#thank you for your wise words fishy

[blitheringbongus]

Probably,,,

you should probably go to bed

[shads-shipposts]

"Anachronism" Prologue Rough Draft +LORE✨

Remember how I mentioned that the chapters prior to this would only leave you more confused as to wtf was going on? Well, the prologue is now finished and is being posted.

The background of Anachronism is this: back in 2015 I attempted to rewrite a 2014 RP that included the Tintin sailors (which is my first fanfic ever). True Colors was the name. It was never finished, instead transitioning halfway through into an original fic where the sailors got new names/designs/backstories as they were changed into ocs. The Karaboudjan would become the Caroline, but Scarlett was already a self-insert so her initial character remains (though she's changed quite a bit). Both the original fics and the 2015 are scrubbed from the internet, though I do believe one of you followers actually read that 2014 one when it was on Deviant Art. I am so sorry you had to witness that 😬.

Jump to late 2017-early 2018, the first hints of Anachronism were forming. It wouldn't be until 2019-2020 New Years that I started it in earnest. The story follows myself (yes, I get "isekai'd") as I end up in the same timeline as that 2015 fic. Originally it was the 2014 fic but I really don't want to deal with certain elements of that mess. Anyway, that Anachronism kinda started collecting dust as my Bad Batch hyperfixation hit and Adventures!AU was born. That series takes place after Anachronism, but Anachronism was never posted.

Well, 4+ years, three and a half books, and 500k+ words later I am finally starting to post snippets to curse the world lol. Schedule-wise, Anachronism won't premiere in full until 2029 most likely, as Adventures!AU is still my main project. But I miss the Karaboudjan crew, and my hyperfixation is strong for them rn so I'm posting and working on chapters.

All that to say buckle up, this fic gets wild. Magic elements are minimal in this fic, but they still be there.

Enjoy! :D Feedback is most welcome, I'm still figuring out the characterizations for the fellas as it's been a while since I really wrote heavily with them (Bad Batch has claimed most of my time).

CW: Mild horror elements

1872 words

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

“Scared, Allan?”

It wasn’t the first time he’d found himself here after he closed his eyes. It’d been months since the incident that gave rise to the event playing over and over again in his dreams, but time hadn’t dulled any of his emotions concerning the event.

“I must say, your fear scent is… unique. Fishy and tart.”

 Confusion, horror, shock, disbelief.

“Don’t worry your little head there. I respect you and, strange as it may seem, I do find the need to fear you.”

Yes, fear there too.

“Funny ain’t it?”

And who wouldn’t be scared?

“An Alphian fearin’ a human.”

When they were faced with an alien of unknown magical abilities?

“Don’t see that every day.”

The scene wobbled and fizzled at the edges, like staring at a reflection on the surface of a stormy sea. The secrets surrounding the scene trapped deep in its depths, unreachable even if one tried their hardest to grasp the answers.

Allan Thompson walked through the scene, removed from his own actions as if he were just on autopilot. He couldn’t change the scene, no more than someone watching a reel on a screen.

He sat at the table, across from the half-human, half animal woman that watched him like a hawk. Dark stripes cut through her skin like thick shadows across a moonlit patch in the woods, a black and white tail flicked behind her, and piercing eyes the color of glaciers scanned him inside and out. She was a head shorter than him, yet power radiated off her like heat from an open flame.

His voice reached his ears, muted and distant.

His own and yet… not, in a way.

“Kid… I’m sorry about Turtle.”

The alien looked up at him, the furry ears on the sides of her head flattened against ginger hair.

“Thanks, man.”

Those cat-like eyes shifted to the side, as if searching for any other threats.

He knew it was a dream. Knew what was about to happen.

It did not ease the churning of his stomach.

“Actually,” she continued, mouth moving but voice coming from the very walls surrounding them. “I kinda wanted to ask you about something related to that.”

Allan knew what was coming. Knew what she was going to ask.

Knew how badly it would go, how swiftly the scene would turn dangerous.

But he was helpless to do anything but follow the script. Follow the events as they unfolded.

Eyes on her hands, waiting to see those thorn sharp claws, Allan again heard his voice from far away.

“Aye?”

He wished he could change course. Wished he could prevent what came next. Perhaps, if he could, then things would be different.

But no.

“Let me go after that short slaver with the dark brown hair. I want his head for orderin’ me to kill Turtle.”

There it was. The request that shattered everything. The request that would leave Allan with gaps in his memory that no amount of pondering or searching could ever fix.

He felt the shock course through his body, felt his spine stiffen and his heart skip a beat.

“I’m sorry…” he heard himself say. “But I can’t allow that.”

Ears shot up, a tail bristled, sharp teeth bared, and anger blazed in those icy eyes.

“What?”

If only he could alter his words. Explain more, explain better.

Save himself.

If only.

“I can’t allow you to kill him.”

He had dreams. He had nightmares.

This hell was something else entirely.

Pupils narrowed to slits across from him, jagged scars streaking down the table as wicked claws dug into the old wood.

“Is that your final answer?”

There was red now, deep in those eyes.

He could only watch, silently scream in his head as he fought with all his might to change the memory.

“Aye, I refuse to let you go after him.”

Futile. The scene would play out as it had many nights before this one.

The woman stood, ears low and tail lashing.

“Whose side are you on, Allan? Huh? The slavers?” A snarl curled her lip, the temperature around them plummeting as ice snaked out from her hands across the table. “How disappointin’.”

The edges of the scene corrupted, bleeding red and black.

He wanted to scream. Wanted to run. Wanted to hide.

Hide from the devastation bearing down on him like a hurricane at sea.

But there was no refuge. No escape.

“There will be another time to kill him.”

He had to witness the event that would alter his fate.

Words came faster now, a distorted echo to them that sent chills down his spine.

“But I heard the other slavers talkin’! He’s goin’ on patrol tonight! I can’t pass up this opportunity to claim revenge for what he did.”

“Look, kid. I said no, and that’s final.”

“Nobody’s gonna stand in my way. Not even you. Stand down now, Allan. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He got up.

Walked over.

“I told you no, kid! That’s an order!”

“Give it up, Allan. I’m doin’ this my way. I’m killin’ him tonight and you can’t stop me. Don’t even try to.”

He got close.

Too close.

It was over fast. She winded him with a headbutt, driving him back into the wall hard enough to knock the breath from him. He didn’t even have a chance to rise to his feet, weight pinning him to the floor. A rag clamped over his mouth and nose, drowning the world in a sickly-sweet haze.

 Darkness followed swiftly after, a growl echoing in his ears.

“You brought this on yourself. Sweet dreams.”

And those were the last words he ever heard from Scarlett Hyde.

Allan sat up in his bed with a gasp, cold sweat pouring down his face as he fought for breath.

Was that her now, hiding in the dark corner?

He flicked on the light, fingers struggling to grasp the knob.

Nothing, just his trenchcoat.

It was too hot. Too stifling.

Air.

He needed air!

Staggering to the porthole, he yanked it open and welcomed the sharp chill that rushed in. Allan leaned against the wall, eyes closed as he fought to catch his breath and sooth his racing heart.

After that fight, any and all memory of the Alphian ceased. He couldn’t even recall what happened once he woke up. Because they sure as hell didn’t go from being overrun by slavers to being back at their home port without any sign there was even a hostile force occupying the ship.

Only one man had memories of Scarlett that went past Allan’s; Tom.

His friend and trusty right-hand man. The closest person to Scarlett on the ship prior to her mysterious disappearance.

Allan hoped he could have shed some light on Scarlett. Maybe Scarlett somehow drove off all the slavers after knocking Allan out, accessing some type of beast mode or something. She was an alien, and could shapeshift, so it wasn’t entirely implausible.

But no.

Tom’s last memory of her was Scarlett heading off the ship into the woods. Tom had gone after her, only to find himself face to face with the same slaver Scarlett was after. The slaver attacked him, but Scarlett showed up in some animal form and attacked the slaver. She won the fight but was stabbed in the process. Tom tried dragging her back to the ship after she shifted back to that half-human form, but then his memory too went dark.    

That was it. The trail ended. Went cold. With no hope of recovering the fractal memories.

Maybe Scarlett was around longer, and had some alien way of wiping their memories. Why, then, did he have any memory of her at all? If she truly aimed to wipe all memory of her existence, he should have forgotten her in totality.

Instead he was left with only partial memories and no explanation that could even remotely make sense of the event.

Every port they stopped at, every contact he knew, he asked. When Scarlett Hyde rang no bells, he tried the false name she gave at first; Ice Shadow. Still nothing.

He tried her description, her species, her family, everything.

Nothing.

As if neither she nor her species even existed in the first place.

A knock sounded on his door, and Allan turned away from the window to stare at the clock by his bed.

05:00 am.

His port watch wasn’t due for another few hours, so it couldn’t have been someone calling him for that.

“Al?”

Tom. What was he doing up this early?

Passing through his dayroom, Allan opened the door and found Tom looking almost as disheveled as himself. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Tom rubbed his arm. “It… happened again.”

Allan’s eyes widened. “Scarlett.”

Tom nodded.

Allan stood to the side to let him in. “You too, huh?”

Tom straightened, looking slightly more alert as he sat on the couch in Allan’s dayroom. “Same dream?”

“What other dream would it be?” Allan growled.

Tom wasn’t put off by his tone, but then again he never was. “What are the odds, huh?” he said in a feeble attempt to lighten the mood, a weak smile accompanying the joke.

Allan wasn’t amused. “Real funny.” He leaned on the table, pushing his hair back. “This is the fifth time in two weeks,” he growled. “I do not need this. We got that proud peacock prancin’ ‘round like he owns the damn ship, orderin’ us to and fro like damn dogs. I don’t need this headache on top of it.”

“At least the captain ain’t givin’ us any issues.”

“Don’t think that old man would notice if I scuttled the damn ship,” Allan grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Probably not.” Tom tilted his head. “Don’t think the dreams mean anythin’, do ya?”

“Concurrent dreams about an alien that we both know had the power to alter dreams?” Allan said. “It’s fishy.”

“Think she’s comin’ back?”

Allan shrugged tiredly. “Hell, Tom, I don’t know.” He glared in the direction of the door. “At least Sakharine’s finally tracked down the second ship. Then we can be back at sea, and I’ll have other things to keep my mind on.”

“Yeah, can’t wait to have that guy off.” Tom shuddered. “Gives me the creeps.”

“Feelin’s mutual.” Allan stretched. “Guess I may as well get coffee, not like I’m gettin’ any more shuteye today. Want some?”

Tom nodded, stretching too. “Won’t say no.” He shuddered. “Anythin’ to keep awake after that nightmare.”

Allan understood his hesitation with going back to sleep. Tom’s dream was far worse than his, with the man being hunted down in dark woods by a slaver bent on murder. Scarlett’s animal form wasn’t exactly comforting either, Tom describing it as a large tiger-looking beast with saber teeth that was a third again the size of a normal tiger.

“Alright, I’ll be there in a minute. Maybe the cooks have somethin’ already.”

Tom nodded. “I’ll wait outside.”

As Tom left, and Allan headed back to his room, the first mate mumbled under his breath.

“I really hope it was just coincidence.” He punched the door open. “Because I cannot deal with anything else.”

[five-rivers]

Outsider (Looking In)

Inspired by something Ashynarr said on the NWA discord. :)

.

Hitoshi didn’t think it’d be so easy.

Sure, he’d always intended to make the most of this, he wanted to win not just the match, but the whole tournament. But he’d thought he’d have to spend at least a little time working Midoriya up, getting his temper to the point of snapping, while dodging him and whatever his quirk was.

(Speaking of, Midoriya hadn’t even used it yet, as far as Hitoshi could tell. It wasn’t possible that he had some kind of subtle quirk, like Hitoshi, was it?)

Hitoshi had been prepared for a tough battle.

But then—

“What’d you say?!”

Midoriya was, apparently, ridiculously easy to bait. Hadn’t tail boy warned him?

Hitoshi felt the line connect and grabbed it, mentally pulling it taught to complete the brainwashing, and then…

… and then?

He blinked, trying to clear both his suddenly blurry vision and the ringing in his head. Had he lost time, somehow? He brought a hand up to his head, feeling unsteady.

Except, he didn’t move. Or did he?

His hand was, just slightly, transparent. He stepped backward, out of his immobile body, and stumbled sideways in shock.

“Okay, kids, don’t panic,” said an entirely unfamiliar voice.

“ARGH!” shouted Midoriya. “Who are you? Are you doing this? What’s going on? Why am I not in my body? Shinsou, I thought your quirk was brainwashing? What is this? Is this a side effect of your quirk?”

Hitoshi looked up and, sure enough, there was Midoriya somehow standing outside his body, partially surrounded by weird shadow people.

“That’s what I should be saying!” said Hitoshi. “Midnight-sensei, what is this? Who are these people? Shouldn’t you be stopping the match?”

But Midnight wasn’t looking at him. Rather, she was looking at his body, which he was not presently in.

Hitoshi was approximately two inches from a for serious mental breakdown. He was not under any circumstances supposed to be having an out of body experience in the middle of the most important day of his life (sans the entrance exam).

“She can’t see you,” said one of the shadows, who was resolving into an adult man. “She can’t see any of us. In any case, I’m not sure this violates the rules, exactly. Nana, you’re the one who actually taught here – What are you doing?”

“Trying to see if I can get Toshinori in on this, too,” said a shadow woman who was poking at a skeletal blonde man who was standing in the entranceway behind Midoriya.

“I think you’d have more luck with his ghost,” said one of the other shadows, pointing at a shadow that seemed far less put together than the others.

The first shadow pushed hair out of his face and sighed.

“So, if you can say whether or not this is against the rules, that means you know what’s happening, right?” asked Midoriya, who had his fists half up in a loose guard position and was backing away from the shadows. “Has this happened to you guys before, then?”

Right, his class had been attacked by villains, there was no reason to assume this wasn’t more of the same. Slowly, Hitoshi brought up his fists as well.

“Not exactly,” said the man. “But all things considered, I think we can chalk this up to an unusual quirk interaction. Ninth.”

Hitoshi saw Midoriya stop, mid-step, and mouth the last word. “Oh,” he said. “You’re, uh.” He looked over his shoulder at Hitoshi. “Um.”

“We are absolutely the ghosts who are haunting you as part of your quirk. Nice job last week, by the way,” said a shadow – a ghost? – who was wearing what looked like a high-necked coat. It was hard for Hitoshi to focus on them.

“Do you think we could talk to Toshinori if this kid brainwashed him.”

“Nana, this kid has a name.”

“Which we all forgot immediately,” mumbled another shadow.

“You’re really…” said Midoriya, and oh, gosh, was he tearing up? Was he crying?

He was.

“You’re really here?” finished Midoriya, finally, with a sniffle.

This was when Hitoshi regained the ability to speak. “Your quirk is that you’re haunted?”

“Uh,” said Midoriya, suddenly very shifty-eyed. “Yes?”

“It sure is!” said the ghost in the coat, giving Hitoshi a thumbs up as he put a hand on Midoriya’s shoulder. “But he couldn’t find any ghosts to haunt him for a long time, which is why he’s such a late bloomer!”

Okay, Hitoshi might not be a hero (yet) but he could tell when something smelled fishy. “You’re part of his quirk, but he’s never seen you before?”

Midoriya put his face in his hands. “I’m going to have to change my quirk registry,” he muttered.

“Hey, if his quirk was easy to understand, he wouldn’t have been a late bloomer.”

“I think your teachers are starting to become concerned,” said the first shadow… man… ghost… guy. Person dude. That guy.

“Yeah,” continued turtle neck guy, “we all used to haunt Toshinori over there, but then Izuku met him, and we figured out we could power him up, lend him our strength, but he didn’t really know we were there, so—”

“Sixth,” said one of the more taciturn shadows. “He doesn’t need to know all that.”

“You’re the one that said we needed an explanation.”

“An explanation, yes, for you to explain, no.”

“Rude.”

The first ghost sighed. “In any case, Izuku, we are with you, and we’re all very glad to have a chance to meet you.”

Midoriya nodded vehemently. “Thank you,” he said, tearfully, “for giving me the chance to become a hero. I don’t know how to—”

“You can tell Toshinori I said hi,” said the woman, who was suddenly much closer. Close enough to make Hitoshi jump.

“Okay, and, um, what’s your name? So I can tell him.”

“Nana,” she said, “Shimura Nana. Tell him… tell him I’m proud of him, okay?”

Midoriya nodded firmly. “I will,” he said.

“You know,” said Hitoshi, “this is great and all, but how do we get out of here? I want to finish this match before we’re dragged off to the nurse.”

The ‘ghosts’ (or whatever the hell they were, because Hitoshi was not buying anything they were saying) all exchanged glances.

“Have you tried,” said the first ghost, “turning off your quirk?”

Hitoshi rolled his eyes. Of course, it wasn’t going to be that simple, his quirk wasn’t even on, not really, but he might as well try—

He hit the ground with a thump.

“Ow,” he croaked, amazed and peeved at the fact that had actually worked.

“Shinsou-kun?” called Midoriya from the other side of the arena. “Are you okay?”

“What do you think?” demanded Hitoshi, picking himself up.

No answer. Darn. Midoriya had wised up – Although Hitoshi wasn’t sure he’d have wanted to risk getting kicked out of his body again even if he hadn’t.

“And after that interesting turn of events,” said Present Mic over the speaker, “the match goes on!”

Hitoshi grit his teeth. Yeah. He’d known this wouldn’t be easy.

(But, in some ways, wasn’t that what made it worth it?)

[bandaged-writer]

hi!! since requests are open- can i have jealousy hcs for dazai, ranpo, tanizaki and chuuya with an s/o who’s friendly and doesnt really catch on to flirting? :0

Dazai Osamu

➤ Dazai doesn’t get jealous easily. He trusts you all the way to his bandages and knows how long it takes you to notice that someone is flirting with you. Before the two of you became a thing, Dazai had been excessively flirting with you only and always threw compliments your way such as “Ah, those earrings really compliment the color of your eyes, belladonna!” and you’d just say “I think so, too. Thanks,” before resuming your way of life. Yosano had to tell you that Dazai was looking at you with heart eyes, trying to score a date with you for 2 weeks at that time.

➤ He watches with an amused smirk when the person flirting with you starts getting frustrated. To Dazai, it’s just funny how the person becomes more desperate and the flirting becomes blatantly obvious, yet it’s like you’re immune unless it’s Dazai that does the flirting (yes, you got better at catching his advances). Eventually, Dazai will smoothly join the scene with his hand resting on your waist and pull you close to his side.

➤ “Thank you for looking after my belladonna while I had to use the bathroom, but we’re on a date. If you’d excuse us.”

➤ However, Dazai won’t pull the playful side if the person makes you uncomfortable or uses inappropriate pick-up lines. He knows you’re just too nice to tell the person to fuck off and would rather sit through the experience than potentially anger them.

➤ You can actually see the light in his eyes fading into nothing and his voice drops an entire octave. You’d only witnessed that side of Dazai one or two times, but you will never forget the goosebumps that covered your skin. “Put those paws of yours on her and you won’t see tomorrow come.”

➤ I can see Dazai getting somewhat jealous when it’s someone you have good chemistry with and/or if there’s some kind of romantic background; like someone you’d once gone out on a date with, was partner other and such. He’d stay attached to your side all the time, but not because he doesn’t trust you; he doesn’t trust that person.

➤ While you’re happily chatting away, Dazai is extra touchy in that situation. May it be his arm around your waist, his hand on your upper thigh or gently caressing your knee underneath the table while whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Ngl, he wants to fluster you a bit, just enough for it to be visible or audible. Dazai is a little shit in that situation and wants to make the person feel uncomfortable enough to leave.

➤ “Dazai, you what-?!” You’d slap his arm and blush furiously.

➤ “I don’t like the way they looked at you, my love,” Dazai would say pouting once you’re home and proceeds to suck some purple bruises into the skin of your neck, so that they wouldn’t look at you twice, again.

➤ Can and will continue if you liked what he was doing.

Ranpo Edogawa

➤ That man protects his candy better than his own life and you’re no exception. Sharing ain’t caring and he sure as hell isn’t having it when someone flirts with who belongs to him.

➤ Unlike Dazai, he can’t just watch and immediately sweeps in to stop whatever the person was about to do with both of his arms around you or you behind him. Depends on how badly it rubs Ranpo the wrong way.

➤ Yes, Ranpo’s aware of your overly friendly side and appreciated it. Even flirting with you is fun, because it takes you some time to get it and when you do, it’s the most adorable thing. However, it’s definitely not adorable when someone else tries to gauge that reaction out of you. It’s only for Ranpo to witness.

➤ “Who the hell are you?” Ranpo would say in a tone that would give away that he’s definitely jealous but quickly sigh and stop the person from answering by waving them off. “Have you ever heard of rhetorical questions? Of course, I don’t want to know who you are.”

➤ The type to deny he’s jealous and be all whiny about your accusations until you stop teasing him about it, hold his hand and reassure him. “I really look up to you, Ranpo. My eyes are always on you,” and Ranpo would deadass lose it, because that’s what you said when it was your first time joining him for a murder case and he had told you to watch him.

➤ Gets soft real fast and admits that he just doesn’t like anyone else hitting on you, saying that jealousy is indeed a lame feeling that he’s not fond of. “But you’re beautiful so I can understand, but it’s still so meh.”

➤ Pls give him a forehead kiss. He treasures them so much more than kisses on the lips, cheek, neck, etc. To Ranpo, it’s like a pinky promise.

➤ Will proudly wrap an arm around your shoulder, pull you flush to his side and wanders off to the next ice-cream shop while making walking a bit hard. According to Ranpo, ice-cream cools down heated feelings (pun intended) and it’s a great place for him to show off who’s his.

➤ Can and will use his deduction skills on that person if they’re making you uncomfortable or trying inappropriate things on you. “Ah, I see. You’ve already harassed several people and had to go to the police. Wouldn’t it be a shame if you had to get actually arrested this time?” 

➤ Has that proud and wicked smirk on his face when the person gets scared and makes a run for it. Ranpo will still report them though.

Tanizaki Junichiro

➤ Jealousy-wise, he’s something between Ranpo and Dazai. It really depends on the circumstances, how the person approaches you and all.

➤ If the person treats you with respect and kindness, Tanizaki will quickly inform them that you’re taken by him. He understands that you’re naturally friendly and figures that it’s also the vibe you give off, so he can’t blame anyone for finding that attractive. Tanizaki is just relieved that the person was kind enough to understand the position they were in and even wished the two of you a nice day/date.

➤ Still holds your hand a little bit tighter, though. 

➤ “Wait, did you just get jealous?” It’d hit you out of nowhere once the scene replays in your head and Tanizaki would blush ever so slightly. Maybe he was a bit jealous, but not to a high extent. He’d rather call it protective. “Ah, [Name], it’s nothing like that, I promise.”

➤ Now, y’all have seen that man protecting his sister and he protects you just as much as Naomi. Once the person is creepy and fishy, it’s game over and it’s like a switch turned within him.

➤ When you get uncomfortable and feel bothered by whoever’s flirting with you, Tanizaki takes over faster than you could ask him for help. “I don’t care who you are or what you’re trying to achieve here, but bend even a hair of hers and you’ll severely regret it.” His eyes are dull, voice firm and serious as he gets his point across. 

➤ Feels genuinely jealous when you seemingly ignore him for someone else, though. None of Tanizaki’s tries of joining the conversation are successful, not even him touching your hand or being a bit more touchy than usually gains your attention. It’s then that his voice sounds a little bit more lifeless and gains your observance. “[Name], weren’t we on a date?” You know you messed up.

➤ You kindly say goodbye to whoever’s flirting with you and ask Tanizaki what’s wrong - it’s just not his kind and easily flustered self

➤ “You seemed to be having fun with them, don’t you?”

➤ “Tanizaki, they were just being nice-”

➤ Give him the puppy eyes and everything is forgiven, though. Tanizaki could never, in his entire life, be genuinely mad at you. Yes, he might be upset that you ignored him for good 5 minutes straight, but that’s it.

Chuuya Nakahara

➤ Chuuya rarely gets jealous. He puts 110% of his faith and trust in you and knows that you do the same. A relationship that’s loyal to the bone.

➤ He can stand it for a little while when e.g. Tachihara is getting a little too friendly and touchy with you. Of course, you return the gesture, believing that he’s just being nice to you and not actually flirting. After all, no one but Chuuya had ever really flirted with you or so you believed.

➤ We all know that man’s temper is as short as his height, so it wouldn’t take long for him to snatch you away from Tachihara and dump a load of work on him. “Chuuya, what is all that work for?!” Tachihara would obviously complain, not quite understanding why all of a sudden he was assigned to pretty lame jobs. Chuuya just waves him off, pulling you into his side and temper tested. “You don’t flirt with taken people. If you do, you’ll simply have to carry the consequences.” 

➤ Tachihara wasn’t aware you were in a relationship with Chuuya. After all, being an executive was a lot of work, he often came home late and your paths with Chuuya didn’t cross as often as you’d like, but y’all still make it work. 

➤ At that moment, Chuuya makes an effort to see you more often during the day, have you closer by his side and let people know that you’re his and his alone. He’ll then bring you along to meetings, lets you sit on his lap when it’s just paperwork he has to finish for Mori and holds your hand at the mafia headquarters.

➤ It’s not like Chuuya has never held your hand. He just never thought of it as necessary and you never complained about it either, so he assumed it was okay.

➤ Chuuya introduces you to Kouyou, knowing that word will get around faster. Now, Kouyou isn’t a woman of gossip but she will assume that Mori is aware of the relationship Chuuya shares with you and casually goes “Chuuya’s partner is pretty cute, don’t you think so, Mori-san?” and Mori stops whatever he’s doing, “You mean like a..relationship?”

➤ Mori will spread word like wildfire. Elise scolds him.

➤ “Now everyone knows you’re mine, shrimp,” Chuuya pats your head and messes up your hair affectionately. You can’t help the huff slipping your lips and look up at him with a questioning look. “Big reaction for someone so small.”

➤ “cOME HERE, YOU LITTLE-”

➤ The next day everyone knows about your relationship with Chuuya and knows better than to hit on you. Not only did Mori run his mouth, but your neck was pretty colorful and Chuuya was extra cocky that day.

[whatifxwereyou]

Ashes Chapter 4: Stars

Pairing: Liu Kang x Reader

Is this progress? You two talk and you don't want to murder each other. Probably progress. Probably. Something fishy is definitely going on.

A/N: Hope you are all doing well! This is more fluffy angst than it is angry angst. But I mean, just wait until the next chapter. I'll make up for it! Hahaha.

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“You forgot your tea.” The woman called to you, and you turned and offered a forced smile that fell quickly. You were handed your teacup and turned to look through the trees. Liu Kang had disappeared within them.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know, dear.” The woman sipped her tea next to you. You had to get to work but your heart was heavy. “Trouble in paradise?”

You choked on your tea.

“Oh?” You cleared your throat and tilted your head inquisitively. The woman gestured to where Liu Kang had disappeared but had a knowing smile on her face. “Oh, no. No, no, no we aren’t… I… just no. He’s having a hard day is all. A hard week.” The woman seemed genuinely surprised.

“I’m sorry for assuming but I sensed that your spirits were intertwined. It was a natural assumption to guess that the two of you were together.”

Oh, good.

“We used to be close.” You felt suddenly exhausted and as if you could cry. The bag on your back was heavy with the weight of Kung Lao and your heart was heavy with the pain of Liu Kang. “I’m sorry for this. He just lost his brother and it’s been difficult. He’s not usually like this. I promise. He’s a good man.”

“Grief is one of the most difficult hardships we deal with. I understand. And I sense that the journey ahead of him will not be an easy one.”

“Yeah. He’s not alone though. I’ll make sure he’s okay.” You would. Even if he did nothing but yell and push, you would at least make sure he was okay. Attraction or not, it was the least you could do. Kung Lao would have wanted you to.

“You must be careful too. I sense great loss around you and great conflict ahead of you.”

“Yeah, I’m not surprised.”

“Oh?”

“I was dating his brother.”

“Ah, that explains at least part of it.” The woman placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. You stood there for a time. You blinked back tears and hoped they went unnoticed but this woman seemed wise and observant. She reminded you of a nicer and less godly Raiden. “It’s a difficult three-day hike through the mountains to reach Nightwolf.” The woman walked before you and offered you a folded-up map and a small coin-sized wolf charm. She cupped her hands around yours. “You will need this to prove that you are worthy to see him.”

“Are you sure? I… I’m happy to explain to you what we’re doing here.” You were surprised. You didn’t know what unspoken trial you’d passed but you were grateful to have passed it. At least one thing was going right.

“No need. I can sense a great many things, dear, and you, without question, are worthy to seek out Nightwolf. Your soul burns radiantly despite the shadow hanging over it.”

You stuttered because you didn’t know what that meant. “Thank you. I’m… we’re grateful.”

“We will provide you both with anything you might need for your trip. When you find Nightwolf then show him this charm. He will know that you are worthy of being seen. I hope that whatever it is you are seeking from him he can provide.”

“Thank you. I really can’t express how grateful I am.”

“You don’t have to, dear. I can tell.” The woman’s voice was soft. “Follow me.” You did as you were asked and followed the woman through the village. A small cabin had been setup for you and Liu. It was quaint but there were two beds and enough space for you to rest for the night out of the elements. That was all you needed and more than you deserved, you thought. You stayed in the cabin after the woman bid you farewell and good luck. You hadn’t even introduced yourselves but your meeting had still been profound.

For some time after, you sat on the bed and held your bag, wondering what to do. Your heart was heavy and so you meditated and prayed for Liu Kang to find peace and for Kung Lao to forgive you. The last one was selfish, but you felt incredibly guilty and there was no easing it. He would have eased your guilt.

Sleep wasn’t coming. You were too worried about Liu getting himself lost in the woods in his anger.

You had no right to worry about him. He’d gotten by plenty fine without you his whole life. You shouldn’t have worried so much but you couldn’t help it. It was natural to fixate on the few things you had control of when the rest of it was so wildly out of your hands.

You left the cabin. Night had fallen and there were only a handful of other people outside. You wrapped the blanket you’d bought around your shoulders and walked around the village until you found a clearing in the trees where you could sit and watch the stars. The sky was beautiful. So many of the lights in the sky reminded you of home but they were also so different. It took you awhile to find your favorite constellations which distracted you for a time.

You felt him before you heard him. The fiery spirit of Liu Kang. He sat next to you. You’d always been able to sense him. Earlier, he’d been bright with rage and now he was a dull roar but by no means at peace. He said nothing but sat watching the stars next to you. You’d done this before years in the past. Sat on dangerous ledges and watched the sky in silence.

It had been comforting then. It was less so now. He put you on edge. Between nerves and attraction, your brain had no idea how to process him anymore.

“I’m sorry.” He broke the silence, and you turned your eyes away from the stars but not toward him. “I apologized to everyone I was rude to, but I figured that I would save the most important apology I had to make for last.” You could hear a smile on his face but also felt how weary he was. Carrying that kind of anger and guilt took a toll. You would know.

“It’s okay.” You had forgiven him hours ago. Honestly, you’d mostly been worried for him. “Believe it or not, I get it.”

“Do you?”

You locked eyes with him and then turned away as you felt the nerves rise in your throat again. He hadn’t made you this nervous in years and there were a thousand reasons why. “Yeah. I go through moments where the world is too much noise and things seem impossibly frustrating. Moments where I can’t avoid being angry no matter how much I don’t want to be.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You turned your eyes back to the stars, but it was hard to think about him losing control like that. It hurt to think about yourself like that too. He scooted a little closer to you and his knee touched just against yours. There had been nights where you’d sat with him after fighting with Kung Lao and he’d held your hand. And briefly, you felt that comfort and that spark that he always ignited, but you stomped it out quickly.

“I miss my brother. And I miss you.” He sighed as if it annoyed him to say. “But being around you makes it more real.” You had a feeling. He had the same effect on you.

“I’m sorry.” You managed to whisper but you thought your voice sounded rather pathetic, broken and as though you were desperate to get the words out without tears.

“It’s not your fault. I need to stop acting like it is. You don’t seem to blame me.”

“I miss him too. And I miss you. I miss a lot of things.” You sniffled away the upset that had come with realizing just how much harder you made it on Liu Kang. Sleeping with him had certainly not helped either. Maybe it had provided temporary relief, but it had definitely worked a lot of old hurt feelings into the mix that you hadn’t needed. “It doesn’t feel real sometimes. I brought his little jade thing with me as a reminder. So I won’t keep expecting to find him waiting for me when we get back.”

“Y/N?” Liu turned to face you. “If he were alive then it wouldn’t be me on this journey with you. It would be him.”

“Yeah. You’re probably right.” He was and you knew it. You hadn’t been on a trip with Liu Kang alone since before you’d started dating Kung Lao. “He’d never liked the idea of me going on trips with you alone. Always insisted on coming with us or replacing you when Raiden suggested it.”

“Oh?” Liu seemed genuinely surprised and you turned to face him.

“Yeah. I asked him why once and he never gave me a straight answer. You know how he was with that kind of stuff. It was like pulling teeth.” You missed your bag. It had become a security blanket in Liu Kang’s presence. “Now I’ll never know the reason. There’s so many things that I’ll never know.” You pulled the blanket a little tighter. Liu Kang was deep in thought and just staring at you and so you let him and avoided his eyes.

“Did you ever tell him?” He was hesitant to ask. Probably afraid you’d flee again. You snapped your gaze up to his in surprise. “About before you two were together.”

“What? No! No, god no.” You laughed awkwardly. “I didn’t want to cause any trouble between the two of you. He could be kind of jealous sometimes.” You liked those memories. It had never been a bad kind of jealousy. It had been cute and he’d always denied until after you’d fought about it and wound up rolling around together in bed. “Did you tell him?”

“I almost did once, but no. We’d been arguing and I almost let it out just to spite him.”

You inhaled sharply. That would have been a mess. “Yikes. Do you remember what you’d been fighting about?”

“It was something stupid. I don’t remember.” Liu averted his eyes. Was it something stupid? Or did he not remember? He was lying but you wouldn’t argue with him. You were in no place to push each other’s boundaries right now. This was the first real civil conversation you’d had while sober since Kung Lao died. “I just remember thinking about the trouble it would have caused you, so I held my tongue.”

“I appreciate that.”

“I knew you would.”

“Liu?” You wanted to apologize, and your gaze caught the scrape on his arm, left untended.

“Don’t worry about it, Y/N.” He inhaled sharply as you touched the scrape, far more than he should have for such a small wound, as if your touch burned him.

“I’m worried about you.”

“Not ready to talk about that. Still… processing.” At least he hadn’t snapped at you. You lifted his arm and he scooted closer as if eager for your touch. “It’s fine. Didn’t even break the skin really.”

“Thank you for helping me back there.”

“I promised him that I would keep you safe.” He assured you and you rolled your eyes at him. He laughed which was short lived but also a wonderful sound. You had never needed him or Kung Lao to keep you safe. It had never stopped them from wanting to do just that. You would let him. If it made him feel better, then that was what mattered.

“That woman gave me directions and a charm to present to Nightwolf. We can leave in the morning but it’s a long hike. Three days, she said. We should rest.”

“I don’t think I can. I’m going to stay outside a bit longer.” Liu gestured to the stars. You’d both found peace in the sky in the past, both separately and together. Some things never changed, you guessed. You stood up and made to leave him on his own. He didn’t want you there and you knew that. So you would go back to the bed and to what little you had left of Kung Lao.

“Goodnight, Liu Kang.” You bowed politely but were surprised when he grabbed your hand. His thumb carefully brushed over the back of your knuckles. Your throat suddenly felt too full to talk. This was familiar. More familiar than it should have been. He’d stopped you that night too. He’d asked you to stay a bit longer with him. You had been drunk but had melted just the same and you were melting now.

“Don’t go just yet, Y/N.” He didn’t look up at you but he held your hand firmly. You considered that it was maybe a bad idea but sat down with him again anyway. He let go of your hand and then you sat side by side and watched the stars in silence. It wasn’t awkward, finally. It wasn’t long before you couldn’t keep your eyes open and had fallen asleep sitting up.

Next Chapter >>

[tough-bit-of-fluff]

FFXIV Write 2021 Prompt 1: Foster

It was a quiet afternoon in a low-rent neighborhood of the Goblet, where small shops and residences pressed closely together, worn but tidy. The heat of the day had urged most shoppers and residents along, either back to their homes for a nap before continuing the evening's work, or down the stone path to the brilliant turquoise pools of the posh Brimming Heart district.

It was from one of the aforementioned small shops though, one blessed at least with a large tree to shade it, that came a high-pitched cry, pleading and dramatic.

“Aww, come on, little guy, you hafta eat *something*! Your cute chubby lil tentacles are starting to look all listless, and you're not half as slimy as you were a week ago!”

The shop was the Compass Coffee and Second Chance Shop, and the cry came from Alyona Amariyo, who ostensibly worked there. At the moment, the fluffy, distraught miqo'te was lying on her belly in the middle of the floor, peering closely at a squat, strange creature that almost defied description. The “little guy” in question. Rejected foodstuffs lay scattered around them.

“Might it not be wise,” rumbled the canny hrothgar merchant Cielbasa from behind the counter, “To be a bit more specific than urging the beast to eat ‘something’?” He ran a hand across his furry face and muzzle, and shuddered, imagining the creature latched there.

“That's a g...good point,” Letharon agreed, sweeping a hand through his own dense thatch of cerulean blue hair. He frowned with concern down at Aly, who was pressing her round, pale cheek against the rubbery lavender hide of the blank-eyed animal in an affectionate nuzzle that went absolutely unreciprocated. “We d...don't even know if it's an am...phibian or insect or…” Or an abomination from the dark spaces between the stars, sent to enslave or consume all of mankind, starting with a too-trusting catgirl. “Or w..what,” he concluded, taking a protective step closer.

“Maybe he's a kind of frog,” Flavia suggested, the taller girl smoothing her skirts as she crouched down to join in observing Aly's new “friend.”

“Your belief is that this squelching, six-legged *thing* is a *frog*.” Ciel raised a bushy eyebrow.

“I like frogs,” Flavia explained, as though that was reason enough.

“I like frogs too!” Beamed Aly. “And I like solving mysteries with my friends. And we'll figure out what he is and what he wants, together!”

“Ninki Nanka,” came the proclamation from a shadowed shop-corner, by the bookshelves. Victor stepped dramatically into the light, causing the staff and scattered customers to gasp. Aly clapped at the theatricality.

Leth blinked. “W...what?”

Qoribucha, a tall Xaela shop regular sipping a comparatively tiny cup of espresso, offered a grave nod. “Perhaps he is speaking the words which shall release it back to the Void.”

Victor repeated, “Ninki Nanka. That's apparently what this thing is. Or at least I'm reasonably sure. Look at the striations on its tail.” He gestured to the book he was holding.

Cielbasa frowned. “Let me see that.”

Victor shrugged, and, focusing, used his telekinesis to float the tome across the room to the leonine shopkeep’s hands...perhaps with a bit more force than was strictly necessary.

Ciel flipped rapidly through the pages, while Aly unsuccessfully offered the possible nanka a carrot, a gysahl green, and a handful of birdseed.

“A, ahem, ninki nanka, does not have six legs,” Ciel stated, tapping an illustration with his clawed finger.

“There will be more meat to harvest, when eventually its time comes,” Qori observed. “Perhaps it is a boon.”

“Maybe...this one's just special,” Aly suggested, not responding to the au ra’s suggestion, and massaging the nanka’s back. It made a wet noise that might have been a growl or a trill, or simply the passing of gas. A faint fishy smell filled the air, wrinkling the noses of everyone in the room, aside from the two enamored, oblivious women, and the creature itself, which didn't have a nose to wrinkle.

“You do tend to find the special ones,” Victor chuckled, reaching down to rub a pink, fuzzy ear.

“Ohh, no no, don’t eat that, silly!” Flavia chided the creature, who was waving its tentacles inquisitively at a “coffee” concoction she had made with unground coffee beans, an entire cup of sugar, and, by the look of it, several small pinecones, their sap-encrusted ends protruding from the unwholesome brew. “That’s people food, and it could make you sick.”

“That’s h...half right,” murmured Leth, bemused.

“I dunno,” said Aly. “He hasn't shown this much interest in anything at all today, maybe you could let him have a...bite? Sip? However you would interact with all that?”

Flavia nodded, holding the mug out to the nanka. It waddled over and descended upon the brew with a savage enthusiasm, tentacles flailing, thick tail thumping, as surprisingly loud slurping, splorching sounds filled the air.

“He likes it!” Aly cheered. ”Flavia, you're a culinary genius specifically for nankas, that is a highly specialized skillset, good work with that!” The other woman beamed at the peculiar praise.

The group watched the strange, six-legged nanka messily finish its decidedly unwholesome repast, then scurry around the floor in circles, before scuttling around the corner and down the stairs.

“He certainly seems...energetic, now,” Victor remarked, brushing off his vest and shirt-sleeves as if he felt slightly less clean for just having been in the same room as the strange animal.

“Maybe he went downstairs to get more coffee,” Flavia suggested.

“That's p...probably not the best idea,” Leth said, heading downstairs himself. The others followed his lead.

But when they arrived, the sight that greeted them was not of a nanka burrowing into the beans, but of a nanka frolicking in the fountain. Aly clasped her hands together joyfully, and ran to the creature's side. “Look how moist he is again! And ooh, you're making so much slime, little guy!”

Leth joined Aly and looked down with dismayed distaste. “The w...water’s turning all viscous and s...slimy, like from a h...hagfish!”

Aly nodded, tapping her lips in thought. “Do you think we should save some slime for the next time he's looking a little dried out? Or maybe he should just stay in the fountain…”

Leth put his hand on the miqo'te’s shoulder. “Aly, this is a w...wild animal we don't know much about. D...do you really think it's a good idea to k...keep it?”

Aly looked up at Leth with earnest gray eyes. “There's a lot about *us* we don't know yet. Stuff about my past, the way your machine parts work… And besides, isn't this supposed to be a place that helps travelers who aren't sure of their way? This little guy is a long way from home, and he needs our help!”

Letharon, a long way from what he once called home himself, sighed. “What are you going to c...call it? It probably won't be a l..little guy, forever,” he noted with no small amount of trepidation.

“Yes,” Ciel agreed archly from the stairwell. “What are you going to name the ‘frog’?”

“That's a great idea, Ciel! We will name him Frog.”

In the fountain, Frog ceased his splashing, and put his front feet on the ledge. He looked out into the basement café, and seemed to nod. His tentacles bobbed in apparent agreement, and his tail swished and gently sloshed in a satisfied way. Another wayward wanderer had come to the Compass to stay.

@eorzeanharmony @garleanfluff @sharp-cast-sharper-words and more, thank you for sharing your wonderful characters.

You can visit the Compass too! https://compasscoffee.carrd.co

[busterkeatonfanfic]

Chapter 31 Part I

Buster tried his darnedest to get her a date for the party. He first suggested John Barrymore, apparently forgetting (or not caring) that Barrymore had once been his greatest rival for her affection. Nelly’s opinion of him hadn’t changed since Tempest; hanging onto the arm of a crude drunk all night was not her idea of a good time. She said no. He next suggested Buster Collier. She’d never met him, but he’d been in so many pictures that she knew his face well, though she couldn’t say what the films had been about. Buster Collier had been going with Constance Talmadge until recently. The break-up wasn’t personal; Buster told her the two were still friends.

“Certainly not, then,” said Nelly. “She’ll want to know who I am, how he met me—no. She’ll know something’s fishy.”

The suggestion of Charlie Chaplin followed. She gave more consideration to it. Charlie was charming and easy to talk to. In the end, he was out of the question given the many rumors about his sexual excesses and questionable behavior with women. She didn’t think it was a wise idea and Buster had to agree. The two were friendly but not pals, and he admitted he didn’t know how far to trust Charlie either. In desperation, he floated the idea of his brother, Jingles.

“Are you kidding?” she said. Buster had told her enough about his family that she’d gotten a pretty good picture of Jingles, who lacked his big brother’s confidence in all areas of life and was a hopeless failure with women. “No one will believe that for a second.”

“Well, I’m out of ideas,” said Buster, sounding annoyed on the other end of the phone.

“Let me ask Bradford. He was my dance partner for Tempest. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t go for girls, anyway, so he’d be perfect.”

Nelly didn’t know that her proposition was any better than Buster’s. To his guests, Buster had treated her presence at his party in October as no big curiosity, a matter of course, but she couldn’t help but wonder what he’d say now to them now, what he’d say if Natalie in particular asked why he’d invited two big nobodies like her and Bradford. Natalie might rightfully wonder why they among hundreds of aspiring actors were there. Buster’s quick mind would probably come up with an explanation that passed muster, but Nelly worried. He’d mentioned once, an offhand comment that was far more significant to her than it was him, that Natalie had fits of jealousy over him. Nelly’s instincts told her that attending the party was a bad idea, that she’d be too much temptation to Buster and he’d give their affair away with a look or a word or, worse still, a tender caress. Regardless, she couldn’t refuse even if she’d wanted to. He’d hinted about a birthday surprise and she couldn’t let him down, not to mention she was dying to know what he’d cooked up. Aside from the tabletop phonograph and occasional record, he’d stuck to his promise not to shower her in gifts and she knew he wasn’t about to present her with something in front of his wife and guests.

Uneasiness gnawing, she directed Bradford to the Villa at dusk on Friday night. He was just as keen as she was to break into pictures, so he’d agreed to drive her to the party and be her date without hesitation, especially after she explained she only wanted to go as friends. He’d gotten a minor role in the newest D.W. Griffith, the picture she’d tried out unsuccessfully for, and was happy to tell her about it while they drove, far less stoic than he’d been with her on previous occasions. His chattiness, she guessed, was due to his eagerness to meet and charm as many stars as possible and he was having trouble controlling his excitement. As Bradford recalled how he’d spoken briefly to Griffith on the set earlier in the week, she wondered, as she’d been wondering lately, about her career path in Hollywood. There were murmurs at the United Artists canteen about a Mary Pickford talkie with Sam Taylor directing, not Shakespeare. It gave her mixed feelings. On the one hand, maybe Mr. Taylor had forgotten about directing Pickford and Fairbanks in The Taming of the Shrew. On the other, she’d been relegated to the prop house for Lady of the Pavements, the new Griffith. A niggling fear had begun to creep on her, that her much more mundane talents at management and organization were impeding her career as an actress.

As the long white drive of the Villa became visible in the distance, she asked Bradford the question she’d been dreading, knowing he’d have his own questions in turn. “When we get there, would you pretend like we’re going together?” she said.

“Pretend like we’re going together?” said Bradford.

“Yes,” she said, running her fingers over the thin chain-metal handle of her handbag. “Just, you know, hold my hand or put your arm around my waist while we’re there. Dance with me more than the other fellows. Maybe a kiss on the cheek once and awhile, that kind of stuff.”

“I’ll do it if you really want me to, but why?” he said, sounding mystified.

Nelly weighed whether to tell him the truth and decided she didn’t have a choice. “I’m seeing someone who’s going to be there and I don’t want his wife to get suspicious,” she said, being careful with her words.

Bradford chuckled. “Now I get it. I was wondering why you asked me of all people.”

She felt defensive. “You’re the closest I have to a friend, a friend who’s a fellow. I’ve been too busy to get to know very many people. It’ll be no different than if you were acting.”

“Relax,” he said, leaning over to elbow her in a friendly way. “You think I’d miss this? I don’t care what you want me there for, frankly. I’m at your beck and call.”

Her shoulders relaxed; she hadn’t been aware that she was clenching them. “Thank you,” she said. “I do like you just fine, I just didn’t know who else to invite. You’re the first fellow who came to mind.”

“Relax,” said Bradford again. He continued talking amiably as his Ford crept up the Villa drive. He wanted to know how she knew Buster and she reminded him of her involvement with Steamboat. “When’s that coming out, anyhow?” he said.

“Any day now from what I’m told,” she said, her mind only half on the conversation. Butterflies tickled her abdomen from the inside.

The circle drive with the fountain in the center was ringed with expensive cars, Packards, Rolls Royces, and Lincolns. There was a man leading a woman wrapped in a white fur stole up the steps and into the house. Bradford grinned like a little boy as he drank it all in. He helped her out of the Ford which was dismally out of place, but there was no sense in worrying about it now. She reminded herself that she was an actress and could every bit pretend to be a person who belonged to the ranks of the stars. With this in mind, she ascended the steps with her arm hooked in Bradford’s elbow and let him open the door for her. “Thank you darling,” she said, practicing that acting as he took her arm again. She hoped that the figure dressed in the beaded navy-blue dress and standing beyond the vestibule had heard it. Natalie was greeting the guests ahead of them. Seeing her, Nelly felt a little on the faint side. She’d rented her dress at Carmela’s again, this one $25 and less eye-catching. It was sleeveless and of bright purple damask. It had no beading or ruffles, just modest ruching around the waist. She’d accented it with her own glass amethyst pendant necklace and ivory silk stockings. She had wanted to look less noticeable, but the light in the vestibule made the satin threads in the dress dazzle and flash. She’d done a formidable job of keeping worry about her mistake with Buster at bay the past week, but Natalie’s nearness and realness brought it home. Slim though it was, a chance existed that this woman’s husband had made her pregnant. Before Nelly had time to gather her wits about her on this matter, she and Bradford were advancing to greet Natalie.

“How do you do?” said Natalie, and Nelly and Bradford echoed her.

Bradford answered Natalie’s unspoken question. “We work with Mr. Taylor at United Artists.”

Nelly could only manage a desperate smile as she took in all the flesh-and-blood details of Natalie and remembered how Buster had looked in the mirror as he’d thrust himself into her. She wondered if Natalie recognized her from the party last autumn and was relieved at the sound of the front door opening behind them and the excuse to move on from the hostess so she could greet her next guests.

“Holy mackerel,” Bradford said under his breath, as he led her into the foyer and looked around him.

Nelly took stock of who was at the party already. She saw Norma Shearer, Bebe Daniels, Marion Davies, Pickford and Fairbanks, and before her eyes had gotten any further, Buster. Her heart went at a clip at the sight of him. She’d expected him to be upstairs and make a grand entrance as he’d done at the previous party. He was wearing a smart brown suit and his hair was neatly combed, every errant strand in place. He swirled a glass of whiskey and took a sip, talking with Norma Talmadge and a dark-looking man with Spaniard features. “That must be Gilbert Roland,” she said, mostly to herself.

“Hmm?” said Bradford.

“Norma Talmadge’s boyfriend. She’s married, but everyone knows she’s seeing Gil Roland,” she said, reciting the gossip she’d heard from Buster.

“You’re back,” said someone cheerfully.

She turned and beamed when she recognized Charlie Chaplin. The sight of him reminded her how fun it was to be among the brightest stars in Hollywood and her discomfort about Natalie eased. “Hello again,” she said. She held out her hand to his extended one and he kissed it, his lips soft and cool on the back of her hand. She giggled, thinking she really would have been in trouble if she’d attended the party with him. “This is Bradford. He’s with me at United Artists.”

“Oh, that’s simply heartbreaking. Don’t tell me you’re taken!” said Charlie, his hand going to his heart.

“I’m afraid so,” she said, leaning her head on Bradford’s shoulder briefly to demonstrate. “I’ll still save a dance for you.”

“If you’d be so kind,” he said, his accent rich and irresistible. “But why haven’t I seen you at United Artists?”

Nelly smiled and squeezed Bradford’s arm. “We’re undiscovered I’m afraid, but D.W. Griffith has his eye on Bradford. They spoke just this week. Me they’re keeping locked up in the prop department right now, but just you wait.”

Charlie winked. “Well, we’ll have to do something about that, won’t we? Will you be about next week?”

She could hardly believe it. And she’d been so worried about her career. “Of course.”

“Good. It’s settled. I’ll catch you when the band starts, hmm?” he said. “Lovely to see you.” He pressed her hand and turned away, disappearing into the crowd.

Her head whirled. One minute she was worried about Natalie Talmadge finding her out, the next Charlie Chaplin seemed to be promising her some sort of a future in films. And there was a band!

“Drink?” said a butler she didn’t know, stopping in front of them with a tray on which were arranged a number of delectable-looking drinks, all of oranges, deep reds, and yellowish creams.

“Thank you,” she and Bradford said, choosing drinks after a few moments’ consideration. She went for the cream-colored one.

Another butler materialized with hors d'oeuvres. She plucked up one of the bite-sized trifles and popped it in her mouth. She tasted dill and some kind of fish. Bradford sampled one too before returning to his drink. She didn’t recognize the butler. Buster must have hired help for the party. Bradford wound a hand around her shoulder. “Thanks for all this, darling,” he said. The endearment was scripted for anyone within hearing, but he meant the words.

“You’re welcome,” she said, sipping her drink. It had the flavor of pineapples, a California taste if there ever was one.

Her eyes roamed over the guests again. She recognized Constance Talmadge, Harold Lloyd, Buster Collier, John Gilbert, and Gloria Swanson. There were many men she didn’t know, some of middling looks, some downright unhandsome; those were the directors and big shots. Her gaze flickered to Buster just as he looked over at her. He gave a small, unsmiling nod and returned to his conversation. A mild pang struck her at the coldness of his acknowledgment, but she was relieved that he was being careful. She and Bradford kept to themselves, smiling and responding in kind whenever a guest nodded and said hello. She missed Louise Brooks and wished she had a girl friend to keep her company.

They were on their second drinks when attendees began to nod at each other and move in the direction of the living room. Exchanging looks, Nelly and Bradford followed. The living room, fully decorated when she’d last seen it five days ago, had been denuded of all furniture. Against the loggia on the southwest wall, a full orchestra was arrange in a suite of chairs. The members held instruments of all sizes and shapes, violins, saxophones great and small, trumpets, clarinets, a drum kit, a piano, an upright bass, even a huge tuba sitting somewhat uneasily in one man’s lap. There were at least two dozen men in the band at Nelly’s quick count, dressed alike in black tuxedos and bow ties. With the furniture and grand piano moved out, the living room was more spacious than ever.

“Why, it’s Paul Whiteman’s Orchestra!” Bradford said into her ear, voice hushed. He nudged her and flicked a finger in the direction of a fat man with a round face standing to the right of the orchestra.

Nelly was dazzled. The realization that one of her favorite bands in the room burst through her like a beam of sunshine. She couldn’t find words for her awe, but clutched for Bradford’s hand and squeezed it. The orchestra was burbling in a tuneless way as violinists tested strings and trumpets and saxophones tried out notes. A kind of restlessness pervaded the scene, musicians keen to begin, partygoers eager to dance. This went on for a few minutes until Buster threaded his way through his guests and stood facing the crowd with his back to the band.

“Nate and I want to thank you for coming tonight,” he began. “It’s an honor and a—” He looked over the crowd for a few moments as though he were thinking about what to say next. “An honor, a pleasure … you know, that kind of stuff. Anyway, I’d like you to give a hand for this gentleman and his little band here. They’re not very well-known, but if you’ll just, uh, pretend a little I’m sure it’ll make them very happy.” He straightened his tie, took one step forward, and fell on his face. There was laughter. As Buster stood up and brushed himself off, Paul Whiteman took his place. He was even less a man of words than Buster, saying only to the guests, “Thank you very much for having us tonight.” He walked to the left of the musicians and addressed them. “Gentleman …”

Two men assembled at the front of the orchestra near the upright piano. Nelly wondered for a second how they transported it from gig to gig, but forgot the question when Whiteman lifted his baton, held it in the air, and dropped it. The two men and the one at the piano began scatting a capella.

Wot-dot-dot, doh-dot, dot-dot-doh

Wot-dot-dot-dot, dot-dot-doh …

The man at the piano laid his hands on the keys just as one of the singers started in a smooth baritone, “You’ve heard of the Charleston, the Black Bottom.”

“I’ve got a rhythm that’s really got ‘em,” chimed the other singer. “It must be something new.”

“Gonna start it for you,” sang the man at the piano. It goes like, One, there it is.

His companions joined him:

One-two, there it is,

One-two-three, can’t you see where the merit is?

One-two-three-four, everywhere it is,

One-two-three-four, five steps!

At this, the snare sounded a beat and the whole orchestra burst into voice. Bradford grabbed Nelly’s hand and waist and swung her into motion. She yelped with delight. The rhythm was too fast for her to think about whether her feet were doing five steps; she just clung to Bradford and tried to keep up with the foxtrot he was leading her in. Over his shoulder, she could see that all the other dancers were smiling, Marion Davies dancing with Charlie Chaplin, Gloria Swanson paired with John Barrymore. She felt a sudden, uncanny sense of belonging as she and Bradford galloped along. A clarinet soloed, followed by a violin in a high, reedy voice like a grasshopper.

One, there it is,

One-two, there it is,

One-two-three, can’t you see where the merit is?

One-two-three-four, everywhere it is,

One-two-three-four, five steps!

One, got to learn,

One-two, got to learn,

One-two-three, there is not such a lot to learn,

One-two-three-four, aren’t you hot to learn?

One-two-three-four, five steps!

As the singers carried on, it was all Nelly could do to keep her rhythm and her breath. She was panting and laughing when the final note sounded. She and Bradford withdrew from the dancers to get a drink of punch from the bowl on the table in the foyer. As soon as their thirst was quenched, though, she took Bradford’s hand and hurried back into the room. She wasn’t going to miss a moment of the Paul Whiteman Orchestra’s set if she could help it.

The orchestra had begun a sweet, wistful melody led by trumpets. She recognized it at once as “Mary,” one of her favorites. Rather than dancing, she stood on the edge of the crowd with Bradford and watched. The trumpets piped and her heart was overfull as she soaked in the music and her surroundings with all of her might. Dancers kicked up their heels in a slower foxtrot as the full orchestra echoed the trumpets’ melody. She could have watched all the beautiful stars before her in their tuxes and brightly colored dresses, but she had eyes only for the orchestra and Whiteman’s graceful conducting. It was a marvel the way he brought different sections of the band to life with just a flick of his baton.

One of the singers stepped forward as a violin finished off the melody. He was perhaps a little taller than Buster, but slightly husky, with ears that stuck out and eyes as blue as a spring sky.

What are you waitin’ for,

What are you waitin’ for, Ma-ary?

What are you thinkin’ ‘bout,

Who are you thinkin’ ‘bout, Mary?

The bees are buzzin’,

They’re buzzin’ right in my ear,

And they keep on asking,

Hey, what’s the big idea?

He was the one with the smooth baritone like poured honey. All his notes flowed together without a single hitch. She recognized his voice from many of Whiteman’s records.

“He’s incredible,” she said, standing on tiptoes to whisper it in Bradford’s ear. He nodded in return.

Why do you lead me on,

Why do you be so con-trary?

You wouldn’t let my castles

Come tum-tum-tumblin’ down

Think of the things in store,

What are you waitin’ for, Ma-ary?

The violins concluded the melody and the brass took it up again. Her senses were filled with trumpets and the snare, then the orchestra singing as one voice.

She didn’t notice how spellbound she’d become until applause startled her back to reality. She clapped along with everyone else and the singer gave a bow and a modest smile. Bradford was bending to say something about the music when Nelly felt the cloth of a suit on the bare skin of her left shoulder. She turned to see Buster. He looked ahead, nonchalant, and her heart gave a fond trot.

“How d’ya like your birthday present?” he said quietly, still looking ahead.

“Oh, don’t kid me.” Even as she said it though, she knew in her heart of hearts that he wasn’t joking. The band was for her.

Still not looking at her, he gave the slightest of smiles. “Pretty good joke, huh?”

Her eyes welled. “I don’t know whether to kiss or kill you. You’re out of your mind and I don’t know how I’ll ever begin to thank you.” When she looked at him again, he was finally looking back, his brown eyes so affectionate she was in danger of throwing her arms around him in front of all of Hollywood, including his wife.

“Who’s your boyfriend?” he said, but his tone was curious, not suspicious.

She wiped the trace of tears from her eyes and turned to Bradford, who by then had noticed their conversation. “This is Bradford,” she said, laying a hand on his upper arm. “Bradford, this is Buster.”

“How d’you do, Mr. Keaton?” said Bradford, extending a hand. He glanced from Buster to her as they shook hands and she saw him connect the dots. Her insides went hot and cold. In hindsight, her casual introduction of Buster was a dead giveaway.

“Where’s Louise?” she said, moving on and trying not to punish herself for her mistake.

“Brooks? Or my sister? Sis is here somewhere. Probably trying to corner Ramon Novarro by the punch bowl.” He removed his cigarettes from his breast pocket and pulled one out. “Brooks, you know the score. Wife thinks there’s some funny business going on between us and if I invite her to another party I’m dead meat.”

Trying to be friendly or playing an angle, Bradford butted in. “How’s your new picture, Mr. Keaton?”

“Buster,” he said, taking a drag off the cigarette. “Going alright I guess. Can’t complain. You in pictures?”

Bradford chattered away about D.W. Griffith and Nelly looked around them briefly to see if anyone was paying attention to their interaction. None of the Talmadges were near. She spotted Natalie and Norma chatting with Douglas Fairbanks across the room. Constance was standing nearer and speaking to a man Nelly didn’t recognize, but her back was turned to them.

“Wanna dance?” said Buster, fingers curving into her elbow.

She gave an anxious glance at Bradford, worried about him overhearing, but remembered he already knew. She said in an undertone, “I don’t think we ought to. Not for a few more songs at least. You should dance with a couple other girls first.”

Buster squeezed the crook of her arm and dropped his hand. “Alright, if you say so. I’ll be back.”

Half an hour later, he had taken her advice. The band had played “I’m Coming Virginia,” “Mississippi Mud,” and “Grandma.” Her next two dances had gone to Bradford and she’d sat “Grandma” out. Buster had danced with Constance Talmadge, Bebe Daniels, and Marion Davies. The crowd of guests had gotten louder as more cocktails circulated. Nelly had accepted a third drink, but was tempering herself and had taken only a sip. The blue-eyed singer stepped forward and commanded the crowd’s attention.

“We just added this one to the repertoire. It’s from a musical they’ve got in New York right now called Present Arms. Harry and Al and me, we’ll introduce you to it,” he said in a smooth, affable voice. He smiled, showing white, even teeth and snapped his fingers at the orchestra to cue them, eyes on the audience.

She was so focused on him that she was startled when someone seized the drink from her hand. Buster walked away from her and set her drink on a side table on the periphery of the room. “Come on kid, I’ve waited long enough,” he said, setting his hand on her waist when he returned. The orchestra was in full swing, the brass section taking up a melody that the strings underscored and singing out cheerfully. A clarinet butted in every several measures, rich and mellow. Nelly had danced with Buster a dozen times in her apartment and his bungalow, but as he folded her hand into his, she remembered just their first dance at the party in October. She’d been spooked then about her changing feelings for him and nervous lest Natalie think something was afoot. Now that they were really having an affair, the dread and nervousness were like a thousand pin-pricks to her skin. She was sure it must be obvious that Buster and she were more than simply acquaintances.

Buster led her in a medium-tempo foxtrot, his eyes cast upward, as though dancing with her among all the other women was no big deal. Only his thumb massaging her palm gave him away. He smelled like aftershave and cigarettes. She tried to pay attention to the dance, the rhythm of her hips and her feet and not the sensation that every person in the room was staring at them and wondering about the girl Buster was dancing with.

He leaned in, his cheek almost resting against hers. “Loosen up,” he said in her ear.

She put her mouth by his ear in turn. “I feel like everyone’s watching us.”

He gave a calm, closed-lipped smile. “Everyone’s too busy getting ossified and cutting a rug to pay us any, baby.”

“I still don’t feel—”

“Hush,” he said. “Just enjoy yourself.”

The brassy trumpet and an oboe bantered for a while before the full orchestra cut back in.

I’m a sentimental sap that’s all

What’s the use of trying not to fall?

I have no will

Aw, you made your kill

‘Cause you took advantage of me

It was the blue-eyed singer again. In the background, the two others crooned softly. Nelly closed her eyes for a beat and watched herself as Natalie might, were she able to peer inside Nelly’s head. Buster. The Villa. The Paul Whiteman Orchestra.

I’m just like an apple on a bough

And you’re gonna shake me down somehow

So what’s the use?

You cooked my goose

‘Cause you took advantage of me

Her purple dress. A room full of stars.

I’m so hot and bothered that I don’t know

My elbow from my ear

Suffer something awful each time you go,

Much worse when you’re near

Playing billiards in Buster’s game room. Buster enclosing her in his arms on his bed.

Here I am with all my bridges burned

Just a babe in arms where you’re concerned

Buster’s lips and tongue and fingers and hands. His prick.

So lock the door and call me yours

‘Cause you took advantage of me

The shower. The down blanket and the stars sparkling over Beverly Hills. Buster’s body warm against hers.

The brass section sang out again, boisterous, confident, the strings wrapping its melody. Nelly moved her feet, scarcely conscious of the dance. Her head was still planted in the clouds when it ended and Buster’s hands let go. She couldn’t help glance around her, wondering who’d been watching. To her relief, the one person who caught her eye was Bradford, who had just let go of Marion Davies. He kissed Marion’s hand and said something in her ear that made her laugh, then walked back over to Nelly.

“Don’t make me jealous now,” he said, kissing her cheek.

“Look who’s talking!” she said, giving him the smile and all the weight of feeling she would have to Buster had she been able.

“Don’t forget your Orange Blossom,” said Buster, pressing it back in her hand. “I’ll be back for you in a little bit.” He turned away and she saw him catch John Gilbert by the arm and demand something that made Gilbert roar with laughter.

“How’d you enjoy your dance with Miss Davies?” said Nelly to Bradford.

“Oh, I expect I’ll be playing the lead in her next picture,” Bradford said, winking to show that his boast wasn’t serious. “How was your dance with Mr. Keaton?”

“He dances well,” she said, playing along.

A cool hand on her arm made her turn. Nelly blanched when she saw who it was.

“Have we met?” said the blonde woman, her smile warm.

“I don’t believe so. You’re Constance Talmadge.”

Constance smiled. She had a small, prim mouth outlined in a rose-colored lipstick. Her hair was waved and golden, her throat sparkling with a sapphire and diamond choker.

One of the singers was singing, “Baby face, you’ve got the cutest little baby face …”

“That’s right. And you?” said Constance.

Nelly reminded herself that she could act with the best of them. She put a hand on Bradford’s back. “Bradford and I work with Mr. Taylor at United Artists.”

“I’m in the new D.W. Griffith,” Bradford offered.

“Oh, that’s fine,” said Constance, sounding interested. “What’s your role?”

Bradford smiled. “Well I’m just an extra at the moment, but Mr. Griffith said Thursday he’s going to fit me into more scenes. He found out I can play piano and thinks he can use me for a bigger role.”

“I loved you in Breakfast at Sunrise,” Nelly said to her. “It’s such an honor to meet you.”

“Why thank you.” Constance was as friendly as could be, but there was something about her appearance that made Nelly uneasy. “Is this your first time at one of Bus and Nate’s ‘dos?” she asked.

Nelly put on her best casual smile. “My second. I was here last fall.” She didn’t offer to explain how she knew Buster and hoped that Constance wouldn’t inquire. Distantly, she heard the orchestra and saw the bodies around them moving in time to the music.

“Oh, then you’re old hat. Have you tried the crab croquettes?”

Nelly said that she hadn’t. She was wondering where the conversation would go next when Bradford broke in. “Miss Talmadge,” he said, his voice brimming with charm. “Would it be too forward to ask you to dance?”

Constance smiled. Nelly could tell she was genuinely charmed. “Even if it was, I’ll say yes.”

“Wonderful.” He palmed her waist which was clothed in blue silk and chiffon. Glancing at Nelly as he took Constance’s small, white hand in his, he said, “Sorry, darling. Don’t be jealous.”

Nelly could have kissed him. With only one thought in mind, she elbowed her way out of the crowd and to one of the butlers, she helped herself to a minty green drink from his tray. She tossed it back, grabbed an Orange Blossom, and gulped that too. To his credit, the butler was too well-bred to react. She would have explained to him if she could that she wouldn’t be able to enjoy another second of the party without being drunk. The encounter with Constance had brought her jitters to a fever pitch. Nodding her thanks to the butler, she took another Orange Blossom in hand and went to track down the washroom.

The blue-eyed singer’s baritone followed her down the hall.

Birds are singing merrily

The sun is shining peacefully

Because my baby don’t mean maybe now

She locked the door behind her and set the drink on the edge of the sink as she relieved herself. Her make-up needed no touching up, and her cheeks were flushed with drink. Buster had engaged the Paul Whiteman Orchestra as a birthday gift to her and she was going to relax if it was the last thing she did. Technically it wasn’t her birthday for a few more hours, but even if they didn’t know it, everyone out there was dancing in honor of Nelly Foster’s twenty-seventh year on earth. She exited the washroom feeling more secure with this thought. Bradford was playing his part perfectly. The Talmadges didn’t suspect anything. It was okay if she loosened up as Buster had urged her to do.

[jalebi-weds-bluetooth]

Ishqbaaz Liveblog, E4: Anyone Between 40-59 is Shit

Previously: E3 “A really good premise”

Welcome! My liveblogging continues. Check out @australian-desi​ and @tellywoodtrash​ for more IB liveblogs (if you’re interested in this, TTji is my ultimate guru to lb-ing)!

So far I’m waiting and seeing if IB will break Kasautii Zindagi Kii 2, cause KZK2′s plot and non annoyance meter stood firm till 5 episodes. Until new Prerna decided to mega sacrifice herself and marriage a CREEP to save her family’s home. I noped out of that so hard after Prerna’s decision. 

And so far I’m pleasantly surprised by IB, and genuinely enjoying it plot-wise. 

Here’s the end of my yapping, now enjoy the liveblog!

Episode 4: “Anyone Between 40-59 is Shit”

- Deva Shree Ganesha continues. Till now Nakuul’s chin level is steady (later in the show his nose is permanently in the air - as noted by @ridzmystique​)

- Burning Man continues, literally. 

- Ganesh Ji also getting nice footage. 

- Where is the thunder in the bg music coming from? 

- Why ISN’T ANYONE DOING ANYTHING TO STOP THE FIRE? AH SHAKTI nearly went but was stopped by Tej. 

- Tej doing damage control. Ofc, classic Tej. Dramatic shot continues, Tej is dramatic AF.

- HEY WE DIDN’T SEE MUCH OF THE OBROS TRYING TO SAVE BURNING MAN. But we must assume cause Shivaay is a bit burnt. 

- Shivaay hurt his hand too? Shivaay, are we connecting too? Why? (My hand is hurt too)

- Ah, their first factory was burned but Dadaji decided to save the people instead of inventory #dadajirocks 

- Shivaay taking the full pressure of things, as usual. Oh, Nakuul is acting really well in this scene - what do they do with him later?

- Poor Dadiji, she’s so sad - she’ll get a heart attack one day.

- Good vaada to take from older brother, make sure bhaichara remains between all of them. 

- Sometimes it is so important to not be like your parents, if your parents are shitty. 

- Oh the Mandir is BEAUTIFUL. 

- DRAMATC TEJ APPEARS. 

- WTF ACQUIRING LAND BY FORCING THE FARMERS? Tej must like what crap the government is pulling right now. #farmersprotest (please check it out and give it the support and awareness it deserves)

- Good, thank God Shakti has some sense. Oh, a flawed man with a conscience - I really like Shakti, he’s very layered. 

- Tej is dramatic AF, Shakti is frickkin layered. These two bros are playing well against each other. 

- WHO? DADI AND HER TWO SONS FACE OFF. 

- YAY THIS POOL IS DEEPER THAN 1 FOOT! (Imagines Arnav swimming through this *cough*)

OK STOP DISTRACTING ME GUYS, LET’S FOCUS ON THE SHOW. 

ISS PY

ISHQBAAZ

WHERE THERE’S A POOL

AND NO OTHER THOUGHTS

YOU KNOW WHY I GOT DIVERTED, BECAUSE OF YOU GUYS, YES

ANYWAYS,

- Shivaay… wondering about family name even though someone died? 

- You know, what I like about this convo is that both Om and Shivaay are right in their positions. 

- Om: worried that a person died, Shivaay: reputation matters 

- Damn it, this was a good conversation.

- Ah Rudy. I LOVE LOVE LOVE HOW THEY USED THE BABY BROTHER TO BREAK THE TENSION. The great thing of Rudy not smiling is that you know shit has hit the fan when that happened. 

- I don’t like how they’re treating Guggi - the way they tried to make her ‘comedic’ because she doesn’t fit the standard of beauty. I DO NOT like this. 

- FINALLY DADI! Finally have a word with your sons. 

- Just ignoring Pinky. Jhanvi, I Stan you as always. 

- Ah Rudy, I LOVE HOW SHIVAAY AND OM CALMED AND THE CRACKS HEALED BECAUSE OF RUDY BEING THEIR BABY. 

- HAHAHAH! Shivaay yelled Om for hitting Rudra by showing Rudy how to hit better! 

- HAHAHAH THEY’RE MAKING RAJNIKANTH OUT OF SHIVAAY! I LOVED how in one scene, without too much, showed how Rudy is the glue between two brothers who love each other but are ideologically different (and a difference that can cause a crack if not healed at the right time)

- DADI BRINGIN IN THE KASAM to make sure her two fishy sons tell the truth. Shakti told half truth, smart. WHY IS DADI SMILING? 

- OK dadi your sons have a LOT of issues, your sanskaar totes failed. 

- Okay, Anjali has transformed to Sahil (I guess that’s the kid’s name). Do we need to be orphans and have a limping sibling to be a television lead? (Taking a hockey stick and heading to my brother)

- Why is the landlady and constables standing in filmy line too?

- UFF THIS LANDLADY KA OVERACTING - OH WAIT SHE’S ACTUALLY ANIKA’S BUAJI BUAJI - DAMN WTF IS SHE. THIS BUAJI IS OVERACTING LIKE SHIT.

- Totally not interested in this character. 

- Dude Anika is anaath, isme tera kya jaata hai?

- Yes Anika, kill her. 

- Woah who’s manhandling Anika?

- THAT IS A FINE ACTRESS, please don’t make her do a shitty role. WTF? POLICE VIOLENCE. 

- Phirse gaana? These three bros should have an album after their name. In case their other businesses fail, this one should keep things floating :D *did I foresee something in this sentence, I might’ve*

- I would call thing cringy, if I didn’t do the same shit with my bro. We’re dramatic AF too, dancing to random songs all the time. 

- The police waali has personal vendetta against Anika. Why? 

- Ok, almost every 40-50s person in this show is terrible. 

- Ok how is this terrible Buaji and the police waali connected? Is this police person a relative or something to Buaji?

- Ok I love the kid, I love how much he loves Anika. 

- Ok, we have reason why Anika should be removed from this situation asap (already murdering Shivaay for the future marriage condition).

So it is interesting and I’m eager to see what all tropes would happen when Shivaay and Anika meet. In her words, I have very low tolerance for michimichi! For example: I (largely) hate the swami track, post marriage comedy, sheetal track, when Khushi gives ‘gyaan’ to either Lavanya or Arnav about marriage or anything and all that in IPK. 

But I’m also waiting to listen to O Jaana and see the staring, wind and all cause I’m a wee bit sucker for those. 

So goodnight and see you tomorrow!

- S

Next up: E5 “Devi Maiyya working overtime for Shivika to happen”

[heras-princess]

There are stories that haven't been told or were overshadowed by others and eventually forgotten over time. The story of how Uga Benzaiten became the Queen of Curses is a forgotten one, unfortunately.

AUTHOR’S NOTES: this fanfic has my original characters; this is also on my wattpad and archive of our own accounts

WARNINGS: original characters, romance, lgbtq+, sukuna being sukuna, references regarding japanese mythology/lore, executions, propaganda, manipulation, murder, corrupt positions of power, brainwashing, family drama, and many more.

Words: 1,183

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐘 (𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄)

𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

“Your Majesty, I apologize to inconvenience you at this time, but the Imperial Princess Uga is nowhere to be seen.”

The throne room quickly fell silent.

Not a single person spoke for what seemed like hours but was only a minute in reality.

“...I’m sorry, but I fear that I might’ve misheard you on what you have just told me,” Despite displaying a polite smile, Emperor Nintoku’s voice was filled with nothing but venomous malice. Did he hear that right? No, of course not. Perhaps he misheard the chambermaid’s news. Either

The lowly servant further explained the situation to her superior, “Her Imperial Highness requested some time alone in her chambers after her recent training sessions. When I was entered in order for her to receive dinner, I’ve noticed that her Highness was nowhere in her room and her window was open. I have reason to believe that she has ran away when she was alone.”

After telling her side, the chambermaid awaited and feared on what her emperor planned on saying or doing next. He stayed silent for a moment, and his facial expression - she hadn’t dared to look up to see his face out of respect and fear.

Smack!

The maid whimpered in pain as she fell on the floor, tears threatening to soak on the room’s floor. Her right cheek has a reddening mark from Nintoku himself.

“What a joke of a chambermaid. You avert your eyes from the high priestess and she manages to leave under your nose,” he began to tear into the maid, not caring if she’s starts crying. Uga leaving was the maid’s fault. And here she was, paying the price for her carelessness.

Today certainly has had its ups and downs.

First his men found a kappa hiding itself in an alley and brought it to him. The emperor began to ask them questions about Ryomen Sukuna, in the hopes if locating him. Unfortunately, the kappa said nothing. EIther it didn’t know anything or refused to say anything is left to only his imagination. Either way, he’ll continue to interrogate the yokai until he gets something out of it or it dies. He would be fine with either outcome.

Just then, one of the warriors burst into the throne room, interrupting the emperor’s thought process.

The warrior deeply bowed, “Apologizes for barging in, Your Majesty. But the kappa you’ve taken captive has escaped from it cage!”

Huh. Looks like he was wrong.

Today has been more of a bad day than most.

Nintoku then began to chuckle. His chuckle turned into a laugh, and his laugh became a hearty guffaw. “Well, I’ll be damned. I believe I am able to piece together what has occurred in these late hours. It appears that my dear Uga freed the kappa and took off. Right underneath not only your noses but mine as well.” He tried to catch his breath after finishing his little fit. This whole thing was amusing, to say the least.

That girl surely is something.

Why couldn’t she stay quiet and in line like the rest of her siblings? Maybe if she had, then her father wouldn’t pay so much attention to her. He always knew that Uga wasn’t as afraid of him as her siblings were, never trembling in fear whenever he would merely glance at her.

And her jujutsu training was a thing to behold. His daring daughter was a quick learner, that one.

He turned around and waved off the troop, “Send out your best searchers and find the Imperial Princess. And should you find the kappa along with her, bring it as well. Oh, and do not be afraid to use some cursed energy if she’s spotted.”

Alright, Uga.

You’ve made the first move in this hunting game you decided you want to pay.

Now it is my turn.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Uga hasn’t stopped running through the forest even though her feet were ready to give out soon. She knew better than to stop at this point. She had the kappa that she freed from her father in her arms. Her plan was to drop off the kappa at a nearby river and continue hiding from the imperial searchers. The chambermaids must’ve learned about her disappearance and have told her father, who probably send out searchers to find her and the kappa.

That was when Uga finally found a river a few feet away. Once the kappa started to sniff a familiar fishy scent from the body of water, it wiggled out of the imperial princess’s grip and dove into the river without any form of hesitation.

Uga took out a few whole cucumbers that she stole from the kitchen when the cooks weren’t looking and showed it to the water spirit. “Here. I know well enough that you haven’t really eaten anything since you were brought to my father.”

The kappa looked between its’ offering and the young high priestess, most likely scared thanks to its recent past experience with a jujutsu sorcerer. Eventually, it quickly snatched a cucumber from her hand and took a couple of bites of it while staring at Uga.

She took off her shoes so she could soak her sore feet, sighed in relief once the feet hit the water. “I really needed this soak.” The princess made eye contact with the river yokai, who was slowly eating the rest of the cucumbers right beside her. “I’m guessing you don’t trust me still. Fair enough. I wouldn’t trust the next jujutsu sorcerer after what you went through.”

When she was younger, Nintoku would often tell her and her siblings stories that painted mythical creatures horribly and told them to run as jujutsu sorcerers who encountered a mythical creature and stay were those with a death wise. He wasn’t really wrong, but she still thought differently. She wanted to understand the mythical, not really hurt them like her other siblings wanted to once they were strong enough jujutsu sorcerers.

Oh, how she wished that some of her other siblings believed what Uga did. Maybe they could’ve run away together and learn about the mythological mysteries.

“If I continue on feet, then those searches would surely catch up to me,” she said to herself. That was when she came up with the perfect idea. Her father was in charge of her cursed energy training and he was worse than the official trainer. He wanted them to have the strength of a Special Grade. Unforuently, at least half of her siblings could barely handle a Grade 3 spirit, with Uga being the lucky few with immense cursed energy.

The searchers, on the other hand, couldn’t handle a Grade 2 curse.

“It appears that Father did manage to teach me something during my training period,” she then made an arrow from the river water and looked at the kappa one last time before getting up. “What to do when a challenge presents itself.”

She ran away from the river and went in the direction that she just came from, leaving the kappa confused. It took the remaining cucumbers and swam away from the shore.

[thejustmaiden]

Just bcos u PERCEIVE SessRin as something that promotes pedophilia and grooming doesn't mean that's how the author portrayed it. It's disappointing to see that antis force such idea, as if they know what's inside Rumiko's mind. It is fine if u find sessrin cringey. Just don't force your idea of pedophilia and grooming as THE CORRECT PORTRAYAL OF SESSRIN.

Hello there, nonnie! You had quite the party in my ask box, I see. Breaking it up in parts may actually help me get to the point and address your concerns swiftly and accordingly. Here goes nothing. 😉

This answer is for your first two asks by the way. Firstly, you're putting words in my mouth because I do not view Rumiko as an author who promotes pedophilia and child grooming and never have. She never once placed an ounce of romance into their scenes. Rin was essentially introduced to serve as a catalyst for Sesshomaru's character growth. That's major in and of itself, which is why I'm not sure why she needs to be the mom on top of all that she's already done for him. It was you, Sessrin shippers, who had to go and make it romantic, not us. It was you who took every innocent scene and turned it into a romantic one. You'll even use some of their scenes as proof they will end up together, then back-pedal later and say those very same scenes weren't romantic in order to protect the sanctity of your ship. I mean, which is it? It can't be both, it's either one or the other.

I repeat, NO we don’t actually think Rumiko wanted to portray this relationship with pedophillic or grooming tendencies. It's you shippers who insist there is no other way for their relationship to evolve, as if you speak on behalf of Rumiko. Your interpretation of Rumiko's work is what implies child grooming; she may not be condoning it but your perspective sure is. You talk down to antis who disagree, because in your opinion, your interpretation is not only superior but already canon in your eyes. You're doing a disservice to this fandom by spreading false information like that when you try to pass it off as official. So if it's anyone that assumes they know what goes on inside Rumiko's head, it's YOU. Somewhere down the road in the (un)foreseeable future, it's you who changes course since remember we were all in agreement at the beginning that their relationship wasn't romantic. So what did I miss? Please break it down for me and explain what exactly influenced you to change your mind, then describe in detail how again this transition in their relationship magically came to be. It's you who came to that decision on your own- nobody helped you get there, and certainly not Rumiko (as you said yourself). The user boycottyashahime put it better than I did, so here is the link to their post. I highly recommend you read it if you haven't already. I urge you to keep an open mind about it while reading, too. You may not like what they have to say, but there's no denying they make excellent points all the same.

I'm pretty sure I catch your drift, but can you clarify if you're referring to historical context or cultural context? I suppose both can be applied here. haha Anyway, from what I gather, you believe that fans should be on board with the idea of Sessrin and at the very least tolerate the pairing. Whether they ship it or not, you believe this simply for the fact that the story takes place in the feudal era and couples with a similar relationship back then were more than acceptable. The thing is, we may be transported to Feudal Japan in this story but we're still taking our modern day morals with us for the trip. I have a whole ass blog dedicated to the significance of fiction in real life (convienently pinned on my page) if you wanna check it out. I also discuss what age-appropriate content is and isn't for Inuyasha viewers in this recent ask here that I find is also pretty relevant to the convo.

Alrighty, moving onto your next point. I can't stress enough to you guys that this isn't a mere Caucasian vs. Non-Caucasian dilemma. I'm a POC, so I ask that you please not presume to know things about me you couldn't possibly know unless we met or I shared it with you. In fact, many of the other antis I frequently chat with are POCs like myself. So for all that's good and holy, please stop ignoring us when we say: THERE ARE FANS IN JAPAN WHO HATE THIS SHIP TOO. THIS ISN'T A DIFFERENCE OF CULTURE, THIS IS A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION (& FACT). It may have not been called child grooming during that time, but that doesn't mean that it wasn't; it just went under a different name, that's literally it.

Let me give you another example. So if I'm watching a movie about WWII in Nazi Germany, am I supposed to sympathize with an SS officer if the story is being narrated from his point of view? Because in his mind and during that time period, his ideology is right. Like a lot of Germany during that war, I rally to support his leader for what is in my opinion a just cause. Tell me, how does context matter in this instance? Does it matter so much so that you would adopt the same ideals just because it was "historically accurate" and you don't see anything wrong with it when you put yourself in their shoes? Does the "it's just fiction" defense come into play here, too?

The illustration I believe you are referring to is the calendar with that one official illustrator for Inuyasha, right? The thing is, an official illustrator doesn’t equal the creator of Inuyasha. They may support the Sessrin ship, but their work has no connection to the Inuyasha series in any way besides the name affiliation. I've heard that the illustrator also included Kagome x Koga art, so should we take that seriously then too? Rumiko never once alluded to a future romance between Sesshomaru and Rin, to which you even (kinda) agreed. She described their relationship as neither parental or romantic, and she added that she even contemplated making Rin a boy at first. Fun facts, y'all!

I've heard about those magazines but they sound fishy to me. Would you mind sending me a link to a reliable source that comes with an English translation? I'd like to emphasize again that illustrators or VAs can do and say as they please, but their opinions are still only opinions at the end of the day. Nothing is set in stone until Rumiko says it is.

For one, I never said my interpretation was the only correct portrayal. That's you putting words in my mouth again. What I did say, however, was that my interpretation was more logical and reasonable than yours based on popular and widely-accepted story patterns found in real life and in fiction. Look this isn't about who's more "correct" or not. You can perceive Sesshomaru and Rin's relationship any damn way you want, BUT what you cannot do is dictate how we react to your depiction of this ship. You can't demand us to view your ship a certain way to fit your preferences. I'm sure all the hate on your ship can be unbearable at times, but that's just the cross you'll have to bear for supporting such a problematic couple. If a large part of any fandom is strongly against a pairing and what it represents, then there's usually a very legitimate reason for that. You may not want to hear this, but certainly you must realize there's some truth to it all. A couple of your fellow shippers have even admitted to me that Sessrin would be wrong IRL. You see what I mean? Even if we find the ship gross, antis don't care if you choose to ship Sessrin. All we care about is you acknowledging that, like IRL, Sessrin potentially poses a lot of problems for young viewers and how they come to make sense of and view similar situations that are borderline grooming or the very thing itself. Teens watching this show are more vulnerable and impressionable, which is why it's crucial to not show relationships like Sessrin in a favorable light. If they're ever put in a situation IRL that resembles Sessrin, they need to be aware and understand that it's not at all normal or healthy for that adult to make a move on them. Let's say Sessrin does go canon, then that would mean Rin had to get pregnant around 14 or 15. Sending that kind of message to an audience made up of mostly teenagers isn't exactly wise if you ask me. Please really think about that and sit with it if you need to.

I'm positive I'm following the same story, thank you very much. Also, how can you be so confident making a statement like that when I have actual Sessrin shippers praising me for making valid points? Sorry to break it to you, but I don't think I'm as lost as you claim me to be or wish that I was.

That's a wrap, peeps!

Read over what I had to say again later and then get back to me if want, but only write me back if you plan to be respectful. Otherwise I will decline to answer. Just keep that in mind. And may I suggest only sending 1 or 2 asks at a time? Please and thank you!

I think I may know exactly who are, nonnie, but I can't say for sure. Besides, it doesn't really matter, as you have a right to stay anonymous if you so wish to. Listen, don't forget you are also more than welcome to interact (but appropriately) on my blogs/asks/etc. If you are who I think you are, then you recently did make a comment on one of them but didn't stick around when I replied back (and for good reason). Finally, if you hope to ever have a real discussion about this topic someday, first put your ego aside and refrain from throwing insults and then I'll hear you out. I have never once put you down in all of our interactions, so there's no need to show up here all riled up and aggravated in the first place. There's also no need to laugh at or mock other's opinions. Don't take jabs and assume I must not know something about Inuyasha just because I don't support your point of view. I may not agree with your opinion, but you don't see me having a condescending air about it.

Apologies if you're not the member I believe you to be, but no offense, you probably still needed to hear all of that too. It's not included here since I answered it immediately, but that final ask you sent me where you got angry and assumed I wasn't going to answer you was totally uncalled for. If you ever hope someday to participate in real discourse with me or any other antis, you should take my advice and seriously chill and learn how to be patient.

Hope this finds you well, nonnie!

[bomberqueen17]

The bit in Little Fishie, where Geralt passes his super-cryptic message for Jaskier to the soldiers, made me laugh out loud in the midst of a pretty heavy angsty scene. I love the way you can insert those moments of absurdity that feel so real.

<3 Thank you! (I am still doing this askmeme guys, don’t judge me. I put it in the queue because it cheers me up so much all this time later.) And it’s funny because someone else commented on the whole extended reveal situation, but this part of it specifically is a part I enjoyed-- of course having Geralt laugh until he can’t breathe is entertaining but I really love this kind of shit, where there’s room for humor in a real dark scene. I have been a fan of this for ages, and it’s something you see in very old sources. I wrote a whole paper on it in college about the sudden whiplashes in tone in the Irish medieval epic the Tain bo Cuiliagne, where you’ll have the hero give a lengthy speech about the dignity of his foe and how little he wants to fight him, and then conclude it with “but if he dares to face me, I’ll still rip his head off” more or less verbatim-- of course I wrote this paper so long ago I don’t have any of the materials digitally, ha (O WordPerfect I hardly knew ye).

But I’ve always been a big fan of that sort of thing, and I love incorporating that into scenes. Geralt is a perfect protagonist for that, as well, since he’s got that inhuman ability to recover from very serious wounds, and the whole Witchers Don’t Feel Pain ridiculous stoicism that’s clearly fictional but equally clearly meaningful as an ethos, and so on-- really ripe for this kind of shit. I was delighted to get to pull it off.

Sometimes as an author you’re like hm perhaps this reveals too much of me but I’m sort of past that now, though it’s been humbling to go back thru my stuff for this askmeme and be like oh heh all these stories have the same underlying themes and in fact sometimes the thing someone’s mentioning occurs in more than one place. ha ha. But I’m not all that self-conscious about it. my id is pretty uhhhhhhh obvious. I definitely like pretty boys badly injured stoically cracking wise on death’s door, and that is not an uncommon literary theme, so. (from Little Fishie, chapter 5.)

“It might kill you,” Eirich said. “Do you have a family? Is there anyone we should send word?”

The Witcher closed his eyes for a moment. “Just-- give my medallion-- to the next-- Witcher you see,” he said. “They’ll know.”

Eirich nodded, and went to his bag, laying out supplies. “Anyone else we should send word to?”

“Your friend,” Benrick said. “Or-- weren’t you traveling with someone?”

The Witcher blinked, glanced at him, and closed his eyes again. “Yeah,” he said. “The kid. Jaskier. Bard.”

“I heard he was ill,” Benrick said. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” the Witcher said again. “But if he lives-- I promised him-- answer to a riddle.”

“I’ll tell him,” Benrick said.

The Witcher opened his eyes. “Only if he lives,” he said.

“Nobody lives forever,” Benrick pointed out.

The Witcher laughed a little, and coughed, and blood came out of his mouth, shocking red on the white of his skin. “Fair,” he said. “Nngh. Tell him-- she eats them.”

“She eats them,” Benrick echoed, a little puzzled. It wasn’t a riddle he’d heard before.

“He’ll understand,” the Witcher said. “She. Eats. Them.”

“I’ll tell him,” Benrick said.

“Only if he-- lives,” the Witcher said again. He squeezed his eyes shut, clearly in pain.

[tina-nina]

Lauriam, Marluxia, call him what you want, we know you want to talk about him

MY BOY

Why I like him: he’s fabulous and knows it. He may have been mistaken, but he DID know there was something fishy about the Org and proceeded to try and do something about it. His solution left a lot to be desired but hey: it was a solution even if it was a  b a d  one. As Lauriam he is a Good Big Bro full of sass. His death scene made me cry. His scythe is super cool and gets summoned in a flurry of flower petals.

Why I don’t: This more has to do with his CoM personality (before he and roughly half the org were chilled out for future games), but he’s cruel, does not care for the lives under his command, blackmailed and mentally tormented Naminé enough that she was terrified of him, and also was just an all-around Dick in that game. (though that could be said about all the CoM group, they were pretty shitty people until it was decided that they were needed for future games and that they needed to be at least somewhat likable. Axel, I love you, but you are trash in CoM).

Favorite scene: It may have made me cry but his KH3 death scene was *chef’s kiss*. Honorable mention goes to UX scene with him and his sister talking before the whole white coat thing we still do not have a proper explanation for 

Favorite Line: “And now I am on the cusp of reclaiming my identity... my purpose for being... thanks to you, Sora.”

Favorite Outfit: He only has two, and as cool as his Organization coat is, I like his Daybreak outfit better

OTP: I don’t really have one for him, or at least not any ship im more partial to over any other, at least keeping inside KH as a fandom. I always thought Marluxia/Larxene was cute enough, but also @arya-rayne‘s fic Bloody Sakura Rose has Marluxia/Summer Rose as a ship and I think it's super cute

BroTP: Marluxia and Larxene, Marluxia and Demyx (no in-game evidence but shhh), Lauriam and Blaine

Headcanon: why has my brain suddenly fled Canon wise, Marluxia was particularly vicious to Namine cause she reminded him of something or someone but since he couldn't remember what it made him angry instead.

Unpopular Opinion:  I don't want him to turn evil back in the AoF and have that be his start as a nobody (is that unpopular? I dunno)

A Wish: Let him see his sister again pls. let him make amends even if its just living life on some remote world as a florist with his sister

An oh-god-please-dont-let-this-happen: Please don't stay dead, your story is NOT over (in my heart if nothing else) please come back and bring more UX lore with you into something that isnt a phone game

5 words to best describe them: oh god uhhh Conniving, Pretty, tragic, flowery, sad

My Nickname: Marly/Laurie

[dreams-of-middle-earth]

Tagged by the lovely @the--queen-of-hell thank you!! 😄

Rules: bold the statements that apply to you, italicize your aspirations, then tag nine people.

AIR

i have small hands / i love the night sky / i watch small animals and birds when i pass them by / i drink herbal tea / i wake to see dawn / the smell of dust is comforting / i’m valued for being wise / i prefer books to music / i meditate / i find joy in learning new truths from the world around me

FIRE

i don’t have straight hair / i like to wear ripped jeans and overalls / i play an organized sport / i love dogs / i am not afraid of adventure / i love to talk to strangers / i always try new foods / i enjoy road trips / summer is my favorite season / my radio is always playing

WATER

i wear bracelets on my wrists / i love the bustle of the city / i have more than one set of piercings / i read poetry / i love the sound of a thunderstorm / i want to travel the world / i sleep past midday most days / i love dimly lit diners and fluorescent signs / i rewatch kids’ shows out of nostalgia / i see emotions in colors not words

EARTH

i wear glasses or contacts / i enjoy doing the laundry / i am a vegetarian or vegan / i have an excellent sense of time / my humor is very cheerful / i am a valued advisor to my friends / i believe in true love / i love the chill of mountain air / i’m always listening to music / i am highly trusted by the people in my life

AETHER

i go without makeup in my daily life / i make my own artwork / i keep on track of my tasks and time / i always know true north / i see beauty in everything / i can always smell flowers / i smile at everyone i pass by / i always fear history repeating itself / i have recovered from a mental disorder / i can love unconditionally

I tag: @liliemsharpe @insert-geeky-things-here @ohdebt @emilyymichelle @vtforpedro @fishy-strawberries @sweetestgbye and anyone who wants to join!

[hailene]

𝚁𝚊𝚠  𝙻𝚒𝚗𝚎

𝚁𝚊𝚠 𝙻𝚒𝚗𝚎| 06

𝚂𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

(𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘮– 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘺 𝘒𝘪𝘥𝘴, 𝘕𝘊𝘛, 𝘉𝘛𝘚, 𝘛𝘸𝘪𝘤𝘦, (𝘎)𝘐-𝘋𝘓𝘌, 𝘔𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘰, 𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘬)

Genre: angst, racing!au, college!au, gang!au, underworld!au

Word count: 3.6K

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

00|  01|  02|  03|  04|  05|  06|  07|  08|  09|  10|  tba

"These have actually turned out pretty good," Vernon manages to say with his mouth stuffed with noodles.

I nod and take a bite from my portion. The food was good indeed and it had all the right spices. Joshua did a really good job in taking care of the mess Jeonghan and I had made. He didn't whine at all, nor was he mad on any of us. I guess that's just the way Joshua is.

I was sitting in the corner of the living room with Vernon and Seungkwan, with my back leant against the wall. Everybody looked cheerful tonight, probably happy for THE 8 and for the good food. However, I couldn't count thirteen boys. Hoshi was missing, I could tell as soon as I entered the living room. I couldn't spot Woozi's face either. But there wasn't anybody else missing from the ones that I knew. Which could only mean that the third person who was missing was someone I didn't know.

Yuri helped me bandage my burnt hand. Fortunately, Joshua had already told her what had happened so I didn't have to give her too many explanations. I could feel Jeonghan's gaze on me every now and then, though, but I was trying to ignore him. Seungkwan was actually helping a lot. Despite the fact that he seemed really difficult to please, somehow I seemed to be on his good side and I was really relieved to feel that. Jeonghan, for example, was definitely not on the same side.

The boy with a stained shirt from earlier was sitting on the couch, next to Joshua. His name was Dino and everybody seemed to adore him. He was really charming indeed.

"Where is Hoshi?" I eventually ask Seungkwan and he shrugs.

"Should be here soon," Mingyu answers me, being really close to our corner.

"Jeonghan talked to him," Seungcheol points out and Jeonghan throws him a fake smile before shrugging.

"Were all of you at the race tonight?" I ask unsure of anybody will pay attention to me.

Wonwoo shakes his head and the chatter dies down.

"Not really, Woozi, Dino, Seungkwan and I weren't there, for example," he explains and I suddenly feel so thankful to him for actually answering a question of mine, even though it might have sounded stupid.

"It was a really nice race tonight," Vernon says, with hidden intentions, I could tell.

"That's thanks to Eight," Mingyu chuckles. "Well done, dude."

THE 8 simply nods with a light smile on his face.

"I can't believe I had to work over time today," Dino sighs. "I really wanted to see Eight win."

"You'll get plenty of chances from now on, don't worry," Seungcheol says bitterly.

"Is your restriction running out until the deadline?" Mingyu asks and silence suddenly settles in the room.

Seungcheol throws Mingyu a glance before looking at me for a split second and making Mingyu look at me, too.

"Oh, come on, why shouldn't she know?" He asks and I feel a wave of disappointment washing over me.

"It's not like that, don't get me wrong," Seungcheol sighs.

"It's alright, I'm used to this," I wave Mingyu off and he frowns.

"Hey, that's not okay," he says. "As long as you are with us, it's only fair to you to know such things."

Mingyu was one of my favourites, no doubt. He wasn't hiding from me. And he trusted me. He trusted me for nothing, blindly, but he did..

"Mingyu is right," Seungkwan speaks. "Moreover, you never know where the savior will come from."

"I know," Seungcheol nods. "Yeah, although it leaves me just a few weeks to race... but I think I can bargain."

"I knew something was fishy when the JYPs let their low ranks race," Mingyu says. "They knew everybody would get suspended."

Seungcheol shrugs and takes a bite from his noodles.

"There is nothing we can do to change that now, only hope that the leads will be understanding," he sighs. "I would much rather be crashed on the racetrack than in open street, though."

He was talking about Mingyu's injury, I could tell. The latter one sighs.

"At least I am not a top racer," he smiles. "It would have been way worse if this had happened to Han or Eight."

Jeonghan was carefully eating his noodles, without looking like he was paying attention to the conversation, but I knew he was. THE 8 seemed alert though, actually interested in what the others were saying.

"They don't have to know that," Jeonghan speaks and Mingyu smiles for some reason.

I hear the entrance door opening once again and Joshua stands up. He goes in the hallway and welcomes the new-comers. Soon enough, three new figures enter the living room, two of them being familiar to me.

However, my eyes fall on the chocolate-haired boy, with a slender figure and sharp jaw. His eyes were twinkling in the warm light of the living room and his small smile gave me some sense of proximity.

Thirteen out of thirteen.

"Collected everybody," he speaks and even his voice sounded sweet like honey in my ears.

Who was he?

Joshua pushes them towards the bathroom to wash their hands, despite Hoshi's protests that he washed his hands before coming here.

The food wasn't cold yet, lucky them, so it was still really tasty. By the time the three of them returned from the bathroom, Vernon explained me that the thirteenth and last boy was called DK and that he was usually the messenger of the group. Vernon seemed to like him, considering the way he was talking. To be honest, I couldn't see any reason for him not to.

"You must be Emma," DK speaks when his eyes meet mine.

I smile and nod. He returns the gesture and honestly, thank God I was sitting, otherwise my legs would give up on me.

"I'm Dokyeom, but you can call me DK," he says, before Hoshi pulls him towards the table with food.

Everybody seemed very excited for their arrival, even Jeonghan who was actually pouring a glass of water for DK, surprisingly. I guess everybody can have favourites.

Dino joined the three of us on the floor, giving up his seat on the couch for Woozi.

"These noodles have been through a lot to be this tasty," he jokes and I smile.

"The cooks, too," I sigh and he chuckles.

"I can't understand why you insisted to boil the noodles when you can barely put water in a glass without spilling it on the counter," Vernon says lowly and I punch his arm with my left hand.

"I am not that bad, okay?" I argue and he hums with a smile on his face.

"She's definitely better than you, Chwe," Seungkwan states. "You can't even rip the noodle pack without a YouTube tutorial."

Both Dino and I laugh while Vernon sighs, eventually breaking into a smile as well. Vernon wasn't the type to get offended easily, so unlike me. That was probably one of the reasons why we got on so well.

"I've never seen Jeonghan taking care of somebody, though," Dino says and I feel heat raising in my cheeks. "Quite a sight."

"He was making fun of me, not taking care of me," I mutter and Dino chuckles.

"Well, it's kind of the same thing for someone like him," he says and I choose to ignore his statement.

I hear somebody clearing their throat and I look around only to notice Seungcheol looking at me. Everybody seemed to have finished their food by then and the chatter died down. It felt like everybody knew this moment would come, since I was the only one looking surprised by the sudden change in the atmosphere.

"Since it's the first time we're gathering together like this," Seungcheol speaks, looking around the room "welcome to Seventeen, Emma."

I feel some of their gazes on me and I look at them, clearly taken aback by the introduction. I look at my sister who had a small smile on her face.

"So that's your little gang's name," is the first thing I manage to say and some of them chuckle.

"We're way better than a gang," Jeonghan speaks nonchalantly and I throw him an amused look.

"I think you already know everybody around here..." he looks at each of the boys "but you will get to know each of us better since... you'll spend a lot of time with us from now on."

"Because you have to, not because we feel the need of getting new people entangled in our business," Woozi points out and something in his tone makes me sit straight.

"Right," I say in a small tone and my gaze drifts to nowhere in particular.

"The ones that you're likely to see often, excluding Joshua, Vernon and I, are Jeonghan and Hoshi, but yeah... you'll get to spend a lot of time with everybody."

"Lucky you," Jeonghan mutters, gaining a nudge from Wonwoo, who was sitting next to him on the second sofa.

"Now that all of this has been revealed, I think it's fair to answer truthfully to a question of hers, don't you think?" Joshua speaks and instead of a bright joy that I will finally have an answer of choice, a sudden dread washes over me.

A question. Choose wisely.

"Josh is right," Mingyu nods and more people hum in agreement.

Then, everybody looks at me again, waiting for my question. Now that I was given the chance to receive an answer, I didn't know what I wanted to find out the most. There were a lot of unanswered questions that I have pushed in the back of my head these past few days. And right now, under the intimidating stares of fourteen people, I couldn't quite pick one.

Who are they exactly? And why do I feel like my existence depends on the answers I am given?

I frown unconsciously and then look at Joshua. He said they were not a gang, right? However, he wasn't quite specific regarding what they actually were. What is their purpose?

Dozens of questions were whirling around in my head and I couldn't figure out the words of any of them.

"Why Seventeen?" I blurt, head spinning. "You're thirteen people, why do you call yourself Seventeen? Did you kill the other four?"

It was supposed to be a joke, but some of them looked so not amused that I shivered at the thought that I might have been accidentally right. I notice Joshua half-smiling at my question of choice and I mentally pray I didn't waste my chance on something stupid, even though I was pretty sure I did. They could have just googled "gang names" and chose the first thing that came up, why do I have to ask such dumb thi-...

"Thirteen, plus three, plus one," Seungcheol says. "The total is seventeen, therefore the name."

I look at him confused. Great, this is even worse than the google hypothesis.

"Thirteen members, three sub-units, one team," Joshua explains and I finally understand something. "Seventeen."

The others nod silently, some of them diverting their gazes, others looking at me curiously. The logic makes sense... but it doesn't at the same time. What sub-units are they even talking about? Are they an idol group or something?

"Players, Watchers," Jeonghan says before touching his temple with his index finger "and The Brain, hun."

I frown, confused, feeling the heavy stares of fourteen people on me. I was looking at them, but I couldn't see them anymore, as if I was blind, my head suddenly whirling again. There was no way Joshua could make me believe they were not something similar to a gang. There was no way I could still believe this... whatever this is, is something normal. Although I should have known it by now.

Wonwoo, Jun, Woozi, DK, THE 8, Seungkwan, Dino, Mingyu, Hoshi.

Jeonghan, Vernon, Joshua.

Seungcheol.

"Each of us is part of one of those," I hear Jeonghan saying but my mind was already drifting away.

If there was any way back until now, there isn't one anymore.

Whatever Seventeen is about...

...I have no other choice but to be part of it now, too.

*

It was honestly a miracle I made it to my first course on Monday.

I could barely sleep on Saturday night (I don't know if it had been because of the late dinner or the fact that I could hear Seungkwan and Jeonghan fighting in the living room) and the whole next day, I could barely focus on doing anything. That's basically why I was really close to washing my teeth with liquid soap instead of toothpaste.

Vernon and I had no courses together today, which wasn't upsetting me that much, since I was kind of avoiding everybody related to the... Seventeen thingie. Which, again, was kind of difficult, since I was living under the same roof with three of those people at the moment.

Since I couldn't write with my right hand, I had to type the courses on my laptop today, which wasn't necessarily a problem. However, what was an actual problem was the fact that the device wasn't fully charged and so, by lunch my laptop was dead.

And of course, I had forgotten my charger at home.

That's why I was banging my head against the desk in the library right now. It wasn't such a big of a deal, because I could as well record the courses on my phone. But it was a nuisance and I hated the feeling of helplessness it was giving me.

"Are you okay?"

I refrain myself from hitting my head against the desk for the nth time and look in front of me.

A boy with styled dark-brown hair and loads of silver accessories was looking at me intently. His gaze, despite his cool aura, was like melted honey. His face didn't look familiar to me, but it wasn't much of a surprise, since there were a lot of people studying here and I barely knew a few.

But he was... an interesting appearance.

"Ah, yes, just..." I break off, my gaze diverting towards my laptop. "I've run out of battery."

He looks at my laptop, then at me again, noticing the white bandage around my right hand and nodding as if understanding why I needed the device so much. He then takes off his backpack and rummages through it, only to pull a black cable out of it a few seconds later. My eyes widen, realizing it's a laptop charger, and I look at him surprised.

"Here, you can use mine," he says with a smile on his lips. "It should work for yours as well."

"Thank you, but I can figure it out, I don't wa-..."

"Just accept it, it's alright," he says on a convincing tone. "You can just return it to me later."

He puts the dark cable on the desk in front of me and shoots me a warm smile once again. Normally, I wouldn't accept something like this. But something about his voice and gestures gives me some sense of security. 

"Give me your phone," he says, extending his hand in front of me. "So I can save my contact."

I unlock my phone and give it to him, waiting patiently while he types with his ring-filled fingers. I take my time to look at him, trying to figure out what about him made me trust him so easily. For all I know, he could take my phone and run away, hack into my personal stuff or just try to hit on me. I can't trust anybody, as Yuri told me.

So why do I trust him?

"Here," he says, returning my phone. "Just text me when you prepare to head home."

I nod and he smiles to me again, before turning around and leaving me alone. I stare blankly a few seconds before frowning confused at what has just happened. I look at my phone and notice that he saved his number as "Charger guy". I smile.

Maybe sometimes I simply have to accept help without doubting it so much.

*

"Is there anything I can do?" I ask shyly and I hear Jeonghan laughing at me.

"There is not, at least for now," Seungcheol speaks after throwing his friend an icy glare.

Serves him right.

"Aw are you really going to keep her locked in a golden cage until the end of it all?" Hoshi asks with a playful smirk on his lips, before his gaze falls on me. "I saw you at the race... you like cars, don't you?"

All eyes were on me again. Some of the boys were surprised, some were doubtful. I couldn't blame anybody. My sister probably knew I had a thing for any vehicle ever, I liked the power, the metal glint, the motion and the emotion of it. I liked the poetic side of an engine. But I barely knew anything about it, physically.

"Uh, yeah," I say slowly. "But I'm not an expert or somet-"

"No need to be," Hoshi waves me off. "Jeonghan and I are going to the garage this week, aren't we, Han?"

Jeonghan hums in agreement and sips on his mint tea. Who the hell drinks tea after eating noodles at midnight?

"I bet Jennie and Lisa will adore you," he adds with a smug smile on his face.

"Hoshi, no-..."

"Oh c'mon, why?" Hoshi pouts at Seungcheol. "She needs to experience things, to get a taste of this world. You can't keep this going on forever."

"Yeah, but that's..." Seungcheol sighs.

"Coups, she'll be fine," Hoshi pleads.

Seungcheol looks at me and I give him a small nod, as if telling him that I will indeed be fine, even though I had no idea what Hoshi had in plan to put me through. But I felt like I was ready to get a taste of what this world is actually like.

"I want to go, if that's what you're talking about," I say and Hoshi smiles proudly.

"It's settled then," Hoshi says and the chatter drifts to different fields.

"Be careful," Vernon told me on a low tone.

I look at him with a question in my eyes. He sighs, a tired smile plastered on his lips.

"I'm sure Jennie and Lisa will love you... but they're not the steel queens for nothing."

I open my eyes, trying to steady my breath. The course was almost over and everybody seemed to be impatient for it to end. I fell asleep. I take a deep breath and exhale slowly, remembering the conversation we had on Saturday about the garage. Why would I dream about it?

Is it haunting me that much?

Eventually, the teacher dismisses us and everybody starts gathering their belongings, mentally preparing themselves for the next course.

*

I was waiting for the Charger guy in front of the second entrance of the college. I texted him about five minutes ago and he said I should wait for him here and that he will come soon.

He proved himself to be a life-saver. My laptop charged enough for me to finish typing all of my courses for the day on it. If the Charger guy hadn't showed up back then, it would have definitely been much more difficult for me to get through the day. So I was actually really thankful.

I hear rushed footsteps behind me and I turn around, only to see the Charger guy approaching me wearily, as if he has been running until now. He stops a few steps in front of me, panting. I chuckle.

"I'm sorry... if I made you... wait for too long..." he manages to say between two heavy breaths and I shake my head.

"No, it's fine, don't worry," I say, giving him his charger, which he takes after a few seconds. "Thank you so so much, I owe you one."

He smiles, still slightly panting, and shakes his head.

"It's nothing," he speaks. "I couldn't just leave you bang your head against that desk for the rest of the after-noon."

I chuckle.

"Still, let me know if I can pay you back somehow," I say and he looks at me, as if taking into consideration my offer.

He averts his gaze and grazes the nape of his neck. Was he flustered? It was weird to see somebody with such an aura, all about silver hues and dark clothes, being flustered. I smile.

"Uh, are you possibly taking a digital design class?" He asks and my eyebrows arch in surprise.

"Yeah, I am, actually," I say and his eyes widen, surprised.

"O-Oh, uhm..." he begins, shifting his weight from a foot to the other. "I would need some... uh, help for a project and-..."

"I can help you if you want," I smile and he looks at me surprised once again.

"You don't need to do that if you... don't want to or something, really... it would be more than a pay back..."

I wave him off.

"I like digital design, I am more than happy to help you with it."

He gives up and smiles, his shoulders sinking down as his muscles relax.

"Thank you," he says, then laughs. "Wow, I should really lend my charger more from now on."

I laugh and nod, feeling somewhat comfortable.

"Yeah, anyways..." I sigh. "It was nice meeting you...?"

I extend my hand in front of me, questioningly and he watches me with confusion clearly written across his face.

"Oh," he says eventually, grabbing my hand and shaking it firmly.

His smile was sweet and despite the cold glint of his silver chains, his aura felt warm.

"I'm Minho."

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

00|  01|  02|  03|  04|  05|  06|  07|  08|  09|  10|  tba

A/N: Hello! Are you guys enjoying this story?^^ What do you think is going to happen next? I’d love to hear your ideas! I hope you enjoy reading my works... I would also happily take constructive criticism :D

hailene x

[astrologysvt]

You're so sweet and kind🥺 I'm so glad that I get to know you through your blog💞💞 There's another question that I'd like to ask if you don't mind😳 About getting into relationships…I've never been in any relationships, and it's not like I don't want to, but I just…couldn't? Like I'm lacking in some aspects and not attractive enough to get a bf or gf. I'm not trying to blame this "problem" on anything, but do you think this has something to do with my cap venus? (1/2)🦌

And I'd like to thank you again for answering my questions and willing to be here for me🥺 This really means a lot to me🥰 (2/2)

I'm so angry and upset at the j*rks that ruined your day😡 (excuse me for my language) Hope you'd feel better soon🥺 For svt contents that will raise your spirits, I highly recommend all kinds of svt laugh compilation! They never fail making me want to laugh with them👍－🦌

tbh i’d really need to see your whole chart in order to really give you an accurate answer! i could try and attribute it to your cap venus but there are always other influences that may be more definitive/targeted in trying to address this question. like i’d want to know where your saturn is in the houses, or what sign your 5th or 7th house is in! that way maybe there is a more specific understanding we can find in terms of the nature of romance in your chart. and stop it there is no such thing as not being attractive enough for a bf/gf. like i know a lot of people make the fishies in the sea argument, but really i feel like we all have such a warped idea of how relationships come to be with like social media and pop culture. like the most fulfilling relationships (romantic or otherwise) are obviously ones where there is that personality connection and compatibility. but beyond even that, it’s important that you’re able to take the time to learn and grow together. so regardless of whatever reasons, physical and personality wise, that you’re initially drawn to someone -- those all go away. what remains is your ability to see, understand, and appreciate each other as time goes on. so don’t place such a strong importance on looks, because that initial reaction/impression lasts two seconds compared to the YEARS of time it takes to cultivate a healthy and happy relationship. BUT SORRY I WENT OFF ON THAT TANGENT. lol it could be your cap venus but ya girl can’t say unless i see your whole chart 😂 and of course i’m always here, thanks for stopping by and talking to me! 

and lolol i appreciate it, and honestly i talk like a sailor so by all means throw as many bad words out there as you’d like it’ll make me feel at home 😂 but it’s okay, i don’t like saying people can ruin my day but THEY CAN CERTAINLY MAKE IT VERY LONG AND DIFFICULT. but i’m okay and it makes my day to 1) watch videos of svt laughing but also 2) to get asks like these 😂 so thanks again! 

[literallyusuk]

Song of the Sea (USUK) Chapter 1

Summary: An unmarked Clubs Queen with a secret. A Spades King that can't help falling in love. A Clubs King desperate to hold onto what is his. A Spades Prince blinded by jealousy.

Oh, and that secret? Big enough to send the two Kingdoms plunging into war if it were to come out.

Notes: Alternate title: Smells Fishy.

Hello hello! Yet another new story that I don't have fully written out yet, but by golly I love this one so much. The beginning chapters are fleshed out and edited from an rp I did with my friend @aziraho. ^0^ I hope you'll enjoy this one! Please let me know what you think!

Warnings: There’s one curse word in it for now. Will get steamy later tho.

~~~

The Clubs castle had, for a day, become something more vibrant and beautiful than ever before. The cold King of the North had never held celebrations before – no birthdays, no weddings, no holidays or anniversaries – so it was a shock to every royal to receive an invitation, and even more so when they saw the event; the birthday of the Queen of Clubs.

People only knew the Queen’s name, Arthur Kirkland, and that he was a fair man with green eyes. Arthur never travelled outside of Clubs- or even outside of the castle, really. The Queen of Clubs was not even the true Queen, bearing no mark on his body, but since there hadn’t been a Chosen Queen for over a century, no one questioned the arrangement.

It seemed King Ivan had been lucky enough to marry for love…though the other royals couldn’t even remember receiving a wedding announcement.

Clubs Keep glittered in the evening, for once a warm gold instead of the cold blue of ice under the moonlight. The very air seemed warmer as well, though many of the guests still had cloaks and capelets draped over their shoulders. The party was in full swing in the Grand Ballroom, with tables of food and drink lining the walls and a band in the corner and a dance floor taking up the centre of the space. Laughter drifted to the ceiling, perhaps a bit muted for a celebration, but still there.

The Queen of Clubs inclined his head in thanks at yet another murmured congratulations and moved further along the room. He was dressed from head to toe in Clubs green and gold. His trousers and jacket were a deep, hunger green, while his gold-trimmed cloak was a more vibrant hue. Messy blond hair stuck out from underneath a heavy crown, and his gait was as smooth as the rolling waves.

He ignored the false King of Spades’ attempts to get his attention, his eyes rather trained on the similarly dressed figure exiting the room into the hallway. Curiosity piqued, he followed. He made no sound as he left, and couldn’t help rolling his eyes at what he eventually found.

The Spadian had stopped next to a mirror and was, for lack of a better word, peacocking in front of it. Smiling and smirking to himself, running a hand down the side of his long dark blue and silver coat to smooth it down and momentarily allowing the rapier at his hip to be visible.

“The food had better be good,” he muttered, “for why else would I entertain myself with this miserable place? Even the inside seems frozen over.”

Arthur had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. “That’s not a very kingly thing to say, is it?” he asked quietly, stepping closer. Of course he knew this man was the true King of Spades, and it wasn’t hard to see exactly what kind of person this King was; pompous, full of himself, a spoilt brat of a royal. “Especially out in the open, where anyone could hear.”

Those blue eyes locked onto Arthur’s figure through the mirror. The King of Spades ran his fingers through his low ponytail nonchalantly and didn’t bother turning around. “Perhaps it isn’t,” he replied, voice playful and recognizing no guilt. “A good King spins pleasant lies, but a great King speaks the truth. At least, that’s what my father always told me.”

“Hmm.” Arthur neither sounded nor looked impressed.

The other man finally turned to face him, offering a polite smile. “He also told me not many royals would agree with that.” The modest grin spread, revealing white teeth that contrasted with his tanned skin. “The Kingdom of Spades wishes you a happy birthday, even though it seems that you’re not enjoying too much of it. It’s a pleasure, Queen Arthur. Ivan has weaved many tales about you, and you are even lovelier than he gave you credit for.” He reached his hand out to the Queen, palm upward, was the custom.

For a moment, it seemed as though Arthur would refuse the King’s gesture and leave the hand hanging there, but eventually he reached out and delicately placed his hand atop the other man’s. This was definitely a child of a ruler, but Arthur knew he had to be at least polite, or he’d get it from Ivan later. That’s the last thing I need, to top this whole farce off, he thought bitterly, but forced a smile onto his face. “Thank you for your wishes,” he replied, coolly if not a little coldly.

The Spadian King’s touch was surprisingly gentle on the Queen’s hand as he brought it up to his lips and pressed a kiss to the gloved back. He spoke a formality in Old Spadian before releasing the hand, pocketing his own deep into his coat. The bow had released a few strands of hair from his ponytail that now fell into his face- which would have made him look aloof if not for the smile.

Holding himself perfectly still, Arthur didn’t even look like he was breathing until he had been released.

The King kept on grinning. “Has dear King Ivan stepped on your feet one too many times to deserve to be left alone on the dance floor? He did have that habit, at least back when we were young.”

“I thank you for your concern, but I merely wished to step outside for a moment for some air. You need not worry yourself with Ivan’s dancing.” Despite himself, Arthur’s smile twisted into a smirk. “Though knowing your kind, I suppose if I’d given you the opportunity, you would have started waxing on about how great of a dancer you are?”

“I learned my dances from the best,” the King replied, leaning his shoulder against the ice. “It seems I’ve been caught before my escape plan could come to fruition, so I could prove my prowess to you on the dance floor if you’d like, my Queen.”

He was talking, of course, about the false King of Spades that was weaving through the crowd back in the ballroom.

Arthur resisted the urge to snort. Yeah, this King was exactly what he’d expected. “Escape plan, hmm? And are you sure it’s wise to be telling me about that?” he asked, one of his eyebrows arching. “I could very well be offended that you find a party in my honour so dull. It would be the simplest thing to tell my…loving King about the slight you’ve given us.” He completely ignored the offer to dance.

“Oh, that old boy would just laugh it off, don’t I know him,” the other man said, shrugging away the notion that anything bad might have come from his unorthodox behaviour. He glanced to Arthur. “If you want, I could take you with me.”

Arthur did let out a laugh at that. “Stealing away the Queen? You are bold, my dear King of Spades. I can almost appreciate that.” He half-turned, smirking at the other royal and staring at him from half-lidded eyes. He definitely didn’t miss how the Spades King appeared dumbstruck for a moment. “Unfortunately, I will have to decline. I actually have duties to attend to, so if you’ll excuse me…” He started walking back towards the ballroom, though paused after just a few steps. “Pity you won’t be sticking around. Perhaps I would have taken you up on that dance later on. Though, this might be for the best. I’m sure you wouldn’t have been able to keep up with me anyway,” he murmured, his smirk widening as he left the bait hanging there in front of the King’s open mouth and continued forward.

Confident that he’d be seeing more of the actual Spades King later on, Arthur weaved easily through the crowd. He ignored both servants and nobility, and took extra care to avoid the King of Diamonds. King Francis was an aggressive flirt with an abrasive personality that reminded Arthur too much of him- the cause of all of Arthur’s troubles. And Arthur really didn’t want to cause a huge scene by punching another royal. Out of the corner of his eye he once again saw the false Spades King trying to get his attention, and was happy to ignore that man too. Though the thought of going up to the imposter did cross his mind briefly, he was just as quick to brush it away. There was no point, really. He’d met the real one already, for all that was worth.

He made a beeline for the refreshment tables instead, and especially the lone platter of salty mackerel and tuna. There were only a few pieces left, to his annoyance, and he was quick to snap them all up. Politeness be damned, saltwater fish were a delicacy. Ivan didn’t often allow them into the castle. Munching away on the last of the tuna, he allowed a neutral, almost content expression to settle over his face.

“Arthur,” a low voice murmured to him a few minutes later.

Arthur turned to meet Ivan’s violet eyes. His back stiffened. “Ivan.”

“Where were you? You vanished.” The Clubs King’s mouth stretched down into a soft pout.

“I didn’t go outside,” Arthur immediately snapped, though he kept his voice low enough that no one else would notice. “The air in here grew stifling.”

“It always gets stifling when you’re pressed into the corners. The dance floor looks like it has more room.” Ivan gave him a small, hopeful smile. “Dance with me, my Queen?”

The request was a simple one. Such a simple one, phrased so innocently, but Arthur knew better, and he couldn’t dare refuse. Instead, he returned a bland smile to the taller man. “Of course, my King. It would be my absolute pleasure.”

Ivan’s smile faded somewhat, though he still took hold of Arthur’s elbow and led him to the dance floor. Some of the murmuring voices hushed as royalty and nobility alike turned to watch the host King and Queen dance. The pair moved well together, if a bit rigidly. Arthur made no excess movements, no effort to dance with grace. He moved mechanically, like an automaton, and a few times it almost seemed like Ivan had to pull and tug him along. The King of Clubs watched him carefully as they spun and twirled.

“Arthur, please,” he whispered when the music shifted to a second song and nothing changed. He leaned in for a kiss.

At the last second, Arthur turned his face so Ivan’s lips pressed against his cheek. “You asked me to dance. I’m dancing.”

His mouth opened, but then Ivan just sighed and pouted again.

Arthur ignored him. His green eyes swept the crowd to where everyone not dancing was looking at them and seemed to be talking amongst themselves. He spotted the two Kings of Spades next to each other, the crown back on the rightful man’s head. Briefly, he wondered what a dance with the other King might look like. Would it be more or less of a farce than this? He waved the thoughts away and focused his gaze on the clasp of Ivan’s cloak as he waited for it to be over.

It seemed as if the man had heard his thoughts, because at the next quick break the musicians used to tune their instruments, there was a touch on his arm. Arthur flinched, then turned to meet the eyes of the King of Spades.

“I believe you owe me a challenge, fair Queen,” the blond man said, ignoring Ivan and the murmuring crowd around them.

Arthur’s expression didn’t betray any emotion. “My, how eager you are to lose,” he murmured. “It hasn’t even been an hour.” Then, seeming to remember himself, he glanced to Ivan. “May I?”

Glancing between the two of them, Ivan eventually nodded. His grip tightened on Arthur’s body. “We will dance more later?”

“…Of course.” Arthur smiled at him and then disentangled himself, stepping closer to the other King. “Very well, King Alfred. Let us see where those dances from the best left you.” He didn’t spare Ivan a glance as the Clubs King retreated to the side of the ballroom.

Alfred accepted Arthur’s hand and confidently led him to the centre of the dance floor. “Say,” he said, before the music started. “I couldn’t help but to notice the tension between you and your King. You are…alright, are you not?”

Arthur couldn’t help the small amount of warmth that coiled in his stomach at Alfred’s question. It was…sweet, even though it was sad that he had to ask it in the first place. “I’m fine,” he replied. “There is nothing you need to concern yourself with. I am unhurt, and this is my home.” He gave Alfred a polite, distant smile.

“That’s all I needed to hear,” Alfred told him.

The music swelled and the Spadian King immediately took a strong lead in their dance. He moulded his steps to the music rather than a rigid pattern, and Arthur was so surprised that for a moment it was all he could do was follow. His body, lax with shock, was whirled and moved by Alfred’s will alone. Alfred wasn’t too forceful, though, and once Arthur had recovered he was able to push back against him. He spun faster and stepped out further, forcing Alfred to chase after him a little bit.

He didn’t stop there, stepping into Alfred’s personal space to force him in the direction that he wanted to go- almost as if he was trying to take the lead occasionally. To his surprise Alfred was game for it, following for a little while before tugging the lead back. A spin, followed by a dip, and Alfred was leaning over Arthur, smiling down at him warmly.

Arthur very pointedly tried to ignore the way his heart leapt, both at the dip and the sight of Alfred’s bright smile above him. His eyes slid to the side, and he allowed Alfred a few beats of control again while he composed himself. Snap out of it, Arthur. Don’t you dare get any foolish ideas. He rebalanced himself and seized the lead, spinning Alfred out even further than before, then reeling him back in until they all but crashed into each other. He barely gave Alfred time to breathe before they were moving again, whirling around the perimeter of the dance floor.

“You’re not doing as badly as I feared you would, I’ll admit,” he said, smirking up at the King. “But this dancing is still nothing special.” The dancing he really loved, really poured his heart and soul into, he hadn’t been able to do in what felt like eons. It was slowly fading from his memory. Arthur roughly dipped the taller man to distract himself, his green eyes gleaming in the light of the chandeliers.

“Oh, well thank you, Your Majesty,” Alfred replied, his voice teasing, before a ‘whoa’ escaped his lips at the dip. He laughed loudly as he came back up, and smiled even louder. They moved away from one another, hands still linked, and when they came back together Alfred used the opportunity to take back the dance, pulling the Queen a little bit closer than when they had started and adjusting his pace to the slower melody that now played. “My offer to steal you away still stands, Queen Arthur. There are many dances out there to be danced, for fun, not for a good show for a bunch of stuck-up nobles who see us as walking bags of gold.”

At this, however, Arthur’s energy diminished somewhat, and the line of his shoulders grew rigid. Alfred was foolish, true, and childish, and bright and warm, but he was also dangerous. Unquestionably dangerous. The Clubs Queen had forgotten himself, his place. Arthur’s relief was palpable as the music faded, and he stopped his dancing when they were off to the side.

“And how do you know,” he asked quietly, removing himself from Alfred’s hold, “that I haven’t been stolen already?” For the first time in his life, he was glad to see Ivan waving him over. “It seems I’m being summoned. Thank you for the dance, now please excuse me.”

Inclining his head to Alfred, he then spun around on his heel and strode to his King’s side. This time when Ivan’s arm snaked around Arthur’s shoulders, his face didn’t betray any expression at all.

“I wish you’d dance like that with me,” Ivan mused.

Arthur didn’t respond, and luckily Ivan didn’t press him to. Instead, they did another round of the room, Ivan chatting with various nobility and Arthur trying not to look too bored. The Jack of Hearts gave him a sympathetic glance when they passed, though Arthur’s returning look was quite chilly. He didn’t need sympathy. He didn’t need pity. Anger and hatred fuelled him, would keep him going until the time was right.

“Alfred!” Ivan called, jolting Arthur out of his thoughts. “Matthew! I haven’t properly introduced my Queen to you- well, at least to one of you.” He glanced curiously to Alfred, and his grip on Arthur was almost possessive.

Turning his attention to Matthew, Arthur gave a stiff bow. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Your Majesty,” Matthew replied, offering a bow in return.

Alfred stuck his hands into the pockets of his cloak and gave Ivan a questioning look. “King Ivan, I’m perplexed that you didn’t invite us to the wedding! Surely a loving couple like yourselves must have had a grand celebration!”

Sighing softly, Matthew elbowed his brother in the ribs. “What he meant to say,” he said with an apologetic smile, “was that we regret missing such an occasion and wish we could have given our congratulations to the couple at the proper time.”

Ivan shifted on his feet. “Yes, well-”

“There was no wedding,” Arthur said shortly. “We aren’t married.”

“Arthur…” Ivan peered mournfully down at his Queen, and his brows furrowed even more when he was ignored.

“There are also no plans for marriage in the future.” Arthur’s voice was low and firm. “I am Queen in name, and Ivan is my King, but marriage between us is inconceivable.”

The two Spadians glanced between each other for a long while. “Well, I hope your rule is fruitful despite this,” Matthew finally said after a moment.

“Thank you. Ivan isn’t as much of an idiot as his predecessors, so I’m sure that under his rule Clubs will begin to return more to its former glory,” Arthur said sweetly, glancing up at Ivan. “Isn’t that right, love?” His smile was razor sharp.

Ivan looked uncomfortable for a moment, before his eyes hardened. “Where is your coat, Arthur?”

Arthur’s expression darkened. The power play between them was multi-layered and nuanced, but the Queen knew when he he’d stepped out of bounds. “I’m afraid I misplaced it, my King,” he gritted out. “I apologize.” Shifting his attention to Matthew and Alfred, he bowed to them again. His eyes lingered on the Spades King’s features for a touch longer than necessary. “Some of the nobles are looking quite ignored. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go…entertain them.”

He all but wrenched his arm from Ivan’s grip and stalked away, back towards the food tables. There was nothing left that interested him, but if he was at least nibbling on something, most of the nobility would leave him alone. Most.

“Queen Arthur,” someone said.

Arthur’s mood further darkened when he turned around and spotted one of the older Clubs Lords behind him. “Can I help you?”

The man smiled thinly. “I was hoping I would be able to snag a dance with the False Queen before the night was over.”

“Don’t call me that, and you just might,” Arthur replied stiffly.

“Of course, of course, Your Majesty.” The Lord reached out and snatched up Arthur’s hands, dragging him to the dance floor. “You’ll forgive me, I hope, if I’m a bit rusty. It’s been so long since I’ve last danced, and even longer since my last one with you.”

“Not long enough,” Arthur muttered.

“Hmm?”

“I said, it’s been long enough, since Clubs had something to celebrate.”

“Indeed.” The Lord yanked Arthur more tightly against himself. “Don’t you get bored here?”

Arthur eyed the man sharply. “What’s your point?”

“You seem…agitated. Frustrated.”

“I wonder why.” The Queen bit back a growl as he was pulled even closer to the older man’s body.

“The Blizzard Council still isn’t sure what involvement you might have had in King Petr’s death.”

One of Arthur’s eyebrows arched. “Are you accusing your Queen without proof?”

“You bear no mark. You are not Clubs’ true Queen.”

“And yet I’ve been crowned. I suggest you don’t overstep your boundaries, Lord Morozov.”

The Lord gave a cruel smile. “And I suggest you don’t forget what you are, pet.”

Arthur wrenched himself free. “Don’t you dare call me that,” he spat, no longer able to keep his expression neutral.

Nearly everyone in the room turned to look at them. Disgusted but also embarrassed at the scene, he whirled away and stalked towards the doors.

“Arthur!” Ivan called, hurrying to intercept him and leaving a confused Alfred and Matthew in his wake.

Arthur shot him a glare cold enough to stop the King in his tracks before continuing out of the room. Though part of him was curious as to Alfred’s exact expression, he didn’t allow himself to look. He didn’t allow himself to hope.

His hands clenched tightly at his sides when he finally managed to escape the ballroom. ‘This will be a good opportunity,’ the Blizzard Council had promised. Arthur snorted. Good opportunity for what? Parading him around? Pushing him until he snapped and did something to embarrass Clubs? There was little love lost between the Council and the Queen. They’d always disliked the fact Arthur had been crowned, and he’d always hated them by virtue of their humanity. Ivan’s fondness of him protected Arthur from them, but also kept him trapped in Clubs.

He growled and slammed the door to the royal baths shut behind him. One of the pools was soon filled with lukewarm water and Arthur fell back into it, clothes and all. Only beneath the water was he able to relax a little bit, and time slipped away from him as he soaked. The water was freezing by the time he finally rose out of it. He stripped from the damp clothes, leaving them in a sopping pile by the poolside, and put on a thin white nightgown after rubbing a towel through his hair.

It wasn’t long after that he stalked through the gardens, his sandy hair gleaming almost silver under the light of the full moon. His feet were bare as he stole along the snow-dusted path. The weather had been a touch milder than usual so there was only about an inch of snow on the ground, but it was still enough for him to leave a trail of footprints. The thin fabric of the nightgown shivered and bowed against the wind, but Arthur still walked confidently towards the far corner of the castle grounds.

The old Astronomer’s Tower speared the sky near the joining of the northern and eastern walls. It was also known as the Old Tower and the North Tower; lately, ‘Queen’s Tower’ and ‘Monster’s Tower’ had been added to the list of names. No one stopped Arthur along the way, and there was no one inside the tower to meet him. He’d claimed it as his own, and everyone within the castle walls knew it. The Queen climbed the one hundred and fifty steps alone, lit a few candles in the empty room at the top, and then stepped out onto the balcony to commence his nightly vigil.

“You’ll freeze to your death here yet,” a voice murmured sometime later, warm hands draping a heavy cloak over his shoulders.

Stiffening at the touch, Arthur’s eyes jerked from the far horizon to focus on Alfred’s face. When he recognized the Spadian King he relaxed a little bit, though his expression was still wary as he assessed the situation. His arms moved up, fingers trailing through the fur trimmings. Goosebumps rippled across his skin from the shift in temperature.

“Alfred. What are you doing here? This is yours, you should wear it. You’re not as used to the cold as I am.” He started shrugging the cloak off.

“Hey, don’t you worry about me,” Alfred said, the corners of his lips quirking up. “I basically grew up on the seas and docks. These little inland breezes have nothing on a good ol’ storm out on the open sea.” He reached out, only to pull the cloak tighter around Arthur’s shoulders.

Despite himself, Arthur managed a small smirk. “Oh trust me, I know how rough the seas can get.” Even if he hadn’t felt it in ages, and most certainly had a different perspective. He turned his head to the side, eyes seeking out the horizon once more, though he didn’t step away from Alfred’s body.

“I wanted to check on you, too,” Alfred continued. “I uh- Ivan seemed pretty upset, heh, at me too when I told him he should maybe lay off the awkward attempts at husband emulation. I know he can be a bit rash, so I dunno. I guess I got a bit worried when I saw you marching through snow barefoot.”

Arthur’s hands fisted in the fabric of the cloak. “Ivan seemed upset, did he?” he spat, anger simmering within his expression. “Did Ivan send you here as well? Are you his spy now? If so, then kindly fuck off. I neither need nor want your forced concern.”

“I am nobody’s spy, Queen Arthur. I did not have to leave my nice and warm chambers to trudge through snow and walk up stairs to check on you, and I certainly wouldn’t do all of this if Ivan had asked me to. I am half-blind, my feet are soaked from the snow, and my hair has never seen a worse day- yet I’m still here, offering you my concern.” Alfred ran a hand through his tangled hair. “By the Mage, you are difficult. If you don’t want me here, just say so and I’ll go back between my silken sheets and forget I scaled half the castle and most of the courtyard by hearing because – imagine – I was worried about you.”

Arthur couldn’t help it; he burst into laughter. The merriment shook his frame and echoed in the still air. After a moment, he lifted part of the cloak to cover his mouth and try to stifle it. Really, how much more spoilt could someone get? Immediately moaning about silken sheets and damp shoes and a bad hair day. Oh, that had certainly made Arthur’s night. Slowly, his laughs faded away and he took a few deep breaths. His eyes slid over to meet Alfred’s annoyed gaze, then focused on the banister of the balcony.

The Queen released the cloak and placed his hands instead into the inch or so of snow gathered there. “Why were you worried?” he asked softly. “I am not your Queen, so why do you care? This has nothing to do with you.”

“Should I not care for my brother because he is not my Queen? Should I not care for my people because they aren’t royalty? Should I turn a deaf ear to the calls of the occupied Kingdoms because they are not on my land? You are not my Queen, but neither are you Ivan’s, and if not him, then there must be someone else to worry about you. Being forgotten is a fate worse than many other.”

Arthur’s fingertips scraped against the stone of the banister. He ignored the burning pain that shot up his forearms. “I am Ivan’s Queen. For better or worse, I am the current Queen of Clubs, so don’t you dare say otherwise. As to being forgotten, well. I think I would prefer that path to the one I’ve been forced to follow.”

“For worse, considering your King is courting a Prince of Spades,” Alfred said, his voice seeping with bitterness. He reached out a moment later, laying his hand softly on Arthur’s. “What’s going on in this castle? It feels like everyone is miserable here.”

The touch startled Arthur out of his thoughts. He shook away questions like It was a good thing, right? and Would he be replaced if Ivan and Matthew took things further? and Would he lose the only bargaining chip he had? and had to avert his gaze. If he looked into those bright blue eyes for too long he might spill everything, and then it really would be the end.

“Everyone is miserable here,” he managed to say with a somewhat steady voice. “After all, we live in eternal winter.” By that point his feet and hands had gone numb from the cold, and his lips were taking on a blue tint.

“Your people make the best of it. Those who remain, anyway,” Arthur said, before gently taking Arthur’s hand off the cold stone and into his own, warm fingers trying to rub some heat back into the frozen skin. “We should get you inside,” he murmured. “The guests are all gone by now and the King is busy in his study. You should be able to relax in the warmth.”

But Arthur shook his head. “No, I’d like to stay here a bit longer.” He shivered at the contact between them, watching how Alfred’s fingers moved against his skin. “I can never relax in there. This is the only place I feel…” Free. “You don’t have to stay with me. If you wish to go back to your comforts, then go ahead.”

“Very well. I’ll stay too, in that case.” The young King took the Queen’s other hand as well and moved closer to him, offering body heat that seemed to outlast any cold weather that Clubs could throw at him. He remained silent after that, watching the stars as his fingers kneaded Arthur’s delicate skin, trying to keep it from completely freezing.

Arthur lifted his eyes to Alfred’s face then, taking in the planes and shadows of his features under the light of the night sky. “We can at least share the cloak, can we not?” He slipped his hands from Alfred’s and slung the heavy cloth around the taller man’s shoulders as well, then slowly stepped even closer to him until they were nearly flush together. Afterward, he ducked back under the edge of it, and his hands automatically reached for Alfred’s again. “Ah.” He froze before he could touch him, though. “Is this alright?”

Though Alfred had tensed at the closeness, and momentary shock and surprised flitted across his face, he was soon smiling. He positioned Arthur so they could both hide in the cover of the warm fabric. His smile widened and became more encouraging when he saw Arthur’s hesitation, and he closed the distance between their hands himself.

“Quite. Let’s try to keep you warm, hm?” he murmured, thumbs now trailing more meandering patterns into that pale skin, careful and appreciative as if bent on learning all there was to Arthur’s hands.

Warmth coiled in Arthur’s belly the moment his hands were cradled within Alfred’s again. It felt foreign, but not unwelcome. For a while, he watched their joined hands, but before long his gaze was pulled towards the mountains. “If I look long and hard enough,” he confessed, his voice barely audible, “it sometimes feels as though I’m able to see the ocean again from here.”

Alfred followed Arthur’s eyes to the mountains, beyond which the Devil’s Sea lay, frozen over and desolate of life. “Did you live by the sea before?” he asked.

“Yes, you could say I did.”

“It’s gorgeous this time of year, isn’t it?”

“I…think I remember it being so. I haven’t seen it in so long I confess it’s fading from my memory.”

Alfred hummed. “The fish swim so close to the surface that the water looks as if it were made of pure silver, and the spring storms clean away any filth. It smells fresh, like a new beginning. Like home.” He then chuckled, squeezing Arthur’s freezing hands more tightly. “A bit like you.”

Arthur’s fingers twitched, and one of his eyebrows arched high as he tilted his head up to glance at Alfred’s face again. “I smell like home? Well that’s highly unlikely. Are you sure the cold isn’t getting to you?”

Alfred laughed. “You smell like the sea, Art,” he said, grinning. “Y’know, a little fishy.”

“How rude of you,” Arthur said, though his tone was still light. He smiled a bit more as he eased one of his hands free and used it to scoop up some snow. In a flash he had deposited it onto Alfred’s face, practically cupping the Spades King’s cheek as he pressed the snow to his skin. “Also, my name is not ‘Art’.”

Alfred, master of all combat, failed to see the attack coming. He gasped, quickly scraping the freezing snow off his skin and pressing what he could salvage against Arthur instead. He grinned at Arthur’s gasp. “Your nickname is,” he said, chuckling and, a little sheepishly, took to brushing the rest of the snow off Arthur’s cheek. “King Alfred the Rude? Sounds as good as anything.”

Arthur couldn’t help laughing at their antics. What were they, children? The whole situation was foolish, but…he found he didn’t really mind. “It certainly fits you,” he teased, leaning the tiniest bit into Alfred’s fingers while they were still against his skin.

They seemed to curl a little more, caressing him, before Alfred took his hand away. “but really, why not visit it then, if you’re forgetting what the sea is like? Surely you could take a diplomatic trip to the Spades shores? It’s beautiful there, and the people are nice.”

As warm as his insides had gotten from the nickname and the gentle brush of Alfred’s fingers against his cheek, Arthur’s core flared hotter still at the offer. He didn’t quite know what to do with himself; it had been a long, long while since spending time, alone, in such close quarters with a man had left him so relaxed. So…longing for more. He adjusted the edge of the cloak so it rose higher around his shoulders, covering his cheeks reddened from the snow and the warmth he felt inside.

But…

“As tempting as your offer of a visit sounds, it would be impossible. I’m not- I’m unable to leave here.” The Queen bit down on his lip. Well that sounds suspicious- shit. “I made…a promise to Ivan, and I intend to keep it. But thank you.” He offered Alfred a small, slightly sad smile.

Alfred’s own smile dulled as he averted his gaze, as if realizing the intimate atmosphere between them. He cleared his throat. “Well, I don’t have the magic to gift you a likeness of the sea,” he said, slipping back into a more formal manner, “but I will remember to bring you something back from it when I return to Clubs.”

Arthur’s back stiffened. After so long of being so observant of the men around him, he caught the shift within the King instantly. The realization was like a handful of snow shoved against his back, and his own smile fell away. “Don’t trouble yourself,” he told him, stepping out from underneath the cloak. “I tend to stay up here for hours. Really, you should return to your chambers now. You’ll have a long journey home tomorrow.”

Alfred sighed when he found himself alone against the cold once more. “Arthur,” he began, then hesitated, then stepped after the Queen, catching him by the waist and pulling him close. “I wish our circumstances were different, my Queen, but I will come back for you, even if just to lay my eyes on you again,” he vowed, releasing Arthur once he’d finished speaking. He threw his cloak over Arthur’s shoulders and gave him a dashing Spadian smile as he moved towards the stairs. “Just give it back to me next time, kay?”

This time it was Arthur who moved after Alfred, reaching out to catch him by the wrist. His eyes were wider than usual, and his heartbeat hammered in his ears. What was he doing, what was he doing? “My King, I-”

In a moment of selfishness, he adjusted the cloak more snugly around his shoulders instead of giving it back. He wanted Alfred to return for him. He wanted what Alfred was promising, despite the fear humming in his veins. In his heart. As Alfred turned to look at him, Arthur leaned up and pressed the tiniest of kisses to the King’s cheek. His cold lips brushed more against beard than skin, and were gone after not even a second had passed.

“Thank you, for both your concern and your company. It wasn’t awful spending time with you, I suppose,” he said, his lips quirking upward.

“I guess I didn’t have too awful of a time, either,” he replied, resting his hand on Arthur’s for a moment. Then, as if the King had been left behind so easily, he grinned and in a thick accent more suited for the fields than a castle said, “I’ll see ya ‘round, Art.” With a wave over his shoulder he was then gone, trudging back towards the main castle.

Oh heavens above, Alfred would actually be the end of him. Arthur buried his face into the warm cloak and let out a groan. That accent, and that goddamn nickname. It was infuriating and somewhat frightening how quickly Alfred was slipping past all of his carefully erected and maintained barriers. The Queen watched the King’s small figure on the ground until he was gone from sight, and then let out a sigh as he once more turned towards the mountains. The sea was there, just beyond them. Arthur could almost feel it singing to him, but he could neither hear it nor leave his gilded cage to answer.

He only left the tower when the moon started sinking low in the sky and slipped back into the castle with only a few guards for witnesses. The heavy cloak was stowed in the very back of his wardrobe, and when he finally slid into bed, he fell asleep to the burn in his limbs as warmth returned to them.

In the morning he watched from his bedroom balcony as the Spadian procession left. Matthew led the small column, the King’s prize war steed tied to the Prince’s young Arabian. The King himself was draped over the neck of his mount, as if an exotic pelt that snored very, very loudly. Arthur could even hear a few from his balcony before the group left the castle grounds, and he smiled.

If he allowed himself to think that Alfred’s tired state was due to him, well, there was no one there to bear witness or argue.