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miwtze · 4 years ago

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bathroom floor (matsukawa issei x reader)

cw: eating disorders, purging, its not angsty

wc: 5.6k

dunno why this is so long but no beta i die like a man

matsukawa could count on one hand the names of his classmates that he could personally remember. even then it was only the class president and the student council secretary seeing as they were the only two people that ever really interacted with him when he was there. on his breaks he was with hanamaki, in class his head was down, after school he was at volleyball practice; he didn’t really have a reason to remember anyone else. it’s not to say he didn’t try, people were just standoffish due to his large structure or wanted to mingle with toru through him. he simply believed it was a bother. that was probably until his first term of his third year when he was seated next you.

“matsukawa-san.”

“matsuk-” matsukawa groans, shifting his head to the left in hopes of identifying the offending voice. he cracks open an eyelid, shifting his head to figure out who’s the one pulling him out of his nap; it wasn’t his mom or his younger brother. as his eyelids adjust to the rays of light engulfing the room he comes to the realization that he is in fact not in his bed, but rather sprawled across his desk and staring down at his desk mate’s tights-covered legs. “are you okay?” he whips his head up at your voice, wide eyed and rubbing the side of his mouth with the back of his palms as he scowls at you. not with any bad intentions but he’s willing to run the risk of looking like a dick if it saves him from the embarrassment of being caught sleeping in class.

“what is it?” you cock your eyebrows at him fingers to your chin, deep in thought. what did he say that was so interesting, he doesn’t know but he sinks into himself, wishing you would just outright laugh in his face. you don’t laugh. instead you turn around and dig through your bag pulling out a can of coffee and an energy bar, gingerly playing them on his desk.

“we’re both on class duty this week and the chemistry kits need to be brought down to class by the time lunch ends. we need it for our next class.” he stares at his wrist watch. he would rather use the last fifteen minutes of his lunch break to nap but he really didn’t want to forfeit the coffee or energy drink. not that you looked like you wanted it back. “i tried to wake you up earlier but you were kind of like a dead man walking. saying things like ‘five more minutes mom’ and ‘i’ll get up in a bit’.” matsukawa can feel the back of his neck heat up, rising to follow you out of the classroom and towards the science building. “figured you must’ve had a long night or something.”

“there’s absolutely no way you caught me fucking calling out to my mom. you should’ve just woken me up before everyone heard me telling me mom to let me sleep in,” he sighs, matching the pace of your step to walk next to you. “like, dude, that is so embarrassing.”

you turn your head and smile at him, he thinks it’s a little teasing but thankfully filled with no condescend. “actually for the most part the classroom was empty during lunch today, it was just me and secretary-san. everyone else went to go eat outside since the weather was nice.” you stated reassuringly, brushing hair behind your ears. matsukawa removes the hand he placed on his forehead with a sigh of relief. two people hearing him call out to his mother is significantly better than the whole class hearing it. “i don’t even think secretary-san heard you since she was on the other side of the room, but she most definitely saw you hung over your desk sleeping.”

“you shouldn’t call people secretary-san that’s, like, super impolite. also, if everyone else went outside to eat why’d you stay back? did you wanna watch me sleep or something,” he states matter-of-factly. turning his heel into the chemistry classroom making a beeline for the chemistry kits. he could still feel his neck burning, but he knows it’s because you’re digging holes into his back with your eyes. “or do you just, like, not have any friends.” you snicker behind him.

“you have to check the kits before you grab them; we need twenty four of them. also i’m not sure what the secretary’s name is. i was in a different class last year,” you say beginning to look through the kits separating the usable from the unusable ones. “and my friends got detention together and left me behind. some traitors they are.” you feign offense with the back of your hand to your forward and head tossed back. he notices a small beaded bracelet adorning your wrist, right under a thin gold one. you laugh at his raised eyebrows as finish separating the kits. he’s surprised to say the least, everyone in class one was the book nerd type who spoke harsh words behind whispers. at least to his knowledge anyways. he definitely didn’t think you would be this cheeky or friendly, especially not to the six feet tall monstrosity he was.

“why didn’t you just get detention with them. it seems more fun than eating by yourself, i think. i like to eat with my friends but apparently my dumbass fell asleep. i’ll probably get my ear chewed out during practice for it.”

“the most fun about doing things you’re not supposed to is getting away with it. plus i had to catch up on some other things so it didn’t make sense to leave and do something stupid just to get caught,” you say with a sly smile, struggling to mange the twelve kits you had split evenly between the two of you. he grabs your twelve including his silently, he wasn’t an athlete at a powerhouse school for nothing. “oh i see you are nice.”

“did you think i was some megawatt asshole or something?”

“maybe not megawatt, but, like, a twenty four watt asshole?” he snickers at that, following you into the classroom. “due to your kind act of charity, i’ll take it upon myself to take the notebooks to the teachers after school so you can head to practice early to get your ear chewed out, how does that sound?”

“absolutely fucking terrible, but much appreciated,” he says, sliding into his seat and cracking open the can of coffee you gave him. “thanks for this too, i’ll get you bread tomorrow during lunch to make up for it.”

“nah don’t worry about it,” you say, turning your head to greet two girls bouncing into the classroom stopping at your desk to complain about detention.

true to your word, you diligently collect and return the class notebooks that day after school. in fact you’re so dedicated to the task that you do it everyday for the rest of the week, never once asking matsukawa or complaining to him. matsukawa thinks you do it as to not bother him. he’s not entirely sure that’s the reason though, seeing as you’re pushing your desk next to his to share his literature textbook with him for the third time this week.

“sorry matsukawa-san, i forgot my literature textbook again. please do some charity work,” you whisper leaning over to look at the pages. you frown at his notes.

“you don’t sound like you forgot, also don’t judge someone else’s notes when they’re helping you,” he teases, looking down at you redoing his notes in a more orderly manner. small neat writing surrounds his messy illegible ones, highlighting what to look out for on the next exam. you’re wearing a gold ring with a jewel the same color of your beaded bracelet, small and dainty stilling on an even smaller middle finger. he sighs but he knows your notes have been helping him.

“between you and me? i definitely didn’t forget, i just hate carrying that heavy thing around.” you pause to look up from the notes, to his face and then back down. “maybe i’ll have you do it for me since you’re all big and tough, or whatever gender stereotype will benefit me.”

“you shouldn’t openly boast about being sexist.”

“what, you going to tell on me or something?”

“no but what’s the point in having me carry the damn book around if you have to walk home with it.” he’d rather you just not bring it seeing as no one else in his class talked to him and the most you talked to him was when you both were sharing his textbook.

“i do believe that is exactly why i don’t bring it, matsukawa-san,” you say dryly, returning to your task.

when the lunch bell rings you push your desk back and say your words of thanks, turning your heels to skip to your friends. he watches as the light hits your legs and the tights you always wear stretch around your thighs.

dirty bastard.

he turns and flees to takahiro, who makes fun of the blush creeping up matsukawas neck.

on friday afternoon, before issei leaves for practice he places two packaged rice balls and green tea on your desk. you open your mouth to say something but your friend beats you to it.

“oh? what’s this? a confession of love?” your friend pokes your cheek with a baby blue painted finger and shoots a smirk through her long eyelashes. she reminds issei of someone.

your other friend, one with dyed roots and glossed lips, pulls her back giggling saying, “hey c’mon now! you can’t scare him away, but it is an interesting approaching seeing as most people would just give a letter or something.” you sigh, shooting him a withering look of apology.

“na-chan, aya-chan, you can’t say things like that about people. it makes them uncomfortable. sorry matsukawa-san, what’s this for?”

“doin’ charity work i suppose.” you roll your eyes. “you should show gratitude when offered something, ya know?”

“oh? so this isn’t for the snacks i gave you the day i caught you slee-” he cuts you off by pulling up a chair to your desk. practice can wait.

“you are absolutely the fucking worst.”

“since you’re sitting here, share it with me i don’t like rice balls much.”

“i have practice.”

“you’re the one who sat down.” he blinks. your friends have already ran off yelling things about a part time job or something. you open both the rice balls and place one in front of him. “i don’t think you’ll get beaten if you’re a couple minutes late, at least i hope not. i think that’s illegal.”

“you’re just full of requests, huh? i might as well become make-a-wish with the amount of things i do for you,” he says mouth full of rice, towering over you even after sitting down. you sigh between small bites of the snack. “what? you don’t like umeboshi or something? why are ya looking at it like it’s defiling your throat.”

“not to sound ungrateful or anything, but i unfortunately am rather picky when it comes to food. but since the great matsukawa-san has blessed me with a rice ball i will thankfully finish it.”

“you’re so fucking annoying.”

“oh but i’m just too cute for you to let that bother you, isn’t that right?” you grin picking up your trash and grabbing your bag. “bye! i’ll see you tomorrow.” you leave before he has the chance to reply.

he leaves a couple minutes after you, heading to the third gym. he notices a pair of all too familiar tights-covered legs ducking in between the third and fourth gym. against his better judgement he follows.

dude, what the fuck. first you’re eyeing up your friend’s legs and now you’re following a girl behind the gym? get laid, he berates himself.

he watches the girl turn behind the fourth gym and he recognizes you by the charm hanging on the side of your bag. now he’s really curious. he silently leans against the wall getting close to the edge, but remaining out of sight. maybe it’s a really weird confession. he wouldn’t want to impose.

minutes pass before he actually hears anything but it wasn’t the confession he wasn’t expecting. sounds of you’re gagging fill the air. he has to stop himself from turning the corner and asking you if you’re okay, only being able to turn his head to look at you. fingers down your throat and tears down your face.

knot of uneasiness ties at the pit of his stomach as he turns and flees, knowing he saw something he shouldn’t have. the butterflies in his chest burden him knowing that he’s festering a crush on someone who hasn’t shared any part of herself to him other than her kindness. issei doesn’t like that.

after practice that day he stays continuing to abuse the gym floors hitting one volleyball after the other, trying to focus on the burns on his palms instead of anything else. oikawa and iwaizumi head out before him leaving him alone with the gym keys to lock up when he’s done. he doesn’t finish for another two hours and he only stops then because his body is about to give out on him.

matsukawa begrudgingly makes his way to the teachers room when he sees you fumble around, barely able to walk straight. his eyes widen when he sees you drop your bag and fall into the wall.

“fucking dumbass.” you hiss and pick up your bag.

“hey man, you good?” your entire body freezes, almost as if someone hit pause on you. he calls your name, panic creeping into his voice. “do you want me to carry your bag? i can walk you home.” when he goes to step towards you you swing your head back to face him.

“i’m fine matsukawa-san. have a good evening.”

he watches as your small figure, drowning in a big cardigan, stumble away quickly, never once turning back. he returns the keys to wall excusing himself, thinking about the chilling tone of your voice as he walks home.

he has no idea how to approach you after that, as the weeks pass by he avoids mentioning it, questions piling up in his mind. he knows you can tell that he’s antsy (there’s no way you don’t) around you, but you still keep polite conversation and share his literature textbook with him. sometimes you leave snacks on his desk, he always accepts them. matsukawas latest hobby has been lying face down on his desk during lunch to eavesdrop on your conversations. he tries to reason that he’s just tired but he’s so far deep he knows he’s lying to himself.

“do you think guys like clips?”

“i don’t think they care enough to pay attention to stuff like that.”

“really? i can't speak for dudes since i don’t have a dick-“ matsukawa almost blows his cover by laughing at your words “but i think they would appreciate a cute hair clip. especially on a girl he’s into.”

“i feel like guys should get into clips. i think they’d look good in them.” all three of them hum.

“wanna see if they do?” you say standing up, he can feel you hover around his desk. your friends giggle already connecting the dots, even he connected them. “matsukawa-san, hey matsukawa-san. are you sleeping? psst” you whisper close enough to where he can feel your breath on his ears. he stays silent. he watches your feet turn around, he’s almost disappointed.

“dude, he’s sleeping. you sure he won’t beat you up when he wakes up?”

“that’s a bridge i’ll cross when i get there.” you turn back around, thin fingers grabbing tufts of his hair gently as to not wake him up and pins them down. one. two. three. four. there’s two on each side of his forehead, he can feel them. “so aya-chan? na-chan? what’s the verdict.”

“his head is down we can’t tell.” your friend says, he assumes is the blunt one in your friend group probably the one you call aya-chan. he sits up. “looks like you’ve crossed that bridge though.”

“good luck, but i was right guys do look good with clips,” your other friend laugh, but before you can turn around to face mastukawa he grabs you by your waist and pulls you down. you end up on his lap and if he wasn’t too busy tickling you, he would question the promiscuity of his actions.

“you know it’s super impolite to mess around with people when they’re sleeping. it’s probably considered bullying.”

“ah! mastukawa-san! i can't breathe, i’m sorry! i’m sorry!” you can barely get your words out, getting get off between loud laughs. people look over.

“are you sorry?”

“yes yes now stop please.” he stops tickling you but still holds an arm around your waist, you make no movement to get off his lap either instead turning and grabbing his face to do a one over. “oh my god, na-chan you were right!” letting go to turn your friends, who shoot him looks of apology. “guys look super cute with clips on! hey matsukawa-san if you wanna seem less scary you should wear clips, not that i think you’re scary.”

“i’m always right, i religiously study fashion magazines. that’s why you two always look so hot.”

“ah thank you for your diligence. maybe if you studied your math textbook we’d be able to hang out this summer but someone has to do summer classes.” you giggle at your friends banter reaching over to grab your phone.

“hey matsukawa-san, smile!” pulling and arm around him you bring the phone up. he smiles and throws up a peace sign and take a couple pictures. “you’re being oddly agreeable with this. give me your line ID i’ll send these to you.” you hop off and face him.

“you just want his line ID.” of course you do, matsukawa issei is a complete stud and you want him.

“and? he’s going to give it me regardless of my intentions.” you pass your phone to him and he takes it from your hand watching the cardigan slip through your arm revealing bruises trailing under your gold bracelet. he catches you staring and quickly you pull up your sleeves to you palms. “look! sweater paws.”

“you’re stupid, here.”

“she’s not that stupid. she’s top of our grade, you know?”

“why are you bragging when you have to do remedial courses,” matsukawa deadpans, trying to figure out what to call them since he didn’t know their names and he wasn’t about to call her na-chan.

“oh, this is natsume and that’s ayasaki.” you say catching his frown as you remove the clips. he nods. “do you want me to get you clips you looked really cute with them. we can match.”

“should we get him sparkly ones? like blue ones,” ayasaki questions.

“oh! and some white ones? so it matches his volleyball uniforms?” you add on.

“absolutely not, i only did it because she’s cute.” pulling you back down, you melt into him. i feel so small next to him, maybe it’s because his huge. i like it. a lot.

“no means no. hanamaki would not let me live it down.”

“well would you look at this matsukawa went and got him a girlfriend!” it was as if he was cursed, turning to see the shit eating grin plastered over hanamaki’s face as he steps into his classroom. oikawa and iwaizumi behind, following him inside. “and you let her put clips in your hair? what a simp.”

“im not a fucking simp, i was asleep and she’s not my girlfriend.”

“she’s on your lap.”

“it’s a punishment for messing with someone that was sleeping,” matsukawa states matter-of-factly. he hopes hanamaki will drop it, but of course he won’t. it’s hanamaki.

“so who is this girlfriend-chan? is she cute?” oikawa asks circling around his desk to get a good look at you. he bursts into a grin and he says your name, your first name. hanamaki repeats it.

“oh dude you scored. good for you.” hanamaki pats his back, turning to engage in conversation with you. “do you remember me? i was in your first year class. we never talked though.”

“ah yes i recall you almost got held back because of your math scores,” you say looking up from your phone, matsukawa’s phone rings in his pocket. iwaizumi laughs.

“it’s good to see you again! we haven’t talked since, like, middle school. hi natsume-chan! ayasaki-chan! you three still together?” they both look up from the magazine natsume was pointing at.

“oh but of course. you and iwaizumi still married?”

“absolutely not i would never-“

“yes! we’re going on a honeymoon soon.” iwaizumi smacks him.

“it’s good to see the three of you, though. i didn’t know you went here,” iwaizumi says smiling.

“well that’s because your head only thinks about oikawa and volleyball, no?” ayasaki raises her eyebrows, you and natsume hum in agreement.

“oh my how romantic,” you coon. “are we invited to the baby shower?” matsukawa laughs into your shoulder pulling you closer. he feels you’re small frame, the bulky cardigan doing nothing to hide the bones he can feel brush against him.

“you know for a punishment you both seem to oddly enjoy yourselves,” hanamaki points out. “but, dude, you were super cute before but you’re so pretty now! what’d you do? cocaine?”

“not all of us have debaucherous hobbies hanamaki-san.”

it only gets louder between the banter of his friend group and yours, but he can’t focus thoughts piling up on after the other. when the lunch bell rings, matsukawa has a headache and it’s not from the noise.

“first of all? fuck coach for making us do two practice games in a row, like, i get it we have inter-highs when we get back in the winter, but this is fucking brutal.” hanamaki proclaims, feet dragging. “second of all, he’s making us practice tomorrow too. i might as well jump off the tokyo tower.”

“do a flip on your way down,” matsukawa says pulling his phone out to check his line. he texted you about his practice matches and hasn’t been able to reply since then.

“you said it yourself hanamaki, we have inter-highs coming up. we want to go to finals and to do that we have to practice,” iwaizumi reasons, but even his voice is drowned in exhaustion. oikawa whines and begins to complain about ushijima at finals and matsukawa tunes out, having already heard this seven times today.

[you, 12:13 pm] good luck at your matches today, hope u win straight sets so u can go home fast. -w-

[matsukawa, 5:11 pm] only won one of the matches but both went into a third set im so fucken tired.

you reply immediately.

[you, 5:11 pm] bruh that’s terrible make sure to grab something to eat. idk what nutritionists would say but i’m sure they would agree with me

“do you guys wanna grab something to eat?” matsukawa interjecting oikawa’s vent, raising his eyebrows.

“oh my god mattsun, you’re absolutely genius,” matsukawa shoots him a shit eating grin. “let’s get ramen?” oikawa finishes. iwaizumi and hanamaki nod in agreement, the three of them dragging themselves towards the ramen shop on the main street.

[matsukawa, 5:14 pm] you should eat too, have you had dinner?

[you, 5:15 pm] no but ayachan and nachan want to grab food before we head home. we went to a cat cafe today look. (one image attached) cute right >///<

before he gets the chance to reply he hears loud laughing coming from the street crossing on to the one the four of them were on down. maybe the day wasn’t so bad because you walk out laughing at something ayasaki said. he’s stunned. bewildered. whatever the fuck kind of emotion he’s feeling he knows it’s because you’re just so pretty. he’s a lot for words as he gapes at you, eyes wide like saucers.

“look who it is! hi guys!” natsume shouts, dragging you and ayasaki with her, your arms are all linked. he can’t move.

“wow, it’s you three again! you’re always together,” oikawa teases, jabbing an elbow into mastukawas ribs. “there’s your little girlfriend,” he whispers, matsukawa can’t even respond, he’s just so flustered.

“whatcha guys up too, anyways?” hanamaki asks when the three of you arrive in front of them.

“oh we were hanging out and we wanted to grab some food before we head home, you guys just get out of practice? you look so fucking dead,” you ask shooting them looks of pity. oikawa sighs, about to respond when mastukawa reaches and brushed your hair behind your ear.

“you cut your hair.” and it looks good.

“in fact i did.” a blush covers your cheeks almost hidden behind the glow of the setting sun. maybe i’m talking to an angel, matsukawa thinks. “thoughts?”

“you look gorgeous.” matsukawa can’t even stop himself. when he catches what he says he coughs and turns away flustered. howling shouts come from hanamaki, iwaizumi and ayasaki.

“he’s right though, you look delightful. we’re going to get ramen do you guys want to join us?” iwaizumi asks, shooting a smirk to matsukawa. he doesn’t even have time to be panicking about the situation because ayasaki, of course, agrees.

when all of you are seated along the L-shaped bar in front of the cooks, you lean in to speak to matsukawa. you both are seated at the corner next to each other which was done intentionally by hanamaki and ayasaki. “why are you guys slaving away at practice anyways during summer break anyways? does the coach have a bounty on you or something?” you’re playing with your fingers, watching the server place your meal down in front of you.

“honestly dude,” he stops to let out the heaviest sigh you’ve ever heard. “i think at this point, irihata and oikawa teamed up to put us through hell and back.”

“homie you completely ignored my question, why?”

“oh shit my bad. we’re trying to get to get to finals, you know? inter highs start up right after summer break and oikawa has a bone to pick with the shiratorizawa captain.”

“so you guys are feeling the fruits of his planned revenge?” matsukawa nods, resting his face in the palm of his hand. you shoot him a look of pity, reaching over to pat his head, his hair is so soft. “don’t worry i’m sure you’ll get your revenge, if not you can call out for your mom again” matsukawa’s face flushes and he grabs your wrists pulling you in.

“you. i thought we agreed to never mention that again,” he hissed under his breath, looking around to see if any of the other third years were eavesdropping. they weren’t. “i thought we had an agreement. i thought we were comrades. i thought-”

“matsukawa-san, matsukawa-san shhh! i’m sorry it’s fun to tease you. i promise i’ll make it so only i can make fun of you for that.” you giggle. “since we’re comrades and all.”

“i don’t wanna be your comrade anymore.”

“here take my gyoza and stop pouting, you’re cuter when you’re smiling.” you reach over and place all your gyoza into his bowl shooting him a blinding grin. “but that’s not to say you’re not cute when you’re pouting.”

“if i’m cute, what are you?” you frown, is he calling me ugly. he waves his hand through the air as if to will away your thoughts. “not like that. you’re pretty, pretty fucking cute.”

“you know, you sound like you’re trying to convince yourself.” you watch him eat as you poke at your own meal. he eats well, you smile. as the seven of you finish up your meals, you excuse yourself to the restroom. matsukawa thinks it’s suspect considering most of your bowl is full, so he follows you.

you know man your reputation for a full on creep is just expanding.

as he steps into the bathroom he seeks you hunched over, cursing spilling past your lips along with the food you forced down. you freeze, turning to look at him as he locks the door.

“i’m almost positive breaking into a bathroom is some kind of crime,” you state as if matsukawa didn’t just see you force yourself to throw up.

“i’m fully aware i’m not supposed to be in here, but i got worried, sue me.” you raise your eyebrows as him resting your arms on the toilet seat. he grimaces realizing you’re sitting on the bathroom floors. in a public bathroom. “also if you’re going to go to the bathroom as least lock the door.”

“it sounds like matsukwa issei already knew about this.”

“stop talking about it like it’s a joke.” matsukawa says grabbing tissues to wet them and pass to you. ”at least get defensive or something. i had my suspicions, saw things i shouldn’t have. i’m sorry about that.”

“don’t apologize you didn’t do anything wrong. i’m sorry for worrying you, but i don’t see this as anything of your concern.” you reach over to take the napkins from him, but he instead cleans your face for you. wiping away the spit and tears gently.

“wash your hands.” his voice left no room for argument, so you wobbled your way over to the sink and finished cleaning yourself. when you finish and turn to face him he lifts you on to the sink, trapping you in between his arms. “it’s not my concern but i’m going to concern myself with it. you’re hurting yourself.”

“so what, i’d rather hurt myself then have other people hurt me because of the way i look.” you're eyes are glassed over avoiding his and your voice is shaking, the raw emotions spilling out in contrast to your deadpan face. you guess that’s why you’re attracted to matsukawa, you’re both hide behind laid back personalities storing away a barricade of feelings gently stirring and building up. “don’t involve yourself with me anymore. i know it’s just going to be another weight on your shoulders. you’re too caring to pretend like you didn’t see it.”

“you don’t deserve that, there’s nothing that warrants this and you know that.” matsukawa sounds desperate, you know that he probably is. “i won’t let other people hurt you, i’ll protect you i promise. so please don’t push me away.”

“you’ll protect me huh.” you lean back against the mirror to look up at him. “what does that even mean.” he blinks.

“well actually i don’t know yet, but i want to figure it out with you. i want to support you and help you because i don’t want you to be alone in this, you know?” matsukawa was fumbling his words, he was nervous he couldn’t make you stay but he hoped to every god that you wouldn’t walk away. “like, i know i don’t know what to do, but i’m willing to try and figure it out. i know it’s gotta be lonely especially when your friends are bent over backwards for magazine models, and like, dude, i like you so much and i just-”

“matsukawa-san”

“yes”

“are you confessing to me in the bathroom of a ramen restaurant?” matsukawa nods, shamelessly. you think this is the most matsukawa confession to exist, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. the boy you pined over since first year found out about your dirty little secret and didn’t turn you way. he offered his and and wore his heart on his sleeve for you, who are you to turn him away. “i don’t know where we would go from here either, but i’d like it if we figured it out together.” matsukawa leans in closer to you, grabbing you by the back of your neck gently and pulling your face into his before you can object. when you break away your frown deepens, “you just kissed me with vomit breath.”

“it’s okay you’re the person i’ll kiss with vomit breath since we‘re comrades.”

“you shouldn’t call your girlfriend comrade, it doesn’t give me butterflies.”

“oh? so you’re my girlfriend now?”

“what, you don’t wanna date me?”

“oh absolutely i do. i’m honored to have the pleasure of being your boyfriend.” matsukawa teases as he pulls you down. your reply gets shut down by a wave of texts that blows up matsukawa’s phone.

[hanamaki, 6:03 pm] ayo casanova wya dude ???? are you getting your dick sucked in the bathroom that’s dirty she’s too cute for that anyways we paid and we’re heading out >.< stay safe muah

[iwaizumi, 6:05 pm] we left but you’re going to have to explain yourself tomorrow.

[oikawa, 6:06 pm] mattsun!! tell us about your salacious bathroom endeavors tomorrow at practice <333

you follow him out of the restrooms, leaning over to look at his messages and laugh, point to your phone which shows a string of messages of similar nature from ayasaki and natsume.

as you and matsukawa walk hand in hand down the streets of miyagi you can’t help but notice the butterflies blossom from the pits of your stomach exploding towards your beating heart.

“i’m thankful you’re the one who found out i don’t think i would want it be anyone else.”

“i wouldn’t want it to be anyone else either.”

as the twinkling street lights cheered you on, you stepped forward towards the future knowing you had matsukawa to lean on.

#matsukawa issei x reader #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa issei #haikyuu x y/n #haikyu x reader #issei x y/n #tw eating disorder #tw purging #idk bro don’t read this #i hate this for real #/mattsun

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mindofharry · 4 years ago

Text

in which you and grayson find yourself in the most absurd situation.

set in the 1800s, based on bridgerton.

a little bit of everything!! enjoy - feedback welcome as always! <3

“so, let me get this right, your grace”

“it’s grayson” he interrupted clearing his throat as you both promenaded along the river, your mama and his aunt following behind.

“you want us to pretend to court? may i speak freely, grayson” you asked looking up, grayson rolled his and nodded, loaning you were going to speak to him whatever way you wanted with or without his permission.

“we have nothing in common. and i do not like your manners and the way you treat me and others around you” you rambled looking around at the people, also promenading and looking for potiental suitors.

You also noticed how the men were gazing at you in a way you’ve never seen before. Like you were a prize, the feeling didn’t feel good, it felt as if you were some trophy.

But you guessed that is all what women are to certain men, a trophy they can win and put up high in their house. sometimes you didn’t feel opposed to being someone’s trophy, but with the duke beside you, that feeling never came. All that came was disgust and wanting to cover up your body even more than your mother already made you.

“do forgive me if i’m wrong, but have you the way the suitors have been looking at you, and all we’ve done is look at eachother and smile a few times” grayson said, moving his hand over towards the group of men to prove his point.

“you’re a duke, grayson. I’m not yet prepared enough for that” you say and he nodded, obviously agreeing.

“that’s why courting exists, and i’ve seen how impatient your mama is. It might get her off your back for a little bit. You have a little more time to properly talk with the pointer suitors.” grayson argued, stopping infront of you.

“so this is a rouse then?” you asked placing your un opened umbrella infront of you, leaning your hands on it. Grayson nodded and stepped a little closer, your breathe hitched as you felt his breathe close to your face. “an agreement if you will. you get more time, i don’t have any mama’s trying to wed their daughters to me. It’s a win win.” he said trying to convince you.

“it’s not like we’ll actually get married. tell your mama you’re leaving your options open, or tell her you’re madly in love with me” he teased earning a slap on the arm from you and wide grin. he looked around and smirked.

“so are we in agreement?”

“i think we are”

Soon enough people started noticing you and grayson together — more people meaning more potential suitors for you. your drawing room was filled with men and your papa was not one bit happy about it, and suprisingly neither was your mama.

They had both taken a liking to grayson.

You weren’t sure if it was his charm or because of his title, but nevertheless they were set on you and him courting for more than a week. you even overheard your mother talking to the head maid about a wedding sometime in the spring.

A wedding in the spring sounded superb.

A wedding with grayson in the spring sounded traumatic.

“Grayson” you asked both of you sat beside each other, eating a rather delicious piece of cake. Grayson even bought the most expensive one, just for the both of you. That rather impressed you, you admit.

“Y/N” he mocked leaning back in the seat.

“I’d like to know you a little better. I mean, i know your name, your title and that you have a twin brother. That is all, your grace”

“just how i like it to be” grayson replied. Grayson was rather young when he became the duke, his brother didn’t want this life (grayson had to be the bigger person). The stress of being a duke, has made him sour and cold, and not up for anything to do with marriage. If he was ever to marry he’s sure it would be the most awful thing to come to his short life. He doesn’t understand what the fuss is all about, if you love someone, why do you have to go through all of the dramatics, surely just saying it enough?

Grayson didn’t understand the fascination and he’s not sure he ever will.

“Well, what’s your favourite colour?” you asked earning, a loud laugh. you smiled at the sound, it was nice to see him smiling for once. You knew he had it rough, so you could take the coldness and moodiness if this it was came out at some points of the time you guys are ‘courting’.

“It’s green. like forest green. It’s a dark but rather happy green”

“just like you, grayson” you added, grayson raised any brow making you blush “i just met, that you seem rather broody and dark but once you actually sit down and talk you’re a very warm man” you rambled. God, you were just trying to make some sort of conversation and your witty comebacks were not helping you.

“Let’s get you back home, shall we?”

you frowned standing up, you saw the governorness walking slowly behind you both. even though you were very much out in the open, you still had to be chaperoned, a part you hated very much.

“forgive me, your grace. I didn’t mean to be so rude” you say touching his hand ever so lightly. Grayson cleared his throat shaking his head “never mind that. shall we finish the game of 20 questions?” he teased, easing the butterflies in your stomach.

“my brother is called ethan. Smart man. Married last spring. I still don’t understand how i’m the duke, the man is quite smart and orderly. And a sister Cameron, who moved to the country with her family some years back” he said you nodding and listening very carefully.

“I think you’re quite smart, grayson.” you smiled, you reached home a lot quicker than expected. And for some reason, you wished he would ask you out again.

“Hmm. Have a good evening, y/n”

And with that the duke left, only you and your governorness. “i think he’d make a great husband” your governorness, anna, whispered.

“yeah. i do too”

You were in the drawing room playing piano when the duke was announced.

“Lady Y/L/N, The duke of jersey”

you turned around to see the duke, your parents bowing and praising every move grayson took. you stood from the piano and met grayson halfway.

you smiled and bowed “your grace” you teased earning a laugh. you looked behind grayson and saw the smiles on your parents face and the nod the both gave you before sitting back down.

“i came here to formally invite you and your family to the ball i’m hosting.” he said his hands becoming weirdly sweaty and his heart beating rapidly awaiting your answer.

you looked magnificent today, you hair was up in braids and your dress was simple but beautiful. The necklace that adorned on your neck was something he wished he bought you himself, it looked rather beautiful on you. Grayson had to remind himself numerous times during the two weeks you have been courting that it’s not real, that this will end soon and you will both go seperate ways. But a part of him wants to just pretend it’s real, he wants you to look at him the way you do without any agreement or rouse.

but of course, that would never happen.

you were both too different, he was a duke for christ sake. It just wouldn’t work out. So he pushed those feelings deep, deep down. And hopefully they’d never reappear, like they are doing right now.

“oh, of course! i’d never say no to a ball!” you squealed, your mother cleared her throat to remind you of your manners.

“forgive me. It would be an honour”

“I was thinking i could buy you a dress? Go to the tailors, pick out anything and i’ll get it for you” he said, grayson insisted on spoiling you. Buying you flowers and now dresses, your mother thought it was sweet, you did too. But it was very unnecessary, you didn’t want him wasting his savings on you.

“Oh! my grace, i couldn’t ask that of you”

“i’m buying and that’s it” he smiled bringing your hand up to his lips, making your breathe hitch and your heart speed up.

“see you there, y/n”

The next couple of days were spent preparing for the ball and of course accompanying you in picking a gown. He never actually knew how much went into making and choosing a gown, he’d never speak bad about shopping how, he was exhausted.

“i like you better, grayson” you say browsing the fabrics. Grayson snorted causing some of the people around him to stare.

“and why is that?” he asked leaning against the wall as you picked out a few fabrics. It was honestly quite relaxing seeing you in your element. It made him happy to see you happy.

“you’re more open. you smile” you grinned looking over at him “and i must say you’re manners are magnificent, your grace” she giggled making grayson shake his head. “you’re strange” he mumbled, his heart doing that weird thing again, and this time he doesn’t push those feelings away, he lets them stay. And it feels pretty good.

“how many dances should we have tonight? i think two should suffice” you mumble looking up at your ‘suitor’. You wished it was real, there, you had admitted. you wanted to know what his lips felts like and his felt like without gloves. you wondered what he was like early in the morning and late in the evening. what he had on sundays and did he ever eat too much he was sick? all these questions would be answered if you just admitted your feelings, but no, you knew grayson did not want to marry.

And sadly, you don’t think you’d be an exception.

“Not too worry, my lady. I’ll take these from you. My grace” the lady bowed taking the fabrics from y/n.

“i shall have this complete in no time, i have your measurements and such, so i only need you to try it on again”

You had already tried on the main part of the dress, but you wanted some sparkly fabric to add to it and maybe a bow. It was just last minute (anxiety induced) details, you wanted to add before the ball.

“thank you so much. we’ll be back in an hour”

“i don’t know how you do it” grayson said as you put your arm around his. “well, i like to shop, i like design” you smile “it’s quite fun actually.”

grayson thinks it’s quite fun too.

“I can feel the glare of your governess. how about some miniatures?” grayson asked getting a smile out of you. you nodded “that sounds lovely, grayson”.

The ball looks so amazing, it’s not like anything you’ve ever been to before.

There’s chandeliers and lights everywhere and the paintings are the most magnificent things you’ve ever seen, why had grayson been hiding such an extraordinary home from you? You could love in this room, ignoring the massive castle the duke resided in. This room was something you could only wished you could pull off when you finally marry.

Maybe, one day, you sighed.

“why the long face, ms Y/L/N?” a voice called out, making you turn around with a grin.

grayson looked just as beautiful as the lights and paintings, dare you say handsome. Something about the way his hair feel and his skin glimmered did something to you.

Grayson could say the same about you — god, your smile and the way your eyes lit up just for him was nearly enough for him to propose on the spot. Your hair was done up, but grayson just wanted to run his hands through it and head you sigh in complete relaxation.

“No frown. The ball is so beautiful, your grace” you say bowing causing grayson to laugh.

“Come with me, i have something you might like”

The duke dragged you out of the room ignoring the looks of mamas and debutants. He pulled you into what you could only describe as some sort of exhibit. Paintings adorned all over the walls and a fire place right in the middle of the wall. This had to be your favourite room thus far — excluding where the ball is taking place. The paintings were absolutely extraordinary and somehow even with a handsome duke beside you, you couldn’t take your eyes from them.

“My mother painted most of these — i think all, forgive me if i’m incorrect” grayson started moving to a beautiful painting off the sky. “She used to go to this cottage every summer, she brought me down last year when i became the duke. I painted with her and we talked. She’s extraordinary at art a shame my father never let her sell any or earn any money” he said with a shaky breathe. “She died this fall, along with my father. So these are the only things i have as a reminder of her, or of them. My sister took all of their belongings for safe keeping. Ethan does not care too much. I wish i was trusted more” grayson admitted, basically knocking the wind out of you.

You knew his parents had died, but you never knew how much hurt he still felt. Of course, thinking back that was such a stupid thought. His parents had died one after the other, leaving such a young duke behind.

“Your mother is very extraordinary indeed. Just like you” you say getting a smile out of the duke. “i must say the clouds and the river one must be my favourite.” you say easing the tension.

grayson nodded in agreement.

You turn to the duke, only now realising how close you actually were. “i trust you. a lot more than i should, my grace.” you whispered looking up at him, a flush appearing in your cheeks.

“i wish i had gotten to know you sooner” he admitted making your breathe hitch. “i wish i never came up with this agreement. i wish i just asked you to marry me then and there. Because you are the smartest, most beautiful woman i have ever had to privilege of meeting”

your eyes filled up with tears, as grayson held your hand. He started to pull down the sleeve of your glove, you eyes widening but there was no objecting. You felt your glove fall down the ground and the duke big, soft hand take its place.

“We will be married”

“And you will be my dutchess”

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babbushka · 5 years ago

Text

Beautiful, Beloved (4/8)

You had met three times: The first, an introduction. The second, a lunch. The third, your wedding. Can bonds be made in such short a time as a week long honeymoon aboard the immensely impressive RMS Titanic?

Yes, yes they can.

Titanic!AU Millionaire Kylo Ren x Reader

7.2k ; Warnings: Mild NSFW, mostly fluff and humor

--------------

He scowled all the way to the cabins, but you tried to pay it no mind. Kylo seemed like the type of man that scowling came naturally to. His hold on your arm was light enough, and his pace was not unusually quick, so you chalked it up to a simple resting expression of intimidation and not any sour mood.

Although he would have good reason to be sour, you thought to yourself as he led you away from the decks of the ship and into the safety of the interior. Such a chaotic beginning to the honeymoon, surely he would be angry with the poor fortune. Such a start didn’t bode well, although you were determined to put the events behind you.

You tried your best to ignore the sights around you, knowing that there would come a time for great admiration of the furnishings of the ship. As it were, too many passengers were gawking and staring and pointing at the surroundings, and you wanted to escape their gasps and murmurs. People clogged the hallways, not walking in an orderly fashion, stopping abruptly right in your path, making you want nothing more than to simply get to your cabin and unwind.

Kylo, ever the mind-reader, cut a path through the crowd like nothing else could. Dopheld and Rose had disappeared to go alert some staff as to your whereabouts for the luggage to be directed, with the promise to meet again in the cabin soon.

In a cheeky manner, Kylo covered your eyes when you arrived in front of the door to your suite. You felt a bubble of joy light up inside you at the thought of getting a moment to lie down, a moment to simply breathe, all alone with your husband.

“Here we are, cabin B-52.” He whispered, uncovering your eyes and giving you a moment to take in the sights.

Kylo opened the door for you, and despite the finery that you were accustomed to, you nearly dropped your jaw with the sight. Why, it had to be one of the most opulent parlor suites aboard the Titanic. Completely decorated in a Regency style, you felt as though you were stepping back in time, stepping a hundred or so years into the decadence of the past.

“Oh, goodness it’s – ” You were at a loss for words, something that wasn’t really all that familiar of a feeling for you. You were used to having something to say about everything, but even the sitting room alone rendered you speechless.

Or at least, the room which you entered immediately looked to be a sitting room. You weren’t sure if the ship gave it an alternative title. Two port-hole windows were beautifully framed by cream colored curtains, embroidered with floral motifs, and the sunshine from the sea beyond cast the furnishings in an ethereal golden haze. The walls were a highly lacquered deep brown wood of a warm tone, wood paneling which was adorned by 24 carat gold-gilded accents which were reflected in the fabrics which covered the filigree carpeting.

Against the far wall was a beautiful mantle, where a fire could be lit if it got too chilly during the evenings. It was going to be a cold Spring, and you’d be passing through colder waters, so you looked forward to the idea of sitting by the fire with your husband, maybe stealing a kiss or two.

There was a round table surrounded by velvet cushioned chairs, many more chairs than you could all occupy at once. Such a sitting room was meant to be entertained, and you thought that perhaps over the course of your trip to New York, you might meet some new friends which you could invite back for a game of cards or perhaps tea.

“Do you like it?” Kylo asked, that scowl of his tipping further and further, not sure how to read your silence, as if he’d personally punish the architects and designers of the rooms for displeasing you.

You whirled around to face him, the skirt of your dress swishing from the excitement as you offered a wide grin to your husband to show your feelings which you couldn’t put into words.

“It’s breathtaking!” You settled upon, because that at least was the truth, that was something that couldn’t be denied. You walked further into the sitting room, ran your fingers across the wood paneling, admiring the electric lamps which sparkled crystalline, “Can you believe this is on a boat? All this finery?”

“Only the very best for you, only the very best that I can give, I’ll give to you.” Kylo smiled, relived that you were pleased.

How could you not be? How could you be anything other than incredibly grateful, to have a husband who knew next to nothing about you, and yet wanted to shower you in luxury? You knew other women, women who were not so fortunate, women who were almost shunned entirely by their husbands, who were treated with neglect and even on some occasions abuse, who had nothing more wanted from them than a son.

And they called Kylo a monster -- how could people be so cruel?

“You’re terribly generous, I’m not so sure what I can offer in return.” You reached for his hand, suddenly feeling the weight of his wealth and wondering just why he felt the need to share it with you. Even a son didn’t feel a fair trade, for all the things he has bestowed upon you in the very short time you’ve known one another.

And oh, the way he looked at you, the way his eyes softened at the sadness in your tone. It was enough to break your heart, the way he grew confused at your apprehension.

“Your companionship is enough, truly.” He said, as if you must know that, as if it were obvious that you were the treasure here, as if you were the gift.

You didn’t know what to say to that either, but he didn’t give you an opportunity to respond, simply taking your hand and leading you into the bedroom.

Dopheld and Rose arrived then, remaining in the sitting room and began directing staff on the ship where to place your many trunks and things of luggage. You were glad for their assistance, and hoped that the servant’s quarters where they would be staying were even half as nice as the bedroom.

Like the sitting room, it wasn’t the most large room you had ever seen, but that was to be expected. This was no sprawling estate out in the countryside, this was a ship, and you were certain such matters needed to be taken into account. But what it lacked in size it made up for in opulence, just as the sitting room had.

The bed was large enough exactly for you and him, it would seem, and it was tucked against one of the walls. Where the sitting room had been deep rich reddish browns and golds, the bedroom was a wash of light ivory and a silvery lavender. The walls were covered in a satin wallpaper of a beautiful French regency design, matching the design of the carpeting in the sitting room, and the light bouncing off that silvery quality transferred into the air, making it seem like something out of a dream.

There was another table in the room, however there were exactly enough chairs for two people to share an intimate moment together, the table just large enough to perhaps hold hands across it. There was a chaise lounge covered in a deep red velvet which matched the colors of the comforters on the bed, and the ceiling was a sculpted ivory that matched the sheets.

You boldly sat down on the bed, ran your hands through the soft plushness of the comforter which was lovingly tucked under the pillows, watched as your fingers drew patterns in the fabric.

“Shall we remain here for a while?” You asked, feeling suddenly anxious, feeling as though there was so much to see, so much to do. If the bedroom was this nice, how nice could the rest of the ship possibly be? The possibilities made your heart beat ever so quicker while you hinted, “Or would you like to explore the ship for some time? There’s so much to see, I fear we may not get to all of it before the trip is through.”

Kylo picked up your hints, and he smiled, nodded enough to let you know he knew what you were doing. He approached you, sat down next to you on the bed, took your hand between his own and pressed your knuckles to his lips.

“Whatever you are in the mood for blossom, I am at your disposal entirely.” Kylo said softly, voice so deep, so deep that it resonated through your corset straight to your very bones. You could feel his voice bouncing around in there, settling, making a home in your chest.

You found you loved the feeling, never wanted it to go away. No one had ever called you blossom before, you thought to yourself with a smile.

“Careful Kylo,” You said, watching as he traced gentle patterns onto the back of your hand with his large thumb, “Or you’ll find that I’ll want to be around you all the time.”

“There are worse things.” Kylo whispered, his hand coming up to press the tips of his fingers against the soft skin of your cheek.

“Walk with me? If I stay here with you I’ll never leave this bed.” You covered his hand with your own, reveling in the feeling of his touch upon your face. His hand was warm and only the smallest bit sweaty, endearing.

Kylo blushed, and nodded, with the promise that there would be much fun to be had in the bed in the evening to come.

----------------

The sunshine on your face elicited a great sigh of happiness from your lips, as you leaned slightly against one of the grand windows of the promenade. How ingenious to have the long walkway covered, to have it closed off. You were certain that should it simply be an open deck, men’s hats and women’s shawls would simply be whisked away into the ocean.

And oh what a monument it was -- the ocean! How it glittered sapphire underneath the late afternoon sun. Golden ripples of light shimmered in the distance, cut through only by the black silhouette of a seagull’s wings. You and Kylo walked down the promenade, both preening under the approving gazes of the other passengers.

It was a luxury to even be here, up on the promenade. A private access for first class passengers only, and my, were you and Kylo among some of the more wealthy and notable pairs that had graced the polished and waxed deck floors.

Still, it was important to impress, important to make your presence known.

And impress you did with your outfits. You’d both be changing for dinner of course, changing into much finer fabrics and cuts of cloth, but for this stroll in the beautiful weather you elected to don a more casual look.

Kylo had changed into a handsomely tailored three-piece lightweight tweed suit in a cream color so unlike the rich blacks you had seen him in before. He wore a striped button-down shirt underneath his vest, the stripes a light red color that matched your dress wonderfully. To shield the sun from his eyes, he sported the very fashionable straw boater hat, which did the marvelous job of making his ears stick out slightly.

You wore a very elegant walking suit of a sort of pinky coral color. It was made of gorgeous blend of cotton and linen that helped keep you cool in the sun, despite the high-necked lace blouse that you wore underneath the jacket. The jacket was tailored specifically to your measurements with smartly placed darts, and was secured with hand embroidered buttons in a matching coral fabric.

You were the only one on the promenade wearing such a color, and you found yourself blooming under the attention. Your wide-brimmed hat was decorated with beautiful ostrich feathers dyed a matching color, and your shoes were a matching satin. It was an ensemble that would be seen across the ship, that was for sure.

You took one last breath of the fresh salty air, and returned to Kylo’s waiting arm. He had been observant mostly on the stroll from the suite to the promenade, and he was observant still, sparing a glance to some wealthy reclining passengers.

“It might be prudent for us to rent a set of chaises and rugs, what do you say?” Kylo asked you, nodding in the direction of those who were all poised to lounge and people-watch.

The promenade was a long fifty-foot walkway, and there were expertly woven wicker chairs and tables set up alongside the more shaded wall. People enjoyed cups of tea and newspaper clippings as they reclined and people-watched. He gave a protective squeeze of your hand as those people people-watched you.

“Hmm, there are so many opportunities to sit aboard the ship, I’d prefer being arm and arm with you just as we are now, as we walk.” You said after a moment’s thought. The chaises looked very comfortable, but there were a hundred places to be comfortable on the Titanic it would seem.

No, you thought to yourself, better to stretch your legs and get your exercise now while you could, before the two of you decided to indulge in one another and possibly never leave the suite.

“May I ask you a question?” Kylo asked, voice so soft that the sheer shyness of it broke you out of your inner monologue.

“No.” You teased, eyes sparkling with mirth as you gently nudged his hip with your own, your feet carrying you slowly and leisurely down the deck.

“Had this not been arranged by our families, would you have agreed to this?” Kylo wondered aloud, with no small amount of tremor to his voice. He waved his hand about, gesturing with his whole body in that way that you were coming to really find endearing. “To me, I mean. I know there were other suitors.”

You smiled, ducked your head as far as your carefully balanced hat would allow. You didn’t want to seem so infatuated with him already, so soon – but you couldn’t deny that you were. You were so fond of him, and these questions of his would only endear you further to him.

“There were a great deal many other suitors, you’re right.” You nodded with a bit of a huffed laugh, thinking of the clamor that came about with the courting seasons, all those letters from adoring men you were so reluctant to respond to. “There could have been a thousand other suitors, and I would have still picked you.”

Kylo’s step faltered for a moment, and you wondered if his palms were sweating beneath his gloves.

“I don’t mean to give off a sense of false modesty, I am merely curious as to why. What is so compelling about me?” He pressed, frowning, as if it were some great mystery.

“Well, it’s just that, isn’t it? You’re compelling.” You said, encouraging him to press himself to your side once more, the sound of waves gently crashing in the distance a symphony to your ears. “The day we met for tea, I found I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. You’re captivating -- the way you speak and interact with the world, the ideas you have. I may not know much of them, but the little I do know is far and away more interesting than the lot of the other suitors combined.”

“Hm.” Was all your eloquent husband had to offer, but you took it more of a sign of him allowing you to continue speaking, rather than a true response.

“I didn’t want a husband who would treat me as a decoration. I didn’t want to be put on a shelf, confined to some archaic idea of what wives should be. I wanted someone who would be willing to challenge that establishment, to look at me and not see just some means for an heir, but a person of substance.” You explained with a sigh, letting some of your lingering fears about marriage out.

“There’s no one more challenging than me, that’s true.” Kylo quirked a little grin, prompting you to smile so widely that your cheeks hurt.

You were glad to know that this man, with all his faults, would do right by you.

“Good, it will do well for us both to keep the other sharp.” You bumped his hip with yours once more, and he lunged at you, captured your face in one of his gloved hands and kissed you outright, right in front of everyone on the promenade.

You laughed against his lips, pushed him away playfully because such a display would surely spark gossip, but you held him close to your side anyway.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, glad for the angling of your hat to allow it, and sighed happily, “I trust you to treat me with respect, you know.”

“Why’s that?” Kylo teased.

“Because you’ve killed others for not showing you that same decency.” You replied lightly, once again stunning him with your response.

This time, he did not slow his step, but you could practically feel the way his heartbeat jumped and danced below his skin, pulse going wild at the very mention of his patricide.

“You are not deterred by the fact that I am a murderer?” He asked. You were worried he’d be angry, but there’s a playful lightness to his tone that had you chuckling and only hugging his strong bicep.

“If I were, I wouldn’t have married one.” You said before shrugging, “I think murder can be a justifiable crime, sometimes it’s the only option we have to get what we want.”

Kylo pulled you to the side of the promenade to allow others to walk past. He leaned handsomely against another one of the large open windows that you had begun this walk smiling into. He didn’t smile, he was deadly serious as he took your hand in his own, ran his thumb across the knuckles.

“I’d kill for you, if it meant giving you what you want.” He said sincerely, and you smiled, cupped his scarred cheek, showed him you weren’t afraid.

“I know darling, let’s hope you won’t have to.” You said back, about to lean in when --

“Tea ma’am?” A voice interrupted you.

You and Kylo turned towards the waiter, holding a silver tray that had practically anything one could require for a cup. Your stomach rumbled at the sight of the finger sandwiches, and you found that you weren’t so annoyed with the intrusion.

“Oh yes please, Kylo would you like some?” You nodded, and the boy set the tray down and began to fix you a cup, pouring tea into fine china.

“No thank you.” Your husband responded, stealing a kiss on your cheek anyway, “I’ll save my appetite for dinner.”

The waiter handed you the teacup and saucer to rest it on, and then disappeared, recognizing the scowl on Kylo’s face from the many years of being snapped out to scurry away. Kylo didn’t snap, but he didn’t have to.

You joined him in leaning against the window, sipping your tea. You could feel Kylo’s eyes on you as you squinted into the sunlight.

“When was the last time you were on a ship?” You were curious, for he seemed so unfazed by the wonder of it all.

“Sailing back from Africa.” He replied simply, and oh, you knew what that meant.

“Does it bring a sense of unease, to be back on the open waters again?” You asked, suddenly feeling guilty, worrying that perhaps he wasn’t enjoying himself, plagued with memories of battle.

“Not at all, this is much different from a warship. In fact, I don’t think it could be any more different.” Kylo smiled reassuringly, setting you calm once again.

“How so?” You asked behind your cup, and you swore you saw a blush creep across the strong bridge of his nose.

“Well, for one thing warships don’t have beautiful women sipping tea in day-dresses.” He said, making you laugh from the sheer force of his charm.

“You think I’m beautiful?” You playfully batted your lashes at him, and he rolled his eyes, stole another kiss to your cheek, as the sun shone on the ocean, shone on your skin.

“I think you’re radiant.” He clarified, and well, now it was your turn to blush.

----------------

You stayed out in the sunshine until the tea no longer kept you satisfied, until your stomach protested so loudly that it must have been dinner time. A bugle was sounded, something that had startled you and Kylo out there on the promenade, making you smile at one another in your startled fear. He informed you that it meant cocktails were being served in the reception room, so that’s where the two of you went.

You recognized the reception room from your entrance through the D-deck doors, past the grand staircase. It was Jacobean in style, a large open ballroom peppered with circular tables and wicker chairs which were upholstered in a lush green damask silk. The walls were glossy white, and there were potted ferns and palms which only added to the fine greenery of the space.

You could see the area where an orchestra was likely to set up soon, a marked off area where instruments lay waiting musicians to bring them to life. You hoped that perhaps Kylo would be in the mood for a dance or two once dinner had settled.

You were just about to say something, when your husband’s attention was captured by a shock of red hair, and the natural scowl on his face all but disappeared, melting into a warm expression that could only be described as that of seeing an old friend.

The red-headed man seemed to notice you and Kylo at nearly the same time, and soon he was interrupting his wife’s conversation to gesture to you. Your heart soared at the sight of the woman, for while this man was nearly a stranger to you, she certainly wasn’t.

“Lord Ren.” The man approached you both and extended his hand, greeting your husband with delight.

“(Y/N), I’d like to introduce you to my business partner and friend, Lord Armitage Hux and his wife, Lady Hux.” Kylo shook the man’s hand, turned towards you and offered an introduction as was custom.

You and Lady Hux met eyes and grinned, and you were simply dying to throw you arms around your friend.

“It is an absolute pleasure to meet you, my Lady.” Hux bowed to you politely, his hair gelled so well that it didn’t move one single millimeter when he ducked down, “I have heard so much about you.”

“Likewise!” You couldn’t help but laugh, making your dear friend laugh as well.

Armitage and Kylo frowned at one another, as you hugged the Lady, looking at them with mischief, quite pleased with your very small prank.

“I did not realize you were already acquainted.” Kylo blinked as you returned to his side.

“We aren’t, the illustrious Lady and I however, are. We’ve run many charitable balls and fundraisers together. You could say I am aware of the great engineer Armitage Hux by proxy.” You explained, making your friend blush.

Oh how radiant she looked in her evening gown! It was a peachy cream-colored bodice, wrapped up in a beautiful silvery blue that complimented her brown hair and eyes in the most wonderful of fashions. There was intricate beading work which creeped up the hem of the dress into a style which nearly made it look as though the blue were tied up in tassels, revealing a peach satin slip underneath. You recognized the gown immediately as being a House of Worth dress, the very same designer which had made your own finery for the evening.

“Had I known you’d be on this ship I would have made my darling seek you out sooner! How lucky that we are to share a dinner table.” Lady Hux beamed, using all of her five-foot-two stature to chastise her six-foot husband.

“Luck had nothing to do with it, I requested only the finest company for my wife’s enjoyment. It would seem that we are among the best passengers aboard the Titanic.” Kylo said, smug and arrogant in a way that had you rolling your eyes playfully.

“Oh Lord Ren how you tease.” Lady Hux followed suit, before flagging down one of the waiters who was dutifully checking to ensure each table was kept satisfied with drinks and light appetizers. “Sir, might we have a bottle of champagne?”

“Of course ma’am, right away.” The boy said with a deep bow, a move which impressed you considering he was carrying quite a heavy tray.

The four of you sit at one of the tables, the husbands pulling out chairs for their wives.

Ironically enough, you were dressed in a similar color scheme to your friend. Your Worth gown was also peach and blue, however your tones were much more muted. The blue was not the silvery satin of your friend, but a dusky velvet, and the bodice was not so much a light peach as it was a deep burnished shade. Your gown had beaded detailing too, but it cascaded down and wrapped around your waist, a shimmer of floral that reflected sparkles of candlelight.

You both complimented one another on your choice of dress, and your husbands shook their heads and smirked at your obvious silliness. You’re both still laughing amongst yourselves when the champagne arrives, the bubbly doing nothing to curb your high spirits.

“Gossip around the clubs are you’re sailing to America for your honeymoon. Is that so?” Lord Hux asked, sipping his own fluted glass.

“There’s much in New York that we’re very excited to see, isn’t that right?” You answered, as Kylo was entirely too occupied with the way your tongue darted out to lick the drink off your lips.

“I’ve promised quite the itinerary, yes.” Kylo said absentmindedly, before turning to his friend and joking, “What about yourselves, what brings you to the colonies?”

The comment made you huff into your glass, only your husband could be so cheeky.

“Weapons manufacturing, to be frank.” Lord Hux surprised you, piquing your interest and making you set down your glass.

“Weapons? What for, if you don’t mind me asking.” You leaned in slightly.

But before Lord Hux could dive into what you were sure was going to be a riveting discussion, his wife put a hand on his chest to deter him, looking at you with eyes that said oh please don’t get him started.

“Believe me my dear friend, my Armitage wouldn’t mind talking all evening about his weapons he is working on, but perhaps that is conversation that might best be saved for more private audience.” She said softly, and that only interested you further.

“Ah, I see.” You mused, settling back against the cushion of your chair and sipping your champagne. You thought about the large sitting room in your parlor suite, perhaps you could invite the Huxes there one evening for such a discussion. “Your secrets are safe with me, Lord Hux, I can assure you that. I have no desire for gossiping, I merely strive to educate myself on the goings on of the world. We are in such a riveting time of advancements in all avenues, are we not?”

“Kylo you have chosen a most wonderful woman to be your bride, congratulations are in order.” Lord Hux raised his glass to commemorate your union.

Lady Hux followed suit, reaching across the table to take your gloved hand in her own. You smiled at one another, glad to have a friend aboard this massive marvelous ship.

“Thank you, she is truly a wonder, isn’t she? I am forever grateful she had agreed.” Kylo said sincerely, making you look up at him with a deep fondness, your heart quickening once more. With all his comments, you were sure he would set you into a heart attack by the end of the honeymoon!

Just then another tone sounded that it was officially seven o’clock, and dinner was officially served.

You and Lady Hux rose, followed suit by your husbands, who offered you their arms and asked nearly at the same time, “Shall we be seated?”

----------------

“I notice there are some empty seats at the table, who are we missing?” You asked, once you had all been settled in the great dining hall that was affectionately known as ‘The Ritz.’

Lord Hux explained that this was an even more elite dining experience than the first class halls, as it was restaurateur Gaspare Antonio Pietro "Luigi" Gatti intimate à la carte restaurant. The space was elegantly decorated, and infinitely more intimate, fully carpeted and lined with French walnut-panelled walls and picture windows. You sat at small tables, which unlike the reception room, were lit by individual crystal lamps. Apparently guests could eat here any time, not only during the designated meal hours, which made it a popular choice for the up and up passengers – for an extra fee, of course.

“Oh there are quite a few people still board the ship, rumor has it that Margaret Brown and John Jacob Aster the fourth will be dining with us, they should be here any moment.” Lady Hux knew all the gossip aboard the ship, and you were grateful for it. You could always count on her to ring you up and give you all the details of the goings-ons, so that you didn’t have to.

“We’re taking on more passengers?” You frowned, eyebrows furrowing.

A waiter caught wind of your question as he placed menus on your plates.

“Yes my Lady, we’re in Cherbourg; it’s our only port of call for the continent. We’ll be docking once more in Queenstown, Ireland, before reaching the open waters of the Atlantic.” He offered, and you nearly gasped.

“Goodness I fear for the third class rooms, they must be so packed already.” You expressed your concern.

“No more so than any other ship, my Lady.” The waiter, who could not be a day over twenty years of age, smiled sympathetically to you, before leaving.

No doubt he was staying in such quarters, although you hoped not. For all their sakes, you hoped they were treated better. Something twisted in your stomach though, making you think otherwise.

“How considerate of you to worry yourself with the poor.” Lord Hux commended you, as if it were some air that you put on to appear more progressive.

“My heart aches for them, the conditions they must endure so often due to something as unavoidable as the status of their birth. So few of us are able to enjoy luxuries as these, I find it entirely unfair.” You challenged, for this was no mere fleeting passion of yours. You fought endlessly to close the gap between the rich and poor, Lady Hux nodded in agreement, for she did the same.

“Would you trade your position for one of theirs?” Lord Hux asked, in the mood to debate it would seem. “If given the chance I mean.”

“I don’t need to live in poverty to know the cruelty of it.” You replied easily, a response to a challenge.

He leaned back in his chair then, pleased that you’d play along in a little battle of wits. Lady Hux only smiled behind her glass as food was served, for she knew just how cunning you were. Kylo was completely enraptured with you, and it did wonders for your ego, you had to admit.

“Let me ask you a very fair question, if I may.” Lord Hux’s eyes were calculating, “How do you propose an end to this cruelty?”

“I believe we must vote in favor of laws and procedures which encourage the economic upward movement of the lower classes. At present they’re kept bogged down into the mud – both figuratively and literally – by the laws which rich men propose and sign.” You responded elegantly and easily, thanking the waiter who served you a bowl of consomme rejane.

“Ah you’re one of those suffragettes?” Hux said, as if it were an insult.

“Are you not?” You replied, as if he were the one in the wrong.

The stand-off impressed Kylo greatly, his body language tensing with anticipation. Hux himself was impressed, and he burst into laughter, the serious tone of the debate having disappeared in the recognition that you were no pretty woman with stuffing for brains.

“I’m not so bold to attend any WSPU meetings.” You added when the laughter died down to a pleasant chuckle, as you all sipped your soups.

“Bold is a very good word for them, I should think. I can’t imagine being so angry as to set fire to buildings.” Lady Hux offered, as the WSPU was something of a thorn in her side these days.

“When you have so little left to lose, it is not unfathomable to lose what you have left.” You shrugged, a small nugget of wisdom passed down to you from your grandparents, who themselves were once poor and in a similar position.

“What do you make of all this, Lord Ren?” The ginger inquired, friendly and playful in that cutting manner he and your husband seemed to share. It was no wonder they were good friends, with the way they bickered.

“Must I make something of everything, Lord Hux?” Kylo wiped his mouth with his cloth napkin, leveling a gaze at him.

“I’ll be more specific, your wife.” Hux pointed to you with his knife, before digging into his veal filet.

Kylo regarded you, and it was clear for all to see that he was once again, entranced. Absolute ensnared by you, making you nearly need to look away, for the affection in his eyes was simply overwhelming. And yet, you could not tear your eyes away from his own.

“She’s certainly a sight to behold, is she not? I envision many a night chasing her train of thought.” Kylo said, looking at you while talking to him.

“Oh you’ll chase me alright, my dear.” You mused, forking a chateau potato with the heavy silver cutlery, “But whether I shall let you catch me, well we’ll have to see, won’t we?”

The table erupted into a round of light laughter, and Kylo shook his head, so fond of you.

“I have a great deal of opinions on a great many things,” Kylo eventually answered Hux’s question, “But I also know when I am not well versed in a subject enough to give those opinions on it. I have much to learn from my wife, and I am honored to listen to more of her causes, if she would be so generous as to tell me of them.”

“A true politician’s answer.” You teased, making Kylo’s eyebrows raise slightly, tugging at the scar which traveled up his browbone.

“I am no more a politician than you are a philosopher, my darling.” He teased right back, and you bit back a grin.

“Strong words coming from a man who may find himself sleeping on the couch this evening.” You replied with the hint of a smile, no malice in your tone whatsoever.

“I’m glad you’ll have someone to challenge you, it’s so refreshing when wits are matched, are they not?” Lady Hux leaned her head upon her husband’s shoulder, and he turned to kiss her temple.

“To whom do you refer, my dear?” Hux asked his wife, as you and Kylo smiled at one another.

“The both of them.” She responded, only making you smile more.

----------------

Eventually, the other guest boarded the ship, and there was a whole big fuss and to-do that came along with their arrival. You had very little interest in any of them, happily content with your own small company. However, the company soon grew larger as your table-mates entered The Ritz, and conversation picked up quite quickly about nothing in particular.

You simply sat back and enjoyed the company, even if now you were presented with strangers who made the setting a little less comfortable simply from not knowing them.

“Does the food please you?” Kylo asked, wanting to make sure you did not feel so alienated.

You were thankful for it, for while Lord and Lady Hux knew these businesspeople and wealthy aristocrats, you were not so familiar.

“It’s absolutely marvelous.” You replied, happy to simply talk with your husband, “Although I fear that there were so many courses, I’ll not have any room come the end of the evening for dessert.”

And there had been, goodness there had been. Between the hors d’oeuvres, the soups, the duck and veal and ham and beef and chicken, the boiled rice and cauliflower, the garlic spinach and watercress salad, by the time the pudding sans souci and charlotte colville came around, you couldn’t bear the thought of vanilla ice cream.

“Nonsense, there is always room for ice cream.” Kylo winked, allowing you the small permission of overly indulging yourself. That was the entire point of the Titanic, he reasoned, and you were inclined to agree with him.

But when the ice cream had settled, you found yourself buzzing with sugar. It must have been eight-fifteen, because the orchestra had begun to play out in the reception room, perking your ears up.

“Oh what a beautiful waltz, darling, might we…?” You asked hopefully, nodding your head in the direction of the sweet music.

Kylo was glad for the chance to part from the table, his long legs must have been aching for a good stretch of their own, surely.

“If you would excuse us, friends.” Kylo said, interrupting the pleasant chatter at the table while you stood.

They paid you little mind other than a few happy words of promises to get together in the upcoming days, and Kylo led you by the arm to the reception room, where many other couples in their utmost finery were dancing together.

You recognized the tune immediately as the popular cello solo from Saint-Saens, Le carnaval des animaux. Kylo hummed along to it, as his strong hand supported your lower back, your shoes carrying you across the dance floor in time with the music.

“Did you mean it, what you said at the table?” You asked, resting your head upon his chest, the starched shirt only moderately scratchy against your cheek. “The part about wanting to learn?”

“Of course, I won’t lie to you.” Kylo replied, “I find dishonesty detestable.”

“Then may I be honest with you?” You looked up at him with a smile.

“Always.” Kylo quirked a smirk of his own.

“I’d like nothing more than to disappear for the evening.” You whispered, though not a single soul was paying any more attention to you, too wrapped up in their own love affairs. “Perhaps we can…make somewhat of an undetectable exit, return to our rooms when the song is over.”

“Have you left anything at the table?” Kylo tried glancing through the doors into The Ritz, but the angle was blocked.

“Yes, do you think Dopheld would be kind enough as to retrieve it for us?” You groaned, not wanting to have to return to the table. Such an act would only make your intentions clear, and you didn’t want to be the subject of more gossip than you were certain you already were.

Kylo nodded, and when the song ended, you applauded the cellist lightly before escaping back to the rooms.

----------------

By the time you turned the corner to your hallway, you were happily running, Kylo chasing you playfully. You gathered up the skirt of your dress and laughed and laughed, as he made good on his promise to catch you. And catch you he did, capturing your waist in his hands and carrying you across the threshold of the parlor suite.

You were out of breath from excitement when he carried you still through the sitting room and into the bedroom, placing you onto the bed and setting to undo all your clasps and buttons and hidden fasteners that Worth so craftily kept out of sight.

“What a beautiful evening.” You couldn’t help but sigh, as he kissed the exposed skin of your breasts when he freed them finally from their supports.

“You stole the show, truly.” He agreed, kissing down your sternum as you shimmied out of your foundation garments which pooled on the floor at your feet. “Your charms and wit went over so well with our table.”

You cupped his cheeks, brought him back up to your lips so you could kiss him properly, wanting to feel the hot slide of his tongue against your own, such a kiss scandalous in public, but here, here in the privacy of your rooms, you could indulge.

“I do too.” You whispered suddenly, making him frown.

“Do what, blossom?” He asked, kissing you again again again, stealing your breath away.

“I want to learn of all your causes too.” You explained, remembering the conversation from before, his answer to Hux’s question. “All of them. I feel I have spoken so much of myself today, I hardly gave you any time of your own.”

“I much prefer to listen, but tomorrow I’d be more than happy to delve into some of it.” Kylo suddenly grew shy, and you leaned back enough to look him properly in the eyes.

Your hands on his face lingered, and you rubbed a soothing sort of circle into his scar.

“Don’t be afraid.” You said, and he chewed the inside of his cheek.

“I’m not.” He turned his head to kiss your palm.

“Then why do I see fear in your eyes?” You wondered aloud, making him sigh.

“I only worry that your opinion of me may change.” He sat on the mattress next to you, his impressive weight causing it to dip, causing you in turn to lean towards him.

It was a valid concern, you thought to yourself. Valid for all the rumours about him.

“I think you’ll find I may just surprise you.” You said anyway, assured and reassured him with a squeeze of his hand.

That seemed to appease him enough for the moment, and that cheeky playful smile returned, the shy scowl disappearing into a smooth transition of lust that had your pace quickening all over again.

“I would like, if I may, to take you all over this room.” Kylo said, and you only grinned, only guided his hands back to your exposed breasts, remembering your naked body.

“How do you still have an appetite?” You teased, pulling him towards you, letting yourselves fall backwards onto the mattress.

“I need you like a fish needs water.” He proclaimed, making you laugh and laugh as you rolled on top of him, straddled his waist.

“Well we are behind closed doors now, shall we test the thickness of the walls?” You challenged, making him grin.

And oh, with what fervor he accepted that challenge, what fervor indeed.

----------------

Tagging some friends! As always, if you’d like to be taken off or added to the taglist, please just let me know :)

@kyloxfem @heldcaptivebychaos @solotriplets @formerly-anonhamster @lookinsidemyhead @candycanes19 @adamsnacc-kler @taylovren-types @whiskey-bumblebee @magikevalynn @tinyplanet-explorers @chelsjnov @romancedeldiablo @helloimindelaware @elfieboxcat @laurenshit @autumnlovesadam @peterisparker @mp938368 @goodboybensolo @intrestellarsarah @the-marvelatic @miasera @emily-strange @proxyfoxy @disaster-rose @hazydespair @yosoymuyloca @1-800-choke-that-snoke @ktellmeastory @anongirl007 @zimmerxman @okk–maaan @flapjacques @thepilotanon @aweirdlookingtree @callmemania-pls @runhbo

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren/reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren/you #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren reader insert #historical au #titanic au #titanic!kylo #titanit!kylo ren #my writing #beautiful beloved #kylo ren fluff #kylo ren smut

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freedom-shamrock · 4 years ago

Text

Teacups and Firelights

This is my @atla-secret-santa gift for @wwjacksparrowd. Happy holidays, I hope you enjoy!

Also on AO3

______________________________

Something was definitely wrong in Ba Sing Se, and just being in the city gave Ty Lee the creepie crawlies several times an hour. After a week of putting up with it, she was at risk of going all Azula once she found the cause. Aang's meditation sessions were probably the only thing keeping her out of an uncontrolled avatar state at this point.

Ty Lee didn't always look or sound the most attentive to details, something that had served her well in the past, but she didn't need anyone to point out when there was something rotten right beneath her nose. Much of what she took in from around her stayed in her head, swirling around with everything else until she was able to make the connections she needed. She wasn't always the fastest of the Ty septuplets at picking apart the tangles of political intrigues, but she was more often right than any of her sisters (she was right more often than her friends, too, but she'd been careful not to point that out). She was also consistently the fastest Ty in sparring, though that may have come from being the avatar, so it felt like a cheat.

She'd come to the Earth Kingdom capital with her unlikely companions for a number of reasons, all quite pressing. Their top priority had been to share intelligence with the Earth king and his generals as part of Sokka's rather brilliant plan to take down the firelord. They'd gotten a meeting scheduled with King Kuei, and flaming monkey tigers, the Fire Nation had nothing on the Earth Kingdom's bureaucracy! If that weren't enough of a reason to come, they desperately needed time to recover from weeks of things going terribly, horribly wrong. That couldn't happen if they were being chased around the world by her Royal Fire Academy best friends (and the sister she'd left in her place with the circus to avoid raising suspicion when she went off to pursue her destiny). Not even General Iroh had been able to penetrate the ringed city's great wall, and while Azula was brilliant, she wasn't yet up to his standard. Her attempt involving a massive drill had failed, and the princess retreated, so they were safe from that quarter… for now. Their final reason for being in the vast city was to find Appa, her chronologically 112 year old airbending master's sky bison and one of the companions who had been with her since early in this convoluted adventure.

With two of their three goals addressed, or at least pending, they'd all split up to search for any signs of the ten-ton creature (who really shouldn't be this hard to find, even in Ba Sing Se). While out and about they were also gathering information on the general oddness of the city. Joo Dee's messed up orange aura and creepy smile sent a message that they'd all picked up on. Their extremely anxious neighbors, who quietly advised them to not ask questions and most of all to avoid the Dai Li, had flaming red auras. Living in the central ring of the city among the very wealthiest and most influential, they had no reason to show such fear. Well, unless King Kuei's court was as literally cut-throat as Firelord Ozai's but less open about it.

As she skipped down the clean and tidy streets of the inner ring, she noted that while the architecture was different from home, it was no less opulent than the capital she was most familiar with. She idly wondered if they used earthbending to suffocate out any undesirable plant growth, the way fire was used back home. Everything here was so orderly, or as Aang put it, inhibited to the point of joylessness. Even Toph, who was intimately familiar with Earth Kingdom upper class manners found it creepy.

She turned a corner and heard cheerful chatter unlike any she'd encountered during their stay. The Ba Sing Se social elite were quiet and dull, or perhaps they were deathly terrified to lose face and power from whatever was wrong here. Hearing people sounding like they did in every other part of the world was definitely something to investigate. Across the plaza and up a short flight of stairs was a tea shop. It's exterior had clearly been freshly painted, gleaming green and gold under the late morning sun. A cup of tea would make her day's work more pleasant. Pursuing her destiny had sounded a lot more fun before she'd spent weeks on end chasing one lead after another, without the time to really enjoy the places they stopped. They barely had time to bathe for most of the trip.

With a bit of a hop, she was able to vault over the railing, bypassing the stairs entirely. It was not entirely proper decorum, but she was dressed in a way that marked her as an outsider. She and Toph had spent hours comparing social rules and drilling them into Katara's head (the Water Tribe girl was quick to both mock the foolishness of the conventions and to demonstrate she could fit in with even the most elite social climbers). Ty Lee had a surprising number of things in common with her earthbending master, and her bluntness was no worse than Mai's, so they'd fallen into an easy alliance. Katara was something else all together. Despite their countless differences, she'd become a better friend than any Ty Lee had ever had. It was a given that she was a lot nicer than Azula, but she'd never met someone so focused on doing the right thing regardless of the risks, with no other motivation.

Ty Lee skipped up to the open doors and peeked in. This was unlike the other tea shops she'd visited in the city. The waiters were constantly in motion, delivering cups and pots of steaming tea to the many full tables of happy visitors. There was energy and enthusiasm here, not the fog of apathy. The dining room held the gentle fragrances of teas that were familiar and some that she was sure she'd never had. This would definitely clear her mind enough to start connecting all the weirdness of the city. While her friends were good at coming up with plans (spirits knew that they would have died in the desert if not for Katara, and Sokka's use of Wan Shi Tong's knowledge was flat-out brilliant), she felt that she really needed to be pulling her weight. She was the avatar, after all. It was bad enough that they had decided early on to let Aang masquerade as the avatar to take the pressure off her. If she wasn't at least coming up with some of the plans (beyond the completely random trips to spiritual centers), what good was she?

"Hello." A cheerful young man's voice called her out of her own head. "Welcome to the Jasmine Dragon. Our special for the day is Ba Sing Quon, a soothing tea for the refined palate."

She looked up into a very familiar face. "Zuko?" she squeaked. There was no way he could be anyone else. Even if he had a double here in the earth kingdom, there was no concealing the scar his father left on his face, and as one part of a seven-piece matched set, she was never fooled by look-alikes.

He sucked in a breath, his face going pale as he took a step back.

Her hand darted out and caught the long brown sleeve of his uniform before he could flee. "What are you doing here?" she whispered, keenly aware of the other staff and patrons around them. When she'd last seen him, Aang had knocked him out in the North Pole shortly before she and La had merged to obliterate the Fire Nation navy. Aang had run afoul of him a time or two since then, but she'd managed to stay out of his sight.

She could see in his eyes that he was weighing his options. Zuko had always been smarter than Azula wanted to believe. "What are you doing here?" he countered. "I thought you were hunting down the avatar with my sister." His remaining eyebrow arched.

"I'm on vacation," she said airily. "And what about you? Aren't you supposed to be on your own hunt?"

"Only if I want to return to court," he said with a sneer. "Which I don't."

She stared at him in awe. That was not something she'd ever expected to hear out of Azula's serious older brother. Frankly, his temperament was better suited to leading the country than her hot-headed school friend.

"I'm making my own destiny, and I'm done chasing ghosts for him," Zuko said firmly.

She offered him a small smile. "I'm happy for you. You deserve your own happiness."

He looked surprised.

"He was always a monster to you, and it wasn't fair," she said. She'd seen favoritism spoil the relationship she and her sisters could have had, and that had been nothing compared to what happened in the firelord's children.

Zuko shrugged. "Like father, like daughter."

Being chased all over the Earth Kingdom by Azula had given her a whole new perspective on her once best friend. "You're not wrong."

His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

She leaned back in her chair. "I know. I'm supposed to say she's an acquired taste and that she's not that bad, but… if I've learned anything the last several weeks, it's that Azula's been turned into a dangerous weapon that your father will turn on whoever he feels like." It had been frankly terrifying to have that weapon turned on her.

Zuko stepped back. "I'll be back with your tea."

She watched as he walked stiffly to the back of the shop, disappearing behind a curtain. He looked so much better than he had in the north. He actually looked happy. Moments later he returned with a small tray holding a single red-glazed white teacup.

"Your tea, miss." He placed it gently on the table in front of her.

"Thank you, Zuko."

"Lee," he said.

"What?"

"My name is Lee. This my uncle Mushi's tea shop." He took a slow breath. "We close at dusk."

She flashed him a cheery smile. "Very good to know. Thank you."

⁂

Ty Lee sat on the raised edge of the fountain in front of the Jasmine Dragon tea house, watching the sky turn a spectacular peach color. It had taken some pretty heavy assurances before her friends had been willing to let her go off and meet her Fire Nation contact solo. To be fair, they were all a little on edge. Even without Ba Sing Se's creepy aura (who knew a city could have its own aura?) they'd been hunted, chased, and attacked a little too often (especially recently) to just do as they pleased. She'd refused to share information on her contact, but agreed that they should come look for her if she wasn't back in an hour.

Paying close attention to the vibrations in the thin soles of her dance shoes, she looked up to see Zuko and General Iroh step out of the tea house, working together to close and lock the grand doors. She stood up and waited for them to approach. Zuko moved a little stiffly, but his uncle was as steady as always. He was difficult to read, but his white-streaked violet aura was reassuring. He'd shed the heavy mourning he'd still carried when she'd last seen him, well before she realized she was the avatar. They weren't here with Ozai's blessing or knowledge, then.

"Ty Lee," Iroh said quietly. "You are not someone I ever expected to encounter here in our new home."

She beamed at him. "Then it's a pleasant surprise for all of us," she declared.

Iroh stared at her for a silent moment. "I certainly hope that's the case. My nephew and I have settled in nicely, and I feel we've really found our place." He paused for another moment. "It would be a shame to have to uproot ourselves yet again."

She held out her hands to both of them. "As I told Lee," she smirked at Zuko, "it's nice to see you so happy. I obviously don't know what you've been through on your travels, but it seems to have smoothed out the difficulties life brought on you both."

"How are you even here?" Zuko asked, blunt but without the heat she might have expected. "Last I heard, you'd joined up with Azula to terrorize the avatar."

Ty Lee clapped her hands together. "Yeah, so I've heard."

"She doesn't let people leave her service," Zuko noted. "So I have to assume you're here on a mission for her."

She laughed a little and shook her head. "That situation is not at all what it seems to be."

A small but totally gleeful smile appeared on Iroh's face. "So her companion is one who shares your likeness?"

She rolled her eyes. "You'd think my best friend would be able to tell me and my sisters apart." She gestured to Zuko. "Lee knew it was me immediately." To give Ty Lao credit, she'd fooled everyone, including Mai and Azula, who should have seen through the masquerade.

"That still doesn't answer how and why you're here, though," Zuko pointed out.

"You aren't the only one seeking a different path," she said quietly.

Iroh's large callused hand wrapped around one of hers, and when she looked up, she could see understanding in his eyes. "I believe it is safe to say that none of us are a threat to the other."

Ty Lee nodded. "We're only here until we can meet with King Kuei, and I haven't even told my friends who I'm meeting with tonight."

"So you aren't alone, then?" Iroh asked. "That's good. Safer."

"Who are you traveling with?" Zuko asked, clearly more suspicious than his uncle. He'd never liked unknown variables.

"No one you know, silly," she replied easily. "It's just a small group of friends from all over the world."

"It's been wonderful to see you, my dear," Iroh said. "And I would love to stay and chat, but I've been on my feet all day. Why don't you and Lee catch up." He turned to Zuko and raised his eyebrows in question. "And do be sure to stop back in before you leave Ba Sing Se."

Zuko's shoulders drooped a bit and he nodded.

"How long have you two been here?" she asked once Iroh was gone.

"We're new to working in the upper ring," he explained. "But we've been in Ba Sing Se for several weeks now."

"We've only been here about a week," she said. The silence was uncomfortable. "So, I bet you know of some of the nice sights that we haven't found yet."

Zuko nodded. "Yeah. Why don't I show you the Firelight Fountain. It's in the lower ring, but it's actually really nice." He glanced around. "Less stuffy than the places in the upper ring."

"Sounds great," she agreed, following as he led the way to the nearby monorail station. "How did you come to Ba Sing Se, anyway?" When his face closed off again, she clarified. "I don't need every step of your journey. Just… how did Lee and Mushi end up here?"

He visibly relaxed and nodded. "Uncle knows people all over the world, and he got us new identities. It was easy to join the groups of refugees traveling here." He was silent for a moment. "I didn't really want to come here. I still thought honor was something my father could actually give or take away. But I wasn't in a position to argue with Uncle."

"The Dragon of the West is a formidable opponent," she agreed.

Zuko snorted. "I've come to understand that."

Ty Lee laughed, delighted to see him making something of a joke.

"Whatever we may think of the Earth Kingdom, they manage the people of Ba Sing Se well. They had apartments available and there's a communal kitchen for newcomers who don't have work placement yet." He shook his head, looking a little awed. "It's a far cry from what happens to refugees in… well, you know."

She did know. In the Fire Nation, being in a poor situation was seen as the culmination of poor choices, and aid wasn't freely given to people who had called misfortune on themselves. Her journey had helped her reframe all of that. No one person caused an earthquake or mudslide. Some people made all the right choices and still ended up poor.

"We still live in the lower ring, in one of the refugee apartments, but we're on a waiting list to move to the middle ring," Zuko continued. "I'm not really in a rush to move, because we don't need much. And I don't care about the status." He looked out the window, blind to the blur of the city passing beneath them. "But it would be good to make the apartment available to someone else. There's so many refugees coming into the city right now."

"I really mean it," Ty Lee said, leaning over to look out the windows as the carriage came to a stop. "I'm glad you're finding your own happiness."

He looked at her for a moment. "Thanks." He got up and gestured that this was their station. "And what about you? Are you finding your happiness?"

It was a fair question. She hadn't been exactly unhappy, not since joining the circus. "Purpose," she decided. "I enjoyed entertaining people, but it wasn't enough." Especially after her extra bending potential spontaneously manifested one evening, and she knew she was meant for more.

"And you needed to travel the world to find it?" he asked.

"Not really. Not to find it," she replied. "It's more that the traveling gets me to where I need to be, to… uh, engage in my purpose." That was vague enough, right?

"What is this purpose that can't be done back… home." That last word came out sounding distasteful. The Fire Nation probably hadn't felt like home since even before he was banished.

"Helping others," she declared. "It's more than I could do with the circus, and definitely not something I could do with Az… your sister." It would probably be best to avoid the name that was known the world over. She'd seen the Dai Li lurking on rooftops during the day. While most people didn't tend to look up, she was an acrobat and preferred to go up when she needed an escape. The buildings were taller here, and maybe lower ring inhabitants were less worthy of close monitoring, but she couldn't risk it. "She would've frowned on it, because I'm not just helping people she would have seen worthy."

Zuko nodded. "She's pretty selective in who she sees worthy of helping, and there's usually a reason behind who she chooses to help, something not remotely altruistic."

Ty Lee nodded. It was something she'd never liked about Azula, even before she'd learned more about herself. "She only watches out for herself and isn't really interested in real balance." It had been why she hadn't gone to her friend for help when she discovered she was the avatar. She knew Azula would cast their friendship aside as easily as she discarded an out-of-season gown, if it would curry favor with her father.

"Balance?" Zuko let out a huff. "You sound like Uncle." A rare smile found its way onto his face. "And that's not something I ever thought I'd say about you."

"I suppose." She laughed a little. "I'm both surprised and unsurprised that he supports balance."

He gave her a look that clearly begged her to explain further.

"The stories I've heard about his military days are very different from the man he is now." She shrugged. "I guess we can all change."

Zuko nodded. "He taught me to redirect lightning," he said in a low whisper.

She stared at him in surprise. "You can do that?!" She hadn't even heard it was possible.

"It's critical in facing off against my sister, or my father, for that matter."

He wasn't wrong. But how had she not found anything on that technique in all the many firebending scrolls she'd covertly read? Not even the Fire Sages' library contained that information. Spirits, she needed to learn that. But how could she do that? How could she get that information without telling Zuko more than he needed to know?

"Hey Lee!"

Ty Lee looked up to see a girl their age waving at Zuko from across the street. She wore her hair in paired braids and was dressed in Earth Kingdom green.

"Who's your friend?" Ty Lee asked, delighted by the blush she saw in his cheeks.

"Hello, Jin," he called back, waving awkwardly. It was enough encouragement for the girl to scurry over to them.

It might break Mai's heart if she knew what Zuko was up to in Ba Sing Se, but what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. And Ty Lee wasn't in any position to tell her, not that she was inclined to.

"How have things been at the new tea shop?" the girl asked. "We've all been so excited to hear about it."

"It's going really well," Zuko said. It really was nice to see him happy as he chatted with the girl who clearly had a crush on him. "It's been better than even Uncle hoped for."

"That's wonderful!" The girl exclaimed. She turned to Ty Lee. "Hi, I'm Jin."

"Oh," Zuko looked a little nervous. "Jin, this is my, uh, cousin."

Ty Lee grinned. "I've known Lee practically all my life."

Jin's eyes and mouth went round with surprise. "Were you in the circus with him?"

That was his cover story? Ty Lee almost burst out laughing. This was too easy, and would give her something to tease him about for years. "I was in the circus."

"Were you in the juggling act with him?" Jin pressed, looking all the more eager.

Ty Lee shook her head. "No. I'm an acrobat." She demonstrated by bending backward to stand on one hand for a moment.

Jin clapped enthusiastically. "Oh wonderful." She glanced at Zuko for a moment before leaning in to whisper, "He's out of practice, so maybe don't ask him to show off his skills."

"Thank you for the warning," Ty Lee whispered back. She winked at him before speaking regularly again. "Lee is taking me to see the Firelight Fountain."

Jin clasped her hands together over her chest. "Oh, I'm just coming from there. You won't be disappointed." She turned back to Zuko. "It's all lit up tonight."

"Do you, uh… want to join us?" Zuko asked reluctantly.

"I'd love to," Jin said with a sigh. "But I should get back, and I'm sure you and your cousin need to catch up without strangers around."

"Thank you, Jin," Ty Lee said, bowing gratefully to the other girl. "We do have an awful lot to catch up on, and you know how families can be." She tilted her head and rolled her eyes. "Petty infighting and back-stabbing."

Jin laughed. "I'll see you another time, Lee. I'd love to hear more about the Jade Dragon."

"Jasmine Dragon," he corrected. "Like the tea."

"Oops. Yeah, Jasmine." Jin waved and continued back up the road the direction they'd come from.

"She seemed cheerful," Ty Lee said.

Zuko nodded, awkward again. "She's friendly. Happy."

"She likes you," she pointed out sincerely. There was no need for teasing just now.

He looked both pleased and a little embarrassed. "I know."

"I'm glad some of the people here are seeing who you really are." That certainly hadn't happened at home, not after his mother vanished.

He glanced at her in alarm. "She doesn't know… who I am."

She waved off his concern. "I'm not talking about where you came from or what you can do." She wiggled her fingers at him. "I mean who you are as a person."

"Oh." He nodded slowly. "You really sound like Uncle." He looked closely at her. "You're not the person you used to be. Not at all."

They stepped into a circle that could only be the Firelight Fountain. "It's lovely." The simple feature beautifully displayed three of the four elements at their best. A warm glow shone from the ring of lanterns, reflecting in the stone fountain's sparkling water. All that was missing was air, and Ty Lee could see small rings on the lanterns that had probably once held streamers to dance in the breeze. The designed balance was as askew as their world, and it broke her heart a little. She'd need to keep Aang away from this place. He didn't need reminders that he was the last of his kind.

"Hey," Zuko said softly. "Are you all right?"

Ty Lee sniffled a little and quickly rubbed at her eyes as she nodded. "Yeah."

"I didn't think you were the type to cry over a pretty fountain," he said.

"It's not just that." She sighed, trying to figure out how much she could tell him and how she could bring up lightning again. "It's… it's a painfully accurate representation of the world," she finally said. "It wants so badly to be balanced. But it isn't."

"Hmmm." He looked closely at the fountain again. "Did you know that the avatar is still alive?" he asked, his gaze intentionally turned toward the water. "He's traveling the world on a flying bison."

"Oh… yeah." She nodded. That bit wasn't exactly a secret. "I'd heard that. I'm pretty sure that's who your sister is chasing after."

"I saw a flyer the other day," Zuko continued. "I guess his bison is missing."

"How… unfortunate." She'd forgotten how good he was at intrigues, just because he didn't care for them. Had she let slip too much? While it was known in the upper ring that the avatar was there, she didn't want her friends to have to dodge Zuko or Iroh. Her firebending had come a long way, but she was no match for either of them. It was just another reminder of how ill prepared she was for taking down Ozai.

"Do you suppose he's found a firebending master yet?" Zuko asked, glancing at her before looking away again. "I imagine that's been a tough element for him."

"He's the avatar," she pointed out. "Shouldn't he already know how to bend all the elements?" They'd encountered that mindset more than a few times, and as the person trying to meet everyone's needs, it was incredibly frustrating.

"I don't think that's how it works." Zuko shook his head. There was a long moment of silence. "I met him once… well, more than once." He looked embarrassed again, as if he were cringing away from his past actions.

"Really?" Aang had shared all his encounters with the angry banished prince, and the boy always seemed disappointed about something.

Zuko sighed. "I wish I could meet him again, now." He met Ty Lee's eyes. "I owe him an apology."

"Really?" How did he keep surprising her like this?

Zuko nodded. "He offered me friendship and I threw fire at him. I hurt him and his friends when I was still desperate to complete my father's errand. It was wrong, and I see that now."

"You just wanted to come home," she said, internally forgiving him for the things he'd done as a result of the abuse he'd endured.

"Yeah, and I've come to realize that a place where you're expected to do things that you simply can not abide because they are morally wrong no matter how you look at it, that's not home," he declared.

"Has Ba Sing Se become your home, then?"

"It's closer," he admitted. "But not quite my home. Not yet." He moved to settle on the edge of the fountain.

"You might just need a bit more time," she suggested.

"Maybe," he agreed. "But I can't shake the feeling that there's something else I should be doing. Something more I could do to help restore the world's balance."

"Oh?" She wasn't sure how to bend that back to what she needed from him. "So what else could you be doing?"

"Teaching the avatar how to firebend," he said, his voice soft and matter of fact. "Like I said earlier, I think that being able to redirect lightning is going to be crucial." He chewed on his lip for a moment. "I've been going out at night looking for signs of his bison, Appa, I think is its name. And while I'm not fully sure I've found it, I might have a decent lead."

Her heart leapt in her chest and her throat felt tight. Appa was a creature of very few words and much wisdom. "Why… why would you do that? Look for Appa?"

"Because it's the right thing to do," Zuko said earnestly. "I've done the wrong thing so often, I have a lot to make up for. And I think it's going to take something monumental to get his friends to let me talk to him and offer my skills."

"Oh." She couldn't think of anything to say to that. How could she bring this up with her friends? Would they be willing to give him a chance?

"Because of the missing bison flyer, I know the avatar is in the city," Zuko went on. "Do you think it's wrong to hope that he might show up in the Jasmine Dragon one day?"

Her breath caught, and it was a struggle not to show it. "No." She coughed to clear her throat. "Stranger things have happened."

Zuko nodded. "You should get back to your friends before they start to worry." He stood up.

"Yeah." She did not want them coming looking for her.

"It was nice to see you, Ty Lee," he said, offering her a small smile. "Nicer than I would have expected."

"I'm glad I bumped into you," she said.

"Be sure to stop by the tea house again," he suggested. "Before you and your friends leave the city."

She smiled, feeling content for the first time in a while. "I will." She had a lead on both a firebending master and Appa's location. Perhaps those two details would be enough to get her friends to take a chance on adding a new member to the group. Maybe things were finally moving past the point of hopelessness, and she actually stood a chance at becoming a good avatar.

"I'll see you soon, Lee. I promise." She turned and walked up the street toward the monorail.

_____________________

This was fun to write, but also a challenge. I have never written from Ty Lee's perspective before, and I'm not sure I really nailed her character, but I'm hoping it's close enough.

#ATLA #fanfic #atla-secret-santa #wwjacksparrowd #ty lee #Avatar Ty Lee #Zuko #Iroh

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blackswaneuroparedux · 5 years ago

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Anonymous asked: From the news European countries have been easing the lock down but restaurants and cafes remain closed. So what do you do for food? Do you cook? Are you a good cook? Do you enjoy cooking?

You are right to say in Europe things have been easing up a little. However each European country is responding differently as things present themselves on the ground. In France and in Paris in particular the lock down has eased with shops re-opening and schools have limited re-opening. The shops allow a limited number of people in at any one time so there is a queue usually (orderly and well humoured it has be said, at least in my experience). Cafes and restaurants remain closed pending a further review - in early June I think. But some eateries do deliveries for pick ups by a side window.

I cook. Just how well is more debatable as my criteria for success is not to kill others or myself. So judged on that score I would say I’m a reasonably decent cook. I hate to admit it but next to British food Norwegian food is not really much to write home about. I’m actually being harsh on British cuisine. I know everyone goes on about how bad British food is but it’s a cliche and untrue given the plethora of of cooking TV shows and just how dramatically British cuisine has changed in the last 30 years. I’ve been lucky to have dined at some really great restaurants from childhood because my father in particular was a foodie and we ate well.

I would like to say I learned a lot from my mother but I didn’t pay as much attention as I should have. She could very cook well but she did so rarely and at a time when we siblings didn’t take much interest. My Norwegian mother was fortunate to learn culinary skills on a cooking course for girls one summer in the Swiss alps at a finishing school as she was also at a nearby boarding school. Her parents thought she would make a good homely wife and hostess - but typically Norwegian my mother had other ideas. Still, a lot of what she learned had stayed with her and she developed a keen interest in French style of cooking to be able to cook well when she wanted to.

When we lived overseas in some countries - such as in India, Pakistan, Dubai and China - we had native cooks and servants and I remember spending a lot of time watching how the food was being made in the kitchen with the friendly cook. And I learned a few things here and there. We didn’t just eat ‘British food’ at home but actually enjoyed the local cuisine. I loved walking in the bazaars and eating street food - it was tasty and so much fun. My parents would put on lavish parties and that was always catered. I did learn from my mother when I did pay attention and her example stayed with me.

At boarding school and university I would cook as well but again nothing exceptional. Often I would have friends around and we would cook together and I would be naturally curious as to how they made a dish that was from their country and I learned on the hoof from them. At university I also started to write down recipes and kept a record of them in a file. So quick and easy meals from little ingredients because of an essay crisis or during a revision slog or the occasional dinner party where I sweated on making dishes from well thumbed cook books. No one died so encouraged I carried on cooking.

I do love cooking because it allows me to have the mental space to think about other things other than work or personal stuff. It gives me a lot of peace in cooking for myself and for others. I’m not a seat by the pants kind of cook. I envy those who can just naturally toss ingredients together and come up with something divine. I am quite regimented. I like to have all my ingredients clearly cut and put on plates in the right order. I like order over chaos. It doesn’t mean my mind is regimented. I can cook a recipe from muscle memory but I need to have order on the kitchen table.

These days I’m fortunate that I get to dine in some very fine Michelin starred restaurants on my business travels and it’s made a more discerning foodie. I avoid restaurant food in hotels for instance because consistently they disappoint. Instead I always plan ahead if I know I am going to a foreign city I will reserve a table during my stay of a restaurant recommended by foodie friends I respect. Often I have to choose the restaurant for a corporate client we may be schmoozing and that has broadened my knowledge and palate to find the right restaurant through trial and error. In Paris too with friends usually we go and try out restaurants that are on the rise and off the tourist beaten track. For the food gourmand though Lyon is the place to go for a pilgrimage. It is after all the place where the great French chef Paul Bocuse was based.

At home I do like to cook for dinner parties in my apartment. It takes planning in terms of deciding what dishes to cook - French cuisine naturally. Through Parisian friends I am more discerning where to go to get the required ingredients. I plan the whole dinner party like a military operation in terms of the logistics. Some may laugh but I take to heart what the great French chef Jacques Pepin once said that, “great cooking favours the prepared hands”.

As a ritual I always do my vegetable shopping in the weekend food market stalls or I go to particular boutiques shops where there is an artisanal element on display. Even what to cook I take into account the people I am bringing together and how they might get a long over the food. The French never bring a bottle of wine to a dinner party as one might in England. It would be considered rude. And yet wine is a serious accompaniment to the food served. Fortunately for me I co-own a vineyard with my two cousins out in the sticks of rural France so I have become greatly educated about wine and my little wine collection is sufficient for all occasions.

I think through osmosis I have become a better cook and I can feel it every time I go back to England to see friends or my family. I do look on horrified at what they are eating some times. But I have to remind myself not to fall into the trap of being a Parisian food snob. In England I think the food in restaurants has greatly improved but it’s also true that less and less people know how to cook. This is also increasingly true in France too, especially Paris. Fast food and pre-cooked meals from restaurants as well as Uber/Deliveroo are changing things habits. Habits such as cooking dishes were handed down from generation to generation but instead are at your ready made finger tips.

One of my French friends is a chef trained food critic for a major magazine and he has helped me become a better cook. I feel like I am in a piano class with a stern teacher as he slaps my hands in irritation if I try to write down notes instead of paying close attention to the wafting aromas. To him food is spiritual and aesthetic experience that has to be engaged with the heart and the soul. He keeps chiding me that “You are not cooking. You are making love”.

I don’t quite feel as lyrical or mystical as he but I appreciate the passion and this marvellous trait of actually caring.

From him and other French friends I feel I’ve become a better chef by absorbing certain key principles in good and healthy cooking: never rush cooking as if you’re chasing a missed bus but savour every moment; eat as fresh and natural as possible; local and seasonal are best; left your ingredients be your seasoning; fat is your friend, use butter over olive oil in dishes; never waste food, use all of it; everything in moderation; and every meal is a celebration and not an ordeal.

The last one in particular is important. A meal is not about eating (or drinking of good wine) it’s about the conversation. In the same way it is impossible for an Italian to cook for one person - try making lasagne or any pasta dish for one because you’ll end up making it for five - so it is for the French. Good food is nothing without good conversation.

For the French a successful evening isn’t just judged by the food but also by the talk around the table. The French love to pontificate, gyrate, and muse on any topic under the sun. It’s not just about the knowledge or intellect one brings to the table but also a worthy argument. A true argument isn’t to exclude people but an invitation to draw people in with their own unique views to come to some settled truth. A riposte must nick but never wound for good manners are premium. Wit and charm are prized but courtesy and grace are precious. Parisians tend to have elevated convivial conversations and yet outside of Paris the conversations are more earthy and hearty - ate least that’s been my experience. Either way conversation is a companion to cooking.

I’ve learned this last principle from my lockdown experience with my neighbours in the small apartment building I live in. Most of the residents have bolted before the lockdown to their country homes in Normandy and Bretagne. A few have remained for different reasons. During the lock down phase a couple of us have been buying food for the more senior aged neighbours.

In particular two neighbours I have done their personal shopping for them since they are classified at risk. One is a retired army general and another is retired art gallery owner. They both have gourmand tastes and I have to trek to particular shops to buy the things they want, usually preserves or cheeses or pastries. I often cook for them and often it’s dishes they are used to having so I’m extending my culinary range. They are both fussy eaters used to having a gourmand palate so I feel like I’m at school sometimes having to be corrected now and again as well as being graded.

They were at first wary of letting me cook for them because they thought I was another English barbarian but I slowly won them over. I’ve even got them to try some very English things. The cakes I did went down well but they really liked my scones as well as the clotted cream and jam to go with it. Here I must thank my new Fortnum and Mason’s cook book which has an excellent recipe for scones. I’m surprised at how quickly people have taken to them. So much so it’s become a weekend ritual with the other residents of the building.

We gather at the weekends in the enclosed court yard and with some the small kids having the freedom to run around a little the rest of us sit and chat and we share food that we’ve all cooked. We listen to music played by two residents each proficient on the violin and cello. It’s a fantastic bonding experience and it brings us closer together to the point we have our own WhatsApp group and we help each other out when we can. And surely that is another reason why one enjoys cooking is the sheer pleasure that you hope to bring to others through the taste of food.

If I have learned anything then it’s that is no good or a bad cuisine, just the one you like the best. We all have taste, even if we don’t realise it. Whether a person cooks well or badly it doesn’t stop you understanding the difference between what tastes good and what doesn’t.

For me cooking is precious. Cooking brings rhythm and meaning to my life.

Thanks for your question.

#ask #question #cooking #cook #cuisine #food #personal #scones

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mermaid-nebula · 4 years ago

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Kiss From a Rose

Chapter 2: 1 Year

Summary: Wilford's perspective is going to be longer that Dark's, it seems. Oh well, more glorious pining to be had then.

Word Count: 1,374

Wilford almost, almost, decided not to get out of bed today.

Dark's been asleep for a year now, and he's long since given up on the idea that he'll wake up again.

Still doesn't stop him from hoping though.

He slowly gets out of his bed and goes through his morning routine. Brushing his teeth, getting a shower, and getting dressed in a clean pair a pajamas. He sighs, running his fingers through his wet hair, long and jet black now from lack of interest in re-dying it. He needed to do laundry today. Badly.

He gathers his dirty clothes up off the floor and takes them to the mashing machine, just throwing them all in together and not caring if dyes bleed into one another. It's not like he'll be going in public today anyway.

He goes to the kitchen to see if there's any dishes that need cleaning, feeling like he needs a small distraction even though he hates chores. He sighs at the mundane task.

Life was boring without you in mine. The sun doesn't shine as bright. Dancing isn't as fun. Smiling is harder to do.

He hums to himself, shaking those thoughts out of his mind. He tries thinking about what song he'll sing to Dark today. He tries to make each one heartfelt for him, it's more meaningful that way.

He starts making lunch for himself, and the others. He doesn't really know if Bing can consume anything, but he always makes an extra sub sandwich for him that always disappears after a few hours.

He goes back to his room afterwards to eat and fold his clothes that were done being washed. Which turns into him taking a light nap for a few hours.

This is pretty much how the whole year has been. Just drifting around, doing nothing really.

When he realizes he forces himself to get up, he hasn't missed a day of visiting his sleeping friend and he wasn't gonna start now. He exits his room and pushes his cursed locks out of his face nervously. He was always nervous to what he would find when he'd go visit. He turns towards the stairs and begins walking when he hears a voice crack through the silence from behind him.

"Hey Wil. What's with the sad heart song?"

His heart nearly explodes from hearing that voice. Hearing that nickname again after so long. He looks to it's source to see Dark standing near his room. His suit almost ingulfing his frame from lack of body mass. His hair had grown too, of course. It wasn't quite the lumberjack look he remembers, but he loved his messy hair. He rubs his eyes to make sure he isn't seeing things again, and smiles to the point where his jaw hurts.

His friend was finally awake. His wishes have finally come true, after so long.

He runs over and pulls him into a tight hug, almost clinging to him. He nuzzles his face into Dark's hair and breathes in his scent, trying to resist the urge to plant kisses all over his pretty face. He never wants to let him go again.

"Darky! You're finally awake after all this time! I've missed you terribly, old friend." he says, shoving his face into his neck and beginning to cry when Dark wraps his arms around him. A hug. He finally gets to hug him again. He hopes to have more now than he did before all this mess.

"Uh yeah, I am. Nothing to cry over Wil."

Nothing to CRY over?!

"You were in a coma for a whole year Dark! I didn't know what to do with myself, I-I didn't know if you were gonna die! I even tried healing you, but nothing w-worked!" He babbles. He was almost angry with the other man now. Here Wilford was, grieving for him for a whole YEAR and Dark comes back and acts like it's no big deal! Does he really think so little of himself?

But then Dark pulls him back into a hug, and then runs his fingers through his hair he melts. He loves having his hair played with. It felt really good, but he feels giddier knowing that it was Dark, the man who hates touch with a passion, playing with it. He relaxes in the other man's grip against him and sighs softly. It was just them now, in their little bubble, everything could go back to normal.

They could be the dynamic duo again.

Wilford chuckles after a while, but it was a sad one, "If I had known that you'd wake up today I would've thrown you a giant party."

Dark smiles, biting his lip. He does that when he's bashful, which was rare nowadays, but damn was it still pretty. "While the thought of that means a lot, you know I don't really care for parties with all the others there."

Wilford's smile drops when he brings up the others. He sighs, not looking forward to seeing the disappointment in Dark's eyes when he finds out about his latest fuck up. "Others? Oh...the others. Dark the others aren't living here anymore. It's just me, the Doc and Bing roaming around. I tried to be a good leader like you, but I fucked up real bad. I'm a fuck up." He closes his eyes and looks away from him, tears threatening to fall again. But Dark's arms don't move to push him away, they only bring him closer.

After a while, Dark speaks up again, "Why are you singing?"

"Singing? I'm not singing. Dark you know I'm more of a dancer."

"But, you were just singing! Like, right now. Some song about talking to someone about feelings." he says. Wilford stares at him for a moment, clearly confused a bit, before giggling.

Of course, Dark must've heard him singing while he was in the coma.

"Oh Dark, just as silly as always! But thanks for the odd way of cheering me up, ol' chap!" He chuckles and turns to go back down the stairs, before turning back to him and holding out his hand, "You must be famished though. Come with me and I'll make you some dinner."

Dark stares at him, before slowly accepting his hand and following him, and Wilford can't help but entwine their fingers together. If Dark notices, he doesn't bring it up. If anything, Wilford almost swears that he runs his thumb over the back of his hand absentmindedly. He smiles to himself at the thought.

*****************************

They sit in the kitchen together, talking and laughing. Soaking in each other's company like a sponge It was really late, but neither of them wanted to go to bed right now. Turns out Dark was actually really hungry, eating everything Wilford put in front of him. He sits across from him, watching with an amused smirk. His best friend, who was always orderly, literally shoving food in his mouth like he was a child again. He didn't know why it was cute, and his hand itches to hold the other's again.

Dark notices him staring, "I know my manners are lacking right now Wil-"

"Shush up and eat your goddamn food" He jests, breaking out into giggles, "Manners be damned right now, they don't exist when my cooking skills come into play."

Dark fucking giggles at that and feels like a breath of fresh air after feeling trapped underwater for so long.

He couldn't help it anymore, needing to touch him again. He gets up and wraps his arms around the sitting man's shoulders, resting his chin on top of his head. Dark freezes a bit before leaning his own head against Wilford's bicep, bringing one hand to grasp his elbow and the other to curl around his shoulder, clinging to him. Wilford sighs softly as he rocks them both gently, neither wanting to pull away from the other. He takes a chance, placing a small kiss to Dark's head, expecting him to start yelling. But Dark didn't notice, or he just didn't react.

He smiles, fingers curling through Dark's thick locks, causing Dark to lose any tension in his body he had left.

It finally felt like home again.

#darkstache #darkstache fanfiction #Darkiplier's Extraordinary Playlist.#Kiss From a Rose

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kyogre-blue · 5 years ago

Text

Nanowrimo, day 21 (wc 3101)

A group of servants in the orderly uniforms of waiters snaked their way up the back stairs, each holding some plate or dish in careful hands. Sinbad, alone holding nothing, followed silently behind them, watching everything with interest.

Of the floors used for seating customers, the seventh was the highest, and their procession had to nimbly dodge other, smaller teams going in and out of lower floors several times. There was not a single clink from the dishes, and the surface of the soup didn’t even sway. It was a truly impressive show of skill.

The seventh floor was comprised of one dining room that could host a small party if necessary. This evening, it contained only one table, set for one. The single place was taken by an older man with long pale hair and neatly trimmed goatee. A pair of guards stood motionless in the shadows nearby.

A very important guest. His clothing and jewelry were certainly of high quality, but Sinbad couldn’t guess much else about him. Although the style was perhaps… Balbadd?

Setting out the first course, the servers quickly retreated. Taking a deep breath and putting on a smile, Sinbad stepped forward.

“Greetings to our esteemed guest,” he said and, when the man’s gaze moved to him, sketched a shallow bow. “I am Sinbad, the proprietor of the Sindria Trading Company. I was told you wished to speak with me?”

The man’s fine eyebrows rose in surprise, but at the same time, his gaze sharpened. “I see…” he said slowly. “I had heard from the union that you are quite young, but I did not realize it was to this extent. Very well, come join me.”

A waiter who had lingered silently stepped forward to set another place for him and even silently slid in his chair. However, Sinbad quickly waved him away before he could try to add anything to his plate or request the kitchen for another set of dishes.

“You are a member of the trade union?” Sinbad asked, studying the man across from him.

“Indeed. Forgive the belated introduction -- I am Harun, a merchant,” the man said.

This kind of introduction was an impressive case of less being more. A member of the trade union was certainly ‘a merchant’, but every member of the union was at the very least a merchant of great renown. To further provoke that kind of response from Madam Octavia, ‘Harun’ doubtlessly had some other identity as well. There were a number of merchants from or based in Balbadd on the member list...

But if he wasn’t going to reveal it, Sinbad certainly wouldn’t ask. He had gotten plenty of practice when it came to letting others keep their secrets, with Alibaba.

Instead, the relevant part was that he was from the trade union.

They had theorized that the trade union would make some move of their own. The prospect of trade with Imuchakk was simply too appealing. But now that Harun had arrived, the question was what kind of move it was.

Attempts to snatch away Sindria’s exclusive trading rights could most likely be discounted, given the potential threat of angering Rametoto and making him close down the border again. But something like trying to force Sindria into the subsidiary position they’d discussed was possible.

The best scenario, of course, was some method of obtaining a member’s recommendation letter.

Sinbad smiled. “It’s an honor to make your acquaintance, Sir Harun.”

“What an interesting spread,” Harun said, turning his attention to the dishes set in front of him. “I’ve always wished to establish trade ties with Imuchakk, but their hero leader, Rametoto, ignored every missive I sent. I wonder how you accomplished it.”

“Oh, it’s quite a story,” Sinbad said, his smile widening. “But... it’s something I haven’t shared with anyone except my friends.”

“Friends, is it...” Harun murmured, tapping lightly at the soup bowl and lifting up a spoonful. He sipped it slowly, savoring the taste. He obviously understood Sinbad’s meaning, but to acknowledge it so easily would have seemed too eager.

“I’ve been fortunate to have many friends who support me on my journey,” Sinbad said. “Friends who have watched over me from the start, friends I met along the way, friends who were first my opponents but acknowledged my dream... All of them helped bring me where I am now. And to continue on my path, I would like to make friends here in Reim, in the world of merchants as well.”

Harun smiled, setting down his spoon next to the empty soup bowl. He was going to make Sinbad say it, but that was alright. After all, Sinbad was the junior and the one who needed something. He had learned enough to know when to be circumspect.

“Sir Harun,” Sinbad said, “why don’t we become friends?”

Shaking his head, Harun chuckled quietly. “Friends, with a child half my age? It should be obvious that it’s not possible.”

However, that was not a refusal.

“What’s impossible about it?” Sinbad wondered, spreading his hands. “Is the joy of traveling the world not in meeting and becoming friends with people across many lands and cultures? Hearing their stories of things you couldn’t have imagined before? So why don’t we trade stories? My story of warriors and heroes in Imuchakk for your story of Napolia’s great merchants?”

“Warriors and heroes… it sounds fascinating indeed,” Harun murmured. For a moment, his expression was unreadable as he weighed the thoughts in his mind. Then, finally, he smiled. “Very well. It would be splendid to have a tale to go with this exquisite meal.”

Sinbad smiled. Here, again, was just the opening he needed.

~.~

Despite Harun’s words, the tale was perhaps not a good match for the meal. It was simply too fascinating, leaving him too distracted to notice the taste of the food or even often forgetting to continue eating. It was a waste of a fine meal, but it couldn’t be helped. The things Sinbad spoke of were simply too incredible.

He started his story from running into Hinahoho and the rampaging unicorn, omitting Partevia and the fact that Imuchakk had been their destination to begin with. It wouldn’t hurt to keep a few cards in his hand.

It was a story that worked well enough on its own -- encountering Hinahoho and Pipirika, killing the rampaging unicorn, being allowed into Imuchakk as their guest, and then…

“Have you heard of dungeons?” Sinbad asked.

Most likely without even realizing it, Harun leaned forward with interest. “The mysterious buildings that have begun appearing over the world? The first was on the border between Partevia and Reim, wasn’t it? Ten thousand soldiers disappeared into it, but it’s rumored that a young boy was the one to conquer it and gain a great power.”

“The rumors have really spread,” Sinbad noted. “I would have expected the Partevian government to try and keep what happened a secret or claim the credit for it.”

“I’m sure they tried, but it’s the kind of story that fascinates anyone who hears it. Great structures, just appearing like that? There is no such magic in the modern age. The ordinary soldiers, the servants -- all of them would have gossiped about it to their friends and families. Still, I can’t guess how much of it is true and how much is exaggerated,” Harun said. “Besides, there are legends.”

“Legends?”

“Of dungeons, long ago,” Harun said. “In many countries around the world, there are legends about a magic tower or a grand palace appearing by magic, and a hero venturing inside to gain divine power. On the eastern plateau, on the Aktia peninsula, back when it was unified, even here in Reim. They say the great general, Pernadius Alexius, was guided to a palace where he obtained the power of a great spirit, and that was how he led Reim into its age of great prosperity, two hundred years ago.”

So it was like that.

Sinbad had somewhat guessed it was like that, after meeting Alibaba, who conquered a dungeon in a faraway place that Sinbad hadn’t even heard of.

The world was vast. Even something momentous could easily become lost on the roads between nations. So most likely, Baal’s dungeon had been another in a long line of legends like it.

But at the very least, there had been no other dungeon conquerors in Partevia, or Reim, or Balbadd. And dungeons appearing everywhere all of a sudden were something strange and new.

Something was changing in the flow.

Nodding, Sinbad continued his story. “A dungeon appeared in Imuchakk,” he said, smiling as Harun clapped a hand against his leg.

“I thought so,” the merchant murmured to himself, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “And? Did you… go inside?”

Sinbad laughed. “That’s right! But it wasn’t just me…”

There were certain things he needed to leave out -- the Partevian group having been sent after him specifically, and also Alibaba’s involvement. He still didn’t know what his friend intended to do with his djinn’s power, so he would keep quiet for now.

Even without those details, Harun listened with rapt attention.

The mysterious dungeon scenery, the confrontation with assassins and magic, Hinahoho coming to the rescue, the Tran puzzle, and finally the treasure room, Valefor, and his test.

“So that’s why!” Harun exclaimed. “Chief Rametoto acknowledged you because of the djinn’s power! I see, I see. After all, the Imuchakk have always respected strength.”

His face was flushed with both emotion and drink, animated and lively. His earlier cool, detached manner had gradually worn away as the evening flew by. It was already late into the night, even Napolia’s lights beginning to scatter and sleep as the townspeople ended their day, but the staff did not disturb them, only silently and unobtrusively refilling their cups. The breeze coming from the open windows was pleasantly cool.

Even knowing every twist and turn of the story, Sinbad had to admit he’d also gotten riled up. He was the kind of person who didn’t feel any pressure from having the eyes of others on him. Instead, it only gave him more energy as he instinctively moved to pull them along in his wake.

Telling his own story to a willing audience was… pretty fun.

But now that they had more or less reached the end of the tale, Sinbad recalled that there had been a purpose to it. His excitement and heart rate calmed, replaced by a different, cooler determination.

“That was certainly part of it,” he replied. “But it wasn’t just claiming Valefor’s power that convinced Chief Rametoto. It was also because he chose to bet on my dream.”

“Your dream?” Lacing his hands together, Harun leaned forward.

It was still too early for Sinbad to try pulling anything over on him. Since Harun’s reasons for coming had not been malicious to begin with and his view of Sinbad was at least somewhat positive, he didn’t resist the direction of the conversation, but he didn’t miss the hook either. Smiling, he felt that the still slightly immature efforts of the boy in front of him were somewhat charming.

“My dream -- the reason I obtained the power of a djinn,” Sinbad confirmed grandly. “I will change the world.”

The proclamation was so over the top that it should have provoked only laughter, and in any other situation Harun might well have laughed, though perhaps kindly, trying to keep a young boy’s feelings in mind.

But the look in Sinbad’s eyes was too piercing and unrelenting, without a trace of youthful naivete. There was a mysterious power behind him, making it seem as if he really could control the path of the entire world.

Letting out a low breath, Harun sat back and studied Sinbad. “That’s quite a dream.”

“Is it strange?” Sinbad wondered. “Sir Harun, you’ve traveled widely. Surely you’ve seen it as well -- the irrationality of this world. Wars without meaning claiming countless lives. Hunger and poverty devouring the people while the nobles gouge themselves. The struggle of anyone who wishes to change their circumstances. Being left without home or family or any means to survive. No matter where you are, these things exist.”

In truth, Sinbad hadn’t been sure whether a wealthy merchant would have ever considered these things ‘injustice’ the way Sinbad’s group did. After all, they were all outcasts in some way. But he had a feeling.

Harun’s expression dimmed, his eyes growing distant as he recalled something.

“...Indeed. These things are inescapable,” he said. “No matter how prosperous the nation, no matter if the king exerts every effort...”

Even Balbadd, as lively and full of opportunity as it was, had slums where people lived no better than the starving peasants in Partevia’s countryside.

“There are always those who suffer,” Sinbad agreed. “And, worse, they have no recourse and nowhere to turn. They have no hope of change. That is... the most crushing. That is why the first thing I want to do is create a place for them. Anyone who has nowhere else, I want to bring them together.”

“In your company?” Harun’s expression was unreadable, but... not dismissive or rejecting.

“In a country,” Sinbad corrected. “My country, the country I will create with the power of a djinn.”

Several strong, complex emotions passed over the other man’s face. His lips thinned, showing real displeasure for the first time. But Sinbad had come too far to retreat -- and he refused to, anyway. Not on this, his grand dream.

“Those that receive a djinn’s power are called king vessels. And to employ the full power of a king, a country is necessary,” he pressed on. “To give people a place they can feel safe and build their lives without fear, a country is necessary. To have the influence necessary to change the world, a country is necessary. That is why I will create a country!”

Drawing a sharp breath, Harun raised his head and glared. It was an expression unsuited to him, but it carried a surprising degree of cutting menace, enough that Sinbad had to fight down an instinctive cringe.

“Do you think creating a country is something so simple?” Harun said sharply. Gritting his teeth, he shook his head. “The weight of ruling alone is more than an ordinary man can withstand, and you want to create a new kingdom without even the foundations of ancestors to fall back on? You truly are... still too immature.”

With each word, his voice and his face became colder and colder, and the distance between them seemed to grow.

He was being looked down on.

Even so, Sinbad smiled.

“That’s true,” he agreed. Sometimes, to strike back when attacked would give no benefit at all. “There are still too many things I lack. That’s why, right now, I can only create a company. But when Sindria’s name is known across the world, it will become the foundation of my dream!”

Harun’s gaze bore into him for a long moment, but the older man was the first to finally look away. Sighing heavily, he closed his eyes.

“How foolish...” he murmured.

Unlike Rametoto, he did not believe in Sinbad so easily. However, he had not walked away either. The opportunity Sinbad sensed was still there. All he needed to do...

“Then, why don’t I prove it to you?”

...was seize it.

“Oh?” Harun looked up. Whatever he saw in Sinbad’s calm, unwavering smile made his eyes narrow and, unexpectedly, he smiled back, thin and tight. “Indeed, why not?”

Sinbad opened his mouth, ready to set the terms already forming in his mind, but the initiative was taken from him.

“I will be traveling to Remano for diplomatic negotiations, lasting for about a month,” Harun said. “If you are so determined on this path... then make your Sindria known to everyone in Napolia while I am away. If the first thing I hear when I return is Sindria’s name, I will write you the recommendation letter.” He paused and chuckled dryly. “No... I may even become your ‘friend’.”

He stood, hid demeanor and posture upright and graceful, completely different from anyone Sinbad had ever seen. A merchant going to diplomatic negotiations...

Sinbad laughed. “What are you saying, Sir Harun? Didn’t we share stories and talk about our dreams? Aren’t we already friends?”

He was rewarded with a twitch of Harun’s lips, the somber distance in his manner fading slightly.

“And since we’re friends, perhaps Sir Harun could do me a favor,” Sinbad went on blithely. “If you are going to Remano...”

~.~

“You didn’t have to, you know,” Alibaba said, as the two of them made their way toward Napolia’s northern gate. The wide paved street was bustling with not only people, but also a large number of carriages and wagons, carrying passengers and goods in and out of the city.

The open space in front of the gate was where Sinbad had arranged to meet with Harun, before the older man departed toward the capital.

“I think I did,” Sinbad said distractedly, looking around in search of his merchant ‘friend’ or his guards. “I can’t explain it, but I just have this feeling that, if I let you go by yourself, you’ll end up naked and without a copper to your name before you reach Remano. And my instincts are always right.”

Alibaba choked, glaring at him in disbelief. “Wh-what is that supposed to mean? When did I ever... What kind of impression do you have of me?!” he protested. “Sin, you--!”

“Oh, there he is!” Sinbad cut him off. Grinning widely, he waved to the small entourage gathered next to a surprisingly nondescript carriage. It seemed that, even when traveling, Harun was determined to be secretive about his identity.

“Sin! What are you... you...”

Strangely, Alibaba trailed off as he caught sight of Harun and his guards. His face paled and he pointed a shaking finger toward them.

“Good morning, young Sinbad,” Harun greeted him mildly. “And this is your friend?”

“That’s right. He’s headed to Remano too. Thank you for agreeing to take him,” Sinbad said. “I’ll feel much better knowing that he’s with--”

“Your Majesty!” Alibaba burst out, cupping his hands and dropping to one knee.

Harun’s eyebrows twitched.

“Ah?” Sinbad made a sound of surprise. “Ah...? Your... Your Majesty?”

The ship at the docks, bearing a flag and a coat of arms. Diplomatic negotiations. The list of trade union members, including...

The 22nd king of Balbadd, Rashid Saluja.

Who sometimes went by the alias ‘Harun’ -- and currently failed to stifle a snicker at the sight of Sinbad’s gaping face.

#nanowrimo #My writing

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connorssock · 6 years ago

Text

To Hear You Smile

Making dumb decision was a right of passage growing up. And it was something that Gavin took to the extremes. He was young, angry and stupid, wanting any kind of relief from life in general. Temporary solace came in the form of Red Ice. It blurred the pain of a broken family, of not meeting expectations at school, of being repeatedly told he will amount to nothing. At least when he was high, none of those mattered.

Of course, it was only a short term relief, all too soon money problems caught up with him, he was kicked out of his family home and Gavin wondered the streets aimlessly. Cold nights under bridges or huddled in doorways weren’t his idea of a good time and even being high wasn’t enough to chase away the pangs of hunger. There wasn’t much left in the world for him, he’d wasted his potential and now nobody would even throw him a stick to help keep afloat. In a black spiral, the only thing that made sense was to go out with a bang, one final high so great, he’d slip from the world with a smile on his face at least.

Pooling all his money into buying as much Red Ice as he could, he found a quiet alley and got comfortable. He sighed as the drugs flooded his system and let himself drift.

His plan didn’t include waking up in hospital, with a multitude of wires and tubes surrounding him. But that was where he’d found himself, with a couple of very sympathetic nurses. Gavin couldn’t tell them why he’d done it, not without the worry of being locked up or, even worse, being sent back home. And he definitely didn’t want the pitying looks people would send his way. Despite it all, he still got them when nobody showed up at visiting hours, even after his family had been notified.

Medical professionals tutted over him, gave him a rundown of just how much he’d fucked himself over. There was something about blood pressure, intracranial pressure complications and lifelong management - there was something about avoiding all manner of caffeine in there. In all honesty, Gavin didn’t pay much attention to it, he didn’t feel like he’d have to worry about things like that for too long. As soon as he was out, he was only going to do it again because there was no way he could repay the hospital bills. He hadn’t asked to be saved anyway.

At least, that had been his plan. But one of the orderlies, an utterly no nonsense woman took one look at him and decided that he was worth her effort. She knew when he was due to be discharged, blood pressure pills prescribed at such a tender age and with no hope of ever coming off them. Whatever she saw in him, he was grateful to her years later.

She’d helped him get a job as a welder’s apprentice. It didn’t pay much but his boss let him sleep in the back office until he found his feet. All in all, it was a pretty sweet deal, the couch was a pullout bed, there was a small kitchen area for employees to use at lunchtime which he used in the evenings to boil noodles. And each day, his boss’ wife would send him a packed lunch to brighten his day.

Years sped by and by the time Gavin was 30 he was assistant manager. By 35 he was co-owner of the small firm and once his boss retired, it would become his. Things were so much better than he could imagine. While he wasn’t the most popular guy around, he was respected and acknowledged as pretty damn decent at his job.

Sometimes he wondered whether he was a little bit of an outcast because he didn’t huddle over a mug of coffee each morning - not even a decaf one. Since his time in the hospital, he’d read up on what he could about how badly he’d fucked up. And he swore to never put his body through something like that again. Getting clean once had been difficult enough.

It was a little bit of a surprise when Chris and Tina invited him on a night out. While it wasn’t usually his scene, the temptation to go and have fun with two people who actually seemed to like him was too strong. One or two drinks wouldn’t hurt him.

The bar they were at wasn’t too crowded, the company was good and Gavin was staring at the last dredges of his second beer. Owing to the fact he didn’t often actually drink, he was a bit more than merry as he watched Tina toddle off towards the bar. When she came back, she was proudly brandishing a tray with six glasses on them.

“Jäger Bombs,” she declared and Gavin watched her drop the shot glass into the tumbler and down it.

Chris looked at Gavin and shrugged. They each reached for the glasses and mimicked Tina. The drink burned on the way down along with the sickly sweet fizzy drink that Gavin had assumed as apple juice. It was nice, but he doubted he’d choose to pay for such a drink again.

They sat around and laughed about work but something felt off. Gavin couldn’t stop the trembling of his hands, he felt wired and his heart beat wildly in his chest. The pounding headache echoed each thump and he needed fresh air. Something was wrong. He stood up as his vision swam, wanted to get Chris to help him get out, maybe get help. Gavin remembered reaching for Chris’ shoulder but nothing after that.

The sound of machines beeping was eerily familiar. Gavin tried to open his eyes but darkness greeted him. The smell of antiseptic and cheap detergent flooded his nose and his heart sank. Whatever had happened, he was in hospital again.

There was a noise to his left and he turned to look despite it being so dark.

“Relax,” an unfamiliar voice soothed him, “you’re at the hospital. A doctor will be by soon to talk to you.”

Sure enough, there was the sound of footsteps, someone sighing as they sat down.

“Sorry to pull you out of bed in the middle of the night,” Gavin tried to smile, “but you can turn the light on, I promise I’m not a gremlin.”

“Mister Reed, the time is 3:14 in the afternoon, currently you are blind due to pressure on your optic nerves and it may take as long as several months before you will be able to see again.”

What followed was worse than his first time in hospital. Thankfully this time round though there were people to visit him. Tina and Chris were first through his door, falling over each other to apologise, saying they didn’t realise he avoided caffeine for such reasons. Privately, Gavin thought that while he didn’t make a song and dance about it, the fact he avoided not just tea and coffee, but also chocolate and anything else that might have caffeine in it. But it wasn’t important now, the damage had already been done, and really it had started with his first hit of Red Ice.

Because of worries over his health and a need to monitor his wellbeing, Gavin was given a room at the hospital to live in for as long as it took to get better. He was grateful that his insurance covered it, that was one less thing to worry about. But being blind and in hospital was boring. If he listened to the TV or the radio, he was easily startled when a nurse touched his arm to get his attention. Without something to listen to, he was bored out of his mind and wished someone would visit him for even give minutes.

Sleep became his friend, it helped pass time quicker and stopped his mind from whirling round and round over nothing. He’d settled down for his second nap of the day when the sound of clacking claws drew his attention. It approached his open door and Gavin scrunched up his face as he tried to figure out what he was hearing.

“Knock knock,” a gruff voice announced himself.

“Who is it?” Gavin pushed to sit up.

“I’m Hank, and with me I have Sumo. We come once a week to visit people stuck in this dreary old place to cheer them up with a cuddle.”

“No offence but I don’t cuddle strangers. Especially not when I can’t even see.”

The laugh he got in return was good-natured at least.

“Sumo is a Saint Bernard. A huge, fat and fluffy monstrosity who would sell me if it meant even a single second more of cuddling. Stick your left hand out, lower, that’s it. He’s going to touch your palm with his nose and then probably lick it for good measure.”

True to his words, something cold and wet nudged Gavin’s palm before a warm, wet tongue ran over it. Before Gavin could say anything, the bed dipped and a fuzzy body snuggled against his side with happy panting. If he wasn’t mistaken, a tail thumped furiously against his leg.

Despite his misgivings, having the giant dog to cuddle did lighten Gavin’s mood. And even exchanging a few pleasantries with Hank was fun. It came to an abrupt end when there was another knock on Gavin’s door.

“Mr. Reed?” a tentative voice asked.

“Call me Gavin, whoever you are,” Gavin replied.

Next to him, Sumo let out a happy little huff and jumped off the bed to greet the newcomer.

“Hello Sumo, hello Hank.”

“Connor.” If Gavin wasn’t mistaken, Hank sounded flustered and he grinned at the soap opera-esque ideas forming in his mind.

It turned out that Connor was there to help with things like reading out letters, helping manage finances and the like. He was softly spoken, gentle and it irked Gavin somehow.

Over the course of the weeks, both Hank’s and Connor’s presence became something to look forward to. Especially when they overlapped because Hank would always fumble his words in such an endearing way that Gavin had started to root for them.

“Why don’t you ask Connor out?” Gavin asked him casually while Sumo licked his fingers.

“Have you seen him?” Hank asked.

“No,” Gavin was quick to reply and laughed. “Nor you. But given how your dog is large, overweight and scraggly, I would guess you’re much the same. Terrifying to meet at first but an utter pushover and a softie at heart.”

“Thanks,” came the gruff grumble.

“In all seriousness though, just pull up some courage. I think he likes you too.”

They sat in silence for a bit until a knock sounded on Gavin’s door.

“Gavin,” Connor said, except it didn’t quite sound like him. Even Sumo seemed hesitant to greet him.

Quickly, Hank left with a muttered goodbye and it was just Connor and Gavin left in the room.

“You okay?” Gavin asked, genuinely curious.

“I am optimal.”

That afternoon, reading through the correspondence was sharper, there were fewer moments when Connor stopped and he didn’t chat to Gavin like he usually would. All in all, it was terribly out of character. Still, Gavin appreciated the change, he liked Connor but he was usually too soft and cheery for his taste.

It went on like that, most of the time Connor was his usual self but some days, he went in a totally different person. On those days, even Hank seemed a little taken aback, though at least he’d finally managed to ask Connor out for a drink.

“How was your date?” Gavin asked when Connor announced himself coldly at his door.

There was a beat of silence before Connor replied.

“It was adequate.”

That wasn’t the response Gavin had been hoping for. Usually, even on a quieter day, he could get Connor to sing Hank’s praise and enthuse about the man and his dog.

“Holy shit,” he whistled as he realised something, “you’re not Connor.”

Silence stretched in the room and nobody moved.

“I’m afraid you’re rather mistaken,” Connor tried to explain.

“Cut the crap. Who are you and what have you done with Connor?” Gavin snapped and there was a sigh as someone sat in the visitor’s chair.

“Promise you won’t tell anyone else?”

“Hand on heart,” Gavin nodded wish a Cheshire grin.

“You may call me Nines, I am Connor’s twin.”

“No shit. You went full on Parent Trap, didn’t you?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean by that,” Nines replied. “Connor is very busy with his work, his night classes take their toll. But for the course, he needs to do some voluntary work too. On days he’s swamped, I take over and cover here at the hospital. Nobody knows and I’d appreciate it if it stayed that way.”

Gavin nodded and pretended to zip his lips shut before throwing away the key.

Now that the secret was out, it became easier to talk to them. Connor was still sweet and absolutely head over heels for Hank while Nines’ sharp wit and barbs had Gavin snickering delightedly. He wasn’t going to lie, even before he’d know about the double act Nines and Connor pulled, he’d enjoyed Nines’ company more than Connor’s. To the point he’d felt a little bad when Hank and Connor seemed to happily in love because part of him wanted the snarky side of Connor for himself.

“Does Hank know?” Gavin asked Connor one day.

“He has met Nines, yes,” the reply was brushed off as Connor returned to reading him something about pension plans from work.

The topic didn’t come up again but Gavin was content. His vision gradually lightened, soon shapes bobbed around that started to look humanoid. Part of him was elated that he was going to be getting out of hospital so soon, but he didn’t want to lose Nines. Or even Hank or Connor for that matter.

They cheered with him when he could finally look at their outlines rather than stare over their shoulder by accident. Hank clapped him on the shoulder while Connor waxed lyrical about how wonderful it was. Still, it was Nines’ “about fucking time” that had him the happiest.

It was only fitting that Gavin’s vision was coming back rapidly once it began to improve. In the week since he’d had Hank visit, colours had bled back into his life and people’s faces were becoming clearer each day.

A knock in his door sounded before it opened and a tall, imposing man strode through.

“Hello Gavin,” Nines’ voice was unmistakable.

“Holy shit you are gorgeous,” Gavin laughed. “Don’t get me wrong, you sound amazing but you look even better.”

Nines didn’t even blush at the compliment. Instead, he pulled the letters from Gavin’s bedside table and sat down with them.

“I guess you don’t need me to help with these anymore?”

Gavin ruefully shook his head. He didn’t expect Nines to look up at him with a smile and a terse “good”. A number was scribbled on an envelope and Nines spent the allocated hour insulting him while Gavin gave as good as he got.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise to bump into Hank just as he was preparing to leave the hospital. The man had Sumo in his harness, an ID tag dangled from it. What was even more surprising was that Connor was with him, holding onto his arm with a small smile.

Gavin wasn’t going to lie, he did do a double take, thinking it was Nines on Hank’s arm. But a second look and he snorted. How nobody else noticed that the two of them were switching places as it suited them, he’d never know. To him, they looked and sounded so different. After a quick exchange of pleasantries, Gavin strolled out of the building and smiled at the sunlight for the first time in a long while.

A figure pushed away from the bench next to the door and greeted him with a sharp smile before swooping down for a kiss. Though Gavin still wasn’t allowed to drive, Nines was more than happy to help him with that in an official boyfriend capacity.

#reed900 #hankcon #hannor #dbh: gavin #dbh: rk900 #dbh: hank #dbh: connor #dbh: sumo #human au #cw: drug use #cw: suicide attempt #cw: temporary blindness #cw: hospitalisation

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mister-lucky-bunny · 6 years ago

Text

Scooby Doo: Monster Menagerie Chpt. 10

Description: Shaggy and the gang meet up with Colonel Calloway to schedule the volleyball tournament.

Dusk was coming to a close, which would soon welcome the dark night sky, the moon barely visible beyond a thick sea of clouds above. During this time, any occupants of either school that sat next to each other would be inside, keeping to themselves with dinner, studies, or any other interests. In the military school, Colonel Calloway would be studying over his calender. Unsurprisingly, each day would be completely filled with his neat, yet tiny, writing. Black, red, and blue ink would be used for reasons only he knew, for different situations.

Currently, he was searching ahead a month, looking for any open positions that he may schedule the annual volleyball tournament between the two schools. In his opinion, volleyball was a little bit... dated. Especially since the students who took part in it were now much older, and probably didn't have as keen of a liking to the sport. However, it was also tradition, and he himself didn't like to stray too far from the usual. After all, as a headmaster of a military school, it was his job to keep everything as orderly as possible.

His finger carefully moved from day to day, thinking to himself about which day could work best. After a couple of minutes, he reached towards a pen, resting on his desk, and began to write neatly into the box. Exactly one month from today, the day before Halloween. It would work perfectly. After placing his pen down and stepping back from his desk, he moved over to his door, lifting his hat and jacket off of the rack before him and putting them on. The Colonel began his walk towards the old mansion of a private school.

The man kept an even, brisk pace, standing up straight and looking professional. Despite having a plain, thoughtful look on his face, his brain kept going, as it often was. Calloway knew that it wouldn't exactly be enjoyable to visit the school, though not because of the school itself. He was quite used to the odd exterior (and interior, for that matter). Instead, he knew that the monster students inside would not be happy to see him. He was thankful that he did not have to teach physical education to them anymore, but that just lead to another question that he began to ask himself. Who was teaching them? That question never left his head, though due to the fact that he was already quite a busy man, he never bothered to look for himself.

Now that he had a perfect opportunity, though, he would finally get his answer. As the Colonel crossed the border between his school and Miss Grimwood's, his movement slowed to a halt, an eyebrow perking at the vehicle parked nearby. He remembered that the only other coach he could remember seeing there drove a red van. The van parked here, however, was a strange clash of bright green, robin's egg blue, and orange. A very... retro hippie feel to it. The name on the side of it was also brought to his attention, his eyes thoroughly scanning over it. 'Mystery Machine'? For some reason, the name was somewhat familiar. Where had he heard it before? Radio or newspaper, most likely.

The Colonel shrugged to himself and sighed gently, turning his attention back to the school. If it was the same guy, maybe he touched up his van with a new coat of paint? Or maybe it was a new van altogether. Maybe, he secretly hoped, it was a new coach as well.

After moving across the drawbridge, he reached the front door, rapping his knuckles against the door before waiting patiently. Eventually, the door would open, revealing the strange octopus butler. If it were anyone else, they probably would have been weirded out by such a sight. However, Colonel Calloway was used to the cephalopod butler, and merely greeted with him with a tip of his cap. Soon enough, the octo-butler gave a small bow of it's own, stepping to the side and allowing the Colonel in. Time to get down to business...

___________________________________

Despite Shaggy ultimately being okay after the odd incident with him fainting for no apparent reason, the news would still come as a shock to the others once they finally returned from the crime scene. The fact that Phanty seemed so nonchalant when she brought up the fact to them didn't do anything to soften the blow. It wouldn't take long before the rest of the gang swamped around the lanky man, regardless of how many times he told them he was fine.

After the fifth examination from Velma, Shaggy waved them off, beginning to feel a bit overwhelmed. "Like, c'mon guys! I've already been looked over plenty of times! Nothing is wrong!" He insisted, sitting at the dining table with everyone else, Velma having just stepped away from checking his head.

"There aren't any injuries, that's for sure," Velma said, sitting beside of him, looking over him in a thoughtful manner. "Still, it's awfully strange how you just fell over so suddenly like that."

"Maybe you're just a little overworked, Shag," Freddie suggested. "I don't imagine being a coach is all that easy."

"That's probably it," Elsa interjected. "If it's been awhile since you've done any actual teaching, Coach, it's safe to say that your body is trying to get used to it again."

The lanky man scratched his head, thinking a little bit. He didn't feel worse for wear when that happened, but he also didn't want to worry his friends any more than he already had. With a small grin and a weary laugh, he nodded. "Like, that's probably it. Having a class before dinner probably distracted me or something."

Despite a small wave of laughter among everyone, there were still a couple of people who were worried, though kept it secret. If Shaggy looked and felt okay, then there was no reason to worry right? It was still concerning because no one knew why. Googie, with a raised eyebrow, turned to the detective, who sat across from her, eyeing the other man over some. "What do you think, detective?" She asked in a quiet, worried tone.

He remained quiet for a bit, not looking at her. After a few seconds, his grin flashed and he merely shrugged, turning to her. "It might just be exhaustion, like they said. I'm not a doctor, so unless he's dead, I wouldn't have a clue," He chuckled. That statement did little to make her feel better. With an uneasy glance back towards Shaggy, she sighed and fixed her hair idly with one hand. Nothing to fret about for now, at least.

During their dinner of some sort of quiche, Sibella had decided to speak up about a topic that Shaggy had not elaborated on. "So, Coach, if it's no trouble, could you please tell us how you, Scooby, and Googie met my Father?" Shaggy glanced upwards in the middle of his bite, first looking to the imploring vampire and then to Googie, who was looking at him back. Scooby was also looking to her for affirmation, which she gave with a small nod, mixed with a shrug. The rest of Mystery Incorporated had already heard the story, but they tensed up, wondering how she'd react. The detective looked their way, an eyebrow raised. It was obvious he was interested in hearing the story as well.

The other ghouls were very intrigued by this development too. Phantasma, not wanting to turn down a free opportunity for a free story, perked right up, eyes glued to her coach as she rested her chin in her hands, waiting eagerly. Winnie also perked up, becoming curious. "Hey, yeah! What happened between you and Bella's dad?" She'd ask, her words slightly muffled due to the fact she was eating with her mouth full.

Everyone was soon watching him, silently urging for the story. Even Miss Grimwood looked expectantly to the coach, a small, knowing smirk forming on her face. 'Like, does she know? Or does she just like watching me react under pressure or something?' Shaggy found himself asking to himself. After setting down his fork, Shaggy cleared his throat. "Well, uh... like, here's how Scooby, Scrappy, Googie, and I met the Count..."

The next few minutes would be Shaggy retelling the story of how he became a werewolf, with Googie adding in some points from her perspective, with Scooby concurring. Just like before, reactions were somewhat mixed, though from the ghouls' side, the most palpable emotion would be anger. Especially from Sibella, who's facial expression barely changed. While she did listen with interest, her somewhat curious look became more unreadable and stone-faced. With how badly her hand was shaking, though, it was clear to say that she was not pleased. She made sure to put her dining utensils down, hiding her growing fury. The anger from a vampire was so feasible, you could cut it with a knife. Winnie, who was much less subtle, looked less than pleased by this. On one hand, Shaggy had been a werewolf. On the other, it was against his will. And for what? A dumb road race for monsters? If she'd have known that this was going on, she would have immediately gone to her Papa and told him.

Tanis listened to the story with her eyes wide, rapt with attention. She was clearly shocked and horrified that Sibella's dad would do such a thing. After all, she had met the Count many times before, and he had always seemed so nice and pleasant! Why would he do such a thing to their coach? She was thankful that it didn't seem to leave any lasting effects on him, at the very least. Still... being turned into a werewolf against one's will didn't sound fun.

Elsa, Phanty, and the detective seemed to share the general emotion of vast intrigue. In Elsa's case, she was mostly wondering how (and why) the full moon could possess such powers to randomly decide when someone would become a werewolf under it. Was it even random? This was something she'd have to study about, surely. The detective's train of thought was more or less the same, minus the fact that his face was split into an expression of what could best be described as maniacal glee. To him, nothing was more fascinating to him currently than learning about gaining a werewolf curse without actually being cursed. As for Phantasma, her thought process didn't have as much depth as the other two. She was merely captivated by the amazing story the two were telling!

After a bit of time, Shaggy awkwardly ended his story with, "So like... that's it, I guess. All in all, a very weird story."

"I'm just glad that we don't have to see Dracula again..." Googie gulped, quickly turning her gaze to Sibella. "Um, n-no offense of course!"

Sibella didn't turn her gaze to the blond, looking as if she was doing everything to keep herself from flying off the edge, so to speak. "Oh, none taken, I assure you," She replied, her voice sounding quite cold. "I sincerely apologize about my Father. If I'd have known sooner..." The vampire quickly stood up, quickly turning away and moving out of the dining area. "If you all will excuse me, I have a letter to send to Father," She continued, almost sounding as if she was suppressing a growl. No one dared to try and stop her, not even Miss Grimwood. The aura she was emitting was frightening enough as it was.

It wasn't until the room was one vampire short did anyone speak up anymore. "...well I know someone who won't be getting any Christmas cards this year," Daphne muttered, grinning a little at her own joke.

"Well, that was an awesome story, regardless, Shaggy!" Phantasma giggled. "It does suck that you all got kidnapped like that, plus having to go through with that awful race? My dad's very lucky he doesn't have to partake in that. Glad you all made it out okay and taught him a lesson or two!"

"If he did do something, though, I wouldn't have hesitated to teach him a lesson myself," Winnie huffed, growling some. She did flash Shaggy an apologetic look, though.

"All I know is, I have a very stern letter to send to my parents," Elsa lamented, deciding to keep her interests to herself. After all, it was clear that they had been through a lot, and being reminded of it or showing any levity towards it probably wasn't very polite.

"Same here!" Tanis interjected. "I can't believe Mummy-Daddy would act so mean for a race! He was no better than those Calloway boys!" She huffed, crossing her arms.

"Like, girls, relax! This all happened years ago," Shaggy commented, moving his eyes from one girl to the next. "I'm just thankful we don't have to go through with that again."

"I'm not willing to forgive Dracula just yet, but as long as he doesn't butt into our lives again, I'll be thankful," Googie sighed, turning her attention towards where Sibella walked out from. "Is she gonna be okay..?" She asked cautiously.

"Oh don't worry about her," Miss Grimwood said, waving her hand. "I don't assume she's going to do much more than send a very strongly worded letter to her Father." She took a sip of her drink, thinking a couple of seconds before continuing. "...however, if she remains in her room, I'd be cautious about checking up on her. A brooding vampire is one that is filled with emotions. Sibella will be ready to talk about her emotions when she feels like she can. Until then, we'll just have to wait."

Dinner soon ended afterwards, since everyone had finished eating. Just as the detective was about to question Shaggy about the whole race, he was saved when someone had knocked on the door, gaining everyone's attention. As the octopus butler walked himself to the door to answer, Freddie spoke up. "Who could be stopping by this late?"

"That's probably the Colonel," Miss Grimwood answered, a snort of disdain coming from a certain red-haired werewolf, who soon got up and began to head to her room. After a glare towards Winnie, she continued. "He's probably here to schedule the volleyball tournament, and meet up with his replacement."

"Like, I remember him. Is he still as stuck up as usual?" Shaggy joked, sharing a laugh with the headmistress.

"I doubt he's ever going to loosen up, Coach."

The rest of the Mystery gang decided to stick with Shaggy, curious as to who this Colonel was. The detective was going to join them, but was soon flanked by Phantasma, who eagerly suggested that he tell her about the crime scene they had investigated earlier. More specifically, the dead body. At first, Velma wasn't too keen on the fact that he quickly agreed to do so, beginning to head up the stairs after Phanty flew into the ceiling, laughing in her usual giddy manner.

"They wanted to help us out, right? Might as well share the details with those who are willing," He answered simply before heading out. Velma's intuition told her that the ghost girl asking about the crime scene would not lead to her helping with the mystery, but she decided against bringing that point up to him. Phanty was nice and all, but she was a loose cannon. The only thing more dangerous than one of them is two of them in the same room.

Miss Grimwood, Shaggy, and the rest of the humans seated themselves in the living room, watching as the octopus butler walked in with the Colonel, still dressed in his navy blue suit, medals His mustache was still long and stringy underneath his long hooked nose, although it was clear that age was starting to take it's toll on the man. Despite that, he still carried himself with immense dignity and pride.

The look of pride soon wore off as his eyes fell upon the group of humans, recognizing two specific ones out of the whole group. Mainly, the tallest one and his dog. The look on his face was comparable to one who had just stuck his nose in a garbage can. This look quickly went away as the man cleared his throat. "Coach Rogers. I see we meet once again," He began, offering a hand. Shaggy quickly shook it, smiling politely.

"Like, good to see you again too, Colonel," He answered. Afterwards, Scooby took the hand with his paw, confusing the Colonel, but returning it.

"Er, likewise." His attention looked around to everyone else. "Are these fellow staff members?" He asked, sounding quite perplexed, soon taking a seat that was offered by the butler.

"Oh no, Colonel," Miss Grimwood replied. "They're all here to assist the local town with a few... attacks that have been occurring there, lately. I'm merely allowing them a place to stay and work until they solve it."

"A pleasure to meet you, Colonel," Freddie began, pointing between everyone in the group. "My name is Freddie, and that's Velma, Daphne, and Googie." Everyone gave a small wave to the man, who saluted them back briefly as a greeting.

The Colonel would then look a bit apprehensive about the headmistress's comment. "I see... well, good luck with that, in any case. That's one good thing about being in the middle of nowhere. I do have to protect my students, as I'm sure you understand Miss Grimwood." After a bit, he cleared his throat and straightened up. "However, right now I am here to discuss our upcoming game, if that's no problem."

With a nod, Shaggy leaned forward a bit. "Like, what do ya wanna discuss?"

________________________________________

It took every ounce of self control for Sibella not to slam her door shut and let out a loud exasperated scream. Rather, she gripped her fists tightly and let out an exasperated groan. She absolutely could not believe the nerve of him! Hadn't he sunken low enough without having to resort to kidnapping people for his dumb hobby? The vampire stormed over to her desk, digging out a spare sheet of paper and reaching for a pen, starting to write a letter. Her scrawl was a bit messy, due to rage, but she didn't seem to care about that.

At least, she wouldn't care about it until she heard something clatter against her floor. Her hand froze in place as her eyes widened, her face turning from anger to fear. Another small clatter got her to turn around towards her coffin, seeing a suitcase tremble around some. Sibella slowly set down her pen and made her way over to the suitcase. It was still closed tightly from the day she first arrived.

As the vampire reached her hand out towards the twitching suitcase, it seemed to pause, as if expecting her. She hesitated, as if it was going to suddenly attack her. She quickly moved her hands to the clasps and undid them, slowly opening the case up. Her large eyes seemed to widen some more upon what she saw. She had almost forgotten she had packed this, or rather, she wanted to forget she packed this.

Without waiting a second longer, she grabbed the item in her bag before it could move around some more, clinging it tightly to her chest. This had to be the reason for all of her nightmares, right? Had to be. Sibella moved towards her door and quickly opened it, peeking her head out. No one was in the hall, and she could hear talking. One conversation was coming from Phantasma's room, though music would play out in between every few sentences. Good. That would keep her distracted.

It was better to be safe than sorry, however, so she decided to levitate, though just barely. It was best to make as little noise as possible. As she carefully floated herself down the stairwell into the foyer, she peered her head just barely into the living room. Miss Grimwood and the others were having a conversation with Colonel Calloway. A perfect distraction, though she knew he wouldn't be sticking around for long. She had to hurry and hide this... particular item.

Thinking quickly, she hurried off towards the laboratory. Despite the door creaking open some, it didn't attract anyone closer to her, so she hurried down further into it. She was greeted with the dark room, barely lit by small candles that never seemed to burn out. Sibella began to look around, trying to find the best spot to hide it. The first thing she did was look towards her desk. That wouldn't do, there wasn't anywhere to hide it with her desk. Sibella's eyes then darted towards the cauldrons. Nearby shelves and boxes kept ingredients for potion work, but all that would do was make a big mess. Besides, with how often everyone went over there, it wouldn't be long before someone found it.

She then turned to the bookshelves. Debatable, since no one's really looked through a book there in awhile. With the layer of dust masked onto the shelves, it would be easy to hide her item. It would still stand out, though, if she put it there. Moving her gaze to the side, she figured it out. Rather than hiding it in the shelf, she would just have to hide it behind the shelf. Thankfully, the shelves weren't pushed up too close to the wall, but it would still take a bit of effort in hiding it in such a place.

Sibella got to her knees and started to shove the item inwards. It was much tighter than it looked, but thankfully managed to hide it away, almost out of sight. If anyone bothered to get really close to the back of the shelf, they might be able to see it, but other than that, it was a pretty good spot.

A thought occurred to the girl as she began to levitate once more, starting to move back to her room. She could easily destroy it, as she had the capabilities. She shook her head upon thinking that, though, knowing better. First of all, it was her Father's, and despite the fact that she was still rather angry with him, this was a very important item for him to protect, and he didn't even know that she had taken it from him in the first place. Incurring the wrath of her father wouldn't do her any favors, especially since this item was incredibly important. And also very dangerous. The vampire quickly closed the door behind her and sighed, moving back to her desk.

'Hopefully the bad dreams will stop, at least,' Sibella thought to herself, continuing her letter.

____________________________________________

"Burns and scratch marks?! Oh how gruesome!" Phantasma giggled madly, floating at least a couple of feet off of the floor, making the detective have to look up at her.

"Oh it was. Any hair remaining on him was smoking and singed so badly, I'm surprised he even had any hair," The man replied, grinning in an excitable manner. He did so love to share details of his investigations, even to a ghost that was just as crazy as he was. The man was leaning against the nearby wall, hands remaining in his hoodie pockets.

"How much blood was there?" The ghost asked curiously, her voice just as eager for more details.

"There definitely wasn't a shortage, though most of it was around the body, as to be expected," The detective mused, almost disappointed that there wasn't more.

This didn't stop the phantom from giggling crazily. "Eww, gross! I bet that whole place just reeked!" She floated closely, face to face with the other man, both of them sharing wide smiles. "Tell me, was he missing any limbs? Fingers? Maybe something spilling out of him?!"

"Busted nose, though it was kinda hard to tell due to the fact that he had no face on him." The detective's grin seemed to widen in amusement as Phanty reacted in shock.

"Woooah! No face, really? I can't imagine being without a face!" Phanty spoke aloud, crossing her legs as she 'sat' in midair. "Whatever's out there, it must be mad as hell!"

"That was the case with the other one we found. No face, scratch marks, burns, all that jazz." He put his hand on his chin, looking marginally more thoughtful. "I'm not sure if that's a motive or not. All it proves to me is that this thing is persistent, whatever it is."

"Well, let's hope you and the others figure out what it is before it finds us! I mean, I'm pretty sure I'm safe, since I'm incorporeal and all that, but it still wouldn't be pleasant to have that face burner come around here," Phantasma rambled, shrugging and grinning.

"I'm sure we will. I believe we're getting closer." With that, he stood straight and turned his attention to the large organ in the room. "On a different note, I take it that's your organ?"

Phantasma brightened up, giggling madly as she floated to the organ, sitting herself down at the seat. "Yup yup! Well, sorta, anyways. Technically it's the school's and Miss Grimwood's, but she lets me play it! This is technically the music room, but I stay around here so much, it's practically my bedroom at this point!" After saying that, she began to play a small, haunting refrain on her organ. The man listened to it, smiling and enjoying the music. After a minute, she stopped and turned around, returning to laughing. "Do you play anything?"

The man merely shrugged, eyeing over the old, yet very intricate, detail of the organ. "Well, sort of. Not an organ though. Used to want to play in a band, so I learned guitar." At this point, he moved a hand out of his hoodie pocket, showing his fingers, which were very calloused and scarred. "I decided towards a different career choice when that didn't work out."

Phantasma eyed over his hands a bit before getting an idea. "Oh really? One second!" She soon got up and floated over to a large walk in closet, rummaging around. The man raised an eyebrow and watched her, curious as to what she was searching for. In a few seconds time, she came back, holding a dusty old acoustic guitar, which she quickly handed over to the detective. While it looked old, it was still in perfect condition.

After giving it a quick glance, he turned to look at the ghost girl, who was now eagerly watching him. It was clear she was expecting him to play. With a small shrug, he grinned and pulled the strap on, straightening out the guitar. He'd strum the strings a couple of times, using his other hand to tune. Once that was done, he began to play, shutting his large, owl like eyes. The song he decided to play was also a bit of a haunting refrain, with almost a Spanish feel to it. He wouldn't keep the song to simple strums and chords. He wanted to play.

He kept going for about a minute as well, stopping and looking up at the Phantasma, who soon began to giggle and applaud for him. "Wow, that was... awesome!" She fixed herself on the seat, her body facing the organ once more, but turning her head to look back towards him. "Say, wanna try and see if we can work out a duet together? Or I guess in my case, a 'boo-et?'" She laughed at her own pun, which the man followed with a wide smile.

"Sounds like a scream," He answered, giving a few idle strums to the old guitar.

__________________________________________________

"The 30th of October will work just fine, correct?"

"Like, sounds good to me. What do you think, Miss Grimwood?"

"Works perfectly for us."

The meeting was moving to a conclusion as the Colonel confirmed the date. For the most part, no one else really had anything to add, and merely observed. Thankfully, the meeting wasn't too long or boring, lasting about five minutes.

"Excellent. I will be expecting you," He concluded, standing up and offering another handshake to Shaggy, which he took.

"Sounds cool, man. Like, may the best school win!"

With a somewhat smug grin, the Colonel replied. "Don't you worry, Coach Rogers. We intend to." With a small tip of his cap, he bid the others good day and left the building, heading back to his own school. Scooby and Shaggy scratched their heads as Miss Grimwood spoke up. "Well, I'll be expecting you to whip those girls into good shape, Coach! After all, you did such a good job last time, I assume it'll be no problem."

"Yeah, Shaggy! It shouldn't a problem. They're already really talented, and with you helping, they're bound to beat that military school," Daphne concurred enthusiastically.

"I have to admit, I didn't believe it at first when you said you used to be a coach. But now that I've observed how you do it, I think it's safe to say that we all have a lot of confidence in you two and the rest of the girls," Velma added, smiling at gently at him.

"Reah, Raggy! Re got this!" Scooby said, wagging his tail as he beamed up at his best friend, who returned the smile.

"Wow, like, thanks everyone! I know we'll all do the best we can. The girls are already showing lots of improvement. Like, we'll win for sure!" He added, chuckling some.

"That's the spirit!' Freddie beamed, adding in a thumbs up for good measure.

_____________________________________________

...

I see now.

The skinny one.

He has the most experience out of everyone else.

I am quite lucky to have gazed inside of his mind.

...

But this is only the beginning for me.

I know more than before, but not enough.

Never enough.

If I want more, I must delve deeper.

But who?

...

Oh.

Perfect.

They won't suspect a thing.

I will have to wait.

It will be torturous.

I do not like waiting.

No no no no.

But it must be done.

Until then, I must wait.

...

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Author's Notes: To be honest, I don't like how short I made this chapter. It took me forever to figure out any sort of direction, and even then I don't think I added in enough. Writer's block sucks, so sorry if I made you all wait for a short chapter that probably isn't written well. Regardless, I hope you all enjoy it! Leave a review on what you think of the story so far and what I could be doing better. Until then, thanks for reading my works!

#scooby doo #scooby doo fanfiction #scooby doo monster menagerie #dylan writes #fanfiction #iunno

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studiobeebo · 7 years ago

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Valentine (Izuku Midoriya x Reader)

So this is actually #7 from the Valentine’s Prompt List I reblogged, I just honestly couldn’t resist writing it!

“Oh, wait, wait, wait!” You gasped before rushing over to Izuku who had stopped dead in his tracks and looked up at you with surprised eyes. You carefully worked the stick of butter that he was about to drop into the mixing bowl out of his hands and placed it down on the counter.

“Sorry, this recipe just needs half butter and half margarine, so you need to grab margarine instead!” You said happily before putting the butter back into the fridge and searching around the kitchen for the margarine you knew you had taken out to soften before handing it over to him once you found it.

After a lot of persistent pleading, you got Aizawa to agree to let you use the kitchen at the dorms for a little bit while it wasn’t being used on the condition that you cleaned up and used your own ingredients. Valentine’s day was coming up in a few days and while you still planned to get a few small gifts for your boyfriend, you also wanted to make something up for the rest of your classmates and Izuku was more than happy to help. Well, half of it was because he loved how adorable you looked with that polka-dotted apron wrapped around your waist, but he didn’t really have to tell anyone that little fact.

“Ah sorry, my bad..I guess I’m still not as good with this sort of thing as you are!” He spoke with a sheepish smile on his face, though you waved of the little mistake and continued on with what you had been doing.

“It’s fiiine, I guess it wouldn’t have made that big of a difference, but I don’t trust myself enough to stray from the recipe.” You laughed while scooching him over a bit with your hip and cracking a few eggs into the same bowl he was using.

“Can you add the sugar and then start the mixer? I’m gonna finish up with the icing!”

The two of you had actually cooked and baked a few times together before this, either you going over to his home or him coming to yours before you had moved into the dorms. In your eyes, neither of you were really all that great of bakers and you would never be on the same level as his mother with cooking, considering the delicious meals she had allowed you to join in on whenever you were over studying with Izuku. Regardless, you liked spending time with him, plus if you and your friends got some homemade cookies out of it, it was a win-win situation.

With a nod and a confident thumbs up he poured in the sugar you had set aside and started the mixer on low. You began with sifting some powdered sugar into a bowl before adding both milk and butter. Once you finished you picked up the bowl and cradled it into your arms and made your way over to Izuku while mixing the ingredients together to check up on how the cookie batter was coming along.

“Does it look okay? I added all the ingredients how the recipe said to, but I’m still not sure..” He mumbled before looking up to you for answers while tilting the bowl a bit so you could see. He had come so far since middle school, yet he still seemed to lose confidence in himself dealing with the smallest of things.

“Looks great to me!” You exclaimed, leaning in to give him a quick appreciative peck on the cheek before taking the bowl out from under him. The smile on his face spoke hundreds of words he was always too afraid to say whenever the two of you had even the slightest of intimate moments, but you seemed too lost in your thoughts to notice the look he was giving you. He simply stood there and watched as you sprinkled flour out onto the tabletop followed by the cookie dough being plopped down on top. He liked to take in little moments like this when the faintest of smiles tugged at the corners of your lips, your happiness about whatever you were doing showing even if you didn't mean it to. He loved it because of that, because that’s when he was really sure that you were content and in a good mood.

“Oh hey can you roll this out for me?” You questioned, turning to him while holding up your fingers about a quarter inch apart from each other. “It needs about this thick.”

“Yeah, of course.” He responded while making his way over to you and getting to work with the rolling pin. You gave him another small smile before picking up the bag of Valentine’s shaped cookie cutters and opening and closing a few drawers on the hunt for some scissors to use to open them. Once you had them opened you put them next to where Izuku was working and started lining the two sheet trays you had placed out on the counter with parchment paper. After checking to make sure the oven had been heated to the right temperature, you wiped your hands together to get off any flour or anything before leaning up on your toes and resting your chin on Izuku’s shoulder to watch him finish up.

The close contact along with your watchful eyes made his cheeks turn a bit pink, but that didn’t stop him from finishing with what he was doing. When he was done, you moved to his side and pointed to the cookie cutters before picking out one for yourself.

“Now all we’ve got to do is cut ‘em out and stick ‘em in the oven.” You said, already beginning to cut out a few of your own and carefully place them on the tray. Izuku laughed at your enthusiasm before following in your footsteps and taking a cookie cutter of his own before cutting some out from the rolled out dough.

The two of you carried on with cutting out a few different shapes, rolling out the leftover dough, and cutting out more until you had used up all that you could. It didn’t take long for the cookies to bake once you had gotten all the trays in the oven and before you knew it you were onto what you thought was the most fun part.

“Well what color do I use?”

“You can use whatever colors you want, there isn’t any rules for cookie decorating y’know.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how serious he seemed about the whole ordeal. He was constantly asking what should go where and what color looks best with what other color. It was a bit strange, but it was also incredibly cute and you were always inspired by how much passion he put into things that others might not think all that much about. Decorating took a bit longer than you had intended because of your fascination with your sweetheart of a boyfriend, Izuku having to constantly ask if you were okay when you had stopped to stare at him for too long.

When you finally had finished though, Izuku was kind enough to offer getting started on the dishes while you began boxing up the cookies despite you saying multiple times that you could handle both if he wanted to go relax or something. You tried your best to place the cookies away in an orderly manner, but they sort of ended up just being stacked up at random angles. By the time you were almost done, Izuku had actually finished with the dishes just in time to gasp and quickly step in front of you when you were just about to reach over for the last cookie.

“H-Hold on just a second! I can put that one away!” He sort of shouted in your face, his nervousness obviously shown in his wavering voice.

“Well I already have the rest all in the box here, it’s fine I can take care o-”

“Thi-This one isn’t going in there! It’s...different.” He sputters, quickly grabbing the cookie in his hand while still facing you.

Unbeknownst to you, during one of the few times you began spacing out while the two of you were decorating, he took the time to make one up especially for you. He knew it was a bit selfish since the cookies were supposed to be for your friends and with Valentine’s Day so close he had already gotten you some gifts anyways, but he just couldn’t help himself. You of course just assumed maybe he had messed one up or something and was afraid you’d be disappointed, so you just laughed and rolled your eyes at what you thought was a little game before gently taking his hand and coaxing it from behind his back.

You were surprised to see the large, pink heart shaped cookie with ‘I Love You (Name)’ piped onto the top of it in wobbly, mismatched writing. Izuku’s jaw set and his eyes looked down a bit when he saw the surprise on your face. He always got so nervous when he couldn’t decipher what you were thinking. After a moment of looking over what was honestly one of the sweetest gifts you had ever gotten, you couldn’t help the smile that spread from ear to ear on your face as a few happy tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. Maybe you were being a bit dramatic, but it was just so adorable and seeing that look on his face made your heart pound like it was your first date all over again.

You quickly placed the cookie down onto the counter, hugging him tightly and impulsively squishing his cheeks together in your hands before smothering his face with kisses only to be interrupted by words of thanks. That was enough for him to realize you didn’t hate the small present and he wrapped his arms around you tightly, trying his best not to laugh too hard as his cheeks burned red in response to the overflow of affection.

“I know it’s sort of...well, not great..but I just really wanted to make you one and it’s..the thought that counts? I guess that’s a bit-”

“Amazing! I love it, seriously! It’s not bad at all, I almost don’t want to eat it! It’s so cute too, I love the colors!” You gushed, unintentionally cutting him off while detaching yourself from him in order to pull out your phone and take a few pictures. He was about to continue his rant, but he stopped himself short when he saw that pure, honest smile radiating on your face. He felt embarrassed that he couldn’t give you something that looked more professional, sure, but he practically lived for that sunny smile regardless.

“Thank you so much Izuku, really. I seriously love it, almost as much as I love you.”

His smile softened at that statement, you always made those three words sound so casual yet they meant the world to him and there was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep hearing them every single day.

“Well, as long as you don’t love it more than me, then I’m happy with it.”

#mha #mha imagine #my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia #izuku midoriya #Izuku Midoriya x reader

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oneletterwrites · 7 years ago

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Company Mix Up

Summary: Thomas adores cartoons and his dream to work with a company that produces such magic is a reality. Sadly, one branch of the studio is failing and no one can figure out why. He volunteers himself to check on the building and get to the bottom of the problem.

Pairing: Eventual Prinxiety, Logicality, lots of platonic love between them all.

Part 1 | Part 4 |

For the rest of the week Thomas spent his days switching off between helping Roman clean his office, helping Logan mess up his office, making sure Patton had someone to eat lunch with, and even taking the time to head to HR and talk to Virgil. He didn’t have to he knows, but he could feel it that somewhere, they had something to do with the branch not performing as well as it could.

He didn’t want to say they are the ‘problem’, but they sure didn’t seem the best suited to where they are. It got him thinking and scheming for a solution. He tried just helping them do their job but it still ended awkward or with lackluster results.

So he decided to enact Plan B.

Or plan C, he’s not sure which letter he and Joan gave this plan but he likes it a lot more than firing someone.

Thomas puts his hands on his hips, papers in small piles in front of him and the pieces he sort of, kind of, took/stole are front and center. He nods proudly to himself then leaves the conference room to skip on up to the director’s office. He knocks on the open door and Roman spins to face him.

“Thomas! How are you this fabulous day?” His voice booms.

“Pretty good! Hey can I talk to you a second?” He asks and Roman agrees easily. Thomas tells him to meet him in the proper conference room in a few minutes and Roman smugly walks towards the area while Thomas skips out to find the next person in his plan.

He knocks on Logan’s door, waiting patiently for him to open it. He does with a small quick smile before turning to the side to let Thomas into his office space but Thomas stays where he is.

“Logan would you be able to join me for conference right quick?” He asks. Logan gives him an odd look.

“Is this the kind of quick that ends up taking the whole day?” Thomas grins sheepishly and Logan sighs.

“Give me a few minutes to make sure my day is cleared and I will join you.” He says and Thomas tells him which conference room, thanking Logan once again for opening up his day for this. Logan just rolls his eyes.

Unlike the leisurely pace it took Logan to open the door, Patton is in front of him quick and wrapping him in a hug. He’s bursting with energy.

“Thomas! It’s so nice to see you again. How was your weekend? Did you do anything fun?” Thomas laughs and holds up a hand to try and get Patton to be a little more quiet just for a second for him to get his own question is out.

“We can talk about that later, but for right now, can you help me out?” He asks and Patton actually jumps up out of excitement. Together they pack up one of Patton’s portable work laptops for the conference that Patton will not stop asking him questions about. Thomas just smiles at him.

Instead of going right up to the conference room, Thomas brings Patton with him to the HR department.

“Hey Virgil,” Thomas calls softly to startle the representative slightly less. Virgil still jumps a little but no where near as bad as he could. He eyes both him and Patton suspiciously.

“I wanted to ask you if you would join us for a conference?” Thomas asks softly. Patton nods his head but keeps his mouth shut sensing the delicate environment. Virgil raises an eyebrow at him.

“What for?” He’s skeptical. Thomas sighs.

“I have a project that I think you could be the designer for,” He says and though designing things is mostly supposed to be Patton’s job, the animator seems completely okay with his job being offered up.

“What.” Virgil deadpans at him, a glare on his face now.

“You’re an amazing drawer Virgil, and I think you would be the best for this project.” Thomas says. Patton nods his head though Thomas knows he’s never seen anything Virgil’s drawn. Virgil shrinks in on himself.

“You don’t.. really want me,” He grimaces and Patton gasps.

“Of course we do!” He turns to Thomas. “Who else is we?” There’s a doofy smile on his face and Thomas snorts. He goes back to Virgil who is already shaking his head for rejection.

“I really-” He doesn’t finish his sentence. Thomas sighs again and nods his head.

“Okay, I understand, I still do think you’re the best for the job though. If,” Thomas takes a step towards him and places a gentle hand on Virgil’s shoulder. He flinches away from the touch but not enough to fully get away from it.

“If you decide to join us, you’re more than welcome to,” Thomas takes a pen and writes down which conference room they are in. He smiles and waves to Virgil as he and Patton depart. Patton waves with his whole body and Virgil actually manages a small wave of his hand and turns to cower at his desk just as Thomas starts towards the conference room himself.

“So what are we doing?” Patton asks for the 15th time. Thomas gives him a smirk and just holds the door open to the room where Roman and Logan are already waiting with arms crossed and pouts on their faces.

“You didn’t tell me Mr. Tight Lid would be here,” Roman accuses Thomas right away. Patton shyly takes a seat next to Logan who pushes at his glasses.

“Mr. Sanders is not obligated to tell you anything considering your way of keeping information is all over the room.” Logan quips back and Roman looks ready to stand and challenge him to a duel. He actually does stand when Logan interrupts whatever he may say.

“Though I shall admit to being curious myself,” He then turns his glare to Thomas who stands taller. Patton gives him his full attention and Roman slowly takes a seat, still giving Logan a bad look.

“In the week I’ve been here, I’ve noticed some strange things with you all,” He begins. Roman scoffs hard and offended. Logan pushes at his glasses while Patton covers his mouth.

“Nothing bad of course, just, something a little off, I am proposing a project for you all to work on.” Thomas explains and hands out the little stacks in front of him. Logan rifles through it.

“These are my efficiency notes,” Thomas doesn’t miss the annoyed tone in his voice.

“That’s my idea!” Roman stands again, shaking the papers like they might change if he shakes them hard enough.

“Aww you think flowers on the desk is sweet?” Patton gives Thomas heart eyes as he looks at the motivational aspects. Thomas smiles at him then gives Logan and Roman a more professional look.

“Those notes that I took from you, should have come from the other based on your titles.” They have the sense to look a little sheepish at being called out like so. Logan sighs and tents his hands on the desk.

“So what exactly are you proposing.” It’s more of a statement than question that Logan asks. Thomas takes a deep breath.

“I am proposing that you create Roman’s idea into actuality.” That earns him a cheer from Roman and Patton but a struggling sigh from Logan who once more pushes up his glasses.

“How are we going to do that if you just insinuated that our roles are wrong?” He says. Patton’s cheers stop and he gets that kicked puppy dog look in his eyes. Roman groans at having his joy squished.

“You switch,” Thomas tells him like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Logan you will be in charge of planning and making sure things are done in an orderly manner,” Though he had his doubts, Logan sits a little taller at the idea of being in charge.

“Roman, bring your ideas, all of them, that’s your job.” Roman is all too ready to do just that.

“Patton I’m going to need you to bring general thought to the table as well as keeping spirits high,” Patton wiggles in his seat.

“These spirits will be flying like ghosts on helium!” He says and Roman snorts. Logan rolls his eyes then gives Thomas another questioning look.

“If Patton is to be in charge of frivolities, then who is going to-” The door opens to cut Logan off and they all turn just in time to see Virgil shutting the door by resting his back against it. He shifts awkwardly, hiding behind his hair, and glaring at the ground when he finds them all looking at him. Thomas goes to him, placing a hand on his shoulder gently.

“Virgil, to answer your question Logan, will be in charge of design animation,” Thomas gives Virgil a reassuring smile which is hardly returned. Patton claps his hands.

“I’m so glad you decided to join us!” His voice could make flowers grow. Virgil just takes a seat next to Roman who is still standing. His entire body hunched in a circle, wanting nothing more than to not be seen. Thomas slides him one of the tiny stacks of papers and Virgil takes the distraction thankfully.

“This is. Odd,” Logan says. Patton giggles.

“But it’s going to be fun!” He gets a little too close to Logan who adjusts his glasses at the sudden proximity to his person. He clears his throat.

“Well I suppose,” He’s almost stammering. He manages to collect himself and turn to Roman.

“What is the idea we are to work with?” He has a pen in his hand at the ready on a notebook Thomas swear he pulled out of no where. He takes a seat as Roman’s wide smile come full view. He swivels his chair and gracefully puts a foot on it to pose. His stomp causes Virgil to jump in his seat.

“It’s about a boy who has magic powers, but the powers are given to him by his mother. And she passes leaving him to live with his father figure and the mother’s friends who also have powers but that are different than the ones she had and there’s an entire hierarchy and war that went on and there are secrets around every corner and the boy is trying to learn how to-”

“Breathe Roman,” Patton says softly with a warm smile on his face. Roman takes a dramatic breath in, and launches right back into his idea. He waves his arms and begins to pace around the room, sliding on the floor to be dramatic and unleashing every idea he’s had. Thomas can’t help but laugh at bits, remembering random statements from papers he helped Roman sort not so long ago.

“And of course it’s hard for him to do so because he’s never known her and he has no idea what he’s supposed to do or anything and it doesn’t help her friends are hiding things from him.” Roman takes another deep breath and stops talking for a moment, shocking everyone in the room that he’s silent.

“That’s wonderful!” Patton exclaims reaching across the table. Roman laughs boisterously and takes one of Patton’s hands to squeeze it.

“I know isn’t it?” He boasts. Logan flips a few papers, most of them in his hand notebook, taking notes on the plot lines and character aspects. He then rifles through the stack Thomas gave him to the back page.

“This character description, did you read it Roman?” Logan asks as he scans the page. Everyone flips to that page and Virgil sinks, not before giving Thomas a look of annoyance, and panic.

“It sounds cute!” Patton says looking to them all. Roman glares at the page most of all before dropping it.

“I had pictured them to be a bit more,” He waves his hand about. “Fluffy.” He says and Patton snorts. Thomas gives Virgil an encouraging look. With an exasperated sigh Virgil pulls out his sketch book and flips it open to drop it on the table to the design he drew, the one described in their stack. Patton coos while Logan nods his head approvingly.

It’s Roman who gives the most pause, dragging the sketch book closer to himself to scrutinize it. Virgil twitches, body ready to bolt at any second. Roman pushes it back to him, leaning far into his personal space.

“Can you make his hair fluffier?” He asks, deadly serious. Virgil slowly takes his pencil out and his sketch book to mess with the design. It’s silent as he works.

“THAT!” Roman shouts and promptly makes Virgil draw a long line across his sketch book, almost ruining the design. He glares up at Roman.

“What the hell?” He asks but for the most part goes ignored by the creative mastermind. Patton offers him a reassuring hand and Thomas does the same. Virgil decided to sulk.

“This is exactly what it should be! Wonderful!” He cheers, twirling around with the book in his hands. At the praise however, the beginning of a smile makes it’s way to Virgil’s face.

“Now that we have at least the main character design, shall we work on the others?” Logan suggests. Roman pauses his laughter to give Virgil back his book a lot more gently this time. Virgil awaits impatiently for Roman to describe his characters.

And Roman does describe them. In extreme length and extreme detail.

Virgil is lucky Logan is taking notes and Patton reminds Roman to slow down sometimes otherwise his sketches would be way more off. He can’t get them all down right away but Logan goes to copy all his notes for them all.

The conference ends on that note. With Virgil taking the designs to work on sketches and Logan to work on a cohesive plot line from the scattered idea Roman gave. Patton is just happy to be included.

“This is amazing,” The bubbly not so much an animator any more says to him after the long conference is done with. Thomas laughs and bumps him playfully.

“Glad you get to be working in a closer group?”

“So much!” Patton gives him a quick hug and runs off. Thomas is left to his small office with more papers with him and a clearer picture in mind as to how this little project will work out.

#thomas sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #sander sides #drabble #not hetalia #company mix up au #YES ITS STEVEN UNIVERSE OKAY.

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my-words-are-light · 8 years ago

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Knowing (a Dame Daffodil fanfiction)

So I’ve been reading Dame Daffodil for a while now. I can’t exactly remember how I found it but I am most certainly not complaining; it’s just the light, fluffy, heroic and optimistic magical girl story I was looking for. Not that such adjectives stopped me from writing this but I enjoy the webcomic all the same.

So I dedicate this fanfic to @sakura-rose12. Thanks, Hayley! Every Monday’s a pleasure with Dame Daffodil!

Anselmo had little choice but to keep waiting in front of the grocery store. He liked spending his weekends doing nothing but this was a lot more tiring and painful than normal, primarily thanks to the bags hanging from his arm. Plus, Anselmo doing nothing typically involved being on his own, not standing in the middle of a shopping mall looking like an idiot. It was much better to do nothing back home.

Sadly, there was another piece of baggage he needed before he could leave: Charo, his little sister.

Where did she run off to this time? He told her to meet him right here after she got back from the toilet. He wouldn’t put it past her to get distracted but the mall was a big place; who knows where she could have gone?

A quick scan over the shuffling sea of heads failed to find that of Charo’s. A pair did catch his bored attention, though; a little boy talking with a middle-aged man—probably his dad—in front of a claw machine. He couldn’t make out what they were saying but, judging by the boy’s bright red tear-stricken face and the dad thrusting his open palm forward in a ‘Stop!’ motion, he imagined he wouldn’t be too far off the mark in guessing the kid wanted to play with the claw and his dad was saying no.

Anselmo thanked his lucky stars. He couldn’t hear the kid crying from all the way over here. A shame the stars weren’t helping him find Charo.

... Wait, there she was. In the distance, Charo was walking towards the boy and dad. His happy-go-lucky sister, completely oblivious to his (admittedly distant) shock, walked up to the machine and put a coin in it, most likely a coin he gave her to use on something for herself. She then waved goodbye to the child and parent, who had stopped crying and being angry respectively, and strolled merrily back to her dear big brother.

“Hey Momo!” she greeted in her usual sickeningly saccharine style with that stupid nickname. “Did you get every—”

“Where have you been?” he asked her.

“I went to the toilet, like I said. Took a while.”

He looked down at her palms and knees. They were scuffed all over. Sure she went to the toilet. You always got scuffed from going to the toilet.

“I tripped.” Playful as she was, she was observant enough to notice him looking at her new injuries. He was very certain they were new; no way could she pull the ‘I had them before, you must have missed them’ junk again. At least she had the good grace to not try.

But they’ve danced this dance before. He knew she wouldn’t say a thing no matter how much he prodded. It was better to bury it and move on. “I have been here for ten minutes.” He lifted the grocery bags up to her face. “Do you have any idea how heavy these are?”

“Hm...” Charo narrowed her eyes at the bag and rubbed her chin. It was hard to tell if she was really into it or if she was making fun of him. “Well, a hero bears the weight of the world on their shoulders so... I guess it’s kinda heavy?”

He still couldn’t tell. “Close enough. Let’s go.”

The two of them disembarked and made their way to the mall’s exit. On the way there, Charo looked this way and that at every store, every stall, every person, and every other thing with the same level of enthusiasm she had when she first came here with him so many years ago. She—and he as well—hadn’t been in many of the stores but she’d walked through here many times. Even so, she still smiled with an enchanted satisfaction like she was making a new discovery.

Not like everyone else. The other folks near them were impatient and quick, frowning and grumpy, focused and inattentive of their surroundings. Well, not the kids; they were fresh and excited for the most part. But the adults had somewhere they knew they wanted to be and they didn’t make time for anything else, probably because they only had so much of it before their parking expired. They didn’t look around or take in the mall like Charo did. They didn’t care at all.

“Ooh! Hey, Momo?”

Oh no.

“Momo?”

Oh no. “What?”

“Can we have lunch there?”

Anselmo took a deep, mentally-preparing breath before he brought himself to look. What restaurant caught her eye?

Sushi Supreme! said the six-foot sign above the entrance, displayed entirely in white letters and surrounded with red and blue. Is nothing sacred...?

“Why there?” It wasn’t even new. The pair had passed by it every time they came in here and it never failed to make Anselmo inwardly cringe at how loud and extravagant it looked. Yet Charo was looking at it so intensely, leaning slightly forward all the while, that you’d think it was her first time seeing it.

“Because I haven’t been there before.”

“Same, and that’s the problem.” The big brother turned to the little sister. Not that she’d listen to him any more for it but it just felt right to him. “I’m hungry, annoyed, and tired. Therefore, I want to go somewhere I’ve been before so I can rest easy knowing I’ll enjoy what I get. I don’t want to roll the dice with something I might hate.”

“But it could be an adventuuuuuuuuuuuure!” Charo’s eyes had a habit of sparkling when she wanted to be heroic or adventurous, which was so often that Anselmo wasn’t unconvinced his sister wasn’t some adopted fusion reactor. At least she tried to appeal to the dead sense of adventure in him, as poor and blatant an attempt as it was. Most kids just sulked or cried if they didn’t get what they wanted. Case in point, the claw machine earlier.

... Oh what the hell. That’s the sort of attitude you reward someone for.

---

Most people like to talk while they wait for their meal. Not Anselmo; he preferred to be left to his thoughts. Speaking was strictly reserved for things that needed to be said, and they had to be massive fire-breathing elephants in the room to warrant being talked about. He liked his quiet time; he wished he got more of it. Too bad Charo sapped it away like a mosquito.

Rather than let him be, Charo captured his brother’s attention with how she used one of her chopsticks (tacky bright red and blue chopsticks with giant red balls on the end, at that; this place was an abomination) to go through the menu’s items one by one, carefully reading each. Without fail, every single one would make her smile in an I-can’t-wait-to-eat-this kind of way. Much like everything else, every single food was a new discovery just waiting to be discovered.

Alright, he couldn’t resist. He cracked a small smile.

“What are you going to have?” she asked.

“I’ll have the soy chicken rice.” Truthfully, Anselmo glanced through the menu precisely once and picked out the one thing he could understand that he’d hate the least. He could’ve asked Charo for a recommendation if he cared enough. “You?”

“I dunno...” She tapped the side of her chin with her chopstick. “I’m stuck between the norimaki-no-umiou, the... um...” After squinting at her menu, she sighed in resignation and turned it to show her brother while pointing at an item with the same chopstick. “Do you know how to say this one?”

“As it turns out, no.” He didn’t actually take a deep look at the words—partly because the chopstick was insanely distracting—but he was very willing to guess they were far beyond his ability to pronounce.

Charo looked around at her surroundings. She didn’t have that lustre of discovery about her, though. Well, you can’t be excited about everything. “You know, this doesn’t really feel like a genuine Japanese restaurant.”

“What gave you that idea?” Anselmo himself got it from the chairs, which felt like they were ripped right out from an ‘80s arcade. Their poles even had swirling red and blue strip—

CRASH! went somewhere out in the mall as a tremendous rumbling shook the restaurant. Anselmo held tight to the table whereas Charo wisely prioritised gripping her chopsticks.

Anselmo looked around as the aftershock rattled on. “What was—”

“ROAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR!”

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” wailed several shoppers that ran by their window away from the roar. Some stumbled and tripped and most of them were left behind by the others to fend for themselves, with the exception of more fortunate trippers that were approached and summarily helped up by someone else before they ran off together.

Through the window on the opposite side of the restaurant, Anselmo and Charo saw a black shape that they couldn’t see the top of thanks to the thick window frames. All they could see was that the shape widened the higher they looked and its tendrils, seemingly prehensile, danced and coiled as if searching for something to touch. Both the tendrils and body were sprinkled with dirt and ceramic. It must’ve burst from the ground.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding...?!” muttered Anselmo, pushing back into his chair as if it would help protect him. It was stupid but he wished his little sister would at least try something for self-preservation; she looked over the back of her chair at the beast as it impaled the ground with its tendrils and lifted itself up, probably out of a hole it made.

Ding-ding-ding! rang the bell at the counter. “Don’t panic, people!”

Everyone in the restaurant looked towards the speaker, the attendant woman with her black hair in a low bun. She held up her hands flat, a gesture widely understood to mean ‘calm the hell down while monsters are afoot while you’re not yet underfoot’.

“Stay calm. You’ll be okay,” she assured in an assertive yet gentle manner. “This shop has an emergency exit. Take your time and leave in an orderly and timely fashion. I promise you, it will be okay.”

The instructions were clear. Reasonable, too. And the woman must have had plenty of experience with situations like this, given how she handled it like a professional. Really, the delivery couldn’t have been any better, so it was hardly surprising that the customers didn’t hear anything beyond ‘emergency exit’ and ran for it like water down a funnel. Eh, points for effort on the attendant’s part.

“Come on, Charo!” said Anselmo as he gripped his sister’s hand and pulled her along after the others.

“Wait, Momo! You forgot the shopping!” He was never quite sure how she could worry about that at a time like this but it never surprised him.

“I’ll buy it again later! It costs less than a doctor’s visit!”

“Ugh, Momo...! All our meals for the week are in there!”

“Not really that big of a deal right now!” He made it out of the restaurant. She was still inside but only by a single step so she was figuratively out.

“But I can—”

“CHARO!” He turned to roar in her face. “We are leaving this place and we are leaving NOW!”

They came to a stop. He was outside glaring down at her. She was inside looking up at him, aghast and still. He had never yelled at her so angrily. He’d shout, like when he called everyone who saw a monster a drunk. He’d hit her, like when she got her daffodil hairclip and he left her with a swell so big and round that she put a beanie on it just to see what it would look like (it was tacky but cool).

But not once had he ever been angry and... spiteful towards her.

“Momo...?” she said so quietly.

“Charo,” he began again with a cleaving voice, “we’re going to the car and we are driving away from here and going home where it’s safe. This is not up for debate.”

“But...” Normally, she was much more passionate about this. She shone when she was needed the most and her excited spirit would carry through her voice. But Anselmo hammered her down with just eleven words. “They’re right in there. I can just duck in—”

“You will not go in there and risk your life. This is not up for debate.”

He was being so cold to her. Honestly, it... annoyed her. “What is your problem? Just trust me on this!”

“Trust you? Why?” He was inflamed again. “You’re getting hurt and coming home with new injuries every week and I have no idea where they’re from! You don’t tell me anything! I’ve let it go so far but, if you think I’m just going to let you run back in there with a monster, then you know me as much as I know you!”

“Momo—”

“Shut UP! I DON’T CARE!”

As he was about to yank on her arm, a crack from above caught their attention and not a moment too soon because the wall was coming down. They both backed away, with Anselmo covering his eyes with his arm.

“AHH!”

Anselmo’s eyes snapped up. That was Charo’s scream. She wasn’t there. A pile of debris had fallen. Dirt and gravel had kicked up, irritating his eyes. The emergency exit doorframe had fallen and the door itself had huge dents in its sides. What used to be an ordinary looking exit door had become a misshapen hole around a ruined door and a pile of broken bricks and mortar.

But he couldn’t see Charo.

He couldn’t hear her.

Where...?

“Charo?”

He muttered the name quietly, more as a password to himself than a call for her. Fittingly so, it activated him from his shock.

“Charo?! CHARO!”

He leapt right into the debris. He dug his fingers into any loose piece he could find and flung it away. However sore his fingers got, however much they ached or bled, he tore into the pile that separated his sister from her.

“ARE YOU OKAY?! CHARO, ANSWER ME! PLEASE!”

---

To Charo, everything was muffled. After the debris fell, everything sounded like she was underwater. Her head ached too; something must’ve fell on it, maybe a loose stone or something. Whatever it was, it gave her a massive headache and it was probably bleeding.

Oh yeah, and her foot hurt as well. It got caught under the debris but it didn’t break. How lucky was she? It was still hard to get it out, though.

“Nngh...” She couldn’t hear her own grunting. Something else was drowning out all the sound, like a current beating against her knocked mind. She forced herself up—well, to the best of her ability, anyway—and looked around.

Everything was blurry. She blinked a couple of times. When that didn’t work, she gave them a rub. Everything was still blurry but slightly less so. That would have to do. At least she could make out the black mass beyond the broken windows. That white mesh of cracks really made a good contrast with it.

Alright, enough with appreciating coincidental aesthetics. Time to be a hero.

---

As she left the mall, victorious in her battle, Dame Daffodil could feel the phantom pains from her head and foot. It’d be risky to transform back and suffer a potential trip and fall but, once she found Momo, she could simply relax as they drove home together.

Momo... Although Momo could be a bit stubborn and opinionated and a grump who told her she couldn’t just save people because he was a meanie, he was always... ‘big brotherly’ about it? Wait, no. Well, he always cared... No, that doesn’t sound right either. The thing is, he was never hostile. He looked after her when she was sick, right down to getting emergency chocolate and hot water bottles. He would never yell at her... so what happened now?

She’d have to think about that later. Right now, she needed to transform back and get to Momo... who just flew around the corner and came to a sudden stop, killing that plan in its infancy. She almost wished he didn’t look at her. Yet again he wore an uncomfortably new expression; his eyes were wide and his complexion was pale. His fingers were covered in grit and his fingernails were dark, like they were bruised or bleeding.

‘Dame Daffodil...’ he mouthed before speaking the words proper. “Dame Daffodil! Did you see a little girl inside?”

“Huh?”

“Brown hair, brown eyes, brown hair in a ponytail, kind of like yours but darker.”

As he listed off Charo’s most identifiable characteristics at a frenzied rate, Daffodil hoped as strongly as she could that he didn’t make any connections.

“She...” In his mania, it was only now that it occurred she wasn’t responding to him. “You didn’t see her...?” His eyes began to widen again. Oh no. She could tell what conclusion he was about to reach.

“Hey, hey, don’t worry!” she intervened, grabbing his hand. Although it felt weird to be cheering him up like this, she smiled at him. “Now that you mention it, I saw someone like that running through the mall. She was probably running away. That’s it!”

Upon hearing that, Momo... was still really tense, actually. But in a different way. He was excited from sheer panic but the panic started to subside. “She’s... alive? You mean it? You actually saw her, okay? Unharmed?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” she answered while crossing her heart. You have to be committed to what you say if you’re a hero.

“But... why isn’t she here...?”

Okay, how to answer this one...? Ah, easy. “I wish I knew. But I think she’ll just be at home waiting… for...”

She drifted off. He wasn’t listening to her anymore. Well, at least she thought he wasn’t. He was beginning to bend over while clenching his eyes shut and holding his chest. She took a step back when he fell on his knees.

“Whoa! Are you okay?” she asked.

“Just...” He took a breath. “The... emergency exit... It fell on her... I th-thought...” He took a shaky breath. “She’s really alright...?”

“Y-Yeah... I promise...” Daffodil hoped he didn’t take her hesitation as lying. The truth was that she had never seen him so hurt, so close to breaking. He was so cool, so composed, so tall and witty; she thought he was insurmountable. And yet here he was crying over the ground. This wasn’t the Momo she knew...

“Hey, you might want to go home,” she suggested. “And drink some water, too. You need to keep hydrated with the way you are now.”

Without raising his head, he slowly nodded.

“...” She crouched down next to him. “Are you going to be okay? I can stay as long as you need me to.”

“No... I’ll be fine. I’ll take your advice, just... go home, see my sister, relax...” Momo pushed himself off the ground, even if it was kind of shaky, and stood up. His eyes were calmer than before but that somehow made them all the scarier. It was like they were close to death. “And I wouldn’t want to keep you from important things, anyway.”

“Hey, don’t worry about that. Everyone’s important! But, if you’re sure you’ll be okay, then I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, alright...” He turned away and raised his hand in a half-hearted wave. “Bye.”

The first thought that came to mind was that it would be nice if he treated her with a bit more admiration, seeing as she was a superhero. The second thought was... she didn’t know what word described it. She just saw a side of her brother that she didn’t even know existed.

But she couldn’t afford to dwell on it. She told him she was home and so she needed to be. But the first thing she needed was a safe place to transform back. She could use her empowered state to get home more quickly but that was risky; she was the celebrity superhero Dame Daffodil, after all, and people would approach her. She’d have to risk the painful walk.

---

Getting home took even longer than Charo thought it would. It occurred to her shortly after transforming back that a teenage girl limping home on a sore foot would probably get someone to call an ambulance or something, so she had to be careful to not be seen anyway. At least it attracted less attention than the illustrious Dame Daffodil walking the streets.

But it worked out in the end. Finally, after almost an hour of walking/limping, she was in front of her home… but Momo’s car wasn’t in the driveway. Did he go somewhere?

She’d find out. She opened her front door and announced herself. “I’m home!”

No answer.

“Okay…?” The house was eerily quiet. Or maybe the house wasn’t eerie itself but only because of what happened today with her and her brother. Or maybe her house was haunted! That’d be cool. Inconvenient, because she lived in it and she didn’t want to smite the evil that was where she slept and ate, but it’d still be cool.

She decided to look around. First things first, the kitchen because boy was she hungry. Nothing was out of the ordinary. She got a slice of bread out of the cupboard and a slice of cheese from the fridge and folded the bread on it. It wasn’t much but it was a nice snack for idling or wandering.

She made her way to the lounge room. Still nothing out of the ordinary. Their mugs were still on the coffee table (on coasters, mind you, because markings are gross) from when they watched TV that morning.

After she dropped the mugs off at the kitchen sink, she made her way to the bedrooms. She opened the door to her brother’s and peeked inside. She didn’t step inside, though, because that would be an invasion of privacy. Still no sign of her brother.

Charo scoured the house from front to back. Not a single thing looked different from when she and Momo left. Did he even come home? She went to the lounge room again and sat down on the couch. Jeez, her foot was killing her. It’d be best for her to stay home for a few days while she healed up. She knew Momo would say as much. Not that she took such messages to heart.

... With a monster running rampant and people in danger, someone needed to do something, right? So why was Momo holding her back? Then again, she was just a sixteen year-old girl who had no business getting involved with that kind of thing. Ostensibly, anyway; she was Dame Daffodil, after all, and she could hold her own.

She could never tell Momo that. It was her secret identity. So when monsters ran rampant and needed to be taken care of, she came up with different excuses for why she suddenly had new injuries. ‘I fell off a tree trying to help down a cat’. ‘Someone dropped their keys down the drain and I scratched my face on the gravel trying to get them back’. ‘I wanted to pet a cat and it bit me’. She started keeping a list of excuses on her phone so that she wouldn’t repeat them and get suspicious.

Just then, the door opened with an accompanying sigh and slow, lumbering footsteps.

“Momo?” Charo called out.

A moment’s pause. Footsteps rapidly travelled to the lounge room and, sure enough, her brother came in. His eyes widened as he saw her lying on the couch, safe and sound and serene. “Charo...” he breathed.

Deciding to take a tactful approach, Charo softly lifted her hand and waved. “Hey. Where’ve you been?”

“I was out looking for you. Everywhere.” He must’ve been driving around town instead of going straight home like she told him to. “Where have you been?”

She bit her lip and wiggled her foot. “Just got home.”

He looked at her foot and his brow furrowed. “How...?”

“The debris fell on it.”

Momo’s harsh gaze moved back to her face. His chest rose and sank with every deep breath through his nose.

In spite of that, Charo managed a grin. “Hey, Momo—”

“Why did you go back in there?”

It was painful to meet her brother’s eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t get the bags...”

Momo pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course he would; he never agreed with anything like that. “Charo…” When he removed his hand from his face, he bore the same expression she saw back at the mall when she was Dame Daffodil. This time, however, his eyes were soft with relief. He got down on his knee, making himself level with his resting sister, and placed his hand on her shoulder while looking at her with a shaky smile. “I don’t care about the bags. I’m just so glad you’re okay…”

A method of restraining a cat was to hold it by the back of the loose skin around its neck, which typically left the cat immobile. Charo certainly felt that way; this was incredibly gentle by her brother’s standards. Not that she minded affection but the context was unfamiliar to her. “Um…”

“I’m four years older than you. That means I’ve had four years to relax without you and the other sixteen were spent making sure you didn’t cause a traffic jam pileup by running after birds on the road.” His grip tightened on her shoulder, not painfully but securely. “I know I can be a bit rough… I’m sorry for what I said earlier… but I want you to know that I have never regretted those years.”

“What… What are you trying to say?”

“Charo, when the wall came down, I thought you... died. I thought that, after looking after you for so long and watching you become who you are now… I thought… it was all gone… and that I failed to protect you…”

Charo was taken aback by her brother’s incredibly sentimental attitude. She managed a smile and placed her hand on his gripping her shoulder. She gave it a firm and reassuring squeeze. “Sorry for making you worry, Momo. But I can handle myself. I’ve told you that.”

With a sigh, Momo withdrew his hand. “You tell me a lot of things.”

He stood up and lumbered towards the wall away from her. He balanced himself against it with one hand, holding his forehead with the other. Charo could only see his back as he collected himself, whereas she rested on the couch with a sore foot which she got from an accident that, truth be told, could have claimed her life right before Momo’s eyes.

“… Wait, Momo.”

Her big brother looked over his shoulder at her. She swung her legs off the couch and stood up, wincing as the pain from her foot flared up.

He sighed again. “You didn’t even bandage that. Hang on, I’ll go get the—”

“No, Momo, please,” she asserted. “You’re right. I have been lying to you. I was doing it for you, I promise you… but I didn’t want to make you feel this way. I’m sorry. I don’t want to do that again. So I’ll show you the truth, for the both of us. I don’t want any more secrets.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

Momo raised his eyebrow, waiting for her to continue. But she said she’d ‘show’ him the truth, not ‘tell’. He didn’t pick up on that but he’d come to know what she meant.

Time to be a hero.

With that thought in her mind, warmth bloomed from her daffodil hairpin and ran through her entire body, soon to be accompanied by a bright light that encompassed her form and illuminated the room. The warmth and light draped her and her clothes like a blanket, and her form changed accordingly. She couldn’t see it for herself but the edges of the fabrics she casually wore changed; the feeling of her sleeves on her biceps or the legs of her shorts on her thighs became the feel of straps on her shoulders, ruffles of her dress on her thighs, and bands on her wrists.

When the light died and Momo stopped covering his eyes with his hand, the brown-haired girl had vanished from the room. Standing in her place, at the exact same height with the exact same face and the (almost) exact same hairstyle but entirely different clothes and hair colour, was...

“Dame Daffodil…?” Momo exclaimed. “But Charo was right there… Wait, but… Do you… Oh…”

Daffodil had to stifle her giggling. Her transformation had a glamour effect that stopped people from recognising the obvious similarities between her and Charo. For obvious reasons, she never showed her secret to anyone else. Looking at her brother’s bewildered eyes gradually widen in realisation, she knew it was a true pity she’d only enjoy this once.

“YOU’RE DAME DAFFODIL?!” Momo screamed.

“Hey, shh! Neighbours!” she hissed.

He immediately covered his mouth. “Sorry, sorry…! But… You’re Dame Daffodil?”

She nodded. “Sorry to just spring this on you. No pun intended, because spring and flowers and—oh forget it.”

“No, it’s… oh…” He walked over to a seat and fell straight down into it. “So this is why you get a new injury every day?”

“Yep.”

He massaged his forehead. “And this is because of a hairpin you just so happened to see in a shop window for three pounds?”

“Yep.”

He looked up at the roof—presumably beyond it towards the sky—with great indignation. “What? Are you bored up there?”

With that introduction out of the way, Dame Daffodil transformed back into Charo and lied back on the couch. “So that’s pretty much it. I’m… really sorry for lying to you. I hope you understand.”

Momo lied back against his chair. “… I do. That’s the sort of thing you need to keep secret from everyone so they don’t blab to anyone else.”

“No, no, I should have told you…” Charo rolled over, turning her back to her brother. “I trust you. I really do. I just… I got so into this superhero thing and everything that came with it and I didn’t think it through. I’m really sorry, Momo…”

“Charo. Look at me.”

She rolled back over.

He gave her a small grin. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. It’s water under the bridge. Like your time of the month.”

She snorted. “Only this won’t come back.”

“Well, now that you mention it, it still needs to be dealt with.” Momo’s Serious Face was back as he continued. “I think you should tell Alesea. She worries about you almost as much as I do.”

“Oh, she knows. She’s Lady Lily.”

Momo’s face turned into such a fallen-jaw, shrunken pupil masterpiece of surprise that she wished she had her phone to take a photo of it. “What?”

“Yep.”

“Alesea?”

“Yep.”

He blinked.

“Don’t blow a fuse now.”

“First you, then Alesea...” He leaned forward at her. “Is Tom a superhero?”

“If he is, I don’t know anything about it.”

“Oh thank everything…” Momo put his hand over his heart and sighed. “This is probably the worst day my heart’s ever had. That’s not an easy thing to accomplish.”

“We should probably spend the rest of the day inside, then. Watch some TV and just chill out. What do you say?”

“Best idea I’ve heard all day.”

“What about Sushi Supreme?”

“The worst.”

“And going back in the mall?”

“Wasn’t a bad idea. You’re Dame Daffodil, after all… and I’m going to need a lot of time to digest that.” Momo stood up. “I’ll go get some snacks. And jugs of hot chocolate, while I’m at it.”

Charo stood after. “Leave it to—ach!” Oh right, her foot was sore.

“Hm. I’ll get some bandages as well. Wait right there.”

Momo scurried off into the hallways, leaving Charo alone. She lied back down on the couch and, with the softness supporting her, smiled. The wrongness that pervaded the day—indeed, the last several months she had been Dame Daffodil—had left her like a bad breath. Now she felt like she could breathe easy. She could only imagine how it felt for Momo…

He popped his head in. “Crackers or cookies?”

“Cookies!”

He gave her a thumbs up and disappeared again. Like there was nothing wrong.

Maybe there wasn’t.

Not anymore.

#dame daffodil #fanfiction #personal writing #short story

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stephicness · 8 years ago

Text

Peace Among the Chaos :: Ravus Nox Fleuret x Reader

*scratches back of head* Well, I didn’t write it exactly in a second person point of view for a reader perspective, but I really thought this idea would be better excused in this way, so I write it in third person! I hope that’s okay!

A fun writing to do though. So here you go! Have some love at first sight things with Ravus and a love interest. Perhaps if I touch in on this particular ‘reader’ character again, I’ll write it in the second perspective a bit more properly for you, dear anon. :D

The idea of being at social gathering was far from something the high commander enjoyed. Wine flowing, people mingling and gossiping about politics of the empire and the frivolous connotations of the what the empire’s plans were. It was event after event that hardly proved to be of any real interest to the high commander as he carefully meandered around the gallery. The same events that he was forced to – only this time in a different setting.

The gallery was filled with a variety of paintings and works, sculptures and artwork showcasing the works of the artist with the prestige enough to be able to display their art amongst Niflheim’s most renown art museum. Apparently, it was a show that the Imperial Chancellor refused to miss. Thus, against the commander’s free-will, he came in attendance with the chancellor. Well, he was supposed to be a guest of his, but the chancellor enjoyed the light of the situation. As he flaunted his feathers, the commander merely let his eyes wander along each of the paintings that decorated itself across the walls. Each stroke was done with a sense of precision and grace. The abstraction of flowers dancing across the canvases as various narrative were told. Of triumph, of chaos, of splendor and joy. Beautiful works and a beautiful show, but the crowd of people hardly seemed interested in the works, more taken with the idea of being able to converse with one another about the latest scandals.

And yet he was able to stare at the artwork himself, analyzing the tiny formal details of the work as he passed by with each slow step. But his footing eventually stopped as he paused in front of one of the massive canvases. His focus homed in on this particular work: a portrait of two figures, forever portrayed in a dance as petals danced around them, dripping with blue and magneta colors. Out of the other orderly paintings and drawings, this one held a different air to it, stained of ink, a chaos of flowers as the two figures were caught in the chaos. And yet as the background of aggressive strokes and marks closed the negative space around them, the focus of the painting remained the calm area where the figures embraced. Hands were tangled in a twisted form as if the figures became one. Bound together for eternity and captured on the canvas. The commander’s eyebrows furrowed the longer he looked at the painting, having to step closer and observe the stains of ink and paint upon the canvas. It was a work that brought forth a serenity and romance to it, yet it was surrounded by a chaos unheard of compared to the rest of the works in the gallery. Emotions and turmoil that felt as if it touched the soul of those that took the time to gaze into the work. A masterpiece…

“You must really like this painting, don’t you~?” The high commander’s focus was disrupted all too quickly, causing a small jolt to surge through his body as he stood upright and looked at the voice that interrupted him. The expression the commander wore seemed to provoke a small laugh from the person, a smile spreading over their thin lips. His eyes narrowed before he looked back up towards the painting.

“Is that an issue to find appreciation in the artwork…?”

“Ah! Not at all.” The individual smiled at the commander, allowing themselves to advance forward and next to where the commander stood. “It’s just that, I mean… Usually people can only view a piece of art for about seven seconds before they move along. You’ve been looking at this painting for about a thirty instead.” He gave a sideward glance at them, noticing as they calmly tucked their hands behind their back, hiding away a black book they held in their hands. A bright smile lingered on their face as they too admired the work before them. He felt a sense of turmoil in the work, but the way they looked at the painting… It was so hopeful. Just as the individual turned towards the commander, he quickly looked back to the painting to avoid eye contact. “What do you like about this painting anyways…? It just seems like, you know, another painting? It doesn’t look like it fits in with the others.”

The silver-haired man paused, eyebrows furrowing for a moment as he shifted his weight back on his leg. An odd question to ask… But even he couldn’t quite comprehend what caused him to become so interested in this painting. He was quiet in thought, collecting his words before he gestured with his hand. “I believe it is because it is different that I find interest in it. A lack of control over the process itself. And yet, the artist struggles to find control. A balance and peace between the precision of painting the figure, versus the chaos of abstraction around them all.”

“You figure it would clash though, wouldn’t it?” They tilted their head, pursing their lips before they glanced back up at the taller man. “What do you think it all means, anyways?”

He shook his head in response. “It is a pleasing contrast, for nothing can be in order. The only thing that may mend the chaos is where you place your small bit of solace.” He lets out a small sigh, hanging his gaze as he brought his arms up to cross them over his chest. “In this case, the artist most likely thinks that solace can be found in another soul… A light amongst the dark, I suppose.”

“You really think so…? That the artist wanted to show that chaos can be remedied somehow?”

“No one can be for certain…” He finally worked up the courage to return his gaze to the viewer of the work, meeting their gaze with an arch of his eyebrow as they looked back at him. An odd figure, one much different than the others that were too distracted from the work. A face much more innocent than they as well, eyes bright and enthusiastic as if captivated by what the high commander had to say. Even the smile they wore was genuine, humbling to the point where the commander’s eyes widened and he had to return his eyes back to the painting before the two of them. Another laugh came from the figure next to him as they too looked back at the painting once more. “What do you think? What significance and meaning does the painting hold for you?”

“To me?” They tilted their head in thought, adjusting their hands to press their palm against their lower back. A hum came from the viewer, a good long moment before they grinned, looking up to the high commander with that luminous smile that caused the commander’s stoic expression to falter. “I think the artist just really wanted to play with inks and made a mess of things~”

He scoffed and shook his head. “Is that truly all?”

“I mean, sometimes the artist can have a simplistic meaning for doing a piece. Not all of it’s about struggle and torment!” Their laughter was contagious enough for the commander’s lips to curl into a small smile. They did have a point, he realized. But the viewer smiled, gently tucking their hands behind their back once more as they rocked on their feet in a playful manner. “Maybe though… Maybe it’s about the fact that you don’t have to be lonely in all of the chaos. You can find peace and solace. But it doesn’t really mean much unless you have someone to share your peace with, you know? Friends, family, lovers… Having someone to share the peace with you is one of the most calming thoughts in the storm of the world.”

The commander grew quiet with the viewer’s words. He had assumed it was mostly a placed trust. But perhaps it was deeper than that. Instead of one giving to the other, it was the hearts of both figures… Odd, but somewhat pleasant to think about. Loneliness, after all, was a cruel thing. Just as he had wandered the gallery alone, unable to share his thoughts and wandering in silence amongst the sea of people.

Until he met them…

The two slowly turned to look at each other once more, a silence settling between the two as eyes met once more. It was rare for him to have such a conversation as intellectuals, and there was a comfort in being able to voice his thoughts on the work. It felt natural… And the air they gave as well, the gaze that considered his soul and the words he spoke… It was a calm in the chaos, and one that he was pleased to share. He tilted his head carefully at the smaller viewer, turning to face them properly as they too turned to face him.

“Allow me to properly introduce myself. I am-“

“Ravus Nox Fleuret. I know.” Ravus was a bit stunned at how he was unable to continue his introduction. He held his hand up partway, hesitating on whether or not to retract his hand. But they merely continued to smile as they gently reached up and took hold of the commander’s hand. “I asked the chancellor about who you were.”

“Is that so…” They had such a delicate hold, but Ravus could take notice in the faint blue stains that stuck around their fingernails and knuckles. His eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he investigated further, eying the inked stains on their hand closer. Must have been from a broken pen, he assumed. He looked back to them, deliberately placing a kiss atop their knuckles. A subtle apology for being so fascinated by their hands. “A pleasure to meet you, though my introduction has been done for me, it seems.”

“I don’t mind, to be honest.” He noticed how their face flushed with a red color, a stifled and crooked smile crossing over their face as they shifted on their feet. Once Ravus released their hand, they quickly pulled their hand back and hid them behind their back. “It’s really nice to meet you! There’s so many faces here that it’s nice to know at least one name.”

Ravus nodded as he gave a soft smile in return. “That is true… I do not know many faces myself. The artist has not even shown their face either, from what I have noticed.”

“Oh, I think they’re lurking around somewhere.” The viewer glanced around the gallery, standing up on their toes in a futile effort to see above the mass of people. “As far as I can tell, gallery receptions in general were an awkward time for the artist, so artists sometimes like hiding from the audience.”

“Why is that so…?”

“Well, you know…” They seemed to become quiet in their words as they peered up at Ravus before looking back away. “You never know what a crowd’s going to be like, you know? They usually come in, not wanting to really know much about the artist, so the artist probably feels like there’s no reason to be there. I can’t help but feel a little bad for artists who go through that kind of social anxiety.”

“Or that kind of anxiety as a general sense.” Ravus gave a nod of understanding. The idea of having to converse with people was something Ravus never really found pleasantries in, so he could honestly find a relation in such a sense. It was only in a rare instance that he could find a face he was willing to speak to. Even then, it was rare – just as it was now to be able to speak so calmly with this strange individual. “I hope the artist knows, however, that I enjoy their work. Attending the reception tonight is a choice that I do not regret making. Especially when in the company of such intelligent and… Calming company.”

The two’s gazes returned to face once another, a silence settling between the commander and the viewer. It wasn’t until the viewer began to chuckle, looking down as their smile began to glow bright enough to draw attention to the both of them. A laugh so full of joy that caused a smile to appear over Ravus’s face. Rare as it was, he was unable to retain his normal expression as he listened to the sound of the voice. The chaos and voices around them melting away… As if two faces together in the noise…

“High Commander Fleuret! There you are!”

A noise that Ravus did not wish to hear now. Just the mere sound of the chancellor’s voice was enough to snap him out of his attentiveness on the figure before him as the chancellor waltzed over to the two. His eyes narrowed into a scowl, an expression that did little to phase Ardyn as he moved closer to the two, more so to that smaller figure that he lingered over with a mischievous expression.

“I see you found yourself the little sheep as well. So shy and wishing to speak to you. I hope that you two were able to enjoy your pleasantries and conversation?”

“Ah! Yes! We did!” The viewer gave a small smile, looking back up at Ravus from the chancellor. “It was a great conversation.”

“Delightful. Did you manage to give him what your desired to?”

“Huh?” They paused for a moment in the words, soon gasping as they brought forth the black book that was tucked behind their back. Ravus arched an eyebrow with curiosity as they shuffled through the pages and eventually removed one of the thick white pages from it. “I, um… I came over to talk to you because I wanted to give you this. I mean… I asked Chancellor Izunia to, but he wanted me to give it to you myself.”

Ravus stared down at the sheet of paper before he carefully took it from them. Upon the sheet was a portrait, sketched out with aggressive pencil marks that shadowed the figure within it, an intensity in the line work. And yet, a gentle face upon the figure as they were portrayed viewing representations of canvases on walls… It was a portrait of himself. His eyes widened when he realized this, attention turning back to the artist before him, who merely smiled and gave a small nod as they began to step backwards.

“I, um… Hope you like it. And the rest of my work too. It was really nice being able to talk to you about it all.” They smiled and pointed towards the paper. “You should check the back as well. When you get the chance to.”

“I… I will do so. Thank you.” Ravus looked down at the sketch once again then back to the artist who gave a small wave.

“Yeah! Any time. I, um… Have to go now. Mingle with the others. Or hide away from them, that sort of thing.” A nervous chuckle escaped from the artist as they tucked their hands behind their back again. “Thank you, by the way... For talking with me. And for giving me a reason to be here.” They smiled and bowed their head before vanishing into the crowd of people.

Ravus nodded in response, looking down at the drawing in his hand before he turned the page around. The high commander allowed the corner of his lips to curl into a soft smile before he looked towards where the artist disappeared to once more. At the bottom of the paper was the signature of the artist, signed with a small note at the bottom of it along with a series of numbers jotted down nearby it. A phone number and a title...

Ravus Nox Fleuret Peace Among The Chaos

#asks #dear anon #stephic writings #final fantasy xv #ffxv #ravus nox fleuret #ravus x reader #fanfiction #a bit more on the self-indulgent side #but i always really did like the idea of ravus falling in love with an artist #i'll maybe write more about ravus and the artist another time too #we'll see depending on what you guys think maybe~

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sunlitroom · 8 years ago

Text

Gotham 3.21 - The Primal Riddle

As I watched it, and some random observations here and there.

Previously on Gotham:

Ed tormented Lucius and Bruce at the behest of Dr Strange, although he wasn’t exactly reluctant about it. But this is really just shown to remind us of the question: while Wayne Enterprises runs Indian Hill, who actually runs Wayne Enterprises? The Court of Owls, apparently. Os can’t take on everyone alone. What about a freak army? Who ordered the hit on my father? Uncle Frank. Barbara wants to know what’s coming into 9c. Ed is Riddler. The clone is having such fun. Jim tells Kathryn he killed his uncle, and that it’s high time they meet. She agrees.

As always, long post will be long - reaaally long. There are likely to be rambling digressions. Gobblepot may appear (although I welcome all shippers and non-shippers alike :)). There will be naked favouritism and naked not-favouritism. Broader comments at the end on plotlines and parallels and general direction.

We open on an arctic landscape – through which Ivy and Oswald are trekking.

(A very early aside. Now – I know that this is a universe which gives us clones and people returned from the dead, but you need to have some internal logic. How the fuck did Os and Ivy get here?

It’s not just a quibble - does Oswald have resources hidden in the case that he’d have to flee the city? A passport? Wouldn’t this have set alarm bells ringing – the lost mayor turning up? He’s pretty distinctive looking. I know it sounds like nitpicking, but it’s kind of important for understanding Oswald’s thinking: whether – given previous setbacks – he’s actually started making serious contingency plans in case of emergencies)

Or has Ivy amassed resources? Doesn’t seem likely – given how thrilled she was to find an abandoned property. Although she must feed and clothe herself somehow.

Anyway – we move in closer and see that Oswald’s jaw is set, determined, despite the physical difficulty of this - reminding me of why I love him best. They reach some sort of building. Oswald opens the door, and lets Ivy in first.

Oswald calls out to see if anyone’s home. Ivy chats away about how cold it is in this place. Oswald is entranced – looking at a butterfly in an ice-cube. Ivy is starting to say something about how she knows Oswald is hellbent on revenge, and she knows the freak army is a great idea – her idea – but

Oswald hears a noise and shushes her. They turn to the door and trade worried looks – the first time we’ll see them share similar behaviour this episode, and interact in a manner that flags up that a bond has been established.

It’s Victor Fries. Victor is built.

Oswald goes into subservient flattery mode, familiar to us from back in season one.

Mr Fries. Welcome home.

Victor grabs Oswald and throws him up against the wall. Being treated roughly by a blue-eyed man must make Oswald miss Jim. Anyway – Oswald is at his best in this kind of situation (wheedling a more powerful enemy, not being manhandled – although probably that too) and talks fast. He recognises that Fries must hold him responsible for all that monster talk – but that was just to win votes. Victor snarls that he was run out of Gotham. Oswald says that he can help him reverse his condition. His enemies tried to murder him, and take everything he had – but if Fries helps him get revenge, then he’ll give him all the resources he needs when he regains power.

Fries is despondent. Even if he wanted to say yes – he can only survive for a few hours without his suit. Oswald cuts in,

Your suit - locked away in Wayne Enterprises. Ivy?

Ivy opens the cast. Ta-da

How did they get that?

Fries smiles, but this is really terrible, terrible news. Now he'll get dressed.

Mr Fries - will you join us?

(An aside - Oswald manipulating and wheedling, keeping a cool head – taking big risks to win an ally to pursue a personal agenda - it does my heart fucking good.)

The Court of Owls. A hood is removed from Jim’s face. He asks where they are – but is told this is unimportant. They go over the Uncle Frank situation – and Kathryn establishes to her satisfaction that Jim only holds his uncle accountable…. which, to be honest, doesn’t say much for their research into Jim and his motivations.

Kathryn tells Jim that the city needs him – there’s turmoil ahead and good men needed to hold it together, but only the Court can save Gotham. She wants him to prove loyalty. He asks if killing his uncle wasn’t enough.

That…. doesn’t follow? That was to avenge a personal wrong – not to demonstrate loyalty to the Court. Did I miss something there?

Kathryn tells him that Frank's body has already been taken care of.

GCPD, where Lee presents Harvey with autopsy papers and informs him 'the stiff' is Frank Gordon, Jim's uncle.

Harvey carefully brushes off her concerns, as Jim walks in. Harvey clears his throat.

Hey Jim - we have some bad news for you

Jim asks what’s going on. Lee tells him. She also says he saw his uncle at the cemetery and asks if he said anything. Jim thanks her brusquely – but denies anything strange.

That's your reaction? I know you. You're hiding something.

Jim flatly denies it. Her face twists and sours – tired of this situation, and she walks out – a parting shot as she leaves – telling Harvey to go ahead and keep covering for him

Jim tells Harvey about the Court situation. Harvey wants to act now – but Jim says they’ll scare if if he pushes too hard, and then Frank died for nothing. They need to keep up appearances.

Harvey holds up a newspaper with Ed’s picture on the front. That’ll be easy.

We are in an eclectic mish-mash of a room worthy of 60s Batman where Barbara is looking for Ed – describing herself as his old friend that he keeps blowing off.

(An aside. One of Ed’s characteristics – which sometimes seems contrary to his behaviour – is a love of order, something he and Isabella shared. You can see it in the neat methodical way he does about things, and in how pristine and pressed his appearance is. Ed’s old apartment was certainly inventive in terms of design – but there was also an orderliness to it. If Ed’s environment is at all indicative of his state of mind – then this is rather alarming. There’s the inventiveness of his old apartment, but it’s chaotic.)

Ed appears.

I'll allow you to call me Ed because we have a history, but my name is the Riddler.

He pronounces Riddler with a flourish. Barbara seems amused, but gets to business, asking if Oswald mentioned a shadowy group controlling the city with impunity. The mere thought they could exist infuriates her – she didn't climb up all this way not to be top dog.

(An aside – it’s not exactly been years of hard work, Barbara. She’s pretty reliant on Tabitha for muscle, and then on Oswald’s good graces to keep their club in the first place. Stumbling on Isabella’s murder was a lucky break. She’s been shrewd in taking opportunities – but the idea of a climb doesn’t fit.)

Barbara mentions that Jim told her about this – which immediately sparks Ed’s curiosity. Barbara tells Ed about 9c. All Ed’s focus is now on this problems she’s brought him. He tells her about Strange hinting at a powerful group in charge of everything – the riddle that got away. He tells her he’ll find the answer, but do it his way. Barbara smiles knowingly.

You're going to make a big production out of this?

Ed says that only someone with power would have links. He needs to speak to the elite, and what brings bourgeoisie out like the opening night at the theatre?

We are at the theatre, where a production of Hamlet is underway.

I say - ghost – speak your business or I shall go no further

We see, in the wings, that Ed has murdered Hamlet's father. His voice booms out, mocking.

My business is not with you - but with your audience

Ed walks on dragging a sword behind him.

He wants to address the ruling class. They’ve kept a secret for far too long, but tonight he will kidnap and capture one of them to expose the truth.

Spread the word. The Riddler is coming

He turns to the actor. Telling him he found his performance wooden and unrealistic, he murders him – running him through with the sword – before pronouncing,

Annnnd scene.

Wayne Manor, where Alfred is playing chess with Bruce 2

(An aside - is it me - or is that musical motif almost identical to The Changeling? If so – then it’s a very neat nod.)

Alfred looks at Bruce 2 as he deliberates – eyes sharp. I think Alfred knows.

He calls checkmate. Bruce2 smiles and shakes hands. Alfred says Bruce let him one. Bruce2 frowns, thrown for a moment, but insists otherwise. Alfred says he’s not been himself. Bruce2 feigns confusion – but then tells him about Selina sending him away, and being to embarrassed to Alfred, and then afraid he’d ask, which would make him lie.

There’s enough truth there to make it believable – but I still don’t think Alfred believes him. He thanks Bruce2 for his candour, addressing him as ‘sir’. Bruce 2 tells him he’s a good friend, and Alfred leaves to check on dinner. As Bruce2 puts the chess pieces back, we see blood drip onto one of the white pieces. Alarmed – Bruce2 immediately phones the Court and says

It's happening again – (which never fails to freak me out, because https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pWa0dZMHYeE)

The theatre, where Jim covers the dead actor’s face.

Harvey says everyone in the audience accounted for and tries to make a theatre pun. Jim asks what secret Ed’s referring to – but Harvey dismisses this, saying Ed’sprobably just making it up.

There’s a green box with question mark on it on the stage. Opening it, Harvey takes out a scroll and hands it to Jim

It's a riddle - written in iambic pentameter like a Shakespearean sonnet

(An aside - Jim's general cleverness and level of education is interesting to ponder. He’s portrayed as smarter in s1, I think – but that was pushed aside in favour of constant anger in s2)

The riddle is pretty obvious – about a two-faced person reigning over a constituency of fools. It’s the mayor.

Harvey thinks this is Oswald – but says this makes no sense, because Ed told Lucius that he killed Oswald.

(An aside – my shipping preferences aside, not getting any sense of how Jim reacted to the news of Oswald’s apparent death seems lazy. He’s known this person a long time. They have a history. He trusted him enough to entrust Lee to his care. He felt sympathy for him when his mother was murdered. I’m not buying a complete lack of reaction. Even if you want to make Jim a complete bastard – have him sneer and say it was inevitable. But a blank just feels like they’ve forgotten it. The only satisfactory way I can work round it just now is that Jim has faith in Oswald’s ability to emerge from the direst of situations, and isn’t putting total stock in Ed’s claim.)

Jim says the riddle refers to Aubrey James. Harvey asks why Ed would tell them. Jim replies that its to make them look bad and put on a show.

Sirens.

Tabitha tells Barbara they don't need Nygma for anything - he should be dead by now. Barbara tries to placate her - he likes solving puzzles - it's an easy solution for us. Tabitha asks how Ed causing a scene at the theatre helps them. Ed looms behind her, and - amused – tells her it doesn’t, but it does help him more fully announce himself.

Tabitha has a rather weak comeback about dying would help him achieve fame, and she could help him with that. Barbara intervenes before it gets too messy.

Ed wants to kidnap the mayor – he’ll know something useful. Barbara is irritated: if that was the plan, she could have had him brought to Sirens and tortured by now, but Ed – of course – has specific needs to fulfil when carrying out a crime, and needs to see GCPD humiliated, and receive an appropriate amount of attention.

Barbara ask what happens if the Mayor doesn't know anything. Ed has a plan B – which requires an explosion at a biker bar, which he wants Tabitha to arrange. Barbara and Tabitha ask him how he plans to get the Mayor when he’s announced to GCPD that he’s going to take him. Ed grins.

They'll bring him to me

Mayor James’ office - where James is eating pastries and seems unconcerned about the threat against him. Jim wants to move him to a safehouse. He’s dismissive, but then looks ill - blood sugar, apparently - too many danishes – and starts to fish out some pills.

Jim frowns – light dawning – and asks where he got those. James says an appreciative citizen sent them. It’s rather a miracle that he’s survived this long, actually. James gives an uh-oh, and we see the pills all have question marks on them

We are at a refinery – in a really rather lovely establishing shot. Brigit works here now, and she’s passing up Ivy and Oswald’s offer. Oswald is incredulous – he thinks this place is terrible. Brigit doesn’t deny it but replies that Strange messed her up pretty bad. There a brief flash of recognition and empathy in Oswald’s eyes. She continues. This place is bad, but Gotham is worse.

The boss yells at her.

Freak - you're on company time.

Ivy doesn’t understand. Brigit could totally kick his ass. She tells her,

There’s nothing wrong with being a freak. I’m a freak. So’s Penguin.

Oswald gives an acknowledging nod – no flinching or indication of disagreement.

Brigit comments that she met Ivy before. Ivy explains her accelerated aging. Brigit turns to Oswald and asks if he’s part of this. He nods, and Ivy answers for him

Yes - it's almost like we're a family. You don't have to be alone anymore

Firefly considers, and Oswald makes an offer.

I could kill your boss just to sweeten the deal?

Nah.

Brigit smiles and walks towards her boss

Hey you - I quit.

She casually blinds him with some molten metal and strolls out

In the background, Ivy and Oswald exchange matching expressions of entertained amazement. Oswald steps aside to let Ivy past, and they follow Brigit out.

The Court – where Bruce 2 thanks them for letting him come in. He’s being examined by a doctor. Kathryn says he did the right thing by coming in. Behind Bruce2’s back, the doctor shakes his head. Kathryn smiles. Bruce2 looks serious.

I’m dying, aren't I?

Kathryn confirms this and says the process that brought him into this world was flawed. Bruce2 asks if he’ll die before Bruce returns, but Kathryn says no. She goes on,

I know we've asked a lot of you…

Bruce2 cuts in

You gave me a purpose - more than most people get.

Kathryn smiles, and says she’s glad he sees it that way. She says that when Bruce returns people are going to die. Bruce2 looks troubled and asks how many. She looks displeased, and tells him she hopes he hasn’t gotten attached – trying to guess who he might want to protect. She reiterates that Gotham must fall – and will – because of Bruce2’s sacrifice. Eyeing him – she wants to know if they can count on him. He nods.

Mayor James is wheeled into an emergency room – Long story short – because my wrist is starting to hurt: the engineered explosion creates a diversion that allows Ed to kidnap James from right under GCPD’s nose. What important here is that Jim knows all along that this is playing into Ed’s hands, and that Ed explicitly says his actions are motivated by a need to answer the riddle Jim put into motion when he went to Barbara: who runs Gotham?

Also of note is the scene where Ed pulls aside the curtain, reveals himself in disguise to the Mayor, and then closes the curtain behind him because – like Ed’s chase in the snow – it reminded me of a similar scene in Hannibal – same setting.

Sirens Club. Butch glances up and tells Tabitha they have company, just as Jim strides in – asking where Barbara is. Tabitha is evasive. Jim has no time for this. He tells her straight that he knows she working with Ed, and that they kidnapped James: she was the only one Jim talked to. Butch admits it’s true – and brushes off Tabitha’s glare – Jim clearly knows everything.

Jim looks more carefully and prods. He says he heard a rumour about what Ed did to them both, and is surprised they’re defending him. He makes an offer: he’ll take Ed down, and give Barbara a free pass. Tabitha admits she hates Ed, but doesn't know where they are.

Jim’s phone rings – Ed has sent another riddle – he leaves, saying he should never have brought Barbara in, and tells them they better hope he finds her first.

Tabitha responds to Butch’s look – saying that she can't betray Barbara. Butch looks at her knowingly.

Yeah – and she’s always got your best interests at heart.

Ed's lair. Mayor James tells Ed he’s in over his head, but Ed points out that this only makes him more intrigued and determined

I will be the one who unmasks them!

Barbara asks if Aubrey remembers her. He recognises her voice, and she goads him with memory of how he was tortured at Galavan’s - with his head in that box. It was fun! Barbara says. It’ll be like old times.

James sighs – they don’t get it. The Court is all-knowing and omnipresent: God - they'll know

Barbara is not pleased at this, and gives a nasty smile: It's the box! It’s testament to how bad his treatment at her hands was that he then gives up the info, even knowing it’s a death sentence. All he knows is they’re called the Court. He just did their bidding.

Barbara is furious at the meagreness of his information – but Ed thanks him. This is tangible evidence of their existence, so they’ll know Ed isn’t bluffing. He asks Barbara what a secret society fears most. She answers correctly – being exposed.

Tabitha arrives – Ed asks if she brought what he wanted. They have a grabby glaring moment. Tabitha tells Barbara Jim came to the Club and knows everything, Barbara should never have involved Ed. Barbara looks troubled.

Selina’s apartment - where Selina is feeding her cats fancy stolen food. Bruce2 enters – telling her he wants to see her, that he missed her. Selina thinks he’s Bruce for a moment. He continues talking, telling her was going to stay away, that it would have been safer – but that things have changed. She asks what he’s talking about – but makes to leave anyway.

Bruce2 tells her to wait – and admits he’s not Bruce. Selina turns and stares.

GCPD – where Lee tells Jim someone deliberately switched the bullet in his uncle’s body. Jim tries to brush her off – but then tells her to drop it – this is dangerous. Lee gives him a disbelieving look

You think I care what happens to me anymore?

She tells him she’s sick of watching him destroy people's lives and get away with it. Jim looks hurt. It’s the worst thing he thinks of himself – and someone he cares about deeply is voicing it. She continues, voice spiteful.

When I find out what you did, I'm going to make sure you pay for it, and I’ll enjoy it

Jim looks thrown off-balance by the nastiness of the comment. Harvey calls him over. Another riddle – which turns out to be the TV news – where Ed is parading James as a hostage and talking about the Court. Jim’s phone rings – Kathryn wants this handled promptly as a proof of loyalty.

Meantime – Ed assures Aubrey that his hopes of a rescue are worthless. GCPD are no match for him. Aubrey responds tonelessly.

We’re both dead men. The court won't bargain.

Ed isn’t listening, saying that he’s underestimating him. His phone rings. He thinks it’s the Court, and is rattled when it’s Jim – Ed doesn’t deal well with plans not going precisely as he expected. He snaps that he’s waiting on an important call. Jim continues a now established habit of rattling criminals on the phone.

You want to know who runs Gotham? Come by GCPD - I'll tell you.

Ed snorts disbelievingly and says he’ll pass. Jim goes on

You think I told Barbara everything?

Ed smiles.

You always were clever, Jim - I respect that. OK - you and me alone. And this idiot.

Ed hangs up.

Jim turns to Harvey and tells him the thing that drives Nygma - (his need to solve a puzzle) – is also weakness. Harvey reminds him that everyone is depending on him – but no pressure.

Jim waits with his feet up. James scurries in. Jim frowns and asks where Ed is. Jim tells him to sit down and shut up. Jim calls out for Ed, who walks in now – saying he just wanted to be sure it wasn’t a trap. James babbles on. Jim nods over to him and comments that he talks too much. Ed laughs.

Jim stands up – going on the offensive. He tells Ed to go ahead and blow James up – who grumbles that he’ll have his badge. Ed looks discomfited. Jim pushes further – asking what the blast radius is, and whether he should duck behind a desk. Ed now gets seriously rattled at not being taken seriously, and yells that he wants the answer. Turning to the Mayor, he states that he’ll kill him, and keep Jim as a hostage, and presses the button…..

But it doesn't work. Jim tells him there’s a radio signal blocking the frequency between the control and collar. Tabitha helped him – she holds quite the grudge. Ed smiles

I admit - didn't see it coming

He still wants to know, though. Jim is impassive. Ed aims his gun. Jim reaches for his pocket. Ed reverts for a moment to GoodEd in terms of flustered impotence – reduced to yelling

Don't!

(An aside. And isn’t that interesting. I think it’s unclear whether or not Ed doesn’t want Jim to go for his gun because it’s interfering with his image of how this would go; or because if he shoots Jim he risks losing the information he needs; or simply because – somewhere – there’s a part of Ed that doesn’t want to shoot Jim.)

Jim tells him he’ll give him his answer if he lets James go and takes a ride with him. Pull the trigger – and he’ll never go. Ed is angry now – Jim won’t get a second chance to trick him and aims the gun. Jim tells him that this way

The riddle will go unanswered.

Ed looks desperate – almost pained. Jim understands Ed's compulsion

Ed gives in. Fine. Let's go

Back at Selina’s. She can’t believe Bruce2 just went along with the Court. Bruce2 tells her he had nowhere else to go. He insists that she has to leave the city, because something bad is going to happen. It dawns on Selina that his appearance is identical to Bruce – and she asks angrily what he’s done with Bruce.

Bruce2 says he’s fine. Selina makes to leave, saying she’s going to tell Alfred. Bruce2 panics and says she can’t tell anyone. Selina asks why the hell he told her then?

Bruce blurts it out

Because I care about you. And if I can save one person – I want it to be you.

Selina laughs - that's the difference: Bruce would try and save everyone. Bruce2 can pretend - but he’ll never be him.

You're nothing. You’re not even a real person. You don't matter

(An aside – it’s surprisingly cruel for Selina. She’s worried about Bruce, and she’s still angry about her mother – but this was cold. It’s maybe a reminder of how young she is – since children can be brutally cruel – but wow)

Bruce2 looks anguished. This is his deepest fear, flung in his face by someone he cares about – much like Lee telling Jim he wrecks lives and then walks away unscathed.

Bruce2 says he does matter (falling back on the Court’s validation of his worth, since the only other bond he wanted, that with Selina, has just been destroyed) – and he won’t let her tell. He pushes her through the window – peering over curiously to see Selina in her back in the alley, eyes open and unseeing, leg at a horrid angle.

Jim and Ed in a car at the docks at night. They look straight ahead. The mood is subdued. Jim speaks.

Remember the night you came to Lee's for dinner? It feels like a lifetime ago.

Ed responds – voice flat, memory detailed.

Leslie made fondue, the wine was a Bordeaux – smooth, with rich tannins. Miss Kringle wore a black dress with pink trim.

Jim admits that he tried like hell to get out of it. Ed snorts. Jim continues. But the truth is I had a good time. He looks at Ed.

I considered you a friend

Ed offers a riddle – but Jim doesn’t care to answer it. Ed reveals it anyway:

Betrayal. It’s how every friendship ends, so what good are friends anyway?

Ed looks bleak. The Court’s black limo pulls up.

Ed speaks.

Who are they?

Jim looks at him,

The answer to your question

Ed looks pleased, but Jim can only manage a vaguely sick smile. He wants Ed in locked up for his crimes – but he does not want to feed him to the Court.

Kathryn and the masked assassin are waiting outside the car. Ed approaches. Kathryn greets him

Hello Mr Nygma. I hear you’ve been asking about us.

Ed is sceptical – what if this is some trick of Jim’s.

Kathryn smiles and tells him the point of a good mystery is not being sure of the answer. She adds that Jim had to be convinced to bring him here. She refers back to the question that Ed posed to Bruce and Lucius at Indian Hill to prove her veracity– the question that’s tortured him, that he was never able to answer. She tells him to get in - and all questions will be answered – asking for his gun first. Ed meekly hands it over and gets in – calming now that he’ll get an answer to his riddle.

Kathryn smiles at Jim and tells him he made them proud. Jim’s conscience is bothering him

What are you going to do with him?

Kathryn tells him a man of Ed’s intellect is useful

Jim looks over at Ed - who looks strangely small and vulnerable in the back of the car – and you can practically feel the twist in his gut.

Sirens. Barbara storms in, smashing a waiter in the head with a bottle – infuriated at the plan’s failure. Tabitha admits she told Jim how to defuse the bomb. When an enraged Barbara asks why – she reminds her of her promise – sealed with a kiss: Tabitha was to kill Ed. She touches Barbara’s face, tries to appeal to their bond, but Barbara’s face is angry and hard.

Don't you get it? As long as the Court exists I will never be in control.

Her face is twisted now – a combination of rage and desperation, tears in her eyes.

Tabitha responds immediately:

Don't you mean we?

Barbara barges her way out. Butch smiles, smug

I’ve seen it a thousand times. People can't help themselves. Ambition…. power - she's changed

Tabitha strides out – telling him to shut up

Butch smiles, resigned - This is trouble

No - this is trouble. Oswald's back at his mansion with his new family. He sighs that it’s good to be home, but Ivy tells him Wayne Manor is way cleaner. Fries and Brigit are having a brief spat – but Ivy reminds them they are on the same team now. It’s briefly defused.

Os has noticed his defaced portrait and is brimming with rage, hurt, humiliation. Fries matter-of-factly remarks: There's a question mark over your face. Oswald tightly tells him he can sleep in the freezer.

Ivy is lounging on the couch, watching TV, and calls to Oswald.

Hey Pengy - check it out.

Oswald wheels – in a foul mood and easily aggravated.

Do not call me Pengy!

Ivy doesn’t bat an eyelid, and Oswald turns to the news report. It has a really bad picture of Ed, he must be pissed. All that posing and they run with this. Oswald’s face twists and twitches before settling on contempt and condescension

The Riddler. How long did he have to think about that one?

He turns to his new family.

Rest up everyone. Tomorrow will be a busy day

Back in the alley, the cats cluster round Selina’s horribly still body.

Jim enters the Court

I'd like to introduce our newest member

Jim puts on the silly mask.

Welcome to the Court of Owls.

Betrayal is the only truth that sticks

This week’s theme is betrayal although – oddly – it feels less embedded than last week, for all that it’s explicitly stated in the episode.

In failing to get rid of Ed, Barbara has betrayed Tabitha. In turn, Tabitha betrays Barbara by telling Jim how to work around Ed’s device. Jim’s feeling betrayed by Barbara too – and wishes he’d never told her about the Court.

Bruce2 feels – at least transiently – betrayed by the Court, who gave him a purpose, but will doubtless be content to let him die alone once the real person of importance – Bruce – returns to the city. His trust is then betrayed by Selina – who rejects everything about him: his feelings, his concern for her, his identity, and wants to alert Alfred to the disappearance of the real Bruce.

Oswald has to give a retrospective apology for his betrayal of the Indian Hill test subjects. His moment of recognition with Brigit flags that the rhetoric he adopted was also a self-betrayal since he – like Fries, Brigit, Fish, and Ivy – is a victim of Strange’s brainwashing and tinkering. Oswald’s also still smarting over Ed’s betrayal – hence his need for revenge.

Ed doesn’t feel betrayed this week – although he’s the person who actually says the word out loud, in his sad little conversation with Jim, stating that all friendships end in betrayal. It’s interesting that this seems as much an admission – as anything else – that he betrayed Jim when he framed him.

For his part, Jim feels his hand was forced into giving Ed up to the Court. Ed will not, cannot, leave a riddle alone – and Jim must do the Court’s bidding or see the city destroyed. We see throughout that Ed might be wreaking chaos – but Jim has the upper hand. He understands Ed’s compulsion, and how to manipulate him. In their last scene, Ed looks small and oddly vulnerable in the back of the Court’s limo – and there’s a sense from Jim that he’s delivered someone he feels responsible for into the hands of people who would harm him. He looks almost ill with guilt.

Jim - a good showing for Captain Vanilla, with more of a return to Jim of s1. We get nods to his cleverness and education, as opposed the angry violence that characterised s2. Here – we can pity him. He’s weighed down by responsibility in every way, his knowledge of what might happen stifling him. He can’t openly grieve for his uncle, or confide in Lee, or deal with Ed like he wants to.

Ed is enthusiastically building his new persona, but seems more unstable than ever. The moment he has a puzzle to solve, he’s driven by compulsion, as opposed to his own will. This is exhausting – and you can see the sheer amount of energy Ed expends on solving this problem become a manic degree of focus. The extent to which his compulsion controls him is evident in how calmly he goes off with the Court at the end. It’s terrifyingly risky – but Ed can’t help himself.

Barbara’s characterisation continues to confuse. She’s all about control – apparently – but it feels like it’s come from nowhere. Unless the message in her desperation is that control over everything = control over self, but – honestly – that feels like a reach.

Oswald is gathering his forces and building a family. He seems to have accepted his new identity. There was recognition and empathy in his eyes when Brigit was speaking, and he doesn’t flinch or flare up or restrain disagreement when Ivy calls him a freak. He and Ivy also now share and trade reactions – reinforcing the notion of a familial bond.

Sundries

Echoes this week: Oswald seeing a news story on TV about someone he’s looking to kill: Hugo, now Ed. Barbara refers back to the last time Aubrey was held hostage. Jim’s quest to save the whole city has echoes of his initial ambitions back in season one.

That was a hot Victor, show – but still not the hot Victor I was hoping for.

Thoughts?

#Gotham Commentary #the primal riddle #gotham 3.21

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