#yes this is about Gil and Vince

[existingtm]

(as if it's an everyday inconvenience) could you PLEASE stop serial killing people? it's so not good for you 🙄 you make me worry

[lana7779]

They look extra gay because I have no chill.

Ot3 rambles under the cut for those interested!

Ever just love three characters so much you decide to make them work despite two of them explicitly canonically hating each other, the other two are biological brothers, and the third pairing has a 15 year age gap?(Wow, that sounded a lot less problematic in my head...)

Anyways!

They're in love, your honour.

All three of them. Between each other. I refuse to see it any other way. (If you don't agree, that's perfectly fine, these are just my personal Ot3 thoughts.)

Break made little Vince's wish come true by reuniting him with his long lost brother. I wonder how much of Vince's wish influenced Break's decision to make Gil his left eye within the Nightray manor. Would he have asked the same of any poor sap he found out in the rain, or did he conveniently do it because he knew the Nightrays held his brother there and it was his way of giving back to this child he was somehow connected with through the Abyss? His ill omened little brother.

Did Vince put two and two together that it was Break who brought him Gil? Did that ever come up in conversation between them? Like "how convenient that I asked you to send anyone matching Gil's description to the Nightray manor and one day Gil just showed up wrapped up in a bow for adoption."

With that said, Vince's childhood was so messed up... so bloody messed up, my heart weeps for him. No wonder he started showing these incestuous tendencies towards his own brother, who was the only good thing in his life. It's his coping mechanism in a sense, to love his brother above anything else so... passionately.

Frankly, Gil is no less messed up because of his own childhood, but he wants to feel needed, and he is certainly needed by both Vince and Break. Reluctantly, and after a lot of soul searching, he accepts Vince for who he is, and of course he accepts Break, which comes with a lot of teasing and pushing him to his limits. Without Break, he wouldn't be half of the person he could be if the other wouldn't be pushing him beyond his limit constantly (as any good mentor should).

And yes, though Break teases Gil a lot about being mopey and useless, he'd never let anything actually happen to Gil and actually only ever has his best interests in mind, at least on a psychological level. So whether they like it or not, they need each other and rely on each other to be at their best. Gil, via cooking for and maintaining Break's health, and Break, via literally pulling Gil out of brainwashed psychosis.

Similarly, because of Break's caring nature, he can't let Vince commit the irreversible, and that finally slaps some sense into dear ol' Vince to recognize that Break isn't the bad guy, and perhaps he never was.

And thus, with this mutual trust, shared by some deep seated trauma between each other, I see them all bonding with each other and forming deeper connections over time that would lead into a healthy relationship.

At first I thought Gil would be the sole key keeping them together and happy, but after finding all the crumbs that support that Vince and Break could very much work with each other as well, yeah, I think that each pair can exist happily independent of each other, but by God is it so much better to just imagine them polyamourously working together.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk, this is my first ot3, and I have entirely too many thoughts about them. 💖

[glitchinginthegarden]

thinking about vaye's relationships with her friends and i've realized that the reason i made friends for her was because none of the in-game friendships really stuck to me

like sure, yeah, panam's ride or die but i think if i had to pick a close canon friend for vaye, it would be judy and even then, i don't feel like there was enough of a foundation there outside of what could essentially be called trauma-bonding over evelyn

(yes, yes, this is what fanfic is for, i know - and i intend to build better relationships for vaye BUT STILL)

i'm not even counting river tbh (sorry dude) they're acquaintances to me after finishing up The Hunt line of quests, everything else feels like a shoehorned, milquetoast, white-picket-fenced funnel toward bland domesticity (looking at you, joss) there isn't really much of a middle ground to stand on for a fem v to just be friends with river

and then there's kerry i love kerry, he has a lot of depth and i feel like he deserved a little more exploration than just the Us Cracks drama and blowing up a yacht (respect) he would be second place on vaye's friend list but again, when we bond with kerry it's revolving around someone else

i don't have a point to this

except to maybe say that i wish there had been platonic options for the I Really Wanna Stay At Your House addition to the game or just...maybe i dunno i love romancing people in games, i do, but i want more friend options i guess and that's why i ended up making gil and delilah, and hell even vince - i needed relationships that didn't start within the frame of "romance option"

[wronghandcomic]

16 for the Pride themed OC ask

Yes actually.

It's not very common for me to do simply because I think a lot about a characters gender and sexuality as part if making them, but there a couple of them I have changed.

One of them is Gil who is a newer character. I waffled on whether he'd be trans or cis and was going to make him trans at first. However he's one of the love interests in the nsfw spin off and there's already a transman love interest so it felt silly to double up. Vince I actually conceived as cis at first because he was going to be a background minor character in Wrong Hand. After coming up with the nsfw spin off idea I changed him to trans.

Jackie (originally Janet) is another character who started off as a cis lesbian who used she/her and now uses he/him and is a transmasc lesbian. Somewhere in that spectrum.

There's another character who has gone through a change, but it's something that I'm going to make into a story/character arc for her so I won't talk about it here.

[fivekrystalpetals]

Not having your live reading of Pandora Hearts will be sad ! I loved seing your analysis, I'm happy you enjoyed it :3

Awwww thank you so much ❤!! yes it’s gonna be so sad for me too to not have my weekly live screaming sessions,, nooo this masterpiece of a story got over ;_; as they say, every good thing has to come to an end (nooooo~) so we gotta enjoy it till it lasts ;_; [I want to reread it again, but not anytime now... I need time to recover, sadly it seems I am getting increasingly upset and frustrated seeing A Certain Someone’s logic and arguments so I need some time to get over it and read again with a clearer mind; lol I generally don't get this upset over a fictional character but this guy’s character resonate a lot with someone ik ig that’s why I associate one with the other in my mind idk]

Break continues to be my favorite character which is honestly a surprise bc I tend to change my favorite midway through the series (I am not faithful shhh); Lottie and Lacie come a close second (well-written female characters tho they had not enough screen time (at least not for me, I wanted to see more of them!), they have lots of gaps and flaws I can develop on in my mind and in my fics if I ever post anything) 

The two Alices, Oz and Gil: they are my babies now I adopted them, already signed adoption papers and all 💪 (once again, a surprise bc I hardly ever care about the main characters but these four are just... made-to-be-loved how dare anyone hurt them?!?!? *looking at a Certain Someone 🔪🔪* I just wish we saw more of Alyss and her thoughts, likes, dislikes etc. before the end. Since Cheshire loved her but was dead scared of our Alice, Alyss must have craved for meat less lol) 

Fun fact: my favorite arc in Pandora Hearts still remains *drumroll* Headhunter Arc my beloved <3 

not only was it mochijun’s super self-indulgent glamorous-makeover-for-all-my-characters arc but also has some of the best cliffhangers, plot twists and lore—humpty-dumpty (this chain damn!), Fianna’s house and their eerie ritual of making contractors out of little homeless kids, the doings of Isla Yura, his cult of Jack worshippers and the Nightrays (except Elliot ofc) all gave me chills and thrills, kept me to the edge of the seat,, say, if you see, I have less live drafts for that arc, it’s because... I was so invested in the story I couldn't even bother to pause and log on to tumblr; I just had to get to the end. It was like a standalone, little whodunit+thriller story arc with Eliot as the detective/protagonist set out to investigate his family’s curse ;_; and then the final reveal of the actual criminal (Retrace 61) 😭 (something I had guessed at in the beginning from Lottie’s words but the rat is just that good at distracting us from the truth =_=)

The rest of the story is, well, do I need to explain aghfhshfg why is this story so compact and coherent and filled with so much foreshadowing right from the first panel of the Retrace 1 that it still gives me goosebumps (I was actually talking about Retrace 76/77 with my friend (no, not specifying names or giving out spoilers, she hasn’t read PH yet and I am slowly luring her in with a carrot into this rabbit hole)—kinda like: See? I think I have uncovered a huge conspiracy theory— you know the suspected immortals in our world? I think they never die but go full Benjamin Button mode back and forth! She is super interested to know more and I am waiting to cast The Question: *conspiratorial tone* Do you wanna read something with a plot like that?)

ahhhh lol I was rambling but thank you so much for sticking around with me til the end, reading my analysis and posts (most of them were my incoherent screams fgsghghsj) and for this ask! It was so sweet of you <3 <3 And although I ran out of my live drafts, I do plan on writing a lot on the other characters too (in fact, I have three posts—character analysis of sorts—about Oswald, Gil, Vince and the Baskervilles in general—in my drafts and then, a few others in plans.) I will also be screaming (and probs writing fics bc what else to do when a ship takes its roots inside your head) about my favorite ship ahem ahem, which no one but me likes 😭😭, so that too.

So no worries, PH brainrot is going strong! my reactions on tumblr is actually minimal,, only about 10% of how much of a nuisance I was with people here irl at Certain Points in the story lmaohgjsgj

[ulkaralakbarova]

The government gets wind of a plot to destroy America involving a trio of nuclear weapons for which the whereabouts are unknown. It’s up to a seasoned interrogator and an FBI agent to find out exactly where the nukes are. Credits: TheMovieDb. Film Cast: Henry Harold ‘H’ Humphries: Samuel L. Jackson Agent Helen Brody: Carrie-Anne Moss Steven Arthur Younger: Michael Sheen Charles Thompson: Stephen Root Rina Humphries: Lora Kojovic Jack Saunders: Martin Donovan Agent Vincent: Gil Bellows Agent Leandro: Vincent Laresca Agent D.J Jackson: Brandon Routh Agent Phillips: Joshua Harto General Paulson: Holmes Osborne Col. Kerkmejian: Michael Rose Mr. Bradley: Randy Oglesby Alvarez: Benito Martinez Lubitchich: Sasha Roiz Winston: Dayo Ade Katie: Yara Shahidi Peter Humphries: Sayeed Shahidi Jehan Younger: Necar Zadegan Samura Younger: Jillian Bruno Ali Younger: Coby Seyrafi Major Pierce: Chris McGarry CNN Announcer: Angela Martinez ESPN Host: David E. Willis Young Sergent: Geoff Meed Observer: Kirk B.R. Woller TV News Announcer: Kelly Vaughn Announcer #2: Bill A. Jones Soldier: Phil Somerville Bomb Disposal Expert: Austin Nichols Pedestrian with Child: Delaine Yates Film Crew: Casting: John Papsidera Music: Graeme Revell Stunt Coordinator: Charles Croughwell Producer: Bill Perkins Producer: Marco Weber Director of Photography: Oliver Stapleton Line Producer: Samson Mucke Writer: Peter Woodward Visual Effects: Chris Ervin Key Hair Stylist: Robert L. Stevenson Producer: Caldecot Chubb Producer: Vanessa Coifman Editor: Scott Chestnut Director: Gregor Jordan Production Design: Steven Jones-Evans Key Makeup Artist: Francisco X. Pérez Makeup Department Head: Allan A. Apone Digital Intermediate: Keith Shaw Still Photographer: Dale Robinette Camera Operator: Chris Lombardi Art Direction: Nick Ralbovsky Visual Effects: Lucas Krost Costume Design: Danielle Hollowell Executive Producer: Vince Cirrincione Executive Producer: Rachel Rose Set Decoration: Amber Haley Gaffer: Jack English Costume Supervisor: Marisa Aboitiz Supervising Sound Editor: Chad J. Hughes ADR Supervisor: Angela Hemingway Sound Re-Recording Mixer: Jonathan Wales Music Editor: Ashley Revell Property Master: Guillaume DeLouche Special Effects Coordinator: William Dawson Script Supervisor: Tracy Scott Dolly Grip: Sam Stewart First Assistant Camera: Patrick McArdle Digital Intermediate: Brian Beard Key Grip: Patrick R. Heffernan Casting Associate: Jennifer Cram Lighting Technician: Jesse Mather Lighting Technician: Simone Perusse Prosthetic Makeup Artist: Brad Look Digital Intermediate: James Ahern Dolly Grip: Jeff Smith Construction Coordinator: Lars Petersen Movie Reviews: DoryDarko: Unthinkable raises a question which has been an issue for many people all over the world for a very long time, and especially since 9/11. This question is, is it ever justified to torture an individual to save the lives of many? And if the answer is yes, how far can you go? This issue is indeed a very sensitive subject and I think it takes guts for any filmmaker to put it out there in the open like Gregor Jordan did. Add to that the clever fact that he doesn’t actually make a choice, but rather lets the audience decide on whatever they want to think and feel, and you have a pretty gutsy and controversial concept. In a nutshell, this film is about a man of American descent who has become a Muslim and has now, as an act of terrorism, planted 3 nuclear bombs in 3 major American cities which will go off in four days. Screenwriter Peter Woodward made some very tactical decisions considering the characters in the story. They are all somewhat stereotypical, but this is no bother because they’re all there for a reason. Carrie-Anne Moss, as an FBI investigator, represents the conscience, the sensitivity and the struggle to make the right decision. Samuel L. Jackson is her polar opposite; the brutal, rational, stone cold “interrogator” who does what he does because he’s the only one who can and willing to do it. The means he is willing to go to in order to get his subject to talk ...

[antihero-writings]

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.”

[this-idiots-left-eye]

Premonitions 

Fandom: Pandora Hearts

Character Focus: Glen (Oswald) Baskerville, 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. I definitely enjoyed writing some! It's something I've wanted to write about for a while)

Notes: 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.”

[mgtmnk]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationship: Gilbert Nightray & Vincent Nightray Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Uncomfortable Sibling Interactions, Canon Compliant, Mild Gore Language: English Words: 4896 Chapters: 1/1

Slowly Vincent reaches into the folds of his skirt, extracting a pair of scissors from between them. He makes a show of flaunting them to his brother, saying yes, these are the real deal, before conspicuously placing them on a cabinet behind him, lifting his open palms and showing them to his brother with a smile. “I’m unarmed.” A joke, probably, but Vincent’s sense of humor always struck Gil as rather tasteless.

Vincent helps Gil out after a problem when he moves rooms. Basically a Vincent character study from Gil's perspective when they're 14-15 and 16 respectively. Happy birthday gay little rat

NOT SHIP

Mirror under readmore

It’s been a couple hours now, and Gilbert’s arms still don’t hurt. Part of him wishes they did, that they had the decency to make his progress seem more tangible -- in the last two years he'd lived with Nightray, he'd gotten considerably stronger, used to associating pain with advancement. Yet despite having carried several boxes of considerable weight over a distance that he feels is nothing to scoff at, Gil’s arms don’t hurt in the slightest. It’s annoying.

A crash sounds behind him and he turns around, sees books scattered across the floor. His brother looks at him in a way that does not constitute an apology and Gil groans, sets the box he was carrying down, gets to work picking up what his little brother had dropped.

“God damn it, Vince,” he mutters, and Vincent laughs under his breath. Though Gil had insisted he do the moving on his own— the maids had offered, he didn’t want to trouble them and honestly, he liked the repetitiveness of the task— Vincent was even more insistent about helping him. He’d find it endearing, if Vincent weren’t fifteen and still small enough to bowl over in a stiff breeze and definitely well aware of this, making it the third time in the five trips they’d made that Gil is forced to stoop and pick up what Vincent failed to carry. On purpose, definitely, because when Gil glances up at him Vincent smirks like a cat who’s caught the canary. Gil makes the decision to not think about this comparison too hard.

“Brother’s a lot stronger than me,” Vincent says, and finally drops to his knees to clean up his own mess. “It still makes me sad to see him doing all this work on his own, though. I’d feel terrible to leave him by himself…”

The mess is cleaned up quickly, given that only a few books of Gil’s relatively sizable collection were dropped. That was one of the advantages of moving into Nightray— he’d never had much chance to do much reading on his own with Vessalius, given his daily duties, and he’d since discovered he was quite fond of it. About the only advantage, actually, with Vincent now clinging to his side, box in hand. He stands not an inch from his brother, their positions threatening collision.

“I know change is unpleasant… but, well, if nothing else, the room will be bigger.”

They round a corner. Gil scowls. “I don’t want a bigger room. I was perfectly content with things as they were.”

“But the room needed renovations… and brother’s an adult now, anyway. He’s even got women lining up to propose to him, doesn’t he?”

That is a subject Gil distinctly does not want to broach, so he doesn’t grace Vincent with an answer until they finally get to what is intended as his new room. It is certainly larger than his old one, with room enough for even a desk and shelves, unlike the child’s quarters he’d been living in previously. The bed was bigger to match, too, but this just made Gilbert more annoyed as they set down the boxes they had been carrying. Vincent’s had been books, but Gil carried the larger box containing personal possessions. Among those he had originally intended to pack his bedding, until Vincent pointed out that they wouldn’t fit on the new bed. Nightray has plenty of sheets to match any of their beds, sure, but Gil had gotten used to one particular set. He doesn’t want to have to get used to a new one.

Vincent sees him contemplating and laughs. “Still grieving those lost sheets?”

“I wish I were like you sometimes, able to fall asleep anywhere. I have to be dead tired to fall asleep anywhere that isn’t a bed.”

Gil actually falls asleep in places other than his bed quite often. He is frequently dead tired. Vincent definitely knows this, but doesn’t comment, to Gil’s relief. Instead he helps put away Gil’s things without comment or complaint, setting to work organizing his bookshelf without prompting. Though Gil’s tempted to watch him, make sure he doesn’t mess it up, he decides against it. Better to focus on his own task than get worked up over the possibility that Vincent will mess up an easy, inconsequential chore. Even if he gets it wrong, Gil sort of likes the process of putting away books.

“One more trip,” Gil sighs as the last thing he’d been carrying is finally stowed away. “Are you sure you won’t drop anything this time?”

“I won’t!”

It’s said so earnestly Gil almost believes it, even though he’d asked the same thing last time and got the same answer. He stands up from where he’d been crouching in front of a bedside table, stretches, lets his eyes drift to a window unobscured by curtains. It’s large, looking out to the garden, and he can see Elliot and Vanessa outside playing in the summer heat.

Vincent must have caught where he was staring. “Good thing our other brothers are out, hm?”

‘Other’ is pronounced with a fair bit of contempt, Gilbert thinks, but even that seems disingenuous. Their elder brothers probably hate Vincent even more than they hate him, for reasons Gil doesn’t understand, but Vincent acts like he hates them more for a joke than for the legitimate reasons he most certainly has. It sets Gil on edge even more than some of Vincent’s other eccentricities.

“Come on,” he mumbles and leaves the room, not having the check over his shoulder to know Vincent was trailing not a foot behind him. 

The last things they need to carry over are some of Gil’s old clothes and the biggest box of books. Given that the former would probably be lighter and thus easier to carry, Gilbert takes the latter. Wordlessly Vincent takes the box that remains, and when the two leave Gil’s old room it is finally left completely empty. Somehow, the thought of that poor old room— walls stripped bare, mattress left open to the elements, windows without curtains and the dresser empty of contents— somehow, the thought of it makes Gil the slightest bit sad, having no one to need it anymore. He resolves to not enter it again.

No further items are dropped on their last trek to Gil’s last room, Vincent remaining quiet the entire time in a way that was either eerie or pleasant; Gil wasn’t entirely sure. The boxes are deposited— Gil’s beside a bookshelf, Vincent’s on the bed. For a moment Gil opens his mouth to ask Vincent to help him sort out his clothes— some were definitely too small for him, Vincent could drop them off to a maid he meant to give them to for her son— but he remembered his brother’s habits around fabric and dropped the subject.

“I’m not going to touch brother’s things without permission...”

Gil narrows his eyes, annoyed more at how his brother seems to read his mind when he can’t understand him at all than at what Vincent was actually saying.

“Brother’s special... I don’t break his things unless he wants me to.”

“You don’t have your scissors?” Gil asks, because he has to. There never was an occasion when Vincent had damaged any of Gil’s belongings, now that Gil took the time to recall it, but he couldn’t help but be wary around him. It was only natural.

Slowly Vincent reaches into the folds of his skirt, extracting a pair of scissors from between them. He makes a show of flaunting them to his brother, saying yes, these are the real deal, before conspicuously placing them on a cabinet behind him, lifting his open palms and showing them to his brother with a smile. “I’m unarmed.”

A joke, probably, but Vincent’s sense of humor always struck Gil as rather tasteless. “Just…” he really should’ve sorted out which clothes he intended to discard before all of this, but there’s no changing the past. “Spread it all out on the bed, I’ll be able to pick out which ones are too small.”

If nothing else, Gil isn’t in the habit of keeping a lot of clothes, at least not for someone who is ostensibly a noble. He mostly likes cycling through the same few modest outfits every day until they get worn out, at which point he’ll usually repair them himself. Since arriving at Nightray he’d only gotten rid of a few old clothes too small for him, but he’d hit a growth spurt recently. Anyway, moving meant he’d have to reorganize his clothes, so he might as well deal with what he has to discard.

Little time passes for Vincent to do as he’s told, even making some initial efforts to sort the clothes into piles by side. “Oh... a lot of these look like they’d fit me.”

Gil shrugs as he climbs onto the bed, grimacing as he touches the sheets. They’re a different fabric from his old ones, and though he’s certainly worn clothes of worse material with little grievance, something about the thought of sleeping with them sets him on edge. “Then they’re too small for me. Put them in the discard pile.”

“Where are they going?”

“A maid. For her son.”

“Did brother promise them?”

With that Gil glances over questioningly, though he doesn’t really intend to. Vincent laughs.

“Brother’s always thinking of the help, isn’t he...”

“I used to be them. It’s hard not to sympathize. They’re a lot more tolerable than Nightray proper, anyway.”

“It wasn’t an insult... I think it’s sweet.”

The clothes are sorted through within a few minutes, Vincent passing no further comment, much to Gil’s relief. Having further things to sort out in his own room, he asks Vincent to drop off the clothes with the maid in question, giving her name and where he’s most likely to find her. Vincent nods, gathers the clothes in his arms, and runs off.

-

“Vince.”

It’s dinner. Away from the rest of the family, as usual. Aside from their adoptive siblings’ general hostility, Vincent has a habit of being asleep while the rest of the family eats, and Gil usually finds something to busy himself with so he has an excuse to be away. It had been a couple weeks since Gil made the room move, and he’s still not comfortable sleeping there. His head hurts.

“Hm? Oh... if brother wants me to eat his peppers, I’d be happy to.”

Gil flushes a bit, uncomfortable with the verbal acknowledgement of a ritual he regularly participates in. He pushes his plate towards Vincent sitting across from him and crosses his arms, leaning back in his chair. “It’s not about that.” He’d been avoiding the topic for about a week, but it was starting to eat at his sleep even more than the uncomfortable bed sheets, so he decided to bite the bullet. “The maid I told you to drop those clothes off to…”

“I have no idea what brother is referring to.”

Immediately Gil sucks in air through his teeth, covers his eyes with his hands, exhales, slams one fist against the table hard enough that the plate he’d given to Vincent jumps. “Vincent,” he groans, “why.”

A pause, Vincent looking to the side as a grin slowly crosses his face. “Well, I truly haven’t a clue what could’ve happened… but if I were to do such a thing… is it really that wrong for me to want some of Gil’s own…” he sighs, playing with his hair, closing his eyes. “You know, just to keep?”

The chair clatters to the ground behind him as Gil stands with enough force to knock it over. Vincent raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. “A joke!” he assures. “I was joking, brother. I promise, nothing strange has been done with your clothes. I asked the maid- her son is eighteen, Gil, and already far too large for a young teenager’s clothes.”

Was that true? It could’ve been. Gil couldn’t remember ever actually asking the age of the maid’s son, just hearing that she had one. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well,” and Vincent laughs for some reason. “I do have them, yes. I was planning… it was supposed to be a surprise for the winter holiday…”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s just amateur, and only for this purpose. I’ve been studying quilting... If brother wants me to give them to the maid anyway, I will...”

“No, it’s fine, they’re probably—” Gil doesn’t know why he wanted to say tainted, doesn’t even know what he thinks Vincent could’ve done to them in the two weeks he’d have them to warrant that word. “Just keep them.”

Vincent smiles, nods, and they finish eating in silence.

-

The subject doesn’t come up again until a couple weeks later, when out of nowhere Vincent presents Gil with his progress on the quilt. He holds it out, grabbing it by the corner with one hand, and Gil reluctantly sets his book down to look at what he’s being shown.

“I’ve only just begun it. Time prior I spent practicing. Before I went too far, I wanted to ask brother if it felt alright.”

He’s only stitched a few squares together, not nearly large enough to take up the space of Gil’s bed, and while he obviously intended a pattern, Gil can’t figure out what it is. Gil runs his hands over the surface— he thinks Vincent must have remembered which shirts he was particularly inclined to wearing, because all of the fabric feels nice to the touch. Reluctantly he takes the swatch in hand, is surprised to find the back already pressed. When he pulls the edges of the piece apart, the stitching holds, not a single gap or give to be found.

“It’s nice,” he says, looking down at the unfinished blanket in hand. “You did this yourself?”

“I wouldn’t involve anyone else in it.”

“Huh.”

When he’d first heard about the project, Gil was almost tempted to stop Vincent. There were very few things Gil was better at than his younger brother— chores and handicrafts among them, Vincent apparently not having the patience for them. That Vincent may take sewing from him too crossed his mind, but Gil had set the thought aside. Ultimately, he doesn’t see it necessary for an older brother to be better at things than the younger. Gil is already long used to having other people be smarter than him, to the point he doesn’t really mind it anymore.

After a minute or so of inspecting the swatch Vincent had given him, Gil finally looked at his younger brother. In the time he took to test the sample he had spotted a couple mistakes where Vincent had run over the same piece too many times, made the seam a little too thin, but it really is impressive for someone’s first time. Their eyes meet, and Vincent spent half a second expressionless, as though analyzing Gil. Then he beams, smiled in a manner that actually went to the eyes, and Gil almost thought it was sweet.

“Then, is a higher loft OK?”

“I’d prefer it. I like heavy blankets.”

“That’s what I thought...”

Vincent asks him a few more questions about preferences, saying he was glad the secret got out since he’d rather make something perfect for Gil, taking the sample back and clutching it tight to his chest with both hands. The smile Vincent has never falters, and, being one of the only ones Gil had ever seen from him that wasn’t unsettling, Gil actually takes some relief from this. Soon the conversation ends, and Vincent dismisses himself, saying he has a conversation to have with their father. Gil doesn’t pry and simply watches as Vincent leaves.

-

Sleeping has gotten easier for Gil as the months begin to grow colder, moving out of summer into fall. Though his old resentment for his sheets remains, they no longer torment him. At this point his frustration is mostly a grudge, and sometimes he thinks about taking a page from Vincent’s book and cutting them all up for the hell of it. The thought is quickly dismissed as bizarrely cruel, and Gil chastises himself for letting his thoughts grow so morbid.

“Has training caused brother grief?”

It’s an unexpected question, one which arrives on another of their solitary dinners, and Gil isn’t sure how to answer it. “Why do you ask?”

“There’s been a sort of strange disposition about Gil lately. He doesn’t seem acclimated to things.”

Though Gil takes offense, he knows it’s true. Vincent is always much better at stomaching the sort of things they’re asked to do, doesn’t seem to mind the prospect of violence or the reality of blood. Once Gil had asked if Vincent ever regretted not being able to go to an actual school, which Vincent simply laughed at.

“I’m not sure I can do it. K- kill people, I mean.”

Vincent hums. “I wouldn’t worry about it…”

“It’s just… I can’t… I’m… I think I’m weak.”

“Gil can do it because he’s weak.”

Silence follows for the next couple minutes as Gil tries to think of an answer. He supposes it makes sense, that Vincent thinks he’s weak. There is not a single time he can remember being strong in front of him. The statement was strange, though. Gil thinks it must take a very strong person to kill someone else.

Eventually, Vincent interrupts his attempts to reply. “I meant to ask about something, actually…”

He gets up, runs off leaving an unfinished plate— Vincent was averse to vegetables, and Gil almost feels superior about this before remembering the hypocrisy of it. When Vincent gets back, he’ll give him an earful about table manners. Until then, Gil can hug his knees to his chest and think about how horribly everything he’s going to attempt in the next year is most definitely going to go.

Two or three minutes go by before Vincent’s return, at which point Gil had forgotten about chastising him and nearly forgotten he’d left in the first place. He only stops brooding with the sound of Vincent setting aside their plates and silverware, making space on the table to spread out the quilt.

“It’s not done…”

That much was obvious, given that there was neither back nor loft to it. The pattern was obvious now, though— an arrangement of angular crosses that Gil hadn’t seen before. On reflex he spends the next few minutes looking it over, testing the seams, checking how it’s pressed— Vincent had gotten significantly better over the course of making the quilt, and Gil could guess what order each part had been sewn together in. 

“It’s good. Big enough, too. Are you gonna have enough fabric to finish this?” “That’s been taken care of.”

“How long did you spend on it?”

Vincent shrugs, smirking. “I just do it in my free time.”

“If you can actually manage this, it’ll be great.” It doesn’t occur to Gil to comment on the ambiguity of Vincent’s statement. Instead he runs his hands over the front, marvelling a bit at how Vincent managed to cobble enough good fabric together so that it was still pleasant to the touch.

-

Obligations had occupied Gil, such that he hadn’t seen Vincent all day. His family thought the two were spending too much time together, which was fair— Vincent was clingy, far past the point of being annoying. The excuse to get away from him for a while was one that was well received, and so he’d taken to his duties without complaint.

Having finished his labor for the day, Gilbert heads back to his room, now comfortable with the full arrival of autumn. He intended to get some rest, though it was rare for him to nap or sleep early. It had been a good day, though, and Gil was feeling a bit hedonistic. Maybe he’ll punish himself tomorrow, but for now, a little indulgence won’t hurt.

As soon as he turns the corner he hears familiar jeering and immediately retraces his steps, hiding behind a wall. The sounds weren’t getting closer, which meant his older brothers hadn’t spotted him. Carefully he looks over the corner, trying to get a grasp of where they are and if he can avoid them. The two of them— Ernest and Claude, older than them by a decade— both gathered around something they’ve cornered to a wall. Vincent. Obviously.

Gil presses his back to the wall he was hiding behind. Going through the entire house to avoid them was an option, but unpleasant. He wasn’t sure if he could go to the adjacent hallway without attracting their attention. If he listened to what they were saying, maybe he could get an idea of where they intended to go. Something about that option seemed impossible, though. He wouldn’t be able to understand their words even if he wanted to— or so said his convictions.

Again he looked over the corner, thinking alright, let’s just dash over, they’re too caught up in whatever’s going on with Vincent— don’t look at him. He’s not making any noise, it’s not that hard to ignore him. Yet against his best efforts Gil still pauses to stare at his younger brother by blood and miraculously, probably accidentally, they make eye contact. Vincent probably couldn’t fight off a boy his own age, much less an adult. Gil sees him mouth something indecipherable and then he steps out into the hallway, yelling something he doesn’t understand even as he says it.

The fight ends quickly, if one can call it that. Vincent grabs his hand as soon as there’s an opening and pulls Gil away, running into Gil’s room and locking the door. Smartest option, definitely— Gil is bigger than Vincent, sure, but still doesn’t compare to an adult. Their elder brothers won’t follow them, probably, being the only people on Earth who don’t seem that interested in teasing Gil. He takes a few steps into the room as Vincent leans against the door, looking down. From where he stands Gil can barely see some blood run down his brother’s chin— their brothers must have busted his lip at some point during the scuffle.

Impulsively he approaches, though he does not reach a hand out. Vincent looks up, looks straight at him. His younger brother’s eyes narrow and he seems to snarl before covering his face with one hand, fumbling for the door handle with the other, and he runs off without another word to Gil.

Later that evening the two find each other again, Vincent showing not a shred of humility despite the beating he had so recently taken. The wound on his lip had already formed a scab, at least, and when asked Vincent said it didn’t hurt.

“I don’t get it. Why do they hate you so much?”

“Oh…” Vincent says, a little chuckle following the sound as though the question was itself funny. “That’s pretty easy. I said I’d kill them.”

It’s said so plainly that Gil doesn’t register it at first, thinking he misheard, thinking Vincent was joking.

“I said I hadn’t seen how human blood looks against my scissors, yet. I get bored of fabric, you know… anyone would. I wanted to hold them down, see how their skin would cut open beneath them, see if I could make them get everywhere if I managed to cut their bodies right…” he exhales contentedly. “Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

Odd eyes meet Gil’s expectantly, Vincent sighing like he’d come out of a nice dream, reaching a reluctant hand towards Gil. In a panic Gil slaps it away, takes a frightened step back. Vincent’s expression shows no recoil, no widening of eyes in shock. He smiles such as to expose his teeth.

“It’s getting late,” his little brother says. “I’m going to bed. Sweet dreams, brother.”

-

Since then, Vincent’s been clinging to Gil’s side even more closely than before. A distinct change in disposition followed, though not one Gil could place exactly. He’d try halfheartedly encouraging Vincent to try a hobby, to clean his room for once, to maybe eat more than half of any given meal or to get some sun. Vincent would brush him off, saying those things were tiring, that he was happy so long as he could stay with Gil.

The winter holiday was nearly upon them, only a couple weeks away. Elliot would be back from school then, and Gil would have someone to talk to that wasn’t his horrifying blood sibling, even if Elliot was only a child. Vincent’s present hadn’t even crossed his mind until his younger brother brought it up again.

“I’m nearly done,” he explains, carrying the fully assembled quilt in his arms. “Can you test the weight of it?”

Slowly Gilbert takes the blanket, letting it rest over his forearms, feeling how it bears down against him. It’s warm, and soft, and nice to look at, and as he checks over it yet again he can see the amount of effort Vincent must have put into it— even someone with experience would’ve taken weeks to make it. Though the gesture is reluctant, Gil’s a bit too earnestly grateful to hide a smile.

“You did a really good job, Vince.”

Vincent perks up immediately, beaming. “It’s not too thick or anything?”

“No, it’s— um, it’s perfect like this.” Gil hands the blanket back to him, and when Vincent grabs it their fingers don’t touch, but it’s close. “I’m glad to see you invested in something for once.”

“Oh.”

Vincent pauses as Gil lets the blanket fall from his hand, suddenly hesitant to gather it back up.

“Is that so…”

His younger brother smiles, looking down at the fabric in hand.

-

The winter holiday was upon them. Elliot had come back home from boarding school, and though most of his time was occupied by his blood siblings, he had made time to visit Gilbert as well. Gil hadn’t seen Vincent for most of the day— busy with tasks related to his own entrance into society, having turned fifteen. With not much to do outside and his chores all finished, Gil had taken to reading in the empty dining room while his adoptive siblings had some bonding time without him, taking comfort in the warm fireplace beside him.

It had been a good day, even with the usual conflicts with his adoptive siblings about how he was supposedly being a bad influence on Elliot. Everything they complained about— the sudden contempt for authority, the constant why-asking— seemed much more likely to be Vincent’s fault. Gil personally doesn’t care what values Elliot has; he’s just fond of his company.

The fireplace’s crackle as it dies is soothing, having lost its strength from when it was lit at the start of dinner. The whole family was supposed to be there, Gil and Vincent included, but Vincent must have slept through it. Not that Gilbert particularly cared— he ended up having to eat all of his vegetables, but he could stomach it. Darkness had fallen, the moon high in the sky, and Gil took a break from reading to look outside the window and contemplate.

“Gil…?”

He jumps at the sound of his blood brother’s voice, then feels quite ashamed of this. Maybe he didn’t mind Vincent being smarter than him, but being afraid of one’s little brother was a different matter entirely. “Ah— ah, Vincent— you’re… here.”

Chuckling softly, Vincent stumbles over to his elder brother, hands behind his back. “Brother! I’m happy to have come in time... I’ve missed Gil very much…”

There’s no way Vincent isn’t being conspicuous about whatever he’s hiding on purpose. He’s too smart for that. “What do you have?” Gilbert asks with a groan.

“Did brother forget his present?

“My…” Gil stops to think for a moment. “Oh, that! You, um—” and Gil suddenly realizes he forgot to get Vincent anything. “You really didn’t have to…”

“Yeah, I know.” Vincent grins, takes a few steps back from Gil as the elder brother stands up. “But obviously I’d do it, if it were for Gil’s sake…”

Vincent’s being coy. “Listen— I, I’m sorry for not getting you anything.”

“Don’t worry about it. If anything, I’m glad. I just wanted to see the look on brother’s face when I showed him.”

“Um—”

And just as Gil is about to stutter another heartless apology Vincent throws the bundle he had been hiding behind his back directly into the fire, staring at Gil the entire time as months of work begins to burn away. Reflexively Gil dives to retrieve it, try to salvage what he can, but Vincent stops him, grabs his wrist before he can stick it into the fire.

“Why—”

Gil can’t get anything out further as nausea collects in his stomach for some reason, because he doesn’t feel bad for Vincent, because Vincent did this, but he doesn’t understand why he would and it makes him sick and he can hear what Vincent had worked so hard for burn in front of him and he can’t do anything about it as Vincent leans forward, wraps his arms around his chest, laughs delightedly as he stares at Gil’s expression contorted in confused despair.

“See, now? I love Gil more than anyone. Just that look is more than enough.”

[thefirstcourtesan]

To anon who asked about Speakeasy Tonight’s art: yes, you’re unlock art when you purchase outfits, but I actually like this system more than in other stories. Because heart scenes worth much less than in other stories - you can buy a dress for 15-30 hearts, but almost all heart scenes cost 10-15. If you don’t like dresses, you can fully enjoy stories without buying them. I wish all stories were like that, because many of them not worthy of 25-30 hearts. ST has a very good system.

This is true, the heart scenes in ST are cheaper. I bought all the heart scenes for Vince, but I don’t think I bought any of the others? But I do agree that it was nice that they were so much cheaper.

However, I find that Lovestruck heart scenes are different than Choices diamond scenes, because I never feel like I have to buy them. I sometimes feel like a horrible human for turning them down (like in GIL where the non-heart option was to I,ply you regret your children 😂) but I never feel like I am missing anything critical and only buy them for characters I love.

[itsjustascarecrow]

Happy Birth to Giuseppe Gillespie!! born on Elona 8th, 42 BBY!

another Clone Wars era Jedi, he’s the former padawan of Deasamu Lacrimosa and later the master of Ihme Farmendeer. though, in between that, he became the boyfriend of Vince Keaton.

a Zelosian born on his people’s homeworld of Zelos II, Gil still held a connection to his birthplace despite having to leave it for the Jedi Order at a young age. probably b/c Coruscant is literally just one giant city w/ not a whole lot of natural plant life, he made a habit of tending to the temple’s gardens as often as he could in his spare time. or, if nothing else, they were simply his favorite place to meditate. it’s also where he met Vince for the first time when they were both still younglings, and while they were able to stay friends for quite some time, they lost touch when they both finally became padawans. but they inevitably reunited, and while their relationship didn’t become official until well after the rise of the Empire, they certainly wouldn’t turn down the opportunity to spend time w/ each other pre-Purge. 

and speaking of which, he did manage to survive Order 66; i like to think he learned a lot from his master and Vince, both of whom also survived long enough to join the Rebellion. that’s where he and Vince ultimately reunite, and not long after, he gets to reunite w/ Master Lacri as well, which is how he eventually met Lacri’s new padawan Jey-Min (who later introduced him to her surrogate son Ihme). so yeah, that’s how all that connects, lol. 

but ye, Gil’s just that kinda guy who loves being around other people. not that he’s a particularly outgoing or boisterous person (he’s pretty chill tbh), but he just enjoys the company of others. he likes making new friends; it’s not too difficult for him to just pick up right where he left off w/ someone if they’ve spent any amount of time apart. once he gets to know you, you’ve essentially got a friend for life, b/c he’s just a good, sweet plant boi like that.

~one year later...

i was thinking about his and Vince’s reunion post-o66 the other day, having not gone over this beforehand to remind myself of any details, and tbh i do want to change to him meeting back up w/ Lacri first. that bit is def still fuzzy to me, but at least a good while afterwards, some Rebel contacts of theirs who’re trying to liberate some little backwater planet (w/ minor Imperial industrial presence on it) got caught and things nearly went completely south. neither he nor Lacri were able to be there in-person to help, but they at least were able to receive any survivors who escaped. they were prepped for that anyway, knowing they’d be taking in more civilians/defectors, but what Gil esp didn’t expect was for Vince to be among them. and while it still takes a hot minute for them to finally have a moment of privacy to admit any feelings for each other, cue Gil gleefully parading Vince around anyway, hgjsdhg.

[reo-bae]

1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 12, 13, 16, 17, 18, 21, 23, 26, 27, 29, 30, 33 😏, 38, 39, 44, 45, 46, 48 and 50 for the Pandora Hearts meme!

Omg I didn’t seen this comin- but well, I counted on ya ~

1: How long have you been in the fandom?

According to my activeness here in this community, not the time when I’ve seen the anime first (around 2012), I’ve been  approx. 3 years

2: Favorite character?

Leo Baskerville, my all time spirit animal

His personality, his temper, his interests toward books, kinky things, music (sadly I don’t have the talent for that), this all just catched me. The simple he was at first, starting off as a minor character and growing to a major, presenting his depression-based up character from the start. He was cursed, but not like the Children of Misfortunes He had a big role despite how small he was. Then lost his world what was based on Elliot’s acceptance and kindness, the only one who hadn’t judged him. I’m just so close-knitted to this character, I can’t explain and I may sound over-dramatic..

But I love all of the children, can relate and understand more of them 

4: Favorite of the Four Dukes?

Nightrays? They are shady, they are blue, they went extinct

5: Favorite Chain?

Maybe Raven, it’s cool and not that edgy like Jabberwocky 

6: OTP?

ElLeo

Son, if you know this ship, you know me 

7: Other ships?

Oz x Alice x Gil (I can’t separate them, they are OT3), Break x Sharon, VinceAda, Rufus x Sheryl 

12: Headcanons I have?

I’m so uncreative that none of it pops in my mind yet I always say dumb shit about every character

Okay, my headcanon was for years, that Leo is a tomboy, secretly a girl or a transboy

13: How did I join the fandom?

I started making fanarts, and I’ve been noticed here? pwq

To my Hungarian birds, @emily-cheshire, @ultimate-hopeless, @seshihira, I joined in 2015, along with two more on Facebook, creating a groupchat.

16: Who did I first ship Oz with? (Bc I’m pretty sure we all went back and forth with shipping this little shit)

Alice xD They just seemed like the average main pairing in the anime

17: Saddest character death in my opinion?

Elliot, without doubt. It happened with a well-built frame: self-critique. He just died with the moral conception what he denied, and with this denial he accepted it finally, along with Oz’s conception. Sadly, it was lethal.

18: Do I hate or like Jack?

This character was swaying vividly on my spectrum of hate and sympathy. I had a crush on him, but when I’ve found out that he is the actual cause of all shit, it was a great shock for me. Yet when I’ve got to know how his twisted mind became how it is, I was rather pitying him, and judging Lacie. In the end, I have more understanding toward both of them, and I like Jack. Similar feelings went through on me.

A line from Westworld what I’ll leave here regarding to Jack x Lacie (because their relatioship is so painfully beautiful and cracked):

"The beautiful trap is inside of us. Because it is us."

21: Who would I cosplay as? 

Leo Baskerville, ofc. I’m just too high and chubby ; - ; 

23: Moments that made me cry? 

Elliot’s and Break’s death, the last chapter’s tea party

26: Alice or Alyss?

Alice :3

27: Gil or Vince?

Why do I have to choose TAT Gilbert pure boyo, but slowly I started to like Vincent as well.

30: If I could make two characters interact more, who would they be?

Echo and Alice? Gilbert and Elliot? Sharon and Shelly? Lacie and Glen? 

33: Elliot or Leo?

You..

did you mean choosing the potential panty dropper or as a persona who I can identificate myself with? 

Bc the first was Elliot and the second one is Leo for me ~ 

38: Do I have any merch?

A magical mug only, my friends made it for my 19th birthday ; w ; old pic here

39: Favorite chapter?

Chp 97: I Am, Chp 82: Wish, Chp 74: Broken Rabbit, Chp 66: Jack, Chp 25 Elliot & Leo ...I won’t scroll more painful ones

44: Character I ship myself with?

I’ m kinkshaming, but Elliot. And it’s so gross that I started to like him the same age as he was, and now I grew older and I’m still atracted to this angry nobleman.. yelp

45: NOTP?

VinceLeo and LeOz. Big no no for me. 

46: Favorite AU?

University!AU-s and Coffeeshop!AU. 

48: Most attractive character?

ElLiOt, Jack, Lacie

50: Did this fandom help me through hard times?

Yes and it also lowkey caused the hard times. Because I’ve get to know my best friends and loved ones through this manga, so basically my life is founded on it. And when I lost some of them (some of them for a while, and my love forever), I felt awfully down, and it hurted even more bc comparing it to this manga’s characters and their paths with similar steps. Yet, this cord brought some of us together again. So eventually, I can say that yes, without doubt.

Sorry for making you wainting for this (uni life kicked in ) and BIG THANKS for the questions. It always good to stop and remember my roots. 

[fivekrystalpetals]

↑ All of this!!! You summed up all of this so nicely; yes, this is exactly what I was trying to say, thank you!! TT_TT

About Gil and Leo, ahh, I didn't mean to undermine Gil's contribution to breaking the cycle of generational trauma, not only by taking Oz's side but also protecting Vince from Glen in the Past, when Vince was going through a mental breakdown on realizing his chain was Miranda herself, Glen's words that a Child of Misfortune can't save anything (why would Glen say that tho? even after knowing the truth about them? I didn't include this line in the main essay, I overlooked it—wonder if, in spite of knowing the truth, he still wanted to cling onto their past traditions? idk, i might have to reread that chapter's context for it) plus experiencing Sablier all over again as it happened 100 years ago. And Leo remembers his words as well in Retrace 99 while he was confused about what he wanted to do:

What I meant to say is, as the next Glen (bc Gil skipped the role), I am glad Leo put an end to the unnecessary abuse of Children of Ill-Omen, which only someone in power like him can do. And, something Oswald could and should have done at the very beginning of the reign.

Glen, Children of Misfortune, Juries and the Baskervilles

[When I say Glen, I am referring all Glens- past and present: Levi, Oswald, Gil and Leo. hella lot of lore is here that I wanna write about ;-; so I might divide this into different posts let’s see. Also fair warning: I might criticize Oswald’s actions-past and present- a bit, since I love looking at characters from an unbiased pov. Also, maybe some characters’ past actions in order to point to their character development so that too.]

[ Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 ]

2] Choosing a side

I remember treating Oswald as a victim of circumstances while reading the Past Arc/Jack’s Intention Arc and blaming only Jack and Levi for everything that went down,,, but now that I consider on the whole, I have to confess Oswald was also responsible for a major part in the Tragedy. His sin is… (as the catchphrase of this series goes lol) His sin is his passivity. But before Oswald, I want to talk about his successors, Gil and Leo first.

As the story goes, each one of the Glens have faced a point where they must choose a side.

For Gil, it was between Oz and Oswald, whether he wanted to continue as Oswald’s valet (to return to his past) or as Oz’s valet (to live in the present). In fact, this clash between his two sides of loyalty, one drilled into him (Retrace 38) and the other nurtured in him in a healthy manner, already came to a head in the Sablier Arc (Retrace 40).

In the beginning of the same arc, he tried to kill Alice because she was trying to “kill” his “master” and with great difficulty did he stop himself before he ended up doing something drastic. Break, though, thankfully and perhaps due to the power of his Eye of Misfortune, sees through Gil, spots the overlapping thoughts clouding his judgment and goads him into a fight.

“I am the one who seeks to use Oz Vessalius. I am doing harm to your master. Now then, will you try your hand at killing me as well?”

And… Gil actually almost goes ahead with it! He is so overwhelmed by the thoughts the Jury had fed into his mind that he can’t distinguish between friends and foes; all he could think is he had to “kill his master’s enemies.”, no free will of action in him at all. Break snaps him out of him and…. says something so significant I didn’t even realize at the time:

Is the one you need really Oz Vessalius? (…) Isn’t it time you got over being such a spoiled child?

[The “hand” here is his left hand which signifies Gil’s oath to his old Master, Raven and consequently, his past.]

Isn’t it time you got over being such a spoiled child… (Retrace 87)

Or else, you really will end up hurting what’s precious to you by your own hand. (Retrace 69)

(His left hand. Oswald uses his left hand to cast Lacie into the Abyss. I just…. *screams*)

Like I explained in Part 1, if Gil was continued to be raised in the Baskerville household, when he comes of age and becomes the next Glen, in spite of feeling massively guilty, he’d end up casting Vincent into the Abyss because that’s the rule, because he won’t think for himself if that’s indeed what he wanted, because he'd still be obedient to the previous Glen and Jury even after becoming the most powerful head of the household. That’s just how the Glens are.

However, this changed in Retrace 78, when Gil goes up against Oswald and the Baskervilles for Oz.

Gil quite literally cuts off his left arm to NOT “hurt what’s precious to him by his own hand"—he cuts off his connection to his past and his old master and refuses to side with him anymore. He stops being an obedient valet and stands up for Oz, as a friend, of his own accord because that’s what he really wants. He even freely calls him Oz, something he’d been struggling all along as he’d been raised to address his master as such.

His entire character development stemmed from Oz’s positive influence on him. From the beginning, Oz didn’t want a valet or a servant, but a friend by his side. He wanted Gil to be his equal. He always asked Gil to call him by his name and not address him as Master.

[And, ofc, a special mention to Break who had been continually warning him against his obsessive loyalty and pushing him to think for himself.

(He advises him here in Retrace 40; yes, but also he's been doing that since long ago, even before Oz resurfaced from the Abyss (Retrace 13.)):

Believe whatever you want. Regardless of what people say, I— Let me give you a piece of advice. A loyalty that holds fast will become a blade and will someday pierce those you hold dear.

And, Gil, the edgy rebellious teenager that he was at the time, doesn't understand Break at all lol]

Well, all of this contributes to Gil switching sides to save Oz from getting executed and not blindly following Glen on, or rather, in spite of regaining all his misplaced memories. He decides to cut off his left hand, erase the binding oath and make another, this time, legal contract with Raven—and this is so important—all of his own volition.

That ends his passivity and lack of free will. (And Break, like a proud dad, “has stopped fretting about him.” LOL)

.

For Leo, it was this point (Retrace 63):

Yes, chances are that Elliot won’t have believed what Leo said since neither he nor any of the kids at Fianna's house remembers any of the incidents involving Humpty-Dumpty or its contract thanks to its nature of memory deletion/alteration. Still, the fact that Leo didn’t tell him the truth about what had been done to him (Leo feeding him the chain’s blood and unwittingly making him an illegal contractor) or about Isla Yura (Selfishness is a recurring theme in the story; I wanna go into that later but here too—) could be taken as Leo’s “selfishness” to keep his friend alive in spite of him getting fatally injured. Even that aside, it was really his “inaction at the time of crisis” that eventually led Elliot to suffer from an even more painful death.

Yet, he blames the Intention of the Abyss for his actions.

(At this point of the story, Leo is still “an immature brat”; on a side note: remember Break who realized it was his own fault, and not the Intention’s, for forcing her to change the past and bringing a more horrifying fate on the Sinclair family? Yeah, Break is one of the most mature characters in the story and having regretted and learnt from his mistakes, he tries to pass on his experience to the kids so that they won’t repeat his mistakes.)

Before long, Leo does get over being “a spoiled child” and realizes that he had to accept his mistakes and take responsibility before things went from bad to worse. In Retrace 99, he faces the dilemma of choosing a side: stay a bystander and let Oswald go on to his end or stand up and act for what he wants.

And then, for what might be the most selfless reasons of all, Leo decides to not change the past.

Just like Oz-Gil—Leo, who always tried to dig into the world of books because his own real world was unbearable for him, was pulled out of it by Elliot by wanting to be his friend and not his master. Elliot didn’t want an obedient, servile yes-man but a friend who could stand by him yet scold him for his mistakes. “It’s the duty of a valet to correct his master’s actions.”

And so, for Elliot and for the sake of those memories where they met albeit for a short while, those memories being so precious to him that he doesn’t want them to be erased with the alteration of the past, he finally decides to stop being a bystander and confronts Oswald.

[Special shoutout to Break!— because once again it were his last words that helped influence his decision:

…That you’ll never find your future in the past… try as you might to reach back into it!!

Break just keeps tossing around good advice for everyone, even people whom he was not even addressing. Those words were meant for Vince, not Leo; yet Leo too benefits from them agfhsjhahaha]

I know Levi calls his reason “selfish” as well (considering he chooses this for fulfilling a personal desire) but to me, it’s not so. Had he stayed quiet and “passive”, and let Oswald change the past for his split second of thought process—"If I were not Glen, Elliot won’t have to die"—that'd be pretty selfish of him.

And, with that, Leo chooses a side he wants to fight for, no matter how painful his choice is and ends his “passivity”.

.

On the other hand, in Break's and Rufus Barma's words, Oswald never stopped being "a spoiled child" and over and over, keeps "hurting what's precious to him by his own hand". Even after his return to the world in Leo's body, his immediate decision is to kill Lacie to "set things right." Again.

Plus, Oswald did not have such a friend who cared about him unconditionally and wanted to be on equal footing.

Or, well, he did but he cast her into the Abyss and that’s where everything started to go wrong for him.... 

[ Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 ]

[askauradonprep]

Cute Things In What’s My Name

Notes: Lex, Zeke, Malachi, Rosita, Raphael, Micah, and Vince were not present during this number. I’m watching through it for the 12 members of the crew who ARE and here are the notes:

Uma: 

- Gabe, Gil, and Jonas lifting Uma on to the table and she PATS GABE ON THE HEAD like what even are you doing Uma

- The crew all bows to her when she says ‘tell ‘em who’s in charge so they don’t forget’. It varies in degree but they are all in fact bowing and gesturing to Uma

- Gonzo lifting Uma off the table to help her down - he doesn’t just grab her by the hips or something either, like he supports her waist and her knees it’s actually SUPER cute.

- The guys pushing Uma’s throne behind her so she can sit down and IMMEDIATELY lifting it up over their heads when she does like yeah, they treat her like a queen.

- Uma’s little winks at Harry and calling him ‘number one’ 

- Harry helping Uma up in her throne like Harry please control yourself. 

- Jonas putting Uma on his shoulders so he can carry her from her throne to the table EVEN THOUGH SHE COULD HAVE MADE HERSELF IF SHE STRETCHED like do these boys let you walk ANYWHERE Uma or do they literally carry you anywhere you want?

- A good chunk of the guys, plus Bonny, Drey and Desiree making eyes at Uma while she dances on the table. No wonder she sees their eyes on her.

- Jonas ONCE AGAIN helping Uma off the stage. 

- Jonas and Zhao help Uma up on to Gil, Jonas even BOWS a little. You can practically hear him saying ‘Right this way, your Majesty’ it’s actually adorable. He also helps her off of Gil and into the throne, both taking her hand and supporting her back. Don’t tell me Jonas does not have low-key heart eyes for Uma.

The rest are under the cut.

Harry: 

- Harry’s smile at the beginning. He can tell this is gonna be good.

- Harry holds Gonzo’s hand during the ship choreography with his hook HARRY.

- Still a little bitter that he and Uma didn’t get a little kiss when he comes super close to her face when they say ‘Tell ‘em who’s in charge so they don’t forget’

- The smile he gives Drey while the crew is jamming around the table before he spins to the other side of Uma.

- He comes up in front of Uma when the guy lift her up so he can stare at her. 

- ASDFGHJKL; I just realized Uma takes his hand when she says ‘let me see ‘em’ when they’re on the table. I knew he turned to look at her but I never noticed she took his hand and held his sleeve for a bit. That’s TOO cute.

- When the crew disperses to make way for Uma, he puts his hand on Drey’s arm and leads her away nicely, it’s absolutely ADORABLE.

- His smile falls when Jonas gets up when Uma takes his sword, right before he threatens him (i.e. Harry Is An Overprotective Little Sucky Baby For Uma)

- Harry gives Drey a little look while he and Uma are talking last regrets (not nearly as much of a look as he gives Uma, but it’s still cute that he acknowledges when she comes up to them grinning like the cat who’s got the canary).

- Harry TURNS TO AND ENCOURAGES the crew on both sides of the stage when he says ‘Ready, here WE come/WE always get our way’. Also everyone jams with him on his rap it’s so cute.

- He chucks Drey under the chin right before he helps Uma up.

- Harry actually stares MORE intently when he says Uma’s so hot they get burned if they look, HARRY. CONTROL YOUR THIRST.

- Harry takes a second look at Uma right when he kneels down up until they’re doing the octopus thing and he has to look away from her.

- Regularly ducks beneath Uma’s level.

Gil

- He looks around at the very beginning like he’s going ‘Wait, what, are we doing this, OKAY WE’RE DOING UMA’S HAPPY SONG OKAY’

- Gil turns and smiles at Jonas when they hop on the table, he looks SO EXCITED.

- He does a little fist pump when they say the sails are set.

- He has to KNEEL to pick up Uma, how cute is that?

- Actually, when he’s beside Uma, he kinda slouches a lot, and it makes him look shorter than she is TELL ME I AM WRONG ABOUT THE GUYS LIFTING HER UP ALL THE TIME OR KNEELING OR DUCKING AROUND HER TO MAKE SURE SHE FEELS BIG. He also gestures to her a lot immediately before they pick her up, like he’s keeping the focus on their pretty captain.

- Gil gives Uma a smoulder when she’s saying no one’s gonna stop them. Like he looks very very much like he wants to kiss her actually. It’s INTENSE.

- He play fights with Gonzo for a second before they both turn back to Uma - and yes, he gestures to Uma again while his other hand is on the chandelier YES GIL WE KNOW SHE IS THE CENTRE OF ATTENTION YOU CAN STOP POINTING TO HER NOW BBY. 

- He jams out with her while they watch Harry dance, including pointing to her a lot when Harry calls her the captain. He also CRANES UP looking at her before looking away when the crew looks away the second time, as if trying to make up for the first time he looked away. 

- He looks super surprised and hurt when Uma calls him on not watching her.

- He climbs up on one of the tables when Harry and Uma are flirting on stage.

- Gil wrestles Jonas, Gabe, and Yamato at the same time and wins while Uma is on stage.

- Gil is wide mouth laughing when he’s being used as Uma’s throne and he cranes up to look at her again at the end of the song. Gil = Too Precious.

Gonzo

- Gonzo actually GOES DOWN ON ONE KNEE when he bows to Uma.

- He cranes up to be close to Uma and also holds his arms out like he’s presenting her, it’s the cutest thing.

- Gonzo actually gets super close to kissing Uma when she comes by him while he’s on the stage, it’s cute. He also points at her as the guys lift her up, like, yes, Gonzo, we see her, don’t worry. 

- During the ‘so hot’ moment, Gonzo actually LEANS ONTO THE TABLE like Uma’s hotness personified and slapped him.

- He lifts Yamato off a chair when they’re about to crawl to Uma and Harry. 

- He dances with one of the chairs and then he and Zhao both grip it and stand on their hands, it’s amazingly acrobatic if nothing else. 

- He holds Gil steady and looks SUPER DETERMINED when they push him. He also holds Uma’s throne steady.

Desiree

- Okay, so Desiree just REFUSES to leave Uma alone. She’s always very close by near her. And now you all know why I say she’s thirsty as all get out.

- Actually GETS ON THE TABLE ON ALL FOURS to do the ‘all hands on deck’ thing. She then hops off when Uma passes, only to jump up again for the ship thing, girl what are you doing.

- She does so much head banging towards Uma and then makes all these swimming arm movements in her direction...and then play shoves Gabe when he gets in her arm’s way. 

- She holds Gabe’s arm to steady her when she's gesturing too wildly towards Uma on the table, this child has no chill. 

- She and Bonny aren’t grinding, but they’re mock swimming behind the table in the same way the boys are grinding in front. 

- She vaults over the table and rushed up between the crew mates to be directly behind Uma, including moving in front of Harry, Desiree, PLEASE. 

- Rather than disperse, she twirls and leans against the table as Uma comes up. Also does a little play swooning when Gil flirts with her. She looks like she’s laughing actually, but the point is Desiree stays right by Uma. 

- She points at Jonas right before Harry puts his hook at his chin, as if saying ‘Oh, now you’ve done it’. 

- The one time she does step really far from Uma, she hops on a table...and stares at her. And almost immediately she hops from the table to a crate and then down so she’s right back by her again. 

- She jumps and twirls around a lot while Uma’s throne is picked up, but she’s still right beside Uma on her left when they’re watching Harry. 

- Not only does she put up her arm in front of her face, she also lifts her knee during the ‘so hot’ bit like she thinks she IS being burned. 

- Crawls up RIGHT IN FRONT of Uma when they’re on the stage. Then when they leave the stage she walks beside Uma, twirls away...and steps up on the table beside Uma so she can join her in her dual sword dance. Desiree. HONEY.

- Followed Uma until she stepped back to watch her crew before heading to the bar. She proceeded to dance with her swords before she came up to the bar when Uma got in her throne. 

Jonas

- His bow is super exaggerated like you nerd, what are you doing? He and Gabe trade this super excited look right afterwards too. He also looks around Gil to stare at Uma.

- He looks so fake annoyed when she throws off his hat. He’s just like ‘bruh, really’? Before Harry grabs him. 

- Does a bridge move just to get close to Uma and put his hand out to her. 

- THE ‘RIP OUT HIS HEART’ MOVE HE DOES WHEN UMA ‘KICKS’ HIM IN THE CHAIR. 

- He dances around with one of the chairs. 

Drey

- Drey hops out of Uma’s way when she goes around the table, and then jumps over the table so she can do her bit of the ship. 

- Gives Harry a smile and lip bite before he trades places with Uma, whom she immediately gets on her knees and begins to jam with, hitting the table and smiling at her. (She’s also the one Harry’s smiling at when the crew is grinding).

- During ‘their last regret’ she climbs up on all fours on the table and gives the biggest grin at Harry and Uma (she has that smile on a lot of the time, and is often making eyes at either Uma or Harry for that matter - girl has taste).

- She jumps off the table to jam beside Uma before the guys grab her throne.

- SHE NEVER EVER EVER TURNS AWAY FROM UMA DURING THE ‘SO HOT SCENE’ - LOOK AT HER. SHE’S STARING STRAIGHT AT HER. When everyone is supposed to look away, she jerks a little, but she’s still looking at Uma.

- While Uma’s on stage, she gets in a play sword fight with (I THINK) Bonny.  

- Comes up to stand beside Uma’s throne and tries to crane up to see her.

Yamato

- He has this little moment where he bobs up and down beside Uma before he moves to do his part of the ship thing. Also, his bow is INCREDIBLY exaggerated - he moves his arm down in an arc while he gestures to her and then FALLS TO ONE KNEE, Yamato, please. He doesn’t get up when the rest of the crew stop bowing either, he stays like that for a little bit.

- He and Bonny crawl around on the table together after the crew disperses when Uma says she’s the queen of the town. And then they get in a little play fight as they get up, Bonny pushes him. 

- He kneels in front of Uma AGAIN as she walks around, just before the guys get her throne. (he, Jonas, Gil, and Zhao are the ones who lift her throne up). 

- Pushes his way around Jonas to sit on the stage when ‘Uma’s so hot they get burned if they look’ - he recoils with everyone else, but it’s cute to see him worm his way up close to her. Speaking of the recoil, he keeps his arm up even after everyone is done, as though he’s afraid she REALLY WILL burn him if he looks. 

- While Uma was dancing on the table and everyone crowded to make eyes at her, Yamato was sitting on a chair a little ways back enjoying it separately before Gonzo yanks him up.

- He holds out Harry’s hook for him when he comes off the stage to get to the table where Uma is. He’s also laughing at the end.

Bonny

- She spins around on her stool like a little kid at the start.

- She runs out from where she is and SPINS, ending in her bow to Uma, how extra is that? I love it! Her bow is my favourite tbh (and i’m factoring how close Huma is to kissing in that so you know I love Bonny’s bow). She stays down on her one knee after that too and gestures to her a second time it’s so cute. She doesn’t get up until there’s a gap in the crowd when they lift Uma on the table, at which point she comes up and looks up at her in awe. 

- She comes up to jam with Uma too during the chorus...like, really really close. Barely an inch apart. She’s right in Uma’s bubble and Uma seems 100% cool with that.

- When Harry throws his jacket at the start, Bonny catches it and FOLDS IT FOR HIM while she dances, Bonny you are precious. 

- She slams her hand down on the table when Uma says ‘All eyes on me let me see ‘em’.

- Towards the end she goes, grabs Harry’s coat off the steps, goes up and hands it to him, it is too cute. 

- She just poses at the end, holding her sword blade over her shoulder like it’s a duffel bag or something, BONNY STOP, YOU’RE OVER THE LEGAL LIMIT FOR ADORABLE. 

Zhao

- He has the biggest smile when the song starts.

- His bow is short but almost immediately, he crawls closer to Uma. He does it a second time when the guys pick her up too. 

- He and Gabe practically side hop away when Uma ‘jabs’ at them with her sword, it’s so cute. 

- When the crew says her name during the chorus (before they grab her throne) he NODS when he says her name the first time, like ‘Yes, this is indeed her name, isn’t it awesome?’ 

- He and Gabe push the throne over to Uma so she can sit down. You know, just in case you all thought Uma had to lift a finger for herself during this number. :P

- He DUCKS BEHIND ONE OF THE SUPPORT BEAMS DURING THE ‘SO HOT’ PART ZHAO WHAT EVEN. She acts like her hotness reached out and knocked him back. 

- During the dual sword dance, he just stands beside the stage and spins - he doesn’t even have his sword. 

- He spins on the chandelier beside Harry for a while, then ducks down, drags a netted Gil across the stage, and ducks out of the way so Harry can come up. 

Gabe

- He PUTS HIS STOOL BACK before he uses it to climb on the table. So polite, Gabe. :P

- He moves to put his arms around Gil and Jonas right when the chorus starts and they jam until Desiree’s arm bumps him. 

- Gabe is the one who first goes to grab the throne for Uma - Zhao joins him when they push. 

- Oh my god, he’s so dorky during Harry’s dance - he goes right up to the stairs and leans out towards Harry, it’s cute. 

- Gabe HIDES BEHIND A TABLE during the ‘so hot’ part. Gabe. Baby. I promise she can’t hurt you. :P

- Harry puts his arm around him when Uma’s dancing on the stage, then sends him off and he jumps to the ground it’s kinda cool. 

- His dual sword dance is so dorky and he climbs up so his hands and feet are ALL on a chandelier, how. He swings from his FEET. 

Morwenna

- Okay, so note, Morwenna is not standing with the crew for most of this. She’s on the stage jamming to the music with them though, more enthusiastically than the other customers, and smiling really happily watching them.

- She’s just sitting on a chair on the stage chilling and smiling when the crew starts making their way over there, I love it. She’s shaking her foot to the beat. It’s cute. 

- She starts getting up during Harry’s dance and yeah, she’s jamming out in the corner holding the chair and nodding along.

- When Uma’s on the table, she puts her hand on her hip and puts her head out.

- She full on jams while Uma’s on stage, dancing around and moving her hips, she’s having a lot of fun watching the crew. 

- She gestures to Harry when he’s leaving the stage, it’s cute as heck. 

tl;dr - This crew is adorable and I am convinced that even if they don’t know how to express it, they are genuine friends and you can pry this from my cold, dead, hands. 

[antihero-writings]

Red and Gold Chapter 2: Blackened Magic—Pandora Hearts Fic for Phsecretsanta2018 (Vince/Ada Pirate AU) (Full Chapter)

Fic Title: Red and Gold

Fic Synopsis: Memories of a strange music box in Ada’s occult shop intertwine with a present where she meets the equally mysterious Vincent Nightray…

Notes: This was my Phsecretsanta2018 gift for @endoreon!

Chapter Title: Blackened Magic

Chapter 2:

“More meat, Seaweed-head, more meat!”

“There isn’t any more meat left, Stupid Rabbit!” Gilbert held up the empty plate that should have been enough for all of them.

She blinked at the empty plate. “Then you will be punished for disrespecting your Captain!” she took it from him and bonked his head with it.

“You’re not the Captain!”

“Oh yeah? Then who is?”

“Oz is!”

“Well he’s my manservant, so…”

“Are you really this stupid?!”

As they continued to fight, Ada tried and failed not to laugh. Luckily, her amusement went unnoticed by the two, on account of their focus on each other, and the noisiness of full table. Though her brother, Oz turned to her, smiling himself.

“They don’t get along very well, do they?” Ada mused.

They had decided to meet at a tavern a little way from the Vessalius manor for dinner, and Oz and his crew (well, he called them his crew, but—as Gil and Alice demonstrated—they often fought over who the true ‘Captain’ of their ship was) took up half the tavern.

Oz and Ada sat next to each other, chatting about school, and Oz’s latest endeavor into the Cheshire Cat’s dimension. Gilbert and Alice, of course, sat across from them, squabbling. Oscar sat at the end so he could get up and get more drinks whenever he wanted, already telling wildly exaggerated stories about things like how he tamed the sea. Sharon chuckled pleasantly at everyone’s antics, and Break across from him, teased drunk Oscar, and had managed to steal all the dessert before anyone finished the main course (they didn’t have much, so he had to do this to satisfy his sweet tooth…if that was possible. They would have demanded for some themselves, but anyone who dared attempt to get between Break and his sweets found that that sword at his side was looking rather sharp).

“It seems that way. But I think it’s just because they actually care about each other a lot.” Oz smiled.

“Say Oni-chan,” Ada drummed her fingers on the table, “you were telling me about looking for Alice’s memories, did you ever find any interesting objects or books in that dimension?”

“Uhh, we saw a lot of weird stuff, but no. At least, nothing to take back. We were kinda busy, you know. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious!” her voice was especially high-pitched.

There was a murmuring from the front door. They looked up to see that two people had walked in, and apparently they were something to whisper about.

One was a young man with golden hair, and a gold eye, while the other eye covered with a patch. Metal jingled as he walked in. His clothing was similar to Oz and his crew’s, though a little fancier; in black and silver, he wore a tri cornered hat, a long jacket, with a brown sash that held his bag, a black belt with a gun holstered on it, and black boots. The girl next to him was much shorter, younger, and had silver hair and eyes—eyes that had dimmed to a hollow grey, like there was nothing behind them—and she wearing a tattered white dress, with a blue corset over it, and a sword on her belt.

“Who’s that?” Ada tapped Oz on the shoulder.

As the man’s uncovered eye found their table, he cried happily, “Nii-san!” rushed up behind Gilbert and hugged him.

Gilbert didn’t seem nearly as excited to see him; he wore a scowl at the appearance of his brother, and attempted to break free of his grasp.

“Does that answer your question?” Oz snickered.

“What are you doing here?” Gilbert grumbled.

As her eyes scanned the table, she found that Gilbert wasn’t the only one who seemed displeased with the company— the playful look in Break’s red eye turned to something icy. Most everyone else, however, seemed relatively undisturbed, and continued with their conversations.

“Do I need an excuse to see my favorite brother?” Vincent hugged him tighter.

“Yes, when the Nightray manor is islands away,” he grunted.

Uninvited, Vincent sat down beside Gil. The girl seemed perfectly content to stand patiently behind him, and not partake in the festivities.

Alice didn’t seem to mind her seat being shifted, or if she did, her actions of trying to grab a bite of every other available food was her way of getting back, and was not, in fact, normal Alice behavior.

“You’re so mean!” Vincent chided playfully. “When I came all this way to see you!” he stabbed a piece of bread before Alice could reach it, giving her a taunting smile as she growled at him.

“Hey! I was gonna eat that!”

“Don’t you think you have enough, Alice?” Oz tried to calm the boiling pot.

“No, Manservant! You can never have enough food!”

As Oz tried to appease Alice, Ada observed the man beside Gilbert. Gil’s annoyance with Alice was of a completely different nature than his coldness towards his blood relation. She had remembered him mentioning Vincent before, but he’d never been very long-winded in his descriptions, and she’d never met him herself.

Maybe most people would have been deterred against him, on account of Gilbert’s general good judge in character—(though Break didn’t like him either, and he wasn’t exactly the poster-boy for good character)—and the…something that seemed to follow him, something clouded, hidden, something you can’t quite place your thumb on…something about this man—maybe it was the same something that put others off—intrigued her. Seeing him in person, she wasn’t quite sure what she had expected before. In the same way she was drawn to the objects in her shop, drawn to the darkness, to an ominous mystery, that can’t-quite-place quality about him was probably what it was that drew her to him. Magic of a blackened sort. Like the opposite of a moth drawn to a light. Like…a spider and the dark.

And the fact that he was more than a little attractive was neither here nor there.

She cleared her throat. “Um, Gil?”—gold eyes flashed up to her—“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”

“My apologies. Ada-sama,” be bowed a little, “—As much as I may try to deny it—“ he muttered, “this is my brother, Vincent.”

Ada extended her hand from across the table. “I’m Ada.”

Vincent was resting his hand in his chin, and offered the other hand casually towards her, like he was royalty, though something about his smile, and the way he said—

“Pleased to meet you to, Ada-sama.”

Made her feel like royalty.

His hand was cold. But something about his touch made her feel warm.

“It’s nice of you to stop by to see Gil!”

“See,” Vincent taunted, “She understands …”

Gil rolled his eyes.

“There was a time I would have given anything to see my brother too,” she tapped her pointer fingers abashedly.

“Ah, yes, Oz Vessalius,” he turned to her brother, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Yes, we’ve met.” Oz smiled, but failed to make it sound like that had been a pleasant experience.

As they continued conversing, telling stories and asking questions, Ada found she and Vincent were the ones carrying most of the conversation.

Something about the silkiness of his voice, the way he seemed both detached from those around him, and tangling webs between them…

What finally caused Gilbert’s brother to leave however, was when Break joined them,

“Oh look, they let a rat in here,” he draped his sleeve over Vincent’s face. Break’s tone was perfectly cheery, but his words were poison.

“Only because they didn’t clean up the scum walking around,” he responded in the exact same tone.

It didn’t take long after that for Vincent to say, “Well, as it appears I’m unwelcome, I’ll be going,” and stand up to leave.

“Feel free to not come back~!” Break waved.

But before Vincent left, he turned to Ada, “Ada-sama…might I have a word alone with you?”

“Eh? Me?”

He gave a curt nod.

Gil, Oz, and Break glanced between the two of them, confusion in their eyes—something protective flaring for Oz and Gil, and revulsion in Break’s.

Ada stood up and followed him outside.

“Um…Ada?” Oz stood, reaching out a hand towards her, his concern evident.

“It’s alright, Oni-Chan. I’ll be back!”

With that they exited the tavern, and walked a little way down the path before Vincent stopped, pulling a small spyglass from his bag to look out at something.

The tavern sat on a hill, overlooking much of the island, which they could now easily observe. She pushed her hair behind her ear as the breeze tossed it, waiting for him to begin.

He handed her the glass, saying, “If you look a little way down and to the left, you’ll see a shop.”

She followed his directions, and, as often happen with these things, the shop was her own.

“It’s said to hold,” he paused and spoke softly, “all manner of unsightly things.”

“Is that so?” she fidgeted nervously.

“It is also said that the proprietor is a young woman, from a famous dukedom.”

Her heart beat faster.

“Would you happen to know anything about that?”

She set down the spyglass.

“Why would I?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he walked behind her, “maybe because you’re”—on the word he placed a hand on her shoulder—“the woman?”

She spun around, feeling her cheeks flushing. “W-Where did you hear a thing like that?!”

A smirk tugged at his lip. “So it’s true.”

“I-I never said that!”

“No,” he leaned in close, “but your cute little face,” he brushed his fingers along her cheek, “says quite a lot.”

She had never been very good at lying, or masking her emotions. Even now, she felt her cheeks growing hotter by the second.

“Oh don’t worry,” He took his finger away, “I won’t tell a soul.” He put his hands behind his back, and walked backwards in front of her, like a child excited to have a secret, and the power to keep it, and earn someone’s trust, or tell it, and break it, but watch the fire that spread. “In fact, I am interested in doing business with you.”

“Oh?”

“It has come to my attention that you just so happen to have an extraordinarily rare artifact. One that I happen to have been looking for for quite a long time.”

“What might that be?”

“Well,” he stood, pushing his own hair behind his ear, “If it’s not too forward, I was hoping we could discuss it tonight.”

“…Tonight?”

“You see, I have some rather important business I have to attend to, and I cannot come by tomorrow. And I don’t think either of us want our brothers finding out about this little operation.” He gestured to the tavern with his thumb. “Us meeting out here is strange enough as it is.”

She glanced back to the tavern herself, wondering if Oz and Gil were pressing their noses against the window, trying to gain clues about what they were talking about, and if they’d need to kill Vincent for coming near her.

“I…suppose your right.”

“It can be our little secret.” He whispered, and the sentence sent chills down her spine.

“What time were you thinking?” she kept her breath in check, her heart beating uncommonly fast.

“Shall we say…around midnight?”

Electricity. The words, his touch, his mere presence, were like lightning, making tepid feelings inside her bubble.

Even so, he might be Gilbert’s brother, but he was still a stranger. A stranger, asking to meet her in the middle of the night. Should she accept?

She’d be lying if she said this wasn’t the first time this happened—the objects she trafficked in lent themselves to clandestine meetings, (her meeting with Leo, of course was one example). People wanted to be discreet about these things, and atmosphere was important, after all. Still, it was suspicious any way you look at it.

Then again, the idea of meeting a handsome, mysterious stranger in the middle of the night to discuss an occult artifact, was so exciting it was almost intoxicating.

Looking into that golden eye—like his brother’s, and yet not—there was this feeling of things being unfinished, like there was more he wanted to do—whether it be in life as a whole, or with her specifically, she couldn’t be sure. And she couldn’t help but wonder if her eyes held that same unfinished quality, a yearning for something more. Because, in truth, she didn’t want to say goodbye to him. Not just yet.

“I’ll see you at midnight, Vincent-sama.”

She hadn’t been very good at explaining things to the table when she returned. That inability to lie was a rather large crutch when she was interrogated by Gil, Oz, and even a sobbing, hiccupping Oscar, who started paying attention when she left. She told a half truth about how he was looking for a magical object, and a witch (she didn’t quite like the looks of horror and disgust on their faces at the word). Later, when it was time to leave, she placed her cats on lookout, and was glad that no one—the servants, Oz, or Oscar—seemed to have seen her getting up in the middle of the night (though the latter she was guessing might be passed out, or else puking his guts out).

The idea of seeing his face, hearing those velvety words, again, made the hours she waited—9:00, 10:00, 11:00—sand dripping by slowly. The stars turned sluggishly into view. She wanted to take the minute hand and twirl it around until she heard midnight’s bells. Her anticipation, shifted and floated in the air above her heart, it dove back into her chest and squirmed there.

When the time did come, and she rushed towards her shop—in a black corset, her witch’s hat, and cloak—the night air was cool and blue, but, unlike the unease that it held when she met Leo something in her veins rushed too, the air buzzed, alive with exhilaration. Rather than seeming impure, the world was so much more alive; the stars shone a little brighter, the wind was a confidant, who wanted to keep her secrets, rather than moan her doom. The world was a wonderland for her to explore, a box for her to open.

She always loved discussing the occult…maybe she was just excited that Gilbert’s brother shared her interests?

Let’s face it, she was beyond excited about that.

But this was something more than just business. Something to do with him specifically—once again, that undefinable something.

She had been around magic long enough to know that this was more than just simple curiosity, this was something akin to enchantment. Something pulling her moves, something sparkling in her eyes. And she didn’t fight the spell. Nor did she yet know its name.

Or maybe someone watching from a far off future would say it was curiosity. That is, of the same dark, disobedient kind that led her to defy Leo’s words once before.

When she arrived, he was already there. They exchanged pleasantries, and she opened the door to her shop, lighting a few lanterns.

“Sorry it’s not much…” she said modestly.

Her shop hadn’t seemed so small before. She’d always been so proud of it, how full it was, how many questions she could answer, and that almost-alive quality of the place, and she had been looking forward to showing it off to him. Even if it hadn’t been completely recovered since her search for the whispers, it hadn’t ever seemed so cluttered and insignificant.

“I think it’s quite charming,” he replied politely.

She tried not to squeal her joy at his compliment.

“T-Thank you…So will you tell me what it is you’re looking for now?” she turned her back to him, folding her hands in front of her.

What could it be? She continued her attempts to curb her enthusiasm. Was it a book, or a lantern, or a compass, or, ooh, maybe a—

“Of course; It’s a music box.”

The world slowed, the current of fast turning seconds became slow sand again, and she could almost hear time’s ticks, like water dripping in a quiet cave—but who knows what lies beneath those black waters? The excitement that had been so potent seconds ago turned to dread. The wind outside, rather than lively with whispers of a thrilling adventure to come, became a howl, telling her she should have listened to her doubts. The gaps of black between the stars seemed to swallow the light, and the shop became smaller and more cramped by the second.

No. Not that. Ask me for something else.

She had wanted to bury it. Though the whispers had stopped, moving it back into the trap door hadn’t been quite enough. Whenever she had stepped over that creaky board, the sound called to her, a ghost, and the feeling that one day she would feel her dark bride’s hand grab her ankles and pull her back into the depths of her own past, crawled into her mind and made its nest there. So, though she knew she couldn’t get rid of it—for fear of who else might use it—she had wrapped the box itself more tightly, put chains around the chest, and moved it to a place she thought would be safer, more secure. She wished she had truly listened to Leo, and started by putting it there, as far as away as she could keep it from her, without it being completely out of reach.

Sure, there was more than one magic music box in existence. But she only had one; That music box. And, despite having used it, she never told anyone about its existence, per Leo’s orders. She was sure of that. How could he know?

Perhaps he meant something different?

“I’m sorry…could you repeat that?” she whispered, and didn’t turn to face him.

“A music box,” he said pleasantly,

“What sort of music box? What is its…purpose?”

“One that has a haunting tune,” His footfalls followed her, “which, when played,” and as he placed a hand on her shoulder, cursed words fell in her ears, “is said to allow you to watch your own past unfold before you…even converse with your past self.”

The words made something cold crawl down her spine, and she had to fight to keep memories from resurfacing like monsters in uneasy waters.

She spun around, brushing him off.

“Now why would I have a thing like that?”

“First of all,” he lifted his hand to refer to the shop.

Oh, right. Of course.It seemed that lying skill would be needed quite a lot today.

“And second of all,” he stepped closer, “once again, that precious face of yours betrays you.”

She turned away before he could touch her.

“If I had an object like that, do you really think I would give it to a stranger?” she rubbed her arm nervously.

“Come now, I’m not a stranger, am I? Nii-san knows you well enough for us to say we’re not complete strangers. But as far as the music box goes…” he paused, then laughed a little, “Oh I think you’d do everything in your power to hide the fact that you had it.”

He was smart. An intelligence she didn’t think she could battle, even if she had had the ability to lie.

“I’ve been looking for this for a long time, Ada-sama. I really don’t want any trouble.”

“And…why would you be looking for an object like that?”

“Why do my reasons concern you?”

The frankness of his response caught her off guard.

“Because—“

“Do you usually interrogate your customers?”

That was true; she usually didn’t care what people did with the things she sold, even if she was often interested. She may ask, but she tried not to pry.

“If an object like that exists—”

“Please. You wouldn’t be so restless if you didn’t know it did. If you think a few ill-conceived lies are going to deter me,” he ran his hand along her shoulder. “you’re very much mistaken.”

“Vincent-sama…”

What could she do? She was a bad liar, and, even if she wasn’t, he was a good at seeing reading her. She wasn’t going to stop him by…

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

And she tried a different approach.

“The past is…dangerous.”

He did the last thing she expected; he laughed. Loud and long. An action that made her intrigue turn more rapidly into something dark, and hot, and stubborn.

“Oh you think so, do you?” he put his hands behind his back, stepping forward, “What makes you think that? Did the Hatter tell you something? Or…” he stood back up to his full height, his eye boring a hole into her, as if he were casting judgment on her by his mere gaze, and he stepped forward, tipping her chin up to him, his words whispered, but cold, “Did you use it?”

She stumbled backwards into her desk, covering her ears, breath heavy, as if to block out his judgment, or her memories.

She flicked her eyes up to him, as if they could hold the same judgmental drilling power as his.

That intrigue and excitement was twisting and writhing and turning into something else. Something angry, and burning, and defiant.

“Listen,” she stood, brushing herself off, “the past may seem like it holds the answers, but it’s not something to be meddled with. Especially not mine. Please leave.” She pointed at the door, “I will not be humoring you tonight”

All that anticipation, gone. All she had been waiting for had become a demand to leave.

“Hm,” he grunted, turning to leave, though she could feel something simmering.

She let out a breath, surprised, but relieved hat he wasn’t going to put up a fight.

And in the next second that simmering thing was alive, and she was being pinned against the wall, his hands on either side of her, his jaw set, the look in his eyes like gunfire.

Electricity. It was in him now, but it was not that warm, bubbly feeling. It was a streak of lightning in an already stormy sky. The sting of something beneath the waters.

“I told you,” he hissed, “I wouldn’t give up that easily. Either you give me what I’m looking for, or—I don’t want to—but I’d be perfectly happy to tear your,” he looked around, a twisted smile on his face, “quaint little shop apart.” He leaned in closer, and she could feel his breath on her face, “Or if I don’t find it…you.”

Her breath caught in her throat, terror turning the dials in her heart.

“And I told you...” she heard the shake in her voice, and tried to sink to the floor, but he placed a hand on her chest to stop her.

“It’s not something I would expect a thing like you—a spoiled brat, who has had everything handed to her, for her entire life—to understand,” he spat.

The words bit even more than his threats. Is this what he thought of her? Just a spoiled brat? A noble’s daughter, who never suffered? Who couldn’t understand him?

More importantly, why did she care what he thought of her in the first place?

What should she do? Should she give in to save her life? Or would she give her life to save the music box from him, or him from it? What would be she be saving in the end? How bad would it be if he ended up trapped in his own past?

Still, this was Gilbert’s brother. Even if he tried to deny it, she knew he cared about him. If he disappeared…

This was Gilbert’s brother. She couldn’t believe that this piercing darkness was the only thing inside him.

There had to be more. There had to be a reason for his actions, his determination.

Surely he had been through a lot in his past, if he would go this far just to talk to it.

Maybe she could find a way to help?

As she was held there by the strands of her own decisions, and his venomous eyes—which she tried to keep from meeting—her gaze drifted upon the wind, out the open window.

It was far off, and out of reach, but she saw something flicker in the cold moonlight. Something important. Something worth noting. Something she’d missed.

Something they’d all missed.

Red and gold, fluttering in the wind.

Sitting in a little alcove, just off the edge, just out of view, was a ship.

A ship, with red and gold sails

"What’s that, Uncle?”

Oz pointed at the picture in the book. It was of a ship, sitting in a cave, its sails a peculiar color of crimson, with borders and symbols in gold. The ominous air surrounding even the picture of it was enough to give the children pause.

He, Ada, and Gil were all sitting on Oscar’s lap, sunlight from the window behind them draping them in gold.

Oscar pulled them all closer, “Remember about the Abyss?”

The nodded, each with different reactions—Oz with intrigue, Gil with fear, and Ada a mix of the two.

“Well, there are two things in this world connected strongly to the Abyss that are very dangerous.” He looked out the window, as if painting the picture in his mind, “One are called the Sirens, or Chains.”

“They drag bad guys into the Abyss, right?” Oz asked, and Gilbert clung tighter to Oscar.

“Very good Oz-kun.” His Uncle ruffled his hair. “The other, are the Baskervilles. This ship,” he pointed at the picture, “Belongs to them.”

Ada leaned in closer to get a better look at it.

“Why are they bad, Uncle?” she asked.

“Well…” he put a finger to his chin, probably trying to formulate a non-terrifying answer, “It’s not that they’re necessarily bad, it’s just…You know how the Abyss is like a prison? Well the Baskervilles are like reapers, they too drag people to the Abyss. But they aren’t always careful with who falls in.”

They paused, taking in the information.

“If ever you see a ship with red and gold sails, I want you to run as fast you can, got it?”

Everything seemed to both click into place, and go out of sync.

This man, the one who knew things he wouldn’t, shouldn’t, couldn’t, things she kept secret; who would ask to meet her in the middle of the night, because a strange and powerful artifact she hadn’t told anyone about; who had business to attend to in the morning, and whose anger was quick to flare; who would speak of the past like a toy, was a Baskerville.

Gilbert’s brother, Vincent, was a Baskerville.

Emotions brewed in her like a potion, and her expression must have been disloyal to her once again because his gaze followed her own.

She didn’t breathe.

The smile that grazed his face was gentle, but somehow twisted. “Do you like our ship, Ada-sama?”

She swallowed. “You’re a Baskerville.”

She hadn’t meant to say it aloud.

He grinned. He took her chin in her palm, forcing her to look up at him.

“Is that a problem?”

If she tried to escape, she might make the situation worse—he might call his Chain to pin her further, or worse, kill her, but if she didn’t, she might die anyways…

“What do you want?” her words were taut, tiny, like that little girl, so long ago…She wanted to be stronger than this.

“I told you.”

“Why would you bring an entire ship just for a music box?”

“Whoever said that was the only reason for our coming here?”

“You really think I believe you came for Gil?”

“Well, yes, that too,” he chuckled, “but that wasn’t what I was referring to.”

There was a sound like thunder outside. They both looked up to see white smoke puffing up from the aforementioned ship.

Where did that cannonball land?

Fear doubled in her, it stuck her heart and her throat, and threatened to overtake her breath.

“What’s your real intention in coming here, then?” the unwanted question spilled from her lips.

He came very close, dragging a nail along her cheek, and whispered in her ear. “To kidnap you.”

He pulled away, and gave a warm and genial smile.

She gasped, eyes wide. When her legs found the ability to move, she was surprised that, this time, he simply let her go. Her own legs double-crossed her, however, and she fell to the ground. She scrambled across the planks, reaching up for something, anything that could help her.

She had to get to Oz. To Oscar. To run, like her Uncle had told her to so long ago.

“Echo.” Vincent snapped his fingers.

The sound of glass shattering.

She hadn’t noticed the girl standing outside; she could have been there for days for all she knew, her presence was masked and the shop was dark.

That lightning split the world.

The shop was silent, and her witch’s hat fluttering softly to the ground, was the only evidence that something had occurred that night.

"Oni-chan!”

That word had interspersed itself throughout the earlier whispers. The word that came by the most often, the strongest.

It was her voice. Her terrified, little voice, crying for her brother.

Her voice, so small. She hadn’t realized her voice was so small then, that she could be so helpless.

But these whispers had stuck with her so much, because they reminded her of that time. She had tried to put out of her mind, like a fire. Told herself there had been nothing she could do, then. That even if she had made it in time, then, she couldn’t have kept Oz from the Abyss. She wouldn’t have been strong enough.

But these whispers were a poison. They made her question herself. They made her think the scene was still here, still fluid, could still be changed. They made her wonder, Maybe if I just—Maybe if I had—Maybe I could…

Instead, this time, as she slammed shut the box, the word, the voice, that tiny helpless thing that once was her, was no longer disembodied and subtly toxic.

She turned to see a little girl, in the room with her. Blonde hair, green eyes. Her little green dress, and gold hair soaked through with rain.

That past was real. Here. In the room with her.

Ghosts were more than whispers.

The adult Ada’s hands flew to her mouth to keep herself from screaming. In doing so, she lost her grip on the music box, sending it to the ground before she managed to lock it, causing it to land on its side and crack open.

Standing there—and yet, not there—was herself. A memory of the past, a specific past, her past, animated.

The little Ada flickered in and out of solidity. She was almost transparent, though real enough to send her heart reeling, and nausea to her throat. Her small eyes, dappled with tears, were—thankfully—not looking at her future self, standing there, but somewhere beyond her. Even so, they were still looking at something else that was also both there, and not quite there; something beyond her future self.

What if she knew that her future was watching her now? What would the little girl do? Would she scream? Or would she run up to her, say it was nice to meet her, and ask if the future was going well? If the little Ada knew the regrets that the future her felt now, would she have been given the strength to accomplish the task? What if she could talk to her? What would she say? Could she change things? What would her life become if she could?

Chills played melodies up and down her spine.

Her past self ran forward—(Ada jumped out of the way)—the little feet trod on the music box, and a few discordant notes spilled out from it. And as they did, her past self’s form became more solid moment by moment. After passing it, Ada turned to see what she was running towards.

The box played more of the song, and her thoughts rearranged themselves, went out of order, so the notes became background to her, not the thing itself; the thing to shut down, the thing that was causing this …but something that was simply there. Not to be noticed.

The song was dark, and slow. The notes tinkled out like raindrops, like leaking ink onto the pages of her life, drop by drop, flooding out. And, as the notes crept along the floorboards, their bony fingers trailed with them more of the scene, blood on the floorboards, in the water.

The ghost rain pounded louder and louder, becoming more real, more here, and with it, the shop started blurring, as if the drops were corroding it away.

All Ada—the future Ada, the, in her mind, real Ada—could do was watch.

She couldn’t stop it. She couldn’t seize the music box and shut it up. She couldn’t grab her past self and shake the hours out of her until only the future was left. Not anymore. She didn’t have the strength. The understanding. Or the time.

The music was all that was left.

A door, big and oak, a facet of a giant mansion—which would have been magnificent, with all its bricks, and windows, and rose gardens, had it not been so stormy—stood some ways away, below her.

Her past self was running across a stone bride towards this door.

When Ada looked back she saw that she was now on this bridge too, and the quaint, quiet shop nowhere in view. Her life was suspended over howling, hungry waves and jagged rocks.

Panic and intrigue were now the battling forces in her. She couldn’t quite quantify the scene, place it into normal terms and call it by name—it just was now. How she would get back, and how much she would see before she did something, were no longer answerable. Her mind was in another place too, perhaps still in the future.

She, of course, remembered this scene. She knew everything that happened. Not in precise detail, but she had been through it once before, of course. However, the foreignness of the sensation made it seem as if she was seeing it for the first time, wondering where this unknown little girl was going to, and why it mattered.

As she looked all around her—trying to find a single piece of reality, of now—she gazed down at the waves below.

There were many ships; people had come from far and wide to see her brother’s coming of age ceremony. These ships had all sorts of symbols and colors on their sails, or just plain white. They were from different houses, and came in all sorts of sizes, shapes, and kinds.

But there was one in particular worth noting.

Once again, in a cave, hidden away, to the side. She would have never seen it if she hadn’t been on this bridge, high above. And she wouldn’t have found it so quickly if she didn’t already know it was there.

A ship with red and gold sails.

And for a moment she was that little girl again, running because she had to save her brother, she had to warn someone, anyone, that that ship her uncle had warned her about was here, now, and they would surely—

“Your sin is…”

But she had been too late then, and she knew she was too late now.

[powwidge]

For the Pandora Hearts questions: 3, 8, 9, 10, 11, 6, 18, 29, 30, 45

ok!3: Favorite Baskerville: That's quite hard, because I have to choose between Gil, Vince, Leo and Lily but since I relate to Leo a lot, I think Leo????8: Favorite Nightray: Gil. I had a crush in him for like two years haha xD but I absolutely adore Vince and Elly too!!!9: Favorite Vessalius: Mh, I really really like Jack but I have to say Oz here. I love Jack but I also kinda hate him because he could've solved his problems differently and Oz is just adorable?? Also his developement is so so so so so good and I plan to have a tattoo with three quotes and one of it will be his 'I am here'10: Favorite Rainsworth: SHARON. (if break counts as rainsworth, then break, of course because he is my bae and son and master and I love him with all my damn heart) I really like her ha11: Ok I think break counts as rainsworth since there are only three barmas and I think Reim goes into that category too but then REIM. I love him so much I can't bear it he is so cute I could scream about him 24/7 he is one of my top fav characters in ph EVER.6: OTP: ......................................can I die. SharonxBreak. It was my otp #1 for three years (-> till vanoé haha xDD) and it still kills me with the angst But my ph otp #2 is reimxgil xDDDD18: Do I hate or like Jack?: uh. I love him because I was like him with all his depression and anxiety and this clinging to one person but he did so much wrong but overall I like him I think?? xDD29: Least favourite character: Ada. I don't know why, probably because of the crush I had on Gil when I was younger xDD I have a hate-love relationship with Jun's big-boobs-characters oh god30: If I could make two characters interact more, who would they be?: GIL AND REIM YES. I ship them way too hard just because of that special chapter. they are perfect and I want Gil to suffer next to #perfectReim xD I just love them so much!!!45: NOTP: mmmh I have two. First is AdaxGil (yes, fault of my crush on gil again xDDD) and alice and oz. I brotp them too hard to ship them, I don't know xD But I'm ok with people shipping them and I've already wrote alicexoz content so hey. but I ship them as ot3 with gilalso thx that the ask is so long because that makes me happy