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eleanorfenyxwrites · 3 years ago

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You Are Of Their Ilk

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Part 9 - Lao Nie Interlude

[Masterpost]

This is an extra scene that's a little bit out of place, timeline-wise, but I really wanted to include this before the Lan family's summer in Qinghe is over. So here's the scene of Lao Nie's visit to Qingheng-Jun in Cloud Recesses from chapter 7, and after this it's back to Gusu!

-//-

Lao Nie steps off his saber just before the point where one must willingly continue on foot or else be forced to by the wards. Not that it slows him down much to walk - not when he’s been whipping his own temper up into a frenzy since he left Qinghe, and not when the subject of his anger is close enough for him to almost feel his throat in his grip. He hasn’t come to Gusu alone, but his cultivators are down in Caiyi enjoying a nice change of pace from their usual monotony of drills and more drills, so he strides up to the gates of Cloud Recesses unencumbered.

He stops at the top of the last step, the space inside the arched gateway shimmering faintly with the inner wards that can’t be passed without invitation or a jade token. Lao Nie has neither, but he’s not about to let something so trivial stop him.

“Tell whoever’s in charge that Nie-Zongzhu is here demanding an audience, and if it takes longer than a shichen to let me in I’m cutting through the wards.”

It’s a dangerous declaration to make - direct violence from one Sect Leader to another Great Sect is already dangerous water to swim in, but especially when the Acting Sect Leader and both heirs are already in his territory, and not their own. The threat of war does the trick though - within an incense-stick one of the guards from the gate is hurrying back down the path in that polite way that Lans do with a woman Lao Nie doesn’t recognize at his side.

“Nie-Zongzhu,” the woman greets when she’s close enough and Lao Nie has to give her due credit that she doesn’t look alarmed, and this in spite of the anger that must be rolling off him in waves. “My name is Lan Hao. Please be welcome in Cloud Recesses.”

He crosses the threshold and wastes no time on pleasantries - he doesn’t really have the patience to sit through them at the best of times, and this moment is far from the best. He allows himself to be led to the formal meeting chambers, but he doesn’t take a seat and he doesn’t allow for tea to be poured or the dance of formal greetings to begin.

“I’m here to see Lan-Zongzhu.” Lan Hao’s confusion is so plain on her face that she doesn’t need to bother asking him who he means. “Not Qiren, obviously I know where he is. I’m here for Qingheng-Jun.”

The woman visibly blanches and the attendants in the room glance at each other from the corners of their eyes. Lao Nie can’t really say he gives a shit, nor is he interested in waiting for them to politely process their shock just so they can tell him to get lost. He knows the general layout of Cloud Recesses, and he knows what Lan Qiren has told him over the years of taking his nephews to visit their mother - and that his brother had imprisoned himself near enough to her that finding his home shouldn’t be too difficult.

“Nie-Zongzhu - please wait!”

Of course he doesn’t wait. He’s absolutely positive that there are rules about this too, about not interrupting someone’s meditation, their cultivation; about not talking to the imprisoned while they bear their punishment. Unfortunately for them, he doesn’t share their views on what exactly his once-friend is doing to himself. Oh sure, he supposes it’s possible that Qingheng-Jun is in there working on his cultivation, reflecting on his life. But a man like him, so broken he won’t even see his own sons, who won’t ensure his brother who’s living his life for him is doing so in a way that isn’t slowly grinding him down to dust? There’s no way he’s sitting in there attempting to cultivate to immortality. Likewise, he highly doubts that he’s contemplating his crimes, because if he were truly penitent he would have long since taken the opportunity to correct the consequences of his rash, love-mad actions after his wife died.

Instead, things are what they are, and Lao Nie is supposed to simply sit back and watch one of the brightest minds of their generation be slowly snuffed out until he’s nothing more than the puppet the elders are hoping little Lan Xichen will be. Well, he refuses.

“LAN QIHUA!!!” he thunders when he’s in the right section of the Cloud Recesses, surrounded on all sides by the private residences of the inner family. He knows Lan Qiren’s house, of course, and so he starts there and traces the most likely path he can think of to the place where his nephews’ parents were placed. “QINGHENG-JUN!!”

Lan cultivators come rushing at the sound of his shouting echoing through the quiet peace of their home, but no one dares approach him, and in fact many turn and hurry away immediately at the sight of him. A wise move on their parts - he can feel his saber practically burning his back even through her sling and the layers of his robes, and he’s sure that anyone who gets close enough to touch him in any way will get a nasty shock before they can lay a hand on him.

“Nie-Zongzhu,” someone calls, low and urgent from up ahead, and he whips his head in their direction, teeth bared in a wild snarl, only to spot a teenager who must be one of the junior disciples. The boy is gesturing urgently from half-behind the corner of a building and Lao Nie stops in his tracks to watch, wary of being led from his intended path for the sake of the Lans keeping his anger from finding its target. “Qingheng-Jun’s house is this way. Quickly.”

Curiosity makes its way through the haze of his anger and he takes a few steps in the boy’s direction. He’s pale as a sheet, clearly afraid, but he’s still standing there and gesturing, his waving growing more urgent as the sound of footsteps hurrying up the path reaches them. Lao Nie makes a snap decision and strides forward with purpose, startling the boy into yelping and darting away onto a path into the forest that’s slightly overgrown. It hasn’t been completely claimed by the trees around them, but there’s moss growing on the haphazard stones of it and thick underbrush encroaching over the edges until it’s barely wide enough for one person to walk.

The boy scurries ahead of him and Lao Nie marches in his wake, his glare fiercely focused on the stretch of forest in front of them until a short few minutes later the path opens up into a clearing just large enough for a cottage and a small stream.

In an undertone, the boy tells him, “Madam Lan was kept locked in the Jingshi” - he gestures back in the direction of the family quarters - “but Qingheng-Jun asked to be built a home out here, away from everyone else but close enough for visits to Madam Lan should he wish it.”

Lao Nie squints at the boy who stands straight under his scrutiny despite his obvious nerves. “You’re awfully well-informed for a disciple.”

The boy bows low and Lao Nie can see he’s trembling as he straightens up a little too jerkily. “I have tended to both of them - now only Qingheng-Jun - for a very long time as my cultivation is not high enough yet to patrol the wards.” He turns enough to gesture to the cottage in invitation and then bows again only to make his escape, skirting around Lao Nie and hurrying back up the path at a speed just under a run.

“Lan Qihua!!” Lao Nie shouts again when the boy is gone, his anger seeping back in now that he knows the man whose neck he wants to wring is right on the other side of the door in front of him. “Get your neglectful, ungrateful, unfilial ass out of that fucking house right now!!”

Nothing about the scene in front of him changes - not that Lao Nie had really expected it to. He storms up to the cottage, onto the small porch, and unsheathes his saber to bash straight through the door. It’s warded, as he’d expected, but the amount of resentment he’d coaxed to life in himself and his blade on the way here is more than enough to shred through the protections both physical and spiritual like wet rice paper, whatever effect they’d had dissipating like morning mist.

Qingheng-Jun is sitting behind a low table, a pot of tea at his elbow and a book open on the lacquered surface of the table. He looks up, startled, and the first thing Lao Nie notices is the thinness of his features, so unlike the well-fed good looks he’d been so proud of in their youth. His skin is sallow, his eyes sunken, and he looks as if he’s aged five decades in the one that’s passed since Lao Nie had last seen him, mere months before his retreat into seclusion.

Good.

“Fengyi?” he asks, squinting as if he’s unsure of what he’s really seeing.

“You have absolutely no right to address me by name anymore,” he growls and stalks forward, saber held out and ready at his side. Qingheng-Jun’s eyes flicker towards it with something like fear, something like hope, though mostly he just looks world-weary and exhausted. “What the fuck are you doing with your life, Qihua?”

“Pardon me?”

“Your life, Qingheng-Jun!! You have a Sect! You have children! What the fuck are you doing?!”

“I am in seclusion,” he says as if Lao Nie isn’t painfully aware of that fact. “I have sins to atone for-”

“Bullshit. That is bullshit, Qihua! You think this is the way to fix your mistakes?!”

“I would hardly expect the very embodiment of the Nie fighting spirit to understand why I have chosen this path, but yes. This is how I will atone for my wrongdoings.”

“What about your boys?”

Qingheng-Jun blinks up at him, slow and labored, a little frown pinching between his brows. He looks so much like Lan Qiren when he frowns like that that Lao Nie feels it like a punch in the gut.

“What about them?”

“You don’t give a shit about them, do you?”

“...That is remarkably rude, Nie-Zongzhu.”

“Yeah no shit. You know what I think is ‘rude’? Dumping every responsibility you were born to shoulder on a brother you have never once properly cared for, and then abandoning your children in the same exact way, leaving their care to the same brother who’s never known a scrap of family affection!”

Qingheng-Jun’s expression frosts over at the mention of Lan Qiren, and Lao Nie doesn’t bother resisting the urge to viciously stab his saber blade straight down in between two floorboards, where she stands quivering with rage as Lao Nie folds himself down to sit across from Qingheng-Jun. He slams his fist down over the book open in front of him, startling the man ever so slightly and making the tea service rattle.

“You do remember your brother, don’t you? Or have you completely forgotten about him as well, since he’s not your late wife and other than her the only other person you have cared about in your life is you?”

The jab about Madam Lan hits just as he’d expected it to, Qingheng-Jun wincing and growing abruptly and visibly heartbroken at the reminder of her loss. It’s the same heartbreak he’s often seen on Lan Qiren’s face throughout their entire lives - usually because of the very man in front of him - so he can’t honestly say he feels any regret for causing it.

“Of course I remember Qiren,” Qingheng-Jun says after he clears his throat with a trembling sip of his tea. “And I have not forgotten my sons either. I trust they’re well - the Sect would have told me otherwise.”

Lao Nie sits and stares in seething silence for a long few moments, attempting to comprehend the cool, detached way Qingheng-Jun can talk about his only surviving family as if they’re nothing more than distant cousins, if that. “Both of them are already twice the man you’ll ever be, and the younger one bites people he doesn’t like. The bar is criminally low.”

“Please - spare me your scathing remarks on my character. I assure you I have thought all the same things of myself as well, there is no need to rehash it.”

Lao Nie wonders if it’s possible to crack a tooth simply from clenching his jaw this hard. “So this is it, then? You’ll sit here in your little house for the rest of your life, you won’t see your sons, you won’t help your brother, you won’t curb the elders’ bids for power and their attempts to crush all life out of this Sect that you once claimed to love?”

“I will not leave seclusion, but I am still Sect Leader - their power is not absolute.”

“You are absolutely nothing in this world but a convenient excuse for the elders to use while they relentlessly abuse Qiren!”

“If Qiren cannot handle the burdens of leadership then that is a failing on his part -!”

Qingheng-Jun cuts off abruptly; Lao Nie’s finally got his hand crushing around his windpipe, he doesn’t have a choice but to shut up.

“Do not, for one second, badmouth Qiren to me. To anyone. That man has carried your burdens and his own for over ten years now. You have destroyed the life he desired for himself, Qihua, and the elders are happily dancing on the ashes of it. He’s worked himself to the bone doing every possible task under the sun to keep this Sect running, and all he hears to this day is how much of a disappointment he is compared to you. You’re nothing but a sad and miserable excuse of a man, a ghost in your own home, and yet he can’t escape you. He can’t outwork you, despite how little you do. He was never taught to do this job because your father saw him as a useless spare rather than the absolute fucking treasure that he is, and I’m disgusted with you for thinking for even a second that you can blame him for their disdain. Your existence is a goddamned disgrace.”

Lao Nie releases Qingheng-Jun with a vicious shove, sending the man sprawling as he gasps for air in a crumpled heap. He can hear voices in the distance, though since they’re not shouting he supposes they must be closer at hand than he would usually suspect. He stands and yanks his saber from where she’s buried in the wood and he returns her to the sling on his back as Qingheng-Jun manages to right himself and get slowly to his feet.

“You’re right about one thing,” Lao Nie says as the urgent voices grow closer. “You’re still the Sect Leader on a pure technicality. The elders are grossly overstepping their bounds with Qiren using you as their excuse to do so, and they expect Xichen to start taking up his duties already even though he’s just a child so they can force Qiren out sooner, despite the fact that the Sect is prospering under his hand. They want to absolutely ruin your children for the sake of their greed, and they have nearly destroyed Qiren already. Either you do something about it or I will, and I assure you that whatever I do will be so humiliating that you’ll wish you had died with your wife.”

“I already wish for that.”

“I don’t care what you want, Qihua. I really fucking don’t. I should have known from the time we were children what sort of man you would turn out to be, but I guess I’d always hoped you might change and see the world outside of yourself for once. I hate being proven wrong.”

Lao Nie turns his head to look out the ruined front door when he catches movement out of the corner of his eye, spotting a few disciples and some of the younger elders hurrying into the clearing. They stop in their tracks when they spot him and Qingheng-Jun through the ruined doorway, and Qingheng-Jun raises a hand to signal them to wait.

“Which elders?” he asks, and there’s a lifetime of exhaustion in those two words.

“I don’t know, Qiren’s too good of a man to give me names. It’s not all of them, but it’s most, you figure out who it is for yourself. Qiren and the children are staying with me in Qinghe until the end of the summer - if nothing is solved by then, I’ll fix things for him myself. Unlike you, I’ve always cared about him, and I refuse to see him hurt any more than he already has been.”

“Alright. One final favor, in honor of our friendship when we were young. I’ll do whatever’s in my power to make Qiren’s life easier for Xichen’s sake, so he can inherit a Sect that will be willing to be led.”

Lao Nie knows when to take whatever he can get. He nods and stalks back out of the house, storms past the disciples who are fluttering around like nervous chickens to have their peaceful home so disrupted, their dirty laundry aired out for an outsider to see.

Qingheng-Jun hadn’t offered to leave his seclusion. Hadn’t offered to take on the parts of his duties as Sect Leader that can be done from within his prison. He hadn’t offered to have his sons come to visit, or to do anything to help simply for the sake of helping his brother who should have been his right hand, the pair of them righteous and just like the Lan so pride themselves on. But he’d promised to do something, and that’ll just have to be enough no matter the reasons behind it.

Lao Nie forces himself not to fly directly back to Qinghe despite the way he’s overflowing with energy he longs to burn off. All he wants to do is gather Lan Qiren up in his arms and make him understand how deeply he’s loved and appreciated. He returns to Caiyi in a foul temper that none of his cultivators attempt to pull him out of, the black mood only showing signs of lifting when they begin the return journey a few days later.

The last of it dissipates only when he arrives home to find Lan Qiren surrounded by their children, clearly in his element as they share their evening meal. Lao Nie stays in the shadows of the doorway to observe, admiring the impeccable manners Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji exhibit, the patience of Lan Qiren’s silent corrections to Wei Ying’s posture and decorum until he matches his brothers. His Mingjue is stealing glances at Lan Xichen like a smitten maiden again already, and xiao-Sang is curled up in Lan Qiren’s lap eating little bites of this and that straight out of Lan Qiren’s bowl.

“You’re going to spoil Huaisang rotten,” he greets, and smiles when Mingjue jerks to his feet to greet him eagerly with a bow and a happy call of, “Diedie!”

“I am only continuing what you have apparently begun,” Lan Qiren sniffs and feeds the boy a bite of rice. “He will grow out of it eventually.” Lao Nie settles down at the table as a serving is set down for him, and he watches his little family with a smile on his lips. He can tell that Lan Qiren wants to ask where he’s been, but between the rules surrounding mealtimes and the presence of the children, there’s no space in which to comfortably do so. It’s just as well - he didn’t do what he’d done to earn praise or gratitude from Lan Qiren. If his efforts bear fruit before the end of the summer then they can discuss it then. If not, then he’ll just go back to Gusu with him and make such a scene that something will have to change. It’s really just as simple as that.

#the untamed fanfic #Lao Nie #Qingheng-Jun #Lan Qiren #You Are Of Their Ilk #The 'hua' I chose for Qingheng-Jun's name is the character for 'majestic'#Definitely didn't live up to that one

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metawatts · 4 years ago

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When I’m With You, I’m at Home- a Freezerburn Thesis

Table of Contents

Introduction

Tell Me Can A Heart Be Turned to Stone?

Any Remarkable Heart Has Gone Through the Hardship and Shame

Goldilocks and Snow White- The Freezerburn Dynamic

Snowflakes, Sunlight, and Songs- Symbolism Surrounding the Ship

Counterarguments and Refutations

Conclusion

Let’s get this show on the road.

1. Introduction

RWBY has had multiple attempts at diversity throughout the years, from the good, to the bad, and an entire spectrum in-between. Some of this involves LGBT+ couples, which are a favoured ship in the RWBY fandom. The most popular of these wlw ships are generally involving pairs between the main four girls, Ruby, Weiss, Blake, and Yang. In this thesis, I am going to discuss the characters of Weiss and Yang, the storytelling and development of their relationship, and why this ship is top-notch.

2. Tell Me Can A Heart Be Turned to Stone?

Weiss Schnee, first appearing in the White Trailer on February 13th, 2013, is the second character who appears in RWBY canon. In her trailer, Weiss’s main theme song, Mirror Mirror, characterises her as a lonely individual who fears that she has become so closed off from the world that she’ll never be able to make any connections or open up to others again.

Heiress of the Schnee Dust Company, Weiss is characterised as a prim, proper, snobby brat when we meet her in volume 1, her haughtiness getting her into spats with her teammate and partner Ruby, and eventually causing friction within the group when her racist and discriminatory attitudes collide with the rest of her team. While we don’t get a proper resolution in the form of actual apologies for her actions, this part of her characterisation is quickly dropped throughout the rest of the show and Weiss later becomes the main person to stand up to racist actions in the cast.

Weiss, from volume 2 onwards, is characterised as a defrosting Ice Queen, cold, proud, and thorny to everyone, but slowly warming up to her team. She proves herself to be loyal, brave, and compassionate to her teammates over the course of the rest of the show, consistently offering support and kindness where she can. She fits rather well as a support fighter within the group, consistently buffing her teammates with her semblance, and using her elemental dust for combat effect. She has consistently been a caring, supportive individual to her allies, despite her overarching motif of ‘loneliness’.

3. Any Remarkable Heart Has Gone Through the Hardship and Shame

Yang Xiao Long, first appearing in the Yellow Trailer on June 2nd, 2013, is the final member of the protagonist team to appear. Her debut song, I Burn, is all about her love of fighting, and her supreme self-confidence in her skills. What is interesting about the trailer version of I Burn is that it carries through the other songs from the rest of her team, depending on what stage of her battle she’s fighting.

The older sister to main character Ruby Rose, Yang doesn’t get much characterisation in volume 1 aside from being generally nice, supportive of her sister, and hints to some staggering anger issues and impulsive behaviour. This personality is in place throughout volume 2, where she gets more information given on her backstory and begins to show the flaws in her character, specifically how her abandonment issues from Raven drive her, her aimlessness of purpose scares her, and how her reckless temper puts her in more danger then she can handle.

Volume 3 puts Yang through a physical and emotional wringer, starting with being framed for attacking Mercury and ending with her desolate in her bed, having lost her right arm to Adam. The rest of the show attempts to tackle her storylines of depression, PTSD, disability in the form of amputations and prosthetics, the neglect and abandonment from her deadbeat mother, trauma surrounding Blake and Adam, and her anger issues. Despite it all, the core spark of Yang’s warmth is still available for her teammates, with her welcoming each of them with open arms when she reunites with them.

4. Goldilocks and Snow White- The Freezerburn Dynamic

Weiss and Yang have the healthiest friendship of the four main girls in team RWBY. They have excellent synergy when they work together, as implied first with their team move in Painting The Town, further fuelled with the two of them planning the Beacon Dance and having it go without a hitch, and confirmed when they go into the Vytal Doubles Round together. Weiss and Yang have complete trust in the other during combat, consistently protecting each other in a way no one else in team RWBY does. A good example of this is Weiss willingly throwing herself into a lava spout to protect Yang from an attack from Flynt. Even outside of fights they are always pushing the other to be their best. Eg. Yang confronting Weiss on her attitude towards Blake in volume 1 and Weiss supporting Yang throughout volume 5

While they don’t get as many scenes as some of the other bonds in the show, their rock-steady faith in each other is especially prominent after Yang kneecaps Mercury, with Weiss immediately declaring with full confidence ‘Yang would never do that’ and ‘Yang would never lie to us’ when Blake doubts Yang in the same scene. Yang, meanwhile, shows an incredible amount of emotional maturity after the Fall of Beacon when she recognises that Weiss did not choose to leave her side, having been forced to return to Atlas by Jacques.

When they reunite in the Branwen camp, they once again immediately have each other’s backs, with Weiss’s knight acting as a guard for their backs while they face off against Raven. Yang, despite her conflicted feelings towards Raven, instantly shows anger and horror at the fact that Raven kidnapped Weiss, showing how her bond with Weiss is much dearer to her. Weiss, once the danger has passed, throws her sword away without a shred of hesitation and bodily flings herself into Yang’s arms, hugging her close while proclaiming ‘I missed you so much’. Yang returns the hug, but not before looking stunned at Weiss’s actions, and returning the sentiment with ‘I missed you too’. In one of the more beautiful bits of animation in the show, Weiss’s knight fades out of existence behind them.

Throughout the talk with Raven, Weiss and Yang’s main roles are relegated to asking questions to allow for more exposition, but Weiss stands up for Yang quite a lot against Raven, specifically calling her obnoxious when Raven tries to start on a delaying tactic. Weiss also grounds Yang when Yang’s temper threatens to get the better of her, taking Yang’s hand and calming her down when Raven insults Taiyang to get a rise out of Yang. The two ride off on Bumblebee together, and when Yang reunites with Ruby, she shows no hesitation in inviting Weiss into the hug as well.

In Alone Together, we get Weiss and Yang talking in a scene where Weiss allows Yang to vent out a lot of her frustrations about Blake and her abandonment from family before she opens up about some of her own homelife, in an attempt at empathy about them both having experience with extreme loneliness. Weiss states ‘I don’t know loneliness like you do. I have my own kind’ and finishes the scene with ‘I’m here for you too’ to Yang, offering a measure of support that Yang has not been offered by anyone since she left Patch.

While Yang and Weiss don’t have much time together during the Haven fight, they are generally aware of each other, particularly when the other is in trouble. Yang’s expression when Weiss is impaled is horrified, meanwhile when Blake is standing in front of the rest of the team, Weiss’s eyes are on Yang to wait and see what Yang wants to do. It is only when Yang chooses to agree with Ruby that Weiss offers the hug to Blake, since she is aware of just how much Blake hurt Yang.

It is this trust and support that makes up the backbone of Freezerburn’s dynamic as a ship, with the two of them near-eternally supportive while also being willing to push the other to do better for themselves. Both with their own experiences of loneliness and with trauma, they also have never pushed their pain onto the other and have instead showed mutual communication, understanding, and warmth to each other.

5. Snowflakes, Sunlight, and Songs- Symbolism Surrounding the Ship

Freezerburn has a lot of good symbolism that is a shipper’s playground for the pair. From their first noticeable team-up being bookended with rainbows, to the very classic hot and cold dynamic that is very popular in a lot of important bonds in media. Yang saturates herself with fire imagery, to the point that it is the main tell of her semblance, and a recurring motif in most of her music. Weiss has the exact same saturation of her snow and ice motif, with her glyphs being snowflake-patterned. This provides a nice contrast both in and out of show for the two characters when it comes to their imagery.

Another, more subtle, piece of symbolism that threads through volumes 4, and 5, is Weiss’s knight being narratively tied to Yang. While one could make the argument that this started in volume 3, with Weiss first manifesting the Knight’s right arm in Heroes and Monsters, the same episode where Yang lost her own arm, that ties Yang’s traumatic experience into shipping fuel, which is a bad take and should not be done. Trauma is not romantic and holding up a disability and the event that caused it as the shining example of True Love is not a good argument for a ship.

Instead, we can talk about how Weiss first summoned her Knight in Two Steps Forward, Two Steps Back, where Yang also takes her ‘step forward’ so to speak, listening to her father’s advice for their next spar, and how tying the two events as the ‘Steps Forward’ also comes into play when they first reunite in Lighting the Fire. Throughout the beginning of volume 5, Weiss has been using her knight as her comfort, and it is only when she is hugging Yang that she allows her knight to disappear. While this symbolism is a thin thread, it is still worth mentioning as a connection that exists.

Speaking of the songs, Weiss and Yang between them have the most singular character songs in the RWBY soundtrack, each of them stringing together to tell stories. For Weiss, her songs start, retroactively, with Path to Isolation, flowing into Mirror Mirror, Mirror Mirror Part II, It’s my Turn, and finally ending with the masterpiece This Life Is Mine, where she lyrically discards the mirror motif that has been with her from the start. Yang, meanwhile, starts with I Burn, quickly followed by Gold to show her softer side, with her number of songs diminishing over the events of volumes 2 and 3, before it kicks back into force with the triumphant Armed and Ready, the anger-fuelled Ignite, and ending on the heartbroken All That Matters, where Yang ruminates on how much Blake has hurt her, and will likely hurt her again in the future.

These two ‘song stories’, so to speak, are both currently at a pause until we get any further Weiss and Yang solo songs, but considering how we left with Weiss on a high note in her character development, finally freeing herself from her father’s abuse and ready to take her life for herself, and Yang at a low point where she requires the support of someone who has not hurt her the way Blake did, it is an interesting contrast . I would also like to talk about the significance of Home playing over the Freezerburn reunion, as Home upholds the same values of endless support and safety that is a running theme throughout Freezerburn as a ship. Specifically, the lines ‘I had you through it all’ and ‘A haven of safety where I’ll dry your tears’ are very emblematic.

6. Counterarguments and Refutations

Now, the main argument that seems to exist against Freezerburn as a ship is, well, Bumbleby. Now, I don’t mean to attack Bumbleby, I am not trying to start a ship war, but I would like to point out that Bumbleby, currently as it is written from volume 4 onwards, is based around trauma bonding and lacks any of the trust or open communication that Freezerburn has. An example of this is the talk in the truck in volume 7 doesn’t have Blake and Yang discussing anything of importance and instead features them dancing around their issues until Yang goes along with what Blake wants. Another example is the main Bumbleby fight scene in volume 6, where Blake spends most of it offscreen climbing a wall, letting Yang take the brunt of the fighting, and doesn’t make any moves to truly protect Yang from her ex.

I would also like to state that Bumbleby, going into volume 8 this weekend, is not canon yet, and should not be taken as canon. If RWBY can confirm relationships with things like ‘this is my wife, Terra Cotta’, or with kiss scenes, then it can do the same for Bumbleby. And should Freezerburn become canon instead, then it is a good milestone for LGBT+ representation in media, as Freezerburn is also a wlw ship, and would not devalue the show’s attempts at inclusivity.

7. Conclusion

To finish things up, Freezerburn is a great ship. This ship is an overall positive development for Weiss and Yang, character-wise, as it brings out their best qualities rather then their worst qualities. Freezerburn has a healthy amount of trust, respect, and communication, never feeling like the other ‘owes’ them anything, and they are endlessly supportive in a variety of ways. It’s good, what else is there to say?

#rwby #yang xiao long #weiss schnee #freezerburn #rwby-meta #ship-meta #thesis #mod watts

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ofpains · 4 years ago

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⌈ THOMAS DOHERTY , 29 , CIS MALE , PAIN MANIPULATION ⌋ oh , have you heard about AVERY MCCABE ? they showed up at the academy FOUR DAYS ago all the way from SCOTLAND ? i got the impression that HE is VINDICTIVE & HAUGHTY , but they might be SCRUPULOUS & POLITE for all we know . they remind me of blood dripping down knuckles and onto a lit cigarette, late nights at 24 hours coffee shops but with rum in the coffee cup instead, the sound of a motorcycle followed by the smell of diesel and black eyes in a mugshot, staring blankly at the camera , but maybe all this chaos will change that . i can’t wait to see how this pans out !

Ten Easy Steps to Creating A Monster

Step One: You are born to parents who have not prepared for your arrival. In fact, they didn’t even know that you were coming. Just one day, you showed up, bringing pain and chaos to an otherwise idyllic life. Your sister, McKenzie, and your parents, Fiona and Errol, don’t know what to expect from you. Your mother hadn’t been pregnant when they day began and all of a sudden, she had a newborn and a man offering her money for you. She didn’t take it. You almost wished she had growing up.

Step Two: Your powers manifest in a way that no one is ready for. Just like the day you were born, you brought pain to your family, though this was something you could control. It wasn’t something they realized right off, that the random bursts of pain happened when you were scared or upset and lashing out. The pieces fell together slowly but surely, by the time you were three and throwing temper tantrums, they realized that you weren’t normal.

Step Three: Your power grows and if you want something and are told no, it’s only a matter of time until the pain becomes too much for your parents to handle. One night, while you slept, clutching the latest stuffed animal you had been bought when your lower lip had begun to tremble and tears threatened to fall, your mother packs a bag. She packs one for your sister as well. She leaves a note for your father, explaining, but when you wake up to your father trying to hide tears and your mom and sister nowhere to be found, you don’t understand. He doesn’t tell you that they left because of you.

Step Four: Life marches on, even if things don’t go back to normal. Normality was never your family’s specialty to begin with, though you would blame yourself for that later in life. Your father would attempt to hold out in the face of a tantrum or stand his ground when your temper would get the better of you, but the pain would increase, debilitating, almost blinding. Every time it would get worse and you were unaware it was happening. It wasn’t until your father passed out from the pain and woke up ten minutes later that you knew the truth. You’re special, but you have to learn to control your powers, your gift. You’re only five.

It feels more like a curse.

Step Five: For your dad’s sake, you do your best to control it growing up. At eight, you turn your pain onto yourself so you won’t hurt your teacher after she belittles you in front of the class. At twelve, you get bullied at a school dance and instead of letting your powers out, you run away to jeers calling you weak, a coward, pathetic. You’re sure to be an easy target now that they know you won’t fight back. All of your progress, struggling with control is for nothing. Your dad dies two weeks after your fifteenth birthday, suffering from a heart attack. He asks you to bring his ID to the hospital and find the note your mother left. After eleven years, it shows some wear and tear but is readable. You don’t make it back to the hospital in time. Your father dies without you.

Step Six: The note confirms what you’ve feared your entire life. She left because of you. Because she was too afraid of your powers. Because she was too scared of what you were capable of to learn how to raise you. There was never a bond formed like there was with his sister, the kid she wanted. But when the hospital reached out to have her take in the son she’d left behind, she did so. Whether it was out of obligation or guilt, you don’t know. For awhile, you’re despondent, the last few weeks had been hell. Your father died, you found out your mother left because of you. When you finally stopped being sad and stopped being angry, it was determined. You’d give her a real reason to be afraid of you.

Step Seven: You start experimenting, just in little ways. Inflicting pain on the “popular” kids bullying a student a few years below them, cutting the teacher off with a pain to the ribs when she went off on the class for bad test grades. Eventually you grew bolder, your powers grew stronger and you started to hone your focus, able to chose not only where you inflicted pain but what kind of pain. The pompous football player that had wronged you as a twelve year old felt like he’d broken his leg and every time his coach convinced him he hadn’t, the pain would start up again. The boy you’d had a summer romance with, only to turn around during the school year and say it was just for a laugh felt a pain in his heart whenever he so much as breathed in your direction. You thought it was fitting.

Step Eight: No one could prove that you were behind the incidents, but people put the pieces together when you were at the scene of every incident. You are expelled and move to another school, only to pull the same antics only to find yourself in the headmaster’s office all over again. Every meeting, your mother was brought in and every meeting, you would stare at her, as if daring her to speak against you. If they wanted to think you were a monster, you’d show her one.

Step Nine: Instead of doing the same dance with schools all over again, you dropped out, giving up entirely. You’d make money a better way and began figuring out how to use your powers in reverse. If you could cause pain you someone, control their pain, wouldn’t that work in reciprocal against yourself? With a bit of time and a lot of practice, you figure out how to turn your pain off, feeling nothing. When you found your way into an underground boxing ring, you start using it to your advantage. Being able to punch without feeling pain in your knuckles, taking hits to the floor only to get up right away because the pain didn’t hold you down. Worse, you started over exerting yourself, using your powers on your opponents to increase their pain while keeping yourself numb. It’s draining but you don’t care. The ring gets raided by the police after a fight and you’re too tired to run. At this point, you don’t even try. You go willingly. They charge you and take your mugshot. You pay a fine. And continue on your merry way.

Step Ten: You move out at nineteen, still boxing, still over exerting yourself. You take drugs to get yourself enough energy to make it back to your empty flat, usually with a beautiful girl or a handsome boy on your arm. You drink too much. If your father could see you, you imagine how disappointed he would be. They thought of you as a monster, were convinced you were one from the time you were a child. It may have been a slow process but they got what they wanted.

They think you Frankenstein’s Monster, only they don’t realize they are Frankenstein. In fearing a monster, they created one.

tl;dr:

so ... that’s avery. he’s an asshole. i apologize in advance.

#dmsintro #sorry i wrote a novel #intro.

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minttoy · 5 years ago

Text

Wayward

CHAPTER ONE

Summary: The night at the Goddess Tower, Dimitri wished for a world in which no one would be unjustly taken away. Byleth made her wish in silence - that one day she would see him freed from his darkness.

She wakes up five years later, only to learn the world hasn’t been kind.

Missing scenes post time skip (Blue Lions route).

Pairings: Dimitri/Byleth

Genre: Romance/Angst

Click here to read on FF.net.

Click here to read on AO3.

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I wish for a world in which no one would ever be unjustly taken from us.

She treads up the stairs with light, careful steps. She has to tiptoe and maneuver around dead bodies and old carcasses strewn over the floors, follow dried blood stains splattered across the walls. Her nose crinkles at the smell of metal, iron and blood. Byleth wonders what horror these Imperial soldiers must have seen before they were killed.

That’s a wonderful wish.

The last time she visited the Goddess Tower had been a joyous event. The ballroom filled with life and holiday cheer. Students dancing in step. Professors indulging in fancy drinks. Even Byleth herself, watching it unfold with curiosity, because the party had been the first she ever attended. Every single one of them oblivious, and too swept up in excitement that besides Edelgard herself, no one predicted the foreboding war, or suspected what lurked underneath.

She finally reaches the top of the stairs and catches the view from the open window – a peaceful dawn on the horizon. She only revels in it for a second before she shifts and finds him there, sitting in dark shadows. She suspected it briefly, having identified the mortal wounds on those soldiers as pierces slashed with angry lances and biting force, cutting through even the toughest armour.

Her lips form a frown. For a moment, she thinks ‘please’ and considers ‘maybe it’s not him’, because she doesn’t want to believe. But he looks up to the click of her heels and the blue of his single eye is the same as she remembers. Her breath cuts short and she almost falters in her step.

Oh, Dimitri.

His hair has grown, lathed with gunk and dried blood. His cheeks are dirty and muddied. Confusion and blankness cloud his visible eye, where she once saw determination burn bright so many years ago. His body is dragged and worn and scarred from battle. Even as she steps into the light, his expression is unchanged. She doesn’t know how to explain with gentleness the reason she’s been gone for so long, especially when she barely understands it herself.

She reaches an open hand out to him, tries to share her light, but he doesn’t take it. He groans when he moves, and turns away.

“I should have known…” His voice is raspy, like it hurts to speak. “…that one day, you would be haunting me as well.”

Her face falls, and she cannot fathom the swirl of emotions that course through her mind, beat at her heart. Above all else, sadness lingers foremost. She’s almost unable to bear it, not used to such strong emotions that she has to cast her gaze elsewhere. With it comes a sudden, phantom pain throbbing in her chest she doesn’t fully understand.

He gets up eventually, gripping his lance for balance and stands his tall height. She observes him more carefully, and can’t help but think of a creature in the night. Swathed in blood and dirt. Disheveled and dressed with coarse furs. Tall and looming, bloodlust in his eye. She imagines him prowling the grounds, cold and unfeeling. No less than the beasts they’ve fought as teacher and student. Humanity all but intact, and underneath all that metal armour, she knows he is hollow.

He demands she not look at him with scorn, even though she feels nothing of the sort, and then swears darkly to himself that he will sever Edelgard’s head himself. Threats of death and destruction roll so easily off his tongue. She wonders briefly when this violent and uncontrolled temper had taken root, but even after his angry tirade, she can’t bring herself to stop him. Not yet, at least. Her words won’t find their mark, not when she knows nothing of the missing years.

Instead, she says the only she thing she knows for sure, “I’m glad you’re safe.”

He only scoffs at her, “Am I?”

Byleth opens her mouth and nothing comes out. Her hesitation betrays her, and her silence is more than telling. He walks off without a second thought, and before following after him, she quietly reminds herself of the wish she’d made here years ago.

I wish one day I could see you freed from your darkness.

----------

Everybody remembers their promise.

As they work to defend the monastery from a band of thieves attempting to steal what little is left, they show up. Even five years past, they fall back to their old battle formations and await her command. She hardly has the time to register their new faces and growth, only fathoms the reunion as painfully bittersweet. After all, Dimitri had been the one to suggest the idea.

She keeps a close eye on him in particular, watches as he strikes down his foes with no mercy. He’s out for blood and terrifyingly violent. The honour of battle is lost on him, even though she knows she taught him better than that.

They gather at the centre afterwards and Byleth finally inspects each and every one of her former students. She’s most surprised to find Gilbert here, who claims he’s been tracking down Dimitri for a while now. When he asks the prince how he managed to escape the fortress prisons of Fhirdiad, the worst is confirmed.

Dedue is allegedly dead.

She closes her eyes and offers a silent prayer. There’s a collective silence from the group and at this point, she doesn’t know if she can stomach much more. After all, a teacher shouldn’t have to mourn their student.

----------

She leaves them in another room to catch up with one another. Some of them take the time to grieve. Mercedes marches straight for the church afterwards, followed closely by Ashe and Annette. For her, that time will have to come later. She doesn’t even wholly believe it.

Eventually, Gilbert approaches her in the council room. She keeps busy after the battle, rigorously polishing and sharpening her sword with a whetstone she found on the training grounds. As a former mercenary, or a Professor even, she was never one to remain idle. What little emotion she feels throughout the day is taken out on grinding the dull edges of her blade.

Gilbert narrates the events of the past and present – who’s taken control of what territory, what vast expanse of lands the Empire has already conquered, how his search for Dimitri has led him here, and why he set out to accomplish a seemingly impossible task. From his explanation alone, she gathers that Gilbert carries his own ghosts and unfulfilled promises.

“Thank you,” she says softly, chancing a glimpse of the tired man. “For finding him.”

He shakes his head. “It was not me who found him. It was you, Professor.”

She stiffens in her seat, but says nothing.

Gilbert sighs and scratches the back of his head. He casts his tired gaze towards the window. “I’m sure you find Dimitri has…changed, over the years.”

Clack!

The whetstone slips from her hand, almost cutting an edge of her finger. Gilbert alarms at the sight, but she quickly waves off his concern. She puts the weapon down immediately, deeming her mind unfit for the task. Instead, she leans her elbows on her knees, buries her hands in her face and rubs at her temples.

He is not the same.

After practicing much restraint and disbelief, the truth finally surfaces and the pain is akin to a hard punch to her gut. The gravity of his situation and character finally weighs down on her. All of a sudden, she finds herself missing him, of all things.

The boy wise enough to notice a young girl being dragged around, because her path had been decided by adults in a drawing room. And so he gifted her a dagger so she could carve a future for her own, one that she wanted for herself. Even back then, he understood well that your life was yours to live.

The student who desired to teach orphans, even when he still had much to learn. She watched from the sidelines as he showed them how to hold their ground, corrected their stances, practiced with dull wooden weapons and repeated several times that weapons were tools for protection and nothing else. He already knew all too well how quickly the world could turn.

The young man focused so rigidly on his studies and training. His compassion had been enough to elicit a few small smiles. She’d gotten loose with herself, slowly easing out of her stoic demeanor and mercenary mentality. It was an uncomfortable, but not unwelcome change. He willingly called her out when she slipped, saying her smile was ‘mesmerizing’. He always said it with encouragement. She thought nothing of it back then, but realizes now it meant so much more. Jeralt commented once how her students brought out her humanity in ways even he couldn’t.

And now.

Five years have passed and she struggles to feel anything beyond the melancholic haze surrounding the monastery. Perhaps none of this would mean so much if she hadn’t made that wish. Or perhaps he’s still the same person she met so many years ago. She just didn’t know him at all.

He always had that lingering darkness, even at the best of times. Underneath that façade festered a hunger for vengeance. Young Dimitri phrased it so clearly. Sometimes the darkness takes hold, and becomes impossible to suppress. The five years he spent unhinged and wandering in darkness nurtured his lust for revenge. Nowadays, people only laid hands on him with the intent to kill, and he had no choice but to do the same.

Gilbert clears his throat, drawing her out of deep thought.

Forgetting her place, Byleth straightens her spine. She tries to mirror his tired expression.

“Dimitri has lost himself,” she says, following up on his earlier comment. She doesn’t know how else to put it.

The man shifts his weight to the other foot and rests his chin in one hand. “Yes. I fear his deep hatred and solitude have consumed him for far too long,” he explains with a downcast expression. “We must bring him back from the edge on which he stands.”

She nods in agreement, unable to word it better herself.

He hums with uncertainty. “It will not be a quick or easy task. In truth, I’m not even sure if my words will…” he trails off, but eventually shakes his head. “Never mind, it must be done, regardless of whatever circumstance. He is still needed in his Kingdom.”

She finally looks up at him, assurance in her eyes.

“I’ll do it,” she offers, even as she sees dark times awaiting them in shadowed corners.

“Are you sure, Professor?”

She nods. For his sake, she would have to.

----------

Later, everyone is gathered in the council room. She stands to one side, casting inspecting gazes to each of her students as Gilbert and Seteth discuss strategies between themselves before presenting it forward. There is much on the agenda. Talks of battle tactics, recruiting soldiers, rebuilding the monastery and more. Everybody has agreed the Empire needs to be stopped.

Eventually, Annette calls out the elephant in the room. Her leg hasn’t stopped fidgeting since she sat down.

“Erm, perhaps we should wait for Dimitri?” she pipes up anxiously. “He should be here, right?”

There’s a scoff from Felix, and the gesture is oddly nostalgic. “Hmph. The boar is holed up in the cathedral right now, talking nonsense to himself. I don’t see him getting out anytime soon.”

No one says anything, much less argues with him. Byleth just assumes everyone has seen for themselves how the years have hardened and changed their former house leader. The air is stricken with gloom now.

Naturally, Gilbert turns to her.

She promised to handle affairs concerning the wayward Prince. She figures most people are rather…fearful in discussing Dimitri’s condition. The way she sees it, it matters not. At the end of the day, their end goal is the same: Halt Imperial conquest and take back the Holy Kingdom. Somewhere in the dark recesses of his mind, she is certain Dimitri feels the same way.

She straightens up from her spot and gathers the attention of the room. “We can resume in his absence. I can debrief him of our plans afterwards.”

----------

People have always flocked to the church in times of need. Although their numbers have dwindled, guards, monks and merchants alike have all paid a visit at least once.

Dimitri is here all the time. From morning till night. Akin to a lost soul wandering in limbo or purgatory, waiting for judgment to strike down like lightning. He occupies the space in front of the rubble, frequently muttering to himself. Sometimes, he speaks of destruction and violence. When the voices get too loud, he pleads and begs for forgiveness. Sometimes he says nothing at all.

For him, there is only one end in sight. Edelgard’s death and after that, his own. A preposterous notion – as if she would ever let him get that far.

She’s spoken to him a few times. Tried is a better word. He tells her to scurry out of sight and curses to himself when she doesn’t. He is still unreachable. She holds her words in her tongue because they won’t find their mark. He didn’t even attend the vigil they held in Dedue’s honour.

“Look at the creature,” Felix is saying, standing a fair distance away. “It’s pitiful to watch. Professor, do what you have to in order to fix him.”

Byleth, distracted by her own thoughts, rests her eyes on the prince. The wide berth everybody gives him makes it easy to observe. No one dares approach too close. Her eyes shift to Felix next. He wears his perpetual scowl, but underneath she knows he’s trying to figure out an end to this situation. She recognizes it as his way of showing he cares.

----------

A familiar face treads towards the academy.

Byleth remembers his face. General Randolph. He stood beside Edelgard as they destroyed the monastery. Dimitri remembers too, because he’s more difficult to direct. He’s determined to ravage his foes and sort out his problems with senseless violence.

She keeps a close eye on him and the others. None of them are her students anymore, but old habits die hard. Five years of sleep catches up to her too – her body is not yet hardened from rigorous training and everyday battle – and she slips up. A fast-flying arrow is shot deep into her left thigh and she grits her teeth and hisses in pain. Before she finds cover, she knocks her own arrow towards the perpetrator before he can deliver another blow.

When she looks up, Dimitri has already caught up to Randolph. She curses to herself, quickly assesses the blood-stained grounds to find most of the Imperial soldiers either dead or subdued. She has to force herself against her own threshold, musters up strength because someone must stop him, and she limps over to him unerringly. The arrow is forcefully removed by her own hand, leaving a trail of blood in her wake as she ignores the biting pains.

She watches as Randolph is brought to his knees, on the verge of his death. Dimitri is smug and bloodlust festers in his visible eye that it sparks angers in her. Randolph pleads senselessly, claiming he must live for his family before he has the gall to call Dimitri a heartless monster. It only feeds her ire, because he knows nothing about what he’s taken from so many people, including herself.

Byleth draws the line at Dimitri carving out his eyes, and kills Randolph herself. From behind, straight through the heart, swift and decisive. She considers it mercy, because anything by Dimitri’s hand would have been ruthless and even her worst enemies don’t deserve that kind of brutality on their deathbed. She quickly sheathes her sword afterwards, because even after all this time, it’s still not easy.

Dimitri laughs heinously at her actions, telling her she should kill him herself if she doesn’t approve. Fierce anger burns so hotly that for a second, she would earnestly consider challenging him if it meant dragging him away from his bleak and corrupted cravings for vengeance. But of course, she would never condone that. Instead, she cools down the foreign, unfamiliar rage burning inside and reminds herself there is no need for more violence in a world already plunged in war and turmoil.

What he says next is atrocious. Claiming to use her and her friends to exact his revenge until the flesh falls off their bones. Shock removes all blankness in her face, and she watches him storm off towards the monastery. The rest of them are mortified, having watched in horror of what he’s become.

----------

Byleth patches up her wounds on her own. She wraps her thigh in gauze and bandages, rubs salve on her wounds and hides the discolouration of her bruises with sleeves. News will spread to the Empire that they’ve made the monastery their stronghold, and she prepares for another onslaught.

She wakes up confused on some mornings. There are times when she picks up her sword and gets ready to complete her mercenary contract. Sometimes, she goes over to her desk to review lecture notes, only to find there are none. She’d also gotten used to hearing Sothis’s voice as the goddess flitted about in her room. She has to remember these things belong in the past now.

When her mind is too hazy, or things get overwhelming, she trudges over to Jeralt’s grave. In bright mornings, late nights, rainy weather or cold winds, she kneels down on the patchy grass and solemnly wishes for a world where she didn’t have to bury him. Time is forgotten when she sits in front of his headstone, but reality always hits its inevitable stride and she remembers this is hardly the time to grieve. Not before long, she schools on a blank and vacant expression, not minding the familiar faces that watch over her in concern.

----------

“Professor! Over here!”

Byleth looks to her left, where Mercedes, Annette and Ashe are beckoning her to sit at their table. She approaches over somewhat sheepishly, because she knows she should be spending more time with her students and honing them for battle.

“Mercedes managed to convince the chefs to let her bake a few sweets. You should try some,” Annette says excitedly, pushing forward the tray of small cakes and confectionaries in her direction.

She hesitates for a brief moment before taking one of the jelly squares in her mouth. Although she never had a sweet tooth, she manages a small smile, just for them. For some reason, they all seem to breathe a sigh of relief.

“Did you know? Dedue used to help me with kitchen duty. Have you ever tried his cooking? I’d say it was his hidden talent,” Annette strikes up conversation, taking one of the small cakes into her mouth in one bite. For a small girl, she’s always had a ravenous appetite for sweet foods.

Ashe lights up brightly. “I’ve tried his cooking too! You can really taste the Duscur inspiration. He was always a much better chef than I am, that’s for sure.”

Byleth gazes over them with fondness. She’s glad they’ve forged these unbreakable bonds. Even if one of them is gone, they choose to remember the good he’s done. As the two of them continue to reminisce of Dedue and his cuisine, Mercedes quietly turns to her.

“Professor, I must say. You seem rather…sad, as of late,” the soft-spoken girl remarks, a gentle smile gracing her features. “Are you also thinking of Dedue?”

Her eyes settle on the wooden table underneath her hands. “Always.”

Mercedes waits for a moment before speaking again, “And Dimitri, as well?”

Byleth still cannot look her in the eye. “I think of him too.”

“We figured as much…” Mercedes leans back in her chair and looks up at the ceiling. Ashe and Annette have quieted their conversation in favour of listening in. “I don’t think either of us have ever seen you show so much frustration as you did in our recent battle.”

She shrinks in her seat as shame tugs at her. Perhaps she got carried away back there.

“I’m sorry,” she prioritizes first. “I hope you understand I’m not angry with Dimitri, but rather the circumstances that have led him here. He’s much different now, as you know, and I ask that you be patient with him.”

Ashe nods his head. “Of course. He’s always been good to us, just like Dedue. When we were students, he refused to let me address him so formally.”

“Me too! And he used to tell me stories of my Father even before I connected with him. It was nice, actually. He said it felt like he knew me already before we entered the academy, because Father always spoke of me.”

Mercedes hums in agreement. “Dimitri also helped me with sword training. Although I’m still lacking in that skill, I think it was sweet of him to help, especially since I almost swung at him. In return, I taught him how to mend his clothes. He was a very good student.”

Byleth softens at the stories shared around the table. She shares her own too. It’s hard to equate the man he is today to the person he was before, but if her students have no problem seeing him as such, even with his cruel and callous behaviour, then she should do the same.

“We’re confident he’ll come to his senses one day. Until then, we should help him however we can,” Mercedes pipes up, with a sense of assurance.

For the first time today, she fills with hope.

----------

He still spends most days and nights at the cathedral. It’s almost reassuring, because she expects to find him there, instead of searching the monastery in fear he has gotten up and left. The only worrying thing is that he barely leaves the church grounds. He denies himself sleep, evidenced by the darkness under his eyes. But she thinks of his health, having never seen him take a ration from the kitchen, much less eat a morsel of anything.

She swipes a couple of things from the kitchen one day and wraps it in paper. A small loaf of bread and dried fruits. Someone told her one day he doesn’t care much for taste anyway. Her boots click and echo as she draws nearer, and he turns his head away from her when she kneels on the ground beside him.

Byleth prods her offering towards him, lays it on the ground where he can see with his good eye and utters out a simple command, “You should eat.”

He closes his only eye, still turned away from her. “Go away.”

She shakes her head and doesn’t get too caught up in his brusque words. “You’ll waste away and grow weary if you don’t,” she counters.

He groans to himself. A rough, grating sound, and says nothing else. He’s rather subdued today. The last time she visited, there was no stopping the slew of threats that escaped his tongue. She’s gotten used to that side of him, knows not to indulge in his murderous fantasies. Instead, she treats him with a level of hardness, because he doesn’t recognize comfort or kindness when it’s given to him. She redirects his thoughts instead. Questions his motives with caution and reminds him to take care of himself. Never engages in a fight or argument when none is needed.

She says nothing else and leaves him for the day. Later when she checks on him again, she notes with some measure of gladness that the plate is empty.

----------

The next war council meeting goes awry.

They are short on soldiers and resources, and there are talks of requesting backup from the Fraldarius house and joining forces with them. When Gilbert asks Dimitri if they should dispatch their troops to the Imperial capital or the Kingdom capital, his answer is predictable.

“We will take the Imperial capital. There, I will kill her. Nothing could be more to the point.”

The group remains divided on the subject, but Seteth passes her the final say as the stand-in leader of the church and she chooses the opposite. For the army’s sake, and especially Dimitri’s sake, they should take back the Kingdom capital. There are so many people awaiting his return to Fhirdiad.

He turns to her, a cross look on his features. “If Lady Rhea is being held prisoner in the Empire, we don’t have time to waste taking back Fhirdiad. Can you deny it?”

He is only testing her, making her out to be foolish in front of the council. She doesn’t bite. Gilbert senses the foreboding tension and cuts in before anything can ensue. “Either way, we are in need of numbers. It is essential we secure backup.”

When the meeting ends, Byleth keeps her ground and waits until most of them have filed out of the board room. Dimitri remains, sharp and cutting words waiting in his sleeve, intended just for her.

“We’re not ready to march into Enbarr,” she says point blank.

“You understand nothing,” he scoffs, jaw clenched and hands balled into fists at his side. “The time we spend in wait only grows her power. She will have taken all of Fódlan before you finally decide to fight back!”

Byleth furrows her brow and presses her lips into a thin line. “You would rush in haste to fight Edelgard instead? You would fall on her doorstep before you even get the chance to see her.”

“That woman must be stopped!” he grounds out in exasperation, slamming a clenched fist on the desk and alerting the attention of the room. “I will go alone if I have to!”

She drops her hands and narrows her eyes at him, face lined with hardness. A bitter sensation settles in her mouth at the thought of him wandering off on his own.

“No. I won’t let you.”

Dimitri laughs. A maniacal, delirious laughter. He steps one foot forward as a crooked smile finds his lips, like a man possessed. “You, Professor? Are you going to be the one to stop me?” His voice is mocking. A taunt, above all else. And she understands he means to intimidate her when he draws closer with a crazed look in his eye. “Be my guest! I dare you to try!”

When he gets too close, she shoves him backwards with both hands, just enough to afford her some distance. The sword of the Creator hums and hangs at her hip, but she makes no motion to withdraw it.

“Don’t challenge me,” she warns and her voice is mostly even. Intimidation isn’t her strong suit, but her eyes stay fixed on his single one with a stubborn determination. Even still, she steels herself should he ever reach for the lance at his back.

He shakes his head and at her adamant insistence, takes a step back. “Then I swear to you this, my dear Professor.” The hissing voice that comes out of that mouth is a poor mockery of Dimitri’s own, dissonant to her ears. “If you ever get in my way, or you dare to stop me from severing that woman’s head, I will not hesitate to kill you too.”

With a huff, he turns his heel and gruffly storms out the room. She waits for the wave of shock to pass, and then her brave face is gone, replaced with an old and tired expression. She finally lets out the breath she didn’t know she was holding and suddenly, disappointment weighs heavy on her shoulders and she forces herself to sit down. Her breaths even out slowly.

Footsteps draw near, and she glances up to the waiting eyes of Felix and Sylvain, who’d been privy to that uncomfortable exchange. Felix is the first to speak.

“There’s no use talking to him when he gets like that. Nothing is going to reach him,” he offers rather brusquely, even though his words carry some ounce of sympathy.

She looks to Sylvain, who appears quite lax despite their circumstance.

“What he means by that is Dimitri’s had his rough patches before. Today was just one of them, so you shouldn’t be too hard on yourself. Besides, dark expressions don’t really suit you,” he remarks loosely. She raises a small brow at his nonchalance and as inattentive as Sylvain appears, he seems to read her cue. “Even I still have a hard time accepting who he is, but everyone has their faults, right? And he’s my friend, first and foremost. All I’m saying is, I’m not worrying just yet. As much as I hate seeing him like this, I have faith he’ll turn around eventually.”

“Tch. He’ll be grovelling when the time comes.”

Groveling?

She creases her brow, tries really hard to understand, but the redhead just shakes his head. “For now, the most we can do is keep a close eye on him and make sure he’s safe until he figures it out.”

“Hmph. That mind of his though. So consumed with the dead. The boar has no control of himself. I’m this close to being done with him.”

For some reason, Sylvain gets a laugh out of that one. It confuses her wildly, because they don’t seem to grasp the weight of the situation. Dimitri is on the brink of madness and they jest as if it were another day at the academy.

She thinks it over again though. They’ve known him longer. They’re more familiar with his patterns of behaviour. She remembers questioning it frequently then. The way Felix constantly muttered his distaste for the Prince and his ‘monstrous’ qualities, even going so far as refusing to call him by name. Or when Sylvain raised a brow and kept a worried expression throughout their battle in Remire, because of all the chaotic violence they witnessed. She didn’t know what all of that meant back then. His darkness had been kept a heavily guarded secret between nobles.

Sylvain is the more perceptive one once again. “I know it’s hard to forget all the awful things he says and does, but I ought to give him a chance. We’ve been friends since we were kids. I owe him that much, at least.”

She pauses her train of thought. “What makes you so sure he can change?”

The redhead shrugs, but it’s not without a level of uncertainty. “He’s done it before. Besides, he has you helping him this time. To be honest, he never meant for you to see this side of him, but the fact that you have, and you’re still willing to see him through it…well, he should consider himself blessed.”

Blessed? Mild confusion washes over again. She tries to wrap her head around it, the idea as clear as mud. And even when they leave, the thought sticks with her for the rest of the day.

----------

The meeting scheduled at Aillel isn’t without complication. Besides the scorching heat and blistering fumes in the land said to be born of the goddess’ rage, it turns out there was a spy among them and soldiers awaited their arrival. Somehow, and Byleth still isn’t sure how the goddess is carrying her this far, they make it back to the monastery relatively in one piece. Rodrigue has chosen to come with them, along with several of his troops and men. She is glad to see their army and resources growing in number.

She’s avoided clashing with Dimitri in any way she can. Their last conversation is still a fresh wound. Besides, Rodrigue’s presence seems to draw out some sense in the prince. She would be foolish to tamper with that. If she recalls correctly, this man had taken him in, even treated him as his own, when the King had passed.

Once again, she cleans her wounds on her own. She douses her burns and blisters in salt water, hisses at the searing contact, and pulls the sleeves over her arms when she leaves her quarters. Later that night, she ambles up the stairs of the Goddess Tower.

On their way back from Aillel, she came across a…revelation, so to speak. She’d been sitting with her former students, sorting out inventory of weapons and medicinal supplies. The routine has a soothing, meditative effect on her, so she was minding her own business for the most part. Somehow, they started reminiscing about their academy days – a frequent topic of conversation – and what they had done on the night of the ball. She’d been partially listening at that point, and only glanced up when they addressed her.

“Professor, are you aware of the legends associated with the Goddess Tower?” Ingrid piped up, features friendly.

She nodded. “My understanding is that wishes made in that tower will come true.” Briefly, she mulled over the innocent wish she made there five years ago and as an afterthought, she added quietly, “I’m not sure if I believe it.”

“Aww, come on. That’s only a small part of it. The tower is supposed to be a place where lovers meet, and the wishes represent the vows and promises you make to one another. That’s why the person you bring there should be important to you, like someone you love,” Sylvain explained. Ironically, he then went on to list all the girls he had taken there, much to the chagrin of the others.

Her face did not imply as much, but the information was new to her. When Dimitri asked her to meet him there, she thought nothing of it. She was clueless, even as he explained his disbelief for the old legend and still made a wish. For the sake of tradition, she made her own as well.

Afterwards, he considered if it would make more sense to wish they were together forever. By her own logic, that would cross the boundaries of their professional relationship, so she offered him a blank stare in return. He followed up nicely saying he improved in the art of joke telling.

Aware now of the romantic implications of the tower, he was right. It would have made more sense. She simply didn’t understand back then. As a Professor and even to this day, she’s socially inept at times, often failing to understand human conventions and emotions. Her students, and even other Professors, teased her often or said all kinds of crazy things to get her to emote anything besides her blank gaze.

“Professor, did you ever meet anybody at the Goddess Tower? Or made a wish of your own?” Annette had asked, giddy with a dreamy look in her eyes.

“Yes. I suppose I have,” she tells truthfully, not expecting the collective shock that flash across their faces. Much to their disappointment, she’d gotten out of that conversation courtesy of Rodrigue, who requested to speak with her.

Byleth remembers that conversation. That’s how she got here.

Resting her hand against the stone wall, she stares out at the open window and gazes out into the starry sky and white moon. The same view from five years ago, when she made a promise to Dimitri. She understands now it wasn’t a wish, but more like a vow.

She repeats it to herself again, but with more hope this time.

I wish one day I could see you freed from your darkness.

And instead of relying on old legends to make it happen, she’s determined to see it through for herself.

----------

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #byleth #dimileth #dimileth fanfic #post timeskip #angst #romance

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itsclydebitches · 5 years ago

Note

I was thinking about the Marrow comment to Yang and Blake and okay. We got a few "scenes" where the girls mixed it up, but marrow doesn't know them personally so the implication is they work together the most often if he says that. I was thinking it's kind of a conflict of emotions to always work with people you care about, and Yang losing her temper (and causing Blake to as well) pretty much proves that to me. A few seconds of Yang w/Ruby, etc. won't make it better.

Yeah, I don’t think anyone is surprised that they constantly want to be together and there’s very heavy implications that they are. In truth I wouldn’t care nearly as much if that scene hadn’t steered towards legitimate anger. Yang and Blake are completely inseparable? Okay, it’s both totally understandable and works great for anyone who ships them. Would it be nice to see other dynamics? Yeah, but in the grand scheme of things RWBY really needs to be including, that’s far down on the list for me. More of a preference than an outright requirement. The story can still function if Blake always hangs out with Yang, Ren always hangs with Nora, Ruby with Weiss, etc. We’ve certainly seen that the last six volumes. So it’s fine... up until the story itself introduces a pretty severe downside. That scene demonstrated clearly that both girls can’t even hear the suggestion that they separate without getting angry, which implies a level of co-dependence that should be address. As someone trained to pick up on writing cues, that scene appears to be setting up a conflict: the girls are still so traumatized over their separation that the mere thought of separating just for an afternoon of work (if that) scares the shit out of them. At some point they need to return to these fears and start working past the knee-jerk reaction that any separation is equal to the traumatic separation post-Beacon. Because that’s going to eat at them and when the day comes where they are forced to separate---due either to work or more horrific circumstances---the implication is they won’t handle it well.

I say “appears to be setting up” because we all know by now that RWBY tosses out a lot of implications/plot threads and then fails to follow through on them. Regardless of whether this is set up for something or just another scene they included without thinking through those implications, the fact still remains that this is what we got on screen. I wouldn’t care half as much about Blake and Yang being attached at the hip, especially as a (presumed) new couple, if they’d been able to playfully scoff at Marrow. Or be happy smug about their teamwork. Or even take two lines to explain to him seriously that they’ve been through too much at this point to separate willingly. Any of that would have painted the relationship in a really positive light. As it stands, we’re shown a couple who gets legitimately pissed at small talk and a very helpful suggestion from a fighting perspective so... that’s not great. It’s something I’d really like RWBY to acknowledge and help them to work through. Especially with Adam’s death as a continued non-acknowledgement, the girls have got a LOT of baggage that’s being ignored in favor of selfies and dance parties. Lighthearted bonding is fantastic, but balance it a little with communication about the important stuff too.

#rwby #rwby volume 7 #rwby volume 7 spoilers #mymetas #Anonymous

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lisatelramor · 5 years ago

Text

For Love of Aoko

An anon on FFnet asked about Kaito, Saguru, and Akako all caring for Aoko, and this was supposed to be just the first four parts as a drabble. But my brain went and gave me the equivalent of the middle finger and said 'no, have actual scenes'. Since I have been having writer's block in a lot of my other ongoing fics, this happened instead of them. Hope it satisfies, Anon.

***

In Kaito’s life there has never been a moment when he didn’t know he loved Aoko. From the first, he’d liked her, a wide-eyed, cute girl who’d appreciated his sleight of hand in front of a clock tower. She’d kept appreciating it, always a little awed whenever he did something for the sole purpose of entertaining her. He’d loved her as a friend for years as they filled empty spaces in their broken homes with each other, childish hijinks and sharing secrets beneath pillow forts. Romantic love hadn’t been a dramatic shift. Just a normal day watching Aoko do normal things and he’d realized he wanted that forever.

Being with her.

Of course none of that meant that he couldn’t tease her too. And it isn’t like he’s going to tell her he loves her. Maybe someday, but not now. Not with Kid and her dad on the task force chasing him. Not with crazy people with guns and a grudge lurking in the night. Not when he can still have her like this, annoyed and chasing him with a mop and moving together like they can read each other’s minds because they’ve danced this dance so many times.

She’s safe like this.

So Kaito flips over some desks and steals her pencils and doesn’t let his smile drop or his hands linger when they touch even though he wants to.

He’s loved Aoko for years and he’s not going to stop any time soon.

*o*o*

Akako has known from a young age that she had power. Witches of her family line had been enchanting men for centuries, gaining wealth, power and freedom all willingly given by foolish men who thought they might win their hearts, or at the very least, their bodies. She learned to charm and manipulate with a smile, a frown, a hint of what she wanted and ways to lead someone to making those desires reality long before she even touched her magic.

It’s never made her any friends with women, but honestly, with power like hers, what did Akako need friends for? If she wants companionship she doesn’t need to do more than look at a man and he can be her conversation partner. If she’s hungry, someone will provide. If she sees something she wants, she can drop enough hints in the right ears that that thing will be hers within a day or two if not immediately. If she wants all men in the room to look at her, they will. They will abandon what their fickle hearts had been set on and come to her and be hers to command and they will be ecstatic if she so much as condescends to look at them. She is just coming into her full powers and already she is a queen like her mother was before her.

Until Kaito.

Kaito who brushes off her charms. Who looks bored at her attempts to attract him, who gives more attention to a plain girl in their class than Akako and Akako knows that even without her powers she would have most of them men turning heads her direction from looks alone. Kaito is a flaw in her perfect tapestry of control. A snag that ruins the image, and all over some girl.

Aoko is nothing special. She’s wild-looking, childish, and has a terrible temper. She’s not stupid, but she isn’t the top of her class. She doesn’t try to look beautiful and she doesn’t try to make people like her at all. She disrupts class as often as Kaito does and doesn’t seem to see the irony that yelling at Kaito only adds to chaos he starts.

Logically there is nothing about her that should be worth Akako’s attention at all.

Akako can’t help watching her anyway, wondering what Kaito saw in her that made her special. What she had that Akako didn’t.

Out of the girls in Akako’s class, Aoko doesn’t glare when Akako holds court. She’s actually asked Akako to eat lunch with her before. With a smile. A smile that wasn’t even fake, like she actually wanted to be friendly.

It should be annoying. A peasant treating a queen like an equal. But.

Akako watches Aoko laugh at something Kaito says, open and straightforward and brash, everything Akako isn’t… This girl. There’s something there that keeps Akako coming back, watching her as much as Kaito, over and over again.

Perhaps, Akako thinks, next time she will smile back when Aoko makes another attempt at friendship. Perhaps she will say yes. Perhaps she will come to understand how such a simple girl can catch her attention and hold the heart of the one man she cannot charm.

*o*o*

It would probably surprise people if Saguru said he knew his flaws. Yes, he is smart. He can connect facts, dredge up information he’s seen or read or heard like pulling files from a folder. He can profile a person and their habits based around micro-expressions within twenty minutes of interacting with them. He can be charming and have impeccable manners thanks to social niceties being drilling into him since he could talk. He’s confident because experience has proven he is frequently correct in his logic and assumptions, and he knows that his familial reputation as well as his own eases the way with situations that could trip up other people. But for every talent he has he knows he has flaws. His confidence makes him brash and come across as arrogant. He’s so used to reading people that he forgets sometimes that they aren’t just puzzles to be solved. He gets so caught up in the details of casework and can solve them, but understanding how people work never really quite connected with being able to pick apart their behaviors. It’s one thing to know someone is a murderer because of how they avoid touching objects in a room and can’t hide clenching their hands every time the victim’s indiscretion is mentioned. It’s another thing to understand that someone murdered their brother because he’d been dragging the family name in the mud for years and seducing the murderer’s wife had been the last straw.

Saguru knows from the moment he speaks with Nakamori Aoko in front of Kuroba Kaito that Aoko is Kaito’s weak point. He can see how giving her attention makes Kaito annoyed and can extrapolate from the way Kaito makes pointed comments if Saguru does anything that resembles flirtation that Kaito is attracted to Aoko and trying to pretend he isn’t. He can’t say why Kaito doesn’t speak of it, and he can’t say what Kaito thinks of Aoko in the first place since she usually seems to be trying to attack him with something, but he doesn’t have to.

Aoko is Kaito’s weakness and Saguru, so very sure that Kaito is Kid, exploits it.

He gives her flirtatious bows and leading invitations to spend time with him. He compliments her appearance and gives her smiles that he does not give to their other classmates. And Aoko blushes and responds just as Saguru hopes she would, flustered and a little pleased by the attention. If Kaito wasn’t so caught up in glaring, he’d notice that Aoko always gave him little fleeting looks to try and gauge if Kaito was going to interfere. Like perhaps she wanted him to interfere. Or perhaps she just wanted some sign that Kaito was interested in her since he rarely said anything that could be construed as interested in her when they were in class at least. Saguru has no idea about how they interacted outside of class. Although if it was anything like how they interacted in school he pitied bystanders that had to deal with them.

The flirting gets him Kaito’s attention, but it doesn’t make him slip up. It gets him Aoko’s attention too, which he really should have expected. She never tells him to stop flirting, but she does seem intent to brush it aside once her flustered blustering is out of the way, treating him like he’s a friend.

For Saguru, who has never been good at building friendships, it’s a bit of a novel experience.

He’s invited to eat lunch with her and Kaito and her friend Keiko. He’s invited to group outings even though he generally declines the offers. Aoko asks about his day, shares opinions about what she read in the news, and pulls him into more than one commiseration against Kid that ends with Kaito pranking the whole class just to get them off the topic.

Saguru chases Kid and tries to reveal Kaito—because truly there is only one person Kid can be with so many clues pointing his direction—and has an argument with Aoko over it that leaves him shaken and hurt even though he won’t show it. He knows he’s right. He also knows that Aoko’s probably blinding herself to it. Having someone angry at him for something he deduced isn’t anything new, but having a friend angry at him over something is.

He’s not sure what to do.

He’s not sure what he wants to do because he never intended to let anyone in his class close enough to hurt him in the first place. Saguru isn’t even supposed to be here very long.

Saguru looks at Aoko giving him the cold shoulder and hurts. And Kaito, Kaito who is smug that Saguru’s out of favor, hurts too because he doesn’t even seem to realize that he has something precious in Aoko. He has her loyalty and belief even over facts. That’s something Saguru’s never had, something that can’t be quantified or easily analyzed and slotted into grid-marked boxes.

Kaito is lucky and Aoko deserves better than someone constantly lying to her face.

He doesn’t kid himself into thinking she’d even consider Saguru though.

*o*o*

Aoko knows she has a short temper. She gets angry at Kaito, angry at Kid, angry at her dad for working too much, angry at Saguru for making accusations, angry at Kid fans for glorifying a criminal. She likes to think that that’s not the only thing people notice about her though. Oh, she knows she’s not the prettiest girl in class, or the smartest, or all that feminine at all a lot of the time. Akako is the most beautiful, Keiko is higher ranked than her in half her subjects, and traditional femininity is overrated anyway. Why be docile and quiet and submissive? She’d rather be loud and say what she meant and put people in their place when they crossed a line.

But sometimes she wishes her first instinct wasn’t to yell and fight. Sometimes she wonders if she wasn’t so combative that Kaito might go back to how they were as kids, open and intimate without an unspoken wall between them. He’d tell her whatever it was he kept holding back and hiding under wide smiles and wilder pranks. Maybe instead of blowing up at Saguru, she would have the right words to talk him around to her point of view.

She is combative though, so the wall remains and arguments fester and she’s just so frustrated. By herself. By the men in her life. By Kid who seems to have heralded a downward trend in all her closest relationships. The only good thing lately has been Akako and even there Aoko’s frequently not sure what to make of her.

Koizumi Akako is the prettiest girl Aoko has ever met. She’s confident and charismatic and, yes she has a habit of luring in boys to get them to do what she wants, but honestly that’s just one more impressive thing about her. She can look at a guy and make him want to be ordered around. Aoko wishes she could give off that sort of charisma. Maybe Kaito would listen for once. And for all that Akako is queen of their little classroom kingdom—school kingdom? How many other classes know about her?—she’s only been nice to Aoko.

Aoko doesn’t get it really. It’s not like Aoko could offer Akako anything she couldn’t get elsewhere. It’s nice though.

Sometimes when Kaito is bickering with Hakuba and Keiko is visiting other friends, Aoko takes her lunch and eats with Akako. Akako always has something someone brought in for her to eat. Aoko’s never quite dared to ask if it’s been the same person twice.

Akako smiles sometimes when Aoko talks—mostly rambling anecdotes involving Kaito—and Aoko… sometimes Aoko feels something flutter in her when she does that. Akako doesn’t smile very often at other girls. She doesn’t really talk to her female classmates besides Aoko much at all.

It’s a lot like how Saguru’s flirting flusters her (Aoko doubts he means it. He always looks at Kaito when he thinks she’s distracted, almost like she’s a roundabout way of flirting with him.) It’s a lot like how she feels when Kaito conjures up a red rose, just like the one he gave her as a child. It’s all a mess of warm feelings and embarrassment at being singled out and hidden glee because it is her getting that attention, no one else.

Aoko has a lot of complicated feelings sometimes.

They’re mostly about Kaito. Sometimes they aren’t.

When Saguru and Kaito argue, they always get in each other’s faces in a way that they probably have no idea they’re doing. Today, though, they’re eating quietly, not looking at each other at all. They’re also not looking at her and Aoko wonders which of them will break first, her or Saguru. Their pride won’t let them apologize and she can’t quite let go of her irritation enough to do so either. Kaito’s not even smug about her choosing his side anymore. That’s Aoko’s fault too, losing her temper over his fanboying.

If Aoko was a little more someone else and a little less herself, maybe these messes wouldn’t keep happening so much.

*o*o*

“How are you always so confident?” Aoko asks in a moment of rare privacy.

Akako leans against the windowsill, watching sports teams drill down below on practice fields. Their work cleaning the classroom has been finished for a while, but she wanted to linger here. “You have to believe you’re above everyone,” Akako says. “If everyone is lesser, nothing they say or think can bring you down.”

“Oh.” Aoko grips her mop. “That sounds lonely.”

“If you truly believe it, you don’t feel lonely at all.” Akako looks at Aoko. Aoko’s hair is flyaway and messy from chasing Kaito earlier in class and there is a frown etching itself between her eyebrows. Akako reaches out and smooths the wrinkle between Aoko’s eyebrows away with her thumb. “That doesn’t mean friends are an impossibility though.”

Aoko doesn’t dodge her touch. “Is it friendship if you’re not equals?”

This girl. Akako wonders if she could possess her, snare her the way she does so many men’s hearts. But then if she did that, Aoko wouldn’t be Aoko anymore and there is something fascinating about Aoko’s simplicity. Akako grants her a smile. “I think,” she says, “that’s something you don’t have to worry about.” Aoko is practically Akako’s opposite, but she holds power over the one man Akako cannot. In a way it makes her closer to an equal than Aoko will ever know. “Trust yourself a bit more,” she says, pulling her hand away. “Confidence starts with loving yourself.”

*o*o*

“I apologize,” Saguru says stiffly. It grates against his pride, but when it comes down to it, he would rather not lose one of the few friendships he has. “I cannot change how I feel about the matter concerning Kid, but it was insensitive of me to bring the topic up so often in front of you. Kuroba is your friend and I admire your loyalty to him.” Even if it is misplaced.

Aoko watches him, wary as she had been from the moment he asked her to go to a café with him after school. Somewhere nearby, Kaito undoubtedly is spying on them. That knowledge makes it harder to do this than if he was sure they were alone.

“Kaito is my friend,” Aoko says. “I know why you think he’s Kid, but he’s Kaito.” She shrugs, a little helpless at putting words to everything Kaito encompasses to her. “And what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t defend him?”

Saguru realizes with a jolt of understanding that she’s already done something similar for Saguru’s sake. When Kaito’s comments get biting, she reigns him in just like when Saguru crosses a line from harmless bickering into pointed accusations, she calls him out for it too. “I see.”

Aoko smiles and it’s such a relief after being on her bad side for so long. It’s like the sun coming out. “I accept your apology, Hakuba-kun. You don’t have to apologize to Kaito. He’s already gotten back at you with enough pranks to make up for it. If anything he should probably be apologizing by this point.”

A server twitches a few tables away. Kaito is terrible at being subtle when Aoko is involved. “Not necessary,” Saguru says. “I’m hardly being passive toward the pranks.” He and Kaito bickered more than ever lately. It is almost funny since the only other person Kaito deigns to argue with is Aoko.

Aoko laughs. “I should help you prank him back sometime. It’s good to keep him on his toes.”

Saguru smiles, something warm and satisfied curling in his stomach. It was the right choice bending his pride.

He picks up the bill at the end of their talk. Aoko’s flustered blush is worth having his toes stomped on by the passing ‘server’.

*o*o*

“If you could ask one question and I’d answer it truthfully, what’d it be?” Kaito asks, lounging on the Nakamori’s couch. He’s juggling school supplies, pens and pencils and erasers that they had been using to do homework. He doesn’t look at Aoko because looking would make it seem like a serious question instead of casual. Can’t let her know he’s serious.

“Truthfully or straightforward?” Aoko shoots back. “Because those are different things.”

“Oof, it’s like you don’t trust me,” Kaito says, tossing the eraser her way.

Aoko smacks it out of the air back at him, and Kaito grabs it back into his juggling like he never threw it. “I know you hate giving a straight answer. You can say something true without really answering a question at all.”

“Hmm.” She did know him. Kaito supposes he’s been even worse than he was growing up these days too about avoiding things. “Fine. A non-evasive, truthful answer for a straightforward question. What would you ask?”

Aoko is quiet, too quiet, so he glances her way. She’s looking at him hard, like she’s trying to pick apart his thought processes, gauge how much sincerity is present in the question.

Kaito gives her a grin. “I mean, you could always ask if I like you,” he says with a wink.

Aoko huffs. “As if I want you to answer that!” He waits, expecting the next words out of her mouth to be ‘Are you Kaitou Kid?’ And waits. He stops juggling.

“It wasn’t supposed to be that deep,” he says as Aoko keeps frowning at him.

“Shush,” she says. Then, “If I ask something would you really answer?”

“Is that your question?”

Aoko’s glare could draw blood. Ow.

“I guess. Like Truth or Dare, only without the Dare or any fun consequences.”

“Are you okay, Kaito?” she asks, so serious that it makes his heart stutter. That’s her question.

“Hmm, that’s an interesting question to toss at a hypothetical,” he deflects.

“Kaito. You just said you’d answer.”

“In hypothetical.” He can’t do much against that scowl though, or the flash of disappointment on her face. He’s disappointed her a lot lately. It’s guilt that pushes him to be honest for once. It used to be easy to be honest to her once upon a time, but he’s barely honest to himself anymore let alone other people. “I’m not really sure how I’m doing,” he says. “Sometimes I feel like I’m doing okay, and other times I wonder what I’m doing with myself.”

“…For the future?”

“The future, the present…” Kaito shrugs. He’s barely said anything and he feels terribly exposed and vulnerable. It’s not a good feeling. He wants to wrap himself back up in one of his many personas and pretend he never asked that hypothetical. But Aoko’s still listening, expecting more from him. Somehow he knows that if he disappoints her here, he’s going to lose another strand of their fraying friendship. “I want to make my dad proud, to honor his memory, but I don’t know if I can do that. And I don’t know if I’m going about it the right way.”

Aoko, of course, doesn’t fill in the vague gaps with Kid, but with Kaito’s magician skills. “You’re good. You’re probably a better magician than most people twice your age, Kaito. Of course he’d be proud.”

Would he? Would he be proud to see Kaito wearing Kid’s persona and baiting the men who killed him? He’d left everything for Kaito to find. He’d left it so he could pick it up where his father left off, but… Kaito forces a laugh, practice making it sound genuine. “Yeah… You’re right. I’d probably be able to show him a trick or two these days.”

Aoko smiles back, but it’s pained. “Kaito… You don’t have to smile if you don’t feel like it.”

Kaito’s smile fades, still lingering at the corner of his mouth; it’s easier to smile than it is to frown, the expression practically engrained. “I know,” he says, giving her one last bit of honesty before he has to lie again. “But it’s what I do. I smile and make jokes and try to make other people smile because that makes me want to smile. You know?”

“Yeah,” Aoko says with a sigh. “I know.” She bites her lip, hesitating to say something. “Kaito? What would you ask me?”

“Hmm.” Kaito let his hands start juggling again. “How about… what underwear are you wearing today?”

“Kaito!”

He dodges a book, laughing. Aoko throws another and he adds it to his juggling routine for a moment before he has to roll off the couch entirely.

“You’re awful,” Aoko complains, throwing whatever won’t break at him, though she doesn’t get up to grab a broom.

Kaito laughs and Aoko doesn’t ask him again.

Kaito’s not sure he wants to know the answer to “What couldn’t you forgive?”

*o*o*

“Aoko. Earth to Aoko? You awake or are you sleeping with your eyes open?”

Aoko twitches as Keiko’s hand waves in front of her face. “I’m awake! I’m just…” She glances back across the room. Saguru is sitting reading a book, his lunch long finished. By some odd whim of fate, Akako’s sitting near him today, her usual gaggle of eager-to-please boys sent away so she could enjoy her meal in private today. Normally Aoko would be distracted with Kaito at lunch, but he’s off doing some errand, probably planning on skipping the second half of school. She should be annoyed by that. Instead Aoko can’t stop looking at her friends.

“…Something you want to tell me about?” Keiko asks with an eyebrow raised. “Kuroba-kun finally have some competition?” She grins, inviting Aoko to laugh like it’s a joke and…

And Aoko’s not sure it is a joke really. “It’s not like that,” she says. It can’t be because she likes Kaito, right? She’s liked him for years and years and she would never in a million years admit she’s thought of having a wedding and maybe—maybe—eventually having a kid with Kaito’s blue eyes and messy hair and mischievous smile, but she knows she’s in love with him. So there’s no reason for her eyes to stray to Saguru. He flirts, yes, but he probably doesn’t mean it. He’s just trying to mess with Kaito. There’s even less reason for her to look at Akako. Admiration is one thing. Aoko admires plenty of women. But when she looks at Akako lately, it’s not just respect and friendship. Aoko doesn’t know what to do with any of that. “It’s… it’s not.”

Keiko blinks. She follows Aoko’s eyes, looking at Saguru mostly because why would she think it would be both of them? “Huh.”

“I like Kaito,” Aoko says, but it’s not as resolute as she’d like.

“Well,” Keiko says slowly, “if Kaito never gets his head on straight, you probably have a pretty good chance with Hakuba-kun. He’s already asked you out once.”

“That was because he wanted to make Kaito mad.”

Keiko tilts her head, considering it, then shrugs. “But you know, you’re the only girl in class he talks to really. So if it was anyone here, it’d be you.”

Akako notices Aoko looking her direction and smiles. Aoko hopes she isn’t blushing, but she probably is. Saguru is still fully engrossed in his novel. He probably wouldn’t notice anything short of a murder or an alarm going off.

Keiko reconsiders where Aoko’s looking. “…Or Akako-chan might be into you too? I mean, she doesn’t do anything with the boys other than jerk them around to do her bidding. She actually smiles at you.”

Aoko buries her burning face in her hands. “I like Kaito.”

“And I like pretty celebrity boy bands,” Keiko says. “It’s not weird to be into more than one person.”

“I never have been.” Aoko peeks out between her fingers. Akako is smiling like she knows exactly what Aoko is thinking and that’s embarrassing as hell. “Is it wrong to like that they actually want to talk to me?”

“Aoko, if Kaito’s not wanting to talk to you, he really doesn’t deserve you even if you are cute together.”

“He does want to talk to me,” Aoko argues. “It’s just we’ve known each other so long he just… expects me to always be around or something. And he’s been busy with something a lot lately and he never tells me what.”

“And they’re not doing that, right?”

“No. But I don’t know them that well yet. And I don’t know if I even want to be interested let alone if they are back.”

Keiko gives Aoko a reassuring pat on the arm. “It’s ok. We’re teenagers. It’s not like we have to have everything figured out yet. If you want to try dating someone who isn’t Kaito, it’s not like he has any say in it.”

That was a good point. But Aoko knows she’s not the sort to be able to casually date. She should be glad she has so many attractive friends and just get on with life. Or just screw up the courage to ask Kaito out so she doesn’t have to tie herself in knots. If she’s dating, she can let go of the other feelings, right?

But wouldn’t that mean she could let go of Kaito if she was dating someone else?

Aoko shakes her head. Emotions sucked. When she looks at the others again, Akako has a notebook out and Saguru has reached the last few pages of his novel and has a look of hyper-focus that is weirdly cute. Aoko doesn’t know what her heart is doing.

“You’ll figure it out,” Keiko says.

Aoko really hopes she’s right.

*o*o*

Kaito is so used to threats being aimed his way, he forgot to worry about people he loved getting caught in the crossfire. Nakamori could take care of himself. Hakuba has police power backing him as the commissioner’s son, Jii has his magician skills, and Kaito’s mother is in another country ninety percent of the time. Aoko? Kaito wouldn’t say Aoko is a pushover—her quick hand and a hard hitting mop skills are terrifying—but she isn’t used to danger like the rest of them are.

So when a man baiting Kid grabs her as a hostage from a crowd, taking her away with a challenge for her safety… Kaito is embarrassed to admit that he freezes up in panic. It’s Aoko and her safety is and will always be more important to him than his own. But because he froze, it gives the guy just enough time to get away.

“Stupid,” Kaito berates himself. He’s climbing stairs, following the clue left to him, one of several. What was the point of his Poker Face if he fails to use it when he needs it?

The top of the stairs are empty. Another false lead, the new clue tucked innocently in a potted plant of a rooftop garden. He skims it, mind whirling to the next place. He only hopes that Aoko is actually at the end of this chase, still whole and healthy. He crumples the paper. The map is forming in his mind, lines of paths crossing and doubling back. He dashes toward the stairs only to freeze as he finds Saguru coming up them.

“You have the next clue?” Saguru asks, out of breath and deathly serious.

Kaito stares. “Excuse me?”

“The person who took Nakamori-chan. His clue,” Saguru says. “You aren’t being subtle right now, Kid. A child could follow you.”

A child like Edogawa maybe, Kaito thinks, but that doesn’t explain why Saguru is here.

“What?” Saguru snaps. “You don’t think you’re the only one who cares about her, do you? Nakamori-keibu is frantic. I’ve been trying to catch up since the first clue.”

“I’m not Kuro—”

“I’m not here to catch you today!” Saguru says, exasperated. “Give me the clue.”

Kaito points over his shoulder and vaults over the edge of the stairs to the next flight below. Saguru swears above him, but there’s no time. He has to reach the end of the puzzle. He has to get to Aoko before she’s hurt or killed or anything else terrible.

He runs into Akako on the ground floor landing, almost running headlong into her.

“Akako—”

“Shush. You’re playing into this man’s game and panicking. You need to get a step ahead.”

“I’m trying but he didn’t leave any traces!”

Akako raises an eyebrow and holds up a phone charm that is usually dangling cheerfully from Aoko’s cell phone. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

Kaito blinks. Stops. “You’re helping?” Akako. Akako who wants to control him is helping him find the woman he loves. “What’s the catch?”

Akako tosses her hair. “Excuse me, but there doesn’t need to be a catch, Kuroba. I don’t want Aoko-chan hurt either.”

“Since when are you friends?”

“Do you pay any attention to her life?” Akako asks derisively.

Kaito bristles, because it hits a little too close to home with how busy his life has become since Kid. There isn’t the same time to keep up with Aoko’s life. It’s safer to keep a bit of distance too. Or so he thought. Maybe he’s wrong if she’s started trying to actually befriend people like Akako.

Saguru’s heavy footsteps clatter down the stairs above them and he appears around the bend in the stairs and freezes. “Koizumi-san?” he wheezes. He needs to work on his stamina, Kaito notes offhandedly.

Akako presses Aoko’s charm into Kaito’s hand. “That will get you where you need to go, no games necessary.” She turns and smiles at Saguru and Saguru freezes like a squirrel faced with a hungry-looking cat. “Wonderful timing, Hakuba-kun. You can mobilize the police while Kid goes and saves Aoko-chan.”

“What?” Saguru’s eyes flick to Kaito, but Kaito takes that as a cue to move toward the door. “What are you even doing here?”

“Shh,” Akako says. “It’s fine. He has his role and you have yours. You’re going to make sure this kidnapper gets what’s coming to him.”

Kaito doesn’t hear anything after that. The charm in his hand twitches in the direction he needs to go, like there’s a thread tugging it gently. Help from Akako and Saguru isn’t what he expected, but he is hardly going to pretend he doesn’t want it.

It’s practically a straight path compared to before, the charm tugging lightly where he needs to be. Kaito has never moved faster, never felt his mind so focused. If anything happened to Aoko… He wouldn’t forgive himself. It’s Kid this person is after and—knowingly or not—they took the person that matters most.

The charm leads to an old apartment building, one recently closed and slated for demolition in several weeks. Definitely not the sort of place anyone would look for ongoing shady activity. Maybe a homeless person trying to break in, but not the sort of area that’s high crime. Kaito climbs the roof of the building across the street, eyes glued on dirty glass and several boarded up windows. There’s no light inside, nothing to give someone away. If there is any light in there, it’s behind the boarded up windows. The locks, from what he can see from a distance, are cheap; old and simple. Easy to pick. There’s no way to tell how many people might be there with her. No way to know if it’s not all just rigged to blow up if he opens the right door.

Kaito slips back to the ground and crosses closer. The charm pulls firmer now like the proximity gives it strength. He slides cat-footed along abandoned doors, waiting for an indication that it’s the right one.

It’s the very last in the row, and it has cameras hidden close by. Kaito almost walks into sight before spotting the dim glint off its lens. Cameras probably meant someone waiting inside who needed warning for security.

Kaito bites his lip. There are a lot of apartments in the block, but this one is the highest and on a corner… More defensible. But he should be able to… In moments, Kaito picks the lock of the adjacent apartment. Inside it is dim and the air is stale. There’s a mold stain growing on the ceiling. Kaito moves silently to the bathroom. Bathrooms have vents, and vents went places. The vents in the building would be connected just for efficiency’s sake, and he has a pocket full of sleeping gas bombs.

The vent panel comes off easily and it is too simple to fish a line through to the adjacent vent next door. It’s imprecise doing this. The gas will leak into the next room, yes, but he can’t guarantee how much and he has to be careful not to send through too high a dose. As soon as Kaito sets it off, he blocks off the vent on this side and waits, counting seconds.

There is no sound from the other room.

He waits a bit longer.

There’s still no sound, but he’s not waiting any longer. Kaito ghosts back out of the apartment and circles the cameras. It’s child’s play by now to disable them. He doesn’t have his tech on hand to loop, but it’s fine. It’s fine because the person watching is hopefully out cold. He tries not to think of Aoko, scared and hostage, feeling panic as unconsciousness claimed her too.

The door is locked and barred, but he’s hardly going to be kept out by a few bits of metal. A few minutes later, he enters the room, respirator over his face to keep from breathing gas.

The setup is like something out of a crime drama, a conspiracy board full of notes and photos, half of which are Kid, and a mess of papers and trash scattered along the floor. A laptop is set up to the side in the main room. It had been playing the camera feed, now blank with the cameras disabled. The kidnapper is a jumble of weedy limbs, thin arms and legs akimbo as he’d probably passed out standing up. By some stroke of fortune, he was close to the bathroom when the gas was released.

The charm in Kaito’s hand almost tugs itself free when he spots Aoko. She’s in the boarded up kitchen, dust and grimy bits of tile counter on the floor around her, Aoko herself slumped in the space that—from the stains on the wall—once held the refrigerator. Her hands are tied behind her back and there is a bruise forming on her face, but when Kaito checks her pulse, it’s a steady, healthy rhythm.

Kaito breathes a shaky sigh of relief. She’s okay. She’s still alive and whole. Probably traumatized, but okay.

He pulls out his burner phone. “Tantei-san,” he says when Saguru picks up. “I have her.” Kaito rattles off the address.

“The kidnapper?” Saguru asks, wasting no time on details.

“Unconscious.” Kaito unties Aoko and carries the ropes over to truss up the man. He’s not gentle about it. “I’m tying him up now.” The man won’t be losing any limbs, but if he has a bit of pain later… Kaito pushes that dark thought down and away.

“Good,” Saguru says, his cold tone and echo of Kaito’s thoughts.

Kaito looks at the conspiracy board and sighs. “I think he’s something of a Kid fan. Or maybe not a fan exactly but…”

“Obsessed with?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s a good thing the nearest division of police force happens to be well versed in Kid related incidents,” Saguru says, almost a grim joke.

Kaito snorts before he can stop himself. This is a mess. “I won’t stay to get arrested, but I won’t leave her to wake alone either.”

“Of course. The police will be there within fifteen minutes.”

Kaito hangs up without saying goodbye. He’s done his part, now it’s Saguru’s job to do the rest.

The charm Akako gave him is inert now, its purpose fulfilled as soon as he touched Aoko. He tucks it into one of Aoko’s pockets. Her sleeping face is slack, showing none of the stress and anger she’s going to feel once she’s awake. He brushes his thumb over the bruise, light as picking a pocket. Guilt and regret burn in him. This shouldn’t have happened. He knows it was outside of his control, but it shouldn’t have happened, and certainly not to Aoko.

It’s barely a minute later that she stirs. The gas must not have traveled very well after all, just filling everything enough to knock the apartment occupants out. Her eyes flutter. He waits, watching awareness return. Confusion. The stiffness as she realizes where she is. A moment of raw fear, then anger so fast it must be like a mental whiplash. Or not, since anger is the default response to anything unpleasant for the Nakamori blood line. Her eyes pin on him and she tries to move, anger clear on her face.

“Shh.” Kaito catches her before she can fall on her face. “The police are on their way. He won’t hurt you again.”

“Kid,” Aoko slurs. “You…”

“Can’t ignore someone being abducted from one of my shows can I?” he asks with a showy wink. Poker face is in place, the wide-smiling mask. “That’s just rude.”

“Why did you have to be the one…” she mumbles.

“I’m better at getting places,” he says gently. “Don’t worry. A white knight is on the way to save you, princess.”

Aoko glares groggily at him. She looks like she did as a child when he slept over and they stayed up too late and Kaito woke them too early the next morning. Tired and ruffled and annoyed.

“It’s going to be fine,” Kaito says, making himself look away before he does something that reveals his identity.

“Where’s the guy…?”

“Tied up and gagged in a corner,” Kaito says. He can hear sirens now. “You don’t have to be scared.”

Aoko scowls. “I wasn’t that scared. I was mostly just angry. And it’s your fault anyway.”

Kaito’s grin falters. “Yeah. My apologies. I’ll have to pay more attention to crazies I might bring out of the woodwork.” The sirens are very close. Kaito stands and Aoko tracks him, looking a little nervous of him in a way that honestly hurts him inside. “It’s going to be fine,” he repeats. “I’m going to the roof. No one will come or go unless it’s the police. I won’t let them.”

“I don’t get you,” Aoko admits. “I don’t get you at all.”

An honest, wry smile touches Kaito’s lips. “That’s kind of the point. What kind of phantom thief would I be if someone understood me?”

Her eyes burn on his back as Kaito leaves here there, untied and wobbly-limbed as she tries to move with the lingering after effects of the gas. When Saguru finally leads the charge up the stairs, Kaito fades away into the night. Saguru will ensure justice will be served. Kaito can’t be there for Aoko dressed like this anyway.

*o*o*

“Thank you,” Kaito says much later, perched in Akako’s window. It went against his better judgment to be here, but he had to say something. Maybe with positive reinforcement she’d be a bit less creepy about things going forward.

Akako gives him her familiar smirk. “Please, Kuroba, I helped for Nakamori-chan’s sake, not yours.”

“And I suppose me owing you a debt is secondary.”

“Do you feel you owe me something?” she says, head tilted and eyes calculated. “I could always ask for a date.”

“And I’d politely decline like always,” Kaito says.

“Politely,” she echoes with a snort.

“I didn’t know you considered Aoko a friend,” Kaito says after a moment.

Akako shrugs. “She considers me one. For the moment, I find it interesting to have another woman to talk to who isn’t angry that I’ve stolen her man.” She smirks. “For the moment.”

“Very funny.” Kaito sighs. “Look. I appreciate you helping Aoko. Provided you don’t need anything illegal or mind bendy in the future, you have one favor from me.”

“Only one? You never did repay me for my help at your heist.” She flutters eyelashes at him all fake demure.

Kaito is deeply unimpressed. “Yeah, you’re not getting more than the one. I could have figured something out back then. Today I didn’t have the ability to get to Aoko quickly on my own. So yeah, I only owe you one.”

Akako laughs. “I’ll take that then. But you will sway to me eventually.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“Are you going to thank Hakuba-kun too?”

Kaito grimaces. “Yeah, no. He got to be the hero after all. That’s reward enough.”

“So you’re never going to tell her then?” Akako asks, a surprisingly non-judgmental expression on her face, merely curiosity like his answer doesn’t matter one way or another.

“She hates Kid,” Kaito says. “It’s probably safer this way anyway.”

“Hmm.” Akako shrugs and waves a hand. “Goodnight, Kaito,” she says in clear dismissal.

Kaito rolls his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. See ya.” He drops from her windowsill, more than ready to leave.

*o*o*

Akako watches, with some bemusement, as Saguru makes Aoko blush with a simple bow and an enquiry about her health the day after her kidnapping scare. It’s nothing he hasn’t done before. It’s nothing Aoko hasn’t blushed over before either, but there’s something more to it this time, either in Saguru’s actions, or Aoko’s response. Surprisingly, Kaito isn’t interfering or even glaring Saguru down. He looks regretful if anything, probably because it happened in the first place.

“I’m fine,” Aoko says. “I’m just annoyed I didn’t get to punch the guy in the face.” She wrinkles her nose. “And that Kid was the one to find me.”

“Yes, well…” Saguru coughs. “He does seem to hold the welfare of bystanders seriously. I suppose it is one of his few good points.”

“There wouldn’t be bystanders if he wasn’t out there in the first place,” Aoko says, but she shrugs. “Anyway, thanks again for coming to get me.”

Saguru was the one who ultimately rescued her, Akako knows. Who she saw when her whole consciousness returned. Akako watched from afar. It must be killing Kaito to have left her to Saguru. Kaito is pretending not to listen, but he can’t hide how he’s not doing anything active or the way his head is tilted to hear them talk. He’s such a fool sometimes, Akako doesn’t know why she wants him.

“Of course,” Saguru says, with another little bow that has Aoko’s face turning pinker. “I wouldn’t leave you in danger. I’m glad you are alright, Nakamori-chan.” He gives her a nod and smile and leaves her be, a briefer encounter than usual, but less flirting and still Aoko’s blushing.

Akako can’t help but poke at that. “It wouldn’t hurt to choose him,” she says. “He’s at least a gentleman.”

“It’s not like that, Akako-chan,” Aoko says with a sigh, face still pink. She glances back at Saguru as he slides into his seat, and a quick darting look at Kaito staring off at nothing, shoulders still a bit too tense to be daydreaming.

“Well,” Akako drawls, “he doesn’t flip your skirt, he asks about your wellbeing, and he treats you kindly.”

“You know that shoving me at Hakuba-kun isn’t going to change things with Kaito, right?” Aoko says, blunt and almost cruel with how direct her words hit. She doesn’t look like she means it to hurt, but Akako’s breath catches for a moment, not expecting this at all. “Hakuba-kun doesn’t mean any of it for real, and even if Kaito is Kaito…” She can’t make herself say the words out loud, her face flushing deeper. “No one can make Kaito do what he doesn’t want to anyway.”

Akako lets out a slow breath, letting go of her shock. “I am aware. For once,” she says, a bit of hurt curling in her, “this isn’t me trying to attract Kuroba’s attention. I’m merely pointing out that between the two of them, Hakuba-kun treats you better.”

Aoko looks down at her hands where her fingers twist together. “I know.” Aoko bites her lip. “Even if I like Hakuba-kun…”

“Kuroba is Kuroba,” Akako finishes, resigned. She didn’t really expect anything different. “Well,” Akako says, letting her usual smirk cross her face. It’s a familiar expression, and this must be for her what Kuroba’s smile is to him; a defense and a place to hide behind to get back to equilibrium. “If you ever decide they’re too much trouble, you could always fall for me,” she says. It’s a thought she’s entertained lately, more often than she likes. She’s not supposed to actually be interested in people, they’re just supposed to want her. Blast Kaito and Aoko both.

Aoko’s eyes go wide and if her cheeks get any redder, she might combust. “That’s—you—don’t joke, please!” she sputters.

Akako gives her a wink and a chuckle and Aoko hides her face in her hands.

*o*o*

Aoko isn’t sure what to feel, where to look. She isn’t even sure how they all got here, sitting together in a park and not fighting. For the moment, Kaito is showing Saguru how to pick a lock—because a magician needed to know and Saguru had run into a case where it would have helped to know it recently. Saguru isn’t even making any comments about how it’s a thief’s skill. Akako has a book, laying out in the grass with her feet in Aoko’s lap. She looks her age for once, not tempting anyone. Aoko could reach out and— Aoko squashes that thought.

Akako suggested a walk. Aoko suggested a picnic. Kaito had complained and yet invited Saguru along and it is all better than Aoko could have imagined, seeing everyone getting along. They don’t like each other even if she’s friends with them all. But they’re here because an outing sounded fun, and Aoko brought rice balls and Saguru brought sandwiches his housekeeper made, and Akako got some kind of delicate pastry from someplace Aoko probably wouldn’t set foot in because the price tag on a single item would be her week’s worth of grocery money. Kaito, of course, brought nothing, but he was at least considerate enough to go buy drinks from a vending machine.

He’d juggled the bottles. He’d looked her in the eye and smiled and didn’t flip her skirt for once. Aoko’s starting to wonder if this whole thing is a dream, or if there was something in the food they ate. Akako’s pastries were too delicious to be normal.

Akako’s toes prod her knee. “Relax,” Akako says. “It’s okay to enjoy the moment.”

“I feel like I’m going to blink and it’ll end badly,” Aoko admits softly. She can see the edge of a smile past Akako’s book. The book isn’t in Japanese. It might not even be in English since it’s not any words Aoko recognizes on the cover.

“Hakuba-kun and Kuroba-kun are a bit too similar at times,” Akako says. “And exact opposites in others. It’s about time they had a moment where they could talk on the same level.”

“Kaito should just ask him about science,” Aoko says, because she’s heard from Saguru about lab work he’s done in his grandfather’s lab, and from Kaito about trying to get the chemical makeup of a new smoke bomb, adhesive, something just right. Maybe she needs to just setup the topic sometime and let them talk until they were friends.

“Kuroba-kun would think it was a lead in to entrapment.”

“Well then Kaito needs to bring up something to him.”

“Hm. Not likely.” Akako’s grin grows to show teeth. Aoko pinches one of her toes between her fingers in retaliation and Akako twitches, giggling. Oh, she’s ticklish. It’s a tiny thing, but it makes Akako feel so much more reachable all of a sudden. If Aoko was a bit more like Kaito, she’d probably take advantage of that. Instead, she grins back, leaving her hand on Akako’s foot.

“It’s about tension,” Kaito corrects. “You try to use force and you’re just going to snap the tool off in the lock. Delicately.”

“I don’t think this sort of lock would have been useful for the situation I found myself in anyway,” Saguru says with a sigh of frustration.

“You do lab work. Pretend it’s a chemical you’re trying to measure carefully. Also, all experience is experience. How can you get a skill if you don’t practice?”

“How do you practice?”

“I’m past that level. In general, I’m practicing constantly.” As if to prove a point, Kaito starts shuffling cards. “Or are you not constantly practicing observation?”

Aoko snorts. It’s so them, just that edge of competitiveness and irritation even as they’re getting along…

Aoko wants there to be more of this.

*o*o*

It’s like some sort of barrier was removed, Aoko thinks, because it’s like Akako and Saguru are suddenly around all the time. As much as Kaito at least, if not more. Aoko’s not sure what to do with it, and from Keiko’s bemused expression when Akako actually decides to join their little lunch group on several occasions, she doesn’t either.

“Am I imagining things?” Aoko asks Keiko, sitting in Keiko’s room with Keiko’s cat purring away soothingly in her arms.

“No, they’re definitely spending more time around you,” Keiko says. Their homework is abandoned on the floor, half-written English sentences impossible to focus on today. “Hakuba-kun is definitely into you though.”

“You think?” He has actually been flirting less lately. Yet another thing Aoko doesn’t know what to do with. “I thought he was just moving more firmly toward being friends.”

“He brings extra sweets for you when his housekeeper bakes.”

“He shares with all of us.”

“And he always gives you more,” Keiko says, undeterred. “He watches you when he’s not watching Kaito-kun. And he does still flirt, he just knows you better now and actually has things to talk about.”

“Okay, putting aside Hakuba-kun. Akako-chan??” Aoko scratches under the cat’s chin and claws prick her thighs as the cat kneads happily.

“Friendship?” Keiko says, not sounding very sure. “She might be using you to get to Kaito-kun.”

“She gives me more attention than him these days.”

“Maybe she’s into you too?” Keiko says, almost like it’s a joke. Almost.

Aoko hugs the cat tight, so glad that it’s the agreeable cuddly sort because instead of wiggling free, it just keeps purring. “Keiko,” Aoko whines. “Stop.”

“You said she watches you. Also, has she ever dated any of the guys she surrounds herself with?”

“Does she have to date any of them when she clearly likes them liking her?” Aoko asks.

“She likes attention. That’s not the same as liking guys.”

“Maybe she likes both?”

They both sit a moment contemplating this. “I still say she doesn’t treat you like she does most people,” Keiko says after a moment.

“I think we’re friends?” Aoko says. “Probably?” Is anyone truly friends with Akako or did her sheer personality just exert itself on whoever she deigned to give attention to?

“Okay,” Keiko says. Then, “If you could date any of them, who would you choose?”

“Keiko. No.”

*o*o*

In retrospect, Saguru thinks, the kiss was poorly timed. In the moment, however, his own nerves had thrown environmental awareness out the window.

The kiss had felt right. A nice walk together, a pleasing conversation, both of them leaning toward each other, Aoko’s eyes fixed on his face much as his were fixed on hers. She’d kissed back, eyes fluttering shut for a moment like it was a relief, like it was wanted and good for her as well. But then she’d opened her eyes. Then she’d looked past Saguru and “Kaito” left her lips and Saguru had looked and seen Kaito staring with open hurt in his expression, not a mask in sight.

And so Saguru regretted.

Aoko left, chasing Kaito almost half an hour ago. Saguru can’t quite bring himself to move. He can’t apologize; he meant that kiss and it isn’t up to Kaito who Aoko does or doesn’t kiss. At the same time, he is something like friends with Kaito. Not quite a friend, but not an enemy anymore either, and Saguru kissed Aoko knowing Kaito likes her as well. In that moment he just hadn’t cared.

A touch to his elbow jars him out of a spiral of self-denigration. “Koizumi-san,” he says. He can’t quite muster anything more than that, or anything beyond dull surprise to see her at a local park. Akako is not the sort of woman to take leisurely strolls.

“Hakuba-kun,” she returns, giving him an imperious nod. She has always had the presence of someone who expects the world to bend to her, regal at times, overbearing at others. It irritates him, when he pauses to think about her, how she has the ability to draw his eye even when he knows better and isn’t terribly attracted to her at all on a personal level.

Although the Akako he has grown to know in recent weeks is much more friendly and tolerable than the persona she wears amidst her fanatical would-be beaus.

She takes a seat next to him on the park bench without asking if she’s welcome. He should ignore her and yet…

“I made a mistake,” he says, giving in to the urge to confess to someone. “I believe I’ve ruined everything. With Nakamori-chan.” He pauses. “And Kuroba.”

“I don’t think you’ve ruined everything yet,” Akako says, serene.

Saguru turns toward her. “I kissed Nakamori-chan. Kuroba saw it, and everyone knows he likes Nakamori-chan. And she likes him back. It’s obvious. I knew I shouldn’t but I got caught up in the moment and I’ve undoubtedly lost Aoko as a friend.” Lost Kaito and whatever good will they were working toward. He’s actually been happy lately. Not just with his case work, but with his social life. Namely because he has one that isn’t composed entirely of people twice his age for once.

Akako pats his arm in the same sort of absent way a person pats a dog that they’re fond of, but find a bit pathetic. It isn’t the sort of touch that should make him relax, but he does. “Have a bit more faith in Aoko-chan. She isn’t going to drop you as a friend over a kiss. Besides, she kissed back, didn’t she?”

“How…?” Akako had not been anywhere near that Saguru noticed. Granted he hadn’t exactly noticed Kaito either.

Another pat. “I’ve been keeping track of how things progress. Aoko-chan’s full of surprises lately.”

Something in her smile makes Saguru shift uncomfortably. It’s a bit too satisfied and predatory for his mind to dismiss it.

“She won’t let Kaito-kun be a fool,” she says. “Although if you’re in the mood to be open with yourself emotionally today, you might as well admit where Kaito-kun fits in with everything.”

“Pardon?” Saguru says, finally finding the will to pull his arm free of her absent patting.

Akako gives him a knowing look. “It’s fine to be attracted to both of them. I am as well. They’re forces of nature; it’s hard to look away.”

Saguru digests that. It’s no secret Akako likes Kaito. He hadn’t been aware that Aoko was included in her interests. It would explain the increasing number of meals she shares with them of late. “Forces of nature?”

“They draw all eyes in a room when they interact. It’s a pleasure to watch.”

Saguru finds the mop-and-magic battles a bit irritating most days. But if he looks at them as a pure example of skill and how their bodies move…

“It will work out,” Akako says with a pat to his shoulder this time instead. She stands and dusts off an already immaculate skirt. “Shall we?”

“Shall we what?”

“Go meet them and finish the conversation?”

Baffled, Saguru takes her offered hand. At the very least he owes them an apology. He might as well get it out of the way now.

*o*o*

Aoko runs, chasing after Kaito without hesitation. She’s leaving Saguru behind, but it’s Kaito. She can’t watch him run away with that look, like she’d sucker punched him in the solar plexus with a mop swing because he’d been a bit too slow to dodge. Kaito at his best can outrun and out-hide her best efforts. Kaito in emotional distress she’s seen before, and is a lot easier to predict than a Kaito with his full mental capabilities working.

Kaito, when unhappy, has always tended to go up. Up trees, to rooftops, tables—she’s seen him climb an awful lot of odd things over the years as his subconscious mind urges him to get some kind of distance from the rest of the world like physical proximity can have an actual effect on the mental mess tangling up inside him. This time is no different.

She finds him up on top of the playground equipment, perched on top of the castle roof that wasn’t meant to be climbed on. It’s late enough in the day that there aren’t children here playing. Kaito’s face is an open portrait of misery that closes off the second he notices he’s not alone.

It hurts to watch that. How often does he do that that she doesn’t notice? How much lately does he just paper over whatever he feels with another layer of a mask?

“Go away,” Kaito says. “Go back to kissing Hakuba.”

“For the record,” Aoko says, shoving down her instinctual anger and hurt, “he kissed me.”

“You kissed back.” He adds, barely audible, “And you like him.”

“I’ve liked you longer,” Aoko says, not quite sure where the bravery to say it to Kaito’s face comes from. Maybe it’s the thought of losing him completely if she doesn’t. His expression still gives nothing away as she searches it. “I like you. I’ve liked you probably since you gave me that flower at the clock tower. Or how you were there when mom…” She swallows. “I’ve liked you a long time and maybe I do like Hakuba-kun too, but it’s always been you, Kaito. I’ve always seen you if I think about the future.”

Kaito looks at her like she’s a puzzle. Like there’s a catch or a limit or something that would make her words mean less.

Aoko takes a breath. “And… and liking more than one person doesn’t mean I like you less. You’re Kaito. You’re the person who teases me and gets my mind off things when I’m sad and who watches silly movies with me and who’s always there when I really need you. Hakuba-kun or Akako-chan or… or someone isn’t going to ever take your place.”

“Akako?” Kaito asks, latching onto that, and Aoko blushes. She didn’t mean to say that. It isn’t like she’s even sure Akako meant any more than teasing and she likes boys more, but Akako and—!

Aoko covers her face, mortified to have blurted that secret out. When she dares peek through her fingers, Kaito has one eyebrow raised.

“Okay, I get that girls are pretty, but Akako?” he says.

“She’s really pretty,” Aoko mumbles. “And has a nice smile. And she’s really nice sometimes.”

“Nice,” Kaito repeats, incredulous. “Akako.”

“She is!” Aoko scowls. “We’ve gone shopping lately together and—” And Kaito changed the topic on her. “Never mind! I like Akako and Hakuba and you, Bakaito!” She lets herself be vulnerable one more time, hoping he won’t just brush her off. “And even though I feel those things for them too, I’d never act on them if it hurt you.”

Kaito looks at her for a long, inscrutable moment before sighing, going boneless against the playground equipment with his feet dangling over the side. “You have such bad taste in people. Akako and Hakuba.”

“I have taste in you,” Aoko points out, annoyed.

“I know. Terrible,” Kaito says in a way that she can’t tell if he’s joking or not. He bites his lip, a tiny sign of vulnerability in return. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say whether you like me back,” Aoko prods. “And whether you want to date me.” It kind of hurts that he hasn’t said anything yet in response to her pouring her heart out.

“Aoko, you don’t want to date me.”

“And you don’t want me to date anyone else apparently!” Aoko snaps, losing her temper.

He flinches, face twisting, because that must have been pretty on the head of the nail. “Aoko.”

“No, Kaito. I don’t get mad when you flirt with the girls in class. I don’t get mad at Akako-chan for flirting with you. But you always get mad at Hakuba for flirting with me.” Aoko throws a hand up. “And as much as you complain about each other, you’re close!”

“We’re not—”

“You let him in your personal space and he lets you in too, and you two do that with barely anyone!” Why are boys so stupid? Why does she even have to have this conversation? “Just be honest with me for once!”

Kaito stares down at her as Aoko breathes too heavily and tries not to burst into frustrated tears. He slides off the playground equipment, landing lightly as a gymnast on the ground in front of her. “I’m not good at honest,” he says quietly.

“Well, try.”

He reaches for her and Aoko steps closer instinctively. Callused fingers brush her cheek, light enough that it almost tickles. “I… I do like you Aoko. And Hakuba’s an ass but he’s not terrible, and. Okay, Akako scares the hell out of me sometimes, but she can be okay. Sometimes. When she’s not seducing people all creepy like.” He sighs. Aoko looks into his eyes even as he keeps shifting his gaze away, uncomfortable to be open. This isn’t how they do things. They’re all about unspoken understandings and talking around subjects, but that hasn’t been working for a while now. For once they’ll just have to bear the discomfort and talk. “But. Aoko…” His hand falls away. Aoko reaches out and catches it in her hands before he can think about stepping away. “There’s things I haven’t told you about. If I say it out loud, you’re not going to like me anymore.” He smiles, self-deprecating. “I’m a bit too selfish in wanting to keep you a little longer.”

“There’s nothing you can say that would make me hate you,” Aoko says with conviction. “Make me angry, yes, but I don’t think I’m capable of hating you.”

“You say that now,” he says. Kaito’s smile goes even more strained at the edges.

Part of her knows where this is leading. It’s the same part of her that she is continually shutting behind mental doors. The same part of her that shut away the first stirrings of attraction she’d felt toward Saguru and Akako, trying to smother them before they got strong enough to acknowledge. But those feelings just grew, just like the understanding she’s ignoring is growing, pushing at the blinders she’s put on.

“Aoko, I’m—”

“Koizumi-san, we’re intruding,” Saguru says a bit louder than he probably means to.

Kaito’s jaw snaps shut and Aoko turns with him. Saguru tugs at Akako’s grip around his wrist, surprisingly strong, looking embarrassed.

“Apologies,” Saguru says. “We’ll leave now. Koizumi-san, let go.”

Akako smiles and pats his arm condescendingly. “Well. Before you continue, I’m making the situation clear. I’m fond of Aoko-chan and Kaito-kun,” she says. “Hakuba-kun is fond of Aoko-chan and Kaito-kun.” Saguru sputters and Kaito stares, not expecting that at all. “Aoko-chan is fond of Kaito-kun, Saguru-kun, and myself.” She winks at Aoko. “And Kaito-kun is fond of Aoko-chan, and perhaps at least a bit interested in Saguru-kun.”

“According to who?!” Kaito chokes.

Akako gives him a look like he’s a speck of dust she’s found on a sleeve of a very nice white dress. “If anyone is paying attention to you, you can be assured I am, and I’ve made a point of noting how you act when you have certain emotions. As disappointing as it is, I am aware you don’t have those feelings for me and probably never will. More’s the pity.”

“Whatever,” Kaito says. “So you’re saying we’re in the most awkward love-quadrangle possible. Great. Big whoop.”

“And coincidentally it involves people who know your secrets or your past,” Akako says, “and yet not both at once. It has been difficult being yourself of late, hmm? And yet you could make a few choices and end up with three people who you don’t have to lie to at all.”

Kaito opens his mouth and Aoko sees the fear there, in the tension around his eyes. Before he can speak, she touches his face, bringing his attention back to her. “Kaito?”

He visibly struggles with something for a moment. “You say that,” he says to Koizumi, “but one of you wants to get me arrested, you want to trap me, and Aoko’s going to hate me.” He keeps meeting Aoko’s eyes. “Not exactly a foundation for trust there.”

He still hasn’t said the words, but Aoko isn’t stupid. She knows what he means. Aoko glances at Saguru only to find him looking at Kaito with a mix of shock and confliction, like he isn’t sure what to do.

“Airing out what’s hidden is the first step,” Akako says. “If you want, I’ll start first.” She clears her throat. “I, Koizumi Akako, am a practicing witch or the Scarlet Arts, a branch of magic that manipulates love and attraction for the benefit of its practitioner.”

“Magic isn’t—” Saguru starts, but he cuts off, eyes glazed as Akako touches his cheek. Then she slaps him gently, just enough to break whatever trance she put on him. He looks warily at where she’s still gripping his wrist.

Believing in magic isn’t too difficult for Aoko. Growing up with Kaito, it’s easy to believe that things are more than they appear. Maybe it should have made her the other way around, since Kaito’s magic is all sleight of hand and careful machination. But there have always been moments with Kaito that defy even what should be possible for a human being to do, and it would explain so much about Akako. Aoko wonders for a moment if Akako charmed her too, but when Akako meets her eyes, there’s wariness there, like she’s expecting backlash, and it’s a vulnerability she’s never shown before. It’s enough for Aoko to realize that she’s serious about liking Aoko back. Serious enough to open herself to accusations that she lured Aoko away from Kaito.

No, Aoko thinks, Akako never charmed her at all. Aoko fell for her all on her own, and by some miracle, Akako likes her back.

“Okay,” Aoko says. “You’re magic.”

Kaito holds his hands up as Aoko glances back his way. “I already found this out the hard way. And no, I’m not magic. Mine’s all hard work, not blood rituals and chats with Satan.”

Saguru looks disturbed.

“I don’t do blood rituals,” Akako says. “Much.”

There’s a lot to unpack there, but Aoko will save that for another day. “Kaito,” she says firmly.

Interestingly, Akako says after her, “One favor.”

Kaito closes his eyes. “Airing things out?” he says with a defeated sigh. “Right. So, we all know Hakuba’s favorite conspiracy theory by this point.” He flicks a glance at Saguru and rather than looking triumphant, Saguru just looks pained. “Not so much of a conspiracy.”

Aoko’s hand drops from his face. Kaito looks like he’s expecting her to knee him in the crotch and maybe cuss out his ancestors with all the force of her Nakamori family lung capacity. Aoko is angry, and hurt too, but she isn’t nearly as surprised as she should be. She did try to prove it wasn’t Kaito those times. If she didn’t have doubts, she wouldn’t have bothered.

“No,” Kaito says to Saguru, still watching Aoko with dread, “that’s not a legal confession. You’re never getting that.”

“I wouldn’t want to catch you like this anyway,” Saguru says. “I have always wanted a fair challenge.”

“I kind of want to smack you,” Aoko says to Kaito. Because he’s been lying to her for ages. And he’s made a fool of her dad. And he’s doing illegal things on the regular. She’s mad. Of course she’s mad. But it’s Kaito.

Kaito flinches, probably expecting her to follow through.

Aoko doesn’t hit him. Instead she crouches down and breathes until she isn’t going to get violent or scream or cry. It’s not like it’s out of the blue. She’s had warnings, her own and others. She can live with this. She can. It’s still Kaito. “Okay,” she says. “You’re Kid. Okay.”

“Okay?” Kaito repeats cautiously.

“Well, no, not okay,” Aoko says, “but okay. I can accept that. I’m pissed and you’re going to have to work to get me to fully trust you again. But okay.” Breathe. She counts to five. Ten. Twenty-five. She looks up to Kaito’s shock and heart-aching relief, Akako’s smug smile and Saguru just a step below wringing his hands from worry. She smiles. Mostly means it too. “Still think I’m going to hate you, Bakaito?”

If they were alone, Aoko thinks he might actually have cried. Because they aren’t, he gives her a wobbly smile back. “Guess I didn’t have enough faith in you. I won’t make that mistake again.” He offers her a hand and Aoko lets him pull her out of her crouch and into a hug. It’s warm. She’s definitely going to have to work through her anger later though because she can barely enjoy Kaito willingly and openly showing her affection right now.

“Hakuba-kun,” Akako says, cutting into their moment, “your secret?”

“Really, Koizumi-san?” Saguru sighs.

“Yeah, way to ruin a moment,” Kaito says against Aoko’s neck.

“You’re both slow,” Akako says.

Saguru sighs again and gives Aoko a pained, apologetic look. Akako still hasn’t let go of his arm, or Aoko thinks he might have left just to avoid the awkwardness.

“Koizumi-san,” Saguru says, “I’m not sure if it even is a secret at this point.” His eyes flick to Kaito. “But I suppose I will say that I’m compromised toward Kid.” He flushes slightly, carefully not looking at Kaito. “And I’ve enjoyed facing off against an intellectual equal. I… didn’t have anyone like that back in London.”

For the first time Aoko realizes that all the things Saguru talked about at lunch, all those times they hung out, most of it was old cases or about his housekeeper. Nothing about friends or what school was like or much of his family life at all. Kaito’s clearly thinking the same thing because he looks at Saguru like he’s finally gotten another vital piece in a puzzle. Okay, maybe it’s a puzzle he isn’t sure he’s enjoying or not, but he is clearly interested and wary in equal measures.

“Excuse me,” Kaito says, “but I’m brilliant and definitely smarter than a detective.”

“Right.” Saguru rolls his eyes with a pinched expression. “And yet he isn’t capable of tact. Koizumi-san, are we done?”

“Not yet,” Akako says. “Aoko-chan?”

Aoko blinks as they all look at her and she doesn’t know what Akako is expecting. Hasn’t her secret already been aired to the world? They know she likes them now. She’s not sure she has any other secrets than that. “What?”

“Are you interested in dating us?” Akako asks.

It’s not a fair question to ask. Not after everything else that’s just been thrown at her. Akako doesn’t play fair though, Aoko’s beginning to realize. She plays to win. Unfortunately it’s not really clear what exactly she’s aiming for. “You already know the answer to that.” She likes all three of them. If she didn’t have to choose… Well, having to choose, she’d choose Kaito. But if she didn’t…

Aoko bites her lip as Akako smiles at her.

At her side, Kaito hums, a sound of understanding. He’s frowning, staring Akako down with one arm still around Aoko. It’s a little possessive. Aoko probably shouldn’t like it as much as she does. But, being honest with herself, she wants Kaito to want her. She just… also wants two other people and kind of wants Kaito to be okay with her wanting them and maybe being wanted back. Those two exceptions only.

“I…” Aoko’s voice wavers. “I’d date all three of you if I could,” she admits. It’s both freeing and terrifying to say. It’s not the way things are done. It’s airing what she’s been trying to hide for months. “I love Kaito, but I don’t want to lose any of you.”

It’s selfish. So selfish to want that. But maybe, Aoko thinks as Akako’s smile turns into something wider and satisfied, sometimes that selfishness is okay.

A shift of Kaito’s arm, gripping tighter on her shoulder pulls her back to attention. He hums again, frown deepening. “I want to say hell no,” Kaito says, “and steal Aoko away. You’re not good enough for her.” He grimaces. “But I kinda am not good enough either.”

Owing up to his faults. Aoko didn’t think she’d ever see it happen.

“I’m not good at sharing,” Kaito says.

“You’d rather be the center of attention,” Saguru says. “Preferably Nakamori-chan’s.”

“I propose,” Akako says, “a trial basis. An open relationship.” She steps forward and catches Aoko’s face in one hand. “Let’s try dating, and if it doesn’t work, reassess.”

“Uh,” Aoko says. She doesn’t manage more than that because Akako kisses her. It’s nothing like Saguru’s kiss, confident and firm. Aoko’s brain goes blank and her knees wobble. Oh. There’s no doubt that she’s attracted to Akako now.

“Excuse me,” Kaito says. “Really.” He’s tense at Aoko’s side and Aoko blinks dumbly as Akako pulls away, grinning. “Has everyone kissed her but me? Really?”

“You can fix that,” Aoko says a bit breathless. She can’t believe this is actually happening.

Kaito pouts down at her. “I wanted to be your first kiss.”

Aoko snorts, a bit too giddy from Akako’s kiss to worry about how Kaito might take that. “You were too slow, Bakaito.” And he still hasn’t kissed her. Aoko takes matters into her own hands and pulls him down.

Kaito’s eyes go huge, then flutter shut. Aoko wants to laugh or maybe cry about how bright she feels inside. Heck, she’s barely even upset at all about the Kid thing because she’s kissing Kaito and she’s kissed all three people she’s in love with and none of them have hated her for being unable to choose. She comes up for air and then keeps kissing Kaito because she can.

“I think,” Saguru says again, “we should go.”

“I’m enjoying the show,” Akako says. “They’re very pretty together.”

Kaito sputters, breaking the kiss and Aoko laughs so hard he’s the only thing holding her up. Aoko might be a bit hysterical from how many emotions she’s experienced in the last hour, but she’s allowed to get a little messed up from it all. It’s fine. She’ll have time to sort through it later.

“I haven’t said yes to anything!” Kaito says. “And that—this—I’m not agreeing to date you two too!”

“Oh, are you thinking of agreeing?” Akako asks sweetly.

Kaito flushes, not controlled at all.

Aoko gasps for breath, her sides aching from laughing. Ow. “I’m so glad,” she says, “I met you all.” She wipes a stray tear away, not sure when she’d reached the point of her eyes leaking. “I accept,” she says to Akako, “provided the boys do too.”

Saguru doesn’t look at any of them as he nods, face red.

Kaito opens his mouth half a dozen times before his shoulders slump. “If it’ll make you happy,” he says to Aoko. “I’ll try. I can’t make promises, but I’ll try.”

Aoko drags them into a hug whether they want a group hug or not. It’s much much more than she could ever have imagined them giving her. “Thank you.”

*o*o*

Aoko sits in Saguru’s living room reading a novel, her head in Saguru’s lap and her feet tangled with Akako’s as she sprawls at the other end of the couch. Kaito’s on the floor, head by her stomach and just close enough to run a hand through his hair if she wants to. It’s nice. Everything keeps being nice and she wonders when she’s going to stop being surprised by that.

“So,” Kaito says casually, “there might be a heist notice appearing in the morning paper.”

“A public notice?” Saguru says. “Unusual of you.”

“Well, there isn’t exactly a person to send it to this time around. You’ll see.”

“No taunting my dad,” Aoko says, flipping a page in her book. She’s not exactly used to Kaito being Kid yet. She’s trying though. Kaito’s trying too, like now, letting little bits of his double life bleed into his first one. “The doctor’s been on him about his blood pressure.”

“Noted.” Kaito flicks out a list with miniscule, cramped handwriting in a different language. Aoko doesn’t want to know.

“Are you sure you should be showing me that?” Saguru asks.

“One,” Kaito says, “it’s in code. Two, it wouldn’t make a difference. You’re still going to be chasing my shadow.” He grins, leaning his head back to catch Saguru’s eye.

Saguru raises an eyebrow. “Care to make that into a wager?”

“I’d be delighted, Detective,” Kaito says in the tone of voice Aoko’s starting to relate to his Kid persona.

Aoko smacks Kaito lightly with her paperback. “Flirt when I’m not caught in the middle.”

“No,” Akako says, “please keep going.” She grins and Aoko rolls her eyes. Honestly, the people she’s in love with.

“Spoilsport,” Kaito says, still grinning. “Also, not flirting.”

“Uh huh.” They haven’t kissed yet, but Aoko’s noticed their bickering is a lot more charged since they started dating her—and not in a jealous way. Kaito revealing his identity had changed something with everyone, but heck if Aoko can pinpoint how it changed things with Saguru.

“Koizumi,” Kaito says, “any bad feelings?”

“Hmm, no.” Akako shrugs. “I’ll ask Lucifer, but I believe this isn’t a heist to be warned of.”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, Kaito-kun.” She leers and Kaito ignores it with practiced ease. Aoko pokes Akako with her toes. Akako and Kaito have the weirdest relationship. It can’t even be called a friendship or rivalry, more some strange tentative alliance with Aoko as common ground in the middle.

It works though.

They all work. Aoko grins as Kaito changes the topic to horse racing and Saguru’s clearly trying to see if there is a connection to the heist. Saguru’s warm lap, Akako’s smooth legs, and Kaito’s head pressed against her side. There’s no better place she can picture being.

#magic kaito #my writing #everyone loves aoko #or aoko loves everyone?#both is good #awkward tangled love quadrangle #look im posting something dcmk! not vampire fic but posting!!#be happy writing brain be appeased that something is being posted pleeeease

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poison-basil · 7 years ago

Text

Part 4: What’s on the menu?

Summary - Dick thought she was working the bar.

Dick was supposed to be in Blüdhaven this weekend. Though as he was about to make his way out of Gotham he got a text from Barbara mentioning that he was needed for a case that Temperance was currently on. Dick hadn't seen her since Monday due to her going undercover to work. Only going back and forth between the apartment and club.Something about drugs being forced onto the people working there.

It would be a good opportunity to see her again before he left for Blüdhaven and it was always exciting to see her in action no matter what she was doing. Dick started up his bike and gripped the handles in excitement. It was going to be so good seeing her again.

Though they were on better terms these days, Dick still felt as though there was something else he could do to make it better. Temperance smiled more as of late, but they're not the same as they used to be, when she was flying around as Robin. They seemed to get lost, along with her laughter and jokes. Lately though, she was becoming more like her old self, willingly hanging out with him, Damian and Jason.

She was still as beautiful as ever, Dick found it hard to not want to touch her every time he was near her. Dick liked to congratulate himself on not touching her in a way that could be thought inappropriate. Though that was getting harder and harder. The hugs he got now are way better than when she was younger, there was substance and muscle to hold onto, the temptation to make it something more was always lingering in the background, to turn the hug into a grope or a kiss. He had to distance himself, and that usually meant hugging Damian to calm the adrenaline rushing through him.

The ride over to the club that Temperance was investigating was one of invigoration. Thoughts of Temperance as she did her thing behind the bar, leaning over to wipe the counter and pulling the tap to pour a drink. Dick suddenly frowned. Wasn’t this a Dance club she was working at? How had he not thought about this before? Dick thought about all the sleazy men she would have to serve drinks to and whether they flirted with her, touched her. Dick squeezes the handles and tries to calm himself. She’s fine, she one of the most trained Vigilantes out there. She can handle herself!

Dick shakes himself and concentrates on the road. The quicker he got there the sooner he could see for himself. There was no point in worrying about it now, there’s nothing he could do sitting here on his bike. He rushed along the streets taking the corners sharply. It took him no time at all to get there with the speed that he was going.

Parking the bike and taking off the helmet Dick made his way over to the entrance he straightened out his jacket and tugged down the sleeves. He entered without trouble and made his way in.

It was dark and smokey in the room. Rich with deep reds and purples, everything was embroidered or painted with gold. The music within the room was loud and the main lights on the stage were bright. At the center of the room was a circle stage with a pole in the middle. There was no doubt as to what that was used for.

Dick made his way over to the bar and took a seat in one of the stools. Looking for Temperance, he checked to see who was manning the bar, but all he could see was a male bartender and a waitress collecting drinks. If Temperance wasn’t here where was she? Dick checked his phone just to make sure that this was the right place.

Well it was definitely the right place. Same name, same co-ordinates. Just as Dick was about to call Barbara to ask what was going on there was a sudden bright light in the back of the room that light up an entrance, there was a woman standing there and over the intercom came a tinny male voice. “Welcome to the stage, the one and only Girl Wonder.”

Dick couldn’t believe his ears, Girl Wonder? What was wrong with these people? Most of them had probably come across the bad side of the real one. The woman slowly made her way to the stage, swaying her hips and blowing kisses at the men sitting in the seats surrounding the stage.

The costume itself barely resembled anything like what Temperance had wore, there was no practicality or safety, just a dangerous amount of skin on show. Finally on stage, Dick could see all the little details of the suit. There was a small cape at her back, a red and yellow bra that firmly held the breasts in place, red bikini type bottoms, with green fishnet stockings and gloves, and to top it all off was the black domino and black platform stilettos that came up her calf.

Looking past the costume, Dick started looking at the person that was supposed to be dressed as Robin. Surprisingly he saw that the dancer's muscles were tight, which he supposed they got from dancing on the pole, and that the hair was striking a good match for the real Robin. Dick looked to the face and for a moment his mind went completely blank. Staring at the dancer in front of him, he made his way to the stage and stood there. He didn’t know what to do. That was not a Temperance impersonator, that was Temperance.

Dick could tell the moment that Temperance recognised him, the way her shoulders tightened and her mouth firmed at the corners. He watched as Temperance grabbed the pole and swung around it until she had loosened up. She flicked up the lenses of the Domino and made direct eye contact with him. Dick felt a sudden rush of heat that went straight to his groin. Thinking the smart thing to do would be to wait this out as quietly as possible, he took a seat facing the stage.

As he sat down he saw Temperance give him a small nod. Okay then, Dick was going to have to watch this play out. That wasn’t soo bad. He could do this. Temperance starts to use the pole to hold her weight as she leans back. Dick decides that he cannot handle thinking, if he cannot sit through a basic routine without having to shift to make himself comfortable, there was no way he was going to make it through the main dance.

Trying to calm his mind, he tried to think of this like training, when he helped her on the bars, or helped her with yoga. Though she never wore anything that revealing or suggestive. Though now he was thinking about her in these clothes while doing those things and that did not help at all. He did not need the image of her in a handstand while he held onto her legs, touching the nets on her calves.

Shaking his head, he looked back to the stage in time to see Temperance grip the pole and draw her legs up the bar. Slowly spinning her way down it. Some of the guys had made their way to the stage. Standing way too close for Dick’s liking, not that he could do anything without making a scene. He saw a man lean forward with a twenty and tuck it over the band on Temperance’s bottoms. Dick clenched his fist and grinded his teeth together.

Dick slowly took to seething in his chair as he watched the dance go on. He was just happy that it this wasn’t a strip club. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself from hurting the patrons, especially if they kept touching her like they were. It was getting harder to watch these men touch her in ways he has not allowed himself to.

Just as the routine was ending he saw one of the men lean in close to Temperance with a wad of cash in hand. Focusing in on them so he can hear what was being said to her “ -me, you wanna show this ol’ man jus’ ‘ow flexible yo’ are.” Dick quickly made his way over to the pair and just as he was about to interrupt when Temperance put a finger to the man’s mouth.

“S' sarry, sugar. Don't think ah rightly can t'night. Y' see, I got m'self another nice boy already paid up in advance. An' he jus' happens ta be right over ya'lls shoulder waitin'.” The southern accent stumped him for a second, the warm rich tones of the accent rolling over him. “Mebby some other time, sweets.”

The man turned angrily towards Dick, looking like he was about to hit him; he must of thought better of it, though, since it never came. He roughly pushed past Dick, and made his way over to the bar. He didn’t mind, though, this was his chance to talk to Temperance. Dick felt her fingers wrap around his wrist and tug slightly.

“C’mon, let's get somewhere mo’ comfortable.” Dick was lead to a booth at the side of the room, the chair was more plush and comfortable looking than the other chair he was sat in. Though it wasn’t private, if anyone were to look, they could see everything that was going on. Temperance pushed him down and swung her legs over his lap. His mind was short circuiting, was this really happening? Had he fallen asleep or something. This couldn’t be real. “Beautiful? Ya wit’ me honey?”

Temperance’s fingers felt like sweet kisses against his face. “I - I - Te - I just - What’s going on?” Temperance’s smile made up for how much of an idiot he felt.

“Ma names Amber, Sunshine, bu’ you can call me Robin.” Dick could see the twinkle in Temperance’s eyes and it made Dick want to shift in his seat. He couldn’t though with her on top on him, it would be obvious that he was adjusting himself.

“Robin,” It felt like butter on his tongue calling her that again, it had been years. “I don’t know what to do.” Dick floundered, he has never felt so out of his depth, he didn’t know how to handle this at all.

She was coming closer to him. He could do nothing but stare, and she was suddenly pressing her lips to his ear and her hands held onto his shoulders. “Dick, there are cameras all over this room, you have to make this look good, or they might think something's up.” She lifted her left hand to grab his and brought it to her back and returned her hand to his shoulder. “I won’t be here much longer, Jason is going to be coming through in ten minutes to turn this club upside down. I got all the evidence I need for the case, so this was the last night.” She started to run her hands up and down his chest, it felt so good, he wanted her to keep going. “Why are you here?”

Dick felt her lips skim his cheek as she moved back, her breath fanning his face. This was sweet torture. “O said that you needed me?” Dick was so confused. Jason was in on this case? If he was coming why did Barbara tell him to come. Dick felt an overwhelming sense of dread. Did Barbara know?

Temperance was frowning. “What? Why?”

Dick shrugged. “I don’t know, I thought that you were going to tell me.” Dick tilted his head, there was something he wanted to know though. “I thought you were supposed to be working the bar?” Dick ran his hands run up and down her back, he could feel the dips of scars, her skin felt like silk.

“I was, at the start of the week, but I had to work my way into the back. Since the case has to do with dead, drugged dancers.” Feeling the fabric of the glove work against his jaw was extremely nice. “The owner thought I looked a little like the third Robin and that it would draw more people in with a chance to touch the untouchable.”

Well that explained it, though he didn’t like it. “Well Robin,” He grinned at her small smile. “I am glad to see that you are ok.”

“Of course I am Dick, I can handle myself.”

Dick’s hands slid up her sides. “I know that, I just worry about you, that’s all.” Her smile is bright as she looks at him. It makes him warm in the pit of his stomach.

“You are a good brother Dick.” He felt a sting in his chest at that; he had to rectify this, make her see that he doesn’t see her like that anymore.

“Robin, I -” Just as he was about to talk it out with her Jason come in, literal guns blazing.

“A’ight you sleeze bags, put the women and drinks down and hand ya selves over. There’s no need for this to get worse.” Jason’s voice coming through the synths made him sound meaner.

Dick can tell when Jason sees them. His head tilts just slightly.

There is a sudden noise behind Jason that make him turn just as the man from earlier rushes at him with a glass bottle. Jason stands his ground and ducks below the bottle and cocks the man in the head with the butt of his gun, knocking him out instantly. With the man now on the floor Jason places a foot on him and looks at the others in the room.

“Now that wasn’t very nice. Anyone else want a go? I won’t be so nice to the nex’ one.” Jason points his guns at the men in the bar. “Now tell me where the owner is and we will get this lil show on the road.”

________________________________________

Dick was back in the cave pacing back and forth waiting for Temperance. As soon as Jason had dealt with the owner and the police had shown up, Dick could not afford to be there as Dick Grayson and Temperance had to stay behind to give her statement. Though she had given him her word that she was coming back to the cave as soon as she was able, it has been two hours since he had left the club. Maybe she wasn’t coming? Just told him she would so that he would leave her alone.

Damn, he should of waited for her, so she couldn’t run away. Dick pulled his phone out of his pocket to give her a call. There was no way that she was running away tonight. Just as he was about to call her, there was a roar of an engine coming into the cave. Dick felt his breath catch. She was here! She came! He could not hold the smile back as he saw her park the bike and take off the helmet, he watched as her black hair fell in waves.

Dick walked towards her, she turned towards him and smiled. He was glad she was dressed in skinny jeans, tank top and jacket, it allowed him to think, rather than be distracted by all the skin that was on show earlier.

“Temp!”

He grabbed her in a hug and took in a breath. She smelt different from the club. Better though, something intrinsically Temperance, rather than the sickly but also sweet smell that clung to her in the club.

“Dick! I can’t breath!” She pushed against him and laughed at the sad eyes he was giving her. Letting go Dick stood there and just looked at her. “What?” There was confusion written all over her face.

“Nothing! Nothing, I’m just really happy to see you!” Dick was grinning. It was so good to see her in the cave, it was natural and made Dick feel all warm.

“You saw me earlier?” Dick cannot help but think that her frown is cute. Everything about her was cute.

“I know, but this just feels… more like us, y’know?” Now she is scrunching her nose and Dick just cannot help himself, he taps her on the nose and watcher her blink rapidly. “Sorry, had to.” She just gives him a long suffering look and goes around Dick making her way over to the computer.

She sits down in the chair and rapidly starts entering data into files. Without stopping, she looks over to Dick for a second before turning back. “So what did you want to talk about?”

Crap, Dick had gotten so excited about her just being here he forgot there was a point to asking her to be here. “I, urm, well, the thing is, something has come to mind, that I thought we should sort out.”

“Like what Dick?” Temperance tilted her head, still typing.

“Us.”

The incredulous look Dick received gave him pause “Us?”

“Yeah, you and I.” Dick waffles his hands back and forth between them, even though he knows she cannot see it.

“What about us?”

“I think there is something I need to make clear about our relationship.” Dick pauses and thinks of how to carry on, he has to think carefully about what he's going to say.

Temperance has stopped typing and is looking at him with questioning eyes. “Relationship? What are you talking about Dick?”

“Our one, there’s something that needs to be cleared up.” Dick clears his throat and decides to just jump in, so he doesn’t lose his nerve and flounder. “I don’t see you the same way that I used to.” Dick was grasping for words now. “I just, had to figure out how I do see you, and tonight I made up my mind as to what I want to see you as” God, what was he saying? “Seeing those other guys touching you was the worst case of jealousy I have ever felt, even worse then when I thought you and Superboy had a thing going on!”

“Kon? You thought we had a thing? Why would you think that?” Temperance looks offended that Dick would even suggest the possibility that she and Superboy had a thing. “Dick, you have to start making sense. Nothing that you’re saying right now does!”

“I just, thinking about other people touching you and getting the right to be around you makes me mad. All I wanna do sometimes is take you back to Blüdhaven with me, and not let you leave the apartment for days, maybe even weeks if I could.” Dick hear the words coming out of his mouth and the only word he could think to describe them were petty. “I haven’t thought of you as a little sister for a while, thinking about how I could bring this up and not make you want to run in the other direction!”

“So you were jealous and that made you realise that you wanted me in ways that were not brotherly?” How was Temperance not getting this? She was supposed to be the smart Robin!

“No - Yes? I don’t know Temp, I found out a while ago that I thought of you in less than brotherly ways. The jealousy was always there, but I just thought it was because I wanted to protect you, make sure you were safe! Now I know it’s because I want to be the one you share your snacks with, smile at and tell all your problems with. To want to spend time with me in other places other than the Cave and when we are on patrol.” Dick smiled, hoping that he was getting through.

“Dick, I don’t know what you want me to say here, what is it that you want from this? Because to me this all sounds like stuff friends can do, and we’re already friends.” Dick supposes that she had a point, alright time to make the point more obvious to his apparently blind bird.

“I want you to tell me whether you think it’s possible for us to be more than what we are?”

“Like fuck buddies?” How did she come to that conclusion? Did she really think he would ask her something like that? What made her think he - no never mind that was his own fault. “You know that I don’t actually do relationships like that right?”

Dick shook his head. “No, no, no, not like that, not like that at all!” He had to make her see that that was not at all what he was thinking! “I mean as in, you and me, together, partners in more ways than one. Someone I can come to at night.”

“Together?” She sounded even more puzzled.

“Yes together! Why is this so hard? I like you Temperance! More than a sister! I want us to be together until we are both old and grey.” Dick did not think he could be making this clearer; he has never had so much trouble asking someone out, though Temperance wasn’t like other girls, so maybe that was the problem?

“You like me?” Her voice grew in pitch.

Dick tilted his head and frowned. “Why are you just repeating everything that I’m saying?”

Temperance is now holding up a hand.“Dick, you have got to give a girl a minute to process stuff like this.” Her frown was clearing and making way for one of the most beautiful smiles Dick had ever seen on her face. “I just found out the dude I have been crushing on since I was like three wants to go out with me. I think I’m allowed to freak out a little ok?”

“Oh…” Well then. Dick just stood there, mind blank. She liked him, for that long? How had he not noticed that?

“Yeah, oh.” Temperance was laughing at him now. “Don’t get me wrong Dick, this makes me super happy, but I think you broke my brain.” Suddenly her face is all business taking Dick by surprise. “You’re serious right, you want to give us a try?”

Dick could feel his cheeks hurting with the smile on his face. “Yes! Super serious!”

“Well, alright then, we’ll give this a shot.” Dick could see her thinking about something so he gave her a moment to collect her thoughts. “But you have to be a hundred percent sure that you want this.”

Closing the gap between them Dick grabbed Temperance’s arms and pulled her up. “Im am two hundred percent sure!” He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and breathed her in.

“Dick, that's not possible, though I understand your meaning. Just let me finish up here and I will meet you upstairs, ok?” He let her go and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Sure, sure, I am so glad that you agreed to go out with me! This is going to be so fantastic!” Dick practically skipped to the steps with how happy he was right now.

Temperance was now sitting back at the computer and typing again. “Im sure, now be gone with you, the quicker you leave the faster I shall be finished.”

“Oh, by the way…” Dick said as he was making his way up the stairs, his face lighting up. “You still have the clothes from the club?” Knowing better than to stay Dick ran for the clock entrance.

“Dick!” He heard Temperance scream and he could imagine the blush that was certainly now on her face.

Dick laughed all the way back to his room, God, this was going to be so much fun!

Note: Sorry for any mistakes, I just really wanted to get this chapter out :)

#Temperance aka Tim Drake #Temperance's Temptations #myfic #myart #DickTim #thegirlwonder

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lordavanti · 8 years ago

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Ivar The Boneless x Reader Part I - Part II - Part III - Part V

Summary: Ivar changed since he came back from his journey, since he lost his parents, since you got wounded trying to protect his mother. He cares a little more, hardly enough to call it a big change. But it’s something. But than he finds out about you and Ubbe and like usual he loves to make a point. Warning: A tiny little bit of smut Words: 2136

His mother died ... his father died and he wanted to revenge both of their deads. It maked him more angry and frustrated that he usual was but he didn't reacted it out on you. After days lying in bed you felt good enough to get up after a week. You shoved the fabric from your dress over your shoulder and looked down to the wound you had. You couldn't really call that a battlewound but it would leave a mark, a mark that you could tell your childeren about ... if you would have some in the future. When your fingertips scanned the wound you flinched a little by the pain it still brought. As soon as Ivar crawled in you pulled your dress back over your shoulder, trying not to get his attention while you got up to wash some clothes. 'Where are you going?' He asked immidiatly. You sighed in thoughts, turned around, hardly wanted to look at him. Ever since that moment you waked up and gazed in his bleu eyes something changed. He asked more of your attention, in the good and bad way. He was carefull but his sarcasme about you being utterly stupid still stayed. But the way he said it ... that changed. It was like he didn't mean it like he just to, it was like, he saw you more like an equal? If you had know that you would risk your life a little sooner. Still, his dominance had still impact on you, afraid but carefully curious, that was your current mood around him. 'Washing?' You answered, holding up a basket with clothes, his clothes. 'Sit down.' He pointed towards the place that you earlier sat. 'Ivar, I really need to,' 'It’s not because I was away and you took an arrow for my mother that you can think to talk back to me. Sit!' He intterupted you. You nodded fast, placing the basket by the door and walking back to the bed, sitting on the egde. He pulled his body up next to you and you looked at him in an uncertain way. His eyes went to your shoulder, shoving that little bit of fabric away until he could see the wound you had. 'Does it hurt?' 'What do you think?' You asked him back, he gave you a warning glance, pressing his finger against the wound a little. 'Auuwh.' You reacted angry, he chuckled. 'It still hurts.' He concluded. His finger stroked softly around the wound, leaving you with a little shiver down your spine. It was something that he like to do, looking at that wound, like it gave him some kind of goal for his future. His finger wandered down a little, pushing more of your dress down to just right above your breast. And you thought of Ubbe ... he had touched you in so many ways that Ivar his touch remind you of that night. In a split second you looked at him, only to see that darkness in his eyes. 'You can go.' He finally said. You jumped up, pulled your dress good and took your basket again. When you looked at him you saw him staring in thought to you. He knew ... he knew what you and Ubbe had shared.

And that day came sooner than you liked when you stood aside Margrethe, serving three of the boys. It was weird, not dining in the great hall as usual. Now you were in their place, bringing around food and ale. 'You had enough with one woman so you thought to steal mine to?' Ivar asked Ubbed. Sigurd his eyes widened and he looked over his shoulder to you. 'Did you,' he looked back to his brother, laughing about it. You only could look down, your cheeks already flaming with heath by the thought of where this conversation was going. 'You were dead.' Ubbe said nonchalant, drinking from his cup, keeping an close eye to his little brother. Ivar pushed his knife in the wood of the table. 'I'm not so dead, am I.' 'Mother said so.' 'Mother is the one dead now, thanks to you.' Ivar started arguing. You carefully looked aside to Margrethe who swallowed tensed. Ivar making a scene was worse than Ivar proving himself. 'Don't talk about mother.' Ubbe intterupted him. Ivar grabbed his cup and held it up to you without even looking, you runned over and poured it full. You wanted to leave but he grabbed you by the waist, keeping you right aside him. 'How was she? Good, willingly?' 'Drunk, I was drunk.' You whispered in your own defens. 'So you admit to it?' He asked you rather harsh, his fingers creeping on the back of your knees underneath your dress, slowly moving up. You squeezed your thights together and looked to Ubbe for help. 'It wasn't her fault Ivar.' He defensed you. 'No, she is to stupid for that.' It was like they were talking without you in the room. Like you weren't there. 'She is naive , not stupid.' 'Can I go?' You asked softly. His fingers held still and he looked up to you. ‘No.’ He simply said. Sigurd and Ubbe changed looks with each other in that moment, making Ivar probarbly more angry than he already was. ‘I told you Y/n,’ ‘I know Ivar but your mother had a dream about you dying and I was upset.’ You rattled fast. His eyes changed a little and he pulled his hand back, nodding you to go. You breathed out in relief and got as fast as possible back to Margrethe. ‘So if you can have my woman, I can have yours?’ Ivar asked, looking aside towards Margrethe. ‘You had her already.’ Sigurd backed his brother up. Ivar moved his lower jaw, trying to keep his temper while he looked towards his brother. ‘Did I ask you something brother?’ He hissed. One voice shouted that you got to get away, the other said that you had to take a little control of the situation. Ivar changed a little, he was more willingly to listen to you, he cared maybe a little more. ‘I’m sick of it that people always have to dance to your expectations. Mother is dead, Ubbe slept with your slave, deal with, don’t treat her or us any different about it.’ Sigurd spitted out. ‘He doesn’t treat me differently.’ You reacted in first instinct, which maked you side with Ivar and that was a very dangerous and exciting thing to do. ‘Don’t talk.’ Ubbe advised you with a concerned look. ‘No, let her talk.’ Ivar shouted out, pointing his knife towards his brother. Not that you had much more to say but they all stared at you so you had to. But you couldn’t find the words so you looked to the ground, intensly trying to find some. ‘Go home Y/n.’ Ivar commanded, his voice didn’t sound so commanding like it just to. You looked up to him and he gave you a slow nod, was he thanking you? Keeping you away for what could follow? What does this mean? But you didn’t asked questions, you just walked out, leaving Margrethe alone in what had to come. You really couldn’t sleep, you gazed in the darkness waiting for Ivar to crawl in. It was hours now and he didn’t came to the cabin. After another hour you stood up, got a cloak over your dress and walked out searching for him. The first place you looked was his brothers house but he wasn’t there, you only saw Sigurd sleeping. So you walked to the beach, knowing that he stared to the horizon sometimes. And it was exacly what you found, Ivar sitting in the sand and starring. ‘Ivar?’ You asked carefull. Where you used to get away from him every moment you had, you now seeks his company. He looked up a little surpriced before his eyes grew distant again. ‘What are you doing here Y/n?’ He asked you back, bored. ‘I was worried.’ ‘You never been worried before.’ He murmured without looking back at you. You stood beside him before you desiced to sit down, wrapping your hands around your knees. ‘More than you think. I am maybe scared and stupid but I care sometimes to.’ You replied softly, looking at him. Something in his eyes flinched a little but he didn’t look back at you. ‘I’m sorry for what I did. If I had knew that you were still alive I would never,’ your voice fadded away on the light brease there was. You thought of that night with Ubbe while you looked to the waves hitting rolling over the sand. ‘You still think to much of him.’ He reacted, looking at you. You flattened your face and looked back at him, how could he see that? ‘I hate it when you think of my brothers like that.’ He whispered with that slightly warning tone in his voice. ‘I’m sorry.’ ‘You need to forget him, I’m back, you’re mine.’ He persisted. You swallowed, nodding fastly but it wasn’t enough for him. ‘Did you enjoyed it?’ He asked, leaning in closer to, his fingertips on your colorbone again so he could see that wound again. ‘No.’ ‘Liar.’ He hissed low. ‘Yes, Ivar, I liked it.’ You reacted despared. He pushed you back in the sand, hovering a little over you while his dark blue eyes studies your face. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what I have to say or do to convince you of that.’ ‘I need you to forget him, I will let you forget him.’ His hand sliding underneath your clothes, fingers roaming your stomach, the curves of you breasts. You took a deep breath, looking back at him while you felt that certain warmth getting through your body again. ‘Did you forgot him already?’ He asked. You slowly shook your head … not sure why you did it, because it was the truth or because you didn’t want him to stop. His grinn darkened a little while he laid his hand around one of your breasts, giving it a squeeze. He was taunting you, a weird sweet expectation spreading through your body. You felt his warm breath against your ear, while he kissed your neck, giving it a sharp bite. You gasped out of reaction and he chuckled about it, moving his lips further while his hands traveled down over your stomach towards your tights. The longing you felt wasn’t the same as with Ubbe. He was direct, didn’t taunt you like Ivar did and you had no idea what was sweeter. You squeezed your legs strong together and he only amused himself about it. ‘Come on now Y/n, I know you want to.’ He murmured throught kissed througt. You didn’t give in so he surpriced you by placing his lips on your, forcing you to let your breath go in that kiss. You hand grabbed to his hair, trying to hold on but at the end … you felt your legs weaken under the desire and he smiled into the kiss, his hand covering up your female part. ‘Ivar.’ You breathed out, almost asking for more. ‘Did you forgot him already.’ ‘If you keep asking me that,’ ‘Simple yes or no Y/n.’ He interupted you. ‘No.’ You whispered, curving your body up to his, meeting the touch of his hand. Your body burned, why wasn’t it like this with Ubbe? ‘You are mine.’ ‘Yes I’m yours.’ You said hastly, a little moan escaped your lips when he rubbed his hand a little faster. You maked a fist with his clothes and looked for a kiss again. And than all of the sudden he pulled back. No touch, no sensation … he left you with all that burning desire for him. ‘That’s your punishment, maybe next time I will please you with something more.’ He teased. You just laided there, still wanting all of him and not getting it. ‘Ivar please.’ You begged. ‘I like to hear you begging.’ He reacted, placing his lips on yours, squeezing your throat right on it’s place so you couldn’t ask for more. ‘Please.’ You asked again. He pulled back and smiled down at you. ‘No, go sleep.’ He commanded. He rolled away, sitting up again, looking at the waves like nothing happened in the first place. So you stood up, the heat that burned your body hardly been able to hold your body up when you tried to walk away. ‘You forgot him right?’ He asked. You turned around, looking at the smug grinn on his face. For a moment you wanted to slap it away. ‘Yes.’ ‘Imagine that this was barly half of what I can do to you.’ He pointed to the sand beside him. You looked at the flattened place and walked further. The whole way back you could think of nothing else than his touch, his fingers over your body, his kiss. This was indeed the biggest punishment he could give you.

#ivar imagine #vikings imagine

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darthstitch · 8 years ago

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tale as old as next time: the blanket fort’s beauty & the beast review

Basically, this is me and probably the rest of the of Beauty & the Beast fandom right now.

The good news: the live action movie is nice and entertaining enough, with its own kind of charm. The bad news: the original animated film is still complete and utter perfection. The live action movie can’t even hold a candle to it.

And no, I don’t think it’s unfair to compare the two. If you create what is really an unnecessary remake of the legendary Disney animated film that forced the Academy to create a category for Best Animated Picture, because it could and should’ve won the actual Best Picture Award, then you’ve got some seriously big shoes to fill. Good remakes and re-imaginings have been done before (the Charlton Heston Ben-Hur, anyone?). This movie needed to be balls-to-the-wall amazingly good.

The problem is that it’s just in that category of “okay,” “nice” and “it’s entertaining.”

(Spoiler time - you have been warned)

For the most part, the live action movie tries to be its own creature and it made some story choices and characterizations that I do like. I love that they tried to give more personality to the Beast/Adam - that he’s not just grumpy and ill-tempered and spoiled. He is a prince and as he puts it, he had an “expensive education.” So you get someone who’s smart, snarky as all hell and as it turns out, can be genuinely charming and once he remembers how, can be a decent, genuinely kind person.

Basically, someone that Belle can be a friend to and eventually fall in love with.

I like the fact that originally, a somewhat misguided Mrs. Potts tries to feed Belle the line that “he’s not all that bad” with undertones of the Right Person can make him change -- the kind of thing that usually raises all my alarm bells because HELL NO, I’M NOT GOING THAT ROAD THAT SPELLS ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP STRAIGHT AHEAD. Refreshingly, Belle is not having any of that. She’s not tolerating it in Everyone’s Favorite Fuckboi(tm) Gaston and she sure as hell isn’t tolerating it in the Beast.

So the Beast really has to earn Belle’s friendship and he can’t do it by pretending to be a nice guy. First, we learn that he is, by nature, a Sassy Snarkmaster(tm) - so it makes for entertaining watching when we see Belle give back some of his own medicine. Second, we learn that beneath his original spoiled exterior (apparently brought about by an abusive father), the Beast is capable of empathy and compassion. So he willingly makes the critical choices that turn this relationship from a Stockholm Syndrome(tm) disaster to something that will actually work towards your Fairytale Happy Ending.

He’s got a wonderful solo song number that showcases this - Evermore - with two beautiful versions, one by the Beast in the film and the other by Josh Groban. In this song, the Beast, in order to experience true love - must learn not to be selfish. That he must be able to sacrifice. That he realizes that one of the most important parts of genuinely loving someone is wanting that person to be happy and to accept that being loved in return isn’t something he’s entitled to. Belle’s genuine friendship and caring for him is not second best - it is enough and more than enough.

Evermore shows the Beast is NOT whining about being “friendzoned” - unlike Gaston in an earlier song number - it’s about him learning the real meaning of love and respecting Belle’s choices.

I rage against the trials of love I curse the fading of the light Though she’s already flown so far beyond my reach She’s never out of sight

Now I know she’ll never leave me Even as she fades from view She will still inspire me Be a part of everything I do

So it hurts to have your love unrequited, but it’s okay. Because forcing someone to love you isn’t real love. But to have that person in your life, to still have their friendship and non-romantic affection - that is all that’s needed.

So yeah - all the scenes that fleshed out Belle and the Beast’s friendship and relationship - those really worked.

There are other additional story bits that worked for me as well. The servants in the Castle weren’t cursed because of bad luck - they pointed out that they were cursed because they did nothing to keep their young Prince, who wasn’t just their Master, but also their charge - from turning into a spoiled, selfish brat. So there’s some accountability there.

I loved the whole little character arc for LeFou as well. Having him as your typical buffoon bootlicking cartoon sidekick is fine for an animated movie. Fleshing him out here in a live action movie as someone with his own unrequited love for Gaston just makes him more interesting. Basically, he and Gaston are like the perfect dark mirror to the potential disaster that could’ve been the Belle and Beast relationship.

LeFou genuinely loves Gaston and he’s holding out that Gaston could be the Better Person/Heroic Prince Charming that LeFou believes he is. LeFou is actually the one that falls into the trap of “I can change him! Or the right girl can change him! He’s better than this, I know it!”

But overtime, LeFou wakes up and realizes that Gaston is basically a piece of shit. And he finally walks away. And in the end, LeFou gets his own possible happy ending with a potential better romantic relationship on the horizon. Or at least, LeFou gets a dance with a cute boy and have fun.

Luke Evans has to contend with having a larger than life animated version to live up to. That being said, he steps into those boots with absolute glee. He manages to convey why Gaston would be such an attractive hunka hunka burnin’ love for everyone else in the village - and why LeFou would still believe in him - but at the same time show us why Belle understandably has her FuckBoi Siren(tm) screaming all the warnings and sensibly hikes up her skirts and runs far, far away.

So why does the movie kinda clunk along, and miss the mark of being absolutely glorious?

Here’s one of the biggest problems. It’s supposed to be a musical.

Musicals live and die by the music and the soundtrack for Beauty and the Beast is one of the greatest - Oscar winner and everything. You can’t make a musical with actors who can’t sing.

Dan Stevens as the Beast and Luke Evans as Gaston are glorious singers. Even Ewan McGregor as Lumiere reminds us all that in between being a Jedi Knight, he actually showed off some serious singing pipes in Moulin Rouge.

The problem is that Emma Watson’s not a singer. And if she was just some background or secondary character, this wouldn’t be an issue, but she’s Belle, the heroine of the story.

To be fair, Emma Watson doesn’t sound terrible. She’s got a pleasant enough voice and the role of Belle doesn’t require any strenuous vocal acrobatics, unlike Christine Daae or Erik in Phantom of the Opera. It’s just that it sounds like it’s been autotuned to within an inch of its life and it’s so painfully plain compared to the rest of the cast, especially the ones who get their solo numbers.

The ironic thing is that other than the singing, Emma Watson as Belle is wonderful. She’s smart, she’s sassy, she puts in her own charm and spin on the role and the expression on her face when she deals with Gaston at his fuckboi best is like: YAAAAAAAS GURL I FEEL YOU, I FEEL YOU ALL THE WAY. If this movie had not been a musical and had just been a straightforward no-singing required rendition of the classic fairy tale, Emma Watson’s Belle would have been absolutely perfect.

Here’s another huge problem for this movie - the CGI Beast.

It really didn’t need to be a completely CGI character. Most of the time, the Beast in this movie is moving and acting much the same way you’d expect when you watch an actor with heavy make up and prosthetics on. So there’s a sense of unreality when he’s around Belle. I can’t suspend my disbelief enough to just pretend that he’s really there and that Belle isn’t just talking to Dan Stevens in some kind of green mocap suit or offstage or whatever.

And this is the company that goes nuts animating the hair of cartoon characters to make them more real and they can’t render a kick-ass absolutely real-looking Beast?

Seriously, it would have worked better if they’d had Dan Stevens in full makeup for the shots that required him to interact with Belle and the other characters directly and then done the CGI for the scenes that really needed to showcase how beastly he was.

Hell, Ron Perlman as Vincent in the really old 80s tv version of Beauty and the Beast was able to carry out the human and the beastly aspects of his character perfectly just with the heavy make up and his physicality. No CGI needed!

Finally, there were some musical numbers added to the movie that really didn’t need to be there and just kinda made the story clunkier. If everyone involved were awesome singers, that could be forgivable - like Dan Stevens and his glorious rendition of Evermore - but I had to listen to different versions of certain songs, like Celine Dion’s take on How Does a Moment Last Forever to really appreciate it. Otherwise, they were kinda forgettable.

So it’s a mixed bag. There’s lots of stuff in here that will make for amazing fan fiction inspiration and the characters remain lovable and charming. In the end, however, what we have is a movie that might be entertaining and enjoyable to watch, but really misses that mark of glorious perfection.

#beauty and the beast #beauty and the beast 2017 #emma watson #dan stevens #luke evans #movie review #disney

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theorybuster · 8 years ago

Text

Belle does not have Stockholm Syndrome!

If you’re as crazy as me, you’ll be absolutely buzzing about the new live action Disney movie: Beauty and the Beast, starring none other than our beloved Emma Watson!

Yes, Hermione Granger herself.

But enough about that.

There is an accusation that Belle has Stockholm Syndrome.

SIGH No, she doesn’t.

And I’ll explain to you why with the help a definition of “Stockholm Syndrome”.

But before I start, this is only focused on the Disney movie. NOT the original fairy tale. They’re very different stories…kind of…go and get a book of fairy tales!

Stockholm Syndrome – noun - feelings of trust or affection felt in many cases of kidnapping or hostage-taking by a victim towards a captor.

If you look closely, Belle was never kidnapped. When her father was imprisoned by the Beast, she WILLINGLY took his place to save him. She was never forced into anything. The whole thing was her idea.

Moving on, after Belle is shown to her room, she verbally declares that she wants “nothing to do with him”. Well if I was going to spend the rest of my life as prisoner, I would want nothing to do with my captor either.

My point is that she stands up to him. A classic example is when she refused to dine with the Beast. Let’s not forget that she even defies him by heading straight to the West Wing- fully knowing that it was forbidden, which of course leads to the scenario where he frightens her to the point where he scares her into LEAVING the castle. ~ “Promise or no promise, I can’t stay here another minute!”

Yeah, leaving the castle and running into a forest home to a pack of wolves in the middle of the night isn’t the best idea…but at least Beast saves her.

Which leads to this scene when she’s tending to his wounds:

Belle: Just...hold still. BEAST: That hurts! BELLE: If you'd hold still, it wouldn't hurt as much. BEAST: Well if you hadn't run away, this wouldn't have happened! BELLE: Well if you hadn't frightened me, I wouldn't have run away! BEAST: (Opens his mouth, but stops to think of a good line) Well you shouldn't have been in the West Wing! BELLE: Well you should learn to control your temper! BEAST: (raises his hand to bring out another point, but he can’t think of one, so he bows his head down again. Everyone emerges from their hiding places as Belle has conquered his temper.) Belle: (moves the rag closer to the wound) Now, hold still. This may sting a little. (tenderly.) By the way, thank you, for saving my life. BEAST: (Also tenderly) You're welcome.

It’s only polite to say “Thank you” when a hideously cute monster saves you from a pack of wild wolves. But never-the-less, she gives him a piece of her mind.

After that, the Beast then starts falling for her. I’ll even point out some examples:

He gives her a library, he feeds birds with her, they have a snowball fight, he loves it when she reads to him, he was over the moon dancing with her during the famous ballroom scene, he gives her the mirror to see her father again and then lets her go when she finds out he’s about to freeze to death.

If anything, the movie is more about “Lima Syndrome” which is when abductors develop sympathy for their captives.

But if that isn’t enough to convince you, our lovely Emma Watson has even said:

“Stockholm Syndrome is where a prisoner will take on the characteristics of and fall in love with the captor. Belle actively argues and disagrees with [Beast] constantly. She has none of the characteristics of someone with Stockholm Syndrome because she keeps her independence, she keeps her independence of mind. Beast and Belle begin their love story really irritating each other and really not liking each other very much … slowly, slowly, very slowly [it] builds to them falling in love.”

We need more people like her in the world. There’s no arguing that.

#beauty and the beast #emma watson #stockhom syndrome #lima syndrome #beauty and the beast stockholm syndrome #Belle does not have stockholm syndrome #disney

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brooklynislandgirl · 3 years ago

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Reflections || Accepting

Nova Heart || Anikeni

~Does my muse trust yours~

Anakin sleeps. Fever-wet brow, deep hollows below closed eyes. Old scars and healing wounds. A sickness of the mind so deep that even she cannot reach him entirely. This rest is fitful and the nightmares are so real they threaten to choke everything in miles around his presence. She has been more than once in these few hours tempted to tie him down to the makeshift bed. To make a choice for him and course-correct. Never go to Mustafar and find some way to secret him back home where he can get the care and rest he needs. To maybe bring her Anakin back from the abyss he's fallen into, or at least some semblance of their former normalcy.

But to do so would be to admit that her trust, her absolute faith in him, had broken right along with his sanity. That there are, in fact, limitations appended to her promise that wherever he was, she would be too. That maybe loving each other just wasn't enough. And that she cannot do. She would sooner burn the galaxy down to the foundations, sacrifice everything that ever existed. She would give up the living Force before she would betray him.

So she mops his brow with a cool cloth and lets his hand curl in hers. She becomes an anchor, a beacon in the dark. Her trust remains inviolate.

~Does my muse dislike yours~

"I almost had you!"

She throws down the practice sabre, it's green blade disappearing after she lets go and it makes a defeated, metallic thunk when it lands. Her face is flushed green, dark strands of her hair stick to her cheeks and her neck having escaped the tight confines of its braid, and no one with olfactory senses in the room can miss the distinct but vague floral scent that rises from her skin.

"You did," Anakin says mildly, unbothered by her outburst, at least on surface level.

He did not tell her she let her guard drop, nor that she was distracted and thereby allowed her speed to be effected. He knows how much that stings coming from anyone but the masters, and from them it's murderous. Just like she doesn't dare utter the words 'I hate you'. Because even if he knew she was just frustrated, it would eat him alive. And she could never dislike Anakin. "We take five, and go again."

~Would my muse kill someone for yours~

Anakin is on Coruscant. She can only imagine the cruelty being imposed on him by the Emperor. Imagine because she is languishing in the Halla sector, currently locked in her quarters avoiding it's Moff. His crime is that he is both insufferably arrogant and mind-numbingly boring. His only real desire is to regale her with tales of his bravery and genius in the war, and in crushing the Jedi. He speaks of personally having a hand in dispatching General Skywalker, and claiming several of the young Jedi's victories as his own.

Clearly, he cannot read his audience.

To entertain herself in her solitude, she pulls out her datapad and keys in a specific encryption. She scans through faces, through condensed personnel records. Certain Moffs, admirals, courtiers...who thought they could replace Anakin as the Emperor's right hand. But what they fail to see when they look at her Za'lali is exactly what a man is capable of when that hand is cut off... And that he has two others, always. Kenobi escaped, much to her disappointment, though in no situation would she put him above Anakin. She has been gathering rumours as young women collect flowers and young men collect hearts. The strongest of the whispers point to either the Outer Rim or the wild-space beyond. It's only a matter of ti- The chime on her door breaks through her thoughts. Shouting, pounding on the door, demanding she come quickly. It would seem that the Moff had ingested something that did not agree with him and required emergency medical attention.

She smiles languidly, before deleting one of the records.

~Would my muse kill your muse~

"No, and do not ever think to ask that of me." She means it. The seriousness etched not only in voice but visage too is harder than any other thing she has ever said to him. A deep verdant blush creeps about her cheekbones though there is nothing romantic about it. It's spoken in the way she rises up where they'd been lounging seconds before, his hand that had been tucking strands of hair behind her ear left hanging in place until it falls out of sight in shame, discomfort. His Presence is as turbulent as her own though held in an infinite check. Emotions as hotly burning stars are dangerous things within the Temple walls.

It has never been easy for her to be angry with him, and isn't so now. She only has indignation to stand on. But for him to ask if she would do such a thing is so utterly galling she can't even begin to unpack the flicker-flash of temper. She would willingly die for him. She would think it a gift to slaughter half the galaxy in his name. But that he would even think to ask if she would ever hurt him, much less... It's...it's... "I could not do it, Za'lali. Not really. And...you must forgive me for that."

~Would my muse save yours~

If Melakeni had a heart it would be in her throat. Choking her slowly until black spots danced before her eyes. It is lucky that she does not, she's hyperventilating as it is, having run from the final push of the assault. She'd known something was wrong long before they'd reached the breach. She'd heard his scream through the Force and had nearly staggered under the weight and the pain from it.

By the time she'd found him the scene before her felt almost serene, which was wholly incongruous to the reality of it. Two others were fawning over Master Kenobi, but she only saw Anakin. And the Senator wrapped around him. Consoling him, holding his long and lithe frame...missing one of his limbs. His face is so pale, his body in such shock, she's surprised he's still upright. Her eyes narrow, murderously so, as she surveys the two of them. The jealousy is bitter in her throat. But the Senator is...just that. She has no place here and even if Keni herself had to participate in battle, she is still a Consular knight, a healer and Anakin falls under her care.

She strides like small thunder to present herself to them both, and with great care she gingerly wraps an arm around him, pulling him from the other woman's embrace. "You should report to one of the other healers, Senator. You wouldn't want your wounds to fester. Skywalker is in good hands now."

~Does my muse find your muse attractive~

When he was a child Keni's affection was entirely based on the fact that he seemed so lost and so lonely, so very out of place. She always hated the cruelty of the other children who thought themselves superior to him simply because they'd had the misfortune of being snatched away from their families sooner. It grew as they did. It became something no less protective but infinitely more attentive when they started maturing, and Keni began to notice exactly how he was growing into the man he would become. And then even that slowly began to change to, though she couldn't say when. But standing here in her quarters, turning her head over her shoulder to see him leaning in the doorway? Everything inside of her seizes up. She can drown in his eyes. There are entire other worlds that linger in those depths that she has never seen before. She wants to run her fingers through the burnished gold curls now lingering close to his shoulders like strangler vine. She wants to kiss the lips slowly drawing into a smile meant only for her. She swallows hard as her mouth has gone suddenly dry, sets down her brush. IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou.

"Anakin. I wasn't expecting to..."

She rises like a rogue wave and perhaps with as much grace spills across his chest when she finds herself beside him. Breathing him down into her lungs, every cell in her body joyful that he has returned, whole and with only a week long need to sleep. But even haggard, exhausted, utterly spent in every possible way, he is still beautiful. He is still Anakin. "Welcome home." ~Is my muse disgusted by yours~

"Incredibly, utterly, totally inedible." Her whisper is a breath, the words meant to impart the height of displeasure, though they carry none of it in their seductive tone. A specific sort of tease meant for no one else to hear. Arms wound up behind his neck, legs wrapped around his hips. Every thing soft about her body is gently pressed into his as though with enough desire they can transcend physical limitations and become literally one body with two souls. A moment later she gives lie to the feigned disgust by sealing her lips to his throat, a long leisurely lick of his skin, indulging in the texture, the warmth, and absolutely the taste of him. It has nothing to do with feigned cannibalism, not that she's sure it counts considering they are different species, but the little sounds the restrained affection draws out of him is worth every bit of the game.

~Would my muse go on a date with your muse~

If she were to be honest, Coruscant is an eyesore. More than that it is the thing from deepest nightmare, thousands of layers of ever increasing scar-tissue atop the body of a dead or dying world. There is no sun here. No real wind to speak of, no life giving waters. The only greenery that exists are the cultivated kind set aside only for the incredibly fortunate wealthy, and the Temple gardens which are necessary to help provide food. The light is as loud as the people, and since the day she stepped foot on this world, it has caused her a perpetually low-key anxiety that she cannot shake. She still has the occasional nightmare of her own world becoming like this if they let outsiders in.

The only soothing thing about it is being up here on the roof. Laying back and staring up at the skies, watching ships break atmosphere in one direction or another. Fingers laced in the small space between them. Listening to him spin stories of the places they will one day go see together that are nothing like this monstrosity. This is the only time they seem to have to be together unimpeded by things like Masters and politicians, ever increasing missions of importance. And she wouldn't trade it for anything, not even a glimpse of trees.

~Would my muse kiss yours~

They pass one another in the halls, and fingers brush accidentally against the other's before they continue one, each as silent as barren worlds. Contemplative hours give each of them the meaning of patience. During a mission briefing from Master Yoda, they sit opposite of one another in the semi-circle. A shared gaze perhaps no more than seconds before their field of vision is full of holo star maps and battalion formations. A meal taken in the dining hall together. A cup is lifted and sipped from. Set down. The other takes it up and has their own drink. They eat in silence. The water pouring down over them both, the small confines filled with breath-stealing steam. Her forearms brace against the wall. His lips find a particularly tender spot at the name of her neck and he whispers a term of endearment across her skin. He sits on the edge of the exam table, anxiety fluttering the tips of his fingers inside the sleeves of his robes. There's a thousand different things he could be doing. That he thinks he ought to be doing. That this isn't a necessity, and that is why she insists. Better to loose an hour for a thorough neurological scan than the alternative. And at least this way, he has a touch of privacy. She steps into the small space between his parted knees. She presses her mouth to the outside corner of his lips. There are a hundred ways to kiss someone that you aren't allowed to. There's a hundred intimacies that go unnoticed. Anakin and Melakeni know them all.

~Would my muse betray yours~ "You are distracted, my little apprentice." She raises her eyes to her Master's, and is once again reminded of darkest Nekotrig. Of the dozen superstitions, the most compelling being the tale of how having it's lack of light falling on a person would kill them. The same could be said of his glittering black gaze. "I am sorry, Master." He raises an infinitely sharp and deceptively delicate looking quadranium stiletto, tests it's heft then balances it perfectly on the tip of one long and elegant finger. The keenness of the double edge could slice a whisper in half, it's strength allowing for deeply penetrating injuries. A sentient could bleed out in a matter of seconds. "Is it the Skywalker boy? You two are very close...friends." She doesn't hesitate to lie. "I do not know what you mean, Master. He is merely my clan brother. And is often injured. Careless of him, I know." She is only grateful to the Living Force that she has no heartbeat to escalate and prove her falsehood, and it pains her to reduce Anakin to nothing more than someone inept at taking care of himself. But she knows better. One wrong word, one moment of her Master's displeasure and... Accidents happen, or so they say.

"Next time allow Offee to see to him. You cannot play nursemaid forever." She lowers her gaze so that she can squeeze her eyes shut without him noticing, the hood of her cloak offers what scant privacy that it can. She licks her lower lip. "Yes, master."

~My muse's favourite thing about yours is~

Everyone else could make an argument were it common knowledge of just how much Melakeni loves Anakin that it is because he is young, he is handsome, he is the Hero With No Fear. They could say it comes down to the brilliant blue of his eyes, or the way his smile lights up entire sectors. They could say it is because he is the perfect Jedi...strong, courageous, compassionate to a fault. And she would not be able to say any of these things are a lie. But that isn't why she does. She loves that he is a quiet spirit, sometimes too nervous inside of his own skin, sometimes too thoughtful by half. But it is because he is gentle and puts so much of himself aside for the good of others. He believes very much in what the Order was supposed to stand for that he'd risk life and limb at any moment to uphold that ideal. He is perfect because he isn't at all. He has very real emotions, strong and grounded in love. That kind of selflessness is not something the Order ever taught him. If anything that was something they'd hoped he'd grow out of, given time. But then again, the Order never quite understood him. They are gone now, shattered and broken as they tried to make him. What few of them who have survived now hide like animals, which is something Keni cannot bring herself to be upset about. She crosses the catwalk of the Executor soft as snowfall until she comes to rest at his side. Though her arms remain at her side, her Presence envelopes him with every ounce of love she possesses.

Come to bed, Za'lali. We have hours still before we arrive. ~The thing my muse dislikes about yours is~ She watches him agree to what Palpatine wheezes about and lowers her eyes demurely, not for a moment allowing the sneer to curve her lips and bare her teeth. Flesh crawls at the mere idea of rending him apart fang and claw. Everything inside of her seethes that the ancient Sith lord still draws breath, still holds his invisible chains around Anakin. Who accepts the snide comments made with a grace that even in the courts at home she could never hope to duplicate. The not-so-veiled threats, the constant goading of hands that belong nowhere near him much less stroking his arm, his back, wherever they like with impunity. She can see now that it is better that she be sent away for these kind of affairs. She wants to create a new ocean for Coruscant out of the blood she wishes to spill. She doesn't only because she does not wish to make things worse for him. And just maybe she cannot help but to be angry with him. It seems Anakin has finally learned patience.

#mynameisanakin #Images of Broken Light|Anakin Skywalker #Pools of Sorrow-Waves of Joy|Anikeni #Across the Universe|Star Wars AU

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