#not an excellent way to approach situations but still probably something i should further towards

[katsulia]

Heyyy! Could you do "he offends you" with kuroo, Tsukishima and daichi? Thank uu!

He offends you - part3

featuring : Kuroo, Tsukishima

Atsumu and Kageyama version

a/n : I’m so sorry that I took soooooo long to answer this, but here it is ! Daichi version will come in another part with Oikawa’s one !

Kuroo

The exams were coming up fast and as they approached your stress only increased considerably. The dark circles were even more visible on your face and you could see the tiredness miles away. It was absolutely necessary to ensure good grades for this semester in order to hope to make up for the less honourable grades of the previous semester. The nights were long and at this point you could compete with the Hunchback of Notre-Dame and could easily win because of your slouched position upon your desk.

However, that didn't stop Kuroo from coming to visit you in your room. After more than two years of relationship he had learned to notice everything about you whether it was your way of making noise with your nails on any surface, cutting your fruit always very meticulously or your stubbornness. That's why he knew he had to intervene this weekend after having left you all week to your stubbornness to work in an unhealthy way. So at the end of the afternoon he appeared in your apartment with a bag full of your favorite sweets in his hand. Not surprisingly, he found you in your room, hunched over your desk with a multitude of documents and manuals scattered on it. Standing with his head in the doorway, he couldn't help smiling at your concentrated expression and your rather peculiar posture.

"Hey kitten, how's it going?" he whispered in the middle of your ear after putting the bag on your bed. His arms came around your body even though you didn't seem very responsive to his approaches.

"Hmm ... Tetsu wait, I need to focus on this chapter." You got out of his grip without even looking up from your notebook.

Obviously this was not to the liking of Kuroo who was getting more and more worried about your condition. Beyond the fact that he may have been in need of attention, he considered your stubbornness useless at this stage. The rhythm that you had adapted in the last few days was not at all productive and you deserved to take a break.

"You should take a quick pause chibi-chan" he tried one last time to talk some sense into you. His hand stroking your hair was meant to reassure you, but it only intensified your anxiety and irritation towards him.

"I really need to work on this course and get a good grade." You let out a long sigh at the end of your sentence because this debate with Kuroo was just wasting your time. "You let out a long sigh at the end of your sentence because this debate with Kuroo was just taking up your time.

Kuroo rolled his eyes, you were not even aware that it was counterproductive and you were too narrow-minded for him. "But what you're doing here is useless, you have to stagger your workload, otherwise your brain won't memorize anything and you know it. But once again you prefer to be stubborn when it harms you, that's not the way to get a good grade. »

He was certainly telling the truth and probably didn't mean to be rude, but that didn't stop his words from being a little too raw. Deep down you knew that he only wanted what was good for you, but at that moment you took it as a personal attack, especially since the pressure you were putting on yourself would soon make you explode. Having your boyfriend question your way of working was the last thing you needed. Subconsciously you clenched your fist around the pen you were holding and took a deep breath with your eyes closed to try to calm yourself down. But soon tears began to form and flow down your cheeks. Both on edge and totally vulnerable you didn't want to let Kuroo see you like this.

"Ok, I get it Tetsuro, but I remind you that not all of us are geniuses like you and some of us need to work. Which I'm trying to do, I'm sorry that I don't belong to the same world as you." Your tone was cold and dry which was rare for you. "Your tone was cold and dry which was rare for you.  But it's true that the fact that Kuroo was pretty good academically didn't help the situation and you almost felt humiliated like a child being scolded by an adult. You would have liked to be like Kuroo and understand everything at first hand without having to spend hours in your lessons hoping for a decent grade, but this was not the case.

Kuroo, on the other hand, was petrified and didn't expect this at all. It had nothing to do with his abilities? He never thought he had offended you or even looked down on you. It's true that sometimes he liked to tease you about your dubious knowledge in chemistry but it never went any further. He felt extremely bad because he only made you feel worse when his goal was the opposite. But it wasn't a time for laments and regrets right now, you were the one who needed help. He turned your chair and lowered himself to your level to talk to you straight in the eyes.

"Kitten, I'm really sorry you feel that way. First of all, I'm not here to blame you or lecture you, but I know how hard you've worked and how you forgot to take care of yourself, so I wanted you to take a break. I assure you that it will do you good and that you will be ready to go back to work in better conditions. And I know this because I know you are determined and stubborn in the positive ways but sometimes you don't even pay attention to yourself anymore." His thumbs caressed your cheeks and dried your tears, and miraculously the feeling of his fingers on your skin instantly calmed you down. It was hard to look him straight in the eye, but it was clear that his gaze was only holding love for you. « And secondly, I'm not a genius. I'm just a nerd who spends all his time making chemical jokes, please don't ever devalue yourself over that again, okay?" Automatically you let a smile appear on your face, he was right he was a nerd first and foremost. Kuroo then smiled, happy to see you feeling better already. He dared to place a kiss on your forehead and his heart warmed up when he felt your hands clinging to his shirt.

"Come on, now we're watching Emily in Paris, and I've got your favorite snacks. And then I promise I'll help you study." You didn't even have time to say anything that Kuroo was already lifting you up on the way to your bed. And getting under the comforter cuddled to Kuroo was certainly not something you were going to say no to.

Tsukishima

Often after class you would stay in the library for a while and work on while Tsukishima finished training with the volleyball team. But today it wasn't in your plans, at least not since lunch.

You were discussing with Kiyoko and Yaichi about the progress of the semester and the growing complexity of homework. The girls were interested in your grades and how you were managing everything as if it was easy.

"If getting good grades means getting the same results as Kageyama and Hinata, then yes, you can ask Y/N for advice," you almost jolted at the voice of your boyfriend that was just behind you. Kageyama who was standing aside looked at him with daggers in his eyes yet Tsukishima remained totally indifferent. It was the girls who burst out laughing at this scene knowing full well that he was trying to prick the two boys who undoubtedly excelled on a volleyball court but much less when it came to bringing home good grades. Soon you joined them in your turn, as you could not hold your breath in front of a smoking Kageyama.

But even if you laughed at the core you took Tsukishima's remark very badly. You were used to your boyfriend's rather harsh words and knew that most of his coldness was deceptive, although this time you couldn't help being struck by his words. You felt humiliated worse than when you were in public. Did he really see you like that, a little silly around the edges? You liked to think that he didn't, after all he wasn't the kind of person to bother with people who didn't deserve his time. And that's not true, you were far from having castrophic results, and anyway, even that wouldn't change the fact that your intelligence was certainly not defined by your grades. Yet you were just thinking about it because you were rather proud of the results you were getting after the efforts you were making, and Tsukishima more than anyone else knew this because he himself was a witness to the work you were putting in. Until now you had always believed that he was proud of you even though he didn't show it so much because it wasn't in his nature, but right now you strongly doubted it.

That's why you didn't want to go home with him and have to endure any more nasty remarks from him. All the way home you just replayed what he had said and kept repeating his words over and over again. You know you shouldn't give it too much importance, but it was impossible to ignore his cold voice in your head. Your spirits had taken a hit and you just wanted to get into your comforter and move on. But suddenly your cell phone lit up with a new message from Tsukishima.

You went home early?

Your thumbs stayed up above your screen not knowing if you should answer or not. Was he surprised not to see you at the gym doors? Honestly, what did he expect? You hadn't even exchanged a word after lunch.

Yes

Fast and efficient. Even he would have answered like that. The message was simple and didn't say anything special.

Okay. Why?

I wanted to study so I wouldn't have the same grades as Kageyama and Hinata.

The second you sent the message you were already regretting it. Surely he was going to know that you were referring to the lunchtime and he was going to bother you even more with it. You would have been better off ignoring it and finding some other excuse he's never going to let you go with it again.

Read. No answer? Maybe it was better than one of his terrible comebacks that you absolutely didn't need right now. But yet it still affected you a little bit more, he really doesn't care, does he? Didn't he realize that sometimes it was too much and that a relationship shouldn't be like that? All these questions were running through your head while you were lying there in bed staring at the ceiling. You don't know how long you were in that position before a big blonde head barged into your room.

"Kei? What are you doing here? "Your face reflected your surprise and you immediately straightened up to see your boyfriend coming closer and closer to you.

"Your brother let me in and I knocked on the door but you didn't hear me." he stopped a few feet from your bed and stood staring at you. His face seemed neutral and unemotional, which wasn't really surprising.

"Uh ... Yes ... But that still doesn't explain why you're here? "You were stumbling over your words, which conveyed your anxiety and incomprehension about his unexpected presence.

"I spent the end of the day surrounded by idiots like Kageyama and Hinata. And I was hoping after that to go home with my girlfriend to recharge my batteries and finally be with someone who doesn't give me a headache. Except that today I'm the one who hurt her head. "Without even wanting to, your eyes softened and you already wanted to take him in your arms. But your brain was still resisting and thinking about what he had said earlier.

"Yet you thought I was on the same footing as your two teammates. "With your arms folded, you stared at Tsukishima, who couldn't help but sigh at your pout.

"But you know that if you were anything like them I would never hang out with you. I wouldn't want you to be my girlfriend. "You rolled your eyes, there was nothing romantic about it. But when he sat on your bed and intertwined your fingers you already had a slight smile on your face. Seeing that you weren't rejecting him, he moved closer to you and placed his head on your shoulder. "Sorry," he whispered softly. And if that wasn't enough for some of us it was more than enough for you, especially since you already knew that tomorrow he would take you to your favorite bubble tea and that it would last all week.

[teiasviago]

Love in Kroner, Kansas

A bit of a rewrite of “The Rain King” with the premise of Mulder and Scully being married and expecting a kid at that point. Don’t think too hard about it; I was just reminded of a section of Perfumed Words that’s set in this episode while rewatching it and felt like writing it for funsies. <3

—

“Nice to see you, Agent Mulder. I’m Jim Gilmore, the mayor. We spoke on the phone.” As he speaks, he makes his way over to Mulder and Scully, shaking hands with the former before extending his arm to the latter. “And you must be the missus. Congratulations,” Gilmore says with a smile, nodding his head to her baby bump. “I’ve got the ‘excellent accommodations’ that you requested all cleaned up for you, Agent Mulder.”

Mulder nods, leaving Scully hanging. “Ah. Thank you,” she responds, an uncomfortable smile on her face as she shakes the mayor’s hand and shoots Mulder a look. She reaches into her pocket and retrieves her badge. “I’m Agent Scully, Agent Mulder’s... associate. I’m sure whatever regular accomodations you have will be sufficient, however.”

Gilmore scoffs and shakes his head. “Nonsense! I was raised to give expecting mothers the utmost respect. Besides, our motel’s all booked up because of the high school reunion taking place. Really, it wouldn’t be an imposition. We’ve redecorated it since our John moved out.”

Scully nods slowly, refusing to look at her husband, fully aware that he’s suppressing a smile. “Well, uh, Mayor Gilmore... If you could explain to me what exactly your problem is, that would be great. My partner, here, neglected to explain that aspect of the case to me.”

“No problem, ma’am.”

—

“A man... controlling... the weather. How plausible, Mulder.” Scully makes a face as she squints up at him. “Do you need me to explain the implausibility of that?”

Mulder shrugs with his hands in his pockets, making a face that matches. “I mean, I don’t need it, but I would love to hear you go all sciencey on me, Scully.”

She laughs softly and shakes her head, bumping into him on purpose as they walk down the road. “Mulder...”

He puts his hands up. “I can’t help it! Flirting with you’s in my nature. Please explain to me the science of weather patterns.”

—

“Oh, there you are! I was worried you weren’t going to make it! Come, come!” The boisterous woman speaking to them moves behind Mulder and Scully, urging them further into the news station’s studio.

As she continues to speak, Scully shoots Mulder a look, but he just shrugs and smiles, shoving his hands into his pockets as the woman bounds off to speak to a man wearing glasses and a sweater vest.

“Congratulations,” he says when he reaches them, extending a hand to Scully and then Mulder. “And congratulations!”

He nods at her belly as she reaches for her badge with a sigh. “Actually,” Scully starts, flipping her ID open, “we’re with the FBI. Agents Scully—” She gestures to herself. “—and Mulder.” She gestures at her husband.

“FBI?” the woman says, placing her hand on her cheek as her eyes widen. “Goodness gracious.” Scully nods and is about to speak when the blonde continues. “We thought you were the winners of our ‘Watch the Weather and Win’ contest!”

“People are understandably upset because of the drought, and they tend to aim that towards the messenger...” the man explains.

“Oh!” the blonde exclaims. “There’s the Gundersons! Over here!” A couple dressed far more accurately as farmers approaches the group of four.

“It’s a spitting image, Scully,” Mulder whispers in her ear before requesting a private area to speak to the sweater vest man.

—

“I’ve seen the way you and Agent Scully gaze at each other,” Holman says, but falters when Mulder’s stance and expression don’t change. “You never wanted...?” he asks, and Mulder sighs.

“Look... Agent Scully and I are professional people. We work for the FBI, and as federal employees, we’re expected to—to maintain some form of decorum. We, uh, we’re in a relationship—we’re married, actually.” He brings up his hand, displaying the back of his hand and the ring he wears. “And we’re obviously expecting a bundle of joy. But, you know, when we’re on the job, we’re professionals. Our personal lives come second when we’re on the clock.”

Holman nods and nods, until: “Well, that’s all well and good, but you’re—you’re you and Agent Scully is, well, her. You’re both on the same level. But me and Sheila? We’re so far apart... Her feeling the same way about me is ridiculous. It’s outlandish.”

“Holman, you’ve got to tell her or it’s just going to get so bad that someone dies. I’ve got a plane to catch with my wife, so I can’t stay and help.” With that, Mulder turns to leave, but Holman catches his arm.

“You can’t leave! You have to help me!”

Just as Mulder’s about to respond, his phone rings. “Hello?”

“Mulder, where are you?”

“Uh, I’m with Holman. He’s asking for dating advice, Scully.”

“From whom?”

“From yours truly, of course. Who else?” Silence on Scully’s end. “Dana? You still there?”

“Yeah, yeah... I called to tell you that our flight’s canceled until further notice. Have you looked outside recently? It’s pea soup out here. But... he’s asking you for advice? Talk about the blind leading the blind.”

“Hey! I wooed you spectacularly!” Mulder asserts.

“Keep telling yourself that, honey.”

—

“You’re just jealous because Agent Mulder and I have something special together,” Sheila taunts, eerily confident.

“What?” Scully fumbles. The news anchor’s assertion is so wrong that it caught her off-guard.

“I’ve seen the way you look at him. You’re probably locked in a loveless marriage or something, wishing that he loved you like he loves me.”

“What?” Scully repeated, sure of her words this time. “Agent Mulder and I prefer not to reveal our personal lives to everyone around us, but since it’s so clearly involved in this... incident, fine. I’m not locked in a loveless marriage, I’m married to Agent Mulder, and we’re very much in love. And we’re expecting a baby in October.” She sighs heavily, leaning against one of the sinks in the bathroom as she rubs a hand across her face.

“Golly,” Sheila finally says a few minutes later. “I guess you are a little bit like the Gundersons after all!”

“How do you mean?”

“Oh, well, they told me were so excited about winning the station’s contest because it was the only trip they’d be able to go one before their baby arrived. They just found out a month ago! Isn’t it exciting?”

“Yeah. It is.” Scully licks her lips and makes deliberate eye contact with Sheila. “Look. This situation isn’t going to resolve itself until you come to terms with the fact that Holman’s in love with you. I mean, I’ve found that the greatest relationships often come from—from the ones with a bedrock of friendship. That’s part of how I fell for Mulder. We were friends—best friends, even, and because we trusted each other, we were able to form a—a really quite fantastic life together.”

She can’t help the smile that creeps onto her face, so she gives up and lets it shine through, cupping her baby bump.

“Oh,” is all that Sheila says. “Well, I mean... I just never thought of Holman that way, you know? I mean, to not even suspect...”

“I think you should go talk to him.”

Sheila purses her lips and nods. “You’re right. Thank you, Agent Scully.”

—

“Dance with me, Scully.” Mulder offers her his hand, a smile on his face.

“Mulder...”

“I’ll request ‘Joy to the World’ so we can jam out if you want.”

Scully takes his hand as she considers his offer before deciding on, “Have them put ‘The Things We Do For Love’ back on. I want to dance to that one with you. I like the lyrics.”

His smile gets wider and Mulder kisses her hand. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“I won’t.”

He’s back a few minutes later just as the song starts to play, grasping her hands and bringing them to the back of his neck before lacing his fingers together at the small of her back.

“This is nice,” she says, swaying in a gentle circle with her husband.

“It is. I doubt we’ll be able to crash many high school reunions once the baby comes,” Mulder jokes, and Scully laughs, letting her forehead fall against his chest.

After a moment, she lifts her head back up and looks into his eyes, met by his tender gaze. “I’d kiss you if I were wearing heels,” she tells him.

“I know,” he says.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

[zuzuslastbraincell]

mai & the rest of the gaang:

mai & aang: a bit awkward, at first? not on aang's end of course, he's totally unflustered and in fact quite keen to get to know zuko's girlfriend and I actually think mai doesn't know what to do with this attitude, given she spent six months or so trying to hunt him down, and that's very present in her mind. hanging out with aang is a very pleasant culture shock in how he casually diaregards half the norms she was raised to strictly follow, speaking with warm enthusiasm and genuine curiosity to all, be they dish washers or tea servers or the Fire Lord's girlfriend, disregarding barriers of social class that are so carefully upheld in the Fire Nation. It's refreshing as it is bewildering. I think mai does develop a fondness for aang - although she can find him and his antics a bit much at times - and deeply respects and cares for him if only for how valued his friendship with zuko is. she claims to tolerate his goofy antics but she enjoys them far more than she lets on (his flying marble trick does elicit a rare smile, although it only appears for 0.02 seconds before returning to the most deadpan expression). I think mai respects him most politically actually - aang grows up to be an excellent diplomat, an excellent mediator who does not lose sight of the importance of various different perspectives, especially those who are forgotten or maligned, even when in circles of power.

mai & sokka: as discussed, they have a rocky start. sokka, my darling beloved sokka, has a tendency to be a bit abrasive, if we're honest, in that his humour and his puns are a little in-your-face, he has a bit of an ego aboht being the funniest/smartest person in the room, and he can take it personally when people don't like it. mai doesn't have much time for that. mai doesn't care much for sokka's jokes if only because they're attached to this ego, but also and finds the puns a bit flat (whereas she finds aang's mischief making genuinely funny, though she tries to hide it), and sokka takes this deeply personally and tries really hard to elicit a laugh from her. this just ends up with him aggravating her more. I think mai has little time for sensitive male ego games and that's partially why her and sokka clash- she won't blunt herself for him, even if he is one of zuko's closest friends. I think sokka, to his credit, doesn't dismiss her as a 'bitch' and keeps trying - in fact, the reason he comes on so strong is because he actually really wants her to like her - and i think that's because of boiling rock, and because of that alone sokka deeply respects mai on many levels (and was extremely surprised by how all that played out, and knows from that alone that mai is a layered and complex person who contains multitudes). I think what might cause mai to warm to him is politics - sokka's a pragmatist, who is skeptical of idealism without material backing and is refreshingly realistic for one of aang's friends. he keeps the fire nation on its toes at the negotiating table but he's also the first to point out when a potential proposition - when anyone's potential proposition - has more logical holes than a piece of honeycomb. i think mai appreciates that perspective. and i think they could slowly and gradually go from personality clashing to building this begrudging friendship where mai will never openly admit that she likes him, where sokka will still grate but in a way that becomes almost familiar and comfortable because of that, and where - especially in a situation where they have to work on a project together - they're a formidable team. a difficult friendship but eventually could be a dear one.

mai & katara: another personality clash that becomes a really fascinating friendship. katara wasn't there for boiling rock and is perhaps a bit cool towards mai even understanding what she did there, and the grounds where they most often meet is politics, and they largely are at odds there too. they're interesting parallels, in terms of role - both partners of powerful world leaders, but while mai positions herself as a vital support and power behind zuko's regime, furthering that goal, katara loathes to be associated with aang simply because of their romantic relationship, and does not envision their relationship to be a political one: aang and katara stand independent, but with shared values and goals (and perhaps katara simply does not understand why mai takes the position she does regarding politics and relationships). their actual political approach wildly differs, with katara being an impassioned idealist who is the most radical out of the gaang, whereas mai is a pragmatist - much more concerned about the feasibility of the radical ideas proposed and sees herself occupying the role of a much needed skeptic who asks 'okay, but how are we going to do this?' in a group of radicals. this does lead to some fierce clashes actually - some of katara's proposals appear outlandish to mai, and katara interprets this as fire nation indoctrination and ideological conditioning limiting her perspective (and honestly neither are completely wrong - mai can be on occasion perhaps too conservative and cynical and that is often because her upbringing has limited her scope, and katara sometimes isn't fully aware of how feasible her ideas are and leaves practical concerns to others). I think despite this they have such a deep respect for each other - and that's in part why their arguments are so impassioned, because they both fundamentally know the other comes from a good place. mai saved katara's brother's life at boiling rock, and katara saved mai's partner during the final agni kai - they have both proven to each other the extent of their commitment and cared for another they care about deeply. they're the biggest idealism vs. cynicism clash but honestly over time i think the respect only grows over time despite periods of hot and cold. I'd like to think if katara ever has relationship difficulties with aang, after her gran's, it's mai whose advice she might respect the most - after all, it's mai who understands what it's like to date someone who is a world leader, and mai absolutely believes in having firm, healthy boundaries and little tolerance for sufferring for men in relationships. I think given their positions they're often in dialogue and in conversation and end up building the most unexpected but also rock solid friendship. they *would* take a bullet for each other, i am sure of it.

mai & toph: i love these two. an incredible friendship. mai takes to toph the quickest out of aang's friends. it makes sense - toph comes from a similar class and upbringing as mai, albeit has taken a different life path and expresses herself completely differently, and i think while surprised and thrown at first by toph's bluntness, mai sees that and not only respects but honestly just loves how toph is a little crass, and doesn't hold decorum as the be all and end all. I think the age difference here actually makes a difference - mai very much sees toph as a younger peer (and eventually, much like zuko, a younger sibling), and while it can be sad to see someone from a younger generation express themselves freely in a way that mai feel she can't, i think her joy at seeing that takes precedence here over any mixed feelings. mai pretends not to be amused at toph's antics (but quietly delights at them) and absolutely is the person who will get the authorities that be in the fire nation to look away from whatever misdemeanours she's committing at any given time (indeed, mai as often been a partner in crime - actually, speaking of, she's been surprised before to see katara also partake with toph, and it was an ice-breaking moment for them, probably one engineered by toph). that said, mai absolutely does not patronise toph, gives it to her straight, will also tell toph when she's going too far or pushing the limit, something toph deeply respects and values. mai can see toph's wisdom and her strong intuitive understanding of how others feel, and admires that, as well as the kindness toph shows (i would not be surprised if mai looks at toph and wants to be a little more like her). I also think mai's sardonic and biting sense of humour is best appreciated by toph out of aang's friends (sokka also finds it very funny, but sokka is also trying hard to get mai to like him, as aforementioned). mai and toph vibe together *so hard* and *so well* (something i think zuko is quietly deeply grateful for, since mai hasn't clicked as well with the rest of the gaang, but also because he views toph like a little sister too).

mai & suki: right! so this one is complicated. mai does not see suki as often as the rest of the gaang - she sees katara and aang often for political reasons, at summits and keets and so on, sokka keeps in touch often and is constantly sending letters, and toph will just turn up unannounced and will stay for several weeks to "relandscape" the fire nation gardens (so she claims) every year or so. I am sticking to show canon here but reject the comics canon - there is no way in hell suki ends up as a bodyguard for zuko, the kyoshi warriors have better things to be doing. so! while mai absolutely saved the teal at boiling rock and suki knows this, the fact that they see each other relatively little mean things are a bit... cool between them? Not quite cold, but there's a degree of awkwardness that mai works past with the others that takes longer with suki. I honestly don't know if suki knows how she should feel about mai? like ty lee not only helped at boiling rock but then went on to work with the warriors and suki very much sees someone who wants to prove herself and right those wrongs in ty lee (as well as someone who is running away but. that's another post). mai completed step 1 and 2 with boiling rock, but hasn't... done anything after that. and on paper they're cool and she knows it but... idk if she knows how to feel? it's a bit weird. a bit awkward and weird. it's possible suki holds more of a grudge than she's willing to admit (she's been most directly wronged by mai and ty lee after all) and the fact that mai has returned to the fire nation, and been, according to katara, disappointingly conservative at times, makes her question what boiling rock meant. suki is cordial and professional around mai but doesn't really know her that well and doesn't trust her as much as the others. mai doesn't particularly care either way and will take or leave friendship with suki (though mai, to be clear, does respect suki immensely as a warrior). the key factor here is ty lee, honestly. i think the two of them could have an excellent relationship if so inclined but it would apmost definitely be due to ty lee trying to prod them into getting along and hanging out and getting to know each other - because i think they're both practical minded, no-nonsense girls who are exceptionally skilled in martial arts and if nothing else they could bond theough sparring sessions, but i think they'd also just get along splendidly if they had the chance. suki just doesn't quite trust mai and mai making those personal amends isn't a priority when she's trying to stop zuko running the fire nation into the ground.

[cybernaght]

Guardian rewatch: episode 7

The world’s most amicable mugging continues in this episode, as Shen Wei waits for Zhao Yunlan to spring into his defence as his personal knight in shining armour. Or, as the official subtitle of the episode states:

I kid you not. Here’s the original with the alternate translation.

I am once more very much not mad at it. 

I say that Shen Wei’s mugging is amicable, but that is of course is before one of the ��gangsters” tries to grab at his Pendant of Pining. “It’s not something that you people can touch”, he states, easily restraining the man’s wrist. He’s not losing his composure just yet, but his warrior’s stance is showing, and he comes pretty close to breaking cover.

Thankfully, this is when Zhao Yunlan shows up to intervene. Hearing him approach, Shen Wei’s first priority is hiding the Pendant of Pining. His second priority is straightening his collar and tightening his tie. Shen Wei may be in a middle of an attempted mugging, but he’d be damned if he allows Zhao Yunlan to see him dishevelled. Come to think of it, it’s kind of hilarious that Shen Wei’s attempt at pretending to be a poor helpless human includes being completely nonplussed by being attacked. Surely freaking out a little would be an infinitely less suspicious choice. 

Yunlan politely but firmly pushes the professor aside, and Shen Wei waits patiently next to the wall, neatly folding his hands the same way he did at the unpleasant councillor meeting in the previous episode. 

Here we finally see that Zhao Yunlan is pretty impressive in hand to hand combat. This man may not have a sword, but he can easily knock two dudes out with three moves. Again, this is a very short, but pretty damn flawless little piece of choreography. Zhao Yunlan’s fighting prowess is even more accentuated with a gleeful adrenaline-filled grin he breaks into after he’s done. I understand Shen Wei’s endless desire to protect the man he’s devoted to, but, honestly, it’s nice to see Zhao Yunlan not really needing protection - not against simple street crime at least. 

Shen Wei proceeds to calmly dust off his discarded briefcase. Zhao Yunlan proceeds to retrieve the other man’s watch from the ground and then passes it on. With physical contact. Should I be obsessing over how their fingers linger together for a second? Maybe not. I am doing it anyway. 

“What a coincidence”, deadpans Shen Wei, who knows for the fact that the other man is tailing him, and causes a delightful burst of faux outrage in response. 

“What are you implying?”, Zhao Yunlan asks innocently, deflecting further by inquiring whether Shen Wei thinks he staged this little rescue mission. He follows it with “Only you’re allowed to be here this time of night?”, which I choose to read as, “Really, Shen Wei. Why do you think you should have a monopoly on stalking in this relationship?”

As the two are distracted by the low key flirting, one of the muggers makes an opportunity attack on Zhao Yunlan. Shen Wei is alarming Yunlan to this with genuine worry, but does not lose his composure enough to intervene.  

We are treated to another excellent three moves, which are block-break-backfist. Well mixed sound helps, but Bai Yu does look very good as well. The footage does not appear sped up at all, but his movements are fast and crisp, he’s engaging his whole body, everything lands well angle-wise, it’s appropriately safe... Again, I cannot fault this at all. Bai Yu is not physically strong, and this just goes to show that you don’t need a lot of muscle to look like you can be an effective fighter. I don’t want to go into long detail on western media’s obsession with unrealistic physical standards in action media, but suffice it to say that it’s an unhealthy and pointless aesthetic choice which has nothing to do with reality of combat performance - as this scene clearly illustrates. (Look. As I said, stage violence is one of my jobs, and I’m a curvy woman who spends a lot of her time with insecure young actors and drama students. I have opinions.)

Having fended off the attack, Zhao Yunlan exaggerates the situation with the proverb “talking too much will get you killed.” Shen Wei is obviously distressed over his choice of words, but he looks down to hide it. 

At this point the two decide to go home instead of getting the street criminals off the street. 

Zhao Yunlan follows Shen Wei into his flat, pretending very loudly that he has not seen this place before. He is trying way too hard. And there is a touch of a naughtily feline glimmer in his eyes, because he is probably still on that adrenaline rush: his heart would be pounding, senses elevated, brain basking in a pleasant sharpness akin to a sugar rush, when everything is a little bit too saturated. And an attractive mysterious man he just saved is asking him to stay. Zhao Yunlan’s going to have even less brain to mouth filter here than he usually does. 

Shen Wei is getting a first aid to kit to treat Zhao Yunlan’s injuries. It’s anyone’s guess why the self-healing Envoy needs a first aid kit at all - it lives in a Tupperware box as well, suggesting that it’s been assembled and organised by hand rather than store bought. 

Sitting down, and tucking his tie in (because neatness is everything), Shen Wei prepares to administer a mysterious ointment to Zhao Yunlan’s bruise, and states that this is him giving Chief Zhao an opportunity for interrogation. I bet he has got a lie prepared for any question, because this situation has definitely been pre-planned. 

Instead of probing the other man, Zhao Yunlan offers him a job. Shen Wei’s answer is a firm no, which he utters without even a second hesitation. To Zhao Yunlan, this clearly reads as a rejection, as his face crumbles. 

He livens up however, when Shen Wei hurries to add that this is not a denial of help or cooperation. Zhao Yunlan is right to ask why he would take the job then case; this is an entirely reasonable question. I’m guessing, Shen Wei’s reluctance comes from his unwillingness to compromise Hei Pao Shi’s position, rather than an attempt to prevent Zhao Yunlan from getting involved in the cosmic shitstorm which is currently brewing: as the Lord Guardian, he’s gonna get right in the middle of said storm either way. 

“You just move in and didn’t invite your neighbour over for some fun?”, Zhao Yunlan asks.

Laying it on really thick, I see. 

Shen Wei blinks disbelievingly, as if to say “did he just…?” then recovers enough to huff out a laugh.

“My mistake. Next time, I’ll properly invite you.”

Zhao Yunlan snaps his fingers in delight, visibly vibrating with joy. In his head this is Yunlan - 1: Xiao Wei - 0. 

As Shen Wei starts to apply the mysterious ointment, Zhao Yunlan flinches, and Shen Wei is genuinely taken aback by an idea that he might hurt this man. He is so preciously startled for a second, shedding ten thousand years in an instant. I am never going to not be impressed by Zhu Yilong’s ability to switch into Baby Shen Wei mode in a matter of seconds. 

“I didn’t expect you to have such skilful hands.”

Zhao Yunlan’s charm attack truly is unrelenting, and Shen Wei looks up with such a fragile hope in his eyes. He has lived a long time now, and he has learned to maintain thick walls around himself, but he is still incredibly affected by Kunlun’s shameless flirting. 

Continuing his charm offensive, Zhao Yunlan gets so distracted by trying to further impress Shen Wei, he unwittingly reveals that he knows the layout of this flat. And realises what he said. And hopes that the other man had not noticed, adorably brushing his nose in embarrassment. 

He dug this one out for himself, and Shen Wei is far from mortified: he is pleased to have caught the other man out. Zhao Yunlan flails, and Shen Wei quite literally is failing to wipe a smug smile off his own face. 

He’s not even really waiting for an explanation. He’s just happy to win this round. There is even a little “yeah sure let’s pretend I believe you” tilt of the eyebrow, when Yunlan finally comes up with something that sounds as a reasonable excuse. 

After his massive blunder, Zhao Yunlan tries to leave again. Shen Wei stops him, again, and there is no limit to how slyly Zhao Yunlan turns around, followed by a hind of disappointment when all he gets is an ointment, and not, you know, an opportunity to have a good look around Shen Wei’s bedroom. 

Shen Wei is left alone in his flat in a state of utter emotional overload, stroking the Pendant under his shirt. 

Let’s disregard for a second the fluctuating length of the chord the Pendant hangs on (is it between his collar bones or in front of his breastbone? Pick one!), and just appreciate the pining. Shen Wei is going through a lot of feelings since his Kunlun’s returned into his life, and sometimes computing is not an option. 

In the next scene, the muggers are discussing Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan, calling them both too formidable to even attempt an act of revenge against them. Definitely a wise idea. Unfortunately for them, they immediately get attacked by… something.

Spoiler alert: no, it’s not a bear.

It’s the White Shirt Day at the SID. Chu Shuzhi is the only one not participating. In this scene, we discover that Lin Jing likes a horror web novelist called Lai Su - which will be very convenient for the case at hand. During their conversation, Wang Zheng alerts he team to the new case, asking for the whereabouts of their boss. Zhu Hong’s reply is that who knows which old pal the man is hang out with. As we never see him having any friends outside of his job, I choose to believe that he is probably hanging out with Shen Wei; quite possibly exploring the layout of his bedroom. Especially considering how good his mood is as he strolls into the office announcing that he is going to buy a feast for everyone.

Unfortunately, the feast has to wait. Zhao Yunlan, Chu Shuzhi and Xiao Guo head towards the crime scene, which is the very same alley the mugging took place the night before. 

“Based on my experience, he died from freezing.” 

There has never been a more apt reason to use the phrase “no shit Sherlock”. 

Apparently, there is a cctv camera trained right on this very particular dark alley. Which implies that the muggers were even less professional than they appeared to be at the beginning of the episode. Mysteriously, the footage fails to show the actual monster who attacked the poor unfortunate street criminals. It did, on the other hand, capture Zhao Yunlan’s dashing rescue of Professor Shen.

Zhao Yunlan can’t exactly stop his team from rewinding the footage, so he is just left squirming as those around him gape at him spending time with Shen Wei in the middle of the night. 

“You... and Shen Wei? This late at night?”

Chu Shuzhi’s transition from disbelief to a knowing “ah” via a mischievous smirk is particularly amusing. 

The following afternoon, Zhu Hong appears in Shen Wei’s office, laptop in hand. She is quietly furious at being given this task; as I imagine it is very awkward indeed to be a laptop carrier for your crush’s crush. The entire scene she will be alternating between glaring, rolling her eyes, pursing her lips, and glaring with even more venom. 

After Shen Wei gets over his initial bafflement at technology, he realises that Zhao Yunlan is video calling him in order to ask for his expertise on the current case. For the most of this scene the call looks like some sort of fake generic video conference software, apart from some shots on the SID side which very obviously show a pre-recorded footage being played: with a pause button, and a time stamp, and everything.

Shen Wei is in full trolling mode when he educates the SID team on all the types of bears that could have attacked the victim. He tasted this feeling of outsmarting Yunlan the night before and it’s too sweet to let go. Judging by the fact that Da Qing, who is by Zhao Yunlan’s side, is falling asleep during this conversation, we can guess that it’s been going on for a while. 

Zhao Yunlan knows that Shen Wei is trying to prove a point here - he will not be bullied into being a consultant. So, Zhao Yunlan changes tactics, and asks Shen Wei for clues as a friend. Shen Wei assures Zhao Yunlan in turn that he would never hide anything important from. The magnitude of this particular lie is immeasurable, unless Shen Wei considers turning himself into a literal suicide bomb inconsequential. Which, to be fair, he might do. 

Finally, Da Qing wakes up and suggests that the suspect is a Youchu (translated in subs a “secluded beast”). He is not correct, but it is important that we know what those are, because we’ll see them in a couple of episodes - so it actually makes sense to write them in here. 

Shen Wei instantly comes forward, fishes a relevant file out of his drawer, and educates the team on that particular monster. Zhao Yunlan relates that he is familiar with those, and that he knows Hei Pao Shi fought them before in nearby cities. 

Existence of aforementioned nearby cities will remain a beautiful enigma, which will never be explained. Seastar will remain very much a Little Prince-sized planet. 

At this point Zhao Yunlan gets a call about the other mugger being found, and Shen Wei tells him in a rush that he does not think those two men possess Undergrounder qualities. 

When asked however what those qualities are, he does not elaborate, and, after a thick silence, Zhao Yunlan sighs in resignation and finally lets Shen Wei off the hook, assuring him that he knows not all Undergrounders are monsters. He knows - of course he knows - that Shen Wei is hiding stuff. He knows the other man is somehow invested in the Undergounders, and is probably is one himself.  Once again he chooses to trust him absolutely. I know it feels like I say those words every single episode, but this is also the choice Zhao Yunlan makes, deliberately, every single episode. This conversation will leave Zhao Yunlan very cranky for the remainder for the case, but his willingness to keep giving Shen Wei concessions is actually really sweet. 

Shen Wei asks, perhaps, impulsively, that Yunlan shares his findings with him, because he is curious who the culprit is. It makes, as ever, little sense for him to do so considering that he would find it out anyway as Hei Pao Shi.

After completing her mission, Zhu Hong leaves in a huff. She did not say hello and she does not say goodbye either. Shen Wei tries to wave amicably, but aborts the gesture.

He does not yet know - and will not find out for quite some time - why Zhu Hong feels so antagonistic towards him. 

Next stop: the hospital ward with a now insane criminal. Portrayal of mental health issues on this show is... interesting, by which I mean terribly stigmatising. I would have understood if this was a magic-induced psychosis, but I don’t think that’s the case at all. 

Lin Jing realises that the case sounds very much like the web horror novel he likes. It sounds insane, but Yunlan hears him out. The scientist goes into great detail over the author, revealing that he was a leader of his fan club at some point, and detailing several murders from his recent novel that appeared to have have happened in reality.

The team moves on to scout the author’s - Lai Su’s - house, with Zhao Yunlan being the one to approach it. He then proceeds to summon his team via a non-existent radio. 

Look. There is no mouth piece on this jacket. There is no earpiece in his ear. There are no wires. None of the team have radios. None of them even look like they are listening to radios. (Trust me, the “please shut up for a second, someone is speaking into my ear” is a recognisable look). Guardian’s writers/directors. Mah dudes. If you can’t afford radios, just make him do a non-verbal signal, seriously. Same effect, with much less silliness, and no continuity issues. 

Before the team enters the house, we see Ya Qing in crow form for the first time. Even without the benefit of hindsight, it’s easy to recognise that the crow will become narratively significant because she is animated, and this show would not waste its very scarce and rapidly depleting CGI budget in vein. 

We also know that the crow is a Yashou because Lin Jing starts talking about Zhu Hong at that exactly moment. Guardian is many wonderful things - it’s dramatic, breathtaking, heart-wrenching, and poignant - but subtle it is not.

Inside the house, they discover a secret room, which Lai Su is hiding in, and we finally get to meet our unfortunate culprit. 

It is very peculiar how mean-spirited this episode seems to be. The web novelist in question is shown in an unequivocally negative light. He is a coward hiding behind a blanket, a weirdo living in a secret room, a glutton stuffing his face with snacks and drinking wine. He is shown as too vain to stop chasing clout even when he suspects that his novel is leading to people dying. He writes for attention and money rather than out of genuine artistic expression. He is a whimpering mess, begging Lin Jing on his knees to speak to the Chief on his behalf. Even if we consider that moral of the story (as stated later in Guo Changcheng’s diary note) is “internet bad”, this insistence of making Lai Su so unmistakably despicable is baffling. The series is based on the web novel. What kind of message is this sending about its origins?  

On the bright side, I suppose it is nice that part of this episode not revolving around Zhao Yunlan and Shen Wei’s relationship is actually rather Lin Jing-centric. So far, he was mostly there for occasional tech support and countless shots of him of screaming at a computer, but here we get to know more about him, and he goes on a little emotional journey of his own - meeting his idol and being distraught by the author not living up to expectations. It is always so disappointing to see creators you admire being imperfect, or downright unpleasant, and it’s easy to sympathise with Lin Jing’s discontent. 

Zhao Yunlan’s modus operandi has always been intuition. Looking at the author, he knows that he must be responsible for the murders, and also knows that he could not possibly have been. For once it is actually Xiao Guo who suggests the solution: multiple personality disorder. Or, magical multiple personality disorder, as it is the case. We see this click with the Chief, and he genuinely praises the young man. 

Back at the house, Lai Su is deciding to stop the murder spree by writing the demise of the homicidal protagonist of his novel. This is his ultimate redemption, which also leads to his untimely death by the hands of the monster who lives within him and is manifested through his writing. 

The team asks Zhao Yunlan what was going on with this strange case. They won’t get an explanation; but Shen Wei will. 

Zhao Yunlan, as promised, drops by Shen Wei’s office late at night to tell him all about the case. He concludes that Lai Su must have had Undergrounder blood in him, with his power not manifesting until now. Zhao Yunlan sounds rather remorseful as he stipulates that the writer could have lived a long happy life despite his origin and abilities, had he not started unknowingly abusing his powers. This Zhao Yunlan is miles removed from the man who vowed to catch every Undergrounder, and we can see Shen Wei infinitely moved by this man’s empathy. 

This, I think, is the very moment Shen Wei starts to fall in love - not with the man who was Kunlun, or the man who will be Kunlun, or the man who resembles Kunlun - with Zhao Yunlan, Lord Guardian, Chief of Special Investigations Department, with all his incessant flirting, and sharp edges, and pointed questions, and endless understanding. 

In the final moments of this episode Zhao Yunlan shares a dark premonition that something truly terrible will happen in their city. 

He has no idea how right he is. 

Next up: Episode 8: The Morning Porridge 

——

This conversation happened with my partner as I was working on this recap:

Me: … I am two scenes in and this is how much I’ve typed up already. 

My partner: Honey! I know you’re Russian, but War and Peace has already been written. 

[twomanyideas]

The Way To A Man's Heart - Chapter 2

A collaboration by @mdelpin and @oryu404​

AO3 | Prev: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Next:

Chapter 2

The hotel was fancier than Natsu remembered from their previous visit with Happy, Erza and Lucy, but he wasn’t all that concerned about it. Stuff like that had never mattered to him. He was much more worried about the line of people waiting to get into the restaurant. He’d been about to complain about it, but he never got the chance.

“Relax, Pyro. We have a reservation, remember?”

Right. And he was thankful for that. Outside of the unexpected train ride, this dinner had been a godsend. The perfect solution to what had been shaping up to be an uncomfortable situation.

Natsu loved his guildmates; they were his nakama after all, but they were too damn nosy for their own good. It was bad enough that they’d already made Gray’s life miserable by encouraging Juvia’s antics despite his constant rejections, but now it seemed they’d set their sights on him.

He knew he should have expected it, but he’d hoped that they would have interpreted his lack of romantic interest in Lucy for what it was. Instead, they’d decided he was oblivious, and encouraged her as well.

Natsu loved Lucy dearly. He just wasn’t in love with her, but he didn’t want to hurt her by telling her that. He’d kind of hoped she’d get bored by his lack of response and move on to someone else. Someone like Loke, who was clearly crazy about her. But that hadn’t happened yet, and even worse, he’d overheard Mira telling Cana that Lucy planned to make her move that night.

He’d jumped at the chance to escape the guild. A night full of food and drink was just what he’d been in the mood for, and the prospect of hanging out with Gray intrigued him.

He followed Gray to a podium, where a hostess greeted them. That already was a big change from the places they usually ate. The hostess verified their reservation and handed them off to a server, who led them down a dimly lit hallway and into a small room.

“Your table isn’t ready yet, but this is our lounge,” she announced with a smile. “It’s not as noisy as our main bar, and you can still enjoy a drink while you wait.”

She gestured towards the lounge’s bar area and left. Music played softly on the room’s music lacrimas, and along with the usual bar stools there were several sofas that looked more expensive than Natsu’s house, contents included. He decided the bar stools were probably safer.

The lounge had large windows, giving them a splendid view of the ocean.

“Oh wow, this is great!” he exclaimed, watching the people on the beach enjoy the warmth and beauty of the setting sun. Everyone looked like they were having so much fun, and there had been so many stalls to check out. He longed to go join them.

When was the last time they’d been able to do anything fun?

“Yeah,” Gray agreed. “Maybe we can check it out after we eat? Mavis knows I won’t be able to get you back on the train after that.”

Natsu hated to admit it, but Gray probably had a point. They took their seats, and the bartender walked over to them.

“Can I interest you in a drink?” she asked politely. “Yeah.” Gray pored over the wine and cocktail menu he received. “Could we get two of those magic drinks?” “Excellent choice, Sir. Two Magic Wonders coming right up.”

Natsu’s stomach rumbled as the smell of food wafted over to them, causing Gray to roll his eyes at him. Gray got the bartender’s attention again and added, “Can we get an order of your spiciest appetizer too?”

“Sure thing.” The bartender put their order in and continued to mix drink orders.

Gray got up and patted Natsu's shoulder, “There, don’t say I never did anything for you.”

“Hey, where you going?”

“To take a leak.”

He walked off and Natsu watched him go, amused to notice his friend had kept his shirt on for once. It felt almost unnatural. His eyes lingered briefly on Gray’s broad shoulders, traveling down his back, and before he even knew what he was doing, he found himself staring at Gray’s ass and thinking about how nice it was.

“Oh, and try not to destroy the place while I’m gone.”

Gray turned around then, a teasing smile on his face which turned into a wink when he noticed Natsu’s eyes on him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Natsu spluttered, his cheeks red with indignation, or at least that’s what he told himself, refusing to acknowledge for the moment that his best friend had caught him checking him out. Gray’s parting chuckle irritated him even more.

Stupid Ice Princess. Like he couldn’t be left alone for five minutes without getting into trouble. What did Gray think he was, a Vulcan in a pottery shop?

But seriously, what in the world had possessed him to do that?

It had to be Juvia. He cursed her for his sudden awareness. Ever since she’d joined the guild it had been Gray-sama this and Gray-sama that, until the guy’s name lingered in the air, working its way into Natsu’s brain like some kind of annoying hypnotic suggestion he couldn’t escape.

Yeah, that had to be it.

He went back to staring out the window while he waited for Gray to return.

0-0

Gray entered the restaurant’s bathroom, closing the door behind him quietly and checking the stalls to make sure they were empty before he allowed himself to react.

“Yes!” He pumped his fists in the air in celebration, smiling so widely he barely recognized himself in the mirror.

He had a chance! Natsu had been checking him out, and that had never happened before. At least, not that he’d ever noticed.

Feeling more confident that this plan might actually get him somewhere, Gray did his business, his head up in the clouds, filled with possible dream scenarios about how the evening could go.

You've got a little something there. Oh, it's me! Nah, too corny.

That sunset looks beautiful, doesn’t it? Not nearly as beautiful as you, though. Ugh… too sappy.

There had to be some smooth move he could make, something not too in-your-face yet still obvious enough even the Flame Brain would get it.

Well, whatever. He had Natsu all to himself tonight, with an enjoyable meal ahead of them and the beach to look forward to after that. He'd think of something. For now, he’d start small. Maybe he’d offer a compliment. Everyone liked those. Right?

Gray washed his hands, and after giving himself one last pep talk, he headed back to the bar. As he walked, he tried to remember a joke Loke had told him earlier. It had been a little crass, but he was sure Natsu would find it funny. Gray could almost hear Natsu’s laughter ringing in the air.

Yeah, just like that.

It took him a second to realize he hadn’t imagined it. As he got closer to the lounge, he could hear Natsu’s laughter loud and clear, and Gray thought it was the best sound in the world. A smile spread across his face, only to be wiped off immediately at the sight that greeted him at the bar.

More specifically, at the sight of the barstool he’d left behind, which was now occupied by none other than Sting Fucking Ew-cliffe.

He’d only been gone for a few minutes. Where had Sting even come from?!

Gray clenched his fists, fighting off the urge to grab the Sabertooth Master by the collar of his shirt and pull him out of his seat. But as much as he’d like to do something like that, he knew it was a bad idea. If he was a jerk, it would piss Natsu off and that would be the end of their evening.

Instead, he plastered a smile on his face and approached the two dragon slayers.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, hey, you’re back,” Natsu said as his laughter died down. “Sting told me a joke.”

Sting offered Gray a half wave, looking unexcited to see him. The feeling was entirely mutual.

“Well, it was nice of you to stop by to say hello but don’t let us keep you.”

“Me? Nah, I’ve got time to spare. Our table isn’t ready either.” Sting casually rested his arm on the bar and turned to Natsu, “I’m surprised to see you guys here.”

Great. This was going to be awhile. Gray decided he might as well sit down and begrudgingly claimed the vacant stool on Natsu's other side.

“Our table?” He looked around, trying to spot anyone he might recognize from Sabertooth. “I don’t see anyone else here. Did you get stood up?” “Of course not! He’s just late,” Sting said, sounding pretty sure of himself even as his legs bounced on the edge of the stool and his eyes darted in the direction of the hallway they'd come in from.

“Stood up? So you’re on a date?” Natsu asked, pouting in disappointment and giving Gray a mini heart attack for a second until he added, “I thought maybe Rogue would join you.” Sting promptly stilled, staring at Natsu and blinking rapidly. “Uhm... Rogue is my date.”

Natsu laughed heartily, “Good one, but seriously, is it anyone we know?”

Gray winced, almost feeling sorry for the guy. Definitely not what you wanted to hear, especially not from someone you looked up to. With any luck, Rogue would get there before Natsu’s obliviousness destroyed Sting’s confidence any further. Although, he had to admit that would be fun to watch, too.

“Why wouldn’t it be Rogue? I mean, you and uhm-” Sting looked over at Gray, eyes narrowing in concentration and fingers snapping before he shrugged his shoulders- “him don’t strike me as dating either, but here you are.”

“Well, but aren’t you the Twin Dragons? I thought you guys were brothers.”

Brothers?!

How the hell could Natsu think that? Sure they were called the Twin Dragons, but they looked nothing alike. They even had different last names, for fuck’s sake.

Gray could only stare at him in amazement. He was in love with an idiot. Might as well say he was moronsexual.

Sting spoke up before Gray could call Natsu out.

“That’s just our team name, stupid. Do you really think I’d date my brother?”

“Do you really think Gray would ask me out on a date?” It started out as a chortle, but Natsu soon burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

Gray no longer thought it was the best sound ever.

“Why wouldn’t he? And I mean, look at this place-” Sting gestured at the fancy decor and the expensive furniture in the lounge- “It doesn’t exactly scream just friends, does it?”

Natsu shrugged, a faint smile still playing on his lips. "Nope, that’s not what happened here. I just overheard Gray talking about having a reservation at an all you can eat restaurant as part of a job reward and invited myself along."

It seemed his and Loke’s plan had worked a little too well. Gray desperately wanted to ask Natsu what he would have said if he had asked him out, but he wasn’t about to do that in front of Sting.

“You got a reservation as a reward? Man, I wish I’d seen that job.” Sting looked at Gray, eyes wide in disbelief. “I had to make one 3 weeks in advance!”

3 Weeks?!

Gray had no idea this place was that popular, and he wondered what strings Loke had pulled to get the last minute reservation. And more importantly, what he would ask for in return. He’d better make the most of it.

“Do you think Rogue will like it? It's our first date, so I wanted to impress him.” Sting looked around the lounge, suddenly eyeing the place with a look of dread.

“Um... sure,” Natsu said, “It has an awesome view of the beach and, you know, there’s food.”

“You’ve just described every restaurant in Akane,” Gray pointed out. Then again, he was pretty sure with restaurants, Natsu didn’t pay attention to anything outside of the food.

Natsu shrugged. “Where are our appetizers and drinks, anyway? Shouldn’t they be here by now?”

Gray silently agreed. He was hungry, and he’d really like for their date to start, minus the interloper.

“What about me? Do I look okay?” Sting stood up and turned around, eyes wide as he awaited their judgment.

“There’s something different about you. What is it?” Natsu muttered, tapping his chin with his finger as he studied Sting.

“Well, for one, he’s wearing an actual shirt.” Gray said with a frustrated sigh. This was not how he had envisioned their date going. What was it going to take to get rid of this guy?

Actually…

“You look fine, dude. Might have overdone it a bit on the cologne, though.”

“He’s not the only one.” Natsu scrunched up his nose. “You both smell like one of the Trimens.”

Gray bit back a retort, but Sting went into a panic, grabbing a napkin from the bar and scrubbing his neck. “Fuck, I knew it was too much. Does this help any? It doesn't, does it? I should clean it off.”

He bolted out of the lounge, dodging a few other guests who were being guided to their table, and shouting a “be right back” over his shoulder. Just as Gray had hoped he would.

“Take all the time you need,” Gray called out after him cheerfully, reclaiming his original seat because… well, he’d had it first.

“Well, that was something.” He said, glossing over that minor act of pettiness. “Didn’t think we’d bump into anyone we knew.”

“Hey, you think they'd be down for a fight later?” Nasu asked, punching his left fist into the palm of his right hand.

“Of course not. They’re on a date, moron. Do you really think they’d want to do something like that?”

“I would.”

“On a date?” Gray challenged, although he wasn’t sure why he was surprised. This was Natsu, after all.

“Yeah, why not? Aren’t you supposed to have fun on dates?”

Gray couldn’t really argue with that, and fighting with Natsu was always fun. He was about to suggest they spar later when he spotted the bartender coming their way.

“Two Magic Wonders, and some Firecracker Shrimp to whet your appetite,” she announced, arriving with their drinks and appetizer and setting them down before them. “Apologies for the long wait, we're fully booked tonight so we're a little backed up.”

Finally!

“I think they’re broken,” Natsu complained, examining the drinks with slight disappointment, “they just look like two glasses of plain water.”

Gray had to give him that one. This wasn’t what he’d expected from the so-called magically infused cocktails either.

“The spell is still unfinished,” the bartender explained. “You need to wrap your hand around the cup and focus some of your magic energy into it. It doesn’t need much-”

Gray could tell Natsu had stopped listening. Before she'd finished her sentence, he'd already grabbed the cup in his hand and set it on fire.

“Natsu!”

"Sir!"

He ignored the protests from both Gray and the bartender, keeping his attention on the glass, which had begun to shake in his hand. The liquid bubbled and turned bright red, and then it shot up like a failed potion, right into Natsu's face.

“You idiot! Do you ever think?!”

So much for not insulting him.

“Geez, relax, will ya? A little thing like that isn’t gonna hurt me,” Natsu pointed out, evaporating the liquid easily, as Gray had seen him do so many times. The bartender breathed an audible sigh of relief, wiping the remaining spillage from Natsu's drink off the bar with a cleaning rag. “I’ll be right back with another drink,” she assured them before moving to another section of the bar, where she restarted the mixing process.

“You’re still an idiot,” Gray grumbled, making Natsu laugh in response.

“Well, you know what they say, it takes one to know one.”

Gray opened his mouth to answer, but Natsu quickly changed the subject.

“Why don’t you try it then?”

“Gladly.”

Gray focused a small amount of magic on his hand and wrapped the glass in a thin layer of ice. As soon as he did so, bubbles sprouted from the bottom, rising to the surface and forming a vortex that spun until the liquid had changed color from clear to the vibrant blue of glacier ice. Vapor rose from the liquid’s surface and transformed into small snowflakes that gently floated back down into the drink.

“That’s so dainty. Precisely what I’d expect from an Ice Princess,” Natsu snickered. “I bet mine’s gonna be way cooler.”

“I just hope the restaurant’s still in one piece by the time you’re done.”

Gray took a small sip, swishing the contents around in his mouth and closing his eyes.

The liquid was cold, so much so that it sent a small but welcome shiver up his spine. Hints of chocolate and peppermint danced on his tongue, reminding him of when he’d lived with Ur and Lyon.

Their training had been intense, but on days when she’d been pleased with their progress, Ur had made him and Lyon hot cocoa that tasted much like this. She had made them responsible for crushing the candy mints, and they would bicker about the best way to do it as Ur laughed at them from behind the stove. He could almost picture it, and rather than cause him the usual grief, the memory made him smile.

He opened his eyes to find Natsu watching in rapt fascination, his curiosity just about bursting out of him.

“Well? What did it taste like?”

Gray didn’t answer right away, still caught up in his memories. It took him a while to even register that Natsu was staring at him, focusing on his lips as if he’d never seen them before.

Gray thought of how to describe it, and suddenly he knew. “It tastes like winter.”

And just like that, Natsu snapped out of his trance, bouncing in his seat with excitement. “Ooh, me! I want to try winter!” Gray covered his drink with his hand, fixing Natsu with a glare that screamed at him to back off.

“Come on, don’t be so stingy! I don’t have a drink.”

“And whose fault is that? Besides, I don’t know where your mouth has been. No way I want that in my drink!”

Natsu pouted, but soon mischief crept into his eyes. Before Gray could consider what that could mean, Natsu had already grabbed his hand. Gray’s heart beat faster, not sure where Natsu was going with this, but excited just the same. Natsu’s tongue darted out, licking a stripe across the palm of Gray’s hand while maintaining eye contact.

Holy shit!

“Now you do,” Natsu grinned, looking quite pleased with himself even as Gray struggled to come up with an appropriate reaction. He took advantage of that, grabbing Gray’s glass and taking a sip.

“What do you know! Your magic actually tastes good, kind of like peppermint hot chocolate.”

Gray looked away, not wanting Natsu to see just how much his little stunt had affected him.

“So, uh, what were you thinking about? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile like that before.”

“My drink tasted like the hot cocoa Ur used to make for us,” Gray said, relieved to be back on more comfortable ground.. “I hadn’t thought about that in a long time.”

“Why didn’t you just say that, you dumbass? I wouldn’t have pushed.”

“Yeah, you would have.” Gray chuckled.

Natsu tried to deny it, but he must’ve known it was a stretch, so he laughed along with Gray. “Okay, yeah. I would have.” He grabbed a Firecracker Shrimp and chewed on it. And for the second time since they’d arrived, Gray caught him staring out the window. “Another Magic Wonder,” the bartender returned with Natsu's drink. She'd also brought a fire extinguisher, and was trying, but failing, to hide it subtly under the bar.

If Natsu had noticed, he didn't seem to be bothered by it, focusing only on the glass in front of him.

“Don't overdo it this time,” Gray reminded him.

Natsu furrowed his brow in concentration, coating his glass in a small flame and anxiously watching the liquid change color again. It slowly turned that same intense red from before. Instead of the vapor from Gray’s drink, there was a plume of smoke that transformed into a bright flame that remained lit.

He eyed it for exactly one second before drinking all of it down in one gulp.

Gray had expected Natsu to react in some over the top manner. To yell, or go on about how his drink was superior, just like his magic, but there was only silence. That wasn’t exactly true, though. Now that he was paying more attention, Gray could see that Natsu’s eyes were teary.

“Natsu?” Gray put a hand on his arm, worried by the uncharacteristic change. “What’s happening?”

“I’m fine, it’s just- it tasted like Igneel’s fire,” Natsu sniffled, hugging the cup to his chest with reverence. “It’s been so long since I last tasted it and now it’s all gone.”

Oh no! Natsu looked like he was ready to cry. That wasn’t supposed to happen on a date! Gray panicked, not knowing what to do or say to make Natsu feel better. He looked at his drink, still sitting on the bar, and considered offering it to him.

Idiot! He won’t want your stupid drink after tasting Ignel’s fire. Oh, of course! How dense could he be? He could order him another one.

“Don't worry, I’ll get you another one.”

Gray scrambled out of his seat after glimpsing the bartender serving a customer at the other end of the bar.

“I’ll be right back,” he called over his shoulder, determined to fix this slight glitch in his plans.

He waited as patiently as he was able for her to finish.

“I need another Magic Wonder.”

“Sure, I’ll put in an order, but it’s going to take a while. We’re very backed up.”

“Isn't there something I can do to speed it up?” He thought of the jewels in his pocket. “I can pay extra if that helps.”

“Sir, I already-”

“Please? This can literally make or destroy my night.”

The bartender glanced over at Natsu, who still looked despondent, hugging the empty glass to his chest. Her expression softened slightly. “Alright, I’ll do it just this once. Stay right there.”

Gray nodded, tapping his fingers on the bar as he waited. A couple sat next to him blocking his view of Natsu but he dared not move, worried the bartender might decide to give the drink to someone else.

As soon as she returned with his order, Gray turned around, almost dropping the drink he'd shamelessly begged for when he saw his bar stool once again occupied by someone who wasn't him. Any relief he might have felt that it wasn't Sting this time was overshadowed by dismay at seeing Rogue talking to Natsu, leaning in ever so slightly and nodding in sympathy.

Oh, come on!

He all but stomped his way back over, still careful not to spill any of the drink, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get another for quite a while.

“You’re in my seat,” Gray informed Rogue, attempting to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know.” Rogue got up and moved to stand on the other side of Natsu.

“Here you go,” Gray said, placing the fresh drink in front of Natsu before reclaiming his seat.

He watched as Natsu put the glass he had been holding on the bar and stared at the new drink with something akin to awe. He cupped his hand around it and let out the barest flicker of magic to complete the spell.

“Are you okay?” Gray asked worriedly, not used to seeing Natsu act this way.

“Yeah, I just don’t want to waste any of it.”

The way he said that made Gray feel like he was intruding, so he turned his attention to Rogue, who still stood peering into the dim corners of the lounge.

“You’re looking for Sting, right? He’s in the bathroom,” Gray informed him, frowning as he realized the Sabertooth Master had been gone for quite some time. “Come to think of it, he’s been in there a while.”

Rogue looked heavenward and sighed. “Great. I hope he's not munching on the paper towels again.”

“Seriously? That’s disgusting!” Gray pursed his lips in distaste.

“Meh, he’s eaten worse things.” Rogue shrugged, taking a seat next to Natsu.

To Gray’s slight surprise, he in no way looked like he was about to go on a first date. As far as Gray could tell, Rogue looked just about the same as he always did, contrary to Sting, who had obviously dolled himself up for the occasion like a teenage girl.

Gray leaned back so he could see past Natsu and study the shadow dragon slayer better, wondering if he was about to deal with another nervous wreck. But Rogue showed no signs of being anxious. If anything, he looked tired and frazzled, which Gray guessed made sense. The guy was late, probably just rolled off a train.

“Is something wrong? Was this your seat too?” Rogue frowned at him, realizing he was under scrutiny.

“Huh? Oh, no. I’m just surprised. The way Sting was talking earlier I thought you’d be more into this,” Gray said, turning his attention back to Natsu.

He seemed to have calmed down, although he appeared to be in deep thought while staring at his drink. Gray supposed there was a first time for everything. He’d give him a few more minutes to snap out of it. It’s not like they could get anywhere until they were either called to their table or Sting got out of the damn bathroom.

“This? This what? You mean the restaurant?”

“He means Sting,” Natsu said, joining the conversation when Gray least expected it.

“What about Sting?” “If you don't like him, just tell him. He's your friend. You should be honest with him about how you feel.”

Rogue flinched so hard he almost slid off his seat. “I- What? What the hell are you talking about?”

Gray began to suspect that Rogue was as clueless as Natsu as to why he was there.

“Rogue! You made it!” Gray, Natsu and Rogue all turned towards Sting’s voice, which could somehow be heard over all the other noise. He walked toward them in quick steps and Gray brought his hand up to his mouth to cover up the laugh he couldn’t contain.

Sting’s shirt was covered in wet spots. His hair, which had been styled in perfectly gelled spikes, had flattened into bangs, and there was a long piece of toilet paper attached to one of his shoes.

He’d gone to wash off some cologne, but had returned looking like a survivor of some bizarre bathroom battle, and somehow he still reeked of cologne. But you wouldn't know it from his beaming smile.

Sting walked up to Rogue, reaching into his pocket and pulling out... something Gray couldn’t make out at first because he shoved it at Rogue with such speed that it became nothing but a blurry shape.

“Here, for you.” Sting said, placing what looked to be a small box into Rogue's hand.

“What’s this for?” Rogue said, breaking away from the mess that was Sting, to glance down at the box.

“Open it.”

Rogue slowly slid the elastic bow off and opened it. Whatever was inside caused him to jerk his head back toward Sting with wide eyes.

“Oh.”

“Do you like it?” Sting stared at Rogue in a way that Gray recognized, with a face full of hope and hearts in his eyes.

“I-I uh,” Rogue stuttered, looking back and forth rapidly between Sting, Gray, Natsu, and the lounge. “Give me a minute...”

“You know, I‘m thinking Rogue didn’t know this was a date.” Natsu whispered in Gray’s ear, which was to say he’d blurted it out in a voice loud enough to make his ears ring.

“You think?”

“Yeah, I do,” Natsu nodded, the obvious sarcasm flying straight over his head. “I kinda feel bad now. Maybe we should have told him.” Gray stiffened, Natsu’s words along with the advice he’d offered Rogue earlier echoed through his head. No matter how the thought caused his stomach to twist itself into knots, he knew he’d have to be honest about his intentions at some point. Natsu was his friend too, he deserved as much. “Is that true?” Sting’s shoulders slumped upon hearing the less than subtle conversation between them. “But I asked you and everything.” “Yes, I realize that now,” Rogue said, sounding a bit snappy, which Gray couldn’t blame him for. He gathered himself quickly, though, taking a deep breath and getting up from his seat. “Come-” he grabbed Sting’s hand and led him to a sofa that had just opened up when a couple was called to their table. Gray took another sip of his drink, mirroring Natsu, who he could tell was focusing his ears on the Twin Dragons’ conversation. Under any other circumstance, Gray wouldn’t give a damn about how that would unfold, but the possibility of having a heartbroken Sting join them for the rest of the night changed things a bit. He nudged Natsu, raising his eyebrows in silent question. Natsu didn’t answer, still listening, but if his expressions were anything to go by, it was not going well. Fuck. Please. This can’t be happening… Curiosity getting the best of him, Gray peeked over his shoulder. Sting looked positively dejected, and the visible part of Rogue's face looked no better. “Well, this is awkward.” Gray turned back to Natsu, not sure if he’d be able to watch that train wreck in his current situation. Would his night end like that, too? “Yeah,” Natsu sighed, but then he perked up and started laughing. “Actually, I think they’ll be fine.” “Oh-” Gray absently grabbed a shrimp and began eating- “Good for them.” “Uhm, Gray…” “Hmm?” Gray grabbed another and chewed lazily, not realizing that Natsu might’ve been trying to warn him until he felt his lips and tongue burning with the heat of a thousand suns. He swallowed what was still in his mouth in one go, sending the burn down his throat now as well, and broke out in a violent coughing fit. The blazing heat spread through his entire body fast, setting his skin on fire and causing sweat drops to form on his face. Whose stupid idea was it to get the spiciest appetizer?! Oh, right, that would be him. God bless his icy drink. He gulped it all down, only half hearing Natsu’s rambunctious laughter.

“Who the hell deemed this safe for consumption?” he gasped, fanning at himself in a sorry attempt to cool down.

“Someone who's not an Ice Princess like you,” Natsu snickered, holding out a shirt that looked awfully familiar.

Damn it! How did that happen?!

Gray grabbed his shirt and put it back on before anyone could complain, calling on his magic to help cool himself down.

Natsu shook his head, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Pervert.”

“I can’t help it!”

“I know, Ice Block, I know.” Natsu finished the last of his drink and set it back down on the bar, his eyes straying back to the window for a full minute before peering back at Gray.

“Listen, I know this was a big part of your reward and everything, but do you mind if we take off?”

“You want to go back home?” Gray was crestfallen. He’d thought they were having a good time, outside of the unexpected drama.

“I didn’t say that, but it’s hard to sit still when I know that’s waiting for us,” Natsu said, pointing at the beach. “I’ll even pitch in since it’s my idea.”

Gray thought about it. This restaurant had been Loke’s idea and as far as he was concerned it had already served its purpose. If Natsu would rather go to the beach, then they’d do that. It was bound to be more fun. Plus, this way, if Natsu reacted badly to his confession, he wouldn’t have to worry about property damage.

As much.

“Yeah, we can do that.”

“Wow, that was easier than I thought. That shrimp too much for you?” Natsu taunted.

Gray ignored him, focusing on finding the bartender so he could close their tab. Luckily, she was heading towards him. He was just about to address her when a voice spoke up next to him. “Hey there! Can I get two of the Magic Something drinks?”

“Yes, of course,” the bartender assured Sting. She turned to Gray. “I believe your table should be ready any minute. Would you like anything else?”

“No, thank you. We actually won’t be needing that reservation after all.”

“Alright then, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“You’re leaving?” Rogue asked, appearing by Sting’s side. “But you haven’t even eaten yet.” “We passed a ton of food stalls on the way here,” Natsu said, already sounding excited by the prospect. “Besides, the food they serve here is too spicy for the Ice Princess.”

Gray glared, “Oy! That shrimp was the spiciest appetizer they had.”

Rogue rolled his eyes at the exchange, “You two sound like a married couple.”

"Well, you kinda look like one," Natsu laughed, pointing at the necklace Rogue was now wearing. A thin silver chain with a crystal pendant that was identical to the one dangling from Sting's ear.

"Oh, shut up," Rogue huffed, clutching the piece of jewelry as his cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink than Natsu's hair.

“I’m glad things worked out,” Gray said, mostly to be polite. He winced as he heard people scream in panic as they witnessed Natsu drying off Sting’s clothing with his fire. He could almost hear the bartender rushing to the extinguisher. Why didn’t the idiot ever think?

Yeah, going to the beach was probably for the best.

"Me too." Rogue eyed the spectacle warily. "Sorry you got dragged into that."

“Yeah, it was… something.”

“He means well.” Rogue smiled apologetically, but his eyes were soft with affection. "Oh. That reminds me, can you thank Natsu for me? He was right."

“Now there’s something you don’t hear every day.”

Rogue snorted into his hand, looking less tired than he had when he'd just arrived. "Alright. Get Natsu out of here before-"

Whatever Rogue said after that became inaudible when the screams increased and were almost immediately joined by the loud hiss of the fire extinguisher.

At a loss for words, Gray and Rogue watched the chaos of scattering guests, the bartender frantically trying to extinguish the fire, Sting inhaling the massive gust of white powder blasted at him, and a loudly cheering Natsu.

"... Just get him out of here."

“Good plan.”

Gray hurried over to the two dragon slayers, not about to give Rogue another second to reconsider his life choices. He grabbed Natsu by the arm and pulled him back towards their seats so he could pay for their tab.

“It’s on the house, please just go!” The bartender waved him away, looking like she was on the brink of having a complete meltdown.

“Thank you.” Gray took out his jewel pouch and placed a large tip on the bar, wanting to make up for some of what they had put her through.

Natsu, oblivious as ever, thanked her and waved blithely even as Gray dragged him out of the lounge.

They had almost reached the exit when Natsu shook off Gray’s arm.

“I can walk on my own, you know.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

They left the restaurant and walked through the lobby in silence until Natsu started giggling.

“The look on the bartender’s face when Sting ate that powder!”

Now that the restaurant was safely behind them, Gray couldn’t help but join in. Soon they were laughing so hard they had to hold on to each other to keep from falling down, earning them curious but mostly annoyed looks from the other patrons.

[bella-caecilia]

I just requested 22 for Chelsie but just saw you've already done that one with Cobert. If you're not doing duplicates of the prompts then may I please suggest a backup, #13 for Chelsie? :)

Thank you for your lovely requests for Chelsie 😊 After doing #22 (x) and getting so sweet response from you guys, I decided to do the other one too. I really enjoyed writing for Chelsie for a change :D I set this one shortly after the finale of the series. I hope you like it <3

13 – kissing someone’s forehead

A huff escaped him. Charles stood in his pantry and let his eyes wander across the familiar surroundings. The desk, the fireplace, the armchair. It had been his room, his place for years and years. Years on end, he had thought, but now there was an end. Charles would leave after today. It was his last day of working as butler here at the Abbey, and he couldn’t deny that he was feeling a trifle nostalgic.

He took the two steps towards his desk and his finger brushed over the tabletop. It was as clean and dust-free as ever. The drawers had been emptied earlier this day and only a few personal items were left on top of the desk. There was a picture in a frame Elsie had given him as a present once. The photograph it held, however, was a different one by now. It wasn’t the picture of Alice he had kept after all these years. It was photo of Elsie and him on their wedding day. Elsie had argued at first that she had given him the frame for Alice’s photo and her remembrance. Charles had assured her how thankful he had been and still was for that sweet gesture, but now something new had started in his life. Something he was very grateful for. It was only right to let her frame represent this. She’d smiled coyly and no more words of protest were heard.

Charles adjusted the frame on the desk even if he had to remove it in a few hours. He turned around and observed the room from this familiar angle, standing at his desk.

…

Elsie walked down the hallway with wide strides. She had been checking the maids’ work on the guest rooms and was on her way to find Baxter to ask a favour for some mending work when she caught a glimpse of her husband in his pantry. He stood there with a furrowed brow and seemed lost in thoughts. She stopped in her tracks and changed her plans. She would pay him a short visit before she sought Baxter. Slowly she approached his open door. When he took notice of her presence, she stepped into the room fully and closed the door swiftly behind herself. Her hands hold on to the door handle behind her back.

“Huh, Charlie? Brooding about your new life as a retiree?” she asked softly, tipping her head to the side.

“No, not really,” he answered curtly. His eyes scanned the walls beside her.

“You know? I think it can be really idyllic to spend your days at the cottage?” Elsie suggested. She knew that the change in his as well as in their life was also a chance. A new start for a new phase in life. That it wasn’t easy for him to leave Downton as a crucial part of his life behind was, naturally, clear to her. But it was not a goodbye. Charles and Downton would stay bound together. So Elsie tried to lighten his mood and somehow make this step easier for him.

“It is a wonderful cottage and we have an excellent garden,” she continued. Charles shook his head turned his gaze to her.

“I know, Elsie. But I don’t want to think and talk about what I might do with my life now. We have already talked about that, and there is plenty of time plan more after today,” Charles explained calmly. He sighed. “Right now, I only want to take mental pictures of this place. I don’t want to lose my memories of all that I’ve experienced here.”

Elsie hands sank from the handle. Her gaze was warm. She understood what he meant. She wouldn’t bother him with talk of the future. He should gladly take his mental photographs. She made a step towards him and her right hand reached out to pat his upper arm.

“Well, go on then,” she spoke softly. A tiny smile grazed Charles’ lips, but after a moment an expression of confusion appeared on his face as Elsie made no attempt to leave. She stepped to his side, with her hands folded in front of her. She seemed to wait for his next move.

“What are you doing?” he inquired.

“I’m watching you taking your mental pictures,” she explained casually. “Don’t mind me. I’m just standing here.”

“If you say so,” Charles relented and turned to his deserted armchair, looking at it and probably recalling countless moments that he had sat there. He seemed unbothered by Elsie’s continued presence, and he brushed the rest of the armchair with a faraway look on his face.

“Oh…” Elsie uttered, and Charles turned around, shaken out of his reverie.

“What?” he asked, as she was already approaching his armchair and sinking into the cushioning with a subtle grin on her lips.

“Take a picture!” she demanded while putting her arms on the armrests and leaning further back. She moved as if to make herself comfortable and gave him a warm smile.

“What?” Charles repeated.

“You shouldn’t go without mental images of me. Or do you think otherwise?” Elsie explained. She looked up expectantly into his slightly flabbergasted face.

“No. Of course I have memories here with you. Plenty of them. So I don’t have to take a picture of you exclusively,” he mumbled, but Elsie looked at him challengingly. His expressions softened and took his time taking in the sight before him. How relaxed she was leaning back in his chair and how amused she smiled up at him. His eyes traced along her fingers and round nails, which contrasted nicely with the material of the armrest. He observed how the fabric of her dress bunched slightly at her bent knees. His eyes found hers and he was sure that this image would definitely stay in his mind.

“Got it,” he whispered with a tiny nod. She rose and he could literally see another idea lighting up her face.

“One more,” she stated and went to his desk. She rounded it and sat down on his chair behind it with a straight posture. She rested her wrists on the edge of the desk and gave a him strict and serious look.

“This is my last chance,” she explained nonchalantly. “I’m sure Mr Barrow won’t tolerate it if he’d find me sitting at this desk in future.”

Charles chuckled lowly at her expressed thoughts. “Well, I tolerate it. So, take your time sitting there. I’ve definitely taken a mental image of that.” Elsie took in the items left on his desk. She smiled gently at their photo in the frame and picked up his favourite pen, playing with it lost in thought.

“Elsie?” Charles asked tentatively.

“Yes?” She looked up at him and when he didn’t continue, she stood up and went around the table. She halted directly in front of him and looked up at him with a questioning expression.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for these nice images and for being by my side.” He took her face into his large hands gently. His eyes caressed her face softly.

“It’s alright,” Elsie replied in a hushed voice while Charles leaned forwards with pursed lips to press a kiss to her forehead. His lips lingered there a moment.

“It’s alright,” she repeated, but more in an attempt to reproduce the situation than to assure him. However, Charles decided to gently turn her head upwards and look into her greyish-blue eyes. With the loving look he gave her, she was just as pleased.

[alia-turin]

Could you maybe write a fanfic in which Eredin likes his future significant other but she spends time with Caranthir and he gets a little jealous and things get angsty.... in the end it turns out she returns Eredin's feelings too and they end up together so... fluff!

Hello my lurking friend. I’m not sure if I fulfilled your heart’s desire, but your story is below the cut. I would most likely that on AO3 as well, if I don’t forget. I hope you enjoy that.

Eredin had never been one to hide his feelings or afraid to show them, but he felt a loss right now. 

First time he saw her was a couple of weeks ago, she had been talking with Avallac’h in the courtyard, Eredin had just arrived back from a hunt with an unicorn’s head hanging from his saddle. Avallac’h was the first thing that attracted his attention, it has been a rare sight to see the man in the castle, but then he noticed his companion. She was just...perfect. Eredin never believed in perfection, nothing in this world had been created to be without a fault, but he had stared at her so long and couldn’t find a thing that was not created with excellence. He was going to approach her and talk to her, he wasn’t a shy man, but by the time he dismounted she was already gone. 

Since then he had seen her a few times, always in situations that were inconvenient for him to speak with her, or she disappeared the moment he could finally talk to her. She was like a ghost, never there when he could talk to her, but always haunting him. Eventually Eredin gave up on the random encounters. He was a predator and he was going to act like one. 

He went out of his way to learn about her, she was a daughter of a nobleman whose name he had never heard, but that was no surprise, Eredin did not care about politics. Recently she had started showing skill with magic and her father was hoping that Avallac’h could teach her a trick or two, the Sage had refused. Her father was planning to keep her around to see if he could find someone else, so Eredin concluded he had some time left.

His next opportunity came sooner than he had expected. He wanted to go for a ride, it had been a beautiful day. When he reached the stable’s door, he saw her. Eredin smiled at his luck and started walking to her then he suddenly froze. She was smiling and...blushing while talking. There was a tall figure next to her, his face covered by a hood, but Eredin could recognize the other man anywhere. Caranthir helped her on the horse, she was still all smiles, and then he got on his own horse. Neither of them noticed the king as he was behind them. 

Eredin’s fists were clenched so tight blood had stopped flowing to his knuckles. From all the people in the world Caranthir? Really? He could understand some of the appeal, he was a Navigator, the best ever, strong mage, as strong as Eredin, but that was about where it started and ended. Or where it should have started and ended. She was blushing, that was what he couldn’t understand. Eredin knew his men, Caranthir was a friend and he had learned to respect him, but he had the charm of a rock.

She was blushing. 

If Eredin was to say that the thought of killing Caranthir in this moment did not cross his mind, that would be a lie. He always got what he wanted and what was one Navigator in his way. 

Caranthir walked in the common room of the castle, it was already late at night and he did not expect to see anyone there. For his surprise Eredin and Imlerith were there sitting at the far end of the table and drinking. Caranthir did not need company, as per usual, but he didn’t mind sitting with them for a moment. 

“Where were you?” Eredin launched the question before Caranthir even sat down on the chair. 

“Out…” he answered very confused. Did he miss something? Was he supposed to be somewhere else? Looking at Eredin’s face he must have missed something important as the man was obviously angry with him. Caranthir turned to Imlerith who just shrugged and drank from his glass as an obvious statement that whatever was going on he did not want to be part of it. 

“Who was with you?” Eredin grinned. It wasn’t a friendly grin, that was more a dragon about to turn him into a pile of dust type of grin. 

“I was alone....” Carathir was getting the very unnerving feeling that Eredin was after him for something, but he could not figure out what. He tried running his day through his head, nothing had happened and he could swear that there was nothing he was supposed to be doing today that he might have forgotten. He went to town, he came back, he needed dinner. He looked at Imlerith again for help, the man had pushed his chair back as if expecting Eredin to crawl across the table and strangle Caranthir. 

“Really?” the grin was gone from Eredin’s lips now it was a very sarcastic curious look. “You were not with a woman?”

“A woman?”He was even more lost than he was before. “What would I do with a woman in town?”

“I have an idea or two…” Imlerith chuckled but the other two ignored him. They were just staring at each other, Eredin obviously upset about something Caranthir thinking how fast he can open and close a portal that the other man couldn’t track him through. 

“I saw you in the stables, before you went to town. Alone.” Eredin’s voice emphasized the last word as if there was some hidden meaning in it. Caranthir had no idea what that might be. “You were with that new girl, the one that was hoping Avallac’h to teach her. You were talking with her and you helped her on her horse and the two of you left.”

Caranthir started laughing, he knew he was taking his life in his own hands by doing so, but he just couldn’t stop. Eredin was jealous. He wasn’t good at dealing with his own feelings but that made him an expert in recognizing other people’s feelings, even in Eredin who usually kept most of that well guarded. 

“In all the years you have known me, how many times have I just gone to some random girl and asked her...what on date in town? Seriously?” Caranthir pointed at his face and shrugged in confusion. 

“He has a point.” Imlerith added but both Eredin and Caranthir glared at him and he pushed his chair even further away.. 

“I was saddling my horse, she came to me asking about magic and Avallac’h, I might have barked at her something. She apologized, I felt like an asshole, I told her if she wants to learn more about magic, there is a good section in the bookstore in town, I helped her saddle her horse, rode with her to town and I went on with my day and I have no idea what she did. We barely talked, not sure you have noticed but people tend to be intimidated by me, one has to wonder why, and I don’t talk to them. If you are going to kill me over that, do it faster, because I need a drink.” Caranthir couldn’t believe he had to even list all that for Eredin. He hardly remembered the encounter from this afternoon, he didn’t even recall what she had said about Avallac’h, beside his name, that had set him off. 

“That’s it?” Eredin narrowed his eyes as if trying to determine how likely it was for this story to be a lie. 

“We had wild sex between the stables and the main gate with seven unicorns, but that is not so important.” he deadpanned. Imlerith spit his drink sending the content from his mouth flying all over the table. “I don’t even know her name.” he added seriously. 

“Fine.” Eredin said as he poured a drink for Caranthir. That was the closest he would get to an apology and he accepted it. 

Eredin spent the night thinking about his conversation with Caranthir. In retrospect he might have overreacted. He wouldn’t go as far as to use the word jealous for his feelings, but certainly something in him stung when he had seen her talk to the other man and just...the way she was smiling and blushing. Caranthir’s words had definitely deemed him innocent but what if she was attracted to him? 

He was walking down the hallways of the castle when he saw her on the other end, her eyes fixed on the wall right of her staring at Ge’els paintings. Eredin smirked and walked with purpose toward her, right in her path until she bumped into him, she was going to fall but he placed his hands on her shoulders to keep her standing. 

“I’m so sorry…” she said as she lifted her head and saw him. “Lord Eredin! I truly apologize.”

“You should watch where you are walking.” he smiled with the corner of his lips, seeing the surprise in her eyes. His tone was not aggressive but intrigued. 

“I’m truly sorry! I was trying to find Lord Caranthir and then I saw the paintings…” she had the confused face of someone who saw Ge’els paintings for the first time, Eredin could relate, but he was too fixed on the first part of her sentence. 

“And what would you possibly need with Caranthir?” his hands were still on her shoulders, her eyes fixed on his face. She reminded him right now of a rabbit captured by a predator bird hoping she would survive. 

“It’s a bit silly…” she looked away and that blush from yesterday appeared again on her face. Eredin’s jaw clenched. “I ran into him yesterday in the stables and I feel like I offended him.” her eyes looked back at him, so innocent. “I’m leaving Tir na Lia in a couple of days and I wanted to take my goodby with the Sage Avallac’h, I thought Caranthir might know where he was, but I think I said something to offend him. I just wanted to apologize.”

Then it clicked in Eredin’s brain. That blush...it wasn't an attraction, it was embarrassment. Caranthir said that he had barked something at her, knowing him it probably was sarcastic even borderline humiliating. She was embarrassed by approaching him about something that she thought was offensive, but in Carantir’s mind it was just annoyance. Eredin wouldn’t admit that out loud, but he felt foolish for jumping into conclusions.

“He wasn’t offended. Probably annoyed, if his feelings reached even that far. I wouldn’t worry too  much. He is probably somewhere brooding and he does not remember that conversation.” he was sure about the brooding part, thanks to Eredin he most likely would remember the conversation for some time now.

“Really?” she looked at him hopeful. Based on how her body relaxed Eredin realized she didn't really want to see Caranthir again, he had that effect on people, she was just too kind and thought she did something bad. 

“He will be fine, trust me.” Eredin moved next to her, one hand still on her shoulder. “How about I show you the rest of Ge’els’ paintings. They don’t improve but they do get more interesting.” he lied, but she didn’t need to know that. His hand moved in the middle of her back and encouraged her to walk with him. “You said you are leaving Tir na Lia in a couple of days? I think you should stay a bit longer.”

[aelaer]

Inspired by the X men ask: instead of Donna, what if Stephen's mutant powers manifest after she drowns? It's definitely writable with movie-only knowledge! (I think Stephen would have some scary strong powers).

This prompt is nearing a year and a half old and is my second to last prompt from 2019 so I wanted to try to get it out of the way as I attempt to do at least one prompt fic a month to clear my inbox of those remaining.

After being stuck on trying to figure this out for so long, I decided to approach it quite differently than I thought I would, and this is my first fic writing from this character’s POV. I made Stephen's age the same as Ben's for ease. I also prove, yet again, that my ability to write short things is very much lacking.

My interest in geography 100% leaks through, and I'm not sorry.

My thanks to nemmy for helping me decide the direction of this story.

Fate Won’t Compromise Fandom: Doctor Strange, MCU Genre: Gen, canon divergence Chars: The Ancient One, Stephen Strange, Donna Strange Word count: 5k Warnings: Minor canonical character death, near drowning

In the summer of 1995, The Ancient One felt a ripple in the fabric of reality.

Such ripples, while uncommon, were not unknown to her in her many centuries serving as Sorcerer Supreme. They happened as major events within their reality shifted from the threads found in similar realities across the multiverse. While change was inevitable between realities, commonalities often brought them back to follow the same paths, to hit the same major events, to survive the same catastrophes. Reality and time were excellent in creating situations that balanced the flow again and brought them back to their natural parallels across the majority of universes.

But sometimes, sometimes the fabric of reality and time was disturbed. It happened with a change, unexpected in its improbability and big enough that it diverted the parallel lines the majority of the multiverse followed to create a timeline that diverged, crooked and uncertain. If the ripple was small enough, the powers surrounding reality often fixed itself with countermeasures—new actors, new probabilities that helped bring time back to its parallel path. But some ripples, some ripples required intervention.

And this one? Well, this one absolutely shattered reality with its ripple effect.

Hmm. It was time to consult the Eye of Agamotto and see what changed.

— — — — —

Her time with the Eye was long in her search. With such a significant ripple, The Ancient One first looked at the immediate months coming, searching for change in the most important of events for the remainder of the year.

There was nothing different. Interesting. Then this was likely an event that changed the course of the life of an individual, an individual who was very important sometime in the future. She scanned the years following more broadly after that, coming upon the events of the new millennium, both mundane and arcane, that would change the course of Earth's future forever. They all came as expected, one after the other.

It wasn't until her search took her to 2016, the year before her own inevitable passing, that she finally came across the anomaly: Stephen Strange never made it to Kamar-Taj.

The Ancient One pursed her lips; this was not meant to happen. While her sight beyond 2017 remained veiled, her experience and intuition as well as glimpses across the multiverse gave her an insight into the likely path of Stephen Strange. And from what she had seen, he was meant to be the best of them all.

So what had diverted him from the path that was written in the course of time, so much so that its lack of manifestation caused such a ripple in reality? Surely it didn't change her death; she had accepted the inevitably of that decades ago.

(She first discovered her death after the chaos of WWII, where the Masters of the Mystic Arts fought their own war against demonic invasions looking to take advantage of the chaotic time. She looked to prevent such a thing ever occurring again, then found her death. At first she wasn't concerned, and made plans to avoid it, just as she had several times before.

But it was different this time. With the Eye of Agamotto in the past, she was always able to find a route that allowed her to survive and the world to remain intact within a dozen attempts of altering her actions. It took her over a thousand attempts over the next year to realize that, no, no matter what, she was going to die before the fourth month of 2017. She never lived further than that.

And in the course that seemed most sound to her, the most consistent, she was always by the side of the unsure, amateur, but potentially great Stephen Strange.)

The Eye confirmed for her that, yes, she still died in early 2017. However, the manner of death was completely unacceptable, as it led to Dormammu eating their reality. She had not seen that possibility since she stopped trying to find a solution to her death several decades ago.

(She wondered how Stephen Strange managed to defeat him. She did not sense the end of reality after her death, so it was with confidence that she knew he found a solution. What the solution was, however, remained unknown to her. It was most intriguing. He had such potential.)

The Ancient One finally withdrew from the encompassing powers of the Eye and allowed herself a frown. She hoped Stephen Strange was not dead. It would mean finding another like him, and quite soon so she may prevent the terrible future she just saw.

Still, the ripple she felt did but not necessarily mean death; it meant change, for good or ill.

The first thing to do was to check on what was, and what would hopefully remain, her future pupil. She directed the Eye to review the timeline of Stephen Strange, going to the moment just before the ripple in reality occurred.

As she searched for that moment, flashes of memories not belonging to her flipped through her mind's eye: the first was a pair of hands on the wheel of a car, left side, as it turned off the paved road to a bumpy gravel-filled spot of driving, then quickly smoothed out to a road less rough. A large brown sign with yellow, capital letters read "Lewis and Clark State Recreation Area", with a smaller "Nebraska State and Park Commission" underneath. "Weigand - Burbach" was spelt on a separate plank just below the main sign with the same dark brown backdrop and bright yellow lettering. In the backseats was excited chatter from two others, women. Surrounding the road were tall trees of various species, all different colors of green.

Another flash, and she was now watching a small motorboat being backed up into the water from its trailer by a young man—barely a man—into a wide lake. Beyond the water the distant shore was all but flat, with only a small ridge of hills giving the horizon any distinct shape. A shrill voice shouted behind her, "Don't crash it!" and the man in the boat shouted back, "Shut up, Melissa!" Giggles followed, and then a voice came from the soul she watched, a deep baritone that said, "But seriously, if you crash it, my dad will kill you." The young man in the boat retorted, "Fuck you, Stephen!" in return, and Stephen's body shook with soft laughter. The man successfully maneuvered the boat into the water, and a short cheer sounded behind her.

Then another memory, and she was now on the motorboat, far out on the water which shone as bright a blue as the sky above. A young woman—a teenager, as they said in English in the 20th century, now—was doing some sort of sport she was unfamiliar with, letting the motorboat drag her along as she hung on by a rope with a handle at the end. Perhaps this was surfing. The teenager completed a short jump on the waves, and from her point of view, the memory's host shouted, "Nice, Donna!"

Another flash, and she was the one at the end of the rope. She quickly passed through it to the next memory. 

Time had passed; it was late afternoon, perhaps an hour or so before sunset. Her host was looking at the boat's controls. A female voice—Melissa—behind them said, "Okay, Aaron's ready to go. Start it up." As the boat motor roared to life, another voice—Donna—said over the noise, "We should get out of the water after this. It'll be dark soon." The soul behind the memories, Stephen, shouted back, "That's why we have navigation lights on this thing!"

The memory shifted again, and all four were on the boat now. The sun was set behind the horizon and the sky was painted a soft yellow before it melted into blue, then black. Stars were already appearing in the sky. Surrounding her were the other three, Aaron and Melissa and Donna, and there was a strong feeling of content within the memory. "We should get back to camp," Donna said, and she heard Stephen sigh and say, "Yeah," in reply. "Your turn, Aaron," he added. Aaron said, "Dude, I'm wiped out. You do it." Stephen retorted in return, "No, you."

Then it shifted again, and she was looking up at the darkening sky when Melissa said, "That boat's going fast." Her point of view changed as Stephen straightened himself, and she saw another motorboat running straight towards them. "Stop!" Stephen shouted as he got to his feet, and a second later, Aaron called out, "Jump!" and Stephen did, hitting the water and diving just as their motorboat was hit and destroyed. He was facing down into the murky, black depths of the lake as suddenly something hit his back, and at that moment some sort of rope or netting caught his leg and its weight started dragging him down. She could feel the alarm running through the young man's head and the Ancient One wondered if she was going to be seeing his death, now. A strange pang of regret went through her at the thought.

But then a sudden glow encompassed Stephen's body, subtle but in the blackness of the water, quite, quite clear. Confusion joined his panic but before any other thoughts came to his head, he was suddenly out of the water and on the shore of the lake. He collapsed the moment he went from liquid to air, falling on his back before turning to his side to cough up water from the lake.

The Ancient One stepped back from Stephen Strange's memories and blinked again back in the normal passage of time. As the green glow of the Time Stone's powers faded from her body, she considered the last memory.

She knew, from all her viewings of the future, that it was about this time that the mutation that came to be known as the X-Gene started popping up in the population. It would eventually have an impact on the future of Earth. But Stephen Strange was not meant to have it—or perhaps, rather, it was never meant to activate. Not if the flow of reality and time considered this an anomaly in the general course of the multiverse.

His appearance within the order of the Masters of the Mystic Arts seemed to lead to the event that prevented Dormammu's entrance into their reality, so he—or someone of his caliber—was necessary to have under her tutelage. And as he was not dead, she needed to see what had to happen to work him again onto a path that was the best for the universe's survival, regardless of this unexpected development in his life.

It was time to consult the Eye once more to determine the right path.

—————

Using the Eye worked outside the flow of time, and so all the Ancient One's endeavours, though seeming to her to take several hours, in reality only took her about twenty minutes since she first felt the ripple. She had passed through various scenarios and glimpsed at various extensions of those scenarios as needed until she had an outcome that had her satisfied with her decisions and, more importantly, made it very, very unlikely that the universe would end to Dormammu in 2017.

(Her own future, strangely enough, grew blurry and uncertain the closer she got to that year, which she found quite intriguing. She would pursue the matter at a later date.)

For now, though, she had a job to do. And so she created a portal that led her to the north shore of the lake, at the beach where the small hills lay. At this point of time it was nearly dark, and so she conjured a lantern—one of the elegant ones that they used to craft in Japan, the ones she preferred—and placed a small, magical light within the illusion. It would reveal its true nature soon enough. Despite the rockiness of this part of the shoreline, her footing was sure as she made her way along the edge of the lake.

In a couple minutes, a voice, expected and now familiar, called out to her. "Hello? Is someone there? I need help!"

In all her experience of using the Eye of Agamotto, the Ancient One had gotten very good at differentiating all the viewed possibilities to the experienced reality. Reality was sharper in every way, and the auras of people's spirits shone brighter without the power of the Time Stone to stifle them. And in the night surrounding them, Stephen Strange's aura shone very, very bright.

Interesting.

When she came close enough for him to see her clearly, his eyes widened as he took her in. She knew her resemblance was considered odd by late twentieth-century standards, but the memory of centuries of lice infestations made hair still undesirable and robes were infinitely more comfortable than jeans. But she was aware of its oddness, and as he stared, the Ancient One took the time to also observe him beyond the fuzziness of the Eye of Agamotto.

The gangly boy sitting in the sand in front of her hardly resembled the arrogant, talented man she had come to know through her past use of the Eye. Just breaking the cusp of manhood, his hair was still fully dark brown, and he wore a sleeveless blue shirt with long swim shorts, all still wet despite the time out of the water. His cheeks were fuller with the last remnant of youth still remaining, and the look in his eyes was wild and unguarded. Filled with fear.

Quite different from what she was used to.

"Who are you?" Stephen Strange whispered.

"A friend," she answered. She placed the lantern on a rock before settling down in the dark sand near him, about five feet away. "I mean you no harm."

He continued to stare at her, then looked at his leg. It was bleeding sluggishly and would need stitches. "Can you please help me? I—I'm not sure how I got here, but there was a boating accident and I—I need to find my friends and my sister. It's on the lake, I swear, I don't know why we can't see it from here but the accident just happened and it can't be that far."

She let him finish before she broke the news. "You are about seven kilometers west from the site of your accident, on the north shore of the lake. I believe you call this part of your country 'South Dakota'."

Stephen's eyes somehow widened even further, then he quickly shook his head. "No, that—that's impossible. That's completely impossible."

"Just as impossible as finding yourself drowning at the bottom of a lake one moment and being on dry land in the next," she said agreeably.

The wide-eyed look seemed it would remain a permanent fixture on his face. "Wha—how—how do you know about that?"

"It is my job to know of such things," said the Ancient One. "It is also how I know that, if you are found so far from the site of the accident, you will draw unwanted attention upon yourself."

Stephen visibly swallowed and looked around them, as if the unwanted attention was already watching. "What—what do you mean?"

The Ancient One offered him a benign smile. "You are not the first to perform the impossible. When figures of authority learn such things exist, they pursue them. And your story would draw their attention. Historically, your country has been known to use extraordinary people as assets when needed. Many kingdoms and governments throughout time have."

A soft wind blew in from the south, causing Stephen to shiver in the oncoming chill of the night. Regardless of his discomfort, his wide eyes narrowed into something more calculating and thoughtful. "Why are you telling me this? What do you get out of it?"

"A future ally, hopefully," she answered truthfully. "I have no interest in taking you from your studies, Stephen Strange—yes, I know who you are," she said, the benign smile coming again as he startled. "Your name is the least I know about you."

He stared at her once more, mouth hanging partially open. As the wind blew through again, he snapped his mouth shut and rubbed his shivering arms. "And why—why should I believe you aren't part of these secret government groups, or part of something that wants to use me? Why should I trust you?"

She kept that slight smile on her face as she answered, "Because I offer my assistance and ask nothing in return. I will guide you to the shoreline just north of the accident, and show you where you may find help. I recommend a forgetful memory between the crash and you reaching shore, which is quite common in times of traumatic events. No one will suspect anything different about you, Mr Strange."

The boy fidgeted at the name, as if not used to it. He really was a young thing, wasn't he? "You can get me there? Do you have a car nearby?"

The Ancient One smiled and lifted her lantern. "Remember what I said, Mr Strange." She let the lantern disintegrate, leaving only the glowing ball of light. Stephen's mouth dropped. "You are not the only person who can do the supposedly impossible. Can you walk unaided?"

Stephen snapped his jaw shut at the question and looked down at his leg. He pressed his lips together, and then with a grunt, he slowly shifted his weight under his legs, most of it on his good leg, before he pushed himself up into a standing position.

She offered another slight smile and held her hand forward to create a portal further east along the lake. "Follow me." The Ancient One did not bother to look at his reaction to the gateway, but had the ball of light follow her through. When she turned, Stephen was limping just through the portal, and after he got through she allowed it to close.

They were on the shore again; to the south in the water, a mile or so away, she could see the distant pinpricks of shiplights at the scene of the accident. Stephen, too, stared in that direction. But she forced his focus elsewhere when she pointed to the northeast, to the pinpricks of light beyond the trees. "Do you believe you can make it to those lit buildings? It is perhaps two hundred meters away. They should have a phone."

He offered a nod. "Yeah. My leg's not so bad."

"Good," she said. "Then I recommend you go that way; it may be some hours before authorities search the shore for you." She looked back at him. "I would not tell anyone of what truly occurred to you; such tales have an unfortunate habit of getting out, no matter how private the story is meant to be."

Stephen frowned at her, and she offered him another one of her benign smiles. "I will come to see you again, after you have had some time to recover. Good luck, Mr Strange." With that, she let the glowing ball beside her fade out, and created a portal into one of the darker rooms of Kamar-Taj and left the young Stephen Strange on the shore of the lake.

—————— 

Two weeks later, the Ancient One created another portal to the midwestern United States, landing underneath a narrow strip of trees that bordered a small creek that made its way through wide fields of agriculture. The nearest field beside her was corn, and just beyond it was a half-harvested wheat field. The trees bordering the water were a mix of oak and pine, specific species she was not familiar with but that she could broadly identify due to the commonalities found within their relatives in the Eastern Hemisphere. It was just after midday in this place known as Nebraska, and the summer sun was pleasant in this corner of the world, with a soft breeze taking off the edge of the dry heat.

She saw no one at first, but if the sling ring brought her here, that meant Stephen Strange was also nearby. A faint trail followed the bend of the creek and she paused in consideration before her instincts led her to go southwest.

In a few minutes, she came upon him. While her step was soft, the silence of the trail around them should have alerted Stephen to her arrival. But his back remained turned to her as he sat beyond the narrow trail and on the slope that led into the creek bed. His chin was propped on his knees and, since he had not heard her approaching, the Ancient One knew his mind was quite far away.

"Mr Strange," she said in greeting.

The young man violently started out of his daze and nearly lost his seating as he twisted around to stare at her. It seemed to her that he had aged some years in the last two weeks; his eyes were dark and sunken with lack of sleep, and his entire expression appeared drawn and pinched. His lips tightened for a moment, then he said, "It's you again."

"I did say I was going to return," she reminded him. She approached the sloping hill beside the creek and sat down beside him.

From the corner of her eye, she saw his expression tighten again. She remained quiet as he gathered his words. "Did you know?" Stephen asked after several passing seconds of heavy silence.

The Ancient One kept her gaze on the small creek. She knew what he was asking, and she would not play any games pretending otherwise; it wouldn't serve her purpose. "I knew that, by the time I came to you, your sister had died."

The tenseness beside her did not lift; if anything, it grew heavier. "Did you know Donna was going to die?"

An interesting question. She considered her answer; a multitude of answers would lead to an acceptable outcome, but this was reality. "We don't get to choose our time," she started. "In some probabilities, the question of death is split between a thin line that sways from one option to the other depending on the reality. In other instances, death is all but certain." She spared a glance at him; Stephen's grief was now layered with confusion. "I am sorry to say that, in the wide expansion of possibilities, your sister's death was largely unavoidable. All points led to it."

The young man's face contorted in anger. "I don't believe in fate or whatever the hell you're talking about."

"Some may call it fate," she answered, and looked back to the creek. "I call it probability. You may have been told, at some point in your life, that there are random events in life that are unpredictable. This is untrue, at least on a larger scale. Each event of consequence has a set probability in occurring, with the powers balancing reality and time ever trying to keep them as consistent as possible in the grand scheme of the multiverse. Certain people are always born. Certain events always occur. Certain items are always invented. Around people of consequence, events play out so that they may help play the part that they are meant to play."

In the corner of her eye, she saw Stephen run a hand over his face. "Look, lady, like I told you: I don't believe in that bullshit. And if you're trying to tell me that my sister was meant to—" He cut himself off and turned his head away. She saw his knuckles tighten to the point of turning white with the strain.

She slowly exhaled and closed her eyes. She had not spoken with youth who did not know her for who she was in some many years; she could not remember the last time a young person had spoken to her with such disrespect. But she had to keep in mind that Stephen was grieving, and that he was absolutely clueless.

Perhaps if he saw a small glimpse of what she saw, he would understand.

"I would like to show you something, if you would allow it," said the Ancient One as she opened her eyes and looked at Stephen.

His eyes darted to look at her with a side glance, though he did not look at her fully. "Show me what?"

"What my powers allow me to see," she said. His eyes narrowed. "It won't hurt or leave any lasting effects."

She saw the internal struggle, but one thing she knew well of Stephen Strange: his curiosity always got the better of him. And as she expected, he relented and said, "Okay, fine. How do you do that?"

A slight smile appeared on her lips. "Like this," said the Ancient One, and she placed her thumb upon his forehead and connected her third eye to his unused, undeveloped one. She picked from her memory a set of images gained by using the Eye of Agamotto in conjunction with the Cauldron of the Cosmos to explore the realities across the multiverse, the images she picked up some years ago as she looked into the man known as Stephen Strange and what he became in other realities.

And the images she chose were specifically referring to his sister's death. As she let him see various versions of himself (some with slightly different physical features, and a couple further in the past, but so very much Stephen Strange), she said, "The multiverse is a strange thing in its consistency. Donna Strange was not born only to perish at such a young age in every reality, but the probability was stacked against her. And many named Stephen Strange have experienced the grief you feel now. It is not your fault that the universe stacked probability against her survival."

She removed her thumb from his forehead and Stephen collapsed, rolling down a couple feet down the slope before catching himself. Laying on the ground now he panted heavily, trying to gain his breath.

When he finally raised his head, tears were streaming down his face. "It should've been me," he choked out. "She didn't deserve to die! None of those—" He cut himself off and shook his head, then angrily wiped at his face. "I—I don't know what the fuck you were doing—"

"I was using my powers to show you what I have seen," she interrupted, cutting him off for the first time. "After what you managed to achieve at the lake, are my abilities really so hard to come to terms with?"

Stephen shook his head again and pushed himself off the ground so he was standing. The Ancient One remained sitting and kept her expression neutral. "Okay, fine, so you have some crazy-ass powers that—that make no sense. I get it, you did physics-breaking things at the lake, too. What the hell does that have to do with me?"

She offered a benign smile. "Surely you haven't forgotten your unusual journey from the lake to the shore. Or have you been telling yourself that it was all a hallucination?"

By the look on his face, it appeared that that was exactly what he was trying to do. That would do no good.

"Unfortunately for you, your powers aren't just going to go away," the Ancient One said. "Whether they will manifest under physical or emotional stress I do not yet know, but they will return if you do not know how to control them."

"And what, you can teach me how to control them?" Stephen asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Yes," was her simple answer.

Stephen's eyes remained narrow, then he cut off his stare to run a hand through his hair and shake his head. "And what would you want out of me in return?"

"Nothing you are unwilling to give," said the Ancient One. "You can continue your studies as you wish. Go on to become a doctor."

"How did you know—" He paused, cutting himself off, then shook his head. "You know what, never mind. Go on." 

She offered her smile again. "All it would require is some of your time to discover the extent of your powers and to learn ways in which you can best control them. Consider it an extracurricular activity, if you would like."

"And what do you get out of it?" he asked.

"The knowledge that those with unusual powers remain hidden from those who would exploit them," is what she answers, but in truth, it was so much more. Still, it was not yet time to tell him that; he was too young. Too green.

Stephen looked down and crossed his arms as he considered her words. His expression was stone, but she knew what he was going to answer. If there was one thing predictable about Stephen Strange, it was his curiosity and his hunger for knowledge. It was his ambition to be the best at whatever he set his mind to, and a new ability suddenly within his hands was one meant to be conquered for him.

He then nodded jerkily, just once. "Okay. Sure. When do we start?"

The Ancient One smiled and stood. "How about now?" She opened a portal to one of her private rooms in Kamar-Taj, where she was rarely disturbed. It would not do to show him everything of the compound immediately, but it would come in due time.

He hesitated. "I need to be home for dinner at six."

"That is quite doable," she answered, and waited.

A couple seconds of hesitation passed, and then Stephen Strange lifted his chin and walked directly into the portal to Kamar-Taj, over two decades earlier than expected. The Ancient One followed him and closed the gateway behind her, leaving behind the quiet creek to flow under the bright green leaves on a sunny Nebraskan summer day.

— — — — — 

The big happy moment for me in writing this fic was that the town I chose for Stephen to grow up in and alluded to in another story is pretty close to this lake, so that worked out great. The most disappointing discovery, on the other hand, was that the Google Maps car only got like, the major roads in Nebraska. That does not include annnyyyyy of the roads near the Lewis and Clark State Recreation Area. And their promotional video didn't help in determining the details I wanted.

But then *the best thing* happened and on the camp's location on Google Maps, some beautiful, beautiful person took a photo of the entrance of the campgrounds, which was the exact detail I needed. So I dedicate this fic to Denis F. and their photo. (We're gonna pretend that the road and sign's 100% been like that since at least 1995). As much as I'd like to make an excuse to go to a lakeside attraction for boating fun, I'm sadly not a millionaire and cannot throw away thousands for the sake of fic accuracy. Alas. Once I win the lottery, though, 100% will commit to this. (Also, it's January and freaking freezing in Nebraska right now.)

FYI, Donna was not surfing, but wakeboarding. I just doubt that the Ancient One has bothered to learn all the new sports that popped up in the latter half of the 20th century - especially as one as young as wakeboarding was in 1995.

Hopefully the emotional roller coaster in the last bit worked. I've had conversations that just went all over the place like that before—crazy emotional subject to another crazy subject that just shook you to the point that the emotional subject was put on the back burner for processing—so hopefully people can relate.

[notebook-13]

Shigaraki • Development

Backstory

(Note: Tenko was Shigaraki’s childhood name.)

First things first: Shigaraki’s backstory is probably meant as an allegory. The house his father built is a microcosm of society, his father Kotaro represents people with power, Tenko represents people without it, and the other family members are bystanders. The power imbalance and communal emphasis on harmony enables Kotaro to take out his baggage on Tenko while Tenko is required to repress his. Resistance, even if it’s minor, causes Tenko to be shunned and beggared, as Kotaro locks Tenko out of the house in the backyard, in the dark, unfed, without even a roof over his head.

Edit: @codenamesazanka​ has an excellent reading of this allegory!

Theirs is a household that prioritizes unity and a façade of happy domesticity over Tenko’s wellbeing. His mom and grandparents treat him gently, reject him kindly, and refuse to admit to him just how terribly Kotaro treats him. Though the three adults understand that Kotaro is the problem (they criticize him in private or cry out futile protests during an incident), they are unwilling to disrespect Kotaro to Tenko’s face. Doing so would mean facing their victim and owning up to their own culpability, too.

So, throughout Shigaraki’s backstory, Horikoshi intersperses black panels with increasing grains of white. This references Shigaraki’s “wound in his heart.”

The first black panel appears when Tenko is crying to his mom, Nao, about his dad; the second appears when he is similarly comforted by his grandparents.

After an episode with Kotaro, Nao hesitantly asks Tenko if he still wants to be a hero.

Nao: “Tenko…do you…still want to be a hero?” Tenko: “Yup. Because like, nobody wanted to play with Mikkun and Tomo. So I said, ‘Let’s play together!’ And we played heroes, and it was super fun. And then Mikkun said, ‘You should be All Might, Ten.’ And I was nice and played with them even though they don’t have any friends.”

It’s hard to follow Tenko’s five-year-old’s logic here, but the gist seems like Tenko wants to be a good person who makes people less lonely, and he thinks heroes do that. The implication, then, could be that Tenko is lonely, and his admiration for heroes compensates for what’s missing in his family (a hero).

What’s also significant is that Tenko noticed Mikkun and Tomo were suffering, and instead of ignoring it or playing along like everyone else, he did something about it. What he emphasizes isn’t, “we played heroes and fought bad guys, it was really cool”; he emphasizes that he was kind, that he helped kids who were lonely. This isn’t a kid who wants to be a hero because heroes are strong.

Also worth noting that in bnha, p much every kid wants to be a hero. By forbidding Tenko from even playing, Kotaro draws a line between Tenko and his classmates: Tenko is not one of them. He’s not allowed to dream he’ll be a hero like everyone else. In a society overflowing with heroes (and with adulation of heroes), Tenko can’t be one of them nor admire them.

^^ the first “wound” panel is the black middle one

When Nao tells Tenko that “it’s hard to be a hero,” especially right after hesitantly asking him if he still wanted to be one, Tenko understands that she’s discouraging him—similar to how Inko apologized to little Deku when he asked her if he could become a hero without a quirk.

When Nao tells Tenko it’s difficult, she’s essentially repeating what Kotaro says (“being a hero will cause him nothing but trouble”). By siding with Kotaro, she tells Tenko that he can’t become who he wants to be. He must conform to authority and let Kotaro determine his life. What he wants and feels don’t matter. Kotaro is right.

The wound begins to open.

Similarly, his grandparents offer him empty comfort because they, too, believe in presenting a unified front. The kids aren’t allowed to be aware that there’s conflict between the grown-ups: rules are rules, instructions from your seniors are absolute, social harmony (and by extension, social hierarchy) has to be maintained. Tenko himself is the troublesome one—he’s the one who needs to be comforted, who keeps breaking rules, who can’t pretend everything is okay the same way everyone else can.

The wound opens further.

The initial wound and its exacerbation are both brought on by his mom and grandparents, not by Kotaro directly. Why? Because it’s the permissiveness of the adults that socializes Tenko in how to react to Kotaro. Kotaro’s abuse is too much for a five-year-old to process, so he trusts the other grown-ups in his life to understand it and tell him how to feel about it/what to do about it.

What they tell Tenko, implicitly, is that his pain doesn’t matter enough to do anything about, and it’s his fault it exists. Underneath, he recognizes this and resents them for it. They might not actively participate in Kotaro’s abuse, but they actively support him by trying to wipe away the consequences without any accountability for the problems. They shift blame to other people (Kotaro, Tenko) without owning up to their own role in the proceedings, so that they can pretend life is good and think of themselves as good people who don’t make trouble.

Tenko has a related “wound” associated directly with Kotaro.

((When Kotaro approaches Tenko to begin smacking him…))

The “itch.”

Tenko is five years old, and kids that young aren’t known for their emotional intelligence. This is his little-kid way of trying to describe his negative emotions: agitation, anguish, panic, frustration, aggression, resentment, desperation, (thwarted) hope, and so on.

Tenko scratches himself frantically because he doesn’t know how else to react to the things he’s feeling, and he doesn’t know how else to react because nobody is trying to help him sort through them. He’s only been told to suppress them. Plus, in adulthood, Shigaraki scratches himself when he’s stressed about something, so it makes sense for this ~allergy~ to be the origin.

I dunno why Tenko fixates on his face—his eyes, specifically…maybe out of shame? maybe because his face and eyes are what express his uncomfortable feelings, and/or because his eyes are what he uses to fruitlessly beg for help? or maybe the eyes out of a desire for blindness, to not see what’s in front of him the way everybody else pretends not to see?

(The irony, ofc, is that Kotaro is accusing Tenko of wanting to hurt their family, when in fact Kotaro is the one hurting their family.

Judging by how Nao and her parents approach Kotaro after the fact and tell him that they will leave if he hits the children again, I don’t think it was common for Kotaro to smack Tenko like this.

Also, this is the first time Tenko is shown scratching his neck: when his thoughts are crying out, help me!)

Tenko isn’t begging mercy from Kotaro, which says leagues about their relationship. Instead, he’s begging for interference from the rest of the family, for someone to stand up for him, to challenge the public humiliation Tenko regularly endures as Kotaro’s scapegoat. Nobody does, of course, like always.

It takes a few hours, locked out of the house, for the trauma to set in.

The wound gets worse…but this time it’s different.

For one, it’s accompanied by dialogue, not narration, and “everyone” is centered right in the core of his rage. The second (iffier) difference is that this time the wound and the itch coincide. In the previous situations, he’s either scratching himself or the wound is deepening. This is the first time Horikoshi depicts the two occurring simultaneously, and it’s this moment that his quirk fully awakens.

Tenko kills his dog and begins to have a panic attack. His emotions are choking him; the only way he can ask for help is to reach out to his sister, finally, in the way he didn’t dare to reach out while Kotaro was smacking him.

I’ve seen people suggest his voice fails as a side-effect of his quirk, but I think it’s trauma-related, not physical. For one, he still describes it as an “itch,” and for two, once he processes his trauma and decides that killing his family wasn’t a tragedy, Shigaraki’s characteristic squiggly speech bubbles are replaced by average speech bubbles.

This is consistent, so, his vocal problem was solved emotionally. So maybe his quirk was reacting to his emotions and placing pressure on his vocal chords? But idk, seems to me it was a psychosomatic problem.

Either way, he kills his sister as she runs away, and her scream attracts his mom and grandparents.

Then comes the fourth panel.

(For context, the narration refers to how his negative feelings towards his mom and grandparents accumulated.)

The whiteness is gushing forth, and it surges when Tenko sees his mom staring at him with terror, unable to summon a reassuring smile or any words of comfort for him.

The noises catch Kotaro’s attention. He pokes his head into the hall and walks through the empty house until he spots the open door to the backyard.

(Tenko has now transitioned to mainly scratching his neck instead of his face.)

Tenko reaches out to someone for the final time, and his (deadly) hand is rejected—smashed away, really.

Kotaro’s life is in danger, he’s shocked by the deaths of his family, he panics, and he reacts cruelly.

The tipping point is what happens afterwards.

Kotaro is surprised and horrified by what he’s done. But, like always, he stubbornly refuses to acknowledge to Tenko his wrongdoing. Instead, he reacts by doubling down and asserting his authority.

“Mommy, why does Father say no all the time? Does he hate me?!”

I’m not sure quite what Kotaro is doing here. At first I thought he was smacking Tenko, the way he did earlier that day, but that blob in the lower right panel is part of the background, not his hand in motion. So instead, it looks like Kotaro is holding out his hand in a “stop, stand back, stay away from me” gesture, or maybe to literally push Tenko away. (Have to wait on the anime, I guess.)

Regardless, Kotaro tells Tenko “no” for the last time. The immediate blame, the dearth of kindness or sympathy, the reaching out to him—someone’s trying to save him!—only to deny him…it evokes their history. Tenko is already in the midst of a meltdown, and now he snaps.

I hate bringing up real-world examples when thinking about stuff like bnha, so I hope this will be the only time I ever do it, but I’m powerfully reminded of a gun violence incident in Mississippi where a nine-year-old kid and his thirteen-year-old sister got into an argument over a video game controller, and the boy retrieved their parents’ gun from another room and shot her.

It’s ludicrous to think he had any meaningful concept of what he was doing, and, regardless of how Shigaraki interprets his past, the same holds for Tenko. Just because Tenko had a good “reason” to want Kotaro dead doesn’t imply he had a meaningful grasp of what he was doing. He killed Kotaro because he was a kid with access to a deadly weapon, and there’s a reason kids aren’t trusted with those.

But it is meaningful that Shigaraki struggles to make the distinction between aggression and murderous intent. AfO deliberately trains Shigaraki to adopt this warped mindset by telling him that his bad feelings, his “itch,” are equivalent to bloodlust. Realistically, there’re plenty of ways to relieve negative emotion, but Shigaraki has been taught exactly one outlet: destruction. So, he doesn’t realize that his murderousness is a product of nurture, not nature. (Also, lol, “murderousness” is a real word!)

Anyways, for the first time, Tenko experiences catharsis for the negative emotions that have built up his whole life. A fluke of fate enabled him to subvert the established power dynamic, and the destruction of the house encapsulates the collapse of their family’s hierarchy. He still doesn’t understand what he’s done.

By the next morning, it’s begun to sink in. He ran away from the house and then wanders the streets, too consumed by guilt to speak, and he’s ignored by everyone. When someone finally pays attention and seems willing to help him…

He smiles, happy that someone is finally going to help him. But his dirty, creepy smile scares the old lady off.

(reminds me of his early design.)

To him, it’s like people can see what he’s done, and that’s why nobody will help him or even acknowledge him. Notice the lower left corner: the blackness and white grains, spilling over from his wound.

The itch returns, and the scratching and the wound overlap again. It’s hard to say whether the wound is reacting to the old lady in general, or if it’s tied to the narration line “being punished.”

It occurs when Tenko simultaneously wants to be saved but also thinks he doesn’t deserve it, that everyone can see how bad he is and knows he doesn’t deserve help.

What did Shigaraki learn from this?

Social harmony is forged by repressing conflict, not by resolving it. This happens at his expense, purposefully.

“This is the house my father built.” Creation, construction, building, making walls, making rules, making—these are bad, and they’re performed by the people with authority and power. These things happen for other people, not for his sake.

He’s not important enough to be helped / not worthy of it, and he resents that.

Origin of his self-loathing.

Other notes:

The “itch” is something he can find temporary catharsis for (through violence), and Shigaraki thinks the itch might have gone away if someone had just helped him. The “wound” is not something that ever alleviates or that he suggests could have gone away.

The wound’s origin is from the complicity of his family to Kotaro, not from Kotaro himself.

It’s interesting that his dream to destroy society is a reenactment of his destruction of his family/house, even though killing “everyone” the first time devastated him.

He switched from mostly scratching his face to mostly scratching his throat.

Both these are sites where emotion is expressed.

Hands are another site of expression, and he later develops his fascination with his family’s hands and uses his own hands for destruction.

Activating decay seems to have hugely worsened the scarring around his eyes. He says that he thought the “itch” had gone away, so it’s unlikely he was scratching himself overnight…so I think his quirk had the side-effect of exacerbating his scars? If decay made the skin around his eyes hurt, that could relate to why he switched to mostly scratching his throat.

Even as a kid, Tenko had a certain amount of pride/dignity, enough to blame others for mistreating him instead of blaming purely himself.

Tenko admired heroes partly because his family lacked one, but when he discovers Nana…? Now someone inside the family (inside the house) was a hero, so the rules were different than what he thought?

Upbringing by AfO

When Tenko killed “everyone,” that included himself. All that’s left of him afterwards is an empty shell. He doesn’t even seem to remember what he’s done.

But AfO is willing to extend a hand and touch Tenko.

He’s willing to acknowledge Tenko’s pain, something nobody else was or is, at the moment in his life when Tenko feels he least deserves sympathy.

Now, obviously it’s hella suspicious that AfO already knows Tenko’s name, knows what he’s done, and procures his family’s hands, but Shigaraki doesn’t seem to question it. Tenko’s arms dangle there, limp, as AfO embraces him and tears stream down his face. And, ofc, AfO echoes All Might’s motto.

AfO takes Tenko in and tells him he’ll be his master from now on. Then…

Tenko viscerally remembers what he’s done, and his immediate reaction is to scratch himself, puke, and then seize the severed hands, gathering them up and cradling them close to him. It’s probably then that Tenko discovers the feeling that Shigaraki describes—of feeling violently ill but somehow at peace, too. (“When a person’s life starts spiraling, what’s the one thing they want? Comfort.”) There’s way too much to unpack here, so, moving on.

The “purpose” that AfO alludes to is the destruction of society/the status quo.

While Tenko is huddled on the ground, cradling the hands, AfO continues.

AfO’s the first person willing to talk to him about his itch as emotional instead of as an allergy. He tells Tenko point-blank that he cannot control his impulses and that his release must take the form of destruction.

This moment baffles me. AfO openly admits that Tenko’s feelings will fade…if left be. As far as we see, he doesn’t explain to Tenko why it’s important that those feelings never fade, why emptying himself of his pain is a bad thing. But even after being told time would heal him, Tenko keeps the hands close to him—and I don’t think he was just doing what AfO wanted.

This panel is also interesting because it definitely makes it look like Tenko’s wound is glowing, like it’s a light in the dark. Also, AfO’s dialogue nearly obscures the early panel of the wound…hm.

Regardless, AfO implies that those feelings are the most important thing Tenko has, and he should keep them close. It’s not specified if AfO told him to wear his family.

Later, Tenko’s wandering on the streets (his hands aren’t with him) when he encounters a duo of thugs, who beat and mock him. At first, Tenko lurches to fight back, but…

I think these are more “wound” panels: the blackness with white grains. He backs down, even though his rage doesn’t dissipate.

When he returns home, AfO encourages him to embrace his feelings instead of holding them back. Tenko literally writhes on the floor from the force of his “itch,” going all out as he wallows in his overwhelming feelings.

AfO tells Tenko that ethics were invented in order to suppress people and that Tenko’s emotions are more important than anything else. Tenko responds by reiterating what AfO told him: he wants to destroy those thugs, and he can’t control this urge to destroy. He goes as far as to disintegrate one of Kotaro’s hands, even though not too long ago he clung onto it.

But, later, he wears his family’s hands for the first time.

Wearing them clearly affects Tenko adversely—he’s struggling to breathe properly, and he’s entirely slumped over. But these hands, and these feelings, are the only things he has left, the only things he knows, and he won’t leave them behind.

He encounters the same duo of thugs and kills them.

His wound again. Formless, but with a sense of shifting and movement. Undiminished, even if the itch is alleviated. Or, maybe this panel is supposed to indicate a deterioration, like the wound gets even worse after the murders?

Observing the event, Ujiko remarks that he’d thought Tenko had lost his memories. I think he’s commenting on how Tenko is wearing the hands despite not remembering who they’re from? 

AfO comments…

Tenko restrains quirk subconsciously, limiting its disintegration to just what he’s directly touching, which makes it seem like he’s afraid of his quirk and feels guilt/self-loathing for it. He’s aware that his quirk is connected to the things he feels, maybe even blames his quirk in some way for making him feel this way.

It’s ironic that Tenko feels free while he’s being throttled and restrained by the hands of his relatives.

lol AfO gives away the game a bit, here. He tells Tenko to do whatever he wants and not hold back, and then praises Tenko for “holding back” his tears. He just wants Tenko to have no way to vent his feelings except violence. Also, the fact that Tenko is “holding back” his quirk…hmm.

Again, too much here to unpack rn, so, moving on.

AfO gives Tenko the hands of the thugs he killed, plus one hand of unknown origin to replace the hand of Kotaro’s that Tenko destroyed. Shigaraki describes the gift as soothing to his battered body, and he felt reborn. AfO gives him the name Shigaraki Tomura ad implicitly positions himself as Shigaraki’s dad by telling Shigaraki that “Shigaraki” is his surname.

What did Shigaraki learn from this?

Morals are illusionary, merely a tool used to suppress people without power in order to make things easier for people who do have power.

His “itch” means bloodlust, and he can’t control it.

He should just do what he wants (except crying, apparently), or else he’ll just suffer indefinitely.

Rejection of a society he had no hand in making and no place to belong in.

Other notes:

Even without remembering his aggression towards Kotaro, it’s Kotaro’s hand he shows the biggest fixation on.

Shigaraki has three “ailments”: the itch (the agitation he feels from bad things), the wound (the “rage” and “frustration” he feels from bystander apathy), and the nausea he feels when he wears the hands (self-loathing?).

Or maybe the nausea is part of the wound?

More on the wound?

I wonder when Horikoshi decided on how to visualize Shigaraki’s pain, and if he uses it as a pattern in bnha.

I’ve noticed a few panels that remind me of Shigaraki’s wound, especially that amorphous panel after he kills those thugs, but it’s hard to tell if the backgrounds are just atmospheric or if there is actually an attempt to connect these moments thematically.

Here are a few that I noticed.

I’m going to keep an eye out ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Edit: here’s another one. This is the most definite example so far: it occurs in ch250, post-Shigaraki’s flashbacks, and the distinct circle doesn’t produce an atmosphere the way the previous ^^ panels do. 

^^ it’s worth mentioning that this appears during Fuyumi’s narration, detailing how Natsuo is the only one in the family who can’t move forward, ie, he’s experiencing social pressure to conform and validate Endeavor similar to how Tenko felt pressure to conform to Kotaro’s authority.

And then this next one, I’m pretty unsure about, but I’ll include it in case:

[jasontoddiefor]

hey so for the emporer luke thing would luke eventually get to see biggs/meet him cuz they're cool

As if I could leave my second fave Tatooine kid out of any OT story! Read on AO3

Biggs Darklighter was fifteen years old and he still dreamed of going to the stars someday. He was a good son, helped in the household, and took care of his younger siblings, and would his parents ask him to stay, then Biggs would. If they’d let him go though, Biggs would seek the unknown parts of the galaxy, chase after the adventures he had dreamed of ever since he was a little boy, running around in the courtyard of his family’s home or jumping up and down on Luke’s bed, pretending to be a ship in the sky.

It was strange how easily he had accepted Luke’s disappearance when he was younger. Tatooine was a harsh planet, cruel to the bone, and the death of a loved one happened far too often to be unfamiliar with how tightly life and death were woven together. He hadn’t forgotten about Luke, had mourned his friend and joined his mother on her trips to the Lars homestead, but he hadn’t let Luke’s fate dominate his every waking thought. There had been other things to worry about, such as the suddenly escalating conflicts due to Jabba’s death.

Now it seemed like the exact opposite was happening to Biggs. He couldn’t keep his friend out of his mind. The weekly trips to the Lars homestead, checking in on its state and the refugees hiding there for the next transport that would them smuggle off-world, were now spent trying to see whether Biggs could find any sign of His Imperial Highness in the murals and carvings they had made into Luke’s bedroom walls as children. He had been there when they had found Beru and Owen’s bodies, eleven years old and wondering whether Luke had made used of his uncanny ability to hide away so that he hadn’t been killed too. His aunt and uncle had been half-buried in the sand already, left behind to rot without a proper funeral. It had been easy to figure out what exactly had caused their deaths and what it meant for Luke. In the aftermath, when the news of Jabba’s violent end had reached even the Darklighters, they had traveled to the palace and the nearby city once, trying to see if anybody had heard of a child by the name of Luke Skywalker, but nobody had known a thing.

And then, just a year later, Luke had appeared again.

The Republic had never really cared about Tatooine and neither had the Empire, but even they had heard rather quickly about the Emperor’s death and his heir.

The Luke in the holos had looked like a doll, fake and imaginary, like a wind spirit. His face hadn’t been any different, it still matched the one Biggs remembered, but nothing else seemed to fit, not his name, not even his accent.

And yet he had been sure that the child appearing in front of the Senate was his friend.

All that had remained from Luke Skywalker were his blue eyes, the blond hair and the kindness that had made the other children scoff at him. Luke had been too good to understand, to naïve or perhaps he just hadn’t cared for their petty words. Biggs hadn’t known how he could smile so openly when the others took their teasing to far, but Luke had never lowered his head, at least not where he could see it.

Biggs missed his best friend, the one who would help him fix up old droids and fly speeders and skyhoppers more accurately than anybody else, even though he really shouldn’t be able to do so. Luke would certainly have the time of his life now, rushing across the sands at maximum speed, the wind hitting his face so harshly it almost cut into it. Luke had always enjoyed listening to the wind, from the sweet breezes in spring to the heavy sandstorms towards the end of drought season. Being stuck inside with nothing to do hadn’t been too bad with Luke around to narrate what the wind was telling him.

The distance between the Darklighter homestead and the Lars’ Rest, as they had come to call that safehouse, wasn’t too large. Biggs crossed it quickly even in his slightly beat-up ride that could use an upgrade or two. As far as he knew, no runaways should be staying there for the remainder of the week until they got the next group through. There were fewer and fewer slaves in need of transport nowadays. Tatooine was still, as it had been for the last years since Luke’s disappearance, caught in civil war between the former Hutt slaves, freedom fighters, whatever good soul they could convince to join their cause and those crime syndicates who sought to make use of cheap labor. Where the Hutts had that thought they could reclaim Tatooine quickly following Jabba’s death, Tatooine had wanted to prove them wrong. More and more slaves had escaped every day, more people stood up to fight for what they believed to be right.

Biggs wasn’t allowed to do much, not really. His older sister and her partners were heavily involved in the fights while Biggs could only do supply runs. He knew they were important, but he itched to do something more proactive.

But perhaps that wouldn’t be necessary anymore.

It had become more and more obvious that the Hutts were also a thorn in the side of the Empire and whoever was actually pulling the strings behind their Emperor was set to do something about it. There had been skirmishes so far, a few imprisonments. Nothing too large yet, but the horizon was darkening and if the last years had shown anything, then that the Empire didn’t tolerate disobedience. Biggs wasn’t sure how it would influence Tatooine at large. He didn’t know all that much about the way the Hutts operated on a galactic scale, but he figured that whatever took their attention away from Tatooine, even if just for a while, was good.

Soon Biggs was approaching Lars’ Rest and was surprised to see figures standing in the distance. Biggs frowned and slowed down his craft. He was absolutely certain that no group should be coming in today. The position of Lars’ Rest was kept quiet so that no slaver would discover this particular hideout. The only other groups that knew of it were smugglers and the sand people, though they hardly bothered coming down the underground tracks these days. They had decided to target moisture farms far deeper into their territory or, in the case of some clans who were not as isolated,  target the rich of Tatooine so the poor would cease trying to expand further into the desert.

Biggs reached for his rifle. If they were slavers, he had to be ready. It was obvious that he was doing supply runs, who else would be out here, and if they took him, that could be disastrous for the whole organization.

Tatooine was a horrible planet to plan an ambush on. Sand for miles, the open desert, and skies, nothing could hide you or provide adequate cover. Once your enemy spotted you, that was it.

Biggs could of course leave, drive back home. They didn’t keep anything too incriminating at their homestead, so even if they were to follow him, there was be nothing to be found there. And yet, somehow, Biggs couldn’t bring himself to do so as anger flared up in his stomach like the midday heat.

That house had belonged to his best friend. It was supposed to be a safe haven now when before its inhabitants had found death or worse. Nobody had any right to ruin those memories.

With newfound bravery and strength, Biggs sped up again. He was a good shot, the best in his family, he’d definitely hit them before they could shoot him.

As Biggs got closer, he saw that the group was larger than he had thought at first. Ten, perhaps fifteen figures. He had been confused because their forms had not been easy to make out with the sun bearing down on their light uniforms, no, armor. The armor was mostly white, but some patterns appeared to have been drawn on it. He saw the green ones first, their color standing out the most against the yellow and blue background of Tatooine. Then there some men with blue, orange, and red patterns, those being much harder to see. Biggs’ eyes were good, but not that excellent.

Nevertheless, he readied his rifle. It was easy to get stormtrooper uniform, and to paint it in the color of the Emperor’s guard was even easier.

Biggs took aim. He wasn’t going to shoot unprovoked, but he was going to shoot first if the situation escalated.

“Hey!” He shouted once he was within hearing distance. “Get the hell out of here!”

As expected, the armed men immediately raised their weapons as well. Biggs didn’t know why they hadn’t done that the moment they had seen him. Now that he was standing in front of them, Biggs wasn’t so sure his move had been the smartest. There were way too many of them and only one him.

“Move away,” one of the troopers, a red one, said.

His armor looked pristine, the paint new. This has to be a trick, though he no idea what somebody would get from parading around in trooper armor here. There were certainly more effective ways to pretend to have more power than you actually did on this planet.

“This land doesn’t belong to you,” Biggs said, forcing his voice not to waver. “Move.”

“Listen here, kid,” one of the troopers said, then suddenly stopped talking. Another man had put his hand on the man’s shoulder and leaned forward, probably telling him something. Even though Biggs couldn’t see their faces, they didn’t look too concerned by it all

“I’m not joking!” Biggs insisted and raised his blaster just a little more, set on using it if need be. “I will-“

“Biggs?”

The voice was barely louder than a whisper, certainly not above the noise the wind and the engine were making, and yet Biggs still heard it clearly.

“Your Majesty-“ The red trooper hissed, but in between the trooper’s bodies, a smaller form pushed through.

The person was short, but not as by far not as tall as the holos made him out to be. His hair had darkened as well, wasn’t the light blond Biggs remembered, but the eyes, clear blue, were definitely the same.

“Luke?” Biggs couldn’t believe it.

His clothes were far too fine for Tatooine, at least for standing outside where sand could easily get stuck everywhere on your skin. His robes looked soft and were decorated with gold and red lines interconnecting to images reminiscent of flowers and vines.

The boy's face split into a smile and he looked like he’d jump into a sprint if not for the trooper’s hand on his shoulder.

“Biggs! It really is you!” Luke said excitedly. “I didn’t think I’d see you again. I was hoping someone would look after the farm, but I-“

He cut himself off to shake his head, a gesture so familiar that it had to be Luke standing in front of him, brilliant pilot, Emperor of the galaxy.

Biggs hurried off his speeder and fell to his knees.

[seungminotes]

A Walk Home 

best friends to lovers w/ Kim Seungmin

a/n: I'm back from my hiatus and happy to say that I really like this piece tho it got kinda dramatic lmao hope you like it too! Always feel free to leave feedback!

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: cursing (like twice?) / gender neutral (please tell me if I messed up with something) / sort of slow-burn and not much payoff but I'd like to think it's very fluffy throughout!

"What took you so long today? I've been waiting here for at least 5 minutes," Seungmin complained at the sight of you finally approaching him. 

It usually didn't take you this long to reach him from your last class, heck sometimes he even had to drink water and you'd get to your usual meeting spot before him. 

Seungmin wasn't particularly the best at waiting on others, for whatever the reason really, he would have probably left anybody else behind by now. But alas, it was you he had been waiting for, and if facing the possibility of having to wait even longer for you, he most likely would. 

"Sorry, I had to talk to someone before leaving," you smiled at your friend, who was now pouting slightly.

You reached up to pinch his cheeks only for him to slap your hands away. 

"No pinching, let's go," he grabbed your wrist, dragging you in the direction of your usual route home. 

You'd known Seungmin for nearly six years now. Having met him when you both were in middle school after moving to the then new town, Seungmin had once been quite fickle towards you, but once he got over his initial disinterest, he realized you were quite special. You'd spotted him taking pictures of the daisies in his front lawn and annoyed him to no end to explain his interest in them. You remember the day vividly, especially now that the firm grip Seungmin held on your wrist highly resembled the same he held on that very first day you met him. 

-

"Aren't daisies a bit plain?" You snuck up behind the boy crouching in an awkward position, clutching his camera so tight his fingers were losing color. 

Seungmin held no reaction to the sudden appearance of someone around his own age spying on him from the sidewalk in front of his own home. In fact, he sighed with a tinge of annoyance at your unwithheld statement and hardly looked up at you, why couldn’t people mind their own business, he thought to himself. 

"I find them quite interesting, actually." He deadpanned, no intention of expanding upon his opinion to someone who he already deemed to be unworthy of his time.

Damn Seungmin was quite stubborn back then, he had barely even glanced at you, but good thing you were quite nosy. 

"How come?" You inquired further. 

Thirteen-year-old Seungmin was not in the mood to explain the complexities of a perfectly amazing daisy to someone who would most likely not care as much as he did about capturing their beauty. 

Nonetheless, he glanced back to where he had seen you standing to notice your figure now hunched over, examining a daisy closely, nose almost touching it's petals, as your lips parted slightly to blow softly onto the flower, clearly in your own little world.

Your rather odd gestures told him you may actually be interested in what could possibly be interesting about the small flowers sparse all over his lawn. 

He slowly approached you, more aware of your presence than before, and snapped God knows how many photos of your posing.

That was at least until he saw your hand reach up to pick the delicate flower from its stem. That’s where he drew the line! Promptly walking over to you and tightly withholding your hand with his awkward grip on your wrist. 

You’d taken the opportunity to look into his big, brown eyes and examine his now blushed face, ultimately deciding this boy was inexplicably ethereal. You could drown in the deepness of his irises and the urge to pinch his pouty cheeks was overpowering your own sense of respectfulness to this stranger. 

-

You remember how he later apologized and  quietly explained to you the meaning of daisies. After bringing out two peanut butter jelly sandwiches from the kitchen onto his porch, where the both of you shared the lunch, he began to ramble on to you about the perfections of a simple flower that was not so simple at all and it's symbolism of true love. 

And from that very moment on, you knew you had fallen in love with Kim Seungmin, the nerd next door who explained the very composition of flowers to you over a sandwich at age 13. 

And unbeknownst to you, Kim Seungmin had developed a disgustingly soft spot in his heart for his absent-minded  new friend next door. 

-

Nothing much had changed now. You were still hopelessly in love with Seungmin, who was as focused as ever on his studies and baseball team activities just six years later. 

-

The memory and realization fade just as soon as it came to you with Seungmin's grip on your wrist, which now that you look back down was still quite firm about a minute into your usual walk home. 

Though you could almost guarantee it wasn't anything intentionally done by Seungmin, it didn't fail to put a stupid smile on your face. 

So far Seungmin had noticed your rather quiet disposition, something he deemed off about you.

"Are you okay?" He asked. 

"Perfectly fine," you grinned, narrowing your eyes into happy crescents as you lifted the arm that currently clinged Seungmin's own hand, much to his embarrassment. 

He'd quickly released your arm at your teasing, opting to scratch the back of his head as he scoffed. 

"Who'd you stay to talk with today?" He asked. You'd assumed he was simply trying to change the subject from his embarrassment, but in fact, the thought of who you could have possibly spent just five minutes with after school had been eating him alive for the past minute. You had never made him wait, at least not without some sort of warning.

"Just a guy in my chem class, I met him by my locker on the way out," you responded, not giving your answer much thought. 

"What did he want?" He asked again. 

Seungmin sure had been asking an awful lot today. 

"Don't be so nosy, Seungmin! It really doesn’t suit you. It doesn't really matter much anyway. And how do you know I wasn't the one who wanted something from him, huh?" You teased him slightly, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

"Can't I ask about the whereabouts of my best friend when they leave me out in the hot, melting sun waiting for them!" He teased back, stopping in his tracks to begin to poke your sides harshly.

"Fine, fine, fine!" You give in. "Just stopppppp," you shook his hands away.

"Hyunjin offered to tutor me in chem. I'm officially failing," you laugh off, "he wanted to ask what days we should schedule our study sessions for." You explained.

"Wait, Hyunjin? As in Hwang Hyunjin? The pretty one?" Seungmin's eyes widen at the thought of a rather good looking and outgoing guy offering you tutoring lessons out of the goodness of his heart, he almost scoffs out loud. 

"Stop asking so many questions, Min!" You softly punch his arm, bursting his thought bubble. 

"Besides, 'the pretty one', Min? I didn't know you liked Hyunjin like that? Want me to put in a good word for you?" You teased further, laughing at his choice of words. Sure, Hyunjin was pretty well known by most for his good looks, but he had simply offered you help in your studies in a subject he happened to excel in and that had no such thing to do with his looks. 

"Shut up," he rolled his eyes, taking his turn to lightly punch you back from before. 

Afterwards the walk fell to a comfortable silence between the two of  you. 

At least that was how you would describe it to be. While you happily hummed and thought of what snacks you could whip up once you got home, Seungmin seriously pondered why you hadn't told him you weren't doing so well in chemistry. Or why you hadn't come to him for help first, he had already taken the class after all? And why the very thought of Hwang Hyunjin being with you by your locker afterschool while he had to wait outside for you made him so uncomfortable. Was uncomfortable the right word in this situation? He thought some more and concluded the thought of Hyunjin near you at all made him exceptionally mad, not just uncomfortable, for whatever the reason may have been (though he did have a hunch as to why he was feeling this way).

You looked over at the quiet boy next to you, noticing his intense state of thought, as he harshly bit his lower lip, furrowed his eyebrows slightly and kept an adamant gaze ahead of him. The sight was quite cute actually, cute enough to make you laugh. 

"Earth to Kim Seungmin, you are wanted here immediately, please report for duty," you giggled, dramatically waving your arm in front of his face to snap him out of his daze. 

"Sorry," Seungmin suddenly looks at you, cheeks hot and hands clenched onto the straps of his backpack. 

His gaze is not like anything you'd ever seen come from him. It looks serious, yet almost sad? The way his eyes look glossed over have you wanting to kiss his cheeks and lift the corners of his mouth to reveal his signature smile, the one you love so much.

But you know better than to let your imagination get the best of you and you quickly shake your head to get rid of such thoughts about your best friend in his very presence.

"No worries, just talk to me if you need to, okay?" You reach over to comfort him, rubbing his arm softly in assurance of your words. 

Little did you know you were killing Seungmin RIP. 

You were now approaching your front porch, ready to whip out your keys and say home sweet home. Seungmin always came over for a bit after school to talk and mess around a bit before starting homework and today was no different. 

But just as you opened the door with the thought about what video game Seungmin would want to play today floating in your head, you noticed the boy had yet to move from the step of the porch. 

"Seungmin? Don't you want to come in?" You walked back over to him, choosing to stay standing on the step above him. 

"Y/n," he practically whispered. 

Suddenly, at this close proximity, you realize the tension in his face and the worry behind his eyes and the burning of his cheeks. 

You softly reach over and unclasp one of Seungmin's hands from the strap of his bag, taking his hand into your own and rubbing your thumb over his numb knuckles for comfort. 

"Are you okay Minnie? Do you need water? Are you sick?" You reach up to his forehead with your other hand to check his temperature. 

"No, I just think I need to tell you something, now." He spoke formally, no hint of his usual teasing or playfulness when it came to you. 

You could only nod at his strange current state, you were quite concerned. 

"Don't take Hyunjin's help." He stated firmly, as if reading it from a list of rules. His serious disposition did not falter one bit, as if he had given out the most simple order. 

"Is this what this is about? Min, how am I supposed to pass that dumb class. Seungmin I'm failing, like with an F, I know you don't know what that's like, but neither did I until now and I have to fix it somehow! We can't all be straight A students without even having to try!" You were practically tearing up at the intensity of which your words came out, you'd slightly lost control of your emotions in the moment, but Seungmin remained calm through the sharp words you threw, knowing you were simply frustrated with your grades and held no ill intentions with them. 

"I can help you study, I can stay with you at the library all day explaining it to you if I have to, I'll take notes on your textbook and give them to you. Why didn't you tell me you needed help sooner?" He looked at you even more intensely, if that were even possibly. Then reaching over, he held your free hand in his own free hand. 

At this point the worry in his eyes only made you want to hug him for the rest of your life, but there was so much tension surrounding the two of you right now.

"Min, you don't have to do that. If you don't want me getting help from Hyunjin, I won't. I trust you. But you don't have to waste your time being my teacher, trust me on that, you'll regret it." You attempt to laugh off your answer while swinging his hands in yours to lighten the mood, even if it's just a bit. Unfortunately, your teary eyes from your previous outburst give you away as a tear rolls down your cheek. 

Seungmin was unsure about how to go about this further. He wasn't sure how you didn't seem to get it? That he would sacrifice his sleep to help you pass a class, just so he could be the one to help you, not some Hwang Hyunjin. That he wouldn't hesitate to do anything, and he means anything, if you simply asked. That he currently had more photos of you on his camera and phone than he did selfies of himself. That he liked you for fuck's sake. How could you have not seen it in his blushy mess of a nervous state right now. Was he really that freaking deep in the friendzone? 

"I want to waste my time teaching you chemistry because I know I won't regret it. Because I'd never regret time spent with you." His words remained calm and precise, again as if he had prepared them and read them off a notecard. He looked down at his shoes, unable to confront you after the cheesy words left his mouth. 

He felt his hands begin to moisten with sweat in your grasp and tried to remove them from your hands. However he was met with your refusal, as your hands tightly gripped his own. 

"Kim Seungmin, I like you. Like really like you. Like, like-like you. And you cannot say those things to me and be protective of me and be cheesy with me and expect me not to want to just hug you and kiss you as if we weren't just best friends!" You blurted, in a sing-song whine much like your usual tone with your best friend.

You took in a very long breath of frustration and looked down as well. 

You were so caught up in thoughts of the implications of the words that had left your mouth so quickly, that you did not bother to notice how Seungmin had in fact perked up at your words and practically resembled a tomato at this point, not that you looked any less of the shade of red.

“Wait what????” Seungmin was awestruck from your outburst, was he hallucinating? This was not the time for his imagination. 

“There is no way, I’m repeating that,” you pouted.

“Not even if, I tell you I feel the same?” Seungmin smiled.

“Maybe after…” you swung your intertwined hand again.

“After ….?” he mocks

Seungmin suddenly closes the already small distance between the two of you and lands his soft lips just barely on the surface of your cheek. 

“Can you say it again now?” he teases. 

All tension dispelled, the mood is suffocating with the puppy love-struck expressions emitting from both your eyes. 

- 

“Seungmin, how can you kiss me before you even tell me you like me?” 

You’re both inside now, after your apparently long-awaited confession, Seungmin had decided a cuddle session was called for in celebration, not that you were complaining. 

“I thought it was just obvious?” Seungmin replies 

“We could have been dating for so long by now,” You both sigh to one another at the thought you’d both had looming in your heads for the past hour.

“Guess we’ll just have to make up for lost time,” Minnie nuzzles his head into your neck trying to hide from his own sly remark. 

“Can we study chem now though, I’m still failing,” You whisper into his ear, the notion of that failing grade still very much prominent in your head. 

“In a bit, do you know how long I’ve waited for this?” The arms around your waist tighter their loose grip and Seungmin pulls you even closer to him, enough to feel the warmth emitting from his chest and suddenly you thought chem could wait.

[almostnugget]

Christmas

Alex Mercer & Friends

Christmas isn’t Alex’s favorite holiday, but he wants to make this Christmas one to remember. So he will — with the help of a cute ghost skater, of course.

Warnings: Holiday Cheer, Mentions of Luke Running Away, Mentions of Reggie’s Parents Fighting, Breaking & Entering

A/N: originally wrote this as part of a fic exchange with some friends! it’s rly just some found family fluff with willex thrown in for good measure. also, posting this as a way of coming back lmao, hi again

Christmas wasn’t Alex’s favorite holiday. In fact, he wasn’t really sure what holiday was his favorite—if he even had one. Holidays could just be kind of stressful sometimes, but he also knew that at the end of the day, it was always just about spending time with the people you love. He liked that part.

Alex, however, knew his bandmates—save for Julie—didn’t like Christmas. He couldn’t blame them for it, either. Luke ran away from his parents around Christmastime, something he never really got over despite what he said. Reggie probably liked the idea of Christmas more than he did the actual holiday. His parents fought constantly and it always got worse in December.

Needless to say, Christmas was an odd time of year for all of them. However, Alex didn’t want it to be.

The boys were pretty much as a dead as a doornail, but they had a second chance and they had Julie now. When the holiday season began to approach, Alex knew his friends might just try to keep their heads down and avoid it all. He didn’t want to do that. After dying, they deserved a break and he was going to make sure they got it.

“Wait, we can’t just…” Alex trailed off as he looked toward the store that he and Willie were stood outside of. He looked over his shoulders at the empty street.

It was late at night, the lamps along the sidewalk lighting up the avenue in golden hues. Garlands strung around just emphasized the time of year.

“That’s stealing,” Alex whispered, earning a laugh from Willie.

“You know we’re dead, right?” Willie responded, nudging the taller boy in the side. Alex grimaced a little, looking back at the store. The lights were off, indicating that it was pretty much close. “You wanna get them gifts, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but…” He trailed off, unsure of where he was heading in the first place. It wasn’t like ghosts could get jobs, not that he knew of anyway.

Willie clapped him on the shoulder as Alex shot him a wary glance. As usual, his nerves were on end but the way Willie smiled at him seemed to help.

“Besides, I don’t think this place will miss anything,” Willie added, looking back toward the shop. Capitalism, ya know? Alex took a breath, steadying himself, when he felt Willie’s hand slip into his just like it had back at the museum. Could ghosts get butterflies? “Ready?”

“Yeah,” Alex breathed. With a nod, Willie tugged him into the store. The whole situation felt wildly illegal, but Willie seemed calmer about it. “I have…no idea what to get.”

Shelves were lined with items and Alex was painfully aware that he hadn’t had a plan to begin with. He had an idea, a feeling more like it.

“Dude,” Willie chuckled. “C’mon, we’ll look around.” Their hands still intertwined, Willie began to lead Alex through the store. “What about the girl in your band? Julie? Are we getting something for her too?”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘course,” he replied quickly. “This is for her too. I—I want it to be special.” Alex cleared his throat, worried that didn’t sound right. “I just mean…It’s our first Christmas altogether, after everything. So, I just thought…” he trailed off, nervously trying to avoid Willie’s gaze. He sounded too sentimental, didn’t he? This was weird, wasn’t it?

Willie just smiled, giving him a nod. “Then we’ll find her something too.”

Alex didn’t have to breathe a sigh of relief to feel the subtle weight lift off his shoulders as Willie continued to walk further into the store with him.

“Stall them?” Julie repeated, arching a brow as she looked at Alex over the kitchen counter. “How am I supposed to do that? Why am I supposed to do that?”

Alex fumbled for words, knowing the request sounded strange—all things considered. He hadn’t really told her what he was doing, he was trying to keep it a secret.

“Just for a few hours,” he added, looking at Julie almost imploringly. She sighed a little, shoulders falling. It was increasingly hard to say ‘No’ to any of the boys.

“Okay, okay, I’ll see what I can do,” Julie sighed, noticing the way Alex seemed to light up at her agreement. She was fairly certain she saw a little bit of anxiety leave his ghost body as well. “Can you at least tell me what this is for?”

“It’s…complicated.”

“I think, as your accomplice, I should know,” she hummed, leaning across the counter a little to look at Alex with eyes that were feigning innocence.

He couldn’t help but laugh a little at the notion. “It’s not— You’re not—” He cut himself off, just shaking his head. Stuffing his hands into the pocket of his sweatshirt, he stood up straight. “It’s a surprise.”

“Ooo.”

“Willie and I just need time to set it up and—“

Julie straightened up, a smile overtaking her features. “Willie?” she repeated, waggling her eyebrows slightly. Alex felt his entire face heat up—which shouldn’t have even been possible, why was being a ghost so confusing?

“I need his help, that’s all,” Alex tried to assure her. Julie nodded, tapping her fingers against the counter.

“It’s okay, Alex. You seem happy,” she explained with a shrug before taking a step back. “I’ll try and stall the guys, I guess?”

“Please.” Julie nodded, beginning to move past him. “Oh, wait! Uh—” Alex began to sputter, Julie turning back with furrowed brows. “Where do you keep your decorations?”

Alex didn’t remember wrapping presents being this hard. In his opinion, he was an excellent gift wrapper. Now, he was just sort of rolling his chosen items in decorative paper and wrapping tape around it.

“Is this where you want the lights?”

Alex looked up from his disorganized work station to see Willie standing on a chair, string lights in his hands. He gave a quick nod.

“Yeah, that’ll be fine,” he exhaled shakily. His nerves were getting the best of him again. It felt like he didn’t have enough time or that he wasn’t doing enough somehow. He wanted this event to be perfect, but what if it wasn’t?

“Alex, hey,” Willie called, tone considerably softer as he hopped down from his chair. “Are you alright?” He sounded sincere as he took a seat beside Alex on the couch.

“No, yeah, I’m fine,” Alex tried to say. He ran a hand through his hair, staring at the mess on the coffee table. Finally biting out a sigh, he turned to face the boy beside him. “I meant what I said. I want this to be special.”

Alex wondered if there was a way to possibly convey what he felt. Christmas wasn’t even that important to him, but the notion of what it meant did.

“This is our first Christmas together,” he began, Willie’s eyes watching him carefully. “Luke and Reggie, they— It’s not their favorite holiday, but we still always spent it together, you know? Even with our rhythm guitarist, Bobby. Now we’re dead. And I just—” Alex let out another sigh, shoulders falling. “I want it to be okay. Because we still have each other. We…deserve this.”

There was silence, Alex’s eyes flickering up to meet Willie’s. Willie reached out, hand setting on Alex’s knee. “Then let’s make this a good Christmas, alright?” Willie suggested with a small quirk of his lips. Alex returned the faint smile, his heart feeling marginally lighter as he watched Willie get back to his feet. Willie glanced at the table. “Why do you wrap like that?”

“It’s— The tape, it’s—!”

Willie chuckled, shaking his head as he went back to continue decorating. Alex let out his own laughter, realizing the gift-wrapping was definitely the least of his worries and best case scenario? The guys would be too elated to even notice.

When Julie, Luke, and Reggie returned to the garage—Luke and Reggie actually walking in since they were with Julie—the chatter among them quickly ceased.

The studio was decorated with tinsel and string lights, the occasional garland thrown around for posterity. A two-foot tall tree sat atop the coffee table, mini ornaments dangling from its thin branches. Gift boxes—horrendously wrapped—were scattered around it.

Julie also noticed the distinct scent of gingerbread, even though there were no cookies. Her next assumption was a candle, but she couldn’t see one—which worried her a little because if it was hidden, things might catch fire, but Alex was stood in the center of the studio looking somewhere between nervous and excited so she let it go.

“Surprise…?” Alex announced weakly, gingerly waving his hands.

“Alex? What is all this?” Luke asked, brows furrowed. His expression was hard to read and it only worried Alex further. Reggie was glancing around in awe, so Alex hoped that was a positive thing.

“This was your surprise?” Julie wondered, eyes wide and the ghost of a smile creeping along her face.

“When did it become Christmas?!” Reggie suddenly blurted, looking absolutely and completely bewildered. Ghosts really had no sense of time.

Willie nudged Alex in the side, offering him an encouraging smile. “Do you wanna open your gifts?” Alex questioned, gaze quickly flickering between his friends.

“You got us presents?!” Reggie nearly cried, looking so genuinely stunned that Alex began to once again wonder how he was the emotional one. Luke raised an eyebrow, not saying anything yet.

Julie smiled towards Alex, balancing on the balls of her feet a little. Her brows then furrowed. “Wait…is Willie here?”

“He is,” Alex replied, a little deflated at the fact Julie couldn’t see him. “He helped with the decorations.” He cleared his throat before the silence could fully settle. “So? Gifts?”

His bandmates headed toward the couch, varying degrees of excitement to their stride. Julie wasn’t necessarily excited, but she walked a little lighter now with a smile pulling at her lips. Reggie looked like a kid in a candy store. Luke, though, seemed as if he was still thinking it all over.

Alex hastily went to hand out the gifts to their rightful owners. Reggie tore into his gift immediately.

“Alex!” He gasped excitedly. Tossing the paper aside, he held up the two pairs of socks in his hands. One was adorned with cute dogs, the other with cute cats. He instantly began to kick off his shoes to replace the socks already on his feet.

“Reg, no,” Luke started, shaking his head and trying to take the socks away. “No one wants to see your feet—”

“Open your own gift!” Reggie exclaimed, batting Luke’s hands away. They began mildly roughhousing, Luke trying to snatch the socks, as Julie attempted to ignore them and open her own gift.

“It’s a planner,” Alex stated as Julie unearthed the set of notebooks. “And a journal! I couldn’t really decide which you’d like better, so I thought you’d just like both?”

Julie smiled fondly, opening the planner to note the cute positive quotes that accompanied each day. “Alex, this is so nice. Thank you,” she replied, glancing up at him.

Alex returned the look, feeling better with his gift choice now. He gave a glance towards Willie, Willie smiling slightly in return. When a pair of socks flew across the room, Reggie scrambling after them, Alex looked back toward Luke.

Luke sighed a little, beginning to unwrap it. Pulling out a hoodie, Luke turned it over in his hands as Alex noticed the slight quirk of his lips. Whatever apprehension he had began to fall away.

“Sweet,” Luke exhaled, deciding he was particularly fond of the clothes. He looked up at Alex. “Thanks man, really.”

“Oh, you’re gonna actually wear something with sleeves?” Reggie remarked from across the studio, clearly a little upset about the fact his new socks had been thrown from the couch.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” The others in the garage glanced toward Luke’s very exposed arms. “Hey!”

“Wear sleeves and maybe we wouldn’t have to say anything,” Julie mused, continuing to thumb through her newfound planner.

Chuckling, Alex put his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket as he watched his friends interact. Suddenly, Julie turned her attention to him.

“So, why all this?”

“Oh, uh,” Alex stammered, looking between his bandmates. “It’s our first Christmas together, so I thought that…I just wanted it to be good. We’re all together, and that’s the point.”

Julie smiled softly, looking over at the boys. Reggie stopped focusing on his newfound socks to look at Alex, practically beaming. “I did say you guys were my family. And I meant it!” He remarked, definitely leaning into this newfound twist on the holiday. It wasn’t perfect, but none of them were either.

Alex shifted his attention to Luke. “It is good, Alex,” he admitted, Alex breaking into a smile. “Seriously. Though, you really can’t wrap, huh?”

“The tape!” Alex shot back. “And the scissors, it was just—”

“You were bested by tape?” Reggie asked, brows furrowing as he looked at Alex. “Dude.”

“Just enjoy your gifts!” Alex huffed, before realizing the problem. He whirled around to face Willie. “I forgot to get you a gift! I’m so sorry, I completely forgot I didn’t even—”

“Alex, it’s fine,” Willie chuckled, reaching out to set his hands on the taller boy’s shoulders. “Really.”

Brushing past him, Willie moved towards the door as Alex followed. “I’m still so sorry. I should’ve gotten you something or even—”

“Alex,” Willie said, effectively hushing him. Alex stopped before he could evolve into full-blown rambling. A smile tugged at Willie’s lips. “I spent practically the entire day with you. I think that qualifies as a gift.”

“Oh.”

“Are you talking to Willie?” Julie suddenly cut in, the pair glancing over at them. She even managed to catch Luke and Reggie’s attention.

“Yeah,” Alex responded, nodding toward the ghost in front of him—even if Julie couldn’t see him.

Julie smiled suddenly. “Well…” She trailed off, eyes flickering upward at the plant hung above the door before she looked back to her planner.

Alex glanced back at Willie, any adequate response dying in his throat. The knowing smile on Willie’s face seemed to tell Alex that he had done this, which only flustered the drummer further.

“What were you saying about getting me a gift?” Willie asked, a trace of mischief lacing his tone. Alex stammered for a response, before letting out a nervous chuckle.

Alex ducked his head, connecting his lips to Willie’s in a kiss that felt all too short afterward. It was short, but ultimately sweet and it brought all of Alex’s nerves back in an instant—though this was entirely different.

“I’ll see you later, Hotdog,” Willie said with a smile after they broke apart. Alex couldn’t even properly say goodbye as Willie left, his brain practically short circuiting.

Luke let out a whistle that snapped Alex out of his thoughts. “Guess it is a pretty good Christmas,” Reggie teased, arms crossed over his chest as Alex failed to hide the bashful smile on his face.

Christmas wasn’t his favorite holiday, but he still definitely enjoyed it.

[d3-iseefire]

Little Swan Lost Chapter 37

So, all things considered, the examination wasn’t as bad as Bilba had feared it would be. 

Granted, it wasn’t fun by any stretch, but she supposed she should count her blessings where she could find them, right? 

Dr. Belarius smiled at her from where she sat at a desk making notes on a tablet. “It’ll take some time to get all the results back but--” here she paused as she got distracted writing notes with a stylus. It was a few seconds before she looked back up again. “There’s nothing I can see that would prevent you from having a successful pregnancy and, given the family history you provided, I don’t expect to find anything.”

Bilba hadn’t thought she would but, even so, the words brought a rush of disappointment. There had been a hope, a small one to be sure, but a hope nonetheless that this could be her ticket out. Thorin would happily put her on a plane to Gondor if it meant he could get back with Kyra, and Bilba knew Arwen would welcome her with open arms.

It had been a nice dream, even if it had only lasted a short time.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. A low churning started in her stomach as her mind automatically began spinning out possible consequences of the news. There was no doubt in her mind that, with test results in hand, the king would confront Thorin in some way, shape, or form.

And then what? She didn’t know what sort of relationship Thorin had with his father. Would he bow to his commands? She didn’t believe Thorin would force her to do anything, he hadn’t laid a hand on her in a month and she doubted he would suddenly start, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t pressure her and make her life generally miserable.

More miserable. All things considered; she could admit her life wasn’t that bad at the moment. Stressful, yes, and she had to deal with the massive amounts of hate being sent her way, and then watching her husband fawn over his ex but, even so, it wasn’t terrible. Cerys had been nice to her, and Ori even if she might have ulterior motives, and no one had physically harmed her so…not entirely miserable.

If Thorin started pressuring her for…things, however, because his father was pressuring him, that assessment could soon change.

“Your Highness?” Dr. Belarius’ voice broke through her musings and Bilba started in surprise. “Was there anything else? I’m happy to answer any questions you might have.”

“No,” she answered. “Thank you. You made the whole thing go a lot easier.”

That was certainly the truth. Dr. Belarius had taken time to explain everything she was doing, and why, and had taken steps to ensure that Bilba was as comfortable as she could be during the entire thing. It had still been embarrassing, and more invasive than Bilba would have liked but she was grateful the spymaster had sent for a female doctor.

Now if she could just figure out what he hoped to gain from such kindness…

She left the exam room and found the main area empty but for Cerys who was seated at a table with a tablet of her own. She looked up as Bilba entered, smiled and got to her feet. “Your Highness. How did it go?”

“All right.” Bilba headed for the exit, wanting to be done with the whole thing, only to draw up short as the doors slid open to reveal two guards on the other side.

“Your Highness,” one of them said. “The king sent us to escort you back once you were done.”

Bilba tensed, but had no time to respond as Cerys was suddenly standing there. “Great,” she said, her voice a little cheerier than was entirely natural. “I’ll see to it she gets back.”

One of the guards shifted uneasily. “I’m sorry, ma’am. We were told—”

“That she should be escorted back.” The cheer was gone, and Cerys’ voice now held an ice that was borderline terrifying. “Is there a reason why you’d insist on escorting her over her personal guard?”

“That is an excellent question,” a new voice broke in, as Gareth rounded the corner. He raised an eyebrow at the two men. “You’re dismissed.”

One of the men started to speak again, only to snap his mouth shut as Gareth and Cerys took up position on either side of Bilba and projected an aura that practically begged the two men to challenge them.

The two guards exchanged concerned looks and then, without further comment, turned on their heels and left.

“You know,” Cerys said mildly as they vanished around a corner. “I had that covered.”

“I know you did, Sweetheart,” Gareth agreed genially. “It’s just fun to freak them out.”

“Well,” Cerys said dryly, “as long as you were having fun.”

She sent a thousand-watt smile at him, and Bilba bit back a smile of her own, even as a wave of nostalgia washed over her. Her relationship with Bofur had been like that once upon a time. Now she had a husband who spent all his time mooning over his ex and barely acknowledging his wife even existed.

The two stayed in their positions on either side of her as they started down the corridor. Cerys made a few notations on her tablet and then held it out toward Bilba. “Your Highness. I’m ready to finalize your security team. I thought you might like to look at it before I do.”

“Oh.” Bilba took the tablet and looked down to see a grid on the screen filled with names and photos. “I don’t know. I--”

Her voice trailed off and her steps slowed to a stop. Her eyes tracked over the photos once, and then again. Sixteen. There were sixteen photos, and every one of them was a woman.

“They’ll operate in rotating groups of two in the palace,” Cerys was saying, “and four or larger outside, as the situation warrants. Gareth and I will oversee and join the rotations. Is that all right?”

Bilba nodded, not trusting herself to speak. It wasn’t just that her team was all female, it was that Cerys had clearly noticed how uncomfortable she was around male guards, and then intentionally set up a team designed to make her feel at ease.

She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had considered her wishes, or noticed she had any to begin with.

“This is fine,” she said, voice shaky. She handed the tablet back, and let out a breath, trying to rein in her emotions. She didn’t want to give the king the satisfaction of seeing her with red rimmed eyes, no matter the cause.

As they neared the king’s office, Bilba spotted Ori leaning against the wall. From inside the office, she could hear a loud voice raised in anger. The king’s guards, posted outside, were shifting uncomfortably and clearly wishing they were anywhere but there. A second pair of guards leaned casually against the wall across from them, looking bored.

All four straightened as Bilba approached, which was probably one of the first signs of respect she’d gotten from any guard outside of Gareth and Cerys, and it was probably due to their presence that she got it at all.

“Hey Bilba!” Ori bounded over and hugged her. “Are you doing all right?”

Bilba nodded, eyes flickering toward the door, where the raised voice was still going strong. It was a female voice, and not one she’d heard before. “What’s going on?”

Ori gave a mock guilty look. “I may have tattled.”

Bilba’s eyes widened. “Tattled? About what? To whom?”

“You’ll see!” Ori said brightly. She darted to the door and, before Bilba could say anything, knocked on it sharply. Inside, the raised voice cut off.

“We’ll wait out here for you, Your Highness,” Cerys said as she and Gareth took up position next to the two bored looking guards. Ori joined them as one of the men standing next to the door opened it and announced Bilba’s presence.

Bilba’s nerves immediately went on high alert and her stomach, which had calmed somewhat, began to churn once again. She clasped her hands in front of her, tried to convince herself she wasn’t walking into the lion’s den when she most definitely was, and entered the room.

The first thing she saw was Thrain seated behind his desk, arms crossed, and a look that could only be called petulant on his face.

On the other side of the desk, back toward Bilba, was a tall, statuesque woman with dark hair piled in an elaborate, braided style with what looked like diamonds threaded through. She wore black, flared leggings with a lace overlay and a silver, short sleeved, cold shoulder top.

As the door shut, the woman whirled around, revealing a set of ice blue eyes that made Bilba immediately think of Thorin.

Which meant this was most likely Dis, his sister.

Bilba didn’t know all that much about her other than she was the mother of the two spider seeking boys, and her husband had gone missing shortly after Erebor was retaken. Past that, Dis rarely gave interviews and, when she did, simply ignored personal questions as if they hadn’t been asked.

“Ah,” Dis announced, her voice a little too bright. “There you are. I believe my father has something to say to you.”

She whirled back to her father who glared at her with a mulish expression. A stare down commenced which lasted an uncomfortably long time, before Thrain finally grumbled under his breath and spoke, all the while keeping his eyes on his daughter. “I won’t apologize for ensuring the future of my bloodline.” Dis made a low growling sound, and Thrain scowled at her. “However, that being said--” He shifted in his chair, making the wood creak alarmingly. “I could have gone about it better.”

His eyes finally shifted to meet Bilba’s, as if daring her to do…something.

Bilba, in turn, could only stare back at him in confusion. Was that an apology? She was fairly sure it was an apology. Was she…was she supposed to accept it? Would it seem patronizing if she did? If she didn’t, would he take it as an insult?

She clenched her hands tighter and tried to ignore how hard her heart was beating. She swallowed. “I’m sure you’ll be happy to know the doctor found nothing wrong, Your Majesty.” She opened her mouth to speak again, shut it and then, without thinking, shot a pleading look at Dis.

“There,” Dis said, churlishly. “You see? Now you can relax and get it through your head that she’s barely been here a month! She could have been pregnant, and probably wouldn’t have started to suspect for another month.”

Thrain’s eyes narrowed. “Did the doctor check for a pregnancy?”

“She did,” Bilba said quickly. “I’m not.”

Obviously. Cold washed over her at the thought of them finding out that she and Thorin hadn’t consummated. She didn’t want to imagine how the king would react to that.

“Great, questions answered.” Dis stalked over, grabbed Bilba by the hand and pulled her toward the door. “We’ll be leaving now.”

“I will see you for dinner,” Thrain called out. “And all family meals from now on, I presume?”

His tone of voice suggested he was not presuming but ordering. Bilba stumbled to a stop. “I –” she stammered. “I don’t – I just – it’d be awkward…wouldn’t it?”

“Awkward?” Thrain repeated, voice sharp. “In what way?”

“Well--” Crap, if only her mind would stop racing and she could take a second to think, and process what was happening. Everything was just moving so fast. “With Kyra,” she managed to get out. “With both of us there--”

She cut off, unsure of what else to say, and far too terrified to try. Kyra was the family favorite. The childhood friend and maligned ex-fiancée. Bilba was just the interloper. Thrain’s eyebrows drew together and Bilba tensed, prepared to withstand a tongue lashing for daring to say anything against Erebor’s apparent darling.

Thrain slapped a button on his desk, the same one he’d used to summon the guards to take her to the medical center. “Have Ambassador Lundair sent to me at once.”

Oh, Yavanna, Bilba thought, this was so much worse. She’d thought he would just berate her, not summon Kyra. Did he plan to berate her in front of the other woman? Or have Kyra do it? Almost frantic, she looked at Dis, but the other woman was studying her father with a blank expression.

Without warning, she resumed pulling Bilba toward the door. “Let’s go. We don’t need to be here for this.”

Bilba hesitated, but the other woman was ridiculously strong, and easily drew her out into the hallway. As she did, Cerys, Gareth, Ori and the two guards that Bilba assumed belonged to Dis’ detail pushed away from the wall.

“Well?” Ori asked, stepping forward. “How did it go?”

“Fine,” Dis said, voice flat. She frowned back at the door in concern.

“I’m sorry,” Bilba blurted. “I didn’t think--”

“You’re fine.” Dis frowned at her. “You’re a tiny thing, aren’t you?”

Bilba blinked in surprise. “Only in comparison to Ereboreans,” she said without thinking. Granted, Ori was small as well, but she seemed to be the exception, not the rule. Even Dis towered over her, with an intimidating aura that, to this point, Bilba had thought only Thorin and his father possessed. Apparently, it was simply a Durin family trait.

“What’s wrong?” Ori asked, as Dis glanced back toward the door again.

Dis started to answer, only to stop as Kyra appeared from around the corner. The woman’s steps slowed as she caught sight of the veritable crowd in the hall, and a wary look entered her eyes. Bilba focused on the floor and tried to shift her balance so that Gareth blocked her view from the other woman. She was flat out of energy for confrontations for the day, possibly the entire week.

“What’s going on?” Kyra asked as she drew nearer. “The king said he wanted to speak to me.”

“He does.” Dis hesitated. “Do you want me to go in with you?”

Kyra frowned, and then shook her head. “No, that’s quite all right. I’m quite capable of speaking to the king on my own.”

The words were innocuous enough, but Bilba strongly suspected they were directed straight at her. A part of her, a long dormant part, bristled but the rest of her tamped the emotion down. Kyra was hurting, she reminded herself firmly. Hurting, and had all Erebor firmly on her side.

The woman vanished inside the room, and Ori addressed Dis. “What’s that about?”

“Something long overdue, I think,” Dis said slowly. “It won’t be pretty, but it’s necessary. She needs to move on.” She clapped her hands. “And we should too. I don’t think she’d appreciate us being here when she comes out.” She addressed Ori. “You mentioned Bilba needs a new wardrobe, right?”

Ori nodded happily. “Hers is way too small, and it’s not right for the weather. She’ll freeze to death on her first outing.”

Bilba considered telling them she’d already been on her first outing, but then remembered how it had turned out and mentally conceded the point.

“Great.” Dis whirled to face her. “Off to see Dori then, and then the mall to see how much of my brother’s personal finances we can blow through in a single afternoon.”

Bilba’s eyes widened and her mouth gaped. Dis linked her arm around Bilba’s on one side, while Ori repeated the process on the other. “I don’t--” Bilba managed to get out as the women pulled her down the hall, guards in tow behind. “I don’t know if Thorin will like--”

“Thorin will be fine,” Dis said airily, waving the words off with a hand. “And, if he has a problem with it,” here she paused to grin at Bilba. “You just tell him it was my idea.”

Bilba sighed, and gave up. It was clear that Dis and Ori fed off one another and there was no stopping them once they were together and united on an idea.

She did, however, make a mental note to tell Thorin exactly what Dis had said, that all monetary expenses had been his sister’s idea.

Maybe it would lessen how angry he’d be at her after learning she’d gotten Kyra dragged into the king’s office for some reason or another.

One could hope.

***

Kyra stood quietly in front of her bedroom window; eyes fixed on nothing outside.

She couldn’t say how long she’d been there or, even, technically, how she’d gotten back to her rooms. She had little memory past that moment in the king’s office, now branded into her memory.

“From this point on, you will take your meals elsewhere.”

Krya swallowed, her throat dry, and ground her teeth together against a new flood of tears. She’d already cried herself sick, and that had happened only after the anger had been spent. She knew that were she to turn around, it would be to a destroyed room. Every picture torn from the wall, every piece of furniture broken or damaged, the television shattered in pieces on the ground.

“Eating at the royal table is reserved for immediate family.”

The words had cut deep, confirming what she’d already suspected.

She wasn’t considered family, and never had been. Family wouldn’t abandon her the way they had, left her to struggle through her misery and pain on her own. Family wouldn’t have taken the side of the interloper, elevating her to everything that should have been, had been hers.

Family didn’t stand in a hall, gathered around the intruder like a shield she didn’t need, while Kyra was forced to beard the lion in his den, utterly alone.

“Continuing to allow you to dine with us suggests favoritism amongst my ambassadors. It would be…inappropriate.”

Funny, how it had never been inappropriate before.

It was all lies. She wasn’t stupid. She knew what had happened. It was that woman. Kyra knew she should never had stood for the little brat trying to put her in her place on the stairs. The princess had gotten herself a taste of what it felt like to belittle her betters and had promptly decided to do it again.

The memory of the rush of sympathy she’d felt seeing the witch in the ballroom swept over her and Kyra felt physically sick. She’d almost fallen for it. Almost bought into the poor little me act the imp put on when she wanted to manipulate those around her. For all Kyra knew, she’d probably set up the entire thing, known Thorin would be there and she could play on his male ego and desire to protect others.

Well, anyone other than his fiancé that was.

Kyra inhaled sharply and reached up to aggressively scrub at her eyes. The little tramp had them all bewitched, even Thorin, and wasn’t that a disappointment? She’d always thought of him as untouchable, larger than life, and a consummate leader.

Now it turned out he was just as frail as her father had been when he’d been taken in and fooled by that harpy after her mother had died. Kyra’s fingers curled into fists and heat flooded her face. She’d had no power over that, but that didn’t mean she had no power now.

She jerked around and stalked to her untouched computer, shoes crunching across broken glass and bits of plastic. She pulled up the messenger and sneered at the last messages she’d sent, when she’d balked at meeting Gandalf, and instead suggested a more careful, measured approach to fixing what had gone wrong.

It was clear now just how naïve and misguided she’d been. She’d been willing to play nice, and all the while that woman had been putting on the innocent little princess act. Winning over her family, and her friends, and all while she stumbled about in the dark, looking for fair and just ways to restore her life.

Gandalf had claimed he had something to show her, was concerned the Shire princess was a threat of some mankind. He’d suggested there was a reason behind why Shire had been so aggressive about getting rid of her.  

Kyra typed a quick message and hit send. The message bubble popped up, glowing words shining off the screen.

I’ve changed my mind. I’m ready to meet.

The response was quick, and Kyra felt a surge of gratitude that at least someone prioritized her.

Excellent. I have much to tell you.

Kyra smiled. Time to find out who the Princess of Shire really was.

Perhaps then Thorin’s eyes would finally be opened, and he’d see the little tart for what she was.

When that day came Kyra expected an apology.

A long one.

Follow on AO3: Follow on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1743620/chapters/3723188

[gone4neow]

MIGHTY | ⓅⒸⓎ

c h a p t e r e l e v e n

- park chanyeol x oc

- mulan rewrite [very loosely inspired by the disney version]

- warnings : cursing, dark themes, extreme violence

- work count : 3,033

previous chapter or next chapter

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“Do you see anything?” Eunyeong wondered aloud as she sat next to Kyungsoo. The woman raised a flask up to her lips, letting water fall into her mouth as she awaited an answer. The man hummed after a second before he glanced over at her. She offered him a drink of her water. Gently, he took it from her.

“There’s a few men. If there was a camp set up here then it’s long gone now,” the man answered before he raised the container of water to his lips.

“Then they’ve probably realized their mole is out of the picture now,” the woman said with a huff. “We can’t be sure where they’re going now.”

Kyungsoo passed the water back to its owner while he nodded. “Probably not, but I have a good idea of who is in charge of this group.”

Eunyeong followed the man’s hand as he pointed down the mountain at the small group of men. There she could see a cluster of guys talking amongst one another. In the middle of them stood a man behind his back as he paced back and forth. Another man talked to him as he did so. Whatever they were talking about seemed to be important; so did the man in the middle.

“Then we wait until dark falls and attack?” Eunyeong questioned curiously as she looked over at the man next to her.

When the general first informed her that she would be accompanying Kyungsoo to spy on the enemy she had felt a combination of excitement and fear. She was excited since the general obviously had placed a lot of trust in her. Still, after having so many close encounters with the bloodthirsty enemies, she couldn’t help but feel fearful of such an ambitious task.

“Yes,” Kyungsoo replied, the corners of his lips curling just slightly. “You catch on quickly. This kind of stuff must be in your blood.”

“My father was a part of the last war, so I got a lot of stories growing up,” Eunyeong confessed with a small laugh as she looked away from the man.

“He must’ve been a tough guy to make it through the last war,” the man commented. Eunyeong felt the smile on her face falter at his words.

“Tough? Without a doubt - but it left him essentially crippled. When he talks about the war you can see this, like, haunted look in his eyes,” she began. “I never realized just how much he must have went through until I got here.”

Kyungsoo was silent for a few seconds before he spoke again. “War makes us appreciate a lot of aspects of our lives, ironically enough.”

Just as he finished speaking, a sound came from the forest behind them. The two shared a concerned glance before the slowly pushed themselves off of the ground. They shared a short nod before the entered into the wooded area. Their feet moved slowly as they climbed further into the trees. Their eyes met again after a few seconds and Eunyeong watched Kyungsoo’s hand closely as he motioned for them to split up.

The woman’s shoulders were tense as she moved carefully through the trees. Of course the sound could have been a creature of the wild navigating through its habitat, but there was still a chance that it wasn’t. After a few minutes of searching, Eunyeong’s shoulders relaxed and she released a breath of air. Whatever it had been was long gone by now, she was sure of that. Or at least she had been.

A low grunt left the woman as her back collided with the surface of a tree. She felt a wave of deja vu run through her as the image of the general pressing her against a tree flashed through her mind. Unfortunately, this time when she looked up she was met with a different face. This man’s features were sharper with a hint of darkness to them. She knew those features far too well. Her heart dropped into her stomach as she looked up at the man with wide eyes.

His hands were wrapped around her throat, holding her securely in place. His eyes scanned her features in a way that made her want to shrivel up into nothingness. Of all people she had expected to see, he had been the last.

“I knew it was you,” the man whispered out as a wide grin stretched across his face. The woman winced as his breath fanned across her face. She had never been completely alone with him before.

“What are you talking about?” She tried to play it off. Maybe if she pretended to be clueless he would believe that she truly was.

“Eunyeong, don’t play with me. Aren’t you sick of the games after all this time?” The man cooed tauntingly. Her stomach twisted at his words. Her name sounded so foreign now. To hear it sent her mind in a worried frenzy.

“How did you find me, Howon?” She breathed out shakily. The smile on his face widened, something that should have been impossible.

“Do you think I spent all of that time watching you back home for nothing? Of course I knew you were gone. I had been anticipating it,” he confessed to her.

The sound of footsteps approaching from behind them cause the man to look up. Eunyeong felt unnerved when she saw the lack of panic on his features. Though she knew Kyungsoo was an excellent fighter, she suddenly felt concerned for his safety. Who knew what the man in front of her was capable of?

Eunyeong could hear Kyungsoo calling out for her. A part of her wanted to call back to him, to let him come find her and help her escape. The other half of her worried what would happen if Howon exposed her true identity. The general may have overlooked her wrong doings, but Kyungsoo was a man of tradition. He appreciated the rules and regulations that had been placed. He followed orders and expected others to do so as well. So, she kept quiet.

“Is he with you?” Howon asked her lowly. The woman quickly shook her head. The smile on the man’s face faltered.

“You’re lying,” he called her out with a tinge of anger in her voice. Again, she shook her head. “Then when he gets here prove it to me. Kill him.”

Eventually Kyungsoo did arrive. When he did, Eunyeong stood alone. She swallowed nervously as the man looked at her. He could see it in her eyes that something about the situation was off, that something had went wrong. She took a hesitant step forward, her hand hovering over her dagger.

“What are you doing?” The man asked her slowly, his eyes narrowed in suspicion as he looked over her.

Before she could attack her partner, Howon appeared behind him. Eunyeong’s eyes widened in horror as she watched him raise a sword. Without hesitation, she rushed forward and pushed Kyungsoo with every ounce of force she could muster. Howon’s sword came down, burying itself in the ground next to Eunyeong as she hovered over Kyungsoo as a shield.

“I knew you were lying,” Howon roared with anger. Eunyeong turned to look up at him, but was met with his foot colliding against her cheek before she could fully turn around. She landed on the ground next to Kyungsoo with a thud, groaning with pain as a burning sensation spread across her cheek.

Kyungsoo pushed himself off of the ground quickly. Eunyeong turned just in time to see her partner strike Howon across the face. Howon stumbled backward a few steps as he shook his head. Kyungsoo’s blows were always impactful.

“Stop Howon! Why are you doing this?” Eunyeong cried out as she watched the man sling his sword towards her partner. She rushed to her feet and tried to step between the men, but she was met with the sword. A pained moan left the woman as she felt the blade dig into her forearm.

When she met his eyes, Howon stared at her in horror. No matter what his intentions were, he had never meant to stab Eunyeong. Kyungsoo went to pounce on the man, but before he could Howon turned on his feet and ran. Like a coward, he retreated away from the pair. Kyungsoo wanted to chase after the strange man, but he couldn’t get himself to do so when he heard the cries of Eunyeong behind him.

“Is it-“ he began as he turned to look at the injuried soldier. He stopped himself when he saw the blade had went completely through the soldier’s arm. His eyes widened as he watched the soldier remove the sword from his arm. A wail filled the air as he did so. Kyungsoo knew they couldn’t stick around much longer.

He rushed to tear a piece of his uniform off and his hands trembled as he tied the piece of fabric tightly around Eunyeong’s wound.

“We have to go,” he whispered out frantically. Eunyeong barely nodded before they were stumbling through the forest.

“General!” Kyungsoo called as soon as their camp came into view. Soldiers looked at the pair in horror, never before hearing such emotion come from the man before. Eunyeong tried desperately to remain conscious as she staggered behind Kyungsoo. Her eyes were droopy and her head was tilted like a wounded dog.

“What happened?” A panicked voice called as Baekhyun pushed himself to the front of the gathered group. He looked down at Eunyeong’s arm in horror. Though the makeshift bandage was still in place, blood had completely soaked through the cloth. He rushed over to help the injured soldier stand up straighter. The woman shifted her head to look at him when she felt his hands on her. He watched as a pained smile stretched across her face.

The general raced out of his tent when the commotion from outside reach his ears. The color of his skin paled when he saw the trio approaching his tent at a rapid pace. He had seen many injured soldiers before in his lifetime, but for some reason this felt different. Eunyeong met his eyes as he stood waiting for them to reach him. She blinked a few times a few seconds later before she felt herself begin to faint.

Later that day, Eunyeong woke up to the sound of crickets chirping. She could hear someone rummaging through some paper near her. As her eyes cracked open, she could make out the blurry image of the general’s tent. There was a sharp pain in her arm, but she ignored it as she rolled over on her side. A familiar scent hit her nose as she snuggled up with the fabric underneath her head.

Right before she could close her eyes to sleep again, she caught sight of the general sitting on the other side of the tent. His hands were frozen in what appeared to be the middle of arranging a small stack of papers. His eyes were focus on the resting woman. His eyebrows were furrowed with worry as he contemplated whether or not he had been the reason she was awake now. For a moment he thought she were going to rest again, but after she noticed him she had went completely still. Her eyes remained open and, more importantly, hadn’t moved from him since they had discovered his presence.

The man quickly grew flustered from the sudden attention. His eyes averted back down towards the papers in his hands and he resumed moving them around again. He glanced up a second later to see if the woman was still staring at him. Sure enough, her eyes were still set on him. He cleared his throat in hopes that she would understand his discomfort.

“I always enjoy having this dream,” the woman faintly whispered suddenly. Then a lazy smile stretched across her face. Her expression was so peaceful that Chanyeol felt as if he were invading a special moment.

“What is the dream?” He finally dared asking after a few seconds of silence passed.

“Why do you ask?” The woman asked as her expression contoured into genuine confusion. “You’re always here. You know what happens during this dream.”

The man felt his face warm as a nervous laugh escaped his plump lips. His eyes soaked in the sight of her for a few more seconds before he forced himself to look away.

“Ah, that made my heart race,” he mumbled under his breath. He raised a hand and let it set on his chest in an attempt to comfort his racing heart. He glanced up after silence settled between them. The woman’s eyes were closed once again. Though the man felt like smiling at the sight of the soldier’s tranquility, a frown formed on his face. Perhaps he was overthinking things, but it seemed a shift in dynamics had occurred - a shift that he wasn’t sure he was prepared to handle.

“Hey! Stay awake this time,” Baekhyun scolded the woman as he knelt down beside her. She rubbed at her face tiredly while pushing herself up off of the ground. She knew she must’ve looked a mess after sleeping for so long, but the pain in her arm distracted her from worries about her appearance. She released a soft, pained whimper as the burning sensation spread up her arm and across her shoulder.

“Hey, hey, hey,” her friend cooed comfortingly next to her. “Maybe you should lay back down after all.”

“Give him some of this tea,” a raspy voice called out. Eunyeong’s head snapped up quickly. Her heart began to race anxiously when she saw the general sitting next to Kyungsoo on the other side of the tent. Subconsciously she leaned forward to hind behind her friend’s back. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment when her friend moved away, leaving her on display for everyone to see.

“It’s okay!” She rushed out in a high pitched voice. If all eyes weren’t on her before, they definitely were now. Baekhyun turned to her with wide eyes.

“I mean-“ she interrupted herself, clearing her throat and preparing to deepen her voice by three octaves. “I am okay. I don’t need the tea. It barely even hurts!”

“Barley even hurts..” Kyungsoo repeated after her with a tint of humor in his voice.

“Are you running a fever?” Chanyeol questioned, leaning forward and taking an even closer look at the woman. “You look awful flustered. Baekhyun, give him the tea! He must be running a fever.”

Eunyeong realized in that moment there was no way of escaping the embarrassment. She sat in silence as she watched her friend work at pouring her a small portion of the general’s tea. When he handed it to her, she gently took it from him and lifted it to her lips.

“I, um, would like to apologize for messing up our mission,” she spoke quietly after she finished swallowing her first drink.

“These things happen,” the general causally responded.

“The man who did that to you,” Kyungsoo started. “You knew his name. Where do you recognize him from?”

Eunyeong felt as if she had just been slapped when the question left the man’s tongue. Her hand began to shake with nervousness, the tea in her hand swooshing around in its container at the motion. Her eyes averted to the floor as she contemplated what she should say. If she lied, then she risked being saw as a traitor. If she told the truth, then it would put her entire family at risk. So, she decided to do a bit of both.

“I knew him briefly. He used to come around the place I worked for a while - would always chat with me,” the words slipped off of her tongue. Still, she didn’t have the courage to look up and meet anyone’s eyes.

“Did he recognize you?” The general asked her. When she didn’t answer, he repeated the question again.

“What if he did?” She asked. This time she encouraged herself to look up and meet the man’s eyes. His eyes searched hers for any indication of what was going through her mind at that moment. He thought that maybe he could make out fear swimming in those amber eyes of hers, but when he blinked it was gone.

“Then things become a bit more complicated,” was his answer.

“OH!” Baekhyun suddenly exclaimed with realization. Everyone’s eyes flickered over to him. He sat with his knees folded underneath him and one of his hands were raised, covering his gaping mouth.

“He recognized you?” The man repeated with horror in his voice. Eunyeong bit her lip and looked back down at the floor. The general released a stressed sigh at the woman’s reaction. He brought a hand up and ran it through his hair. There was a distressed expression on his face.

“I understand what will have to happen if he shares that information with anyone,” the woman spoke in an assuring tone. “I promise that I will not put anyone here at risk. If I have to surrender myself over to him then I will.”

“You can’t do that,” Baekhyun huffed in disagreement.

“It will be my only option,” she replied.

“Why is your identity such a big deal?” Kyungsoo asked, finding everyone’s reactions to the situation a bit strange.

“It doesn’t matter,” Chanyeol said before anyone else could answer the man’s question. “If news of your identity does spread then I’ll have no choice but to do what I have to do. You understand right?”

The woman met his eyes again and slowly shook her head. The general was already risking his own life by keeping her secret. To continue protecting her even after her true identity was revealed would be a death sentence to them both. Eunyeong wouldn’t dare allow harm to come to the man, especially at her own hands.

“You won’t have to worry,” the woman told him. “I’ll make sure this is handled in a way that protects everyone involved.”

And even though her voice held confidence, she knew that it wasn’t a promise she could entirely uphold.

——————————————————————————

a / n : hi! in this chapter we meet Howon again and i’m excited to see how you guys reach to this twist. i bet everyone forgot about him already. anyways, i hope everyone enjoys this chapter. as always, thanks for reading!

[herkawaiinovels]

[SS] Chapter 2 Part 3

T/N: I was listening to Rain or Shine by Elaine while editing this. I think it fits really well especially in the middle. If you can, try it as well :)

        “We bumped into each other again today.”

“You are here again today."

Prillance greeted Ver cheerfully. As always, Ver politely greeted her and went his own way. Prillance followed such a Ver. But even now, his pace was still considerate towards her.

After that day, Prillance did not give up and went to the promenade every day. Instead, her former shoes were replaced with low-heeled shoes that were easy to walk in, and she chose dresses made for activity. Nevertheless, talking to Ver wasn't easy.

“The weather is nice today."

She spoke from behind him, walking a step ahead, but there was no response.

It had been like this for a few days. He had really only been taking a walk without talking to her. But she didn’t give up and talked as if she was speaking to herself.

        “Lady.”

Ver called out to Prillance, walking one step between them. At the answer she finally received, she looked at him with a smile. Ver approached her, who was looking forward to the long-awaited conversation.

“I am not going anywhere.”

He remarked without explanation, but she must clearly know what he was talking about.

The remark changed her expression. He didn't know exactly if she was embarrassed or disappointed, but the effect seemed to be exactly what he intended.

“So please stop now and go home.”

He tried to speak as softly as possible, but he couldn't get rid of the remaining sharpness in his words. It was then that he tried to turn his body without regret.

“Alright."

She gave an answer faster than he thought. Rather, he was more embarrassed that he worried she would be stubborn.

“Are you really giving up?”

“Yes. I have no intention of forcing you to do something you don’t like.”

It was the straight answer he wanted. However, she still did not go away.

Ver looked at her expression, but her expression seemed rather carefree. So it was more confusing.

He had thought she wanted him to become one of their family’s knights.

“Instead, if you ever become interested in going somewhere, please consider the house of Marquis Weiand first. Can you do that much?”

Initially, her plan was to prevent him from entering the Tonz family knights.

Even if Roman asked him to be a knight of his family, if the offer would not be accepted immediately, she would already be halfway successful.

Ver, who did not know Prillance's plan, thought she was indeed quite a clever lady till the end.

“What will you do if my mind doesn't change even after thinking about it?”

“Then I can’t do anything about it.”

She was speaking a casual tone, but she really hoped he wouldn’t. Because, then he won't be happy.

At that moment, her face suddenly became filled with pity and sadness. The emotions seemed to lie deep in her heart.

Sometimes her expression had an excellent power to move a person's heart. Each time, Ver had no choice but to feel a strange feeling.

    “Then, this will be the last time I’ll see you here.”

“Pardon?"

“My doctor told me I didn't have to come anymore.”

Ver had no intention of being swayed further. He just looked at her without answering.

“…By any chance, did you think I came here these days because of my offer from before?”

“Didn’t you?"

“Of course not. Absolutely not!”

She opened her eyes widely and insisted her innocence with her whole body. Ver seemed surprised by her aggressive response. Clearly that was what he thought.

He had figured it was the most likely explanation when he had went home after their first walk. He pondered over why he was angry. He had hoped not, but eventually there was a misunderstanding.

Prillance took a moment to speak calmly. Ver waited for her.

“Of course, I know why you might have misunderstood. But that wasn’t my intention. Just…”

Prillance's gaze on him was unwavering. It was the same eyes as when she first visited his house. It was the eyes unexpectedly telling him to have strength, the eyes he wanted to believe.

    “I didn't want to leave you on your own.”

“Pardon?"

“If not, you probably wouldn’t have gone outside again.”

Perhaps another month. She naturally recalled the content of the novel. If it wasn't for Prillance, he must have been holding all sorts of sorrow in the mansion.

That was why when she had heard from Mindy, she had ran straight to him. She hated that he had been hiding like a sinner when he hadn't done anything wrong. And she hated that the only person to reach out to him was Roman.

Because it was not hope for him, it was nothing more than torture disguised as hope.

She knew the feeling better than anyone. She had watched Hyun Woo for a long time. She had wanted to step out of Hyun Woo's side multiple times. But the reason she couldn't was because she thought it was enough she was next to him.

It would have been like that for Ver. Seeing Roman with Cecia would have hurt his heart, but he wanted to at least stay beside her.

“There are times when just being by someone’s side helps.”

Just because she’s beside him doesn’t mean she thinks he will no longer like Cecia. Perhaps he might still choose the same unfortunate path.

However, there are times when just the fact that there is someone who understands your heart gives you strength. She wanted to be that kind of person to him.

Her words became lodged in his chest. Maybe that was why. Even if the reason she visited him was just for the value of his use, he might have actually wanted someone to be next to him. So he hadn’t been able to push her away for days. It was a fact he himself didn't even realize until she spoke those words.

    “And I like taking a walk with the Viscount.”

“What…”

“Because of the Viscount, I got to see this wonderful place.”

Prillance smiled happily. However, Ver could not answer her smile. He thought he wasn't very emotional, but maybe he actually was.

Maybe it was because of the situation. Maybe it was because she was the only one who believed in a situation where no one else listened.

“…I think I should go first.”

The fact that he had to leave her side now seemed certain. It was rude, nevertheless Ver walked toward the mansion as if he were running away.

“Tomorrow…No, you will go for a walk again next time right?”

Prillance shouted toward him who suddenly disappeared quickly. But he walked without looking back.

Contrary to the distance, he didn't know why her voice and face kept coming to mind.

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[reds-self-ships]

🔎 The Adventure of the Detection Club

Chapter 5: The Incident of the Red Pen

Table of Contents & Trigger Warnings

⚠ CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNING: Contains passing references to blood and the description of a crime scene.

The headquarters of The Detection Club, at a first glance, looked to be an ordinary rented office. Besides a handwritten sign that had been taped to the front door, there wasn’t any particular way of telling who, exactly, the office belonged to, nor the organisation that owned it.

The interior was also rather plain – a small office room, as was intended. There were several desks and chairs for members of the organisation to sit down and get on with their writing in a place where they were unlikely to face any kind of disturbance or distraction.

The desks had been moved out of the way temporarily for the small round wooden table that was meant to be the centre of the ceremony, covered partially with a burgundy-coloured tablecloth that was lined with a golden-coloured trim and tassels.

Only now that a significant amount of the cloth had been stained a shade of dark red with blood, and instead of the skull that was intended to serve as a pivotal point of the ceremony, all that was left sitting on the table was an outline made of white rope from where the body of Mr. Harris Thomas had been discovered the day before.

“Well there’s certainly not as many constables here now as there were yesterday,” remarked Redford, who was already busy scribbling notes down into his notebook.

“Probably because they’re preparing to wind down their investigation for now, seeing as that particularly bull-headed detective seems to have already made up his mind as to whom he suspects committed the crime,” said Sholmes as he sat down at a desk that had barely been touched.

He took the typewriter that had been left on-top of it and placed it on his lap, winding some paper into it and beginning to hammer away at the keys seemingly without any particular rhyme or reason.

“I guess it’s just a matter of proving otherwise in court tomorrow then,” said Ryunosuke with strengthened resolve. “With anything and everything that we can.”

“We know for certain that the body was discovered in this room,” said Susato, removing her own pocketbook from her kimono sleeve and quickly skimming her way through the pages. “And there wasn’t any sign of forced entry either, given that it was all but impossible to attempt to do so.”

“Exactly. The door itself looks as though it’s specially reinforced, and from what I can see—” Ryunosuke swung the front door of the office partially shut so that the side of the door could be clearly examined. “There’s no marks or anything from where someone could’ve tried to force the door open with a crowbar or anything like it. In fact; I’d say this room is built possibly as sturdy as a bank vault!”

“Well, good crime writers always appreciate their secrets being kept a secret until the very end or at least whenever it is actually necessary to reveal them,” said Redford, tapping the bottom of his chin with the end of his fountain pen. “I believe any crime novel would be difficult to appreciate any attempt to solve the mystery if each and every time the killer remained behind at the scene with a handwritten and signed confession ready to give to any police officer or prosecutor who might happen to be in the area at the time.”

“Well, I guess that’s true…” said Ryunosuke, “(Even if it would make our lives all easier, that is…) Er, would there happen to be anywhere that the killer, or the victim for that matter, might be able to hide?”

“Well if I remember rightly, I did check all three of our rooms before I locked up that day, because I always make a point of checking to be triply sure. Then again, I suppose that there’s no harm in checking it out, is there?”

“Wait a second…did you just say ‘three’ rooms?”

“Yes, three. There’s three rooms that make up our headquarters, and this is the first, and main room.” Redford pointed towards the back wall with two fingers. “In the back there, we have another office where we do all our official business in—keeping money, organising paperwork, welcoming any guests and whatever.

“And then over there we have a small storage room too. That’s where we keep records and such of our members, as well as any kind of equipment we’re not using at the moment. Both rooms are kept locked at all times when they’re not in use, and can be locked on the inside as well, should there be a need to.”

“In that case, might we check the other rooms as well? It might be an idea to double-check in case there’s anything that the police ended up missing something.”

“Be my guest. Given that this entire office is a crime scene at the moment, it’s not like I’d end up having a choice anyway, given that they have a warrant.”

One of the police constables appeared to have overheard the conversation, and approached the trio.

“If you want to go into the office or the store room then go on ahead. We’ve already collected the key from the suspect yesterday, and Detective Jones has left us with orders to keep the doors unlocked at all times until any further notice is sent.

“Oh excellent,” said Ryunosuke. “Thank you so mu—”

“—But! We’ll be keeping an eye on the lot of you and that suspicious red-headed young man too. If you so much as think of trying anything funny, I’ll—!”

“Yes, thank you very much, constable. We’ll keep all of that in mind whilst we’re in there, yes thank you very much, thank you for your assistance constable.”

Redford bundled his lawyer and the lawyer’s judicial assistant into the office and promptly shut the door behind him.

It was only when he had shut the office door behind him that Redford realised that something was wrong. “Wait a minute! I forgot about Mr. Sholmes!”

“Don’t worry,” said Susato. “Mr. Sholmes is usually good at handling all kinds of these situations.”

She pointed through the blinds on the window that looked out onto the main room, where that particular constable was now instead taking out all of his frustrations on Mr. Sholmes, who didn’t seem to be paying him any kind of attention whatsoever; Still playing around with the typewriter like a toddler who’d been given a new toy to play with.

“Well if you say so, Miss Mikotoba. Er, I’m not always so good with these kinds of formal situations. Would it be OK just to call you by your first name instead?”

“If it makes you more comfortable, then yes, you may,” said Susato with a bow.

“Oh, well, thank you very much. This is my, er, office. There’s not a lot to it, as you can see.”

The office, indeed, wasn’t much to look at. There was a faded black leather swivel chair with two, smaller, red leather chairs for any visitors to take a seat in. A number of editions of crime fiction novels, criminology textbooks and books on English and American law had been filed away onto a bookshelf.

Other than that, a recent Ordnance Survey map of London was framed in pride of place on the wall behind the desk.

“This is where everything is run from. Well, in the basic sense anyway. I mean, somebody has to pay for the rent, file the tax forms and keep everyone and everything in line with the club constitution. I suppose you’ll want to see any of our records or correspondence then?”

“Well, yes, if it’ll help—”

Ryunosuke didn’t get the chance to complete that sentence either before Redford sprang into action.

He approached the bookcase and carefully counted down and then along the rows of books, slightly easing out a copy of a book called The Incident of the Red Pen towards him.

A mechanism clicked and whirred into life, making the framed map of London gently rise up along the wall to reveal a large safe that had been built into the wall.

“O…Oh my!” exclaimed Susato.

“Red…what is this?” asked Ryunosuke.

“I believe most people call it a ‘safe’. I’ve told you already – we crime writers value and appreciate a good secret or twelve. It’s the only way to make sure that they’re kept in the most secure way humanly possible.”

Redford turned the combination dial on the shelf left, then right, then left again before turning the handle and swinging it open with a creak and a groan that sounded like that of a severely ill yak.

He removed a thick leather-bound ledger, a metal cash box and a cardboard folder from the safe and placed them onto the desk.

“Right. Shall we begin then, folks?”