21. Things you said when we were on top of the world
“We’re the ultimate duo, Miria! We’re unstoppable! We’re on top of the world!”
Miria gave a small laugh. “But Isaac, wouldn’t being on top of the world mean we’d have to be at the North Pole?”
Isaac frowned, scratching his chin, then suddenly grinned triumphantly. “You’d think, Miria! But since the world is a globe, any perspective can be the top, and so wherever we are can be the top of the world if we’re there.”
“So you’re saying we’re always at the top of the world, Isaac?”
“Exactly, Miria! It’s simple geography.”
“Simple geography...wow Isaac, you’re so smart! Wherever we both are must be the top of the world.” She frowned. “What happens if we’re in different places? Does that mean the world has multiple tops?”
Isaac thought about it intently. “I think...I think the top of the world would be the midpoint between us and we’d have to both get there to get back to it. That sounds about right.”
“It’s simple geography!” Miria clapped her hands together.
Watching them, Firo rolled his eyes, but didn’t interrupt. There was no point.
general opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them | actual love of my life hotness level: get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! | 10/10 would banghogwarts house: gryffindor | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuff (I’d go to war over this one, hufflepuffs aren’t always nice, guys)best quality: His loyalty, definitely.worst quality: Jesus fuck get these whole feminine=bad thing out of your head I mean I know why but jesus, man.ship them with: Ennisbrotp them with: The four Gandors, also Chris, and Czes and the Martillos, and...needs to stay away from: Fermet is a joker answer we all know.misc. thoughts: Look, buddy, if you had talked to me for more than ten minutes about Baccano you’ll know how incredibly important Firo is to me, I love this mess of a boy a lot
ELMER for the ask meme, give us your thoughts about smile boy
yes m888888 smile boy
A) Realistically - honestly thinking about dyslexic Elmer making up spellings as he goes because he’s learnt several languages and can’t keep the spelling systems all in mind and besides it all sounds fake and Huey despairs. Elmer thinks the red squiggly lines are so cool and actually aims to try get as many as he can. Being in touch with Elmer is a nightmare.
B) Fucking hilarious - I fucking love the cryptid one about ‘smile man’ like it’s so nonsense but I find it beautifully funny like yes it’s the smile man with his smile hands. he wants you to smile. I just...know it’s absurd but everything about that delights me.
C) Ahahahah pain - did you mean Elmer’s entire life? I think Elmer’s reaction to trauma is agonising as it stands. I’m also genuinely chilled by him sometimes. He rationalises everything as being in search of smiles. It’s reallllllly unhealthy. But pain headcanons, man, I have a fic I’m avoiding writing bc I’ve never written anything like it. I’m not sure if I’m comfortable talking about all of it openly but it’d be Huey/Elmer and set just after Monica’s death and poor choices (Huey’s life) and Elmer just rolling with everything in hope that Huey will smile. I’ve wanted to write it a while. Who knows when I will? Maybe I will one day and then will no longer be able to say I’ve never written any Sin.
D) Fuck canon - OK BUT MASK MAKER TRIO OT3 OR OT4 W NIKI AND THEY ARE ALL HAPPY AND FERMET NEVER HAPPENED AND EVERYTHING IS FUCKING BEAUTIFUL
Happy birthday, @maitressepatria! This is less plotty than normal and a little rushed but I hope it’s cute enough to make up for some of that.
Also, @lizalaforet once suggested "Claudia and Illness make Charon a cake and/or Claudia introduces Illness to Claire and Chane" as a prompt so that's... kind of where this idea came from?? Though it doesn't exactly match that.
While Illness and Charon are making a surprise birthday cake for Claudia, some of Claudia's relatives come to visit.
[ Read on Ao3 ]
Illness and Charon had just put the cake in the oven when the doorbell rang. Illness’s brow furrowed. “Who’s that?”
Charon was halfway through shrugging in response when a voice from outside called, “Where’s the birthday girl?” Then comprehension flitted across his face.
“Great-Grandpa Felix,” he muttered.
“Who?”
Without further explanation, Charon left the kitchen in the direction of the front door. Illness hesitated, unsure whether to follow him or stay put. And the timer still needed to be set for the cake. Nervously, she punched 25 minutes into the timer on the stove and then stood there a moment more, trying to tell from the sounds in the entrance whether she was wanted there or supposed to stay here. But she couldn’t tell. Well, Claudia had never said anything about having mean relatives. Maybe they wouldn’t mind if Illness intruded.
She wiped her hands on her skirts and made her way towards the entrance. By the time she got there, Charon had let the visitor—or rather, visitors—in.
“Hey, Charon. Where’s your sister?”
“She’s out.”
The man who had spoken must’ve been Felix. He was old—wasn’t he? Somehow he didn’t look elderly; his posture made him look like a young man who just happened to have wrinkles and pure-white hair. He was carrying an enormous package on his shoulder with no effort.
At Charon’s abbreviated answer, Felix winced and turned to the woman behind him. She had gray hair and eyes that shone with the same gold as Claudia and Charon’s. Right now, she was arching one eyebrow at Felix.
“Yeah, sorry, Chané, you were right,” he said to her, then turned back to Charon. “Chané kept telling me that we didn’t want to be so early, but I didn’t listen.”
Charon only nodded; whether this indicated forgiveness of their early arrival or agreement with the woman named Chané’s point, it was unclear.
“Any idea when she’ll be back?”
Charon only shrugged at that. Which was true: they didn’t know an exact time. But Illness found her mouth opening.
“Um—”
Both of the old people looked her way curiously.
“Her mom and dad took her out shopping so Charon and I could make a cake for her. Um, and the cake just went in the oven? So hopefully she’ll be gone for at least another hour, because after it comes out of the oven we have to frost it. But I don’t really know exactly,” she added at the end, her voice getting a little quiet as she spoke. Felix and Chané were both looking straight at her, and Felix’s eyes were a lot like Claudia’s, and it was overwhelming.
But they were definitely smiling. Smiling like they knew something.
“You must be Illness,” Felix said slyly. “We’ve heard all about you from Claudia.”
“Oh,” Illness said, unable to guess what Claudia might’ve told them.
But Felix seemed to notice her unease and waved his free hand to chase it away. “Good things, all good things! You’ve heard of us, too, right? Felix and Chané?”
“Um, I don’t…”
“The assassin and the terrorist,” Charon said quietly.
Illness looked at him, then back at the old people, then back at Charon. “Them?!”
As soon as the word left her mouth, she realized it was rude—but Felix only burst into loud laughter. Chané’s shoulders, too, seemed to shake with amusement, though she didn’t make a sound. Illness flushed. If that was who they were, then yeah, Claudia had mentioned them. They’d met as part of a train hijacking 70 years ago and fallen in love at first sight. Claudia seemed to think this was romantic. And she seemed to think it was normal, too. At least, that was what she tried to convince Illness of.
Felix recovered from his outburst of laughter and sighed contentedly. “Yep, that was us,” he said. “Hard to believe it’s been over 70 years now, huh, Chané? Anyway—Illness, it’s great to finally meet you. Lemme put this down somewhere so I can shake your hand.”
Charon led them all to the living room, and Felix and Chané did indeed shake Illness’s hand, Felix again professing a warm eagerness to meet her. Chané didn’t say anything, but now that Illness thought about it, Claudia had mentioned that her great-grandmother (the former terrorist) didn’t speak much. And given that Charon didn’t either, it would probably fall to Illness to be the gracious host. Which was not exactly her forte. She turned worriedly towards where Charon—had been. He was on his way out of the living room. Illness’s stomach plunged.
“Charon…!” she hissed, too frantic to care about how obvious she was being. Charon held up one finger in an indication to wait… and then continued out of the room. Crap. Illness turned back towards the guests, who’d taken a seat on the couch. She pulled her mouth up in what was… hopefully??… a normal smile.
“Um, make yourself at home!” she said, and then felt stupid. “I mean, I guess you’ve been coming to this house since before I even knew Claudia existed…”
“Not necessarily!” Felix replied. “They moved here just a few years ago, so depending on what movie you first saw her in…”
“Oh, I didn’t… um… I didn’t see her in any movies before I met her,” Illness said, her face reddening. Was that weird? Claudia was a pretty big star. It was probably weird. The explanation stumbled out of her. “I don’t really watch movies. Unless she’s in them! I really like her movies! It’s just all the other ones that I don’t like.”
Felix chuckled. “All the others?”
“Uh…” Illness thought of all the movie buffs from the Mask Makers, the way they used to squeeze her into a couch and force her to watch really violent crap and laugh at her when she didn’t understand things. It was taking more effort to smile. “Um,” she started again, but she didn’t know how to answer Felix’s teasing.
She was saved from the friendly intensity of his stare when Chané touched his arm. She shot a sharp look at him and then turned towards Illness with a softer gaze. She lifted her hand and made a few gestures, an inquisitive look on her face. Illness winced, her stomach twisting guiltily. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t…”
Chané waved one hand to deny the need for an apology, then reached into her purse for a pad of paper and a pen. As she was writing, Charon returned carrying four glasses of ice water on a tray. He set them down on coasters and then took a seat next to Illness.
“Thanks for setting the timer,” he said, and gave her a thumbs up.
“Oh, no problem…”
Chané had finished writing. She offered the notebook to Illness. In impeccably neat handwriting, it said I’m sorry for my husband—he can be a little pushy. He’s quite kind at heart. We don’t have to talk about movies if you don’t want to.
“Was I being pushy?” Felix asked.
Chané nodded.
“Whoops. My bad, Illness.”
“Um… it’s okay. I guess it’s not really normal to hate movies, so…”
“You said you like Claudia’s, though?” Another look from Chané. Felix cleared his throat bashfully. “With the disclaimer that you don’t have to talk about those ones, either, if you don’t want to, as my wife reminds me.”
“No, I can talk about Claudia’s movies! I really love them,” Illness said, and she felt her shoulders relax a little as they found an easy topic to talk about. She could probably keep up conversation about Claudia’s movies for a little while. “She’s just so great in them, like she can just be anyone and she’s so convincing, and she really puts her all into them. It’s really, um… um…”
Oh no. She was remembering the first time she saw Claudia’s movies, back on the Entrance, and that was making her tear up. Her hands knotted together in her lap. She couldn’t cry now, she was just meeting these people and they were Claudia’s family…
But Felix didn’t look bothered. In fact, he was smiling that sly smile again.
“You really love Claudia, don’t you?”
Red dyed Illness’s face. But she didn’t want to deny it. She nodded, embarrassed.
“She loves you, too. But I bet she’s told you that.”
Illness nodded again and reached for the ice water Charon had set in front of her in the hope it would cool her down a little.
“You know, if you proposed to her, I bet she’d say yes.”
Illness spit her water across the coffee table. “Are you crazy?! …Wait, I mean—!” She couldn’t say that, that was so rude! “I mean… um… I’m sorry, I’m gonna get some paper towels, sorry…”
She stood up in a hurry and practically sprinted to the kitchen, her heart pounding. She was messing this up. Really badly. Really, really badly. Claudia obviously loved her great-grandparents, and here Illness was saying awful things to them and being really awkward. But telling her to propose marriage to Claudia was really weird, too… wasn’t it?
Illness’s head spun and she ripped paper towel after paper towel off the roll. She had to go back in there to clean up. That’s what she’d said she was gonna do. Taking a deep breath, she turned—
Only to find that Chané had followed her to the kitchen, notepad in hand. Illness flushed miserably and looked down at the ground
“I’m sorry I said that mean thing about your husband,” she mumbled.
Again, Chané waved away the apology and turned to her notebook. Illness’s stomach tied itself in painful knots as she wrote, but Chané’s words were kind.
You don’t need to apologize. Honestly, you’re right: Claire is a little crazy.
“Um… Claire?”
Chané lifted a finger to her lips. What I call Felix. Only me, though.
“Oh! Um, sorry. Felix. Um… I didn’t mean it. He’s not really crazy. I just… I can’t propose to Claudia. I’m not ready. Maybe that makes me weird…”
Chané shook her head. Before turning back to her notebook, she rested a gentle hand on Illness’s arm and smiled warmly. Kindly. Illness smiled back, almost genuinely.
You’re not weird, Illness, Chané wrote. Claire and I really like you, and we’re excited to meet you.
“Oh… thanks.” Illness couldn’t imagine why.
Claire only suggests things like that because—well, it’s how he got me.
Watching as Chané wrote, Illness’s eyes bugged out of her head. “Wait, what?”
Chané’s cheeks colored and a nostalgic smile came to her face. Oh, yes. He proposed to me the first night we met. On top of a moving train, after threatening to kill me about fifteen minutes before.
“Uh…”
Illness had no idea what to say to that.
Chané’s shoulders trembled with silent laughter once more. It didn’t work right away, to be honest, but… well, if anyone is weird here, it’s probably me. Or maybe we all are. Maybe that’s just the Walken legacy. You’re in good company, Illness.
Illness felt herself blush, but it wasn’t as unpleasant as it had been before. Her racing heart was calming, too. She couldn’t decide whether to deny that Chané was weird or to thank her for being so welcoming, so she just stayed shyly quiet.
Chané sent another smile her way, but this time it looked a little like Felix’s: still warm, but a little mischievous. She hid her notebook as she wrote, and then showed it to Illness with a flourish.
Forget proposing to Claudia for now; but if you ask her on a date, I promise she’ll say yes.
And Illness went bright red again. “I—but—I—”
Another silent laugh. Forgive me. I just think you’d make a lovely great-granddaughter-in-law.
And before Illness could figure out what to say to that, the timer went off. Illness jumped and turned towards the oven.
“Um, I gotta take care of this…”
Chané nodded. Should I bring in the others to help?
“In a second,” Illness said. She took a deep breath and tried to still her shaking hands, her trembling heart. It was okay. Felix and Chané liked her, and Claudia liked her, and they’d draw a picture of Sharky on top of the cake and Claudia would like that, too, and maybe when they were done celebrating Claudia’s birthday and Felix and Chané had left, Illness would ask Claudia if she wanted to go somewhere just the two of them. Maybe, maybe she would.
“Okay, I’m ready,” she said, and took the cake out of the oven.
maitressepatria replied to your post: like honestly I think I’d like Durarara!! a lot...
I FEEL THIS. Tbh that’s what made me put off reading DRRR!! for a long time. I think approaching it the same way as baccano leads to disappointment because baccano is generally abt characters who wear their uglier traits on their sleeves but interact with others in a positive way, whereas DRRR!! is sort of? the opposite? they have these more normal surface identities (w/ the exception of Celty & Shizuo) and then beneath they’re pretty Awful people. They require different mindsets for sure
Yes! @houjicha said something very similar to that once (and I quote her here): that “if Baccano! finds the good in people even in bad situations, Durarara!! draws out their bad even in good or mundane situations.” It’s absolutely a deliberate difference, crucial to the themes of the respective stories. So I don’t think this difference makes DRRR worse than Baccano!; it’s just less to my taste, less enjoyable to me personally.
And honestly if I took the time to read more DRRR, I’d probably come to appreciate it more, but... I can only handle so many obsessions at a time...
4 with the Mask Makers or 46 with Esperanza maybe?
I was in a Carla mood this morning, so I hope Carla’s POV is fine for #46: “The waver in a person’s voice when they’re stressed.”
Shouldered with unexpected free time, Carla makes her way tothe manor’s library. She could have returned to her quarters, but Esperanza andLucrezia have both made it clear to her that she is permitted to visit anycorner of the manor that she wishes, and she does not want to retire for the dayjust yet. The library strikes the perfect balance between the nap that Lucreziasuggested for her and the self-improvement she would rather spend her time on.
When she arrives, though, she finds that the titular lord ofthe manor is already there, seated in the windowsill and reading a book by thelight of the noontime sun. Carla inclines her upper body in a slight bow withevery intention of withdrawing again, but Esperanza’s eyes turn toward herbefore she can shut the door.
“Carla,” he says, and smiles graciously. “Did you needsomething?”
“No, sir. I’m sorry to have interrupted you.”
“You wanted to read!” He closes his own book and stands,spreading his arms in welcome. “Please, don’t let my presence dissuade you. Isthere a particular book or subject you were interested in?”
As always, Carla finds herself somewhat stymied by hisgenerosity. When she was trained as a maid, it was verboten to trouble a masterof the house with one’s presence unless called for; as a guard, it is her dutyto be present without interfering in her mistress’s business. —For the last twoyears, her duty has been a more encroaching thing, but that is over now. She isa guard once more.
In the end, her duty is to do what she is told, and even ifEsperanza is less frivolously insistent than Lucrezia is, he makes clear thathe genuinely wants Carla to be comfortable. Carla ensures that her posture, atleast, is impeccable, and answers honestly. “There is nothing in particular,sir; I intended to browse.”
“Then by all means. Please do not hesitate to ask if I canbe of assistance.”
He settles back into his seat in the windowsill, and Carlabegins with the shelves nearest the door. Most of the books are in Spanish orItalian, with a smattering of what look to be English and French. This sectionis law, then economics; the next is history, perhaps a safer subject for her toshow interest in. As she kneels to consider a few titles on a lower shelf, shefeels Esperanza’s gaze on her back. She does not stand or turn, but she speaks:
“Sir, if I am interrupting you, I would be happy to goelsewhere.”
“No, Carla, not at all. It is simply rare, these days, tosee you to see you alone, rather than at your lady’s side.”
“My lady is napping,” Carla explains.
“Ah… of course. She had mentioned that she might like tospeak to me this afternoon, but if she is resting, I would never presume tointerrupt her.”
The careful neutrality of his statement is a veiledcriticism; as it is hardly unjustified, Carla politely overlooks it. Even so,Esperanza sighs and speaks again.
“I apologize, Carla. For… interrupting you. Are you findingeverything you need?”
“Yes, sir. Your collection is impressive.”
“You are too kind. I hope you will feel free to browse theseshelves whenever you wish.”
“Thank you.”
Carla is grateful when Esperanza falls silent. MentioningLucrezia has drawn a waver of stress into his voice, and to hear it puts Carlainto an uncomfortable position. The count does not like Lucrezia, Carlasuspects; he welcomes her, but that is a different matter altogether. Hewelcomes Lucrezia because she is female, and because the House Dormentaireoverpowers whatever they set their sights on and his lordship over LottoValentino is no more. Too, Carla suspects that he welcomes Lucrezia becauseLucrezia acts as though she is being welcomed. She behaves as a guest would, asthough she is here by Esperanza’s invitation, so how else can he respond? Soon,she will begin speaking as though she was always meant to be a permanentresident of the Boronial manor, and who will stop her? Certainly not Esperanza.Lucrezia knows this and will greedily exploit it. Carla knows it, too, andthough she had not foreseen it when she first came to Lotto Valentino, she willneither shy from her duty nor deny her place in the encroachment now. She is aninvader. Moreover, she is the face of the invasion, and the city’s residentshate her for it; she accepts this, so long as it keeps them from turning theirresentment against Lucrezia instead.
It would be easier if Esperanza would hate her, too.
But he refuses to. He is kind and gracious to Carla, andequally so to Lucrezia. He smiles, and listens to them when they speak. Heinvites Lucrezia to his dinner table and makes sure that Carla eats well, too—betterthan she ate back in Spain. He inquires after their well-being. When Lucreziahas a complaint, no matter how trivial, he ensures that her needs are met.
It must weigh on him. Carla cannot help but suspectthat if she were to turn around now without warning, she might see his eyesclosed and his brow pulled low over them. She might glimpse, for just a moment,the weary grimace that he must be hiding from all the women he adores.
But it is not Carla’s place to witness her superior’ssuffering, nor to feel sympathy for the House Dormentaire’s prey. She pulls abook out of the shelf at random and stands. She does not yet turn.
“Sir, may I take this book to my room to read?”
“Of course you may, Carla.” Warmth colors his voice likeincense trying to fill an empty room. “Please, enjoy it at your leisure.”
“Thank you.” She does not say you are too kind,although it is true. She only turns, bows once to him, and retreats to her ownquarters.
maitressepatria replied to your post: maitressepatria replied to your post “I never...
I mean, I’ve never seen you Not do a character justice, so???? p sure you’re wrong there m8
maybe idk
I’m so hyped to write it though, gotta write her being ??? at Essa which is gonna be funsies. wrote her being ??? at Elmer yesterday, tmr is being ??? at Essa. Lots of confusion.
