#i know shes really smart and gifted and it makes her different from her peers but pleaseeeee

[fragglez]

highly gifted sister versus developmentally and multple learning disabilities disabled brother

[frogsndogs]

When I was a kid, I loved Velma. She was smart and cool and sassy, and I thought she was the best. But now? I’m honestly a little annoyed. And at the end of the day it all comes down to the way that writers are characterizing her. So I suggest: STOP MAKING VELMA “THE SMART ONE”.

Now, I know a lot of people think this is the main facet of her personality but just hear me out here. I don’t like her being “the smart one” for two main reasons. A) it often comes at the expense of her team. In MI, most prominently, where the writers try to show Velma carrying the team, it makes the others look really dumb. But they’re not. They’re all on the team, they’re all looking for clues, they’re all putting the puzzle together, they’re all solving the mystery. When writers make Velma the smart one and make her carry the team, it makes people wonder why she doesn’t just go off on her own, especially when they try to show the rest of the team holding her back. (Again, MI comes to mind). And then B) It can make her strongly against magic and the supernatural existing. I haven’t watched The Thirteenth Ghost but I’ve heard about it and Velma’s characterization, and how she denies her friends' experiences and says that what they saw, the whole big life-altering, near-death adventure didn't happen. Also in MI (again) Velma was very in denial about the supernatural when there was a talking dog right there! I mean it just boggles my mind when you’ve got Velma not believing in magic, right beside a talking, anthropomorphic dog. And when real supernatural occurrences have been such a large part of the Scooby Doo franchise, it starts to ruin the Scooby Doo vibe and make me feel like she doesn’t belong in the genre. Also, way back in WAY, the episode with the Phantom on Haunted Island, her “logical explanation” was that it was a ghost.

So what do I think should happen to Velma? Well, first let’s look at the rest of the gang. Start by making Fred good with physics and math and show it. Traps are complicated and there’s a lot of complex math going on there. Then make Shaggy or Daphne (or both) good at chemistry. Shaggy because cooking involves a lot of chemistry, Daphne because she just gives me chemistry vibes. (Or if you have Marcie, make her good at chemistry. She invented super-helium for goodness sakes). Maybe leave bio to Velma but I think they would all have a good idea of biology medically and criminally speaking. So what does that leave for Velma then? She can keep the physics and the chemistry, but maybe not because she likes them. Make her a previous “gifted kid” who learned them for a grade, who was praised for being so much smarter than her peers, but reading at the grade 12 level isn’t a talent anymore and she never really learned how to interact with others. That’s why she’s sarcastic and doesn’t always understand when not to be. But then what is her role in the team? Here me out. Make her a history nerd. 

Make Velma know ancient history and weird facts and even weirder historical people. (Not even famous people. Just there was evidence of this random guy living in a cave and this is what he did and oh you're dressing up as his ghost. Well actually, he was only 4ft 8 and you're like 6ft so...) . Make her know where the legends of different monsters originated from and make her know all about the supernatural. Let someone mention a random monster and she can give you the full history off the top of her head (kinda like in Be Cool, but way more intense). Make her know the history of landmark criminal cases and the development of laws, and how they worked in different civilizations. Make her know mythology and study long-dead languages (can spot a forgery in 0.000001 seconds) and how different people protected against monsters (Well actually, this monster's weakness is X and it didn't affect you so maybe you should have done some more research). Make her love ghost stories with all her heart and know random facts about civilizations. (Actually according to this ancient map this rock with what looks like a face carved in it, is supposed to be over there and it's too big to have moved to the other side of the river without equipment and this is a protected area, hmm...) Make her freak out when she meets Scooby because all her theories about the supernatural really existing are right and she feels so goddamn vindicated. Make her dedicate herself to proving that the supernatural was real and not just stories. And when local people warn them about monsters she listens because these people live here, they know what’s going on and they approach the situation using their advice.(Something that bugs me abt the Scooby series is how when people (a lot of the time people of colour) warn them off they brush them off like they don’t know better.) Make her know old theories and quote whatever random (but super cool) old book that she’s reading. And let her find weird niche topics to research for an episode (Kinda like Daphne, in Be Cool). Like if they’ve got a mystery on a plane, let her research how people once believed the world was flat, but there were actually a lot who knew it was round. If they’ve got a mystery on a boat, let her research mermaids and sea monsters and was the Kraken real? Don’t worry she’s got a four hour slideshow prepared on that exact topic.

So, in conclusion, stop making Velma the “smart one” and make her a history nerd. 

I rest my case. 

[bi-demon-ium]

Oof dont know if your still doing this :( but perhaps 100 for sticky bc he deserves a gift :)

i am!! im just taking. forever. oof lkgjfgh

(ao3.)

Sticky was used to his birthday not being a huge day of celebration.

His aunt and uncle weren’t unkind people. They didn’t just shove him in a closet until he could be brought out for game shows, even if it felt like it sometimes.

But it wasn’t as if he had a lot of friends. At school, he was too smart for the other kids—as arrogant as he felt even thinking that. And then at the competitions, with other kids like him, well. he was too smart for them, too, because he kept winning. And there was nothing they hated more than a winner.

So it wasn’t as if he had anyone to invite.

Still, it was nice enough, to get a slice of cake—his favorite, red velvet—and even if his presents were always books, particularly encyclopedias, well. He liked books. He liked encyclopedias. That wasn’t so bad.

This year was different.

It was only days after their return from the island, so conveniently, they hadn’t all gone their separate ways yet. Not yet. Everything was still getting sorted out, and it was all a bit of a mess, and frankly, Sticky hadn’t planned on making a big deal of it. His aunt and uncle weren’t around to care, either.

He supposed he should have known better—the adults must have known about it, although if he’d mentioned it to one of the other members of the Society and they’d passed it on, or if they’d found out on their own, he had no clue.

Whatever the case, he’d been quickly all but kidnapped—painlessly and in a polite, friendly manner—from where he’d been sleeping almost immediately upon waking, and when Rhonda had been done with their little planned supervised trip, he’d returned to Mr. Benedict’s house to find a small party awaiting.

Reynie was beaming next to a pile of neatly wrapped presents (well, most were neatly wrapped—one was a little clumsier, and also enthusiastically duct-taped shut, which he assumed was Kate’s, and another was just a shoebox someone had drawn on with sharpie, which he assumed was Constance’s) and Kate was bouncing on her heels next to an unnecessarily grand red velvet cake, which was rather elaborately decorated.

Constance was perched on a chair nearby, too, eyeing the cake.

The adults were there, too—Number Two seemed to be handling food, Rhonda and Milligan were doing… something (Milligan seemed to be both attempting to juggle logistics of party-planning and Kate supervision, the latter of which took more of his attention, while Rhonda had been the one to bring Sticky back in), and Mr. Benedict was at the head of the table, peering at him, eyes sparkling and pleased as punch.

It ended up being a really good birthday.

The presents were—well, there were still a lot of books, Reynie looked so happy to share his favorite book and it was a very nice edition—but there were other things, too. Kate had actually gotten him something she called “useful” and “practical”, which he privately classified as “unwieldy” but “thoughtful”.

It was more than he’d gotten in—ever, really, though. And more importantly, there were people actually here, which was nice. Even Constance’s gift—his favorite candy, wrapped in a poem that was actually more complimentary than insulting—was actually pretty nice.

After though, when the excitement had died down and people were beginning to trickle off to bed, or wherever else, Sticky found himself looking out the window, wondering about the future.

Not in a bad way, for once, although he was a little anxious that Boatwright wouldn’t be what he imagined. But he had more confidence than he’d had in years.

He had friends that cared about him. He had a plan for what to do next. He’d just had a birthday, and he’d gotten gifts for him, not for the sharpening of his mind.

“Ah, Sticky, do you have a moment?” Mr. Benedict said behind him, and although his voice was soft, Sticky still jumped.

“Oh! My apologies, dear boy,” Mr. Benedict said, stepping back with a little laugh. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Sticky took a breath, slightly shaky, before straightening up. “It’s alright,” he said. “Just—wasn’t expecting it.”

It was strange, talking to Mr. Benedict. He was so different to his brother—not just in actions, but even visually. He had kind eyes, and his smile was warm, and he was expressive, barely able to hide what he was feeling if he even tried.

Still, though, he looked so similar to Dr. Curtain. Their voices were so similar. It was a little… trippy.

(Part of him felt awful for ever doubting him, at the school. For trusting his brother over him, even if only for a moment. Part of him cynically noted that while Mr. Benedict had proven to be trustworthy, most adults never did.

Still, he wondered if Reynie had ever told Mr. Benedict of Sticky’s doubts. He wouldn’t blame him if he had, but he wished he knew. It wasn’t an easy question to ask.)

“I just, ah, wanted to. give you one last gift,” Mr. Benedict said, and presented a small box, wrapped tightly and neatly in green, patterned paper.

Sticky blinked. “…for. for me?” he said.

Mr. Benedict smiled warmly. “For who else?” he said. “My apologies for not getting it to you sooner; I’m afraid there was a last minute—ah. complication. But. here it is!”

He holds up the present as if to say ta-da!

It’s different, receiving a present directly from an adult again, rather than from a pile surrounded by friends.

Sticky tips his head a little, but hesitantly reaches out to take it.

The box is fairly heavy, enough that Mr. Benedict’s hands move to steady him, or catch it should it fall, until it’s secure in his grip.

“You can open it here, if you like,” Mr. Benedict said, not unkindly, “Or alone. We, uh. we all worked on it.”

Sticky looked back up at him. “We?” he echoed.

“Ah, I mean—Number Two, Rhonda, Milligan, and I,” he said. “Surprisingly tricky, but—a nice little challenge?” He said it almost like a question, then winced at his own tone.

Sticky realized, with a little start, that he was nervous. Oh. He. He wanted Sticky to like it.

(His aunt and uncle had never been nervous about him opening his presents.

Leaning forward eagerly, sure, but not truly in anticipation of a reaction. In greed, in thinking of what he’d do with the tools they gave him.

And it was always tools, really, just tools to make him better. More valuable.

They didn’t want him to like his gifts. They didn’t care if he liked his gifts. They just assumed he did, assumed he wanted what they wanted, and never thought to question it.)

(Mr. Benedict was not making assumptions. Mr. Benedict wanted him to like his gift.)

It’s this revelation that unfroze his numb fingers and made him peel away the tape and gently unwrap his present (Constance had teased him for not ripping into the wrapping paper, and Kate had concurred it was impractical, but Reynie had confessed to doing the same, feeling bad for messing up such neat folding) and then undo the latch of the box.

Inside was—a snow globe. But, no, on closer examination, it’s more than that: the figures in the swirling blue and silver glitter are familiar.

There’s a little pink one, with tiny golden braids, arms crossed and perched in the branch of a tree. Beginning to climb the tree, with a tiny red bucket gleaming on her hip, is another figure with a green cap. And then two more, hand in hand as if one is tugging the other forward on their snowy adventure, is a little figure in a green sweater vest, and another in round glasses.

It's them. The Society, all together in the snow.

“It’s, ah, also a music box,” Mr. Benedict interjects, still bizarrely nervous. “That was the tricky—the figures rotate, see? They’re—they’re actually wood, Number Two insisted on carving them, but the paint is special, and we treated the—”

He rambles a little, but Sticky loses the words to the swirl of false, glittering snow.

“—the chemistry was actually pretty interesting,” Mr. Benedict is saying, “—Milligan helped, ah, generally homemade snow globes are simpler than this, but with the mechanism and the wood and—oh, the mechanism, Rhonda helped with the mus—”

Sticky found the turning key on the bottom and twisted it, and after a moment, tinkling music begins to play. It’s a simple, lovely tune. A smile formed on his lips without his noticing.

Mr. Benedict faltered, then, unseen to Sticky, visibly realized he’d been rambling for quite some time and then attempted to hide (and miserably fails, should Sticky have been looking at him) scolding himself for it.

Sticky, however, is not looking at him. The snow globe is beautiful. It’s personal, and thoughtful, and it’s most certainly not a book.

It’s not practical or useful or in any way something he needs. It’s perfectly, wonderfully, superfluous. Just something for him.

“…ah, I’m. overexplaining again,” Mr. Benedict says sheepishly.

Sticky shakes himself a little and looks back up at Mr. Benedict, who’s peering down at him attentively.

“I love it,” he said, and he gently placed it on the table, so as not to risk damaging it, and then before he could overthink it, turned and threw his arms around Mr. Benedict’s waist.

Mr. Benedict made a startled little noise, but then relaxed and hugged back.

He gave a little chuckle—relieved, but warm—and said, “I’m glad you like it, Sticky. It was—it was a group effort.”

Sticky held the hug a second longer anyway, then stepped back.

“Thank you,” he said. “And uh, tell the others thanks, too.”

“I will,” Mr. Benedict said, beaming. “We, uh. thought it’d be good for your dorm room, yes? At Boatwright?”

“…yeah,” Sticky said after a moment, smiling at the thought. A piece of home—a piece of his friends—in his future. That sounded nice. “Yeah, that could be good.”

“I’m glad,” Mr. Benedict said. “I’m glad.”

(What he would not say, of course, is that while the snow globe very much had been a group effort, it had been his idea. He’d never take credit, but—he knew what it was like, to be a trophy on your parents’ shelf.

He knew what it was like to have birthdays alone, to only get books, because people assumed you could never want anything else.

And books were nice, of course, but sometimes, one wanted silly gifts. Pretty gifts. Gifts that had no use. He’d never gotten them as a kid, but there was nothing stopping him from giving them, now.

And if he could make it thoughtful, too, make it something that meant something, well. all the better.

He could only hope he wasn’t mistaken, that Sticky would appreciate it for what it was supposed to be.)

(Later, Sticky will find, to his delight, a small secret compartment: inside it is a simple, unsigned note. Happy birthday, Sticky. Always remember there are people who care deeply for you. And then there's a little smiley face, lopsided. The compartment is also big enough for him to hide something of his own there, should he wish, but he leaves the note.) 

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Forget

Can u write something where Eddie forgets it’s readers and his anniversary? And reader goes to find where he is and see he is at hellfire and confronts him about it, then Eddie makes it up to them. Angst & fluff pls :) requested by anon.

Warnings; Angst and fluff

Y/n is fuming. It's past eight on Friday night and Eddie despite promising her all week has forgotten that it's their anniversary dinner.

So yes she is pissed off. She cooked them a lovely meal, and bought a new set of lingerie to wear in bed later.

Eddie was in the middle of a hard campaign at Hellfire and she knew very well how much he got sucked into planning everything.

Honestly, he was so smart and seeing him at work, creating different challenges and things was incredible.

Usually, she was extremely patient and even loved helping him with the campaigns but today of all days she thought maybe he could remember their special day. That she might take precedence for once.

Still fuming she gets in her car and drives to where Hellfire is situated, sometimes it's the school auditorium and sometimes it's the drama club.

Hearing Eddie's booming voice in the middle of the game makes her pause slightly guilty she's interrupting him.

Hold on? She catches herself. Why the hell does she feel guilty? It's one night she asked for just for them, one special night and he forgot.

Angry again she heads into the auditorium and the boys all turn to look at her.

Eddie peers up annoyed.

"Princess, I love you but I'm in the middle of my best campaign yet". She feels like steam might be coming out of her ears with how furious she is after she said that.

"Eddie, did you forget what today was?". He looked confused and she feels disappointed.

He really did forget.

"Uh..." Oh my god was he just trying to piss her off now.

"It's our anniversary Eddie and you promised that you would be home early. I cooked for us but now its all gone cold and you promised me you wouldn't be late".

His face drains of colour.

"Shit...", That's all he has to say?

"I know you love Hellfire Eddie and you are so passionate about it. Heck, I've helped you so many times with it Ed's, I love supporting the things you love'

"But I asked for this one thing, only one so thank you very much for proving that this is more important than keeping a promise to me".

She leaves then and feels the tears run down her cheeks.

❤

He feels like an idiot because he has the perfect gift bought, a pretty necklace that y/n had been eyeing and due to getting too engrossed he had fucking missed the dinner.

Jesus Christ, he was a dumbass.

He rushes home and picks some flowers on his way from the field that y/n loves, it's full of wildflowers in all different colours and varieties.

When he heads into the trailer his heart melts she's fast asleep on his bed, snuggled into his t shirt.

"Princess". He wakes her and she peers up at him still looking mad.

"I'm sorry I lost track of time, I want to make it up to you though". She peers up at him and he pulls her onto his knee.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry sweetheart" she softens a bit and kisses his cheek.

"I think dinner will be okay I just need to heat it up. I'm sorry for shouting in front of your friends Eddie".

"I was an idiot princess, Dustin and Jeff chewed me out too, I fucked up and I'm sorry".

He pulls out the box and opens it, she gasps.

"Eddie, I can't believe you got me this". She squeals. "Thank you, thank you".

The smile on her face is so incredible and his heart feels so full as he helps her put the necklace on, she kisses him delighted and grins.

"I got you the new guitar you wanted Ed's. I hid it behind the couch". His eyes light up and he rushes to get it, moaning at how beautiful it is.

All sleek and red, fucking perfection.

"Princess this is so metal, thank you so much, do you want me to play something for you after dinner?".

She nods and begins to heat up the meal.

"You know I have one last surprise, Eddie". She tells him and gives a peek at her new lingerie. He gapes.

"Jesus H Christ". He whispers and she smirks watching him grow more and more aroused as they eat.

When dinner is done he pulls her onto his knee.

"So princess wanna head to bed so I can ruin that perfect little lingerie set you bought, would very much like to take those panties off with my teeth". He murmurs all husky, full of need.

"Weren't you going to serenade me first?". She teases and he kisses her.

"Later beautiful. Now bed". He orders and she giggles.

"Yes sir".

What started off as a stressful night ends with them both laughing and kissing and making love until the morning light.

❤

[todoscript]

you receive a love letter in your shoe locker from an anonymous admirer

characters: bakugou katsuki, kaminari denki, kirishima eijirou, midoriya izuku, shinsou hitoshi, todoroki shouto

genre: fluff. very slight angst.

word count: 3.2k+ total, 400-700 per character

warnings: jealousy, possessiveness, feelings of doubt (mostly all fluff though)

author’s note: i’ve been on spring break so i found some time to write this! i absolutely love writing for these six (not like they’re my faves or anything pshhhhh—)

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

he’s already fuming the moment you open your locker and hold out the pastel pink card, sealed by a shiny heart sticker with your name written in smooth calligraphy.

it doesn’t take much for him to realize some other dunce head is trying to make moves on his girl.

and he absolutely won’t stand for it.

he stomps over to you and snatches the letter right out of your hands as you’re reading it.

your complaints go ignored behind him while he inspects the writing with the most livid expression.

you know that ugly face he makes when it comes to his over-exaggerated anger? the one with his eyes all squinted and the corners sharpened upward?

that’s his face as he continues reading, growing more twisted at every mushy sentence this anonymous admirer had the gall to say to you.

at one point, he can’t stand to read it anymore so he crumbles the letter in his fist before igniting it into crisps.

you scold him for causing such a scene and letting his anger get the best of him, but bakugou is still annoyed about it regardless.

“tch, who the hell does this shithead think they are, trying to make moves on you when we’re already together?! i’m gonna kill them when i find out who it is!” he exclaims, hands instinctively sparking with heat that scares off the other students walking by.

you mentally facepalm at this. still, you go about reassuring him that you won’t be swayed and take his hand to walk to the dorms together.

“katsu, you know it’s going to take more than a love letter to make me leave you, right?”

“heh, damn right, it’s gonna take a hell of a lot more that’s for fucking sure,” he sneers, a confident smirk on his face as he knows everyone else never had a chance with you to begin with. they can keep sending those letters and he’d make sure to burn them before they could even reach your hand.

on the way back to the dorms, he makes a conscious effort at pda—arm wrapped around your waist while his eyes glare daggers at any extra that even so much as looks at you the wrong way—asserting his claim over you.

meanwhile, having bared witness to that whole scene, your secret admirer is trembling in the corner. they make note to never send you another letter again unless they want their life to flash before their eyes in a fiery explosion.

KAMINARI DENKI

surprisingly enough, kaminari takes the whole situation more positively than most people expected.

in fact, he’s actually prideful about it.

just as he’s about to head over to your locker so you two could walk to class together, sero pokes his shoulder.

“hey, did you see all those written love confessions in y/n’s locker?” sero whispers behind his cupped hand near kaminari’s ear.

the blond scrunches his nose, confused. “no. what love confessions?”

“the letters that were stuffed in your girlfriend’s locker.”

again, kaminari is still puzzled at this. he realizes there’s only one way to understand what sero means.

when he glances in your direction he’s met with you fumbling around with a pile of letters balanced in your arms. his vision zeroes in on the envelopes, deciphering the fancy stationary and pretty embroidery.

oh. they’re love letters.

“other people are trying to make moves on your girl. what are you going to do about it, kaminari?” sero chimes in with an important question and honestly, kaminari can’t exactly make out a solution. or rather, he feels he doesn’t need to.

sure, he should be a little annoyed over the fact that others are disregarding your relationship.

yet could he really blame them for taking such a liking to you?

you’re pretty, smart, nice—the whole damn package.

he’d be more shocked if you didn’t have any secret admirers lurking around.

kaminari decides to leave his friend’s question relatively unanswered and continues his trek to your locker.

“hey, pretty girl! whatcha got there?”

taken off guard by his appearance, you nearly drop all the letters in your arms.

“denki, you scared me!” you exclaim. “these? they’re just some love letters some anonymous person placed in my locker. don’t worry though! i don’t plan on returning their feelings.”

smiling at how quickly you reassure him, he crosses his arms behind his head. “nah i’m not worried, babe. i don’t feel threatened or anything. it only makes sense that my girl is popular after all!”

you’re pleasantly surprised by how rationally he reacts to the scenario. though, knowing his character, he can’t just seem to leave it at that.

“yep, seems like we’re quite the popular couple!” he grabs your hand, wanting to show each other off as you make your way to class.

the bakusquad sees this as another opportunity to egg him on.

“and just how many love letters have you received since the beginning of the school year, kaminari?”

the blond freezes at the question. kaminari bites back words, but begrudgingly answers.

“...zero.”

KIRISHIMA EIJIROU

“heya, babe!” kirishima enthusiastically calls to you, approaching your shoe locker. “ready to go back to the dorms?”

“yeah! in just a second though!” you reply.

as kirishima comes closer, he sees you occupied with some envelopes in your hand.

“what’re all those?” he asks, pointing at the refined stationary curiously.

“ah some letters gifted to me from an anonymous admirer. something about wanting to make their feelings finally known, but i’m not interested in them,” you say, clearing up everything before a misunderstanding could arise.

“oh, that’s cool.”

you quirk a brow at how relatively chill he is at this revelation. you were expecting a bigger reaction at this, but kirishima just simply smiles his genuine, care-free smile.

you don’t think much of it though. shoving the letters in your bag to dispose of later, you walk side-by-side with him to the dormitories.

little do you realize that kirishima actually mistakens this as pure, platonic admiration rather than infatuation.

to him, if they had really wanted to profess their love to you, they’d do it in person where you could see and hear them. not behind fancy penmanship and some pretty paper.

after all, that’s what a true man would do!

but as the days continue to roll by, he’s starting to have second thoughts.

“y/n, i’m telling you, with the amount of letters you keep receiving from them, you gotta find out who this person is!” he overhears mina lecturing you at your desk, going through another pile of notes that were left in your locker from that morning. lately, you’ve been greeted by an astounding number of these things each time you visited your locker.

“mina, there’s definitely no need for me to go out of my way to find this person.”

“aw, but look at all the sweet things they said about you!” mina recites a line from one of many letters. she muses about how the writer sentimentally compares your aura to that of a dandelion wisp in the wind—free and lighthearted yet fleeting and out of reach.

“how romantic!”

you roll your eyes, indifferent, but one side-glance at kirishima from your desk tells you that he’s beginning to interpret the situation differently.

the redhead has to admit that all those things that anonymous admirer said to you were… pretty sweet.

kirishima has always been a man of action—an passionate believer that actions spoke volumes compared to words alone. however, after hearing all of that, he’s wondering how he’s able to compete in that aspect.

he seeks you out during lunch and asks you something beneath a lonely corner of trees.

“y/n, do those kinds of things make you happy..?”

you tilt your head, curious about what he’s exactly referring to. one glimpse back at his demeanor in the classroom earlier with mina gives you an idea.

“do you mean all those letters i keep getting?”

kirishima nods slowly.

“well… i have to admit, it is nice to know that i’m ‘liked’ by other people,” you phrase delicately. “but all those pretty letters and sweet words don’t mean anything to me if they aren’t coming from you. besides, i always thought it’s better to let your actions speak for you, don’t you think?”

hearing your answer, kirishima’s face lights up immediately. before you can properly react, a pair of lips meet your cheek.

you rub the warm skin where his lips touched, flustered for a moment. kirishima grabs your hand, walking you two back to the lunchroom with a newfound surge of conviction in his steps.

MIDORIYA IZUKU

“ooh, look midoriya, seems like someone else has a crush on your girl.”

as midoriya’s tidying up his red shoes and bringing out his slippers for class, his male classmates inform him of the pink envelope held in your hands.

midoriya looks over in your direction. he watches as you peel the letter out of the envelope and begin reading its contents.

he doesn’t miss the slight flustered look on your features, observing how you scan through the writing while tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, glancing over your shoulder as if your secret admirer was peering at you from behind.

“you better hold onto her tightly if you don’t want her stolen from you,” one of the boys warns, more so as a joke, but midoriya doesn’t take their banter lightly.

“knock it off, guys. just because someone else likes her doesn’t mean she’s going to leave me or anything,” he says this with as much confidence as he can muster, but his demeanor betrays him.

when he goes past your desk in the classroom later, he can’t seem to meet your eyes.

“good morning, izuku!” you greet him mirthfully. however, midoriya fails to return the greeting with the same enthusiasm.

“g-good morning, y/n…”

it’s hard for you not to notice that something is up by the way he heads straight to his desk afterward without another word.

throughout class, midoriya finds it a challenge to concentrate on anything but that letter you received that morning. his mind stumbles into the hole of bad possibilities—ones of you leaving him, those sweet words from your anonymous admirer making your heart flutter more than he ever has.

“—zuku… ‘zuku… izuku!”

he gets pulled out from his thoughts by your voice and turns to see the concerned look on your face.

“you okay? you haven’t touched your pork cutlet bowl this entire time.”

he stares down at his food, untouched since he sat down. “oh sorry, i guess something’s just been on my mind today.”

your brows knit together. “it’s about the letter i got today, isn’t it?”

midoriya stares at you, debating whether to deny your statement, but knows it’s pointless to try when it must have been obvious.

you take his silence as confirmation and grasp his hand that lays flat on the table.

“izuku, look at me,” you tell him and watch as his eyes slowly trail to you. “you know i wouldn’t leave you over some silly letter, right? no amount of words they can say to me could ever make me think differently about you.”

at this, a comforted smile spreads on midoriya’s face. he nods and squeezes your hand as a sign he took your words to heart before chowing down on his food, the uncertainty inside him disappearing.

SHINSOU HITOSHI

“another one?” you inquire to yourself in disbelief, opening your shoe locker to discover a rose-colored envelope waiting for you atop your slippers.

“dang, y/n, that’s like the fourth one this week!” uraraka comments, peeking over your shoulder.

“ooh! i wanna see what they wrote for you this time!” mina approaches from behind. you allow her to grab the delicate letter from your fingertips.

she over-exaggeratedly clears her throat, unwrinkling the paper by pinching at the sides. “‘you are the one who brought me sunshine when i only saw rain.’”

“aw! how sweet!” uraraka clasps her hands above her heart, seeming almost moved.

though the girls are all smitten by the love poem, you bite your tongue, hoping to suppress the urge to gag in front of them.

your boyfriend shinsou is on equal wavelength as you, witnessing the scene unfolding so early in the morning. he’s grown tired of replaying this spectacle for the past four days now.

his eyes navigate to the note and envelope in mina’s hand. by the script and the use of the same stationary, shinsou can tell the love letters you’ve been receiving are all from the same person.

“damn dude, you got some serious competition.” overhearing the girls, kaminari jabs at shinsou’s sides teasingly. “so, you gonna do anything about that mysterious guy trying to go after your girl?”

the violet-haired boy shrugs. “why should i? it’s not like i feel threatened.”

kaminari whistles at his confidence.

shinsou says he doesn’t care about it, putting on a level-headed and indifferent facade. but that was honestly far from the truth.

in actuality, he’s a bit pissed.

what kind of person goes around sending anonymous love messages to someone who’s already in a relationship? what the hell do they hope to gain out of doing this?

shinsou more than trusts you won’t be swayed by them, no matter how many times those notes discourteously greet you every morning.

you never bring up the topic of the letters whenever you two are alone, not wanting shinsou to be bothered over it and create a hassle. all in all, he’s grateful for this, and also for the fact that you make a point of never taking any of those letters seriously and dump them into the trash bin whenever the chance arises.

however, he can tell by your body language that the whole situation bothers you and makes you uneasy.

so, during one incredibly early morning, he decides to do some scouting.

he plays off his odd punctuality by saying he left something in the classroom yesterday and wants to get there early to look for it.

lo and behold, he finds a male student hovering around the lockers—suspiciously darting his head back and forth to be on the lookout for any other students.

little does he realize he’s already been caught red-handed.

“hey you.” shinsou abruptly calls out to him and the boy nearly jumps. “what are you doing here?”

the boy panics at his question, fumbling with his answer while hiding something behind his back—what shinsou presumes to be another one of those cheesy letters.

“u-um, just want to get to class early!” he sputters.

“is there any special reason you’re standing in front of my girlfriend’s locker then? ’cause last i checked, the lockers for general education students were located on the opposite side.” shinsou emphasizes his words with a bite of malice, arms crossed.

“i just lost my way is all–” the student suddenly stops mid-speech, his words and actions forcibly coming to a halt. all thoughts are overturned in the presence of shinsou’s quirk.

“i’m going to make this quick and easy for you to understand. not only are you going to forget about this conversation, but you’re also going to stop handing my girlfriend those love letters.” shinsou bends down to the boy’s height, staring at the abyss in his expression.

“and i’d also appreciate it if you kept your eyes off what’s mine.”

it’s safe to say, your influx of letters had been effectively cut off after that day.

TODOROKI SHOUTO

todoroki is no stranger to finding love letters from avid admirers and fans in his shoe locker before and after classes.

in fact, an unprecedented number of them had begun taking up all the space there after his impressive performance at the sports festival.

when he started dating you, however, he had made a clear declaration that he wouldn’t be accepting anymore of them.

but to be on the opposite end of having to watch you unlatch the door of your locker to have letters and notes practically tumbling out, todoroki wasn’t exactly sure what to make of this feeling that made his stomach twist into knots.

he notices the alarming amount of them and concludes they’re all from various students in different grades and departments.

“y/n, you’re getting pretty popular,” uraraka says, eyeing the stack of envelopes. “must be your dance performance from the culture festival! i remember you did get a lot of cheers in the crowd.”

“guess all those cheers came with a lot of fanboys, huh?” the invisible girl, hagakure, teases.

you jokingly nudge at them to stop with the teasing, but pause when your eyes cross todoroki’s. he’s giving you a look you can’t decipher—one that edges between troubled and apathetic yet you can’t tell which it is.

you send him a nod, silently acknowledging his presence as he waits for you to finish your business so you could head back to the dorms together.

watching you dispose of the various piles of letters has todoroki contemplating about what uraraka and hagakure commented on. about how popular you were getting and how your admirers have been bold enough to profess their reverence for you despite your relationship status.

todoroki’s not entirely sure what to make of this information. he doesn’t linger on it for long though when you finally approach him, your sneakers slipped on and your backpack securely hanging off your shoulders.

“ready to head home?”

a smile finds his lips at your appearance. he softly utters his response.

during the small distance to the dormitories, todoroki reaches for your hand and intertwines your fingers together. as seemingly minor the gesture is at this point of your relationship, it’s a detail you mentally take note of.

usually, when it came to publicly displaying physical forms of affection, you were the one to initiate it. you have to admit, seeing the assertive side of todoroki is like a small breath of fresh air.

as you continue your short journey home, a couple of male students walking by greet you enthusiastically. though you wave back to kindly acknowledge them, you feel the grip on your hand tighten, followed by a slight tug closer to todoroki’s side.

that alone is enough for you to realize something is definitely troubling him.

“sho, is there something wrong?” you ask, steps still walking in tandem with him.

todoroki’s voice doesn’t waver in the slightest as he replies, “no, why would you think that?”

“you’ve been awfully possessive all of a sudden,” you note, “is this because of those letters from earlier?”

“...maybe.”

you quirk a brow, amused. “is that a yes or a no?”

now todoroki is silent. your steps come to a halt. not parting your laced hands from his, you turn to look him in the eye.

“sho?”

“it’s just… when i realize that there are other people looking at you the same way i do, i get… uneasy.” his gaze drops to the ground as he confesses this, hand squeezing yours. the uncomfortable churning in his stomach settles a bit now that the words are out, but he finds it hard to ease the atmosphere.

this is where you picked up from where he left off. your hand goes to his cheek, gently cupping it so you can tilt his head up at you.

“oh shouto, you have to know that you’re the only one for me and i don’t plan on looking at anyone else but you,” you assure him. todoroki stares into your eyes, and in them, he can’t find any hesitance or flutter of doubt.

at this, he lifts your twined hands and grazes your knuckles ever so softly against his lips, wondering whatever troubled him so much to begin with.

[randynova]

♡𝓜𝔂 𝓦𝓸𝓶𝓪𝓷♡

𝓖𝓾𝓷 𝔁 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: 𝐴𝑙𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑦 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒, 𝐺𝑢𝑛 𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑐𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑎𝑙 𝑡𝑜 𝐺𝑜𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑖𝑓 𝑖𝑡 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑠 ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒.

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔(𝑠):𝐹𝑒𝑚!𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟, 𝐹𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓, 𝑠𝑜𝑓𝑡(𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑝)! 𝐺𝑢𝑛

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

“Why couldn’t this have waited until another day?” Gun muttered, unbuttoning his shirt, letting it slide off his taut frame, and neatly folding it, placing it onto the roof of his car. He was glad he hadn't put his jacket on, having left it in his passenger seat. “I can’t dirty my clothes again, [Name] will be mad if I get blood on it.” He rolled his broad shoulders until they released a satisfying crack, his thick muscles bulging as he stretched his arms across his scarred chest. Gun peered at a nearby store, the digital clock displaying in big white numbers, ‘7:45 PM’. He groaned, his lips curling into a scowl whilst his arms fell to his side. He didn’t have enough time to deal with this.

“Hmm, and it’s almost time for our date. Fuck.” Gun whispered to himself. He clenched his fists, narrowing his eyes at the man across from him. He removed his shades and revealed his dark gaze, placing his favorite accessory to his side as well. “I’ll make this quick, Goo. I have more important places to be.”

Goo laughed, grinning in his spot as he balanced a pole in his hands. He rolled his eyes, arching a brow at his partner. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, Gun, maybe if you didn’t spend all your time by [Name]’s side, we could have dealt with this matter much earlier. That girl has you wrapped around her pretty little finger, huh?”

“Shut it,” Gun said, already racing towards the blonde and thrusting his fist, knuckles colliding with metal. Upon the cold sensation meeting his skin, he wanted to absolutely kill Goo and rip him to shreds. This would take longer than he wanted, wasting his already precious, short time. He backed off, having a considerable distance between the two, stretching his fingers a few times before clenching them again. He growled, spitting venomously,  “You just like picking fights.” 

“You did too. Before you met her, y’know,” Goo tutted, waving his finger in the air. He scoffed, voice low, “Who would’ve thought? Gun going soft for a girl. Psh, pathetic. Never thought I’d live to see the day...” The blonde trailed off, his face becoming stoic, his mind wandering. You truly had to be someone exceptional if you managed to have a guy like Gun to fall for you. He always wondered who you were, how you looked like, what you did, but Gun had kept you a secret from the world of crime. He hid almost every known trace abou you and tied every loose end that implicated you existed. No one knew who you were and no one could find you — unless Gun allowed them to. 

Goo found it so irritating how he was unable to know the girl who made such a notorious gangster go soft. 

He only met you once and that was by pure sheer luck; dropping by unexpectedly at one of Gun's apartments, only to be met with the sight of you. Seeing how Gun reacted, he knew you were supposed to be kept hush-hush. But boy, did he have a field day the next time he saw the man.

Goo had to meet you again. Or at least, know you more.

Only when Gun’s fist connected with Goo’s face did the man snap out of his thoughts, the impact of such force throwing him a few feet backwards. He dug his feet into the floor, a high-pitched screech coming from his shoes as the rubber burned against the pavement. With his sleeve, Goo wiped his cheek, seeing a speck of blood staining his clothes. Goo chuckled, standing up straight with a grin, “If I can remember right, you told me you got Eli Jang in trouble for basically the same thing. What was her name again? Heather?”

Goo blocked the upcoming attack, his pole raised and crossed above his face. He pushed Gun back with an effortless swing of the pole. He tilted his head and scratched the back of his head with his free hand. “How is [Name] any different from Heather? What does she have on you?”

Gun twisted his neck gently until he heard a crack, looking back at Goo as he hissed with venom, “Nothing.”

“Let me think, let me think….” Goo hummed, racking his mind for any possibility that someone like Gun would stay with a woman longer than one night. His face lit up and he broke out into a wide grin, pointing a finger at Gun. “Aha! You got the poor girl knocked up, right?! See, I always tell you to wear protection! Just couldn’t keep it in your pants, hm? Shaaame.” 

“Ugh, fuck no. I don’t want kids and neither does she. We made that clear at the beginning," Gun said with a sneer, annoyed beyond comprehension at Goo's antics. 

“Awe, I really thought she held something over you. How about this: I’ll stop fighting you if you tell me why you’re still with such a pretty girl like [Name]? Deal?" Goo offered, slinging the pole onto his shoulder. His eyes darkened as he spat maliciously, knowing each word would wind and rile Gun's emotions. "She deserves better than a perverted gangster, you both know that.”

Gun stayed silent, the corners of his lips tugging down into a frown. Goo’s last words struck a chord in him, sending a pang through his heart upon hearing an insecurity he’ll never admit to. Of course. Everyone told you to stay away from a man like Gun. People kept telling you you will only get hurt in the end, that a better man will come along and sweep you off your feet if you just waited, or you could always do better than him. But you never listened. You stayed by his side, even when the whole world looked down on you two. Even for months, he tried convincing himself he felt nothing for you, but after a while, he finally accepted that someone managed to tear down his walls and enter his hollow, cold heart — you. 

You were just a different kind of girl - no- a different kind of woman. A special woman he had the pleasure of meeting. One he wouldn’t dare let go of now that he has the privilege of calling you ‘mine’. And by any god out there, he won’t be a stupid fool to lose you.

Gun sighed. “I tell you and you’ll put this stupid fight behind us, right?”

Goo placed a hand over his chest, replying shortly, “You have my word.~”

“[Name] is just that special person you meet once in your life. One you know you can’t let go of because there isn’t another like her. Simple as that.”

“What?! Ugh, don’t be boring! Tell me more!”

“You asked why I  stayed with her and I told you.”

“Yeah, but I expected a story, not some sad attempt at an old man’s wise words.”

A low guttural sound rumbled in Gun’s throat, his eye twitching. “Maybe when I’m in a better mood I’ll tell you, but if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with my woman.”

Goo groaned and tossed his pole to the side, rolling his eyes and grumbling, "Fiiine, but you owe me a story. "

"Whatever—damnit," Gun looked at the clock once again and his face contorted into one of pure irate. "I'm late."

'8:12 PM'

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

Your head rested on your hand, balancing a glass of wine between your fingers, twirling the cup as the liquid swished around. Your eyes were looking down on the glory of Gangdong, the shimmering, blinding lights of the city mesmerizing you. The city always looked beautiful at this time of night. You just wished you could enjoy it with the person you cherished. A sigh leaves your lips and you look away, eyes trailing to the other tables over the balcony. 

The lingering eyes of many strange men didn't faze you anymore, the two burly boys surrounding your table always making them avert their gaze as fast as it landed. A courtesy of your boyfriend, who was at least thirteen minutes late, who insisted on you needing to be guarded at all times. You knew if he were here, no one would dare to even breathe in your direction, let alone glance. 

The cool air pricked your skin and a shiver passed through your body, reminding you of where you were. For a man as smart as him, Gun tended to neglect keeping the season in mind when planning your dates. Nonetheless, you were happy he went out of his way to take you out on such a busy schedule. 

You jumped in your seat, snapping out of your thoughts. A jacket was wrapped around your frame, warmth immediately enveloping you as the fabric made contact with your bare skin. You looked up and smiled. 

Gun stood behind you, towering over your sitting form as he made sure you were nice and covered. His coat basically swallowed you whole. A small stuffed animal was tucked under his arm, it’s fluffy fur peeking out. He walked over to take his seat, pulling the chair out, and wasting no time to slip in. He waved to the guards and they nodded, beginning to clear the scene of people.

“Sorry I’m late, [Name],” Gun started, taking the stuffie out from underneath his arm and presenting it to you. Oh, how adorable. "I brought you a gift as an apology."

A small brown otter sat in his palms, barely taking up Gun's hands. It’s beady, plastic eyes looked straight at you, a little smile stitched onto its snout. A snort left you. The sight of such a well-dressed, intimidating man carrying such an adorable toy was  amusing. "Really now? Just a cute toy, Gun?"

Gun sighed and sat up a bit from his chair, leaning over the table, and cupping your face as he planted a gentle kiss on your cheek. As quick as it started, Gun's lips left and he was seated once again. You pout. "Don't give me that look, [Name]. We can do more at home if you want but not here."

"It's not wrong to be disappointed in no kiss on the mouth after not seeing your boyfriend for such a long time. Don't you think I deserve it?"

Gun smirked, placing his shades on the table and taking your hand, intertwining your fingers together. He gave a light squeeze and you didn't miss a beat as you squeezed his coarse hand back. The way you pursed your lips and looked at him with such glossy, innocent eyes made his heart swell. With such a pretty, cute face, it was hard to say no to you. "Hmm, maybe. But Olly told me you crossed paths with Hostel A." Gun spoke, slipping his hands from yours and picking up his dinnerware, quickly cutting the savory meat into pieces. He didn't hesitate to put a piece up to your mouth, a hand underneath so as to not have the juice leak. "I was told you nearly broke the Uncles' bones and Big Daddy himself."

Your face scrunched up and you scoffed, shaking your head. You placed the stuffed animal to the side, petting it. "Figured those assholes wouldn’t tell you everything. The ‘uncles’ wouldn’t leave me alone and I thought Olly was another one of those bastards,” you snap, sitting back in your seat with a scowl. “How was I supposed to know he was trying to help when he dresses like that? I thought he was trying to assault me for God’s sake!”

Gun placed down his fork on his plate and his face twisted into one of fury, eyes turning cold and rigid as all the warmth disappeared whilst his lips curled back into a nasty frown. You almost thought his infamous scowl was directed towards you, but you knew better. You dear boyfriend wouldn't dare lay a single finger on you if it didn't bring you pleasure. "They what?" 

You smiled softly, placing your hand over his as it clenched into a fist. With your small attempt at trying to soothe him by rubbing small circles, you spoke with a bit of hesitation, "Ah, yeah. They kept trying to get my number and wouldn't let me leave the booth I was in. I had no other choice than to use the training you taught me. Since I never met Olly, I really thought he was just another one of them and I reacted before thinking, making me attack him too."

Gun scoffed, shaking his head as he listened to your explanation with disbelief, every word fueling his rage of someone daring to hit on his woman. Every fiber in Gun's body screamed, wanting to feel their skin underneath his fists as he pounded them into oblivion. But the only thing stopping him was his date with you. For now, he'll put his anger aside to be with you and keep you happy. Who knows how long he'll be gone and when he'll see you again. The man has to make every second count. 

Yet, he couldn’t let this go unpunished.

"Fuck." Gun leans closer to you and sits on the edge of his chair. Placing his hand over yours, he slips his fingers to grasp your palm, and lifts your hand to his lips, pressing tender kisses against your knuckles. His thumb grazing softly across your fingers and his eyes flutter shut. You couldn't help but stare in awe, never quite seeing him like this.

So careful with you, so gentle, you were surprised he wasn't seething in his seat and threatening to break their heads open. Gun opens his eyes and looks up at you, shaking in his seat. “I promise I’ll have those fuckers begging on their knees for your forgiveness. They should know better than to treat a woman with such rudeness and disrespect. Shit, I’ll go right now. I’ll beat them till-”

Your sweet laugh reaches his ears, cutting him off from his little speech. You lean in and pull in his hand to your lips, pressing a tender peck to his coarse knuckles. Gun felt his heart race and skip a beat at the sight, shock crossing his features. You look up, looking at your boyfriend with mirthful eyes. “As much fun as that sounds, I'd rather you stay here. Please? I want to spend as much time with you before you go back to work.”

The man stayed silent for a few seconds, taking in your words. He looked away, clicking his tongue before he broke out into a small smile, a blush blooming across his cheeks and the tip of his ears burning a bright red. “Of course, [Name]. Though, you could’ve just said you like spending time with me.”

Giggling, you lower your hands and shake your head. “Gun, of course I like spending time with you. You’re my favorite person and I love you after all.” Your voice said those three words with such fondness, it’s as if the man was in a dream. 

If your words from before didn’t send Gun over the edge, your proclamation of love surely did now. He looked down, grinning like an idiot, showing a soft, bashful side he’s never revealed to anyone before. He swore his heart would jump out of his throat from how fast it was pounding against his ribcage. Gun grasped your hand tightly and sighed blissfully, Gently, he spoke, gazing at you with loving eyes, “I love you too.”

You smiled.

The tension in the air grew to be too much and both of you found it unbearable, wanting to do what both of you have been waiting for for weeks.

Both of you sat up and leaned over the table, closing the gap between you two as your lips interlocked, slipping together like if you were made for eachother. The kiss sparked and fed the fire both of you held in your hearts, burning brighter with every moment you spent at one another’s side. Gun couldn’t help but smile against your mouth.

As much as he hated being apart from you for so long, moments like these made the long hours worth it. If working so much meant he could provide for you, then he wouldn't mind doing it for the rest of his life if you had a roof over your head and a nice, warm meal at night.

Afterall, you were his woman.

And he loved you.

✦✦✦✦✦✦

©𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚟𝚊 || 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍 || 𝚗𝚘 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜, 𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚜, 𝚌𝚘𝚙𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚎𝚝𝚌. 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚌𝚒𝚛𝚌𝚞𝚖𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜 .

✦✦✦✦✦✦

[talesofstyles]

Drs Styles

paediatric heart surgeon harry, husband harry and dad harry. honestly the holy trinity.

warning: they did it in the car. bloody animals.

Harry

“Move your car, please!”

“What are you going to do? Write me a ticket?”

“This is in the interests of safety for the children!”

I look at the time in the car. I’ve still got about twenty to twenty-five minutes to watch this drama unfold at the school gate. I just wish we had popcorn because drop-off and parking situations at the school gates are always more entertaining than Good Morning Britain. 

The school gate is a strange social scene, and honestly, I don’t blame my wife for trying to avoid it like a plague. Sometimes, you don’t even have to talk to these people to know everything about their lives and more. I swear there are more gossips in the class WhatsApp group and daily playground chattering than in the copies of The Sun and Daily Mail combined. You know who’s married, who’s getting a divorce, whose husband shagged the au pair again, whose party you haven’t been invited to, even who’s looking for a builder. 

I see the school caretaker chuckling to himself as he sweeps the autumn leaves off the pathway, no doubt also enjoying our morning entertainment. 

“Why is Mrs Chambers screaming like that?” Alma, our eldest daughter, asks from the back of the car. 

“Because that man parks his car in a drop-off zone,” I reply, still watching him as he removes a child from his car seat. “Do you know who that is?”

“I think the boy is your classmate,” Alma turns to her sister.

Fiona, our youngest, peers over to inspect. “Oh yeah, that’s Rufus and his dad.”

“Do we like Rufus?”

“Not unless we like boys who pee down the slides,” Fiona scrunches her nose up. “He stood at the top and peed down like a waterfall. I haven’t gone down the slide ever since.”

I shake my head and let out a chuckle. “M’sure they’ve cleaned it up since, button.” 

Did you know that choosing a school for your child after nursery can be a head-throbbing, stomach-twisting, heart-pounding experience? Well, it can. How is one supposed to choose a school anyway? According to the proximity? Leavers Results? Adorable uniforms? Parents’ agendas?

After many, many discussions and visits through more schools than I can count, we ended up with Thomas’s Kensington. It’s a great school, and only ten minutes away from our home, making school runs easier. The downside of this school is the fact that it costs us an arm and a leg and that they’re always trying to rip us off any chance they get. Also, they only take the kids until 11, so after that, we’ll have to look for other schools again. But since our girls are only seven and five, we can worry about that later. 

There’s a strange mix of parents at this place. I went to school up in the North and the school gate scene is nothing like this. Here there are more au pairs, fancy cars, nicer clothes and people coming with impressive tans from their last weekend break in Antibes. The kids here are suited up too: the PE kit is the size of a small weekender bag, and we put them in uniforms that make them look smart, hoping that will increase the size of their brains. A child walks past our car with a cello case, another with a hockey stick. It’s a different land here. One that my socialist in-laws constantly tease us about and one which my mum was hysterical about because she was scared her grandbabies would be little Tories. I promised her I’d keep them grounded by only giving them plain hobnobs. None of those luxury chocolate covered ones.

Jokes aside, my girls are happy here. They’re thriving. They learn French and Spanish and Mandarin, even if they share a class with kids who have ridiculous names like Kitty and Archibald. 

A knock at my window calls me to attention. I wind it down.

“Are you Fiona’s dad?” A mum asks me.

“I am.”

“It’s about Ophelia’s riding party this Saturday at the riding stables.” 

Like I said, it’s a different land here.

“I thought we RSVPed to that?” I look at her in confusion.

“Yes, you did, but we have to change the food options as one of the partygoers is allergic to nuts. I’m making everyone aware and we need to let the guests know that they can’t bring any nuts on the day.”

A dirty joke is right there on the tip of my tongue and I’m trying my hardest to keep it in. My wife would definitely find it funny though, I’ve got to remember this and tell her later. 

“Noted,” I mean, I wasn’t going to send my daughter to a party with a packet of cashews anyway but I nod politely.

“And just gift vouchers for gifts please. Smiggle, if you can.”

Again, I nod, biting my tongue at the presumptuousness. But then I suddenly panic, because we haven’t entered the realms of pony riding just yet. Do I have to buy jods and boots? If I don’t, will my daughter be the odd one out? But Ophelia’s mum saunters off before I’ve got the chance to ask.

“Do I have to go to that party, daddy?” Fiona asks. 

“Well, we’ve already replied, poppet,” I tell her. “Did you not want to go?”

“I’ll go if I have to.”

I don’t answer because I get distracted by a vacant space. I edge the car forward so my girls can hop off. 

“I love you both. Have a good day, make good choices.” 

“Bye daddy! We’ll see you after work!”

***

Evelina London Children’s Hospital is our second home. Of course, as a children’s hospital, we try to make the place as fun as possible as not to freak those little patients out at being ill. It is bright and primary coloured, and each ward is decorated according to its own theme with different colours and lovely artworks. There are televisions and toys almost in every corner. We have a giant slide on the ground floor, and even the bins are shaped like red London buses. The aim was to help the children to forget that they’re in a hospital and take their minds off their sickness.

Since my wife and I are in the same department, our offices are next to each other, both overlooking the Thames. It’s nice up here. Would’ve been nicer if we could sneak in a quickie, but that’s practically impossible with our shared secretary’s desk sitting literally in front of our doors. 

Speak of the devil.

“Good morning. Here’s your tea,” my secretary follows me into my office with a cup of tea and a tiny plate with a couple of rich tea fingers. “Clinic until 3 pm, scheduled PDA ligation in the laboratory for 4 pm and then evening rounds on the wards.”

“Mornin’ Rhonda, you look lovely today,” I greet her cheerily. She’s a stern-looking woman who definitely likes her tea as strong as tits and who has probably never cried in her life. With such severity, she runs a tight ship, but she secretly has this affectionate side in her too. Not only is she a great secretary, but she also takes care of us in a way as a grandma does. She makes us tea, feeds us in between surgeries with biscuits or nice baby cheeses and crackers just so we wouldn’t starve. 

See that sofa over there in the corner of my office? Rhonda got me that. It was around the time when I had just become a new father with the sweetest, most gorgeous little baby who did not sleep. Alma wasn’t a fussy baby though. For some reason, she just wouldn’t go back to sleep after her midnight feed for months. Believe me, I tried everything. I changed her nappy, I swayed and jiggled and rocked and sung her to sleep. Odd nonsensical songs like, ‘Alma darling go to sleeep. Sleepy sleep sleep. Pleeeeease. I’m so tirrrred. My eyeballs may actually exploooode. I don’t want you to see thaaat.’ And she would just look at me all wide-eyed like I’d lost the plot. Those were song lyrics? That was rubbish. Please don’t give up your day job. Also, it’s not sleeping time. I’m awake. I’m ready for life. Come on, entertain me, old man. Isn’t this nice, just you and me? Tell me everything you know. EVERYTHING. 

Except of course she didn’t say all that. She would just stare at me and I had no idea what was going on in her little head. 

I took over my wife’s patients at the hospital during her maternity leave, so I had longer hours at the hospital. One day Rhonda found me napping on the floor between surgeries, so she sweet-talked some porters into looking for any old sofas on the go and paid to have this one reupholstered. She even bought me a fleece throw for it too. We really don’t deserve her.

“You hittin’ on me?” She deadpans. “Yer wife not doing it for you these days?”

“It’s the blazer. I’m a sucker for a blazer.”

“If I’d known, I would’ve worn it more often,” she replies. “Did my nice dress yesterday not give you the fanny flutters?”

“It’s schlong shiver for me,” I roar with laughter. “And it’s the tartan, makes you look well old.”

“YN, yer husband’s a bloody git, did I ever tell you that?” Rhonda says loud enough for my wife to hear, and I can hear my wife’s laughter from her office next door. “Drink your tea. Your first clinic appointment is in twenty.”

“Yes ma’am,” I salute her. 

***

The Arctic ward in the Evelina is home to many of our imaging, heart and kidney services. The name is probably giving it away, but everything is decorated in blue and white to go with the theme. We have several zones, and since paediatric cardiology clinics are held in the Walrus zone, I spend a great deal of time each day looking at walrus and snowflake decals. 

“Doctor Styles!” I hear a little voice shouts in excitement as I walk towards the waiting room in the outpatient ward. I smile, because I recognise that voice even before I see the little person.

The waiting room is very open here compared to other hospitals. There’s a sea of noise, snacks, tiny juice boxes and colouring pages. There’s also always a look of expectation, judgement on the faces of parents and guardians every time I walk in. They want to see if their doctor is old or qualified enough to see their children. There’s always one child who has the whole gang with them; parents, two sets of grandparents and even several aunts and uncles, and there’s also at least one child running around in circles out of boredom. 

This little lad bounces off his chair and hurls himself at me in a way like a little puppy would when its owner comes home from work. I put an arm out, hoping that he’ll apply the brakes but no such luck and he bundles himself into my arms. “Nice to see you, mate.”

His parents smile as they watch their son’s antics, who then runs off as I shake their hands. I turn around to see what caught his attention, and I can’t help but chuckle when I realise it’s my wife. 

“Doctor pretty Styles!” He exclaims excitedly as he bundles himself into her arms. She gets a mouthful of curls in the process. 

“Hi Rory,” she greets him as she runs her fingers through his curly mop. 

“Oi,” I pout as I walk towards them. “You don’t think I’m pretty?”

“Your wife is prettier,” he says with a shrug, his tone matter-of-fact.

She laughs and gives him a high-five. “Rory, you are officially my favourite patient.”

She is right. Rory is one of our special patients for sure. We’ve both known him for about six years now, ever since Rory’s mum gave birth to this tiny human next door at St Thomas and his heart was literally broken. I remember watching proudly from the theatre when my wife replaced two of his valves when he was born. It was in our early years of training. Long time patients like Rory almost always feel like family. We’ve seen all their parents’ tears and watched over their children throughout the years. They send us cards and wine every Christmas and despite all attempts to keep a professional distance, their kids do feel like our own.

Rory shrugs off his dinosaur rucksack and unzips it, pulling out a drawing of a blue whale and an opened packet of KitKat. I like that the whale wears a top hat and appears to also don a moustache. 

“I drew you both a picture. Only one though, because I figure you can share,” he says with a big toothy grin and hands the packet of KitKat to my wife. “And I’ve got half a KitKat here. Do you want it?”

“I’m good for now. Keep that KitKat for later on the tube,” she smiles and waves at Rory as she begins to walk away towards the fetal cardiology ward just down the hall. “Bye Rory, thanks for the picture.”

“Bye doctor pretty Styles,” Rory replies, making my wife laugh as she walks away. I give her a wave and a wink. 

“Hey Rory, did you know a blue whale has a heart the size of a small car?” I ask him and his eyes widen.

“No way! That’s mega!” He exclaims. “Do you think you could operate on a whale heart?”

“I would need a very big ladder,” I tell him. “And a wetsuit. I’d give it a go though.”

A senior nurse from the outpatient ward, Florence approaches us with a junior nurse trailing behind her. “Dr Styles, always a pleasure.”

I smile at her. “Florence. How are we today?”

“Busy as usual,” she replies. “We’re about twenty minutes behind I’m afraid. We had Dr Goodridge in this morning and you know he likes to talk.”

“He always runs over,” I chuckle. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll skip lunch and get us back up to speed.”

“I’ll make sure to send some snacks for you. Here’s your chart, your files are already in your office. And this is Alice, your nurse today. She’s newly qualified so might need some instructions.”

The new nurse looks terrified so I smile at her to try and calm her fears. I totally get that. When you work in medicine, unfortunately, you’ll realise that there are a lot of rude self-important wankers. 

I look down at my chart and find Rory’s name on the top of the list. “Well, look who’s coming with me to the exam room.”

Rory reaches out to hold my hand and we walk towards the examination room. His parents follow us closely, carrying the usual coats and devices that people do when they know they’re bound for a hospital waiting room. I see them inside and sit behind the desk.

“So, young man, I hear we’ve had a touch of drama with you. Can you tell me what happened?”

I’ve actually already got the information in the file, but I like the way this kid tells a story. He reminds me of my youngest. 

“So… I was at school and we were doing PE and I wasn’t really feeling it because it was cold and really we should have been inside but Mr Witter makes us go outside because he used to be in the Army apparently and he says we should get used to the cold but that’s what they do in prisons.”

I smile. “Go on.”

“And then my heart started running.”

“You mean racing?”

He nods firmly. Racing isn’t even the word. It sprinted to the finish like Bolt at 252 beats per minute, three times the speed it should.

“It felt like bubbles in my chest and then the school went crazy panicky and they called the ambulance and they brought me to the hospital but not this one, it was another one and it wasn’t as good because you weren’t there and they had really bad biscuit.”

His mum adds. “And they gave him some drugs to bring it back to a steady rhythm; they were close to shocking him.” Her voice trails off and both parents’ faces look drawn and pale remembering the incident.

Rory looks absolutely unbothered by this. To be fair, we have put this little man through everything. We’ve cut his chest open more times than is necessary for someone so small, we hook him up to machines and put him on treadmills. His resilience and character amaze me, and I really can’t imagine what it feels like to see your child so vulnerable and helpless, to be paralysed and weighed down with such worry.

“Alright then, little man, we need to make sure that your heart is working as it should. This is Alice, and she is going to take you over for an ECG and we just need to make sure your tick-tock is in good shape.”

Rory nods and jumps off the chair. His dad offers him a piggyback, and his mum smiles at them. I can hear Rory offering that half KitKat to Alice as they leave the room. 

His mother turns to me as the door is closed, her shoulders relaxing, allowing herself to breathe. “And how are you?” I ask her.

“You just think it’s done and then something like that comes along to scare you,” she says with a sigh.

“Let’s have these tests and then see if it’s anything major to worry about,” I try to calm her. “Episodes of rapid heartbeat is quite common in Rory’s case, and we can look into drugs to remedy that if necessary.”

She smiles, nodding.

“Did you have any other questions for me?”

She studies my face for a moment too long. “I… well, it will show up in Rory’s records soon, but my husband I are… I mean we’re getting a divorce.”

I pause for a moment. Of course, I know these things happen in life, but I’ve known this couple for years. I’ve seen them at their lowest ebb, bound by friendship and their love for that boy. I really do feel sorry for them.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“We just… we’re terrified about telling Rory.”

“He doesn’t know?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “We’re scared of breaking him. I mean, look at him. All of this stuff he’s been through and he carries on like nothing has happened. We don’t want to upset him.”

“It took a team of us the best part of six years to build Rory’s heart. There's a warranty on that workmanship,” I reassure her. “Have that chat with him. He’ll be fine.”

***

“Have we got time for dinner first?” I turn to my wife as we walk out of the hospital. We don’t normally have the luxury of ending our shift at the same time, but today is exceptional. We have parents’ evening at the girls’ school so Rhonda made sure to clear up our schedule after our evening rounds at the ward. 

“No, but we can raid M&S and eat in the car?”

I’m starving and I almost cry with relief at the suggestion. “Always knew I married the right woman.”

She chuckles. “Damn right you did.”

We leave the car at the hospital and she drags me along the walkways to Waterloo, the breeze biting at our cheeks. I pull her into M&S, dodging the marching commuters and grab a basket. 

“I’ll look for some wine,” she says before she saunters off. “Oh and I want sushi. None of that crap with the mayonnaise please.”

“Alright.”

I skipped lunch today so the whole place calls to me. I start taking very random things off the shelves: a packet of raspberry iced buns. That’ll do. I also take some hummus for my wife because she bloody loves hummus. I’m not even joking, I’ve seen her down a whole pot of it. Then I take some sushi as requested, some coleslaw, a family bag of mature cheddar and red onion crisps and a trifle. I hope I don’t bump into Rhonda. Next are cheese twists, noodle salad and cocktail sausages. 

It takes me a while to notice that there is a man right next to me with a roll of yellow stickers in their back pocket. Hello there, you are one of my favourite people tonight. Have I managed to find that sacred hour when all the food is being marked down? He labels some prawns with dip and even though I get a little squeamish about eating fish near its expiry date, I put it in my basket. I then follow him around the corner. Now, this is dinner. I put all sorts of random food in my basket and smile at the thought.

Ooh, knockdown pizzas. I should get a pizza. That’s tomorrow’s tea sorted, the girls will love it. Although I can’t help but wonder, what’s the limit for us to feed our daughters frozen pizza in a week before they get taken away from us? But eh, we might be able to get away with it if we give them frozen peas on the side. 

“Look at you,” says my wife, depositing two bottles of red in the basket. 

“Yes, it’s me. I’m the yellow sticker bitch.”

She snickers as we turn to head for the tills. “Excellent work.”

***

“Mr and Mrs Styles, welcome.”

“Mrs Ebner, always a pleasure,” I shake the headmistress’ hand who’s standing at the door. 

“Busy evening?” My wife asks her as she shakes her hand next.

“Always,” the headmistress replies with a smile, then proceeds to speak like she’s reading out of brochures. “But such a wonderful opportunity to connect with our parents and build on the special relationships we have with our school community.” 

Two uniformed minions appear.

“Lewis, Maggie, could you please show Mr and Mrs Styles through to the drinks reception?”

They both nod in unison. The boy holds his arms out like a waiter showing us to our table. We follow them through the school’s grand corridors to the main hall. It’s the one thing I like about this place. It’s very Hogwarts-like with hefty engraved name boards and sepia photos of successful sports teams. In the hall, a throng of parents mill around waiting to see respective teachers. It’s the same every year. We all dodge the people from the PTA trying to sell us quiz tickets, and the bowls of crisps out of hygiene concerns.

“Red or white?” Asks a lady in an apron.

This right here is the very reason we get through parents’ evening. From the look of the bottle, it’s decent wine too. I think that’s where a good proportion of our fees is going. 

“Red, please.”

We both take our glasses and walk to the corner of the hall. It’s essentially a holding area without the background music. The idea is that all the parents will get on and create a party vibe but it just becomes a strange family gathering. As terrible as it sounds, it’s sorted into cliques: parents who know each other via NCT groups, the international expat brigades who keep to themselves, the parents who’ve ostracised themselves by gossip, the ones who you know regularly brunch and ski together.

The boy from earlier suddenly appears in front of us. “Mrs Hughes is ready for you.”

I put my hand on the small of my wife’s back as we walk towards the classroom. Fiona’s teacher first and then Alma’s straight after. Right, we can do this.

“Mrs Hughes, we meet again,” I shake her hand. I’ve got no qualms about Mrs Hughes. She’s a seasoned teacher who likes a slack and sensible moccasin and we’re familiar with her since she taught Alma two years previously. When we enter the classroom, Lewis bows in reverence, taking his leave and I wonder whether to tip him. 

“It’s always lovely to have another Styles girl in my classroom. Fiona is a particular delight.”

My wife and I smile proudly. I’m sure Mrs Hughes says this to every parent here about their child, but that’s always nice to hear. 

“She talks a lot about you,” my wife says. “She seems to have settled in well.”

Mrs Hughes opens up a couple of books and it’s classic Fiona. Alma is ordered and neat—if she makes a mistake then she erases it completely and she underlines things with a ruler and listens to instruction carefully. She gets that from her mum. Fiona though, on the other hand, she’s all me. She has more wild abandon about her; no rulers, no rubbers. She puts giant crosses through things that don’t work and likes her bubble writing decorated with doodles of many, many cats.

I glance around the classroom as Mrs Hughes talks to us about standardised scores. The theme of the school is to show you how smart and educated these children are. Look at the copperplate handwriting, their reproductions of Van Gogh and our languages corner where they’ve all had a go at telling us what they like in French. I spy a contribution from my girl. J’adore les chats et le gâteau au chocolat. 

I’ve lost track of the conversation so I try to catch up.

“So to push Fiona into those top scores, perhaps we can look into tutoring? For maths, in particular, so she can grasp some of the concepts a little more tightly,” says Mrs Hughes. 

My wife and I look at each other confused. “Uh, I don’t think there’s a need, right? She’s only five.”

“It’s never too early,” replies Mrs Hughes. “We run an after-school tutoring club on Tuesdays that would help.”

Back when I was a youngster, clubs were fun endeavours that involved matching baseballs caps or were a chocolate biscuit that you had in your lunchbox. Maths tutoring session was not a club.

I ask her. “Is it free?”

“It’s fifteen pounds per session.”

See? My point being this should be a parents’ evening, not a sales session.

“Well, then it’s something to think about,” says my wife. “It could be that Fiona catches up with people throughout the year.”

“Possibly,” Mrs Hughes nods. Still, though, she proceeds to go into her folder and passes me a form. Sneaky. “Fiona has also shown great interest in languages and art. Her pictures have been a joy.”

Mrs Hughes goes to a file and pulls one of Fiona’s drawings. I glance down at it. It’s a standard child piece of art. The grass and sky are strips of colour to the top and bottom. It’s a family portrait, and we are as tall as the broccoli style trees. Wait, hang on a second. I count the number of people in the picture again. Is that-

“And Mrs Styles, I gather congratulations are in order,” she says with a smile. “Such lovely news.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Fiona told me it’s a boy,” she adds, and the sheer terror on my wife’s face at the realisation is priceless. “You must be very thrilled.”

I study the picture. There’s a house in the middle, and standing in a line in front of the house is our family. The one slightly taller than the broccoli tree is me. I’ve got my white lab coat, and I look like a serial killer because I’m holding a scalpel with the size of a butcher’s knife. Next to me is my wife, also with a white lab coat, but instead of a scalpel, she’s holding a very chunky baby who rather looks like a basketball with a head.

“Oh dear,” I chuckle. “Guess now we know what she’ll ask for Christmas.”

“Yeah,” my wife shakes her head. “We’re not expecting.”

“Oh, I apologise,” Mrs Hughes says with a sheepish smile.

“No worries, Mrs Hughes,” I tell her. “So, what else has our girl been up to here? Besides gossiping of course.”

Mrs Hughes laughs under her breath. “Well, in class, Fiona is attentive, bright and very helpful. She is a credit to you both.”

***

“I swear your daughter, Styles.”

We’re sitting in the car now. Finally done with parents’ evening, still laughing at the slightly creepy, chunky basketball baby in Fiona’s picture and the fact that three people, including Mrs Hughes, have congratulated us for the ‘baby’.

“You haven’t called me Styles in years,“ I turn to her with a grin. “Not since medical school.”

I can’t help but flashback to the good ol’ days when we had matching university hoodies and we’d test each other on the parts of a kidney whilst walking into lectures, sitting next to each other, sharing pens and cans of Lilt. 

“Well, after that I became a Styles too,” she chuckles. “Would be confusing then, wouldn’t it?”

“True,” I laugh under my breath, then I grab her hand and pull it to my mouth so I can kiss her knuckles. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For being a Styles.”

“Aw, aren’t we soppy tonight?” She smirks. “Alright, stop the car.”

“What?”

“There,” she points to a dark empty spot and I oblige. 

Then, before I can even ask her why, she reaches over and grabs me by the collar. Pulling me close to her and gives me a kiss. I kiss her back, and I smile when she bites gently on my bottom lip.

“Oi, oi. Something’s got you randy.”

The next thing I know, she undoes her seatbelt and then rolls her trousers down her legs along with her knickers, fumbling and giggling at the awkward movement. I push my seat back and pull my trousers down. 

“Don’t fall on gearstick now,” I joke as she climbs over to straddle me. “Well, unless you want to, of course…”

She laughs as she lowers herself over my lap. I really can’t believe what’s happening here.

“Mrs Styles, we’re about to have sex in a car. Around the corner from our daughters’ school.” 

“I know,” she says with a smile before she runs her tongue along my neck. “Not our first rodeo though.”

“Oh right, we did it in our Volvo years ago, didn’t we? Thought the suspension couldn’t take it.”

“And it turned out fine. Told you that you needed to have more faith in the Swedes, they’re a reliable breed.”

“I love it when you talk about Sweden.”

“Ikea.”

“Fuck.”

“Meatballs.”

“Billy Bookcase.”

She throws her head back in laughter and I take this as an opportunity to run my tongue along her collar bone. She gasps. I reach down to lift her before I slowly lower her over my cock. We both sigh as I enter her, a long exhalation with our lips barely touching. 

“Viggo Mortensen.”

“Isn’t he Danish?”

“Tomato, Tomahto.”

I smile at my wife and push my hips up, silently telling her that we don’t need to talk about Swedish people anymore. She grabs onto the car seat and levers herself up and down. I look at her in the eye, a goofy smile still plastered across my face.

But then I squint. Light. Bollocks, what’s that? Where’s that light coming from? Crap, that’s bright. Shit. I see the flash of a hi-vis jacket, a knock at the window and someone shaking their head.

Oh sodding fucking bollocking shit wank.

[bookwyrminspiration]

It’s the way elves literally aren’t smarter than humans for me. Like, knowing more doesn’t make you smarter — not really, anyway. All it does is make them more knowledgeable. I know it’s said in the books that they have higher IQs or something… but it doesn’t really make sense? Idk maybe I’m not making much sense, but elves just don’t really seem smarter than humans.

Of course, part of that is that these books are being read to humans and is written by a human, but I think it would’ve make more sense if elves just prioritized the subjects they learn in school as having to be taught the way they do, and the subjects humans learn are like spoon-fed to them at a young age so they do seem smarter than the average human.

I don't remember if it's ever explained in a straightforward manner how, exactly, the elves are smarter than humans, but I think the general idea Shannon was going for was that the elves are smarter as in like...quicker processing, better memory, pattern recognition, etc. They understand, process, and implement information at a faster rate than humans, making them smarter. They're the gifted kids but an entire species

That's why "the slowest elf can still trump a human--even one with no proper education. (book one, pg 24). That's also where Fitz brings up how Sophie is so far ahead in her classes and has skipped so many grades. She's just mentally superior to all of them, which is attributed to her being an elf. However, being better at processing and recognizing patterns and things doesn't make them better if they don't implement their capabilities properly, if that makes sense. They have a higher capacity and average for intelligence, but they're still capable of making mistakes and misjudging things and everything else humans are.

And you're right! One of the things humans are frequently made fun of for throughout the series are their beliefs/understanding of the world, like Fitz calling the theory of relativity dumb and saying Einstein was wrong. Humans aren't as technologically advanced and also are a different species! They'd have no reason to know or believe that light leaping is possible and that it doesn't require infinite energy because humans can't do it and human science and knowledge is based on observation; humans have no one to observe who can light leap. They're not dumb because they don't know those things. Humans are actually doing pretty well based on the knowledge they have, and I don't think they should be judged based on knowledge they don't have and that elves are actively trying to keep from them

It's a little ironic that the elves are like "wow can't believe humans have such inaccurate beliefs about mythical creatures" (e.g. bigfoot) when they are the ones who have done out of their way to hide said creatures from humans and make sure they don't know the truth. They have completely separated their worlds as much as possible and then look down on humans for not having technology intrinsic to elves? Humans figured out their own things, it just didn't fit in with what elves saw as what they should be doing. Like nuclear weaponry. I am not saying it's a good thing but it's an example of what I'm taking about.

OH! I think I've got it. Maybe. Humans and elves are both smart, but in different ways and with access to different sets of information. Elves may have a natural advantage, but that's more to set Sophie apart from her peers than have a huge species wide impact. And because human intelligence isn't elven intelligence, elves don't value it and look down on humans without realizing that the humans could do the same thing to them for their own beliefs and customs.

though you are right that the book being written by a human with humans in mind, the characters are going to sound human! humans are supposed to be able to relate to the characters, and if they're mindbogglingly smart then there's going to be an unwanted disconnect. i think every writer can also attest to finding themselves in situations where their characters are smarter than them and they have to try and figure something out, and when writing a series where the species is naturally smarter than yours that gets hard!

it's an interesting conundrum that doesn't get brought up often in the series, so thanks for bringing it up!

[sabraeal]

Consider: Obi is green-red color blind

A Color by Any Other Name

Written for @aeroplaneblues for a surprise birthday gift! Many months ago she mentioned wanted to see a colorblind Obi, and I said, WELL WHAT A GOOD EXCUSE TO WRITE THIS PROMPT JOANNA GAVE ME. I hope your birthday is a good one, filled with a lot more nice surprises!

“Are you ever going to introduce me to your guard friends?” Suzu asks around a mouthful of dumpling. “Or are you embarrassed?”

To say Obi is unprepared, would be an understatement; there’s a pork bun lodged between his teeth, his gloves not only coated in pig grease but also far less effective against steam than he’d thought they’d be back when he’d just grabbed a plump little blob off the stall. He’d laughed off Suzu’s concerns about protective equipment; after all, if smiths use leather gloves, they’ve got to be just as good as an oven mitt.

They aren’t. Not to mention the roof of his mouth starting to have a real good think about peeling off and having a vacation. Maybe even with someone who doesn’t eat entire dumplings straight from the basket.

“Wha?” he manages eloquently, nearly drooling spicy meat drippings onto the street.

“I know I’m not cool like they are,” Suzu continues, warming to his new thesis. If his sudden flush of confidence is any measure, he’s spent more of time composing his arguments for this than Obi’s ever seen him work on his actual defense. “And I’m no good with a sword. Or fists. Or really any implement that isn’t a scalpel, and any opponent that isn’t already anesthetized. But I am very smart.”

There’s a thoughtful pause before Suzu adds, “Some people do enjoy that, you know.”

What Obi knows is that this kid tried this conversation on for size in front of Yuzuri, and she didn’t even bother to warn him as a courtesy. See if he buys her any more meat-on-sticks when she’s ‘left her purse in the lab’ now.

“That’s not--” he takes a hurried minute to swallow-- “not what’s happening. I didn’t...”

Even know you knew I didn’t work for the pharmacy. His teeth clamp shut around that winner, and its friend, I didn’t think you lot would want to hang out with a bunch of men without degrees. Not only would that encourage Suzu to make a scene right here, right now, but if it got back to Jirou-- well, if he thought Suzu could turn any day into a disaster, the lieutenant would make that seem like a vacation.

“I didn’t think you wanted to,” he settles on instead. Similar enough in feel, if...creatively edited. “You scholar types tend to flock together.”

“Well, sure,” Suzu murmurs, stymied, “but we’re friends too, aren’t we? If all my friends are your friends, then all your friends should be my friends.”

Only an academic could talk about arithmetic with that amount of confidence, especially the kind that involved transitive properties and letters, and all sorts of things that made Obi’s head spin.

“Well,” he hums, one boot scratching his calf. “You would know.”

Suzu whirls on him, staring down his long fox-snout of a nose. “You mean it? You’ll really...?”

“Sure. If that’s what you want.” He twitches his shoulders, more casual than he feels. “It’s fine if it’s you.”

There’s always been a lazy lilt to Suzu’s eyes, but it disappears now, all the sleepiness gone to surprise. “Me? You wouldn’t want to bring anyone else?”

“Well, definitely not Kazaha.” The glares he’d get bringing that twiggy pedant into the guardhouse might be enough to drop him dead on the spot. “And Yuzuri would be too popular.”

Suzu grimaces. “The number of admirers she’d get from a wink alone...she’d be unlivable.”

He can see it now, her ponytail bobbing with a buoyant glee, giggling through every painstaking penned line from her fan club-- “Think of all the bad poetry.”

“Honestly, that might make it worth it. At least I’ll feel better about not knowing the difference between a quartet and a quatrain.” Suzu takes a thoughtful bite of him bun. “And you couldn’t bring Shirayuki, of course.”

“Right.” Not a one of them could be trusted to keep their lips sealed; she’d hardly have to take a breath and someone would call her Obi’s lady, or ask how they met, or whether she’s still Mistress behind closed doors--

But Suzu wouldn’t know any of that. “Wait, why?”

“Well...” He has the grace to look chagrined about it, whatever it is. “You know. Her hair...?”

“Oh.” Obi shrugs. “Sure, I guess.”

“You guess?” Suzu stares. “Shirayuki has a non-zero amount of stories about being kidnapped for looking like a candied apple, and you guess there might be a fuss about bringing her ‘round to the guardhouse?”

“Well, none of you acted weird about it,” he snips, hiding his annoyance behind a bite of dumpling. “There’s no reason they will.”

“Of course no one at Lilias acted weird, Obi!” he squawks, arms flailing as he talks. “You couldn’t pay them to look at anything but their own project. But when a bunch of normal men with eyes and, uh, other working appendages see a cute girl with red hair and a soft voice, they’re gonna go crazy!”

His palm hooks around his shoulder, thumb digging into the hard knot at his collarbone. “Aw, come on. It’s not that special.”

“Not that--?” Suzu whips around, eyes round as dumplings. “Obi, she’s the only person I’ve ever seen with red hair.”

“You don’t get out much,” Obi deadpans. “No offense.”

“That’s not--” Suzu grunts, throwing up his hands-- “She’s the only person anyone’s ever seen with red hair!”

“Her dad’s is kind of red.” That observation wins him an unimpressed look, one that says you’re missing the point. “And Yuzuri had blue hair when I met her. That’s way more interesting--”

“It was dyed!” Suzu wobbles over to a wall, sitting with his head in his hands. “Shirayuki has a hair color so rare that the birth records in Clarines haven’t noted it in more than fifty years! And you think Yuzuri dying her hair with woad is more impressive.”

“Well, even her natural color is brighter than Miss’s. Not--” he waves a hand between them, quelling-- “that Miss’s hair isn’t nice enough. But I’d think that people would pay more attention to that.”

“...Brighter?” Suzu murmurs after a long moment, stilted. “Obi, could you tell me what color that sign is, right over there?”

“The one for the tea shop?” He wrinkles his nose. “Why--?”

“Just...indulge me for a moment.”

“All right.” He squints up at the moon cresting over a wolf’s head. “Blue.”

“Right, and, um, that coat over there.”

“Yellow.”

“Right.” Suzu’s voice is tight, stressed. “And what I’m wearing?”

Obi squints. This one’s a little harder, but he’s confident when he says, “Green.”

“Ah, right.” Suzu stands, a unsteady on his feet. “That would explain that, then.”

Obi blinks. “Explain what?”

“Obi,” Suzu begins, with all the gravitas of both a grim prognosis and a terrible joke. “You can’t see colors.”

*

It’s not the first time Obi’s played hound to his prey’s fox, but there’s something distinctly unsettling about it being Suzu that leaves him lagging behind, unsure of himself. Especially with the way he scurries through the concourse, bounding toward the mess hall with this idea caught between his teeth like chicken feathers.

“I can see colors just fine,” Obi informs him with far less confidence than he’d like. “Some of them are just hard to tell apart. Weren’t you and Yuzuri arguing yesterday about whether salmon is orange or pink?”

Suzu waves a hand at him, dismissive. “That’s different. Salmon’s both orange and pink, and what color it looks most like has to do with the composition of your eye-- and it’s pink by the way, with orange undertones--”

Between the two of them, Obi knows who he’d trust to know their colors. “Uh-huh.”

“You can’t make out red and green, which is different entirely, and--” the doors to the mess burst open beneath his hands, a noise lost in the din of a hundred scholars trying to share the same table-- “YOU GUYS WON’T BELIEVE WHAT I JUST FOUND.”

The whole of Shidan’s lab-- minus the man himself-- have taken up right by the door, bags and coats piled to save them their places on the bench. Suzu makes short work of the pile on his seat, haphazardly shoving them to the floor as he sits.

Kazaha peers at him and ventures mildly, “A new way to avoid finishing your thesis?”

“No,” Suzu hums between his grit teeth, “but I have found out--”

“I don’t think we need to do this,” Obi murmurs, handing Miss her muffler. “It’s not--”

“Obi,” he intones with far more gravitas than his name has ever strictly deserved, “can’t see colors.”

“Not at all?” Kazaha turns those sharp eyes to him, like he’s a specimen under glass. “Just black and white?”

“I can see just fine,” Obi huffs, tossing Yuzuri her coat before he slides onto the bench, knee knocking into Miss’s in a way that puts his heart through its paces. “Suzu is just making a mountain out of a molehill.”

“Is that so?” he hums with a grin. “Then what color is Shirayuki’s hair?”

He stifles a sigh. It’s best to put all this to bed now, before he’s stuck playing what’s this color for the next two years. “Red.”

“What’s the point of this?” Yuzuri yawns, already bored. Obi shoots her a grateful look, glad that at least one of them isn’t going to play Suzu’s game.

It’s too bad he’s already puffed up with unearned confidence, like an evolutionist at a botany lecture. “And what’s the color of Ryuu’s cloak?”

He knows it by heart-- how could he not, when the two most important people in this city wear matching ones-- but still Obi glances up, anticipating a trick. Ryuu stares back, confused and guileless. “Blue.”

“Great, good.” Suzu’s grin stretches from ear to ear. “Now what color is your scarf?”

Obi’s fingers knot in the fabric, the weft tickling the pads of his fingers. “Well, it’s...sort of reddish, isn’t it?”

This is the wrong answer.

“It makes so much sense,” Yuzuri murmurs in wonder. “You really don’t know how ugly Suzu’s outfits are. That’s why you still hang out with him.”

“Hey!” Suzu pouts. “That’s not very nice.”

“No, that has nothing to do with color, it’s the cut.” Anxiety spikes through him. “But wait, it is red isn’t it? My scarf?”

“No,” Miss murmurs at his side, cheeks flushes. “Obi, it’s...it’s green.”

He stares down at it, trying to imagine what that might look like. “Green.”

“It looks very nice on you!” Her small fingers wrapping in the fur at his elbow. “It’s your color, really.”

“Oh, sure,” he murmurs, faint. “I guess it matches my eyes.”

“Hey, what do you mean ‘it has nothing to do with the color?’“ Suzu’s hands fly to his hips, brows drawn tight over the long line of his nose. “My clothes are just fine.”

“They aren’t.” Obi leans in next to him, grin feeling thinner than it should. “But I hang out with you anyway, which means you know we’re really friends.”

Kazaha rubs at his chin, where his ode to Shidan’s goatee is failing to thrive. “You know what this also explains?”

Obi blinks. “What?”

“All the black.”

It’s not Kazaha that says it, oh no. That would be too merciful for a mortifying moment out of his life. Instead it’s low and feminine, and when Miss Kiki leans out from the other side of Miss, it’s like a siren emerging from the depths, teeth bared to tear a man to shreds. “What an interesting thing I’ve learned today.”

“Miss Kiki! How--?” He gulps. “Why--?”

“I came to deliver a message from Wirant,” she drawls, too pleased. “And it seems I’ve earned myself a fine tip.”

“No,” he breathes. “You can’t-- you’re not going to tell Master, are you? Or Sir?”

“Oh,” she hums, looking particularly hungry for manflesh. “I certainly will.”

*

“Oh, there there.” Miss pats his back, the sensation lost among the dozen layers of clothing between them. “I’m sure Kiki won’t tell them, not until you’re ready! You asked her not to.”

“I think that just means,” Obi mutters, voice muffled by his arms and the wall he’s throwing himself over, “that she’ll just enjoy telling them more.”

“Ah...” He doesn’t need to see her to know her grimace. “Yes, that’s...probably right.”

He lets out a heavy, dramatic sigh. It helps a little. So does a bit of flailing.

“They won’t make a big deal out of it,” Miss says, changing tack. “It hardly changes anything! I’m sure they’ll just forget as soon as she tells them.”

He peeps one eye over his elbow. “That’s easy for you to say, you haven’t spent the last half an hour playing What’s That Color.”

“Well,” she wheedles, “they are scholars.”

Obi groans, loud and long, which doesn’t help; but it echoes out over the rooftops, returning back to him, which does.

“How...?”

Miss hesitates, a gloved finger pressed to her lips. He sighs, already braced for the onslaught-- how didn’t you know? how did you go so long without knowing your colors? how do you find people if you can’t even tell what hair color they have--?

“How did you notice?”

Obi lifts his head, unblinking. “What?”

“How did you notice?” Miss repeats, more firmly this time. “You’ve spent your whole life this way, haven’t you? It must have taken something really special to realize there was more than what you see.”

“Uh.” It’s nice that it’s darker here, that it’s cold. He has perfect legitimate reasons to be flushed. “Well, it was Suzu really. He mentioned that--” his teeth clamp down around his words, not letting them out without a hasty edit-- “that people think your hair’s pretty special, and I said I didn’t get why...”

Miss stiffens beside him, a statue that breathes, and he hastily adds, “Not that you aren’t special, Miss. It’s just, the red...”

“Right.” The words comes out stilted, strange. “You can’t see it. You actually...haven’t ever seen it.”

A silence settles on them like a wool blanket; not one of those nice ones at the castle, or the fleecy ones Miss stockpiles like one day the North might run out of sheep, but the itchy, coarse-woven ones of his childhood. Uncomfortable and smelling faintly of animal.

“So,” he coughs, fixing his gaze out over the city. “What did Kiki want?”

“Oh...” Miss shifts, mouth pulling into a guilty grimace. “She came to tell me that the Queen Dowager has invited me to dinner. Tomorrow night.”

His brows raise. “Well, well.”

“Don’t,” she murmurs, head giving the barest shake. “It’s not like that.”

“Are you sure?” He shouldn’t press, but if he doesn’t, no one else will. “After you told Master--”

“I told him a list of reasons why I thought I would be a better ally as a friend, and not as a...” Miss loses steam, letting her words sigh into the air. “I’d like to believe this has to do with my work with Phostyrias.”

He watches her, careful. “But do you?”

“I don’t know,” she says, which is as good as any no.

*

Obi’s barely stepped into the Protector’s solar when Master asks, “What color is my jacket?”

His head swivels, delivering a glare so flat carpets would be jealous. Miss Kiki only hums, shoulder lifting in a disinterested shrug. “I said I was going to tell them.”

Fair enough.

“It’s blue,” he deadpans, flopping onto the cushiest divan. He’s too long for it, his boots spilling off one arm a idling over the floor. “Apparently I can see that one just fine.”

According to Miss, at least; she’d unearthed a slip of a book from the university’s library, outlining the limits of his sight. Little Ryuu had pored over it for a day before showing up at his door, flushed faced and nervous.

Garrack always told me I had nice eyes, he’d admitted, lingering at the threshold. I was hoping you could see them.

Cross as he is about the whole thing, Obi can’t regret that. He might not have Miss’s hair, or Suzu’s coat-- thankfully-- but Ryuu’s eyes would always look true to him.

“But not red.” Master’s mouth twitches, far too entertained. “Or green.”

“I do see them,” he protests. “They just...don’t look very different to me.”

Just another shade of yellow and brown, if those books are right. Which they are, since he’d always thought so. Subtly different, like the way Suzu and Yuzuri fought over salmon, or Master and Miss Kiki would dither over chartreuse. Just enough that he’d been able to eke by on keeping his mouth shut and a fondness for black.

Still, there’s nothing worse than finding out something new about yourself this late in the game. Especially when--

“What about the curtains?” Master inquires. “Can you see those?”

--Especially when it’s so endlessly entertaining to everyone else. “I can see them,” he grumbles, sinking further into the cushions. “Just because I can’t see some colors doesn’t mean I’m blind.”

“Then what about the note?”

Obi rolls his gaze to where Sir perches at his desk. “Huh?”

“To our red-haired guest.” Sir coughs, a flush working its way up his neck. “It’s just-- you wrote that.”

“Oh, His Grace told me that one.” A lifetime ago, it seemed. “‘The red-haired girl, you’ll know her when you see her, I’m sure.’“

Master winces. Obi can admit his talent doesn’t lie with impressions, especially ones of dour old men.

“Right,” Sir presses, voice oddly tight. “But you don’t see-- I mean, how could you find a girl that looks just like everyone else?”

“Ah...” He grimaces, scrubbing at the top of his head. “Well, I just looked for the girl who didn’t belong. It--” he hesitates, suddenly aware of Master’s eyes on him-- “didn’t take very long.”

Master’s frown belongs above one of those prie-dieu, to remind penitents that forgiveness isn’t absolute. “What is that supposed to--?”

“So what does she look like?” No one could say that after a decade of dedication, Miss Kiki doesn’t know how to do her job; she deflects Master’s brewing sour mood with the ease of a professional. “What does her hair look like to you?”

“Uh.” He clears his throat, tugging at his collar. “I wasn’t lying when I said I bought my scarf to match...”

There is a stillness to the room that is too much, too pitiful. Much as he hated it, Obi would much rather be a joke than a charity case.

“Huh,” Sir grunts, gaze still fixed to his neck. “Now I wonder what we all look like to you.”

“Well, I sort of wonder what you all look like to yourselves.” Obi let a sigh float wistfully through his lips. “At least I know that me and Miss still have the same eyes.”

There’s silence again, but this one buzzes, filled with words no one dares to say.

“What?” he laughs, nervous, pulling himself upright. “Don’t we?”

Sir grimaces. “Ah, Obi...”

*

Miss is quiet when they walk the walls home that night, the winter stillness making the silence and heavy as any drift. Her mouth is pursed, not with anything like anger, but something closer to consideration. As if there’s words back there she’s sorting through, trying to compose a thought that just won’t come.

Well, she should know: she won’t get anywhere if she doesn’t air a few of them out to look at. “Something wrong, Miss?”

She blinks, shaken out from wherever she gone away. Her mind palace, maybe. Suzu’d told him about those once, with busts and painting and curtained alcoves. What she’d do with a place like that, he couldn’t imagine, but if anyone asked, he’d put his money on hers having apothecary drawers instead, and gardens too. The kind with half crumbled walls, ivies curled around every stone. Cluttered desks piled high with books, and one of them with curtain drawn to let its owner nap the afternoon away.

“Oh,” she breathes, finally. “No, no. Nothing’s, um, wrong. I was just...thinking.”

He lifts a knowing brow. “So something is wrong.”

“That’s not what I said,” she informs him, primly. “I was going over my meeting with Haruto, and...”

Her lips snap shut around the words, distress narrowing her eyes. “And...?”

“She didn’t know about my work,” Miss huffs, arms wrapping tight around her chest. “Or, she did, but only what Zen had told her. Which...”

Was far less than the whole of it. He’d heard that part of her argument that night, try as he might not to. “So she invited you as Zen’s ally?”

“No.” The word is colder than any he’s ever heard fall from her lips. “That I wouldn’t mind-- I’m still trying to be his ally, after all, and if she saw me as an asset...” She shook her head. “No, she wanted to meet his...paramour, even if she didn’t say as much.”

Obi grimaces.

“And even that wouldn’t be so bad if...” Miss took a deep, steeling breath. “When I came in, after all the curtsies and pleasantries, she said, your hair is just as red as he said it was.” Her knuckles are white where they wrap around her elbows. “All those years, all those letters, and the only thing he thinks to tell his mother is that my hair...”

The rest is lost in a sigh, a cloud of mist swirling off the wall.

“It must really be something,” Obi deadpans, gaze following it off the edge. “Since it makes all these people forget how smart you are.”

She’s watching him; he can feel it as she sidles up to where he stands, hands unclenching from her arms and splaying on the crenellations instead. “Obi, you really can’t...?”

Miss hesitates, falls silent. He lets her; she’s put enough words in the air to sort through, and now all she needs is time. Obi’s happy to give it to her.

Especially since there’s a rabbit down there in the dark. A small one, moving slow, hind legs churning like clockwork winding up. It’s nose digs into the snow, snuffling around, searching--

“Can you really see better?” Miss asks, startling him back to the wall. “In the dark, I mean. That book said you could.”

“Well, after the past couple days, I’m a little shaky on what’s normal.” He jerks his chin over the edge. “Can you see the rabbit down there? Right by that sapling?”

She blinks, pressing in close. “The what? It’s just...dark out there.”

“Well,” he says, grin tight on his lips. “There’s your answer.”

Miss settles back on her heels, one hand already cupping her chin. “It makes sense. Without the distraction of color, your movement tracking must be much more acute...”

Obi only half-manages to stifle a laugh. “Seems like it definitely distracts everyone else.”

Miss goes quiet; almost too quiet, enough to make his teeth sit on edge. The seconds tick by, and Obi might play at patience, but it’s not in his nature. He glances down, just from the corners of his eyes, but Miss is already watching him, eyes strangely shuttered.

“Obi,” she says, so clear his name rings in his ears. “You don’t...? My hair, it’s not...” Her mouth works, quiet, before she manages, “It’s not anything to you?”

Anything special, she means. Because that’s what he said so stupidly last night, nothing special.

She’d tied it up tonight, finagling the strange looping knots that were partial to the queen’s court, but already some of it’s worn loose, slipping from its pins. “It is,” he murmurs. “I like it.”

She huffs, unimpressed. “But you can’t see it, not really.”

“Of course I can see it,” he laughs, weary. “Maybe not the color, but that’s fine. I like it because it’s yours.”

She ducks her head, and Obi might not be good at colors, but he can see her cheeks flush in the lamplight.

“Miss.” Her gaze lifts to his, no longer shuttered, just full. “Can I ask you something?”

Her breath catches. “Anything.”

“Be straight with me,” he pleads. “We do have the same eye color right?”

*

“Obi!” Miss‘s laughter bubbles bright with betrayal as she hops down the stairs after him. “Obi, please--”

“Let me grieve, Miss,” he grumbles, hands shoved in his pockets. “I��ve been a real champ about the rest, but let me have this.”

“Obi!” She catches him round the wrist, mouth twitching as she turns to him. “Is it really so bad that they’re gold?”

“No,” he mutters sullenly, shoulders slumped enough that with two stairs between them, they’re nearly the same height. “It’s just...”

Her eyes flutter wide with curiosity. “Just...?”

“It’s fine enough that they’re unique.” He spits the word with more venom than it deserves. “I just I wanted this one thing in common.”

“In common?” Miss blinks. “You mean, me and...?”

Obi would lay down his life for his mistress, but even she can’t ask him to do this, to lay down his pride for her to walk on.

“Oh!” She flusters, limbs fluttering in the air between them. He’s half-tempted to turn away again, but she grabs his face and holds him steady, her cold, slender fingers caught behind his jaw. “Just-- just one moment...”

“Miss?” he wheezes. This is entirely too close, too much--

“Yes!” He breath flutters over his lips, her own parting in a celebration of teeth. “That’s it. I see it. There’s a little, right there.”

He blinks. “A little what, Miss?”

Her teeth flash around the word, “Green.”

It’s cruel to throw a starving dog a bone, but he snaps it up anyway, heart nearly clogging up his throat with hope. “D’you mean it? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Really,” she promises, her nod serious and officious as any she might give Little Ryuu. “There’s a thread, right around the middle. Green. Just like mine.”

“Oh.” His own hands raise, leather muting the feel of her skin, but-- Master always told him about the red thread that bound him and Miss together, that drew them toward their fated meeting, but this-- Obi will take this too. “Thank you, Miss.”

She smiles, eyes shining bright in the lamplight. “No, Obi, it’s my pleasure.”

Not much different between green and red to him, anyway.

[hot-wiings]

The One Where Denki And Mina Think Katsuki Needs To Be A Softer, Nicer Boyfriend, And An Insecure Katsuki Agrees, But [Y/N] [L/N] Doesn't Want A Nicer Boyfriend, She Wants Him.

Requested By: @spicyhokage

Edited: 1-6-2021

It was late when Katsuki came in through class 2-A's dormitory doors. Being his second year at UA the school was allowing students to go back into student internships. With Best Jeanist still off the streets, Katsuki wound up interning with Fatgum, using the link between Eijirou and him to get in. Katsuki hadn't expected to be out for so long, there had been a bad villain that showed up at a different agency and it was a perfect match for both his and Fatgum's abilities. Fatgum had allowed Katsuki to work on it with him, nevermind the fact that Katsuki had already planned a study date for your upcoming test Monday, he jumped at the chance to work with the heroes.

Katsuki knew, or at least he hoped, that you wouldn't be that mad or upset at him for ditching you at the very last minute. It was a leg up in the hero industry, it was a helping hand, he could make more connections and improve his skills. As a student hero, you should know how important this is. He'd want you to make the same choice if it was reversed.

Despite abandoning your date, Katsuki wasn't heartless. He bought a bouquet of hydrangeas as an apology. Apologies weren't something he was good at, but he hoped you would accept it. Katsuki was hoping you would be up waiting for him in the dormitory lounge when he came back, but he knew that one was a longshot. He'd rather have you in bed resting, or making up for the studying he promised to help with but hadn't. Katsuki was hoping he'd find you in the dormitory lounge waiting for him, but instead, he found two of his peers.

"You were out awfully late, weren't you?"

"Shut it, pink face. I need to go see [Y/N] and then head to bed, like a smart student. You and dunce face do realize that we have a big test Monday, don't you?"

Katsuki marched right past Mina and Denki, who were sitting on the couch, towards the elevator to get up to your dorm. If he was right, Mr. Aizawa would be asleep by this hour, and getting into your dorm would be no issue. Katsuki stopped walking towards the elevator when he hears Minas' voice speak out again.

"Did you really get hydrangeas for her? You ditched her for your internship and you got hydrangeas? Girls like roses Katsuki. If a guy ever brought me hydrangeas, I'd kick his butt to the door. Queens deserve better."

"What the fuck are you implying raccoon eyes?"

Katsuki turned back around to yell at Mina for implying that he wasn't good enough for you. He nearly crumpled the flowers by clenching his hand. Mina didn't know what she was talking about. He had brought you hydrangeas several times before, you never complained about it. Denki spoke up to try and intervene Katsuki from blowing up on Mina.

"I think what Mina meant to say is that we're just worried for you. You really like [Y/N], right? Take it from a guy who gets dumped by girls a lot. Pretty girls like [Y/N] don't need to sit around waiting for guys like us. While you're trying to further your career you're ditching her, not to mention, when is the last time you showed her affection?"

"For starters, dunce face, don't call my girlfriend pretty. Secondly, there are no guys like us and girls like [Y/N], there's me, her, and all of you fucking extras that need to get out of my relationship."

"Fine, don't take our advice. Just so you know, [Y/N] isn't in her dorm, she's in the kitchen."

Mina practically sings her words out, and Katsuki changes his course of route from the elevator to the kitchen. He had a scowl on his face the entire time, courtesy of Mina and Denki. He had to restrain himself from beating them with the bouquet. Katsuki reached the kitchen door and he took a minute to recompose himself from his previous anger to a calmer version of himself. He pushed the door open with a calmer smile on his face but stops after opening it halfway.

"What's the answer to number two?"

"Uhm... 6?"

"That's right! Here's your reward."

Katsuki clenched his fist, practically ruining the flowers. He ditched you and your study date, he shouldn't be getting so mad at seeing you and Deku study together. You can have friends other than him. You can be around members of the male gender other than him. Even if it is shitty Deku. You're allowed to have a life outside of Katsuki, but as Deku broke apart a cookie and threw it right into your mouth, a sweet reward for getting the question right, he was ready to toss hands with the boy.

"We're gonna ace this test Monday. Thanks for studying with me Deku. I hate studying alone and you're great at math. Usually, Katsuki helps me, but he got busy."

"It's no problem, [Y/N]. Seriously, I'm always here if you need me."

Katsuki quietly pulled the door shut instead of going in and interrupting you and dumb Deku. Maybe Mina was right. Katsuki thought about it more as he walked back to Mina and Denki. He didn't really show you affection that much, and he did spend a lot of time in the gym or at his internship. His idea of a date was training together or studying. You probably hated the flowers but chose not to speak on it. If he didn't change, change now and fast he was going to lose you to that shit-munch. He needed to show you he was the better more deserving man. As Katsuki stared at Mina and Denki he uttered the words he never wanted to say to them.

"I want your fuckin' help."

"Bring [Y/N] roses. Girls love roses. Not a daffodil, not baby's breath, not a tulip. Roses."

Roses were Mina's first piece of advice to Katsuki. According to her, girls only cared about getting roses, and every other flower was inferior. She also said apology flowers must be paired with chocolates. Katsuki personally thought that was bullshit. He had been bringing you different breeds of flowers throughout your entire relationship and never once had you vocalized disdain for it. But Mina is a girl unlike him, so she must have had some kind of special insight. You must have just not wanted to make him feel bad for messing up. Katsuki knew he was inexperienced in the dating area, but he hadn't realized he was screwing up so badly.

Katsuki did exactly what Mina said. Saturday afternoon, Katsuki showed up at your dorm with a bouquet of yellow roses and a box of chocolates, the milk chocolate kind. According to Mina, milk chocolate was better than dark chocolate. He knocked on the door after checking his phone for the time. He knew you didn't like getting up early on the weekend, and you had been up late studying the night before. Twelve-thirty seemed like a reasonable time to stop by.

You opened the door, slippers on your feet, eyes barely opened, and a crinkled forehead as you tried to slightly open them to see who you were staring at. You had a pair of shorts on and one of Katsuki's sweatshirts. One you promised you hadn't seen and swore he must've lost in the dorms laundry facility. Katsuki smiled down at your sleepy form, you were adorable. Once you registered who it was you yawned and crossed your arms as you lazily leaned against the door frame and let a small smile cross your face.

"What're you doing here? You were out so late last night, you must be exhausted."

"I could say the same about you, you look like the epitome of tired. How late were you up?"

"No later than two. When did you get in?"

Katsuki didn't want to tell you he came in at midnight. You would've asked him why he didn't come to see you, and he didn't want to say that he saw you and Deku studying together. He didn't want to admit that he felt pained at seeing you together so close. Pained at you needing and using Deku as you would him. Katsuki held up the roses and chocolates and thrust them into your arms.

"I didn't even check the time. I brought you apology flowers and chocolate for ditching you. They're roses!"

"O-Oh, they're yellow."

You took the items he thrust into your arms and moved further into your dorm so he could come in. You set the chocolate down on the bed but kept observing the flowers. Katsuki was quite proud of the flowers he picked out. They were pretty and blooming, and he thought you'd like them. Yellow roses would look good in your dorm room. You, on the other hand, were not ecstatic with the flowers. You bit your lip and tried to make your smile bigger. Did he know what yellow roses symbolized? He had to of known, even Denki would know something this simple. Maybe you were reading into it too much, they're just flowers. It was a gift, not a death sentence to your relationship.

"I'll have to go to the kitchen and see if there's anything I can put them in."

Katsuki could sense you being standoffish. He assumed you were upset at him for ditching you the previous night. He did the flowers right, he would just have to go the extra mile to make you happy with him by serving your needs.

"I can go to the kitchen and find a vase! You just shower or get dressed, or whatever, and I'll even bring you up some lunch."

"You don't have to do that. I can get dressed and do it myself."

"I don't have to do it, I want to do it."

Katsuki cupped your cheeks and pressed a quick kiss against your lips. They were soft and sweet. Katsuki could taste the residue sugar from the cookies you had been eating the night before and he pulled back with a frown, making you frown just as much. He wasn't mad that you didn't brush your teeth, although you should have. He was upset at the reminder that Deku was with you when you were supposed to be having a study date. He was upset that Deku was the one who stayed up with you until two in the morning. He was upset that Deku was acting like a better boyfriend when he was just your friend and nothing more. Katsuki should've been doing more, he should've been doing a better job.

"I really am sorry for ditching you yesterday. If you want, we can redo the date today."

"I really missed you yesterday. I did some cramming with Deku, but I don't think he's as good of a teacher as you are."

"Of course dumb Deku isn't as good as me. I'll grab my books before I come back, we'll have a nice do-over date."

Hearing you say that Izuku wasn't as good as him made him feel good. It was slightly reassuring to Katsuki, yet he couldn't stop this budding feeling every time he thought about you and Izuku studying last night.  

"Buy her something nice. Something nice like jewelry. I always see you buying her practical stuff, that's boring. Girls like pretty shiny gifts from their boyfriends."

Mina's second piece of advice had been to buy you some jewelry. According to Mina jewelry was an acceptable gift for a boyfriend to buy his girlfriend. Katsuki had been buying you practical and weird gifts throughout your relationship. He thought they were good, he thought they were sweet and enjoyable. He supposed he was wrong. With every piece of advice from Mina, Katsuki was getting punched in the gut. He thought he was treating you right, he thought he was doing this whole relationship thing right, but he wasn't. If he didn't fix things fast then dumb Deku would steal you away from him.  

Katsuki felt inside of his pocket for the necklace he bought you. He had Mina help him pick it out that morning. It had been sitting there in a pretty little black box with a red bow waiting to be opened. He wanted to give it to you when he gave you the flowers, but he didn't want you to view it as an apology gift, he wanted it to be viewed as a sweet, 'I was thinking of you', gift.

By the time Katsuki had gotten back to your dorm room, you were all showered and dressed in fresh clothes. You were wearing comfortable clothes, and Katsuki had to smile again. You looked simply perfect. With your hair pushed back by a headband, sweatpants, and another one of his sweaters which you practically swam in, you looked angelic to him. Katsuki put a bag containing your lunch on the small table you had in your room, he placed the vase containing your new flowers there too before pulling out your lunch. You grabbed his book bag from him with a smile and began to pull his books out and place them alongside yours in a neatly organized fashion to create a nice study space.

"What'd you find for lunch?"

"There wasn't much in the fridge to quickly grab, so I made some curry."

"I love it when you cook. It always tastes good."

You smiled at Katsuki and placed a quick peck against his cheek before taking a seat next to him. His chest swelled with pride as he watched you freely dig into the container of food. You liked his cooking, and as he watched you feast in it he knew you weren't lying. At least he did one thing right on his own. One more wrong thing and he was sure he was going to blow a casket.

"Aren't you gonna eat?"

You stared at him with half-lidded eyes and spoke with your mouth half full, barely pronouncing your words but Katsuki still knew what you were saying. He stopped staring at you and began working on his own dish. Every once and a while Katsuki noticed your eyes go from your food to his face and then to the flowers before diving back to the food. He supposed you really liked them. It felt good knowing he was doing it right. It felt good knowing you were happy and content with him for the moment.

You wiped your face off and just as you were about to clean up your lunch mess Katsuki jumped up and took care of it. He grabbed your lunch containers and closed them before tossing them back into the bag he brought them in. He took a wet wipe and wiped up your table and then proceeded to toss the dirty wipe in the trash bin.

"Ready to study?"

"Yup! You're a really good teacher, I really look forward to our study dates."

You walked over to your bed and took a seat on the ground whereas Katsuki laid across your bed in a position where he could have a book out and also easily look over the edge to see what you were doing. This was how you always did your study dates. Katsuki would work and watch to see if you were slacking off, then you would switch books and quiz each other. Slowly the clock clicked away, each passing second made Katsuki grow antsy. He wanted to give you the stupid neckless he had inside his pocket. Katsuki huffed as he slammed his book shut and pushed it off of the bed. You craned your neck back to see what Kastuki was doing before narrowing your eyes, no way did he think he could stop studying while he made you work.

"What are you doing? Are you studying up there?"

"No, c'mere."

You huffed as you pulled yourself up off of the floor and crawled onto the bed next to Katsuki. A mixture of blankets and skin touched you as he wrapped his arms around your body and pulled you so your back was flush against his chest. He let his head rest inside your neck, and you struggled to pull out of his grip.

"What are you doing? We're supposed to be studying."

"I don't wanna study right now. The test is Monday, we can still study tomorrow."

You bit your lip as you contemplated his offer. He had a point. The test was Monday morning, and it was only Saturday, not to mention that you had studied with Deku yesterday. The offer was just so out of character for Katsuki, part of you wondered if it was a trick and thought he was going to pull out a piece of rolled-up newspaper to hit you with like he did for Eijirou. You let yourself sink into his arms, you had been up to this for a while, you deserved a break.

"Okay, but only a small break. got it?"

"Mm. I got you something."

Katsuki pulled away from your body to dig in his pocket and pull out the small black box. You rolled over so you could face him and your gift with a growing smile on your face. You loved Katsuki's gifts. Whether it was intentional or not, he always got you something you needed. Whether it was you complaining about cold hands or your lack of working pens, the next day you would find gloves and a pack of pens with a note from him saying something stupid, like 'You better use these to take your shitty notes' and 'If you get arthritis in your hands you can't become a hero'. It was always a surprise and a delight. Katsuki handed over the box and you tore the bow off before opening it.

"It's a necklace!"

"Oh, it's very cute."

You tried not to frown as you looked over the necklace. You tried you're best to put a beaming smile on your face. It was still a gift and you needed to show your gratitude. It wasn't as conventional as your other gifts, but it was still pretty. Maybe it had a special meaning? Maybe he saw it and thought of you? It was just so unusual. He never bought you jewelry and the style was obviously not his.

"Did you pick it out yourself?"

You tried not to make it sound like you were fishing for an explanation as you smiled and clasped it around your neck to show how much you 'loved' it. Katsuki contemplated telling you he picked it out himself but seeing as you were friends with Mina he wasn't sure what she'd say and he didn't want to look bad.

"Well, I got a little help. Figured a female's perspective wouldn't hurt."

Suddenly you felt sick to your stomach. Not only had he given you a necklace, an unconventional and unusual gift compared to the ones he usually gave, but he let a girl pick it out. There was no special meaning, it was just pretty. Your mind went back to the flowers. The yellow roses. He bought you yellow roses. Your whole relationship he brought different breeds and types, never roses. Especially not yellow, the color that represented friendship.

"Thank you, I love it!"

You wrapped your arms around Katsuki, bringing him into a big, tight hug. Although you were with him physically, mentally you were in other places. That dark place in the back of your head was telling you why he gave you these offhanded weird gifts. The dark place in the back of your head was filling you with untrue silly thoughts, yet you couldn't help but let your head entertain them and wonder. The more you wondered, the more you wanted to rip your neckless off.

mina

Pop music could be heard blaring loudly from a BlueTooth speaker connected to Mina's phone as you walked into her dorm room. Without knocking you barged right in, Mina supposed there really was a reason you and Katsuki were together. You were both bluntly rude and sometimes you didn't even realize it. You flopped down at the foot of her bed and looked up at her before greeting your pink friend.

"Hey."

"Hi."

Mina didn't look up from what she was doing, she continued flicking through the pages of some fashion-forward girly magazine as she replied to you. You ran your fingers through her soft duvet as you looked around her dorm room. It looked like Claires threw up on the walls and it gave you a major headache. You and Mina had two different style sets, two sets of style very far apart.

"Did you study for the test tomorrow?"

Unlike her room, that was a subject that would give Mina a headache. Mina roughly flipped another page of the magazine she was holding as she let out an exhausted breath.

"No, and before you scold me neither did Denki. I swear Katsuki is rubbing off on you."

At the sound of his name, your hand went up and touched the necklace he got for you. You only wore it in case you saw Katsuki today, you planned to wear it for the next two weeks, then you'd pretend you lost it. You weren't a necklace kind of person, and it wasn't even sentimental. Mina tossed her magazine down on the bed and a smile played on her face as she saw the necklace between your fingers.

"That's a cute necklace? Did Katsuki get it for you?"

"Yeah, he did."

You answer Mina's questions and inquiries as you let the gem on the necklace slip out of your fingers. You couldn't help but let your face slip into a frown. You couldn't help it, the more you thought about the necklace, the further you fell into dark thoughts. It wasn't even the fact that it wasn't sentimental like all of the other gifts he gave you, it was the fact he let some girl pick it out. You weren't a controlling person, not remotely. If Katsuki wanted female friends he could have them, he did have them. While he wouldn't call Mina a friend, she was. Mina was a girl you felt comfortable with, however, you had already had a girl in mind of who you thought helped him, a girl who wasn't Mina. A girl you didn't feel comfortable with, a girl you knew you shouldn't feel comfortable with.

"Well, it's very pretty, if I had a boyfriend who brought me gifts like that I'd be over the moon. So I take it things between you and Katsuki are good then?"

"I guess, um, I just... I think Katsuki is cheating on me."

You started off in a stutter before you bluntly spoke out your words. The moment your voice hits your ears you cringe at yourself and cross your arms. It was such a ridiculous thought. A horrendous and dark thought that, lately, kept crossing your mind more often than it should be crossing and occurring.

"What? Why?!"

"He's just acting so strange and weird."

You pulled yourself up into a cross-legged sitting position on Mina's bed to talk to her. Mina moved and adjusted her own body, completely immersed in what you were saying. You played with your hand as your next words came out.

"Whenever he's out late he always, and I mean always comes to my dorm before going to bed. He didn't come to my dorm last Friday, instead, he shows up at my dorm Saturday afternoon with flowers."

"Flowers are sweet and romantic though. The fact that he bought them for you means he cares."

"Katsuki always brings me a wide variety of flowers. Hydrangeas, snapdragons, hyacinth. It's out of the ordinary and romantic, but this time he bought roses. Not just any roses, yellow roses. What kind of statement is he trying to make with that one?! Everyone knows yellow roses mean friendship and red means romance. Even Denki knows that."

Mina scratched the back of her head nervously. She supposed she should have explained to Katsuki to get red roses. Katsuki was unaware of things in the romance department. Mina needed to try and dial things back before Katsuki found out what you're thinking.

"Katsuki isn't very romantically smart, you're his first serious romantic relationship."

"Yeah, but we've been dating for nearly a year, and that's not even it. We were studying yesterday, and you know how strict Katsuki is when he's studying, you've seen him with Eijirou. Katsuki was not strict at all, he made me stop studying to cuddle. To cuddle! Can you believe that?"

"Well... Maybe he's trying to be sweeter to you, I mean look at the necklace he got you, it's so romantic."

"Don't even get me started on the necklace! Katsuki always brings me sentimental and meaningful gifts. He buys me pencil led when I'm low, and notebooks when he sees my paper is getting down to the end, he buys me gloves when he notices mine are lost or have holes. They're stupid and meaningful and I love it."

You ran your fingers through your hair distressed and upset. Yanking your hands through a few new forming snarls from laying on the bed, practically pulling some hair strands out.

"The necklace isn't meaningful, it doesn't have sentiment, and he didn't even pick it out himself! Some girl picked it out for him."

"Why, didn't he say who? It doesn't mean anything. The girl is probably a friend."

"I think I already know who the girl is. It's some stupid brunette from Shiketsu High. They met during his supplementary lessons, they met again after their internship heroes started working together regularly. She saw him when we were walking to get coffee and she just had to stop and talk to him, she was obviously flirting with him."

You had never felt more awkward at that moment. She was blatantly flirting with him, whether she knew that you were together or not, you didn't know. You didn't expect Katsuki to talk about his relationship during his internship, he was supposed to be working, but you didn't trust her. You knew from that moment the brunette was going to be trouble. She was interested in your boyfriend and that spelled out trouble to you.

"'had a little help' he says, staking her claim on what's mine I say."

"[Y/N], I don't think katsuki would cheat on you. He wouldn't do that."

Mina felt completely nervous. She hadn't realized you and she had such different opinions on romance and what was wooing and not. Katsuki was romantic, he was doing nothing wrong, she just didn't see it from your point of view. Mina had worried Katsuki for nothing and gave bad romance advice which resulted in you worrying. Katsuki was going to kill her, she needed to fix this.

"[Y/N], Katsuki loves you a lot, don't worry, okay?"

"Okay, you're probably right, I'm thinking too much. I'm going back to my dorm, try to get some studying in before the test tomorrow."

Despite the pink girl's words you still didn't feel good. As you stood up and walked to her door, you still felt a rush of negative thoughts and emotions. You still felt winded and emotional. You still felt hurt and fearful of your relationship. You felt the same as you did when you walked into her dorm.  

You nervously tapped your leg up and down on the ground repeatedly as Mr. Ectoplasm and his copies passed out the scored math tests to the class. You supposed a quirk like that must be very useful as a teacher. You kept making little glances over at where Katsuki was sat and your heart clenched. You felt so ridiculous for suspecting he was cheating. You felt completely horrible. Mina was right, Katsuki loved you. Katsuki loved you and he would never cheat. The simple thought that he would was wrong, yet, this lingering feeling told you he was. 

Maybe you should talk to him about it. Maybe you should tell him and express your fears and worries. It was better to talk about things like this, it was better to express yourself rather than locking it up and away, where it could fester and damage your relationship. You looked back over at Katsuki, who caught your glace this time and smiled at you. The smile made you feel sick and guilty for feeling this way. You would tell him how you were feeling after class. The sooner it was out in the open the better. 

You turned back to your test sheet and frowned at the result. You got a forty. Forty. After all that studying you had received a forty. You wanted to be mad at Katsuki for not making you study harder, but you had studied with Izuku first hand. Maybe Ectoplasm would let you take a retest. Ectoplasm dismissed you all and you quickly folded up your test paper in half so no one could see your result as you exited. After you packed up your school bag you stood out in the hall and waited for Katsuki. 

The nerves in your stomach churned. You didn't want to tell Katsuki the negative thoughts that were running through you, you didn't want to tell him how you had dark thoughts and worries about him cheating, but you had to tell him. You had to put your thoughts and theories to rest. Katsuki came out in the hall with his own test papers in hand and you both began to walk to your next class. 

"What'd you score?"

"Got a ninety-two. You?"

"A forty."

You sighed as you clenched the paper in your hand. That was a D. Katsuki was on the fritz. He was trying to take Mina's advice. He wanted to be nice and softer to you like Mina told him he had to be, but he couldn't. You should've studied harder, he should've made you study harder. Katsuki gritted his teeth and took a deep breath to calm himself down before responding. 

"You'll do better next time!" 

"What is wrong with you?"

"What do you mean?"

You looked at Katsuki like he grew two heads. This wasn't your boyfriend, and you slightly wondered if Toga had infiltrated UA. He was never kind like this, he wasn't a positive person. He was supposed to yell at you. Tell you to study better. Tell you you needed to get good scores if you were going to become a hero with him. 

"It's just a bad test score, not every score can be a baller."

"I failed my test, you're supposed to yell at me. Tell me I'm stupid, tell me to study more. Tell me anything but that fake positivity shit! You are not acting like yourself, are you cheating on me? Is this guilt? Are you guilty?"

"No! Fuck, no!"

Katsuki dropped his bag and wrapped his arms around you. That wasn't how you meant to tell him about the thoughts you were having. You wanted to tell him calmly and respectfully, you hadn't meant to flat out accuse him, your thoughts just need up tumbling out that way. Katsuki's own reassuring words came stumbling out in your ear as he tightly gripped you against him.  

"You are perfect and beautiful, and so important to me. I would never cheat on you, I would never fuck up what I have with you. Why would you think that? I don't wanna make you feel that fuckin' way."   

"I know that. I know you wouldn't, but you have been acting so weird and different." 

"I need to be nice or else I'm going to lose you. I got insecure, but shit, I should be. You are so perfect, and you deserve roses and jewelry and the world. You deserve someone who cuddles you instead of studying and who doesn't make you feel like they're cheating and fuck-" 

You pull out of Katsuki's tight grip and cup his cheeks. Your fingers skimmed over his skin tenderly as you stared up at his red eyes and noticed how watery they were. Your heart broke, you thought he was unfaithful but he was really just scared of losing you.

"I don't want you to be soft and nice. You already give me the world Katsuki. You make me study because you care about me. I don't want you to get me roses and Jewelry, I hate it, and I love the stupid little gifts you get me. You don't give me affection and cuddles, but you do other things, like waiting to walk me to class and making me food." 

"You don't want me to be nicer?"

"No! Everything you do is already perfect. Everything you do shows me you care about me in your own way. I love the way you are, I don't want you to change."

Katsuki pulled you back into his arms and pressed a rough kiss against your forehead. He was doing everything right. He was better than dumb Deku, and your test score was proof of that. He wasn't going to lose you, Denki and Mina were wrong. 

"Come to my dorm tonight, you need to study better dumbass."

It didn't matter that the whole class watched the exchange between you both. It didn't matter that Mina had screwed with your relationship and felt very relieved to have gotten off scot-free, for now at least. It didn't matter because all Katsuki cared about was the fact that he was a great boyfriend, the best. He didn't have to be softer, nicer. He didn't have to change, you liked it. You loved him, the way he was. That was all that mattered.

[preciousthingsareprecious]

That Time Tim Totally Terminated Ra's Al Ghuls Entire Empire Part 1

So. I wrote something very silly. The title says it all, except it doesn't because this bad boy spiraled out to being over 10k and deserving of 2 chapters. Anyway, here is the first chapter featuring all the times Ra's kidnapped Tim because he wanted to recruit him.

Summary:

"Let us not beat around the bush,” Ra’s started, after taking a sip from his tea, “I have brought you here to make you an offer.” Tim nodded, that was obvious enough. Ra's had no reason to kidnap him this time beyond something like this.

“As you know, I’m always on the lookout for enterprising young individuals with both leadership and fighting experience to join the League of Assassins. Right now I’ve been on the hunt for the perfect person to fill a brand new executive role in a new chapter of my organization.”

AO3 Link

~

Tim wasn’t entirely sure how he’d ended up in this situation. No really. One moment he’d been in Gotham, crouched behind an old BMW that had been in the same spot for a month, waiting on Batman’s signal, the next he’d woken up in some lavishly decorated room. Was that silk? Or maybe velvet? He had no idea what was hanging around the bed he was laying in, but Tim really didn’t care.

What he was concerned about was his own personal state. He raised his arms --that alone was a good sign-- and confirmed that his mask was in place. He pushed himself up on the ridiculously plush bed, -which was unreasonably plush by the standards of a kid who'd grown up rich, and then gone to live with a guy who had both more money and even better beds.

The point was, the bed was so soft Tim actually had a bit of trouble sitting up.

When he did manage to right himself, he finished taking stock of his own situation and his surroundings. His Robin uniform was intact aside from his belt, but he saw that set on a trunk that looked at least as old as Bruce, a few feet away. The room was, as he already determined, lavishly decorated.

Tim pushed himself out of the bed and onto a carpet so thick he kind of wanted to pull off his shoes and curl his toes in it, but seeing as he still had no idea where he was, who took him, or why, he figured that was probably out of the question. He did make a mental note to ask Bruce for some better carpet when he got home. As a kind of gift for surviving a very weird kidnapping.

Instead, he moved to walk carefully around the room. He found no obvious traps, no cameras or speakers or microphones that were either hidden or out in the open, and both doors were unlocked.

The first he opened revealed a bathroom. The second he cracked open to peer out of. His eyes locked on that of an honest to goodness ninja standing guard outside the door. The man locked eyes with him and Tim snapped the door shut with a click.

Welp, that answered the who and maybe even the where of Tim’s abduction. Ra’s Al Ghul. He was pretty sure if he gave the ninja ten minutes to go find Mr. al Ghul himself, he’d have the why too.

While he waited, Tim snapped his belt back around his waist, comfortable to have its weight back, even if being in a League stronghold meant all the tricks in his pockets were basically useless on his own. Still, it was nice to feel fully like Robin again.

After that it was a matter of waiting.

Tim paced an actual trench into the thick carpet as he waited. Batman was of course looking for him. That was a given, he just had to wait for the man to find him. Or for Ra’s to send him home? He really wasn’t sure why the Eco-terrorist would have taken him in the first place beyond a really weird obsession with Batman's various sidekicks.

How come all of Bruce’s baddies seemed to have a strange fixation on Robins? It was weird how many went out of their way to kidnap and attempt to recruit him, Dick, and if the stories were to be believed, Jason too.

Just as Tim was starting to turn that particular thought over in his head, the door to his room opened and Ra’s himself strolled in.

“Timothy.” the man drawled.

“Ra’s.” Tim replied, suddenly totally and completely unsure what to do with his hands, voice, feet, and general self. This wasn’t a fight after all.

He settled for crossing his arms and being terribly glad his domino hid his eyes.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought you here.” Ra’s said.

Tim shrugged, “It doesn’t take the world’s greatest detective to guess that.”

The man frowned at him, and Tim started to wonder if maybe he should be watching his words a bit. He wasn’t in Gotham with Batman at his back after all. But then again, Ra’s must need something from him right? So a little sass was okay, what was Robin without a smart mouth after all?

“I mean--” Tim started, unable to stop himself now that he was thinking about it, “I can probably start to guess. You didn’t kill me and I’m not in a dungeon so you’ve got to want something from me right? I bet this is some blend of trying to win me over and also hold me above Batman because you--” he paused for a moment trying to remember if Bruce had been on Ra’s’ trail at all lately.

He dropped his arms and clapped, remembering, “You’ve been trying to break into energy and you want Wayne Enterprise to back you and legitimize your business. So you’re holding Tim over Bruce, but you probably want Robin because you and like half of Batman’s rogues have this weird obsession with teen heroes for some reason."

At some point he’d stopped looking at Ra’s and actually started pacing again. When he stopped talking his feet stilled and he looked back up at Ra's and grinned, ""So, am I hot or freezing cold?”

He expected Ra's to looked angry or irritated, instead he looked amused.

“You are quite warm. Though I would contend the assertion that I have a weird obsession with teen heroes. I am only interested in the exceptional, and you Timothy, are exceptional indeed.”

Tim gulped, “I mean--not really? But thanks.”

Ra’s waved him off, “We will speak more later. You are correct, I do intend to use you as a bargaining chip against your guardian--”

“Dad.” Tim interjected.

The man raised an eyebrow but continued, “However you are not a prisoner in the traditional sense. You may wander the compound with one of my men by your side to ensure you do not get into trouble. If all goes well you will be returned to Batman within a reasonable amount of time. Unless, of course, you do decide you would like to stay and learn from me.”

“I don’t really see that happening.” Tim said, “But I'll be sure and let you know if I make a sudden turn towards world domination.”

Again, Tim expected some kind of retaliation, but he was thankfully ignored. Ra’s left him with a warning not to cause undue trouble and soon Tim was alone in the room again.

He spent the next couple days wandering the compound somewhat aimlessly. He had a phone call with Bruce where he promised his dad that he was totally fine if a little bored, and spent the rest of his time trying to avoid Ra’s. The man was kind of relentless in his attempts at winning Tim over to his side and sought him out at meals, when Tim was trying to train a bit at one of the many gyms, and even once while Tim was wandering a rather fantastic garden. Each time, Tim did his best to wiggle out of the man's suggestions and just get back to wiling away the time between then and getting home.

Thankfully, it was all over in four days when Batman came crashing in with Nightwing and Batwoman to rescue him, and soon Tim was home and settling back into normal life.

He’d actually almost forgotten about the whole Ra’s kidnapping him until it happened again. Once had been a surprise, two times was starting to look deliberate.

This one lasted a week with Ra’s claiming it was because he still really wanted that energy deal and he just couldn’t understand why Bruce wasn’t willing to trade that for his ward (son Tim had ground out in irritation).

Tim almost believed him, until he woke one morning to find a pamphlet had been slipped under his door, it was literally a flyer promoting hiring in the League. Tim looked over it and had to laugh out loud. The text was done in a mix of papyrus and other fonts and whoever made it had used clip art. It looked like someone had typed it up in Microsoft word in like half an hour.

He spent the rest of his time there re-designing the flyer, with a ninja hanging over his shoulder as he used one of the League computers. The new one wasn’t the best flyer in the world, but Tim was pretty proud of it, and it was much better than the first draft.

When he was done, he pocketed the original, then pinned a note to the new one that said: Ha! Not until you get better designers.

Batman rescued him again, and Tim pushed the double kidnapping and Ra’s’ weird obsession to the back of his mind until the next time he was with Steph.

They were in the manor watching a Chopped marathon and Tim was telling her about both kidnappings.

“So he’s super into energy? How come he didn’t nab Dick? We all know he’s Bruce’s favorite.” Steph teased, popping a chip into her mouth.

“Setting aside that obvious lie, that’s the thing,” Tim continued, digging out the flyer he’d kept, “It has nothing to do with energy or Dick. I’m pretty sure Ra’s is trying to recruit me.”

He showed her the paper and Steph snorted, spraying chips out as she laughed, “No. Freaking. Way. I have to tell Cass. Let me show her this, please I’m begging you.”

Tim groaned, “Yeah, sure, but don’t you think it’s weird?”

She shrugged, taking the flyer to look it over, “Of course, but the B-man attracts weird like ice cream dropped on the ground attracts ants. Give him six months, and Ra’s will move onto a different way of trying to piss off Batman.”

“I hope so.” Tim said.

The third time Tim woke up in the elaborate room he was getting really sick of the decor and the headache that came with being knocked out and dragged halfway across the world.

“You know.” Tim started, the moment Ra's walked into his room (and it was actually Tim’s room he’d learned from one of the ninja guards), “You could have waited a month this time, to at least pretend this wasn’t all about your super weird plan to try and convince me into letting you adopt me.”

Ra’s opened his mouth to respond, but Tim wasn’t done.

“Which, by the way, I’m taken already. B did the whole adopting thing, so you missed that window. Though, I guess that probably doesn't really matter to you in the grand scheme of things since you keep kidnapping me. You are aware that kidnapping isn’t the best way to convince someone that your way is the right one, right?”

“Also, would it kill you to pick up some --I don’t know-- books on recruitment or something? I don’t understand how you’ve managed to get so many guys on your side it’s--” Tim started, but Ra’s had caught on to Tim’s mood at this point, conceded temporary defeat, and made a hasty retreat.

Tim didn't see him the whole rest of the day, and by the next morning Batman showed up, swinging in for another rescue and all was fine and good and normal for a while.

Until, of course, it wasn’t.

It was the fourth kidnapping that really set Tim off.

He woke up back in that stupid room with it’s stupid decor and those stupid posters ready to burn the place to the ground. But something stopped him, a premonition. Like if he was patient for just a little longer he’d find a good and proper form of revenge to take on Ra’s for his total inability to take a hint.

At some point two ninja came by to take Tim to meet with Ra’s. As they walked Tim couldn’t help but notice the posters literally lining the hallways they walked through.

They were of two wildly different styles, but both struck a thought of familiarity in his mind. One was obviously a play on the classic “I want you in the army” poster. The other ripped off old “pin up” recruitment posters. Both made him laugh, and Tim pulled a couple of each down to save to show the Titans. He had a feeling Bart and Kon would lose their minds over these.

He had just folded them up and shoved them in his back pocket when they reached an office. Inside, Ra’s sat in a chair and motioned Tim to sit in one across from him.

“Thank you for joining me, Timothy.”

Tim sat and shrugged, “Not like I had much of a choice.”

Ra’s waved him off. As he did, a different ninja from either of the ones who’d escorted Tim to the office came in with a tray of tea. He handed Ra’s a cup, then gave one to Tim, and left the set on a table between them.

The whole vibe was kind of awkward and strange. Tim felt very much like he had one time a year ago when he’d realized halfway through a date that things were not going to work out. He hadn’t been able to end the date then and there, and had spent another two hours awkwardly making small talk and trying to avoid promising a second date.

“Let us not beat around the bush,” Ra’s started, after taking a sip from his tea, “I have brought you here to make you an offer.”

Tim nodded, that was obvious enough. Ra's had no reason to kidnap him this time beyond something like this.

“As you know, I’m always on the lookout for enterprising young individuals with both leadership and fighting experience to join the League of Assassins. Right now I’ve been on the hunt for the perfect person to fill a brand new executive role in a new chapter of my organization.”

Tim took a sip of his tea in an attempt at avoiding having his mouth drop open in shock. Ra’s sounded like something out of a “Executive success seminar” that was just a veiled multilevel marketing scheme.

“To put it plainly, Timothy, I want you to become my apprentice. I know you and assume you might be hesitant to accept this lifestyle so I’ve prepared for you something of a presentation on what that might entail.”

Tim couldn’t stop a laugh from bursting out of him, but he did manage to turn it into a kind of cough.

“Wait--wait.” he said, almost choking on his tea, “Are you about to show me a powerpoint?”

Ra’s looked a bit put out at that suggestion, almost like he wanted to sigh, “Of course not, it’s more interactive than that.”

Tim held up his free hand, incredulous, “Is this--a job interview Ra’s? I thought you were pitching this to me.”

“No, no. It’s an interactive presentation designed to show you just what you have to gain from joining me.” Ra’s explained, as he did so Tim took another sip of his tea.

He lifted his cup and waved it lightly, “Oh yeah, so I’m just in one of those fairy tales then where you make me do three impossible tasks and at the end I get the happily ever after dip in the lazarus pit?”

“It’s only one trial--”

“So it is a task!” Tim declared, almost standing.

“Timothy.” Ra’s snapped, sounding a bit like Bruce whenever Tim and Steph’s antics pushed him a bit too far.

Tim crossed his legs and leaned back into the chair, “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Irritating the man was a bad idea, Tim knew that, but this was just ridiculous. He wasn’t going to be sent on a wild quest that might end up with him dunked in a Lazarus Pit or whatever else Ra’s had in mind that would supposedly prove how great it would be to work for him.

“If you are not going to take this seriously, then there are other ways of showing you why joining me is a good idea that are not nearly as pleasant.” Ra’s growled.

Tim held up his free hand, “I’d rather not find out, give me your pitch or send me off with your best ninja or whatever you were planning.”

He figured playing along would work for now. He could put off giving Ra’s an answer until Bruce came in for a third rescue. When he was home, they were going to have a serious conversation about ninja proofing the manor. Ra’s could not keep kidnapping him like this, they had to have some kind of security measures in place.

“Wonderful. I’m sure after your tour you’ll have a better understanding of what I have to offer you.”

Tim ended up following someone Ra’s called his “best general” around the compound for an hour. The guy showed Tim the training rooms, the medical suite, sparring rings, a variety of ninja’s actually practicing, and at one point they even ended up in the library. The general had been given instructions to pause anywhere Tim wanted him to, and so they lingered in the library for a bit.

He had to admit, Ra’s had a fantastic library.

The general didn’t seem worried about Tim getting lost, or escaping, and waited by the door while he wandered the massive room.

And boy was it huge. It was bigger than the main floor of the cave, with stacks and stacks of books on two floors. Some of the volumes looked ancient, and there were even scrolls shelved on the second floor.

He gingerly pulled one out to examine.

“That is worth more than you could ever imagine.” a sharp, young voice, declared, behind him.

Startled, Tim dropped it back onto the shelf and spun. Before him stood a kid, probably 8 years old, with tousled dark hair, dark skin, and a face that almost echoed some of Bruce’s school photos. It was startling.

“Hi.” Tim said, dumbly, “I know, it’s Ancient Sumarian right?”

“Tt.” the boy crossed his arms, “You are not an idiot then.”

Tim shook his head, “Nah, apparently I’m smart enough to be selected for recruitment.”

The kid nodded, “So you are Grandfather’s young detective. He speaks highly of you.”

Grandfather? Tim’s brain spun. This kid was Ra’s al Ghul’s grandkid? He ran the numbers, the kid’s mom was either Talia or Nyssa. If he had to put money on it, Tim figured the boy before him looked more like Talia than her sister. And his other features--like Bruce’s?

No.

No.

No. Freaking. Way.

“That is hardly language to use here.” The boy said, arching an eyebrow at him.

Tim hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud, but apparently his surprise had been so great he had. He cleared his throat, “Sorry, I just never expected Ra’s to have a grandkid.”

“It is not surprising to me, I am his heir. Born to inherit the League and rule the world one day.”

Okay, that was a lot to unpack. Just a totally wild amount, but Tim wasn’t super focused on the world domination thing just yet (maybe later when he had a chance to process all of--well, all of it), “Sorry to keep pressing but, doesn’t having an heir kind of--I don’t know, put his whole Eternal Ruler of the League thing in jeopardy?”

“Tt. It is not my place to question my Grandfather’s plans. I simply know what I have been told, that I will inherit the League one day in his stead.”

“Well,” Tim rocked back on his heels casually and grinned, “That might be a long loooong time.”

The kid’s brows furrowed as if he had not really considered that idea before. He opened his mouth to say something else, but seemed to decide against it, dropping his arms to his sides to shrug, “If that is his wish then so be it.”

“True.” Tim said, not really knowing what to say. Instead he settled on changing the subject, “You know, if your grandfather gets his way I’ll be spending more time here, so I guess introductions are in order. I’m Timothy Drake-Wayne, but most people just call me Tim.”

He held his hand out to the kid, smiling at him. If he really was Bruce’s then they’d be getting to know each other for sure. Just not here. Tim had zero intentions on letting Bruce’s child stay with the League. Did B he even know he had a kid? Tim thought he’d better figure that out first before kidnapping his little brother.

Little brother. Just that idea made something flutter in Tim’s chest. He’d always wanted a little brother.

The boy scowled at his hand, and did not take it, “You may be correct, even if I do not see what Grandfather seems to. I am Damian al Ghul, heir to the Demon’s Head.”

Tim bit back a grin at just how serious this kid was. He sounded like a little prince, all imperious and haughty. Damian, even his name fit him. He wondered how Damian would do around Dick? Or Stephanie. They’d figure out how to bring a smile out of him.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Damian.” Tim said, “I know we’ve really only just met, but I’m sure you’ll see what Ra’s does in time.”

Damian looked him over again, then gave a sharp nod, “I am interested in seeing what you have to offer.”

“Damian, I found it, where’d you go?” A voice sounded from deeper within the stacks.

Tim started at the sound of the voice. He knew it. Knew it from nights spent chasing shadows, from recording’s Bruce had watched a hundred times when he didn’t think Tim was watching. From Tim’s own desire to know and learn more about his predecessor. It was Jason Todd’s voice.

But that couldn’t be. Jason was dead.

“I am coming.” Damian returned, his tone more childlike than Tim had heard in their whole conversation. He turned back to Tim, “Do not ruin that scroll, I will see you later.”

Then he spun on his heel and walked away.

Tim stepped forward, reaching out for the kid, “Wai--”

“Master Tim, we really must be going.” Tim’s guide was back, stepping into his view as if from nowhere, and stopping Tim’s chase as short as it had been.

“Can we wait just one more second?” he asked, “I wanted to ask Damian something else.”

The man’s mouth turned down in a frown, “I do not have clearance to let you speak with Master Damian. Come, we have more to see.”

Frustration bubbled up in Tim, but unless he wanted to start a fight he wasn’t going to get a chance to talk to Damian right then. The kid had promised to see him later, so maybe he’d seek Tim out. If not, Tim would find a way.

As he followed the man out of the library, he kept searching the stacks of books for a sign of the others. It wasn’t until they’d left the room that Tim caught sight of Damian again, his small form waving animated at a taller, broader one. One that, while older, was unmistakably Jason.

Before Tim could say screw everything, the two turned around a corner, and someone else was clearing their throat. His guide seemed eager to move on, and so they did.

Tim tuned out most of the rest of the tour, and eventually found himself back in the office from before, once again seated across from Ra’s.

“Timothy, I hear you have met my grandson on your tour.” Ra’s started.

“I did.” Tim said, a bit hesitant to go into detail, his guide had seemed like talking to Damian was a pretty serious thing, and suddenly Tim was afraid he’d gotten the kid in trouble.

Ra’s smiled, “He is magnificent is he not? Already he is a skilled warrior, and well trained in his studies.”

“He said he was your heir?” Tim ventured.

The man waved a hand dismissively, “Of course he is, he is my grandson, but that does not mean he will inherit. The boy is valuable to me, for many reasons. He is an excellent tool to wield against my enemies already, and will only become more so as he grows.”

Anger bubbled up in Tim. There was something in Ra’s’ tone that made Tim sick, to call a kid a tool. To plan to just use him his whole life?

“And what, do you want to do that with me too? You said you wanted me to be your apprentice, but if your Heir is just a tool then--”

“No, as I said I want you to take over a branch of the League. You have talents and skills Damian will not. The boy is--” Ra’s shrugged, “Let us call him a vessel. A shell for me to wield in one way or another.”

Well, that just made Tim even more angry. Damian was his grandkid. What Tim wouldn't have given to still have his grandparents, and for Ra’s to just--If Tim wasn’t already dead set on getting Damian home, he would be after this conversation.

“You know what, Ra’s. Let me think on it a while. I’ll get back to you on my answer. I kind of want to see Damian in action a bit, learn what this training looks like in someone closer to my age.”

The man considered this for a moment before nodding, “I will let you watch his sparring session tomorrow. For now, I think we’re done. Have a good evening, Timothy.”

Tim nodded, and left. His mind was racing, he wanted another look at Jason. Wanted to tell Damian about his dad. Wanted to make sure both his brothers were okay.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts, he missed the black and blue clad arm that reached out from behind a curtain and yanked him back. Nightwing put a hand over Tim’s mouth to quiet him, and then pulled him out the window the curtain had been hiding. They dropped, into nothing--except it was solid?

Tim found himself inside the invisible jet. Inside, and flying away from his newly discovered siblings before he could even argue they needed to be rescued too.

One flight with Wonder Woman and Nightwing later, and Tim was home again, being told in stern tones by both Batman and Nightwing that he really needed to stop allowing himself to be kidnapped by ninjas (like he didn’t know that).

Then he was in his room, in bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind whirring. He had learned two things on this trip. Two impossible things. Two things he was going to leverage as soon as he could.

It was late, and he should be sleeping, but instead he texted Steph and Cass in their little group chat.

Tim: Want to cause some chaos?

Immediately he received a response:

Steph: Always

Cass: Who are we going after?

Tim smiled, his fingers dancing over his phone:

Tim: Ra’s.

Cass: Time to teach him a lesson?

Steph: I've been waiting for this, I’ll get the kerosene

Tim: There’s more.

Cass: Tell.

The light flashed on out in the hallway, Tim could see it flicker to life under his door.

Tim: Tomorrow, lunch at that place with the sweet potato fries. Come ready to plan a kidnapping or two.

The next day Tim found both Steph and Cass waiting eagerly for him at the restaurant, a heaping plate of sweet potato fries between them.

“Spill, Bird Brain.” Stephanie said, as he sat down, pushing some fries towards him, “I want to hear everything about this crusade against Ra’s.”

Tim rolled his eyes, and snagged a fry, dipping it in one of the sauces they’d gotten to accompany it.

“As you’ve probably already guessed, I had another visit to the League compound yesterday.” Tim started, “It was more of a day trip this time, but Ra’s did his very best to sell me on signing up.”

“More posters?” Cass guessed, then shook her head seeing Tim’s expression, “What did he do?”

Tim snagged another fry, “Yes more posters, but more than that he gave me a speech right out of a How to Recruit for Dummies book, then sent me on a tour of the building.”

Steph snorted, “Please tell me you recorded it.”

“I did not, but you will never believe what I found on my tour, or to be precise who.”

Both girls paused their snacking, waiting on him to continue.

Tim dropped the first bomb, “Jason Todd, alive and breathing.”

“What, no way.” Steph said, “How’d he even get there? I thought He was buried here?”

He shrugged, “I don’t have any of the details, but they’ve got a Lazarus pit, and Ra’s is weirdly obsessed with recruiting Robin’s, so I’d say his resurrection tracks.”

“Who else was there?” Cass asked, brow furrowed.

Now this he knew neither of them would be expecting. Tim hadn’t expected it. He still couldn’t believe it.

“Ra’s al Ghul’s grandson, Damian.” Tim said, watched both girls look even more confused, then added, “The son of Bruce and Talia. At least, I’m pretty sure he’s their kid.”

The fry Stephanie was holding dropped out of her hand.

Tim watched Cass processing the information, saw her realization that there was another child being raised in the League, then saw the determination cross her face at her own personal decision.

“We are taking them both, correct?” Cass asked.

“We’re taking them both, and burning the place down.” Tim confirmed, “That should properly pay him back for all the time’s he’s kidnapped me this year.”

Steph’s lips turned up into a sharp grin, “The law of equivalent exchange.”

Tim laughed, “You’ve been watching too much tv.”

“It’s prepped me for this very moment.” she shot back, voice falsely grave.

“Batman prepared you for this very moment.” Cass elbowed her.

“No.” Tim said, “I’m going to prep you. And then we’re going to put everything in action.”

They talked, and planned, and debated the pros and cons of letting Tim get nabbed again over just going himself, and eventually after many many sweet potato fries and sodas they were ready.

It was to be infiltration first, fire and kerosene second. Obviously the place was going to go up, but only after they set the stage for rebellion and convinced Damian and Jason to go home with them. Tim didn’t think it’d be a hard sell for Jason, but the kid was another matter altogether. If Tim couldn’t convince him to come along, they may actually end up having to kidnap Damian.

A key to the plan was that only Tim, Steph, and Cass were in on it. There was no way Bruce was giving the green light for such a thing. Besides, Tim wanted to see his face when they presented him with not one, but two, rescued sons from the League.

Over the next week Tim made himself the most kidnappable he’d ever been. He wandered outside, kept to himself, and tried to look as wide eyed as possible. He lingered in parking lots, and took shortcuts down empty alleyways. Basically, he did everything he could to signal he was alone and vulnerable besides hanging a sign around his neck that said “Take me to your (ninja) leader”.

At one point he even stopped, dead center in the middle of an alley and declared, “Wow this sure is a dangerous place to be! I hope I don’t get attacked and kidnapped by ninjas!”

The only response he got that time was from an older woman who stopped at the edge of the alley and very seriously called out, “Careful, young man. Don’t you know there are killer clowns out? You best be on your way before you get hurt.”

Then, at long last, Tim caught sight of one of the League members ducking behind a shadow. He paused his walk, and leaned over as if fascinated by something on the sidewalk in front of him. By the time he’d stood, the ninja was in front of him.

Tim held up his hands in surrender, doing his best not to actually look excited. Then, he was successfully kidnapped for the fifth --and if Tim’s plan worked successfully-- final time.

[marchioness-caprina]

I Deserve You

Pairings : Tamaki Amajiki x Reader

Writing Style : 3rd Person

Warnings : Mild Cussing

Word Count : 3091

3rd Person's POV

The Day of the School Festival, After stressful Days of practicing dance moves for the Preparation of Class 1-A's show everything was going smoothly. Everyone was having Fun And Y/n was too. She was playing the Violin while Bakugou played the Drums, Tokoyami and Denki with the guitar, Jiro and y/n also shared the vocals and Momo with the Keyboard.

Y/n was Having Fun seeing all her peers enjoying the show they put on but something was missing and she was desperately searching for a certain someone to watch the show. Mirio was there... But where was Tamaki?.

Y/n was having fun... Was... After finally confirming that Tamaki did not come to watch her mood immediately dampened.

She had been crushing on this 3rd year male from the very beginning and she did not try to hide it. In fact she would go try to catch him in any way, she'd flirt with him, court him, confess to him, give gifts to him but all the boy ever did was Shy away from her, he'd return her gifts and he'd even run away.

Even though y/n would either laugh it off or smile. It hurt pretty damn much. And now she was actually hoping he'd show up to atleast show that he cares but no he was not here.

Her heart dropped knowing fully well that he didn't care. And as their show finally ended. She had a blank expression plastered on her face making her classmates worry.

Because she was always expressive and smiling, her face always filled with emotions and her eyes lively and fiery. But now she looked different.

" Y/n-chan! Are you ok? " Mina was the first to ask and her classmates looked at her having the same question as the pink haired girl.

" Yeah I'm fine... I'm just tired " Y/n tried faking a smile but this time. It was too painful to do.

She was completely smitten for Tamaki.

" Bullshit, it's pretty clear that you aren't. And let's be honest here. When were you actually tired? Never. " Bakugou grumbled as y/n raised her brow gazing at the boy before shrugging her shoulders and walking away ignoring the calls of her classmates.

" Guys... Let's give her some time alone " That was the last comment she heard before she disappeared into the crowd.

She needed to get her mind off of things and what's the better way to do it than eating Takoyaki while watching the beauty pageant held by U.A.

Y/n was surprised to see Nejire senpai showing her talent , Nejire flying from above the ground. She looked beautiful but then y/n heard the familiar voice of the person she was searching for earlier.

" She looks like a fairy... Like this... So happy... And smiling brightly " Those exact words came from Tamaki who was standing beside her and she didn't notice.

Her eyes trailed up to Tamaki's eyed which were concentrated on Nejire's dancing figure and she couldn't believe it. The warmth and.... Love Tamaki's eyes showed while looking at Nejire was painful.

She wanted to do nothing but throw up all the food she consumed and bury herself under the ground. How could she be so blind? Of course Tamaki liked Nejire, He was close to her. They were friends while he and y/n are not, Nejire was powerful, Kind, Smart and very beautiful.

Y/n's heart felt like it had been stung by a thousand needles and she wanted to cry but somehow the tears refused to come out.

After a few moments of Tamaki looking at Nejire he felt someone looking at him and he tried looking around to see who it was and when his eyes landed on a pair of E/c orbs his heart jumped.

Oh no, is he gonna get jumped again by this clingy yet adorable Kohai?.

" Y-y-y/n! " Tamaki stammered jumping back as he strare back at y/n who gave him an unreadable expression.

He was expecting the usual, with y/n clinging onto him and flirting with him till his face turns as red as a tomato but to his shock she just turned around and left.

He was frozen in place. He couldn't comprehend what happened to that girl he began to feel anxious.

' Does she hate me?.... Shouldn't that be good she'll finally leave me alone... Wait someone hating me isn't good!... But.. Why am I so bothered by it? ' he silently thought to himself.

He watched the retreating figure of y/n and he suddenly had a powerful urge to grab her and pull her back .

Meanwhile, y/n who was walking away from the show was about to burst in tears but she slapped herself chanting more than a hundred times that she shouldn't cry.

So she stood strong and sucked it up. Wiping a small droplet of tears that was threatening to spill at any moment.

Maybe it's for the better. She'll find someone else... Hopefully. For now she should try to forget about him and move on. Act like she doesn't know him.

___________________

After that Day everything changed which got everyone questioning.

' What's wrong with y/n?'

She became a little distant and cold it was hard to believe but still, she did show unconditional care and love for her classmates but everyone couldn't help but worry since she never seemed to say anything and if one of them asked, she'd change the subject or walk away like she didn't hear anything.

What shocked them the most was how she had been Avoiding Their senpai, Tamaki like he was the plague or something. Usually she'd be seen hanging with them during lunch or walking with Tamaki during break time but now she isn't. During lunch she sat with the Izuku squad, when she passed by The Big three she'd either take a detour or pretend like she didn't see them in the first place.

Tamaki, Tamaki was conflicted, he was so confused, he felt like his heart was eating him up only to spit it out again, he felt like there was something gone something he longed, something he missed. And he knew it was y/n. He was gloomier than normal and Every time he sees y/n through the halls his heart swells up expecting her to run at him and hug him... Tell him she likes him but no. That's not what happened, what happened was that she avoided him , she ignored him and she pretended like she didn't know him.

And he never knew it hurt this bad he felt so upset he wanted to bang his head on the wall and cry his pain out.

What did he do wrong though?, what got her so worked up to treat him like this? that she made it so painful for him?. Didn't she say she loved him? Then where was all that affection now? Where was that attention she used to shower him with?. Where was his y/n? The one that loved him?.

Did she find someone else? Does she not want him anymore? Did she finally notice that He's not worth her time? Is she finally going to leave him?.

Is This how she felt when Tamaki ignored her? When he ran away from her because his heart couldn't handle so much love knowing he can't hold back for any longer and just kiss her. If this is how it felt like he didn't want it! He wanted her back.

Those negative thoughts were what occupied Tamaki's mind and he never noticed the small droplets of tears trailing down his cheeks that Made Mirio and Hado panic.

" What's wrong Amajiki? " Hado asked and Tamaki couldn't help but muttered his worries.

" .... She doesn't love me Anymore "

" You mean y/n? Nonsense she probably didn't notice you walking by" Mirio tried to comfort his friend but it was no use, He just wanted y/n back.

" For a whole month?.... She didn't notice us for a whole month? She never came to our classroom or ate with us anymore... She didn't wait or approach me down the halls. She didn't even spare me a glance " Tamaki muttered and Mirio was honestly surprised to hear his friend utter a sentence without Stuttering.

This was serious. And somehow they needed to fix this. For Tamaki.

______________

" Ok Class, We'll be training with the Big 3 for the next Week because they'll be grading you based on what they have observed " Aizawa sensei announced and the whole class was hyped. Well most of them.

There was a specific girl who did not appreciate this at all.

And she was y/n.

The big three were standing infront of them with Mirio and Nejire Flashing worried glances at Tamaki.

Tamaki had his eyes on y/n who refused to acknowledge his existence and it hurt so bad.

When she finally did look at him. For the first time in forever he actually had the courage to smile and wave at her but y/n kept a cold facade ignoring his wave and smile and all she did was look back to her side and ignore him.

That action was noticed by everyone in the room.

Even Aizawa sensei who usually acted tough and uncaring was worried for his student because she was acting really out of character.

He questioned her classmates about it and they started explaining what they had noticed and observed too and honestly he hated seeing even One of his children like this and on cue the big 3 but mostly Mirio and Nejire tried to convince him to let the three of them train his students but he knew fully well that it was so Y/n and Tamaki could interact.

He wasn't against the idea since he wanted the same y/n back also.

So he asked permission from principal Nezu who didn't mind the idea at all and it led to this .

" Now each member of the big three will be given an assistant and I'll personally be the one to assign them. Uraraka you'll be Nejire's assistant, Midoriya you'll be Mirio's and Amajiki your assistant will be Y/n--" Aizawa sensei was cut off by y/n who clearly didn't like the idea.

" What? No!... I mean... Pick another assistant... I'm not good at being One " Y/n knew her excuse was lame but that's the best she could do.

However, Her denial made Tamaki Dizzy with nervousness with all the insecurities coming back a pained expression painted on his face as he stared at y/n who stood her ground.

Mirio rubbed Tamaki's Back while whispering.

" It's gonna be ok. You still have a week "

" Well sorry but it's been decided. If you want to back out because you can't handle it then do it but you'll have a failing grade if you do " Aizawa didn't mean to threaten his student but this has gone far enough. She's turning into a cold heartless girl. And he didn't like that.

" Fine.... I'll Do it... " Y/n muttered looking down on her desk.

____________________

3 Days had passed and Tamaki was nowhere near successful. He never knew that y/n could be this cold. If he knew he would never have made her mad in the first place.

Her words stung and it hurt so much he had to hide in the bathroom for an hour to calm down and convince himself that it's fine and that she didn't mean it but she was brutal with her words.

She did a pretty good job not talking to him though and it was extremely hard to even get her to look at him.

He was starting to lose hope, he was planning on a hundred ways of apologizing but somehow none of them were ever successful.

He has two days left to find out and this time he was more than determined to do so.

Aizawa was kind enough to assign him and y/n to clean up the gym after training and still y/n didn't even talk to him. Not even once.

" Y-You K-know y-you're really pretty... Today " Tamaki complimented earning another cold silence from the girl.

He couldn't take it anymore.

He grabbed her arm, turned her around and clung onto her. His arms wrapping around her very being along with y/n's arms restraining her.

Y/n had no idea Tamaki was this strong... No wonder he's part of the big three but that isn't the point right now.

" Let me Go! " Y/n yelled as she began squirming.

" No! " Tamaki yelled back and that only made y/n more violent, wiggling and kicking as much as she could. She kinda felt bad when she heard Pained Grunt from Tamaki.

" D-Do... You Hate me that M-Much? W-what did I Do? " Tamaki's voice was hoarse and broken and then y/n noticed how he was looking at her with big eyes and there running down his cheeks.

" .... " She was speechless.

" Please Answer me... And... And... And I'll finally ... L-leave you alone " Tamaki practically begged as more tears spilled out of his eyes.

" ... Why are you doing this exactly? " Y/n asked and Tamaki slowly let go of her and he kneeled down on the ground unable to contain his emotions. The crippling anxiety attacks he had whenever he felt a powerful surge of emotions slap him the face.

" I-I Love you " He managed to choose out between sobs.

" Really? Don't you Like Nejire? When I was chasing you.. You ran away from me... On the School Festival... I was hoping you'd watch our show but you didn't... I looked for you everywhere and now you say that? Don't lie to me... I heard your comment about Nejire... You managed to watch her show but... Why not ours?.... " This time it was y/n's turn to have tears falling down her soft cheeks as she covered her mouth with the back of her hand to prevent any sobs to escape her lips.

" I d-d-don't like her like that! I thought I should be happy that you're gone but I'm not! I'm miserable! And that D-D-Day at the School festival.... I-I thought of you as a friend but it got me thinking... W-Why would I buy you a custom made bracelet if I only liked you as a friend!?... I didn't manage to watch the show because... I was working extra shift at F-Fatgum's stall to pay for the bracelet I b-bought you.... The reason why I stood beside you during the pageant was because I wanted to give it to you... But y-you walked away before I even had the chance to!... T-Then I finally understood my feelings... Why I made is much effort to design the bracelet myself and have it custom made... It was because I love you!... A-And you started avoiding.... M-M-Me... You started pushing me away and ignoring me... It hurts! It really hurts! I-I though you found someone else... I thought you thought I was pathetic! I t-thought you f-finally r-r-realized that you could do so much better at picking g-guys who aren't me... I had so much negative thoughts running through my head... B-Because I was so scared of l-losing you... " Tamaki forced himself to say how he really efly without stuttering but it was no use. He couldn't help it with all the sobs caught in his throat.

Y/n was speechless then her heart started clenching in pain, her heart dropped to her stomach seeing how much pain she caused him. Realizing How terrible she had been.

One time out of worry she actually went inside the boy's bathroom only to hear Tamaki hyperventilating inside. She was so worried she asked mirio to check on him.

She couldn't help the tears cascading out of her eyes that were red and puffy.

She looked down at Tamaki who was clutching his hand on his chest choking on his own sobs.

She felt so horrible. She sat down infront of him towards her and pressing her lips against his shutting him off. He sobbed in between the kiss but nonetheless he shyly kissed back with tears running down his face. The same with y/n who had tears on her eyes as well.

When she finally pulled back her forehead was pressed against his as she stared at him with loving eyes.

Those eyes.... He missed that... He craved that. The way she looked at him with so much love without judgement.

" You Dumbass.... I don't need a fancy Bracelet... I just wanted you... Nothing could compare to You.... Your simple presence is enough to make me happy... That day... I just wanted you.. And you should know that.... I love you... I'd pick you any day over some fancy bracelet " Y/n smiled and Tamaki who was rendered speechless at what she said crawled closer towards her to connect his lips with hers once again this time he had the courage to dominate the kiss.

He pulled back abruptly as he wrapped his arms around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder .

" I-I just... W-Wanted you to see... I'm capable... Of giving you things other guys give their g-girlfriends... " Tamaki whispered making y/n chuckle.

" Really tamaki? I wouldn't pick some random rich bastard off the streets... I want my adorable elf boy " Y/n teased as she blew a puff of air against Tamaki's Ear making him shudder as he backed away. His face turning red.

" D-Don't T-Tease " He whimpered as he fished for something in his pocket.

And then he pulled out a Jade bracelet with y/n carved on it and surrounding it were small diamonds.

" Tama... You didn't have to... It's beautiful " Y/n muttered as Tamaki took her hand sliding the bracelet on her wrist.

" I... You deserve better " Tamaki mumbled.

" Yes I deserve better " Y/n stated and tamaki looked up at her his ears twitching in fear expecting her to take it off but instead she had her arms wrap around his neck giving him a peck on his lips.

" Because "

" I Deserve You "

[pink-flame]

Lucky it Was Hotdogs

So! This is my gift for the @jatp-gift-exchange celebrating 6 months since the show came out. I just so happened to be assigned my friend @tmp-jatp as my giftee. Which is awesome because she’s awesome. She asked for angst and my first thought was my reputation is just going to get worse. 😂 And then I started writing, started over, changed to a different prompt two more times...had a few breakdowns but here we are! Basically all of my friends had to hear about my spiral the last couple of days so thank you and my apologies. 🙏 

T, I hope you like it! 💜💜💜

In some ways Luke thinks that it’s lucky it was hot dogs.

Of course, if he had been asked to choose a way to go back in 95 he probably would have said old and in his sleep. Or maybe he would have been a smart ass and said jumping the grand canyon on a motorcycle or playing an epic show in bad weather and having some sort of electrical incident (Reggie wasn’t the only one who had been involved in that amp incident not that he was in a hurry to tell Alex that). Contaminated hot dogs in an alley on the night of their big break probably wouldn’t have occurred to him and it definitely wouldn’t have cracked the top ten list of his requests.

But now that he’s in the future, with his band and with Julie and with their dreams once again a real possibility...he thinks the hot dogs would have been the right choice.

The truth is it doesn’t matter how tragic it is that three kids had their lives cut short at the same time it’s always going to be at least a little bit funny that they went from death by hot dog. It lets him use the tragedy as a means of teasing Julie as she bites into her sandwich and it lets Willie give Alex an affectionate nickname that’s only a little in bad taste. It lets Reggie hover behind Ray when Julie’s dad gets the grill out and clutch his stomach dramatically in a reenactment for his friends amusement. It lets Julie look at Luke like the fact that he is a ghost is mildly exasperating but not inherently upsetting, not like it would be if he was a walking reminder of a car accident or the cancer that took her mom.

So yeah, it’s lucky it was hot dogs.

Except...sometimes Luke wishes that it wasn't.

Sometimes he wishes that he had died from an illness or an accident or anything that would prompt someone to look at him and ask if he wanted to talk about it. Because...he does. Just sometimes. Wants to talk about how much it hurt. Wants to talk about how scared he was. Wants to talk about how even though being able to make music still (being able to make music with Julie) matters most it does bother him.

It bothers him that Julie is the only lifer he can touch (even though she would clearly be his first choice).

It bothers him that he fades into non-existence as soon as they stop playing.

It bothers him that he can’t even thank Julie’s dad for hosting their garage gig or show her brother that he’s holding it all wrong when he catches him strumming lightly on Luke’s guitar one day.

It bothers him that he won’t ever be anything other than what he is, a teenager with a guitar and a longstanding suspicion about the consequences of wearing sleeves while performing.

It bothers him that Julie will always be what she is now (an amazing teenage girl with a wrecking ball voice and a heart big enough to keep them with her through sheer force of will) but she will also become so much more.

An adult.

Someone with a job and a family and…

He can’t think about it.

Except he does.

Not all the time but often enough, especially at night when Alex is off with Willie and Reggie is watching tv with an unsuspecting Ray and Luke is wishing more than anything that he could find the escape of sleep.

So usually he ends up writing when he feels like this, seeking out the familiar sensation of pen flying over paper, words tumbling from the deepest recesses of his mind to collect into the shape of a song.

I know I’m being selfish

But feeling alive isn’t being alive

Feeling you breathe isn’t breathing

I just want this feeling forever

Instead I count every moment I’m stealing

“Why are you writing in the dark?” Julie’s amused voice cuts through the silence causing him to jump, a remnant of a time when he had anything to fear other than his own uncertain future.

He’s not sure if it’s a ghostly superpower or just the fact that he had been peering at his notebook from only about an inch away but it’s true, he hadn’t bothered to turn the light on and he saw it just fine.

The dark felt more appropriate somehow when he felt like this anyway.

She flips on the light and crosses the room to sink down beside him where he’s spread out on the floor. He’s so distracted for a moment by just how Julie she always manages to be (beautiful and amazing and distracting in the best way) that he doesn’t realize that she’s reaching for his notebook until it’s too late. He tries to snatch it back fruitlessly as she turns her eyes to the words he has scrawled across the page. He hopes momentarily that she won’t be able to make out his infamously illegible handwriting but his hopes are dashed when she reads out the last few lines in a thoughtful tone. He has a brief flash of affection at the realization that she must be his soulmate if she can read his handwriting.

He’s distracted from that thought though when he sees the smile slide off of her face only to be replaced with a tight frown before she turns to face him, concern shining in her eyes.

“I’m fine,” He says quickly, hoping to prevent any of his dark mood from seeping into the girl beside him.

The girl who has already known enough darkness for a lifetime.

“Every moment you’re stealing?” She quotes back to him, setting the notebook carefully back on the floor. “That doesn’t sound fine.”

He considers brushing off her concern, playing it off, claiming he’s not even writing from his own perspective anyway, that he doesn’t know where the idea came from.

He can do that because he may be dead but the culprit was hot dogs and that gives him an out to make a dumb joke and change the subject and keep things the way they are now.

And if it was anyone else he would have. But it’s Julie. And he’s Luke.

She can read his handwriting.

And she can read him too.

If he lets her.

“You know how you said your dad made you talk to someone after your mom died?”

She tilts her head, clearly not expecting this question. She answers it anyway.

“Dr. Turner,” She nods. “Three times a week for a while.”

“Did it uh…” Luke swallows hard, his throat suddenly impossibly dry considering he was pretty sure he wasn’t actually producing spit anymore period. “Did it help?”

Julie’s hand twitches in her lap and he can tell she is deciding whether she should touch him. He reaches out to toy with the frayed edge of her jeans where they burst open at the knee. The answer to whether Julie should be touching him is always a resounding yes in his opinion but he also wants to let her come to him. It hasn’t been that long since they’ve even been able to touch each other and despite how much they crave it there’s a lingering awkwardness after all the build up.

“Talking to someone?” She asks carefully. “Yeah, it did. After a while I felt like I needed space to sort through things on my own but by then I was able to talk with my dad and Flynn too.”

He nods, keeps his eyes firmly on the hole in her jeans.

“Luke…”

Damn.

He has to look at her when she says his name like that.

He raises his eyes slowly, meeting her soft ones with nerves he can’t quite place.

“You know you can talk to me, right? Always.”

Her question is so small and yet so big at the same time. Such a simple offer containing such a big promise.

Always.

Wasn’t that the problem?

His always might not line up with hers.

He could forget that fact for a bit when the band was hanging out and laughing over nothing or rocking a crowd’s face’s off or when Julie was smiling in that certain Julie way that seemed reserved only for him.

But he couldn’t forget forever.

And he couldn’t promise always.

So where did that leave him?

“Luke?”

She breaks him from his thoughts again and he pushes past his caution this time, reaching out to link her hand with his, their fingers slotting together effortlessly despite the way one of them isn’t really there.  

He isn’t really there.

Is he...real?

Luke suddenly feels a strange rush of panic, all of the thoughts he’s been pushing aside for months crashing through him at once.

He must have squeezed Julie’s hand inadvertently because he sees her flinch.

“Sorry, sorry,” He says breathlessly (not that he needs to breathe, he’s breathless, literally, he’s dead), drawing her hand up to press an apology against the skin there, his lips lingering for a long moment before he pulls away.

She’s not unaffected by his sudden actions, the way her eyes widen for a fraction of a second is proof enough of that, but she’s also determined and she doesn’t let him off the hook.

“Talk to me, Luke,” She says like an order and a request and a prayer all at once.

And he can’t deny her anything.

Not even this.

“I’m fine, I am...it’s just...I’m so happy that we ended up here with you Julie no matter what. I need you to know that ok? I just..I don’t...I don’t want…”

She waits as long as she can for him to finish that sentence but when he doesn’t seem prepared to, she leans closer, squeezes his hand, gives him that last push off the cliff he’s been teetering on the edge of for months.

“Don’t want what?”

“Don’t want to be dead.”

The words escape him in a hurried rush, one blending into another until it sounds like one long syllable of pain rather than a proper sentence. Still. He’s pretty sure the message got through.

“I know,” She says simply, her eyes sad but her touch impossibly gentle as her free hand comes up to cup his cheek. “I know, Luke, I know.”

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until she’s brushing his tears away with the delicate tips of her fingers.

And maybe he is real, at least a little bit if his eyes can still muster up the ability to leak like this and damn it why is that what he’s thinking about right now when the girl, the living girl, he loves is waiting for him to say something.

He wants to think of the perfect thing but what ends up coming out leaves a lot to be desired.

“Julie...I love making music with you. I love y...I love being in your life. But I’m dead. And maybe...maybe it would be better…”

“No,” She cuts him off firmly, gripping his chin lightly to turn his face more fully towards hers. “Whatever you think you’re about to say, the answer is no.”

“Julie…” He tries again.

She’s already shaking her head.

“I don’t care if you’re about to suggest some noble sacrifice or push me away or blame yourself for something...just...don’t.”

Any protest he has prepared dies on his lips, the slightest quirk of a smile taking their place even as a few stray tears make their way down his face.

“Ok,” He agrees simply.

Julie brings her other hand down to grip his knee as though she’s trying to keep him with her by anchoring him physically, making him part of her, making him real.

And that’s that.

It takes time.

A hundred aborted conversations with half confessions and unspoken requests for comfort and love freely given if not freely spoken.

But eventually he gets used to talking to Julie the same way he got used to writing with Julie and singing with Julie and falling in love with Julie.

So steadily he doesn’t feel the progress until one day he looks up and there’s no going back, not that he would ever want to.

He’s dead.

He can’t get around that.

He ate some bad hot dogs, and that will always be a little bit funny. It’s also sad and scary and tragic.

He’s dead.

But he’s also so alive.

He can’t promise always but he can promise as long as I’m here.

And he does.

Over and over and over again.

[ask-rp-devra]

The night was short, the pair were able to sleep a good 8 hours before getting ready the next morning to set off towards the train station. The pair decided to come back through to pick up the Pokemon to bring back to the island before heading home, but for now they could stay behind with Devra’s mom, just for a little while longer. The only team members that went with them were coal, the little hybrid houndoomxarcanine pup, and Aliza, who had taken a shine to the ponyta gifted to Peach, they seemed to play well together, even Dreepy liked her. With bags gathered, goodbyes said, and tickets bought, the pair stepped onto the train, waving off Olivia who came to see her daughter go, and off they went, towards the new Galarian island, the Crown Tundra.

Devra settled into her seat, waving goodbye to her mom as Coal jumped up in the seat next to her. He was small enough to be on the train, but Aliza had to stay in her pokeball for the time being. She looked over at her friend and smiled. “I hope you slept alright. I always thought the guest room bed was too hard.”

“‘you saw me right? I was asleep in an aeroplane chair sitting up right, the bed was just fine. Much better than most of the places I sleep while away from the lab.” She recalled a few occasions being able to just about catch an hours rest while being trapped in a tree by aggressive Pokemon. “it was a warm, dry bed, with actual sheets and a roof over me haha. It was great.” She mindlessly petted Val, ordering a good coffee off the trolley that passed by, a sweet little wigglytuff in the train companies uniform asking for payment. She got her wallet out...or so she thought? Her hand reached into her bag, and hit something very cold and very smooth, reeling from the weird texture. Val sniggered to herself, shifting to the empty seat the bag sat on, to peer inside.

“I think we have a stow away.” Peach murmured, carefully opening the bag much wider than needed to get a good look. “‘Dreepy?” Inside was the little ghost type, she swore while waving to Devra’s mother at the station when they left, she had also spotted this Pokemon amongst others that had come to see the trainers off. He was wrapped up in one of Peach’s shirts, and seemed a little nervous about being caught in her stuff.

Devra looked over at Peach from her camera, having been looking th right some pictures. “Dreepy? He’s here? But I saw him with my mom. Here, I took a picture of the group when we left.” She held the camera so they could both look. “Oh....well. I thought he was in the picture.” She looked at the little Pokémon and sighed. “I guess he really wanted to come with you.”

“well, it’s fine with me, if he wants to come then I guess we’ve got a new team member.” She smiled a little at the Pokemon and let him and Val go and pick some snacks off the trolley before paying. She gave eyes at her steadfast fire type while Dreepy’s back was turned, asking without words for her to tone her usual disinterest down by like 20%, and she began chattering to the ghost Pokemon as she selected a strawberry filled dumpling thing in a wrapper. With the stern silence broken between the two, peach could relax a little, perhaps they two would be fine together for the trip.

“You’re right though, I swear I saw him on the platform too.” She glanced at the screen on the camera, seeing no signs of him. “‘how strange. You’re faster than you look hey bud?” Dreepy seemed quite proud of the compliment, and finally chose a chocolate-orange flavoured pastry twist before returning to the open bag to snack. “I’m buying, you and your team want anything?”

Devra nodded to Coal, who bounced over and happily started sniffing around until he found a pumpkin muffin. She then grabbed an apple cake and raspberry pastry for her other two team members before sitting back down. “I don’t need anything. Mom made sure I left full.” She laughed and opened Coal’s treat for him. “Tell Peach thank you young man.” The little pup barked happily as me bounced over to her for pets.

“she’s a good mom that one, I bet she’d enjoy a little holiday in johto, lots to see, I can hook you both up with some fun things to do for sure.” There was plenty of art galleries, heritage sites, and excellent restaurants throughout the region, not to mention live music, public gardens of great beauty, and a butt load of areas to sightsee in. Peach paid up and petted Coal, she was very glad to see him in capable hands, he took to Devra like a Ducklett to water, and she was confident he’d grow fast now he was out exploring with her. The Dreepy seemed to peep its eyes out at the hybrid Pokemon, still nibbling away on its snack.

Coal bounced back up next to Devra and started to munch on his treat. “I’m sure she’ll love the trip.” She looked out the window, watching the countryside roll by. “What’s the first thing you want to do once we get to the tundra?”

The professor sipped her hot drink, also enjoying the windows view. “hm, that’s a good question. I suppose I’d really like to find a place to stay, I’d normally not mind camping but I see the name ‘Crown TUNDRA’ and feel like I wouldn’t want to stay over night outside as much. What about you? You’ll be knees deep in herd Pokemon in no time I bet, anything else you’d want to check out?” The little Dreepy had snuck closer to the window to look out, still nibbling.

“Well, there is this big ruin building with a massive old dead tree that’s I’d love to see. But it’s at the top of one of the mountains here. So it might be tricky getting to.” She mindlessly pet Coal as she slowly started seeing snow. “And I think there’s a small town that we could ask about lodging at. Day trips to the tundra and back by dark?”

“‘oh I do love a tree, that sounds interesting, you could always try to find a Pokemon who could get you up that mountain a bit easier?” Peach had planned to do just that, the cold sneaking in, she could feel her bad knee aching ever so slightly already, and almost exactly after that thought crossed her mind, Val crept over to radiate heat, sitting in her lap, easing the dull pain.

“perhaps we can camp out some of the time, it’d be nice to see what happens at night, what Pokemon come out, just perhaps not in any heavy weather if it can be avoided. I did take a look online, the village there is usually pretty open to travellers, think I noticed a B&B or two with vacancies posted, I’m sure we’ll find somewhere to stay.” By this point, the views had turned pure white, in the fields you could see grazing Pokemon, a herd of wooloo who almost blending in with the surroundings.

Devra spotter the wooloo right away, fawning over one of her favorite Pokémon. Coal picked up on his trainer’s excitement, his tail wagging happily as she told him what snow was like. “Oh I can’t wait to see Aliza’s face when she sees her first snow!”

“thats right, she’s not even seen a December yet, or a snowy route. Good thing you got your camera then isn’t it, I’m sure mom and pop would like to see her first experience with it, you know Cole hasn’t seen snow either before. Bet he’s real excited about now.” The pup must have felt something, seeing all this white for the first time. “‘what about you Dreepy, you seen snow before?” The little ghost type looked back, didn’t turn its body at all, but bent it’s neck fully back to look at the Professor upside down, giving no clear answer, which to her seemed like a big fat no, but perhaps he was a little shy about answering right away. “no matter, we’ll soon be in the thick of it.”

She giggled at the sight of the little dreepy. “He’s seen some light snow before. I caught him in the wild area. The weather there is always so weird. But he hasn’t seen this much before. This is going to be a big busy day.” She snapped a quiet picture of dreepy being cute, then one of Coal barking at the snow through the window.

The train began to turn a final corner, the tannoy alerting passengers to the upcoming station, the only stop on the journey coming up very soon.

“looks like we’re nearly there, ready to get going?” The trip had been only short, but outside it looked like a completely different region, so much snow and ice everywhere, nothing but pine trees. The woman grabbed her bags, not before waiting for the little Dreepy to return to the inside where it wrapped up in the spare clothes to keep warm. Val took to her shoulder as she usually did.

Devra nodded, standing up to gather her things. She then picked up Coal, holding his stout body in her arms to keep him from running of into the snow. “We’re ready. I’m so excited to see this area. I’ve read about it but they took forever to get it safe enough for more visitors.”

Safe enough wasn’t always entirely foolproof, and Peach was quietly happy she packed a first aid kit. She had heard some murmurs it was a little risky here, a lot of tough Pokemon roamed about.

“I hope you’re right, I’m sure the locals wouldn’t put people at risk.” The pair stepped off the train once the doors pinged open, the brisk cold air swept past, pulling them all out onto the platform. People came and went, and before long they became aware of the exits and where to head to next.

Devra took a slight lead of the two, following signs towards the little town. “Well, they did give all of us coming here a safety talk too. I just hope trainers actually listen. You gotta be smart about this place.” She then set Coal down and let the little guy run circles around the two humans. “I think I’ll wait to let Aliza our until we’re settled.”

With the pup thoroughly enjoying the snow, the trainers paused to check their phones, a map was needed for a moment, before they began to hear some loud ruckus just outside to the right of the station, sounded like a man and a young woman, peach didn’t even register it much, turning her back to the noise almost instinctually, trying to figure out which way to go. Val however was being nosey and sat on her shoulder judging the people making all the noise pretty hard from the look on her face.

“I think you’re right, we should find somewhere to stay before we really go out on a wild adventure.”

She nodded, looking at her own map on her Rotom phone, thanking the Pokémon inside for his help. “It looks like we head on that way.” She pointed to the road as it took a slight left turn. “Shouldn’t be more than a 20 minute walk.”

“‘sounds good to me, wonder what Pokemon we might see on the way?” Pocketing the phone and hoisting her bag up a bit, Peach began to take a few steps, noticing the pair who were making such noise earlier, avoiding them entirely, they seemed to be having a dad-daughter tiff that was no ones business. Onward, to the first route of the Crown Tundra!

Devra took a glance at the arguing people and sighed, hoping the wouldn’t bother her or the Professor. Coal bounded ahead as they walked, but kept in his trainer’s sight. “It’s really pretty here. Just look at all the ice on these pine needles!” She crunched her way to a tree and found an angle to catch light in the ice.

[just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot]

Soulmate September - Day 7

Day 7 - There is a string tied around your pinky that only you can see, the end of it leads to your soulmate.

Pairing(s): Kid AU! Intrulogical

TWs: Remus being Remus [though not overly so, he’s like, 9 here], some swearing

–

Remus Castillo and Logan Smith were two very different children; former was creative and bursting with chaotic energy, while the latter preferred to be more logical, more stable. One studied hard into the night despite his young years, the other decided that a good time was filling a blender with crayons and silly putty to see what would happen. Both attended different schools, lived a good distance apart, and neither of their families knew the other existed.

What could possibly bring together such opposing forces?

If your answer wasn’t being forcibly dragged kicking and screaming from the local museum by security for tampering with the exhibits and screaming about historical theft, then congratulations; you’re most likely still sane.

How did these very different children meet, you ask? 

The story began on a Friday lunchtime - as all good stories often do - when Sanders Elementary and Faraday Academy For Gifted Children both booked their museum visits for the same time slot. Thankfully, the museum staff speculated that they could indeed handle two classes of fourth graders at once - those poor, unfortunate souls - and decided to start both classes off on either sides of the museum with a little overlap.

Logan entered the foyer with his peers, gazing around at the array of trinkets and treasures adorning the space. Though he hungered for knowledge of all kinds, his heart was set on the cosmos, reaching for a copy of the museum’s map when his hand was blocked by another. He recoiled and turned to face the other; a boy with tanned skin as opposed to his own pasty complexion, with wild green eyes that bore into Logan’s own, and a grin like a shark about to snap Logan’s hand up in it’s jaws.

“I call dibs, four eyes!”

Logan huffed, straightening his glasses, “There are plenty of maps to go around, there is no need for rudeness-”

“Why do you talk like you’ve got a stick up your ass?”, the boy asked with no hint of remorse nor shame, “Just talk like a regular kid, jeez!”

Logan was flabbergasted. No one had ever talked to him like that before. Then again, no one ever really talked to him in general. Perhaps that was why his lonely little brain could only think to stammer out, 

“Who ARE you!?”

The boy roared with laughter, “Wow, thats all you have to say!? And they call ME weird!” , he shot a hand out towards Logan’s, not removing the one touching the map, “I’m Remus! What’s your name, frankenstein?”

Logan huffed, “Logan Smith. And you know,”, he began, puffing his chest out proudly as he yanked the map away, “Frankenstein was the scientist, not the monster, therefore, you’re not insulting me-”

Without hesitation, Remus leant into Logan’s space and licked the map, causing Logan to jolt back and drop it. Picking up his spoils, Remus chuckled manically, “You look smart but you’re super dumb. Frankenstein IS the monster, dumbass, that’s the whole point.”. Without waiting for Logan’s rebuttal, Remus made his way back to his class, leaving Logan to frustratedly grab another map and return to his class, unaware of the string that formed around his pinky…

The tour was everything Logan had hoped for; an informative romp through space and time, enjoying the sights of the planetarium and a walk through a tunnel lined with geodes. And yet, all Logan could think about was that stupid boy who stole HIS map. Hmph! How dare Remus call him stupid! Whatever, at least they would stop soon to have lunch in the Polar Exhibit and he wouldn’t have to think about- 

Oh god dammit.

As they entered the wide circular room, he laid eyes on the boy from before pretending to have gotten his tongue stuck to the giant fake iceberg in the centre of the room. Cheering him on was a gaggle of other children while their teacher seemed more content to just eat his own lunch and try to pretend it wasn’t his problem. Logan huffily stormed over to the nearest empty seat and popped open his Big Hero Six lunchbox, ready to moodily munch his jelly sandwiches when a painfully familiar voice stopped him in his tracks.

“We meet again, professor!”

Great.

“Remus.”, Logan hissed, though he tried to maintain composure, “A pleasure, I’m sure but I must be-”

“- crazy to run away from your soulmate?”, Remus finished, leaving Logan, once again, speechless.

“E-Excuse me!?”

“Check your pinkie, dingus.”

Logan checked and finally noticed the string, and to his horror, the end of it that tied itself around Remus’ pinkie.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me for life! Unless I die, then you’re stuck with my corpse. Oooh! Maybe you can bring me back to life! Really earn that Frankenstein nickname-”

“This HAS to be a mistake!”, Logan squeaked, flustered and shocked by the news, “There’s no way YOU are my soulmate!”

Logan made eye contact with Remus and for a moment the boy looked hurt, but he plastered on a grin and poked Logan in the arm, “Nope! Fate thinks you’re my future husband, so suck it!”

Groaning, Logan let out an exasperated sigh, “Fine, then I suppose you should tell me about yourself, Remus.”. Logan would - for eternity and a day after - deny that the smile Remus gave him made his little heart flutter for the first time.

As the two ate, Remus went into a long tangent about his life and Logan found himself absolutely fascinated. 

Remus Castillo had a twin brother, Roman, who enjoyed Disney movies and being “an overly wordy drama queen”. They had a single father, much like Logan’s own, whose wife had apparently decided she was destined for greater things that didn’t involve unplanned twin boys (Remus’ words, not his). Logan listened as Remus told him all about his family’s culture, having moved from Aguascalientes to Florida a year ago for work related reasons; retelling fond memories of watching the parade of Calaveras along the Avenida Madero with his father and brother each year. Logan found Remus really enjoyed a mixture of colourful and morbid subjects, each tangent sending Remus on a fun winding road down memory lane or through a vague memory of some educational book.

Logan Smith had wanted nothing to do with the boy who’d licked his hand and stolen his map, but as lunch ended and both classes were being called away to their respective classes, he found he didn’t want to be separated from Remus.

Very apparently, Remus didn’t want to either. If they way he was gasping Logan’s arm and hauling him towards the class from Sanders Elementary instead of his own was any indicator. 

“Come on! You can hang with us! Roman won’t mind! And my buddy Remy’s lotsa fun too-”

“Remus Castillo, stop right there.”

Remus indignantly ignored his teacher, plowing through his sentence, “You’ll LOVE my class, they’re all weirdos like us-”

“REMUS!”, barked his teacher, already done with the nine year old terror, “You let that boy go this instant!”

Remus defiantly clung tighter to Logan’s arm, “No!”

“Remus Castillo, you’re to let go NOW.”

“But he’s my soulmate!”, Remus yelled, causing his classmates to chatter excitedly. It made Logan feel a little self conscious, but Remus didn’t seem to care, “Pleeeeease let him come with us!!”

His teacher rubbed his temples as if it could massage the exhaustion away, “That’s nice, but you are NOT going to cause more trouble, soulmate or not!”

By now, even the children and teacher from Logan’s academy were watching the commotion. It came to a head as Remus’ teacher tried to separate the two of them, earning the tiniest war cry from Remus as he stomped on his teacher’s foot and clung fully to Logan like his life depended on it.

“I’M NOT LEAVING WITHOUT HIM! I’LL STAY HERE UNTIL WE’RE A GROSS MUSHY PILE OF SKIN AND BONES IF I HAVE TO!”

With that pleasant image in his brain, Logan decided to perhaps appeal to his own teacher,

“Miss, can Remus perhaps stay with our group so we may avoid further-”

“Absolutely not,”, she turned up her nose at Remus’ display, “Our school has a reputation to uphold, I will not have it sullied by such a rude child.”

Well that backfired. Now both teachers were having to try and separate the two of them. It took two of the museum’s security personnel to finally haul Remus off of Logan, carrying the writhing child as they assured his teacher that they’d put him in the tantrum room. With the way they handled his feral yelling and attempts to grab at any nearby exhibits for something he could use to bash them with, this probably wasn’t their first Rabid Child Rodeo.

Logan watched dejectedly as they hauled his soulmate out of sight while his teacher ordered him to get in line as they continued their tour. He couldn’t focus on any of the various bewitching artifacts that the guide presented to them on their tour of the ancient world though, all he could think about was Remus. Alone. Stuck in some room. Missing out on the exhibits. Missing him.

“....Emile?”, Logan asked the boy standing to his left.

“Yes, Logan?”

“I’m about to do something very, very impulsive.”

“.... Okay?”

“And reckless.”

“...Right-”

“In the name of fate.”

“........”, Emile sighed, “What do you need me to do?”

“Either talk me out of what is likely a terrible decision that will without a doubt go on my permanent record and possibly disappoint my father. Or encourage me so that I may spend time with my soulmate for as long as possible.”

Emile shook his head, “Well, if cartoons have taught me anything, it’s that you’re gonna go for it no matter what I say so...”. He placed a hand on Logan’s shoulder, “Make it good, Logan, I wanna remember the day the untouchable Logan Smith lost his mind.”. With a shared chuckle, Emile let him wind up for whatever he was about to do, while Logan waited for his moment. The tour guide was gesturing to an exhibit of ancient Mayan armour when Logan chose to strike, raising his hand while Emile awaited the fireworks show to come.

“Sir? I have a question.“

“Of course, what is it?”

“Did the museum ask permission to have that armour?”

The guide looked confused while Logan’s teacher looked ready to have an aneurysm.

“I… don’t understand what you mean. Anyway this-”

“I’m merely asking,”, Logan interrupted, ready to keep pushing until he would be  hauled off by security, “because I believe that if it were my culture being mercilessly appropriated and stolen from, I would be rather upset.”

“We’re allowed to have it because it’s for education-”

“But it’s still stealing. And stealing is always wrong, correct?”

“Well, it-”

“It’s a yes or no question, please answer as such-”

-

Remus hadn’t expected company in the tantrum room, but he wasn’t complaining as Logan was marched in, looking positively proud of himself in spite of the way the security guard nearly tossed him inside with obvious frustration. With a bright grin, Remus pat the beanbag next to him, positively writhing with unbridled joy, “Spill! What’d you do?!”.

Logan tried to play stoic and prideful, but the excitement cracked through in his voice, “I merely inquired as to why museums considered their historical thievery to be ethically justified until the tour guide got angry and attempted to ignore me.”. “Sick!! Then what!?”, Remus’ delighted eyes met Logan’s with a similar sparkle of mischief.

Logan chuckled as he admired their string of fate, as people called it, slowly pulling his eyes from it to meet Remus’ again, “I screamed. Loudly. For quite the duration. I must say, I’m rather proud of my own lung capacity.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but there was a fondness in it.

“Naturally, security came to try and calm the situation.”

“And then they brought you here?”

“No, they attempted to calm me down”, Logan snickered, “But, one of them put a hand on my shoulder rather rudely. So I bit them-” “YOU BIT ‘EM!?”, if Logan could bottle the light that radiated from Remus there and then, he would have, his own smile growing while his soulmate’s grin threatened to tear through his cheeks, “Logan, mi alma, you’re insane! I love it!”

“Mi alma?”, Logan queried, his cheeks losing the great blush war as his face radiated a nice rosy crimson.

“Oh, right!”, Remus explained, “It means ‘my soul’, it’s what people call their boyfriends ‘n’ stuff back home. I figured since you’re my soulmate, it makes sense to call you that!”

For a moment, Remus faltered, “Uh…. if you don’t mind I guess? It’s whatever, I’ll stop if you hate it-”

“No, no, I rather appreciate the sentiment,” , Logan awkwardly smiled back at Remus, “Mi alma?”

The wilder of the two threw his head back in a roar laughter, “Man, your pronunciation sucks! And that’s an easy one!“, he teased as he shuffled his beanbag closer to Logan’s and continued with a wild smile, “Looks like I gotta stay with you for sure now and make sure you get it right! You’re stuck with me, Nerdy Wolverine!”

It would be hard work convincing his father to let him move schools to be with Remus, Logan knew that. Despite the fact his father adored love in all forms and regarded the bond of soulmates as sacred, Logan knew it’d logically be a hard sell to ask his father to not only pull him out of an expensive academy, but also to have him possibly move home or make a rather lengthy commute. 

But as Remus’ had met Logan’s, the latter found himself locking fingers with his wild soulmate, banishing that thought while they still had time together. Whether it would work out right away, after a couple of months, or even over the course of a few years, they’d make it work.

“Falsehood,”, Logan smirked, “I believe it’s you that’s stuck with me.”

-----------

Okay, this one’s the cutest thing hands down. I’m so proud of this one! As a tidbit, I had it in mind that their single fathers were Janus for the twins and Patton for Logan. 

@tsshipmonth2020

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @cateye-glasses

[robininthelabyrinth]

How would you describe your version of the Jiangs?

See, this gets tricky, because I often write my fics in close-person perspective and that means I write them as how the POV character perceives them to be rather than how they really are. So a fic written in the POV of Jiang Cheng will have a very different Jiang sect than a fic written from Wei Wuxian or a third person’s POV - even though their actions wouldn’t be in any way different.

That being said, my version of Jiang Fengmian and Madame Yu (excluding Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli because that would take forever):

Jiang Fengmian is a calm, introverted, laid back person who tends to go with the flow. He hates confrontation and drama, and just wants to be happy, which is reflected in his preference to surround himself with happy people who similarly believe in not letting things bother them. He rarely pursues anything too aggressively because he thinks that’s just setting yourself up for disappointment, and tends to deal with difficult situations by looking for a solution where everyone will leave him alone/continue to play nice, without really thinking too much in the long term or too deeply about questions of right and wrong. If someone starts an argument with him or is annoying him, he will leave rather than engage; if someone does something that only harms him tangentially, he will ignore it in the hopes that it will go away by itself. He is a private person who does not generally share his emotions.

He does not have a happy marriage - he likes his wife a great deal, actually, but their communication styles are so utterly different that he honestly thinks she hates him, even when she’s trying to show affection, because he does not understand that anger/scolding can show care. His own methods of showing affection are often rejected by her (because she in turn doesn’t understand him), and he believes this means that she does not love him. He believes he was in love with either Cangse Sanren or Wei Changze or possibly both, he’s not entirely sure himself, and he regrets their deaths more than anything else in his life - except maybe the realization that his wife does love him, always has, and that he only figured it out right before their deaths.

He is, objectively, a bad father. He favors Wei Wuxian and neglects Jiang Cheng, and lets Jiang Yanli bear most of the emotional burden from that. He does not think of himself as a bad father - he doesn’t really think of himself as a father much at all. He doesn’t see anything wrong with what he is doing because he treats his children like adult friends, so he thinks it’s fine to spend time with the people whose personalities he likes (Wei Wuxian) and less time with those he doesn’t (Jiang Cheng). He is, unknowingly, rather misogynistic, and assumes that Jiang Yanli, who fits his image of a proper woman, is fulfilled by caring for her brothers and not burdened by it; ironically, the women he actually appreciates most are the ones who break his expectations. 

Madame Yu, Yu Ziyuan, is a lonely, highly introverted woman with an extremely strong sense of pride. Her personality is cold and standoffish, coming off as disdainful, and she doesn’t have any mode other than fully engaged and intense about everything. She does not suffer fools gladly, and has a truly nasty turn of phrase that does more damage than she realizes. She is extremely aware of etiquette and class divisions, and is especially angered by disrespect. She was an excellent cultivator in her youth and is an excellent trainer for the Jiang sect, remaining highly respected by her peers, although less so now that she no longer goes out on night hunts; she did not want to stop, but felt she had no choice once she became a mother. She is resentful of the fact that her husband does not involve her more in sect politics, and believes she would do a better job if given the chance, but she would never lower herself to ask because it would risk being rejected.  She misses her home very much, in part because she was last truly happy there, but she’s also extremely proud of being part of the significantly stronger Jiang sect.

She expresses affection through worry (often manifesting as scolding) and through acts of service, such as by trying her best to improve the sect’s reputation or make people stronger. As a result of her own experiences, she believes people need to be toughed up to deal with the cruel realities of the world. She is in love with her husband, who she believes does not love her - she interprets his gifts as trying to buy off her anger, which only makes it worse, his acts of service as condescension, and when he says sweet words to her she is convinced that he is only trying to use her as a ill-fitting substitute for the person he really loves, which also makes her angry. This is in large part because he persists in treating her like she is a soft woman who likes pretty things for the sake of being pretty, which she is not - she is highly practical and likes to look good because she knows it’s another weapon, not because being pretty is fun. Her best friend - who became Madame Jin - has an equally unhappy marriage, which she thinks should give her a cynical view of marriage, but in fact she’s still secretly a romantic at heart.

She is, in many ways, a bad mother. While she loves her children, she also sees them as key to her position as mistress of the Lotus Pier, and anything that challenges that position is disrespect to her - a sore spot. She does not understand how Jiang Yanli seems to be happy with what she is given, a domesticity almost to the extent of acting like a servant, but since it seems like Jiang Yanli likes it, she tries not to interfere. The fact that Jiang Fengmian won’t quash the rumors about Wei Wuxian makes her anxious that he is, in fact, planning on disowning Jiang Cheng in favor of Wei Wuxian, and she hates the fact that Jiang Fengmian prefers Wei Wuxian. She gets this anxiety and anger out by trying to make Jiang Cheng do better in the hope that if he is truly exceptional, the way Wei Wuxian is, Jiang Fengmian will finally like him - and maybe also her. She is aware to some extent that what she is doing is futile and hurting Jiang Cheng, but she cannot seem to stop herself. 

She does not hate Wei Wuxian himself, nor does she mean him any harm - if only her husband were not so partial to him, she would be very pleased with how he’s done as head disciple. She makes sure he has the best possible training and wants to cultivate him to be as strong and smart as possible, in large part because she thinks of him as her son’s future right hand. The main thing that bothers her is that he leads her son in trouble - the issue being lead. If Jiang Cheng were leading Wei Wuxian into trouble, she wouldn’t mind it, but she foresees that it will be a problem in the future; she doesn’t want her son to be a hollow sect leader who is a puppet for Wei Wuxian.