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#pandora hearts fanfiction
antihero-writings · 4 months
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The Uninvitation
Fandom: Pandora Hearts
Summary: Shelly's funeral was very nice. Everyone said so. Break isn't so sure. As he stands at her grave, an unwelcome visitor shows up. Written for the Pandora Hearts Month 2023 Prompt: "Grave."
It was a very nice funeral. Everyone said so.
As if funerals can be nice.
Sure, the sun was shining, the snow was sparkling. Maybe that made it nice. But should the “niceness” of funeral be measured in the kindness of the weather, and the youth of the flowers?
Then again, of course it was nice; Sheryl had spared no expense; the ceremony, the food, the flowers, the decorations were each extravagant in their own ways. Shelly surely wouldn’t have cared about pomp and circumstance, but nice plates and vases were all Sheryl had, so the rest of them weren’t about to stop her.
Sheryl always stood tall, but one day Break found her hunched over Shelly’s things, holding tight to one of her dresses, smiling softly, weeping. When he sat beside her, even though he didn’t ask, she told stories of when she was a child, murmuring old proverbs about how mothers shouldn’t have to bury their daughters.
So, no. They weren’t going to stop her.
And as she sat telling him stories, she had had the audacity to pause, look up, and ask, “Xerkkun, how are you faring?”
He smiled and said, “Don’t worry about me, Sheryl-sama.” in the most nonchalant voice he could manage.
Even though they both knew she had more than one reason to worry.
On a normal day, she would have pressed him on the matter. That day, she nodded, and looked away. They both knew talking about it would only be the hammer that smashed their fragile forms into bits.
How was that ‘nice’?
…Then again, of course it was nice; Reim had insisted on organizing it, he and Rufus shouldering as many of Sheryl’s burdens as they could, (though she still insisted on carrying more than her fair share). Rufus could be heard barking about how the roses were supposed to be red, and how the table was supposed to go over there, and the banners were all misaligned…
Break would never admit it, but he was grateful.
Then again, of course it was nice: the speeches everyone gave were full of the prettiest words.
The officiant said some generic adage about the Abyss one always hears at these things, and how she would be back to this world before long, which made everyone put their hand over their heart, and their kerchief at their eyes.
Sheryl told stories about when Shelly was a child, and liked to steal her shoes, and when she was an adult and liked to steal her duties, interrupted by those proverbs she iterated earlier, until Rufus had to take her, sobbing, off the stage.
Even Rufus, with his flowery, old words made a speech that was nice enough. Break had rolled his eyes about his turns of phrase, and profuse tears, but…even then.
It was nice.
Sharon told them all she wanted to say something, and they feared she wouldn’t get beyond the first sentence. They feared this was too much weight to put on a little girl who had lost her mother, even if she willingly took the weight on herself. But she stood tall at that podium, and voiced her speech and her stories with pride and eyes that shone with both joy and sorrow, and the crowd breathed a sigh, knowing she was far braver than they realized.
She’d make a wonderful duchess some day.
And yes, Break couldn’t deny, that was altogether nice.
They even asked Break if he wanted to say something. And maybe he did—he wouldn’t start sobbing halfway through—but…somehow he knew, if he started speaking about the woman who saved his life in more ways than one, then the words just might gush out of him until he was yelling, and cursing, and laughing like a madman. So he said something about how it would be ridiculous for a servant to speak at a noblewoman’s funeral, and bit his tongue.
He laughed to keep from crying, and he was sure they thought he was crazy. And maybe he was. He had never been someone particularly likable at first glance, and had heard gossip for a long time—about red eyes, bloodstained pasts, and underseved blessings—and wasn’t about to start caring what the world thought now.
He didn’t cry. No one would fault him if he did—it was a funeral after all. Still, he didn’t intend to.
Maybe that made him strong. And maybe that made him afraid.
Afraid he’d live up to his name.
Maybe it was something about caring. Crying meant showing he cared, cared a lot, cared too much. And caring meant losing. And crying meant a little girl and coffins and snow and “Don’t leave me!” and “Do you want to change the past?”  and “They were the most important people to you, and you couldn’t save them.”
And that wasn’t very nice to think about.
He always carried candy in his pockets, and the funeral was no exception. Some people probably thought he was insensitive, but it was all he could do to keep from biting his tongue until blood was all he could taste.
They were all fakes anyway. He didn’t want to waste his words or his tears on them.
Maybe the ‘niceness’ of a funeral is measured in how much sobbing one can hear. True, there was rather a lot of it. Even if they didn’t know her, and were only crying on general principle, rather than any specific memories, and later they would go about their days with dry eyes, and forget the nice funeral, and the nice woman.
Did that still count as nice?
The Nightrays were there; Gilbert had said he was sorry (sounding as if he thought it was his fault) and he meant it. Vincent, toeing the ground and playing with his hair, said it was all very sad, and hadn’t meant even that. (And Break would have done something violent and stupid if it wouldn’t have caused a scene). The other Nightray siblings bowed, and respectfully offered his condolences. The Vessalius’s were there too, or at least what was left of them. Oscar had tried to make them all feel better with words of encouragement, and beverages to cleanse the soul, and Ada had bawled, even though they never met.
Sure. Maybe that was nice.
Shelly was a ‘Kind girl.’ A ‘Strong woman.’ A ‘Wonderful duchess.’
Maybe that’s why they thought it was nice; they all had very fond memories of the woman who was nice.
They didn’t even know the half of it. The sunlight, the, smiles, the salvation.
He opened the box, and she was waiting for him there at the bottom.
What happens when she fades into he wind too, like all the shadows?
Despite the strength in her speech, Sharon had wept silently into his coat. He ran his hands through her hair softly, all the while praying this nice funeral would end soon.
And even then, even when she had been crying so much, for so long, even then she had the strength to stand up straight, to give sorrowful smiles, and bittersweet words to all the porcelain nobles who told her how sorry they were, what a shame, and what a nice funeral it was, and if she needed anything, don’t hesitate to send for them.
Well, she definitely had her mother in her.
Three queens on the chess board. How did he end up with them?
They all offered their condolences. With fake words, and fake sympathy, and fake offers to help.
They didn’t really know her.
As the funeral ended, Reim asked Break if he wanted a drink. It was appealing to have a quiet drink with a friend, who knew Shelly, and knew him, and wouldn’t fill the air with empty platitudes. But, if there were ever a day he wished he could drink to forget, it was today. So he laughed and said he was thinking of staying and talking to her for a while. But he knew his laugh didn’t sound quite right.
Reim nodded, patted him on the shoulder, and walked away.
Break decided to stay. To stay, and talk, alone (at last, alone,) to her grave. His words weren’t for the masses…but he’d spare a few for a stone.
When he finally stood alone memories—the good, the bad, and the beautiful—came like a flood, and he found himself at a loss for what to say. All the ‘Thank you’ and ‘I’ll miss you’s seemed worthless in the face of a name and a date on a headstone. The end of a life.
Is that all a life is? Some wordy flowers, some flowery words, a tear or two, a date on a headstone, and a nice funeral?
The last time he stood at a headstone everything was wrong with the world. Grief wasn’t a heavy, sad thing. It was a writhing, hot, angry thing. It came with a desire for vengeance, not against those who took them, but against time. And maybe, today, after the forward march, time was still unjust tyrant, and still needed a sword run through him. Or maybe Shelly lived the best life she could, and she wouldn’t want him to to be mad—in emotion or in mind .Would rather he hold flowers than a blade.
He still had the sword beside him. Just in case time came knocking.
And standing here, trying to think of what to say, and how to say it, his eyes stung with water. He sat there silently thinking until the silence filled up his lungs.
Today, grief was a heavy, sad thing.
And in this moment, alone, at the grave
Reality broke.
It cracked, and the pieces fell. Were stolen away. Something bore into it, and two red eyes shone through the hole.
“Do you want to change the past?” Asked the shadows in a deep, discordant voice.
And Break paused, eye widening, the red shimmering, swimming in itself.
See? Crying meant the Abyss.
Then…a smile crept onto his face. A spreading, stretching, stained, disdainful thing.
“Where might you be from?” He asked in the most nonchalant voice he could manage.
“I’ve come from the Abyss to help you. I can change your past, if you let me.”
Break looked down, still smiling, scoffing. “That would be a lovely thing, wouldn’t it?” He chuckled. “Make it so she didn’t have to die. Not that day at least.”
The hole grew bigger, pieces of reality falling off.
“Maybe,” Break continued, looking at the ground, “there’s another strand of time in which everything's alright."
“Yes, yes, exactly! I think we can help each other!”
A hand reached out of the hole. Cotton and lies.
“Maybe.”
Crying meant the Abyss.
And caring meant “Promise me you will keep living your life with everything you have until the very end.”
His staff clicked.
“Or maybe you're ruining a perfectly nice funeral." He chuckled. "You should find a better source of sustenance than human souls."
When he turned around to head back inside, reality refused, and only ash remained.
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phmonth · 2 years
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Pandora Hearts Month 2022 Prompts!
We have our prompts for Pandora Hearts Month 2022! Thank you to everyone who voted!! 😘
Pandora Hearts Month is an event that celebrates Pandora Hearts. The first three weeks celebrate the three main trios (Golden Trio, Rainsworth Trio, and Tragedy Trio) and the fourth is a bonus week that celebrates any ships/friendships/ot3 fans chose and love. You can create edits, fanart, drabbles, fanfictions, amvs and mms.
Please remember to tag this blog @phmonth2022, and/or me @i-prefer-the-term-antihero in your posts to make sure I reblog them!!
Don't forget to either put a link, or a “read more” on long fics (or long posts in general), so it’s easier to reblog!
I also made a collection on Ao3 for writers! Don't hesitate to add your fics to it!
Lastly, don’t forget to join our discord if you haven’t! It’s a fun place to discuss the series and more easily share your creations!
Without further ado, here are the prompts! 
Golden Trio Week (Alice, Oz and Gilbert), May 15th—21st:
Day 1, Sunday May 15th: Pink
Day 2, Monday May 16th: Daffodil
Day 3, Tuesday May 17th: Queen
Day 4, Wednesday May 18th: Summer 
Day 5, Thursday May 19th: Cage 
Day 6, Friday May 20th: Ocean
Day 7, Saturday May 21st: Garden
Rainsworth Trio Week (Sharon, Break and Reim), May 22nd—28th:
Day 1, Sunday May 22nd: Purple
Day 2, Monday May 23rd: Forest
Day 3, Tuesday May 24th: Sister
Day 4, Wednesday May 25th: Madness
Day 5, Thursday May 26th: Cake
Day 6, Friday May 27th: AU
Day 7, Saturday 28th: Whisper
Tragedy Trio Week (Lacie, Jack and Oswald), May 29th—June 4th:
Day 1, Sunday 29th: Storm
Day 2, Monday 30th: Sibling
Day 3, Tuesday 31st: Secret
Day 4, Wednesday June 1st: Indescribable horrors
Day 5, Thursday June 2nd: Unimaginable Wonders
Day 6, Friday June 3rd: Tower
Day 7, Saturday June 4th: Snow
Fan’s choice Week, June 5th—11th:
Day 1, Sunday June 5th: Perspective and/or Ivory
Day 2, Monday June 6th: Lilies
Day 3, Tuesday June 7th: Psyche
Day 4, Wednesday June 8th: Wrath
Day 5, Thursday June 9th: Tarnished
Day 6, Friday June 10th: Metamorphosis
Day 7, Saturday June 11th: Sketch
You are free to have fun with this!! As long as you tag it, NSFW is allowed! (Tagging ships is nice too). You can pretty much do whatever you want with the prompts!!
For the trio weeks, as long as you make sure the characters from the trio are your main focus, it’s okay to use other characters in your creations too!! For the fourth week, you can really write about any character you want. It doesn't have to be ships!!
You can join any time, and use as many or as few prompts as you want!! And you don't have to post on the day if you can’t make it!! I’ll reblog things late!!
Since we live across the world, you are free to post whenever the day is for you. I myself will be making posts according to my time, which is Central Standard Time in America. 
About the prizes:
Some of you may recall me posting about wanting to add a competition aspect to Phmonth, with the 15th anniversary merch as prizes. I have ordered the prizes, however it may take several months for them to arrive at my house.
You guys voted to have a raffle decide who gets the prizes, so it will be easy to do the raffle at any time after Phmonth has ended. However it may have to happen several months after Phmonth has ended, unfortunately. I don’t want to decide the winners until I am absolutely sure I have the prizes and will be able to get them to you.
Keep in mind that, as per your request, I do intend for there to be multiple prizes, at least one for the artists, and one for the fic writers!
Feel free to get started on making stuff early!! 
We’re so excited to see what you make!!! Thank you for all your support!! 
i-prefer-the-term-antihero
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chibi-n00b · 2 years
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Chapters: 5/? Fandom: Pandora Hearts Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Leo Baskerville/Elliot Nightray, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added Characters: Leo Baskerville, Elliot Nightray, Alice (Pandora Hearts), Alyss | Intention of the Abyss, Oz Vessalius, Sharon Rainsworth, Ada Vessalius, Nightray Family, Glen Baskerville | Oswald Baskerville, Glen Baskerville | Levi Baskerville, Gilbert Nightray, Xerxes Break Additional Tags: Fanfiction, Characters Writing Fanfiction, Characters Reading Fanfiction, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boarding School, Roommates, Disgruntled Roommates to Friends to Lovers, Holy Knight, nerds falling in love, An Artist and His Muse, Fencing, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, POV Alternating, POV First Person Summary:
Leo and Elliot are roommates at Lutwidge Academy, and while things don't start off so great between them, they both find something they've been looking for in each other. For Leo, it's the inspiration he needs to write a new fanfic. And for Elliot it's a friend in the form of a transfer student who has absolutely no interest in his family ties who also shares his love of playing the piano and the Holy Knight series. And as the year goes by, they continue to grow closer and find in each other exactly they've been missing all along.
TL;DR: Leo writes Holy Knight fanfiction, and Elliot is his muse.
In which Leo watches fencing practice and Eliiot has a realiztion.
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nekonom26 · 6 months
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In a futile attempt to escape from my stress, i decide to reread an old manga: Pandora heart. (It's from the same author of the case study of Vanitas, the magnificent Mochizuki Jun.) That series have been a faithful companion in my teen and i really love it.
All of this to say, i rediscover one of my favorite ship:
xerxes break x reim lunette
I'm rereading all the fanfiction that exist about them. I finding again the fanfic that i loved once and falling in love with them again.
I'm giggling so hard and my happiness level is going through the roof.
So moral of the story, reread, rewatch old thing that had bring you joy in the past to kick your stress's ass.
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nyacat39 · 5 months
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CHAPTER 6 IS FINALLY DONE Y'ALL! SHAMELESS SELF PROMOTION TIME AGAIN~!
Fandoms: Fullmetal Alchemist, Naruto, Bleach, Happy Tree Friends, and Pandora Hearts
Characters: Greed, Ling Yao, Deidara, Cheshire, Flippy, Gin Ichimaru, Envy and my OC Sam
Chapters: 6/?
Summary: There are many realities that exist. Some result in different chosen paths and some remain as "What If's" Well then. Here's another; What if it was possible to travel and see all these "What if's?" What if this power was given to the worst people to hold it? Well then dear Reader... Come see for yourselves. (Also Cross posted on Fanfiction.net here)
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nandawrites · 3 months
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Going Back to Those Times
Fandom: Pandora Hearts
Characters: Oz Vessalius, Gilbert Nightray
Summary: Many have said that the child we once were is never lost, it’s only waiting inside us for a chance to go out and play again. Gil and Oz have just proven that theory true.
A/N: Like I've said, one of my goals for 2024 is to finally finish all the wips that have been collecting dust on my folder for ages. This fic is a part of this project and a specially difficult one at that, because:
1) Believe it or not, this fic was supposed to be a fill for a prompt on the kink meme in LiveJournal (computer says I started it in 2011, which makes sense, but somehow feels wrong, where did time go?); and
2) Do you think past!me wrote down what the prompt was or saved a link to it anywhere? She did not! :D So I had to put together a plot and ending for this fic from the thousand or so words I had already written for it and my very vague memories of where I was intending to go with this.
Bright side is: I did it! Not exactly sure how close it is to the prompt it was supposed to fill anymore, so uh, if you had a prompt on the kink meme that involved Gil and Oz playing as kids again in some way and you happen to see this, I hope you like it! And I hope everyone else likes it, too!
If you prefer, also read it on AO3!
~~**~~
When Gilbert Nightray got out of his bed that day, he expected and resigned himself, as always, to face all kinds of strange, scary, dangerous, and very likely to cause serious body damage situations. And all that setting aside the part where he would eventually have to actually go out of the Rainsworth mansion to hunt the human-eating monsters that were known as “chains”.
He did not expect, however, that an apparently harmless excursion to the market would lead to him finding himself thrown to the ground and then smashed by five of what should be the most annoying, tireless, relentless and devious kids he had ever seen.
Aside from his master Oz, that is.
Gilbert felt all the air being forcefully pushed out of his body and struggled to get it back, but, with the combined weight of the children pressing directly onto his ribs and lungs, this task seemed almost impossible. He gasped, desperate for air, and tried to scream and make the kids get off of him, but only managed to get out a strangled whisper.
One of the kids – he couldn’t possibly tell which one – started to scream and roar in victory, giving the cue for the others to follow him and start a deafening noise.
An alert started to sound off in his head (“You need air NOW!”) so he did the next thing that had come to his mind and used his arms to lift himself from the ground a little. The kids didn’t even notice, but it was enough to stop his chest from being crushed and to get the air back into his body. His breath was, of course, a bit erratic, but, as he was not facing imminent death anymore, he could focus on other important things such as: how he would get out from under those children?
He tried to search for Oz and ask for help, but his view was currently limited and the blond wasn’t anywhere in his line of sight. Feeling completely hopeless, he dropped his head to the ground, groaning and trying to ignore the kids’ cheering, and went back to the events that had brought him to this ridiculous situation.
~~**~~
Gilbert had woken that morning to a mansion immerged in complete silence, what was, considering the people that lived there, rather odd and suspicious. Plus, having lived most part of his childhood with Oz Vessalius, he knew that silence was never a good thing.
While he washed himself and changed, his mind rushed through the possibilities of evil plots that could be being put into action at that exact moment. Horrible images started rushing through his mind: Of the mansion being blown up or he being thrown in a room full of cats or… Who even knew!? (And no, he wasn’t paranoid, thank you very much. Some of those things had actually happened before, especially the ones that involved cats).
Afraid of what he would face once he started wandering the corridors, the raven considered, for a moment, staying in his room and pretending it had nothing to do with him, but the fear of what could actually happen if he didn’t keep an eye on Oz and Break was enough to make him storm out the door, looking for them.
The obvious place to look at that time would be the dining room, as it was breakfast time, and, surely, as soon as he approached the door he heard Oz’s voice coming from behind it, but the one answering the blond was not who Gilbert had expected.
He opened the door to find Oz chatting animatedly with Reim (Well, the younger boy was chatting animatedly, the other was just listening, but seemed to be having a good time nonetheless). There was no one else there, which was odd. Where were Sharon, Break and that stupid rabbit? His master looked up at him when he entered the room and gave him a smile:
“Hey there sleepy-head. It was about time you woke up, Gil!”
“Good morning, Mr. Nightray.” Came Reim’s greeting soon after.
Deciding to ignore Oz’s comment, he took his place at the table, sitting right in front of them.
“Morning…” He looked over at Reim, trying not to look too curious, but he must have failed it, because the other soon added:
“I came to deliver some documents that master Barma wanted Lady Cheryl to analyse, and then I ran into Oz, who was kind enough to invite me for breakfast.”
One mystery solved. There was still the other one.
“I see… And where are the others? I mean, that stupid rabbit is probably still asleep, but where are Break and Sharon?”
It was Oz’s turn to ignore part of Gilbert’s comment. He had known since long that all the animosity between Gil and Alice was just for show, so he didn’t even pay any mind to it anymore.
“Sharon wanted to give Alice another one of those ‘lady lessons’ and took her to the city. Break went with them, of course, and he also said we could have the day off.”
At this, the raven-haired man sighed visibly in relief. So there wasn’t any evil plan being plotted, after all, thankfully (Okay, so he was just a little paranoid. No one could blame him for it after all he had been put through). More relaxed, he filled himself a cup of coffee. The rest of the morning went down smoothly.
Things continued calm until the middle of the afternoon. The others still hadn’t come back, so Gil and Oz were killing time at the library. The blond was sitting on the floor, back against one of the shelves while reading one of his adored Holy Knight books, and Gilbert was on the nearest table, filling up some paperwork, when the boy lifted his head and said the phrase that was bound to be the source of all of Gilbert’s nightmares:
“You know, Gil… I could really use some cookies right now…”
Gilbert didn’t even look up. The other wasn’t seriously asking him to drop everything to go bake cookies, was he? Didn’t he remember what had happened the last time he tried?
“So go ask one of the maids to bring you some.”
“But I want the ones that you make!” Oz almost but whined. “You were never able to finish them last time and I have been craving your cookies since then!” (Damn, so he did remember).
Receiving no answer, Oz huffed, immediately changing his tone of voice.
“Come on now, Gil; don’t make me turn this into an order, because you know I will.”
Yes, Gilbert didn’t have a doubt he would…
He really didn’t feel like making cookies at the time, but if that was going to make Oz happy, then he didn’t really mind.
The raven sighed, although it was only for show, and pushed his chair away from the table.
“Fine, I will make your cookies. I’ll be back in an hour or so, ok?”
“Oh, really?! Thank you, Gil!”
Gilbert rolled his eyes as he left the room. Oz had the sweetest of smiles on his face, as if he hadn’t just blackmailed him into doing just so, the manipulative brat…
Oz chuckled as he heard the library door closing. They were nice, these times when they played their little games, Gil pretending he didn’t like to obey Oz’s orders and the boy pretending that he didn’t give a damn. It was something they had been doing since they were kids, the only difference being that there used to be a lot more whining and crying from the (now) older’s part. But it was ok, most of the times. If the game was always the same, it would eventually become boring, but not with Gil. With Gil it just felt nostalgic, safe, welcomed... Just like home. Even if that “home” was always surrounded by deep darkness.
Caught in his own thoughts for a while, the book was lowered to his lap, almost forgotten. The sound of the opening door pulled him back to Earth with a startle, but he quickly composed himself and was back to his book-focused appearance by the time Gilbert appeared on the door frame.
“Wow, back already? You must be the quickest cookie-baker in the whole world!”
Gilbert huffed, not finding the slightest fun on the lame joke and thereby deciding to ignore it.
“The cooker said they have run out of vanilla extract because of the amount of deserts prepared for last night’s dinner and today’s lunch so I offered to go to town and buy some, since we are on a day off anyway. Just thought I should let you know.”
“Whaaat? You are not going to invite me to go with you? Are you abandoning me, Gil?”
Gilbert had only been teasing, and the comment was said on a tone not meant to be taken seriously, but shocked that his master would have that impression about him, Gilbert quickly sputtered a desperate excuse.
“What?! No! A-As if you needed any kind of invitation, idiot. And weren’t you the one that said that was going to stay glued to that book the whole day, anyway? I thought you would prefer staying here.”
“Huh? All alone? No way! I prefer going to town with Gil, it’ll be way more fun!”
Oz rushed to the exit, grabbing his sleeve, and started to pull him through the corridor, but that excited façade didn’t fool Gilbert. He had learned how to see through these expansive actions; that forced joy. He could count on his fingers the times Oz had really had fun after returning from the Abyss, and having to watch his desperate attempts of bringing back his old self, on continuing to seem untouched by the events surrounding them, clutched at his heart with an iron claw and ripped it to pieces.
No, even this was a false nostalgia, somewhat. There had been a lot of darkness surrounding Oz, even back then, that was why Gilbert was always doing – had always done – everything his master wanted, everything he thought might make him happy. But before his father’s ritual, there had at least been real innocence, real happiness in Oz and in plenty of his moments, specially when he was with his uncle Oscar and Ada. Now even those moments seemed tinged with a hidden angst.
If he didn’t know Oz as well as he did, though, it would be impossible to see. As he walked to and around town towards the market, the other boy chatted and ran everywhere, pointing at birds and interesting objects on the shop windows, and even making Gilbert chase him once or twice. Gilbert couldn’t help but wonder about the picture they painted, him all black and moody and Oz all golden and smiles, everyone that saw them would think they didn’t have a care in the world, though deep down he thought Oz was always ever so energetic because, if he stopped, then his thoughts would catch up to him.
“Hey, Gil, let’s take a shortcut through here!”
The call cut him from his thoughts, and he looked around to find Oz waving at him and pointing at the entrance to the park.
“That is not a shortcut. It will take us at least twice as long to get to the market through there.”
“No, no, it’s a shortcut. Trust me, Gil.”
Well, what was he supposed to do? Say he didn’t trust Oz? He begrudgingly followed the other into the park and off the path through the trees until they came to a clearing in the middle of the woods. Well at least it seemed like they were walking in the general direction of the market and should-
Something hit him on the back of the head, and he acted in a fraction of second, grabbing Oz by the arm and pulling him behind him as he turned around and pointed his gun in the direction of the enemy.
Unfazed, an angry looking young boy threw his ball in the direction of Gilbert’s face now, making him duck fast not to get hit.
“Hey, old man! Get out of the field, you are interrupting our game!” The boy yelled at him, and Gilbert quickly hid his gun away before yelling back.
“Don’t shoot balls at people, you know how dangerous that is?!”
“I wouldn’t have to shoot my ball at you if you didn’t walk in the middle of our game in the first place!”
Some other voices yelled in agreement behind him, and Gilbert looked around to see there were three or four more kids around, and no indication this was a playing field of any kind.
“Well, you shouldn’t be playing in the middle of nowhere like this. Where are your parents?!”
“None of your business!” The boy had the audacity to blow a raspberry at him, but before Gilbert could argue further, Oz got free from his hold and walked around him.
“A game? What game are you playing?”
“It’s a game I invented.” The boy said, sounding all cocky. “It’s called ‘monster’. The monster needs to try to shoot the ball at the others and if he hits someone, that person will be the new monster.”
“Woow, sounds super fun, can I play?”
“Sure!”
“Oz, we don’t have time to play, we need to go to the market and back to the mansion.”
“Aww, but Gil!”
The boy grabbed Oz’s hand and started pulling him away. “Don’t listen to that ugly nanny of yours, come play with us!”
The other kids cheered as Gilbert simmered in rage at being called an ugly nanny. He grabbed Oz by the back of his shirt. “No, we don’t have time to spend with these brats. Let’s go, Oz, or don't you want your cookies?”
Oz whined a little more, but soon his pout turned into the devious smirk Gilbert knew so well. He had a feeling he would not like whatever came next.
“Hey, I just thought of a new cool game we can play!” Oz said, and the other kids looked at him with confused faces. He pointed straight at Gilbert, and Gilbert immediately knew he absolutely would not like whatever came next.
“That guy is a super ugly, super mean monster, and we are the knights that are going to bring him down! Whomever can hit him with the ball, wins!”
“Oz, wait a-“ Gilbert started protesting, but had to jump to the side to avoid a ball one of the other kids had already thrown at him.
“Let’s get the monster!” She yelled and all the other kids, including Oz, cheered.
Oh, fuck.
Gilbert spent the next minutes running, dodging and jumping as the kids ran around him shooting and kicking the ball in his direction, trying to “kill the monster” or whatever it was. Oz gleefully joined in the torture and his attacks were the hardest to dodge since he knew Gilbert’s movements so well. It wasn’t particularly tiring or difficult after being trained most of his life by Break to fight Chains, but it was getting pretty annoying.
An idea suddenly stroke Gilbert and he wondered how he hadn't thought of it before. The next time one of the kids threw the ball at him, he grabbed it and held it high above his head.
“Game over, I win.”
“Aw man, that’s not fair!” One of the kids complained.
“That wasn’t part of the game!” Another joined.
The kid that had had an issue with him from the start looked angry for a moment and then gave a devious smirk that rivalled Oz’s and yelled:
“The monster is cheating! Let’s get him, guys!”
There was another round of yelling and before Gilbert could understand what he meant by that or react, one of the kids jumped at him from behind. He wasn’t expecting it so he lost his balance and stumbled, but he would have been able to recover, if the other kids didn’t follow soon after.
He fell to the floor with a scream, a couple of kids landing on his back and the others jumping after them in a pile over his body that left him unable to breathe. One of the kids – he couldn’t possibly tell which one – started to scream and roar, giving the cue for the others to follow him and start a deafening noise.
An alert started to sound off in his head (“You need air NOW!”) so he did the next thing that had come to his mind and used his arms to lift himself from the ground a little. The kids didn’t even notice, but it was enough to stop his chest from being crushed and to get the air back into his body. His breath was, of course, a bit erratic, but, as he was not facing imminent death anymore, he could focus on other important things such as: how he would get out from under those children.
He tried to search for Oz and ask for help, but his view was currently limited, and the blond wasn’t anywhere in his line of sight. Feeling completely hopeless, he dropped his head to the ground, groaning and trying to ignore the kids’ cheering as he tried to think, and that’s when he heard it.
Laughter. Pure and joyous laughter that he hadn’t heard in a long time.
His head jerked in the direction of the sound, and he could slightly make out Oz sitting on the floor and laughing like this was the funniest thing he had ever seen in his life.
He had missed that sound so much. Oz’s real laughter, without any sign of being forced or hollow, like the one he had had when they were both kids. Before Abyss, before his father, before chains or Baskervilles; it elated him, it was his most favourite and the best sound in the world. It made Gilbert so happy himself, he almost started crying from the relief of it.
He would do anything to keep that sound alive.
With renewed strength, he pushed himself up, making the kids fall on their own pile behind him, then he turned around, glaring down at them, and said:
“Now you have made the monster angry. I am going to eat all of you!”
He fake-growled and the kids screamed and scattered as he chased them randomly around without any intention of getting any of them. After a few seconds of this, he turned and looked at Oz. The other boy was looking at him with a surprised look on his face, half thinking it fun and half disbelieving, so Gilbert turned to him with hands half raised in claws, and fake-growled again.
“And you! You turned against me! I’m going to eat you first!”
He ran towards Oz and was pleased to see him reacting just like the other kids: with a fake scream and starting to dash around. He ran after him for a while, and almost exploded from happiness when he heard Oz laughing again, before he took a sharp turn towards one of the other kids that were nearby and continued chasing them randomly around the clearing among the trees.
Every once in a while, the game changed: soon the kids organised themselves into a monster hunting squad, and started chasing him again, then the ball was rediscovered near a tree and they went back to something more similar to what the boy had explained at first, with the “monster” trying to catch the others by hitting them with the ball, which somehow turned into a soccer match, and a game of hide and seek, and another round of tag.
Every time Oz laughed or smiled or cheered together with the other kids, it made Gilbert laugh, too, and soon he had forgotten that his own laughter had also died over ten years ago or that he was a hunter and a killer, the Raven from the Nightrays, and not simply a boy playing together in the park with his best friend.
This is what they were supposed to be, they were supposed to have had more of this, still years of this to come. They had been robbed from themselves and each other, their lives turned upside down, but this was their defiance: they could still laugh, and smile and play, and every time they did, they were taking back a little piece of what had been stolen from them, they were back to being just boys and best friends playing in the park, with freedom and their whole lives ahead of them.
They would never be able to go back to those times, but they could pretend and heal for a while, at least.
~~**~~
The sun was already setting when Gilbert and Oz finally sat down on the grass propped against each other, exhausted and trying to catch their breaths. The other kids said goodbye and waved as each disappeared back to their own homes, inviting them to come back and play again tomorrow. Even the boy that had initially disliked him said they could come back anytime; it made Gilbert smile.
“I’m completely beat, I hadn’t run so much in ages.” Oz remarked, and Gilbert had to agree.
“How was this somehow more exhausting than taking down a Chain? What do kids nowadays eat?”
His dramatic statement made Oz laugh again, and Gilbert beamed. He would never get enough of that sound.
“What made you change your mind, Gil?” The other suddenly asked. “I never thought you’d start a game yourself, but you were almost having more fun than me.”
The raven didn’t know what to say for a moment. He didn’t want to bring attention to Oz’s present happiness – and general unhappiness, by consequence -, in fear it would make it disappear, so he just shrugged. “I just wanted to teach those kids a lesson for piling on top of me, and I guess I got carried away.”
“I see… You were really cool when you called yourself the monster like that, I couldn’t believe it!”
The comment made Gilbert blush a bit. “Don’t make fun of me, I was just going along with what you said.”
“I’m not! You were really cool, I mean it.”
They stayed silent for a little while longer, until Oz said, almost inaudible:
“Thank you, Gil.”
It took Gilbert by surprise, but then he smiled, and put his hat on Oz’s head in place of an answer.
“Come on. Let’s go find a cab and go back to the mansion, I can’t walk the whole way back again.”
They found their way back to the main entrance of the park and Gilbert hailed a carriage for them to climb into. Oz fell asleep almost instantly, and Gilbert contented himself with watching over him on their way back.
It wasn’t until they were back at the mansion that he realised they had forgotten all about the vanilla extract and the cookies, but it was okay. They had gotten something way more precious instead.
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tiniestdormouse · 10 months
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Because of chatbots/ Chat GPT, I've closed my Ao3 fanfiction to the public
I'm sure you've been seeing articles floating around about how chatbots like Chat-GPT and other Large Language Models have been scraping fanfiction sites and using stories to train their programs (basically plagiarism). Here's a great article from Gizmodo explaining this all. I admit, I've been a fanfic writer since I was a teenager. According to this article, there is high possibility that all of the fic I've written in the past 12 years -- ones that I've been most proud of, that have showed my evolution as a writer -- have been scraped. It's really disheartening how Silicon tech bros have taken advantage of our creativity and goodwill. As a precaution, I've switched my works on Ao3 to be registered users only. I do have a FF.net account and plan to remove stories from there entirely. I really value the readers who follow and connect, but this is the best way to protect my creative energy. Thanks for understanding!! <3
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bunn1rabb1t · 1 year
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hey, well, I just saw that you are writing for Pandora Hearts, so can I ask for headcannons or something else like that for Break (and mb Gil) with a reader who is all weak and innocent, but suddenly can show dark side of a sadist and a damn psycho when something threatens their loved ones
I hope that I've written everything right and understandably, sorry for my English🤧
Ahh!! You're the first person to write something to me, thank you so much! 👹👹👹
Plus don't worry, your English is lovely!
XERXES BREAK ♡
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♡ Xerxes break, hard working and a bit of a jokster has so much love for his darling, he can't help but to take them around with him causing trouble
♡ Though, he's never seen his darling get so angry before, they are usually such a softie.
♡ So when he first sees his darling act in such a manner, he'd be rather shocked to the point he'd start laughing, he just can't keep a straight face!
♡ He'll do his best to calm his darling down, but he doesn't dare stop them from their actions!
♡ Seeing such a sadistic grin from them makes his insides churn, and it feels like butterflies were released.
♡ He'll eventually step in, if it gets so bad. But nothing will stop him from praising his darling for their actions, showing them the most tender love and care.
♡ Overall, he thinks the atrocities are rather funny, and he wouldn't mind seeing his darling get aggressive again if it means feeling those butterflies in his stomach..
____________________________________
I hope that was good! It's been so long since I've written anything for him, so I'm so so so grateful! Thank you so much for writing an ask, I hope you come back soon!!
If you want me to write more of him or maybe Gil just let me know 💜
Now, QUESTION OF THE DAY!!
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A couple of scenes looking at Oz and Gil when they're twelve/thirteen, and one after Oz returns from the abyss. (It does not go well.)
Fic below the cut:
Oz had been reading – had been staring at the page as his mind wandered. It was raining heavily, the rain pattering against the glass, so they were all stuck indoors. Gilbert was actually buffing the boots he’d worn out that morning, and gotten completely covered in mud. That was when the thought occurred:
“Good Lord!” Oz half-cried, and dropped the book he’d been pretending to read. It bounced off the table in front of him, before landing face down on the carpet.
Gilbert, in turn, dropped the boot he was polishing. It tumbled limply to a halt. His amber eyes were wide, like a startled cat. Even if he wasn’t that new to the household – even if it had been two years since he arrived – he still thought every mistake would see him thrown out. Perhaps if Oz’s father was around, it would.
“I’ve just realised.” Oz looked at him, toying with his bottom lip. The bored, twelve year old son of a lord, he knew. Quite enjoyed acting like that. “I’ll have to get married, someday.”
He saw Gilbert pause. Saw the little line between his eyebrows form as he thought about it. “Do you…not want to?”
“Not if it’s my father doing the choosing.” Oz stood. He stepped over the book, absentmindedly. It rain streaked the window in silver ribbons; the wind catching the trees and trying to tug them over. “He’ll choose a lady he wants us to have closer ties to, never mind what the girl is like. Imagine if she’s boring.”
“I suppose if she’s truly boring you don’t have to spend time with her.”
Oz watched Gilbert’s reflection in the window. He’d abandoned the boots and picked up the fallen book. He took a moment to smooth out the pages – they’d been creased – before closing it reverently.
“No,” Oz said. “I couldn’t do that. I won’t be like…”
He didn’t say it. He didn’t need to. It was obvious who he meant. He would not be like his own father. He would not stand by and ignore his family.
Gilbert didn’t reply. He placed the book on the table, and stared at it.
Oz leant against the wooden windowsill, turning to watch him. The rain pattered against the glass behind him. He hated that sound. That constant sound. If it rained at night, he could never sleep. It was worse than a ticking clock.
Gilbert still stared at the book, his fingertips tracing the leather binding. If he could read, he hadn’t made it known, and no one else thought it crucial for a valet to know how to. Maybe Uncle Oscar thought Oz would grow bored of him in a month and make him a footman instead.
“Maybe she won’t even be pretty,” he said. Perhaps that had been the first glimmer of the thought, then. That the boy stood before him, in his oversized shirt and too big boots, was pretty. His neck hair curled around his neck daintily; his lips were rosy against his pale skin; his fingers quick, and nimble.
Gilbert’s frown reappeared. “That’s a shallow thought, young master.”
The rain continued pitter-pattering outside. Oz pressed his head against the ridges of the wooden frame until it stung. He shrugged, crossing his arms.
“Oh, don’t try to teach me good virtues, Gil. I’m far too awful for that.”
Gilbert had been staring at the floor, his long hair falling into his eyes, but now he looked up. He examined Oz, and, he felt a shiver tiptoe up his spine. That hadn’t happened before, and he didn’t think he liked it.
“I don’t believe you,” Gilbert said.
Oz didn’t believe Gilbert. He knew he was awful. The few times he’d spoken to his father had confirmed that. And yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been seen through, as easily as he could see through the glass to the rain beyond. It made him feel as though he’d missed a step in coming downstairs. He could only stare at Gilbert.
Gilbert, who dropped his gaze again, his cheeks steadily turning pink. His skin was usually so pale, that any blush showed up terribly. Prettier, Oz thought, when he blushed. And it was easier to focus on that; on Gil and his pretty cheeks; than on anything else. He wanted to turn that pink to red, and knew how.
“At least I’ll still have my valet.” Oz sat on the windowsill, drawing a knee up into it. He’d leave a scuff mark, he knew, and knew that the servants would think it was because he was a spoilt, uncaring child. “You’ll still be my valet, won’t you, Gil?”
Gilbert seemed untethered. He left the book, and took a tentative step back to where the boots still lay. “I – I suppose.”
“And then my wife won’t matter.” Oz watched him, from under his bangs. “Because you’re pretty, anyway. We’ll just have an affair.”
Gilbert stiffened. He stared down at the shirts, his hair falling forward to reveal a triangle of pale neck. He was frozen, entirely, for a good few seconds. Then, his voice was small, when he said, “No, we can’t.”
“Of course we can. Plenty of fancy lords have affairs with their valets.”
Gilbert stayed still for a moment more. Then he looked up, brushing dark strands from his face. His cheeks weren’t crimson, like Oz had been expecting, but they were still dusted pink.
“I think you’re just trying to seem wicked,” Gilbert murmured.
“It’s true,” Oz insisted.
But Gilbert went back to polishing the boots, with a rigid determination. He didn’t say anything else, but the colour didn’t fade from his cheeks.
Oz pulled his other foot up onto the windowsill, turning to press his cheek against the glass. It was cold against his skin. It was true; he’d heard servants gossiping about it. One Christmas party he’d seen a Lord grope at his manservant, and the man had smiled back. He had been right about it happening. Perhaps it was wrong. That seemed to be what Gilbert was implying, and surely it was what the priest said on Sundays. But he’d also been told he’d be thrown into the Abyss, and that hadn’t happened yet, either. Now Gilbert thought Oz was just pretending to be interested in that to shock him. And he’d thought it.
But, then he kept stealing glances at Gilbert as he worked. His hands were practised. Oz stared at the curve of his nose; the way his eyelashes fanned his cheeks when he looked down; the way his eyes glinted in the grey light of the day. Amber, just like Ada’s cats. He was pretty. As pretty as the girls that Oz danced with, at those Christmas parties. The ones he smiled and flirted with, because he wanted their attention – because he wanted to be a prince to their princess.
And he thought, perhaps, that he felt that way about Gilbert, too.
So maybe that did make him wicked, after all.
*
Those feelings kept growing. Oz kept noticing things about Gilbert that made him feel like he was fizzing like a glass of champagne. Kept thinking that Gilbert was as pretty as a girl; no, not quite; he was pretty, but in a different way to how girls were. A different pretty, and one Oz liked.
And he liked making Gilbert blush. Liked teasing him to make his cheeks turn red, or to see him pout. Liked making him smile, more. Liked making him laugh the most. It made him feel giddy. When he was concentrating on that, he didn’t need to worry about Gilbert seeing through him. Especially as he thought that was just another of Oz’s masks; that he was just teasing. That made it safe.
It meant that Gilbert, hopefully, didn’t notice that Oz’s heart pounded when they touched. That, when Gilbert was dressing him, his pulse raced. His fingers would brush Oz’s chest as he buttoned his shirt, graze his neck when he tied his tie. He often glanced up, as he tightened it, his amber eyes searching Oz’s. It stole his breath, every morning. Every morning, he wondered what Gilbert would do, if he leant forward and kissed him.
It wouldn’t be that hard to do.
It happened in the summer when he was thirteen. On a long, lazy morning where the sun was hot enough to make everyone drowsy. They'd played with Ada until she'd fallen asleep in the shade of a tree, a kitten in her lap. Then, they'd gone for a walk themselves. Oz swung a branch lazily; he was too old to pretend it was a sword, and that made him feel a pang of sadness.
"Don't forget that Lady Rivers is coming to tea this afternoon," Gilbert said, trailing after him. "You've already gotten your short-trousers dirty."
"That's because you insist on dressing me in white." Oz glanced back. A slight wind ruffled his hair, and he thought it would make him look elfish. "That's foolish, Gil. It only encourages me to ruin it."
Gilbert pursed his lips.
Oz turned around so that he wouldn’t stare. His stomach twisted.
"Is Lady Rivers bringing her daughter?" he asked instead. There was a flowerbed to his left, and he stepped onto the low, wooden beam that corralled it.
"I believe so." Was it his imagination, or was Gilbert's tone more careful?
Oz couldn't balance on the beam. It was too narrow and his boots were too clunky. He stopped. "Do you think she's pretty?"
Gilbert paused. For so long that Oz glanced back, to see his amber eyes staring at the grass.
"It doesn't matter what I think."
"But I'm asking."
"I don't know."
His cheeks weren't flushed. It seemed like Gilbert really didn't think so. Which was odd, because the daughter of Lady Rivers was very pretty indeed. She had shining, curly hair and big brown eyes; she looked like a princess from a fairy tale. Oz flirted with her, at every chance, and she giggled and blushed, seemingly flirting back. It felt easy.
Oz stopped. He stared at Gilbert, watching a dark lock fall in front of his face. He glanced up at Oz, then away, shifting slightly. It made him feel like a dog with a scent; his ears were pricked.
"I think she is," he said. Perhaps a bit forcefully. "I think I'll begin courting her."
There. He saw Gilbert's shoulders stiffen. Just for a moment, before he said, "That would be your choice, young master."
"What do you think?"
Gilbert's fists were clenched. "My opinion doesn't matter."
"I'm asking for it."
"But it is not my place."
Oz stepped forward. And again. They were close now, but Gilbert still didn't look up. Every part of him was rigid, like wood. It bothered him. This bothered him. That meant something, and Oz needed to know more.
"What would you say if I said I wanted to kiss her?"
"It's not my choice," Gilbert whispered.
Oz leant even closer, his hands behind his back. "What if I said I wanted to kiss you?"
For a moment, Gilbert didn't breathe. He jerked his chin up, and stared at Oz, his eyes wide. The sun cast curling shadows of his hair against his skin. The sun caught his lashes too, and made them look darker and longer, as he examined Oz's face. He was smirking, he knew, and that he probably looked like a wolf. He let his own gaze drop, down to Gilbert's parted lips, meaningfully.
"Well?" Oz prompted.
"You can't," Gilbert whispered.
"Why not?"
"You're not allowed."
"Who would know?"
Gilbert stayed quiet. His breath came in fast, warm puffs against Oz's cheeks.
"I'll only kiss you if you'd like me to." Though Oz didn't know how he would be able to stand being around Gilbert and not being able to kiss him. "Would you like me to?"
There was another long moment where the long, sunny afternoon stretched around them. Then Gilbert nodded. Then he raised his hand slowly, fingers brushing the front of Oz's jacket.
So Oz kissed him. A sudden, jerky movement that had their teeth knock against each other. But it was a kiss. A kiss that released that fizzy, excited feeling.
Oz caught hold of Gil's shoulders – his arms – kissed him again, tilting his head properly this time. It worked better. He felt Gilbert's mouth move against his own. He clutched at Oz's jacket, leaning into him.
When he pulled away, his breath came heavily. Oz's thoughts had turned to fireworks. To gather them, he brushed a stray lock of hair from Gilbert's face. He tucked it behind his ear; concentrating on that, rather than meeting Gilbert's eye.
"Well, good," Oz said. "That's sorted."
"Young Master Oz." Gilbert's own pale fingers brushed a lock of Oz's golden hair from where it hung in front of his face. He looked as worried as he always did, when Oz was leading them into trouble. But his cheeks were also flushed, his eyes shining.
It felt right. This. Them. Pressing another kiss against Gilbert's forehead and feeling him squirm closer. He smelt of fresh cotton and shoe polish, and those smells shouldn't have been so wonderful. Oz usually hated those smells.
He held him, his arms slipping around to Gilbert's back, and knew he'd started something. Something that could not be undone; a chain between them.
And he revelled in it.
So it continued. A few snatched kisses – Oz was usually the initiator – clasping each other's hands, brushing lips across cheeks and knuckles and foreheads as easily as shaking hands. It was to show affection. It was to chain this bond between them into something real and solid. Now that Gilbert had pledged himself so fully to Oz and he was breaking his one rule. He was accepting one absolute.
Gilbert was the absolute.
So this only made sense. He was the one who knew him better than anyone. Who would stand by him, no matter what. And, more strangely, Oz would stand by him. This was his one. His valet and his everything.
So when Gilbert tied his tie in the morning, of course he kissed him. When he tied his laces, he offered a hand up. When Oz lay despondently, his cheek against the window, Gilbert pressed against him, or kissed his knuckles when he'd finished his studying. It was natural.  Easy.
And it didn't matter about what the future would bring - about engagements and coming of age ceremonies - because for now, he was happy.
For now, he had Gilbert.
*
Now, Oz sat in Lady Sharon’s drawing room, in the evening. Those days were before the abyss; were apparently ten years ago, and even though he hadn’t lived those ten years, it felt like a lifetime ago. His worries had been very different, then.
He sat on the wide windowsill, just like he used to, staring at the glass. It was too dark outside to see anything properly; the moon was like a distant streetlamp, and the stars just pinpricks. The main thing he saw was his own reflection, staring back at him. He was the same; still had unruly, fair hair and a few leftover freckles across his nose. Still didn't need to shave; still had limbs a little too long for him, like a growing colt. He hadn't changed, but it had been ten years; the whole world had changed.
Or maybe he had changed. Because he had been trying to talk to Gilbert for the last ten minutes. Since Break had retired and Sharon had pulled Alice upstairs to toilette together, he had been repeating the words over and over in his head. It was ridiculous. The man sat on the sofa, reading, was Gilbert. His friend. More than his friend. But he didn’t have the courage – he’d always had the courage, before.
Oz snatched a glance at him, resting his chin on his knee. It was stupid to leave it at: 'he'd grown;' of course he had. It was more interesting to see how he stayed the same; his dark hair was still just as unruly, curling around his ears and the nape of his neck; his eyes were still that same amber, like a cat's; he still tapped his fingers, or jiggled his leg, in that nervous way. He was still, underneath, Gilbert. How could Oz not have seen it before?
"Gil?" he asked, as though double-checking that he was right. His heart raced.
"Mm?" Gilbert was lit by the soft light of the gas lamp; the warm glow settling on his hair and cheekbones.
Why didn't you tell me to start with, Oz thought. Why hadn't he been forthcoming about who he was? Why had they all pretended that ten years hadn't gone by? But those weren't the pressing questions. They weren't the questions that he needed to ask, and he didn’t think he’d get a satisfactory answer.
"Do you remember – what it was like before?" Oz's voice didn't waver, and he was proud of himself for that.
Gilbert marked the page in his book, and closed it softly. "I remember you teasing me with cats, whenever you had the chance."
"Not that."
"Actually—" Gilbert placed the book on the side table. Either he had always known how to read, or it was another thing he’d learnt. "You teased me in general, at every opportunity."
"I couldn't help it," Oz said. "You're very easy to wind up. But that's not what I meant."
Gilbert didn’t supply him with what he did mean. He didn't even met Oz's eye – which was exactly like how he used to, when he was embarrassed.
"I meant about us." Oz's heart pounded on his tongue. "About how we were, together."
Gilbert stayed still. It was like they were back to square one. At least it gave Oz the confidence to stand from the window.
"Do you remember a couple of days before the – before my birthday? At the suit fitting?" It was hard to get his tongue to move.
There was a very long second before Gilbert's reply. "Yes."
Oz waited. Took a step forward, forcing his mouth open to say more, but Gilbert continued, softly: "You said you loved me."
Oz had taken Gilbert's hands in his own, twining them tightly together. He'd felt like a Prince in one of Ada's fairy stories. And he'd had to say it, whilst they were alone for five minutes, because it felt like there wasn't anything after the ceremony. Because it was overwhelming, and he knew he would be a disappointment. He'd leant forward and whispered those three words into Gilbert's ear.
"I did." Oz’s voice did waver then. He didn't feel like a prince, stood in his borrowed clothes. He felt like a schoolboy.
"And I said I loved you." Gilbert's eyes flickered up, then back down again. His hands were in fists on his lap.
Oz remembered that. Remembered those yellow eyes looking up at him, and the soft, shy smile on Gilbert's face. He'd squeezed his fingers back. And Oz had felt like he'd swallowed a star.
He swallowed now, his throat sore. "And...?"
"And...what?"
"What about now?" Oz managed to take another step, though his voice sounded desperate.
Gilbert looked up, eyes as warm as the gas lamp. "Of course, I still love you."
Relief flooded through Oz. The champagne was back; a tingling feeling spreading all the way through to his fingertips. Like a star trapped inside him. Of course Gilbert still loved him. It washed away the tenseness, the sore throat, the confusion and anxiety that he'd held ever since finding out that Raven was Gilbert and Gilbert was Raven.
"Oh, good," he said. Grinned. Crossed to the sofa. "That's all sorted then, because I still love you too."
Maybe he should have noticed Gilbert's reaction. Noticed that his eyes widened in panic, and his brows knitted together, and he was about to say something. But the relief was too great – the knowledge that he still this; that he and Gilbert hadn't changed.
So he leant down and kissed him. His hands found Gilbert's cheeks, tangling into his curls.
"It was so unfair, that day," Oz managed to talk between kisses. "The wretched tailor came back in and then it was all schedules—" More kisses, and he was dimly aware that Gilbert wasn't touching him back, as he settled in his lap. "We barely had a moment alone until the—" He kissed him again to avoid saying the word. "But now it can be just like—"
Gilbert did touch him then, finally. But it was to catch his shoulders – to push him away. "Stop, Oz."
He did. His hands fell from Gilbert's hair. His mouth tingled, and he realised that Gilbert never used to call him just 'Oz.'
"You can't," Gilbert said. His hair was a mess, his cheeks flushed.
"That's what you said then, too." Oz pushed against the hands holding him back, but they were firm. "But that didn't matter."
"This is different." Gilbert's hands shifted to Oz's waist. His stomach turned over, despite the frown on Gilbert's face. But he wasn't pulling him closer. He was easing Oz from his lap, like he was a child. "This isn't a rich boy's fling with his servant."
"It still is." He went limp, to make himself harder to move.
"No, it's not.”
“I said I wasn't letting you go so easily just because you're a lord, now."
Gilbert was stronger than him. He deposited Oz on the sofa cushions, and he landed in an ungainly heap. He scrambled to sit, his hands sinking into pillows.
"And I'm still your valet." Gilbert's amber eyes were soft. "I said that. But things are different. I'm ten years older, now."
He was speaking softly, and calmly, though his cheeks were still flushed. He still sat in that stiff way. When he did that, he did look like a Nightray lord.
"Not to me!" Oz clutched Gilbert's shoulder, and felt him twitch. He dropped it, feeling heat flush down his neck. "It's been no time at all for me. I'm still me, and you're still you."
"And I'm a man." Gilbert looked at him. Seriously. Like a teacher with an unruly pupil. "I'm a man, now, Oz. And you're still a—"
"Don't you dare call me a child!" It came out as a yelp, like Oz was a kicked dog. He sat, properly, putting his boots on the floor.
Gilbert took a breath. "You're still fifteen. You have to understand."
"I don't." He stood, feeling hot. "I don't understand how you can pretend this didn't happen. I don't understand how you got to grow up and I didn't. Where's my future?"
"On your chest."
He might as well have slapped Oz. It was even worse than twitching away from him. He blinked. "That's not fair."
"You're an illegal contractor."
"You had ten years to save me." Why didn't you save me, Oz wanted to ask. He gritted his jaw. That wouldn't be fair, either.
"Ten years to do the impossible."
They fell silent. The embers crackled in the grate. It was Oz's turn to stare at the elaborate rug, and he glared at it, as though he could scorch it with just his eyes. This wasn't his house; he couldn't go back to his house; he didn't have a home. What little family he had didn't know he was back. The only connector had been Gilbert, but even he was different.
"What am I supposed to do?" he asked the rug. He knew, of course. He was supposed to find Alice's memories. He was supposed to find a way out of the contract before it dragged him back to the Abyss. He was supposed to put everything right. And usually he would be able to shrug, and laugh, and keep going, but suddenly it all felt like so much. Suddenly, he was so aware of how he was different. There was no fixing this – this missing ten years.
Arms appeared around him. Suddenly. They wrapped him up, easily, pressing him to Gilbert's chest. He turned into him, clutching at his ridiculous black coat. He wasn't crying – he never cried – but he was close to it. His eyes were prickling and it was difficult to breathe. He held onto Gilbert, but this Gilbert didn't smell like himself. He smelt of cigarettes and stale cologne; not fresh laundry and shoe polish.
"Nothing could have changed that day." He could feel Gilbert's mouth move against his hair. His palms pressed against Oz's back. "You understand that, right?"
He did, deep down. That the Baskervilles would appear – that he would be thrown into the abyss no matter what. But he had allowed himself to think about the possibility, just for a moment. It was foolish. It had happened. And of course Gilbert would follow his thinking; he always knew what Oz was thinking, because he knew Oz.
"I know." He pulled away from Gilbert, just enough to dredge up a smile for him. His heart still raced, and he still felt like a ship in a storm. "Nothing can change the past."
Though he didn't pull away. Not yet. He stayed close, searching Gilbert's eyes. "But you do still love me?"
Gilbert's hands tightened. It almost hurt, but he didn’t mind. That pain was better to focus on.
"Gil? Look at me."
Gilbert’s gaze inched slowly round, his eyes sliding over every little detail in the room until they couldn’t escape meeting Oz’s eyes.  His voice was a whisper, "Yes."
"Then – who would know?" Those words had worked before. He raised himself onto tiptoes – that was new – catching himself on Gilbert's chest. He was so tall, now, but he liked it; liked feeling protected.
But this time, when he said that, Gilbert caught his shoulders again. Pushed him back a step, frowning, as though he was trying to concentrate. Oz caught his wrists, and held on. Knew he was almost pouting, and hoped it at least made him look endearing.
"I do – love you," he said. And his hands shifted, palms cupping Oz's cheeks. It made him feel small. "But I look at you now, and you're - so young."
He was a child, in Gilbert's eyes. Which didn't seem right, because Gilbert had always been younger, and shorter, and more of a cry-baby. And Oz didn’t feel like a child; he certainly wasn’t being treated like a child by anyone else.
"That's not fair." And Oz realised that saying it didn’t help his case, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
"I know." Gilbert's thumb twitched on his cheekbone, and it sent a shooting star streaking under his skin. He turned his face into it, his eyes closing. Gilbert's hands had changed, as well. They weren't just bigger; they were rougher. Closing his eyes didn’t help to pretend things were the same.
Oz pressed his mouth against the centre of his palm. He pressed a kiss there, keeping his eyes shut, to play innocent. A last try at persuasion; he’d always been able to persuade Gilbert.
Who saw through it, now – he always saw through him – he pulled his hands away with a slight sigh. Though, when Oz opened his eyes, he could see that his expression was soft. He was smiling, slightly. Fond. He was fond of Oz. He still loved him.
But not in the way he had before.
Gilbert kissed him. But not on the lips. On his forehead, and through his hair. His fingers twitched in it, smoothing it into place.
"Goodnight, Oz," Gilbert murmured.
He left his book on the side. His coat swept behind him as he closed the door, leaving Oz stood there, alone. He could still feel the ghost of Gilbert's arms, the tingle from where their lips met. His heart thundered dully in his ears.
That was it then. Everything really had changed. He had lost his choices to Alice and Pandora. His future and his past was wrapped in this mystery. He had lost his home when he had come back from the abyss – bundled away here, and part of whatever subterfuge Break was planning. He was stuck in a web that he couldn’t even see. And that would be fine; he would be able to accept that; able to get on with things and fix it all, or let himself get caught by the spider. But the boy he loved had also changed. Now he was a serious man who worried about age and status and reputation.
And Oz was still just a child.
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whatevsbla · 1 year
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@feathertayl happy holidays and happy Pandora Hearts Secret Santa gifting day (and thanks to @i-prefer-the-term-antihero / @phmonth2022 for organising it)!!
Here's my gift for you, which is a 3k fanfic involving snippets of different timelines and realities, fanpoetry, circular narratives, fairytale AUs and rare femslash - I hope you enjoy it!
“But all children’s stories have a bit of truth in them, don’t they? …I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, Echo! Even if a ghost like this showed up, I’d protect you.”
Ada Vessalius was worse than… Echo’s thoughts could not reach further than that. There was no way a noble lady like her could protect Echo. She never made any sense, even if her words were almost too knowing.
“...Echo is not scared of ghosts.”
She couldn’t be. Echo too was quite like a ghost after all. When her mission was accomplished, she would disappear..
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rlxb · 7 months
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my dad just walked in on me writing the reimbreak fic like "whatcha reading?" ive never switched tabs so fast
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cyokie · 2 years
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Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Pandora Hearts
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Gilbert Nightray & Oz Vessalius
Characters: Oz Vessalius, Gilbert Nightray, Oscar Vessalius
Additional Tags: Friendship, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Language of Flowers
Summary: Even after all the tragedies, Oz and Gilbert remain, as though connected by the very fabric of the universe itself.
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spectralmoon · 1 year
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chibi-n00b · 1 year
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Okay, question. I know the fandom is basically dead, and I’ve already posted the AO3 links for my Elleo fic on here, but should I also post the full chapters?
I know it’s a lot of text to post, but I’m not really sure people interact with fics and writing posts on here, so I’m trying to figure out what the general consensus is on that.
(Probably just talking into the void, but if anyone has thoughts or suggestions, please feel free to reply)
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Mega Man S: Chapter 17
Deep-Seated Grudge
Summary: In which everyone is very fortunate that a fragment of Model W wasn’t lingering around. Word Count: 1,783 First | Previous | Next ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆
Sora was now incredibly curious on how Vent and Aile would do with Biometals. The three of them were making a decent team. Aile did her best at flanking and making sure Vent and Sora were covered as the boys made more direct attacks. Their efforts were making the Maverick disoriented, and perhaps more furious, as the battle went on. However, they all knew that Vent and Aile couldn’t keep this up forever. They needed backup. They needed…
The only warning the three of them had for the newcomer was a loud shout, then the downward slash of a familiar enough saber. The black coat Maverick staggered back at this blow- it also failing to anticipate a fourth player in this fight.
“What a terrible mess.” a soft voice tutted as he adjusted his stance. Aile and Vent stared at the newcomer’s black and red armor with awe. Sora also had to take a moment to realize who had come to help.
“Gi- You!” Sora exclaimed, remembering last minute about Giro’s secret identity. “How’d you know we needed help?”
“The Guardians.” came the short reply. He then looked to Vent and Aile before adding, “There is no time to waste when innocents are in danger.”
“They were doing pretty well, actually.” Sora sheepishly admitted. At this, Giro seemed surprised. But the tell only lasted for a moment.
“Regardless, we still need to neutralize the enemy.”
“Right.” Sora nodded before returning to his battle stance. “Aile, Vent, hold back! My friend and I will take down this guy in no time now.”
“Only if you promise to tell us what’s going on!” Aile hollered back. Despite this, she grabbed Vent’s hand and hauled them off to a safer location. Vent did not have a choice in this decision- his surprise coming out in a yelp.
With them out of the direct way, Sora and Girouette buckled down their attacks. The black coat Maverick never stood a chance against their combined strength. Sora was given the final blow to send the Maverick up into smoke. After that, Girouette called the Guardians to give the all clear, and to let them know to contact Juno- although he didn’t say her name directly.
Once they knew they Maverick was defeated, Aile and Vent came back out and immediately to Sora. They hounded him with question after question on his armor. It was rather overwhelming. Sora gave them a sheepish laugh before doing his best to answer each one. The three didn’t notice when Juno finally arrived. She had pulled up in one of the Giro Express trucks instead of the bikes.
Giro noticed her, though, and held himself a bit higher before going over.
“Are these your children, ma’am?” he asked Juno in an authoritative voice. She had a hard time keeping her laughter in.
“You could say that,” she mused.
“You should keep a closer eye on them.” the Reploid went on- if only to keep in character. “This area is no stranger to Mavericks. Those children should stay closer to the inner city. It’s much safer there.”
That was when Juno gave a teasing smirk.
“No need to remind me,” she shot back, speaking in a fake offense, “It’s my partner you need to talk to. That little girl over there, she just bats her eyes and he’s putty in his hands.”
At that moment, Aile walked on over.
“And there she is.” Juno grinned before patting Aile on the head. “Look upon the face of a true swindler.”
“I didn’t do anything.” Aile immediately pouted in defense.
“Yet.”
“Yet.” she agreed, hanging her head in shame. But she quickly shook herself out of it. She then went on to tell them both, “Sora was talking about how he got his armor, and how he had to keep it secret from us. I guess I could buy it. He’s not a very confident liar though.”
She then looked Girouette over. Her head tilted as she observed his red Biometal armor with an almost sense of recognition.
“Your armors are kinda similar.” Aile eventually noted. She started to bat her eyelashes at Giro as she asked, “Gee, mister. Do you have a secret identity too?”
Giro seemed taken aback by this for a moment. Slowly, a calm smile came across his lips.
“It wouldn’t be a secret anymore if I told you. Now would it?”
“Urg.” Aile whined. “I hate when adults make good points.”
Giro laughed at her. If anyone had been paying enough attention, they would have seen that Juno was also smiling. It was soft, and very much filled with love.
A few more minutes passed as Vent got out every question he had to offer, then finally permitted Juno to take him home. Sora and Girouette remained behind, waving at their friends as they left.
“I’m going to Guardian HQ to fill out the mission report.” Giro then told Sora. “Are you going to be alright heading back alone?”
“You bet!” Sora replied with a wide grin and a boastful brush of his nose. His smile did fade a bit as he added, “I want to check this area a bit more. It’s a nice day out.”
Giro offered a smile. “It is.” he agreed. “Don’t forget to contact Prairie or I if you need help again. Alright?”
Sora’s smile came back in full force as he agreed. He waited for Girouette to be out of eye range before he explored the area some more. What he didn’t tell Giro was that something still felt weird. There was another Maverick in the area. He couldn’t let his guard down just yet.
The boy spent several minutes looking around. Just when he thought he might be overreacting, a soft voice spoke up.
“How foolish… to let your identity be discovered… just like that…”
Admittedly, the sudden voice in otherwise silence had startled him. Sora spun around to find that female Reploid with the white armor. She was simply standing there- holding her wand beside her as if she needed it to stand up properly.
“Oh, it’s just you.” Sora sneered. “And I thought there was something more important around here, but I guess not.”
And with that, he immediately turned around to head back home. Pandora cocked an eyebrow at him.
“You’re choosing... to walk away?” she questioned- a slight bit of mirth in her tone. “When your back is turned… it is the perfect time to strike… Foolish boy.”
“Try to fight someone else.” Sora callously replied from over his shoulder. “Because I could care less about whatever you weirdos are up to.”
The smirk that etched Pandora’s lips was near menacing as she said to him, “I thought… this was important to you…”
“Huh?”
Sora turned around and saw that the Reploid girl was now holding up something very familiar. A near visceral reaction hit Sora when he realized it was Kairi’s good luck charm.
“Where did you get that?!” he demanded immediately after.
Pandora’s only answer at first was a spine-chilling giggle.
“Did your girlfriend… give this to you?” she teased. Her voice was different now. While still soft, there was an edge of malice. Perhaps even a little sting of jealousy.
“Kairi isn’t my girlfriend!” Sora spat back. “But she gave that to me because she trusted me, so give it back!”
“So it is a she, then?” Pandora decided. She looked down at Sora as her fingers traced along the seashell’s rim. “Does she know… how much you care? What would she be… when she finds you don’t want… to return? Heartbroken. Betrayed…”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about!”
The Reploid girl cocked an eyebrow. “No?” she entertained. “Why? Because I am… Maverick? My brother and I… we were different… before Model W. We knew love. We knew kindness. But we can not have… that luxury now. We are abused. We are slaves. We serve Model W now.”
“So now you’re stealing good luck charms?!”
Pandora laughed again.
“Oh, foolish boy…” she teased before disappearing with a twirl of her wand.
Unsure of where she had gone, Sora was almost knocked off guard when her ice doll started to charge at him. At the same time, the detached drones of her head ornament where firing volleys of ice and electricity balls his way. She was throwing everything she had at Sora. There was no honor or planning to this fight- just pure, unfiltered rage.
Sora did his best to dodge what he could. He retaliated when he had a decent opening, but Pandora was leaving little room for vulnerability. She either immediately got out of his range or had something surrounding her as protection. The fight felt like it was more of an endurance test. What was stronger; Pandora’s rage and jealousy, or Sora’s desire to be with his friends? As they went on, Sora genuinely considered Pandora to be the stronger of the two. It took one lucky blow for him to come out on top.
Pandora sunk to the ground in defeat. She didn’t look pleased or even upset.
“Who… do you see?” she asked him. Even her voice was lacking any sense of emotion.
“What are you babbling about now?” Sora shot back.
“When you look at her… do you see home? A friend? A lover?”
“Who? Kairi?”
Pandora gave a small shake of her head.
“Before Model W… we knew love. I… loved her. Maybe I still do. But she has… another life. People who can… love her back. But they do not… and will not… know that her fate is sealed… like all of ours.” Pandora narrowed her eyes slightly. “Protect your… Kairi. There will be a day… when you can not hold her. When you can not… protect her. Love is… futile. It is… a distraction.”
“What do you know?” Sora questioned. “You keep spouting nonsense about how Model W can’t let you feel love anymore. Obviously you do, or else you wouldn’t be going on this pointless spiel. Just who are you talking about anyway? Just talk to them if you like them that much!”
“The power of the Biometal… has made you comfortable. So quick… to bully others.” she said with a thin smirk. And just like that, she left without another word. Kairi’s lucky charm remained on the ground from where she had been. Sora walked over and gingerly picked it up. He even brushed off some of the dirt before admiring how far this little charm has gone since Kairi first made it. World from world, and now to a different universe altogether.
Letting out a soft sigh, Sora said to himself, “It’s time to go home.”
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nyacat39 · 10 months
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Well, finally finished up chapter 5. You all know what that means, SHAMELESS SELF PROMOTION TIME!
Fandoms: Fullmetal Alchemist, Naruto, Bleach, Happy Tree Friends, and Pandora Hearts
Characters: Greed, Ling Yao, Deidara, Cheshire, Flippy, Gin Ichimaru, Envy and my OC Sam
Chapters: 5/?
Summary: There are many realities that exist. Some result in different chosen paths and some remain as "What If's" Well then. Here's another; What if it was possible to travel and see all these "What if's?" What if this power was given to the worst people to hold it? Well then dear Reader... Come see for yourselves. (Also Cross posted on Fanfiction.net here)
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