or Sword

Day 2, Monday: Yearning

Day 3, Tuesday: Night

Day 4, Wednesday: Book

Day 5, Thursday: Grave

Day 6, Friday: Knight

Day 7, Saturday: Nostalgic

Vncweek, December 8th—14th:

Day 1, Sunday: Naive

Day 2, Monday: AU

Day 3, Tuesday: Gentle

Day 4, Wednesday: Shadow

Day 5, Thursday: Light

Day 6, Friday: Scars

Day 7, Saturday: Childhood

I also made a collection on Ao3 for writers which will open on November 10th!! So please post your fics to the collection, and/or tag your posts on Ao3 with Phmonth19 so i can find them!!

Also, can you make groups/cabins in Nanowrimo?? If so, i will!!

Oh, and don't forget to either put a link, or a “read more” on long fics if you are a writer (or long posts in general), so it’s easier for us to reblog!

Remember to tag the blog, and/or me @i-prefer-the-term-antihero (or you can tag my writing blog @antihero-writings so you don't have to put in all the dashes XD), @maddyisenough, or @song-of-amethyst, so we can see your posts and reblog them!! And write the day, the name of the prompt, and tag phmonth19 in all your posts!

Feel free to get started on making stuff early!!

We’re so excited to see what you make!!! Thank you for all your support!!

i-prefer-the-term-antihero

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i-prefer-the-term-antihero · 5 years ago

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Ahhhh this is so awesome!!! It was so nice to get a phmonth19 mention!!! :D And this just makes my heart feel so warm!!!

But why is Gil sad?

Or is he sad? At first I thought he was crying, plus your tag, but then I looked closer and maybe he’s just talking XD

I especially love the color and warmth on their faces, and the snow outside!!

And of course Oscar in a Santa outfit is way too perfect!!!!

(Is there any chance I could use this as a header (or maybe icon) image? I’ve been looking for a good Christmas ph one, and this is just so lovely!!!)

Nostalgic~ (。＾▽＾）

This was also for Oz’s birthday :)

@phmonth2019 @i-prefer-the-term-antihero @maddyisenough

#phmonth19 #oz vessalius #gilbert nightray #oscar vessalius #pandora hearts christmas #pandora hearts #nostalgic #ph #christmas #lunar echo #christmas2019 #pandora hearts month 2019 #phmonth #pandora hearts month #phfourthweek

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yanderefairyangel · 5 years ago

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Ph month 6- Knight Based on this

And this

#Ph #phmonth 2019 #phmonth #Pandora Hearts #pandora hearts month #oz vessalius #elliot nightray #leo baskerville #alice baskerville #gilbert nightray #jun mochizuki #i just wanted an excuse to drawoz and elliot #@phmonth2019 #phmonth19 #phmonth 19

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violetikigai · 5 years ago

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AU in which Oz is a witch who wakes up from the B-Rabbit's curse which left him in a catatonic state and pick up a Blue Hat to wear meanwhile Gilbert and Alice, who had been trying to make him react for the last two years, are too shocked seeing him acting like he used to to react properly

(aka in which I'm little to happy about Hooky lastest chapter and decided to make an AU to celebrate it and at the same time participate in the phmonth and I regret thoroughly my decision of using just graphite)

Dialogue:

Oz, talking about the hat, smiling: How does it looks on me?

Oz, noticing that Alice is crying and Gilbert looks like he just saw a ghost, none of them has answered, nervous: Umm... Guys...?

#phmonth #ph month #phmonth 2019 #ph month 2019 #oz vesarius #gilbert nightray #alice baskerville #hooky au #in wich I make a fool of myself with just graphite and a silly comic xD #meh i had fun xD #pandora hearts #ph

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alicenpai · 3 years ago

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Hi Alice! I love your work. I notice you have these lovely reds and blues in all of your pieces kind of outlining shading or lighting areas. They really make your work pop! I was wondering if this was a specific technique and if so, could you let me know what it's called or how/when it's used? Thanks and wishing you an incredible new year!

hello!!

I wrote a portion of this for someone else who asked (privately) a month back - tutorial under the cut!!!

OK so when I was discovering artists on the internet for the first time - I found the artist rei (twitter/pixiv) and her work had such a strong influence on me. She draws influences from anime, renaissance, baroque, etc art movements. What's really mesmerizing is the way she uses colour to portray mood and light, and how colours just seamlessly mix into one another, as if the canvas is still wet or that it looks printed on a sort of holographic material. You can see this colour technique a lot among Chinese speaking artists on weibo.

To really make your light values stand out, you can add what Andrew Loomis calls "brilliance" to the edge of your lighting. That's just what Loomis coined it as - I believe it's related to subsurface scattering. You know like when you put your hand against a strong light and you can see the light filter through your fingertips, showing a warm colour? That's subsurface scattering. According to wikipedia it also appears through marble, wax, leaves, milk. I’m not an expert so you can look into this more on your own!

I think you'd have to read the actual page Andrew Loomis explained it in, since in the tweet it's presented without context. I haven't read it. If you're doing more photo/semi-realistic art you'd have to study the technique a lot more hahaha.

It can also happen in "dappled light" - like when you look at the cast shadow of a tree's leaves on the ground. The shadow has a warm light edge.

Since I'm personally not making realistic art, we can exaggerate it a bit, and the placement of the light edge doesn't have to be realistic. I even do it for shadows because why the hell not. It’s art. art is painful as it is. make it fun whenever u can

let’s just upload this image again so we don’t have to keep scrolling up and down. The colour edge depends on the base colour of the object - if the object is predominantly warm, I may add a cool edge (e.g. the blond hair in the top left - Mint Adenade from Tales of Phantasia). If the object is cool, a warm edge will stand out (e.g. the ruffles in the left middle - Alyss from Pandora Hearts). But really - play around with it! The dark robes and the tights on the right have a cool edge around the shadows, but the lapel on the robe has a red edge to illustrate it’s a different material/object.

You can do this in a few ways - A. draw it in manually to be selective. This is probably the best way to go about it. B. Or if you want to save time, you can: 1. select the light/shadow layer (Layer > Selection from layer > Layer selection in CSP, or right click your canvas in PS and hit “Load selection” etc etc). 2. Make a new layer. You can choose to expand the selection by a few pixels or not, it’s a personal preference. (Select > Expand selection in CSP. Select > Modify > Expand or Contract in PS). 3. Colour it your light edge colour. 4. Adjust the opacity if needed. I usually just go around opacity 50% in Normal, I don’t use layer modes, but you can use them if you want.

And that’s that! I find that this technique works well for my personal style because I prefer using more desaturated colours, and it helps bring contrast to the image. The colour edge is cool since I don’t really have to rely on colour adjustments when the artwork is complete nowadays - since the desaturated colours are part of the appeal, but there’s enough contrast with the light edge to give it appeal. depends on your personal workflow though. I don’t think I did this colour light edge a lot in my work until recently. but my 2019 jjba buttons and 2019 ib buttons seem to have some of it too :0

This is a bit different but you can find the colour edge contrast idea a lot in older art. I recommend looking through 1700s-1900s ish art history movements. Florian Aupetit has some free art history resource packs! These are more stylized examples, but you can find it subtly in a lot of other artists’ work. Especially for portraiture like with John Singer Sargent and religious paintings like Alphonse Mucha’s (his painted, non-flat art), or light-focused movements like impressionism. (In case the text isn’t visible: Dean Cornwell on left & middle, Claude Monet on top right, Mead Schaeffer on bottom right)

I’m not the creator of this technique so use it to your heart’s content. Hope this was enjoyable and hopefully a bit educational!

#ask #tutorial #starsch

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i-prefer-the-term-antihero · 5 years ago

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*Brings phone to nose and breathes deep*

AHH YES THIS IS THE GOOD CONTENT

Every time I read your writing I am blown away, by the story, the phrasing, the accuracy...everything.

I’ve never thought about this analogy before and it fits sooo well!! This family tied not by blood, but a loyalty that is fierce and almost wild, which moves more like a hunting party or battalion...

And then there’s Jack, one of the pack, yet not at all one of the pack, them getting used to him as wolves would his scent, never completely at ease around him, especially Oswald, who is also the same alpha who accepted him into the den. This too fits so amazingly well. And the the image of him infiltrating the pack and destroying it from the inside !!!

Ahh this is what i need.

And I never thought about this perspective with Gil and Vince, that there’s almost a sort of jealousy there that they, who had similar messed up lives, but unlike him are accepted with open arms, that I just love!! And the emphasis on the way Gil grows to be more of an insider and Vince more of an outsider, like Lacie, and then the cruelty of them killing their siblings...yes!!

And then the last bit is of course my favorite, taking this analogy you’ve set up so perfectly and twisting it, and tying to the ruins prompt!!

Favorite lines:

“trying to appear clumsy, careless, and most of all harmless”

This might be my favorite line. I love how twisted that “most of all harmless” line is in its foreshadowing, that it seems like he’s the harmless prey in the predators den, but it’s the opposite

“He did not know what he was, but he was definitely not a wolf. He felt like prey in the middle of predators, although he was not quite prey, either”

Such a great tie in to the faceless speech!!

“He observed to himself that such wickedness could not belong to wild beasts, but to whatever he himself was, capable of something as cowardly as hunting wolves in their den. He wondered briefly if such a creature existed. But of course it does, his thoughts answered shortly, if any thought was truly his at all. Tears blurred his vision as he recoiled from the view of his friend's dismembered body.”

I love this image of how much crueler humanity is than beasts.

And this is such a perfect picture of jack, the half-facade of sweetness, and harmlessness at the beginning, the truly twistedness at the end...but in the same moment we see the most truly vicious creature in this den, we also see his true remorse, his true feelings and feel for him, which is exactly what it’s like reading the series

Amazing amazing job!!!

Pandora Hearts Month : Tragedy Trio Week - Day 1 (Wolf)

“Be careful, ” Miranda had warned him, one fateful day, “you might as well be walking right into the wolf’s den.”

Keep reading

#song of amethyst #friends #ph #pandora hearts #phmonth19 #jack vessalius #tragedy trio week #tragedy trio #oswald baskerville #lacie baskerville #the baskervilles #gilbert nightray #vincent nightray #pandora hearts month 2019 #phmonth #pandora hearts month #ph fanfiction #friends writing

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readyplayerhobi · 4 years ago

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Flower | 40 | End

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, angst

; Word Count: 6.9k

; Warnings: Slight anxiety attack, mentions of panic, slight body issues

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: So...this is it 😢 Flower is officially over! I started writing this on November 15th, 2019. Almost a year later, here we are with 40 chapters, 3 drabbles and 180k of words. Can you believe I actually finished it? I hope you’ve all enjoyed reading it and the journey of the MC finding herself and falling in love with Hoseok. It’s been so fun to write and it’s sad to let it go. If you’ve enjoyed reading this, please let me know with a comment or an ask! I’ve loved reading how much you’ve all felt seen or embraced by the MC with her struggles and I’d love to hear your thoughts on not only this chapter but the whole fic! Feedback is what keeps authors going and I came very close to leaving writing once Flower was finished but I’m still going to carry on. I’m not sure if this chapter is good or not, but I hope you enjoy it anyway and think it a fitting end to the story!

; Flower Masterpost

“Okay...okay. Let’s do this...you can do this. It’s easy. Just...walk down the aisle. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? Well, Hoseok could not be there or I could have a heart attack and drop down dead. That would suck. But it would resolve a lot of my issues, I wouldn’t have to worry about everyone watching me. On the other hand...I’m going to marry the love of my life. As long as he turns up” The soft sounds of your muttering are probably barely heard over the soft playing music through the speakers in the room, YouTube playing mindlessly to itself.

It was a good job, as it meant that no one else in the room could hear your panicked thoughts that were being verbalised. Hoseok and you had decided to get married at an exquisite mansion hotel with the ceremony itself being in the elegant gardens outside. There was a full-sized maze alongside a stunning fountain, the centrepiece being a marble depiction of Aphrodite rising from the shallows.

You’d taken a walk around the perfectly groomed gardens the night before, taking in all the decorations that you’d painstakingly picked out over the months that had been artfully arranged by the staff. The flowers in the gardens were beautiful, a smorgasbord of pinks, oranges, violets, reds and yellows that brought the whole area to life. Alongside it looking visually perfect, it also smelled amazing as well with the soft scent of different flowers mixing.

At night, the tiny fairy lights that had been strung up around the building front and the metal trellises that were organised in the garden gave off a soft, golden glow. It made the whole place look ethereal and you were excited for everyone else to get to see it during the reception tonight.

The actual wedding ceremony was scheduled to start at two in the afternoon, with only friends and family invited for that. It would be outside as well, with Hoseok and you standing at the end of a make-shift aisle on the lawn section of the hotel’s garden. Temporary chairs had been arranged on both sides for your guests, dark wood with ivory silk draped over everyone. At the end of the aisle, each chair had a silk bow in ivory and deep purple alongside a bouquet of specially arranged flowers.

It all looked perfect and you’d marvelled at it yesterday, amazed that they’d managed to bring your vision to life. Now all you had to do was walk down it and get married, which was where you were a little panicked.

The room that had been assigned to the bridal party was on the lower floor of the hotel, reducing the risk of you potentially killing yourself by tripping over your dress while walking down the stairs. It was technically two hotel rooms connected through a shared bathroom, which you found bizarre.

Your mom and Hoseok’s mom had taken the other room for their use to get changed, the hairdresser and makeup artist they’d hired working there to make them look their best for the ceremony. Even now, you could hear them chattering and laughing away with each other. Even through your anxiety, you can’t help but smile as you hear them get on so well.

Any fears you’d had about them not liking each other had quickly disappeared. Instead, they’d become good friends and liked to meet up now and then to have a talk over coffee or something. It pleased you to see your mom getting to have more friends.

Eden and Amelia had also chosen to get ready in that room, not wanting to crowd the one you were in too much. It was already full of dresses and a ridiculous amount of makeup and hair product with only four of you so you couldn’t even imagine the chaos with five of you.

In your room was Soyeon, Chungha and Dahyun alongside you. Dahyun was currently three months pregnant, having successfully been inseminated with Jungkook’s sperm. He’d agreed to their request and after a few months of getting prepared for the attempts, Dahyun had undergone the procedure. What it had been exactly, you didn’t know because you hadn’t felt it was your business to pry into something like that.

It was a privilege to even know they were trying before anyone else. Their announcement had come at your bachelorette party when Dahyun had refused alcohol, immediately leading Soyeon and you to be suspicious. You’d never seen Chungha’s beloved ever turn down a drink so it had been a clear sign of something at least.

Needless to say, your party had happily become a celebration of their impending baby. Thankfully, you weren’t one of those people who got overly annoyed at others announcing things at events. Or at least, not big events. Your bachelorette party had been a perfect time to find out, whereas you might not have been so amenable if they’d told everyone today instead.

That was normal though, right? Today was your day. Yours and Hoseok’s. People who felt the need to co-opt special days like that were a special type of self-absorbed in your opinion.

Given it was so early into her pregnancy, Dahyun isn't showing that much. Which meant her bridesmaid dress hadn’t needed to be altered too much. None of them has gotten into their dresses just yet, instead currently in the process of getting their face and hair done. Chungha’s hair has already been done, elegantly styled into a beautiful updo with a few tendrils curled around her face.

The makeup for the girls was a smokey eye with subtle blush and contour, alongside a neutral lip. It wasn’t anything flashy, but you’d loved the concept of it all. Particularly with the small and delicate crystals that dotted along their waterline, adding a little sparkle to match the tiny crystals on their deep violet dresses.

As a present to each of them, you’d bought them a gift set from Pandora. In each one was a pair of dainty stud earrings with a heart design alongside a matching heart-shaped pendant necklace. All the hearts were encrusted with brilliant-cut stones, making the perfect gift that could be used again in the future for casual use.

They’d all been in awe of it and surprised at being given presents as well. You hadn’t even known it was a thing until you’d looked up wedding preparation online, discovering that you should also buy something for Hoseok. Which had led to you buying him the fancy watch he’d been drooling over for months now. It had been eye-watering expensive, but it had been worth it for his excited text this morning.

Along with the watch, you’d also written him a letter. It was meant to be light-hearted and fun, but you’d ended up writing way too much as you’d poured out your love to him alongside everything you felt for him. To your eternal embarrassment, you’d ended up crying while writing it as you’d told him everything you’d never been able to vocalise, including writing possibly a million times that you love him.

He’d been instructed to not read that until just before the ceremony.

His present to you was a gaming table, which might not seem to be very sentimental to anyone else but you’d been ecstatic over it. For years now, you’d been saying that you wanted to buy a proper table that was designed for board games and that could then be used as a normal table when converted. They were super expensive so you’d resigned yourself to never getting one, but he’d printed out the receipt of what he’d ordered and put it into an envelope for you to open tonight.

Neither of you had ever been a traditional couple, and that certainly wasn’t about to change with marriage.

“Hey, you okay?” Amelia asks, interrupting your intense thought process as she sits down next to you. As usual, her aura is warm and reassuring as she reaches over to gently squeeze at your hand. You don’t spend a huge amount of time around her, but you knew both Eden and her enough to want them in your bridal party.

“Yes? No? Maybe? I don’t know. I’m just…” Trailing off, you struggle to find the right words and instead gesture towards the air. It makes no sense but you can’t quite figure out what you’re trying to say. Mainly because you can’t figure out what your mind is thinking.

“It’s okay to be worried, don’t feel like you shouldn’t be. If you’re anxious or nervous then that’s okay as well. Don’t let anyone tell you how you should be feeling, just feel what you are. Trust Hoseok, trust yourself and all your family and friends. We’re all here for you and we want you to have the best day possible. Tell us if anything is wrong, okay? I have no doubt that Chungha and Soyeon would strong-arm everyone into whatever was necessary to make you feel comfortable.” She says, smirking as she nods over to the two women who are chattering away in their respective chairs.

“I know, I know. I’m trying. It’s just...god, everyone is going to be staring at me and I hate being the centre of attention,” Looking down at your hands, you chew at your lips. “What if I mess up the vows? Or I freeze or drop the ring?”

“Hey, it’s normal to feel that. I doubt there’s anyone who’s gotten married who wasn’t at least a little bit anxious about messing something up. Yes, everyone is here to watch you, but they’re for Hoseok too. I’m sure he’s just as worried that he might make a mistake, and if you do then, so what? It’s not going to ruin anything, it just means your human. If anything, people will probably find it endearing. The only person you should concern yourself with is Hoseok, and I doubt there’s anything you could do today to ruin the day for him. Unless you don’t go.” Amelia laughs when you give a shocked gasp, jaw-dropping open and eyes wide.

“I would never do that! But what if he decides he doesn’t want to get married anymore?” Now the worry that had wiggled itself deep inside your mind comes to the fore and you find yourself almost whispering the words. It feels like a betrayal to Hoseok for even thinking he’d do that, but you can’t help the fear.

You must not have been quite enough though as Chungha speaks up, facing you in her chair with a stern expression on her face as she wags her finger. “Lady, do not think that. I don’t want that thought to even enter your head. As if Jung Hoseok is ever going to back out now. I think that man would’ve eloped with you if you’d asked instead. He’s going to be standing at the end of that aisle, probably bawling like a baby.”

“Maybe not that far.” This is from Eden, who’s laid out on the bed in the centre of the room, playing Zelda on her Switch. She’d had her makeup done earlier and is now waiting for the hairdresser to be free while Amelia is waiting for her makeup. All of you had decided that you’d be last to get ready to make sure that everything looked as fresh as possible.

“Want to bet? That man is gonna be sobbing.” This starts up a whole ten-minute discussion about whether or not Hoseok was going to cry at seeing you. Namjoon hadn’t cried but Jimin had during their weddings, surprising no one. But Namjoon had cried at the birth of his daughter.

You weren’t sure, to be honest. Hoseok didn’t cry all that often and you could probably count on one hand how many times you’d seen it over four years. On top of that, you weren’t entirely sure that you wanted to see him crying. It made your chest hurt when he did and you always ended up crying too.

Something about seeing strong and proud men cry was just heartbreaking to you.

For a while, you just sit back and let the conversation wash over you as they all debate and borderline argue, intensely amongst themselves. They’d all switched around now and they’ll soon start getting into their bridesmaid’s dresses, which meant you’d be finally getting ready.

Your nails had been done the night before with a beautiful design in the same colour scheme as the wedding. They looked so pretty and elegant, which was a surprise to you every time you looked at them as you never really bothered doing your nails. While you liked to do fancy makeup looks now and then to post onto social media, nails were not something you were interested in.

Maybe you should reassess that thought.

“Anyway, what we’re all trying, and failing, to say is that Hoseok loves you and if he doesn’t cry then he’s crying inside at how beautiful you are.” Soyeon states firmly, sitting next to you and admiring your nails as well. All the bridesmaids had the same style to keep the theme going and she wiggled her fingers with a bright smile.

“I’m not even ready yet, you don’t know if I’ll be beautiful.”

There’s dead silence in the room after the comment, with even the hairdresser and makeup artist turning to stare at you. Between the six other women in the room, you’re pretty sure that they’ve got every emotion from shock to annoyance to incredulity covered. Feeling yourself get warm at their attention, you look down to your lap in embarrassment.

Obviously, the wrong thing to say.

“Okay, we’re going to ignore that you just said that. You don’t need to be dolled up and in a wedding dress to be beautiful, it’s just going to enhance what you already have. And I don’t want any arguments on that.” Poking your side lightly, you playfully wince at Soyeon as she scolds you. Everyone else is nodding along solemnly before they carry on with whatever they’d been doing.

“Seriously though, I overheard your conversation with Amelia. She’s right. Embrace your feelings but don’t let them overwhelm you. Standing in front of a crowd is nerve-wracking for anyone, but you’ve got the love of your life standing there with you. Just focus on Hoseok, he’ll get you through it. He always has, right?” Soyeon said.

Giving her a half-smile, you nod and do a remarkably good job of looking like a scolded child or something. You know it’s just because she loves you that she doesn’t want you to berate yourself, along with the fact that she knows what you’re like. If someone doesn’t verbally acknowledge your problems then you’ll just obsess over them.

Your phone screen lights up in your lap before it begins to vibrate suddenly, Hoseok’s name visible on the screen. Frowning down at it, you wonder why he’s calling before a multitude of emotions and thoughts runs through your mind.

“Go take it in the bathroom.” Pulling you up, Soyeon practically pushes you into the bathroom before giving you a smile and a thumbs-up as she closes the door.

Seeing the other door is also open, you peek out and let everyone in that room know that you’d be using the bathroom for a few minutes and to not come in. Once you get the acknowledgement, you close and lock it as well before pushing up to sit on the counter.

“Hobi! Why are you calling?” Leaning back against the mirror, you frown deeply as you question him. The first response is just his familiar deep chuckle, the sound already helping to soothe some of your frayed nerves.

“Amelia texted Joon, who told me. I don’t want you to stress yourself out! Not today, today’s meant to be a happy day. No stress. Or anxiety.” Snorting, you roll your eyes as you trace an invisible design onto your thigh.

“Sure, like that’s gonna happen. You know me. And why are you calling? We’re not meant to see each other until the wedding, it’s bad luck!” There’s a brief pause and you can practically hear him rolling his eyes, the deep sigh he lets out telling you all you need to know.

“Meeps, I’m pretty sure that only counts for physically seeing each other. I can’t see you right now. I don’t recall anything about not being allowed to hear you, or talk to you. Besides, we make our luck.” He sounds so nonchalant and now it’s your turn to sigh at him.

“You’re going to get us hit by lightning or something.”

“Impossible, the weather schedule for today is meant to be sunny with a little bit of cloud later on. Nice warm temperatures that aren’t too hot but also not too cold. Perfect. No lightning.” His immediate rebuttal has you laughing, unable to stay mad at him for too long. Not when he’s trying so hard to take your mind off things.

“Seriously though, are you okay? What are you worried about? Talk to me.” Hoseok asks, his voice calm and steady as he stops joking around. There’s a brief moment of resistance, the thought that you don’t want to bother him with your silly thoughts or annoying emotions before you remember that you can trust him. No matter how ridiculous it sounds in your head, Hoseok will listen and he won’t make fun of you.

“I’m just...scared. Of all the people. Like, they’re going to be watching me or staring. What if I look fat or ugly? Or I fuck up saying the vows? Or I drop the ring or my dress splits or something? Or if I trip down the aisle?! Or if you decide you don’t want to marry me anymore?” As you begin to reel off the questions that have been plaguing your mind, you can feel your chest getting a little tighter and your breathing shallower.

With the practised ease of someone who’s dealt with your panic attacks over the years, Hoseok makes calming and reassuring noises over the phone until you’re silent. Just listening to him, you take in the comforting words as he lets you know that you’re okay and everything is fine. Finally, once he thinks you’re calm enough, he carries on.

“Meeps, that’s fine. Don’t be upset that you’re having those thoughts. I’ve had every one of those thoughts today as well. I mean...not the dress one. Substitute that for pants splitting or something, which is even more embarrassing because my underwear is not black today. But the point I’m trying to make here is that it’s normal to have those thoughts today. I’d probably be more worried if you weren’t having them.” He pauses to laugh before you hear shuffling noises.

There’s no doubt he’s probably not even getting into his tuxedo just yet and you curse the fact that men take far less time to get ready than women. He’ll probably only start like...an hour before the ceremony begins or something.

“But all I’ll say is, it doesn’t matter if anything goes wrong because we’ll fix it. You and me, just like always. You won’t look fat or ugly because you’re neither fat nor ugly anyway, instead, you’ll be the most beautiful woman here. Which you always are to me but don’t let my mom hear me tell you that. And I’m going to be standing at the end of the aisle, I promise you that. I’m the one who proposed to you and I will be there, waiting for you. That’s one thing I can assure you of completely.” Hoseok says this firmly, his voice perhaps more serious than you’ve ever heard it before.

You can practically feel his determination to make you understand that he’s going to be there. That he’s going to marry you today, no matter what happens. It makes your heart swell with love and emotion, causing you to press your hand against your mouth.

Hoseok takes your silence as a positive, choosing to let it carry on for a little longer before speaking once more.

“I love you, Meeps. And by the end of today, you’re going to be my wife. We’re going to have a great day with a beautiful ceremony and a fun reception before probably going to bed drunk. Or at least, I’m going to be drunk. Not entirely sure if I’ll be able to take you to Poundtown tonight-”

“Don’t ever say that again.”

“But if not tonight then definitely tomorrow. Unless you don’t want me to drink, in which case probably tonight if you’re up for it.” Shaking your head, you can’t help but smile at his stupid comments. He always knew how to cheer you up, even if it was with the most ridiculous thing you’d heard today.

“You can drink, I’m not going to make you sober throughout the entire reception. I want you to have fun with everyone, so if you end up drunk then that’s fine. Just don’t go overboard.”

“Choosing to ignore my Poundtown comments, I see.”

“Jung Hoseok, I am going to hang up now. I will see you later, okay?”

“Okay. Love you.” Feeling a little shy, you murmur your next words into the phone.

“Love you too.”

The ceremony is officially about to start and you stare at the open door, knowing that outside all your guests are waiting. Not only that, but Hoseok is at the end of the aisle. You’d been reassured by everyone there who had peeked out to make sure, quelling your fears and worries.

All the groomsmen had come inside upon finding out you were here, lining themselves up alongside their specified bridesmaid partners and chatting away happily. They all looked incredibly handsome in their suits, the colours matching the bridesmaids perfectly and you felt a little pride at having thought of a good colour scheme.

Your mom is fussing around you, making sure that your dress looks perfect and that your bouquet hasn’t fallen apart or anything. Sighing, you gently push her hands away as she tries once more to move your necklace.

All of them had given you something as part of the tradition for the bride. Dahyun had lent you a beautiful Cartier bracelet, glowing with diamonds, as part of the ‘something borrowed’ while Chungha had bought you diamond earrings for the ‘something new’. Your mom had given you the bracelet she’d worn for her wedding, now occupying your other wrist and Hoseok’s mom had provided the necklace adorning your neck.

It was a beautiful silver necklace with a dainty leaf design, leading to the main piece in the centre which was dotted with tiny diamonds. Each leaf spreading out had either amethyst or an aquamarine gem in alternating order. She’d ordered it specially made for your wedding, matching your engagement ring with the gems and fulfilling the ‘something blue’.

You’d been amazed at everything they’d given you, understanding now why they’d all told you now to buy any jewellery for the day. They’d all decided to make sure you had everything you needed anyway.

But you knew that your mom’s need to keep straightening out your dress or brushing away unseen dust was just to keep herself preoccupied. She’d already cried once when you’d come out in your wedding dress, makeup and hair all done. That had earned her an exasperated sigh from the makeup artist.

“Mom, mom, come on,” You coo to her, smiling before taking her hands and squeezing. “You gotta go out there, go get your place.”

She hesitates for a moment, unwilling to leave you before nodding. After a few words of reassurance from her to you, telling you that you’re going to do well and it’s all going to go fine, she turns and hugs your dad tightly before kissing him. You’d feel embarrassed at the sight of it, never quite being comfortable with your parents' displays of affection, but it just causes you to laugh softly.

Once she’s out the door, you hear the music begin from outside, the notes flowing through the door faintly. Everyone inside quietens and you can almost feel the excitement ramp up. It just makes you feel more nervous though, particularly when they start to head out in their pairs slowly.

“Are you ready?” Your dad asks, his eyes already going glassy with tears as his lip wobbles slightly. Giving him a concerned look, you immediately reach up to wipe the tears as they start to fall, feeling your heartbreak at the sight of your dad crying. He never cried.

“Dad! Don’t cry, oh my god. I’m sorry.” Cleaning up his face quickly, you’re stopped by the gentle way he grasps your wrists. For a moment, you think that he’s going to push you away but instead, he pulls you closer and carefully hugs you.

It’s a little awkward as you’re trying not to ruin the carefully done hair and makeup, but you can’t deny your dad a hug. Especially when you’d never really been much of a hugger growing up. You would be cruel to deny him one, especially on your wedding day. Your parents were feeling emotional that their little girl was getting married today.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s just your old dad getting sappy. You look so beautiful. Hoseok is so lucky, you better remind him of that every day.” He’s pulled back now, giving you the softest smile that is still a little watery. His hands move to your shoulders and he stands back to examine you fully, his eyes taking in everything.

Before you can respond to him, Yoongi is disappearing out of the door and heading towards the aisle. He’s alone, as you’d planned, but in one hand is the bouquet that Hoseok’s sister would’ve held had she still been alive. It had been his suggestion to hold it, symbolising the family member that Hoseok didn’t have anymore and you’d been more than willing to agree.

You wondered what Hoseok thought when he saw it as neither of you had told him that Yoongi would be holding it. Hopefully, he was happy with it, along with his parents.

Turning back to you, your dad squeezes your shoulders reassuringly before smiling at you. Ironically, all it does is make you more nervous as you realise that now you’re the one who’s going to have to walk down that aisle next.

“Come on, it’s time to make your fiancé cry.” His words in a teasing tone, your dad turns to face the door before offering you his arm. Standing there, you stare at him before looking at the door with trepidation. Nerves roil in your stomach as you hear the faint sound of music playing, knowing that everyone out there is waiting for you.

Which in turn means everyone will be staring at you.

Those nerves quickly turn to anxiety and your breath comes faster, chest feeling a little constricted by the tight bodice of the dress. Without even realising it, your hands start to shake and the bouquet in them shudders visibly.

Quickly, your dad takes the bouquet from you to make sure that you don’t accidentally deflower them or crush the stems. The last thing you needed was to ruin your perfect bouquet only minutes before you were supposed to walk down the aisle.

It frees up your hands and you find yourself flapping them as you stress, trying to shake out the negative emotions as you pant. Your dad’s eyes widen, obviously panicking himself at your obvious distress. He’s never had to deal with you struggling like this before and he doesn’t know what to do but his paternal instincts kick in quickly.

“Hey, come on, sweetheart. Breathe, breathe. Take a big breath in, come on, that’s it. Not let it out slowly. And again, that’s right.” Talking to you in his comforting voice, tone level and low, you follow his instructions and start to feel a little calmer as you force yourself to calm your breathing. It’s hard, and you still feel the anxiety but it feels a little more manageable now.

Closing your eyes, you run through all the tips your therapist had given you for how to cope with anxiety attacks. What worked for you was to sing in your head, the lyrics, whatever song you were loving lately. It probably takes longer than you’d have liked but finally you feel like you can cope with your emotions enough to carry on.

When you open your eyes again, your dad is giving you an expectant, yet worried, look. Shaking your hands once more, you reach out and take the bouquet from him before taking a deep breath. Linking your arm through his, you straighten your shoulders and lift your chin before smiling at him.

“Okay, okay. Let’s go.”

Walking down the aisle is surprisingly less stressful than you’d imagined. The famous wedding song plays through the air as you walk slowly and the whole atmosphere feels almost like a fairytale. The soft lights twinkle even in the daylight while the gentle, warm breeze makes the ribbons on the chairs flutter delicately.

Along the floor, the white and purple rose petals that Namjoon’s daughter had spread in her role as flower girl were strewn haphazardly. A few of them caught the breeze and rolled delicately to a new place, making it seem like the floor was consistently changing. You liked it, smiling at the sight of how beautiful everything looked.

Everyone was staring at you, as you’d expected, but surprisingly it wasn’t as intimidating as you’d thought. You didn’t exactly enjoy it but it wasn’t terrible. Probably because you were more focused on initially admiring how perfect everything looked. How months and months of thought and money had finally accumulated into the perfect wedding.

But mostly, you weren’t as bothered by the staring because you were focused on the end of the aisle. There was no real altar here, given that it was being held at a hotel and everything, but the metal garden arch at the end had been decorated in delicate flowers, ribbons and lights to make an even better end.

And beneath it stood Hoseok.

If you’d ever thought Hoseok looked handsome before then it paled in comparison to him today. His black tuxedo made him look tall and slim, every part of him looking perfectly put together and elegant. The deep purple waistcoat beneath his jacket contrasted with the white of his shirt perfectly; the colour combination making his skin almost glow with health and happiness.

There was only the slightest hint of tattoos at the edge of his collar, leaving to the imagination the artwork he had permanently on his body beneath his clothes but you didn’t need to imagine. You’d seen them all, traced them delicately into your memory over the years until you could point out where they were without even seeing them.

Finally reaching him, you paused to look at your dad and gave him a bright smile of gratitude before giving him a second hug. This one was a little tighter than before and when you let go of him, you saw that he was crying once more. He didn’t give your hand to Hoseok, instead just gave him a stern look while trying to surreptitiously wipe away his tears.

“You look after her, Jung Hoseok. You make sure she’s the happiest woman.” There’s iron in his voice, telling Hoseok that it wasn’t a question but more a command. But there’s also love and affection in it, something Hoseok can tell as well by the way he nods his head.

Handing your bouquet to Chungha, you take Hoseok’s proffered hand. Up close, you can take in the details of his face better and you take a moment to simply admire him and imprint him into your memory.

The sides of his head had been shaven, the undercut short and seen with the style he’d chosen to wear today. His hair had been styled back, pushed away from his forehead. It was a look that had made you weak in the knees many times over the years and you’d practically begged him to have it for the wedding, knowing that he’d blow everyone’s mind with how handsome he looked.

Hoseok had a face that looked like it had been hand-carved by the gods from the finest marble anyway and this hairstyle showed off all the highlights of his face. The high cheekbones that made his smiles so animated, his cutting jawline, the clean slope of his nose, the heart-shaped smile that lit his entire face and the dimples that made him seem so human.

His lip ring was still in, the silver shining in the sunlight. He’d been unsure whether to wear it but you’d told him to embrace himself and keep it. You’d fallen in love with him as he was, and you wanted him to show himself how you saw him. Which included his piercings and tattoos.

Your heart clenched though when you looked into his eyes finally. Hoseok’s eyes were one of your favourite things about him. The crescents they turned into when he smiled brightly, pushed into the shape by his cheeks and the way his eyes could practically dance with delight when he was happy.

Today though, those beautiful and expressive eyes were watery with tears. The wet streak on his cheek told you that he’d already had some of them fall and you frowned at the sight of them. Everyone had been right; Hoseok had cried upon seeing you down the aisle.

“Baby.” You whisper, unsure if you’re meant to talk to him. Deciding you don’t care, you reach up to wipe away the tears and smile when he kisses the palm of your hand before nuzzling into it, uncaring of everyone else.

“Meeps, you look perfect. I read your letter, I love you too.” Before you can stop him, he’s leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. There’s a murmur in the crowd, alongside some laughter and he looks over at everyone with a raised brow.

No one says anything though and he gets a satisfied look, ignoring your shy expression as you turn away from everyone.

“You’re not supposed to do that.” Keeping your voice low, you give a hesitant smile to the official who will be taking you both through your ceremony. Hoseok lets out a snort of laughter as he squeezes your hand tight, letting his thumb run along the back of your hand lovingly.

“I don’t care. It’s our wedding, I’ll do what I want.” And before you can stop him, he turns you and gives you another kiss, this one lingering a little longer. Eyes widening, you can’t help but giggle as you hear yet more laughter.

You should be annoyed at him, but you know he’s a force of nature. Plus, you don’t care. It feels nice to know he can’t help himself.

“Okay, let’s get married, Meeps.” He grins at you before facing the officiant once more. Staring at him a moment longer, you smile at him and nod.

“Let’s get married.”

Hobi Hobi,

We’re getting married today! Are you excited? I hope you’re reading this when I told you to, if not then you’re cheating >:[ it feels weird to write a letter. I don’t even know if I’ve ever done this before, so I’m sorry if it sounds really cheesy and lame. What do people write in these normally? I’m just going to write what comes to mind so if it ends up sappy then you’re not allowed to tease me later about it.

Anyway, I want you to know that I’m sorry that I suck so much at telling you how I feel and my emotions. I wish I could be one of those people who’s telling you every moment how handsome you are and how much I love you but I can’t. I’m sorry :( I’m trying, I swear! Even if I don’t get to tell you as often as you deserve, I hope you know that I love you more than anything in the world.

Don’t ever forget that, okay? Even when we’re arguing over something silly or we go to bed mad at each other, don’t forget that. I know we’re pretty good at talking things out but there’s always that chance that we could have a big blowout. So I want you to remember that I love you.

I’m still not entirely sure what I did to deserve you, but I don’t regret sending you that message. If anything, I think I should send the Flower team a big bunch of flowers or something for creating the algorithm that brought you up as a match. Imagine if it hadn’t and I’d just deleted the app, we’d have never met and I’d still be lonely and sad.

But we did meet, and I took a chance on you by sending you that embarrassing message. And then you took a chance by actually meeting up with me and going on that date. I still remember it, and I don’t know if I ever told you but I still have the ticket for the escape room. I know you still have yours in your wallet :) Thank you for giving me your time, even if I wasn’t your type. I hope I’m your type now.

I’m not sure that I will ever be able to tell you how important you are to me. Not only myself but my life. You’ve helped me to embrace myself and learn to love myself over the years through kindness. I know my limits in terms of my mental health now and you’ve helped to support me with the medication and the therapist. Neither of those were things I’d been comfortable with doing before your encouragement. But you also gave me a safe space to break down in; somewhere that I knew I could be at my most vulnerable mentally without having to risk being hurt even more.

You held me when I cried, you comforted me when I panicked and you calmed my anxiety over the years. I can never thank you enough for helping me to understand that these aren’t deficiencies and I’m not broken. I just need a little help to get through things sometimes. At the same time, I hope that I’ve become that safe space for you as well. I know that you’re not as emotional as I am, but I feel that you’ve opened up to me about things that hurt you. I’ll keep your secrets safe and I’ll always be here for you!

I hope you’re happy with your life now. With me, and our home and our furbabies. I hope you stay happy, and if you don’t then talk to me. Please. I don’t want us to ever realise that we’re making each other unhappy and I don’t want to ever be the reason for negativity. I want to spend the rest of my life with you in our little home, growing old together as we play board games and dote on our animals while you increase your tattoo collection even more. I know that people like to say that they can’t imagine their lives with their significant other, but I really do feel like that.

My life without you would be hollow and monochrome, as you bring colour to my world and fill it with joy and happiness. I’ve never laughed as much as I have these last few years with you and I know we’ll keep that in our relationship if we try hard.

I don’t really know where this letter is going and I’m babbling now. But I guess the main thing is just that I can’t wait to marry you. It may not be very feminist of me but I can’t wait to take your name and be your wife. I can’t wait to call you my husband. I’m going to be terrified in the ceremony and so nervous but I’ll be happy too, I promise! I still can’t believe that you picked me, out of all the women you’ve seen, to be your girlfriend and then decided that you wanted to marry me.

Jung Hoseok, I solemnly swear to treasure you for the rest of your life and make sure you know how much I love you. I might not be able to tell you all that much, but I’ll show you. I’ll make you smile and laugh, I’ll buy you things that make me think of you, I’ll hug you tight and cuddle you until you’re complaining.

So in case it wasn’t obvious enough, I love you. I just want you to know because I know I suck at telling you, like I said. I’m also bad at writing letters but what’s new? I’ll finish this off quickly so you’re not spending too long reading this. Don’t want to make you late for our wedding after all.

I love you. I love you, Jung Hoseok. I love you, Hobi. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Lots and lots and lots of love, your soon to be wife <333333

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rpgmgames · 5 years ago

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May’s Featured Game: Verloren

DEVELOPER(S): Choko ENGINE: RPG Maker VX Ace GENRE: Horror, Adventure WARNINGS: Flashing images, loud sounds, sudden sounds/images, full list (contains spoilers). SUMMARY: Chris Winter, find himself alone and lost in a black void filled with nothing but coldness. The only warmth you feel comes from your breath. In this void the young boy sees a door filled with light, trying to reach the door only leads to the boy to fall deep into a world filled with nothing but nonsense. Only when you find the key, then you’ll be able to leave.

Download the demo here! Our Interview With The Dev Team Below The Cut!

Introduce yourself! *Choko: Hello, I'm Choko! I'm the developer, artist, and writer for Verloren. I've been messing around with rpg maker since 2013 but finished my first finished game in 2016 which is Desolate Village. I've also made other games since then. Those being Demon Tea, Friend Hunt, and Star Detective. So Verloren isn't my first rodeo in the whole game development stuff, but it is the biggest project I've ever work on so far. Besides game dev stuff, I'm a huge rpg maker games, horror games, rhythm games, and just games with a interesting style to them.

What is your project about? What inspired you to create this game initially? *Choko: Verloren is a horror adventure game that focuses on Chris Winter, a young boy who finds himself alone and far away from home because of this he won't stop for anything to find a way home and learn why did he arrive here. During the course of the game Chris would meet others who have their own goals. What inspired me to make Verloren is a bit hard to say from what I first started to work on it back in 2017, I was mostly trying to work on another project after finishing Desolate Village. It could have been something else but I really forgot. But since I took a huge hiatus year break during 2018, I would personally say the time I actually initially started to work on Verloren was in February of 2019. Since everything was rework with a fresh outlook on everything, so the whole head space with Verloren is totally different from 2017-2018. What inspired me when I went back to rebuild/fix the game was friends, since their support made me feel I could go back to work on the game. During 2018 I would say I wasn't in the best mood while working on the game, so the support my friends gave me really helped a lot and encouraged me.

How long did you work on your project? *Choko: I've been working on Verloren for three years now. But will say 2019 to now is when actually development started/actually got going. 2018 I took the whole year off to cool down/chill. So the Verloren of 2017-2018 is very different from the Verloren of 2019 to now. If that makes sense....

Did any other games or media influence aspects of your project? *Choko: Oh boy, this section might be very long since there's a lot of games and media which inspired/ influences Verloren, though for many different reasons. Will say the two rpg maker games that inspire me a whole lot when it comes to everything they do is Mare and Akademia (I know it's just a demo still at the time writing but it's very good. Good demo, like the characters are great!! Everything is very nice!) Other rpg maker games do inspire me, mainly friend stuff but Mare and Akademia are two games I really love and wish I can make Verloren a game which has characters which feel realistic in a way they do. Like please go play them. Besides rpg maker games will say that NieR Automata, Okage: Shadow King, RE 1/RE 0, Deemo, Rule of Rose, Smile For Me, and the Kirby series are games that just really inspire me with Verloren, there's just certain aspects of them which I hope I can capture in Verloren. Other than video games, I do get a bunch of inspiration from artist I follow, comics/manga, and anime though if I mention all of them it would just lead me to ramble away, but will say Pandora Hearts and Death Parade are two series I really love and both. I just enjoy series that shows character interaction and bonds, because that's a main part in Verloren. I really just get inspire by character development if you couldn't tell..... ^^;

Have you come across any challenges during development? How did you overcome or work around them? *Choko: Besides the 2018 thing I mention earlier. There has been tiny bits of challenges, like with creating maps, since it takes me a while to get into the mood to make them, but wouldn't really call it a challenge. Since all the time I just have to take time away from the map to gain motivation to make them. Another challenge I guess would be writing cut scenes which I love, though it's a whole process of making sure the characters aren't just rambling or going off-topic since when I write I tend to get in character, as in voice act the lines or try to think how they would. Though the process isn't really a bad challenge since it just takes a while until I get it right.

Have any aspects of your project changed over time? How does your current project differ from your initial concept? *Choko: There's been soooooo many changes to this game. The biggest change I would say is the characters, they had a lot of design changes and personality/motivation changes. But other than that, I would say the mood of the game change a lot, also how scenes play it, originally it just felt like stuff happen to happen. Now it makes a lot more sense and isn't just some random thing I added. Sadly I can't list everything that change because that's spoilers but trust me everything change for the better.

What was your team like at the beginning? How did people join the team? If you don’t have a team, do you wish you had one or do you prefer working alone? *Choko: At the beginning there wasn't a team, since I wanted to do everything solo. I mostly enjoy doing art, writing, and eventing the game. Though currently now there is a team, mostly with people I know, it's more so just a critique/feedback team + voice actors. Currently there are only two VAs since I didn't want to focus on voice acting before I had most of the game done, in the far future I may make a post about it. But so far the whole team is more so just a chilling area then anything else and I enjoy all the fun talk that happen there.

What is the best part of developing a game? *Choko: The best part of creating a game is to see the characters you created come to life. I just really enjoy seeing everything come together. Idk I just find it cool that when making a game all starts out as concepts/ ideas and then after days/weeks/months of work it becomes a actually thing you can look at and show others. Most cutscenes in Verloren I get super happy when I finish them up, because I can see them as a real thing rather than a bunch of ideas of "this is what I'm going to do". Also the joke/shitpost memes....they are also the best part of making a game.

Do you find yourself playing other RPG Maker games to see what you can do with the engine, or do you prefer to do your own thing? *Choko: Yep!!! I play a lot of rpg maker games, I really enjoy seeing what other people do. I just find it cool that anyone can pick up the engine and learn how to use it. Also it's a fun way to find inspiration, just seeing other rpg maker games and being like ">:O I didn't know you can do that!!!".

Which character in your game do you relate to the most and why? (Alternatively: Who is your favorite character and why?) *Choko: This question is very hard, mainly because I relate to because a lot of characters in the game I relate to in tiny levels. For my favorite character it's Vladimir....I do like every other character in game. Chris is my second favorite I have to say (kinda a lie since ties with another character) but Vladimir number one, he's just soo much fun to write. He's maybe the one character who has a lot of scenes which gets a huge smile from me.

Looking back now, is there anything that regret/wish you had done differently? *Choko: Not really, mainly since I was lucky to be able to take a huge hiatus which help me in 2019 to rework everything. So every problem I had with the game I fixed.

Do you plan to explore the game’s universe and characters further in subsequent projects, or leave it as-is? *Choko: I would just leave the game alone after I finish Verloren, it's a game that doesn't need any follow ups because I feel it would just take away from the impact when you get to the end. There really isn't anything I would need to explore, since Verloren is meant to be a single game and that's it.

What do you most look forward to upon finishing the game? *Choko: I look forward seeing how people react to the full game, I am low key shock on how people are reacting towards the demo and all the tiny predictions/speculations. Also the warm positive feedback towards Vladimir is shocking, since I thought no one would like him because of all those jokes/puns. I hope the final game has the same positive reaction, also that other characters get a warm positive feedback towards them.

Was there something you were afraid of concerning the development or the release of your game? *Choko: The only thing that worries me is that if I mess up and people can't understand reasons why x character did that. Since one of the main things with Verloren is that characters have their own way if viewing stuff. Like morality is pretty gray because I don't want to write a black and white story.

Do you have any advice for upcoming devs? *Choko: Main advice I'll give out is placeholders are your friend. Don't spend time making assets for a system you didn't test and you test it and it doesn't work. Just have a placeholder graphic which helps you test it and when it's done you can always slap on the asset. Following up with this, create a debug room. It would come in handy to test systems/ events than having to play through your game to test it and learn you need to fix it.

Question from last month's featured dev @cheesesteak-horror: Do you have creative processes you practice before starting development? *Choko: No, not really. I often just jump right into development and go from there. Most of my practice come from when I work on small stuff or just when I'm bored I often just mess around with things.

We mods would like to thank Choko for agreeing to our interview! We believe that featuring the developer and their creative process is just as important as featuring the final product. Hopefully this Q&A segment has been an entertaining and insightful experience for everyone involved!

Remember to check out Verloren if you haven’t already! See you next month!

- Mods Gold & Platinum

#rpg maker #verloren (game)#rpgmaker #indie games #pixel games #demo #game demo #verloren #choko-flan #choko #gotm #game of the month #gotm 2020 #2020 #may #may 2020

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amarevia · 4 years ago

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Thank you! <3

Oh wow. My 2nd Claude von Riegan art dump has reached over 900 notes in a bit over a month. I’m going to celebrate my 9th Tumblr anniversary in January and in all these years, I’ve only ever had one art post that was more popular. Thank you for all the love everyone!

My very first impression of FE3H in the summer of 2018 was "oh my gosh, the yellow archer kid has such a fun design, too bad I don't play Fire Emblem". Then several of my mutuals on Twitter got into the game later in 2019. At first, I was annoyed by the sudden influx of FE3H content on my feed, but then I caught myself liking and saving fanart and eventually looking up info, gameplay videos and even fanfics by my own volition. I first attempted drawing Claude exactly one year ago. And then I just... kept on drawing him. Thanks to him, I eventually gained lots of new followers / mutuals / fandom buddies / commissioners and it's been great. My follower count on Twitter has tripled since one of my Claude drawings went "viral". And I’ve been getting more and more followers on Tumblr too.

I think I haven't been this fired up, inspired and happy to be a content creator since the peak of my Pandora Hearts craze between 2010-2013. Since I only purchased a Switch and the game in May and I’ve only finished one route so far, you’ll probably see more FE3H fanart from me. ;)

Thank you for your support!

#ramblings #followers appreciation post #FE3H #personal #Thank You #fandom #text #text post

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antihero-writings · 5 years ago

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The Things He Left Unsaid--Pandora Hearts Fic for Phmonth Tragedy Trio Week, Day 4: Breath (full fic!)

Title: The Things He Left Unsaid

Synopsis: But he kept it all inside his head/ What he saw he left unsaid/ And though he wanted to/ He couldn't talk to you/ He couldn't find the way/ But he would always say/ If I could tell her/ Tell her everything I see/ If I could tell her/ How she's everything to me/ But we're a million worlds apart/ And I don't know how I would even start. Oswald has never been much for words, but he does care about Lacie…Does he ever tell his sister how much he loves her?

Notes: This was written for @Phmonth19 Tragedy Trio Week, Prompt 4: Breath, as well as the song "If I Could Tell Her" from Dear Evan Hansen. And I hope you guys enjoy it too!! Let me know what you think!! This one goes out to @song-of-amethyst/Maisunadokei1856, who loves Oswald and the Tragedy Trio in general, and deserves more great fics for them, as well as for helping me come up with ideas for this fic, and to @gemini-in-tauro who loves Dear Evan Hansen and Pandora Hearts!! Please go check out their fics!!

Fic:

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“Oh, just that he thinks you’re…wonderful.”

Lacie’s eyes lidded. “This is still my brother we’re talking about?”

Jack laughed a little. “Definitely.”

“Remind me again, how long have you known him?”

“Fine, don’t believe me.” He hugged his knees, “But I’m pretty good at reading people. He’s just…not so much with the words,” he said in a deep voice, imitating the one they were talking about. “But I can tell he really cares about you.”

Lacie looked at the ground, those red eyes flickering. “How can you tell?”

“Well…” Jack looked up into the sky, thinking. “Your smile.” He turned to her, as if appraising that smile…which was not currently present on her face.

“What about my smile?”

“It’s sort of…” he traced patterns in the ground, “subtle, and perfect, and real.”

She scoffed. “What does this have to do with my brother?”

“See, I’ve only been around that smile for a little while, but your brother, well …he’s been around it his whole life. I have trouble believing anyone could be around that smile so long and not fall in love with it.”

“Riight…”

“Let’s see…whenever you get bored you escape your tower to watch the stars, dragging innocent boys into your schemes,” they both smirked, “and make up lyrics to his songs…What’s not to love about that?”

That coerced a smile onto her face. He noticed it, and sat up, continuing.

“He told me about your cooking for him. Like that time you made him a birthday cake.”

“So what?”

“He said it…” he swallowed like he didn’t want to say anything negative about her, “tasted horrible.”

“And?”

“He still ate it, didn’t he?”

She turned to the stream, considering it. “What else? What else did ‘my brother’ notice about me?”

“Well… if nothing else, there’s one I know he notices:” He pushed his hair back behind his ear as a breeze brushed by. “the way you sing and dance. You know, without reserve…like the rest of the world isn’t there.”

“Are you sure these aren’t all things a certain Vessalius boy thinks about me?”

His face split into a grin. “Quite the mystery isn’t it?”

She shoved his shoulder, knocking him, laughing, down into the grass.

“Alright so maybe I can’t know all that.” He sat back up. “But he does love you. I just…don’t think he knows how to tell you.” He paused. “You two are worlds apart, really. He, never straying from the rules. You, the unchanging free spirit.” he looked at her, then at the ground, like he wasn’t supposed to speak the words aloud. “But he does love you.”

She watched an ant crawling in the grass.

“Or maybe he notices when you two are talking about him behind his back!” they started as the object of their discussion spoke.

“O-Oswald!” Jack stood up, brushing himself off. “W-we were just talking about…”

His eyes lidded at him, then he turned to Lacie, who smiled sweetly, finishing Jack’s attempt at a lie with a too-overt truth.

“How much you looove me.”

He rolled his eyes.

*****

To say sleep eluded him wouldn’t have done the scene justice. Instead of resting quietly on his eyelids, sleep pummeled Oswald, tossed and turned him over like dough, sent him to the ground beside his bed, until finally the restlessness of his mind spilled out as tears on his face.

“Nii-sama?”

The little boy hugged his knees, hiding his face.

Lacie’s tiny feet pattered over to him. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“Sure you are.”

He hugged his knees tighter.

“It’s nothing. It’s stupid anyways,” he muttered.

She sat down next to him, pulling a blanket from his upturned bed around both their shoulders.

“You’re right, it probably is.”

He glared at her, revealing his tear-stained cheeks.

“But it’s keeping you up…so it can’t be completely stupid.”

He turned his head to the side, looking away, wiping his nose.

“It’s the ceremony tomorrow, isn’t it?” She cocked her head further to the side, trying to make him see her.

He didn’t reply.

“What are you scared of? …Is it the creepy door? It’s really not that scary once you go in!”

“No…And Master told you not to go in there without permission.”

“You don’t want to have a big ugly bird inside you?” she continued as if she hasn’t heard him.

“No it’s not that…It’s just…”

“You don’t want to drink its blood?”

“No…Ugh…That’s not…”

Lacie cocked her head to the side, at last listening patiently.

At her patience, Oswald turned towards her. “Master Glen keeps talking about how I’m gonna be his next bodily vessel, and I’m honored but…what does that mean?”

She blinked, as if to say What do you mean ‘what does that mean’?

“Well…When he starts putting these ‘Chains’ inside me…when I become Glen…Am I…Am I…Am I gonna stop being… me?” he squeaked, like saying the words allowed made them scarier.

Lacie paused a moment, putting a finger to her chin as if contemplating it, then simply said, “You think too much, Nii-sama.”

He folded his arms and looked away.

“I can’t pretend I understand half of what Glen talks about—”

“Master Glen.”

“—so I don’t really have an answer but…what’s the use worrying about it?”

He slowly turned towards her.

“If you don’t want to be his next ‘bodily vessel’—whatever that means—then why don’t you say something? Do something? Try to change it?”

“No…I-I…do…I mean, at least, I know I should…it’s just…”

“Then why spend time making yourself miserable thinking about what could go wrong? If and when that happens, you’ll be older, right? You’ll understand. You don’t need to keep yourself up thinking about it now.”

“But—”

She put her finger on his lips, then took his face and turned it towards her to tell him she wasn’t finished. “And you’ll always have me. Even if you become some creep, or monster, I’ll still be me. And I’ll be there to punch you if you do.”

A smile crept up onto his face. He rubbed his nose.

That was the first time he felt like he could breathe the whole night.

“You promise?”

She smiled, holding up a fist. “Oh, believe me, I will.”

That smile. More irrefutable than any argument. Like she refused to let the sadness reach her. Just that smile was enough. Enough to push the darkness away, if only for a moment.

She pulled him into a hug, and they rested their heads on each other’s shoulders.

He wanted to tell her. To tell her how much that smile meant to him. How grateful he was that she had cheered him up. How grateful he was to have her. How much it meant to hear that she wasn’t going anywhere, and she’d make sure he wasn’t going anywhere either. How much hope she gave him.

He took a deep breath.

He wanted to use it to say ‘I love you, Lacie.’

Instead he let it out.

*****

Lacie had always been atrocious in the kitchen.

Not just that she didn’t know how to cook, bake, or otherwise hold a whisk. She decimated the space. Even the simplest of recipes would end with the counters covered in sauce, batter, frosting, or other undisclosed semi-liquids; the bowls stacked around the room like she’d been trying to create a tower with them; spoons, spatulas, knives, and other utensils strewn about like they’d gotten lost on the way to the drawers. And that was nothing to say of the chef herself; her advancements in the field left her face and dress covered in ingredients. The servants always played rock-paper-scissors over who would have to clean her dresses after these endeavors (aprons, apparently, were too restricting… and her dress would get covered somehow, even if she wore them).

But it was Oswald’s birthday.

And she would be damned if she wasn’t going to bake him a cake.

The moment they learned of her plot, the servants, and any other people who didn’t want to end up in the splash zone, sectioned off the area as if it were a crime scene.

There was one, however, who didn’t mind insane situations, in fact quite enjoyed running straight into the daydreams of deranged little girls, and never missed a date with madness.

A few of the servants raised a finger as he walked by, as if to warn him, but thought better of it.

Glen opened the door, ducking as a spatula landed centimeters from his head, without a change in expression.

“This stupid batter won’t listen to me!” the little girl slammed her fists on the counter as another spoon clattered to the ground.

He chuckled. “Well, what exactly have you be telling it? Maybe if you stopped insulting it and actually had a decent conversation it’d be more prone to listen to you.”

She scowled at him.

He strolled over to her, throwing a “Let’s see what kind of mess we’re dealing with here,” over his shoulder as he observed the mangled batter. He dipped his finger in and tasted the concoction from which getting salmonella was the least of his worries. “Have you tried adding sugar? It always helps spruce things up.”

“Hmm,” Lacie grunted, pattering over to the opposite counter, stretching for the sugar container against the back wall. She glared at him when reached over and grabbed it with ease, dropping it in her hands, as if she wanted to do this all on her own.

“Now what?”

“Well, I’d suggest you add it in and mix it, but that’s just me.”

She proceeded to add it in in handfuls without measuring.

“This might help,” he slid a measuring cup over to her.

She used it…just not in the intended way; she didn’t pay attention to all those pesky little lines.

“Can we add chocolate?” she asked when she had sufficiently smothered the batter in sugar.

“Sure, add whatever you want,” he sang, grinning as she found the cocoa powder and, once again, paid no regard for rules or recipes.

They proceeded to spend at least another hour like this, with Glen giving her vague instruction, Lacie pouting as she followed it with her own flair.

In the end two chocolate covered gremlins stared down at their droopy, half-frosted baby and grinned…for very different reasons.

Glen went to retrieve Oswald, and once they finished dinner, they sang to him, presenting the monstrosity (which, if it was remotely edible, was only due to Glen’s suggestions).

Oswald stared at the slowly wilting gift like it was an insurmountable mountain he’d just been asked to climb.

He had some experience with Lacie’s kitchen adventures. One time she tried to feed him something she called “The Lacie special” but he was sure was a frog she accidently set fire to (…needless to say he did not finish). Another time she’d actually tried to make him a decent meal, and forced himself to eat enough of it that he spent the night puking it up. And now, apparently, he was supposed to eat this…thing in front of him.

Glen cut him a too-large piece and slid it over to him with a grin, and the air of an executioner serving a criminal his doom.

Oswald swallowed, digging his fork in with determination, then brought it to his mouth, preparing himself for the assault that was about to happen.

It wasn’t…good. Too sweet and too bitter at the same time, and the texture all wrong.

But it also wasn’t as bad as it could have been.

“What do you think, Nii-sama?”

He wanted to tell her the truth.

“Mmm hmm” he grunted, trying to sound satisfied.

She beamed proudly. “Good!” she pushed the plate closer to him. “There’s plenty more where that came from!”

Oswald looked to Glen for mercy, only to find he was trying to stifle his laughter.

He continued to shovel bites into his mouth, hoping this wouldn’t be the end of him.

He wanted to make up some excuse, wanted someone to rescue him.

But that would erase the smile from her face.

He wanted to tell her, regardless of how it actually tasted, how happy it made him that she would do this for him. He wanted to tell her how much it meant to him that she spent the day making this for him. He wanted to tell her that every birthday is happy as long as she’s in it.

He swallowed, taking a deep breath.

He wanted to say ‘I love you’.

Instead he kept eating the cake.

*****

When Oswald arrived at the top of the tower, his sister was nowhere to be found.

This wasn’t exactly a rarity. Lacie wasn’t the kind of person who liked to sit in towers quietly, talking to the birds and dreaming of a world out there. She went out and grabbed everything off the world’s shelves herself.

He picked up a few stray socks and ribbons—(he always found himself cleaning up her messes)—and stepped up to the window to close the curtains for evening.

…There she was, sprawled out on the grass outside.

He banged his head against the windowframe.

He knew well she was plagued by countless whims and impulses, and unburdened by a sense of discipline over them…still, why she would be out at this hour exactly was beyond him.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” He asked when her impulses had dragged him outside too.

“Shouldn’t you be?” she smirked.

He looked away, folding his arms, daring not to say you’re the reason I’m out here.

She patted the grass next to her as if she’s saved him a seat at the opera.

He rolled his eyes, but sat down all the same.

“What exactly are we doing out here?”

“What does it look like? Stargazing.”

His folded his arms, incensed there was a reasonable explanation for all this.

“What rhymes with ‘purple’?” she asked after a moment.

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“The color.”

“I know what you meant… I’m just having a difficult time connecting stargazing to rhymes with purple.”

“They’re not connected, dummy.”

She pushed him down into the grass, making sure he didn’t miss her favorite show.

“I’m making up lyrics to one of your songs.”

“Oh.” His eyes widened at both her actions and her responses, then he paused, staring up into the pockmarked sky, admiring the view, thinking. “…I don’t think there are any rhymes for purple.”

“There must be…” she rested her head on his chest, staring up at the stars herself, “Maybe they just haven’t been invented.” She traced patterns on the back of his hand.

“You’d like to invent a word for one of my songs?”

“Maybe. Why? Are you against ‘shmurple’ being a word in one of your songs?”

“I’m not for it.”

She laughed. “Fine, I’ll pick a boring, real word.”

He carded his free hand through her hair, trying not to smile.

This was… nice.

He wanted to tell her off for escaping her tower, especially at this hour, but she had a way of pulling people into her antics, even her law-abiding brother at times.

Now, laying out in the grass, golden lights keeping watch over them, their breath carried away by the breeze…he thought he might like to stay.

He wanted to tell her that. How grateful he was for moments like this. That he wished this star-struck moment could last forever. Just him and his little sister hiding away from the rest of the world. Just Oswald and Lacie, no ill omens, no Baskervilles, no trials nor Juries, nor cursed titles and the responsibilities that came with them.

He took a deep breath.

He wanted to use it to say ‘I love you.’

Instead he let the stars have their moment.

*****

Another area in which Lacie had little to no expertise was, ironically, needlework. Plenty of girls in this day and age were prone to sitting on the couch quietly and embroidering, crocheting, sewing up a dress, knitting scarves, and other various projects that required needle and thread.

As established, Lacie, first of all, was not the type of girl who sat quietly on couches in general. She’d always been a rather squirmy child, preferring to go outside and play tag to sitting inside and reading, so the activity didn’t fit her personality in the first place.

Second of all the details had always frustrated her—too fiddly to keep her attention. All those tiny stitches, every one needed to be perfect, or it would throw off the balance of the whole ensemble…She liked when things were imperfect.

But she had to maintain appearances, and when she ripped her dress on one of her many adventures, it was her job to sew it back up again without anyone knowing.

‘Without anyone knowing’ being the key issue here.

“What’s that?” Oswald asked at one of the many parties hosted by the Baskervilles.

“Don’t be rude, Nii-sama! Just because you don’t think she’s pretty doesn’t mean she’s a thing!”

He tugged at the helter-skelter sewing job on her dress.

“Hey! What business do you have grabbing a lady’s dress!” she whisper-shouted—(though a few people still heard, and stared their direction, inching away)—in mock outrage.

He glanced out at the people, then returned to the object of discord, running his fingers along the haphazard stitching. “What happened?”

“If you must know…” she explained, knowing he had every idea what actually happened, “I was sitting in my tower, like a good girl, and suddenly this bird flew in and ripped it.”

Oswald’s eyes lidded.

“Terrible isn’t it?”

He grabbed her arm, pulling her through the crowd.

“First grabbing my dress, then my arm?! My, sir! You’re very forward.”

He rolled his eyes, bringing her to one of the servant’s rooms.

“Take that off.”

“Excuse me?!” she folded her arms over her chest.

“You can’t go walking around at a party in a ripped dress.” He rummaged in one of the drawers, picking out a needle and the correct color of thread. “It reflects poorly on Baskerville name.”

She puffed out her cheeks, like she didn’t really care about said name. “Fine.”

She slipped off her dress with barely a regard for modesty, revealing the petticoat underneath, dropping it unceremoniously into his outstretched hand.

He set it down on the desk, threading the needle and finding the blemish.

Always a source of embarrassment, his personality, on the other hand, always calm and calculated, following the rules and hating messes and imperfection, lent itself quite well to the delicate art of needlework.

Lacie stepped up to the window—(…where anyone could see her…)—observing the courtyard and any guests meandering through it.

As Oswald took a closer look at her inexpert attempt, he realized that she hadn’t simply poorly executed the patch…she had actually tried to create a little design. It looked to be a crude outline of a rabbit. He tried not to smile upon seeing it, proceeding to undo her efforts and begin his own.

Lacie wandered about the room, picking up objects, putting them down, making jokes about the paintings, before standing quietly and watching over his shoulder. He easily dragged the needle through the fabric, and there was a mesmerizing quality to the ease with which he could accomplish perfectly what was an impossible undertaking for her.

“My, Nii-sama,” she rested her arms on his head, “if I didn’t know better I’d think you were an old lady.”

He paused, eyes flickering to her resentfully, before resuming.

Once he finished, he held up the freshly repaired dress to examine it.

“Try to be more careful next time, alright?” he advised as he held it out for her, staring intently at her, “We wouldn’t want anymore birds swooping in and ripping it again, now would we?”

“Anything for you, Nii-sama!” she smiled too-sweetly and kissed his cheek, throwing it back on and rushing back into the soiree.

He stared after her.

Always so reckless, so quick to follow her desires—and not instruction—without regard for the consequences. Whether it be rushing off on some self-appointed quest, back into the party, making improper jokes, or creating a little design instead of just fixing what she’d broken. Barely a warning, a ‘please,’ or ‘thank you’ along the way.

Still, he reasoned as he put the supplies away, even though it annoyed him at times, he admired her.

He never did anything without calculating the risks first, and always followed directions, sometimes too closely. He did things by the book, without flourishes. To speak of birds…he was the bird that stayed in the cage like he was supposed to. She was the one who picked the lock and broke out into the sky, and drew pictures in the clouds with her wings. …Sometimes he wished he had the guts to fly with her.

He wanted to tell her how he appreciated her at least attempting to fix what she’d broken…he wanted to tell her how cute the little bunny she made was.

Instead of reprimanding her…sometimes he wanted to say ‘Thank you. Thank you for the adventures, and the jokes, and the whimsy, and the messes. I don’t get enough of that.’

He didn’t really want to tell her not to go on adventures…he wanted to tell her to take him with her next time.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t do that. Couldn’t allow it. Couldn’t tell her.

He could, at least, tell her he loved her.

But when he returned to her side, he merely listened to her conversations--(now a perfect representation of a Baskerville lady...at least in appearance. She may or may not have proceeded to speak with the guests about numerous risqué things...)

*****

Oswald’s fingers darted from note to note on the piano like a bird, carried free by the notes, the melody coming from his soul rather than his body.

He wasn’t the only bird here; with every flourish of the keys came another twirl from the woman beside him, lyrics spilling from her soul too, as if she wasn’t tied to the ground.

His eyes flicked from the keys, to the music, to her.

This was…beautiful. The song. Her lyrics. Her dance. This moment.

She was beautiful like this.

He never understood how she could dance and sing so freely, like it was just her and the music. If he ever tried to dance he tripped into something (more than likely another dancer), or else didn’t look very elegant. Whenever he sang he cared too much who heard him, who was watching, and if it sounded good, to get any true assessment of his abilities. Besides, he didn’t have the mind for lyrics. Words got all tangled up in his brain. Notes were simple, planned, and didn’t have all these meanings that could ram into each other, tie themselves up in knots, and get lost in translation. With notes he just had to put one after the other.

Yet from the first step she took, her whole life was a dance. So when she truly danced, it was something that transcended her own life; she was in another world, completely unaware of those around her, or even her own body…she was the song now.

The music closed off with an enchanting crescendo, the notes growing faster, her voice raising higher, until the song ended, and suddenly there was silence.

Slowly his fingers came to rest above the keys.

She walked up to him, smiling and panting for breath, leaning on the piano.

“That was wonderful Nii-sama, wasn’t it?”

He wanted to say Yes. Yes, it was wonderful, I loved your lyrics—(could do without the ‘shmurple’)—and your dance. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she looked when she’s dancing, how wonderful her voice was, and how much he liked the lyrics she gave his song.

He wanted to ask her how she could dance like that, like the rest of the world wasn’t there, and she was alone in the room with the song. Like she was the song. He wanted to ask her what she saw, heard, felt in the music that he didn’t, how, why she looked so free when she was dancing. What the beautiful messes and imperfections were beneath the calculations.

He wanted to say you were wonderful.

“How do you…do that?” he asked at least.

“Do what?”

“…Dance like that.”

“What’s that saying?” she put a finger to her chin, “‘Eat, drink, be merry, for tomorrow we die’?”

His eyes widened.

Instead of noticing his shock, she smiled, continuing. “Something like that.”

His gaze, dropped, along with the bottom out of his stomach.

And his thoughts changed direction. Now he wanted to say he was sorry, that she shouldn’t have to die. He wanted to bang on Glen’s door and demand that she live, that he not have to kill her—Lacie, his little sister, who he loved. He should be the one to protect her from all things that dared hurt her. He wanted to say that that’s no good reason to dance so beautifully, that she should dance for tomorrow, not just today.

“I’m starving!” She took his hand and pulled him up. “Let’s get something to eat! Maybe some meat?”

He liked her alive. He liked the songs, and the dances, and their meals, and conversations, and adventures. All that would end when she died. He wanted to tell her just how much he wanted her to stay alive.

And that night, when sleep bullied him like it did all those years ago, he wanted to run to her room, to weep on her shoulder and say how much he was dreading the ceremony, how much he wished she didn’t have to die, how he didn’t want to kill her, that he was going to fight it after all. He wanted to beg her to take him off on one of her adventures, so they both stay alive…stay the Oswald and Lacie they were all those years ago, beneath the stars.

He wanted to say ‘I love you.’ ‘I love you.’ ‘I love you so much.’ ‘Don’t leave me here alone.’ ‘Punch me in the face, I’ve become a monster, just don’t sit quietly and let it happen.’

‘I love you, Lacie.’

But he stayed in bed.

*****

It was a lovely ceremony. Everyone thought so. Everything went flawlessly, each cue followed without a single hiccup.

The Baskervilles bowed profusely to him, and spoke of how honored they were to have such a decisive and devoted leader. Levi—(Levi now, not Master Glen anymore)—had commended him for an impeccable performance—

(it wasn’t a performance was it? They all treated like it was some glorious show, but this was real. This was…this was blood and death and—)

There had been no tears when she died. This was not sad. This was not loss. This was justice. This was virtuous, and noble, and proper, and right. Everyone had told him so since they were children. That’s all her death was, a period at the end of a sentence. The signing of a contract.

(A contract selling his soul.)

And he almost believed them. From the very beginning this whole becoming Glen thing was a great honor, a golden opportunity, and the margin for error, for what if they’re, what if this is, wrong? was a small black spot in the corner on an otherwise spotless painting. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, didn’t dare let that spot consume this immaculate image, made by people who knew better than him.

Everything perfect. In its place. No hiccups. No spots. No broken rules, or uncalculated errors.

No messes.

That’s all she was to them. A mess Glen made, that he needed to clean up.

Glen slipped into his quarters after the dinner, after shaking hands with all the friends and strangers who had come to watch, congratulating him for earning such a privilege as the name ‘Glen.’

Glen did not retire early, did not tell them it wasn’t the honor they thought it was, did not show anything was amiss. For nothing was.

That day he was some sort of machine, an automaton sent and meant to follow others’ bidding, and he did so without a slip. He was built to be the master of the Baskervilles, and carry on their name properly, programmed to eradicate every distortion against this design, especially those anomalies created by him. If he made a single mistake, it meant something was wrong with his code, with the calculations he was made of. Glen held himself high, and breathed easy, guiltless and free.

However, when he arrived in his bedroom he did not hang his cloak up neatly in the wardrobe. He did not pour himself a nightcap and slip into his nightclothes, before sliding into bed and sleeping soundly, knowing he’d received a great reward, and done his job well, as he was programmed to.

Nothing was wrong. Nothing was wrong with what he’d done. Nothing was wrong with him.

Glen was, as he should be, the picture of the Baskervilles. Glen had done everything right, and was marked with a name that said he would continue to do so…if not, the chains holding the world together might just fall apart.

Oswald hadn’t taken a single breath that day.

Try as he might to deny it, there was still something human left in Oswald.

When he clicked the door shut behind him, he stayed there a moment. He pulled off his red cloak, jacket, and cravat slowly, and threw them it onto a chair with a certain violence, tossing off his socks and not caring where they landed, before leaning his head back against the grain of the door.

Now, now that he was alone, out of the reach of those who programmed him, allowed to be flesh and blood, allowed to breathe again… every breath he should have been taking that day slammed into his lungs at once, tumbling one after another, punching, dragging their nails along the back of his throat as they climbed onto his tongue, then fell from his lips like blood.

He was not metal and mandates. Not here. Here he was…so very alive.

Oswald was becoming painfully aware of just how alive he was.

How many breaths had he taken in the last minute? Five? Twenty? Fifty? A hundred? A thousand? Stolen from the atmosphere. Stolen from…

Had he had this many breaths before? Had his life been composed of this much air? Every second, every minute, every hour. Every day, every week, every year. A chain of breaths, each one a reminder he was still alive, he was still him.

All he needed was one. All he would have ever needed to use was one.

One to speak her name.

One to tell her. To tell her how much she meant to him.

One breath

“You sin is…”

Two breaths.

“That you were born with these eyes of ill omen…”

Three.

“…and that you are a threat to the peace of the Abyss.”

Inhale

Your sin is…

Exhale.

Your very existence.

He put his face in his hand, his hair leaking between the cracks in his fingers.

All he needed was one.

But he could have used more. He could have taken five to say a sentence. Thirty to say a paragraph. He could have taken a couple hundred to make a speech or two. He had enough to spare. He could steal that many before getting caught.

Instead, they tuned his tongue into a weapon…and he let them.

All he needed was one. One to tell her.

To tell this girl that her smile was, at times, the only thing that kept him going. To tell this girl how much he appreciated how she spent her time baking for him, and sewing bunnies into her dresses. How much he loved those moments when he sat with this girl and watched the stars. How much he loved the lyrics she gave to his songs. How much he loved watching her run from her cage, and fate, and dance like she’d die tomorrow.

To tell this girl that her very existence was much more than a gift, rather at times the only thing that kept him alive, kept him sane, kept him him.

All he needed was one breath.

And he used his breath to tell her that her existence was a crime. To follow his program, the script set for him. Instead he chained this girl, wild and free, to the ground, and the ceiling. He used his breath to her to steal hers away.

In all those years he could have paid a single breath to make his thoughts reach her.

Right now he’d pay all of them.

He slid down the door till he was sitting on the ground.

“Say something. Do Something.”

He could have fought this. Long ago. He could have done something. Back then he could have said he didn’t want to be Glen after all. He could have run from the house with her and never come back. He could have run away all those years ago.

He could have run away yesterday.

Today he could have done something. He could have not stood before that door, and drank that blood. He could have said “I won’t be Glen. I’d rather she lived.” He could have stood up, the Jabberwocky’s blood in his veins, and said “No, no I won’t do it. I won’t kill her. I’m Glen now, and now I say she lives.”

And even if he had kicked and screamed, and lost all the same… he could have told her. Told her how much he cared. He would have at least had that.

It seemed so simple.

Thank you.

Thank you for your smile. You never knew how wonderful it could make someone feel.

Thank you for the cake. I hated the taste, but I loved the look on your face.

Thank you for the starlit evenings, and the lyrics I couldn’t come up with.

Thank you for the whimsy, and the adventures, and the messes.

Thank you for the music, and dances.

Thank you for…existing.

It wasn’t that hard to say.

So why had the words died every time they rose to the surface? Why had he let those breaths out instead of taming them into words?

“I love you.”

Three little words. One breath. Half a breath. Why had they seemed so big and unconquerable, and hard to get out all those years?

And he realized, that breath catching in his throat, that today, here, now, now that she was in the Abyss, now that she was gone, now that he’d never be able to say those things to her—

He had said the words aloud.

All those years, thinking and waiting and wondering, them simmering beneath the surface, never able to reach the air.

Now he had spoken them without even taking a second to consider them, the breath, the words, falling from his lips without him knowing, calculating, or thinking.

And once they spilled out, they started to simmer and burn on his tongue, they started to bubble, like all those breaths hitting him at once; all those years of silence, crying out;

“I love you.” He whispered into his fingers, like the words were the discordant notes to a broken music box, “I love you. I love you. I love you…Lacie…”

And with her name, the name of the girl with red eyes and an untamable heart, he felt something burn in his own eyes.

This wasn’t just some girl. This was Lacie. The one who sat with her brother and comforted him when he was sad, who joked with her brother, and dragged him outside, and made a beautiful mess of things. Not a child of ill omen. Not a distortion to be eradicated. Not a mess herself. This was his sister, who he loved.

It always felt like they were in different dimensions, but now they really were worlds apart, divided by time and space and—

This was his sister. Who didn’t deserve to die.

Glen was an impeccable leader. Glen didn’t hesitate to kill that which posed a threat. Glen wasn’t sad. Glen did what needed to be done, and it didn’t matter who she was.

But Oswald felt the drops against his skin, his hands unable to dam up the stream, the image of his sister hanging from the ceiling, and his own voice putting her there burning in his memory.

All Oswald wanted was to hear his sister’s feet patter up to him. All he wanted was to see his sister smile again. All he wanted was to eat his sister’s horrible cakes again. All he wanted was to sit and watch the stars with his sister, and come up with rhymes for words that have none. All he wanted was to clean up his sister’s messy room, and fix her ripped dresses. All he wanted was to be able to tell his sister off for running off on some adventure. All he wanted was to hear his sister sing, watch her dance, again. All he wanted was to feel his sister’s hands on his head, and her breathe into his hair sweet words about how she loved the world that hated her.

How she loved the brother that killed her.

He tried to let out this breath, but it would only come out in pieces, letters, words, now, always the same ones, the words, unsaid, that would forever haunt his lips;

“I love you, Lacie.”

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