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xiolaperry · 3 years

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Four Ways Gaston Could Have Died (And the One Way He Actually Did) - Chapter 5

Chapter Notes: Somehow, this chapter veered away from being simply a Gaston “death” and ended up turning into a Colonel Ives backstory. For those of you who have not seen the movie "Ravenous", I highly recommend it. It is a surprisingly funny dark comedy horror story, and Robert Carlyle is amazing in it (as always).

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Francis Ives had not expected to discover he had a half brother when he attended his father's funeral.

He hadn't seen his father in years (and was better off for it) when a solicitor contacted him to inform him of his death. Malcolm had somehow gotten rich before he died, and the will stipulated attendance of the funeral for access to the funds.

Tempted though he was not to comply with the demand, the money would be welcome. He had recently been diagnosed with tuberculosis and wanted to visit America to see if the doctors there could help him. Therefore, he made plans to attend. His miserable excuse for a father owed him a chance to live.

The church was empty. Every movement was magnified and echoed through the cavernous space. The only ones in attendance were the solicitor, who had to be there, the minister, who doubtless had never laid eyes on Malcolm Gold in his life, and a pair of drunken old men. Ives wondered if they’d been bribed, too.

The minister waited a few minutes past the time to begin, hoping in vain for additional mourners to fill the empty seats. He'd just cleared his throat and begun to speak when a well-dressed man entered. A beautiful woman and a little girl followed him. They sat down and the man, a fierce scowl on this face, gestured with impatience to the minister to continue.

Ives watched them from the corners of his eyes, wondering who they could be. Forced into attendance like him, no doubt. Malcolm Gold was not the type to make friends.

Unnoticed, he studied the older man. His longish hair was silver at the temples, and he kept running his hand through it and looked annoyed. He walked with a cane, but there was no air of weakness about him.

Ives assumed the woman was his wife. She looked young enough to be his daughter, but the way she put her hand on his thigh to stop his leg from bouncing with impatience was not at all daughterly. And even from a distance, he could see love and concern radiating from striking blue eyes that he'd not soon forget.

The little girl fidgeted and looked as though she'd rather be anywhere than here. Ives couldn't blame her, he felt the same way. She winked when she caught him looking, and he smiled.

After the service, he went straight to the family and introduced himself. “Francis Ives,” he said, extending his hand.

“Mr. Gold,“ the older man answered, returning the handshake.

Gold? Ives's mind reeled at the surname, and the resemblance he now noticed. He heard nothing else of the introductions, and he realized he must look odd, standing there frozen in shock with his hand still out.

“Please forgive me, I didn't catch the names of your wife and daughter; yours distracted me. Your name is Gold, as in a relation of Malcolm Gold?”

“Yes. Unfortunately, that bastard was my father.”

“Mine too!” he blurted out before he could think of a more delicate way to say it.

The family stared at Ives, speechless.

The little girl recovered first. “Does this mean you're my uncle? Papa, do you have any other brothers and sisters? My name is Tilly, can I call you Uncle Ives?”

When she paused to take a breath, her mother pulled her a short distance away to give the men a moment to process the revelation. Her hands fluttered about, making signs, and Tilly responded in kind. Mute, he thought.

Mr. Gold asked, “Malcolm was your father? But you said your name was Ives?”

“I took my mother's name. I wanted nothing that would connect me to that man.”

“Ah. I didn't have that luxury. Didn't even know my mother.”

The solicitor interrupted. “Good, I see you've met each other. If you'd be so kind as to follow me, the minister has allowed us to use his back office for the reading of the will. You can continue the family reunion there.”

“Whatever gets this over with the fastest.” Gold waved his hand for his family to follow him. Tilly, a bit more subdued but still grinning, skipped ahead. Gold's wife gave him a quick hug and then they continued on.

The reading was brief. Malcolm had made a few big gambling winnings shortly before his death, and his sudden demise prevented him from squandering it all. It was to be divided equally between his two known children, Francis and Labhrainn.

“Thank God there aren't more of us running around,” muttered Gold, who received an elbow to the ribs from his wife for the comment.

Finding the idea of a brother intriguing, Ives hoped to continue the conversation with Mr. Gold. But as soon as the information on the distribution of Malcolm's assets was finished, Mr. Gold stood up, said a curt goodbye, and headed for the door.

His wife stopped him. Her gloved hands flew as she signed, although one did not seem to move quite like the other. Ives watched Gold's face change from hard and impatient to soft and indulgent during her 'discourse.' Tilly chimed in with “Please, Papa?” and an imploring look. Gold sighed.

“Belle insists that you accompany us home for a meal so she can get to know you better.”

Belle poked her husband, and he amended, “We would both like you to come, you are my half-brother, after all.”

She beamed at Ives, and he wondered how his brother had gotten such a beauty. At his hesitation, Tilly said, “Please come. You can meet my cat. I brought her all the way from New Zealand.”

“How can I turn down such an invitation? I would be honored to meet your cat.”

Belle was a wonderful hostess, and Tilly's smile lit up the room. Her endless chatter at the dinner table made him laugh more that night than he had in months. Gold (who asked him to please not call him Labhrainn) was not as surly as he first appeared and warmed up to him over the course of the meal.

After they sent Tilly to bed, Ives and Gold spent a pleasant evening comparing stories of their upbringing and tales of their youth over glasses of whiskey. Ives told him of his plan to travel to America in hope of a cure for his tuberculosis.

Gold's tales of his time in New Zealand were fascinating, but his mood darkened when he spoke of Gaston Legume and the cause of his return to Scotland. When Belle removed her glove to show him the wooden finger Gold had crafted for her, Ives shook his head with disbelief. What kind of man would hurt a woman like that?

Sensing her husband's distress over the memories the conversation had brought up, she kissed him. The tender moment embarrassed Ives, and he looked away.

They talked until the early morning. After saying their goodbyes, and offering their best wishes for his health and recovery, Gold surprised him by asking him to keep in touch. “I'm learning to write,” he explained. “The letters will be good practice.”

The half-brothers struck up an enjoyable correspondence. Ives looked forward to Gold's letters, which included notes from Belle and Tilly. He would not have believed you could come to love someone through the mail, but he did. He loved his newfound family. They were the only bright spots in his life as he got sicker and weaker, and the illness turned him bitter and desperate.

The doctors in America were no better than the ones in Scotland. Depressed and discouraged, his thoughts turned dark. Every breath was a struggle, resulting in him coughing up a pint of blood. There was nothing left to be done. He decided to check himself into a sanatorium to convalesce, more than likely to die.

He took his time on the journey, telling himself he was traveling at such a slow pace because he was enjoying the scenery, not because he was too weak to press onward. Then one afternoon, he met an Indian scout.

The scout insisted on building a campfire for them both, and Ives shared his meal with him. The campfire danced, flickering patterns of light and dark across their faces.

He watched the robust, healthy man just sit there, taking his good health for granted. The Indian enjoyed smoking his pipe, drawing breath without pain, not coughing and choking on his own blood. He observed this with such jealousy that it made his soul ache. Ives wanted to live.

It wasn't fair that his disgusting reprobate of a father got to have a long life. It wasn't fair that he was here, dying, thousands of miles away from a family he had gotten to know so late in life. The night was clear, and he leaned back, looking at the cold stars that cared not for his suffering.

The scout told stories to pass the time, and one in particular caught his attention: The Wendigo. A man eats the flesh of another, absorbing his strength, his spirit. As the man spoke, Ives felt a cold darkness fill him. Could the tale be true? He had to try; it was his last chance. Perhaps it was a manifestation of Malcolm's selfishness, the trait showing up in his nature here at the end. He would do anything to keep from dying.

He killed the man as he slept and roasted him over the campfire he'd built. The smell was mouthwatering, and the taste, divine. The Indian scout was absolutely right. He grew stronger and had no regrets.

A stolen uniform completed his reinvention of himself. “Colonel Ives” sounded impressive and powerful, matching the strength he now felt inside. But what to do next? He was hungry. The meat he'd saved from the Indian did not last long, no matter how hard he'd tried to ration it.

An answer came in the form of a wagon train headed West. The small group welcomed having a Colonel join them as a guide. A few small manipulations of their circumstances allowed him to eat them that winter, and come spring he was a new man, happy and healthy. Tuberculosis? Vanished. As did the black thoughts.

His only regret was that the meat hadn't lasted longer. But the more he ate, the more he wanted. So he continued on.

Ives wanted to share his good fortune, build his own small family. Alas, Boyd and Colonel Hart were a disappointment. He left Fort Spencer, deciding it was better to keep moving and see the world.

He never wrote to Gold again. He missed the connection to his family, and he’d compose letters to them in his mind. But they remained unwritten. A voice inside told him he was not who he had been; that he never would be again. The voice sometimes begged him to reconsider his course. Whenever it spoke up, he squashed it down firmly. It was too late. The hunger was insatiable.

One day, he was talking to some sailors who mentioned their ship was bound for New Zealand. An idea formed in his mind, a way to thank Gold and his family for their encouragement and kindness during his difficult time. He booked passage on the spot.

And now here he was, in New Zealand, sitting in a tavern, watching Gaston Legume from across the room.

He must be cautious. Ives no longer cared about collateral damage as a general rule. Disposing of witnesses just meant more provisions for him. However, some of these people were Gold and Belle's friends. Punishing Gaston should not come at their expense.

Calqhoun is the name he gives in case Belle or Gold kept in touch with anyone. He slides into character with ease. People found the mild-mannered man of god forgettable, which is his intention.

As he enjoys David Nolan's company, he thinks that he'd like to find a place for himself. Sometimes it was lonely being a cannibal. Tough making friends.

So he sat, nondescript, and made conversation with David. The man was friendly and not overly bright, which was exactly the combination he was looking for. In the space of an evening, he learned all he needed to know about Gaston: where he lived, his habits, and his associates.

The next day Ives set up camp in a remote part of the jungle. Gaston's disappearance must not coincide with his passing through. His stores depleted, he hunts, and finds the locals to his taste. He bides his time.

He considered grabbing Gaston from his bed, but it seemed rather anticlimactic. This man had hurt his family, the only people he loved in this world. And for that, he deserved to suffer.

First, he moved things around to set Gaston off balance. His shoes while he slept. His tools. He left the barn doors open and stole his axe.

Gaston ranted to his aunt that someone was playing tricks on him. The scowl never left his face, and he accused everyone he met of being the culprit.

Ives escalated his campaign. He left sheet music in the barn, a book on the bedside table. He hung one of Tilly's drawings in the kitchen and left a woman's dress on the clothesline. A piano key was placed in his saddlebag. Now Gaston crossed from being angry to afraid.

The axe, covered in blood, was the perfect sight to greet him for his last morning on earth. It was lodged in the kitchen table and covered with gore. Ives watched from the shadows as Gaston staggered toward it, pale and shaken. He came up behind him and struck him in the head.

As Ives dragged Gaston through the jungle underbrush, he considered if he wanted to eat such a vile man. When they reached his camp, he told Gaston who he was. He describes exactly what he is going to do to him. Big, strong Gaston cries and begs. Ives starts by removing one finger and enjoying it as an appetizer.

He doesn't taste so bad after all.

“Calqhoun” drops by the little village before he leaves New Zealand. He talks to David Nolan again, who, with a bit of maneuvering, tells him all about the disappearance of Gaston. A bloody axe in the kitchen table was the only clue, and the entire village was stumped by the mystery. Cora is the only one who cares that he is missing.

His only regret is that he can't write to Gold and tell him all about the favor he has done for him. Papua New Guinea is the next stop. Perhaps he'll find some companions there.

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #ravenous #ravenous au #the piano #four ways

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sergeant-donny-donowitz · 5 years

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Side by Side (Wilhelm Wicki x Fem!Reader)

Requested by @perawuat Enjoy! :)

(If anyone wants to be tagged in the Inglourious Basterds fics, let me know :) )

Wicki was more on the quiet side, a little more serious than some of the younger basterds, like Donny and Omar.

Of course, he was not as quiet and distant as Hugo, but...he always just seemed a step further than everyone else. He spent most of his time with Aldo, Hugo, or Donny.

Actually, he seemed to spend more time with everyone aside from you.

Maybe it was because you were the newest, and youngest basterd, and he hadn't quite had the time to bond with you...

But that couldn't be it, you had a good friendship with the rest of the basterds, especially Utivich, who saw you as a God send, since all the rookie jokes were passed on to you. Still, all the short jokes fell on him. Even if you were only an half inch taller than him, he didn’t count it. But the other basterds did.

You'd once caught Wicki smiling slyly at the height of your teasing each other before he turned away.

"Just talk to him." Smitty spoke as he looked in the dusty, cracked mirror of the abandoned hostel you were all hiding in at the time. He dipped his fingers in some water and ran his hand into his hair.

"I...I can't." You clenched your hands around your biceps as you crossed your arms.

"He's not gonna go crazy...actually...he might."

You glanced at him in concern, though he smirked, "I don't remember the last time he went to the whore house with us."

You narrowed your eyes and sighed in disapproval. "Smitty..."

He finished giggling, "Alright, alright. The point is, I think you have a pretty good shot."

"But-"

He sighed as he took off his coat and untucked his shirt, "He's older, he outranks you, and the life you want after the war is different than his."

"Yeah..."

He smiled a little, and sat by you on his bed, the bunk under Omar’s bed. "You're pretty shy for an opera singer, you know?"

You rolled your eyes, though he was right in the end. At 18, you were an up and coming opera singer in France.

Of course, that was in 1940.

Then the nazis came.

The night Paris fell, you were silenced. You were voiceless because you were French. Voiceless because you were young. You were voiceless because you were Jewish.

You couldn’t leave, not without your family. You fled the limelight. You ran. It was too late... The resistance found you, and opted to take you in. You proved to be handy with a knife, and had good eye. You used it to try to find your family...

Three years later, after a job didn't go as planned, you were left for dead by the Nazis in a forest at the edge of France.

That day, your heavy eyes gazed upon the setting red rays of light that fell over the drying colorful leaves. Heavier still, because you knew you would never find your family. It was too late.

You moved your eyes over, after hearing the sounds of crunching leaves, muffled by the deafening, slow drum of your heart. You sensed a shadow falling over you. You wondered if the nazis changed their mind and wanted to make sure you were out of their way.

Everything was hazy, every sound was dull. You had managed to focus, and saw a man crouching by you. He seemed startled when he saw life in your eyes. You didn’t quite know what to make of it, seeing as you were on death’s doorsteps. He looked back, and called something out in German as he pressed two fingers on your neck. Though he was finding a pulse, at the time you feared it would be asphyxia to take you from the world.

You thought he was a nazi, and you thought he would strangle you. You somehow found the strength to pull back, and reach for his hand. Your fist wrapped around his wrist, though your grasp was initially like an iron cuff, you couldn’t hold it, and your arm was trembling.

He placed his other hand over yours, and gently laid it down. “Sh-sh...” He moved hair from your face, which had been matted down by blood and soil. Something about him set him apart.

Another face hovered over you shortly, one you recognized. One that was smuggled from papers out of Germany.

One that was celebrated by the resistance: Sergeant Hugo Stiglitz.

You relaxed your muscles, your head laid back helplessly onto the ground as the unknown man simply asked “Deutsche?” as time was of the essence.

You managed to breathe out, "Nein... Französisch?"

He didn't speak French, "Parle anglais?

"Yes..." his voice was warm, and soothing. You trusted him. You had to. You laid back against the autumn leaves as your eyes wandered up to Wilhelm Wicki's. His voice was somehow forgiving. You wished you remembered what he said, but the world turned black. When you woke up, you were interrogated. After hearing your story, you were welcomed by the basterds.

That was six months ago.

You never could get over Wicki. You glanced at him longer than you should've. You tried to converse, but somehow it was harder to talk to him thatn with the other basterds. And that shockingly included Hugo. You thought you'd get over it eventually. You hoped it was just a crush, after all, Wicki was the one that found you, saved you, and brought you to the basterds....

But that wasn't all.

He was just one of the toughest basterds you’d met in your life... and one of the softest.

You could see the loneliness in his eyes after the basterds' laughter died out, and the cigarette smoke fades, and the bottles were empty.

He was only human.

He was a man...he was a soldier, far from home. In fact, cast out by his home. He had no one waiting for him after the war. You wanted more than anything to hold him, and be the one to make the loneliness go away. You wanted to be the one to walk with him to the end of the war.

But you just couldn't. He was a corporal. You were just a spy. He was older, and just seemed to know so much.

Utivich smiled, "Hey..."

"I..." You crossed your arms, trying desperately to convince yourself of a lie to make it all so much easier, "I don't even like him that much."

"I'm a basterd, not a dumbass. That’s Donny."

You giggled a little, though you rolled your eyes, knowing Utivich would never say it to his face.

"Don’t.... Don't tell him I said that."

You smirked, "No promises."

Utivich sighed as he sat by you again, "Look. I know you really like Wicki."

"Not.... not that much." "Y/n. You haven't even eaten today. You know what time it is? It's tomorrow."

"I was busy."

"You've spent most of the day pacing around in the woods or talking to me. How busy could you really have been?"

"I was...looking for nazis." You shrugged it off, though you were a fairly effective spy, Utivich knew you well enough to know that was a lie.

"When you go out, you don't come back without a scalp. I know you."

"Smitty."

He grinned a little and looked down at his hands, clasped between his legs, "He likes you."

"Don't play these games with me, Smitty."

"I'm not."

"Wait, what?!"

"Go eat something, and I'll tell you."

"You're a real basterd, you know that?"

"About time somebody said it," he winked playfully and you rolled your eyes.

You left the room, but you hadn't even taken a full step down the hall when you ran into Wicki. "Zut! Sorry!"

"Y/n," you realized as you stepped back thay it was Wicki himself, sporting a soft smile.

He noticed you hadn't eaten. He was holding a plate with the usual prosciutto sandwiches the basterds wrre accustomed to eating. "I saw some left over, and knowing the boys, I knew it wasn’t them. I realized you didn't come down to eat, so I brought you something. I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"I..."

You braved a glance into his eyes and noticed they were reflecting genuine worry.

Maybe...it was a raretity, but just maybe Utivich was right.

"Thank you," you blushed a little, and looked away as you slowly took the plate he held out. "You...you didn't have to, I was on my way down, Wicki."

He frowned a little, causing your heart to race, fearing you'd done something to offend him. French and German niceties were so subtle sometimes, you wondered if you botched something.

"Wilhelm."

You were a little startled, and looked back at him quizically.

He looked down a little, nearly fading into a mumble, "Or...just Wil."

Your eyes narrowed for a moment and your pursed your lips, "I thought you didn't like when the boys called you that."

He smiled a little. "But you are not the boys," he grinned slyly, "You're you."

Utivich was definitely right.

"You didn't have to, Wil."

Wicki shrugged, "You've been working hard lately. Seventeen kills in three days."

"You've been counting?"

"Hard to miss that."

You smiled, your cheeks turned red in embarrassment.

He went on, "It's hard to miss anything you do."

Your eyes widened and your lips parted...

Wicki couldn't wait anymore. It was war. No matter how much blood and adrenaline pumped through your veins, you were soldiers. You didn’t have all the time in the world. You didn’t know how much of it you had left. You didn’t know if you had half an hour, or half a lifetime left. Wicki was a little on the older side. Even if he did make it out of the war, he didn’t want to be alone.

That scared him.

He wasn't alone with the basterds. They were his brothers. His real brothers were gone. That's why he got "the fuck outta Munich while the getting was good." He didn't have anyone until he was a basterd. And if he got to see the war through, he'd have no one to share it with, not unlike you. Reunions were fine and all, but it just wasn't the same. That wasn't life. "I'm scared, Y/n." It was clear that he'd swallowed his pride to admit that, "I've been scared from the moment I found you. I knew war wasn't fair, but I didn't think of it much until there was you. I can't lose you, I can't lose any of them...I'm sorry if I'm too forward, but I need you around. I can't make it unless you do. If I make it out, I don't want to be alone. You make this all a little more bearable. You make it all seem brighter. Days mean something now. You mean everything to me." Your heart was aching for him. You'd do anything for him. And you admitted it. You showed him. You stepped toward him, all hesitance fading away as you stood on your tip-toes, and wrapped your arms around him, clinging on from his neck. "I'll be there, Wil. I always will be." The last thing he got that was remotely close to a genuine, full-hearted hug, was on the nights that the basterds drunkenly laughed and clung on to each other to stay together. This meant the world to him. In fact, you became his world as he looked down at you happily, with a relieved smile. He couldn’t remember the last time he was that happy. He wrapped his arms around your waist, and picked you up. He couldn't help it. You just meant so much to him, he never wanted to let you go. He slowly leaned in, and you kissed. From that moment on, you fought, you bled, and you lived side by side. Everything changed. Everything mattered. Every moment. Because once the war ended, you planned on boarding a plane together, side by side, and never looking back.

#inglourious basterds #imagine #wilhelm wicki #wilhelm wicki x reader #ww2 #wicki #quentin tarantino

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the-hilda-librarians-wife · 4 years

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The Mistakes We Made - Chapter 7

Summary: When her high school girlfriend comes back to town after two years with a baby and a terrible story she won’t tell, the Librarian has to deal with the feelings she had worked so hard to keep at bay.

Notes: I’m sorry it took so long, and I’m sorry it will also take long for the next chapter. School, you know? Also, please don´t kill me. It gets better, I promise.

Read it on ao3 (chpt1) (chpt2) (chpt3) (chpt4) (chpt5) (chpt6) (chpt7)

The night before had ended in tears, and Maven truly hadn’t known how to deal with it. Knowing her touch and most likely her comfort would not be welcomed by Johanna, like it hadn’t been ever since they broke up, she merely saw that her friend had gotten to her bed before retiring to her room herself, too exhausted to do anything besides falling asleep.

This morning, she woke up hoping they could forget about what had happened, at least until Johanna was emotionally stable enough to face the lies that had been spread about her. However, as she walked down the stairs and into the kitchen, one glance at her friend’s face told her that what she’d heard the day before hadn’t yet been forgotten. Her shoulders were tight with tension and her mouth was a thin line of displeasure.

Unlike the day before, Maven decided to sit down and have breakfast with the two of them. It hurt to be near Johanna, but she quite thought the woman shouldn’t be alone at this state. Maven had enough experience with the town’s scorn to know that much.

They were being very civil, nearly friendly, up until the point when Maven realized that Johanna was barely eating at all. At first the librarian had figured that she was eating slowly because she needed to feed her child first, but now that Hilda was done, Johanna continued to half-heartedly pick at her food, her head resting on her hand. Maven rolled her eyes.

“Are you serious?” She asked, making the woman look at her. “You’re really going to let a bunch of idiots get you down?”

Johanna gripped her fork tighter. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how you look like a puppy who’s been kicked! And just because of those rumors about you!” She let go of her cutlery and crossed her arms. “Come on, if they simply bought Torrin’s bullshit without even talking to you, I’m quite sure they don’t know you and don’t care about you that much in the first place.”

Johanna’s shoulders tensed up. “You know, somehow you aren’t helping at all.” She said, hurt and anger sharpening her voice into a stronger sound than it normally was. “Have you forgotten that included in this ‘bunch of idiots’ you’ve mentioned are my parents?”

“Well, your parents they may be, but how are them any different from the rest of them? It’s like they’re all still stuck in the dark ages, for fuck’s sake!”

Johanna whispers her name in something similar to a warning, but it’s too late. Maven is far too gone, and now that she finally began saying what she’d wanted to ever since she was a child, there was nothing that could stop her. Her hurt made her reckless, and the words flew from her heart straight to her mouth.

“They probably do love you, Johanna, but can’t you see that they’re always manipulating you? That instead of loving you unconditionally they try to shape you into someone that is perfect to them? Why- why do you even listen to them, knowing this? Damnit, you’re so smart, why won’t you just ignore them?!”

“Shut up!” Johanna all but screamed, getting up from her seat immediately. On her haste to get up, her elbow hit her cup, which went straight to the floor and shattered into a million pieces. “You, of all people, have no right to say this to me!”

That was when Maven realized she had overdone it, lost her point and hurt a friend who had needed comforting, not scolding. Because no matter what happened, Johanna didn’t yell. She extended her hands in front of herself in a gesture of surrender, and knew she failed to school her features into something that didn’t look terrified.

“Ever since we met, you are the one who manipulated me! You kept me for yourself and stopped me from having other friends. You always wanted me to be as hated at you, and now you’re doing it again! You’re trying to keep yourself my only friend so I have nowhere to go but to you!”

Maven flinched at the harsh words. Was that how she saw their friendship? Through all her life, Johanna had been her only close friend, but she couldn’t recall ever having tried to stop Johanna from befriending other people. And never, in a thousand years, would she want her best friend from suffering as she had in the hands of the town.

Would she?

“And you have absolutely no idea of what this feels like!” She continued, and now Maven could see tears shining in her brown eyes. “You have no idea what it is to try to be good enough for a parent. You could never relate to this, because your mother was just as much a freak as you!”

There was a weird, silent moment when they both locked their gazes and realized what had been said. Johanna put a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening as she realized, even through her haze of anger, that she had let herself go too far.

“I see.” Maven whispered as she got up slowly, pain lashing at her heart. She couldn’t do this here. She could not, would not, cry in front of Johanna.

“Well, I don’t think you should have much trouble earning the town’s good graces again.” She chuckled darkly and she slowly put one foot in front of the other, heading for the stairs. “Why, you think just like them all!”

Before she could take one last look at Johanna and inevitably loose control over her tears, she raced up the stairs and locked herself in her room, not quite managing to throw water on her face before she began crying.

That Johanna saw her like the rest of them did hurt her, but it was no news. She had began acting like it almost as soon as she began dating Torrin, and Maven knew that there was more than a little emotional manipulation involved in that change. Not only from her boyfriend, but also from her parents.

Maven knew this. But apparently, Johanna didn’t. Apparently, on her version of the story, Maven was the manipulator. She was the one who hurt Johanna the most and who trapped her in her clutches. Squinting at her bathroom mirror, she tried to see what Johanna saw.

When she had her mother and her best friend on her side, it had been easy to ignore the town’s whispers. But now? Now it seemed a lot more rational that the bulk of the town’s population, including her former girlfriend, would be right about her rather than the few friends and extended family members that thought she was a good person. As she stared at her disheveled reflection, bloodshot eyes with dark circles under them, pale skin and hollow cheekbones, she began to see what the rest of them saw.

Irritable. Cold. Calculating. Ambitious. Antisocial. Strange. The very picture of what mothers told their children to stay away from.

Oh gods, what had she done?

_#_#_#_

She was there. Oh, thank goodness, she was there! After the disaster of not being able to go out with her on Sunday, and having her father confiscate her phone lest she call Maven, Johanna truly feared that her girlfriend wouldn’t show up at the Poet’s Retreat that Tuesday. But apparently she shouldn’t have worried. Their biweekly reunions were as sacred to her as they were to Johanna.

She had her back to the door, so she didn’t see her girlfriend coming closer. Her shoulders were hunched, and when she wasn’t reading a book, that only happened when she was hurt. The realization hit Johanna hard. Thank goodness she’d have a chance to explain it all now.

Though her touch on her shoulder was light, Maven still flinched when she felt it. She turned to look at Johanna with wide eyes, almost as if she couldn’t believe the other girl had come.

“Hey.” Johanna smiled at her, even though her heart was clenching at how vulnerable she looked.

“Anna!” She whispered as soon as she gathered her thoughts. She stared at her for one more second before jumping from her chair. “Are you okay, what happened?”

“Yes, I’m okay. I’ll explain everything.” She said, but not before she wrapped Maven into a tight hug that lasted longer than it had to.

When they finally let each other go, they sat down on their usual places. “I didn’t order for you because I didn’t know if you were coming. Do you want me to get you some coffee?”

“No, I’m in the mood for hot chocolate. But first I owe you an explanation.”

Maven sat up straighter and sat on the edge of her chair, ready to show Johanna she had her full attention. “My father forbid me from going out with you.”

Maven looked forlorn, and Johanna couldn’t blame her. “He just… he said many ignorant things about you and told me to stop seeing you. He took my phone so I couldn’t cancel our plans or tell you what had happened later. I’m so sorry.”

“So he made you stay home?” She asked after a few moments of silence.

Johanna cringed - her girlfriend wouldn’t like this. “Actually… he made me go out. Mr. Aven invited us for a party at his house. There were many of our classmates there as well.”

Just like Johanna had foreseen, her girlfriend looked like she had eaten something sour. “Ugh. I’m so sorry. I hope you didn’t have to talk to Torrin.”

“Actually,” she blushed under the other girl’s stare. “I spent most of the party with him.”

“What?”

“I know you won’t believe me, but… he’s not as bad as we thought.”

Maven just continued to stare at her as if she’d grown a second head.

“I think that in the end he’s just a boy who pretends to be bigger than life because he feels insecure about himself. You know that most bullies have inferiority complexes.”

“Anna, I love you, but you have got to be kidding me.”

“I’m not!” She insisted. “He was really kind and open with me that night. You know how I’m a good judge of character.”

“No, you’re not! You always see the good in people, but that’s different to knowing how to read them well!”

“Well, you always see only the worst in people and stick to it! Haven’t you ever considered that people can change?”

Maven gasped silently and turned her gaze to her coffee, both girls silent for long moments.

“I’m sorry.” Johanna began. “That wasn’t kind of me to say.”

Maven offered her a small smile. “It’s okay. I was an ass as well. I’ll respect your opinion about him, veven if I don’t think I’ll ever agree with it.”

Johanna smiled, a timid smile of thanks, and leaned in across the table to give a peck to her girlfriend’s lips. Maven met her halfway, and even though it was a very quick, shy kiss due to them being in public, they had both needed it very much. They continued smiling at each other when they drew back, every inch teenagers in love even through the hardships they faced.

“Do your parents know you’re here?” Maven asked after a second, making Johanna sigh.

“No. They think I’m in Lucy’s house. I’ll need to get there soon, so I’ll have an alibi.”

Maven’s face crumpled. “You need to go now?”

“No, I think I have the time to have a hot chocolate with you.” She smiled, but her optimism didn’t seem to reach Maven.

“What will we do? Just keep meeting whenever you can find it in yourself to lie to your father?”

Johanna’s eyes became downcast. Looking at it that way, it sounded like they truly were in a bad spot. “Well, I… I can’t go on lying to my father on a constant basis.”

“Why not?”

The brown haired girl stared at her companion. “Because he’s my father, Maven. He loves me, and has my best interests in mind, but some why thinks you’re bad company.”

“Well, why don’t you just -“ she shrugged. “Ignore him? You know more about me than he does, that’s fact.”

“I can’t just ignore him!” She spat. “How would you feel if I told you to ‘just ignore’ something your mother said?”

“Well, I definitely wouldn’t like it, but let’s agree that my mother is a hell lot wiser than your dad.” She argued with raised eyebrows, taking a sip of her coffee right after.

Johanna scoffed. Mrs. Amaris was a lovely woman, but sometimes she truly wondered if she’d taught her daughter any manners at all. “I’ll get my chocolate.” She said simply before rising from their table and walking to the counter.

She had just greeted the barista and had opened her mouth to place her order when she saw something out of the corner or her eye that made her heart leap and dread settle in the bottom of her stomach.

Her father’s car was parked on the outside of the café, and looking at her with an unreadable expression from the driver’s seat, was her father himself. She was too taken aback and terrified to do anything but stare at him open mouthed while the barista looked at her with concern, but her father hadn’t been struck by the same paralysis. When he noticed her looking his way, he got out of the car and stormed into the Poet’s Retreat.

Surprisingly, he marched straight past her, giving her only a furious look before heading to the table where she had been sitting, which made Johanna even more scared. She knew she wouldn’t have the strength to protect Maven if the situation got dire.

Hearing the bell above the door ring and the angry steps of something coming in, the girl looked back to see what was happening, and saw herself looking at a positively furious man coming her way.

“Don’t you ever-” he began, shouting at her as he came closer. “Ever come near my daughter again, do you understand, you little freak?”

With wide eyes and a labored breathing, Maven couldn’t utter a word. Her eyes danced from the angry face in front of her and her girlfriend, practically shaking near the counter. Though she couldn’t say she wasn’t afraid for herself, her biggest fear was for Johanna, and what would happen to her once she was at home with this man.

It took her a moment to realize, but after he had finished speaking, Johanna’s father had actually spat at her feet. It was such weird behavior, unworthy of a good citizen of Trollberg, but it didn’t matter, because no one would ever trust her word over his. He bared his teeth at her one last time before marching away from her and grabbing Johanna’s arm, dragging her away from the café.

Their eyes met just before she was forced to cross the door, when her father took a few bills out of his pocket and put them on the counter, effectively buying the barista’s silence. Her eyes were those of a woman who needed help, but knew she couldn’t get it. They spoke of regrets and apologies and farewells, and Maven could acutely feel her heart breaking into a million pieces in her chest.

“Anna…” she whispered painfully, knowing there was nothing she could do. And knowing, even though she didn’t want to, that from then on things would never be the same again.

_#_#_#_

“I called Lucy’s mother.” He said as soon as they entered the car. To someone who wasn’t used to her father, it would seem like his anger had burned out, judging by his voice. But Johanna knew better. It was very much still there. “Asked her if you had arrived their house safely. She told me that as far as she was aware, you were only supposed to be there at six. Which is very funny, since I remember you telling me you had to leave because you had agreed on being there at five.”

He was silent for a moment, giving her time to digest that information.

“So of course, I went looking for you. I was worried. But then, I remember these ‘playdates’ you have with that miniature creep, and prayed that the day and time matching would just be a coincidence. But it wasn’t. You were there.”

He brought his hand down on the steering wheel forcefully, making Johanna flinch. “Fucking hell, Johanna, you were there! Are you playing stupid? Can’t you see I just want your best?!”

The girl took a deep breath, doing her best to hold back tears. “She never gave me any reason not to trust her, dad.” She said in a small voice.

“That’s because she’s had you in her clutches ever since you were both little, damnit! At the time we thought she couldn’t do any harm, that she was an innocent! But obviously, there was no way the daughter of a witch wouldn’t be a witch as well. And now we have the ultimate proof of how much she has misled you!”

Johanna could see him shudder beside her. “Oh, God, I wish I hadn’t seen what I have. But that devil of a girl got you to commit such a sin?!”

Her sharp intake of breath made her body quake. “I don’t -“

“I saw it.” He cut her before she could even begin her denial. “I saw you kiss her. There’s no use in pretending you didn’t. And that is something I will not accept. It is against our God!”

If it were anyone else talking, Johanna would’ve probably spoke up to that. She had a carefully constructed list of arguments on ‘why using Christianity and the Bible to justify your homophobia was not only hateful, it was stupid’, but she would never be able to say a word of that to her father. She would probably not be able to say anything at all in that moment. The lump in her throat just wouldn’t allow it.

He sighed, the fight in him seeming to be replaced by exhaustion. “And the worst part is that I know how she did it. I saw it happening. I saw how she isolated you with herself, and got you to think that that was friendship. I saw her stuffing your mind with dishonorable thoughts, making you feel like an outsider in your own town. Everything to pull you inside her little bubble and made you think you had no one but her.”

And invisible hand squeezed Johanna’s heart. What he was saying made sense, from an outsider’s point of view, but that’s not what had happened, was it? It had never felt like it.

“See?” He said after looking at her face. “Even after telling you this, you still want to defend her! You’re not a gullible person, my sweet, but it was quite the long, macabre game that that girl was playing.”

When his daughter remained in silence, he sighed. “Look, I’m not asking you to understand all this at once. It would be unfair to do so, after you spent so much time being manipulated into believing something else. Just… sleep on it, okay? I won’t tell your mother anything, so relax.”

He made a curve and parked the car on their garage. Then, he looked at her with concern on his face. “We’ll talk about this again. As many times as I need to help you come to terms with this. We can even make you an appointment with a friend of mine who is a psychologist, if you want. All that matters to me is that you’re happy.”

All that Johanna managed was a weak “okay”. She was too overwhelmed, to confused, to say anything else. They got out of the car and into the house, when her father called for her again.

“I rescheduled your dinner with Lucy for tomorrow, by the way. I think you’d benefit from seeing her more often as well.”

The words were barely registered by Johanna’s brain as she climbed up the stairs and went to her room. A haze of turmoil was clouding her mind, and when it began to clear she found herself sitting at her old dressing table. In front of her, her reflection squinted at her. For a moment, she tried to see what her father saw.

Inexperienced. Empathetic. Naive. Compassionate. Well-meant and attentive. The perfect victim for manipulation.

No, she thought as she immediately got up from her stool, making it fall to the ground. She wasn’t actually considering this, was she? This was Maven they were talking about. Smart, caring, bookish Maven. The one who had always been there for her. She had stuck to Maven because that had been her choice, because no one made her feel as alive or cherished as the weird girl who lived in the graveyard had, not because she had stopped her from making other friends.

But then again, a traitorous voice in her head said. That’s exactly what you’d think if she had manipulated you. You wouldn’t know. Your father may not know her so well, but he knows you better than anyone. And he has watched the two of you all through your life… wouldn’t he know? Wouldn’t he want only the best for you?

Johanna let out a sob. She was so very tired, and she only wanted this day to end. She could think later, but now the only thing she needed was her bed, which she didn’t even bother undressing before she tucked herself into.

She’d find a way to sort through this mess in her head when she felt like it. But now? Now was not it.

_#_#_#_

Her bag was extra heavy when she left the house that morning, due to the fact that everything Maven would need for the day was in it. She’d buy lunch somewhere, or maybe eat with Mr. Kavindi if he happened to invite her, but she truly didn’t want to return home before going to college after the row she’d had with Johanna during breakfast.

She tip toed down the stairs and peaked at the kitchen and living room to check that Johanna wasn’t there; and indeed she was not. She had probably retired to her room, to take care of Hilda or simply to not be in the same place where they had both acted like beasts earlier.

But she had not gone away, Maven realized, before cleaning away the teacup that she had broken. Well. At least that was something.

And it was very, very unfair, that such a small act was an improvement for them. There had been a time when their relationship was worthy of envy. They didn’t fight. They always talked about what was bothering them rationally, keeping in mind that the other was doing their best, whether it looked like it or not. They adjusted their behavior whenever it was needed if that meant not hurting the other, and somehow that never meant changing into someone they were not. They used to bring out the best on each other.

How had things turned out so wrong?

_#_#_#_

The early morning sun woke Johanna up the next day with its warm beans on her eyelids. She went through her morning routine, doing her best to keep her mind from bringing the day before up, choosing to focus instead on her empty stomach.

Being silent so as not to wake up her parents, she walked down the corridor and the stairs in her pajamas, heading straight to the kitchen. She quickly put together a bowl of cereal and milk, tossing a spoon inside before retracing her path back to her room.

However, when she was about to begin her climb up that dark wood stairs, she noticed something odd. Peaking out from under the front door, there was a small piece of folded paper. She crouched down, mindful of the bowl full of liquid she was holding, and took it in her hand.

She had imagined it would be some sort of bill for her parents, but the reality intrigued her. The note was, in fact, addressed to her in messy blue handwriting.

She took it with herself to her room, where she unfolded it quickly, taken by curiousity, and read it by the sunlight that flooded her room.

Hey! I came here to talk to you but either you aren’t home or you’re ignoring me lol. Anyways, I really liked our chat at the party. Maybe we could do that again? Maybe go to the movies or smth? Let me know when u see this. I’m pretty sure you have my number. -Torrin

“Oh.” She gasped softly. She hadn’t seen that coming. Though she probably should have, given how they had got on at his house. Well, she thought as she picked up her phone to text him, she was about to go through a roller coaster. Her main relationship was being put to test. Best that she find other friends to help her through the way, right?

After all, a true friend would be able to tell her if she was being manipulated. And she truly needed the advice.

#fic: tmwm #hilda librarian #Hilda Johanna #Hilda's mum #sketchbook ship hilda #sketchbook ship fanfic #hilda librarian fanfic #hilda johanna fanfic

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septembersung · 4 years

Text

Generations, chapter 4.

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three

The shed was warm from the afternoon heat and dim enough to make them feel blind at first. It had been nearly a year since Anna-Lucia was last inside, and as she blinked sight back into her eyes, looked around curiously to see how much her dad's retreat had changed. In her childhood, Andrew's inner sanctum had always been a place of fascination and a touch of mystery.

The shed was smaller than it appeared from the outside. As a girl, she'd dreamed of a secret hidey-hole in the walls, but had never found one. There was only the old storm shelter underneath. The room was cleaner than she remembered. Andrew must have been dusting regularly; it was nearly as clean as the house. The back of the shed faced the east. The south wall was unremarkable, holding a series of antique farm implements. The north wall as taken up by a work bench, fastened directly into the wall. At the corners, drawers or storage boxes stood beneath, and in the middle, a row of swivel stools with cracking vinyl tops. The workbench was covered in electronic equipment, all powered down, dark and silent, and completely dust free. Radios, headphones, a few morse code keyers, coils of antenna cable and unassembled pieces of antenna frames like the one on the shed's roof, notepads, three ring binders peeling with age, laughably out of date laptops and their chargers, neatly coiled next to them. Every cord and wire and piece lay neatly coiled and stacked, silent. On one end stood a neat stack of equipment cases, leaning up against the corner. On the wall above the workbench hung maps of every size and description, of the world, the United States, Europe, Africa, a detailed hand-drawn layout of Vatican City and its surrounding streets. A few maps had bright plastic push pins stuck in them at apparently random points. There was a complete absence of labels, legends, or notes.

Dad had been busy. Anna-Lucia briefly, uneasily, wondered how, when one of the major dinner table gripes she had endured over the last ten years was about the increasingly restrictive laws and ever-more limited privileges for hams.

The trapdoor lay in the plain sight near the plain back wall, "Storm Shelter" emblazoned in tall black letter below the heavy pull handle. This was the old shelter, that no longer met official safety regulations.

Taking it all in had only taken a moment. "Hurry," Liz said at her elbow, rubbing her own eyes in the sudden gloom. Anna-Lucia strode forward and heaved the remarkably heavy trap door up. It clanged with a ringing thumb against the back wall, and down below, someone swore.

"Uncle George?" Liza called softly.

"Jehosaphat, kid, you scared the soup out of me. Get down here!"

"Close it behind you," Andrew grumbled, his voice muffled.

A stout wooden ladder was shoved up through the trapdoor hole and leaned against the edge. Liza went down first, unhesitating, swinging her messenger-style bag securely behind her, and Anna-Lucia, more cautious of the drop, followed gingerly.

Landing on the concrete floor, she squeezed her eyes against the sudden flare of lights as a long overhead flickered on with a twanging hum. A meaty hand clapped her on the shoulder, and she turned to see George, his other arm wrapping Liza in a tight hug. She squeezed him back and he let her go, just in time for her father to swoop in with a bear hug.

"Dad!" Liza choked, with not quite enough air to laugh. "You'll crush me!"

"Welcome home," Andrew said, releasing her, and their eyes were bright in the fluorescent light.

"I wish I was home," Liza said gently, reaching for her bag. "But I'm here on work."

Andrew stilled. His eyes flicked to Anna-Lucia, who tried to smile, but it came as a grimace, and then to George, who looked like an exuberant dancer who'd just run up against a wall.

Liza pulled the bundle of letters out of her bag. "It's Jude."

In silence, Andrew took them, slid off the rubber band, dropping it into a dish of them on the work table against the wall, and sat down heavily in the old metal folding chair behind him.

Liza turned away with a resolute air, giving him a semblance of privacy. "Uncle George, is Uncle Kevin here?"

"He's out at the pond. Should I call him?"

"Not yet. I need you first."

"What's the word?"

"Dark honey."

George nodded. "Messages?"

"Yes."

Anna-Lucia stared. Was this really happening right in front of her?

As if they'd heard her thoughts, Liza and George turned to her as one, still frozen at the foot of the ladder, Liza's hand halfway in her bag. "Are you ready for this?" Liza asked. She looked over her shoulder. "Dad? Is she ready?"

"She only got here last night. This is our first chance to really talk."

"I can't believe I didn't realize," Anna-Lucia said softly, self-recrimination building rapidly as pressurized magma. "My God. How did I not know?"

"You didn't want to see, so you didn't see," Liza said gently. "And as long as you were here, to stay, estate heir presumptive..." she trailed off. Of course. As long as Anna-Lucia was going to be the face of the family assets, she should be as clean as possible. She hadn't wanted to see, and they had protected her. Until six months ago.

"But now I'm in the city," she said slowly. "And there is no... clean face."

"That's about the size of it," George agreed. "Are you ready?"

"Do I have to take an oath or something?"

"You're family, Anna-Lucia," her father said heavily. "But you'll be speaking to Father Nicholas tonight anyway."

Anna-Lucia tried to process this, but she was all calm, blank waters inside. "What will I do?"

"Same as always. You went in to the nursing home prepared to save lives, if you could. And you'll go back to it. With your eyes open. And I have a contact for you."

Anna-Lucia looked at Liza, accusing in spite of herself. "You're not really a reporter."

A ghost of her sister's usual smile crossed her face. "Of course I'm a reporter. The question is who I'm reporting to. I'm also a courier."

"Messages?" George asked again.

"Oh, right." Recalled to herself, she pulled a thin manila envelope folded in half out of her bag and passed it to George. "What's the word?"

"Good harvest this year."

"Looks like it," Liza agreed, and let him take the packet.

Understanding continued to dawn. "You coordinate from the inside," she said to George. "The jailbreaks. The underground epistles."

He nodded, watching her.

"And Dad..." she trailed off, watched as he slowly stacked the letters Liza had delivered, tapping their edges smooth.

At that moment, there was a thud from up above, and they jumped. Racing footsteps across the narrow shed. Anna-Lucia darted away from the ladder without processing what she was doing. The trapdoor creaked open. "Lookout, below!" Kevin's hoarse whisper came down.

"The ladder," Andrew said, sagging relief in his voice, and Anna-Lucia hurried back to get it in place. Kevin's big bulk came down noisily, the trapdoor thumping closed behind him.

"George," he said breathlessly, mopping his red forehead with his sleeve, "where'd you last see Ashlynn?"

George paled under his stubble. "Fixing the kids breakfast."

"She just came out of the cornfield."

"Ashlynn in the corn?" Anna-Lucia said skeptically before she could stop herself.

"George, she finally did it. She contacted the VCC men."

"She can't have," George protested, but his eyes belied his words.

"We have to get out, now."

"Kill the furnace," Kevin ordered Andrew.

"Not even on yet," Andrew replied, and with a doubtful look at the stack of letters in his hand, he moved to back corner where a gas fireplace was incongruously installed. He turned it on, let it flare hot on the fuel, and set the letters inside. They burned, the heat whipping out across the cool of the underground room. He killed the flames and reached for a long-handled ash shovel, and moved them into the waiting bin. It seemed to take forever. George was busy reading his own missives, eyes skimming side to side, brow furrowed, large hands holding the thin sheets surprisingly gently. Liza buried her head in her bag, digging and shuffling.

Anna-Lucia took a good look around the shelter for the first time. It was nearly a mirror of the setup above, but more empty. Very few papers. No pins in the clean, pristine maps. No radios. No electronics at all, besides the lights, unless they were hidden in the drawers, each closed and with a lock on the front.

Memory, she realized. All memory and networking. All analog. Nothing trackable. No evidence. "Is this place bugged?"

"It's the only place we can keep free for certain," her father replied, finishing his job. "Let's go. Split up."

Behind the fireplace tools on their standing rack was a small door, what looked like a place to store supplies or tools. But when Andrew pulled the handle it, a tall section of wall moved, revealing a steep, narrow tunnel winding out of sight. "George, you here. Kevin, you'll have to come back the way you did." With a nod, Kevin turned and was gone.

"You'll come up from here?" George asked, striding swiftly forward towards the tunnel.

"The usual. Annual building inspection, even for not up to code shelters."

"Dad?" asked Liza, rearranging the last of her bag.

"You and Anna-Lucia are with me."

They climbed the ladder and settled the trapdoor shut. "Did she really betray us?" Anna-Lucia asked.

"Have to assume so," Andrew grunted, lowering the trap door.

"Where does that tunnel come up?" Anna-Lucia asked.

"In the timber. He came down from that way."

"I can't really believe she'd do that to George," Liza said. "Not really. I know I haven't been around lately, and they've always had their differences, but..."

"There's a lot you kids weren't told," Andrew said as they exited the shed. "I guess it's time we fixed that." He carefully latched the door, but deliberately let the padlock swing free as ever. "You go find your cousins. This is Addison reunion week, after all." He nodded them in the direction of the pond, which could just be seen from the rise where they stood; several small figures milled around in the shade.

"Just mind you watch your voices. Corn has ears, you know."

"But Dad, what--"

"I'll be up at the house," he interrupted, glancing down at the huge face of his analog workman's watch. "It's field manager conference time."

#the next great american space novel

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bluerosesburnblue · 6 years

Text

Liz Liveblogs Bravely Second: Chapter 5, Part 1/2

The final stretch is here. Welcome to Chapter 5: This is Our Coup de Gravy!

I’m splitting Chapter 5 into two parts due to length. This part features an amazing climax boss, and is then followed up by the Sidequest Roundup, which ended up longer than I expected! We’ll resume with the plot next go around. I understand if anyone wants to skip this one, since it is mostly sidequests, but at least read the beginning because reveals abound and the plot starts to really kick into gear. No more messing around this time!

No introduction is needed. It’s time to end this before it begins. Let’s make sure the Kaiser rests in oblivion

“I deny you all” you know, Oblivion. Buddy. Synonyms exist. Try them sometime

Between the start of the scene and actually attempting the fight I started drinking some hard cider. So if the team members are siblings, I’m the tipsy extradimensional aunt at the reunion. Let’s punch Kaiser’s blond chinstrap beard in

Aw, damn. They switched Magnolia’s and Edea’s positions in my party. Muscle memory is gonna smack me down in this fight

Edea took out about half of Kaiser’s health in one full BP volley. Not so tough now, huh? Really should be buffing your defense, instead of the attack power of everyone on the field

Oh no. The magical domino mask that everyone seems to think hides your identity but really, REALLY doesn’t fell off

Kaiser is Yew’s missing big brother. I’ll... get into why that doesn’t surprise me in a minute

...that’s not the pronunciation I expected. Denys Geneolgia. I read the name as “Dennis.” Yew just pronounced it “Denny.” It’s... uhh... I can see why he went with “Oblivion,” even if it does make him sound like an edgy 13-year-old trying too hard

So. Yeah. One of the few things I was spoiled on was that Kaiser’s real name was “Denys Geneolgia,” and after Yōko’s prank with the Danzaburō illusion and the zoom-in on Kaiser’s prosthetic hand... I kinda figured he had to be Yew’s brother. I’m sure there was probably some foreshadowing that I missed, but I feel like I caught a fair amount of it

Fuck, I can’t believe Yew’s brother is the restaurant chain Denny’s

I can’t believe Denny just got arrested before he could give us exposition. That’s totally unexpected for a JRPG. Wow.

GOOD NEWS THOUGH. Tiz and Agnès are finally in the same room as each other. I... perhaps should not have made him a ghost knight for this reunion, but she’s seen him wear worse. It’s fine

AAAAAAHHHHHH that hug was so cute. “...You came for me!” HE SURE DID. ACROSS TIME. All for you, Agnès! Tiz will never let you down!

And from her perspective, Tiz is still in a coma. It’s like he came back to life miraculously just because she needed him

AND EDEA’S MADE IT A GROUP HUG. AHHHHHH. WHERE’S RINGABEL GET HIM IN HERE FOR THIS

Nevermind, Magnolia and Yew are joining in and that’s cuter. But still. We’re missing our sixth teammate, Ringabel~

Time to give Alternis, Braev, and Agnès the low down on the end layer, and how we sent player with the Bravely Second

Agnès can actually remember parts of it because she’s also synced up to the hourglass, but since she didn’t travel through time with the party, it’s more of a dreamlike recollection

One last job. Kaiser’s in jail, but his soldiers aren’t. We need to take them down and extract or destroy the Ba’al locked in Skyhold. But this time, we complete the ceremony and join the Orthodoxy and Duchy. Two forces once at war with each other, now at each other’s backs to save the world

Ag... Agnès maybe don’t base your speech on events that now no longer happen because I changed the past?

Apparently there was quite a bit of time looping for her. She was whisked away to the edge of time “over and over” again? Was that the result of being in a timeless space, or is she referring to various new games on the cartridge, of which there are none because I only have the one (now two due to New Game+), so...

This speech almost doesn’t work because they don’t make the player go through several meaningless loops this time, so even from a meta perspective, she was only kidnapped once. So unless Agnès has lived through save files I never made, I don’t know what she’s going on about

Didn’t take the Empire long to bust Denny out of prison

Altair didn’t even help with Anne’s bestiary entry! Why couldn’t it have been written without him?!

...glad the chest key for blue chests was just sitting out on the floor of the church there

Yeah, of course it was Janne and Nikolai who broke him out. We can’t have pancake night without Denny’s!

“Does the name Jerome Balestra mean anything to you!?” Janne... Janne you fucking idiot. Mook #4 didn’t kill your dad. None of these guys know what you’re talking about. But no, kill them. Fine. You useless brat

I DON’T THINK THESE GUYS, SPECIFICALLY, KILLED YOUR DAD, JANNE! They all look the same! How can you tell?!?!?!?

You. Are. SUCH a child. Get over yourself

Nikolai should not be that acrobatic

Oh good. Bella and Cú are back. Hey, Bella, is it awkward that Yew’s rocking your getup right now? It is, right?

Denys, why are you enabling the use of “coup de gravy”? No self respecting older sibling would let him get away without some serious teasing for something so cringey. I’m an oldest sibling. I’m speaking from experience here

After Bella’s speech, I can’t tell if the Empire is just Denys accidentally adopting people who need help, or a cult

Bella mentions crimes against “her sister.” She’s a “Dark Vestal” with black hair and seems to give prophecies of doom. Is Sylvie her sister? Did Bella do something to make her mute? Sylvie was one of the big mysteries from last “arc” that never got answered, so I’m hoping for payoff here in some fashion

Not even a moment to breathe (or save). Time to battle Bella and Cú once more!

Okay, so Bella’s sister was killed on the night Eternia was founded, by the “witch” who began the Plague, mentioned in the last game. Seems that may have been started by the Crystalguard

She tried to revive her sister, much as Geist tried to revive his son. But all she made were monsters. And Cú, whose resurrection she messed up. But none of them were Donna. (So, not Sylvie. Should’ve just given her a minute to monologue). She named her doll after her sister

Cú wasn’t even technically resurrected. He’s just a statue that she managed to animate

My Spirit Magic is so much stronger than Bella’s at this point it’s comical

Cú. You’re using up Edea’s special. Hurry this monologue up

Dammit Cú. I had Critical up by 300%. Thanks for wasting that

We spared them. Of course we did! This is the Best Timeline™, guys! No one dies, no one gets to economically ruin a nation!

Yew’s determined to show Denys’s people that the word can change so long as people are willing to work for it. Stop living in the past and wishing you could undo mistakes. Time to start working for a better future. And I can’t think of anyone better to show them than Agnès

“We can’t risk her Holiness...!” Othar, Agnès killed Ouroboros, the Devourer of Worlds. I think she can handle Sad Bella and her horse man without her useless bodyguards

I like Cú. He’s a man... horse of honor

And Agnès let Bella keep Donna, her doll. So sweet

Oh just let me save the game already!

We called in Braev, Alternis, Norzen, Kamiizumi, Goodman, and Lotus to hear our story. Lotus... has no idea who we are, unless we either called him from Sagitta and told him offscreen, or he somehow also had his memories hooked up to the Second

At least Norzen won’t arbitrarily attempt to kill us this timeline

Eisen and Eternia are teaming up to make sure Agnès can’t be kidnapped to use to awaken the Crystals

Magnolia’s got a plan to take the Skyhold. “Lord Arima and Sakura remember you well. Together, we’ve been preparing for this day.” Is this Kingdom Hearts logic, where all memories are connected, so as long as we remember the last timeline, so does everyone we befriended? Who, exactly, was memory synced to the hourglass?

...is it me? It uses the player’s SP, so as long as I remember the events of the story, so do they? Lucky for you guys I’ve been doing a liveblog, huh?

...that’s actually gonna suck if the sidequests remember Bad Timeline events, because now it’s a betrayal

Agnès has given everyone pendant pieces, so we’ve got a group call with the team now

“Take back the compass”? I don’t believe they’ve stolen it yet, Magnolia

Thank GOD. I can finally save and take a break

Denny’s got the team together to recoup after having his little brother time travel just to punch his face in. Understandable

He does genuinely seem to care about his underlings, so I’m pretty sure “savior of the lost” is the kind of person we’re dealing with here

“They went down fighting for the cause.” Janne, stop. They’re not dead. Best Timeline™

So Denys, Nikolai, and Janne all remember the past timeline, too. Who... who does and does not remember? Someone needs to get me a comprehensive list. Alternis may or may not get super pissed that I intend to “betray” the orphans this go around if he remembers

I like the fact that the villains in this game are as perceptive as they are. “If we remember, then I’m sure they do, too. No element of surprise with our plans, so we need a change of course”

“My friend...” Denys is the same as Yew. He adopts people. The empire is to him what the party has become to his brother: a second family to make up for the one they botched

They’re sending Geist to claim the compass instead of Minette this time. If the catsassin ain’t a secret, may as well go with our strongest operatives

New Game+ means both New Enemies+ and all sidequests from past chapters are open, so let’s go clear out some Catmancy skills, then fix the mess I made of the last timeline and see if I like the quests any better when I like the ending. We’re leaving the Bestiary until I get the Yōkai job’s Obliterate skill to make it easier on me

I’m gonna take the quests in order of appearance, so first up is Jackal vs. deRosa, where we side with Jackal instead of letting deRosa maybe accidentally start a Cold War for the sake of making some kid happy about his thesis project

Okay, they did exactly what I was hoping they would when I realized that everyone retained their memories. Event scenes are heavily abridged, but it seems like only the party remembers everything. So they go “hey, is this what’s happening? Okay, we can help let us fix this.” instead of having the situation explained. That’ll make it easy to collect the rest of the jobs

deRosa may remember. He knew everyone’s noodle orders, but doesn’t seem like he remembers anything about the Wellspring Gem. So... I dunno

Also, WHY DID YOU TELL HIM. You know it just causes a fight with Jackal!

“For every five years our research is delayed, the world suffers a decade of sorrow...” Okay, kid. Stop being dramatic. Your thesis project is not some high-end deal and not worth destroying at least one, maybe several towns over. He isn’t even a high ranking Al-Khampis student. Sorry, dumbass, I’m not letting you make a fantasy nuke

At least he’s got his heart in the right place. He’s gonna find a solution that doesn’t need the Gem, so that everyone benefits and they don’t have to destroy a city to do it. G... good job? You should’ve considered that from the start

Hey, I’ve got an idea. Let’s find Gho Gettar and slyly whisper to him that there MAY be an owl-man hanging out in the Northeast of Eternia that MAY have what he’s looking for ;)

Weird that the Gho sidequest starts up with meeting him and Mephilia in the woods to deliver Kamiizumi’s letter when the event we got the letter from didn’t happen in this timeline. Maybe he handed it off to us during the big peace talks in Gathelatio?

I’ve been listening to Critical Role too much, because when I heard the voiceover for Kamiizumi’s letter, I couldn’t picture the character, just Liam O’Brien’s goofy smile

Follow your dreams, Gho. I promise, Amaterasu is just a (very long) boat ride away

Kamiizumi thinks we’re being naive, because being a low-ranking worker isn’t anything shameful, and we’re encouraging Gho to be a quitter. And I agree, yeah, there’s nothing wrong with being a labor worker. BUT! It’s also not for everyone. Some people are AMAZING at those kinds of jobs, and some people shine in other areas. I don’t see Gho shining as a factory worker. I just see it crushing his spirit. And his sense of dedication is not an issue, because he is putting in just as much effort into summoning Amaterasu as he did working in that factory, but the summoning work makes him happier. He’s no less a hard worker for focusing his efforts on a strenuous process that makes him happy than one he doesn’t care about

“You counsel a guileless youth, still ignorant of the world, to throw up his hands at the first hint of hardship.” But we aren’t, though. You think there are no hardships on the path to his dream? That it won’t be difficult? No, we just refocused his efforts on something he cares about. He’ll struggle through just as many hardships, but with this he’ll want to go through them, want to make it through because they’ll be for something he’s passionate about. He’ll actually have the motivation to get through those hardships, and he’ll be more pleased with the results. Sorry, Kamiizumi. Just because it’s not for a job you particularly find tasteful doesn’t mean he’s not working just as hard. Maybe even harder, since he’ll be more excited to do it

The Kamiizumi fight is much easier once you remember that your Hawkeye has the Condor ability that can pierce default

And this is what I’m talking about. Gho is getting frustrated that he still can’t summon Amaterasu, he’s putting in so much effort, but now it’s for something he’s passionate about. It might not be as fast as he accomplished something of note as he did in the vs. Mephilia ending, but he’s accomplishing just as much, and I’m proud of him. Sometimes it takes just a little longer to do something truly great, as opposed to just something good

Oh, wow, I forgot about Sage Yulyana. Not his existence, but the fact that he hasn’t been relevant to this game. We still haven’t been to the Yulyana region

According to Mephilia he fought a Ba’al about a year ago, told her about Amaterasu and one other summon (Susano-o, the one she was searching for last game, or Charybdis, the other new one from this game?) and then either left this world to hunt down the Ba’al... or just died. Honestly, either would be pretty in-keeping with the good old sage. Just as well we probably won’t be seeing him, though; I only ever used Conjurer for Obliterate

Yeah, I’m happier having Gho follow his dreams than slave away at a job he hates, even if he managed to make that job more efficient. I’ve got faith he can do just as much, if not more good like this

Well, on to the next... oh. Oh god no not Holly vs. Profiteur again oh good lord come on, let’s try to stop this economic disaster before a child gets lost in the freaking mines again

Huh. This timeline they’re all just... talking it over like mature, responsible adults. And while Profiteur is going to make sure his economic argument is sound, Holly is... going to gorge herself in Heartschild. Great. Just go to Barras in Florem and leave the rest of us alone, you loon

And even the girl is more sympathetic. She still wants to stay, but she’s scared of her granddad having to go out and fish on the open water every day if they do stay there. And, kid, I got wrecked by a Monoceros out there and this party is TRAINED to fight, that is a very good fear to have

Oh thank GOD it’s not making me chase Profiteur down again

Greater good! GREATER. GOOD!

Oh, cool, Holly’s fucking drunk. Really making a good argument for yourself there, hon

Profiteur’s plans will “only help the few?” How so? Seems to me a flourishing economy benefits EVERYONE. Besides, I’d rather side with someone taking the situation seriously than one drunk madwoman

I’m almost happy that they made Holly so unsympathetic this go-around

But... now the kid’s back to being a brat. She’s throwing a tantrum because she doesn’t want the house sold. Too fucking bad? How many kids do you think would end up homeless if they didn’t sell? I don’t think an eight-year-old should be making the financial decisions in this family. They’re not good big-picture thinkers

Also, no need to be so hostile to Profiteur, Edea! Holly’s feelings aren’t the benchmark of morality, either!

I still have so many problems with the way this quest is written, as though the conflict is modest-but-happy lifestyle vs. lavish-but-empty lifestyle, when it’s really a needs of the many vs. needs of the few scenario. As though someone being sad is a decent argument for a large decision like this. As though kids are good at making rational decisions. Sometimes families move, sometimes things change, and it’s hard and sad and difficult to adapt to, but you need to. And this opens up so many possibilities for her that she can’t even see yet. Better schooling, a better home, good jobs, heck, she’ll be able to spend even more time with her grandpa if he doesn’t have to work all the time to get her food!

The one thing this quest has going for it is that I totally buy Profiteur’s redemption from the last game. He’s still a moneygrubber, but he’s a moneygrubber who’s genuinely looking to open up some honest jobs and help a country out

“You can trust in Erutus Profiteur! If you think I am taking too long [making this country a better place], you may come to blast me away at anytime!” God speed, good sir. He sounds so excited to make this work, and I’m glad to make it happen

Sidequest still wan’t great, but much more bearable than the first time. A kid didn’t even have to almost die this time around!

Well, now it’s time to go get stuck in Grapp Keep. If we were smart, we’d tell everyone to get out before the place collapsed, but then we wouldn’t have a conflict? Oh well. Let’s go kick Ominas and his baby dragon’s asses

I don’t foresee that fight being a problem, since I have Magnolia as an Astrologian with Elemental Barrier

...at least Edea tried to avoid slamming into that guy this time

The saga of Magnolia’s cooking continues. Seems she’s gotten to be a much better chef

Oh god it just hit me. The Edea punching the wall scene happened again. We caused the damn cave-in

And they tried to warn them of the cave-in, but we still got trapped. But of course

And Artemia and Ominas definitely don’t remember the last timeline. This time, though, we’ve told Risotto’s father to form a rescue party in advance. No worry about a search party not showing up. Now we have even less reason to side with Ominas! Food for everyone! Femto Flare later, when not under threat of hunger

Ominas, dude, just learn Femto Flare when we get out of here. World isn’t screwed because a tiny dragon didn’t learn it this second. Besides, the way this is going, it ain’t gonna matter much this timeline, anyway

Man, that is such a nothing quest. No real stakes, no real emotional involvement. Nothing. Cool. Moving on

...why does the Bestiary make it sound like Bahamut is dead when the actual epilogue says he’s fine?

Kikyo vs. Heinkel was enjoyable. Let’s hope it is again, yeah?

I like the premise of “oh we already know who did it, let’s set up a trap to catch the culprit”

And they aren’t even pretending it wasn’t Whitson. Hell, Edea’s blatantly guilting him, without actually saying his name

Let’s get Sholmes in on the police force. He needs to learn a little temperance. His big problem is jumping the gun with his intuitive responses. Putting him in a position that encourages him to think more logically and put together better evidence for his reasoning can only benefit him. Intuition is best used when you understand why you’re having that gut reaction in the first place, and it’s not the only thing that makes a good investigator

Kikyo’s still an annoying fight what with her constant evading and Transience skill, but Ninja was one of my top classes last game so it’s good to have it back

Yes, yes, we know what the truth of this incident was. I don’t need to hear it again, game

And you know, I’m liking this new, mature Sholmes. Good. I’m glad he’s finally wising up

Still a decent quest, I just almost wish the stakes were higher. ...then again, this game has proven that higher stakes in these quests tends to lead to higher stupidity from Edea, so maybe it’s for the best this stays low-scale

Who feels like opening up the first co-ed school in Florem. I do! Equality of the sexes!

Straight to the fight! This one was pretty straightforward

A co-ed school with optional enrollment is moving too fast? Really Einheria? Shut the fuck up. Both of your sisters are smarter than you right now, and one’s a psycho summoner and the other grew up in the woods

I just Summoned a Friend. He named his attack “Shot thru the <3″ and had Yew’s finishing line be “You’re to blame.” What a freaking legend

Oh no Rhea’s crying. What a shame

Einheria can’t even remember her name while proclaiming her loyalty to her. God, how could you forget a name like Rhea Veeling

And Swetti’s crush is still a thing. Great

Barras has licenses to teach various forms of martial arts and 22 fields of medicine? Dude, hey, go down to Eisen, find your drunk girlfriend, and go settle down yeah? Keep her out of trouble because you’re clearly the responsible one in this relationship

Eugh. Rhea’s Bestiary entry says she only joined the Bloodrose Legion after they ruined Florem, and her whole “making up for the sins of the past” shtick was an act to get the teaching job. Wow. Fuck her, glad this is Best Timeline ending

“Regardless, she is probably the most rational of the three Venus sister...” Not in this scenario, Tiz. Not at all

Back to Florem to respect the wishes of a deceased artist. Arca Pellar’s song will see the light of day. And then eventually Praline can remix it, but I don’t think she’s gonna have the patience to, honestly

So Pellar... remembers the last timeline? But Praline and Barbarossa don’t? What... why??? What are the rules for cross-timeline memory!?

At least it doesn’t seem like we have to trek through the Witherwood again. Good

And our plan is scream our answer into a microphone so that Praline and Barbarossa hear it and the loser challenges us to a fight. We’re just provoking the boss at this point! Why???

*mic voice* FUCK PRALINE. SHE AIN’T SHIT

I still can’t hear her over her background music

“Why not recreate that song as something people today will be able to enjoy?” Why not make your own freaking song!? There’s market for both genres! It’s not like the freaking Beatles are any less popular because their stuff’s old, you know?

Praline I am far too cynical to fall for false tears. I didn’t even cave to a child’s real tears. You think that’s gonna stop me?

Oh lord her awful song’s the boss music. You know, I like Jpop every once in a while. It’s a decent genre! This... this is not a good song

See? Barbarossa just handed Praline a commission to do a song for them. It... was for Arca’s song, though, invalidating everything I’ve done. At least this time the sailors are working with her to keep true to the original spirit of the song

Well, that totally invalidated my entire choice, but at least everyone’s happy?

The Bestiary has a few interesting tidbits. Rabbits are sacred on the moon (because this game was made in Japan, of course they are), Praline has been lying about being 17 for a long freaking time, and Nikolai was apparently a fan. I... Nikolai, buddy, really? Never would’ve thought

Time for one last diversion: solving the economic crisis of Grandship. Alternis may have his heart in the right place, but his clouded judgement will wreck Grandship in the long run. Let make the Best Timeline one worth living in, where everyone’s happy

It just occurred to me that there’s over 30 Jobs. That’s nuts

Just heading straight to the council meeting, huh? Just as well, we already know who we’re here to support. Though I wouldn’t have objected to hanging out with Datz, Zatz, Alternis, and the Proprietress for lunch again

(Also, side note: The salted caramel tea I’m drinking right now is ~amaaaaaazing~. I’m not even really a salted caramel person. Bigelow teas are a gift to this earth. Alternis is gonna get a beating while I sip tea dramatically)

Shoot. The elevator’s still locked. Guess I’m dungeon running with encounters off again. Teeeeediuuuuum~

(I get the point is probably new encounters but: I don’t have Obliterate yet and I’m still overleveled. So!)

We aren’t abandoning the orphans, you overdramatic dork!

Wow. That might be the first boss I’ve lost to.

Alternis, you’re proposing now!? In the middle of combat over the economic security of orphans!? Learn some tact, doofus!

Minus Strike is complete bullshit when Alternis has 100x the max health we do. That’s just an instant kill

And Khamer seems really devoted to helping the poor despite all this. “Maybe we can have our cake and eat it, too.” Yeah, I like it!

Oh, sure, cut to starving orphans to make me feel bad

Oh, I love the Proprietress. Now that people have money to spend, they’re spending it on helping the poor! And the kids are being offered an apprenticeship and schooling! Exactly how it should be. I was worried they were gonna vilify my choice for a second there

I forgot Edea was only 18. These kids really are all younger than me

Ah, that’s cute. Magnolia wonders how terrifying Alternis’s face must be in the Bestiary and Edea can only reply with “...” Yeah, mmmhmm. Good response to the pretty-boy pompadour guy

Thank God those are over. I love this game, but that was basically an hours-long boss rush. Most of those were a bit more tolerable than the Bad Timeline runs, but I still don’t think they were written well. The flaw is in the fundamental conflict setup... but I think I’ve talked enough about my problems with them in previous entries, so let’s make like a New Timeline and cut the chit chat because we already know what’s up

I’ve finally escaped Morality Sidequest Hell. Now, there’s at least two more sidequests in the game, but I have high hopes for them. Mostly because they won’t be confined to the Choice structure that all of the others have been stuck in which means: 1. no moralizing (probably) and 2. development for party members other than Edea, because the Tiz, Yew, and Magnolia might as well have not been there at all for all they contributed to these quests

Wow, that ended up being way longer than expected. I was hoping to get right into the story this liveblog, but I guess that’s not gonna happen. Well, check back next time when I go race Geist to the spacetime compass. He... unfortunately has a good headstart considering I just did eight sidequests, but now the whole party’s level 60 and ready to go! He doesn’t stand a... geist of a chance

#bravely default #bravely second #liz liveblogs bravely second #woooooooo that was a long string of fights #but with that out of the way part 2 should be a breeze #i want to beat this game this month #so let's shoot for a halloween finale

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alanakusumas · 6 years

Text

The Bittersweet Epilogue (Sweet Treats Pt.3)

Fandom: Endless Summer Pairing: Michelle x Quinn, Jake x F!MC Word Count: 2119 Summary: Since the intense end of their La Huerta trip, the gang is still as close as they were two years ago. Their trauma is a weird thing to bond over, but the original Girl Talk™️ group cope with their losses through personal achievements, falling in love, and welcoming their fellow honorary traumatized member.

Author’s Note: Thanks for constantly pushing me to finish this series. It’s been a wild year, and I can’t believe Endless Summer is ending already! I’m so attached to this trilogy that started off as a prompt request, and I managed to birth a new part for each book. I can’t believe we have to bid our farewells to these characters already, but when I think about it, it’s been a solid year and a half. Let’s hope they make appearances in other books!

Previously on Sweet Treats, Now Gimme the Deets... Part 1 // Part 2

The soft rumble of car wheels gliding across flat pavement flowed in one ear and out the other. Driving down empty freeways never failed to soothe her. There’s such an exhilarating feeling that exerts out of her soul when she flies down the road, watching the city and bridges around her zip past her vision faster than she can make sense of it. A sigh escaped her lips as she lost herself in a scenery of purple sunsets and deep green forestry. There could be so many things wrong with the world, but in this moment it seemed like it was perfect. The world was perfect, her life was perfect. Her life was finally perfect for once.

How could she have gotten so lucky, to win an all inclusive trip to La Huerta? Certainly she went through a hellstorm, but without that adventure she never would have met friends for a lifetime, rediscover what she finds important, and finally understand what it’s like to fall head over heels in love for someone.

Speaking of that someone, she snapped out of her trance and glanced down at her hands intertwined with theirs. She gave it a gentle squeeze. “I love you,” She mumbled under her breath just loud enough for them to hear.

“I love you too, Meech.” Quinn raised their hands and pressed hers into a soft kiss. “What made you think of that?”

“I’m going down a path of nostalgia again. So much has happened in the past two years, I’m just really thankful to have you.” Embarrassed, she rolled her eyes. “Not to be super cheesy or anything, but I wouldn’t wish for it to be any other way.”

There used to be a time where Michelle would kill to be in Sean’s arms again, but even though their love for one another would never disperse, the time they spent together seemed to have brought them nowhere. There was no growth - just routine, and although things didn’t end the way either of them wanted it to, upon reflection she was happy it happened.

Quinn’s eyes glistened with adoration. “Me too.” She peered ahead of the road, eyes shifting from the speed limit signs to the streets that were open for exit. “How much longer until we reach the airport?”

“We’re almost there, give or take fifteen minutes. I can see the terminal signs coming up right about now.” Quinn nods in response and let out a sigh.

This car ride has been awfully tense; Michelle thinks it’s because she and her girlfriend had a mutual understanding that this day was going to be rough, if anything. The drive to the airport was the only break they had today to drift off into their own worlds before they had to face the bittersweet reality that was their bi-annual reunion.

It was MC’s wish - that they’d always remember and cherish one another after she merged back with Vaanu – and there was no way they could break that promise. She sacrificed her life to let them fulfill theirs; Michelle has been ever so grateful for that. She recalled the time she told MC her aspirations of taking medical residency in New York.

After she returned to Hartfeld, she worked twice as hard as before to ensure that MC’s sacrifice was worth something to her. Since moving to New York after her acceptance into neurosurgery residency, Michelle has had the thrill of diagnosing patients, and in return she got their gratitude. That was more than enough for her. Finally confessing her crush on Quinn last year and moving in with her was just the cherry on top.

It wasn’t a reunion unless everyone was there – and that’s where Michelle and Quinn were heading to pick Jake up. It was their turn to host the reunion - and as MC’s maid of honor, Michelle only felt it was right to greet him there. “Not gonna lie, I’m excited but also nervous to see Jake again,” she confessed as they pulled up to the pick-up area, “Do you think it’ll be a l’il awkward like the last few times?”

“I doubt it; he’s making progress each time we see him. And,” Quinn added, “Judging by what Rebecca shares on her Snapchat, she seems to be spending a lot of time with him to keep him from going into a lonely, soul-sucking deep end. Remember that video of him tripping over a tree branch when they went hiking last weekend?” Michelle tried to fake a chuckle, yet she couldn’t help but let the nerves get to her. She had one hand gripped to the wheel, and the other still clutching onto Quinn’s tightly when tears began to well up in her eyes.

“I don’t know how he does it, I miss her so much.” She felt Quinn squeeze her hand.

“Me too,” Quinn leaned in so Michelle could rest her head on her girlfriend’s shoulder; she felt her trace small circles on her back. It was comforting to finally let someone in her life besides Sean; she felt peace for the first time, in a long -

A sudden jerk of the back door handle jolted them out of their somber nuzzling, becoming fully aware of their pilot friend welcoming himself into Michelle’s car. He tossed his duffel bag on one end of the car before plopping himself on the other end.

“Alrighty gal pals, as much as I like seeing people being affectionate in public, let’s try to keep this car ride PG, shall we?”

Michelle let out a loud groan, contrary to her girlfriend’s lighthearted giggle. “Welcome to New York, I guess.”

-- -- --

The ride back to the city wasn’t as awks as Michelle assumed it would be. Right away Quinn asked Jake what he’s been up to, and the conversation picked up from there.

“I don’t know, I’m still in between jobs, I guess.” He began, “A part of me wants to get into personal training; stay on the ground for a bit. But Reb insists that I try to do some community college – which is stupid, I hate the idea of going back to school. But, I kinda want to do it, for her sake.” He glanced down as he let out a hearty chuckle. “I’m also considering joining the police academy –“

“Oh my god, yes.” The words stumbled out of Michelle’s mouth before she could even catch herself. “Sorry,” She blushed, “I just think that would make great poetic justice. Plus, you have the right attitude and physique for it.”

The left corner of Jake’s mouth lifts up into a smirk. “Physique, eh?”

“Shut your trap.”

“Gotta say, Meech, awfully bold of you to be checking Jake out while I’m right here.”

“Oh, now you guys are teaming up on me? That’s a first!”

-- -- --

“Say, you girls think anyone’s pregnant this time around?”

“If anything, my money’s on Grace and Aleister!”

“Nuh uh. No way in hell am I letting Grace get pregnant this early into her career.”

-- -- --

“Meech, do you always have your hair in a ponytail nowadays?”

“Yeah, why not? I need to keep it up as a doctor. Plus, I look good regardless.”

Jake scoffed. “Cocky.”

“Cock.”

“Language, guys.”

“Babe, first of all, you’re twenty-three and –”

“Second of all, who cares? There are no kids in the car.”

“That’s what you think.”

Michelle’s eyes bulged out of their sockets before she screamed. “Whoa, what the fuck! Don’t make jokes like that!”

“I can’t even get pregnant. We both have vaginas, Michelle.”

“Fuck you, sperm donors exist.”

“Holy shit, Quinn, this ain’t even my relationship or kid, and that stressed me out for a sec.”

“Oh my god, fine. Cuss to your heart’s desire.”

-- -- --

Serene silence took over the vehicle as Michelle pulled into the parking garage of her apartment and turned her car off. Finally relieved to have completed the road trip, she inhaled, and then exhaled through her glossy lips while leaning back on her driver’s seat.

To her right, was her beautiful girlfriend who drifted off to sleep while leaning against her seat-belt; she could tell from the faint whistle coming from her nose.

And behind her – she glanced up at her driver’s mirror – was one of her best friends’ husband, fiddling with the one dog tag he had left on his chain, since he gifted the other to MC before she transcended away. Catching her looking, he stares back into her reflection with sincerity. “I miss her,” He muttered, bold and firm.

She sighed. “Me too.”

Groggily, Quinn stirred awake, “Yeah,” She whispered.

Besides maintaining the dedication of their friendship, the only other reason the entire gang meets up twice a year was a tribute to MC. The three of them hope that she’s somewhere out in the universe, knowing that they’re still thinking of her.

-- -- --

“Excuse me, waiter! One more round of shots please! One more round on me, guys.”

“For Christ’s sake, Raj. We aren’t college fools anymore. I can’t drink this much.”

“I’ll happily take your shot for you, Big Al.”

Roaring laughter and chitchat filled the leather booth that Quinn rented out at their favourite local bar. Michelle was elated to see them in New York with her. Just like how Quinn constantly made her feel, she realized that it wasn’t the city that made a place home.

…Okay, maybe the city had a bit to do with that. But at the end of the day, it’s the people who surround her that keep her at peace. And right now, that meant her family. Her La Huerta family.

“Helllooooooo, Meech? Meech!” She blinked once, twice, snapping out of her trance to see Craig snapping in front of her face, hair still as spikey as it was in the college years.

“What?”

“Anything new happen in the past six months?” His eyes glistened with anticipation every time he saw her. It was nice to know that he’s still got her back after all these years, despite the cheating allegations the sorority had against her.

“Nope,” She said disappointingly, “Just working and studying. The occasional date with Quinn.”

Her girlfriend shook her head in dismay, ready to counter that statement. “It’s not just any occasional date. She took me to the planetarium a few weekends ago! We watched the evolution of the Milky Way; it was gorgeous!”

“Damn,” Sean beamed at the two, and Michelle beamed back in appreciation. “Name a better date in your early twenties, I’ll wait.” Michelle shook her head and bit her lip to hold a laugh in, getting secondhand embarrassment from the outdated joke her ex just made.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed a server approach the booth with a platter of chocolate-coated strawberries. “Enjoy,” She said bleakly.

“Oh, we didn’t order these.”

“These are complementary from the chef.”

Michelle raised an eyebrow at the server. “Why?”

“I don’t know. Y’all are locals, right? Maybe he saw how happy you and your partner are with your friends right now, and wanted to make the night even better.”

“Well, if Michelle won’t eat them, I will,” Zahra began to lean over the table and pluck a strawberry off the platter, and everybody else began to dig in following her.

Michelle side-eyed Quinn - whose lips began to lift into a grin, and then glanced over at Jake – who is very clearly holding his breath in shock. Chocolate coated strawberries? There’s no way this was just a coincidence. Their eyes began to well up with tears again, reminiscing the first time MC, Quinn, and Michelle shared their first moment of sisterhood.

What a bittersweet feeling it is, to believe that MC’s still here with them.

Even though it was as little silly, and she might not even hear anything, Michelle thought it was worth the shot to talk to her. She hated to admit it, but she does that every so often. She liked to believe that MC can hear her, and understood her.

Hey, MC.

If you can hear our thoughts, we miss you so much. Thank you so much for letting us all pursue our dreams. I can never thank you enough. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to fall in love with Quinn; we hope you’re okay.

She turned to see Jake, still gripping onto his dog tag, deep in thought.

Jake really misses you. He’s constantly twiddling with his dog tag, which means that he’s thinking of the other half. His other half. He’s really happy with his sister right now, so you don’t have to worry; your husband’s in good hands. You’ve really changed him, I don’t think he ever wants to fly a plane again without a partner-in-crime.

The most important thing, is that he loves you. He knows you’re his forever soulmate, no matter where you are, or what you are.

She looked over at her gorgeous girlfriend, biting into a strawberry with the brightest grin on her face. And someday, I hope I’ll feel the way he does for you, with Quinn.

Oh, by the way, those strawberries the ‘chef’ sent were amaaaazing.

-- -- --

“Oh!” Grace grabbed onto her boyfriend’s arm. “Aleister and I have some news to share with you all!”

Jake and Michelle immediately exchange an alarmed look with one another. Please don’t be pregnant, please don’t be pregnant.

“Grace and I have been talking about it, and we finally decided that…we’re going to move in together.”

Oh, Jesus Christ, thank the fucking Lord.

#playchoices #endless summer #jake mckenzie #jakexmc #jake x mc #endless summer fanfic #my writing #es #michellexquinn #michelle x quinn #quinn kelly #michelle nguyen

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petertingle-yipyip · 7 years

Photo

//requested by @oneshot-obssessed : CAN I GET A UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH PART 3 TO THE KOL BREAKUP? BONDING WITH THE OTHER SIBLINGS//

//warnings: swearing idk. I write these warnings ahead of time and forget to change them so I never know what’s gonna happen//

Part Two

I waited on the roof, my feet dangling over the ledge. In the front room of the Salvatore House, Hope Mikaelson was saving her family. She was a legend, an icon, the best damn witch I had ever seen.

The Mikaelsons were soon to be free of the Hollow. I wasn’t sure how Hope figured out, but she’s a Mikaelson witch. Of course she was able to do it. I was proud of her for sure. I just wished there a bit more time more time between Vegas and the reunion.

This time on the roof would the only time I had to mentally prepare until I came face to face with Kol later today. I was definitely confused. I loved him. I hated him. I had walked away before. He came back to me. I fell for his lies. I kicked him out. He found his way back to me again.

I knew we had to talk. I knew we had to decide whether or not we were going to get back together. But if that was the case. we needed transparency. We needed honesty. We needed trust. As much as I tried to deny and convince myself otherwise, I needed him.

“Hey.” Caroline said, taking a seat next to me. Her hands dropped in her lap and she sighed. “Not feeling the Mikaelson reunion either?”

“Not when He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named is down there.” I groaned. “He literally picked the worst time to stroll back into my life like nothing ever happened. I’m not ready to see him again, Care. ”

“You never did tell me what happened in Vegas.” She commented with a slight shrug. “All you said was that you saw K-”

“I’m not talking about it, Caroline.” I laughed. “It was a mistake that I’d like to leave in Las Vegas. What about you? You don’t want to see Klaus? Is he still on that ‘I intend to be your last love’ kick?”

“Klaus has been calling almost everyday since Hope has been here.” She laughed. “I don’t think we need a reunion. But it doesn’t matter if he is or not. Because I am happily married to Stefan.”

Caroline and I had grown rather close when I moved here. Elena was a great person, I couldn’t lie. Bonnie was fantastic too, so selfless. I didn’t know what it was that clicked between Caroline and I but I knew I couldn’t let it go.

She was the only person, other than Rebekah, that knew I had seen Kol in Vegas. I left out all the gory details since it made my blood boil every time.

I wasn’t ready to see him again. When I woke up this morning and thought about him coming, flashes of that night came back. The touch of his skin. The command of his fingers. The tension in his voice. The lies from his mouth. The admittance. Everything.

“Y/N?” Rebekah called from the ground, pulling me from my thoughts.

I peered over the edge and saw her smiling up at me. I smiled widely at her, unable to contain how happy I was to see her again. Klaus and Elijah stepped out after, Hayley followed close behind. Kol was no where to be seen and neither was Hope.

“You coming?” I asked Caroline. She nodded and took my hand. Together, we slid off the edge and landed in front of the Mikaelsons.

There was a lightness in the air, as if a weight was lifted. There was positivity flowing out of every Mikaelson smile. I knew that Hope had done the impossible. She saved her family.

“I can’t believe it.” I sighed happily. “You’re all here.”

She wrapped her arms around me tightly and sighed contently. “It is so good to see you again! When you left, I thought phone calls and letters were the best it was going to be.” She finished and pulled away.

“I wanted to come see you again. I really did.” I replied with a half happy, half sad smile. “I wanted to see all of you. It was just too much.”

“Y/N, no one blames you for taking the time you needed.” Elijah said kindly, placing a hand on my shoulder. “We understood.”

“Yes, I understand exactly how much of a pain in the ass my baby brother can be.” Klaus laughed. “He didn’t shut up about you for months. I swear, it was like the Hunter’s Curse all over again.”

“Too bad you couldn’t off yourself.” Hayley commented and shoved him slightly.

I missed this. I missed the light, happy Mikaelson family. I missed the jokes and the fun. Despite everything that had been said about them over the years, no family had this bond. No other family was as close as they were. When they had swore always and forever all that time ago, they meant it.

“Caroline, a pleasure to see you.” Klaus smiled. “You look as lovely as ever.”

“Thank you, Klaus.” She nodded. “Good to see you too. Come on inside everyone. I think some catching up is in order.”

Hayley followed first with Elijah in tow. I jumped on Klaus, forcing him to give me a piggyback ride. Rebekah walked next to me, discreetly talking about Kol.

“You know, you and I could go out later. If you don’t want to do this.” She offered.

“Thanks, but I made it perfectly clear last time. I’m not speaking a word to him.” I said as we reached the dining room.

I hopped off Klaus and followed them into the room. Hope sat at the top of the table, a proud smile on her face. Hayley sat next to her, Rebekah across Hayley. Klaus sat on the other end with Elijah on his left and Kol on his right. Caroline sat next to Hayley, which put me next to Kol and Rebekah.

“I’m sorry.” Caroline mouthed. “Jeremy did the placecards.”

I waved my hand, as if to brush it off. I took my seat and let out a silent sigh. This was going to be a long day.

“Hope, my dear.” I started conversation. “How do you feel? Tired?”

“A little.” She admitted. “But it was worth it. My family is together again.”

“For the first time in years.” Rebekah sighed happily. “I’ve missed my brothers and my dear sister. The phone calls just weren’t enough.”

“I agree.” Klaus added. “This lot has been there for me and each other throughout the years. I’m glad we’re all together again.”

“I’m not gonna lie,” I started. Everyone’s eyes turned to me, the way you’d expect them to when you talk. But Kol’s eyes were the most obvious. His stare was soft and apologetic, but it felt like it was burning into my skin. “I didn’t think it would happen this soon.”

“I thought it would take a while longer as well.” Elijah agreed. “Hope, I’m surprised you figured it out.”

“I was at first too…” Hope began. She continued talking but I got distracted by Kol, tapping my hand to get my attention.

I glanced over, despite knowing better, and he offered a slight smile. I rolled my eyes and turned back to the conversation. He tugged my hand so I slapped his hand away.

“Wouldn’t you say, Y/N?” Klaus said, drawing my attention up.

“I’m sorry. What?” I said with a laugh.

He raised and eyebrow and glanced between me and Kol. I shook my head slightly, telling him not to say anything. Of course he didn’t listen.

“I said, Kol seems rather upbeat for being recently divorced. Wouldn’t you say, Y/N?” He repeated and I had to keep myself from face palming.

“What happened to Davina?” Hayley asked. “She was so sweet. You two were great together.”

“Yeah, uh.” He started. I rolled my eyes and looked down, noticing there was no wedding band on his finger. Had there been one last week? I couldn’t remember. His voice brought my attention back. “We were great for a while, but it got to the point where it just didn’t feel right.”

“Did you two get into a fight? Something bad happen?” Elijah asked, hinting at something.

Oh no. The entire family was going to start ganging up on me. I could feel it. They were picking up on the tension between me and Kol, and they were going to use it against us.

It’s happened before. When I first started dating Kol all those years ago, they all teased us about it. They made jokes about our relationship, but oddly enough I grew to enjoy it. However, I did not enjoy this. Not at all.

“No, not really.” He laughed before licking his lips. “We just weren’t on the same page anymore. It was fairly mutual.”

I pulled my phone out under the table and typed a message to Caroline. ‘Kill. Me.’ It said.

She glanced down at her phone and then at me before jumping into the conversation. “So, Hope.” She began rather loudly to shut down other conversations. Thank God for Caroline. I would definitely owe her later for this. “Would you like to have the family stay over tonight? We have enough extra rooms. That is, if they want to.”

“Please Dad!” She smiled. “Can everyone?”

“Of course, my littlest wolf.” He smiled. “Anything your little heart desires.”

“Aunt Y/N,” Hope said, catching my attention. I had been slightly distracted wondering what Kol had been up to in the week since I last saw him. Did he think of me? Should I have called? Did I overreact? “Can you stay too? It’ll be one big reunion. I know you haven’t seen everyone in a long time.”

“Maybe not everyone.” Kol muttered and I had to shove my hands under my legs to avoid hitting him.

“Uh, I don’t know. I’m sure the family wants-” I attempted to argue.

“Nonsense!” Klaus exclaimed happily. “You’re staying! Maybe Kol would-”

“What my brother is trying to say, Y/N-” Rebekah interjected and shot her brother a glare. “-is that you are family. You’re more than welcome to stay with me, if you’d like.”

I sighed and dropped my head onto the table. Why did this keep happening to me? How come I couldn’t just get in and out? Why can’t Kol just stay away? Why did the universe hate me!?

“I suppose since Hope has requested it, I’ll stay.” I said and lifted my head. “You’re lucky I like you, Baby Mikaelson.” I stuck my tongue out at Hope.

She smiled and bounced out the room, pulling Caroline with her. She exclaimed that they had to make sure everything was ready for her family if they were going to stay the night.

“So Y/N, now that Hope is out of the room we can speak freely.” Elijah said, turning to face me. He gestured between me and Kol. “What happened between you two?”

“You mean recently or when she left?” Kol spoke.

My heart stopped in my throat. My body ran cold. I wanted to run. He brought up the one thing I never wanted to talk about.

“I’m fine discussing either. What about you, Y/N? Care to talk about our recent escapades?”

“What happened recently?” Hayley asked.

“Nothing.” I replied.

“I wouldn’t call it nothing, Love.” Klaus disagreed. “I can hear your foot tapping, and that only happens when you’re hiding something.”

“I’m not hiding anything.” I continued to lie. “Nothing happened.”

“Are you still with that boy, Porter?” Rebekah spoke up. “No, Peter. Haven’t you been seeing him for a few weeks?”

Kol scoffed at the mention of his name. I broke things off with Peter upon my return for multiple reasons. The first being that I felt a tad guilty for sleeping with Kol while I was whatever I was with Peter. The second being that I couldn’t stop thinking about Kol since that night. A third being that he was far too clingy for my liking.

“Uh, I haven’t seen him since I came back from Vegas last week.” I shrugged. “He was too dramatic.”

“Kol, weren’t you in Vegas last week?” Elijah questioned, raising his eyebrows at me accusingly.

“Yeah.” He nodded with a smirk that I wanted to slap off.

Hayley gasped. “You hooked up!?” She exclaimed. I glared at her and she smiled triumphantly. “I knew it!” She clapped once. “I thought you two were done.”

“We are.” I answered firmly. “What happened in Vegas was a huge mistake. I’m not repeating it and I’m not talking about it.”

“And if I wanted to repeat it?” Kol teased and I attempted to ignore him.

“So you admit something did happen?” Klaus laughed.

He was enjoying the awkward position he stuck me in. I guess when you don’t see someone in almost twenty years, you have to tease them this much. Rebekah wanted to help me out of the situation, but I knew she also wanted to know the details just as much as everyone else did.

I sighed and leaned back in my chair. I crossed my arms and threw my head back.

“Yes, something happened.” I admitted. “However, being that he’s a lying manipulative cheater, nothing is ever going to happen again.”

“Now hold on just a minute-” Kol argued.

“Don’t talk to me!” I yelled with a laugh. “You lost that right in Vegas.”

“If you’d let me explain-” He attempted.

“What part of, don’t talk to me is lost on you?” I laughed, pushing myself up from my chair.

“Y/N, please sit back down.” He said.

I scoffed and sprinted out of the room. I headed back to the roof, the quietest place I could be. The family headed outside and from my spot on the roof, I saw them all head their separate ways to find me.

“May I?” Klaus said from behind me.

“Go ahead.” I sighed, not looking over.

Klaus and I had a weird relationship. It had started as pure hate, but then again everyone hated Klaus the first time around. After a few decades of running, it grew to mutual respect. From there, it became friendship. Now, we’re basically family. Even though Klaus and I didn’t like each other at first, he helped me and protected me. I never understood why, but it was nice having a hybrid as a bodyguard.

“For someone who wanted to hide what happened, you sure made it obvious.” He commented.

“I wouldn’t even have had to talk about it if you hadn’t been so damn nosy.” I laughed, pushing his shoulder.

“He hurt you again, didn’t he?” He asked solemnly, sympathy somewhere in his tone.

“Yeah.” I sighed. “He did. He got to me, reminded me of everything we had. I gave in to him only to find out he was still married to Davina. He had told me they weren’t working anymore, but he made it sound like they were already divorced.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He said, putting an arm around my shoulders. I leaned into him and sighed once again. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t think he planned on seeing you, let alone hurting you. He still loves you.”

“He has a funny way of showing it.” I muttered.

“The whole batch of us have a weird way of showing we care.” Rebekah said, taking a seat on the other side of me. “That doesn’t mean we don’t.”

“How am I supposed to trust him again?” I asked no one specific. “When he first met Davina, I understood I had to let him go. 400 years is a long time to be with someone, I didn’t blame him for getting bored, if that’s even why he fell for her.” I shrugged and sat up. “And then I saw him last week and somewhere, deep down, I had hope. All this time apart and I’ve still loved him. But then when you called me-” I looked to Rebekah. “-I felt that small hopeful fire be extinguished.”

“Y/N, listen to me.” Klaus said, drawing my attention his way. “Kol is a lot of things. Mainly a dumbass.” He smiled and so did I. “But he is a dumbass that cares about you more than he cares about himself. He was ready to chase after you when you left all those years ago.”

“He almost turned it off, he missed you so much.” Rebekah added.

“That’s all well and good, and yeah it makes me happy to know how much I matter to him, but how am I supposed to trust him?” I elaborated.

“By starting over.” Elijah said simply. I turned and saw him coming over to sit next to Klaus. “Forget your past relationship and work towards a new one. As a family, we have made many mistakes when it comes to love. And often times when we try to fix those mistakes, we make them worse. But I beg you, Y/N, give the boy one final chance. A chance to start over completely.”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Truth is, I would love to hate him. It would make my life so much easier. But, you can’t hate someone who you loved for so long.”

“Do you really mean that?” Rebekah asked softly. “Do you still love him?”

“I hate myself for it, but yes. I think that I can never belong to anyone other than him. His smile, his talks, his everything is what I see whenever I'm with anyone else.” I sighed and flopped onto my back. From my new viewpoint, I saw Kol on the other side of the roof. “How long have you been there?” I whispered.

“Long enough.” He came closer.

I hopped up and stood to face him. “Now, before you say anything-”

“No, Y/N. You’ve had your time to speak, and I heard everything. Now it’s my turn.” He said firmly. I pressed my lips into a line and nodded. “My darling Y/N, my heart and soul, my light, my inspiration, my humanity. I was dead for ages, Darling. Everyday I woke, I was a mess of loneliness and family drama in a life that I didn’t know, a life without you. That day in Vegas, I saw you walking down the street, with this look on your face, like nothing in the world could bother you. You had adjusted your glasses and smiled at something that was said over the phone. You bumped into me and I heard your voice. In that moment, something inside of me cracked wide open. I was dead for ages, Y/N Y/L/N, and only then did I feel alive again.”

“Is that supposed to change anything?” I asked with a shrug. I crossed my arms to make myself as small as possible. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to be standing across the man I loved. I wanted to disappear. I had things to say, but I would’ve rather said them over the phone. The expression on his face made it too hard. “You lied.”

“Not exactly.” He replied. “The paperwork was started. It just hadn’t gone through yet. Davina and I had been separated for months before I went to Vegas.”

“Listen, as much as I love you, I can’t.” I said with as much conviction as I could. “I made the mistake once. I’m not doing it again. I can’t handle another heartbreak.”

“I love you, Y/N.” He said softly. “I never stopped. Rebekah might have mentioned that one of the reasons Davina and I split was becasue I was sleep talking… It was your name I kept saying, along with things like I missed you. I loved you. I needed you.”

What was it Kol had said earlier? ‘Something inside of me cracked wide open.’ I understood exactly what he meant in that moment. Maybe Elijah was right. Maybe we could try all over again.

“So what do you say, my darling?” He said, reaching for my hand and dropping to a kneel. “Will you take me back? One final chance.”

I paused. I wanted to say yes, to live another 400 years and more with him, to buy a house somewhere and have a family. I wanted to take his face in my hands and kiss him. I wanted to hug him and lay my head against his chest when I fell asleep. I wanted to wake up to him every morning and have spontaneous adventures. I wanted everything we had before and more.

“Hello, Y/N?’ Rebekah said, snapping me from my thoughts and reminding me where I was. “Say something already!”

“Oh, right.” I nodded. “Um, why did we never get married?” I asked him with a laugh.

He laughed and stood up, never letting go of my hand. He pulled me to his chest, wrapping the other arm around my waist. He pressed my hand to his chest and held it there.

“Whatever you want.” He said softly.

“I want…” I trailed off, tracing the familiar features of his face with my eyes before landing on his. “I want a fresh start. No more mentions of Davina and your last marriage. No mentions of Peter. Just you and me.”

“To another 400 years, then?” He asked sweetly.

“We can do anything together, can’t we?” I asked and he nodded. “Then let’s make it at least a thousand.”

“I like the sound of that.” He smiled and placed a kiss on my forehead.

Later that night, I discovered that when Kol was missing earlier in the day, he was off plotting with Hope. Turns out, Hope had asked him what happened between us. He told her that he had messed up and needed help fixing it. Together, they came up with the plot of getting me and him alone together to talk and hopefully fix things. When we walked in together, everyone was surprised and happy to see us together. Caroline said I had to tell her what happened in Vegas now.

The years passed with Kol, happy and full of love. Within five years of getting back together, Kol and I were married. None of the family heard from Davina again. Rebekah married Marcel. Hope grew even more powerful and was an iconic witch. Everything was finally perfect, and it stayed perfect.

#kol mikaelson #kol imagine #kol mikaelson imagine #kol x reader #the vampire diaries #the originals #the originals imagine #tvd #tvd imagine #to imagine #nathaniel buzolic

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charitysplace · 6 years

Text

Pre-order: The Welsh Gambit [Book 2 in The Tudor Throne]

I’M LOOKING FOR EARLY REVIEWERS. CLICK HERE FOR A FREE BOOK.

The Tudor Throne Series, Book 2: The Welsh Gambit

CLICK HERE TO PRE-ORDER.

Back Cover:

Lady Anwen cannot forget, nor her brother forgive. Since she killed Lord Meuric’s son in self-defense on a lonely Welsh road, and spent several months imprisoned and mistreated in his castle, Anwen has fought her nightmares. Alone and unable to bear a man’s touch, she unites with a local ‘witch’ to learn how to heal. As Edward Stafford, the Duke of Buckingham, prepares for the autumn joust, he fears escalating tension between the locals and Lord Meuric’s brutal overseer, Beynon. His mood worsens when Sir Thomas Lovell, the king’s ruthless enforcer, arrives unannounced in search of a traitor. As thousands flock to the tourney, death, superstition, denial, and treason come to a brutal conflict, as a child searches the castle for the bones of a lost maiden and uncovers a terrible secret…

Author's Notes:

This was one of those novels that "found itself" amid a muddle of ideas. I must have rewritten it twenty times and each time, several characters and themes emerged with great strength -- the "witch" Winifred, Lady Anwen's struggle to overcome her traumatic past, and the marriage of Margaret and Richard Pole, which seems strong enough to outlast any storm. I had a wonderful time researching jousts and tourneys, thrusting the Staffords into the middle of events, and honoring Prince Arthur's memory with a rousing good story set in a time of deep national unrest and mourning for a lost prince.

I hope you enjoy reading it half as much as I labored in love to write it.

Excerpt:

Anne Tyrell stares out the window, lost in the beauty of the Welsh Marches. She spent her first year of marriage in its green foothills. The carriage winds through silver birch and blackthorn trees, each mile closer to her children. Anne dreads their reunion. She bears the shame of their father’s execution closer to them with each turn of the wheels.

A stallion pulls level with her view, its rider leading a dozen men. She peers at the tall, angular man astride its back. His hair grays at the temples, his narrow face severe. Once, she adored Sir Thomas Lovell. She awaited news from him with breathless excitement. Now, many years later, her stomach tightens whenever they meet. He came to Guînes under a pretext, persuaded her husband to return to London, and imprisoned him on board ship. He then sent men to disarm their son and threw them both in the Tower.

She wonders how they ever loved each other, yearning to forget their stolen kisses and amorous whispers. He escorts her into the Welsh Marches to attainder her estate in the king’s name. He and Lord Dudley will cram her valuables onto carts and keep them in the royal treasury until King Henry decides otherwise.

The castle appears in a maple grove, its gatehouse covered in roses and honeysuckle. Her children wait in the courtyard, James the tallest at eighteen, William three years younger, and Pet twelve. Anne twists the door handle before the coach halts to embrace her daughter, bewildered by her height. Pet shares her height. Anne sweeps the hair back from her face, gasping, “You have grown!”

“I gained two inches last summer. I may outgrow you, Mother.” Pet’s amber eyes flit to Lovell, her tone guarded. “I missed you.”

She approaches her sons, aware of their audience. The boys hug her, their expressions glum. Lovell scans the castle with scorn and removes his gloves. Dudley dismounts and shakes out his mantle. Anne steers Pet into the house. “We are together now.”

“I wish it were under different circumstances,” Pet whispers.

Anne catches her breath in the foyer, moved by its sameness. The servants have altered nothing in her absence. Familiar colorful tapestries line the walls, the small staff assembled to greet her. She scans their faces, noting the steward’s absence with concern. Anne looks at her son, tension in her words. “Where is Hywel?”

James glances at his brother. “He fled after our father’s arrest.”

Her heart plummets. Anne prayed on the journey none of their staff schemed with her husband, knowing it would arouse further scrutiny of their finances. She considers how to handle this and turns with forced politeness when Lovell and Dudley enter. “My lords, you will find our records upstairs. The maid can show you. I trust you do not need me.”

The girl guides them upstairs, Anne relieved in their absence. “Come,” she tells her family, “we must discuss our future.”

They follow her into the parlor where she shuts the door and joins Pet in a window seat. It overlooks the garden, the fountain dry and a rook’s nest in the crook of its statue. After a deep breath Anne asks, “Why did you not warn me of Hywel’s escape?”

James sinks onto a bench and runs his fingers through his curls. “I dared not write to you. I feared Lovell might read our letters.”

“Well, we can do nothing about it now,” his mother says.

William shifts a stack of books from a chair. “How is Tom? We have not heard from our brother. Is he in the Tower?”

“Yes. I have visited him twice. I believe him secure for now. Lovell could not incriminate him at your father’s trial.” Anne rubs her forehead. “I expect his release after the attainder.”

A bee buzzes the roses outside the window, its wings deafening in the sullen silence. Pet studies her palms, her voice small. “Nan Browne wrote us of the ordeal. Was it dreadful, Mother?”

Anne cannot speak around the lump in her throat. She saw her husband walk to the scaffold, mount the stairs, utter a speech, and lay his neck on the block. The ax severed it with a single stroke.

“How could it not be?” James asks. “They cut off his head.”

She cringes at his bluntness. “Do not dwell on it. Remember him as you saw him last. We had a fine Christmas together.”

Pet tries to smile but raises only one side of her mouth. Quiet fills the pause while Anne strokes her daughter’s hair. William fumbles with a piece of ribbon. “Must we go before the tourney?”

She nods.

Prince Arthur planned to lead the festivities, but now lies dead in a crypt. Reluctant to rob the public of their entertainment, the king appointed the Duke of Buckingham to hold it in his honor.

Her eyes tearful, Pet says, “James has trained for months!”

Pained by their distress but unable to ease it, Anne squeezes her hand. “Our lives have changed. We can no longer do as we please. We must defer to the king’s wishes to live in London.”

“How much is our income?” William stares at her with anxiety, his feet pulled under him. “Enough to support our tutor?”

She scoured the accounts when Lovell announced her living, but had to choose between a tutor and a servant. Their faces fall at her pause. Anne forces confidence into her words. “Our situation will be painful and difficult, but we can survive. We have each other.”

“But not Father,” William whispers.

Anne blinks away her tears. “Never doubt he loved you.”

“If he had, he would not have chosen Suffolk,” James snaps.

She expects the others to defend him but they study the floor instead. Shocked, Anne scans their forlorn expressions. “Your father pursued his ideals. Do not deplore him for his mistakes.”

“My contempt is for the fiend who imprisoned him,” James says.

She reaches out to pull him near, reminded of his father in his unspoken anger. “Never let Sir Thomas know how you feel.”

Voices draw her attention to the courtyard where a monk parts from a maid to enter the side door. Pet’s long sleeve brushes the sill when she leans forward, her tone soft. “That’s Brother Elfric.”

“What befell your other confessor?” Anne asks, distressed.

James kicks at the hearth. “Abbot Ifan recalled him to the abbey after his strength declined. Elfric has tended us these last months.”

“I adore him,” Pet says with radiant eyes.

Anne estimates him at twenty-years-old, struck by his handsome face and gentle air. She chews her lip, concerned by her daughter’s infatuation. “Send him in to me. I want to meet him. Then we can walk in the garden. Meet me outside in ten minutes.”

Once her children retreat, Anne crosses to the sideboard to pour a drink. The monk enters after a knock, his bow graceful. Anne corks the bottle and scans the amiable face and intent brown eyes. “Brother Elfric, my family speaks well of you.”

“I serve them as best I can under the circumstances, milady.”

Anne drinks the rich, flavorful pear wine from their orchard, her husband’s pride and joy. “I’m grateful you could comfort them in my absence. I know not how to heal their broken hearts.”

“Lavish love upon them. Trust God to manage their sorrow.”

She sinks onto the cushioned bench. “How are they?”

“Pet has not confessed since her father’s downfall.” The monk stares into the honeysuckle. Anne notices a long scar on his neck. “William spends most of his time with his falcons. James mourns more than just his father. Lady Anwen no longer writes him.”

Anne moans, this the result of a feud between Anwen’s brother Lord Neirin and a local landowner, Meuric. After a felled bridge barred their return at Christmas, Meuric’s son caught them on his land. When he tried to molest her maid, Anwen cut his throat. The infuriated Meuric imprisoned her in his garret until Lovell offered him a place on the Welsh Council for her freedom.

“Has she shared the details of her ordeal?” she asks.

Elfric shakes his head, plucking a loose thread from his cowl. “She speaks not of her tribulation. Lady Anwen hasn’t left her castle. Unless a sympathetic soul reaches out to her, she may never recover. She might welcome a visit from you, Lady Tyrell.”

Voices float on the wind, her children waiting in the inner bailey. “Do you try to divert me from my torments with hers, Brother?”

The confessor shrugs, a twinkle in his amber eyes. “Busy hands are the best cure for a broken heart… unless you want to listen to Lord Dudley and Sir Thomas assess the house?”

Aware of their footsteps upstairs, Anne shudders.

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