#very Unlike Earth cause she takes emotions into account

[socksandbuttons]

thats not a very evil earth just gotta say

[the-obelisk]

Source - Fae Collection

Loki x Reader

Summary: The one where he helps you to channel your powers with patience, while pissing off Tony Stark in the process 

You felt utterly useless. 

Here you were, standing in front of Earth’s mightiest heroes unable to conjure up your magic like many of your cousins had with ease as children. 

Magic, for you, never came easy.

When you had left your realm that floated right above earth’s visible plane, you fell in love with the mundane and the ordinary. You found beauty in the ease of things and small bursts of excitement because humans only remained on their plane for a short lived while, while you would age among various generations of humankind slowly. 

When Thor had found you seated in a SHIELD interrogation room, eyes closed simply breathing deeply, he looked to Coulson-- a high ranking agent at the time. “How long has she been indoors?” 

The man shrugged his shoulders, “About a month or so. She refused at first and then they stopped asking.” 

“She is of Fae. Her people are connected to nature. She has lost her energy.”

Thor was cleared to bring you to the Avengers compound where you met the rest of the team. They welcomed you but you had seemed to lose the small amount of practice you had accumulated before your time of confinement. 

Your powers were bounded at birth in protection from the dark elves that reigned terror on Alfheim now, it was why you were sent to the invisible plane above Midgard. Outcasts, refugees, and runaways— your history was erased. With that, hope was lost and the understanding of why your power were bounded remained unknown. 

“Wanda, I don’t think I can do it.” 

The redheaded was enlisted by Tony to help mentor you. It had seemed Wanda and you shared one common trait, the ability to tap into others minds. It was something that came of ease for you, however, they already had a mind reader, a witch with the ability of telepathy, they wouldn’t need you. 

“Yes, you can. Feel your energy. Where is the source?” Her voice was calm but you were growing increasingly frustrated. 

Tony, Steve, Natasha, Thor and Loki stood watching as Sam and Bucky waited for Rhodey to return with their snacks. Clearly it had been forever, and they were growing impatient. Thor every so often would give you an encouraging nod. He believed in you. 

In a way they all did, but in that moment you didn’t feel it. Or specifically, hear that. 

“How long is she going to take? I should start my training.” 

“I have dinner with Pepper at 5. She’s gonna kick my ass if I hold her up.”

You closed your eyes again but knew you had no idea what source she was even talking about. All you felt was annoyed, tired of standing, and hungry.

Sensing this, Loki rolled his eyes and glided over to you, passing Wanda who stood off to the side of you. Tony and Steve immediately tensed up at the quick movement, while Rhodey entered at the moment already suspicious of why Steve’s fist was clenched. Thor looked over and spoke in a low voice, “Trust him. I think he may have an idea.” 

Natasha rolled her eyes and offered him a pointed look, “Let’s hope it isn’t anything harmful.” 

Loki smiled softly at you, “You feel no source, do you?” 

You bit your lip and looked down, “No.” You looked at Wanda and shrugged, “I’m sorry. Maybe I just don’t have anything else to offer other than telepathy.” 

The raven-haired man bowed his head catching your eyes, “But you do. I can feel it.” You looked up at him with questioning eyes only to see he had turned around and stared at Tony and Steve, “If you had let me help her originally, you would know that unlike the witch, her power isn’t sourced in her, it is in nature.” 

“Well, how do you expect us to trust you, Reindeer Games? You are here because Thor gave us his word that you meant no harm.”

Loki rolled his eyes. He never cared what Tony Stark’s perceptions were of him. He turned back to look at you and caught your eye, “Do you trust me?” 

You looked into his eyes and nodded. Of course you did.

While you both never spent time together in front of the other members on account that Loki always hid in the library. So when you weren’t buzzing around the building, and walked in to see him sitting in his usual chair— you would smile and begin talking.

Many times for extended hours, and with the exception of a few nights, your conversation often remained light.

But there were nights when vulnerability would seep in. And so, a blossoming interest in one another and a friendship developed in the quietness of late night conversations in your library.

“Very well.” He smirked and looked back at the group, “Being surrounded by this Midgardian garbage of concrete and rubber mats will do nothing for her. We shall take this outside.” 

Tony glared daggers into Loki’s head as the group followed Loki and you to the courtyard. “Midgardian trash? This cost me a fortune. What the hell is he talking ab--” 

You pushed his thoughts out as he projected them loudly. You giggled softly, Loki had looked down at you while holding the door. “You heard it too. Glad you find his anger equally as comical as I do.” 

“I don’t think he will let that one go.” 

“Good, I hope not.”

Loki smirked at you as you walked on the grass. He stopped soon after, and you followed. The rest of the group stopped at a distance. Wanda joined the spot next to Natasha and Thor, they all watched intently. 

You looked at all of them until you heard Loki call your name softly. “Y/N, focus on me.” You met his eyes and inhaled deeply before nodding. “Sorry, I can’t focus with all of their eyes on me.” 

He blew out a short breath in acknowledgement.  “The redhead witch keeps trying to enter my barriers. Quiet annoying, I will say.”  You smiled as you peeped a quick look at Wanda who seemed extremely focused on the man standing in front of you. 

You heard him speak again, “May I?” Hands held out, he waited for your answer. You looked down and slid your gloves off. Your eyes drew back up to his and you slid your hands into his, feeling his cool hand wrap around your warm ones. 

Normally, you hated touching but once you held his hands it felt as though the world slipped away. All you felt was energy, all that surrounded you. You basked in its soft hum.

He continued, “Now, I want you close your eyes and take a deep breath in with me, little one, and clear your mind.” 

You closed you eyes in response, and smiled sweetly at the pet name subconsciously. To which Loki caught and smiled in return, knowing you couldn’t see. 

“You are one with the world around you. Feel the warmth of the sun on this brisk day. You are at peace— the very center of the world around you. Everything here has energy. Nature holds memory of the past and present. You are here, darling. You are safe.” His voice was soft and smooth.

It would be a lie if you didn’t feel yourself melting into his words. They were slick and entrancing. “What do you hear, Y/N?” He asked in his soft lulls.

“The trees. The wind is blowing...” You spoke to him in a quiet voice. 

Loki nodded, “Tell me, dove. How does the wind on your skin make you feel?” 

“It’s soft and slightly warm after the initial cold.” You stated once again causing him to observe you curiously. He turned your hands to face each other slowly in hopes he wouldn’t sever the connection you found. 

His hand cupped against the back of yours as if you were holding an invisible ball. “Gods, she is intoxicating.” Immediately you were pulled out of his thoughts at the sound of his voice, “You aren’t supposed to be intruding in my mind, little one.” 

You smiled tightly embarrassed of getting caught, you heard him chuckle. “Do you feel all the tethers connecting through you? They flow in and out of you. Concentrate them between our hands. 

“I don’t know how.”

“Just feel and trust. Visualize it.”

Slowly you felt warmth gathering closer and closer to your hands. It was forming and growing, you projected a thought to him fearing you would break concentration if you spoke. “It feels like the sun.”

He smiled, “Open your eyes slowly and take a look.”

You opened your eyes to his eyes staring at you. He smiled at you endearingly.

Holding his gaze for a bit, you then followed his eyes down to the ball of light in between both of your hands. Inside it was white with several revolving colors that interchanged. Hues of purples, red, green, and blue shone with gold shimmering around the outside. 

“We did that?” She looked at him with surprise. 

“You did.” He spoke softly. “You are harnessing the world around you. Its energy.”

A smile grew on your lips out of excitement. He moved around you stopping behind you shoulder. You felt his hands slide down your arm, resting them on your elbow and back. “Now throw it.”

You gave a little push it forward and was greeted with a cloud of smoke and Tony yelling. “Not the tree! Come on.” He threw up his hands as Sam, Bucky, and Rhodey laughed throwing popcorn at one another. 

“That was awesome.” You looked at Loki in pure amusement. You couldn’t explain the feeling that coursed through your body. 

He smiled at you and nodded, “I told you that you held power. Come, I have a few books to show you.” 

You nodded eagerly and followed him as Tony yelled at Thor. The blonde smirked at his brother knowing he found joy in pissing Tony off even more. However, he was even more amused at the the scene they had all watched. He noted Loki’s softness, one that the team didn’t get to see. It was shocking to them, but to Thor, it was an emotion he know Loki rarely let others know of. 

It was the quality of a small effort towards redemption. 

“Thank you, Loki. Really.” You said walking alongside him.

The raven-haired man smiled, “No need to thank me, little one. Now, let us go before he combusts out of anger.” 

“You got it, Trickster.” You said acknowledging that he full well enjoyed getting to Tony once more. 

[musicanddancingthroughlife]

Shklance - I Died

I feel like I basically dropped off the face of the planet, and for that I apologize. I have no excuses, except stress and mental health have been a huge problem lately and I’ve just been trying to find balance in my life. I can’t promise anything in the near future, with holidays coming up, and I have finals in like 3 weeks, and then my husband and I are moving at the end of the year, and then my little sister’s wedding is a few weeks after so I’m helping with that, and basically my life is just a mess right now, but I am still working on stuff, comments are always welcome and really do help to get me motivated, and hopefully I can get back into the groove of writing daily and posting weekly!

This story is probs gonna be a part 1 of 2. Hopefully. As is, I wanted it to be a stand alone, but I’ve been drafting it for almost a month now and I just want to throw it at you guys. So know I’m working on a part 2, where they talk about the whole thing and you see everyone’s reactions to what happened. This was actually a request someone made of me on my Ao3 account, but I’ve always loved reading stories dealing with everyone finding out about Lance dying. Just never thought I could do it justice haha. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

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

Lance knew that this was going to be an emotional day for all of them, but seriously, this was a little overkill. He knew he shouldn’t have gotten out of bed today.

Sure, it was the one-year anniversary of the day they all saved the universe, ended the war that had gone on for decades, blah blah blah, but getting up also meant that he was going to have to see everyone again.

Not that he wasn’t thrilled to see them! He and Hunk especially had been waiting for this day for months, and he couldn’t wait to see Pidge and Matt again, either. Last Lance had talked to them, they had been working on some seriously neat stuff. They were sure to be a lot of fun.

Hell, he had even been looking forward to seeing Allura again, even though things had never really been the same between them after Allura broke things off. Though, considering how hurt he was still feeling about their break up, it was probably a good thing she had canceled last minute. She’d said that she needed to focus on helping the universe heal. Lance had wanted to go with her, but she rejected him. He knew she was trying to be kind, telling him that he “deserved the time to rest” and that she “knew how much he’s been missing his home planet.” But really, all it had done was serve to remind him that he wasn’t actually necessary.

Not like Shiro and Keith were.

Allura hadn’t had any problems taking them with her, even though everyone else (even Keith) and agreed that if anyone deserved the down time, it was Shiro. Especially since Shiro had seemed a little weary when he accepted the invitation from Allura. Personally, Lance believed the only reason he agreed to go was because he knew that Keith wouldn’t be happy staying in one place anymore, and of course, there was no way they were going to allow themselves to be separated again, not after everything that had happened…

And Lance was even looking forward to seeing Keith and Shiro, since he had probably missed them the most. But he also knew that it was going to be hard. It was always hard seeing them together, but knowing that they’ve been doing so much good out in the universe, that they’ve gotten to see so much more of those worlds than he had… That was going to be hard.

Not to mention Lance still hadn’t managed to shake the crushes he’d had on them for so long now.

Or the fact that while everyone else was off changing the universe, traveling the galaxies, creating newer and better technology and inventions, Lance had done nothing? Okay, so farming wasn’t nothing. And no one could deny that Earth needed some TLC after the trauma of the war had nearly destroyed it. But as much as he enjoyed the simple hard work involved, that didn’t mean he didn’t understand it was stupid. It was pathetic. His friends were still fighting, in their own ways, and Lance felt as if he had simply given up. He couldn’t figure out what he wanted to spend his time doing, what felt most worthy of his time and attention, and so he had allowed himself to fall back on something easy.

And he wasn’t sure that he could face his friends while knowing the truth about himself, that he was a coward and had no mission or goals in life.

******

So, maybe Lance was a bit of a drama queen, because things had actually been going better than he expected. Everyone looked good, older and more experienced. Hunk had even grown out some facial hair, though it was a little sparse coming in. Lance knew that wouldn’t be the case for very long. The most shocking was Allura’s news about expecting a child (Keith and Shiro had passed it on in her absence). That hurt way more than Lance thought had a right to, but he tried hard to suppress that pain until he could process it in private. Possibly while crying over a tub of ice cream.

And as far as their actual dinner and celebration went, well… it really had been inevitable that their discussion would become heavier. And, as usual, Lance couldn’t keep his own mouth shut.

“We had some good times, though, right?” Lance laughed easily, trying to direct the conversation back to something lighter, something easier (at this point he’d had a couple decades to cement his masks, and he was good at pretending like nothing was wrong). “I mean, we might have been injured, and tortured—”

“Lance,” Hunk warned. He darted a quick, concerned look to Keith and Shiro, but thankfully neither of them looked too worried. Instead, they were staring at Lance with such sappy looks Hunk was irritated Lance wasn’t paying enough attention to notice on his own. A shared glance with Pidge told him that at least he wasn’t alone in his annoyance.

Lance continued thoughtlessly, “and I mean, maybe a couple of us died, but hey! In the end, it all turned out okay, and look at everyone, living their best lives!” (Lance was firmly ignoring the fact that he had spent most of his free time leading up to today pouting in bed. No one else knew, and therefore it didn’t count.)

Pidge opened her mouth, but Shiro spoke first. His brows were furrowed, and his nose had scrunched up a little. Lance wanted to melt at the cuteness of it. “Did someone else die? I thought I was the only one. Who else died?”

Lance’s jaw snapped shut. He couldn’t remember if it had even been brought up or not… It had to have, right? There’s no way his friends – his team – had just gone on for this long without knowing! He thought they were just ignoring it! Things had been crazy, and they’d never really gotten a chance to slow down and breathe, let alone discuss everything that had happened. And that was fine! That was to be expected! But now he was supposed to believe they just didn’t know??? Did that mean they didn’t care? That they didn’t notice all the nightmares that had become the norm after his death? The way he was jumpier for months after that battle? And if that were the case, then was it even worth bringing up now, so long after it had happened?

Lance’s face was burning, the warm flush traveling up to the tips of his ears, and possibly all the way down his neck. He could feel his eyes welling up, but he brushed it away, pretending his face palm in order to hide the movement. He glanced at his friends, unsurprised to find Hunk staring at him intently. Pidge was muttering to herself, obviously trying to determine what had happened on her own. Lance couldn’t even bear to drag his gaze to Keith or Shiro.

He tried to get out of answering Keith.

“Oops haha, must’ve miscounted, I meant to say that one of us had died,” Lance laughed again but unlike earlier, this one was decidedly uncomfortable. “Because. Obviously. One of us… did. Sorry, Shiro. But like, you died. That happened. And it was weird and we got a weird clone out of the deal, which was weird – did I say that already? – and like he wasn’t a great dude, so I’m glad you didn’t stay dead, you know? You’re much nicer than that clone was, he was kind of a jerk. No offense, Shiro. I mean, not that you’re the clone or anything, cause you’re Shiro, and that was Not-Shiro—”

Oh dear God why wouldn’t they shut him up? Lance was so busy panicking about what he was saying that he didn’t notice Shiro and Keith slowly standing, approaching him from each side. But Hunk and Pidge could almost see the concern rising off them.

“But he was mean, and he yelled at us a lot. Although I guess he really spent most of his time yelling at me, which really, makes sense, but again, not something you would’ve done, Shiro, so I’m glad you didn’t stay dead or anything, because Not-Shiro was a terrible replacement and—”

“Shiro yelled at you?” Keith had come close enough that he could lay a warm, gentle hand on Lance’s shoulder. Lance almost flinched at the contact, it had been so long since someone had touched him like that. Sure, he saw his family way more often than he had while they were fighting in space, but, come on. They were fighting in space. He never saw them back then! Anything was an improvement over that! Anyway, the point was, he knew he was lonely. He ignored it. It didn’t matter. His friends were happy, his family was safe.

“Weren’t you listening when I said it was Not-Shiro?” was all Lance could think to say. Keith rolled his eyes.

“Why did he yell at you?” Shiro asked. Lance shrugged.

“Lance had some good advice to share. Though honestly, I’m thinking that Lance’s plan just wouldn’t have suited the clone’s purposes and he wanted to make sure that Lance would stop pushing. So he yelled, knowing that would be enough to shut Lance down,” Hunk said. He shot Lance an apologetic look as he did so. Smart, because Lance was Not Happy with him. Now wasn’t the time to share petty hurts!

“Personally, I believe it was because if anyone was going to find out he wasn’t really Shiro, it would’ve been you,” Pidge shrugged. And really, et tu, Pidge? This wasn’t fair at all. Not to mention, now Lance could feel the now-familiar guilt from knowing he hadn’t been able to tell.

And that was what finally had Lance speaking up. “Oh come on, guys, that’s not even the worst any of us suffered out there! Lotor joined the team! I died! Shiro died! Keith left! We had bigger things to deal with!”

There was a brief silence following this, long enough for Lance to squeeze his eyes shut and briefly mutter “Fuck” to himself, and then—

“What do you mean, you died?”

Lance’s ability to make things worse every time he opens his mouth really should be considered a wonder of the world.

He opened his eyes hesitantly to find that everyone was watching him intently. Tears were welling in Hunk’s eyes, and Lance knew that if he paid too much attention to his friend, then he would break almost instantly. He avoided looking in that direction, lips pursed shut, determined to stay quiet now. But they were just as determined to make him talk.

“Lance, please, what happened?” and since when the hell does Pidge beg? That’s just wrong. But effective, because that wrongness made Lance jerk his head up, eyes accidentally locking with Shiro.

He looked so sad…

“It really wasn’t a huge deal, I was just saying that there was a lot happening. It was pretty much impossible for all of us to keep up with each other, what with Lotor and Allura, and Keith disappearing then coming back, and the search for Shiro… and Hunk, Pidge, you guys had a great team thing going on there. That was a lot of fun! And then remember Coran had us playing Monsters and Mana? Good times!”

“You played what?” Keith asked, confused. Then he shook his head. “Stop distracting us, Lance. Answer the questions.”

“Um. What questions?”

Keith’s face hardened, eyes doing that dangerous flinty thing that Lance had always loved to see when he got mad. But before he could say anything, Lance’s phone went off. He really did try to hide the relief on his face as he stood, but the way Shiro set his jaw made him think he was not successful.

Before Lance could answer the call, he felt his phone plucked from his fingers. He lunged for it, and Keith slipped it into his own back pocket, out of Lance’s reach. Even worse, his lunge for it brought their faces way too close. Lance jerked back, face flaming a bright red, but he felt himself crash back into Shiro’s firm, solid chest. He started to stammer apologies, but Keith’s hands settled on Lance’s shoulders, pulling him away, and then he and Shiro pushed him back down into his chair. As Shiro moved to kneel next to Lance’s chair, Keith held him there, grounding and sure. He leaned down, putting his mouth close to Lance’s ear and then murmured “Please. We need to know. We’re horrible friends for not already knowing, but we’re asking now and we need you to tell us. Let us help.” And Shiro gripped Lance’s arm, thumb smoothing against his darker skin, making it harder and harder for Lance to want to move.

Lance knew that they were blowing this out of proportion. But he still felt touched. He’d thought they were just ignoring his death because other things were happening at the same time, but maybe that wasn’t really the case. Maybe they truly hadn’t known. Maybe Allura had never said anything, and Lance, expecting Allura to say something, hadn’t said anything either, and so maybe they just didn’t know. Maybe sharing it now would be okay.

[zuzuslastbraincell]

In an post-war fanfic redemed Azula what kind of amends Azula could do for wrecking havoc in the Earth Kingdom and conquering ba sing sa??

If I’m honest, this is a more pertinent question for Iroh, who arguably did far more damage to the Earth Kingdom as a Fire Nation general who had spent a great portion of his adult lifetime leading the military efforts against the EK, and lead several military campaigns including a six hundred day siege (and a siege that long undoubtedly causes famine and disease and poverty, and will impact the citizens regardless its success). I think it is Iroh - who spent years as a soldier, whose campaigns most likely involved many casualties - rather than Azula - a teenager who orchestrated a largely bloodless coup and then promptly left - that the people of the Earth Kingdom would more likely harbour resentment against, and though while I’m sure she is probably loathed as well (and has amends to make, for sure), she isn’t the ‘main villain’ from an EK perspective. There is arguably more Iroh can do for the Earth Kingdom in particular (and it isn’t ‘setting up a tea shop’).

That said, putting my doubts about the framing of this aside: this is a difficult question and I’m open to suggestions here. An obvious way of making amends in a general sense would be financial reparations and payments particularly to the local governments of the various EK provinces, particularly those most affected by the war. I think directly dispensing aid rather than reparations could be tricky since the largest mobilised force in the FN is the military and the military giving aid is bad, for obvious reasons. Azula could take a political role where she spearheads these efforts as part of the FN government, but the question is, while that works in the framework of ‘making amends’, I don’t think that would be advisable politically – what sort of insulting statement is it to send Azula to deal with negotiations about reparations? Like, to rub that military defeat in the EK’s faces? And while I think Azula could be useful in a political role where she is not the head of state, I question how much she’d want to do this, as well as whether it’s the best use of her talent and time. If I were to put Azula in a governmental position I think – assuming, for the moment, and this is a big assumption, that Zuko trusts her – I think she’d be far more useful dealing with the Fire Nation since she’s likely got a better understanding of the FN politically and economically. This doesn’t really have anything to do with amends, however.

In all honesty, if I were someone from the EK, what I’d be demanding for is for people like Iroh and Azula and prominent military figures and governors of former colonies to face justice – i.e. some kind of trial/assessment, some kind of legal repercussion. I think, though, realistically this isn’t something Zuko would do to Iroh or Azula – not simply for personal reasons, but also politically speaking, if you try and do a complete clean sweep in a nation like the FN, you’d have absolutely no allies or enemies left to speak of, as there likely isn’t really anyone in the political structure of the FN that hasn’t condoned atrocities at some point, and that would lead to such a vicious factional dispute that would sink Zuko’s regime before it even started (arguably helping very few people). Realistically, Zuko would probably offer pardons, and at worst, a slap on the wrist for people who decide to tow the line / concede his victory, and pursue military and political officials who refuse to do so. Despite his notoriety, Iroh would probably escape repercussions because of his aid to the Avatar (who’d probably vouch for him) and his direct involvement in underground opposition to the former regime (if you could call the White Lotus that). As for Azula, she’d likely be excused on account of her age, bonus if she’s willing to offer her public support to Zuko’s regime (which is a maybe, depends on how your redemption arc goes). I really think legal justice is just a very unlikely solution, like regardless of how much political wisdom possesses, I think that wouldn’t be something he’d concede simply for emotional reasons.

What does this leave us? She attempt to track down and round up traitors / old regime loyalists, but I question how healthy that’d be for Azula (although she would be in her element), and how helpful that is for the EK. She could try and offer her support for Zuko’s case to the court about why reparations are necessary and attempt to keep the nobles on the fence (after they have, presumably, cleared house, and decided who is worth keeping on side) but I also am not sure whether deciding who is and isn’t loyal would be great for Azula given that she had a paranoid breakdown (but perhaps I am underestimating her capabilities). If Azula were a different type of character, I’d propose fundraising/charity efforts, as weirdly anachronistic and liberal a solution as that is, but without getting sidetracked with a long paragraph about the limitations of charity to deal with systematic injustice, I also don’t think that’s something I really can see her doing.

Honestly, I’m half of a mind to say the best thing she can do for the EK is just fuck off and leave them alone? But perhaps that is a cop-out? Again, I’m open to suggestions here.

[sprawa-przybyszewskiej]

I would like to present (extremely briefly; it's more of an invitation to their thoughts rather than anything else) two approaches that touch on a creative technique used by Przybyszewska, which has been spotted by some of her scholars, albeit each in its own way. Ewa Graczyk maintains that Przybyszewska did not write a historical drama in any way, but rather described a completely different reality, an universum in which the same events happen, but which doesn't take place on Earth, with us in it. She describes, then, something which I call The French Revolution', taking after mathematics' nomenclature. Kazimiera Ingdahl, on the other hand, spots traces of gnostic and manichean ideologies in Przybyszewska's writing, which, as we all know, are based solidly on the contrast between Heaven and Hell, knowledge and numbness, soul and mind. I mention them here solely to point out there is a dualism in her works, it is important and easily recognizable.

I have nowhere near the amount of erudition these scholars do, so I will constrict myself to some more visible matters. In my previous post about Antoine, I've made a remark that stuck with me for far longer than I had expected, and so I decided to elaborate on it.

The passage I'm talking about is this: because it could potentially reveal Saint-Just as another Danton-like minded individual, looking for power for himself through sacrifices of others. I want to explore whether Przybyszewska really did construct both of them alike?

To me it appears very probable, as crazy as it sounds. First of all, ALL of the personages are created in some reference to Robespierre. He is the only singular, original mind amongst them all, not to mentoin an axis around which other revolve, and so all of them, whether we like it or not, are somewhat similar to each other. Second of all, she clearly went in the direction of mirroring certain scenes, ideas, expressions (which I personally love to track down and compare them later), and it's exactly the same when talking about certain individuals. The two pairs (Robespierre – Saint-Just and Danton – Desmoulins) come to mind right away. They are constructed as parallels at least in some aspects and at least to some extent.

Wouldn't that, however, put Saint-Just and Desmoulins on the same/similar level, aren't they the ones who creat a parallel pair? Well, yes and no. I think they are a unit when it comes to personal matters, for rather obvious reasons. But I also think they are both put in similar situations, and yet their thinking is polar opposite of each other. They are both allowed to Robespierre's most personal sphere, and yet their reactions are completely different, which is one among the reasons as to why one of them meets a sad end by all accounts, and the other can die somewhat happy (as I will always mantain: if Przybyszewska managed to finish Thermidor, I am one hundred percent sure she would depict Antoine as one dying boldly and proudly, if only beause he died for a great cause and alongside Robespierre). On the other hand, spiritually and mentally, Camille resembles Maxime way, way more than Danton. They are both... maybe not exactly soft, but emotional. The main difference between them is Maxime is able to rein his feelings in when necessary (again, not always, not completely; vide his late night visit at Desmoulins', vide his attempt and saving him from the Luxembourg Palace), but as far as differences go, this one is actually minor. They are put in different positions, but their reactions are similar.

I would also wager to say Saint-Just and Robespierre don't have that much in common with each other in the plays, leaving out their political stances and their relationship. They are very different in terms of character traits: Maxime is more forgiving, calmer, quieter in all aspects. Antoine is more of a quicksilver, and also is regarded more as a tool in Maxime's hands, which I mean in the best way possible. While he has his own opinions, sometimes quite different to that of Robespierre's, he only entertains them in Maxime's presence, so that no one can put a splinter between them and turn them against each other. When they are turned against each other (during their quarrels, yes, but also during Thermidor, which is a beautiful study of such a case), he defers to Maximilien humbly and holds no grudges against him. This is pretty much the only soft side he ever presents to the audience, for when facing any other characters, he is sarcastic  if not downright hostile, the only exception I can think of being Eleonore. He's not gentle, not even with Robespierre whom he respects so much.  (I cannot get over how badly Wajda interpreted this in his movie, where in his very first scene Antoine brings Maxime an apple-tree branch in full blossom; while a sweet gesture, it made little sense, for the director not only didn't establish their special bond in any way, cutting their very important scene in Act II and a lot of their exchange of words in Act V out, but completely ignored the fact that in the play they did talk about trees blossming, but it was Maxime who pointed this out to Antoine. Honestly, it would make much more sense if in the movie he was the one giving Antoine flowers; altough I don't trust it would be executed well, so perhaps the best scenario would be to drop it altogether.)

This leaves Antoine and Danton as the unlikely pair. Here I wouldn't necessarily say they are put in different positions (following my train of comparison), because – depending on if you believe the confrontation between Danton and Robespierre to be honest or not – there is enough evidence in the play to mantain both of them want to  establish power over nation through Robespierre. Danton is the villain of the play, but he isn't blind, he too wants to use Maximilien as a face of the dictature, as a tool to obtain more "normal" power for himself (normal power here would equal to money, respect, high office; the "abnormal" power is what Robespierre sort-of-dreams-of, an influence over people to direct them into doing what is necessary for the good of the whole of the nation, or better yet, the world). And Antoine wants more or less the same thing, the exception being he doesn't care at all for personal gains. He doesn't necessarily believe in Robespierre's visions of the future, one could even argue he doesn't understand them (this is clearly shown in Thermidor, where he reacts with a headache once Robespierre unfolds his plan in front of him: Stop it, Maxime. I can't keep up with you anymore.); he does, however, see the neccesity of establishing the dictature or some other extraordinary mean to obtain the total power over the state. Both he and Danton are blessed with a far-fetching political vision, the only thing differentiating them from Robespierre is that he's a much more brilliant chess player than any of them, when they can see few moves forward, he's already seen all the possible outcomes of the match. And all of these outcomes are bad, for Maxime is characterised as a pessimist, while Antoine and Danton are, generally speaking, optimistically inclined. Youthful foolishness indeed, except Antoine is not foolish! He's just optimistic. In Danton, the optimism takes a form of boldness and bravado, in Saint-Just it manifests as an unwavering faith in the one he considers to be so much more superior to himself, and also a certain amount of contempt for the ones he considers to be inferior. This is another trait he shares with Danton, and we have to admit, Przybyszewska did a really good job at presenting the same trait in them both in such different ways, that we like one, hate the other.

There is also the matter of how they treat Camille and what they think of him. Here, both are jealous, I think. Jealous of the special place Camille has in Robespierre's heart, scornful of his abilities as a politician and a journalist, disinclined to him as a person. Danton cares for him as far as his utility in being a leverage on Robespierre goes, but I don't think he hoards any warm feelings for him personally, and I don't say it only because he was willing to sacrifice Camille purely out of spite. A much better example to show what I mean is that Danton seems to have a much better functioning, more honest and professional relationship with Delacroix than with Camille, whom he keeps in the dark about absolutely everything from start to finish. I don't know if it was meant to be a symbol or not, but in their very last scene in the jail cell, Camille has to beg Danton not to snuff out the candle, which Danton does, albeit very reluctantly. In turn, Saint-Just talks about Camille in language dripping with contempt and jealousy of purely personal kind, offending him left and right, right to Robespierre's face – not to hurt Maxime, but to "open his eyes", so to speak. In one particularly harsh sentence he compares Camille to a dog, a child and a prostitue all in one breath. He not only doesn't regard him as an opponent, but barely recognizes him as a human being worth respect, in which he is sadly very similar to Danton.

Weirdly enough, they both regard Maximilien as human, which I think is interesting to notice. It would be really easy to write them in such a style that leaves way for them to see Robespierre as something more, something almost extraterrestrial, somebody who posseses abilites greater than normal humans do. And yet:

The first image is from The Last Nights of Ventose, my own translation, and it's directly from Antoine's compassionate speech. I didn't include Robespierre's response, because he just deflected, but deflection does mean he doesn't fully agree, so it's yet another similarity.

One more thing that comes to mind in a comparison like this is that Danton threatens Robespierre with the ultimate power. He doesn't think that Maxime will be able to live with it, with himself, if he ever decides to go this one step futher and become a dictator. Is this is because he wouldn't be able to live with himself, or does he truly underestimate Maxime, or he simply wants to make sure Maxime would not go in this direction precisley because he knows he would then be ustoppable? How very telling then, that in Antoine's mouth the very same thing is not a threat, but a promise! This ultimate power is born out of necessity, and it's a grace for the whole nation, because no other person could bear the weight of this "crown", but Maxime.

The main difference between Saint-Just and Danton, I think, is something which we have to believe, it's not written clearly anywhere, and this is also the thing I briefly touched uppon in the aforementioned post: we have to believe that Antoine has pure intentions, because we sure know Danton does not. These were the embers fueling the suspiscion in Maxime when he couldn't understand why Antoine would possibly push for the dictature so much – is his heart pure? This sounds overly dramatic, perhaps, but I think this dramaticism aligns perfectly with Maxime's overall characterisation. I think all readers believe in his good intentions, and the parallels constructing the characters help immensely in this judgement, for if Danton is rotten to the core, Antoine is as steady and pure as a marble column. Robespierre even calls one a pig, while the other deserves to be named an Apostle of liberty.

There is, however, another similarity between them, too. Both Antoine and Danton are willing to be dishonest in order to achieve their goals. This is this one thing that's hard for Robespierre to swallow, for he – like Camille – values honesty really highly and if he could, he'd always act honestly. Saint-Just, not to mention Danton, has no such scrupules. He sees the greater necessity as something erasing all other circumstances, and for this greater picture he is willing to sacrifice some of his integrity as a human being. With Danton, the situation is even less complex, for I don't believe he would be sacrificing his integrity in any way – this dishonesty lays at his very core and comes natural to him.

The arguments Saint-Just presents, and which differs from Robespierre's point of view, are also different from that of Danton's. Danton's vision of the present is filled with contempt for the people, for the masses who are less brilliant than him and few others are. It is worth noting that Przybyszewska really did think like this, this is something she believed in and while reading Danton's speeches in Act II Scene 3, what we actually hear is her own train of thoughts. The only difference is that she didn't disdain the people they way he did. She thought that being a mass, an unnamed pulp of flesh is not a bad thing (it was perhaps unfortunate, and I am sure thinking she was a genius like Robespierre helped her in maintainign this view). Base material is a nourishment for those who will lead these masses. We – the lesser people – are absolutely necessary for them – the greater ones – so that they can lead us out of the night and into the new epoch of enlightement, and there is nothing humiliating in being this nourishment/tool/base. Danton understood it only partially, for he wasn't ready for the greatest sacrifice of all: to be a genius, one has to get rid of everything personal, all needs and desires must be kept aside, and never again spoken of. Robespierre understood it, and I think Antoine did too. I think the best evidence for it is that he said, that he doesn't consider himself to be Robespierre's equal. Recently I hoped to prove it was a silent declaration of love; now I want to point out it is one because it showed Robespierre that Antoine understood this great sacrifice one has to make in order to be a leader, and in his own way, he has already done this. He has brushed aside personal vain and glory, his amour-propre, he degraded himself in order to magnify Maxime's importance. Danton may say: It's you whom I adore, but it is Antoine who shows it through his actions as well as his words.  

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.24}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 5k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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"Too many people have been insinuating things like that recently. You know… about you and me. Us."

"Ah." Snape's voice dropped down an octave, and the deep frown on his falling features was suddenly accompanied by a tinge of rising bitterness in his tone, a shadow of sincere sadness in his eyes. Then it was all apathy again before the fleeting emotions could be grasped. "I can see why that thought would be repelling to you."

And for once, encouraged by the ghosts of emotions she had seen on his face, Robin let her heart speak instead of her mind. "Actually, it just makes me wish quite desperately that it was true."

Snape froze in his every movement in an instant, breaking the rhythm of their saunter for but a single second before moving on just like before, without as much as a word in question or comment. Robin's heart however was moving all the more, it pounded furiously against her ribcage as if trying to escape from the prison of her flesh. Oh bloody hell, what had she done?! There was no use in denying it now. He was brilliant; of course he knew exactly what she had meant by that statement. But why, WHY on earth wasn't he saying anything in return? The wildfire was burning her up with every second they walked along the shore side by side, and it was killing her softly with every one of those seconds they spent in silence. Oh no no no… she had absolutely ruined everything, she had-...

Her thoughts came to a sudden halt when his fingers brushed against the back of her hand, oh so gently while yet causing liquid electricity to surge up her arm, and when she moved her hand closer to his in return, he wrapped his fingers around hers entirely and intertwined them at long last. In the matter of only a second, Robin's every word and thought came to a sudden and deafening stillstand, and her ability to function was gone with a start. Without word, without thought, they just kept walking on in calm silence, hand in hand as tightly as comfort allowed. Hours or minutes or seconds passed, and the world was gone beyond them. Only when they were on their way back to the castle, thought and reason slowly became a possibility once more.

And with the ability of thought, a million questions tumbled into Robin's mind at once, a subtle but lingering rush of panic. But instead of getting lost in what she didn't know now, she found strength in the comfort of his lingering touch to focus on what she did know for once.

One. She had directly and undoubtedly admitted that she wanted them to be more than they were now. That she wanted them to be a them in the first place, together, in every sense of the word.

Two. He had thought that the idea of being with him would be repelling to her, and then he had been sincerely surprised to hear that the very opposite was the case. The thought that she might be opposed to the idea of them together had brought a bitter sadness to his face, while now however he looked rather torn between excitement, nervousness, and the wish to cover up for either.

Three. He had taken her hand, in a way that neither of them had ever done before. Without a reason to keep holding on other than the simple pleasure of it, fingers woven together instead of a mere handshake kind of thing. Intimate, almost. Emotionally connotated without a doubt.

And lastly, four. She had basically just made the biggest emotional declaration in the history of their relationship, and he was still here. Entering the courtyard by her side, with no present intention of going anywhere else. He wasn't running from whatever was happening. Not from her, not again.

So, what did any and all of this mean? Did he know what it meant, what was happening? She might not be able to answer the questions that spooked around her head, but one thing she could do for sure. Opening her eyes at long last. And what she saw now, had to see with her eyes wide open, was the last piece falling into place for the wildfire to consume her entirely. And she saw that she wasn't the only one burning.

They obviously just had taken a turn in their relationship, and while they still stood at the beginning of what that meant, they were on this path together now. Burning, together. Upon that realization, Robin thought her heart stopped beating once and for all, while adrenaline like sweet poison threatened to make her entire body quiver. This was a beginning, not and end. She couldn't remember ever feeling something quite as intense as this, and it was only just beginning indeed. The return of her heartbeat brought the promise of more.

They were back in the arcades when Robin took notice of the world beyond her mind again, stopping in front of the very arch they had shared in the year prior. Without a second of hesitation they both took their established places next to each other, sitting comfortably squeezed together, but more than gladly so on her end at least. Still, the comfortable silence that surrounded them lingered on for another moment, a moment where Robin simply let the overwhelming excitement consume her while yet trying to keep the nervousness at bay.

She hadn't terribly misunderstood all of this now, had she? Snape wasn't delusional enough to misunderstand her words, and he wasn't cruel enough to play with her emotions. He wouldn't do that. Not with her. She took a deep breath, and inevitably noticed that it trembled as much as her entire body wanted to. Good gods, were emotions always this complicated? No, this wasn't complicated at all, she was certain that she had understood matters correctly. And foremost she was certain that she understood Snape. He wouldn't still be here if he didn't feel even remotely the same as her. Not like this.

"Did you actually mean what you said?" His quiet question suddenly broke the silence, and set loose another explosion of pure energy in Robin's heart with its smooth depth alone. "About wishing that you and I…" He didn't speak on despite the calmness of the statement, and rather looked ahead into the night instead of turning to look at Robin. But at the same time, he kept holding onto her hand more tightly than ever. As if he was doubting reality as much as she had been, reluctant to believe that suddenly this was real, that they were really here at long last.

"Obviously." Robin replied with a warm smile, and a certainty came with her words that washed away even more of her fears. "You know me far better than to doubt that."

"I do indeed." He said quietly, while his gaze however stayed forcefully fixed on the distant hills. "But I never allowed myself to even imagine that you would want this with someone like me. Would want more… with me."

His words snapped something in Robin's mind, bringing forth the irresistible urge to act, to prove to him right in this instant just how much she wanted this indeed. For once in an eternity, she didn't suppress the impulsiveness of her roaring emotions, but simply surrendered to them with open arms. In the matter of a second she was sitting up on her knees, her face evenly leveled with his own, which only left them so close together that he couldn't avoid her anymore. He, too, finally needed to open his eyes to the truth in front of him. He needed to look, and she would make him see.

"I want everything with you, Severus. Everything about you." Her simple words of unadorned yet utmost truth, his name on her lips were what finally made him succumb to her will, and he looked at her, looked at her in that way that made the space between them shrink and the air catch in her throat. And still, Robin's fingers moved to brush the wisps of black that had caught in his lashes back to where they belonged, and she smiled when he, too, for once, unlearned to breathe. "When I look at you, I see my own everything."

Her hand lingered where it was, her fingertips tracing his delicate skin on their own account, but her eyes were held captive by his own that seemed so impossibly dark from up close, from so terribly close… His breath fanned gently against her skin, hot and unsteady quite like her own, and Robin's eyes fluttered shut when she finally couldn't bear the tension anymore that drew them together like a moth to the flame. Her own heartbeat in her ears was drowning out any and every sound, every thought that wasn't him, wasn't now, and she counted them on and on, in one, two, three… then she leaned in through the minimal space remaining and gently pressed her lips to his.

She felt him freezing under her touch almost instantly, not moving, not breathing, but neither pulling back. So she stayed as she was, in a crazy ambivalence of violent adrenaline forcing her spirits to heights beyond her body, and an uproaring voice in her head that screamed 'what the hell am I doing'. He wasn't kissing her back, he wasn't breathing, he wasn't doing anything to be exact. And as sweet as the adrenaline's poisoning of her senses was, it was the voice in her head that finally made her pull back, made her open her eyes to find his still closed. Her breathing hitched, and a shudder ran down her back. Oh god oh god oh god… He opened his eyes at the sound, still so close, still looking at her with this unfathomable depth. Oh bloody hell… she didn't know what she was doing, and he probably could tell. But when his warm hand settled on the curve of her waist, fingers digging into her hip as he pulled her closer, her breath hitched once more, every heartbeat an allconsuming thunder, and a broken second later her lips were back on his without the previous reluctance. Without internal monologues, and this time, he did everything but freeze in return.

Robin's body knew perfectly well what to do now where her mind for once did not, and when their lips started moving to only the laws of sheer overwhelming ecstasy, every last thought of concern shattered in redundancy anyway. This was absolutely intoxicating; like drowning in an ocean of all there was to life.

They did let go of each other's hand now, anything to get closer, to be closer, and when his arm wrapped around her waist and hers around his shoulders, Robin was sure to feel every single cell in her body coming alive, to feel absolutely everything at once. His sweet lips, so soft, moving in such growing fire with her own, hot breath on her skin, racing hearts and firm grasps turned desperate clawing. A distant echo of the fruit punch served at the ball, and something far more heady in taste. Silent gasps and moans that ran as a liquid heat right to her core, stoked by the impossible warmth of his body pressed flush against her own. Electric tingles at the bottom of her spine. After years of dreaming about this moment, Robin found that nothing could compare to reality for once. It truly was a pastime for eternity.

Perhaps that is why it felt like no time had passed at all when the low chime of the clock that towered high above the courtyard broke them apart, when it rang not twelve, but half past. The sound registered somewhere in the back of Robin's mind at first, barely even reaching her consciousness, but it kept nagging at her to put sense to it, and after a few slow seconds there was a small voice rising in her mind again at last. She was supposed to meet her friends in the entrance hall at half past, to… oh dear, it wasn't just a new year by now, it was a new decade as well! They had missed the turn of years because… oh bloody hell, he was actually kissing her back! And with no less passion than she brought in herself! There was no room for any possible misunderstanding left now… He did feel exactly the same as her.

Robin broke the kiss with a small gasp, pulling back only far enough to rest her forehead against his while her mind slowly cleared of the blissful haze. Her chest was heaving as she tried to catch her breath, they both were, but the more the reality of the situation sunk in, the more she couldn't help grinning like a fool. She really was just that, a fool so hopelessly in love that she didn't even bother justifying it to herself. The walls that had hidden her deepest emotions from him were shattered, vanished, gone… she didn't need to hide anymore, and she could have cried in joy over that fact alone. But she didn't. She smiled, brighter than the moon and stars, because it was the only thing she found herself capable of.

"Happy new year…" She finally got out quite breathlessly, laughing almost at the same time at her ridiculous remark, and his hold on her tightened in return. If possible at all, it made her smile even brighter.

"'Happy' is a bit of an understatement, wouldn't you say?" He asked in return, more hoarsely than should be allowed, but undoubtedly with the sound of a smile that finally made Robin lean back enough to look at him. And here he was, smiling indeed, looking a little helpless in the unusual extent of the extraordinary gesture and showing it more in his eyes than the rest of his face, but it was by far enough to make her heart soar and bring forth the urge to continue right where the clock's chime had interrupted. But they were still in a public place out here, prone to be seen now that the ball was over and the guests were leaving, and she was also later by the second to meet her friends. As tempting as it was, this wasn't the time or place to let herself be drawn into their own world of raw emotion again.

"Happy certainly is a place for us to start." She said instead, with a smile that didn't even try to hide any of the emotions running through her in a whirlwind. "That is if you want-..."

"Yes."

"You don't even know what I was going to say!" She protested in a laugh, and the bright spark that flamed up somewhere deep in the blackness of his eyes in return made it even more difficult to not just forsake the outside world again. It would be such a gain… but a short-lived one, if they got kicked out of Hogwarts in return.

"Does it matter when you will let me have everything with you anyway?" He replied easily, in that tone that made the statement sound as if it was the most obvious truth the world had to offer, and yet in a way that turned Robin's insides into a mess of liquid heat and tingles. "And I want everything about you indeed. In every way possible."

"I'm all yours for the taking. And keeping." She smiled with a small shrug, while her heart was dancing in joy and her head screamed in excitement over the reality of this insanity. "But I need you to be mine in return, you know… Entirely, all of you."

"I can live with that." His easy tone was accompanied by a not-smirk now, but when Robin couldn't help grinning in return, it quickly grew into a real and honest smile that made her heart skip a beat. Not only because it was a true joy to behold, but because she knew that she was the reason for it. She was making him happy enough to smile, for heaven's sake! There weren't enough words in existence to say as much as that single smile did by itself.

Robin didn't exactly know how it happened, but her lips were back on his not even a second later, bringing forth a new crashing wave of overwhelming joy to roll over her and let her mind shatter at the cutting edge of reality once more. Her hand moved to his neck on its own account, gentle fingers entangling in the rivers of black while her whole body curved into his as far as their awkward positions allowed. The stinging pain in her knees, the cold of winter, the aching of her lungs that were desperate for air… it ceased to exist in the heat of the moment. As did time and space, until the creaking of the front gates startled both Robin and Snape out of it and effectively caused either to fall back into the columns behind them, a good distance apart. Mere seconds later, guests came walking out into the courtyard and into their view.

"Bloody hell, that was…" Robin breathed, but she didn't know how to end the sentence appropriately without doing the matter injustice.

"Entirely intoxicating?" Snape offered after a second of silence, while making a vain attempt to straighten out his robes and hair. It still looked messy, but luckily more like a wind-caused mess than a Robin-caused one.

"Yes. That. And more." She sighed, and finally started scrambling out of the arch and onto her aching legs that were wobbly for more than one reason now. Five past twelve thirty already. "Oh fuck… I'm late."

"For?" He raised an eyebrow at her while following the impulse and getting back onto his feet as well, even though a lot more gracefully.

"Meeting my friends in the entrance hall. Stupidly enough, I even was the one who suggested that we should wish each other a happy new year before they head back to the common rooms." She groaned under her breath, then went to straighten her dress as well even though it was a rather hopeless endeavour. "But I guess with the guests leaving one by one now, it wouldn't be a good idea for us to stay out here anyway. Something tells me that when Dumbledore said we are to keep our ties behind closed doors, he had rather envisioned ties of the recent kind anyway."

"He likely did; the old man is a meddlesome fool more than any other. But it would indeed be in both our best interest if we weren't caught in such a compromising situation." Snape replied, but still placed a warm hand on the small of her back as they started making their way through the arcades and towards the entrance hall. "For now, no one can know of what is between you and me."

"Obviously not. They never could in the past either." Robin scoffed, but only because it was a thing that had been settled and agreed on from the start. "I had and have no intention to discuss my private matters with anyone but you, and seeing as I have never done so before either, it really is nothing new to me."

"I was more concerned about myself, to be honest. Resisting you seems rather impossible for me at this point, now that I know just how utterly and divinely addictive you are."

His words brought another grin to Robin's entire face. She enjoyed being as strong a temptation for him as he was for her, that was for sure. Having this kind of power over him was nothing short of a thrill of heights previously unknown; it sent an eerie wave of raw desire through her entire being in an instant.

"Good thing we are usually perched in the darkness of the dungeons entirely by ourselves, huh?" She smirked up at him with a good dash of tease in her eyes, and she could tell immediately that her words were having much the same effect on him as his had had on her. Oh geez, even teasing was so much better now… so much more.

"Has anyone ever told you that you are truly insufferable?" He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, and Robin just had to laugh. Yes, this was the very man she loved. Perhaps, there really wasn't all that much that had changed after all.

"I believe you've told me a few times, yeah…" She shrugged with a lingering smirk, as they finally stepped through the large doors and into the lively entrance hall that was still filled with way more people than Robin had expected. "Oh for heaven's sake… At least we can pretend that we weren't quite as late as we were now. Just delayed by the crowd."

"The dunderhead gang certainly hasn't caught my eye yet." His tone was way more neutral now, as was his face when Robin looked up at him, but then again, they were surrounded by a brigade of people now, and her own expression had also fallen back into calm neutrality. His hand however stayed on her back even as they pushed their way through the crowds in search of the people they were –or rather Robin was– supposed to meet.

"Did you just call my friends 'the dunderhead gang'?" She had to snort upon his words though, quiet as they were, and quirked an eyebrow up at him in unadulterated amusement.

"Problem with that?" He quipped quietly, with a completely straight face but the most teasingly indifferent tone imaginable; Robin's jaw dropped in an instant. Oh, so this is how things were going to be now, huh? Well, to be honest, they hadn't ever been much different in the first place, and she would rather chop her own legs off than change a thing about it. Not so different after all, then… only better.

"Robin!!!" Cas' excited squeal reached her ears even before she saw the blonde mane and brightly coloured dress in the crowd. Three seconds later, she was wrapped up in a bear hug by her younger friend. "There you are!"

"Hi Cas…" Robin chuckled, and absentmindedly picked at the threads of glittery fabric that hung around her now. "Happy new year."

"Yes! Right!" She grinned as she pulled back at last. "Happy new year to you too."

While Cas stepped back and made room for the next person to come and hug her, Robin looked around with a frown once she realized that the hand on her back was gone, the space by her side empty. Where had he gone? A little stab of hurt twisted her gut, but when she suddenly found herself surrounded by the usual giant group of overly excited students, the reason for that hurt changed in an instant. He had gone so she could be with her friends; the only painful thing about that was the fact that it was necessary in the first place. At this point in time she couldn't have both, her friends and Severus, and that was the true and only tragedy about it. Robin made a mental note to thank him for being so understanding of that when she sought him out later, perhaps in the form of teasing him about his distaste for social interactions with students. He'd understand that for sure.

For the next minutes however, she was hugged by more people than she would've liked, and some of them unfortunately touched that one spot on her back that was still aching quite a bit upon contact. The area Morgan had left in pain through his touch, and probably some pieces of magic as well; she hadn't even known he was capable of that, wordless spells... But once the hugging and the new year's wishes were over, the pain reducing again and the crowds clearing up with students retreating to the common rooms and guests leaving, she was smiling along with her friends nonetheless. The excitement over tonight's events wasn't so easily hidden behind any calm facades.

"Say, where did you leave your shadow?" Gideon finally dared to ask her, after looking like he'd swallowed his tongue for the minutes prior. "Isn't it a bit… I don't know… weird, to hang around with a professor all evening?"

"He's not my professor. We work together as equals, which technically makes us colleagues in that regard. I've told you that much before." Robin replied with an expression as calmly neutral as was humanly possible in her situation. "But to answer your question, I haven't the foggiest where he is. We took a walk down to the lake to get away from people after I started feeling a bit queasy in the crowds, but I haven't seen him since we arrived back here." That, she proudly thought to herself, was very much the truth. Not the entire truth, but what's new.

"Ah, so that is why your dress is in its current state… And why you're practically glowing from the inside… Because of your walk…" Jorien mused in pointed innocence, and with a tiny smirk that had Robin glaring at her in an instant. Simon raised an eyebrow at the two of them in silent question, but nobody else picked up on the subtle implications of that statement nor the unspoken warning that had followed upon it. Just like nobody else had picked up on whatever it was that Jorien had obviously seen in Robin's carefully constructed demeanor yet again. The girl really was getting way too good at reading people…

"Earth to Robin!" Cas waved her hand in front of Robin's face to regain her attention. "I actually decided to listen to your stupid advice about being classy and all that jazz… So instead of making out in some shitty hallway, we-..."

"I honestly don't want to know the specifics! Do what you want to, but leave me out of it. I can't approve of this endeavor, so I'd rather not know about it at all."

"Yes, no, exactly that is my point! I changed my mind about the whole thing. Because you're right, and it would be stupid and pathetic and childish." Cas insisted with an almost serious face, before the smile was back in a matter of seconds. "So Jorien and I are having a girls' sleepover in our room tonight instead. With Melissa and Lisa and Joan and Meghan."

That did bring a smile to Robin's face indeed, a very much pleased one even. "That's great, Cas. I'm proud of you for making that decision, and I'm actually quite sure that you won't regret it either. Sometimes waiting really does pay off."

"Told you she'd say that." Jorien remarked quietly, and Cas rolled her eyes in return, so the former turned to Robin instead. "You know, you're welcome to join us if you want to… Even if I have a feeling that you'd rather do anything but."

"Staying up all night with six fifteen year olds? I think I'll spare myself that discomfort; I would only spoil the fun for you guys." Robin sighed, then let out a humoured huff as she crossed her arms over her chest. "But it's nice of you to alibi-invite me nonetheless. I won't get in the way of your plans tonight, don't worry."

"Thank you!" Cas squealed, again at a pitch that made the hairs in Robin's neck stand straight, even when the girl wrapped her into another hug. "You're honestly the best roommate ever. The best sister ever! Brilliant and kind and generous and thoughtful and beautiful and sexy and-..."

"Yeah yeah, just… don't set the place on fire, alright?" Robin replied a bit awkwardly upon being given such easy compliments that probably even were somewhat heartfelt, but still too shallow to affect her in any other way than causing her embarrassed discomfort.

"We won't wreak havoc, I promise." Jorien said in all sincerity, and that was probably the only and best reassurance Robin would get. "And nobody touches your stuff, just like always."

"Good." Robin sighed, then offered them a smile. "Perhaps we should say goodnight now nonetheless. It's ten to one, and I believe one o'clock is tonight's curfew. I wouldn't want any of you guys to be caught out of bed beyond that."

"Wait a second…" Cas frowned all of a sudden, while the wheels in her head were obviously turning. "Where will you be staying tonight, since we're obviously evicting you?"

"That, my friend, is for Robin to know and for us to eternally wonder about." Jorien replied with a perfect smile before Robin could, and wrapped an arm around her blonde friend's shoulder. "C'mon now, say goodnight to your Prince Charming so we can get going."

While the group said their goodnights in general then, with hugs and kisses and too many words, Robin couldn't help wondering about Jorien. The girl really was a riddle sometimes, but she obviously had understood the lesson learned during breakfast two weeks ago. Really, Robin couldn't blame her for seeing what she herself deemed obvious as well, could she? It was only good that she had understood that she was to keep such knowledge to herself from now on. Still, Robin couldn't help feeling proud of both girls tonight. The more they were growing up, the more she could really be friends with them. Perhaps, one day, they would be at a point where it didn't matter anymore that they weren't the same age. Where it didn't matter who Robin's heart belonged to for the ages yet to come.

______________________________

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[middleearthpixie]

In Time ~ Chapter Twenty-Five

Author's Note: I'm posting this far later than usual because today simply got away from me. Doncha hate that???

Summary: The Company of Thorin Oakenshield reaches Mirkwood, where Thorin will offer a deal to Thranduíl on Kili’s behalf, and later on, Amara runs into an old friend who fires up Thorin’s jealous streak

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield/Amara (female OC)

Characters: Thorin, Amara, the Company, Thranduíl, Aiduin of Mirkwood

Rating: T

Warnings: None

Word Count: 4,205

Taggin: @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @tschrist1

As it happened, their luck, did in fact hold out over the fortnight it took for them to reach Mirkwood’s border. Thorin scowled as they stood at the Mirkwood border, where two of Thranduíl’s men stood silent sentry. He didn’t want to be there. After all, the last time he and the others found themselves in Mirkwood, spiders had tried to eat them, elves tried to kill them, and Thranduíl himself had them tossed into then dungeons. If it hadn’t been for Master Baggins, who never did explain exactly how he managed it, snagging the dungeon keys, they might still be in those tiny, damp, woodland cells.

But, the hobbit had freed them, smuggled them out in barrels, in which they bounced about like corks tossed on the river’s swift current, battling not only the elves trying to stop them, but the orcs sent to hunt Thorin himself.

He looked over at Kili, whose eyes practically gleamed at the sight of the wood. It was because of this place he’d met Tauriel, the she-elf who’d saved his skin the first time. Saved his skin and apparently won his heart. Although Kili rarely spoke of her, Thorin had the feeling he knew exactly what went through his nephew’s mind. Most likely the same thing that went through his own mind whenever he looked at Amara.

Which was why they were at Thranduíl’s front door. As much as it would pain him—and it would definitely pain him—Thorin would willingly gift the Seven Stars of Middle Earth necklace to Thranduíl if it meant Thranduíl would give his blessing for Kili to court Tauriel. The same blasted necklace that kept the woodland elves from aiding Erebor in its time of need, that caused Thranduíl to threaten Erebor with what became the Battle of the Five Armies, would find its way to Mirkwood, no matter how much Thorin hated to do it. He had no love lost for Thranduíl and knew the feeling was mutual, but he’d put aside his own dislike and distrust of the Elf King if it mean Kili would find the same happiness with Tauriel that he’d found with Amara.

With that, he climbed down from his saddle and stepped up to the sentries. “Thorin Oakenshield to see Thranduíl.”

“Does His Highness expect you?”

He shook his head. “He does not, no. But tell him I have something he wants and I am willing to discuss parting with it.”

The two sentries looked at one another, then the shorter of the two turned as the doors opened noiseless, and disappeared inside.

Thorin stared down the second sentry. He didn’t like being in Mirkwood. The air was heavy with apprehension and dread, its waters were enchanted with what some considered black magic, and the spiders alone were enough to make him want to avoid the woods with ever fiber of his being, for they were no ordinary spiders. They were big enough to hunt man, dwarf, and elf, and did so without impunity. Even from where he stood, at the edge the wood and vine bridge that would lead them into the Kingdom of Mirkwood, he could see the wispy white spiderwebs in the distance. Just the sight of them was enough to bring back the claustrophobic feeling of being wrapped in one of their cocoons.

He fought off a shiver as the memory of being wrapped so suffocatingly tight, of being unable to move much more than a finger or a toe, rushing to the forefront of his mind. Again, if it hadn’t been for Master Baggins and his sword—which he’d dubbed Sting—they might not have survived long enough to find their way into those dungeons.

“What is taking so long?” Dwalin grumbled from his saddle.

“I am certain Thranduíl is trying to come up with some reason to deny us entry,” Thorin told him over one shoulder, “all the while his curiosity kills him because he knows he’ll not be able to.”

“I say we keep moving,” Dwalin countered. “Why are we even here?”

Thorin grinned at Kili. “Do you wish to explain or should I?”

Kili held his stare easily. “I am not the one who always railed about how untrustworthy elves were. I do believe that was you, Uncle.” He winked. “Tell me, do you still feel that way?”

He asked it with all the innocence one could put into a sentence and Thorin’s grin faded as the others all snickered. “Enjoy your laugh at my expense,” he growled, looking from one dwarf to the next, finally letting his gaze land on Kili once more. “But, remember, I have something he wants. So, I’d think twice about baiting me, Kili, since I’ve yet to actually give him what it is he covets. And if I decide to keep it for myself, you will most likely not be welcome here again.”

Kili’s face went red as the others now turned their snickers in his direction. Dwalin laughed the loudest. “Last time ye blushed tha’ bad, laddie, was when ye mistook an elf-lad for an elf-maiden.”

Now even the sentry grinned as Kili’s face went redder still. From the corner of his eye, Thorin saw Amara shake her head and he almost smiled when she said, “To be fair, it is sometimes difficult to tell them apart.”

Kili smiled at her. “Let them have their fun.” He looked back at Thorin. “I won’t have to eat any words.”

Now, Thorin smiled over his shoulder at her. “I don’t mind eating these words.”

“Mr. Oakenshield,” the first sentry returned, his expression neutral, “My Lord Thranduíl will see you. Follow me. Edyrm will see your ponies to the stables.”

The others dismounted and Thorin didn’t miss how Edrym’s gaze lingered on Amara. Thorin said nothing, but reached out to link his fingers with hers. “She’s with me.”

“Thorin!” Amara whispered.

“What? I’m merely stating a fact. You are with me.”

“I know that, but he does not care one way or the other.”

He shrugged. “I take no chances.”

She said nothing, but he didn’t miss how she rolled her eyes. Well, let her. He cared not. He had no problem making it perfectly clear to any curious elf that Amara was with him. Childish, perhaps, but he rather enjoyed knowing that they would at that moment be wishing they were him. And sane man—be they Man, elf, or dwarf—would want to be in his boots.

They followed their guide into Thranduíl’s palace. Unlike Rivendell, Thorin found no peace or tranquility in Mirkwood. Everything was dark, earthy tones of brown, beiges, red and gold, with hints of green here and there. The air felt heavy and thick, damp from all of the roots and vines that made up the palace walls. The walkways were wide, open of both sides, with what looked like endless drops on either side. Nothing had changed since the last time he stood in the throne room, where the Woodland Realm’s king sat perched high atop his throne.

Unlike the Rivendell king, Thranduíl was tall and lanky, with sleek almost-white blonde hair and wide, almost clear blue eyes. He wore a crown woven of golden twigs and leaves encrusted with gold and brown polished stones that changed color depending on how the light—what light there was—bounced off them. He wore long, flowing robes of gold over green, and two slender fingers on each hand bore rings of the same gold and brown stones in his crown.

Those blue eyes were not the least bit friendly as he peered down at them now. “Thorin Oakenshield. It has been some time since we last spoke. I believe I’d had you dragged off to rot in my dungeon, hadn’t I?”

“The dungeons from which I promptly escaped,” he retorted, unable to hold back his smirk.

Thranduíl offered up a bland smile. “Your hobbit friend had more to do with that than you did, did he not?”

“Be that as it may, I still escaped.”

“And then, of course, there was my visit to your doorstep.” Thranduíl’s voice grew colder, if that was even possible. “When you opted for war over negotiation.”

“I was not myself then.” Thorin cast a quick, sideline glance at Amara, whose hand tightened about his ever so slightly.

The Elvenking’s expression turned sympathetic, but only for a moment or two, then his face slid back into its impassive mask.

“So, what brings you and your—” Thranduíl’s piercing gaze slid about the others gathered around him, lingering on Amara just as Edrym’s did—“company, to my realm?”

Thorin glanced over at Kili, whose color had returned to normal, and said, “I come to you with a business proposition. One I’d rather discuss one on one with you.”

Thranduíl’s eyes narrowed. “Is that so? The last time you were in my chambers, you thought to insult me. Then, you challenged me to war.”

A bit of heat came to Thorin’s face and he fought the urge to look over at his company. He’d said the same thing to Thranduíl that he’d insulted Amara with when they’d first met. “Our meeting last time was a bit—ah—tense, on account of not only had we had the pleasure of dealing with your spiders, but then we were, for all intents and purposes, treated as prisoners.”

“You were, if I recall,” Thranduíl reminded him, his voice void of any emotion whatsoever, “trespassing in my woods. Of course you were treated as prisoners. As for the spiders, they are not mine.”

“Oh, for the love of—“ Dwalin growled, but Thorin cut him off.

“Hush,” he snapped, without looking at Dwalin. To Thranduíl, he said, “Even so, I do have something I think you would be interested in and I am willing to bargain for something in return. But, I’d rather do so privately.”

Thranduíl’s lips disappeared into a thin white line and the slender fingers slowly fanned across the arm of his wooded throne. Then, he nodded. “Very well. Lorsan, show our guests to the dining hall and make certain they have something to eat and drink. Then, you may show them to the guest chambers,” those eyes flicked back to Thorin, “as I assume you will wish to pass the night.”

The last thing he wanted was to try to sleep in this tangle of vines and roots, but since he very well couldn’t say that, he nodded. “Your hospitality is greatly appreciated.”

He turned to Amara. “I will join you all when I’ve finished here.”

She looked up at Thranduíl, then back at him. “Why do you look so serious? Is something the matter?”

“Not at all,” he assured her, catching her hand to give it a gentle squeeze. “I’m about to throw myself on my proverbial sword for Kili and I think I’ll have but one chance to get it right.”

She leaned in and whispered, “Tauriel?”

He nodded. “Exactly.”

“Well, good luck.” She bent to brush his cheek with her lips, a hint of laughter in her voice as she murmured, “Remember, be nice.”

“Am I ever not nice?”

She pulled away, one brow arched, “Ish kakfe—”

“Unfair. You said yourself I was in unimaginable pain and so could not be held—”

“I did and you were. Just tread carefully. Elves are vain and Thranduíl more so than most.” She patted his shoulder and followed after Balin, who waited as the rest of the dwarves filed out of the throne room.

Thorin turned back to the Elven King, who now stood atop his high dais. With extreme care, so as not to trip over his robes, he slowly descended and swept toward him. “What is this about? You seemed quite adamant that you were interested only in war the last time we met.”

“Nearly dying has a way of changing the way one looks at things,” Thorin replied evenly. “I have had time enough to reflect on my actions and the mistakes I made leading up to the battle. And now, I’ve come to rectify those mistakes.”

“Have you?” A hint of amusement wove into Thranduíl’s voice, his gaze direct and unwavering. “And if your terms do not interest me?”

“They will.”

Lorsan led the group down deeper into the palace, where the air felt even colder and damper, and smelled of moss and rainwater. Amara shivered from the dampness, wrapping her arms about herself and rubbing her upper arms to try to warm herself, for all the good it did.

The others didn’t seem to notice the dank chill. Either that, or they didn’t care, for they chatted amongst themselves. She lingered behind them, looking about at how the roots from the trees of Mirkwood wove through one another to make the walls of the palace below.

“Amara?”

She froze at the soft, smooth voice that skimmed over her ears like satin. She knew that voice—or had known it, was more accurate—and when she turned and spotted the tall, slender he-elf, with the shimmering blond hair and eyes that were almost as dark as freshly watered soil, her smile rose of its own. “Aiduin?”

“You do remember me.”

“As if I could forget,” she said with a laugh as he caught up to her and threw his arms about her. “How are you?”

“I was fine but now, I think it safe to say I am even better! What brings you to Mirkwood?”

“She’s with us,” Dwalin growled, coming up behind her. “And it would be in yer best interest, laddie, to take yer hands from her.”

Aiduin’s eyes went wide. “I beg your pardon?”

Dwalin none-too-gently knocked Aiduin’s arms from either side of her. “There. Was tha’ simple enough for ye?”

“Dwalin!” She glared at him over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Thorin won’t like another man putting his hands on ye.” Dwalin glared at Aiduin. “He won’t like it a’tall.”

“Thorin?” Aiduin turned his puzzled look to her. “Oakenshield? You’re with him?”

She nodded, but before she could say anything, Dwalin cut in with, “She’s his intended. So, if I were ye, I’d make myself scarce before he sees you.”

“Dwalin!” Amara gritted through clenched teeth. “That’s enough.”

She turned back to Aiduin. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d decided you were going to strike out for parts unknown?”

“Miss Amara,” Balin stepped up alongside his brother, “you should come along.”

“You all go on ahead and I will catch up in a few minutes.” She gestured to Aiduin. “He is but an old friend and I’d like to catch up with him.”

Balin and Dwalin both frowned, which made her frown right back at them. “Do not look at me that way. Go.”

“Thorin won’t like this.”

“Why? There is nothing to like or dislike. Aiduin is, as I said, an old friend.”

Balin shook his head. “Very well. But—”

“If you say Thorin will not like it again, I’m going to scream,” she replied politely, but firmly. “Thorin will not care. Why should he?”

The brothers exchanged looks and she rolled her eyes. Then, she tucked her arm through Aiduin’s and said, “We have some catching up to do, don’t we?”

Aidiun didn’t look so certain. “Your friends don’t seem to think it wise.”

“It is fine. Besides, I’ve had only them for company for a fortnight. Now it is time for me to spend time with someone else for a change.” She smiled up at him. “So, shall we?”

Aiduin led her away from the grumbling dwarves, and she tried to ignore the nagging feeling that Thorin would indeed disapprove of her going off with another elf. But Aiduin wasn’t simply any other elf. He’d trained in Rivendell with her, before striking out for those parts unknown. How he came to be in Mirkwood was something she wished to know.

“Your friends seem to think you are going to get in trouble.”

She sighed softly. “They worry. They mean well, but at times, they can be overbearing. So,” she looked up at him, “do tell how you came to be here?”

“It’s quite simple. Mirkwood needed a healer. I needed work. Thranduíl took a liking to me and here I am. How about you? Are you still in residence in Rivendell? Or do you now wander like the dwarves?”

She smiled as they strolled along an open walkway, away from the palace and into the woods. It didn’t feel quite so suffocating out in the forest itself. “I wander with the dwarves now,” she told him as they stopped near a small pool. Trees alive and dead were all around, fallen over the pathway, vines doing their best to reclaim them. “Although, wander is not the correct term, I suppose. I’m journeying to Erebor.”

“As their healer?”

She shook her head. “No. Thorin and I… We are to be married.”

Aiduin’s smile faded, but only just. Then, he caught it and it returned in full force. “You are betrothed to a dwarf? I am not so certain I believe that.”

“Why? Why could I not be betrothed to one?”

“Well, because… he’s a dwarf. And you, Amara… you could have any elf you wished. If you set your sights on him, even Thranduíl would be unable to resist you.”

“I am hardly interested in Thranduíl.” She let out a laugh then, lightly punched him in the arm. “But I am interested int what you’ve been doing. So, do tell.”

“Me? Not much, I’m afraid. I told you, I wandered about here and there, and needed work, so here I am.” Aiduin shook his head. “Hardly a fascinating tale.”

“Oh, but to one who’s never been beyond Rivendell’s borders, your vagabond life is utterly fascinating to me.”

“Really? It’s a lot of traveling, sleeping in strange places, and never knowing where your next meal is coming from.”

“Ah,” she laughed, “a true vagabond.”

“More or less.” He leaned against the low wall of woven branches. “Do tell me, how is Rivendell?”

She hesitated, a feeling of homesickness rising to squeeze her heart. “It was fine when I left. I was fortunate in that my replacement was right under my nose, and a pleasant surprise as well. Lord Elrond is the same as always, although he was a bit weary from having so many dwarves in residence.” She looked off in the direction the dining hall, where muffled shouts and laughter floated from. “They are a lively group, you know. Very high-spirited.”

“And how did a dwarf win your hand? This I must know.”

“He and his nephews came to us gravely wounded.” She turned back to meet his gaze. “The Battle of the Five Armies, you know.”

“I heard about it, yes. These are Erebor dwarves or Iron Hill dwarves?”

“Erebor.” She reached up to touch the braid Thorin had woven in her hair, her fingertip tracing along the ornament. “Thorin is their king.”

“A king?” Aiduin’s eyes widened. “Is that so?”

“It is. But he nearly lost his life at Ravenhill. Azog the Defiler ran him through.”

“He is fortunate he found his way into your Healing Room.”

She sighed softly, still tracing the ornament as she remembered that very first day, when the attendants brought Thorin into her Healing Room. “I didn’t think he would survive that night, to be honest. The sheets over and beneath him were absolutely soaked in his blood, it had soaked through his clothes, the mail he wore, and he was so deathly pale.

“But,” she lowered her hand, clasping it with her other one, “dwarves are strong and they are fighters and he held on. No matter what setback he faced, what challenges he had—and there were quite a few—he met them head on and beat them.”

“He sounds very lucky.”

She nodded. “He was. Mahal was on his side.”

“I think it’s more he was in the best of hands.”

A pleased heat stung her cheeks. “Oh, I don’t know about that, though I thank you just the same. But he’s of the line of Durin and Durin’s Folk are strong. I think he would have lived regardless.”

“So,” Aiduin looked over at her, “what brings you all here? I should think you would be making for Erebor.”

“We are, but Thorin’s nephew, Kili, is sweet on an elf named Tauriel. Because of her—“

“Tauriel? The captain of the guard?”

Amara shrugged. “I don’t know. Is there more than one Tauriel here?”

“Well, no, but I thought she was sweet on Legolas.”

“Legolas?”

“King Thranduíl’s son.”

“Oh.” She didn’t quite know how to respond to that, for she didn’t know if Kili knew about Legolas.

“Amara?”

She looked over and smiled as Thorin strode toward them. “How did your meet with Thranduíl go?”

“Fine, thank you.” Thorin didn’t return her smile and in fact, glared at Aiduin as he said, “I thought you’d be with the others.”

“Well, I would have, but then I bumped into Aiduin.” She slid her arm through Thorin’s and said, “Thorin Oakenshield, this is Aiduin Drannor. Aiduin, this is Thorin Oakenshield.”

Aiduin smiled and held out a hand. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“Indeed.” Thorin didn’t take his hand. He didn’t smile. In fact, she could almost feel the hostility radiating from him. “How do you and Amara know one another?”

“We trained together in Rivendell,” Aiduin replied, lowering his hand. “She was Ilyana’s star pupil.”

“Oh, hardly. You were far more skilled than I.”

Thorin’s arm stiffened against her. “We should join the others.”

With that, he turned and gave a sharp tug on her arm to pull her back toward the dining hall. She peered back over her shoulder at Aiduin, who stood there almost dumbfounded. “Thorin, that was rude.”

“Ask me if I care,” he growled, guiding her back along the walkway.

“What is the matter? I was only talking to him.”

“I didn’t like the way he looked at you.”

“Didn’t like the way he—“ she rolled her eyes—“and how was he looking at me?”

“As if he was trying to picture you naked.”

“Thorin!”

“What?” He glanced at her. “He was.”

“That is ridiculous. He is a friend and that’s it.”

“I’ve never heard you mention him.”

“Well, I haven’t seen him in years, so…”

“Trust me, I know what I saw.”

By then, they’d reached the dining hall and she yanked her arm from his grasp. “You are being ridiculous, do you know that?”

“Am I? I should think I know a look like that when I see it.”

“You are and I am done discussing it. He's a friend. No more and no less.” She moved down and sank onto the bench beside Dwalin.

Thorin followed her, sitting across from her. “Do you want to know how I know how he was looking at you?”

“No.” She glared at him. “I don’t, really. Because this entire conversation is silly.”

“Too bad, because I’m going to tell you.” He cast a sidelong glance at Dwalin, who shrugged and did not look away.

“I am not having this discussion here.”

“Fine.” He rose and came around to her side. “Walk with me, then.”

Mindful of the eyes on them, she sighed and stood. “Very well. But I think you are being ridiculous.”

“So you’ve said. Excuse us,” he said to the others, his hand coming to rest at the small of her back as he guided her toward the far end of the dining hall, where the room opened to another walkway.

Once they were out of earshot of everyone, he turned to her. “Do you know how I know?”

“How?”

“Because I am fairly certain it’s the same way I look at you.”

She just stared at him, her irritation draining away as she moved to slip her arms about his neck. “Thorin, he is but a friend. And even if he is looking at me that way, you can be certain I am not looking at him that way.”

“I still don’t like it.”

“Thorin.”

“I don’t. And if it weren’t for the fact that we are all worn out from traveling here, I would say we were leaving this evening. But I have to admit, I’m looking forward to sleeping in a comfortable bed this night and one that has no questionable smells or stains or extra dwarves. We can leave at first light come the morning.”

She smiled. The last inn before Mirkwood had been nothing short of a horror, as the innkeeper had only three rooms for the fourteen of them and she and Thorin shared theirs with Fili, Kili, and Bofur. “No. This evening, we should have some peace. Did you know Bofur sings in his sleep?”

“I did, actually.” He sighed softly, leaning in to press his forehead to hers. “I’ve no wish to fight with you, amrâlimê.”

“Nor I with you.” She threaded her fingers through his hair. “And you’ve nothing to worry about, you know. Maralmizu, Mr. Oakenshield. Nalish.”

She breathed a sigh of relief as his eyes softened and he murmured, “Maralmizi, kurdelê.”

Disaster averted.

[seyaryminamoto]

Hi. Love your story. I just have a question that might seem stupid if you've already explained it in story and I've forgotten the answer as gladiator is so long. But what's stopping Azula from just taking the throne from her father via tradition and agni kai? By now she's so powerful that Ozai can't stop her, his assassin can't stop her, nobody can, she's smarter, commoners love her, she has loyal, capable soldiers, so a duel or a bloodless coop would be easy, then she can enact her reforms.

I have explained it in asks before, I thought the story might speak for itself... but it's okay if you want me to answer it again xD

There's a few factors that prevent Azula from pulling off something like this. There's a major emotional component that still is in play, that reared its head in both of Ozai's absolute WORST arcs until now, Slave Riot and Fire Lord's Shadow, where Azula couldn't have been more disappointed with her father... but even though Sokka told her there may come a time when she has to make up her mind to stand up against Ozai and overthrow him, Azula doesn't have it in her to do it yet. The little moments where Ozai acts like a moderately decent person to her always take her by surprise, and in the end, unlike how it seems to have been for Zuko in canon, Azula is always conscious, always aware, that this is her father, namely because her relationship with him is far more complicated since he brought up Azula under the belief that he was her steadfast ally, he supported her through her childhood and teenage years, and he occasionally shows signs of caring about her... all of which he never did for Zuko. While she has broken free from so much of Ozai's ideological indoctrination and she KNOWS, by now, that he's a pretty awful human being, her attachment to Ozai is still ingrained in her heart. As it is, there's only two characters in this story who genuinely care about Ozai as a person, and Azula is one of them. Standing up to him, to the extent of stirring up a serious rebellion, isn't something she's fully ready to do yet.

Next component is the effectiveness of this potential rebellion: there's one ironic factor that WILL come into play, regarding what you've said in this ask, in the final arc of Part 2. As much as we would think Agni Kais can be fought pretty easily, there's one little thing about them that I don't think people take all that seriously (a little thing canon even took advantage of, in the final episodes of Book 2), a little thing that can completely fuck up the idea of taking the throne through a very honorable duel where no lives will go to waste. Simply put... an Agni Kai may not be the easy solution in this case that it should be, and the story itself WILL show why.

Finally, while there's tradition to be taken into account, even if you hypothesize Azula could do all this and succeed at taking her father's throne, there's factors that wouldn't be all that favorable if she did this. By which I mean... even if Ozai were honorable (... spoiler alert: he's not :'D), even if he commanded all his subjects to abide by the result of a hypothetical Agni Kai where Azula defeated him, there will be some subjects who would outright refuse to do as they're told. Said subjects would absolutely start a civil war in the Fire Nation, and the bloodless coup would become a very bloody matter indeed, especially if Azula's reforms are seen (as they realistically would be) as a departure and dismissal of every belief and ideology the Fire Nation has been clinging to for over a hundred years. It's hard enough to make one person let go of such beliefs, it's a lot harder to do it with a whole nation.

So... Azula herself doesn't expect that an attempt to take Ozai's throne permanently would be successful unless she has a MUCH stronger army to back her up than her ten supportive guards and Sokka. Even in Ba Sing Se in canon, Azula's plans are geared towards getting the actual military force of the city on her side before overthrowing Kuei and Long Feng. Once the Dai Li answer to her, the bloodless coup is far more feasible because the very people who would react adversely to a foreign power taking control, under any other circumstances, are her allies now. Here, she can't really take for granted that every soldier would join her, especially when there's figures like General Shaofeng, who have jurisdiction and power over a lot more people than she's even aware of, who has been keeping an eye on her for all these years, expecting her to pull off an attempt to overthrow her father (if it wasn't obvious, this is what he's been expecting and waiting for, what he assumes she's been up to the whole time), and while to some people he may not seem that big a threat, Azula herself is unaware, so far, of how much power this guy has, and even then, she knows that giving him any cause to truly suspect she's up to no good can result in nefarious consequences, not only for herself but for her closest allies, the very guards who support her but are supposed to obey Shaofeng, and live their lives under the man's watchful glare.

Anyway, all this being said, it's not like Azula hasn't thought about it, because she has. Sokka in particular has made her ponder this possibility quite a bit, and she has even acknowledged forging an alliance with the White Lotus could prove helpful if that means having enough forces to counter whatever her father and his minions might be willing to throw at her if she tries to rebel. She needs more time, however, more chances to really think about how to do this... and well, the brilliant opportunity Ozai is extending towards her, where she'd even have the full continent of the Earth Kingdom under her direct political control? It's almost the perfect answer to her doubts when it comes to this matter. In a way, Ozai would be handing her the means, unknowingly, to gather a force strong enough to overthrow him when the time is right. She has already made a few moves as it is, Ozai has allowed her to enact a few of her reforms already, but upon gaining power like no other Crown Prince or Princess in the Fire Nation ever has before, future High Governor Azula could, presumably, defeat her father fair and square and take over the Fire Nation for good... if she can distance herself from her emotional attachment to the man for long enough to do it, that is :')

[panvani]

On cats. (Vincent and Alice meta)

Something went wrong when you were born. There was some kind of mistake, some earth-shattering cosmic screwup that resulted in your creation. Nothing can be done about it- that mistake is who you are, something inseparable from the core of your being. Humans must scorn you, or else be made to suffer. You know that. No one will let you forget it.

Supposedly, you’re surrounded by people like you. They find camaraderie in each other, share each other’s pain so no individual is given too much to bear. Supposedly, supposedly they’ve all been tossed aside, declared too sinful to be tolerated by humans, and supposedly that means you’re all family and you’re all friends. They don’t like you, though. You’re a step further.

Who’s there to care for you? Your sibling, in a sense, but also not- they know what you are and can’t ever really forgive you for it. They love you, in their way, and then also love the one who put you there, who tells you your life is forfeit and approaches you intending to one day have you killed. Nothing can be done about it. To go against him would doom you both.

There’s one person, though, just one person who seems to care for you. He’s not like the others- he’s from the outside, where he says he’ll take you someday, away from the family that scorns you. This person is gentle and warm to you in a way no human has ever been, says you’re pretty, says you’re kind, says he loves you. You love him religiously, of course, since it’d be a saint that could love something as hateful as you.

(chapter 103)

There’s someone just like you out there. You hate them.

The first bit of information we’re given about Alice and Vincent’s relationship is delivered in the most shocking way possible- Alice, fawned on by Jack and caught in the sort of innocent infatuation one would expect a young girl to have, is approached by Vincent. Immediately she identifies him as an enemy, talking of how she hates him for how he bullies her. Then he shows her her cat, presumably Alice’s only real friend, whose eyes he’s gouged out. (chapter 31)

It’s something I see PH fans talk about a lot, often with the perspective that it’s proof of how Vincent had always been evil. That’s understandable. The setup of a protagonist whose only companion is a cat, otherwise bullied an isolated, then having their cat be brutally murdered is common in Japanese media (think of Mob Psycho 100, Mahou Shoujo Site, and Misao as examples from different genres and mediums). It’s a very easy way to garner sympathy for a character and to demonstrate the degree of their helplessness. What Vincent had done seemed, when it was first shown, to be an act of needless cruelty.

What Vincent had done was wrong. In no way do I attempt to argue that there’s any justification for animal cruelty, especially to the degree that he had committed. The issue I take here is in how many refuse to take into account the full context of their relationship, one I think is extremely important to understanding both characters. Pandora Hearts is a series whose structure largely relies on going back over the same events from different perspectives, with new information- information that more often than not completely changes the meaning of the events previously shown- displayed each time.

(chapter 39)

Here’s the thing about children- they only know what’s been shown to them. A child that’s been violently abused will not understand the immorality of violence. A child that’s only been shown cruelty will not understand the problem with being cruel. Here’s Alice, told from birth she was dangerous, that she was to be held in isolation and abused, ostensibly for the greater good. Here’s Vincent, told the same thing. Here’s Gil, who wants to kill Alice now, because Vincent needs Gil, needs Gil to protect him from Alice who’s being cruel to him now, and if Gil can’t make Vincent need him, what point is there in Gil being alive?

She makes Gil wear that expression again because of me. It’s worth noting, Alice is gleeful to hear Gil was going to be murdered after Gil threatens and physically assaults her. Vincent was the only child in that scenario who seemed to have no interest in the death of another.

From the beginning of their relationship there’d been a mutual understanding between Alice and Vincent of each being, in some way, interchangeable with the other. It’s why Alice mocks Vincent to begin with- a defensive anger out of the perception that Vincent intended to steal Jack away when Jack was all Alice had. Vincent felt no anger towards Alice for the things she said to him, but Gil’s reaction to them- he recognized his anger at her as being, in a way, a product of Gil’s emotions towards Vincent. The thing about hating yourself is you start to hate anything that looks like you, too.

Alice and Vincent’s respective cruelties were that of children, meaning, ultimately, they were that of adults. Both had been abused and dehumanized by their family and then groomed by Jack, who encouraged conflict between them knowing it would drive them both further into helplessness and isolation. I have no intention of debating whether either deserved it (neither did) nor if one traumatized the other more thoroughly (does it even matter?). I am stating plainly: Alice and Vincent, who were abused children, both treated each other horribly, as they were abused children.

(Do not try to argue that Vincent should have found another outlet. He was an abused and dehumanized eight year old who fully believed his guardian intended to kill his brother. If Vincent had a healthy outlet, he would not have any conflict with Alice to begin with.)

There’s something very important to consider when discussing both Alice and Vincent’s abuse- the fundamental reason as to both why they connected with one another in the way they did and why they were abused in the first place. In fact, it’s the common factor in their connection to Jack, why he had been interested in them in the first place, as they would both eventually find out.

(chapter 72)

(chapter 103)

It’s Lacie. Their connection is Lacie. The reason for their abuse, the reason for their grooming, their reason for their subsequent empathy and hatred for one another is their shared connection to Lacie. Both, for their resemblance to her, were isolated and dehumanized in accordance to the circumstances of their birth. Remember, had that tower not been occupied by Alice, it would’ve gone to the next Child of Ill Omen. It should have been Vincent’s.

The other important piece of knowledge to understanding Alice’s hostility towards Vincent would not be revealed until long after their confrontation is first shown. It further cements that their aggression towards one another was from their shared connection to Lacie, a sort of self harm by proxy between two children with no other means of expressing themselves.

(chapter 71)

Alice knew.

She knew who her mother was, what had happened to her- someone told her, Core of Abyss or someone else. That Alice would know what happened to her mother and know the stigma surrounding the Child of Ill Omen but not understand what the two meant together is unlikely. Alice definitely understood the connotations of what she had said to Vincent- mocking him for being marginalized in a way that had caused him to suffer continuous, extreme abuse- and it’s likely she understood what those connotations meant in relation to herself.

If we assume she knew what happened to her mother- which she did- and assume she knew her mother being a Child of Ill Omen was the cause- which is likely- then her mockery of Vincent for being a Child of Ill Omen takes on a new meaning. Not only is it the recognition that she and Vincent were of the same cloth, similarly regarded as unwanted. It is the recognition that Vincent is the same as that which had birthed Alice to begin with. She implicitly blames him for her creation.

Vincent hates Alice. He hates Alice for hurting Gil. He hates Alice for upsetting Jack. He hates Alice for having caused the Tragedy of Sablier, for have created the circumstances which led to Jack’s death. In the second to last chapter, Vincent says he is sure that he and Alice are the same.

(Consider reading my meta on Vincent and Miranda.)

[12-altunivkru]

The 100 Characters - Strengths & Weaknesses

*strength=trait a character shows in their best moments & strength=/=prominent skill*

*weakness=trait a character shows in their worst moments & weakness=/=another character*

Clarke Griffin

strength: responsibility

From the moment Clarke was sent to Earth with the rest of the delinquents, she took on the responsibility of keeping them safe. Throughout the years, she earned everyone's respect as a leader thanks to her natural instinct to protect people and her willingness to be held accountable for their actions ("I bare it so they don't have to").

weakness: inconsistency

As Clarke's choices become tougher and her personal motives stronger, she inevitably makes some poor decisions that question her ability to lead. Her 'head over heart' motto is no longer valid as her selfish actions suggest that some people are certainly disposable, but her loved ones can be more important than the survival of the human race.

Bellamy Blake

strength: chivalry

Bellamy is probably the most heroic character in The 100, as he's always willing to risk his life to save others. His good heart often causes him to stay in the sidelines of the more 'important' missions to go on his own rescue missions. His moral values and his belief that every life matters are what push people to be inconditionally loyal to him.

weakness: impulsivity

Valuing the individuals over the collective has a price. In the twisted world of The 100, it is nearly impossible to save the majority without sacrifycing some lives. Unlike Clarke, Bellamy is often blinded by his feelings and focuses on "saving who he can save today", failing to evaluate the long-term consequences of some of his actions that might result in more lives lost.

Octavia Blake

strength: courage

She is not afraid, or more precisely, she conquers her fears. Octavia has always volunteered to do the dirty work while the people in charge watched, and has put herself in danger on countless ocassions. She has offered to sacrifice herself to save others and has never run from a fight, something that even her enemies have agreed makes her a very valuable asset.

weakness: defiance

Because of the years Octavia spent under the floor, she values her freedom over anything else. She has always had trouble following orders, whether they came from her brother, her chancellor or her enemy. This somewhat immature attitude has led to many people getting the wrong idea of who she is and has even put herself and others in dangerous situations.

Raven Reyes

strength: resilience

No matter how tough life gets, Raven is always ready to use her brains to save the world. She is arguably the strongest character in The 100, as she never lets her suffering take her down dark paths. This wonderful ability to stay focused on the lives that still need saving rather than the ones that have already been lost make her an extremely reliable team member.

weakness: judgementality

Raven's moral convictions push her to constantly question and condemn other character's decisions. She fails to acknowledge that sometimes there is no good option and is unempathetic towards anyone behind a decision she doesn't agree with. Once the damage is done, her criticism and animosity don't help much and only contribute to creating an unpleasant atmosphere.

John Murphy

strength: resourcefulness

The things Murphy will do to survive! He functions best in critical moments, when his power of conviction and ability to persuade people get him out of difficult situations. Many of the others know he's the master of escaping death, and are not afraid to assign him the most dangerous tasks. No one's survival is guaranteed on the 100, but counting on Murphy to survive is the safest bet.

weakness: unreliability

Putting your life in the hands of Murphy is not a smart decision. It is frustrating to see him constantly betraying his allies, risking all his previous relationships and putting his friends' lives in danger to save his own skin. Even though he has grown to care about a couple other people, his fear of death is still stronger than his morality.

Echo kom Azgeda

strength: solvency

If you need to get a job done, Echo is your person. She's very goal-oriented and always manages to complete the tasks she's assigned thanks to her impressive skillset. Her willingness to do whatever it takes to succeed in her missions makes her a very dangerous enemy and a very valuable ally.

weakness: loyalty

Like a soldier in battle, Echo's priority has always been duty and obedience. As a result of her upbringing and training as a spy, she doesn't understand human emotion and acts without questioning how her actions might hurt others' or her own feelings. Her way of operating causes conflicts with her friends, who do not share her view that the end justifies the means.

Emori kom Sangedakru

strength: adaptability

Emori's successful strategy to stay alive involves finding out what the superior faction is and becoming a part of it. She goes out of her way to adopt different forms and make herself useful at all times. Whatever the circumstances, Emori is ready and willing to fill whichever position needs filling, and help wherever help is needed.

weakness: distrust

If there's a character that won't ever get played, that is Emori. She doesn't feel safe with pretty much anyone, partly due to her insecurities and her history of being discriminated and banished. Her conviction that others find her disposable pushes her to act selfishly and manipulatively, which often backfires and results in others actually being resentful towards her.

*let me know which other characters you want to see on my next post*

[blairwaldcrf]

The Kids are Alright (Are We?) - Nate/Dan/Blair

ao3... gossip girl au. chapter 1/?

summary: when two children get detention together they never expect to unlock a secret their parents have kept (both knowingly and unknowingly)

i.e. Dan Humphrey and Blair Waldorf are disaster characters but I love them and so does Nate.

......

Sometimes Dan Humphrey wished he had made his morning coffee an Irish more than others, and this is one of them. Having finally gotten halfway into an op-ed he was supposed to finish by the end of the week, he had thought the day was going great. A phone call from the Principal of his daughter’s private grade school didn’t agree. Clarissa, adopted daughter of Dan and Nate Humphrey-Archibald, was a beautiful tiny nine year old girl with terrifying intelligence and aptitude for trouble. Maybe it was in the name, the ones the likes of Virginia Woolf and Samuel Richardson had waxed poetic on, but she was the kind of force Dan was all too familiar with. It was why he had fallen in love with her at the agency before they had even decided on the age of the child to adopt.

When he and Nate had gotten her a place in this prestigious school Clarissa had been a model student for the first semester. Any layman who had read even just one article on child psychology would say she was trying to prove her worth to her new parents, but when she had settled into the easy enveloping love that both her fathers and the extended Humphrey family gave, she changed. She became more herself, arguing with teachers about the quality of their class material-- at nine-- which Dan’s father liked to remind him was the age Dan had as a child. Before the year had even finished she had tested well out of third and into fifth grade. No longer met with educational boredom, she had instead turned to social approval and pranks to win over her classmates who thought she was a baby in comparison to their ripe old age of ten and eleven years old.

So now, on top of writing op-eds and working on his second novel, he had to volunteer on the PTA committee and make donations about once a week so his daughter wasn’t kicked out of the school that cost him and his husband Nate as much as community college tuition.

This time it was a prank that involved the teacher’s bathroom that required him to drive to the school office and deal with Principal Pipton, quite possibly the most annoying and frustrating woman Dan had ever had the misfortune of meeting. If he lived a different life he would very much wish to have gone into education and ousted her from the school himself.

Nicole, the young front desk attendant for the school, was nice enough to give him a sympathetic smile as she waved him back into the larger Principal office when he arrived. Nate was standing on the side of the chair Clarissa sat in across from Pipton’s desk, but there was an unfamiliar presence of two more in the room. From the look of things, Clarissa had finally found herself an accomplice.

Instagram models would have been jealous of the probable mother in the room, her blonde hair longer and shinier than anything short of a celebrity could accomplish. She was tall even without the heels she was sporting or the fashionable outfit that went along with it, but her and her child looked nothing alike.

The kid was probably the younger side of third grade but had no air of confidence about him as he sat in the chair too large for his frame. Physically, he reminded Dan of a younger version of himself. Mess of brown curls, big brown eyes, and pale skin. He wondered how on earth his daughter had convinced such an obviously straight laced kid to pull off a big prank. God knew that there wasn’t anyone who could have done it to him back in the day.

“Sherry,” Dan greeted the Principal congenially. The woman gave a dazzling smile that betrayed the clear annoyance given in the tight way she returned his handshake. “Let’s get this through, shall we?”

Nate sent him a warning glare at the slight-- it wasn’t Dan’s fault he always came off sarcastic to Nate’s amiability-- but the corners of Nate’s mouth still flickered with the same exhausted acceptance they had reached. Unfortunately Clarissa had caught the exchange and smirked, dark brown hair pulled out of her braid and wild as it always was. Despite the hours Dan had spent learning how to do hair from both his sister and online tutorials. When they both gave her unamused looks she turned back around and ignored them, grinning as she did so with the same charming smile that seemed genetically similar to Nate’s.

“Well normally we’d go through the usual routine with Ms. Clarissa here,” the Principal began. “But this time there isn’t any way she accomplished the feat alone and her dragging one of our star students like Eliot into trouble just isn’t acceptable.”

“Clarissa scores in the top of her class,” Dan replied, the edge not quite out of his tone. “I understand that she can cause trouble but implying that she’s tainting--,”

“What Dan means--,” Nate interrupted. “Was that we agree that her pranks are immature and need to stop, but that everyone should be accountable for their own actions. It would be unlike Clarissa to bully anyone into going along with her.”

Now it was the mother of said accomplice’s turn to talk, and she had a warm voice and a gentle calming hand on her kid’s shoulder. Instead of looking at the principal-- Pipton looked offended by this-- she turned to her kid and gave a small conspiring whisper. “Please tell me you actually let loose for once.”

Staring at his feet instead of any of the adults, Eliot admitted, “Yeah, I helped her.”

The woman grinned, much to Principal Pipton’s dismay. “I’m sure his mother Blair would have something different to say about that.”

Even though it had been years, Dan found himself having a pull in his chest at the name of the first girl to break his heart. Luckily it wasn’t a common occurrence, the name not quite popular. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t also had almost ten years to get over it.

“And I apologize that she’s busy defending a client in court.” Was the suddenly serious response, even if it held a gentle quality. “But since she’s not here, I’m sure we’ll be fine with whatever punishment you deem necessary for a ten year old.”

Nate barely veiled a chuckle as a cough in his throat but Dan couldn’t quite manage to purse his lips enough to cover his smirk.

Principal Sherry Pipton sent them off with detention for the children and heavy disapproval for the parents, and as they walked out of the office and past the front desk Dan does the most impulsive thing he’s done in ages and asks Eliot’s guardian, “What’s Eliot’s mother’s last name?”

She regarded him with confused surprise as most people would, but tentatively answered, “Waldorf. Why?”

Throat tightening as he stopped in his tracks, he gave a fake and dismissive smile. “Just don’t hear the name often.” Nate narrowed his eyes now, holding Clarissa’s hand as they all stalled.

“Dad, come on.” Clarissa complained. “I want to go home and read Dickinson now.”

“You read poems?” Eliot asked her, both kids oblivious to the emotional storm Dan was on the brink of showing. “What kind--,”

“Let’s go, Dan.” Nate interrupted, picking up on the seriousness. “It was nice to meet you all.”

Blair Waldorf . The girl that shattered his heart into so many pieces he hadn’t been able to let anyone pick them up except for Nate years later-- and that was only because he had never expected Nate to begin with. He’s numb as he follows his family out of the school and into the cab, barely making small talk as Nate covers for him by taking Clarissa’s attention. Eleven years. Eleven years had gone by since he had heard her name and now their worlds were colliding again because of their school children? I mean how had Blair even managed to have a ten year old?

Oh.

[babyboy-bangtan]

By Chance Chapters 9-10

A misunderstanding gone viral puts you on BTS’s radar, which leads to a series of events that finally culminate with you meeting them for the first time.

✚ Pairing: Sub!BTS/Female Reader ✚ Word Count: 2.8K ✚ Rating: M ✚ Warnings: None. ✚ A/N: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of my imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Read on AO3 / Chapters 1-4 /  Chapters 5-8

Chapter 9: The Guests

"Do you already know which artist is performing that day?" Your friend asks over the phone while you eat your toast with one hand and hold a script with the other. Reading it doesn't need your full attention, and based on what this movie seems to be about it doesn't look like it deserves it anyway.

"No, not yet." You reply absentmindedly, taking another bite of your toast while seriously contemplating just giving up on this script halfway through reading it. You doubt it's redeemable at this point. "It's in like a month anyway. They said they would tell me first before announcing it, though."

"This is so exciting!" She almost squeals, and you close the script before throwing it in the trash. You lost count of how many times it was written that the male protagonist couldn't keep his eyes from your cleavage. "I can't believe you're hosting again. I've been waiting for this to happen for years!" You can't help but laugh at her dramatics.

"It feels as surreal as the first time, honestly." You eat the last bite of your toast and pour yourself another glass of orange juice. You did enough freaking out to last a lifetime when you hosted the show for the first time a couple years ago, so this time you're excited but definitely not on the verge of a nervous breakdown like last time.

"Who do you think will be performing?" She asks, and you realize that you hadn't thought about that at all. "Oh my god what if it's BEYONCÉ?" She damn near screams that last part, and your brain immediately screams NO at that. You're still embarrassed at what happened last year, and you don't know when you'll be able to face her again without feeling mortified. 

"Who knows?" You quickly reply. "Maybe it'll be like Ed Sheeran or something."

"Maybe." She responds, way less excited than when she thought Beyoncé was a possibility. "Anyways, tell me when you know, okay? My break is almost done so I gotta go."

"Will do. Bye, love you!"

"Love you too, bye!" You hang up and stretch your arms over your head, already feeling stressed.

What if it was Beyoncé? It would be the third time you see her and even though she was incredibly lovely when you apologized and explained what happened the first time you met, that did nothing to erase the embarrassment you still feel today. You don't really think she would perform in a regular episode with you as the guest either, but now you can't help but feel anxious about it.

They said they were going to tell you who the artist was in the next few days, so for now all you can do is wait and try to not overthink too much.

Easier said than done.

Three hours ago, taking a nap because it was raining and the temperature had dropped just enough for it to be perfect for sleeping had seemed like a great idea. It's not the first time you do it, the day called for it, and since you didn't have to work today it was okay to relax and rest for a bit considering that in a couple days you'll start shooting again.

Completely harmless.

Except it wasn't.

You wake up thanks to some very loud thunder, and you snuggle deeper into your covers to continue sleeping. Another thunder disrupts you again, so you decide to look at the time and see if it's even worth it to try and sleep some more. But instead of being greeted with the time once you turn your phone on, you're greeted with 50 missed calls and texts from over 30 conversations.

"What the fuck?" You mumble to yourself, rubbing your eyes to try and see a little better.

Around 30 of the missed calls are from friends, and the rest are from your publicist and agent. You scroll down the conversations until you reach the message you got first, and the name makes you think you might understand what happened.

SNL Producer.

2 hours ago.

Hello [Y/N]! I'm just writing you to let you know before we post it on social media, that the musical guest on your episode will be BTS. See you soon!

Well, now you have no doubt that's definitely it.

You read through the messages as fast as you can and manage to reply to several before you're interrupted by your publicist calling.

"Hi, sorry. I was taking a nap." You quickly say.

"Don't worry, I just wanted to let you know that the internet exploded two hours ago."

"Because of BTS?" You ask, pulling the covers off of you and sitting on the edge of your bed. "That's not news, it happens every other week."

"Well, yes, true—" She agrees. "—but we don't care about those times, we care about this now because it involves you." She pauses for a second. "Check what I just sent you." You remove your phone from your ear and put her on speaker before opening the message notification.

It's the screenshot of an Entertainment Weekly tweet.

Exclusive: @BTS_twt and [Y/N] will finally meet and we couldn't be more excited

4,5K replies, 190K retweets, 380K likes.

"How the fuck did that get so many likes?" You blurt out, eyes wide. Your hear your publicist laugh heartily.

"It's more now, actually. The screenshot is from 10 minutes ago. And it's because BTS retweeted it."

"Oh, right." You say, shaking your head at yourself. You should've known. "That makes sense."

"It would be even better if you had a twitter account yourself so you could retweet and even send them someth—"

"My mental health." You interrupt her, rolling your eyes as you fall back again on the bed. You've lost count of how many times she's tried to have you make new accounts already. "Remember how I had to start taking antidepressants because of social media?"

"Right, yeah. The mental health thing." She sighs. "You could always have someone manage them instead of yourself, you know."

"Yeah, and then I'd be constantly checking what's been posted and what people have replied to every post." You hate talking to her about this, because even though she's great at her job and mostly understanding, she still complains about what a loss it is that you're not on Instagram and Twitter.

"Fine. I'll drop it." She pauses for a second. "Anyway, the reason why I called is to know how much do you know about these guys."

"I know a bunch of their songs. I've been listening to that song they did with Nicki, Idol— it's so catchy and the video is so random but so great." You conveniently leave out the detail that the reason you like the video so much is because they look beautiful in those suits while simultaneously looking like the cutest human beings on Earth with their other colorful outfits— especially in those sweaters with cartoon characters and the ripped jeans. "I actually watched a bunch of their music videos back when the whole behind the scenes stuff happened." Moments from their Blood, Sweat and Tears music video pop into your mind, but you immediately redirect your thoughts elsewhere. That video makes you feel way too many things that you should not be feeling while talking to your publicist. "They're so talented." You quickly add, sincerely. "I was thinking about watching some interviews soon to see what they're like. I haven't really watched any of that."

"Good! I was going to tell you to do that. These guys are like a publicity machine. If they approve of you, their fans will like you."

"Weeell..." You say, grimacing a little. You're not so sure about that. "Either that happens or they see me as a threat to them and decide I'm not good enough to be near them, and get a hashtag calling me a demon trending first worldwide."

"Well, based on the replies to that tweet I think many of them are excited. The international fans at least, I don't know about their Korean fanbase."

"And also, do not call them a publicity machine. They're actual people, you know." You sigh. "And that's not the reason why I will try to know more about them. It would be disrespectful to meet them without knowing anything about them. And please, stop seeing artists as only publicity opportunities. I told you I hate that!"

"That's literally my job, love. And whatever your good person reasoning is, I don't care. Just do that." She pauses. "And now I have to leave you, because unlike you I actually have to work today. See ya." She hangs up before you can say anything, and you take a deep breath.

She can be a goddamn handful, but even when she acts without emotions she always does things the way you want them and is very accommodating. She's good at her job.

You finally get out of bed and walk to the kitchen, where you left your laptop. But before you can do anything, you have an incoming FaceTime call from your best friend. She must've just read your reply to her 50 angry texts because you didn't tell her who the guest artist was going to be on your Saturday Night Live episode before the rest of the world found out.

"Heeeeeeey." You say innocently once her face appears on screen.

"Why didn't you tell me?! I had to find out on Twitter!"

"Okay, to be fair, you found out before I did. I was dead asleep when the producer texted me." You leave the phone standing against a glass of water and open your laptop. "So I had no chance to tell you before they announced it."

"Ugh, fine." She groans, rolling her eyes. "Anyways, are you excited?"

"I haven't had a chance to feel anything. I woke up to a thousand texts and calls and then my publicist called me." You open Youtube and start typing BTS to see what suggestions pop up first.

"Oh right, cause you went viral again. People on Twitter lost their shit over it."

"Yeah but they always do when BTS does something so it's not like it's new." You reply, a bit distracted.

BTS on crack?

"Okay, yeah. That's true." She agrees. "What are you doing?"

"Homework." You reply, scrolling through the endless results you got after clicking BTS on crack.

"Alright then, keep your secrets." She jokes, shaking her head. "I have to go anyway, I'm going out tonight." You blow a kiss in her direction.

"Have fun!"

"I always do! Bye!" She hangs up as you open a video titled "bts being crackheads for 5 mins straight".

You only need to watch a couple minutes to realize what type of videos these are. You have seen a couple of yourself that are edited similarly, but they were titled "[Y/N] being chaotic in interviews" and another one about you being extra— and you'd thought they were very funny.

A recommended video catches your eye, because it has hundreds of thousands of views.

RUNBTS 1-23 Best Moments

You have no idea what it is, but judging by the amount of views and the tiny amount of dislikes, it must be something good.

Time to start watching.

Chapter 10: The Surprise

"Do you think he will be angry at us for keeping it as a secret?" Hoseok asks, ear pointed at the bathroom door. He's doing his best to listen if the shower is still running, which means that Jungkook is not coming out just yet.

"No, he'll be too excited to be angry." Namjoon replies, waving his hand dismissively. "Jimin, don't blurt it out as soon as he comes here." He warns him, and Jimin looks completely shocked, not to mention offended. He searches for the support of the other guys with his eyes, but he finds that they're all looking at him the same way Namjoon is.

"What? Me?" He asks, pointing at himself. "Why me?"

"You're a terrible liar when you're excited about something." Taehyung says, and Jimin just stares at him with an angry pout. 

"I'm not." He says, crossing his arms.

"You are." Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok and Jin say at the same time. Jimin refuses to dignify that with an answer, so he just stays silent with his angry pout still in place.

"The shower stopped." Hoseok says suddenly, craning his neck to listen better— and everyone goes silent. Not too long after, they hear it opening and Jungkook comes out drying his hair already dressed for bed.

"What's going on?" He asks, stopping suddenly when he sees them all standing there in the most suspicious way possible.

"Nothing!" Jimin suddenly says, way more excited than they had told him he was allowed to look.

"Jungkook, when did you say [Y/N] was going to be on SNL?" Hoseok asks, trying to not give himself away with the tone of his voice.

"April 13, why?" He continues to dry his hair, looking at the boys with narrowed eyes. He doesn't know what they're trying to do, but based on that question it seems like it has something to do with you. Maybe they want to watch the episode with him, since they're going to be in America by the time it airs anyway.

"So, we didn't tell you this before it was truly confirmed because we wanted it to be a surprise..." Namjoon starts, and Jungkook stops his movements.

They can't be telling him what he thinks they're telling him, right?

There's no way.

"But we'll be performing on SNL on April 13." He finishes. The towel drops from Jungkook's hands, and he just stares at them with no clear expression in his face.

"I thought he'd be more excited." Taehyung whispers in a confused tone to Namjoon, who lifts up a finger in response, signaling for him to wait.

"Give him a sec—"

"WHAT?!"

After a lot of happy screaming, a half an hour long videocall to his parents and a big glass of warm milk to calm him down, Jungkook is finally sitting down on the couch with the rest of the boys so they can explain how things went down.

"Jimin-Hyung, I can't believe you didn't tell me." Jungkook says, shaking his head with a surprised smile.

"We wanted to keep it from him, too." Yoongi says. "But he listened to us talking about it and we had to let him in."

"It was really hard to keep it a secret!" Jimin complains. "Because I was so excited. But I did so well, didn't I?" The rest don't really pay attention to him, except for Namjoon, who nods and gives him a thumbs up. Jimin isn't pleased with so little praise, but he takes it anyway. It's better than nothing.

"Ah, I'm so nervous." Jungkook says, unable to stop himself from grinning even though his face already hurts from smiling so much. He brings his knees up to his chest so he can hide his face in them, suddenly blushing. Even after he explicitly heard you talking about them, you still feel so far away from them that it almost doesn't feel real that they're going to meet you in a month.

"She already said she wanted to meet us—" Jin adds casually, and Namjoon has to hold back a sigh of relief because he's finally talking about you without getting nervous two seconds later. "—so you've got nothing to worry about."

He's come a long way since his confession a few months ago— even if Namjoon and Yoongi are still the only ones who know about his secret— and that lifts a huge weight from Namjoon's shoulders. It means that it's less likely he'll become instantly flustered the moment they see you for the first time, because if Jin gets nervous because of you in front of the cameras, everyone will notice and then talk about it— and Namjoon is sure that is the last thing Jin wants.

It doesn't take them long to realize it's futile to try and talk about the logistics of their performance with Jungkook right now, because he's barely paying attention to them. His grin has remained steady and unmoving from the moment they told him they would perform on the same day you're hosting, and they know it's going to continue that way for the next few days.

He'll be able to focus again once the initial shock passes and he finally realizes that yes, this is actually happening.

They are going to finally meet you.

Long after everyone has gone to bed, Jungkook lies still awake in bed, fully aware that he's not sleeping any time soon. He's still feeling giddy with happiness; he can't believe that they're going to actually meet you, and in a place where they will actually get to spend time with you, at that. He will get to talk to you, to actually be close to you and maybe, if he's lucky and brave enough, he might even get to hug you.

He'd fantasized about maybe seeing you in an awards show one day, but this is so much better than anything he could've imagined.

April 13 can't come soon enough.

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, asks, whatever you like is more than welcomed!

[babysprouseisart]

Still think Cole is a good person? Lili now admits to being gaslighted. He has to done to Lili what he did to Bree. Cole is a mental and emotional abuser! Its no wonder her family & friends unfollowed him. Coles friends still follow her because Lili did nothing wrong. You staying silent about it is no different than those supporting KJ for being a rape apologist.

First of all, it is disgusting.

Second of all, Cole haters or the hate towards Lili/Cole are not welcomed in my blog, so fucking go away.

Thirdly, it is my blog, it is my life, it is my choice how how to think in a certain situation or about a certain person, then none of us knows Cole personally, except his close friends, family and even Lili, and if she was suffering, she would let him go long time ago, and won't be with him for 4 years, believe me.

And even then, we, true fans, know him much better and thus I can attest, Cole never done neither to Bree nor to Lili things like you claim. In the relationship with Bree everyone knows that she was the one who was manipulating him and she made up all her statements about him as the abuser, she is a big liar. Their relationship wasn't based on bigger things than just mutual interest, especially games, and sex. With Lili it is completly different. He never treated Bree the way he treats Lili. He literally calls her his angel, muse, the love of his life, his love, and so on. He literally can't stop himself from looking at her with such heart eyes and passion and he always is such a dork around her, like a small boy, being so excited. He is very soft with her and so passionate, they both bragged about liking to have sex with each other and Lili stated that it is different from her previous experiences. He is such a gentelman around her, very caring and oftentimes she is wearing his clothes. When they kiss, it's something very wholesome, very deep, they are comfortable with each other and this could never be seen with Bree. He always was so nervous or uncomfortable around her on camera and their kisses don't even look like he was enjoying. Nothing like that with Lili, even if they are private, they are very comfortable with being cuddled up and they don't care much. She will be on his lap, or his arm will be on her leg, or they will be dancing together, side by side, and look like they are married and are a whole one thing. If you have been in this fandom as long as I am or even longer, you would have notice that a person like Cole, very intelligent, smart, down-to-earth, soft, with a common sense, who also had an anxiety and part of it was Bree, can not even do the slightest of this rude things. And my facts are not baseless, all the people who knew him characterise him as this. He is simply not like that, he uses his platform to speak up about important cases and he always was so protective of his family and friends and Lili, he never did anything wrong to living beings, if they don't deserve it, especially he won't and wouldn't do anything bad to the people he loves and considers a family.

Forthly, Lili's family unfollowed him and Lili was gaslighted or is now, not because Cole is an abuser, but because mrs ‘somebody’, her mother, used the opportunity that Lili was in a bad place mentally, and taking into account that she apparently hates Cole, as you do, was trying to play on Lili's nerves and set them apart, she was and maybe is too intervented in their relationship, which is not her deal. All that time, she was doing some things, like leaking information and talking to fans, to seperate them, she convinced Lili and the other members of her family of his cheating and called him a narcissist. She was trying to make some random fan bring up the statement and tell the world that they are done, when we have much more evidence they are alright, including the recent Lili photo, that he took. And Lili obviously is in a betrer place now and I am glad they found their way back to eachother after all. The mrs ‘somebody’ has changed her narratives multiple times and didn't even care about Cole and the fan getting death threats, like because he is a «big boy». There are so many things that prove this person talks bullshit, as you do. I won't go much into details, not my deal, but if you were more attentive, you would know all the little things and won't be saying so.

It was a childish behavior and by the way, Chloe was following him until recently, Sarah still has pictures of them from the Met Gala. The rest and them just did their thing cause ‘somebody’, as I said, asked them, after she at some point decided that Cole is that bad, didn't like him from the first day, but she can't exactly say why the last time she did all this, so bullshit.

Cole's family and friends still follow her and support her because they are not intervented in their relationship and mind their own bisiness, unlike Lili's family, especially mrs ‘somebody’, who claimed that she won't be interacting with Lili's fans and will be away from it, but she still is interacting with them, but I hope after visiting her daughter, recently, she will finally fuck off and be cut off her daughter's bisiness.

Finally, I am not silent about abusers or rapists, I am always eager to bring up these issues and talk about them, paying attention to those who suffered.

That's why, even if i don't talk about it all the time, cause my blog is not about it, I supported almost everyone who was sharing different valid opinions about KJ and Alex Hooch, against them, I did reblog some information and stuff. It shouldn't be left in silence and, by the way, I never liked KJ or his friends, and I despise them for obvious reasons, so I consider all that he is doing and his behavior very gross and immature, but there are real reasons to think about him or Alex that way, especially about Alex, that vile man, who should be punished.

Hope it was clear, next one will be blocked, bye!

[thunderbird-one-ai]

Compromised Chapter 3

Finally another chapter done after MONTHS of just starring at it. I’m hoping that Christmas will mean I can type a little more since I’ll be taking a break from university.  This chapter ends on another cliff hanger and I’m not sorry :P I’d like to say now. Kayo is not my wrong point POV wise so I apologise in advance if I’ve portrayed her so poorly.

Chapter 1 - Here

Part 1: Kayo

Kayo made no comment when John said those heart-stopping words to the team. ‘Thunderbird One is missing’. She shook her head, that couldn’t be true, this was Scott just cooling off. She’s known him for so long, getting away from his brothers for some time alone was rare for Scott, and with the argument, she overheard him have with Jeff meant he was probably just cooling off. She forced herself to believe that because the other alternative would be so much worse. But she was a practical woman. She knew that if Scott was distracted even for a second, he would have been jumped on. She thought of many scenarios in her head. Scott wasn’t a pushover; he could handle himself very well in a one on one fight. She hardly needed to teach him many moves since he had got the basics in the military long before they started training together. So the likely hood of Scott being overpowered by one prisoner was unlikely. John had also mentioned that three inmates were not accounted for still. Three verses one isn’t an easy challenge, but Scott’s training meant he might have been able to handle them. This still didn’t answer how Thunderbird One disappeared off Johns scans and hers for that matter.

“Thunderbird Shadow to Thunderbird Two,” Kayo said. “Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird Shadow, did you find anything?” Virgil replied. Kayo heard the worried tone in Virgil’s voice. She would no doubt hear it in every brother's voice, even Johns in this situation. He was remaining calm but Kayo wondered how long that calm deminer would last for. Virgil may not be as hot-headed as Scott, but his passion to protect his family burns just as brightly as Scott’s. She looked outside her cockpit noticing a small GDF post in the middle of nowhere. Probably just to make sure no stragglers got away. It would definitely be a place that Scott would land near. “Nothing yet, I’ve flown over the entire area with no sign of Scott or Thunderbird One. I see a small GDF post out here so I’m going to ask them some questions,” Kayo said through her comms. “FAB, keep up informed. I’ve gotta go tell dad,” Virgil said before Kayo heard him cut communications. That wasn’t going to be easy. Jeff had only been back six months and now one of his sons was already missing on a mission. A mission that coincidently included the possible break out of kayo’s uncle. The mention of The Hood made Kayo’s blood boil, another thought crossed her mind that John still hadn’t told them whether one of the inmates missing was The Hood or not. If this was true, she needed to be even more on guard. Kayo got Thunderbird Shadow to land nearby the GDF truck and jumped down on the ground below her. She walked up to the Guards not trusting a single one of them. “What does International Rescue want now? We’ve already said to the other one that we have this place secure,” One of the guards promptly said, causing Kayo to become concerned. “The other one?” Kayo replied. “Yeah, the tall one with the fast jet. Just waltz right up here with three guys. One passed out mind you. Said he was a high priority prisoner and took that one back to the prison whilst we hold the others for the appropriate transport to arrive,” Kayo took in every piece of information. Well, that was wrong, Thunderbird One had not returned to the prison otherwise she would have seen the silver bird fly straight past her. She kept her poker face shown, knowing if the GDF found out about a missing Thunderbird, they’d never hear the end of it. She walked back to Thunderbird Shadow, arm moving up to start a comm link with the others before something caught her eye. Kayo found herself running back and sliding under her jet, gliding her hands over charred patches of Earth. Thunderbird One was here. The distinct pattern in the ground matched Thunderbird One’s VTOL engines. Scott was right here along with his bird. The GDF said that he just left with one member but the other two were still here. Kayo found herself running again back to the GDF truck, ignoring the protests from the members, Kayo got in the back, looking to the two prisoners. Neither of them was The Hood and that only made her more concerned. “What did he promise you? Freedom?” Kayo said, looking at both of them, waiting for a reaction. She got one. “Funny, that’s what the other one said,” The smaller male replied, smiling. Kayo wished right there and then she could live up to her name and punch this guy into next week, but her mind was racing. They knew who she was talking about. She jumped out of the van and found herself once again running back to Thunderbird Shadow, ignoring the shouts from the GDF members behind her. She had to get to the others, her brother was in serious trouble. “Thunderbird Two, The Hood has Scott,”

Part 2: Jeff Jeff tapped his foot against the varnished floor impatiently. This wasn’t the first mission he’d been leading where Scott had been less than helpful in cooperating with. He was very much surprised at that his eldest son would answer back as much as he did. That never happened when International Rescue first started out, heck even when they were both military personnel, Scott would always follow what Jeff said. But that was over eight years ago. Eight years ago Scott never would have thought his own father would be lost in space. Jeff couldn’t begin to imagine what his eldest had gone through. Losing their mother was a hard blow to the family, then Jeff himself was blown into space. His eldest had to take on everything. As much as he saw the future in his boys he never thought International rescue would become like this. They all exceeded what Jeff thought possible but should have he expected any less. “I never thought that after all this, I would see my boy look so lost in his own chair,” Jeff jumped in his own seat and looked up to see a familiar face. “Mum, you got back here early. I thought you were with Lady Penelope all day,” “I was but I was informed that not all was well here on the island,” Sally said smiling softly, sitting down on the sofa obviously waiting for Jeff to finally speak up. Jeff gave a small smile back, of course, Lady Penelope would say something, no doubt she had Parker overhearing the entire conversation between Scott and himself. He also shouldn’t have been surprised that his mother would want to fly back after hearing that the family was in slight disarray. So far he had re-bonded with almost all his sons, Scott was the exception which Jeff was surprised about. They had argued a lot recently, not even his other sons knew about those arguments he doubted his mother did either. “I’ve become closer with all of them mum…all of them except Scott. I still feel like I’m millions of miles away in space when it comes to approaching him. I couldn’t be more proud of him for his achievements, for what he’s done in the years I was gone,” Jeff finally said, breaking the silence between them. “He took on everything Jeffery, almost got too much for him,” she let out a small huffed breath. “But he’s your eldest son, you taught him everything he needed to know about your company and International Rescue.” “But that doesn’t explain…this,” “For years I saw that boy struggle with many things. The most prominent one was that he felt he could have done better. Scott worked himself to exhaustion. We’re all grateful Virgil became the main paramedic to deal with your eldest because he took on so much. Took the pain, the sadness, the guilt from everyone else and hoarded it himself. Reminds me of a certain Tracy I knew when they were younger,” Jeff looked back over to his mother, who had a kind, warm smile waiting for him. Of course, Scott would take everything on his shoulders, even at his young age. But the guilt was something that took Jeff a little off guard. He felt like he should have the guilt. The guilt of leaving his family. The guilt of leaving his eldest son with five younger siblings. The guilt of never telling him Kayo’s origins. There was so much more Jeff should have told or shown to not only Scott but the rest of his sons. He was so overwhelmed by his own guilt he didn’t even consider Scott had his own. He remembered that dreaded day so clearly, it haunted his mind constantly even when asleep. The last day he spent on the planet before disappearing for eight years. He remembers telling his sons he’d be home for dinner. He remembered Scott following him to the hanger, stating his worry about the mission. Jeff remembers considering letting Scott join him as the backup pilot in case the place was too much to handle for Jeff alone. But that was out of the question. Jeff vowed to not let the Hood get close to his family, especially Scott not after what happened. Jeff sighed quickly. He’d already broken that vow. The Hood had done so much damage to the family, almost ripping it apart. But not anymore, Jeff was certain on that. He would need to talk with Scott properly after this mission was over and safely back home. Maybe even talk about some old demons they both shared. “Jeffery, Virgil’s trying to contact you,” Jeff looked over to the wall that mounted his sons' portraits, Virgil’s lit up, sending a projection of him onto the table. Jeff noticed straight away something was wrong. “Virgil? What’s happened?”

Part 3: Scott To say Scott hated The Hood was an understatement. That man, that monster, made Scott's blood boil with rage. But The Hood was also one of the very few people who could instil a rare horrible emotion as well, fear. The fear that The Hood could take everything away from him in a single second. He knew this fear, he’s already experienced it once before a little over ten years ago. Memories of betrayal and threats surfaced suddenly, catching Scott off guard, melting his poker face stance away. “Remembering old times Scott? I’m rather offended you forgot them. They were, of course, the most defining moments of your life,” The Hood looked down to him grinning. “Young and ambitious wanting to be better than your father,” No, Scott didn’t want to remember those times, those memories were locked away for a reason. He had to focus on the now not then. Focus on making sure The Hood never got to the jet he was asking about. Scott knew what The Hood wanted now. “The jet’s destroyed Hood. It’s gone,” Scott said quickly, not latching onto the words he had said previously. The Hood just burst into a sarcastic laugh. “Oh? You’re being serious? Don’t take me for a fool Scott. I know she’s still in one piece. After all, you wouldn’t have destroyed your precious first jet. She was too good to be destroyed. The perfect machine that couldn’t be matched in either Earth’s atmosphere or space. The speed and weaponry that couldn’t be countered. I would build it again myself if the parts weren’t so rare,” The Hood continued to smile. “You didn’t build it you ruined it!” Scott shouted before swallowing thickly, realising he’d just been baited, again. “Come now, Scott. Even you admitted to it being a beautiful machine, you were in your element whilst flying it. How you were so focused on proving your father wrong, proving him you were better. I wanted to prove that too, prove to the world that Scott Tracy could become so much more than Jeff Tracy,” “You manipulated me,” “I was trying to show you your true potential Scott and you threw it all away when you betrayed me,” “You betrayed us! My father trusted you. Worked with you and you…you tried to kill him,” The hood smacked his hands down on to the metal table, leaning over Scott. Scott looked up to him about to continue his sentence before noticing The Hoods expression. He tensed; Scott knew that look. It was a look he hadn’t seen in ten years. It was the look The Hood gave him all those years ago when he declared Scott had betrayed him and vowed that Scott would pay. There was that emotion again, fear. It seeped through his body relentlessly. He wouldn’t be overwhelmed again; he was stronger this time. “If you won’t tell me then I suppose I’ll have to find another Tracy to tell me the location,” “They don’t know anything about it!” Scott saw The Hoods expression change from angry to delight as he saw the realisation dawn on the criminals face. “You never told them, did you?” The Hood laughed. “You never told your brothers you worked with me,”

[mulanxiaojie]

We were all thinking it, and finally someone had to ask: Why on earth would Disney cut Mushu? “Well, we made it 10 minutes in,” joked Mulan producer Jason Reed.

In case you missed the trailer, the headlines, and the tweets — so many tweets — the live-action Mulan will cut Mushu, leaving it bereft of the comedic energy from a dragon sidekick. The world has changed since 1998, and Disney has made a serious, more violent Mulan that’s truer to the Chinese folklore.

“Obviously Mushu is a beloved character, and one of the most memorable elements of the animated film,” Reed explained to a group of journalists huddled inside a tent on Mulan’s mountainous New Zealand set in October 2018.

“It turns out that the traditional, Chinese audience did not particularly think that that was the best interpretation of the dragon in their culture. The dragon is a sign of respect and it's a sign of strength and power, and that using it as a silly sidekick didn't play very well with a traditional Chinese audience.”

It's one of many indications that unlike with The Lion King, Disney is not going for a by-the-numbers Mulan remake.

While a classic to kids of a certain generation in the West, 1998’s Mulan flopped in China, released a year late after Disney was effectively banned for releasing the film Kundun, a film sympathetic to the Dalai Lama. On screens in Mulan’s birthplace, Hunan, the film only made $30,000 at the box office after three weeks.

You could blame the film’s late release in China, which caused some audiences to watch pirated versions months before its eventual arrival in theaters. But it's also likely that local audiences didn’t warm to the idea of Americans taking on a Chinese legend, especially one which already had multiple adaptations on film, TV, and stage.

“This is not a Chinese dragon," one Chinese moviegoer told The Baltimore Sun in 1999. "I can tell the people who designed the dragon are from America."

In that light, Disney’s resistance toward a comedic dragon sidekick in the new Mulan makes financial sense. Once chump change for Hollywood, China’s film market is set to overtake the U.S. this year. For Disney, its three biggest 2019 releases in China — Captain Marvel, The Lion King and Aladdin — accounted for more than $320 million in takings.

Despite the omission of Mushu, Reed promises the film will be funny. Just admittedly not Eddie Murphy funny.

"We have some scenes that, although they're played very real, are gonna get some very big, big laughs.”

“Take one of the greatest comedians of all time, make them a dragon, have him prance around, and give him like, two years refine the jokes — we're not gonna beat that, in terms of raw slapstick comedy,” he said.

“But we have added a couple of elements to this movie which I think really do the same thing of grounding it, bringing you into it, we have some scenes [that], although they're played very real, are gonna get some very big, big laughs.”

Other big changes are afoot as well. There aren’t any of those singalong theatrical musical numbers like “I’ll Make a Man Out of You,” “Reflection,” or “A Girl Worth Fighting For”, although Reed promises there will be “songs that you recognize and remember” in the movie.

Also gone is the cathartic scene in which Mulan cuts her hair in preparation for battle, which Reed admits he gets mocked for during meetings in China. “[It’s] actually a Western anachronism,” Reed explained. Chinese male warriors wore their hair long, and to cut Mulan’s hair would make her look more of a woman.

Nor will you see Mulan’s smart-mouth grandmother, Fa, or Li Shang in the live-action film. The latter decision has been particularly controversial, given Li Shang’s status as a bisexual icon. Reed was surprised by the backlash, but the decision was made in the light of the #MeToo movement.

“I think particularly in the time of the #MeToo movement, having a commanding officer, that is also the sexual love interest, was very uncomfortable. We didn't think it was appropriate and we thought that in a lot of ways, that it was sort of justifying behavior that we're doing everything we can to get out of our industry,” Reed explained.

Instead, the character of Li Shang will be split into two characters: Commander Tung, played by Ip Man star Donnie Yen, will serve as Mulan’s surrogate father and mentor in the film, while Chen Honghui, a role filled by New Zealander Yoson An, will be an equal to Mulan in the army and her eventual love interest.

It still leaves questions about how the queer element of the relationship between Mulan and Honghui will play out, or whether it will even be present. While homosexuality was decriminalized by China in 1997, Chinese censors are infamous for cutting out LGBTQ TV and movie scenes.

Chinese moviegoers saw no reference to Freddie Mercury’s sexuality in Bohemian Rhapsody, while Call Me By Your Name was pulled from official screenings (although it soon gathered a cult following). Disney doesn’t believe censorship will be a problem for Mulan, with Reed explaining it worked “very closely” with censors and its releasing partners in China.

“We feel that we are secure in the censorship issue, that we have our permits approved and I believe that we will continue to have a good relationship with the releasing entities in our various partners in China,” Reed claimed.

While the storyline will largely remain similar, new characters are joining the fray. A powerful shapeshifting witch, portrayed by Gong Li, will feature alongside the main antagonist Bori Khan, played by Jason Scott Lee. The story will begin with Mulan as a child, and she will have a younger sister in the film, something present in other adaptations of the folklore.

“It makes it more than just her having to take care of her father and mother, who are sort of in the role of taking care of her,” Reed said. “By adding a younger sister we thought that it added sort of a broader emotional context, and added more motivation for her, particularly for the end.”

On the monitor inside our tent, actor Yifei Liu is effortless in her swordplay. It’s no surprise she’s landed the titular role; she is Mulan. Liu battled through a tough physical audition for the role, admitting to us she couldn’t walk properly after.

“I wanted to thoroughly explore this girl,” Mulan’s director Niki Caro told Empire in February 2020.

“Because I needed a warrior, and I needed a partner. So she did this grueling audition and then we sent her straight to the physical trainer to do an equally grueling physical assessment. Weights, push-ups, pull-ups, everything. She was brilliant in the dramatic part of the audition, and in the physical part she never stopped, never faulted. I knew at the end of that day that I’d found my warrior.”

Liu has plenty of experience acting in wuxia films, a genre of martial arts films in China. Besotted, Mulan's filmmakers even pushed back production five months for Liu.

“She was doing a television show and so she wouldn't be available to a certain point, and the point when she was available was terrible weather for us,” Reed said.

Liu, who exudes confidence onscreen and is praised by her co-stars for her professionalism, is more reserved in conversation. She said she doesn’t try and think too much about how Chinese audiences will perceive her as Mulan. Nor would she be drawn on a question comparing the character of Mulan in the animated and the live action version.

“I would not really compare, because I think each creation was its own form, and I really respect that,” Liu explains. “I’m also open to Mulan’s possibilities. We tried not to fix too many things.”

For Honghui actor Yoson An, who only has a handful of credits — mostly in his home country of New Zealand and in Australia — the whole international fame thing hasn’t quite set in.

“I don't think it’s hit me yet, I don't know where it's gonna go until this movie’s released, I guess. I'm still kind of rolling with things, just one day at a time,” An said.

Admitting that he would’ve been looked over if the live-action Mulan had been a musical, An said he only picked up acting in his late teens, disillusioned with his university studies.

“When I heard that Niki [Caro] was set to direct this movie back in 2014, I was like, ‘Oh, so cool. A New Zealander is set to direct Mulan,’ and I was just walking back to get my car and I was like, ‘Wouldn't it be cool if I played the love interest?’, just like a little thought in my head, and I'm thought, ‘No, that's never gonna happen.’ And then, four years later, here I am,” he said.

"It really dispels all the classic Asian stereotypes from all the other films."

The world of Mulan is inspired by the Tang dynasty, a golden age of imperial China during which it experienced flourishing trade with foreign nations and cultural advancement. In An’s eyes, Mulan could be a major moment for Asian diaspora worldwide — although Liu’s praise for police during the Hong Kong protests last year has prompted calls for a boycott of the film.

“In this film, the cast, you see people from different kinds of cultures interacting with each other and every single character has a multi-dimensional layer for them. So it really dispels all the classic Asian stereotypes from all the other films,” he explains.

“And with what Black Panther has done for its community, and I really feel that Mulan is gonna do the same for the Asian community as a whole, taking on what Crazy Rich Asians has already done for Asian community, with the momentum it created.”

Like Crazy Rich Asians, Mulan looked far and wide for Asian actors. There’s a mixture of Asian New Zealanders, Asian Australians, Asian Americans, and of course, Chinese actors. Mulan is mostly in English, to the joy of the subtitle-averse out there, and thus all actors are aiming towards a Chinese-influenced American dialect — a goal which Reed admits has been “complicated.”

It’s no problem for An, who said he’s performed Chinese accents on screen before. Reminding us how young he is, An mentions he practiced as a kid to YouTube videos of Canadian stand-up comedian Russell Peters, who went viral a decade ago for his “Be a man! Do the right thing!” bit.

“You guys know Russell Peters? Right? As a kid, I’d watch his stuff and do exactly as he did. But that's a very comical version of the accent, it’s very different to what we’re doing,” An said.

In research for its live-action reboot, Reed and the production team went back to the original ballad and the “many, many variations” which told in China since, including several modern film and television adaptations made in China — before watching the Disney animated version again, thinking how Mulan would appeal to multiple audiences.

With the coronavirus shutting down all 70,000 of the country's theaters since Jan. 24, it's unclear — and more unlikely every day — that multiplexes will reopen in time for its planned release.

"It certainly has worldwide and global appeal, but there's no denying that this is a very important film for the Chinese market," Comscore analyst Paul Dergarabedian told The Hollywood Reporter. "It's a huge blow for Disney if it doesn't release in China." Disney president of production Sean Bailey told the publication he's "looking at it day by day."

Whenever and wherever it arrives, the hope is that Mulan will appeal to four audiences: the Asian diaspora community worldwide; women; Disney movie fans; and of course, a Chinese audience. But why would a Chinese audience watch another adaptation of Mulan? The answer lies in the hope that Disney can create something exceptional this time around.

“One of the things that was made clear to us from the very beginning was, make a Disney movie. Don't try to make the Chinese version of Mulan, because they've already made it several times, and they've already seen it,” Reed explained.

“So if you wanna make something that's going to play to the Chinese audience and be interesting to them, make the Disney version. And what that meant to us, was that we had to bring the highest level of execution, production, design, costume, hair and makeup, the cinematography.

“The people that we hire, they were hired with the expectation that we wanted awards-caliber work, and they weren't meant to think about this as a kids movie or an animated remake, or any of those things.

“Our references are David Lean and [Akira] Kurosawa — we're not looking at 101 Dalmatians.”

[honeyedhoseok]

Stitch | The V2 Series

Genre | Angst (literally only angst in this part), Taehyung x reader,  friends->lovers->friends? au, The V2 Series

Word Count | 5.1K 

Summary | “I’ve been an anchor that’s pulling on you / Stopping and stalling is all that I do / You were so bright but I painted you blue” It’s been exactly 58 days (and counting) since you last spoke to Taehyung. After weeks under your new facade, all it takes is a simple Instagram post to send you spiraling. [Takes place after the present-day argument between Taehyung and Y/N in Forever, Fire Burning Blue !]

Warnings | Mentions symptoms of depression, sadness, and anxiety. Language. 

A/N | Side Warning: Taehyung might break reader hearts by the end of this chapter. But I’m really excited to see what you all think!! Enjoy <3 

Read the other parts of The V2 Series HERE!

It’s been exactly 58 days since you’ve talked to Taehyung.

The only reason you are reminded of the number is because one of the last pictures in your phone is from the day before your argument. You two are posing with the pizza in his bed—you, with your slice covering half your face as you try not to laugh too hard at Taehyung, who had just taken a bite and slapped hot cheese on his chin.

The picture is blurry because as soon as it happened, Taehyung yelled out in pain and almost dropped his slice—so his body is a moving whirl of colors in the picture, not exactly a part of the fun that was supposed to be conveyed, while you sit there posing, perfectly content with your own piece of pizza.

You suppose it’s a good representation of how things felt in the last fleeting moments between the two of you.

You can’t delete it. Every time your thumb hovers over the trash can icon in the corner of the picture, the hurt in your chest comes back—an aching that you cannot even begin to describe, much less figure out how to get over it—and you end up exiting out of the photo app, saving the dilemma of deleting it for yet another time.

To say the least, you miss him.

To say the most, you miss him so much it feels like you’re not exactly you anymore. You miss him so much you haven’t slept well in two months. You miss him so much that nothing seems enjoyable anymore—going to work, hanging out with friends, getting dressed for a night out, going to school. Hell, even eating has become a monotony to you because nothing tastes as good, and you find yourself leaving more and more food on your plate each time you push your chair back from the table.

Despite all of this, you are doing well. You are doing well on the outside because you refuse to let anyone know the raging storm of emotions that are happening on the inside. In reality, you can’t let anyone know.

You don’t hang out with your friends as much, but you do go to work—bar tending on the weekends when you don’t have school—and you make drinks and you talk with the customers and you put on a fake smile for all the dirty old men who flirt with you after they order their third, fourth, and fifth beer.

You spend a lot of time with Hongbin, trying hard to devote all the time and energy that you didn’t have before to showing him that you now undoubtedly care for him like no other person on earth.

You are living a lie. But it’s okay because you hope one day it will merge itself into the truth if you just keep pretending long enough.

Another week passes by under your new facade.

You are sitting in the living room with Hongbin, eyes glazing over some sitcom on the television that he insisted on watching each night after dinner, when your phone lights up on the table in front of you.

You pick it up, eyes still trained on the TV, letting out a small giggle at the antics of one of the characters. When your gaze finally drops down to the lit-up screen with the notification sitting in the middle, your stomach drops at the tiny words alerting you of the one person you’ve been trying to forget.

tvehyung posted to their story for the first time in a while

You read it over a few times, trying to decide if you should even indulge in looking at his social media. The two of you hadn’t deleted each other on anything—you were still friends on Snapchat, Twitter, and Facebook, as well—you just weren’t talking or acknowledging each other’s presence.

Taehyung’s social media accounts had been inactive for the whole two-month silence. What could he have posted, suddenly?

You shift the blanket covering your legs over to Hongbin, untangling yourself from his embrace to walk to the bathroom; he hadn’t noticed the stiffening of your body when you looked at your phone, which you were grateful for. If you were going to break the personal limitations set for yourself, the least you could do is allow yourself to do it in private.

You close the door behind you with a soft click, choosing to sink down onto the fluffy, white rug in front of the bathroom cabinets rather than perch on the closed toilet lid or the side of the tub. Your hands grip your phone with sweaty urgency as you finally click on the notification, holding your breath while your screen pulls up Taehyung’s Instagram story.

It’s just a picture of him at a café, clearly taken earlier that day—a coffee sits in front of him and in the corner is a geotag for the place. It’s nothing special and so you let out the breath, feeling triumphant in overcoming an obstacle—what obstacle you aren’t sure, but you know the feeling of relief that flows through your veins is one you welcome.

However, you make the grave mistake of clicking on his profile afterward—suspecting that you are going to see the same pictures he’d previously posted and hadn’t updated in months.

You are extremely mistaken.

Sitting—beautifully, you might add—in the top left corner of his feed is a new selfie that has your shaky fingers clicking on instantly, your eyes drinking in the photo and caption. At first you are excited—it’s Taehyung in all his handsome glory, staring with mild disinterest in the camera—but the caption is what gets you.

“Han Yeseul?” you breathe out, your stomach knotting at the just the sound of the syllables all together, at the images they send flashing through your brain, at what they mean for your quickly-crumbling facade.

You click on her name and have to close your eyes for a second to stop the rolling nausea that floods your system; her profile contains, in a neat row at the very top, three pictures of Taehyung with his new petunia-colored hair—all posted within the last week.

He is walking in front of her in one—stylish as ever in a chic button down and black trousers, his overcoat thrown over his shoulder.

He is smiling in the next, happy as hell as he sits across from her at fancy restaurant downtown.

He is brushing his teeth in the most recent, looking messy and pretty from having just woken up—with Yeseul obviously in the same state behind the camera lens from the early morning time stamp on the picture.

Each caption is vague, but they don’t need to say anymore—the pictures do enough to justify the situation at hand.

Taehyung is not mourning your separation by not sleeping, not eating, not feeling; no, Taehyung is living. Unlike you, Taehyung is moving on.

Specifically, to another girl.

You press a hand over your trembling lips, tossing your phone to the side in the bathroom as you scramble toward the toilet, gripping the edges as you release the jittery contents of your stomach into the porcelain bowl.

It’s about a week later after seeing the picture that Yeonwoo wakes you up by pounding incessantly on your apartment door.

You groan, rolling out of bed and rubbing sleep out of your eyes as you stumble towards the sound, thinking of all the cuss words possible to spew at her when you finally open it—

“What?” you snap, squinting at her through the lines of your screen door. “What is it?”

“Why aren’t you answering your phone?” she asks, shoulders slumping. “I’ve been calling you all morning.”

“I was sleeping!” you exclaim, opening the door to let her in.

“Y/N it’s 2 p.m.,” she responds, looking at you wearily. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you grumble. “It’s my day off—I had two double shifts at the bar.”

Yeonwoo walks into the kitchen, setting her purse down on the table.

“Well, I don’t know if you remember or not, since I haven’t heard from you since I asked—” She presses the button on your coffee maker and pulls two mugs down from the cabinet, “—but I asked you to ride to town with me to get stuff for the party this weekend.”

You slump down at the table, still halfway out of it from the rude awakening you’d received just a few short moments ago.

“A party?” you croak. “Who is throwing a party?”

“I am,” she says, sighing. “We talked about this.”

“Right, right,” you say, waving a hand in the air dismissively. “Listen, Yeonwoo. I forgot and I’m tired, I really don’t feel like walking around in town—”

“Y/N, please!” she says, clasping her hands together. “You promised you would because Hyejin can’t!”

Your eyes glaze over her pouty face, taking in the shiny lip gloss swiped across her poked-out bottom lip and the lashes that graze her eyebrows as she widens her doe-like eyes.

“Please,” she says again. “I’ll wait for you to get dressed—I’ll have a cup of coffee and watch TV so you can shower!”

You groan, running a hand through your hair—it gets caught in one of the knots caused by your incessant tossing and turning in bed and you drop it back to the table, ignoring the twitch of Yeonwoo’s mouth at the action.

You know that you should go out and do something—you haven’t been out of the house in God-knows how long, which is why Hongbin wasn’t around today. It was his day off as well, but he was out with some guy friends from work. Asking you to do something the night before had ended terribly—you two got into an argument and he’d slept on the couch. He’d obviously gotten up and dressed while you were still snoozing happily in bed.

You’d also asked him to stop the get-togethers at your apartment every other weekend; you didn’t want to have to deal with the possibility of him inviting Taehyung—just the thought of that situation made anxiety twist in your stomach.

You knew you were being ridiculous, but you couldn’t bring yourself to snap out of it. You just wanted to be left alone to wallow in whatever self-pity phase you were going through until you could get over it yourself—not because someone else wanted you to or needed you to.

“Hyejin and I are really starting to worry about you,” Yeonwoo adds on quietly, gaze dropping from yours. “You know you can talk to us if something is bothering you, right?”

You nod, fixating your gaze somewhere out the window in the kitchen. “I’m fine,” you repeat dryly.

“We even tried to ask Tae, because we thought you were mad at us or something—”

“You talked to Taehyung?” you say, your eyes immediately finding hers again. She looks surprised at the urgency in your tone, but she nods.

“Yeah, he said you just needed some time alone—and so we’ve been trying to give you that but, we miss you, Y/N.”

Your lips press together in a hard line. So far, Taehyung had been very adamant about keeping the fact that you two weren’t talking under wraps. Even in the face of your best friends, he was still acting like everything was perfectly fine between you two, and not like you hadn’t talked in over two months.

“Is everything okay at work?” Yeonwoo asks lightly. “Maybe you should take some time off, I know it’s hard to juggle that and your night classes sometimes—”

“I really don’t need anyone else suggesting what I need to do for myself,” you snap, rising from your chair. “Hongbin does enough of that for everyone. I know what I can handle.”

Yeonwoo presses her lips together in a tight line, nodding. “Okay.”

“I’m going to take a shower,” you say, returning to your bedroom quickly before the hurt in her eyes can make you feel any worse than you already do.

Yeonwoo talks animatedly in the front seat as you drive downtown, catching you up on all the things you’d missed in the group chat with her and Hyejin during the weeks before.

You felt bad for silencing their messages, but it was annoying to see their constant stream of texts when you had nothing to say—you hoped that if you stopped reading and replying, they’d get the hint and take their chats into a separate group; thankfully, they did in the end. The chat had been silent for days, which is when you supposed they asked Taehyung about your current distanced disposition.

You do more listening and making small agreement noises than talking during the ride, letting your eyes drift over to the scenery passing by in a blur by the window until you start seeing the familiar store fronts of downtown.

“Do you mind if we eat something first?” Yeonwoo suggests, looking over at you with caution, as if at any moment you could bite her head off for the second time that day at a suggestion she made.

You nod in silence, deciding to let her have this one thing. You were a little hungry, so you could do this for her.

“Something small,” you suggest quietly, and that’s enough to sate Yeonwoo. She straightens her back, placing her hands higher on the wheel and gives a quick flash of a grin your way.

“Great,” she says. “There’s this café downtown I wanted to show you.”

You don’t ask which one. You don’t want to start Yeonwoo on a rant again. Instead, you lean back in your seat, allowing your head to press against the backing and close your eyes. She picks up on your obvious dislike for the conversation she was trying to carry on and quiets down, turning the radio up a few notches and singing softly to a song.

The café is one that you’ve never been to before, but your curiosity immediately heightens as you get out of the car, eyes tracing the name hovering above the door that sparks recognition in your brain.

Café Du Monde.

It seems so familiar, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on when or where you’d heard it before. Yeonwoo is already out of the car, pushing the door open to the café and holding it for you. She looks back over her shoulder, eyebrows furrowing at the troubled look on your face.

“What’s wrong?” she says. “I promise the bagels here are really good!”

“It’s nothing,” you say quickly, speeding up to catch up with her. You follow her inside, taking in the quaint atmosphere of the coffee shop—everything is wooden and modern, and strings of white, holiday lights line the walls; Yeonwoo watches you, trying to gauge your reaction.

Your eyes finally meet hers and you smile at her. “It’s really cute.”

“Isn’t it?” she says, bouncing on her toes a little. “They sell real macchiato here—like the espresso shot, not the sixteen-ounce version in a cup you get from Starbucks. And I heard the chai latte and the hot chocolate are really good, although, I’ve never tried it, but I heard from Mina that—”

You’re half-listening, half-not because you’re gazing at the menu behind the bar, looking at all the different flavors you could get in your coffee. The bell above the shop door tinkles again as the door is pushed back open, and your eyes graze over to the newcomer in the shop.

Your heart sinks.

The door swings shut behind the customer, and reality comes crashing down on you all at once. Café Du Monde—it’s the same cafe that Taehyung had posted about on his Instagram a few days before. But the thought doesn’t reach you until you’re swinging your gaze over, landing on the countenance of a gorgeous, five-foot-ten man that you know better than anyone else on the planet.

But your stomach doesn’t ignite in delight like it normally would, because when Taehyung’s eyes find yours, the look is empty—unfeeling and void of all the emotions you’ve seen it hold for you before. He doesn’t acknowledge your presence in the slightest, and instead, gets in line a few customers behind you and Yeonwoo.

You eyes want to follow his retreating figure but you whip your gaze back towards the menu, trying to calm the hammering in your chest as Yeonwoo steps up to the counter—completely oblivious to the situation at hand unfolding just a few inches behind her. You feel like you’re vibrating, unable to control the unrelenting tremors of your fingers as you search around your wallet for your debit card.

“I’ll just take a coffee, black,” you say quickly when it’s your turn, slapping your debit card on the counter and sinking your teeth into your lip to stop it from trembling. The barista takes their time, swiping your card and whipping around what looks like an iPad on a stand for you to tip and sign.

Yeonwoo is already seated at a table near the front of the shop, and you walk over slowly with your mug, avoiding looking up until you are settled in front of her. She nods disapprovingly at your choice.

“I thought you were going to get something,” she says—emphasizing that something meant a drink along the lines of the sugary, whipped concoction she was clutching in her own hands. “But maybe their classic roast is good?”

“I don’t think my stomach can handle that right now,” you confess, giving her a small smile.

Yeonwoo hums, eyes tracing your figure with curiosity. “You look so thin these days. Are you dieting?”

“What? No.” you answer, half-listening. “I like eating.”

You break, and glance back quickly over your shoulder at the line to the cash register. Taehyung is at the counter now, giving his order to the cashier in a calm tone. The murmurs of his honey voice float over to where you and Yeonwoo are sitting, weighing heavy on your heart. When you turn back around, she is looking past you at the line as well, and your heart beat stutters when her eyes light up in recognition.

“Isn’t that Taehyung?” she says, sitting up a little in her seat. “Hey, Tae—”

“Yeonwoo, uh, maybe we shouldn’t—he’s like—” you stutter out but it’s too late.

“Taehyung!” she calls again. He turns around with his drink in hand, raising his eyebrows at Yeonwoo as if he didn’t see her—or you—at all when he first came in. “Come here!”

You grip the sides of your steaming cup, focusing in on the feeling of hot ceramic burning your palms as you hear Taehyung’s soft footfalls come closer. He stops at the edge of your table, and you peek a glance at his navy slacks as you slowly bring your cup up to your mouth, stalling for the inevitable moment you know is coming very, very soon.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Yeonwoo says, smiling at him. “Isn’t this place awesome?”

He nods. “I’m just meeting a friend here.”

“Oh, cool,” Yeonwoo says, and you meet her eyes over the table. She raises an eyebrow at you but continues. “What’d you get to drink?”

Could she tell how uncomfortable you were? Was it suddenly louder in the cafe? Hotter? Could she see the literal static buzzing between your ears from being in the same room, much less, the same personal space as Taehyung for the first time in over two months?

“I got a Black and Tan,” Taehyung says.

He laughs a little when Yeonwoo makes a face. The sound makes you feel breathless.

“What? Is that not good?” he asks. “That’s what I’ve been getting since they opened! The barista recommended.”

Yeonwoo shakes her head in disappointment. “You and Y/N are so similar,” she says. “She just got black coffee.”

“Oh yeah?” Taehyung says.

You can feel it coming before it happens. You stiffen in your seat, muscles contracting as if bracing yourself for the hit that is Taehyung’s gaze finally falling on you. The first words that he’s spoken to you in two months come out slowly, as if you can see every movement of his lips and tongue in slow motion as he says:

“You’re not much of a coffee drinker.” His face stays passive, unemotional. “I’m surprised you’re here.”

You press your lips together, giving the smallest shrug you can muster at his comment. It’s true, of course; what you had in front of you was absolutely disgusting, but it’s contents void of any real flavor was soothing and easy to swallow—especially now to your particularly parched throat. The comment feels just the slightest bit sinister, as if Taehyung was annoyed by your presence at a place you weren’t normally a fan of. As if you were intruding on his own personal time away from you.  

Your quickly eyes drop from his, embarrassed.

Luckily, Yeonwoo reels his sharpened gaze back to her. “Who are you meeting?” she asks. “Would you guys want to sit with us for a bit?”

The thought of being there any longer was starting to become unbearable to you, so you pipe up quickly, “Well, we were just heading out, right? Didn’t you want to go shopping, for the party?”

Yeonwoo’s brow crinkles at the urgency in your tone, but there’s little you can do to hide it. You hope for once she understands and asks questions later—when you were both away from Taehyung.

“Party?” Taehyung asks, taking a cautious sip of the hot drink in his hands.

“Yeah, next Saturday at my house,” Yeonwoo chirps, grinning. It falls quickly and she looks back and forth between you and Taehyung. “Y/N didn’t tell you?”

“I’ve been busy,” Taehyung covers—cool and collected as always. “I must’ve forgotten, sorry. I’ll be there, though.”

“Great!”

Yeonwoo pulls her purse strap up on her shoulder, using her other hand to grab onto her drink as she stands up from the table. You do the same in a more hurried fashion, keeping your eyes down. You feel like a kicked puppy, but you can’t quite put your finger on why. You want to be angry, more confident, more assertive in the situation that was unfolding between you and Taehyung. Instead, seeing him made you feel worse. It reminded you that this whole thing was happening because of you—because you were greedy and selfish and completely deserving of his steely stare and the feeling of tucking your tail between your legs and running like a coward away from it.

Just as you are saying your goodbyes—or, rather, Yeonwoo is saying them for the both of you—the doorbell to Cafe Du Monde chimes again, alerting the entrance of another customer. As you are shuffling past the newcomer toward the exit, you hear Taehyung call out in his honeyed baritone, “Yeseul! I got us a seat over here.”

Yeseul. Han Yeseul.

Your head whips around over your shoulder and you see her petite frame walking towards Taehyung. It’s not her presence that bothers you the most, because it’s Taehyung’s face that you have the clear view of. His countenance has changed—he is smiling broadly as she bends down to land a small kiss on his cheek before sliding into the booth across from him, sunbeams practically radiating between the spaces of his teeth as he looks at her.

You press your trembling lips together, letting go of the cafe door and letting it slam with a bang! behind you on accident. But you can’t be bothered with the embarrassment that comes with it—there’s already too much weighing on your heart from your previous conversation, mixed with grief, shame, unsettledness, and just the tiniest dash of jealousy.

In reality, it’s more jealousy than you would ever be willing to admit.

Your body feels unable to carry the weight of your withheld feelings anymore, and so, when you slide into the passenger seat of Yeonwoo’s town car, the first tear rolls down your nose and drips off onto the lid of the coffee cup in your hand.

“Was it just me, or was Tae acting kind of weird?” Yeonwoo asks, pulling her mirror down to check her hair and reapply her lip gloss.

Another tear follows, creating a bigger puddle on the plastic. Followed by another. And another.

“Is anyone really too busy to remember the date of something?” she asks, frowning at her own reflection. “Well, I mean, I guess you were today. But that’s an exception—” She giggles a little and finally looks over at you. “At least he corrected himself, rig—oh my god, Y/N. What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, sniffling and wiping away the tears harshly. You don’t speak for the sake of keeping your lips pressed tightly together, hiding the sob that’s forcing its way up your throat.

“Don’t lie to me,” Yeonwoo presses, reaching out to put a hand on your back. “Something has you like this. Talk to me.”

“I—” you pause, feeling the tears flow down your cheeks as you search for what to say.

It didn’t make sense why this was bothering you so much. It wasn’t just meeting Taehyung in the cafe, it was the feelings you’d been battling with for two the months. The loneliness and bitterness and emptiness you felt without him. And you certainly couldn’t relay that information to Yeonwoo—not yet, anyways.

“Tae and I—we’re—” You pause to sniffle again and Yeonwoo’s eyes widen.

“I knew it!” she says. “You two were being too weird back there. I knew something was going on!”

“What?” you say, lifting your head up and looking her fully in the face.

Suddenly your friend seems to have stumbled across a discovery that had been brewing underneath the surface of her thoughts for a while, the way her eyes search yours both pensive and knowing at the same time.

“No,” you say, “We’re just—we had a fight. A bad one.” You wipe at your eyes with a tissue that Yeonwoo finally hands you from her purse, and she nods cautiously, encouraging you to go on. “It’s all my fault and because, you know how I am—I don’t know how to make it better, Yeonwoo.”

“Oh,” Yeonwoo exhales. The sound is both one of relief and of pity. “Oh, Y/N. It’s Taehyung. You guys have been friends for so long, don’t you think he just needs a little time to get over it?”

You blow your nose into the tissue, shaking your head. The tears are constant now, all your feelings rushing over the brim of your eyelids in the form of fat, hot droplets that drip off your chin and onto your shirt and jeans. The way Yeonwoo is gauging your reactions to her questions makes you fidget in your seat—did she somehow know? That was impossible, right?

“What did you guys fight about?”

“Yeseul,” you answer honestly.

“Yeseul? Who is that?” Yeonwoo asks, before her mouth drops open, “Her? The girl that just walked in the cafe to sit with him?”

You nod. “He’s kind of busying himself with her lately—which I understand, I left Taehyung to spend time with Hongbin before, too—but, I don’t know. I just—”

“Miss him?” Yeonwoo finishes. “Aw, Y/N.” She reaches across the middle console in her car, pulling you in for the awkwardest of hugs she can manage with both of your seatbelts on. “Don’t worry, okay? It’s going to get better. Taehyung just needs some time, but maybe you should try to talk to him. I’m sure he doesn’t know it’s bothering you like this.”

The understatement of the year, you think. But you accept her hug, pressing your face into the soft material of her top and hoping you don’t pull away to see the black streak of your smudged mascara.

“Do you want me to uninvite him from the party?” she asks when she pulls away, keeping you at arm's length. Her brows furrow over her innocent eyes, making her look comically mad in a way that makes you want to smile. “I can go back in there right now. I’ll tell him to keep his ass away from my house—”

“No,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “No, Yeonwoo, really. It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” she says. “I know you love him and all, but I can go take back my invitation if it means saving you some awkwardness next weekend.”

You try not to let her choice of words bother you. She studies you for a minute—taking in the redness of your face and nose, the glassiness of eyes fresh from crying, the way your lips still tremble a little when you’re not talking, the tightness of the grip you have on the crumpled tissue in your left hand.

“I’m good,” you say. “Really. I promise.”

Yeonwoo continues to look at you and for a second, it scares the shit out of you—as if she’s seeing right through your facade and down to the real problem: you didn’t just love Taehyung; You were in love with Taehyung and had no fucking clue what to do about it.

Yeonwoo’s mouth opens and closes, and you’re so sure she’s about to call you out that your heartbeat triples in your chest, hammering a steading rhythm that you hear in your ears, almost drowning out what she does finally say.

“Fine.” She presses her lips together. “I won’t go yell at him today. But he’s a real jerk if he can’t tell that his attitude isn’t making this any better.”

You sigh in relief, settling back into your seat as Yeonwoo puts the car in reverse and backs out of her parking spot.

It was starting to look like you didn’t give anyone enough credit for perceptiveness—the faint adrenaline rush receding from your veins was evidence enough that you needed to be more careful when showing your emotions, and not just when Taehyung was around. The realization has you second guessing every interaction you and Taehyung have ever had in front of your friends, expecting them to brush it off as two people who were extremely close from years of friendship.

You give Cafe Du Monde one final glance before you pull away, delivering the TKO punch to your gut for the day. At a seat by the window, you see through the clear glass window where Taehyung and Yeseul sit—laughing, happy, oblivious, and full of life and love as they chat with each other.