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binniesthighs · 3 years

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call me babydoll | reader x chan

soooo shhhh this actually a part one shhhh but i’m just trying out writing out different things and getting out some of my ideas outta my head that i’m really excited about, this one being one of them!! for now...just pretend that this is just a regular ol’ drabble hehehehe. this part is the set-up chapter (shhh i mean drabble)

One

Pairing: self insert, female reader x bang chan

Genre: fluff, smut, and angst

Tags: (overall) bodyguard au, moderndayprince!chan, bodyguard!reader, secret agent au, royal au, action and peril, plot driven, running out of time, slow-ish burn, growing feelings, softswitch!chan, hardswitch!reader, some skz side characters, jeongin third wheel and comedic relief LOL, travelling, chan being expensive and having a lil bit of a superiority complex, flirtyyyy chan, bits of mystery, explicit language, mentions of food and alcohol, idk think like 007 vibes hehe

CWs: guns and gun violence, a shooting in a ballroom, mentions of blood

Word count: 4.6k

Parts

ONE | TWO

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here early.”

“Well, expect the unexpected.”

“Don’t turn the motto back at me. I’m sick of hearing it so many damn times.”

“What? You and I both know that it’s true. You’re here early too, so, technically you don’t get to say anything.”

Jeongin straightened his bow tie, then patted down the sides of his perfectly ironed tux with not a crinkle to be found. Knowing him, it was a miracle that he hadn’t messed it up in some form yet. He promptly took out his pocket square to clean off his glasses.

“You’re looking nice. Seems like they don’t mind spending money now on you these days.” He blew off the flecks of dust on his lenses.

“They know that they get their return on their investment. And thank you.”

You smoothed down the sides of your dusty pink dress that nearly went all the way down to your ankles. Had you any other choice, it would’ve been something different, but, dresses were really good at hiding your thigh holster compared to the slacks you usually favored. You didn’t mind the times that you would have to put on a pretty dress, it somewhat reminded you that there was normal life outside of your job. Not to mention, they had started sending you jewelry as well. You always had liked the look of a diamond necklace.

“You do your research for tonight?”

Jeongin nodded, then took from his pocket his phone to read over the details.

“I’ve done a background check on everyone attending, we shouldn’t have any issues. It’s already a low risk event anyway. Charity is never something to get too worked up over, but, you never know with the detail that some of these people come with...who they might be tied to...”

“--The only people we can trust is ourselves.” You nodded with arms crossed.

“Expect the unexpected, I know.” He slid his phone back into his inside suit pocket to adjust his cufflinks.

“--Nervous?” You took note of his fidgeting actions.

“Nervous? No. I’ve been through this before. You know that.”

You flicked your partner right on his forehead strung with his white hair. You had really wished that he had picked a less conspicuous color, but he had strings to pull that you didn’t.

Jeongin cleared his throat, “You do your once over?”

“Do you even need to ask? I did it hours ago and when we arrived. You know that I’ve done this before too.”

“I know. I know.”

Jeongin looked out at the vast circular atrium that made up the center of the hotel. Several stories down under the glass rooftop, you could hear the faint sprinkling of the intricate fountain which smelled of copper. A bit further down, you could see the tips of the tree branches from the indoor landscaping. Across the way, a door slammed with residents tucking in their ties. The two men you had recognized from the roster: a simple thing which made you feel at ease. Your young partner must’ve started to have an effect on you. A sense of unease seemed to quell in your neck. You always listened to your hunches.

“W-what do you think he thinks of us?” Jeongin broke the silence.

“Well,” From inside the room you had waited outside, you could hear his distant murmuring, so you lowered your tone. “I think that he has yet to trust us. It’s only been a few weeks. He doesn’t seem like the kind to give himself up easy. That, and I’m sure his resentment of his father must have some influence.”

“You think he hates us?”

“I think he hates his father for hiring us. I mean, wouldn’t you? His old security detail, he had them for years.”

“I guess so. But, we’re not like his old detail.”

“No. We’re not. I don’t think he gets that yet. I think he sees us as one more way his father has a hold on him.”

“It’s not like he can do much else about it when his dad’s a kin--”

“--No, no, thank you, really, it’s lovely. Some of your best work. Thank you.”

Chan swung open the door to his room, stopping Jeongin right in his sentence.

“Ah. You’re here already. That’s...punctual.”

As dazzling and showy as ever, Chan looking nothing short of a magazine model. For a prince, he had certain...appearances that he had to maintain. Today, it was a velvety and maroon suit jacket with a white button up. On the collar, two matching brooches had been perfectly placed, and they were silver like moonlight in the shape of English ivy and adorned with diamonds. On his lapel, he wore the royal insignia of the lion and the wolf. Behind him, you could see his slew of stylists cleaning up their makeup kits and obscene assortment of designer dress shoes for him to pick from. You had thought before that he even smelled like royalty: stuffy white roses with a hint of priceless cognac.

Jeongin bowed his head respectfully. “Everything has been prepared for tonight. The rest of your guards are surrounding the building, and I’ll be corresponding with them as needed, your Highness.” He tapped at his earpiece.

Chan drew his attention over to you, giving you a rather lusty glare. Over the past couple weeks, you had gotten used to it. He was a prince to every extent of the word. If there was anything that he had wanted, he simply had to ask. It drove him insane that all he could do was merely look at you. You had wondered if he harbored anything else for you besides the way that he would devour the curves of your shoulders and hips.

“Fox. Bee. You look nice tonight. I like seeing you dressed up. Makes me feel less out of place.”

You couldn’t help but let out a little sound of discontentment over his rather affectionate nickname for you. You and your partner had been introduced to him as F and B. Quickly he had figured out Jeongin’s codename as Fox, considering that he had done a poor job picking out one that wasn’t related to him at all. Anyone could tell that boy was fox-like, and he also just wasn’t that creative when it came to picking out a name for himself. B, or Bee as he had decided, was your name; as in bumblebee. After learning about Fox, he figured that there was an animal theme going, so Bee seemed to fit best in his oponion.

You tested his glare with your best, “Thank you, your Highness.”

Jeongin gulped. “Your assistant should be waiting downstairs with your itinerary. She told me that you should meet her first off.”

“You work too hard F. Have some fun tonight, hm? But don’t...drink too much. You’re responsible for my life remember?” Chan clapped his bodyguard on the back.

Your partner nervously laughed and adjusted his glasses once more: his preferred tic.

“And Bee?” Chan rose a brow to lean into close and whisper. “Stay close, alright?”

“Of course, your Highness.”

Chan let out a little scoff after getting one more proper look at your frame. “Damn. You really are stunning. Just a little too dangerous for me though.”

You rolled your eyes, dishing him outa, “Whatever you say, your Highness.”

Jeongin threw you and annoyed glare before tracing after Chan as he sauntered down the hall to the glass elevator.

“Bee? You coming? Or do you have something better to do?” Chan’s voice called down the hall with an echo and a little teasing gesture of his hand.

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

It had been seven years since you had chosen this line of work, and each time that you had to go to one of these things, you hated them more and more. Not because they were hard to control--they were easy--but you just hated how many superficial and self-absorbed people that they could fit into one room.

The air was filled with the scent of champagne bubbles and too much Chanel No. 5. From corner to corner of the room, and even next to the ice sculpture of the lion and the wolf crest, silk, satin; velvet and the best cotton could be found. Long gloves covered the arms of ladies with wrinkling skin, and tweed vests held in the guts of men who indulged in their food just as much as their mistresses. All this effort just to appear as if they had given one care about the philanthropic efforts of the royalty.

Several neatly dressed waiters passed you with golden platters of hors d'oeuvres made of ingredients so expensive, they would’ve cost the same amount as the generous donations made by the attendees. If you could’ve, you would’ve scooped up as many of them as you could, just to eat all of their copious amounts of money yourself, but, there was somewhere a rule that you had to keep your hand to yourself when you were on duty. The best that you had to look forward too was take-out to eat at 3 in the morning with Jeongin later.

Buzzing chatter filled your earpiece while each of the additional guards gave their hourly report.

“Damn. It’s fucking colder out here than I thought. It’s fucking summer.” One of them joked to the tune of the other guards laughter.

“Stay focused.” Jeongin scolded over the line. “Don’t leave your posts until your shifts change.”

While he was a timid man, Jeongin was not one to mess around. Son of the director, he knew that he had big shoes to fill. After pleading for years for her to admit him into the academy, she had agreed. Everyone knew the reason why she didn’t want him in this line of work. Too many dead. Too many missing. In some ways, he was also yours to look after.

You trailed after Chan who was busy talking to his assistant and his publicist. While he nodded at their words, you knew that he must’ve been barely listening. Chan never really was one for formality, but much rather enjoyed simplicity and pleasure. Jeongin and you had somewhat of a bet going: out of all the guests, you had liked to bet which one he would take with him to his bedroom. Since you had all the profiles of the guests, you liked to bet a little money on which one it would be.

Jeongin had guessed it to be the heiress and daughter of a tycoon who had made a multi-million won donation in the name of his company. It was ironic; his very company was a big-scale pollutor who liked to make nice with the crown. She was conventionally very pretty: long legs, a thin frame, she was educated and looked as if she could hold somewhat of a conversation...not like that mattered to him.

You had predicted it to be the foreign CEO who had just started business dealings with the crown. While she might’ve looked a bit stuck-up and prim, she was intimidating, and a challenge. Chan loved challenges. Chan also had a pension for pretty boys with a bit too much money on their hands--usually inherited--and with nothing much else to do other than dote on him. There were plenty of those attending the gala tonight.

Chan snaked through the crowd, bowing his head at all of the Good evening, your Highnesses and the It’s a pleasure to meet you, your Highnesses. Every few moments or so he would take a bite from a golden plate and then pop it into his mouth. The whole night long, he would hold his glass with him and it would get refilled for him without him even needing to ask. You sometimes liked to pretend that in some places, they must’ve assigned someone to watch him from afar to make sure that he would never need anything before it was given to him. It wouldn’t have surprised you.

“Having fun Bee?” Chan languidly rolled his head back, swirling his glass.

“As much fun as you are.” You quipped.

“Anything that I should be concerned about?”

“Nothing of concern.” You stated matter-of-factly. Had you matched his flirting tone, you knew that you wouldn’t hear the end of it for the rest of the night. “Fox. Report?”

“Nothing that I can see. No one has been tagging you.” Jeongin had staked himself up on the upper balcony of the banquet hall room, and had been watching for as long as you had been following after the prince. “You sensing anything strange?” His voice tickled in your in-ear.

“Just a bunch of the normal crowd.” You kept your tone down low. “He’s rubbing noses with the usual. You’ve seen too?”

He chuckled. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”

You followed Chan to his seat nearest the front of the room which had been fashioned into a stage with a clear glass podium in the center. Right in front there was one more crest decorating it. Chan had ensured it to be so: he had wanted everyone to know that this was all for his charity.

“It seems like our bets aren’t working out. He hasn’t talked to either of the...suspects.” Your partner changed his choice of words knowing that the other guards were listening.

From the opposite side of the room both the heiress and the CEO stood with thin glasses of wine in their lithe hands. Chan had in fact walked right past them, and didn’t even notice.

“Tonight is going to be a long night.” Jeongin sighed over the line.

You politely pushed past attendees with a raised hand and a sweet smile. You had found that when you smiled, you had appeared less intimidating.

“Oh wait...what’s this?”

“What?” You whipped your head around after Jeongin’s interjection. “What? Do you see something? What’s the call?”

“Relax! It just looks like he’s approaching someone he wants to talk to. I think both of us are about to be proven wrong.”

“Ah, shit.” You sighed. “Don’t put me on edge like that.”

“I’m only trying to entertain myself.”

“Name. Who is it? You’ve got the roster.”

You partner was quiet for a minute, and you watched from a distance as Chan approached the man leaned over a martini seated at one of the perfectly decorated tables.

“Uh, I think that he’s Lee Minho. Some kind of royalty from somewhere else. Pretty low ranking from the looks of it. I think that he made a donation himself...and it’s...damn, larger than you would expect.”

“Should we be concerned?”

“No. Seems harmless.”

“Thank you for coming,” You made out the words that Chan had mouthed. He drew a chair next to the unknown man.

From what you could tell, Lee Minho was handsome to the full extent of the word: nearly all of his physical features were exemplary and his suit appeared to have been fitted to perfect for him; likely one of a kind. He too wore an insignia on his lapel, but it was one that you hadn’t recognized before. He had immaculately styled hair that had some kind of rebellious and boyish charm to it. The man had a kind of mystery about him too: you had been able to pride yourself in being able to read people, and it had saved your life on more than one occasion. But with him, there was something that you couldn’t place.

“Do they know eachother?” You asked Jeongin.

“Not that I know of. School friend maybe? Seems like all the royals send their kids to the same schools.”

“Hm. That would make sense.”

“Enjoying yourself?” Chan said.

Lee Minho nodded, and rose his glass to clink it with the prince’s.

“Do we think that he’s our...suspect?”

The stranger dipped his head into his hand as he listened to Chan speak. A flirty gesture that you had seen a hundred times or more. Still, the way that he inspected Chan, it wasn’t adoring. Or at least, you didn’t think that it was.

“No. I don’t think so.”

“What the hell are you yapping about?” One of the other guards snapped over the line.

“Um, classified stuff.” Jeongin quickly explained. “Above your paygrade. Don’t worry about it.”

“Fox. Watch out for him tonight.” You snuck over to a corner of the room where you could watch the two of them more discreetly.

“Affirmative....” Your partner paused. “Babydoll.”

“Pffff--Babydoll??” The same guard stifled his laughter. “You call her Babydoll, Fox? Damn, you all must be closer than I thought. Didn’t know that I was missing out on some of the action--”

“--Ever heard of a codename, Three?”

“Babydoll’s her codename.”

A grin crept over your lips. “Expect the unexpected.”

You had almost gotten distracted enough to miss how Lee Minho had leaned over to whisper something into the prince’s ear. After he had done so, Chan laughed out a little, then reached his arm around the other man’s chair comfortably.

“They’re...cozy.” You updated your partner.

“I’m trying to cross-check where he might know him from.”

Chan’s assistant and publicist finally slipped away with giddy little smiles. In many ways, you were jealous of them. They could leave whenever the wanted, eat what they wanted...

Jeongin scoffed. “Well, turns out...nothing. I can’t find anything.”

“Nothing?”

“Negative. I’m not seeing any crossover.”

“So they really are strangers?”

Your partner sighed. “Looks like neither of us are cashing ou--I mean--finding the suspect.”

Under your breath, you wondered aloud, “Who are you...Lee Minho?”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

The night drew on longer with the rest of the formalities: the formal dinner, followed by several speeches from important people while dessert was being served. It all led up to the final act: His Royal Highness, Prince Chan’s speech. On several neat notecards marked with the crest, he held them in front of him while he ate his last bits of Mont Blanc Chocolate Pavlova. Even the name of the sweet itself sounded pretentious. Granted, it smelled delicious--as many expensive things did.

You stifled a yawn from your little set up on the edge of the room. At least you should’ve been able to sit, but it turns out that sitting is also against the rules in this line of work. A couple other security and bodyguards had joined you at the edge: some of their heads nodded with sleep, and the others looked as if they had taken one too many energy shots. Luckily, your stamina had been well crafted.

A fancily dressed MC made his way up to the podium and the room filled with applause after the last speaker had said all of their correct mandatory words.

“It is my honor to introduce to the stage, our wonderful head benefactor of this organization, His Royal Highness, Prince Chan of the Crown.

Applause tenfold of before erupted through the whole room and it wasn’t even an afterthought for the every attendee to stand up from their seats in an ovation. It was a force of habit for you, but you found yourself clapping as well.

Chan rose with grace, and re-buttoned his jacket with finesse. A blinding spotlight found him and it made the diamonds adorning his beck wink brilliantly. Even more blinding was his pearl white, and perfectly trained smile accompanied by his wave.

Thank you. Thank you. He mouthed.

“It’s like he’s a frickin’ movie star.” Jeongin groaned.

“Might as well be with the way that they treat him. You know deep down they’re all just terrified.”

Chan made his way up to the stage in all of his regality, and the applause didn’t stop until he cleared his throat. A collective groaning of a couple hundred chairs squeaked when everyone sat back down.

“Thank you everyone, really. I wanted to thank you all for your generous support in your donations to this organization, as well as your association with the crown. I’m sure that all the beneficiaries of your donations are beyond thankful compared to me. Without you, this would not be possible.” Chan spoke with grandiose gestures, as usual, but this time, he had found you on the side of the room. “Listen, aside from being a prince, I’m also just a person. A person who knows what it means to struggle, to--”

“--I can’t listen to this anymore.” You whispered into the quiet room, and to your partner.

“Just a few more hours.” He droned. “I almost wish that something would happen so that we don’t have to sit though much else of this.”

“Be careful what you wish for.”

In the corner of your eye, Lee Minho shifted in his seat, but still kept his undivided attention to the stage. You figured he must’ve been just like the rest of them: enamored by the flashiness of the crown--and Chan. He had a way of putting a spell on people: it was the kind of spell that a prince of deception had crafted after years of being kept under lock and key.

“--Anyway, what I’m trying to say, royal or fanciful we all might be, in the simplest way, we’re all just people, therefore this is what connects us all. Thank you.”

Chan was gifted yet another standing ovation that was somehow even more thunderous than before.

“Yeah right.” You scoffed. “People born into money. There’s a difference.”

Chan gave his last waves, then a clamor echoed from the back of the room. At first, it had just sounded like the same raucous laughter you had heard all night, but then it shifted to something different. The sound of laugher turned into shouting, then screams: high pitched and piercing. You had seconds to respond, head whipping around the room to catch sight of the confused prince. In your in-ears, the the sound of gunshots echoed with rapid-fire speed. Machine guns. Shouting commands barked in your ear, and muddled with Jeongin’s string of demands and questions.

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON OUT THERE? REPORT! REPORT!”

Your heart instantly started beating into hyperdrive, and your legs sprinted as fast has physically possible

“THEY’VE GOT GUNS!” A shrill and cracked voice of an older woman wailed from the back of the room.

Immediately after she had said so, shots fired into the darkened room with sparks, and the metallic sound of bullets hitting the marbled ground followed.

Chan looked around in his panic for you, petrified on the stage. You slung your gun out from your thigh holster and latched onto him with all of your might.

“TH-THEY JUST CAME OUT OF NOWHERE IN THESE VANS. THEY’RE ARMOURED, WE CAN’T--”

“Get the fuck down there and secure the exists!” Jeongin growled into his mic. “B--is the prince secure??”

“Secure!” You yelled back. Using your body as a barrier, you led the cowering prince through the mass hysteria of the crowd.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Shit.” Chan shook under your iron grip.

More shots fired into the room and bodies parted like the sea and fell over each other.

From the balcony, you had caught Jeongin aiming his own gun at the chaos below.

“I’ll cover you! Fuck! There’s so many of them! Get him to the car out back--Three, Six, meet B out there! Three!? Six!? Report!”

“Three and Six are down F!” One of the guards panted. “I can provide cover out back!!”

“Who’s speaking??” Jeongin bellowed, then aimed from above at one of the intruders. Your only focus was on weaving you and Chan out of there, but you had seen one of them in a blur. Each of the men with guns wore dark grey suits with black ties and leather gloves. Each of them wore their own crest: and it was all red.

“Bee?? Bee???” Chan shouted out for you, and jumped every time the crack of a shot echoed in the ballroom.

“I’ve got you, your Highness. We’ll be out soon. Keep your head down and listen to me.” Your arm held to him tightly, and you soon found the exit nearest. There was no telling if there would be more of them outside, but you loaded your gun quickly just in case, and pointed it out.

“Jeongin, get your ass down here!”

“Jeongin? Who the fuck is that??” Chan ducked down to hide himself behind your frame.

His name had slipped on your tongue, but that hardly mattered.

“I’ll be down in a second!!!”

“Don’t fucking waste time up there when I need you down here!!”

“Two! Two Reporting!!” A man suddenly yelled in your in-ear. “I’ve made it out back and I’ve secured the exit. The car is safe!!”

“FOX! Now!”

Your partner heaved, “I’m coming, I’m coming!!”

You kicked open the exit door, gun’s still blazing, however one one else could be found on the other side.

“Thank God,” You sighed.

“Oh shit, I’m gonna be sick.” Chan had turned paler than white, then stumbled in your arms.

“Hey, HEY!” You held him upright. “It’s gonna be alright. I’ve got you. You’re safe. You need to trust me. Your life is in my hands and I’m not giving it up easy, got it?”

“O-okay.” He stammered, then attempted to straighten himself.

“The Prince is outside, repeat, The Prince is outside. Two, are you in position?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

Other than the fact that you had just escaped absolute peril, the evening was unbearably pleasant. Crickets chirped in the summer evening, and the humidity of the night smelled gorgeously of the lake that was near-by as well as the vast array of flowers that had been purposefully landscaped around the hotel. Chan’s uneven steps scraped at the gravel walkway.

Since you had canvassed the whole building well, you had known exactly where the getaway car was, but you were still careful.

“Bee. Bee!” Chan blabbered. “Have-have I told you yet that I-I’m in love with you?”

“No, you haven’t Your Highness.”

“I fucking am. If I die tonight, I want you to know that I am ridiculously in love with you, and fuck, I wanna--”

“--I’m sorry, Your Highness, respectfully, but now is not the time for this and you are not dying on my watch.”

Somewhere off in the distance, frogs croaked, and the splashing of fish in the lake plopped at the surface waters. You turned a corner to finally see Two waiting his his gun raised. He was a bit of a shorter and scrawnier man, but something about him told you that where he lacked in strength, he must’ve made up for in agility.

“I’m out! I’m out!” Your partner gasped, and over the in-ear you could hear his running footsteps. “I’m almost there! I’ll be there in a second!”

“Your Highness,” Two bowed and opened the car door. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. You can call me Two or J. Either you prefer.”

Jeongin came bounding around the corner with heaving breaths and his clothes askew. His glasses which just barely held onto his face had a crack on them and his knuckles were covered in blood.

“Let’s go.” The younger man prompted.

“In the car you go, Your Highness.” You motioned for him to do so.

Chan whimpered like a toddler.

You shoved his body in, “Stop that. Get in the car.”

“I’m in love with you Bee!” He yelled out, “I’M FUCKING IN LOVE WITH YOU BEE!”

Jeongin slammed the door in his face with a bit of a chuckle.

“He’s delirious.”

“Mm.” your partner smiled. “Sure.”

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cayenne-twilight · 3 years

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Professor Layton Iceberg Explanation

As I said in the tags of the original, the iceberg I made was a meme consisting of both real theories and satire/parodies/fandom memes. If anyone is interested, I can work on an unironic version that only has real theories.

Buckle in because this post is LONG and heavily saturated with lore and information.

Actual theories

Parallel universe 1960s where the world wars didn’t happen. There’s an unused file in Curious Village that shows the year as 1960 and the time machine from UF is set to 1973, ten years into the future. The series canonically takes place in an undefined time period (hence the technological inaccuracies and fantasy elements), but it’s based off the 60s. There’s more evidence but we don’t have time to go over every little thing. I linked my “no wars” theory below but TL;DR the outdated airplanes and underdeveloped medicine in the Layton series imply that the world wars may never have happened. https://cayenne-twilight.tumblr.com/post/632205992162099200/outofcontextdiscord-timegearremix-zonosils-war

The real meaning behind the statue in Future London. In UF, the purpose of the statue is to spark Layton and Luke’s conversation about their friendship. Luke is stressing out about moving overseas and sees himself and the professor in the story behind the statue, but in the bigger picture, Clive must have been the one to commission it. Some theorize that the little boy is Clive and the man is either his father or the professor. One idea I’ve seen is that Clive wishes he could be Luke for real, while another is that he wishes he died ten years ago, and another is that he’s literally terminally ill explaining why he doesn’t care about consequence. Personally, I think “the boy succumbed to his illness” refers to his mental illness seeing as he wanted the professor to save him from his madness as he saved him all those years ago.

True location of Monte D’Or. there are no deserts on the British isles to my knowledge, so it makes the most sense for Monte D’Or to be in Southwest USA where English is the default language, they have a desert, and there exists a city famous for flashy hotels, casinos, and entertainment. What makes it odd is that nobody ever mentions overseas travel, and all the major characters are from England.

Loosha’s origins are not explicitly explained if I remember correctly, but the implication was that her prehistoric (supposedly) species was sealed away along with the garden, allowing them to survive all the way to the time of LS until Loosha was the only one left. The garden provided a good habitat and protection from predators, and it’s logical that they’d slowly die out anyways, but there’s no explanation of any specific factors that led to Loosha being the last.

Beasley is not a bee I wrote a post about this one as well, but TL;DR Beasly lacks several defining bee traits whilst having several human ones. He is not human, yet, by definition, not a bee. It’s possible that he is the result of Dimitri’s testing, but whatever his untold story is, he remains an enigma of nature. https://cayenne-twilight.tumblr.com/post/632381715250282496/theory-beasly-isnt-a-bee

Subject 2’s identity is currently unknown. There is a subject one (parrot) and subject 3 (rabbit) so there has to be a second. For a long time, people suspected Beasly to be him seeing as he’s a bit of an amalgamation and definitely not a regular bee (see above). After the release of LMJ, though, people began to suspect Sherl, the intelligent hound who could speak to certain people but not others. That being said, it’s possible for one to be subject 4. Sherl’s memory of a bright flash matches up with subject 3’s memory of being electrocuted. They never explain why the animals were being experimented on, but it was probably Dimitri making sure the conditions of his machine were safe for humans before reliving the incident from ten years ago.

Lady Violet died from the plague from DB. There’s no evidence for this or anything, it’s just an idea. People say she died from the flu but I don’t remember them saying that in the game, at least the US version. Extending off my “no war” theory: it’s theorized that the Spanish Flu was spread by the travlelling soldiers, so if that’s true, it’s possible for the epidemic to have been averted for some decades. Maybe the Spanish Flu reached England later than in real life. The hole in this is that DB’s plague must’ve been close in time to 1918 while Violet’s death was much later, so it would’ve had to stick around.

Bill Hawks is working with Targent and Arthur Cantabella. There was a force in the shadows buying the time machine technology from Bill. Someone with a ton of money who helped him cover up a freak accident and get away with it completely, a feat that involved shady means like violence by hired thugs. Some theorize that it was Targent, seeking power over time in exchange for a little mafia magic. The Labarynthia project was sponsored by the UK government, so as the PM, Bill must’ve known about it. He probably supported dubiously ethical, high stakes (witch pun) psychological experiments like Cantabella’s and helped him stay in the shadows.

All the NPCs in St. Mystere and Folsense are dead. I make fun of this type of theory later, but they’re admittedly captivating. I’m pretty sure the canon in CV is that the villagers are Bruno and Augustus’s OCs that they made robots of and built a town around, but it’s more interesting to think that the village was there before, and the townspeople died of a plague and were replaced like Lady Violet. In Folsense, there really was a plague and they never explain the NPCs there. They’re either real people who appear way younger than they are due to hallucinations (even the ones who already look old ?), or they don’t exist at all, which is pretty spooky. This part of the story is a gaping plot hole. In a similar vein to CV, the edgy yet plausible theory is that they used to live in Folsense but died of the plague and now live on as hallucinations.

Hershel seeing everything as a puzzle is a coping mechanism for all his trauma. This was a joke but I thought about it for more than five seconds and it makes way too much sense.

Plot holes and unexplained questions that we like to overthink because it’s fun

The downfall of the Azran was vaguely explained in canon by people being so greedy that it lead to the civilization collapsing. It’s not a stretch to imagine that happening, but it would’ve been more interesting with a little more detail.

Layton and Luke are programmed to routinely forget how to walk. I didn’t know whether to list this in the joke section or not, but it’s odd that the characters actively participate in the walking tutorial (as opposed to showing a little memo to the player) as if they didn’t know how to before, especially when they go through this several times a year.

The truth behind Pavel. He’s simply a joke character who teleports, is a polyglot (sort of, at least he wants us to think he is) and is mega confused all the time. He’s a fun character to make crack theories about because of his cryptic nature that even he doesn’t seem to understand.

Miracle Mask deleted scenes. The first trailer for MM featured animations that were not in the final game. One was the Randall falling scene, except in a slightly different style than the one we know. Others were completely foreign, like Layton and Luke pacing across a theatre stage as if Layton’s about to expose someone with a dramatic point. Cut content and “could’ve beens” are always curious to think about.

Evan Barde: secret mastermind. Arianna and Tony’s dad is a mysterious character who died under mysterious circumstances. I think the canon is that his death was a genuine accident, but concept art of him making a creepy evil face suggests that maybe he originally had a larger role in the first drafts of LS than the finished game.

The secret to how Paul and Des pull off their disguises is unclear and will remain unclear. There is no plausible explanation for their shape shifting. Unless Paul is just a little dude wearing a human suit like that one Wizard of Oz species and Des is the best quick-changer ever and hides his naturally feminine legs under his cloak.

Alfendi’s mom. When LBMR came out people scrambled to piece together who Hershel had a kid with, but there’s no way alfendi is his biological son. This happened with Kat as well and her biological parents turned out to be brand new characters, so I’m sure Al will get an adoption backstory if his arc continues, be his parents old major characters or nameless, faceless NPCs.

Granny Riddleton and Stachenscarfen are omnipotent deities. Idk which section this fits best under, but these two characters have some serious power. At first introduction, they’re implied to be robots, but they appear everywhere in later games. They follow the Professor wherever he goes and assist him on his adventures, GR collecting puzzles and housing them by some odd magic, and Stachen teaches you how to walk. They both introduce and supervise the gameplay. By extension, I guess this idea could apply to Albus as well in the prequels. GR and Stachen even had the power to appear in LMJ, something no major character could do. I consider them akin to the velvet room attendants from the Persona games.

Clive’s kill count is a vague subject in the game for the sake of keeping it PG. I don’t know if anyone’s ever mathematically estimated the damage he caused, and I sure don’t want to try, but the game appears to push the idea that he didn’t kill anyone at all, saying they stopped him in the nick of time and things like that, even though we watch him raze the city. If they ever want to bring him back post-time skip, I can see them twisting it so that the mobile fortress cutscene wasn’t a linear sequence of events, but instead a compilation of scenes over the course of hours so that London neighborhoods around him could be evacuated and have it make sense. Knowing Level-5, it’s more likely that they wouldn’t think this deep and do something more lazy, though.

Memes and references

Post-time skip Flora is real references the famous L is real theory from Super Mario 64. Like Luigi in SM64, Flora was also a highly anticipated character who didn’t appear in a new game, in this case LMJ or LMDA. In the end, Luigi did become real in the DS port so hopefully Flora is real will be realized as well.

Hershel can’t read is a veteran fandom meme referring to how in the first few games, especially Curious Village, Layton asks Luke to read every document out loud for him. Perhaps this was an exercise to improve Luke’s reading skills and independent thinking, or perhaps he was just too lazy or preoccupied to do it himself, but this grew into the joke that our genius Professor was actually illiterate this whole time.

Layton’s smash invitation is hidden in PLvsAA. It’s no secret that the fandom would kill a man to get the Professor into the smash brothers franchise. In PLvsAA one of the puzzle artworks features a goat eating a familiar white envelope with a red stamp, sparking the joke that either Layton or Wright got the invitation their respective fans desired, but it got lost along the way.

The science board is the mysteriously vague organization Don Paolo got kicked out of for the crime of being evil. It’s the epitome of liberal arts majors and art school graduates trying to bs their way around not knowing any science and failing miserably. “He was very good at all the sciences, but then the CEO of science told him to stop because he was using the power of science for evil science”. They do this again when “Dr. Stahngun” describes his time machine what with the soolha coils and whatnot.

Hoogland is death cult initiation is a parody of “Mario 64 is Freemason initiation” which is ridiculous, just like the creepy human sacrifice subplot of AL.

You can see the reflection of someone watching you in Aurora’s eye references the famous, creepy Talking Angela theory. In retrospect it would’ve been funnier if I said Angela instead of Aurora.

Every copy of Professor Layton is personalized references the famous “every copy of Super Mario 64 is personalized”

Clive’s fat ass in HD is a meme that originated from the announcement of UFHD, saying that half of the excited fans wanted to cry again while the other half were simply attracted to Clive. If we want to enter real bottom-section-of-the-iceberg-chart territory then let’s say Clive’s character has some sort of psychological siren properties that draw people to him like a magnet and/or Harry Styles.

Things I pulled out of my ass for shits and giggles

Infinite hint coin hack: I’m sure a tech savvy cheater could hack the game for infinite hint coins, but there’s no easy or interesting way. I don’t know why someone would do that though, considering a lot of the hints suck and there are puzzle guides on the internet.

Cringy, unused Randall villain monologue. This joke is derived from the actual scrapped MM content as well as deleted content being a popular element of iceberg charts, but it’s sadly not real. Would’ve been hilarious, though.

Last Specter Puzzle 031: Light Height tracks and records children’s intelligence level. It doesn’t, but it’s always fun to make fun of arguably THE most ridiculously difficult puzzle in the franchise. (Seriously, do they expect 7+ year olds to know trigonometry???)

Hershel struggles with tea addiction. Hershel from the games drinks tea in moderation, but the manga begs to differ. He has a tea set in the Laytonmobile, and an attempt at teatime while driving causes him to crash.

Folsense is a metaphor for Alzheimer’s. This is inspired by those edgy kids’ show theories where everyone’s in hell or something, but nobody has ever said this.

London Life is reality and the plot of the games is all in Luke’s head. That’s one way to fill every plot hole. How funny would it be if Luke made up crazy characters and stories based off his fellow townspeople Sharkboy and Lavagirl style. “This dude who lives in a castle and asks people to give him all their money for nothing in return is a vampire from 50 years ago involved in a tragic love story”.

Secret ending encoded into Tago’s Head Gymnastics. It’d be crazy if there was, and Dimitri would hound Tago for the secret to time travel. If you didn’t know, the Layton games started as an adaption of Akira Tago’s puzzle series, except they decided to add a story to make it more interesting and marketable.

Daily puzzles datamine your DS. I’m bad with technology but is it even possible to datamine a DS??? Idk, but I think my DS lite from 2008 is safe.

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ish-scribbles · 3 years

Text

"They’re prolly going to end up marrying each other"

You and Ushiwaka have been friends ever since you were kids and you both are volleyball players as well. This year, you are a new admission in Shiratorizawa so,,,Ushijima shows you around. Much to the team’s suprise you both seem much more than friends but it's a pity that the only people oblivious to that fact is you two.

Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Soft Ushiwaka, lolol

"A Girl? You can't be serious!" The whole volleyball team of Shiratorizawa couldn't believe what they just heard.

"Guys, I'm not kidding. A REAL GIRL, REAL CUTE, WAS WALKING AROUND THE CAMPUS WITH USHIJIMA-SAN AND THAT'S NOT ALL. When I was in the cafeteria I SAW HER LEANING ON USHIJIMA' S SHOULDER, AND SHE SEEMED ASLEEP(?) WHILE HE CONTINUED EATING HIS FOOD LIKE IT WAS NOTHING" continues the still shocked Goshiki ''Decent in studies, one of the top volleyball aces in the nation and now a girlfriend, is there anything he can't do?!!'' He mumbles to himself.

When Goshiki told the whole team that Ushijima was roaming around the campus with a girl, it was only natural for the team to be in utter shock, considering the type of reserved guy Ushijima usually is. Even Tendou was unaware about your existence, but the way Goshiki was describing you both made it seem that you both relatively affectionate.

The sound of the gym door opening silenced the current discussion and that's when the whole team Ushijima entering with a girl on his side through the gym doors together.

"Wakatoshi, When you told me it'll only be a small walk around campus, YOU SHOULD'VE MENTIONED THAT YOU WERE GOING TO GIVE ME THE WHOLE TOUR OF YOUR GINORMOUS SCHOOL WHICH I CAN ONLY PRESUME WOULD COVER AN ENTIRE DISTRICT" You complained while facing him and walking backwards on your toes trying to put on the most intimidating face you could to show how seriously frusfrated you were.

"I once again apologize, Y/N, I should've asked you to skip your before-school training for the day. I will surely make up for it later, perhaps...a little detour to the ice-cream shop after school might help?" He offered

"It might" you pouted.

The whole team was stunned watching this scene play in front of their own very eyes. The stoic captain of Shiratorizawa, One of the top 3 aces of the country, was being told off by a girl half a foot smaller than him AND HE WAS ACTUALLY APOLOGIZING? Also not to forget...both of you were also on first name basis? Nothing made sense anymore. After a small pause Tendou was the first to break the silence.

"Oya oya, now lookie at what do we have here? Wakatoshi-kun~ You know it would be real rude of you to not introduce your friend to us, right?"

"Oh but of course, I would like all of you to meet L/N Y/N, she is actually going to join our school through sports scholarship for volleyball itself. She is also my neighbour from back home and the closest thing to a best friend I had, ever since when I was a child" Ushijima replies to which Tendou reacts with an "ouch" and an over exaggerated act of heartbreak with his hand on his chest at the fact that Ushiwaka never openly admited Tendou to be his best friend like this.

To which you laugh "You must be Tendou, right? ‘The Miracle Boy!’ if i remeber correctly" YOU smile "Wakatoshi actually talks a lot about his team and especially you! So don't worry, if we’re talking about how close we are to the spiker boy over here, we're probably at the same level, he just won’t admit it" to which Tendou replies "You know what, I think I kinda ike you, new girl. You’re gonna fit in just fine" to which you flash a cheeky smile and a thumb up what a dork.

Your conversation was cut short when Coach Washijo enters the gym and everyone in the team as well as you gave a respectable bow and an energetic ‘Good Afternoon’ and after acknowledging the greetings the old coach finally notices you.

‘‘Ah yes, you must be Y/N-chan. I've heard great things about you from Wakatoshi-kun, I'm glad that you joined the academy. I look forward to see your performance in the Girl's Team.‘‘

"I am very grateful for the opportunity, Coach" You say while giving a sincere bow.

"Although...the girls team are out for a practice match against Aoba Johsai's Girls Team, so you can practice with the boys today." Then he looks away to face the team "I have to attend a staff meeting today so the team managers will conduct today's practice and write a thorough report. So whomever is found slack off during the practice will recieve extra laps and 200 jump serves as penalty tomorrow morning. As for the match Y/N-chan and Wakatoshi-kun you both can divide the teams as per convenience, that is all for today".

They team was surprised to say the least. Coach never let anyone play against Ushiwaka unless he knew the other person could atleast withstand the power of Ushiwaka's Spike so it wouldn't cause any unintentional injury and from the looks of it you didn't seem to be very immune to that fact since you weren't exactly very muscular or buff. You were even somewhat tiny when compared to the rest of the team and yet Coach Washijo was confident enough to put you against Ushiwaka himself.

You got paired up with Tendou, Semi, Taichi, Goshiki and a few others when you divided teams amongst the players present.

"So Y/N-chan~ What position do you play exactly?" Tendou asked.

"Oh I didn’t tell you guys yet? I’m a Wing Spiker" You reply.

"Oh Really?! Little miss Y/N here spikes?" Tendou teases while making all sorts of gestures indicating how small compared to him you were.

"Cut it out, you idiot" Semi interjected with a slight smack to his head.

"If Ushijima-san has a good opinion about Y/N-san's ability, I wouldn’t doubt her considering how rarely he acknowledges another player’s skills" says Goshiki while internally thinking why can’t he ever get Ushiwaka's approval too.

"Wanna bet who scores the most points, Guess Monster?" You challenge Tendou with an smirk on your face.

"Oh my! Little miss Y/N is so daring~You got yourself a deal!" Tendou said excitedly.

The refree’s whistle blew and the match began. Ushiwaka’s team started with a serve which was recieved by your team and the ball was in the air. Semi recieved the ball and tossed it in the air as a set, but that set turned out to be sloppy because when he and the team were supposed to do warm ups and stretching, they were instead busy talking about you and Ushiwaka. The ball was set a little too high and far away for Tendou to hit and Goshiki was positioned in the back, so everyone expected it to be a lost cause and didn’t run after it, the other team relaxed as well. But then an unexpected tiny figure rushed between Semi and Tendou and jumped almost more than half their height and spiked the ball hard into Ushiwaka’s court, while everyone was still processing what just happened in what just felt like a split second. The refree’s whistle rang, evident of the point you just scored.

" Getting sloppy are we now, Miracle Boy?" You teased to which Tendou replied with his sticking his tongue out ‘’I’m just getting started, don’t get cocky’’ and when no one was noticing a small smile crept up on Ushiwaka’s face while the rest of them were plain frozen in their places still processing how were you able to perfect a shot with a set like that. The set was obviously bad and the chances of hitting it was very low but somehow you managed to fix your placement, jump about 3 feet high and spike the ball with crazy accuracy and with power what can only be assumed second to Ushiwaka himself!! All in just a split second.

During the match, you hit a lot of spikes and so did Tendou but the gap between the number of his spikes and yours just kept getting wider while the score of your team and Ushiwaka’s team was almost tied most of the time, no one had the clear lead the whole match, and no one was ready to back down from the other.

At set point, when you were positioned in the back it was your time to serve and you managed to serve a decent ball which almost scored another point if it wasn’t for their libero’s last minute recieve. The libero passed the ball to their setter, Shirabu who set the ball for Ushiwaka who then spiked the ball aimed at the corner of your court but before the ball hit the ground you whooshed in the last minute and managed to recieve the ball perfectly and then Semi and Tendou were able to score the last point which made your team win the practice match. When the refree whistle indicating your win, all your team mates started walking towards the benches, the managers started passing towels and water bottles but you on the other hand, started to walk towards Ushijima furiously.

‘‘That last shot. You intentionally hit the last spike slow and nearer to me so I can recieve it easily, didn’t you?!‘‘ You spat while slightly panting

‘‘You caught up on that?‘‘ Ushijima said while looking slightly sideways in order to avoid eye contact.

‘‘Why would you do that anyways, you don’t think I’m capable enough to take you head-on big guy?‘‘ You were furious. You might not be as tall and as poised as Ushijima but you weren’t bad either, you practiced a lot to perfect your techniques and when Ushijima deliberately was lazying his game, ofcourse that would make you mad.

Watching this a million thoughts came to the team’s head

Goshiki: This was a SLOWED shot?And that was an EASY recieve? Can they just adopt me already-

Semi: How did she recieve that ball that easily and wait- how would she know, if this was slowed and not a regular shot, how close are they exactly?

Shirabu: Even a spike like that has like a 95% success rate and she’s still not happy?She’s crazy,,,but in a good way I suppose?

Tendou: It’s like watching a little puppy trying to intimidate a Wolf and I bet she doesn’t even realizes it, how cute~

‘‘There’s no point of playing if you keep giving me half-assed shots like that, If you don’t want to practice with me anymore, just say it and I’ll go‘‘

‘‘No no Y/N, you’re getting me all wrong, please give me a chance to explain” Ushijima had genuine worry in his eyes when he said this he had a slight change of pitch in his voice ‘‘It’s true I intentionally slowed down the last spike but that wasn’t because I doubt you, It was because I know you like to give it your all, even in a practice games but the game wasn’t fair in the first place. You had gone through your morning training, then you had to attend school and then a whole tour of the campus, So it was obvious that you were already tired even if you weren’t showing it, I’m sorry but I couldn’t help but notice it when you runs were slower, spikes were less accurate than usual and I just couldn’t bear to see it anymore so I thought that it would help to finish the game early‘‘

It was true, you were already exhausted after all you went through during the day but it never showed on your face and the team didn’t realised it either, Still a phrase resounded in their heads ‘runs were slower and the spikes were less accurate than usual’ What kind of a monster was hidden inside your tiny frame?!

‘‘Listen Wakatoshi, I appreciate your concern but I don’t liked to be babied around like that, You can be upfront about it and I would’ve been mature about it‘‘ you said.

‘‘Then it’s my mistake I assumed you would just chase after me trying to beat me up‘‘ Ushiwaka replied genuinly thinking he was wrong.

‘‘DAMN RIGHT I WOULD HAVE, NEVER DOUBT ME EVER AGAIN OR IT WOULD BE THE LAST TIME YOU DO USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI‘‘ You screamed out to which Ushijima replied with an instant ‘’Yes ma’am‘’

‘‘Now that we have sorted that out, after a change of clothes let’s go out and eat some Hayashi Rice‘‘ You spoke to which Ushiwaka replied ‘’Certainly’’.

After the practice you changed into a normal t-shirt and shorts and after reaching the bench just outside the gym you realised that you changed faster than Ushijima, so you decided to sit and wait for him. While you were waiting you felt your calf muscles aching after the whole day of running and jumping,,,and since you already had the disadvantage of being smaller than the rest of the guys you were playing with, you had to run and jump extra.

Ushijima and the rest of the team came out after changing and were walking in your direction at a distance, and while the rest of the team were talking amongst themselves he from afar saw you slightly massaging your sore calfs, he already knew that you today would’ve been a toll on you body.

‘‘Ready to go?‘‘ You ask when Ushijima finally reached you, to which he gave a nod and then he picked up your bag and hung it over his chest to which you said

‘‘Wait what are you doin-’’

‘‘I noticed you still seem to be tired and I still feel guilty about the tour, so it’s the least I can do’’

"Is that so?" You said with a childish look and a cheeky smile on your face ‘"Then you can’t expect me to walk all the way over till we reach the restaurant' you gave him your puppy eyes look and without another word he got on one knee while you walked and stood over him with a stupid "yay" and then wrapped your arms around his neck while nuzzling your face into his broad shoulders with a stupid smile while he got a hold of your legs and finally stood up.

The whole team were frozen at their spots internally cursing both of you on either how single you both made them feel or how oblivious can you be. He then looked towards Tendou and spoke "Tendou, I’ll be a little late than usual, so you can lock the dorm room door if you decide to sleep early, I have my spare key along with me" to which Tendou just said "Oh okay" strangely being less talkative than usual.

After that Ushiwaka just started walking towards the restaurant with you Piggybacking on him like it was nothing while the discussion amongst the team about you two continued.

"They DO realise that THAT is not how people who are 'just friends' act, right?" Goshiki says still shocked.

‘‘I wouldn’t be so sure about that‘‘ Shirabu replied.

‘‘It’s so scary how oblivios Ushijima usually is but in matters like this he couldn’t get any dumber‘‘ Semi continues.

‘‘Who wants to bet against me that they won’t end up together?‘‘ Tendou speaks up with one of his arm in the air and one eye closed while the other looked around to see the people around him.

"Are you kidding, who’s stupid enough to take you up on that bet" Semi replies "Weren’t you here the whole practice? They’re prolly going to end up marrying each other’’.

316 notes · View notes

purple-stuck · 3 years

Note

I really adore your writing! Can I PLEASE request a purple Sollux drabble? Maybe interacting with gamzee?

hey, gz. wanna hang out?

Gamzee stared down at his phone, squinting his eyes at the purple text. Somewhere in his addled think pan he thought it was strange. Sollux hardly hung out with anyone in person. He was always a shut in, especially for Purple blood standards. Only clown who'd attended less church was probably Gamzee himself and that was only because Sollux sometimes made video calls. But, ever sense Aradia... it was a miracle he still answered texts.

Still, Gamzee wasn't gonna say no to his blood brother's company. Maybe Feferi helped him cope. Maybe he went pale for Karkat, those two had always been close. Hardly mattered.

WeLl, ShIt. SuRe MoThErFuCkEr. CaN't SaY nO tO a NiCe AnD pRoPeR hAnGiNg SeSsIoN. wAnT mE tO sWiNg By YoUr PlAcE, oR wHaT?

nah. ii'm at the door. ii wa2 iin the area and fiigured ii'd a2k.

Right on cue, there was indeed a knock at Gamzee's front door. Huh. Sollux must've been right at the door when he texted. Made sense. If Karkat was any indication, Sollux had a habit of just barging into a brother's hive like he lived there and playing all their video games. Probably remembered at the last second that he and Gamzee weren't that close.

When Gamzee open the front door, he found himself staring at Captor's chest. Even hunched over as he was, Sollux was still the tallest troll Gamzee knew. The boy managed to be both lankier and buffer than Gamzee somehow. Granted, that's not hard. It'd be a stretch to call any version of Sollux Captor buff, but any purple blood with a proper lusus was going to be thicker than Gamzee.

Gamzee stopped that thought dead before it sunk in any deeper.

"At least I know I'm not interrupting anything." Sollux said dryly. "That's not the hair of someone who had plans for the evening."

Gamzee snorted, appreciating that the ribbing was good natured. Sollux didn't regard him with the same contempt, say, Equius did, so it was hard to take anything he said as an actual insult. Same deal with Karkat, really. "So, what brings you around to my hive? Feferi finally convince you to go outside?"

Sollux's lips twitched into a smirk before he jutted his thumb behind him. "Nah. I'm just picking up an old hobby."

Gamzee's eyes trailed to the cart Sollux had parked at the bottom of the steps, a chill going down his spine at the sight of faintly blue blood trailing down it's side. "Oh..."

Gamzee's eyes twitched back to Sollux, who just sighed. "I'm on my second kill, so don't worry. I don't kill in odd numbers. Plus, I've seen you making diamond eyes at Karkat and I'm not that much of a dick."

Gamzee let go off a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. "Well, it's good to know I won't be adding to Aradia's fucking corpse collection-"

Sollux stiffened and Gamzee stopped dead. Shit. Fuck. He should know better. What was he doing bring up Aradia, fuck-

"It's... fine." Sollux sighed, bringing his hand to his temple as he steadied himself. "I'm fine. It's fine. She would've found it funny, anyways." Sollux forced a smile onto his face. "Besides, you're not wrong. She'd love to throw corpse parties for these motherfuckers in whatever rung of the Dark Carnival she wound up in."

Gamzee laughed politely and stepped aside to let Sollux in before the conversation got any more uncomfortable. Sollux plopped onto the couch, quickly propping his legs up on the table. "You got any video games? I somehow doubt you're much of a shooter fan."

Gamzee grunted, sliding him a faygo as he took his seat. "Nah. Tav got me into fiduspawn. You ever play that?"

Sollux snorted. "Funny story about that, actually. EQ got me into it. I was talking shit about it around him and he protested that NP was into it."

"Did he? Shit, man, good for him. He always kinda... rolls over around me. Motherfucker's always trying to please me."

"Well, yeah. It's NP we're talking about here. You'd complain is I started talking shit about Tavros."

Gamzee blinked. That was... oddly pointed coming from Sollux. Sure, every word sounded like a sarcastic insult when you put it in his mouth, but it sounded like he was trying to make a point. That suddenly serious stare wasn't helping, and it made Gamzee cough uncomfortably.

"Uh, yeah, I would." His eyes flickered towards the door. Towards the cart. "...Why?"

"You got any feelings for him?"

Now this was starting to get wildly out of character. Sollux was the last person to stick his nose into anyone's love life, unless it was to annoy Eridan somehow. Hell, people just being sappy around him annoyed him, which made this even more bizarre.

"Yeah, well, Tav, said he wasn't interested."

"He's not?"

"Look, bro, I appreciate it, but we don't need an auspistice. You can't mediate what ain't there."

"But you do feel something for him. You care about him, pitch, red, I don't care how." Sollux was almost looming over him now, even without standing up. Gamzee was beginning to wonder whether he should go for his clubs when Sollux sighed.

"Right, right. That.... probably doesn't make any sense to you. I'm sorry." He stood up, face not just sour like usual, but outright grim. "Let me show you what I'm talking about."

Sollux made his way to the door wheeled his cart inside, a chill went down Gamzee's spine.

"...Bro. Did you?"

"No. Gog no. Fucking Messiahs above, hell no! I cull trolls but I'm not a sick fuck who parades their corpses around in front of their friends."

Sollux looked down at the cart, at the body hidden beneath the crumpled sheet. He seemed far, far away for a moment, like his soul had been taken by the Messiahs themselves and his body was an empty shell they left behind.

"You... know Aradia's dead, right?"

Gamzee relaxed, more confused and sad now than afraid. "Yeah."

Sollux looked at him. "Do you know how she died?"

Sollux didn't need an answer and he didn't wait for one. The purple voids of his eyes showed behind his matching glasses. "It started... when Vriska abducted me."

"I was out doing my regular, bi-wipely rounds. Looking for two bodies for Aradia to preserve in a 'corpse party'. Or, more accurately, looking to make two bodies for her to preserve."

"I'd spotted a couple of burgundies, so I went to make my move. I'd barely seen Vriska's face by the time the bag was over my head and by then the needles were in my neck. My guess is she'd paid some FLARPers to help her. I know damn well she couldn't handle me alone."

"When I woke up, I was in Vriska's hive. She looked so... fucking smug when she had me all chained up. She explained what Aradia did to her. Talked about how she'd sent some ghosts her way... and she wanted to get even."

"So Vriska was going to have me kill Aradia."

"That's when the torture began. It was pretty amateurish, but that's all it needed to be. She just needed to distract me, make a crack for her to slip into... one opening was all she needed to grab my mind."

Sollux was staring down at nothing by the time he finished, bending the metal handles of his cart with his grip.

"I still remember the walk to Aradia's hive." He said, choking back something. "I could hear her scream in my mind before she even saw me."

Gamzee's hand landed on his shoulder, snapping Sollux back to reality. Sollux pushed the smaller clown back before clearing his throat. "So, the next time I left my hive, I decided to pay Serket a visit."

Sollux threw the tarp off to reveal Vriska's mangled body. Or, what was of it.

Gamzee took at a step back. The amount of patchwork Sollux had to do to get Vriska's upper torso back in one piece would be impressive if it didn't imply how grizzly the scene must've been before he started. Tellingly, Sollux didn't even try to put Vriska's legs back together. He just dumped the soupified slop into a box and put it on the bottom shelf of his cart.

"Jegus..."

"Yeah, I got carried away."

Gamzee backed up and fell onto the couch, mostly just to get away from the smell. Sollux pulled his two swords out of Vriska's head, wiping them clean in one quick stroke.

"So... why are you telling me this?" Gamzee asked.

Sollux seemed to think for a moment, staring at his reflection in the blades. "To try to understand." He waved his blades vaguely over Vriska's... "body" for lack of a better word. "Most of this was unnecessary. She died quickly but... it wasn't satisfying."

Sollux looked at Gamzee meaningfully. "I figured you could tell me why."

Gamzee's eyes widened. "Shit, man, you mean because..."

"Of Tavros. Yeah. Vriska killed him. The army won't take someone who can't walk and he has no where else to go. That's assuming someone like, well, me, doesn't just pick him up off the streets. He's living on borrowed time on a planet like this, and that's all her fault."

Sollux looked at Gamzee meaningfully. "So... is this satisfying to you?"

Gamzee sunk into the couch, staring up at the ceiling. "Fuck, man. You can't do this to a motherfucker. This is a lot to drop on me all at once." He looked at the corpse, trying not to curl his nose at the sight. "...I mean... no. Fuck, I'd hesitate to say anyone even deserves that, but mostly it just makes me feel... kinda sick."

Sollux slumped down. "I don't get it. This should be satisfying. We should be glad that she's dead, but we're not."

Again, Gamzee was there, suddenly resting a hand on Sollux's shoulder. "...Look, man. I'm sorry I'm not any help with this. Karbro is so much better at this shit than me, but..."

"...I guess it's not really her death that we're looking for. We're looking for a way to make it so all the problems she caused never happened. And... that's not gonna happen. I've accepted that Tav's not gonna get his legs back... and I think he's accepted that too. And, Aradia, wherever she might be now up in that Dark Carnival, knows that she's not coming back either. So... shit, maybe we should just... keep moving?"

Sollux stared at him blankly, before that default grouchy snarl crept back onto his face. "That's a really shitty way to end that spiel, you know that?"

Gamzee shrugged, that some color had bled back into Sollux's face. "Well, shit. I'm no Karkat and you know it."

"Yeah, you're not. I'd still be huddled up inside without that grouchy asshole."

Sollux sighed. Not tiredly, but like a weight had been lifted somewhat. With all that off his chest, Sollux tilted his head up. He nonchalantly lined up his swords and slid them down his throat, swallowing up his blades until only the hilts remained to dangled beneath his uvula. Gamzee squinted at him curiously.

"....What?"

"Shit, man, I have no idea how you manage to talk like that."

Sollux smirked, grabbing his faygo off the table and chugging it in two swigs. At this point, he was just showing off. "Very, very carefully. I'll teach you sometime."

Sollux threw the tarp back onto his cart and began peddling it out the door. "I'd better get going, the sun will rise soon." Gamzee waved him off as he opened the door, pausing just before he closed. "Oh, by the way. You owe me a game night. This one derailed."

Gamzee just nodded as Captor slammed the door, knowing that was Sollux-ese for "let's hang out sometime".

#bloodswaps #drabble #sollux captor #gamzee makara #aradia megido #vriska serket #tavros nitram #purple sollux

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calenheniel · 3 years

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In Fantasy, a frozen fanfic | Chapter 1

Frozen | Alternate Universe | Hans x Elsa | Romance, Drama | G+

In a desperate bid to save their country from political and financial ruin, King Agnarr and Queen Iduna of Arendelle strike a deal with a former foe, King Albert of the Southern Isles. His price? That their firstborn daughter marry his thirteenth son.

Previous installments: Prologue

Follow updates: #InFantasyFrozen

For Helsa Week 2021, Day 1: Parenthood. @helsaweekmasterlist

Author's Note: This is a draft, exclusively available on Tumblr. I have literally the outline for every single chapter following this written, but not fleshed out into readable form yet... so this is all you are going to see for a while. It took me a while to write, as you can probably tell. Enjoy and please leave feedback.

»»————-　❈　————-««

Chapter 1

Snow pattered soundlessly against the arched window of the king’s study as he and his wife sat across from one another at his desk, reviewing the morning’s mail by candlelight. The fire crackled loudly in the hearth a few feet away, bringing a warm glow to the otherwise dim and drab space.

Iduna looked out briefly through the glass panes, the outside world obscured by the total darkness of the winter months. She was just able to make out the snow flurries of white and gray, and beyond that, under the lanterns lining the walkway to the castle gates, she imagined she could see the slow and halting movements of the castle’s servants as they shuttled through the gates and back. The town square, and the fjord beyond it, were entirely hidden from her view.

She shivered, drawing her heavy fur robe closer around her frame, and the small movement was enough to cause her to lose her grip on the letter opener in her other hand. It cut the side of her thumb as it clattered to the desk, and she released a small cry of surprise and pain as droplets of her blood fell on the envelope at the top of the unread stack, staining it red.

“Oh, dear,” Agnarr sighed, pulling a handkerchief from his chest pocket and wrapping it around her open wound. “You must be more careful with that.” He eyed her chattering teeth with concern. “Is the new robe helping even a little bit?”

Iduna looked away. “You know how difficult my… condition has been,” she said, gazing down at her swollen belly. “Even in rooms with the best-tended fires, I’m always cold.” She touched the collar of the robe, shooting him a small glare, and added: “Anyway, it’s not as if you paid for this yourself.”

Agnarr frowned but said nothing, returning his attention to the mail after another sharp look from his wife. His eyes widened as he examined the seal, and he paused, causing Iduna to glance at it with curiosity.

“Who is it from?”

He swallowed and began to open the letter, avoiding Iduna’s still-drying blood splatters. “The Southern Isles,” he said at length, causing her face to darken.

“Speak of the devil,” she grumbled.

He read it in silence to himself at first, but at Iduna’s unnerved expression, he passed the paper to her. She reluctantly accepted it.

Dearest Agnarr and Iduna,

Allow me to pass on my belated congratulations to you both for the auspicious news of your first child’s coming! While I was surprised to hear that the delivery date is so soon, you cannot imagine the happiness this has brought my family and I, and especially to my youngest son, Hans. He is eager to meet his future wife and in-laws. Rest assured that we will be the first guests to arrive for her christening.

I have ordered a small gift for my future daughter-in-law which you should receive in about one month, just in time for her birth. Please accept this as a token of our continued friendship and soon-to-be unbreakable bonds of family. I look forward to hearing what you think of it when we meet again in person soon.

Yours respectfully,

Albert

Iduna scowled and crumpled the letter in her unbandaged hand. “How can he be so sure it will be a girl?” she muttered. “The nerve of that man! We should never have told him that I am with child.”

“He would’ve found out eventually, whether we did or not,” Agnarr pointed out, sighing. “And besides, we did wait a while – probably too long – to write to him about it. Which he obviously picked up on.” He gestured for Iduna to hand him the ball of paper, which she did while sporting a glower. “I’m not sure there’s any need to be so sullen, dear. Nils said it was likely to be a boy.”

Iduna opened her lips as if to speak, but her face suddenly paled, and she collapsed from her seat to the floor, holding herself up on all fours. She groaned with pain as her husband rushed to her side, panic flashing across his eyes.

“Agnarr,” she moaned, “I think—I think it’s time…”

»» —— ««

Agnarr paced outside the bedroom, his features hollow and drawn from sleeplessness. Iduna’s moaning echoed from inside the room out into the hallways, and the sight of various attending ladies scurrying in and out of the room with fresh sheets and bowls of water did little to ease his worried mind.

He had long since dismissed his councilors from the scene, finding their hovering presence unnecessary at best—and unsettling at worst. Their questions about the queen’s health, while infrequent, were regular enough to cause the king to lose his temper and bark that it would not improve just because a gallery of onlookers wished it so. Sympathetic to their young monarch, they had left him in the care of the servants, and so he had waited, alone, for many hours to hear a spot of better news.

The grandfather clock at the end of the hall struck ten just as the door reopened to reveal the royal physician, who wore an equally exhausted expression. His hands, though recently washed, still had specks of the queen’s blood dotting the wrists and under his fingernails.

“Nils! It’s been an age. What’s going on?” he demanded, pulling the older man aside.

The physician stifled a frown. “I don’t have much news to share right now, Your Majesty. She is still in labor, just as before. We are doing everything we can to keep her comfortable.”

Another groan from Iduna resounded in the background, and Agnarr shot Nils a dark look. “You call that ‘comfortable’?”

The noise began to wane as they listened to the head maidservant, Gerda, whisper to the queen inside the room. The king’s expression softened. “Please, Nils,” he began again, “you’ve been here since my father was a young man. I know you’ve seen almost everything in your time.” He placed a hand on the old man’s shoulder. “Just give me your honest assessment of what’s happening. I need to know if she—”

Agnarr broke off, swallowing a sob that threatened to choke him. Nils patted the king’s hand on his shoulder, taking it into his own, and sighed. “It’s difficult when the baby comes this early, Your Majesty. And with Her Majesty being in labor for so long…” He paused, squeezing the king’s hand. “I will do everything I can to keep her and your child alive. That you can rest assured of.”

Agnarr looked back at him with tears straining his vision, his lips just barely forming the beginnings of a grateful smile before a terrible cry erupted from inside the bedroom.

“All of you, out!” Iduna screamed, and then said something else in a voice too quiet to be heard. A flurry of attending ladies rushed out of the room, and the king broke away from Nils to rush to the doorway.

He was met there by a tired, distraught, but somehow still defiant Gerda. “No,” she said, stopping him in his tracks. “She needs to rest for a moment. I’m sorry, Your Majesty.”

Agnarr scowled. “Gerda, for God’s sake, let me in—”

Nils placed his hand on Agnarr’s shoulder, silencing him, and nodded to Gerda. The older woman shot the king a frown, and then sent a grateful look to the physician as she walked away from the door.

Agnarr turned on him. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Fru Gerda is correct, Your Majesty. It is not your place to intervene.” At the king’s heated look, the physician dropped his hand from his shoulder, resting it on the doorknob as he took a step inside the room. “I’ll bring you more news as soon as I have it, but for now… please, try to get some rest.”

Agnarr watched in defeat as the physician closed the door behind him, and finally slumped into an armchair beside the room, his head lolling forward as he began to drift towards slumber.

»» —— ««

“Your Majesty?”

The king awoke to the gentle shaking of his shoulders, and his eyes blinked open slowly. He groaned as his vision finally cleared, seeing Nils. “How long have I been asleep?”

The physician smiled. “Only a few hours.”

Agnarr nodded, placing his aching head in his palms, and then with a suddenness that took Nils aback, it shot up in alarm and stared at the bedroom door. “It’s so quiet—what’s happened?” He stood from the armchair, grabbing the physician by both shoulders. “Is she all right?”

The strange, new sound of an infant’s babbles surfaced from behind the door. The king’s eyes widened as his grip relaxed, and he stared at Nils in wonder.

“Is that…?”

The old man’s smile widened. “Yes, Your Majesty. And Her Majesty is fine now, enjoying a well-deserved rest.” He sighed with contentment. “It truly is a miracle for the child to have been born so healthy, and of normal weight and size, in spite of everything.” He took one of the king’s hands in his own, patting it. “Would you like to meet your newborn daughter?”

Agnarr’s face paled. “Daughter?”

Nils nodded, and looked sheepish. “Yes, Your Majesty. I’m afraid my prediction of her sex was rather inaccurate.”

The king paused, and plastered on a smile, though light droplets of sweat beaded at his forehead. “No matter,” he said, and inhaled as he nodded towards the bedroom. “Lead the way.”

Agnarr entered to find his new daughter in Gerda’s arms, bundled up and half-asleep, a smattering of light blonde hair visible on her soft scalp. Iduna lay in the bed just a few feet away, sleeping quietly, the only visible sign of the previous day’s strain being the pallor of her skin.

The older woman smiled at his coming despite her obvious fatigue, meeting him halfway across the room. “Should I make arrangements to announce the birth of the princess, Your Majesty?” she whispered, looking with fondness down at the infant.

Agnarr shook his head. “Not yet,” he replied after a moment, unable to tear his eyes away from the girl. “At least, not until the queen awakens, and can meet her daughter properly.”

Gerda nodded, casting a pitying glance at Iduna. “Quite right, Your Majesty. The poor woman was barely able to speak a word to the child before drifting off.” She gently handed the baby to its father. “We’ll leave you three alone for a little while. I’ll be back with refreshments for everyone soon.”

At this cue, she and Nils exited the room, closing the door behind them. Agnarr sat in a rocking chair beside the fireplace, his gaze fixed to the sleeping babe in his arms, and his apprehension and fear gave way to a warm, glowing smile.

“Don’t worry, child,” he murmured, and tucked the sleeping bundle closer to his heart. “I’ll protect you.”

»» —— ««

The queen awoke to the same darkness that had greeted her the morning before, but also to the sound of creaking wood. She squinted and saw, with delighted surprise, her husband and daughter sitting together by the hearth.

“Agnarr?” she called in a soft, weary voice.

He looked up with dark circles under his eyes, but his expression was radiant as he walked to her bedside. “My dearest, you’re finally awake!” He handed her their child with infinite tenderness, sitting next to her. “I think she looks like you,” he remarked.

Iduna gazed down at the still-sleeping infant with some bittersweetness, and then back up at her husband. “Has the birth been announced yet?” she asked, unable to hide the anxiousness from her voice.

He shook his head. “No. I wanted to hold off until you were awake.”

“Good,” Iduna sighed with relief, brushing stray strands of the white-golden locks from the child’s eyes. Her nose wrinkled. “I can’t believe that old bastard was right all along,” she muttered. “How did he know?”

Agnarr wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Don’t think of such things now,” he chided her, and returned his attention to the baby. “What shall we name her?”

Iduna frowned. “I hadn’t thought of any names for a girl.”

“I know, but…” He paused. “What about Elsa?”

Iduna blinked. “Elsa?”

He nodded. “Yes. It was the name of my favorite cousin. She died when I was still a boy—fell through ice while skating. This could be a good way to honor her memory.”

His wife frowned. “Agnarr!” she protested. “That’s far too morbid. Can’t you think of anything else?”

Before the king could reply, the infant nuzzled up against her mother’s breast and hiccuped, drawing her parents’ attention away from their dispute. Agnarr glanced at his wife with a cheeky smile. “I think she approves of her name.”

Iduna sighed, and could not help but smile in return. “Fine. Elsa it is, then,” she agreed.

They watched her for a while longer before Agnarr glanced up at the clock on the bedside table. “I should have Nils check on her, and make sure everything’s all right,” he said, and stood.

Iduna grabbed his hand and brought him back to his seat. “Not yet,” she said. “I want to enjoy this time we have with her, before all the hullabaloo starts up.” She patted his hand before letting it go. “But do fetch us something to eat. I’m famished.”

He bowed his head. “Of course, dear.”

She nodded her thanks. As he opened the door, he looked back on the blissful sight of his wife and daughter together, perfectly content, and smiled.

»» —— ««

Agnarr carried the tray of biscuits and tea with deliberate and careful steps as he made his way down the hallway from the kitchens back to the bedroom, chastened after nearly dropping the whole set a few minutes before in his unfamiliarity with the task.

Gerda, walking behind him, fretted over his apparent clumsiness. “Your Majesty, please, won’t you let me bring it to the queen?”

“It’s fine, Gerda,” he refused, trying to wear a reassuring smile even as it was clear he was concentrating intently in order not to trip. “I won’t break anything, I promise.”

The older woman muttered under her breath, following him despite his protests until they were a few paces from the bedroom door. At that point, after a sharp glance from the king, she relented and left him to his own devices.

Alone again, he sighed, placing the set down gingerly on the armchair by the door. “I’m coming in!” he called to Iduna, resting his hand on the doorknob.

A shriek from the queen, followed by the sound of their baby’s wailing, almost made the king fall back in surprise. He rushed into the room in alarm—only to find himself frozen in place by the sight that greeted him.

Their child lay crying on its back on the bed, a swirl of snow surrounding its tiny body. The queen was pressed up against the wall beside it, her entire frame shaking as she stared at the girl in open terror.

Agnarr regained his bearings long enough to close and lock the door behind him, drowning out the distant cries of worry from Gerda down the hall, and then sprinted towards his daughter. He gathered her up and pressed her into his chest even as a cold wind and snow whipped around them both, making him shiver.

As his warmth slowly enveloped her, however, so too did the strange elemental effects dissipate, until finally the baby was quiet again.

He sighed as he sat on the bed in exhaustion, and nodded for Iduna to join him. “Everything’s all right now,” he assured her. The baby whined a little. “She just needs to be fed.”

The queen returned to his side with caution, her face still drawn, and eventually took the child back into her arms. With a trembling hand, she unbuttoned and pulled aside a flap of her nightgown, pressing the infant to her exposed breast.

To both parents’ surprise – and relief – the child suckled without further dramatics, and Iduna released a long, shuddering sigh.

»» —— ««

Several minutes and harried exchanges with Gerda later, the child was asleep again in her mother’s arms. Her innocent, peaceful face gave no indication that she was aware of the fuss that had just taken place around her.

Once she was sure that the child would not stir, Iduna placed her on the bed, nestling her among the pillows and fresh sheets that Gerda had insisted upon providing (even though she had been disallowed from setting them up within the room herself, much to the woman’s displeasure). She remained sat on the edge of the bed, silent, taking little comfort in their temporary respite.

Agnarr had been quiet since the baby’s extraordinary display, pacing between the hearth to warm himself, and the door to shoo any interruptions away from the room.

She swallowed, and spoke at length. “It’s because of me,” she whispered, looking at the ground with shame. “It is my blood that has caused this.”

The king paused in his nervous walk to look at his wife, perplexed. “What do you mean?”

She would not meet his stare. “Do you remember how we first met?” she asked.

His head cocked to the side as he walked towards her, stopping just short of the bed. “Of course,” he replied. “I was sixteen, making the rounds with my father meeting townsfolk, and you were selling bread at market… but what does that have to do with anything?”

She hesitated at the question. “That… wasn’t actually the first time we met.”

He frowned, crossing his arms. “What are you talking about, Iduna?”

The queen pressed her hands together in front of her, her brows stitched in thought, and finally met her husband’s gaze. “It was during the battle in the Enchanted Forest. You were knocked unconscious when some large rock came loose, and I…” She reddened. “I got us out of there before the forest was sealed off, and left you with some soldiers who had managed to escape. They brought you back home, and I fled into the mountains.”

Her vision misted over as the memories returned to her. “Luckily, I was found by a kindly older woman and her husband there. They were never able to have children of their own, if you remember,” she said, “so they took me in, without question, and taught me their trade.”

The king stared at her in dumbstruck silence; after a time, his arms uncrossed, and he pulled over the rocking chair from the fireplace towards the bed, sitting down again. “When we met at market,” he drawled, “I asked you if I’d seen you before. Do you remember?”

She blinked in surprise, and then nodded. “You denied it at the time,” Agnarr noted, one eyebrow raised.

Iduna grimaced. “I was afraid you would find out the truth.”

He connected the threads with sudden clarity. “That you were one of them,” he said, his eyes wide. “One of the Northuldrans.”

Her face grew hot. “Yes,” she admitted. “I never told you before, because I know the history between our peoples. Because of what happened to your—”

At Agnarr’s darkening expression, she stopped, curling her fingers around the cloth of her nightgown in her lap. At length, the king turned his stare on the sleeping child in the bed next to her. “And what of our child’s powers?” he asked. He eyed Iduna with suspicion. “Did you know she would be born with such abilities?”

Iduna sighed, shaking her head. “No,” she said. “It was just as much a surprise to me as it was to you. None of the Northuldrans have had such powers—not for several generations, at least.” Her brow grew furrowed. “In the old days, it is said that some of my people gained them through their relationship with the spirits of the Forest. I don’t know how, but it seems as if Elsa has inherited some of this magic.”

The king said nothing, and stared blankly at the painted blue wall behind the bed.

Iduna trembled. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears trickling down her cheeks. “I should never have kept this hidden from you.” Her eyes were full of fear as he remained silent. “Please, Agnarr, say something, lest I lose all hope.”

Her husband’s frame was taut, and his expression betrayed nothing even as he began to speak. “Do you know what happened to my mother—Queen Rita?”

Iduna was taken aback by the question at first, pausing to collect her thoughts. “Only that she disappeared when you were still a child, never to be seen again,” she recalled, eyeing Agnarr with a growing sense of dread. “Your father blamed it on evil spirits, if I remember correctly.”

Agnarr’s lips were pressed together in a thin line. “He was already a superstitious man before that happened, and afterwards…” The king sighed, and slumped forward in the chair. “He considered the mere existence of an ‘enchanted’ forest anywhere within his realm to be a personal insult, even if its inhabitants exhibited no special powers.” He looked at her morosely. “And you know how that ended.”

Iduna swallowed, and made no reply.

The king looked pained by his memories. “I still don’t know what really happened to her,” he said, “though I think I understand why she left. My father thought that buying her trinkets was enough to demonstrate his affections, but… she missed home, and her family. And he never grasped that.” He frowned. “In fact, he took offense at it. Which only made her more miserable.”

Agnarr paused for a while, and weariness overwhelmed his previously stern countenance. “My father was wretched with grief and anger for years after she left, and I cannot blame him for that. I imagine I would feel much the same if I lost you.”

Iduna stared at her husband in surprise, and then her lip quivered as she threw herself into his embrace, burying her weeping face in the crook of his shoulder. He held her shuddering body tightly, his eyes closed as he kissed her exposed cheek.

“Oh, Agnarr,” she said through muffled sobs, “I’m so sorry.”

He held her as he waited for her crying to subside, and then asked in a gentler manner: “Do you know anything about our daughter’s magic, Iduna? Are there any stories about such powers among the Northul—your people?”

His self-correction made Iduna smile, and she glanced back at their child. “I’ve forgotten most of those stories, truth be told,” she said. “I’ve been in Arendelle too long, I think.”

Agnarr nodded in understanding. “That’s all right, dear, I was only wondering—”

“Wait,” Iduna interrupted, sitting up in her husband’s lap with a start. “There was one old Northuldran legend, about a Snow Queen… she was said to have frozen over entire kingdoms that refused to obey her will.”

At the king’s paling expression, Iduna nervously added: “It was probably just a fairytale made up to scare children, and teach us right from wrong. I doubt our little Elsa would ever be so powerful as to do such fantastical things.”

Agnarr’s lips twisted into a frown, and he raised Iduna off his lap and onto the bed as he stood, pacing again. “We cannot be sure,” he said, his hands clasping behind him. He stared at Elsa with concern. “My father did a fine job of scaring the wits out of everyone in the kingdom with his tales of the evils of magic, and inculcating the same prejudices in them which he held himself. Even if her powers never reached such heights as the stories describe, the fact that she has them at all is—” He shook his head, his troubles mounting. “We’ve only just forged a hard-won peace with Weselton, and secured some new trade routes that had previously been closed to us, no thanks to my father. And all of that would be at risk if they knew, let alone…”

Iduna caught his meaning as he stopped in his tracks, and the two exchanged a long, uncomfortable look.

“Albert,” she finished for him, her mouth dry. “He cannot know about this, Agnarr.”

The king’s expression was bleak. “No,” he agreed, “he cannot.”

Iduna trembled. “Well, that settles it,” she said, trying to sound resolute. “We’ll teach Elsa how to conceal her powers, so that no one ever finds out about them. That way—”

“It’s impossible, Iduna,” Agnarr cut in, pressing a hand to his forehead. “We cannot keep such magic in check forever. And besides, it… would be too cruel to ask that of her. She will not understand.”

“It’s the only way, Agnarr,” his wife insisted, though her lips quivered. She bit them to keep them still. “If we explain to her why it’s necessary, and keep her safe within the castle, away from the town—” Iduna broke off, unable even to convince herself of the workability of her plan, and tears began to collect in her eyes once more.

Agnarr could not keep the despair from his own voice. “Even if we could manage it, and keep her hidden away until she comes of age,” he murmured, resting a hand on her shoulder, “how, then, could we ensure that she would not reveal her powers to her future husband?” He frowned. “If that boy is anything like his father, he would no doubt try to manipulate her, and use this great power to suit his and Albert’s purposes.” He shuddered. “I cannot allow that to happen.”

Iduna stared at the child, her brow bearing the weight of defeat. “But what can we do, Agnarr?”

The king stood stock-still in contemplation, relying on every fiber of his remaining self-composure not to collapse back into the chair. A creeping shadow of gloom crawled across his face, darkening his brow. “There may be a way,” he said, swallowing.

At Iduna’s forlorn, questioning look, he continued: “Before my mother left, when she was at the height of her suffering, she would talk sometimes about a magical race of creatures that had the power to ‘heal’ her.” He paused, and clarified: “Trolls, apparently, living in a valley somewhere in the mountains above Arendelle. She said they could perform all manner of spells, and I heard her talk in her sleep once or twice about wanting to go see them.”

Iduna stared at her husband in disbelief. “Trolls.”

He reddened. “Yes, well,” he said, “I realize how absurd this sounds, Iduna, but…” He glanced at Elsa. “Now that I’ve seen what our child is capable of, the idea of magical trolls doesn’t seem so farfetched.”

“What are you saying, Agnarr?” Iduna snapped, shaking her head. “That your mother went to see them? That they helped her… ‘disappear’?”

His shoulders raised in defensiveness. “I don’t know,” he conceded, “but what if that were the case? What if…” He sat back down in the rocking chair suddenly, staring at Iduna with clear eyes. “They erased her memory.”

Iduna frowned. “How can you be sure?”

“I’m not,” Agnarr admitted, “but if the trolls are as powerful as she said, then… it might explain where she ran off to, and why she never came back.” He sulked. “I wonder if father knew.”

Iduna took in this speculation with confusion and annoyance, pressing a hand to her right temple as she sighed. “Even if that is what happened,” she began, trying to keep the impatience from her voice, “what does any of this have to do with Elsa?”

Agnarr struggled to answer for a time, unable to articulate his thoughts. At his wife’s expectant stare, he offered: “We could take her to them, and ask them to… remove her powers.”

The queen shot up in alarm. “Have you gone mad?” she hissed. “Do you have any idea how sacred and special her magic is?” Fury alit in her blue irises. “It is a gift, Agnarr. No matter what your father – or anyone else – thinks or says, it is a part of her eternal soul. To take it away from her would be akin to spitting in the eye of God himself.”

“Then what do you suggest?” the king retorted, exasperated. “What other choice do we have?”

Iduna’s anger faded as she contemplated the question, and her expression grew melancholic. Agnarr, sensing the shift in her mood, placed one hand on hers. He noted that it had gone cold.

“What is it, Iduna?”

She stared at him in quiet desperation, and before she could stop herself, her face sunk into her hands, and she wept.

»» —— ««

“Is everything alright, Your Majesty?”

The question weighed on Agnarr more than the physician expected, and the latter exchanged a glance with Gerda as the doors to the king’s private study were closed behind them by a guard. The dark, windowless room seemed impossibly small, lit up only by a candelabra on the desk between the king and his guests, though a keen observer could notice its impressive depth and height through the flames.

Agnarr’s head was bowed for a moment, and when the silence grew too difficult to bear, he released a shaky exhale. When his gaze met theirs, they were stunned to find it fresh with tears.

“The child passed this morning, in the queen’s arms,” he said, his voice tremulous from grief. “Just after we named her—Elsa.”

Gerda’s hands flew to her mouth to suppress a cry, though she began to sob into her handkerchief soon after. Nils entered a state of shock, staring at the king in utter bemusement.

“But, Your Majesty… how is this possible? I saw the princess just a few hours ago, healthy as a newborn could be.” He shook his head. “How could her condition deteriorate so suddenly? Why…” He frowned deeply. “Why did you not call for me sooner, if she was—”

Agnarr rose his hand, quieting the physician. “It all happened very suddenly, I assure you,” he murmured. “It seems you were right after all, Nils, about the dangers of premature birth.” He closed his eyes, and his lips trembled. “I only wish we had not glimpsed what could have been, before the end.”

Nils’s frown eased, but only slightly. “Your Majesty,” he began more gently, “please, let me see the child. It will help me to better ascertain what happened, and be sure of Her Majesty’s health as well…”

The physician trailed off as he realized that the cold determination in the king’s eyes would not allow for further argument. “She needs time alone with the child – with Elsa – to grieve, in her own way,” Agnarr said. “Then, we will relinquish it and make preparations for the funeral.”

“But sire,” Gerda mustered the strength to speak through her tears, “it’s not proper. The child’s body, it will—” The woman gave in to a fitful sob at the thought before continuing. “It will cause Her Majesty great sorrow to see the princess that way.”

Nils did not speak, but his grim expression indicated his agreement with the maidservant.

Agnarr’s mouth pressed into a thin, firm line. “These are the queen’s wishes,” he stated, “and it would only cause her greater sorrow to take the child from her so soon.”

Gerda hid her moan of anguish in her handkerchief, and Nils patted her on the back, his frown etched into his wizened features as he stared at the king. “Very well,” he relented, bowing his head. “We will wait until Her Majesty’s mourning period is over.”

Agnarr gave a faint nod of thanks. “I appreciate both of you – your service, and your care – through all of this,” he said. Turning to Gerda, he added: “Leave any meals outside of the room for the evening. I will bring them to her myself.”

The older woman managed a nod in return, the cloth in her hands barely stifling her constant sniffles.

He turned his back on them, his hands clasped behind him. “You may go,” he said.

Agnarr waited until he was sure that they had left to release a deep, shaking sigh. He gripped the edge of the desk until his knuckles turned white, and then exhaled again, turning his attention to the tiered bookshelves which lined either side of the room, stretching out into the darkness of the far wall.

With sudden and frantic energy, the king began to rifle through the books, coughing and sneezing through the clouds of dust and cobwebs which greeted him as he pulled them off the shelves with little regard for their long-undisturbed state. His initial, methodical skimming of the first shelf was quickly replaced by mere glances as he ripped books from the successive ones, clearing out rung after rung, unsure even of what he was seeking.

Long minutes that felt like hours passed in this way, and by the time Agnarr reached the far end of the room – though he was only halfway through the stacks – he leaned back against it, spent of his energies and despairing of the futility of his quest, resting the candle in his hand down on the floor.

He sat there in the gloom of his father’s former study, now his own, caught in a state of bewildered insomnia when he brushed his hand against the candle, causing it to tip over to the ground. Luckily, he reacted fast enough to put out the flame that began to catch on a nearby loose sheaf of paper, and turn the candle back upright. As the remaining smoke tendrils rose from the burnt page, he sighed, accepting even this small bit of relief.

Agnarr.

The king’s back was rigid at the familiar voice, and he stared out into the darkness with terror in his eyes.

“Who—who’s there?” he whispered, looking to and fro. When nothing answered him, he curled his hand around the candleholder at his side, though he dared not move from his seat. His lip quivered. “Show yourself!” he demanded, unnerved.

A sighing wisp of a sound encircled him, causing the flame of his candle to flicker and dance, and then seemed to disappear into a corner of the room to his left. Agnarr followed its path with wide eyes, seeing it end somewhere at the very bottom shelf on the other, untouched side of the room. He grabbed his candle, ignoring the burn of hot wax as it dripped onto his bare hands, and held it towards the spot where the voice had led him.

There, nestled between inconspicuous volumes bound in the same, dark brown leather as most of the other tomes in the room, was a slightly larger and red-colored spine. He pulled it out with greater care than he had for any other book in the study, surprised by its heft, and gently laid it down on the wooden floor below. He blew away the dust that obscured the text on its cover.

Even when it became legible, however, the king found that it was comprised of ancient runes in which he had no education or training, and so he could make little sense of what its contents might be. When he opened it to the first few pages, paragraphs upon paragraphs of the same, unreadable runes greeted him.

“Very helpful,” he muttered to himself, glaring at the candle’s steady flame in his hand. “I must be going mad,” he said, sighing, and moved to place it back on the shelf.

Forgetting its weight, the book fell from Agnarr’s hands as if in protest, and as it banged onto the hard floor, it opened to a section that he had not yet seen. He held the candle with trepidation and curiosity over the pages, careful not to drip any wax onto them, and his eyes widened as he got a better look at their contents.

On the left was a page of runic script, but on the right was a faded illustration of a mysterious, dark creature with narrow, yellow eyes, its hands raised to the sky. Below it lay the sleeping body of a man on a carved stone bench – a nobleman, or perhaps even a king, Agnarr thought, from the looks of his fine raiment and armor – and from the man’s head, extending into the sky, were swirls of smoke and clouds of fantastic colors, all intermingling to create a stark and foreboding image.

The king shuddered at the sight even as he was unsure of its meaning, and he ran his hand over the lines of the drawing. He paused over the head of the sleeping king, feeling an unusual groove on the surface of the page; smoothing his fingers down, he realized it ran all the way to the bottom, and he quickly turned to the next page.

Folded and tucked into the centerfold of the book was a loose paper, sandwiched between another page of text and what looked like an illustration of a white stag. Agnarr ignored the picture, and busied himself with unfolding the paper. Flattening it out against the other pages with one hand, he felt his jaw go slack in surprise, and he had to hold tightly onto the candle to keep it from falling over again.

It was a map, with the fjord and castle of Arendelle drawn prominently in the bottom left corner, encircled on all sides by nondescript forests and mountains colored beige, brown, and dark green. From the castle was demarcated a clear path in red dashes through the mountains, to a spot at the top right corner of the page marked with a large “X.” Next to it was, Agnarr assumed, the name of the location; and though it was written in the same runes as the rest of the book within which the map had been hidden, the first two letters gave him some clue as to what – or who – could be found at the final destination.

“Trolls,” he murmured. The candle flickered, seemingly in agreement. He eyed it with wonder, and then looked up at the ceiling, seeing nothing more than total darkness… but sensing much more beyond it.

Collecting his wits, Agnarr folded the map back up and slid it into his breast pocket, and then closed the red book and slid it back onto the shelf. Standing with newfound strength from the floor, he walked back with brisk purpose towards the entrance. Once there, he lingered in the doorway to look back with a sad smile, disregarding the disarray his manic search had caused in the room.

“Thank you, mother,” he whispered, and left.

»» —— ««

The path to the stables was as shrouded in December’s eternal nightfall as every other part of the kingdom, and Agnarr was thankful for having traveled there enough times in daylight to know his way in the dark. He adjusted the sling against his chest so that it faced more towards him, and the deep, royal blue color of its cloth was well-disguised beneath his plain brown riding cloak.

His steward followed close behind with a lantern, though the light did little to illuminate their path. When they reached their destination, the older man gave a sigh of relief, holding aloft the light so that the king might better see the harness and gates guarding his prized horse, Sigurd. He eyed the king’s costume questioningly, but Agnarr would not answer the look as he untied his steed, leading it out of its stall with the trained hands of a horseman.

After carefully laying the saddle atop its broad back, he nodded to the steward, who waited expectantly, bracing himself. The king grabbed the older man’s shoulder, using the leverage to slide his foot into the stirrup and mount Sigurd.

A small, babbling sound escaped the bundle slung across Agnarr’s chest; the older man stared at it for a moment, but said nothing. The king almost sighed with relief, but elected instead to nod at the gesture of discretion in thanks.

The steward could not help but demonstrate some concern. “Are you sure about this, Your Majesty? There have been reports of brigands in the mountains as of late, and I can easily send one of the guards to go with you—”

“There are some sensitive matters I must discuss with the tradesmen there—too sensitive for company,” Agnarr interrupted in an authoritative tone, though his face reddened with embarrassment at his own vagueness. He adjusted the sling again, and continued in a more conciliatory way: “I will return before sunrise, Kai.”

The steward’s skeptical expression was obvious even in the dim lighting, but he did not press the king further on the matter, and stepped back from the horse.

The king could not bring himself to address the man’s suspicion, and whispered into Sigurd’s ear. The horse gave a whinny of comprehension, and the two set off down the path to the gates at a quick pace, disappearing into the night.

»» —— ««

Agnarr arrived at the location marked on the map – or where he thought it should be, based on his knowledge of the mountains – with a weariness etched into his brow that made him appear far older than his twenty-one years.

He had come upon a clearing in the forest resembling a Roman amphitheater, and the full moon above shone on the stage and surrounding theatron, which were covered in moss as if from long disuse. From his vantage point at the edge of the forest path leading into it, he could also make out countless stone orbs of various shapes and sizes, all draped with moss that matched their surroundings, scattered throughout the rows.

The king eyed this warily, clutching the bundle across his chest close to him as he dismounted Sigurd. He tied the horse to a tree nearby, and proceeded with caution into the center of the arena. “Hello?” he called out.

When nothing answered him, he swallowed, and made a second attempt in a more confident voice. “I am King Agnarr of Arendelle,” he announced, “and I have come seeking help.”

His statement was met with another bout of silence, and sweat beaded at his forehead as the bundle across his chest started to wriggle, making small mewling noises.

“Please,” he said, looking around at the empty valley in desperation, his eyes growing misty from the threat of tears, “I have no one else to turn to. The very fate of Arendelle is at stake.”

Finally, at this plea, Agnarr began to hear – and feel – a series of rumblings all around him, the very earth quaking beneath his feet. He looked down to plant them more firmly and keep himself from tripping, and in the background Sigurd whinnied with fright, bucking against his restraints. When the king lifted his gaze again, he was shocked to find that the same static, stone orbs he had observed before were rolling down the theatron of their own accord, until they were completely encircling him.

No sooner had he adjusted to the notion of self-propelling rocks than they began to take the forms of living beings, one by one uncurling into equally circular, stocky trolls.

At first, they seemed all alike in their terrifying newness to Agnarr: a small mop of bedraggled hair atop their heads, smocks or tunics made of moss covering their small bodies, jewelry containing precious minerals and stones strung around their necks and wrists, and impossibly large eyes that stared at him and caused him to shrink under their scrutiny. Sigurd’s incessant, fearful whinnying in the background did nothing to dispel his own fear, and he stood stock-still, unable to move.

After a minute or so, however, the king found their collection of eyes more curious than threatening, and was slowly able to differentiate the creatures from one another by the color of their necklaces, or the particular partings of their mossy hair. This calmed him, and as his breathing returned to a more normal rhythm, so too did his steed quiet in the background.

The trolls began to clear a path amongst themselves, and through it, one approached Agnarr with a slow, deliberate gait. Judging by the length of its mane, its long moss cloak, and the ostentatious, heavy decorations of green baubles strung about its chest, the king guessed that it was their elder.

“Your Majesty,” it said, bowing as much as its age would allow. Agnarr nodded in return. “I am known as Grand Pabbie among our folk. It is a pleasure to meet the son of Her Majesty, Queen Rita, after so many years.” The troll paused, registering the surprise on the king’s face at the mention of his mother. “But tell me, what brings you to the Valley of the Living Rock?”

Agnarr hesitated, but soon found himself pulling back his cloak and drawing down the top of the blue cloth to reveal his daughter’s waking features. Her bright blue eyes and soft coos were met with a chorus of “ooh”s and “aah”s from the crowd, who gathered in closer around the king to catch a glimpse of the newborn.

He was both comforted and unsettled by the attention, and unconsciously stepped back with Elsa. Pabbie, sensing this, gave him an encouraging nod to continue. “It’s all right, Your Majesty,” he reassured the king.

Agnarr swallowed. “I’ve come with a difficult – unthinkable – request,” he corrected himself, his voice shaking. “I only make it out of desperation, for the safety and life of the princess.”

At the encouraging and concerned looks of the trolls, he looked down at his child, and laid out the account of his coming to the valley in detail: how he met the queen; her true heritage, and the magic present amongst her folk; the conflict between her people and his father; the fear of magic in Arendelle; the unusual and difficult pregnancy, as well as the premature birth of the princess; and, finally, how Elsa’s powers had manifested earlier that same day.

When he finished, Pabbie asked: “May I take a look, Your Majesty?”

Before Agnarr could inquire as to what he meant, the elder troll conjured a cloud of fine, purple dust that seemed to seep out of the king’s forehead into the air above them, recalling to him the illustration he had seen in the red book. The cloud began to take shape, revealing Agnarr’s memory of seeing Elsa’s powers for the first time. The trolls tittered in astonishment at the magic, and the king watched the scene replay with the same dread and awe as he had just a few hours before.

As the spell came to a close and the cloud faded away, Pabbie looked with wonder upon the babe in the king’s arms. “Truly remarkable,” he murmured.

Agnarr shifted uncomfortably at the remark, and continued: “Yes. And Iduna and I could have borne all of these difficulties, but for one: Elsa has been betrothed to a prince from the Southern Isles since before her birth, as this was the price named by its king for his support in rebuilding Arendelle after the war.” He shook his head. “And that is not one we are willing to pay, after discovering her powers.”

The elder’s brows furrowed. “Why do you fear this king, sire?”

Agnarr frowned. “He is cruel, Grand Pabbie, prone to exploiting whatever unsavory opportunities he can to give himself the greatest advantage over others. While I know my father’s flaws full well, his mistrust of Albert was not one of them. That man…” He sucked in a breath. “He had his own brother killed to hold onto the throne, and has had the audacity to claim the death was a ‘tragic accident’ ever since.”

The trolls murmured to each other with wide eyes at this revelation, but Pabbie’s brow merely rose while he otherwise remained calm. “And you fear that he would bring the same harm to the princess, or otherwise seek to use her to bad ends,” he surmised.

Agnarr nodded. “Yes. We’re quite certain he would, which is why…” He trailed off, staring down at his child through a veil of mourning, and then looked back up at the troll with unspeakable grief. “We do not have the means to conceal her powers forever, nor would we even know how to do so.” His eyes closed, and he trembled. “It was by the queen’s request that I come here, and ask that you look after Elsa in our place. I had hoped we could ask you to remove her powers instead, but my wife forbid it.”

The trolls gave a collective gasp at this admission, with consternated whispers traveling through the crowd. Pabbie raised his hand, quieting the ruckus. “And Her Majesty was right to do so,” he affirmed. “Though, truth be told, it would’ve been impossible for me to fulfill such a request, even if you had asked it of me. There exists no such power in this world.” He paused, glancing at the child. “Does anyone else know that you’ve brought her here?”

“No,” Agnarr replied. “Her birth had not been announced, and I told the physician and servants that the princess died shortly after her birth.” He reddened. “Truthfully, I’m not sure they believed it.”

The elder was quiet for a while at this, and stared with sympathy at the child, who continued to flitter between sleep and wakefulness. “Her power will only grow with time,” he said. “There is beauty in her magic, but also great danger.” He gazed up at the king. “You did the right thing in bringing her to us, Your Majesty. We can raise her as one of our own, and teach her to use this great power for good. But…” The troll’s eyes softened. “Are you sure you want to do this? For if you do, she will never know you as her father, nor the queen as her mother—nor will you be able to see her again, lest you risk raising suspicions about her parentage.”

With tears trickling down his cheeks, Agnarr assented with a tiny nod. “Yes,” he murmured.

Pabbie bowed his head. “So be it.”

The trolls watched in silence, waiting; Agnarr, shaking, held onto his child for as long as he could, and then knelt down, his tears falling onto her cheek. He removed one riding glove to wipe it away, and then pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. Removing the scarf from around his neck, he wrapped it around the princess as he drew her up from the sling, and whispered:

“Goodbye, my sweet Elsa.”

With weak hands, he handed her to an older, matronly troll who had stepped forward from the crowd to stand beside Pabbie. As the exchange was completed, the king stifled his sobs, as did the trolls surrounding him, who watched the scene with oddly human tears streaming down their stony features.

Pabbie placed a surprisingly warm hand on his shoulder. “It will be all right, Your Majesty. Rest assured that she will live well and happily in the Valley, in harmony with nature and her magic.”

The gesture was of little comfort to Agnarr, who continued to cry. At length, Pabbie took the king’s ungloved hand in his, and with the other he removed one of the jewels from his necklace. He chanted a brief incantation under his breath that turned the mineral from green to purple, and then pressed it into Agnarr’s palm.

“Crush this gem into fine powder when you return to the castle,” he instructed, “and mix just a few grains of that into the drink or food of anyone who saw the princess alive. It will ensure that their memories of her are erased, and confirm your story about the queen’s miscarriage.”

Agnarr wiped his tears away with the heel of his gloved palm. “I will,” he nodded. “Thank you.” After a moment, he felt his lips quivering again. “Grand Pabbie…”

The troll was attentive, holding the king’s hand. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

The king swallowed uneasily. “I hate to ask this, or even think of it yet, but… if Iduna and I have another child, will it also—”

“Have powers?” Pabbie finished. Agnarr nodded, red-faced. “No, sire,” the troll assured him. “It is highly unlikely. Such magic only comes along once in a generation, if at all.”

“You’re sure of this?” Agnarr asked.

“Yes,” the troll repeated, and added in a kinder tone: “You needn’t worry.”

The king could not help but release a small sigh of relief, though it was soon replaced by a deep look of regret as he heard the princess gurgle from within the scarf with which she had been wrapped.

He stood, turning away. “I should go, now, before my presence is missed,” he murmured, and the trolls parted to clear a path for him back to Sigurd. The horse watched his return with impatience, knocking the ground beneath him with one hoof for emphasis, and Agnarr quickly untied him.

As the king slotted one foot into a spur, he was surprised to find Pabbie before him again, staring with understanding and warmth so pure that it caused him to shudder.

“Your Majesty,” the troll said softly, “I promise that we will keep her safe.”

Agnarr paused for a moment, staring down at the elder. The dried tracks of his tears were still visible on his face under the moonlight.

“Tell me, Pabbie,” he murmured, “did my mother hesitate, before you erased her memories?”

The troll’s expression lifted in surprise, and then turned wistful. “She loved you very much, sire,” he said. “Were it not for her fear of your father’s reprisal, she would have taken you with her.”

Fresh tears brimmed in Agnarr’s eyes. “Answer the question, Pabbie.”

The old troll sighed. “Of course she did. To give up a child… it is the most difficult decision in the world. But she knew you would suffer more, if she raised you in her condition.” He gazed up at the king with a knowing expression. “I know it probably never made much sense to you before, though perhaps it does now.”

Agnarr’s lip quivered, and he found he could not challenge the assertion. Without speaking another word, he swung onto Sigurd’s saddle in one swift, practiced motion, and allowed himself one last glance at his daughter.

“Tell her we loved her,” he said at last, turning away. “Tell her we’ll never forget her.”

Pabbie bowed his head, and the king threw his hood back over his head. Guiding his steed towards the path into the forest, the two set off towards Arendelle at a clip.

In the distance, the child began to cry.

#frozen #frozen 2 #frozen fanfiction #helsa #helsaweek #helsaweek2021 #InFantasyFrozen

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writtenbynightlock · 3 years

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After the angst fic with tendou it broke my heart :"D Can you pls make some fluff fic with him where the reader confesse to him, bevor the graduation and it's kind of emotional. I literally saw 3 angst fics with him widbjabd

Confession | Tendou Satori x Reader

I hope you enjoy this even though my fluff writing is bad >_<

Note: Requests are open 💌 Please be informed here

Masterlist

Your high school years are finally ending. It was a fun journey. Your high school life was mostly involved in attending official matches of the Shiratorizawa Men’s Volleyball Club, eyeing a specific middle blocker, Tendou Satori.

You find him fascinating when he’s in the game. You could see also how much he has fun playing with his teammates and how focused he is. Aside from that, you could see how good he is in consoling his teammates whenever they made a mistake.

On regular school days, your heart would skip a beat every time you cross paths with the middle blocker, exchanging hellos with him and Ushijima. There would was one time when Tendou would ask to sit with you in the school library, finding it refreshing to sit with a female friend that does not feel uncomfortable with his presence, with Ushijima joining the two of you of course.

Graduation was fast approaching and you want to confess to Tendou before leaving. You’ve always been shy but the strong feelings in your chest for Tendou makes you want to pour your heart all out --- that’s why you left a small piece of paper on his desk, telling him to meet you at the school rooftop.

The cool spring breeze meets your skin and lets your flow with the wind, making you shiver a bit. Your fingers were getting colder, your heart hammering in your chest. What if you should just forget about it? You started to doubt yourself and your actions. Even though a lot of people looks at Tendou as an oddball, you saw something in him that makes your heart warm. His kind gestures and small talks makes your heart flutter.

He won’t return my feelings anyway.

As you were about to retreat, you shriek as you saw Tendou a few steps away from you, his hands in his pockets, giving you a look of confusion as he raises his eyebrows at your surprised expression.

“Olololo? Are you okay, (L/N)-san?”

“T-Tendou-kun!”

Your felt your cheeks immediately heat up and the butterflies in your stomach were like wildfire just by thinking what you were about to say to the man standing before you. His dark red orbs were boring into yours, waiting for what you have to say.

“So what is it that you want to talk about, (L/N)-san?” asks Tendou with a curious look on his face that made you even more nervous.

It’s now or never.

“I-it’s almost graduation day.” you awkwardly say, scratching the back of your head, your face as red as a tomato. As Tendou notices your awkwardness, he smirks a little and held his hips.

“Are you gonna miss me, (L/N)-san?”

“M-maybe I’ll miss watching the games.”

“But you’ll miss miracle boy, Satori, right (L/N)-san?”

Your gaze lingered on Tendou for awhile, noticing how handsome he is in his white jacket, light blue dress shirt, purple tie, purple pants, and brown loafers. You’re gonna miss seeing him in his high school uniform. You’re gonna miss the exchange of hellos in the hallways. You’re gonna miss attending every single game and cheering for the team and for him. Thinking about all of the things that you have to let go made you feel so emotional at that very moment.

Tendou’s eyes widen as he saw tears building up in your eyes.

“(L/N)-chan! Why are you crying?” asks Tendou in a soft tone as he watches you wipe your tears away, avoiding eye contact from him.

“I’m gonna miss you, T-Tendou. I never would have thought that watching you from afar, I would develop feelings for you. It just hurts to let go. It gives me life cheering for you whenever you have a game. A lot of people don’t see what I see in you and it hurts knowing that you aren’t going to return my feelings but I’ve held it long enough. I don’t care what happens after this. I like you, Tendou Satori!”

Tendou blinks at you, his figure glued to his spot, a bit overwhelmed at the sudden confession. You looked away, still wiping your tears, not regretting a single word you said but felt a bit sad that it was the reaction you least wanted. With a sigh, you turned around to grab your bag until you felt a hand wrapped around your wrist, making you face the person.

Tendou Satori was now standing in front of you, holding your hand softly as he wipes the tears away for your eyes with a smile on his face.

“Now now, (L/N)-chan. Who says I’m not gonna return your feelings?”

You felt like your world had stopped for a moment, doubting if you were hearing properly.

“W-what?”

“Miracle boy, Satori, likes you too (Y/N)-chan~”

With Tendou’s unexpected confession, you can’t help but feel overwhelmed that more tears started to flow from your eyes, making Tendou chuckle and hugged you, resting his chin at the top of your head and soothes your back.

“Aw you’re blushing like my hair” Tendou teases, making you smile and bury your face further into his chest. You didn’t regret confessing to your long time crush. Taking risks was definitely worth it.

“From now on you may call me Satori.”

—

BONUS:

On your graduation day, you can’t help but feel happy as Tendou immediately looks for you and congratulated you for the hard work you’ve put in high school. Before you left to have dinner with your family, Tendou gaves you the second button of his uniform, letting you know that what he feels for you are sincere — wanting for you to be in his life, excited in getting to know you more — if possible, be with him forevermore.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagine #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #tendou x reader #tendou x you #tendou scenario #tendou satori #tendou #tendou x y/n #tendou fluff #tendou satori fluff #haikyuu scenarios #fluff

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flyingkiki · 3 years

Text

A Very Merry Christmas (1/4)

I've been working on this since December last year, in hopes of giving you a steamy Christmas. But life, anxiety, and the shitstorm of 2020 came in the way. But either way, I worked through this, got all chapters ready for some regular steamy #TimRae goodness. I'll post regularly so all chapters will be out soon. Enjoy this first steamy TimRae nugget, my loves!

Notes: Messed around with ages and timelines. I like Tim and Raven in a more adult setting, past their teenage years. Doesn’t strictly follow any universe, rather a mix of this and that. They're adults and Damian is still a pre-teen kid.

Part Two of my Vanilla Series. Because Tim is a k!nky boi, and we know it. Here's Part 1: Flavor: Vanilla.

Chapter 1

“How many estates does the Wayne family have?”

As they were driving up the icy road, Raven warily eyed the large house decked in a thick blanket of snow. When Tim mentioned they’d be spending Christmas week at the family vacation home, she certainly did not expect another mansion in the outskirts of Gotham, tucked away by a range of trees and lush snowy forest cover. She thought of a cottage by the forest – not an 8-bedroom and 10-bathroom monstrosity of a home. Raven blinked and looked out the window. Was that a tennis court she just saw?

“There are a few,” Tim chuckled and they neared his childhood home. He eyed the home fondly and shot Raven a brief smile. “This one is Bruce’s favorite. We spend a lot of holidays and summers here,”

Hard to imagine that in between all the vigilante and business work, and all the dysfunctional family disasters and ill-managed feelings, the Wayne’s somehow were still able to spend some time together as a family. Raven had quickly learned after the rift between Tim and the rest of the family with losing and finding Bruce in the time stream, and all the tension between all the siblings for one reason or another, Bruce (or likely Alfred) had made it more of a habit for the family to gather whenever possible. Over the years as they have grown older, old wounds have somewhat healed. Somewhat.

“I cannot picture Bruce Wayne as the fishing-by-the-lake kind of father,” Raven mumbled, absently eyeing the snowy white trees whizzing past them.

“He likes to take Damian the lake when the brat is out of school during summers,”

Raven hummed in acknowledgement and watched as they finally approached a security gate. They’ve been driving for hours and it came to a relief that she’d be finally be able to stretch her legs. But the idea of finally, officially, meeting the Wayne family “outside of work” unsettled her. Worry loomed in the pit of her stomach as they drove up the driveway of the large house made of intricate stonework, impossibly large windows, and aged wood. She inhaled softly, staring at the home muted by the thick blanket of snow. It was beautiful.

“Who drives a motorcycle in the middle of winter?” Raven frowned when they drove past a large motorcycle covered in snow carefully parked next to pine trees.

“Jason,” said Tim as they finally came to a stop under the car shed next to Bruce’s Bugatti. Who drives a Bugatti in the middle of a cold wave? Raven eyed the car.

“We’re here,” Tim announced. A blanket of silence dropped over them with only the soft noise of the engine filling the air, Tim allowed Raven to process their arrival. He watched as she stared out the car window, taking in the snowy garden.

After the Killer Croc incident and the discovery of the rather embarrassingly ill-placed hickey, the entire family assumed that he was seeing someone. For a period, Jason had been talking non-stop about Tim’s sex life (“Dude, you are a kinky piece of shit.”) and Bruce had dropped invitations to holiday and gala dinners, which Raven remained hesitant to attend. After a year of postponing dinners, they did finally decide to attend this Christmas getaway after Alfred told Tim “It would be nice to finally meet your partner, Master Tim. I would like to meet and thank her for taking care of you, my boy. It would be wonderful to get to know her,” he said. And that was that. No one declines Alfred.

It was a miracle that they kept the relationship under wraps for over a year now. Tim understood Raven’s need for privacy and her hesitation to meet Bruce. Some wounds still ran deep, no matter how long ago their first encounter was. The thought still left a bad taste in his mouth, the idea of a young Raven being turned down by the Justice League. He knew that there was still bad blood between her and Zatanna while Clark tried his best to make up for their hasty decisions over her. He watched Raven inhale softly and fiddle with one of the silver rings on her left finger. “Hey,” he said softly and reached out to touch her hand. Deep blue eyes stared back at him and he cracked a soft smile. “All good?”

Raven returned the small smile and tilted her head just a little bit. “You think very loudly,” she said and adjusted her hand in his so they could hold hands. Years ago, she’d shy away from this kind of contact. It was strange how time has changed her. She watched Tim’s smile brighten and she released a nervous breath she was holding. “Yeah, I’m good,”

Tim gave her hand an encouraging squeezing. “We don’t have to do this, you know?”

“I know,” Raven replied. “But I guess now is a good time as any,”

He gave her hand another encouraging squeeze. “It’s not like they don’t know you anyway,”

Raven snorted ungracefully and rolled her eyes. “I’ve spent more time with everyone in that house in masks and Kevlar than unmasked. I’m thrilled to see everyone in their silk PJs,” she said dryly.

“I guess now’s the best time to meet everybody unmasked,” Tim told her. He released her hand and turned to shut the engine. He turned back to her and smiled, grabbing her arm and gently tugging her towards him. He pressed a long kiss against her lips. “C’mon. Let’s go inside,”

They stepped out of Tim’s warm car and into the biting cold. It was mid-afternoon and it was already slowly getting dark, and everything was becoming colder. Raven made a face and pulled the grey bonnet over her ears and joined Tim by the trunk. They pulled out their duffle bags and slowly trekked towards the front doors of the mansion (calling the monstrosity of a house a cottage in the woods would seem insulting). Raven eyed the house in awe and apprehension.

Hurrying up the wooden stairs and stomping off the snow from their boots by the worn mat, Tim fished out his keys from his pants. Throwing her a curious look, he slid the silver key into the lock. “Ready?”

Raven made a face and her eyes momentarily slid towards one of the frosted windows, seeing warm light past the heavy curtains. “Not really,”

“Raven,” Tim breathed, eyes widening, and his hand stilled.

Raven rolled her eyes and gently nudged his shoulder. “I’m kidding. C’mon, I’m freezing, and I need to pee,” she whispered teasingly.

“Tease,” Tim grinned at her gasp as his cold nose pressed against her cheek for a quick peck. Turning back to the door, he unlocked it and quickly opened the heavy front door. As they entered the welcome warmth of the foyer, they were greeted by the familiar movie soundtrack of the Grinch. Removing their coats and leaving their bags for later, Tim led Raven towards the living room. “We’re here!” he announced.

“Timbo, in here!” They heard Dick from the other room over the noise of the Grinch followed by low muttering and scuffling. “Sit up, Jason! Don’t embarrass us in front of his girlfriend!”

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Dickface,”

“Hey guys,” Tim entered the large living room and found his whole family scattered across the ridiculously large leather sofa and carpeted floor. He felt Raven hesitate beside him before appearing next to him and Tim snorted at the collective response of shock and surprise from everyone.

“Hey Timbers – oh my fuck.”

“Master Jason, language!”

“Raven?!”

In hindsight, perhaps it was a bad idea for her to just join the family for their Christmas weekend as every single member of the Wayne family openly stared at Raven and Tim. Raven inhaled softly and took a step back as she felt the onslaught of emotions. She watched the open surprise cross Bruce face, and she quickly averted her gaze to Dick, who gaped at her like a fish. Yep, definitely not a good idea. An uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of her stomach as she felt out of place.

“Raven,”

She turned to Bruce again and she blinked as the man rose from his seat on the sofa, a rather ugly throw blanket slipping from his thighs. She quirked a nervous smile and breathed. “Hi,” she said. Blinking, she waved lamely. “I brought wine?”

“You and Tim?” Dick blinked, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. How did his second-in-command start dating his younger brother? How did he even miss this? “How? When?” Dick blinked lamely. “Huh?”

“Raven!” a small lithe bundle of a soft green Christmas sweater bounded towards the couple and hugged Raven. “It’s you!”

“Hi Cass,” Raven chuckled and hugged the younger woman. Over Cass’s shoulder she and Tim exchanged small smiles. Raven always had a soft spot for Tim’s sister. Cass turned in Raven’s arms and eyed Tim with a playful look and nudged his shoulder. “You kept secret!”

“Sorry,” Tim laughed and waved his hands in defense.

“Perhaps Miss Raven and Master Tim would like to freshen up a bit before we have some afternoon tea? Or hot chocolate. I’d think that would be a great idea, don’t you think?” Alfred said this with an air of finality as he stood up and briefly glanced at his wards before turning to the couple and smiling kindly at them. “It’s wonderful to see you again, Miss Raven.”

“Thanks, Alfred.” Raven smiled, tension leaving her shoulders. She pulled away from Cass and the girls gently squeezed hands.

Tim cleared his throat at the collective surprise still in the room. Bouncing on his heels, he turned to Raven. “Okay. Bathroom?” Raven nodded, relief flooding her face at the chance to escape the awkward introductions. Turning back to his flustered family, he rolled his eyes and absently took Raven’s hand. “We’ll be back. You guys get it together,” he told them before turning on his heels and gently tugging Raven back to the foyer.

Leaving the surprised family in the living room (“You guys better not get handsy up there” “Jasssssonn!”), Tim and Raven picked up their bags and made it to Tim’s old bedroom. Raven raised an eyebrow in amusement at the sight of old band posters on the wall.

“Bathroom’s over there,” Tim pointed toward the door in the corner that led to the private bathroom. Raven hummed in acknowledgement, still keyed up from all the emotions downstairs.

After puttering around in the bathroom and washing her face, Raven emerged from the rather ridiculously luxurious personal bathroom (she was definitely going to take a long, hot bath and put up some scented candles in there) and found Tim absently tinkering with an old laptop on his desk. Ignoring Tim, she walked around his old bedroom, taking in old books lined in a bookshelf. Finding some curious titles, she thought she might want to check out for later. She smiled and picked up an old Superman action figure. She moved to the wall that held a few of Tim’s old photographs. An old gritty photograph of Gotham Tower with the Bat Symbol illuminated behind it hung in the middle of an array of landscape photos.

“I took that when I was 9,” Tim said, joining her by the wall and pulling the old action figure of Clark out of her hands. They shared a smile as he waved Superman’s arms around lamely before dropping it back on the shelf.

“You haven’t done photography for some time,” Raven commented.

“Been busy. You know, saving Gotham, running a company, staying alive,” Tim smiled and watched as Raven quirked her lips in response. He watched her move around his old room in curiosity, taking in old trinkets and photos, eyeing books and posters, and smiling fondly at old memorabilia. He felt a warmth spread inside of him as he watched Raven, in her oversized grey kitten sweater, study parts of his old life. While life as a Wayne (and a Drake) was beyond messy, he realized that this – the sight of Raven gently pressed against the large windows of his old room watching snow gently fall into the garden – was something he wanted Raven to be a part of in his life and share more with her – mess and everything.

Raven looked over the shoulder, offering a rare smile at the gentle press of his warm emotions. “You’re on vacation now. Maybe we can walk around and take some photos,” she said. She watched Tim join her by the window and wrap an arm around her waist. He offered her a gentle smile. “I’d like that.”

“So,” Tim breathed, a warm lilt in his voice as he looked at her. “What do you think so far?”

Raven tilted her head and hummed. “Do you think they’d mind if I just spend my entire time here in this room?” she asked teasingly.

Tim laughed and squeezed her hip. Pressing a kiss to her cheek, her held her close and allowed his hand to slip underneath her sweater for another gentle squeeze. “As much as I’d like to keep you in my childhood bedroom, I don’t think Alfred would approve.” He mumbled into her hair.

Raven hummed and shifted in his arms, she looked over his shoulders at his ridiculously large bed and back up at him with a teasing glint in her eyes. “But there is so much we could do in here,” she said.

Tim laughed softly and pulled her closer to him, relishing the soft press of her against him. “Oh, believe me, I have plans for you,” he said against her cheek and grinned at her soft chuckle. He gave her hip a teasing squeeze before kissing her fully on the lips. He had missed her; they had not seen each other the last few weeks because of her off-earth mission. He had every intention of making sure they made up for lost time in his old bedroom.

Raven hummed against his lips before pulling away, a small smile playing on her lips. “Such loud dirty thoughts, Tim Wayne” she teased and gently nudged him away. Rolling her eyes at the guilty chuckle, she stepped out of his arms and brushed her hair back with her hands. “Do you think we should go back downstairs?”

“Yeah, let’s. I promise you that Alfred’s hot chocolate is to die for,” Tim said while leading her out of the bedroom.

If the rich chocolate smell was any indication, Alfred’s hot chocolate smelled divine. Raven blinked, trying to come to terms of the domesticity of the entire scene in front of her – Bruce Wayne, Batman, in comfortable house slippers and a grey sweater that probably cost more than what she made each month, carrying a tray of sugar cookies into the sitting room. The rest of his brood were gathered around a glass coffee table, with steaming porcelain mugs in their hands.

Cass perked up around her mug at the sight of Raven and Tim entering the room. She waved them over from where she sat curled up next to the table within easy reach of the cookies that Bruce just deposited on the table. “Come, sit!”

Bruce’s raised his eyebrows at the couple and he straightened. He looked at Tim for a brief moment before locking eyes with Raven. It momentarily startled him to see the woman in front of him, out of her uniform, a much older version of that young girl he had met so many years ago begging for their help. The memory unsettled him for a moment, a shift of emotions he was sure Raven caught as her head tilted just a fraction of an inch and she blinked. He smiled instead and placed the cookie tray on the table as she and Tim approach the group.

“Hi, Bruce,” Raven greeted Bruce, barely catching his mix of emotions and she smiled lightly up at the older man.

“Hello, Raven. It’s nice to have you with us.” Bruce eyes shift to towards Tim and he quirked an amused eyebrow. “It’s quite a Christmas surprise,”

“A rather pleasant one, if I may add,” pipped in Alfred as he appeared with a tray of more mugs of hot chocolate. He and Raven exchanged smiles. Raven always liked Alfred.

“Sit,” Cass grabbed Raven’s hand and tugged her towards the coffee table, obviously thrilled to have a girl in the house to spend time with. Raven smiled and allowed herself to be tugged to the floor next to Cass. She shared a quick amused glance at Tim before turning to the younger woman as she pressed a hot mug of chocolate into her hands. “Drink.”

“Thanks,” Raven smiled and folded her legs underneath her. The hot chocolate smelled delicious and the heat of the mug warmed her cold hands. She felt some of her tension slowly melt away.

“Why didn’t I know about you two!” Dick exclaimed from his perch on the loveseat. He sent hurt looks to both Raven and Tim. His blue eyes widened in realization. “So that’s where you run off to sometimes. You said you’re going to a museum!”

“To be fair, I did,” said Raven, sending Dick an amused look before taking a tentative sip of the hot chocolate. It was delicious. She hummed in approval and shared a small smile with Cass.

“Just with me most of the time,” Tim grinned at Dick after gabbing one of the mugs from the table and plopping down into the large sofa he shared with Bruce.

“Soooo,” Jason announced sounding terribly smug from where he was sprawled out over an overstuffed armchair. He lolled his head towards Raven and his green eyes shone with mischief. “It was you who gave Timbers that crotch hickey.”

“Jason!”

Dick coughed loudly into hot chocolate, chocking on one too many marshmallows. He did not need to know that. “Jason, damn it!”

“Language, boys!” Bruce sighed loudly and watched as Jason grinned smugly at Raven, their houseguest – Tim’s secret girlfriend. And thanks to Jason’s not so gentle reminder, said culprit of Tim’s large hickey he had the misfortune of seeing many months ago. He sunk into his seat in the sofa and mentally groaned at the terrible mental image. He really did not want anything to do with his sons’ sex lives. They were all adults, but still – Bruce sighed.

Of course. Trust Jason Todd to bring up sex. Ignoring Tim’s embarrassment and the heat that crept up her cheeks, Raven narrowed her eyes and stared back at an amused Jason waiting for her answer. “Yes.”

“Raven!” Dick whined.

Jason cackled and hot chocolate dangerously sloshed around in his expensive porcelain mug. “I like her!”

Bruce sighed and took another long drink of Alfred’s hot chocolate. He needed sugar. Thank god Damian was out walking Titus, he definitely did not need his 13-year-old son to hear about Tim’s sex life. Or hearing it confirmed by Raven.

As if on cue, the front door opened and Damian announced his arrival. There was quiet shuffling in the background and a distinct bark before the Damian’s monstrosity of a dog came bounding into the room followed by his youngest son. Damian blinked in confusion at the sight of Raven talking to Cass, obviously wondering what the Titan was doing here. Titus on the other hand stood at attention at the sight of the newcomer and barked briefly at Raven, gaining her attention, before lying down a few feet away from her and watching her cautiously with a loud whine.

“Is there a mission?” asked Damian, eyeing Raven quizzically before turning to Dick and then to Bruce.

Jason snorted and swung his socked feet over the armrest. Taking a rather dangerous sip of his hot chocolate from his precarious position on the armchair, he grinned in amusement at the little brat. “Please meet Timmy’s girlfriend,” he said dramatically, theatrically waiving at Raven with his mug.

Damian eyes widened briefly before shooting Tim a quick glance and turning to a mildly amused Raven. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he told her dryly.

“Hey!”

Raven chuckled softly. She shared an amused smile with an indignant Tim before turning back to an unfazed Damian. He stared at her for a moment, unsure what to do. They had rarely interacted outside of missions, the boy had held her at arm’s length at times – probably because of whatever knowledge he had of her from his grandfather and the League. Though she wouldn’t blame him, she’d hold herself at arm’s length too. She titled her head, the corner of her lips quirking slightly as she sensed the young boy’s unsure emotions. “It’s nice to see you again, Damian,” she said.

Damian blinked. His gaze shifted back to Tim, who was watching him intently. Turning back to Raven, he stiffly nodded. “Welcome to our home,” he replied automatically.

“Such an exciting welcome wagon you are,” Jason said dryly, shooting the short boy a teasing smirk while helping himself to another mug of hot chocolate.

“Dami have some hot chocolate,” Dick beckoned Damian towards the coffee table as he heaped another healthy spoonful of marshmallows into his mug. Raven always wondered how Dick’s sugar levels seemed to do so well during Cyborg’s annual physicals.

While Damian busied himself in pouring his own mug, Dick looked curiously at Raven and Tim, watching in astonishment as Raven handed over her phone for Tim to keep as she sat cross-legged on the floor next to Cass. He watched Tim stuff the device into his pocket and Dick blinked – it was so odd to see Raven allow such simple intimate acts around her. When Gar tried to even touch her phone, he would be blasted off the roof. He pulled himself out of his reverie as Damian unceremoniously plopped down next to him and Dick nearly spilled his drink. Catching Raven’s eyes, Dick smiled brightly, and pressed on with their earlier conversation. “So, when did this start?” he asked.

“Oh,” Tim breathed. He watched as Raven looked over her shoulder to catch his stare. Turning back to Dick, he tapped his mug thoughtfully, wondering just how much they should get into detail. “Remember that mission in Lisbon?” he asked.

Dick’s eyebrows furrowed remembering the Titan’s mission of taking on that inter-galactic firearm smuggling ring led by Slade. There was a lot of fighting, shooting, and blood. They had Red Robin join to help Cyborg hack into the several space stations and track local smuggling movements. His eyes widened at he stared at Tim. “What? That was over a year ago. I was there. You two got into arguments!” he accused. He turned to Raven with a bewildered look, feeling utterly confused. “You said his plan was, I quote, ‘fiery hot mess’ and he was stupid beyond belief.” Jason released a bark of laughter in the background.

Raven shrugged dismissively. “It was. He is.”

“No, reckless. The word was reckless.” Tim tutted.

Raven rolled her eyes. “And still stupid. You got shot.”

“Still took down the entire operation.” Tim grinned and they shared a small private smile. Turning back to Dick, he offered an easy shrug, as if everything explained for itself. “Asked Raven out on a date once we all got back and recovered from blood loss.”

Dick gaped at them, still thoroughly confused. “That was 18 months ago. How? All this time –?”

Damian sighed loudly looking rather bored. “Your detective skills are rather disappointing, Richard, if you failed to take notice for the last 18 months,” he said. Dick made a disgruntled sound next to him.

“I’m happy!” Cass announced nudging Raven and the two shared a smile. Raven felt herself relax, as an easy conversation fell on the group and everyone continued to tease Dick for his terrible situational awareness skills. She chuckled at a joke Jason threw at Dick and looked over at Bruce, who remained quiet throughout most of the conversation. She caught his eye briefly and felt whatever tension that was left in her leave as the two shared a rather brief smile.

Dinner was a chaotic affair as promised with Jason and Damian, and on occasion Tim, getting into arguments and Dick trying to placate the situation. Though it was not like Raven was not used to the chaos, after living with Victor and Garfield, and Jinx, for so long. Tim had agreed that he and Raven would help Alfred in his baking tomorrow. When Cass was not busy talking to Raven, she’d endlessly tease Tim or Jason for one thing or the other. Bruce looked over his children occasionally trying to break up arguments or admonish Jason for his cursing. It was a surprising sight, to see this different side of Batman, and it threw Raven into a loop. It was admittedly nice, despite her initial apprehensions, to meet everyone outside of their Kevlar and masks.

“So?” asked Tim later that evening as he appeared from the bathroom barefoot in nothing but his sweatpants. Raven looked up from reading an old philosophy book. She watched Tim towel his wet hair as he approached the bed. Closing the book, she allowed a small smile to play on her lips as she watched him approach, appreciating as the defined muscles rippled with each movement. Tim’s work with his bo staff does wonders – not that it was something she’d openly admit. She caught his amused emotions as he sat down on his side of the bed, catching her stare. “What do you think of today?” he asked her, reaching out and affectionately squeezing her calf.

“It was alright,” Raven replied, placing the book on the bedside table. She turned to Tim and watched him haphazardly throw his used towel onto the nearby office chair. “I’ll pick it up, I promise,” he chuckled as she rolled her eyes. Tim turned off his bedside lamp, engulfing them in the soft light from Raven’s lamp. Climbing into bed next to her, he turned to his side and propped his head on his left hand. “Was it?” he probed.

Raven sighed and sunk into bed next to him. She looked up at him as Tim gently brushed some of her hair behind her ear. “It’s different,” she admitted. “I’m still getting used to the idea of seeing Batman in Armani lounge wear.” Tim snorted ungracefully. “It’ll take some time adjusting to all these emotions from everyone. But it’s nice to meet your family outside of work. Thank you for you bringing me here to meet them,” she told him.

“I’m glad you’re here. I’d like to share this with you. It’s a bit messy and chaotic, but it’s family. I’m happy you’re here,” said Tim gently. He offered her a small smile and grabbed her left hand and gave it a soft squeeze. “I’m sorry if everything is a bit overwhelming. We can always go home when you want to,”

“I know. Thank you.” Raven replied and tugged Tim towards her, allowing him into her space and wrapped his arms around her. She did not realize her emotions were so keyed up until now. Her emotions settled at the familiar press of Tim’s body and the warm press of his emotions against hers. She felt one of his hands slip under her camisole and fingers fanned against the small of her back. She sighed contently and melted into the embrace. She felt a mumbled “I love you” and a kiss against her forehead and she smiled, fingers curling around Tim’s bicep. She hummed and pressed forward, clumsily kissing Tim on the cheek. “I love you too,” she whispered, a little breathless. It often amazed her as she found herself saying these words, three words she thought she’d never say intimately to anyone. Strange how Tim seemed to have easily settled into her life.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, silently relishing the intimate moment between them. Raven quickly learned into the relationship how much Tim enjoyed giving and receiving affection, a result from his own demons of the past. Giving affection so openly was something she gradually learned to do over time. Tim had a way of helping her learn and grow over the year.

She felt Tim shift and before she could acknowledge his change of emotions, she yelped softly as his leg slipped between hers and his foot brushed against her own. “Cold feet!” Raven gasped, trying to jerk her feet away as Tim wrapped his feet around her and pulled her against his chuckling chest.

“Share some body heat,” Tim chuckled against her hair and his legs held her own in place. He shifted again, enjoying the gentle press of her curves against him. Slipping his thigh just a little bit higher between her legs, he smiled as Raven shifted towards him, her thigh brushing against his own.

“I know what you’re doing,” there was an amused lilt in her voice. She could feel the hard press of him against her hip and she canted her hips just a little bit to brush against him. Raven hummed at Tim’s soft sigh.

“I know that there’s a no powers rule in this house,” Tim mumbled and his hand slipped over the curve of her ass and gently squeezed. He heard Raven hum against his chest. He felt her lean up and kiss the hallow of his neck. He bit back a groan as Raven shifted, deliberately brushing up against him. He squeezed her tightly, amused at her teasing. “But,” he breathed and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Do you think you could cast a silencing spell in this room or something?”

“Oh?” Raven breathed, look up at Tim in amusement. Her eyes danced in delight as nimble fingers slid under her shirt again and traced her spine. “What for?”

“Well,” whispered Tim and nudged her up to get her face closer to his. He grinned impishly at her amused face and briefly tipped forward to languidly kiss her, relishing the needy press of her lips and tongue against his own. Pulling away, he chuckled at the soft whine of protest and leaned forward to briefly kiss the crook of her neck before leaning into her ear. “I really don’t want anyone in this house to hear what’s about to happen in my childhood bedroom,”

An excited thrill ran down her back and Raven felt heat pool low in her stomach. “Oh?” she whispered catching the wolfish smile on Tim’s lips. She draped her right hand over Tim’s bare shoulder as he turned and pressed her into the mattress. Her fingers tingled with magic, spell ready at her fingertips, as she teasingly traced a protruding scar on his deltoid. “What’s going to happen?”

Tim clucked his tongue catching the teasing glint in her eyes. “I’ll have to show you then.”

Raven just had about enough sense and time to release the spell from her fingertips just as Tim’s fingers easily slipped underneath her pajama bottoms and inter sleek, hot heat. Legs spreading instantly, back arching, and jaw dropping at the delicious friction, Raven gasped loudly.

“TIM!”

Raven released a breathy gasp as fingers moved slowly into her. The rhythm slick wet noise of Tim’s fingers driving into her at a steady pace had heat pooling low in her abdomen and her legs quivered in anticipation. His fingers steadily increased their speed, drawing out long whines and soft moans from her.

Despite the cool Christmas air, she felt her skin warm as heat shot through her body. She felt Tim’s heady press of desire as he kissed the pulse point of her neck and teeth gently scraped against her sensitive skin. Raven whimpered as she felt him push and prod against the bundle of nerves, her hips gently thrusting against his fingers chasing for release. She felt herself so close to tumbling over the edge.

“Shhh,” Tim whispered teasingly, hooded eyes drinking in her undone state. Nipping the underside of her chin, he listened to her release another breathy whimper as he continued his steady ministration into her sleek heat. Over her gasps and groans, he could hear the wet sounds of his fingers pumping into her. His cock twitched in anticipation. “The others might hear you,” he teased, watching as she gasped and bucked into his hand. They were lucky she cast the silencing spell as Raven whimpered and fluttered around his fingers, release just a few strokes away.

“Please,” Raven herself tumbling towards the edge as her body quivered and she greedily devoured Tim’s lust and desires press into her. She whimpered as she felt him kiss her collar bone before pulling the strap of her camisole down to expose her right breast. She gasped and groaned as his tongue flittered around her nipple before teeth and tongue eagerly engulfed the sensitive bud.

With a nip to her nipple and a few more fast, measured thrusts of his fingers, Tim watched as Raven released a strangled cry and came totally undone. Drawing out her orgasm, his fingers curled and pumped into her fluttering heat, helping her tumble down the cliff.

Raven’s back arched off their bed as her world exploded and she continued to buck into Tim’s hand, riding out the high and soaring through an explosion of colors and sounds. She gasped and whimpered, fingers curling into his bicep to help ground her and gain some control.

Their movements slowed and Tim pressed a warm kiss against her cheek, watching as Raven slowly returned from her high. Pulling his fingers out of her, he watched as Raven whimpered and writhed at the loss of contact.

“Fuck,” Raven breathed, as her senses returned, and she lazily lolled her head towards Tim watching him pull his fingers out of her. Tim hummed thoughtfully, his gaze dropping from her rumpled pajama bottoms to his soaked fingers before licking her sticky juices from his fingers. Raven released another whimper as desire and heat seemed to flare low in her abdomen again as she watched him eagerly lap up her cum from his fingers. Fucking hell, the thought of their total debauchery in her Wayne manor a distant memory.

Pausing with his careful licking, Tim hummed and smiled at her. Drinking in her disheveled look, he leaned over her again and relished the beautiful release of pressing his straining cock against her hip. Rocking into her, Tim pressed a kiss onto her cheek. “We should have a Kinky Christmas,” he whispered and teasingly hooked his fingers into her pajama bottoms and underwear, nudging them down slowly.

Raven released a breathy laugh but found herself nodding. She felt Tim tug her pajama bottoms off her with a few more tugs and pulls of hands and feet. “Give Jason more things to tease us about?”

Tim clucked and chuckled, pressing another kiss into the hallow of her neck and listening to her breathy intake of breath. He quickly removed his own pants, sighing as his member sprang free and brushed against her thigh. “We got the silencing spell up,” he said while pushing her legs apart and settling in between them. They groaned as his member brushed against her core. “This will be our little Kinky Christmas celebration,”

Raven hummed, hands draping over his shoulders as she eagerly rocked into his hips in anticipation. The room was stifling, and she wanted so, so much more. Drinking in his heated stare, Raven gave him languid smile, and spread her legs just a little bit more.

“Then let the festivities begin,”

#TimRae #Tim Drake #Raven #Teen Titans fanfiction #TimRae Fanfiction #TimRae 2021 Year of Smut and Steam #not beta'd

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tcm · 3 years

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A Conversation with Patty McCormack on Growing Up on Screen By Kim Luperi

Not many child stars go on to enjoy long, successful careers in show business – and fewer still have earned a prestigious Academy Award nomination before they turned 18. Patty McCormack has achieved both. The actress, who made her first film appearance in 1951 and went on to star in THE BAD SEED (’56, for which she received an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actress as the murderous Rhoda at age 11); THE ADVENTURES OF HUCKLEBERRY FINN (’60) and THE YOUNG RUNAWAYS (’68), continues to work in Hollywood and shows no indication of slowing down.

I had the pleasure of speaking with McCormack recently about some of these titles and more, including the delightful film KATHY O’ ('58) in which she plays a famous child star – an apt springboard for a discussion about growing up on screen and transitioning into more mature roles over her incredibly long, accomplished career.

(This interview has been edited for length and clarity.)

I was watching KATHY O’ last night, and I really enjoyed it. In that movie they talk about your blonde pigtail braids as a trademark, and I realized it kind of was; you had that hairstyle in THE BAD SEED and ALL MINE TO GIVE (’57), too. Do you know how that style came about, or was it something you did that caught on?

Patty McCormack: It seems to be! I believe I even had them early on in Mama, which was an old live TV show that was a weekly event. I don't know how that [trademark] happened. I think it just happened because of THE BAD SEED – I think it was the hairdo that I went in with or they just decided on. When you see the original artwork on William March’s book, there’s a very long face drawing of Rhoda, his Rhoda, and there were braids in it. I don't know if they were looped or what, but that could have been it – or I honestly don't remember if it was chosen by my mom because it was easy, but it stuck!

I loved KATHY O’ because I got to live the dream. I loved the notion of them cutting my hair off – except it was a wig that they cut. After a while it felt like I didn't want to look like an older person with braids – you have to get rid of them eventually. As soon as I could, I wanted hair that was like, in that era, a page boy or something like that, where it landed on your shoulder. But I carried that long hair for a long time. And then you know how you revert back to certain hairdos years later?

They come back in style.

PM: Yes, they come back, but now I have shortish hair, and I'm growing it one length. So I got over the braids – just in the nick of time!

Circling back to Rhoda, you originated the role on Broadway before the film version, so you obviously had a lot of practice and familiarity with the part before you took it to the screen. Since she's such a chilling character, how did you get into that mindset at age nine, especially when you had to play the part multiple times a week?

PM: I always go back to the source, and the source was the director, Reginald Denham. He was so good with directing me. He made it fun, because I learned when I'd get an audience reaction on a face I’d make or something, I'd look forward to doing that again – you know, that kind of joy.

He made it so clear and simple, and his point of view was that Rhoda was always right. I know I've said this before, but it's the truth. No matter what anybody says, Rhoda is correct, and anything she wants, she feels entitled to – not using that word ‘entitled’ – but I really wasn't thinking of myself as a bad person, or especially not a murderer. I just thought it was their fault, which is classic, I guess. I had to kill him [the little boy] because he was so mean. So I think that was how I learned to be that character. I was aware of the murders – people were dead because of me, that I knew – but somehow it wasn't disturbing to my mind. If you take a look at it knowing that, you see it. I'm not coming from some sort of evil place, I don't think.

You were nominated for an Oscar for THE BAD SEED, which is amazing; it's a true testament to your talents, of course, but it’s also such a big accolade to have at such a young age. Do you remember there being any pressure on you for your next role?

PM: Well, the role was so odd for a kid to be so noticed, in that era anyway. I can't think of any jobs I didn't get after that that somebody else got, you know? What happened, though, was that each year I grew, and so I just experienced the typical kid actor dilemma which is going from category to category and establishing yourself in that category and learning how to be in that category. I did do something on Playhouse 90 – I did a few PLAYHOUSE 90s back then – and I did a lot of television –

You played Helen Keller [in the original 1957 Playhouse 90 teleplay “The Miracle Worker”].

PM: That's what I was going to say! That was after THE BAD SEED. But mostly, as far as movies went, there was KATHY O’ and a few here and there and at different levels of development. I was always aware that it had been a while since I worked, that I felt, but I didn't think business, like “What will I follow up that with?” I didn't have that kind of mentality, and I really don't think my mother did either, so it just sort of went the way it went.

As you mentioned too, you were still growing up. So, you’re a child, then a teenager, then young adult. You probably wouldn’t be thinking about the business part of it.

PM: No, it's so strange. It's not an easy transition, and as you know famous people go through really hard things. You don't get to sit and relax in a certain mode for too long because before you know it you're in the next one. And then you go through your ‘ugly period’ in front of everybody, which is horrible.

The movie that you mentioned TCM is going to air, THE ADVENTURES OF HUCKLEBERRY FINN, when I see the headshots from that I just think, “Aw, I looked uncomfortable!” I could see it even in my body. I felt like I was at the awkward time – you know, part of me was getting bigger, developing – and that hairdo they gave me didn't help; it was still the braids but wrapped up.

I want to ask you about that transition. Did you find anything difficult or surprising about navigating Hollywood and growing up on screen?

PM: The most difficult part, honestly, as a person growing up – I think at the time I always say Sandra Dee was the person we all looked to. She was just so beautiful, and no one else looked like that – maybe Carol Lynley a little bit – but the bar was set very high. With that, you’re insecure anyways because you’re at that age, and more than anything you don't want to be different. I think that's true for a lot of kids. So the maturing, that part of development, was difficult when I look back. You don't have the confidence that you had as a little kid when you don't think about anything. You become all self-conscious about how you look, if you're thin enough, if you’re pretty enough, if your hair looks nice. It's a little bit of an adjustment to get through all that and go back to what you like to do, which is to pretend, and take the focus off what you look like or who you look like or any of that stuff. I don't know if other kid actors had the same experience, but usually people grow out of a look that made them known – most of us anyway, not all of us.

I know when you left Hollywood you went back to Brooklyn and finished high school there. What was that experience like for you?

PM: Well, I took my real name back, and I was going to the high school that my mother and older sister went to, so I was really excited. This is going to sound so weird, but it was almost like playing a part – I was playing the part of a high school student. My real name is Russo, so I was Patty Russo. The experience was really kind of shocking, because I think they expected me to be very conceited, and so I had to hide in the cafeteria in the early days, because it was Brooklyn and they were pretty tough – they were on me! But I made a best friend who helped me navigate through it, and it turned into a nice experience finally. I was glad to have had that.

Then I came back out here [Los Angeles], and I stayed with a friend of my mother's family for a while. I wound up leaving Utrecht [her Brooklyn high school] – it’s a long story – but I did a soap opera in between while I was going to Utrecht, and that was kind of tricky because they weren't flexible like California was. In California they were used to kid actors, and in New York at that time, they really weren't. Then when I came out here, I went back to finish high school at Hollywood Professional and got my diploma that way. But I'm so glad I got to go back to Brooklyn. I'm pleased about that.

It sounds like you had a pretty grounded childhood, especially in attending a regular high school. Do you think that helped how you adjusted when you returned to the film industry?

PM: It was a little bit too grounded, I think! I came from a really good family. I never thought that I was a big deal, and they [her mom and dad] made sure of that. So, coming back to the industry after, I really didn't know the ropes. People handled all that before – the only thing I knew was what I did, and so some things maybe didn't get handled so well, but I learned on my feet when I came back out here. Then I married my childhood boyfriend and we had our children, and I kept working.

Yes, you’ve worked steadily since then.

PM: I did work a lot! It’s true. Nothing on the level of nominations, but I was a journeyman, I like to say.

You've spent six decades in the industry, which is really astounding, especially since you started as a child. I read an interview from 1974 that featured a humorous quote from you that I’d like to share. You said that you lamented that you never got the guy in movies and just once you wanted to “kiss the guys instead of kill them.”

PM: That is funny!

But throughout your career, you played Helen Keller, you played a career woman in THE BEST OF EVERYTHING (’70), you played Pat Nixon more recently in FROST/NIXON (’08), so you've had a lot of experience with different characters. Was there any genre or any type of character that you wish you could explore further?

PM: Well, I'll tell you the truth, it's actually seven decades from when I started, although if you want to make me younger, I don't mind! At this point in time, I'm so grateful when I work, because there could be nothing now, you know? I do enjoy what comes along. The only thing I never got to do, which I would have loved, was to have been in a habit – I would have loved to have played a nun in a habit.

That’s interesting.

PM: Isn’t it? It’s the Catholic school thing.

We’ll have to find you a role like that!

PM: I know, wouldn't that be fun? And it would be a nice way, in your later years, to go from a killer to a nun, you know? I think it would be a good idea.

Going in the right direction!

PM: Yes! But anyways, little things change here and there, and I sometimes do voiceovers, and I did something recently that I had never done, which was so much fun. Did you notice on Netflix a show called ARSENE LUPIN [working title for LUPIN]?

I haven’t heard of it, but I know there’s an old movie with the same name.

PM: Yes, this is a remake. It's in French, and I dubbed a French woman into English, and it was so much fun to do, to have someone else's face up there. I know some people watch foreign movies and they say, “Oh it's so unfair to dub the other actors,” and I probably wouldn't love it if somebody dubbed me either, but I had such a ball doing it. So, if you catch that show, you'll see somewhere in there I'm speaking English for a French woman.

I wanted to talk about two of your more recent roles. I know you starred in MOMMY in the 1990s, kind of a grown-up Rhoda, and you played a psychiatrist in the Lifetime remake of THE BAD SEED in 2018. This story has been filmed a few times; what do you think resonates with people, and how did it feel going back to that character and story but from different perspectives?

PM: Right. Well, to be honest, the Rob Lowe production [for Lifetime] was really a totally different story. There was no mom – he was the mom character – so the writing was really different.

There were two MOMMY movies: MOMMY (’95) and MOMMY’S DAY (’97). Those were written by a writer who lives in Muscatine, Iowa: Max Allan Collins. This is a long time ago now, but it was fun to grow her up, you know, physically. I talked to you about how that is the strange thing about transitioning, and it was so enjoyable to do that. It really was a journey for me internally.

There was also something about shaking hands with that, because in my day, it was never a good thing to have something so long ago be talked about all the time. I got that impression by other people's opinions, not my own, and as time went on, the world changed and people started knowing actors’ work from 20 years ago. So, the appreciation for that old work came back, and I learned to feel good about it through other people's feelings about it. I do have such a different perspective on it now, and it's a character that was so special. That really changed my ability as to how I could hold it [the role].

It’s nice to be able to do that.

PM: Yes, it is.

I have one more question for you. I know we’re in a pandemic and many productions are halted, but do you have any upcoming appearances that I can share with fans to look out for?

PM: Aw, I wish! It's funny, I did some Hallmark Christmas movies. Well, I did one, and then last year I was supposed to do another one, and they cut our parts because of COVID. So, I'm rooting for [the next one], and I have a good feeling, you know, when we have our vaccinations. Also, a downside was that they shoot in Canada, and they have to bring you up there, and at that time you had to stay in 14 days.

A lot of rules!

PM: Yes, a lot of rules. So hopefully there will be a new one. I can't honestly say, but there's no reason there shouldn't be!

My dad loves the Hallmark Christmas movies, and I watch a lot of them because of him, so I'll be rooting for you and looking out for you!

PM: I know, there's so many. People have blankets and all these things! There are real hard-core fans – it's amazing.

#patty mccormack #child actors #TCM #Turner Classic Movies #The bad seed #kim luperi #growing up on screen #acting #actor

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jinterlude · 3 years

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Grow a Pear

—Requested by @shadowsremedy: Seokjin + Kuroko’s Basketball + School Gym as part of @bangtan-headquarters Bangtan Anime Club Drabble Event!

—Pairing: Seokjin x Reader (Female OC) [feat. Seungcheol from SVT]

—Genre(s): Humor, Slight-Angst, & Slight-Fluff

—AUs/Tropes: Anime-verse, Kuroko’s Basketball!AU, High School!AU, Basketball Player!Seokjin, Basketball Club Manager!Reader, Opposites Attract Trope

—Warning(s) & Rating: Swearing, Reader threatening bodily harm onto Seokjin, Shameless flirting, & Jealousy from an old middle school rival / PG-15

—Word Count: 1.6K

—Summary: In which news of playing against a certain team sparks a rather interesting memory...

—A/N: This drabble is based on episodes 52 & 53 of KnB, but you do not have to watch the series to understand this story’s overall premise! It is also inspired by Kesha’s song “Grow a Pear” (hence the title LOL) because I immediately think of Kise’s character. Since Seokjin reminds me of that 2D pretty boy, I decided to write a fun story!

“Hey, ___!”

A faint hum exits your lips as your eyes remain fixated on your player statistics book. You flip between a few pages with the gears in your brain working in overdrive, almost forgetting for a split moment that Kaijo’s basketball captain asked for your attention.

“Yes, Sungwon?” You reply, closing the book and tucking it underneath your arm.

Pursing his lips, Sungwon strides over to you, leaning against the stage inside the gym. Don’t you love playing inside an auditorium?

“So…” He begins but grows silent. How on Earth is he supposed to ask you to be the sacrificial lamb? How will he tell you that you’ve been chosen to say the team’s resident narcissist yet talented prodigy that Kaijo will play against Fukuda Sugo? Specifically, they’re playing against a certain someone with a rather colorful history with yourself and said prodigy.

Tiny creases form on your forehead as your brows knit together. You know that carefree look anywhere. More often than not, you become chosen to do a specific task that no other teammate wants to do—talking to Kim Seokjin.

“Now, before you say no—”

“Nope.”

“You didn’t even hear what I have to say.”

“Doesn’t matter. My answer is still the same. No.”

With that, you turn on your heel, and not even a few steps in, you bump into the one person you don’t want to see.

“Princess!”

And to think…

You were having such a fantastic day…

“What do you want, Seokjin?” You question, grabbing the statistics book from your underarm and flipping it open to some random page. You already have the data mesmerized like the back of your hand. You just want to appear busy in front of the arrogant pretty boy.

“Well, besides you finally acknowledging that you’re my girlfriend? A little bird told me that we’re playing against his team in the Quarterfinals,” Seokjin replies, his tone dropping near the end. This serious expression slowly takes over his handsome features, almost sending shivers down your spine.

If looks can kill, then Seokjin is guilty of murder in the first degree...

Thank God he chose to attend a different school. Who knows what will happen if two people who absolutely despise each other play on the same team.

“Remind me to thank Namjoon for that…” You mutter, slightly shaking your head as you slowly draw in your breath. Then, a force, light chuckle escapes your lips, personally finding it rather humorous of the current situation.

“Anyway, so how are you feeling about playing against the dude who has a thing for your sloppy seconds?” You tease, attempting to lighten up the situation.

Seokjin’s brow perks up, “Sloppy seconds?” he repeats, a tiny grin form on his handsome face.

You nod, “Well yeah...I mean, he did steal your ex-girlfriend from you.”

In response, the arrogant basketball player hums. However, this exciting gleam enters the corners of his eyes.

What is he thinking now?

Suddenly, he turns to you, his gaze piercing into yours with this unexplainable emotion glazing over his eyes.

“Oh? I mean, he did come close to stealing you away from me that one day.” He states as this bright smile dances across his gorgeous face.

For a split second, your cheeks become hot. Your heart practically drums against your chest. Shit. Even your palms clam up, sticking to the cover of the player statistics book.

What is this feeling?

Then, it dawns on you. This nervousness is the same emotion you felt when you comforted Seokjin that fateful day—well, supported him in your own unique way…

Tapping your pencil against your chin, a soft growl emits from your lips as you try to figure out the best course of action. The Captain, Kim Namjoon, previously asked you to develop a plan to preserve the Generation of Miracle’s stamina, specifically when using their rather unique talents. At first, you thought Namjoon was flat out insane for asking such a request. Like, you’d have to take into account their height and weight difference. Oh! You couldn’t forget that you also keep in mind their current talent levels. All while these calculations occur during an official game with another team.

Yeah...

Namjoon might as well tell you to put on a fucking jersey while he’s at it.

Rubbing the sides of your forehead, you can’t help but let out a long, harsh breath as this throbbing sensation enters the left side of your head.

“Hey, manager ___.” You hear a familiar voice, interrupting your rather irritating calculations. You look up from the tiny pile of scattered papers containing player statistics. However, you don’t bother spouting words towards the overly cocky player. Instead, you merely hum in response, unknowingly irking the basketball player.

Plastering on a smug grin, the person leans against the stage, quickly glancing at what you’re doing.

“So, is that the special project Namjoon asked you to do for him?” The arrogant male student asks.

“Yep, and shouldn’t you be practicing Seungcheol?” You question back, raising a brow.

Seungcheol scoffs lightly, “Why? I mean, I already earned a permanent spot on the regular team, so…” He trails on, chuckling to himself. He finds the mere thought of his spot being taken away quite humorous.

You mentally roll your eyes. God, you don’t know who’s the bigger arrogant fool. Him or—

“Yo, Seokjin!” shouts Jungkook, running up to the new recruit.

Ah, Kim Seokjin. He recently joined the basketball club just a few months ago. He’s already showing promise despite being a second-year student. Shit. Seokjin’s talents have rapidly progressed to the point that Namjoon took notice of him and was promoted to first-string just last week.

Yet, you can’t quite put your finger on it, but something is holding Seokjin back.

But what?

Before you become entirely lost in your thoughts, you hear Seungcheol’s arrogant voice taunt Seokjin.

Oh, great…

You swiftly stand up from your seat and rush over to the argumentative duo. But as you draw near to the quarrelsome pair, you instantly halt. What is this intense atmosphere lingering in the air?

And why do you suddenly feel something other than agitation towards Seokjin?

“W-what did you say?”

“You heard me, Kim Seokjin. Whoever wins our 1v1 match earns the right to call ___ his girlfriend.”

“Hold on. You can’t just call dibs on ___!” shouts Jungkook in complete and utter shock.

Instantly slapping yourself back, in reality, you snatch a basketball from an innocent player and roughly throw it at Seungcheol, anger visible all over your face.

Sadly for you, the annoying prick catches it with ease, smirking at you.

“What’s the matter, babe? You don’t believe that I can put Seokjin in his place?” He coos, further taunting Seokjin. What sets the handsome prodigy over the edge is when Seungcheol abruptly pulls you against his chest, dropping the basketball in the process. His cheek brushes against yours, making you want to gag.

Just as you’re about to violently elbow him in the stomach, Seokjin shoves Seungcheol away before forcefully throwing the discarded ball at him.

“You start.”

“This should be fun.”

But it was just the opposite...

It was a complete slaughter with Seokjin on his hands and knees, panting and sweating profusely. His eyes widened from the shock of his defeat.

Not only has he lost horribly against Seungcheol, but he also lost you—or so he believes.

“So, how about that date, baby girl? After all, you’re now my girlfriend.” Seungcheol asks, making sure that Seokjin can hear him.

“Yeah, I don’t date dudes who have a thing for other fellas’ sloppy seconds.” You bluntly state, turning towards Yoongi and Jungkook, “I mean, first it was Yerin, right? The one that was going around the entire fucking school saying that she was Seokjin’s girlfriend. Oh, I feel sorry for her since it was just last week, you were chasing after her, and now you’re after me.” You say, clicking your tongue in fake disappointment.

Seungcheol’s arrogant smile vanishes and is now replaced with a scowl.

“Let me ask you this, why are you obsessed with Seokjin’s sloppy seconds? Like there are a million girls in this damn school who, oddly enough, would love to be your arm candy. Yet you go after the ones that either show interest in Seokjin or who Seokjin’s interested in. Like, dude. Stop. It’s honestly creepy to the point that I firmly believe you have a weird obsession with him.” You finish as you walk over to Seokjin, offering him a helping hand.

Seokjin faintly smiles, grabbing your hand, as he pulls himself up. Soon, his smile becomes bright. His sweet smile almost blinds you—and makes your heart skip a beat.

“I knew you had a soft spot for me, ___.”

“Don’t push it, Jinnie boy.”

Softly shaking your head, you playfully shove Seokjin, snapping him out of his thoughts. You then jump down from the stage, having popped yourself up there moments earlier.

“Well, all I have to say is that Seungcheol better watch out. He hasn’t seen your ‘Perfect Copy’ in action yet.” You warmly smile as you make your way towards the exit but soon halt. You glance over your shoulder, maintaining that sweet smile, and say,

“Besides, he’s no match for you with your girlfriend cheering you on from the bench.”

“Right…” He mumbles, totally ignoring your words. Then, it hits him as if someone doused him with cold water.

“Wait! Did you just call yourself my girlfriend?!!” Seokjin hollers, chasing after you.

“I don’t know. Win tomorrow’s match, and I’ll let you know.”

“Oh, that’s cruel, princess…”

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aziraphalescloset · 3 years

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Aziraphale at the Bastille Part 1

This costume is going to be a long process so I’m going to post about it in chunks.

I think everyone who watched Good Omens who cares a whit for fashion fell in love with this confection of a costume: the angel Aziraphale in lace and frills and white satin pumps in a French jail, possibly about to be guillotined, until he’s rescued by a tall, dark demon.

(The left two pictures in the second image show the executioner, now wearing Aziraphale’s wasitcoat and frock coat, after Aziraphale miracled a costume swap.) Close examination of the costume reveals a couple of things: first, it’s actually kind of shabby-looking, and second, it’s out of date for 1793; by that time, men’s waistcoats and frock coats had become much shorter and more svelte, with smaller cuffs and coat fronts that sweep back, exposing more leg. Naturally, that’s what Crowley is wearing in the scene, though he’s dressed as more of a plebe than Aziraphale.

Now, Aziraphale looks a little shabby in modern times -- his waistcoat especially is very worn around the buttons and hem, presumably because it’s the same one he’s owned since Victorian times. But I’m not going to go to all the trouble of making this outfit and make it shabby, so I’m going to upgrade it when I make it in doll form.

Process photos after the jump.

First, I need a shirt. Again I’m turning to Thimbles and Acorns via Pixie Faire for the pattern for an 18th Century men’s shirt and stock. At this time, a man’s shirt served exactly the same purpose as a woman’s shift: it was a simple, comfortable, readily washable garment that separated the human (with its attendant grime and odor) from the clothes (which might be made of harsh fabrics and dyes). The tails were very long in order that they could tuck between the legs to act as a sort of underwear. In fact, the shirt was regarded basically as underwear; it was unseemly for more than the cuffs and collar to be visible, and the collar was always held closed with a tied neckcloth called a stock. The basic design of the men’s shirt remained unchanged for centuries. For those of you who are fans of the 1995 TV version of Pride and Prejudice, this is the garment that Colin Firth goes for a swim in, and for Elizabeth to stumble upon him, post-swim, still clad only in shirt and breeches, was really quite shocking!

Anyway, back to the matter at hand.

The Thimbles and Acorns pattern is fairly simple with a self-ruffle at the cuffs and neck. For Aziraphale I upgraded the cuffs to two layers of lace, and I added lace ends to the stock. I originally planned to use a very thin cotton batiste but it was just too transparent and was too stiff. So I’m using a white synthetic fabric of some kind, rayon or nylon or something. It’s a little staticky but it has a beautiful soft drape.

There is a lot of fiddly hand-sewing in these patterns to make facings that cover seams. This is the view through my magnifying lamp while I’m sewing the facing down over the front neck opening with its self-ruffle.

Finished shirt, without the buttons and button loops yet.

The next thing I did was adapt this pattern for Crowley. I have a Crowley doll that is a different type than Aziradoll. Aziradoll is an American Girl, which has a pretty wide, soft body compared to most such dolls. I found on eBay a used doll of a skinnier type, Just Pretend, Inc., with extremely weird pink eyes and red hair. It is roughly the same measurements as more popular skinny 18-inch dolls like Kids N Cats and Carpatina. So I modified the width of the shirt and made a few other changes to convert the pattern to Crowley’s size. No lacy frills for Crowley; it’s crisper self-fabric cuffs and stock. The fabric is just a regular acetate lining. It’s a little shiny, which seems suitable for a flash bastard like Crowley. Here’s a process photo of those self-fabric cuffs.

It’s still loose -- these shirts are supposed to be loose -- but fits the doll pretty well. Here’s a photo without buttons or stock.

Next step is breeches. Again, Thimbles and Acorns provides with this pattern for a George Washington military costume. I made the breeches almost straight from the pattern, using a really luscious-feeling crepe-backed satin. (The parts on the left are for a waistcoat, which I’ll post about another day.) The parts for these breeches are weirdly shaped -- these bear no similarity whatever to the cut of modern men’s trousers.

I discovered while making these that crepe-backed satin is a pain in the butt to work with. It seems like a very fine fabric, but it’s made of rather wide warp threads with very thin weft threads, and once cut it really wants to fall apart. It’s also desperately easy to accidentally pull a little weft thread and create what looks like a run in the fabric. My first assembly attempt ended in failure because the fabric started disintegrating around the tight corner at the junction of the drop front and the trouser leg.

I cut some new parts and substantially beefed up the interfacing around that seam. I also used a more stable cotton fabric for the invisible inner facings of the drop front and vents. It seems to be holding.

More assembly pics. Really interesting topologically.

Leg plackets. The detail in this bit is exquisite. If I ever need to sew a placket on any garment I’m creating from scratch, I’ll work from this pattern.

Drop front is sorted. It got a little off-center, I’m actually not at all sure how, but it didn’t matter in the end.

Adding the waistband.

Test fit. The next step after this was the sheer terror of buttonholes. I hate buttonholes. BUT I DID IT.

At least the terror of sewing buttonholes comes with the pleasure of selecting buttons. After a lot of agonizing (and, I’ll admit, some shopping), I eventually used some vintage pearl and mother-of-pearl buttons for the breeches. They’re Heavenly.

That’s it for shirt and breeches for Aziraphale. I’m working on the waistcoat, but more urgently, I need to replace those plain brown shoes with some gorgeous satin pumps. I also need to adapt that topologically weird breeches pattern for the smaller Just Pretend doll for Crowley.

In the meantime, here are the two Ineffables lounging around in, basically, their underwear. How indecent!

#Good Omens #Aziraphale #Crowley #18 Inch Doll #handmade #sewing #historical costume #18th century #Bastille #Ineffable Husbands #but in doll form #I hope this isn't creepy #pixie faire

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firebrands · 4 years

Note

I am in love with your fics!! 30 and stony for the short fic ask please :)

thank you!!! that makes me so happy hehe

also i know... i know it said short fic.......... yet here i am. thank you for sending a prompt and i hope you enjoy!!

Me voy pa'l pueblo, M, 2.7k | “tourist/knowledgeable local au” + stony bingo prompt fill “farewells” | on ao3

Steve wrinkles his nose as he looks around the intersection he’s found himself on. He tries not to be too obvious about it, and he hates when he gets sympathetic looks from the locals. So he glances at the street sign, then back at the shopfront.

He meant to go see the Casa de las Conchas—a large, Gothic building with seashells dotting along its facade. It also housed a public library.

Steve sighs in frustration then looks around the almost empty street—it’s lunchtime, and there aren’t many people milling about, having settled on a restaurant or gone home. Steve’s gaze lands on a man ostensibly doing just that. Steve walks toward the man as he pulls off his glove and punches in the code to his building.

“Uh—disculpe,” Steve says, fumbling already with the little Spanish he knows.

The man turns to look at him and Steve is almost bowled over by how gorgeous he is; he tries his best not to stare, but it’s nearly impossible. His face is framed by a well-trimmed moustache and goatee, and his gaze is somehow arresting—he’d never thought that description made sense until this moment.

The man blinks at him. “Sí?” he prompts.

“Casa de las Conchas?” Steve says it like a question. “Lo siento,” he adds. “No hablo Espanol.”

The man snorts softly and nods at Steve, considering him for a moment.

Steve stares back, taking every available second to drink in the sight of him. His shirt fits just right, enough to highlight the muscles of his tan arms, and Steve could look at him forever.

Then, the man scratches the side of his head, shaking it a little as he mumbles to himself. “Er, go straight there,” he says, using his hand to direct Steve’s gaze. “Then you turn right at the first. Then after two…” The man pauses, and bites on his lip as he thinks. It’s absolutely adorable.

Steve is infatuated. This is not how his vacation was supposed to start.

“After two corners,” the man resumes, “you turn left, and then you will see—” another pause. “Many people,” he finishes with a grin.

Steve nods. “Right at the first corner, then left after two corners.”

“Sí, exactamente,” the man says, still smiling.

“Gracias.” They smile at each other for a bit more, until the door of the man’s apartment beeps.

Steve takes it as his cue to leave.

***

Steve feels a little pathetic, daydreaming about the Anonymous Man as he settles down in a cafe across the historical landmark he set out to see. He can’t help but dream up scenarios in which the man comes to have a cup of coffee, and then they share a look of recognition, and Steve asks him to sit, and they chat and—well.

Steve pulls out his notebook and starts sketching, the activity handily keeping his mind focused on reality.

Steve wanders around the city a bit more, following crowds until he ends back at the Plaza Mayor. The Old City looks beautiful, lit up by bright lights strategically placed to highlight building facades, the crowds bustling with university students and tourists.

He’s planned this vacation for more than half a year, and he relishes the feeling of getting lost somewhere. Not that he’s ever really lost, but there’s some relief, not knowing. He buys a few postcards and stamps, and after a full afternoon of sightseeing, he sighs with contentment as he takes a seat in one of the bars that dot the interior of the plaza. A waiter comes to take his order—Steve picks out three pinxtos right off the bat, and he spends the few minutes waiting by watching the crowds milling about.

A pint of beer is placed in front of him and Steve looks up at the waiter, intent on saying thank you, and startles when he sees the man from earlier.

They look at each other and Steve huffs out a laugh.

The man smiles, runs a hand through his hair, looking a little nonplussed. “Did you find Las Conchas?” He asks.

“Yeah,” Steve nods. He almost asks the man to sit, but remembers that he works here. “Thanks for the directions.”

The man nods. “Enjoy your beer,” he says, and Steve watches as he walks back inside, only to blush when the man looks back at him and catches him staring.

Steve laughs a little to himself, embarrassed by how giddy he feels—it’s been a while, since he’s felt this, like he has a crush. He can’t help but hope that the man continues to serve his table, even if he knows it won’t go anywhere. It’s not like he knows if the man is gay or bisexual, or that he himself can communicate that without being so overt; how do people just do that, anyway? Steve takes a sip of his beer, enjoying the idea that he could be that kind of person, maybe. The kind who just jumped someone’s bones, didn’t worry what other people would think.

He is on vacation, after all. And it’s not like anyone here knows him. It’s a liberating thought, but Steve knows, too, that that’s all it will be.

Thankfully, the man comes back, easy smile on his lips as he sets down plates of food. “Did you like the beer?” He asks, and Steve nods, and doesn’t look at the man any longer. He tries to subdue the desire stirring in his gut. He doesn’t want to be so weird about it, but god, his mind is going strange places—he imagines touching the man’s wrist, asking his name, laughing and chatting with him until the attraction boils over and drives them to act. He imagines kissing him against the wall in one of the side streets leading out of the plaza. He imagines the sounds the man would make, how Steve would ruck up his shirt. He feels his cheeks heat, and feels a little like a deviant.

Steve takes out a book from his bag, tries and fails to focus on it as the man comes back to check on him periodically. Steve feels a little hysterical, doesn’t want to think it means anything, maybe they’re just trained to provide great service.

He shakes away the thought, finishes his meal, and leaves a large tip before the man can come back out again.

Later that night, after tossing and turning and thinking, still, of the man’s smile, he sits up and turns on his phone. He’s never really sincerely used this dating app, even after Bucky had helped set up his account and hovered over his shoulder as Steve swiped through.

Steve takes a deep breath, adjusts the settings to just far enough to span the Old City, and what he figures to be close enough to where the man lives. He can’t explain why he’s doing this, or what he hopes to achieve. He hopes he finds the man on the app, and if he does, by some miracle, then maybe it’ll be a blessing enough that they match. Besides, he’s leaving two days from now, has a plane ticket to Barcelona, and this feels like a last ditch effort of pleading with the universe. Please, please, please let him be gay. Let him be on the app. Come through for me, this one last time.

After spending the good part of an hour swiping and never coming across the man’s profile, Steve sighs and puts his phone away.

Message from the universe certainly received.

At least he has a nice memory to tie to this place, on top of everything else. It’s as good a souvenir as any.

***

Steve feels a little manic as he walks towards the bar. He’d spent the day exploring the outskirts of the city; sat down on the banks of the river and sketched while he ate a sandwich, then later meandered back towards the plaza at the center of it all.

He figures that he doesn’t have much to lose, at least compared to what could happen—which, honestly, is just to see the man one last time.

The bar has just opened for its afternoon shift, and Steve takes a deep breath before opening the door and stepping inside.

Like a flash of lightning, his gaze locks on the man’s. He looks just as gorgeous as Steve remembers (and he has been remembering a significant amount).

The man huffs out a laugh, a look of surprise and relief on his face. “It’s you,” he says, and Steve feels his heart soar.

“It’s me,” Steve says, laughing a little. The man gestures to the seat in front of him from behind the bar.

“I’m Tony.”

Steve grins, reaches over and shakes his hand. “I’m Steve.”

Steve’s thankful there are no other patrons that need to be attended to, and he’s about to say so, but Tony speaks first.

“I’m happy you came back,” he says. “I was worried.”

Steve shrugs, still feeling giddy with excitement. “Well, you had such great service.”

“Did we?” Tony asks, peering at Steve.

Steve fumbles. “You… kept checking on how I was doing.”

Tony laughs. “Yeah, because you’re cute.”

Steve makes a sound of protest, feeling his cheeks heat. “Oh,” he says. He bites his lip for a moment, then says, “you are too.”

Tony puffs up his chest, making Steve laugh again. Then he turns to Steve, a crooked smile on his lips. “I checked Tinder.”

“I did too!” Steve exclaims, because the additional confirmation of their mutual attraction is a welcome relief.

“Ah, well. You are here now.” Tony leans on the counter and winks.

Steve hates that he blushes even more. “I am,” he murmurs.

“Do you want to…” Tony trails off, chewing on his lip.

“I’d say grab a drink, but we’re already at a bar,” Steve says.

Tony arches his eyebrow at Steve. “Something else on your mind, then?”

Steve shrugs, feeling very coy as he smirks at Tony and says, “Only if it’s on yours.”

***

The bar had filled up and cleared out, but Steve and Tony had still managed to have bursts of conversation especially since Tony was bartending that night. Some customers had given them knowing looks, one regular even went on to jeer at Tony in spanish and wink at him, making Tony laugh and Steve flush all the way down his neck. He may not have known the words but the intent was clear.

Tony’s manager waved them off early, and Steve left a generous tip while Tony was putting on his jacket.

As soon as they’re out the door, Tony reaches over and twines their fingers together. It should be absurd, the simple gesture sends a bolt of electricity up Steve’s spine, except he’s been thinking of what it would feel like to touch Tony, and now he is.

The plaza’s not as busy anymore, most bars and restaurants closing as well. Across the square there’s a group of rowdy men, drunkenly singing as they walk.

Steve gestures at them and Tony ducks his head and laughs. Steve can’t say what comes over him, but he can’t bear the thought of not looking at Tony now that he can, so he reaches over, cups Tony’s jaw, and pulls him into a kiss.

Tony’s laugh cuts out abruptly into a soft moan, and he tugs Steve closer until they’re pressed against each other, hip to shoulder.

“My apartment,” Tony says, lips still brushing against Steve’s as he speaks.

Steve nods. “I remember.”

Tony pulls away and blinks at Steve. “You do?”

Steve blushes again and looks away. “I told you. I think you’re cute.”

Tony turns Steve to face him. “Good,” he says, and tugs on Steve’s hand, leading them out of the plaza.

It takes them longer than it should to get there, stopping every few steps to kiss. Steve feels drunk with desire, with the heady feeling of being this close to someone, with the disbelief that more than once he’d walked away from Tony yet somehow, is now walking with Tony.

At one point their kisses get heated enough that Steve acts on what he’d dreamt up, pushes Tony against a wall and slides his hands under Tony’s shirt, making Tony gasp.

“My apartment is a street away,” Tony breathes out, but tilts his head to give Steve access to his jaw, his neck.

“I can’t wait,” Steve says, right before nipping at the skin above Tony’s collarbone.

Tony lets out a string of curses in Spanish, and Steve groans against Tony’s neck, feeling himself getting hard.

Tony grunts and pushes Steve off him, muttering to himself in Spanish and half-dragging Steve the rest of the way.

When they finally get to the door of Tony’s apartment, Steve wraps his arms around Tony’s waist as Tony punches in his code. He smiles to himself as he peppers Tony’s nape with kisses, still in a mild state of disbelief that only a few days ago he’d chanced upon meeting Tony.

He’s glad that of all the people in Salamanca, he’d asked Tony for directions.

“Bruto impaciente,” Tony huffs, oblivious to Steve’s inner musings. Then they’re inside, and Tony hushes him as they stumble toward the elevator.

Tony pushes him against the doors just as the slide shut, kissing him soundly, his hands tugging up Steve’s shirt. The doors to the elevator open just as Tony undoes Steve’s belt.

Tony keeps kissing him, making him walk backwards until he bumps into a wall, then they’re laughing and shushing each other. Tony quiets as he turns and digs his keys out of his pocket. He makes an impatient sound when Steve presses up behind him, resting his hands on Tony’s hips.

“Here, here,” Tony says, throwing the door open and pulling Steve inside. He slams Steve against the door, kissing him roughly. It seems like the privacy has unleashed something in Tony, who digs his fingernails into the skin of Steve’s shoulders, kisses Steve so deeply that he has to blink when Tony pulls away.

“Until when are you here?”

Steve lets out a breath. “What?”

“In Salamanca?”

“Oh.” Steve leans back against the door and cups Tony’s cheek. “Tomorrow afternoon.”

Tony considers him. “Then we should make tonight worth it, no?”

Steve huffs out a laugh. “Yeah,” he says, pulling Tony close to press their foreheads together. “Yeah,” he says again, and kisses him.

This certainly isn’t how he thought his vacation would go. But it’s a good detour.

***

Steve is drying his hair when Tony comes back with two cups of coffee. He murmurs his thanks before taking a sip, and Tony sits down on the bed, watching Steve.

Steve tilts his head at Tony, waiting for him to speak. Instead, Tony shakes his head and laugh softly.

“What?” Steve asks, setting the towel down and sitting beside Tony. He takes Tony’s hand in his and kisses his knuckles.

Tony blushes and tries to tug his hand away, but Steve tightens his grip, kisses the inside of Tony’s wrist, then up his arm. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Tony laughs, just as Steve kisses the inside of Tony’s elbow. “I am just glad that you came to the bar.”

Steve smiles up at Tony. “Me too.”

“Are you going to miss me?” Tony teases.

“Maybe,” Steve pauses for dramatic effect. “Maybe I’ll miss you as much as you miss me.”

Tony arches his eyebrow, unimpressed. “So not at all.”

Steve squawks in protest and tackles Tony onto the bed, pinning Tony down with his hips as he kisses Tony all over while tickling him.

“Enough!” Tony screeches, laughing so hard he’s nearly in tears. “I will not miss the tickling!”

Steve laughs, stopping his attack and resting his forehead against Tony’s chest. They’re quiet for a moment, and Tony strokes the back of Steve’s hair.

“I’m happy.”

Steve looks up at Tony. “Me too.”

Tony’s lips quirk into a smile. “But you have to go.”

“I do,” Steve says, returning to resting his face against Tony’s chest.

“That’s okay,” Tony says. “You have my number.”

“I do,” Steve says, his voice muffled.

“Maybe we’ll see each other again,” Tony says. He snakes his hand under Steve’s chin and tilts his face up. “RIght?”

Steve presses closer against Tony’s palm. “Right,” he says.

“But before that,” Steve pushes himself up and offers Tony his hand. “Shower?”

send me a number and i’ll write you a short fic

#stony #stevetony #superhusbands #steve rogers #tony stark #i hope you enjoyed this!!#asks #things i write #bookworminaslump

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quicksilversquared · 3 years

Text

The Wavering Peahen: Chapter 6

When Nathalie started feeling oddly ill again, both she and Gabriel were worried that the Peacock Miraculous might somehow (impossibly) be to blame again.

So naturally, they pick someone else to be the Peacock for a bit. You know, as a test subject. Except the new Peacock… doesn’t exactly know that.

links in the reblog

Marinette was starting to think that Hawkmoth had officially gone around the bend.

For months after the Miracle Queen attack, Hawkmoth and Mayura had hammered at the superheroes, both of them plus the regular akuma and a sentimonster showing up to the battles. The superheroes had struggled to adapt, sacrificing their free time and fun activities to find and train new allies to help them as needed and doubling up on Miraculous almost as often as not to have access to more powers. They had been managing- sometimes only by the skin of their teeth- but it was taking a lot of effort.

And then, all of a sudden, Mayura vanished, and Pavona took her place next to Hawkmoth.

The change by itself would have been odd enough even if Pavona was an equally good fighter as Mayura. But Pavona was a poor fighter and even worse strategist. Her sentimonsters were easier to fight than Mayura's, and her outfit- while fancy- was a piece of cake to grab onto, either to yank her backward (or sideways) out of an attack or to fling her several blocks away, away from the fight and out of their hair for several minutes while the supervillain picked herself back up and straightened her outfit out.

(The Ladyblog had had an absolute field day with how ridiculous and ill-suited for fighting Pavona's outfit was. Marinette had worried that it would make Pavona reconsider her transformation and choose something more practical, but either the supervillain was unaware of the Ladyblog or was just so generally inept that she wasn't willing to sacrifice fashion for practicality.)

In most cases, Marinette would have assumed that Pavona had stolen the Miraculous from Mayura, and that was the reason for the change. But it was obvious that Pavona wouldn't have been able to overpower Mayura to start with, and Hawkmoth had clearly been anticipating the change. Right now, her assumption was that something had happened to Mayura- maybe she had died in an accident or something, she didn't know- and Pavona was Hawkmoth's only choice for an ally.

To be honest, Marinette was of the opinion that Hawkmoth would have been better off fighting on his own. Pavona only seemed to get in the way, and then she had to be saved before the superheroes could grab for her Miraculous. Pavona hadn't come out on the battlefield again after one particularly idiotic blunder, but considering that Mayura hadn't returned and the Peacock's sentimonsters were still showing up, it was more than likely that Pavona was just sulking in a lair somewhere for a bit before trying battlefield fighting again.

And now, after weeks- no, months- of Hawkmoth going after the superheroes with increased ferocity, the attacks had suddenly stopped. There had been nothing for the past four days.

Not that Marinette was complaining! Being able to attend school without having to dash out was really nice. It was just odd, that was all.

"Oh, Lila's looking like she might be finally getting better! I'm glad, she was looking so ill at the end of last week!"

Marinette blinked, pulling herself out of her thoughts and glancing over at Alya. "Hm?"

Alya nodded towards the front of the classroom, where Lila was straggling across the front of the classroom. "Lila caught a cold or something last week and she was so exhausted. She couldn't rest very well, since she's been pushing herself to get all of this work for her charities done before this deadline and there's been, like, so many emergencies that she's had to deal with all in a row. We've all been trying to help out so she won't get behind, but she's really been struggling. So I'm glad that she's feeling at least a little better now!"

For once, it was easy not to sigh in exasperation. Instead, Marinette frowned, glancing towards Lila as she headed for the back of the classroom.

The charities were a lie, of course. They always had been and always would be. Lila was too selfish and self-centered to even think about spending her time and money helping others. But the lie definitely got Lila a lot of (undeserved) admiration and offers for help. Mysteriously, Lila could never use the help with the charity directly- Marinette hadn't bothered to hear her excuses for that- but she could use the help when it came to things like homework. Normally, Marinette would assume that Lila had just wanted her classmates to offer to do all of her homework because she felt a little under the weather.

This time, though, Marinette had noticed that Lila seemed a bit under the weather, and it hadn't seemed faked. In fact, it had been pretty obvious once she looked a little closer that Lila had applied makeup to hide how bad she was feeling. And that was strange.

Sure, Lila seemed to have made a little bit of a recovery, but Marinette couldn't help but feel a bit curious about the whole situation. Downplaying her troubles wasn't Lila's style at all, and Marinette had to wonder what was going on. Because something had to be going on, unless Lila had gotten a personality transplant overnight.

(Considering that she was still lying about her charity work, Marinette doubted that.)

"I wonder if there's something going around," Adrien commented quietly to Marinette as Alya and Nino broke off into their own little conversation. "Nathalie was sick a couple weeks ago, and I've never seen her so drained. She's been getting better, but she still gets these little relapses sometimes." He glanced towards the back of the classroom, his brow furrowed. "Maybe Lila picked it up at one of the photoshoots or something."

"I hope it doesn't spread, then," Marinette said. She chanced a glance back at Lila, who was clearly half-heartedly engaging in conversation with a few of their classmates. "Being tired and miserable for over a week sounds miserable."

Miserable, and not very safe. Marinette had had to be Ladybug when she had a bit of a cold more than one time, with a stuffed nose and a sore throat, and that had been bad enough. It hadn't affected her fighting that much, she thought, but combine that with how being tired during late night and early-morning fights affected her...

"She probably shouldn't have been coming to school," Adrien added after a moment. "It's a bit odd that most of the time she's so eager to skip, but the one time when she actually has a legitimate excuse to stay home, she doesn't."

Marinette nodded, glancing backwards again. "Yeah, I was thinking the same thing."

The lack of akumas continued for the rest of the week, and Marinette got to get caught up with- well, everything- for the first time in ages. She worried that Hawkmoth was planning something, of course, but there wasn't really much that she and Chat Noir could do about it besides patrolling every evening in search of trouble.

Well, patrolling and going over what little information they had about the Miraculous powers and potions, comparing notes about what Master Fu had taught them. Thankfully she had gotten copies of pretty much all of Master Fu's translations before he was caught, but she hadn't had the chance to go through all of them and truly figure out the extent of the information at her fingertips. She and Chat Noir had been finding hidden crannies- ones where they wouldn't get spotted and where they couldn't be overheard or snuck up on- and going over the notes, puzzling over cryptic clues and tossing ideas for interpretations back and forth. Maybe it was a nice change of pace from battling akumas (and it was definitely something that they had to do anyway), but it was also difficult and frustrating and slow-going. Things had to be interpreted and then sorted into some semblance of order so that they would be able to find the notes again when they needed them.

So by the time Saturday rolled around, marking a full week without the barest whisper of an akuma, Marinette was more than happy to set her schoolwork and the Miraculous notes aside (the latter locked up in a box that was both secure and hidden), bake a batch of cookies, and package them up with some rejected pastries from the bakery to bring to their class picnic at the park. It sounded like a great opportunity to relax and focus on something else for a change.

Their classmates trickled in, coming in pairs and trios, laden with food. Thankfully it looked like people had brought dishes instead of just treats this time, so they would have a proper meal instead of just sugar, sugar, and more sugar. It was a far cry from their first class picnic, where almost all of them ended up feeling a bit ill from the number of sweets that they had eaten.

Rose, bless her, had even brought salad. She had put in a fair amount of work, clearly, tossing in more veggies and croutons and bringing a container of homemade dressing to make it more interesting.

Everyone milled around, talking and relaxing in the warm sun. Marinette wandered between her classmates, chatting with pretty much everyone before gradually circling back around to hang with Alya, Nino, and Adrien again. Maybe she got to hang out with them most often, just by virtue of where they sat in class, but they were also her best friends. They could talk for forever about nothing in particular, and it was nice to have that.

Ten minutes after the bulk of their class had arrived, Lila finally showed up. And in typical Lila fashion, of course she had to make her entrance loud.

"Oh my god, you guys, you'll never guess what my mom did for me! It was so sweet of her!"

"Oh, what now?" Marinette grumbled as people started to flock towards Lila as though they were being drawn by a magnet. "Can't we go one day without her making up some ridiculous story to tell?"

"I'll go listen in," Adrien volunteered, placing one hand on her shoulder. "Just to see what she's up to. If you want to, uh..."

"I'll go organize things on the picnic table so that I don't have to listen to her," Marinette offered, picking up what he was going to say. It was obvious to anyone with eyes (and critical thinking skills) that listening to Lila blather on made Marinette's blood pressure rocket up. "And then, uh, do some cloud-watching?"

Adrien snorted. "Honestly, that sounds way more appealing than listening to Lila. Anything is, really, but..." He glanced towards the growing group around Lila. "I'd rather not have to hear about what Lila was saying and showing off secondhand, not when everyone believes everything she says."

Before Marinette could agree, Adrien had darted off, lingering on the edges of the group. He blended in pretty naturally, clearly going for a 'just-here-because-Nino-is' look and succeeding fairly well. Before anyone could notice that she wasn't joining the rest of the group, Marinette wandered off to rearrange the table and make it not quite so chaotic. Since Lila seemed to be settling in for a long story-telling session, Marinette took her sweet time in surveying everything that people had brought (Lila, she couldn't help but notice, had opted not to contribute) and figuring out the best way to arrange them. Shapes of containers had to be taken into consideration, of course, and then similar things- the salads, the chips- could be put together.

It made the table much neater and meant that nothing was in danger of falling off anymore.

Lila was still going strong with her stories, so Marinette turned her attention skyward for all of a minute (cloud-watching, it turned out, was not particularly interesting for an extended period of time) and then down to her phone. Finally, finally, Lila stopped talking and everyone broke up into their little friend groups. Marinette headed over to Adrien's side at once, something that was made much easier by the fact that Alya and Nino were still talking to Lila.

"So what's the latest nonsense?"

Adrien startled for a moment, then relaxed once he realized that it was Marinette next to him. "Oh, gosh. I don't know how, but Lila's come up with pictures to go along with her stories. She has selfies with Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, Prince Ali, Ladybug..."

"She- what?" For once, Marinette was caught completely off guard. "She has photos? But none of those stories are true!"

"My guess is Photoshop. That, or she wanted to go low-tech, posters and life-sized print-outs." Adrien made a face, glancing around as he did to make sure that they weren't being overheard. "I don't know why she went all-in like that all of a sudden. Like, it didn't seem as though people were believing her any less than they were when she first showed up."

"Maybe she just wanted to head off that possibility before anyone caught on." Which was annoying, really. Marinette had just been about ready to try for another round of pointing out inconsistencies in Lila's stories to Alya, abet a more subtle round, and now that Lila had "evidence" to back up her claims...

Well, that made things a lot more difficult. She would have to abandon subtlety altogether and do something much more direct, like calling up Jagged Stone and having him come in or somehow approaching Lila as Ladybug when Alya was nearby and calling her out for the Photoshop.

She really should have just nipped the entire problem in the bud when Lila first showed up and gone to Alya's apartment to ask about the video of her "best friend" on the same day that it was posted, but it was a little too late to do that now.

"It makes me wonder if she's setting up to do something bigger," Adrien murmured, keeping his voice low. Maybe none of their classmates were lingering close by, but they didn't want to be overheard. "Then she would want to have a solid base. If she validates all of her previous lies, then she can tell a bigger one and not run as big of a risk of people doubting her."

Marinette nodded. Yeah, she was afraid of that, too. She also wouldn't be surprised if Lila decided to make up something about her to get rid of the dissenting voice for once and for all. If she tried, though, Marinette was ready.

There was a lock on her school bag, and another on her locker. Tikki had been told to keep an eye out and to destroy anything that Lila tried to plant. Marinette had even bought a recorder, in case she ever found herself alone with Lila and no witnesses again.

Of course, Lila might very well decide to take the approach of making Marinette look like the bad guy by bringing attention to the fact that she didn't believe any of Lila's stories, and then try to alienate her friends that way. Marinette wouldn't let that happen- she'd just use her connections to discredit Lila if it got that bad- but it wouldn't be particularly pleasant, either.

"Maybe she wants to skip again and the teachers are starting to doubt her," Marinette suggested, keeping her voice just as quiet as Adrien's. "So she's going more indirect this time by showing off her pictures to classmates but not the teacher- except no, it would make more sense than to show the photos off at school. Then she wouldn't have to depend on the teachers overhearing classmates just happening to mention the photos."

"True. Which suggests that whatever she's planning, it's more important that our classmates all believe her." Adrien sighed. "I miss the days before Lila showed up. I didn't feel like I had to keep an ear open to what was going on and what was being talked about all the time."

Marinette nodded. Yeah, things had been a lot more simple before Lila returned. Maybe she still had to deal with Chloe's nonsense, but at least Chloe hadn't been trying to frame her for things, just make her life difficult in typical bully fashion.

"I guess we'll find out what she's up to soon enough," Marinette said with a sigh. She wasn't looking forward to it. "I almost wish I could see the photos without Lila there. I bet there's something off about them that I'd be able to point out, but she's hardly going to hand over her phone and let me pick them apart."

Adrien perked up. "Oh! Lila sent her Ladybug photos to Alya to post on the Ladyblog. Maybe it's not all of the photos, but you could at least look over those ones."

Marinette grinned. That was a start, at least. Of course, she would have to be really careful when bringing up any problems with the photos because otherwise she wouldn't even get her friends to actually look at the issue before they jumped down her throat about how she was being so mean doubting poor Lila, but maybe she could pose any concerns as a question or something.

"Hey, Marinette, come check this out!"

"I'll wait here and if Nino and Alya got anything more out of Lila once they finish chatting with her," Adrien said when Marinette hesitated to respond, not fully willing to give up their discussion so early. He nudged her towards Max. "There'll be plenty of time to try to figure out what Lila's up to later."

Marinette nodded, stepping away from Adrien and heading across the grass towards Max. He was grinning, looking eager about something.

"I would love some feedback on some of my proposed designs for the akuma villains that I'll be rolling out as part of my upcoming game update," Max told Marinette as she drew closer. He pulled a folder out of his bag and opened it, pulling out a sheath of papers. "Both the villain costume design and the powers, really. I want to make them a bit less, ah, one-dimensional, I suppose. Less predictable. I had some ideas, but would definitely be open to any improvements before I code them all in."

Marinette perked up. Oh, that sounded interesting, and something that sounded loads more interesting than discussing Lila and her nonsense. "Sure! How many akumas are you thinking of adding?"

"I thought ten to fifteen in the next release, then maybe do regular releases after that on a more regular basis with five or so akumas per release, just to keep things fresh." Max adjusted his glasses, angling the paper stack so that Marinette could see the top design. "Of course, how long I can do that for depends on Hawkmoth making new akumas and not simply recycling powers over and over, but at the moment I have quite a list of supervillains that I could use."

"That sounds like a lot of work, but very cool," Marinette told him, accepting the top paper. She scanned the design, grinning when she noticed how well Max had done at getting the details right. "This is so cool! Was it hard getting all of the details?"

"Nathaniel assisted with the character modeling," Max told her, shuffling around so he could stand next to her and see the page as well. "Which really helped bring the characters to life."

"It's really fantastic!" Marinette glanced through the next few papers, impressed. It was a real step up from Max's original character designs, which had been detailed enough for people to be able to identify the characters but nowhere near this quality. He had focused less on the design and more on the coding for the actual play. "Have the old characters gotten the same design upgrade?"

"Yes, that was what the last update was. I wanted to make sure that everything was perfect and there wouldn't be any mismatch between the old characters and the new ones." Max shuffled a step closer. "So, what do you think about this character?"

Ten minutes of character review later, Marinette left Max scribbling down notes in the margins of his character pages and headed back across the park to where her friends were hanging out. Halfway there, she was stopped in her tracks by the sound of Lila's voice, loud and pointed and annoying.

"You missed out on seeing my pictures earlier," Lila said loudly, smugness coming across loud and clear in her voice. "Which is a pity, really. There were some really nice ones that my mom recovered off of my old phone. If you wanted, I could still show you a couple."

Marinette snorted at that. As if. "So you've taken up Photoshop as a hobby, I take it?" she asked, thoroughly unimpressed. "And I think I'll pass on looking at the photos. If I wanted to see something that wasn't real, I'd go watch an action hero movie. That would at least be enjoyable."

"You're just so certain that they're doctored," Lila sniffed, still insufferably smug. "Do you know how jealous that makes you sound? It's not a very attractive look on you at all."

Marinette had to roll her eyes at that. Jealous? Why on earth would she be jealous of Lila? "Puh-leeze. There was a photo of me and Jagged Stone on the cover of Metal Lord not even a year ago, and I've got actual selfies of me and Clara Nightingale on my phone from when she was doing her music video. I don't need Photoshop. Some of us actually have the connections that you pretend to have. If anyone is jealous, it's you."

With that, she turned on her heel and left before Lila could say anything else, continuing her journey towards Alya and Nino and Adrien. Alya was busily tapping away on her phone, clearly in Ladyblog article mode.

She would probably have the photos and whatever article she was writing up done by the evening and posted with the photos, and then Marinette could look at them. With any luck, there would be something obvious wrong with them, and maybe- maybe she could post under an anonymous name and bring up the fact that the photos were clearly faked then?

"Max sure looks serious about something," Adrien commented as Marinette returned, settling down on the grass between him and Alya. "I don't know anyone else who would bring a file folder to a picnic- well, anyone else our age, at least."

"He's gearing up to start work on a new release for his video game," Marinette told him. She was really excited to see it, actually. Hopefully she would actually have the time to play. "Or, well, he's started work, but he wanted to get some input on how to make it better. He has twenty new akumas lined up to create, and they all look fantastic!"

Adrien perked up. "Oh, cool! I saw that the graphics took a huge leap forward with the last release, which was really nice. Before, it was very, ah..." He tipped his head to one side, considering. "Very early-game-y? But now the graphics match the coding, which is nice. I know there was a huge spike in interest once that upgrade came through."

"As there should be!" There had been several akuma-and-superhero-themed games that had come out since she and Chat Noir hit the scene, but in Marinette's (completely unbiased) opinion, Max's was one of the best. "We were talking about the powers that the akumas get and how he's working on making them a little more realistic and less predictable. Thankfully he doesn't have to puzzle it out through trial and error for each akuma. Or, well, at least he really only had to do a bunch of puzzling for the first one, and then each one after that only needs a few small tweaks here and there."

"I can't wait for that to come out. Did Max say when he's expecting to have that ready to roll out?"

Marinette shook her head. She had asked too, but Max had said that there were way too many variables to promise anything yet. "I think he's still early on enough in the process that it's impossible to predict. Everything could go really smoothly..."

"...or the code could tie itself into knots and take weeks to find the issue," Adrien finished. "Ah, I suppose I could be patient."

"I wonder if Max would be interested in giving out some preview pictures before everything is ready to go," Nino chimed in. "I know Alya's mentioned his game on the Ladyblog before, but it never hurts to drum up some more interest. Right, babe?"

He got a vague grunt in response.

"Babe?"

"I think she's a bit focused at the moment," Adrien said with a laugh when Alya didn't respond again. "We'll bug her later. I think Max's game is a pretty cool thing to put on the Ladyblog."

"Though not as cool as Lila!" Nino exclaimed. "I mean, I guess her friendship with Ladybug is old news now, but Ladybug doesn't pose with civilians that often, not unless there's an event or something. And the pictures- Marinette, you missed that! Lila's mom got a specialist to recover a bunch of her photos from off of her old phone that got destroyed, and she was showing everyone. It was cool to get to see the inside of Prince Ali's palace! Like, there weren't a ton of pictures of the inside, just what we could see in the background of her photos with him, but still!"

"Hm," Marinette said, completely noncommittal. "Pity. I had to make sure that none of the food was going to fall off of the picnic table. It kind of looked like Kim might have arranged it last- there was a really precarious pile of stuff. One pan was hanging halfway off of the table and the only reason why it hadn't fallen yet was because something else was piled on top of the portion that was actually on the table."

Adrien laughed. "That sounds like Kim. And yet there was plenty of space on the table, it seems? Nothing is about to fall off now."

"Yeah, it was just that dishes were piled every which way and there were a lot of oddly-shaped gaps between..." Marinette trailed off, squinting across the park. Lila was headed towards Rose and Max and Juleka, but something seemed... off. She didn't seem entirely steady on her feet for a moment, half-stumbling before catching herself and continuing.

Huh. Was Lila still sick? She had seemed mostly fine at school on Friday, and for most of the rest of the week, too. Marinette would have guessed that Lila was just trying to get attention again, except that stumble was...muted. Almost like Lila was trying to hide it.

...maybe she just didn't want to take attention away from her faked photos? The attention from that was sure to be better than any attention that she could get from being sick, even if Lila had clearly enjoyed the attention that she had gotten during her- what? One, two, maybe three weeks of being sick?

That... that was a long time to be sick.

Marinette kept watching Lila as she sat down, almost immediately joining in the conversation. She seemed fine now, but Marinette was positive that she hadn't imagined that stumble.

"-lots of tasty dishes," Nino was saying, though Marinette had largely tuned him out. "A lot of things that I want to try. The pastries you brought look great- and did you see the quiches that Juleka brought? I heard she made them herself!"

He didn't get a response. Marinette was too busy watching Lila.

She had the feeling that something was off, and she didn't want to let her guard down until she figured out what.

Hawkmoth had been quiet lately. Lila had gotten photos that were either photoshopped or had been made in some other way. Maybe it was a stretch to say that the two were related, but there was a niggling feeling in Marinette's gut that there was some sort of connection.

Marinette had long since learned that her gut was usually not a great thing to ignore. If she sensed that something was wrong, she needed to investigate. Just sitting back and waiting for things to resolve themselves or for problems to show up wasn't enough, not anymore.

"You guys? The quiches?"

Marinette startled, pulling her gaze away from Lila and back towards Nino. Right. Investigating was important, but so was not being obvious about it. If Lila caught her staring, or one of her other classmates did, then Lila would no doubt go out of her way to be even more sneaky about whatever it was that she was up to.

That was fine. Marinette could hold a conversation and watch Lila unobtrusively at the same time. So she did. And what she noticed...

Well, Lila was definitely still sick. She had looked positively green as she picked up food from the table (following what might have been either an attempt to make people feel like they had to rush to assure her that she could take all the food she wanted or a stab at getting out of eating that backfired spectacularly- Marinette suspected that it was meant to be the latter) and not entirely steady on her feet as she headed back to the bench that she had been sitting on. She hadn't eaten until one of the other girls commented on it, instead just pushing her food around her plate, and, if Marinette's eyes were serving her correctly, Lila seemed to occasionally be swaying in place. Which... wasn't normal.

If it weren't for the faked photos, Marinette would say that Lila was just ill and wasn't up to- well, wasn't up to being up to something. But clearly she had had enough energy to put in the work to create the photos.

Unless- well, there was a possibility that Lila had been working on those photos gradually, over the course of several weeks, and just finished them recently. Several weeks of Photoshop work logically made more sense than a day or two, unless Hawkmoth was involved. Somehow.

...it wasn't a completely illogical thought, right? She was pretty sure that Lila had worked willingly with Hawkmoth before. She had been Akumatized and looked just like normal, at least for a bit. So it wasn't impossible.

...but then how did the cold fit in? And why on earth would Hawkmoth bother giving someone photoshopping powers?

Across the way, Lila swayed in her seat again. She was looking rather pale now, and Marinette wondered why she hadn't just gone home. It would have been easy enough for Lila to claim that she had just gotten an email requesting an urgent Skype meeting about pollution or something and then she could have left.

"Just like Mom and Nathalie," Adrien murmured, pulling her out of her thoughts. "That's so strange."

"Hmm?" Marinette blinked over at him, puzzled. "Who is?"

"Lila." Adrien tipped his head towards Lila, who was pushing herself to her feet to follow Rose. "I think I might have mentioned it once before. Nathalie was really ill just like Lila. She was all tired and ill and dizzy for the longest time before she started getting better, and then there were sometimes off days where she seemed just as sick as she had been before. Mom was like that too before she vanished. And I've never heard of a cold before that acted like that."

"Me either." Not that there weren't illnesses that behaved that way. They just weren't colds. Not an average, run-of-the-mill cold, anyway. "Nathalie got better though, right? So if Lila caught whatever she had- oh my god!"

Across the park, Lila had stumbled and then simply collapsed, hitting the ground hard enough- and in an awkward enough position- that it was pretty obvious that it was 100% not at all faked.

"LILA!" Rose shrieked, dashing back to her side. "Oh my god, can you hear me? Are you okay? What- what do we do?"

"Rose, take a deep breath," Marinette called, already shoving herself to her feet. She had gotten first aid training several months prior, just in case she ever needed it as Ladybug, and- well, she was pretty positive that she was the only one in the class with the training, which meant that she needed to take charge. No matter how much she disliked Lila- or how suspicious she was that Lila was up to something- she had to do the right thing. "Juleka, help Rose roll Lila onto her back so that she isn't all crumpled up like that. Alya, call for an ambulance."

"On it!"

Marinette dashed over as Rose and Juleka got Lila into a more comfortable position on the ground. Lila's skin was white as a sheet against her hair, so far beyond pale that it was really concerning.

At least she was breathing. Marinette could tell as much as she skidded to a stop by Lila's side.

Rose was practically in tears. "Is she going to be okay?"

"She's breathing, so she should be fine." As long as she kept breathing, at least. Marinette quickly scanned through her memories of what she had learned in her first aid class. Lila had been acting ill before, so they didn't need to worry about environmental threats to them, too. That also pretty much ruled out choking, and the fact that Lila hadn't been coughing or clutching at her throat (or eating) before confirmed that. She had just passed out, so watching after her while they waited for an ambulance to arrive should be pretty easy.

Now, as far as things that they could do went...

"We want to encourage blood flow to the head, since Lila fainted," Marinette told everyone, keeping a close eye on the slow rise and fall of Lila's chest. "If someone could find something to prop Lila's feet up a bit, that should help. And then I'm just going to make sure that her clothes aren't too tight, because tight clothes restrict blood flow."

Several people darted off to grab their backpacks or bags to prop Lila's feet up. Marinette watched them go for a moment, then turned her attention back to Lila.

Right. What she was meant to do if Lila's clothes were tight, Marinette wasn't sure, but if she could figure out how to defeat an akuma with a traffic cone, she was pretty positive that she could puzzle out how to help Lila.

Methodically, Marinette worked over Lila's body, scanning for anything that might be in need of loosening, pausing briefly partway through to help Nino prop up Lila's feet slightly before going back to her scan. Nothing in particular was sticking out, except for maybe Lila's scarf. Even that was pretty loose, though, not something that would be cutting off any blood or air.

Maybe she should still be removing it? That would probably be a good idea.

"Marinette," Tikki hissed suddenly from Marinette's collar. "I'm sensing something really odd near Lila's neck. Can you take off her scarf? I just- I want to check something out."

Marinette nodded as subtly as she could, not wanting to attract any attention from her audience, then carefully removed Lila's scarf. There was something hard hidden in the folds, and a quick glance down at Tikki confirmed that whatever it was that she had sensed was on the scarf itself.

Had- had she been right? Was Lila actually akumatized and Tikki had detected the akumatized object? Maybe she had been akumatized all week, and that was why she had seemed better. Then the sickness had gotten too much and gotten through the boost that the akuma gave.

Which... well, that made Marinette wonder just how sick Lila was if it was able to force its way through the boost that an akumatization usually gave.

Also, speaking of which, she had to get away soon, then, and purify the akuma before it peeled itself out of whatever was in the scarf. But she couldn't just step away from Lila unnoticed, not when she was the only one of her classmates who was trained in first aid. She would have to wait until the professionals arrived- and even then, she would probably have to brief them on what she had seen and done, even if she had seen the same thing as most of her classmates and hadn't really done much in terms of care.

...maybe she would get lucky and the cursed butterfly would stay in the brooch or whatever it was in the scarf until after Lila was turned over into far more capable hands. It was a long shot, but not completely impossible.

Maybe. Hopefully.

"Here comes the ambulance!" Nathaniel called from the corner of the park. He rushed back towards them. "Clear a path, clear a path!"

The next few minutes were a blur as everyone scrambled out of the way of the path and grabbed up stray bags, making way for the paramedics. They surrounded Lila, taking her vitals and moving her onto a stretcher when she didn't respond. There were questions to answer about what they had seen and what they had done and then Lila was being wheeled away towards the ambulance. The class swarmed towards the curb, watching the ambulance pull away anxiously, but Marinette held back. With everyone else's attention off of her, she glanced down at the scarf in her hands. No corrupted butterflies had fluttered free yet, so Marinette carefully unfolded the scarf to see what was inside.

The folds fell away, tumbling to the side, and the pin inside was exposed. It glinted brightly in the sun, and Marinette gasped.

Because that was no akumatized brooch. That was the Peacock Miraculous.

#Miraculous Ladybug #My writing #The Wavering Peahen

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eddiesquinnsworld · 4 years

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Walk The Red Carpet

So this is my first fanfic! So please be kind as I was so nervous to upload this. I haven’t seen any fanfiction that represented us disabled gals so I took the job on as a disabled gal myself. I’m by no means a writer and this is probably terrible. Also I do have dyslexia so I might have missed out a word here or there.

There’s a bit of swearing in this and mentions of a panic attack but apart from that it’s pure fluff! Enjoy!

Today was one of those days, one where your mind was so chaotic and busy with pointless thoughts. One where your mind was frantically telling you the same unhelpful things constantly. That you were never enough and you’ll never be enough, this was all thanks to your mother because from a young age you were always the last thought, the inconvenience and the girl who fault it was for everything.. you just weren’t enough. You’d been through therapy and counselling multiple times, and it seemed to help calm those intrusive thoughts and you started to become an independent woman who didn’t need no one else.

But the reality was you were a young woman with multiple disabilities which meant you needed more help than you’d actually admit, your dreams had been dashed when your consultant said you were too ill to continue with education. This meant that you spend a lot of time at home with your dysfunctional family constantly checking on you, blood pressure checks, medication to be taken at certain times, physiotherapy to complete and regular hospital and doctors appointments to attend.

Also being a full time wheelchair user meant all your friends ditched you, because you ‘couldn’t be fun’ as you always had to plan ahead. As somehow not every location is wheelchair accessible, this did piss you off but it not like you chose this life so you just accepted it. Basically you were alone in this world, however you found solace in filming videos and uploading them to YouTube weekly, because it was something you had complete control over and meant you could share your experiences to others.

You also had gotten to a point in your life where you wanted to start dating again after a 3 year break because up until then the guys you’d talked to took one look at the wheelchair, and either started acting distant or ran a million miles. You couldn’t keep count of how many times a guy had asked you if you could have sex and after that shit show experience you decided to quit the dating game, believing you’d never find your ‘Prince Charming’.

But you thought surely not all guys were pricks, so you started hanging out in bars again to see if Mr Right would walk in. Then if by luck after 3 months of waiting for a miracle, he did.

It was his ocean blue eyes you saw first glancing at you, that made you blush because he was quite possibly the most beautiful man you had ever seen. Within seconds, he was besides you. “What’s a beautiful girl like you doing alone in a place like this” he said grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “oh you know just waiting for my prince charming” you replied with a hint of sarcasm in your voice. He held out his (rather large) hand for you to shake “Well my name’s Henry and I hope I’ll do for now”

That was 2 years ago, now you’re in the middle of a global pandemic with the love of your life in a cottage in the English countryside. You’d both been together 24/7 for the past 4 months and it had been bliss, waking up together in the morning, baking together, watching Henry play his favourite games and snuggling on the sofa in the evening. However you knew it would come to an end eventually, today was that day.

Henry had been called back to work on the Witcher, you’d visit the set occasionally but you didn’t want to get in the way too much. So you stayed at home and made yourself busy. However this was when your anxiety took over and that one thought crept in your mind again.

‘You’ll never be enough for him’

Tears started to escape your eyes and your breathing started to quicken. A panic attack. You didn’t want to bother Henry on his first day back so you got on the bed and curled in a ball and let the panic attack take over your body, until you heard the front door close and a familiar deep voice “hello darling I’m home”

Henry looked everywhere for you and called you several times but he got no response, he knew something was wrong instantly. Once he made it to the bedroom door and saw you on the bed, curled up and shaking.

“Oh sweetheart what’s happened?” He realised straightaway that you were having a panic attack and he also knew exactly what you needed. He laid on the bed next to you moving your head onto his chest and securing you into tight embrace. He learnt from previous attacks that you needed to feel safe and protected, also having seen many of your panic attacks over the last 2 years, he also understood the implications they had on your health. “Darling I need you to steady your breathing or you’re going to pass out on me”

After 10 minutes your breathing became calmer and slower so you could finally tell him what happened. “I’m so sorry Hen, I’m such a mess. I don’t know what you see in me? Surely you want more than this… more than me” You gestured down your body whilst trying to stop tears falling from your eyes.

He pulled away from you so he could look into your eyes. “I see the most beautiful, intelligent, strong and caring woman I ever met. I watch the way you deal with pain everyday, without complaining and it astonishes me. I see how strong you are by getting out of bed everyday when somedays your body really doesn’t want you too or how you get on with your day making sure everyone else is ok and forgetting about your own needs.”

You process his words for a minute feeling how they warm your heart but your brain takes over again. “But don’t you want a woman that can actually walk the red carpet with you without all the pity looks and stares. How can I ever be enough for you, ‘the great actor Henry Cavill’, you see what they write about me, they act as if you need a medal because you decided to love someone who’s disabled”

He seems generally hurt by your words and you can instantly tell you’ve hit a nerve “I’m not the one needing a medal, you are! You are so inspirational to me, I honestly feel ashamed for all the times I moaned when I pulled a muscle when I know you deal with far worst pain than me everyday.” He pauses for a moment, thinking of the best way to say his next sentence.

“Plus I decided to love you not because you’re disabled but because you wanted to know the real Henry, the man away from the cameras. You fell in love with me as a person not as an actor and you have made me feel love like I have never felt before, I love waking up to your beautiful face every morning knowing that you chose to love me… so if anyone needs the medal it’s you”

“Also just because your legs don’t work properly doesn’t make you any less of a woman to me. Anyone who decides to defines you by your chair, the thing gets you around is shallow and isn’t worth worrying about so let them write what they like, because all that matters is that we love one another… in sickness and in health. Anyway, I’d rather have you by my side on that carpet in your wheelchair with all the looks and stares than some woman who can walk and doesn’t love me and support me like you. They’re only staring because you’re so damn beautiful and they’re jealous that you chose me as your date” You stare at him in awe wondering how you got so lucky.

“That’s how you see me? You know I’m not as strong as you make out right? I love you so much because you’re the first man to see me as person and not as my disability.”

“Plus what do I need a medal for, loving you is easy, I mean one look at you and two no one has made me feel the love you do. With you I feel ‘normal’ and like I could conquer the world. You know I love supporting you, walking that carpet with you knowing my boyfriend is so talented at what he does, but I just worry, I sometimes take the spotlight because the tabloids seem to focus on ‘Henry Cavill’s disabled girlfriend’. That’s why I thought maybe you’d like to have someone that could actually walk” You look down as your eyes well up again. You can feel your anxiety bubbling up inside you. Henry places his finger under your chin to lift your head up.

“I mean I think walking can be a bit over-rated anyways. Plus as I said most of the women I’ve been with who could walk don’t have your massive heart and kindness, so I think I’d rather show you off as my girlfriend” You both chuckle as he wipes your tears away. You grab his hand bringing it to your lips as you look into those ocean blue eyes you fell in love with.

“You really think the world of me don’t you and that makes you the most amazing man I’ve met. I’m glad I met you in that bar 2 years ago because you’re the best thing to happen to me”

“Yes I do because to me you are ENOUGH”

Insomnia

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x disabled reader

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bnha-mcu-requests · 4 years

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Prompt #13

A villain kidnaps the hero’s sidekick only to find out they have been badly mistreated; the villain decides to take them under their wing.

‘What an extraordinarily shitty end to a shitty day’ Shouto thought to himself as he sat, arms aching and wrists sore from the pressure of the cuffs.

‘It wasn’t really the cuffs though’, he mused, remembering the harsh ‘training’ he had undergone that morning. His nerves twinged at the reminder of the strain they had been under.

Another minute crept by and Shouto sighed again, shifting slightly to lean more comfortably against the wall, rough surface cutting into the barely healed bruises on his back. He winced slightly before leaning into the pain, relishing in the stimulation to his otherwise numb body.

Outside the door, he could make out muffled laughs and shouting, celebrations no doubt, after all, they had just ‘acquired’ a useful asset.

Shouto couldn’t help the snort, as if he could be anything more than a burden to these people, no matter how rough his treatment, he would not be betraying – The door slid open with quiet hiss and if it weren’t for the overwhelming silence that followed it, Shouto was sure he would have missed it.

Silhouetted in the light of the doorway was a ma – boy. His hair barely contained by the beanie stuffed on top, and short stature enhanced by the two taller figures flanking his sides, just outside the threshold. He stumbled as one of the figures shoved him in, teetering precariously on his toes before somehow regaining his balance and glaring at the blond assailant.

No words were exchanged, just a flash of too sharp teeth from the red head before the door slid shut again, leaving Shouto with a kid as his only company.

Seconds ticked by before the celebrations picked back up outside the door and Shouto allowed himself to breath again, drawing the attention of the boy unto himself. He couldn’t help the annoyance that growled beneath his skin at the recognition in the viridian eyes as they appraised him.

“Holy shit! You’re Shoto! You’re Endeavor’s sidekick, right? Oh my God that must – “

‘Here it comes,’ Shouto thought, preparing himself for the spout of hero worship he was about to hear.

“- suck balls dude he’s a dick, no offense”

Shouto couldn’t have stopped the shocked snort even if he had wanted to. He turned wide eyes onto the boy, noting the sympathy and disgust that danced across freckled cheeks, amusement hinted at in glowing eyes, clearly finding Shouto’s disbelief humorous.

“Wha-what? What did you say?”

The boy quickly brought his hands up as if to appease Shouto, waving them as he stammered out a response.

“Nothing bad on you, honest. It’s just, he’s not really a hero, is he? I mean, causing death and destruction in the name of justice seems more like a twisted version of his own morals, y’know? And not to mention the amount of damage he causes during his fights. I mean, I know that in this society, there is gonna be collateral damage, but honestly, who’s taxes does he think are paying to have them fixed? Also, I heard that he is real dicksnort when it comes to his kids, Kaacchan was telling me about how he basically uses them...” His rant quickly devolved into passionate mumbling as his distaste for the ‘hero’ made itself known.

A small thump from Shouto leaning his head back to take it all brought him back from wherever the boy’s mind had taken him.

“But that’s not to say anything bad about you Mr Shoto sir! I think you’re a real hero! I’ve seen you limiting how much damage he does using your ice! And the way you swoop in and help protect civilians that have the misfortune of being in the ‘splash zone’ is super cool!”

Shouto could not believe his ears. This boy, he got it. After years and years of waiting for someone to notice how unsuitable Endeavor was, it’s a boy trapped in the same predicament that he was, who finally saw the truth.

“Who are you?” he managed to mutter, throat aching, bringing his attention to the fact that it had been a few hours since he last drank anything, and due to the extremes in temperature he held, his body compensated it through a need for regular hydration, less he begin to suffer from heatstroke or hypothermia.

“My name is Izuku Midoriya. It’s nice to meet you Mr Shoto!” The boy grinned, his smile lighting up the room, and Shouto briefly wondered if it had anything to do with the boy’s quirk.

“Just Shouto, Midoriya, you don’t need to add Mister. You don’t look that much younger than me anyway”

“Oh! I’m not younger than you, we’re the same age. I know I don’t look it, I’m too short to be 18 huh?” Izuku responded, not looking offended in the slightest, as though it was a common occurrence for him to be mistaken for someone much younger. Shouto could see why.

The boy was short. Not ‘could be mistaken for a garden gnome’ short, but he clearly didn’t hold a candle to Shouto’s 6ft, even sat down, the height difference was obvious. He had fluffy hair that shone a deep green when the light from the overhead lamp caught it and his freckled cheeks only added to the young face.

Despite the small frame, Midoriya didn’t look frail or thin, he in fact looked quite built, muscled but not overly so, reminding Shouto of a swimmer or runner, his lithe body giving away the hidden strength under the somewhat too big black t-shirt that read ‘formal attire’ in big bold letters.

His eyes were glowing with intelligence beyond his appearance though and his smile seemed just a little too sharp to fit the childish look. ‘Not young then, he doesn’t look young, just…unburdened’

As though Izuku could hear his thoughts, his grin grew in size, almost blinding his cell mate.

“Would you like me to take your cuffs off Shouto?” he asked, fingers twitching in his lap, as though he couldn’t wait to reach up and fiddle with the metal strips. Shouto couldn’t help the lick of hope in his stomach despite knowing Midoriya would not be able to remove them, quirk suppressing cuffs were also invulnerable to quirks from the outside as well.

He nodded, even so, only just hiding the small smile that pleaded to be free when he saw excitement bubble in wide, green eyes. He prepared himself for the disappointment that would inevitably follow the realisation that Midoriya could no-

The cuffs loosened and fell to the ground with an audible clunk. Unprepared for the sudden release in pressure and the reappearance of his quirk flowing through his veins, Shouto slumped to the floor with an oomf.

He looked up at the boy who was now leaning over him, mischief present in his eyes, making him look remarkably like an imp. He smirked, and Shouto noticed a red hair grip slotted between his teeth before Midoriya slipped it back into the mess of his hair, burying under the beanie, that by some miracle, hadn’t slipped off.

“How?” Midoriya brought a long finger up to his nose, and still grinning, tapped it twice.

“So Shouto,” Midoriya grunted out as he made himself comfortable, sat crisscross from the Todoroki, “Why are you here?”

Shouto pulled himself up to lean against the wall again, rubbing his sore wrists, not noticing as Izuku’s eyes flickered down to them, noting the strain bruises littering the inside of his arm with a note of disapproval.

Shouto didn’t know how long he sat and talked with Izuku Midoriya, but it didn’t seem to matter. The boy was interested and knew how to carry on the conversation effortlessly, his charm and wit making it easy for Shouto to talk. He nodded where needed and inserted his input and opinions whenever Shouto said something that made him think.

Thinking back, Shouto tried to remember the last time he had talked for so long with someone, so easily. He came up blank.

By the end of his story, Midoriya’s less than sunny opinion on the flaming landfill had dropped dramatically and his eyes visibly darkened whenever he was brought up. Shouto again, dismissed it as part of the boy’s quirk, a point that had yet to come up in conversation, despite him adding his thoughts and advice on Shouto’s own.

“Midoriya – “

“Just Izuku, if you will Shouto,”

“Izuku, what is your quirk? I noticed that you haven’t mentioned it and it would be useful for me to know if we plan on getting out of here together,”

Shouto couldn’t understand the shocked look on the boy’s face, “Together?” he asked quietly, as though the notion of them both escaping hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“Of course, together”, Shouto frowned as the boy’s face split into another grin before he proudly proclaimed to the quiet room’ “I’m quirkless!”.

Shouto’s face fell as he realised what this meant. Izuku’s face immediately became more closed off as he noticed the change in expression, “Is that an issue?” he asked, voice cold.

The young Todoroki couldn’t help the shiver as he rushed to fix the misunderstanding, “Not at all Izuku! I was just disappointed in myself for not being able to protect you from this, as a hero it’s my job to help others and I feel that, as you have ended up here despite it being my job to protect you, that I have failed. I’m no better than my father.”

A small, gentle smile fixed itself onto the boy who now sat next to Shouto. “I think you’re a much better hero than your father Shouto Todoroki, but the question is, do you really want to be a hero?”

Shouto looked up at the boy, confusion swimming in mismatched eyes. Question, clear on his lips as Izuku’s smile widened into a grin.

“It is my opinion that modern day heroes are a sham, they are merely poor imitations of the comic book superheroes that children idolise in their youth. Too many focus on public opinion rather than public safety, so many rush to attend fan signings rather than help those that they pass on the street every day. Heroes are a publicity stunt that is slowly choking the younger generation of quirk users, those with ‘villainous quirks’ disowned and isolated while those with flashy, powerful quirks are encouraged to step on those ‘lesser’ than them to achieve their heroic status”

“But- “

“How do you think those people treat the quirkless Todoroki?”

Shouto flinched at the use of his last name, recalling all the times his father had cursed the quirkless, often referring to them as cannon fodder, liabilities and wastes of space.

“Exactly. I know what your father thinks of people like me, but I also know that you don’t follow his thought process Shouto. I know that you’re different and I want your help to show others that we are not useless and that we are not to be used as steppingstones. I want someone like you who knows first-hand that just because society deems you a hero, does not make you a good human being. So many people have forgotten that these things can be mutually exclusive.”

Shouto’s head was reeling with all this new information. Gone was the small boy that Shouto had spoken with before, here stood a confident young man, eyes aflame with conviction, and a knowing smile, as though he knew that Shouto would agree with him.

He couldn’t help the traitorous sliver of excitement at the thought of Endeavor finally being exposed as the fraud and monster that he truly was, and Shouto shakily nodded and took Midoriya’s extended hand, knowing full well he had just signed his soul over to the devil.

Well, it that devil was Izuku Midoriya, then Shouto didn’t think it would be so bad.

“Now, I think it’s about time we left this icky room Shoucchan”

Shouto blinked, surprised at the sudden appearance of the nickname. He could only watch with growing trepidation as Izuku walked over to the door and gave six sharp knocks to the thick metal. Immediately, all noise from the outside disappeared and Shouto took a step back when the door opened, revealing the same two figures who had thrown Izuku in, grinning at the boy, a certain foreign fondness in their eyes that try as he might, Shouto could not recognise.

They quickly parted to allow Izuku through and Shouto followed with his eyes as the boy stepped into the well-lit room outside, filled with other teens and young adults that all grinned at Izuku before turning to face Shouto who stood, uncertain, in the cell.

Izuku turned to face him, a happy smile splitting his face.

“Kaacchan, Eicchan, show Shoucchan out, we’ll be in contact soon, so keep and eye on your phone!”

He then disappeared into the sea of people that suddenly swamped him and Shouto could barely process what had happened before he found himself outside in a familiar alleyway.

Night had long since fallen but Shouto was unable to fall asleep, his brain trying desperately to make sense of what had happened that day. When he had arrived home, he had given his father some bullshit excuse about having to help out the police with a small case, unable to understand why he hadn’t told him what had really happened.

His phone buzzed on the bedside table and looking at the message, Shouto was reminded why. He lay back down onto the bed, smiling at the ceiling and drifted off, dreaming of the endeavor-less world that he was sure Izuku would usher in.

“Goodnight Shoucchan. I hope you sleep well. You’re first step towards a brighter future begins tomorrow – Izuku”

Signing his soul off to the devil indeed.

#bnha #bnha headcanons #bnha izuku #bnha todoroki #bhna bakugou #prompt #izuku midoriya #villian izuku #deku #fanfic

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