#this fic might end up being a sequel to The Bastard King

[essenceofarda]

My Dunlending OC, Feid :)

She’s the heir to a prominent Dunlending tribe, and has a bit of a “Star-Crossed Lovers” relationship with Elfwine (Eomer’s son) in a fic I’m hoping to write someday :)

[faccal]

WIP Word Game

I got tagged for the WIP word tag by three people, so I'm going to do it all on one.

I have these words from @alidravana and @simonxriley (Hug, Rain, Secret, Safe)

I'm not sure who to tag, but I'll do @playstationmademe @luda-m-lada @satan-incarnate-666 and anyone else who would like to do it! The words are: Flower, Knife, Sword, Wound

Hug

"Logan, my soul." He says in a language Logan doesn't recognize, taking the boy's face in his hands. His eyes rake over his blond hair, his familiar hazel eyes and strong nose. He remembers her face, noticing how much like his mother Logan looks.

Keegan buries his nose in Logan's neck, breathing in deeply. "My Logan." He hugs the boy to him, smiling. "We are one again."

(also from my COD Ghosts, Keegan x Logan fic Thorns and Roses)

Rain

Darkness, all consuming, never ending. A shiver violently shakes Logan awake where he sits, gasping for breath as warm droplets of rain pelt him from above, soaking his flesh straight to his core. He chokes, cracked lips and right arm lit ablaze as the water harasses his aching form.

(from my COD Ghosts fic which I already posted on here)

Secret

“Why go behind my back, and have a child? Why hide in the shadows and avoid my gaze, when you know I shall uncover all secrets.” He glared at the seventh month woman before him. “Why?”

Her body trembled, and her lips were sealed.

“You know what will happen.” A young, collared servant, brought the King his sharpened dagger. He rose from his skeleton throne. His icy grey eyes made the poor servant collapse.

(from an old original wip, a sequel to another wip)

Safe

Arden’s eyes flutter open, taking in his warm surroundings. “Akira?” He pushes himself up, wincing as pain shoots up his right arm. “Damn.” He sets his arm in his lap, using his good one to keep him steady.

“Akira?” He tries again. Moving forward, he pushes himself off the bed. His feet hit the fur rug, and he stands there for a moment, balancing himself.

“You look well.” Arden turns to Dahlia, smiling over at him from her chair, with a book clutched in her hand.

“Where is Akira? Is he safe?" Arden steps forward, concern and fear rising in his chest.

(another snippet from my couple year old original wip, Red Rose.)

And these words from @tokillamockingbird427 (Run, Red, Shout, and Close)

Run

“There you go old girl, can’t have you dying of thirst now can I?” Maisie neighs to herself, continuing to munch on her food, which has become increasingly difficult to find.

“That run down Tractor Supply is running out of feed sweetheart. Might have to start taking longer trips.” He gazes to his old beat up Ford, a truck he’s hated since his wife first bought it, and realizes he’s also running out of gasoline.

When he had first stocked up, he had managed to get enough feed to last Maisie three months, and himself enough gas to last two, as he decided traveling wouldn’t be the best of options. Especially since everyone was dead.

(this is from a zombie wip which I no longer work on, but I couldn't find Run in any of my current wips lol.)

Red

I included some earlier bits of text for mild context

Elias relaxes slightly, finding an odd bond of trust forming between him and the older male. "Elaine, let me see Logan."

She clutches her youngest tighter. "Don't you touch my son you bastard! I won't let his kind taint him!"

A harsh slap echoes in the throne room, freezing everyone in place. Elaine sits there in shock, a red mark forming on her cheek.

(this is a future scene from my COD Ghosts/Keegan x Logan fic, Thorns and Roses.)

Shout

“No, he is not.” Arden looks back down, spotting a woman dragging a man. “Dahlia!” He cries, hoping she would hear him. She continues to drag the body towards a cart. “Akira.” Arden sheaths his dagger, and stands. “Until next time.” He tears off down the cliff, ignoring his name being shouted to the wind.

(this is from an original fic that Thorns and Roses is inspired by, called Red Rose.)

Close

“You’re a selfish, hideous, monster! You steal life and are confused when we revolt! You’re evil!” Avo screams, allowing her eyes to well with tears. Jade cocks his gun, readying it to fire.

“Oh sweet Dove.” Matthias holds out his gloved hand. “That is in no way close to why I chose you.” He turns to Jade. “And you, my boy, why do you think you were chosen?” Jade remains silent, minus a few protesting growls.

(from another original wip of mine called AVO)

[dust2dust34]

idk if you're taking prompts but i've been really wanting to read something like this: felicity shaving oliver's beard/face bc he broke his hand or idk whatever you want and oliver's really turned on by it. bonus points if its an established relationship/married life. and i wouldn't be opposed to smut so let your muse run wild :) thank you!

King and Queen, Part 2 (Olicity Bratva AU, Mature)

A/N: Sequel to King and Queen (Chapter 4 of my You’ve Gotten Into My Bloodstream fic collection). Prompt from LiteraLi. Written for the Fic for Food Drive I took part in for April.This does not take place directly after the previous installment. A couple years have passed.

Summary: Felicity helps Oliver shave.

(read on AO3)

*

Oliver Queen cursed.

He struggled to hold the pearled handle of his straight razor with as little pressure on his thumb as possible. His hand started shaking, but he managed to hold it. Angling his head, he pressed the blade’s edge to the lengthy stubble on his jaw. But the second he pressed down, pain spiked through his wrist, sharp and white hot. With a harsh, “Fuck,” he dropped the razor, sending it clattering onto the vanity where it bounced right off the edge. Oliver caught it with his left hand, agilely flipping it with an ease that pissed him off. He thought about trying to shave with that hand again, but it had nearly led to a bald patch on his cheek.

Fucking useless.

Both his hand and him.

“Damn it,” he breathed through gritted teeth. He turned his right hand palm-up and glared at the swelling in his wrist, remembering that bastard Bertinelli slamming a metal door on his arm. Scowling darkly, his fingers curled into a fist at the thought of punching him in the face as hard as he could. But all that did was set his wrist on fire, which only pissed him off more, which made him want to punch Bertinelli’s face and a wall. “Goddamn it-”

“Here.”

Oliver looked up into the bathroom mirror as his wife took the razor from him.

The tension in his muscles drained away and he sighed, moving when she nudged him to make room for her between him and the counter.

She stared up at him with a patient, but annoyed look.

His agitation instantly flared back to life.

“What?” he huffed.

“You’re being stupid,” Felicity Smoak told him. She set the razor down and grabbed the brace he’d tossed aside. “Put this back on.”

“I’m not wearing that-”

“Tonight,” she interrupted sharply. “You’re not wearing it to the dinner tonight, but you are wearing it right now.” Oliver clenched his jaw, his nostrils flaring, and he leveled her with a hard look. It was a look that usually had grown men pissing their pants, but not her. She just raised her eyebrows. “Give me your hand, Oliver.”

A war of wills filled the space.

Not that it mattered. They both knew how this was going to end. Even though Oliver wanted to shred that fucking brace and toss the remnants in a fire, he knew he was going to give in as much as she knew she was going to put it on him, and that he was going to be pissed the entire time.

It took a full minute, but Oliver finally growled out a curse and gave her his hand.

“Stop being a baby,” Felicity said as she slipped it on and strapped it in place.

“I’m not being a baby,” Oliver groused, unable to hide his pained winces. He fought to only let out a breathy grunt when she turned his hand over delicately to tighten the brace around his forearm. “I’m pissed I have to play nice to that asshole tonight, as if I didn’t catch him trying to sell more of those goddamn guns to the Mayor.”

“I know,” his wife said softly. “You’ll get him. Well, Arrow-you will get him and then Captain-you will turn his businesses inside out while he rots in jail so this never happens again.”

Oliver just grunted.

Yes, in an ideal world that was exactly what would have happened, but they’d been ready for the Arrow at the docks last night. His nighttime reputation had long ago preceded him and the Families were getting smarter, bringing more firepower, no longer interested in wasting their time trying to kill him, but giving their boss enough time to evade him.

And slamming the Arrow’s goddamn hand in a goddamn door when Oliver Queen had to have dinner and play nice with his “business partner.”

Oliver snarled and tried to flex his hand in the brace.

All it did was make him grimace and scowl and curse.

“Stop it,” Felicity said, smacking his bare chest.

“I need to shave,” he snapped.

“No, you need to lose the attitude,” she bit back. “Now, and not just because you’re talking to me, but because we need to play nice tonight. Got it?”

“I…” He closed his eyes on a ragged sigh. She was right. And just like that the anger receded into a dull ache. He took a deep breath, opening his eyes again. “I’m sorry.”

Felicity softened. “I know this isn’t easy-”

“It’s just… It’s always something,” he breathed, his voice dropping into an agonized murmur. “First it was the Triad, then it was Kovar, now it’s Bertinelli, and if it’s not something with the Arrow, then it’s this fucking deal Anatoly got us into. I want to spend one night - one night - with my wife and daughter without feeling like the entire fucking world is hanging in the balance, because that… this…” Oliver smoothed his hand over her stomach, but the damn brace got in the way, and he couldn’t feel enough of the bump her silky nightgown hid. With a growl, he shifted so his left hand palmed her growing belly. It was so firm and prominent already, even at this early stage. The doctor had mentioned that was common after the first pregnancy. Frustrated tears burned his eyes and he angrily blinked them away as he clutched her stomach. “I want to be here for this. I missed so much last time, with you and Mia, and all I want is… I want a life where I get to enjoy this, I get to enjoy us. God, but if we… Mia’s only three, and already I’m terrified she’s too close, and if we want them to have anything other than this shitshow of a life… to get them out of it-”

His voice choked off.

“I know. But we chose this,” Felicity reminded him, cupping his cheek. “You and me. For them. We didn’t run so they never have to make a choice like that.”

Oliver squeezed his eyes shut. “I know.”

“And you are here, Oliver. Look at me. Hey, look at me.” When he did, she smiled softly. It was hard not to see the sadness in her eyes, but it had nothing on the certainty he saw there, too. “I get to sleep every night with my husband by my side. And Mia gets to grow up with her father. You are always with us, Oliver. And you remind this one of that every night, too.”

Felicity’s hand covered his over her stomach.

Oliver stared at their hands, at their wedding bands catching the bathroom light, at their fingers tangling together. Hers was so small compared to his, so delicate, so fragile, but it only appeared that way. She was anything but. She was his rock, his foundation, his strength, the guiding light in the darkness he knew he would never escape. She was the voice in his ear, the key to his heart, the anchor steadying his soul. His wife, his partner, the mother of his children. The reason he hadn’t burned the entire world to ash just to get it over with.

“And when you aren’t here,” Felicity continued softly, brushing her other hand over the elaborate tattoo on his left shoulder, “we’re with you.”

Her fingers followed the path she always took. He sighed, savoring her touch, following her mentally as she swept across the rising sun over the open field inked into his flesh. His wife and daughter’s names were etched into the sun rays, and there was plenty of room for more. For their new baby. For any other children they might have.

Oliver bit the tip of his tongue hard enough to draw blood as the struggle he always faced rose inside him - between growing his family with the woman he loved, and wanting to spare any and every innocent being from the shadowed world they lived in.

The only way he survived any of it was because of her.

“Today was a setback… on top of about fifty other setbacks,” she admitted, “but we’ll handle it. Like we always do.”

“Like we always do,” he repeated.

“Like we always will.”

Oliver pulled her into his chest. He pressed a kiss to her temple, her name a soft litany on his lips. Her arms snaked around him, gripping him just as tight. He buried one hand in her hair, his other slipping over her back, underneath the strap of her nightgown…

He found the scar on the back of her shoulder.

He had spent so much time touching it that the previously raised flesh was nothing more than thin, pink lines now.

The mark - his family crest, seared into her flesh, a physical seal of the promise of her family to his, payment in the form of their daughter for the debts her father had incurred with the Bratva - was always a reminder when he needed it. When the world crumbled around him. When the weight of what they battled became too much. When the reality that this would bleed onto their children if they didn’t dismantle it as much as possible smacked him in the face again, and again. The very last thing he wanted was his kids to endure what they had. And they would, if they didn’t succeed.

Oliver rubbed rough circles over her scar like a worry stone and Felicity hugged him tighter.

It wasn’t a miracle that they had fallen in love. It was in spite of their circumstances, their arranged marriage, their contractual obligation to procreate, their dues to the Family to keep the legacy going, to grow it. It was only after surviving months of horror and blood and pain and almost losing their first baby that they managed to scrape away enough of the walls they’d built around themselves to plant the beginning seeds of what they were now.

All of it could have gone up in flames, so many times. But it hadn’t.

They hadn’t.

“Together,” she whispered, pulling back to look at him. “Right?”

“Right.” Oliver’s forehead fell against hers. “How did you get to be so strong?”

“I take my lead from you.”

He shook his head, because there was no way that could possibly be true.

“C’mere.” Felicity stepped back just enough to hop up onto the counter and tugged him between her spread legs. She picked up the razor, pursing her lips as she sized up his beard. And then her face fell. “You aren’t going to make me shave everything, are you?”

Oliver chuckled. It felt so good that he leaned into the feeling, letting it turn into a deep laugh.

Their lives were so complicated, perpetually stuck between a rock and a hard place, and yet they still had simple moments like his wife reminding him how much she disliked him clean-shaven.

She was right. This life wasn’t what they could have, but it was more than either of them had expected, more than they ever thought they would get.

And it was more than enough.

“No,” he told her, settling his hands on her thighs. “Just a trim. Bertinelli got close last night.”

“Ah.” Felicity tugged on the longer hair on his chin. “This goatee thing caught up to you, huh?” He snorted. “What? It’s not exactly inconspicuous, Oliver.”

“It gets the job done,” he said, a little too defensively if the way she bit her bottom lip to stem a smile was any indication. He rolled his eyes and she huffed out a giggle before cupping his face. As she moved his head back and forth, he felt the rest of the tension slipping away. “I thought you liked it.”

“I liked it when it was a casual beard,” she replied, slicing the length off his chin. “Then it started becoming this thing-”

“It’s not a thing-”

“Hush,” Felicity interrupted. In quick, efficient motions, she had the hair trimmed back on his chin and then she moved up his jaw line, angling his head where she wanted it as she went. “The last thing we want to do is cancel this dinner because you wanted to argue about the virtues of goatees and I end up cutting you.”

“I wouldn’t complain.”

“Yeah, well, making you bleed isn’t on my itinerary today, and I really don’t want blood all over my bathroom. So no, that’s not happening. Now stop talking. And stop grinning like that. Just don’t move.”

He couldn’t hide one last smirk and Felicity sat back to glare at him. With a quiet, “Sorry,” he did as his wife told him.

Oliver closed his eyes as the seconds passed in peaceful silence. The only sounds were their steady breaths and the gentle rasp of the razor as she trimmed his jaw, then his cheeks, then the extra growth on his top lip. She mumbled something under her breath about pornstaches that had him chuckling, and she immediately smacked his cheekbone with the flat end of the razor. He stopped, but he still had to fight a smile as she continued.

It would never cease to amaze him how easily she brought him back from the edge of darkness.

Or how much he had grown to trust her, to love her. How important she had become to him in every way possible.

He knew from experience what people thought when they first saw her. A slip of a woman who could not possibly yell at a dog much less pose any actual threat. But underneath that diminutive frame was a backbone of pure steel. It wasn’t his growing up in the life, or learning the family business under his father’s tutelage, or the hellish years he’d spent on that goddamn island that made him the leader he was in the Bratva. It was her. She was the voice of reason, the logic, the definitive force that led the Family more than any other person. She guided him at night when he was under the hood, and she was by his side when he stood before the Bratva. And as if that weren’t enough, she did it all with a flawless grace and strength that took his breath away.

She commanded the Bratva, the Arrow, the Family.

And him.

Oliver hummed, swaying closer to her.

“Stop. Moving.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with a tick of a smile, never opening his eyes.

Slowly but surely the burdens of their life fell to the wayside, and he became more and more aware of his wife.

The hint of shea butter lingered on her skin, but underneath that was the clean scent that was all her, reminding him she hadn’t showered yet. Gentle waves of heat radiated off her, warming his fingertips where they still rested on her bare thighs. She cradled his jaw with ease, and all it took was the tiniest nudge for him to turn to wherever she wanted him. It was that more than anything that had him yearning closer to her as she scraped the razor over his most tender areas. Anyone else in the world would use this as an opportunity to remove him from the equation. But not her. Never her.

Felicity huffed out a little laugh.

“Hmm?” Oliver asked as the corner of his lips ticked up. He loved that sound.

“I see you’re enjoying this.”

He furrowed his brow, and then opened his eyes in time to see his wife’s gaze drop. He looked down to find his sweatpants tented. His growing erection twitched at the attention.

“What can I say…” Oliver’s smile turned salacious as he slid his hands up her legs and underneath her nightgown. Smooth skin caressed his roughened fingertips, and for the first time he was glad for the brace because the silky edge of the gown caught on it, exposing so much more of her heated flesh to him. “I like being at your mercy.”

A secret smile that was all for him curled her lips.

Oliver slid his hands around to her ass where he stopped on a playful gasp. “You’re not wearing underwear.”

“No,” Felicity agreed, lifting her legs up, her knees grazing the band of his sweats. “I’m not.”

Oliver pushed his hands up to her hips, lifting her nightgown out of the way completely as he pressed his growing hardness to the soft heat waiting for him between her thighs. Her breath caught, but he wasn’t nearly close enough. He didn’t yank her across the counter like he wanted to, knowing that wouldn’t feel good on her bare skin, so he pushed up onto his toes, looming over her and getting the proper leverage to rub against her core.

“Ah ah, I’m not done.” Felicity pushed him back and he pouted. “Keep it in your pants.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Too bad,” she countered. “Stand still.”

His pout didn’t go away, but he did as she told him to. Well, part of him did. His arousal jerked under his sweats, a painfully vivid mixture of eager anticipation and disappointment.

And then there were his hands still under her nightgown.

Oliver was careful not to distract her too much, but he couldn’t stop touching her. And she didn’t stop him. He dragged his fingers over her hips, up her sides, featherlight, creating gooseflesh as he went. He ventured up even higher, as high as the silk would allow him. He avoided her ribs, not wanting to tickle her, but instead moved to her front, ghosting over the underside of her breasts. He watched his hands moving under the silk before glancing at her face, craving her reactions. Her concentration was sound, save for the parting of her lips, the color warming her cheeks, the growing shakiness in her breaths. He kept watching her from under heavy lids as he moved back down, down… down…

“Oliver.”

“What?” he asked with a teasing lilt.

“Get your hands away from there.”

Oliver bit his lips together and removed his fingers from the soft tuft of hair covering her mound.

She took a deep breath and then focused back on his jaw…

He didn’t give her the chance.

Oliver pressed his left hand to her sex and slid his fingers down her cleft. She was already damp with arousal. He knew her inner walls would be even slicker and that they would only get wetter when he buried himself there. The thought had his erection straining against his sweats.

Felicity froze, her eyes slipping shut, and he didn’t wait to tease her. Oliver pressed the tips of his fingers against her entrance and moved them in tight, little circles.

“Oo…h,” she moaned on a shudder. “Oh…!”

“I’ll take that,” he whispered, removing the razor from her hand and dropping it on the counter.

“But I’m not done,” Felicity said. The last word came out on another moan as he pushed his fingers inside her. Her hands flew to his shoulders, her eyes fluttering shut when his thumb found the little pearl at the top of her folds. She arched her hips up, opening herself to him, to the pleasure he could give her. Would give her. That didn’t stop her from arguing with him. “Oliver, I’m not done-”

“Finish later,” he offered, pressing his fingers in further.

She was all needy whimpers as she told him, “You look ridiculous.”

Oliver didn’t bother glancing in the mirror because he didn’t care. Not right now. Not with his wife in his arms, melting further into him even more with each passing second, her sex sucking his fingers in deeper, her growing wetness making each pass over her clit more and more slick. Her nails dug into his shoulders. His hand with the goddamn brace wound around her back and he picked her up, just enough to set her on the edge of the counter where he pressed his thickening hardness against her supple inner thigh.

“You…” she managed, opening her eyes to look at his jaw. “Let me just…”

“Finish later,” he repeated. He buried his face into her hair, breathing her in. He swept his thumb over her clit and started thrusting his fingers in and out. Her inner walls clenched around him and he pushed in a third finger, earning a delicious groan from deep inside her as he stretched her wide.

“But…”

“Please.”

That got her. It was such a simple word, but it was so loaded after everything they’d been through, meaning more than either of them could possibly put into words.

A rapid nod was her response and then she grabbed his face, her lips finding his.

Oliver’s fingers left heaven to grasp her under one thigh as he gripped her waist with his braced hand. And then he was picking her up and spinning them around. Felicity barely got out, “Oliver, your hand!” before he pulled her into another kiss. She kept talking against his lips, but then they were at their unmade bed, and he was falling back on it and she was moving to straddle him fully. She wasn’t done - “Why can’t you do things the easy way?” - but all he did was huff out a laugh as they both pushed his sweats out of the way, freeing his erection. She grasped him tight, making him groan. Her other hand found his jaw and she forced him to meet her gaze as she pushed the slick head of his cock to her entrance. “We are so talking about this when we’re done.”

“Yes,” he started just as she thrust down, taking him deep inside her, leaving only a strangled, “honey,” to fall from his lips.

“And,” Felicity added breathlessly, “the fact that you only have half a mustache right now.”

He chuckled, but it quickly turned into full-blown laughter when she sat back to look at him and a wild grin covered her face as she snorted at the sight he must have made.

The giggles followed them as they made love.

It was the absolute opposite of everything else in their lives, proving how much they were each other’s harbor in the storm. Their love fueled them, giving them the strength they needed to live the double lives they led, to keep going, to keep building the future they wanted for their children. That future was still years off, and neither of them were stupid enough to think it was going to get any easier, but as long as they had each other?

They could survive anything.

And they would.

(They proved this later - much later, after she helped him fix his unfortunate facial hair issue - when they were at dinner, and all Oliver wanted to do was ram his fist in Bertinelli’s face until he was a mulchy pulp. But he didn’t, and not just because of his hand, or because it could potentially open the door to connecting him to the Arrow. But because she asked him not to. And if it was her asking? Anything.)

*

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it - reviews literally feed the soul and muse.

[ameftowriter]

Belief and Faith (Dr. Stone Fanfic)

I finally finished this fic after working on it for so long. It’s supposed to be the sequel of my 5738 A.D. 4,1 fic that I did a while back. 

Either way this is essentially Episode 9 in Gen's POV. I really wanted to explore his mindset during this episode, after knowing about the observatory scene and all that. I finally got to work on it and here I am posting it now! YAY!

I hope you all like it!

Summary:  Asagiri Gen never truly believed in anyone. But after seeing that date carved into a tree, he had to find out if this Senku person really was the one who did it. Would Senku be able to convince Gen using the power of science? or will the Mentalist continue to doubt the Scientist till the end?

Ao3 | ffnet

Part 1 | Part 2 (This!) | Part 3 | Part 4 ???

Asagiri Gen never truly believed in anyone. Not even to his own parents. Like they ever gave a crap about him in the first place. The only thing he learned from them was to be paranoid of everyone around him. So he grew up never having any belief in anyone around him. Not even his teachers, the police, even little old grannies that would find him adorable.

Even when he became a famous celebrity, he never fully trusted his manager, assistants, and even the cameraman.

There really were just no one he could put his faith in. There was no point for him to put any kind of faith in anyone other than himself. 

Belief? Only to himself. 

Faith? Definitely only to himself.

And thus why the Great Magician/Mentalist, Asagiri Gen never really trusted anyone other than himself.

"I thought I've seen you somewhere before…" Senku finally spoke, “You’re Asagiri Gen right?”

Gen knew how to deduce someone's personality from just their dialogue. His mentalism training had earned him that skill. He realized that Senku spoke with no hint of hesitation nor fear. Instead this man spoke with confidence and pride, it was odd to the mentalist, but he of course didn’t show any of that.

When Senku called him a “trashy magician” though...

“Read my work, have you? How wonderful!” Gen finally spoke to him with relief on his tone, this was a mix of truth and lies. “But that “trashy magician” barb was cruel…”

“Please, call me a mentalist.”

He honestly preferred to be called a mentalist. It looked and sounded more professional to him.

“Look, I apologize for taking the ramen without asking. So please, will you be so kind as to lower your weapons?” Gen went to work on his “stage” as he observed the three still have their weapons pointed at him. Not like he had anything to fear from the two spearmen. He knew that the blonde warrior girl was a bigger threat. She was the only one who could fight with Tsukasa after all.

“My arms and legs are trembling in fear.” He spoke ever so sweetly as he moved the bowl of ramen towards shorter blonde spearman, Ginro was his name as he heard earlier. He also heard earlier about him wanting some. “And I’m worried I may spill this heavenly bowl…”

The spearman quickly dropped his spear and reached out to the bowl of ramen, incredibly eager to hold it for him.

Gen then began telling his wonderful story, and it was all filled with lies, of course. He didn't want these fierce villagers to think he's a threat. He wove the tale with a relaxed composure and filled his words with sounds of relief and joy. It was easy as breathing for him. Though, he did notice that the blonde warrior girl didn't seem a tiny bit convinced. He would commend her for her keen senses if it wasn't for the fact that he needed to keep his persona on all the time.

The fact that everyone else except for her and seemingly Senku as well, had bought his tale, that was already enough for the Mentalist.

"Yeah sure… whatever you say, man…" Senku responded. It was obvious now that he didn't buy any word of what Gen had just said. "But still… there's no such thing as a free lunch…"

His words got everyone's attention.

"Everyone else who ate the ramen… has got some work to do…"

Asagiri Gen was impressed by Senku's wit and cunning. So now he knew who he was dealing with. He would like to delve into more, but the mention of work has got him feeling that he was going to regret everything he's done today.

And he was right.

His arms felt like they're about to fall off.

He along with three others were pushed into, what he guessed is a furnace made for melting iron, (yet another thing added to the list of what Gen was impressed about Senku) and was told to blow air into it using an odd contraption that he needed to simultaneously move up and down repeatedly until Senku tells them to stop.

That was about three hours ago….

And he hasn't told them to stop at all.

One of the girls had already given up and fainted and was quickly replaced by the blonde warrior girl from earlier.

Gen was practically dead at this point.

He knew that making iron manually was hard work, but he didn't know it was this hard…

"Question for ya Gen…" Senku approached the mentalist, "How are Taiju and Yuzuriha doing these days?"

It seems Gen had underestimated Senku way more than he thought.

"Oh… so that's your game, yeah?" If Gen could chuckle right now he would, "Work me into a state of exhaustion, and fool me into feeding up?"

It was an effective, yet laughable technique to Gen. How many fools have pulled this on him, he'd already lost count. And he was still only nineteen after all. Though, he really should have seen that coming a mile away.

"You've got guts…" Gen told the truth this time. He was indeed impressed by Senku. He could tell that this man was, if not, the bravest man he's met over the years he's lived. "Trying to pull a trick like that on a renowned Mentalist…."

Gen then decides to start his plan. If this Senku really is all what Tsukasa talked about then…

"Don't worry though… Taiju-chan's strength is seemingly without end…. But you know that.. Right? Senku-chan?"

Gen turned to face the Scientist with his trademarked heinous crafty smile.

'Prove it, Senku-chan… prove to me that you are the one who did that carving…'

"He's definitely with that long haired man!" The warrior girl, Kohaku, he remembered her name, "Should I kill him?"

'Ah… Kohaku-chan is so naive… so, so naive…'

"Wait. You fool." Senku stopped Kohaku from doing anything drastic to Gen, it was to be expected, but still a big relief to him, "All right, Gen. You ten billion percent knew, I was trying to make you talk. So why'd you suddenly slip that you're working for Tsukasa?"

'Ten billion percent? Your catchphrase I presume? Though, it does tell me that you're not the one to rely on luck. That, you're the kind of person that would make sure everything was in "ten billion percent" certainty. How interesting…'

"Well, because once I saw all of this…." Gen turned his expression to the most realistic fake smile he could produce, “The tides’ turned as they say…”

Senku didn’t say anymore, and he left the mentalist to continue his job. 

Gen was still incredibly skeptical of Senku. Why? Because, anyone could eventually reinvent iron making. It wouldn’t take a genius to do that. Even the biggest dolts he’s ever met could do it. He looked at Senku, who would spend most of his free time just staring up at the stars. He quickly saw the desire and admiration at his trained eyes. Gen knew that Senku was an idealistic dreamer, just from that expression alone. So much for being a logical bastard.

It’s not like Gen would admit that he was kind of like that, despite knowing way too much on psychology.

He suddenly felt thirsty for a cola. He quickly tried to shake that feeling off. As there was no way to make any kind of cola in this world.

There was absolutely no way for Senku to beat Tsukasa…. Not even, as Senku himself said, a single millimeter of a chance. None of the villagers he has seen could even come close in strength to even the goons that Tsukasa has awakened. Let alone, Shishio Tsukasa, The Strongest Primate Highschooler. It would have been a simple landslide victory, to take over this village, honestly. But to see them making Iron….

“I have a simple task, and that is to confirm your death beyond any doubt.” Gen and Senku talked just outside the vicinity of the “Kingdom of Science” as Senku puts it. Senku had a complete stoic expression as he faced the Mentalist.

“Tsukasa-chan! Senku is still alive!” Gen spoke in his convincing distressed tone, then magically turned back to this smug tone, “One little phrase, and your fate will be sealed. That was my initial plan…”

Gen was honestly surprised to see that Senku didn’t even once flinch at his words.

“But if you are able to finish forging weapons made of iron. There’s no telling who’d come out on top.”

The villagers celebrated their victory as the full fledged iron bar was finally made. Gen was… surprised so to speak. 

“All I found, was a tiny primitive village! It seems Senku is no more” Gen then spoke in his convincing lamenting tone, “One fraudulent report would spare your life. Does that sound good to you?”

The Mentalist has never met Senku before. He’s only heard of him from Tsukasa and everyone else. Taiju and Yuzuriha, who were the supposed best friends of this Senku only spoke of grief for him. All he heard else was science and that he’s the most intelligent man alive. They were right. He had little to no stamina. They were right. He only wants to revive everyone no matter what. They were right…

His mind went to that date on the tree.

Considering everyone he had talked to at the Empire of Might, it seemed he was the only one who’ve even seen it. Let alone be aware of it.

Gen thought to himself, if that was the sole reason why he’s even bothered to offer Senku this proposition. This chance, for him to lie in front of the Emperor of Might, Shishio Tsukasa to save the King of Science, Senku…

He wondered to himself, why did he ever bother to even consider that option.

“Actually, its music to my ears, and I’d really appreciate you doing that.” Senku chuckled. He was happy to hear that from the mentalist.

Quite frankly, Gen felt insulted by those words.

“Now, don’t go thinking I’ve got some moral compass!” Gen doesn’t. No, not even close. He learned way before, once he got to feel his way into show business that having morals was the biggest taboo of all. “I’m unbelievably shallow! Give me a life surrounded by hot girls, and I’m as happy as a clam!”

Asagiri Gen convinced himself that he was shallowest man alive. The most superficial man on earth! He only wanted anything just because he wanted to. No more, no less. Any kind of idealistic thoughts or dramatic bull that he’s heard was nothing more than light feathery fluff of words. Words that he used as a weapon to tossle even the most fearsome of human beings. 

“I couldn’t care less if you and that primate Tsukasa-chan, live or die…” He really doesn’t. Like he gave any kind of care in general to anyone but himself. He was taught in the old world that it was a survival of the fittest after all. 

At least… that's what he kept telling himself.

“I’ll be on the winning side. No matter what I have to do."

Gen thought he would say this naturally. But somehow he felt himself forcing those words and that tone out of his mouth. So to brush it off, he continued to speak as he described the pros and cons of the two kingdoms. The science, the food, the labour, the chance of reviving pretty ladies…. Well honestly, he just said that to keep up the shallow facade, harems were a lot of work after all. And with a man like Gen who doesn't even trust his own flesh and blood family, what more could he do with a group of ogling women?

He had to make sure the cute little melon girl, Suika that Gen admits has taken a liking to, wouldn't know what a harem really is. He can't hurt the poor thing now. 

Of course she brought up about ramen still being better.

On a balmy day like this, he would honestly prefer an ice cold cola.

And there goes the warrior girl ready to slit his throat open…. Gen respected her and her spirit and all, but damn she was scary as all hell.

"No. If he doesn't go back and give his report, Tsukasa will come looking for him and we'll all be screwed." Gen was once again impressed by Senku's deductions. He was right. The mentalist had become an important piece in the board whether anyone liked it or not. 

Asagiri Gen lived without seeing those blades for another day.

He raised an eyebrow at Senku's confidence. It seems if he saw what the Kingdom of Science was going to make with the iron that there was a "ten billion percent" chance that he'll join him. 

"Oh? What's that?" Gen spoke mockingly at the young scientist. As if he could impress the Mentalist, "Think you can sway me with a sword?"

Shishio Tsukasa could break any kind of iron weapons easily. What could Senku even bring to the table of negotiations that could even slightly convince Gen to join his side?

"How 'bout a Generator?"

Asagiri Gen thinks he has actually overestimated Senku.

"A GENERATOR??!!" Gen let his facade break just for a bit. He could not even comprehend that… that… what the hell was Senku doing??!! "Are you freaking kidding me?! No way you can pull that off!!"

And he was completely ignored. 

Gen was left behind, as he trembled in place. He just could not understand why Senku said that. He couldn't get it. How in the holy hell did Senku jumped from iron making to making a Generator?! A Generator! Somehow Senku was just going to make electricity out of thin air! Gen was supposed to be the magician here!

He's tried to comprehend Senku's train of thought when he heard about copper and lightning. 

It looks like the Gods have spoken because it was suddenly storming.

Everyone else except Senku thought it was a lucky break, but it seemed the scientist quickly put everyone to work. 

"The Generator will run on lightning?" He threw the question as a joke.

"No. That's ridiculous…" Senku shot it down quickly.

"Of course it is…" Gen chuckled to himself knowing he'd get that answer. 

Then Senku started mumbling something about magnets. And needing some to make the generator.

Everything else just went as a blur, Gen couldn't keep up with that and the labour he was forced to do again, and the many other things that Senku and the other three did on their own. So he just stood by and watched closely as he tried to understand they were doing. Gen was both impressed by what Senku, and he was still just as confused. He didn't understand it at first. But he felt himself get invested at this generator project. He wanted to see what the outcome would be. After all, he put in a ton of hard work on this himself. 

"This is bad! It's Magma!" The young man who Gen assumed as Senku's young apprentice, Chrome exclaimed out loud.

The mentalist turned to the bridge and saw a large burly blond haired man and behind him were two other villagers. They all bore the look of deviousness and eagerness to fight. It was obvious to him who Magma was and who were his henchmen. He immediately deduced Magma's power as well, as even Kohaku was already prepared to fight them. While everyone else shook in fear of the incoming bully. Even Senku felt nervous at the possible confrontation.

As he observed the Kingdom's reactions to his arrival, he realized they were an honest bunch. Gen could only sigh. He immediately knew what kind of person this Magma was. When he saw Senku panic, that's when he knew what to do. 

"Well this won't do. I simply can't let myself get killed because of you lot." He turned to Suika and asked her nicely, "Fetch me some flowers, Suika-chan."

"Instead of war. Flowers."

He can't have this bully and his little goons mess up his work after all. There was already too much effort and manpower poured into this. After he observed them, their posture, expressions, walking patterns, and even the expressions of others. 

This… was gonna be a piece of cake.

After he received a bunch of daisies from the little melon girl, Gen made his way into the bridge to meet up with Magma and his goons. He put on his special "light hearted, happy-go-lucky" expression. A simple bright eyed, relaxed face and a big smile… He then presented to them the flowers as if he were holding a bouquet.

"What the hell is that guy holding flowers for?!" The taller henchmen yelled in disgust, "Doesn't he know we're looking for a fight?!"

One check on Gen's list of deductions.

"Yeah!" The little midget henchmen agreed with them.

"Were you the one who made the Gods so angry?" Magma asked him jokingly, already ready to kill Gen on the spot, "Stepping up to me, takes more balls than brains…"

And another check for Magma's obvious egotistical pride.

"Oh I'm sorry…" Gen replied in his pseudo apologetic tone, as he discreetly moved the flowers in between his fingers. "But were trying to use our sorcery to stop this wretched terror from above!"

"Quit talking out of your ass!" Magma accused him. Gen didn't think the meathead had it in him. But of course he needed to do what he needed to do.

"Allow me to show you." With swift talented fingers, Gen made the flowers seemingly disappear in front of the bullies. In truth it was just tucked in behind his hands and into his sleeves. 

"They disappeared! Did you see that?!" Magma was total disbelief, and so were his goons. They shook in fear as Gen waved his arms to show that there really was nothing. To them it really looked like Gen made the flowers disappear from his hands. When in reality it was just a simple backpalm technique, that even the most amateur magicians knew how to do it.

It truly was child's play for the magician. 

Further lightning strikes had scared the goons away and Magma followed suit. 

It seemed Magma, while strong, doesn't feel as confident without his buddies following him around.

After they had finished preparing the iron rods, they dashed up to a place called Bald Mountain. Quite an unfortunate name for a mountain. 

Senku mentioned about a scientist in NASA whose name Gen can't pronounce, that managed to make powerful magnets using lightning. And that's why they're climbing up to the mountain to do the exact same thing as he did...

Gen had no idea what possessed him to climb the mountain with them but it seems his deepening curiosity needed to be sated. Now he's bare handed with no ropes climbing up the little mountain. He stopped for a bit to breathe and realized that Senku was still far behind and was already exhausted.

'Is this really the guy that Tsukasa-chan is afraid of?!' Gen just can't believe at the sight of this Senku… 'He's not even in a quarter of the way up and he's panting like a dog. He has less stamina than me!'

Kohaku noticed it as well and just unceremoniously picked him up which also shocked Gen. Then she continued hopping along the mountain side while carrying Senku like a ragdoll.

'This girl is too strong to be human!'

He had to admit, Kohaku had a better chance of even hurting Tsukasa in a fight. 

'Senku-chan's only strength is his scientific prowess. It's useful and can be powerful to even against the world's strongest… but.. would that be enough?'

Gen wasn't referring to the weapons. He just saw Senku as nothing more than a child eager to play with anything he could get his hands on. That bold statement that he was going to make a generator with an iron rod, by turning it into a magnet using lightning. Using the power of science…

There was no way. There was absolutely no way a regular teenager, even if the said teenager was a genius, could even come close to making something as absurd as that.

There was just no way.

And even if he can do it… how can a generator even beat the Strongest Primate Highschooler and his empire of muscular people? This Kohaku woman and this Magma and the strong looking villagers that he could see wouldn't even be able to come close to achieving that.

'What could a generator do?'

'Why even make a generator?!'

As they reached the top, everyone quickly went to work in setting up a lightning rod. It was difficult considering the rocky surface. 

Gen stood by and watched them along with Suika. 

Senku went to work along with Chrome and Kohaku. The Mentalist had noticed that the young scientist was still visibly exhausted from their climb, and yet, he was still trying to set up the lightning rod. Even with the risk of lightning hitting them...

Gen just can't understand it. He can't comprehend the situation in front of him right now.

'This is impossible… how can you… How can you even make one Senku-chan? There's nothing here… this lightning is gonna kill us all! How can you be so stubborn??!!'

His thoughts were quickly interrupted when he saw Kohaku dashed towards the guards who were right behind him, kicked the golden spear off their hands, and in one swift motion..

'No… there's no way… it can't work…'

Tied it with the iron rod with her hair tie, and pierced the ground.

Just in time for the lightning to go through it.

'No… no way ..'

The rod took in the intense power of the heavens and created a natural light show in front of them. Senku's face filled with delight as he witnessed the creation of his high powered magnets.

'He actually did it…' Gen felt like his mind was blown, 'The bastard actually did it…'

"Hahah… This is crazy Senku-chan…" He let out a weak flabbergasted laugh, "Starting with nothing in this barren Stone World…"

"You actually pulled it off…."

'It really is him…' Gen came to that conclusion as he saw the skies clear and the sunlight shone through the dark clouds, as if the heavens themselves were shining upon Senku. 

That's when Asagiri Gen had realized. This Senku is the mystery counter he'd been looking for. This Senku, was the one who wrote the date on the tree.

Gen finally believed in him.

"Electricity is in play. Get excited people!"

And honestly, he was pretty excited too.

"I'm curious Senku-chan…" Gen eventually managed to keep his emotions together and tried not to reveal them to everyone, "Are you making a Thermal Generator, or a Wind Turbine? I don't suppose you're going nuclear yet are we?"

Senku then turned to face Gen, gave him the most "are you serious" look and replied as he picked on his ear.

"It'll be muscle powered…"

"I figured as much…"

Gen was pretty sure that he died somewhere along the way… again.

After the intense labour at the furnace, Gen was allowed to observe the willing members of the Kingdom of Science to finish the rest of the parts. Senku gave them all directions on what to do and how to use the materials. Though, there was something that was bothering the Mentalist. Something that he had noticed from the beginning but held his tongue, and he thought of what to say. When Senku persisted on this, he needed to bring it up.

"Maybe I should just ask…" Gen spoke grabbing Senku's attention.

The Scientist's face was puffed up. His eyes were nearly closed shut, his cheeks and lips were swollen, and his voice sounded strained.

"Why do you look like Anpanman?" Gen bluntly asked without any underlying reason. Just plain curiosity.

"Lacquer poisoning…"

Later that day, the Generator was finally complete. It contained two huge flat copper wheels in which it's engraved with Senku's little icon and his name, held by two cranks made out of bamboo as well. In between contained the two high powered magnets and it stood on a large bamboo table complete with the flag of Science in the middle.

Now the conversation switched on how to operate it. It needed to be synchronized spinning otherwise it would fall apart.

So now they needed a pair of people who can work together and were energetic…

A certain pair came to everyone's mind.

But of course Kinro immediately declined. He was still obviously angry about the loss of his precious golden spear. Ginro would just follow his brother even when it was obvious he wanted to help.

So Gen stepped forward. He knew the group’s honest personalities would not do any favours for him and everyone else for that matter. It was way better for the mentalist to do what he does best.

The Mentalist kept repeating to himself that it's gone far to the point, he couldn't afford to see his precious efforts go to waste. He kept on repeating it to himself.

Asagiri Gen was only a superficial man for superficial reasons…

He wasn't doing this for Senku's sake. Not at all.

He kept telling himself that.

So he can believe that he was doing all of these… for how own gain. Not for Senku nor the Kingdom of Science…

"Wow! Electricity sure is amazing! Thanks sorcery!" Gen placed his metaphorical mask of preppiness and giddiness. He made it bombastic enough to make it infectious. "In our technological civilization… electricity lets us have all sorts of nice things!"

Gen waved his arms around and spun around and made it look like he was dancing in excitement

Kinro turned around in annoyance.

"With our new Generator…" Gen began his carefully constructed (something he made up on the fly) lie, "When can even make and repair gold and silver tipped spears! Isn't that right Senku-chan?!"

“Electrocoating is pretty damn difficult…” Senku leaned over and annoyingly whispered that fact to him. Gen was relieved that there really was something like that. He truly had no idea. “Do you even know the recipe?”

‘Do you think I’m the kind of guy who would know anything about that Senku-chan?’

"I don’t have the faintest idea!" Gen whispered back with a shrug and a lopsided smile.

"I was right about you…" Kohaku commented, as she was obviously annoyed with Gen's antics, "Every word out of your mouth really is just feathery fluff…"

‘You know it girl!’

It was only a simple persuasion trick using the one sole thing the two brothers wanted so badly. He wasn’t told about it, but it was painfully obvious since he first met them. The eager looks on Kinro's and Ginro's faces were confirmation enough that Gen's words had a powerful effect on the brothers. The mentalist didn't say anything else, and let Senku do the rest for him. 

The battle cry of the two brothers echoed throughout the dimming day as they spinned the generator with such furious intensity as if it were the last thing they had to do. Senku mentioned that it had to be this way otherwise it would never generate enough electricity.

“Kinro and Ginro are mine now…” Senku grinned in victory, “The Kingdom of Science is building up a solid workforce.”

Gen watched the brothers do their new jobs and pondered why it had it required such intense manual labour.

He did still doubted the thing, with that kind of intense work. He just had to ask…

“But are they actually generating electricity?” Gen still couldn’t believe it.

That is until Senku showed him something, it rested on a big leaf. “It’s a steam roasted bamboo fiber.”

The fiber was almost hard to see at first, but when he got a good look at it. It formed a familiar zig zag pattern.

It was almost too familiar…

But he couldn’t quite place it…

“Does it need to be that high up?” Kohaku asked as she brought the wires to Senku and he climbed onto the roof of the science shed. He joined Chrome as they placed the leaf with the fiber on the top.

“Not really…” Senku chuckled, “But I figured we might as well…”

Gen finally remembered why the fiber’s shape was so familiar to him. His eyes widened in shock as he gasped.

“I see now…” He managed to say, as he couldn’t even try to hide his surprise anymore, “He’s using that bamboo fiber to create an Edison light bulb…”

“I’ve never heard of a bulb of light…” Suika wondered but her question fell on deaf ears as Gen just gaped at Senku…

Memories of many, many, many, many lights flashed before his eyes. The stage, the audience, the props, the curtains, even the stage hands, his manager, the volunteers, the tricks, the… everything…

“Chrome…” Senku began, “Does the night scare you?”

Gen remembered when the stage went dark to prepare himself and the audience for what’s to come. He remembered to always take a deep breath and put on his best smile and stage presence to everyone on the show. So that even the cameraman, even the cleaning crew… would get excited for his performance…

“Well yeah… because everything gets dark…” Chrome replied the obvious answer, “Why’d you ask?”

“Back in my day, there was no darkness…”

Much later after his amazingly successful performance on stage, he became a guest on a popular nighttime TV show. His presence alone gave him a standing ovation. The studio lights shone upon him, while it was blazing hot, he accepted the lights of his popularity happily as if it were his best friend. The host was happy to have him and praised his success in his young age. He humbly accepted those kind words and thanked the host back. He was even offered a bottle of cola as they chatted happily about his budding career. Of course Gen had his whole speech prepared, for this occasion. But nonetheless, he can't help but admire the shine of the lights on the cola bottle in front of him. He drank it happily.

“With old man Edison’s incandescent light bulb, humanity beat back the night. Conquering all 24 hours of the day.”

The spotlights moved to the center of the stage and shone on the young budding magician in the center. The host would enthusiastically introduce Asagiri Gen for everyone and the audience live or even at their homes watching him on the television cheered for him. Those lights were the signal for him. For him to finally do what he does best. To dazzle the audience with his mentalist abilities combined with amazing magical tricks.The hot yet dazzling lights followed the magician as he, with a flick of a wrist and the proper tone of voice, made the audience be awed by his carefully crafted and practiced tricks. He then waved his arm and spoke to the audience asking for an eager volunteer to come on stage. He then lets the spotlight move to a young woman he had picked and let her come and meet him personally. She was thrilled. But he did not know her at all. And yet, with his mentalist training that he painstakingly gained throughout his life, he managed to wow her even more. And with her, the whole audience was amazed.

“Through the power of science, mankind defeated the darkness…”

Asagiri Gen knew where the swords were inserted and easily let them slip around his body. He had carefully practiced this along with his fellow assistants. Everything was going according to plan. Everyone loved him and his tricks. He was not only an amazing magician but he was also a highly skilled mentalist. He worked hard day and night to master his craft. He always let out a humble speech for it, but in truth he was proud and happy for everything he had gained for himself. The audience’s reactions were a wonderful confirmation of his skills. 

“And now we’re gonna do it again…”

As Gen came out of the box, obviously unschated by the trick, he basked in the lights of the stage and the cheers of the audience.

Then everything went dark. He became immobile, and eventually, like everyone else who were petrified that fateful day, he went into a long deep sleep.

“For the first time in 3700 years… The Flame of Science will burn!”

It was brief, a second, a single moment… But it was there. It was indeed there. The light. The light that became Asagiri Gen’s best friend for most of his life and career. The light that shone on him. The light that showed his successes and his failures. The light that shone on him, his props, the curtains, his assistants, the volunteers, the guests… The light that shone on the bottle of cola. The light that was the last thing he saw before the seemingly eternal darkness...

One of the greatest byproducts of electricity. 

The “Flame of Science”. 

The Light of Science. 

The light of civilization… 

Artificial Lighting…

And it only lasted for a brief moment in time.

But to Gen and everyone else who witnessed that moment. It felt like it was an eternity…

He could only stare in awe. Just like how the natural light shone upon Senku as he grabbed the magnet he crafted earlier.

The artificial light that shone upon this young scientist, was far stronger and brighter than what the heavens did for him. 

Gen felt like… like… like he was an audience from his shows. He gazed at the man in front of him as if he was the performer on stage.

But instead of a skillfully carefully crafted trick that was practiced for years. 

It was a culmination of two million years of scientific knowledge. Displayed in front of him and to the entire world by a young man two years younger than he was.

‘He can do it…’ 

‘He really can do it.’

‘Oh my god… He will do it…’

For the first time in three thousand seven hundred and thirty eight years of his life…

Asagiri Gen had faith in Senku.

[trulycertain]

keep your heart close to the ground

This is a remix of @withthebreezesblown‘s gorgeous Too Dark To Read, which is a detailed, clever happy ending for King Alistair with plenty of bittersweetness and credit given for his intelligence, and most importantly, PUPPIES. Sadly, only one puppy appears in this fic, but only because Breezes has the rest covered. This isn’t a direct prequel or sequel, more some missing in-between scenes; some extra “our boy grows up and is actually pretty good at this kinging thing.” Hope I’ve done your beautiful fic justice, Breezes.

She’s only been a sister for two weeks, but she’s already seen the boy a few times, usually getting his ear clipped or once, skidding round the corner darting down a corridor, chased by a succession of different people who were all in robes and exceedingly angry. She hears troublemaker and bastard and occasionally little shit – in the words of Brother Brendan, after stubbing his toe halfway through a rant about the boy - and she makes a note to be wary.

She’s bringing bread into the kitchen when she sees a short figure with hair in all directions scrubbing pots and, very quietly, humming. She sees him tense, as if expecting another shouting-at, but the cook’s saying something and there’s no time to think, no time at all.

It’s only a couple of days later that she’s walking past one of the small supply rooms when she sees the copper glint of candlelight on hair. She stops, even with the laundry in her arms, and peers in as unobtrusively as she can.

The boy doesn’t even notice her. He’s sitting next to a simple wooden chessboard – one of the simple ones, from the library, not even worth stealing, but somehow she doesn’t think that’s what he’s doing. He’s silent, a far cry from the jittery little menace in their stories who talks with his hands and is the bane of the Revered Mother’s life, and he looks thoughtful, brown eyes shining slightly in the dim light. He’s turning the carved king piece in his hands, over and over, watching it.

No, not thoughtful, she realises, after a moment. He looks terribly sad.

 The boy is bright – far brighter than he pretends. Duncan recognises that, as someone who was similar, once. He’s quick on the uptake, and wry, though he hides it with… broadness. He grins and talks with his hands, lets sentences drag on and crash into each other until his audience is amused or exasperated. There is something of his father in him, it is true, but there’s something warmer there. The boy is older in the mind, perhaps even smarter, than his father was at this age – even as he laughs too loudly and stumbles to apologise for himself, scuffing his boots in the dirt when he’s made to speak of himself and his upbringing and changing the subject as quickly as possible.

It’s almost convincing, but then there are the moments when he thinks Duncan’s not looking. When he’s consulting maps and looking at the sky, clearly tracking their route by the stars. Polishing armour with a silent, honest discipline his father never had, his eyes far away, bringing to mind things Duncan has heard about templar meditation. 

When there’s fear in his eyes but he beheads his first hurlock matter-of-factly, almost easily. Only afterwards, when his sword is cleaned and sheathed, does he remember to make a nervous joke about “nearly screaming like a girl.” It might be true, but there’s steel in his eyes.

Duncan thinks that Maric and Eamon were fools.

Teagan wonders when Alistair became a sovereign – the coin, not just a ruler, though he might have laughed at the confusion once. He could have been carved in metal, embossed. His face is steady, impassive, as if he’s training or playing Wicked Grace rather than being crowned the ruler of Ferelden. It’s surprising to see; Teagan thought he hadn’t inherited it from his father.

He’ll say something about that later, but more delicately, not wanting to see the way Alistair shrinks slightly in his boots, the hint of a grimace at the mention of Maric, quickly hidden. And Alistair will laugh, and say, “My father? No, that one was the Chantry. You try staying steady when half your classmates are making faces behind Brother Bertrand’s back and you’ll get caned if you fall out of formation or… breathe. ‘An unmoved demeanour befitting a servant of Andraste who is above all but his duty,’” he’ll echo, in a pompous, false voice.

The laughter will fade when he holds court, that granite-faced quality returning, and the nobles don’t know what to make of him – only that he is their king, and they are terrified of making a wrong step in front of the pretender whose blood they were laughing about outside.

The farmers and the Alienage elves are treated differently, Teagan will notice, with smiles and nods, the boy casually listing in his chair as if it’s simply a social call and he’s about to ask for cake and scones to be brought through.

But for now, Alistair bows his head – due to tradition as much as the weight of the crown – and Teagan notices the hint of a smile on his face: small and surprised, but there.

Humans are stupid. It’s one of the first things her mother teaches her, when she doesn’t know much more than warm and food and ooh, biting is fun.

Humans never have any idea what’s good for them; if they find something decent they run away from it, and then you have to drag them back and maybe nudge them a little so they know. They guard the wrong things and they get scared to show their teeth, and then they wonder why they’ve been backed into a corner and they’re afraid. Someone has to snarl for them, sometimes, because they’re not allowed to, or they think they’re not allowed to and that’s almost worse. Because they’re fierce, under it all, and once they know what they should be fighting for, they’ll fight with all their hearts. Sometimes it just takes too long.

Like her mother said: stupid. Though she’ll only realise just how stupid in the years to come, long after she’s wriggled into warm arms and she’s heard surprised laughter and noises, startled but soothing: Hey there, we haven’t met, have – Ow! Wow. Ow.

Long after she grins and burrows closer because warm and smells interesting and kind - she knows it like her heartbeat and the smell of hay and the fact she needs to help these stupid humans – he calls her Arlessa, with the barking that comes from amusement rather than anger.

This one isn’t too bad. Licking’s nearly as fun as biting. She’ll keep him.

She only realises later that a whole country went We’ll keep him too. Bad luck for them. He’s hers.

“You know, they just can’t get my nose right.”

The elf edges closer, parchment still in her arms, thinking that this was not the way she’d expected to have an audience. “I… Your Majesty?”

The king turns abruptly. “Right, sorry, hello.” He smiles in a way that almost looks genuine, for a shem noble. “Corani Valethan?”

Corani nods. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Good to know they didn’t drag the wrong representative in here. That happened once with the Orlesians, it was embarrassing. Anyhow… I was just thinking.” The king gestures to the portrait on the wall, the thing he must have been looking at. “It always feels a bit… self-aggrandising putting pictures of me around this place. It’s not like they’re about to forget that by the way, still king. I almost wonder if I should have one for every mood, you know? Angry me. Happy me. Regal me? I’ve never been much good at regal. One already feels like too much.” He clears his throat. “I’m rambling. I apologise. I’ve just had some very good news. But your proposal for the former Alienage…” The king walks to a great oak desk, and waves a hand. “I’ve heard good things. A lot of them.”

After staring at that display, Corani realises that this is… actually happening. She tentatively moves forwards and lays the parchment she’s been holding down on the desk, unfolding it slowly, and she mumbles, “So have I.”

He sounds surprised. “You… have?”

“About… you, Your Majesty. They said I’d be granted an audience. They said you were, uh…” She clears her throat. “’One of the good ones.’”

He laughs at that, and that’s too honest for a shem and all. “I’m trying,” he says quietly. “Believe me.”

It's the strangest thing: she looks into his eyes, and she does.

[whenthemarshmallowmettheslayer]

Favorite fics you ever written?

Warning this a long post because I've written a lot of fics.

For Harry Potter:

1.) The Definition of Good. Summary:  After Chamber of Secrets Harry gives Dobby a place to stay. Everything changes.

2.)  Keep it simple, keep it safe. That's all you can do when it's too late. Summary: Harry smiled; it didn't reach his mom's eyes. "There's no need to call me sir professor," Harry quipped once again. This Harry knew. This Harry could take and dare he say it? Liked. Or rather, he liked it compared to the alternative despite his hatred towards the greasy haired wizard before him.

(Harry can't help but remember the chocolate cake slices and hours of looking at photos of Mrs.Figg's cats, the warm - to the point he feels as though they may burn him - embraces from Mrs. Weasley, Dumbledore's soft spoken promises and words that might as well be empty, of Sirius' offer of Harry living with him just gone in a blink of eye because he fell into a veil Harry's godfather could not come out of.)

For Percy Jackson:

1.) I scream too loud when I speak my mind. Summary: Percy Jackson does not accidentally vaporize his pre-algebra teacher and everything else that happens afterward. (I've actually loved writing all the parts of the series but I'm only including this one.)

For Death Note:

1.) To be a Queen. Summary: It's that the queens (Misa, only Misa, because Misa the idiot sees what no one else sees. L says he doesn't swing that way but L wants Light, Kira, but Light is Kira therefore the other king. So duh he can't be L's queen no matter what that pevert wants.) in chess are the most powerful pieces despite the kings (Ryuzaki and Light) being the most important. Because without the king (Kira and L) there's no game, if you defeat the other king you win; Kira wins and he will.

2.) Game over. Summary: Instead of replying to baby Kira Matt takes the cigarette out of his mouth and with a smile (it's weird to smile because Matt never really smiles and it's probably a real ugly ass sight to see) throws his last cigarette onto the Death Note.

Game Over, he thinks and just walks off without so much a word. He wonders briefly what's next. With Light it's easy (boring even). He'd follow his dear dad's footsteps and become a police officer. Probably the best and maybe he'll meet L. Those two assholes deserved each other, Matt decided, but what about him?

(Or the universe gives Matt a restart after dying and he sadly uses his last cigarette on the Death Note.)

For Tokyo Ghoul:

1.) There's a ghost in my lungs. Summary: A series of non-linear conversations where Haise learns about his past, how he became who he was, and people that Kaneki loved. (Haise time travels to the beginning of Tokyo Ghoul. I've only posted one chapter so far.)

For Jessica Jones/Alias:

1.) Rest in pieces our youth (so we might glue it back together again). Crossover with Spiderman Homecoming. Summary: Jessica Campbell and Peter Parker are least likely of friends ever since Jessica came back to school.

For Fullmetal Alchemist:

1.) I've got questions. Summary: Edward smiled thinly, something viscous but not ugly (never ugly, not when it came to her) was the look in his feral eyes.

"Rose," gently, Ed thought, like she was Al or Winry when they were doing stupid shit, "that was a list that represented the complete chemical makeup of a human body for the average adult. It had been calculated to the last microgram, but still there has never been one reported case of successfully creating a human life."

Some people put their faith in gods to be able to live their life; some, like him, lived their life to achieve a goal. There had once been a time when Ed use to pray with mom. He had even prayed after mom had died but had stopped a long time ago.

It wasn't the constant frustration of loose ends (till now, Edward thought, Cornello's ring on his mind). No, he had stop praying even before that. It wasn't even the bastard's sharp jabs that were constant; always there as though Edward would ever let himself forget. What an idiot; how'd that man ever become a Colonel? Besides obviously burning children and women to death that corpses he climbed on to get to the top of the military.

2.) (What is) insanity but the ability to draw the perfect circle? Summary: There's a creak in a board behind him and he whirls around, hands ready to clap. It's Scar. Again there is a difference. Well differences technically. That makes his hand hover, pausing him from clapping. Scar, wearing glasses while inside on a rainy day, stares at the sight before him.

He should take a picture. It'll last longer.

"Are you Edward Elric the Fullmetal State Alchemist?"

Maybe it's because someone has actually him if he's Edward that he answers honestly. "No."

Or Edward is okay with suggesting to partner up with Scar to kill his Fuhrer (who might not be a homunculus in this universe) but isn't okay with Nina going in the rain and getting a cold.

For Star Wars:

1.) Love of a daughter. Summary: "and yet, so far at least we have yet to figure out what you gain from this." It's a question as well as statement. A chance to explain, to come clean on why she - a unknown Sith- had assassinated they're precious, beloved Chancellor (what fools). But how could you come clean when there is so much blood on her hands? Never-mind the sins and blood on Vader and Luke's when her family had been alive.

When she answers it's not because she's announcing her transgressions in hope that her heavy, dirty soul might be saved. One couldn't repent when they didn't feel guilt in their sin.

"For the love of a daughter." Leia pauses and looks back at Anakin and thinks: I did this to avenge you. After thinking that Leia says one more thing - the last thing actually because she nothing else to say after this.

"And you should have been more careful electing your Chancellor. You never know who is Sith." This has double meaning but she's the only person who knows it.

And she's fine with that (no, she isn't).

Leia wonders if her younger self and Luke will ever become the monsters like her Luke had been and the monster she is.

2.) When dreams come true (which they often do when Anakin Skywalker dreams them). Summary:It happens in the day, in the light. A dark masked man with heavy breath that was killing the slave owners and freeing the slaves. No one - not even the Hutts, who were now dead- could stop the droid looking man.

That doesn’t surprise Anakin though. Anakin had seen the stranger’s blade that coated the sands with different colors of blood. A red lightsaber. The man was a Jedi and he had come to free them.

(Or young Anakin's dream comes true just not in the way he dreamt it.)

3.) Nobody does it like Artoo. Summary: Because the droid had just killed Chancellor Palpatine. The man who was the closest thing Anakin had to father.

“Artoo please tell why you just killed Chancellor Palpatine?” He asks, in soft calm voice. He needs to keep a level head. Needs to be the Jedi many claim he cannot be. Deep breathe in. Deep breathe out. He could be calm when all he wanted to do was try to find the person who responsible for rewiring Artoo and show him/or her why it was a bad idea to touch his droid and make his droid kill a person he loved.

Artoo beeps his answer and Ana-

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN PAlPATINE IS DARTH SIDIOUS AND THAT YOU’RE FROM THE FUTURE!?”

4.) Of time travel and relationship blocking. Summary: But he knows the universe is better off by Artoo's travel in time. Palpatine is dead. Artoo had killed the Sith Master that had destroyed too much of his humans’ lives. There was no Empire and Darth Vader did not exist. The twins were raised by their creators. All was good except Leia was coming to age of no longer a child yet not an adult.

Which meant other human boys were becoming attracted to future Senator. Human boys who were not Han Solo. It was becoming rather frustrating - to the point Artoo felt like rolling into a wall- but at least Anakin agreed that these human boys did not belong with his creation. (Sequel to the fic above. Never did write more chapters for this fic but I do adore it.)

For Star Trek:

1.) I appreciate your enthusiasm, but Kodos will not be in this production. Summary: This was not how Jim imagined telling Bones about Tarsus IV. Actually that was a lie. Jim had planned to never tell Bones about Tarsus IV. But so is the life of Jim Kirk (also known as James T. Kirk, JT, Captain, and t'hy'la to Spock and Ambassador Spock who both had yet to tell him what that word meant. A childish part of Jim thinks that Hoshi would tell him if she was still alive before his mood darkens. The memories - the guilt - of that day flashes before his eyes and God does Jim hate drugs.).

2.)  Logically speaking. Summary: "Say mother had been," there had been a pause as Spock tried to find the right words to convey his question, "say mother went through unnecessary strife during her adolescent years and somehow you ended up in the past. Do you allow for her to face this to persevere an already faulted timeline or do you save her?"

By then, Amanda had made her way to her husband side so she could look into Spock's eyes. The question was odd and admittedly out there but her son's eyes said otherwise. Spock's eyes could be compared to an open book and that book told Amanda that this somehow was serious and her son was torn.

(Or the backstory on how Spock sort-of got permission from his father to steal a ship from the Vulcan Science Academy through Amanda Grayson's eyes.)

3.) I prefer to have my nightmares with open eyes. Crossover with Black Butler. Summary: Jimmy, JT, James Tiberius Kirk (whoever the hell he truly is) knows what it's like to adapt just to stay alive, to be whoever he needed to be just to survive. Just to eat.

It makes him laugh and JT doesn't know this but he reminds the demon (Sebastian he once was called and will take the name, the mask, of once again) of another young boy who the world had destroyed. Who had laugh a bitter laugh because that was all he could do. Crying, after all, did nothing. (Maybe one day I will write that Shinigami!Jim fic. If I ever do I will gift it to ShortyKatezey.)

4.) I need you, I need you, I need you right now. Don't leave me alone. Summary: It doesn’t matter in the end that this universe’s blue eyed James T. Kirk isn’t Spock Prime’s Jim. He still feels Jim-so familiar to his Captain, his Admiral, his Jim, his thyla yet so differnet, so angry, so broken - death.

It should have been me (it had been him in his universe) is Spock’s first thought after he momentarily gets over the wave, the crash of emotions he feels. His next thought is: I am not fine. (This is Spock Prime reacting to Jim's death in Into Darkness.)

5.) Of bored school boys and a death god. Crossover with Death Note. Summary: Ryuk drops the Death Note and a bored but brilliant beyond his years teenage boy picks it up. Sound familiar? Except it's not. JT is many things but a God complex isn't one of them.

For The Vampire Diaries:

1.) When did you dance with death? Summary: When did they all die? When did this become their lives? Was Damon to blame? Stefan to be blamed? Was Katherine to blame? Or Klaus to blame? Were Klaus' parents to blame for trying to keep their kids alive and eventually making them into monsters? Whose to blame for the fact they're all murders instead of simply, normal teenager?

And you know what? They're going to be dead for sure instead of just their morality and innocence having kicked the bucket. There's no vampire blood in their system that could cure them from what Klaus will inflict; Katherine ran from Klaus for hundreads of years and her family was slaughtered just because she wanted to live. They had killed Kol - Klaus' own brother - and trapped him with the burnt corpse.

2.) Revenge is best served with condoms. Summary: "I know who you are. You're the tasty little thing my older brother has come to truly fancy." Tasty little thing. Caroline froze; those words replaying in her head except in British accent (the only accent she truly had thing for).

For Yuri on Ice:

1.) The downside of love. Summary: Soulmates that share the bruises on their other's skin can have a downside if you haven't met them yet. Katsuki Yuuri learns this the hard way.