#although it was the exact age when i was maybe the closest

[napneeders]

his body language is so important to me

[hihomeghere]

Meet The Family: Part of the Tesoro Series

Five Hargreeves / F!Reader

Word Count : 3k Summary : Five finds a way to return to 2019, you both break your contract with the commission and you meet your in-laws for the first time. Aged up!Five, reader has the ability to shapeshift. Fluff with a lil bit of angst if you squint. ( I do not own the umbrella academy or any of it's characters ) Warnings : Cursing, drinking, allusions to sex, talking about death

“Do you trust me?” Five asked, both of you standing on the grassy knoll. You nodded, staring into his eyes.

“Of course I do.” He wet his lips nervously, looking around. 

“Okay,” he said, wiping his hands off on his pants. You grabbed his hand squeezing it.

“Hey,” he turned to look at you, “whatever happens we face it together, okay?” You squeezed his hand again, giving him a small smile. He nodded, returning the smile. Although his didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hold onto me, okay?” He said holding your eye contact. You nodded, grabbing his bicep, gripping his gray coat sleeve. It definitely was a struggle, but slowly the blue portal opened. The wind whipped your hair in front of your face, Five’s yells grew louder. Suddenly his hands passed through the blue, with you following behind him. You felt your body warp as you pushed through. It was similar to changing, but your body wasn’t changing outwards, it felt like it was being turned in on yourself.

And then you were falling, fortunately for you, and unfortunately for Five, he broke your fall. You both groaned as you rolled off of him onto the wet pavement. You took in deep gasps of air, your hand coming to your chest as you closed your eyes. Tiny pebbles rubbed against your hands, getting stuck under your fingernails. You heard Five shuffle next to you, his feet scraping on the pavement as he stood up.

“Shit,” you snapped your eyes open, why did he sound so different? You gasped as your eyes fell on your husband. He was young, younger than when you had first met him. Early 20s, maybe? 

“Does anyone else see Number Five and some girl or is that just me?” A man’s voice said. You looked up staring at a group of people you quickly deciphered as Five’s siblings. You looked down at yourself, your hands were still scarred, but they looked fresh. Like they had looked when you first escaped the lab, you shook your head. If Five was younger, then that meant you must be too. You felt your face, the wrinkles around your eyes were gone. You were young again. 

“What’s the date? The exact date?” Five said walking around the kitchen. You felt yourself shrink under his siblings' gaze. Mainly Klaus who seemed enamored by you. You had already caught his gaze once and he had given you a strange little wave while criss crossed on the table. If he moved his knee the wrong way you were sure you would get to see a bit more than you wanted to of your new in-laws. 

“The 24th.” Vanya said, still in disbelief.

“Of what?” Five asked exasperated.

“Of March?” She said her eyes never leaving Five.

“Good.” He continued making his peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich. 

“So are we gonna talk about what just happened?” Luther spoke up, eyeing you warily, “And who the hell is this?” He whispered, leaning closer to Five. Five continued making his sandwich, refusing to meet Luther’s eyes.

“This is Y/n, my wife.” He said as though it was an obvious observation.

“Your wife?” Alison said, her head snapping to look at you.

“How’d you land her? Did you kidnap her?” Klaus snorted looking between you and Five. You smiled, looking down at your lap.

“We have bigger problems than Five’s girlfriend at the moment. It’s been 17 years!” Luther said standing up, Five scoffed turning to face him.

“It’s been a lot longer than that.” He said before he blinked behind him. “And she’s my wife, you’ll treat her as such, got it?” He said over his shoulder. 

“I haven’t missed that.” Luther sighed, staring forward where Five once was. You looked at all the siblings. Vanya was the closest to you, she seemed timid. Alison was next, standing up with her arms crossed. Then Klaus, and Diego, who was staring daggers at you at the moment before he turned his gaze to Five.

“Where’d you go?” Diego asked, his eyes returning to you. You gulped, returning your gaze to your hands. 

“The future. It’s shit by the way.” Five said grabbing marshmallows and blinking back to the table.

“Called it!” Klaus said, raising a finger.

“I should have listened to the old man.” Five sighed moving around the kitchen like he hadn’t been gone for more than a day. “You know jumping around space is one thing.” He opened the fridge door looking inside, “jumping through time is a toss of the dice.” He stood at the head of the table. “Nice dress.” He said, looking Klaus over.

“Oh, well danke!” Klaus smiled before Vanya cut him off.

“Wait, how did you get back?” She asked, putting her hands up, unable to comprehend Five’s nonchalant attitude.

“In the end I had to project my consciousness forward into a quantum state version of myself that exists across every possible instance of time.”

“That makes no sense.” Diego mumbled looking at the tile floor, “how did she get through.” His eyes flicked up toward you. You felt your face heat up, and you turned to look at Five.

“I opened the portal allowing her to follow, and it would make sense if you were smarter.” Diego jumped up, only being held back by Luther.

“How long were you there?” Luther asked.

“Forty five years. Give or take. Including my time spent at our old job.” The commission. You felt your blood run cold, how could you have forgotten? Did they already have a team out looking for you? Working long enough for the Handler you knew the workings of her mind. She could never get over the fact that you and Five were together. Call it jealousy, or call it the inability to completely control someone. You weren’t stupid, you saw how she looked at Five, it made your blood boil. She wouldn’t kill him, he was too valuable to her, you on the other hand were good as dead. 

“So what are you saying? You’re 58?” Luther asked, all his siblings having the same confused expression on their face.

“No, my consciousness is 58.” He said before putting a slice of bread over his sandwich monstrosity. “Apparently my body is now 20 again.”

“Wait, how does that even work?” Vanya asked, shaking her head. Five took a bite of his sandwich before turning back to you. He picked up the newspaper sitting on top of the table.

“Guess we missed the funeral.” He said, no discernible tone in his voice.

“How’d you know about that?” Luther asked his eyes never leaving Five.

“What part of the future do you not understand?” Five said furrowing his brows. You looked up, Alison was looking at you this time. She offered you a small smile which you returned. Although it felt more like a grimace.

“Heart failure, huh?”

“Yeah.” Diego said before being cut off by Luther.

“No.” Five clicked his tongue walking over to you.

“Nice to see nothings changed.” He said before turning to you. His cold fingers brushed against your arm, his brows furrowed seemingly deep in thought. He grabbed your hand leading you out of the kitchen.

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” Alison asked, throwing her hands up in the air. As Five pulled you after him.

“What else is there to say? The circle of life.” He said looking over his shoulder.

-

“Five come to bed.” You said leaning on the spare bedroom door. You pulled your robe tighter around your body crossing your arms. Five stood in front of his whiteboard, equation after equation covering the board. He hadn’t even changed out of his work clothes yet. His tie hung loosely around his neck, you could just imagine how he had been pulling at it. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his top two buttons were unbuttoned.

“In a minute, dearest.” He waved at you, his face never leaving the board. You sighed walking up behind him, wrapping your arms around him. You laid your head against his back, moving with him every time he leaned forward to change something. The only sound in the room was his heart against your ear and the squeak of the pen. 

“Five,” you whined. He sighed, setting his pen down. He held your hands against his stomach.

“Yes tesoro?” He turned, moving you so you were standing in front of him. 

“I’m tired.”

“Then go to bed.” He said as though talking to a small child. You rolled your eyes, giving him a look. He smiled before kissing your head. His mustache bristled against your forehead.

“Not without you.” If he wanted to treat you like a child, fine. You stared up at him through your eyelashes, your lower lip jutting out. 

“Now that’s not fair.” He scolded, a smile on his face. You laughed breaking your pout, you took his hands leading him out of the room.

“Come on Mr. Hargreeves,” you cooed a smirk on your lips. He tried to glare at you, but slowly a smile crept on his face. 

“What will you give me, Mrs. Hargreeves?” He teased his hands finding the tie to your robe.

“Guess you’ll have to find out.” You leaned forward whispering against the shell of his ear. He chuckled lowly, letting you pull him into your shared bedroom

-

He blinked you both up into his old bedroom. You sat on his bed staring at your hands. He opened up his closet, muttering under his breath.

“Well, the first meeting with the in-laws wasn’t too bad.” You said watching his back.

“Mm.” He grumbled, rifling through the closet.

“Are you okay?” You asked, sliding off his bed to your feet.

“No!” He snapped, turning to look at you, “We’re stuck in these bodies! The world is about to end and I have no idea what to do!” He yelled, running a hand through his hair.

“Hey, it’s okay, we’ll figure it out, we always do.” You soothed approaching him like a cornered animal.

“Yeah, how'd that work the last time?” He scoffed a sarcastic smile on his face. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked, crossing your arms.

“It was the decimal! If I had had time to look over my equations I would have seen it.” He seethed, you recoiled.

“Are you saying this is my fault?” You furrowed your brows.

“Yes!” He threw his hands up, “If you wouldn’t have bothered me, we wouldn’t be in this situation!” He snarled his finger in your face. You grit your teeth, trying to keep your cool. 

“Obviously you need some time by yourself.” You said coolly, walking away from him.

“Fucking finally.” He scoffed, shaking his head as you slammed the door behind you.

-

You flew down the stairs, all but running into Vanya.

“Oh,” you said as you bumped into her, almost losing your balance, “sorry.” 

“It’s ok.” She says, “Are you ok?” She asks. You bite your lip, looking behind you.

“No.” You answer honestly, crossing your arms, “Your stupid brother is the biggest asshole I know.” You huffed.

“Yeah,” She smiled, chuckling slightly, “he can be a real pain the the ass.” You smiled looking back at her. You fell into an uncomfortable silence, before she said. “But he seems to really love you.” She gives you a smile.

“Well he’s got a funny way of showing it.” You shake your head.

“Five has never been the most emotionally mature person,” she chuckles, crossing her arms, “but none of us are, you saw that earlier.” You admired her honesty. 

“I appreciate it, Vanya.” You smiled, touching her arm.

“Listen, if you want to take the edge off, dads liquor cabinet is that way.” She points towards a room off the atrium.

“Thank you, I might take you up on that offer.” You nod heading that way, “see you around.” 

She smiles and nods as you walk into the living room. 

You groan, immediately face to face with a large oil painting of your husband.

“Yeah I feel that way about my siblings more often than not.” Klaus says stretching on the couch. You jump, your hand coming to your heart. “Oh woah!” He sits up looking at you. “Your hair! How did you do that!” He smirks pointing to his own head.

You smile softly, changing your hair back to your normal color.

“I was genetically altered as a kid.” You say looking back at the smug smile of your husband.

“Dang, heavy stuff.” He says leaning back on the plush couch. “Want to get drunk?” He asks with a grin spreading across his face.

“Hell yes.” You laugh, turning to look at him. He jumps up clapping his hands together.

“Great! I was looking for an excuse to get into the old man’s alcohol.” He moves to the bar, every movement he makes is extremely fluid. Like he’s floating everywhere. You walk up to the bar, sitting on one of the stools. “Now hang on, missy,” he says, holding out a finger towards you, “are you old enough to drink? Let me see your ID.” You laugh, shaking your head.

“Technically I’m 45,” you say a grin working its way onto your face, “and I don’t have an ID.”

“No way.” Klaus says leaning forward on the bar, his hands clasped together. “You, 45? What’s your secret?”

You giggle, shaking your head, “A time traveling husband helps.” You shrug.

“Hmm, guess I need to find me one of those,” he muses as he hands you a glass. You study the glass in your hands, watching the golden liquid swirl inside.

“So how long have you been with Five?” He asks, swirling the alcohol in his glass before downing it.

“Um,” you hum looking up, “about 25 years, we’ve been married for 21.” You sip the alcohol, it’s good, maybe a brandy?

“Jeez, you stuck with that old geezer for 21 years? More than any of us.” He says, chuckling to himself. You nod, your lips forming a tight line.

“Yep.” You tense your jaw, downing whatever is left in your glass. Grimacing as the alcohol burns your throat.

“Enough about Five.” Klaus says, “Tell me about you, Mrs. Hargreeves, I mean I would be an awful brother-in-law if I didn’t know anything about my new sister.” He grins walking around the bar to sit next to you on a stool.

“I’m really not that special,” you chuckle, setting your glass down on the bar top.

“Mrs. I change my hair color when I’m surprised, isn't special?” He asks tilting his head, “What, did Five tell you that?” His brows furrowed as he recoiled.

“No, no he would never say that.” You wave him off. 

“Well what else can you do missy?” He asked, leaning forward, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“Well, I can change my appearance to look like anyone I want. As long as I know what they look like.” You shrugged.

“Ooh! Do me! Do me!” He says, patting your arm excitedly. You smile before turning to face him.

He tried to stay still but his leg continues to bounce. You look him over once before you feel your body stretch. Your hair changes to a short curly brown, tattoos adorn your skin. Klaus’s grin grows by the minute.

“Holy smokes!” He exclaims looking at you, “Am I really that good looking?” You burst out laughing, maybe it was the brandy, maybe you were just having fun for the first time in a long time. 

You change back into yourself, wincing as your head throbs slightly. 

“Can I ask you a personal question?” He leans forward lowering his voice slightly.

“Klaus, I think every question you’ve asked me so far has been personal.”

“Have you ever,” he wiggles his eyebrows, “you know, changed in the bedroom?” You pull a grin on your face.

“Klaus!” You blush, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Well? Have you?” He pushes his voice higher than before.

“No! Never!” You say waving him off.

“Oh come on! You don’t have to lie to me!” He pleads his hand resting on your arm.

“And I’m telling you Klaus, I’ve never changed during sex!” You whisper covering his hand with your own.

“Fine! Fine.” He says pulling away, “but if I find out you’re lying there will be hell to pay young lady!” He scolds half heartedly, you shake your head, a smile on your face.

“Yes sir.” 

“Y/n?” Five stands in the doorway, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Klaus groans, throwing his head back.

“What do you want?” He asks glaring at him.

FIve ignores his brother, he adjusts his jacket looking up at you.

“Can we talk?” He pleads, walking toward you. You let out a sigh and nod. 

“Yeah I’m going, I’m going.” Klaus says waving to the air, as if someone only he could see was pestering him. Once he’s past Five he turns flipping him off. You snicker, looking down at your feet. Five sits next to you at the bar, he reaches for you, taking your hand. You don’t pull away which he takes as a good sign.

You wait for him to talk, feeling his warm hand in yours. If you were anything, you were patient. Especially when Five came crawling to you on his knees.

“I’m an asshole.” 

“Yep.” You say nonchalantly.

“I shouldn't have snapped at you, I just-“ he sighed, shaking his head, “I just screwed this whole thing up. I missed the decimal and changed our bodies forever.” He looked at your glass, avoiding your gaze.

“Hey,” you said, reaching out and turning his head to look at you, “I’m not mad at you for what happened. This-,” you motioned to yourself “I took this risk, and I’d do it all over again.” You reached up holding his face in your hands.. He leaned into your touch, his own hand coming up to caress yours.

“What did I do to deserve you?” He asked, shaking his head. 

“Beats me.” You laughed, he rolled his eyes lightly shoving you. You smirked, pulling him closer, kissing him. He hummed smiling into the kiss, his hand wrapped around your waist. You cupped his cheek, rubbing your thumb over his jaw. You weren’t lying when you said it didn’t matter what happened, as long as you had Five next to you, you would be just fine.

[celestialprincesse]

Hello! Can you write Lieutenant Ghost x Colonel or Captain reader, please! And take your time with it! Thank you 💗💗

I really did take my time with getting around to this whoopsie🥴 Anyways !

John Price retired four months ago, and to the surprise of everyone in TF141, had been replaced externally, instead of by one of them. Ghost, in particular, had not been thrilled with that information. Until he met you.

You'd been one of Laswell's most trusted associates, worked alongside her for years in all different military and CIA branches. Truly the cream of the crop. Despite all your acclaim, the 141 had always been a tight knit family, held together by Captain John Price. What if you couldn't fill his shoes? Keep them running like a well oiled machine?

He'd be the first to admit that despite he and Price's similarity in age, his Captain had been the closest thing to a paternal figure he'd ever had, in his own weird, fucked up and emotionally distant way.

Admittedly, you're beautiful, funny and completely magnetic - but you're not Price. Something about how - how seemingly flawless you are seems to only make you less approachable to Simon, like he'll say one wrong thing to you and not be enough.

You feel the exact same way about him.

Realistically, you know he's your lieutenant, he was Price's too. He should've been the next choice for captain. All of them could've been better for the position than you. Gaz had shadowed Price for as long as he was in the 141. Johnny was the youngest ever to pass the SAS recruitment test. Ghost was noted as exceptionally physically proficient on his file, and had been in the military since he was legally able. Not to mention, Laswell had raved about him to you. You can see why now.

When he lurches at your back, seeing you safely to your office like some loyal guard dog, you can't help but to feel so immensely comforted, like he's a storm, in which you've somehow found yourself in the eye, protected fro, the world outside. And Ghost, loyal as he is, will always protect his team.

The others had taken to you so well, instinctively protective towards the only woman on their team, although you've shown them time and time again that you can hold your own. Simon, however, is on a different level entirely. It's stayed the same since day one. Something in him calls to something in you, and vice versa, and where you go, he goes.

At first, you had thought maybe he was trying to suck up to you, earn your favour, but when he'd started getting in your space, memorising your coffee order and helping you with everything you could imagine, you'd quickly realised that your lieutenant, the big, brave Simon 'ghost' Riley, has a big fat crush on you.

The feeling is mutual.

Obviously, you've got to be careful with the way you go about showing it, especially in a professional environment where fraternisation is frowned upon. It's clear to the both of you though, the pining isn't one sided.

Maybe when you're fully comfortable in your position as captain, well settled into the team, and sure that no one will think that to only way you achieved your position was by blowing someone higher up, maybe then you'll act on your feelings. God forbid you want to. One thing you've fortunately learned in your months working with Ghost, however, is that he's a patient man. He's willing to wait, to let you get comfortable.

Good thing you're patient too.

But until then, you'll settle for the stolen glances with soft eyes, or the way he's always checking on you when you're in the field together. You'll savour the gentle hands patching you up, or the moments between sparring sessions when you sit there sweaty beside one another, just breathing, touching, being.

Pining!! Mutually!! fuck yeah!! They can't have each other!! (yet)😛

still in love though

just subtly

[frankencanon]

If I were to choose any one character for Oda to make a oneshot of, I think I would choose Marco simply because I am desperate for more Young Marco content, especially if it's about how he joined the Whitebeard crew...

I used to assume he was the first member to join simply because he seemed the closest with Whitebeard, but after the Oden flashbacks called him an apprentice I'm not so sure...

Then again, that could just be because of his age — not because he's new to the crew...

Afterall, Shanks and Buggy were called apprentices as well, and yet as we now know (for Shanks, at least) they'd been raised on the ship ever since they were a baby.

| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |

(And don't even get me started on Buggy...

If Shanks was found in a treasure chest, then where the hell did Buggy come from? Was he also in the chest? Or did they get him later? Did they specifically go looking for another kid — perhaps as a playmate for Shanks so he'd have another friend his age? — or did they happen upon him by accident?

How old was he when he joined? Could Shanks have been the one to find him and bring him aboard? Was he a stowaway? Or did Rogers or someone else kidnap him after they caught him pickpocketing? What are the chances that they'd end up with a kid the same exact age as Shanks by accident?

Actually, now that I mention it — I would be very interested in a Buggy oneshot as well, particularly one that tells the tale of how exactly he wound up on the Rogers crew...)

| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |

So maybe Marco was the first crewmember — he was just very, very young when he first joined. It kind of fits, since I can't imagine a newby apprentice being allowed to essentially lead the charge — nor can I imagine him being so calm and cavalier around the Roger Pirates.

But it would make sense if he grew up doing this and had actually been there for every single skirmish against the Roger Pirates ever since the crew had been formed.

(Although he would've been kept on the sidelines until he was deemed strong enough.)

It makes sense for him to be unruffled and gladly, excitedly leading the charge against the Rogers if this is what he'd grown up doing, if these skirmishes were nothing new to him.

(Especially since he would've known that there was no reason to worry about getting killed or anything as the Rogers were more than aware of how stupid it would be to actually kill any of Whitebeard's precious children.)

| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |

Besides Marco (and Buggy) however, @sour-sound also pointed out another character I'd love to see a oneshot of — Crocodile.

Who was Crocodile before he became a Warlord and Dictator? Before he attempted to secretly take over a county? What led him to this?

(At least Doflamingo had a reason, even if it wasn't really a good one — he wanted to take over Dressrosa because his family were the original rightful rulers before they fucked off to Mary Geoise, leaving the throne abandoned and vacant. And since the other Celestial Dragons weren't willing to let him back in...)

Where did he get that scar on his face? How did he lose his hand? Oda, the fans want to know...!

[weneedhelp]

I hear that you're most like your bias and your bias wrecker is your ideal type - TRUTH OR NO

i should be asleep but i'm too awake now so answering this ask! i must bring out my biases and bias wreckers.

nct

bias : haechan

bias wrecker : mark/renjun

truth : a good section of my humour and mischief is like haechan. but tbh i think i'm more alike to renjun. mark tho, yeah. but he's everyone's type, isn't he?

wayv

bias : xiaojun

bias wrecker : ten

truth : hmm i don't think i'm like xiaojun, i think i'm more alike to kun than anyone else. honestly speaking i'm not as familiar with wayv as i want to be (haechan doesn't promote with wayv so it doesn't give me a chance). ten as my ideal type? i see it. my irl friend and i were talking about how sexy we find him...

the boyz

bias : sunwoo

bias wrecker : juyeon

truth : tbh my bias wrecker changes often so it's hard to say. i'm obsessed with juyeon a bit. but i'm quite alike with sunwoo but i'm actually not joking when i say sunwoo is so close to my irl ideal type. he even looks the part.

stray kids

bias : hyunjin + lee know

bias wrecker : han

truth : all of them are my ideal type. it's a triangle of ideal. but lately i've been a bit more hyper focused on hyunjin because the way he expresses himself is a bit similar to me even though he's stylish about it. lee know and i have similar tendencies. han is just yummy as fuck. so in a way yes, but like the tip of the iceberg. you need all 3....

seventeen

bias : hoshi + the8

bias wrecker : dino/mingyu/dk/jeonghan

truth : idk what's going on anymore. i wanna say truth but i also don't. because although there are some similarities between my biases and i - i don't find myself in them as much as others on the list. maybe a bit more in minghao than hoshi. and my bias wrecker list, take your pick. there's so many that you'll find my ideal type in there in no time.

treasure

bias : jihoon

bias wrecker : junghwan/yedam (ot12)

truth : yes. i think one of the closer ones to the truth. jihoon has the type of humour that i love. adore. it's the closest to mine than other idols i know. but his confidence is too fucking sexy where i'd say it's more an ideal type of me? or a type that sparks inspiration in me?. junghwan and yedam, in a way yes. for different reasons as well. i wouldn't say ideal type but i have fondness for both of their characters that if i met someone like them, i'd crush on them. 100%

enhypen

bias : jungwon

bias wrecker : sunghoon

truth : jungwon is kind of like jihoon where he's a bias that sparks inspiration in me and my values but i don't find myself in him. in fact, barely at all. he's just my baby. sunghoon on the other hand fits the ideal type thing so well i kinda hate it. i don't want to admit it because then my friend wins and that just can't happen. so yes, but for my sake, no.

bts

bias : jimin

bias wrecker : taehyung (and a bit of namjoon lately)

truth : no, in this case it's not a lie but it's not the truth either. i think especially in later years (and what kind of adds to this is that i'm not as big of a fan as i was years ago) i'm more alike with taehyung than i am jimin. jimin was my ideal type for ages and what will always have my heart about him is the way he accepts love in a gentle and affectionate way with other men. which in my country is hard to come by. also in this case there's too much loyalty and story to fit into this statement.

exo

bias : kyungsoo

bias wrecker : baekhyun

truth : true... i don't think i have found myself in anyone quite so much as i do kyungsoo. baekhyun is quite similar to my ideal type. not even in a romantic sense either just in a ideal person i want to surround myself with kind of way. this group fits the prompt so well.

victon

bias : subin

bias wrecker : seungwoo

truth : i do find myself in subin, a lot more often than you think. not exact or worth the whole 'omg we're so alike' ramblings, it's just...i see a bit. i get babied often. i just accept and understand it. (he's just acting in these roles but-) he can be cold and aloof. i see it. seungwoo is just...hot and i like the thought of him being my ideal type.

txt

bias : yeonjun

bias wrecker : beomgyu

truth : neither guy is particularly like me i think. in my case i think i'm more similar to the other guys rather than these two? i think the way they bicker and banter is up my alley but in general? not really. they both fit my ideal type more than likely.

TLDR;

it's a mix of truth and not quite truth. false but not quite false. in some cases it works more for others.

CONCLUSION :

i think the reason why this goes around the way it does is because the 'thought process' of biases and bias wreckers are kind of different?

with biases, it's only natural to find similarities or something to relate to in another person and a para-social relationship isn't any different. and when you start you just never really stop. i also find that the bias is typically the person (or people) you're investing more time in, thinking about them, getting to know them through the screen...

whereas with biaswreckers, they're like photo bombs. they're a break from all of that. they're the ones you're thinking 'omg they're actually so fucking pretty what the hell' 'omg so fucking hilarious' 'nawww they're actually so gentle/strong etc'. they're a bit of a jump start.

that's what i think anyway.

sorry for the essay, couldn't help myself, quite frankly.

[oraclekleo]

Ooh I understand. Although Manhwa style is different from manga, it's more realistic and colorful. But I understand the preference for novels 😊

Truue western thrillers are better. For romance though, I can't stand how in western romance they usually sleep with each other after meeting once or twice. In asian stories, at least they bonded and get to know each other on deeper level before that happens. I really appreciate that

That being said, I'm nervous for my good/bad girl reading omg an adult reading for myself! 😁 when you make these games do you sometimes want to participate for yourself? I heard some readers say they can't read for themselves or those close to them, does it apply to you too Kleo?

For romance though, I can't stand how in western romance they usually sleep with each other after meeting once or twice.

😂

I'm a passionate bookworm my entire life and I'm already in 4-digit numbers when it comes to books I read count but I have never seen this! 😂 I guess I was reading wrong books. 😂 Maybe you had unfortunate hand when picking your romantic novels but I can assure that this never happened in those I read and I do read those slightly erotic novels, too. 😂

I always test my tarot readings on myself first. I have done so ever since I got my first deck (more than 17 years ago... I feel so old... That's literally an age of many of my followers here...). When I got my first deck (and the second, too) I only read cards for myself and my closest ones like my best friends. I would never dare to read cards for a stranger unless I have practiced with someone I trust first. Honestly I don't understand how the readers who say they can't read for themselves or close people do it. Like... they tried to do readings for themselves and close ones and it didn't work so they decided to try with strangers? Without being sure they actually have sufficient skill? With proofs of the exact opposite? Because if I did a reading for myself or my close ones and it was like complete mess, I would probably think I'm not so good at it and certainly wouldn't just go ask strangers to be my lab rats. 🤷‍♀️ But that might just be me being perfectionist. 😂

So yeah, I read cards for myself and for people who are very dear to me. Reading for myself is a little harder as sometimes I see too much in the cards. And it's also not nice when see unpleasant things in them. I have done my Dominatrix and Mommy reading. I haven't write it down, I just looked at the cards, laughed a bit and said to myself "yep! That's sounds legit". 😂

[hannie-dul-set]

araw-araw [na jaemin]

(EVERY DAY)

part of “the puhon playlist” collection

SUMMARY | mahiwaga— someone or something that you’ll choose every single day no matter the circmstance. and for you, that was na jaemin. even if time decides to set you apart PAIRING | na jaemin x female! reader GENRE | childhood friends to lovers! au, college! au, romance, slow-ish burn, fluff, humor, tiny angst, biology major jaemin and art major mc HEHE WARNINGS | excessive swearing, insecurities, some sex jokes LMAO, i project a lot in this i’m sorry JSFJG WORD COUNT | 14.5k TAGLIST | @prettyjaems @lcvemark @shra-vasti @danishmiilk @probablygonnahurtsomebody @jccv @rebel-lious-alien @dalkomhanchocolateicecream @kthpurplesyou @fullsuhnshine​ @dejvns @nctzun @sweetjaemss @sehunniepot @wownajaemin @emoshishi @holywaterbetch @ukiyoneo @injunified @huangxx​ @jaehyunnie3​ @nct-writers​ @czennienet​ @neowritingsnet​ @kpopscape​

a/n: HERE IT IS.... MY PRIDE AND JOY JHSFJSD gahh okay i’m gonna keep my rambling to a minimum but this fic is very close and very dear to my heart and if it isn’t obvious that i’m in love with jaemin then this fic will make it obvious LMAO

also do yourself a favor and listen to ben&ben’s araw-araw on loop while reading this!! adds to the ~vibe~ hehe

Five-thirty-seven in the morning, grey clouds stretching throughout the sky as you peeked outside the window, falling right above oceans and buildings and people that you couldn’t even see. You sighed as you sank deeper into your chair, closing your eyes and adjusting your earbuds to clear your thoughts that were brought about by your sudden move.

You felt a nudge from beside you, coming from your mother (your dad was long knocked out since earlier), and so you politely pulled the earbuds away. “Excited to come back to Korea?” she asked. You simply responded with a smile and hum.

It wasn’t like you didn’t like the idea of returning— it was the prospect that it did not even feel like you were returning in the first place. Indifference was what you felt. After moving to Los Angeles when you were twelve because of your father’s job, you had to say goodbye to all your friends living in your hometown, all the traditions and customs that you were used to, and all the memories that you have built up in order to get used to a new environment. Seven years later when you thought you were just about to fit in with the west, your father comes out with the news of going back to Seoul again.

So it was difficult to manage a full smile.

You had a thought as you looked down through the window, recognizing a few of the landmarks that stood out: how strange it was to have somewhere that used to be home feel so foreign.

Just as you were about to put in your earbuds back in, your mother suddenly brightened, looking at you with a large smile on her face, eliciting your curious gaze.

“Oh! Do you still remember your old friend Jaemin?”

A smile tugged at your lips. How could you forget him?

Na Jaemin. Nana. Jaems. Your childhood best friend for six years until you were forcibly shipped all the way to LA. You still remembered how hesitant you were to tell him that you were moving because you didn’t want him to cry— only to have you crying and refusing to let go of him until your parent's pried you off of him at the airport. He assured you while wiping away your tears that you’d still get to see him one day.

Maybe that day would actually be one of these days.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, fiddling with the drawstrings of your jacket. “Why? I haven’t been in contact with him for years now.”

“His mom and I talked the other day and I told her that we’re moving back! And just earlier, she told me that Jaemin volunteered to pick us up from the airport so we won’t have to take a cab. Isn’t that great? You’d get to be reunited with your old friend again.”

“Ah,” you paused for a moment, in thought, just before pressing your lips together into a tight smile. “Yeah, it would be nice to see him again.”

That was what you said, but even until you left the plane, lugging your baggage across the cold floors of the airport with your music at full volume to drown out the noise, you were actually rather conflicted about meeting him again. A lot could happen within seven years, and therefore there was no assurance that things would still be the same. You weren’t sure if he’d still be the same sweet boy that was determined to fight the park swings after you fell and cried, if he’d still be the same kid that stopped talking to you for three days because you tricked him into eating a strawberry flavored lollipop. Maybe he’d still be, maybe he wouldn’t, but it was exactly that uncertainty that made you feel uneasy.

Still, there was still a hint of excitement, a string that tugged your heart away from all the uneasiness, just enough to bring a smile to your face at the thought of seeing him again.

“Y/N, let’s go?”

Your father called out to you and you didn’t even realize that you have actually stopped walking amidst your musings.

“Oh, yeah I—” you stumbled in between the ever moving airport crowd, looking down to see your shoelace had become undone, and so you let go of your suitcase. “You two go ahead, I’ll catch up in a sec!”

You ducked down, right beside the large, grey case to fix it, lips pursed in concentration. People passed by without minding you too much, but at one instance, just as you had finished retying your shoelace, your suitcase moved away from you with a shadow looming from above. Panic struck, and so you jolted up, instincts forcing your hand to move, quickly grabbing the handle. There was another hand resting on it. Your eyes moved up to meet with the culprit's.

Weirdly enough, he was just as shocked as you are.

Even weirder— he looked way, way too attractive to be a thief. Or maybe that was the modus these days? Still, you harshly dragged back the suitcase, ripping it away from his grasp with a glare. “What the fuck—”

At that moment, you recalled your mother’s words. Jaemin volunteered to pick us up from the airport. This guy looked a little too much like your old friend from your old neighborhood.

It felt like you were looking into the exact same large, dark eyes that used to be always accompanied by a pretty smile, now matched by a mouth hanging slightly agape from surprise. He even had the same dark hair that always messily fell over his eyes. There was a moment of pause in between the rush of bodies, the both of you in a frozen trance staring at each other until you had finally realized that motherfucker— this was Na Jaemin.

When did he get so hot?

“I—”

He flashed you a smile. The same damned smile. It brought you to the conclusion that seven years really didn’t do anything except make him far too attractive for his own good. All of a sudden you felt self-conscious about your own appearance as you gawked at him. God really liked to play favorites, huh?

You could see him say something, his lips moving just enough to represent a few words, but it was muffled thanks to the blaring music. Your confusion reflected clearly on your face contorting, and Jaemin only shook his head and laughed before reaching his hands to your face, bringing you to a momentary halt of haywire because what the actual fuck was he doing.

“You shouldn’t listen to music too loudly in public,” he said, pulling your earbuds out of your ears and gingerly placing them into your open palms with a smile. Holy fuck, his voice got so deep. “I’ve been calling out to you since earlier, but you couldn’t hear. Let’s go, your parents are waiting.”

Before you could even try to recollect yourself from the sudden crashing of events, Jaemin took your suitcase in your stead, leading you to his car.

If you still weren’t sure whether or not this was Na Jaemin from your past, you were now because although a bit watered down, he was just as excessively weird and sweet as he was ages ago. You found yourself feeling stupid for even doubting it in the first place. Of course, he was still the same; he even chirps your name in the same way as he always did before.

“There we go,” with a huff, the trunk came to a close. He threw your suitcase in there after seeing your mini struggle episode with far too little effort for your peace of mind. “You should just ask me next time. Okay, Y/N?”

“Thanks,” you gave him a small nod, flustered when he pinched your left cheek while making a questionable noise, and he opened the car door for you to enter.

Maybe it was you that had changed.

You were fairly quiet throughout the car ride while your parents and Jaemin decided to catch up after everything, only listening and giving your reactions whenever needed. You weren’t a morning person and your jetlag wasn’t doing you of any help either.

“You’re in your third year, right Jaemin?” your father asked, sitting at the front seat as your mother and you sat behind.

“Yep, yep,” he happily replied.

“Time really does fly fast, doesn’t it?” your mother joined in. “What uni do you go to, Jaemin?”

“Ah,” he sounded, eyes still directed on the road. “NCT U. It’s the closest at home, and I didn’t really wanna move out.”

“Oh, what a coincidence! Y/N isn’t that where you’re planning on going, too?”

“Really?” you could see Jaemin’s eyes brighten from the mirrors. “Y/N, do you want me to help you with your requirements? Have you enrolled already? I can give you a tour if you want!”

He’s really the same. You thought, smiling. “It’s fine, Jaemin. I already enrolled and took care of everything online.”

“But I should still tour you, though!” he retorted, the pout and whine evident in his voice. “The campus is really big so you might get lost. Ah, but aren’t universities in the States much bigger? I can also introduce you to some of my friends if you like.”

Jaemin went on for a while, telling your parents not to worry and promising that he’d take care of you throughout your college life here in Korea despite your protests that you could very much take care of your own self. Eventually, your mother asked about his major, and his animated expressions dimmed down into a slight bashfulness after answering that he was taking biology. You joined the conversation upon hearing that. “You said back then that you wanted to be a surgeon, right?”

With a shy smile, he nodded, and at that moment you felt a rush of awe for your childhood friend. Your parents seemed to have reacted the same way seeing as he was growing a little more embarrassed. It was amazing how he held on to the same dream he held since he was a kid— the amount of passion and dedication he must have for it. You on the other hand—

“What about you, Y/N?”

You jumped at the sudden subject switch. “Oh, I’m—” a pause in your statement. “I’m… taking an arts course.”

“Wow! As expected, Y/N is as cool as always,” he doted, which caused you to flush.

“It’s— it’s not really that amazing, it’s just the only thing I’m kinda good at so—”

“No, no, no. Y/N, you shouldn’t say that,” he scolded, clicking his tongue while his hands remained on the wheel. Your mother was beside you yet he was the one doing the mom nagging. “Who is that again? Bob Ross? Leonardo DiCaprio? You’re gonna be much much much better than them someday, I just know it! I have something called Nana vision, you know.”

You stifled a quiet laugh, not having the heart to correct him that it was not DiCaprio. “Does your Nana vision also see that we’re already almost at the complex?”

“Oh!”

At your words, Jaemin’s attention was now a hundred percent back on driving, profusely apologizing for getting distracted. You could see his ears slightly reddening from your seat which lasted until the end of the drive. Jaemin helped your family carry everything to your apartment on the eighth floor, even volunteering to help you unpack. Your mother firmly declined, however, insisting him to take a rest after all his help, but she did invite him and his parents over for dinner tomorrow. A little reunion of sorts.

“Six in the evening, right?”

“Yes. You should head back home now, Jaemin. Thank you for everything.”

He shot a bright smile before readying to march outside. “We’ll be here by five!”

She laughed at him, shaking her head, and proceeded to look for you inside the mess of the living room. You were about to disappear inside your room, luggage in hand to unpack, but she quickly dragged you back by the ear. “Go see him out the door!” she whisper-yelled, and so you did. Fortunately, he was stopped by your father before he got to leave, so you took this opportunity to smoothly stride beside him as he slipped past the door when he said goodbye. The door clicked to a close. He raised a brow at you.

“Mother’s orders,” you answered.

“So you wouldn’t have gone out if she didn’t tell you to?” he huffed, pouting. “And I was really happy to see you, too. I think I might have to take that back.”

You rolled your eyes at him, laughing, and eventually you made it to the end of the hallway. “Too late. You can’t take back your happiness. It’s good to see you again, Jaemin.”

The both of you stopped right in front of the elevator, and you waited for him to depart, but he didn’t. He had his arms crossed over his chest, accompanied by an expression on his face that you couldn’t quite tell if it was hurt, disappointment, or offense. Probably all three. Definitely all three.

“What? are you putting up a wall between us? Don’t I mean anything to you anymore?” he groused, nose scrunching. “What happened to Jaems? Nana? Y/N, you’re seriously hurting me over here.”

Laughing at the way he was sticking his frown right into your face to prove his point, you playfully shoved him off, pushing him into the elevator after all of his complaints even though he was the one moving his feet, anyway. You missed him, that much you could conclude, therefore you decided to stop his whining just before the elevator doors came to a close.

“See you tomorrow, Nana.”

You grinned, not missing the way his eyes lit up in between the small gap. You really did miss him, and you were lucky enough to have him as a small memory to remind you that this place was indeed home.

Maybe it wasn’t just Jaemin that you had missed. The entire family was just a smack in the face of early childhood nostalgia that you nearly cried (thank god you didn’t) when Mrs. Na buried you into a bone crushing hug the moment she saw you when you opened the door. You were really happy to be back— even when you weren’t exactly sure before.

“Mom, I think you’re suffocating, Y/N,” Jaemin pointed out as he left his shoes in front of your doorstep, walking inside with his father following behind him.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry, Y/N. I just couldn’t believe that this is you!” she coddled, and somewhere in between Jaemin found himself beside you. “I think I have pictures of you two when you were younger, hold on—”

Mrs. Na was pushed forward by her husband as she dug through her phone for a decade old Facebook posts of you and Jaemin (you hoped she wouldn’t remember you had an entire album). The older man ruffled your hair as he passed by with a fond smile, disappearing into the dining table where your parents were preparing and leaving you and Jaemin behind.

He was looking at you. Questionably so.

“What?”

“It’s not fair,” he whined. “I didn’t get to hug you yesterday.”

Oh my god, you shook your head, grabbing the sleeve of his mint jacket and leading him to where your parents were to help. “You’ll have more opportunities, you loser. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

Jaemin was speechless for a moment as he let you drag him along, but a happy smile broke through and he matched your steps halfway.

“Yeah,” he agreed. You weren’t going anywhere.

Dinner followed the usual sequence of events: reminiscing about the past, asking both parties what they have been up to, and of course talks about the future. During the meal, Jaemin asked when your classes were starting (next week), and he proposed his promised tour to be held this Tuesday— two days from now— because he didn’t have a lot of classes that day. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, neither did your parents, so you ended up agreeing.

Unfortunately for you, your mother pulled out the ancient photo album of the past right after dinner, and the stark contrast between yours and Jaemin’s reactions were also album worthy. By the end of it, you were sure that smoke was emitting from your ears because your good friend had an affinity with screaming over how cute you were, even going as far as stealing one of your baby pictures right before they decided to make their leave.

“Ah, ah,” he pulled the photo away the moment he sensed your attempt of theft. You two were standing right in front of the open door, his parents already having left ahead. “I’m keeping this. You look so cute here.”

“How am I so sure you won’t blackmail me with that!”

An offended gasp. “I would never,” he took out his phone, inserting your picture inside his colored phone case with you watching his every move. “It’s for me to see only, so you don’t need to worry.”

You looked at him. Then to the phone that he was holding up with a confident smile. You let out a sigh.

“Fine,” you begrudgingly relented, and he waddled over to you with a big smile on his face to envelop you into a hug. He smells nice, you thought, reciprocating the embrace. Wait, isn’t this my perfume? That would explain what he was doing inside your room earlier. You could only sigh inwardly let him keep on hugging you. He was whining about it earlier, after all.

It lasted long, maybe a bit too long because his dad came back to fetch him.

“Mhm, you can trust me with anything, Y/N,” Jaemin mumbled before finally pulling away, his hands still resting on your shoulders as he did. “Anyway, before I go— should we exchange phone numbers?”

Tuesday came by, and you were met with two realizations. Both of which made you feel very very small in comparison.

One, NCT U was really freaking big.

Two, Na Jaemin was really freaking popular.

Granted, he had only shown you around the STEM department, but with every turn that you took and every hallway that you passed through, there was least one person that stopped by to say hi to him. Even some of the teachers were close with him. You should have expected it considering he was literally nice, smart, handsome, and everything you could ever ask for, but it still made him feel just a tiny bit out of reach.

“Are you feeling tired?” he asked, breaking away from a conversation with a senior. He put a hand over your shoulder with concern that reflected in his eyes. “We can take a break around the benches if you want.”

“Yeah, sure. After you—”

“I’ll talk to you later, hyung. See you around.”

Jaemin waved off his older friend, Yuta, you had overheard, and proceeded to lead you to the aforementioned area on the ground floor before stopping by a vending machine to get some drinks. You pressed your lips together, feet shuffling as you waited behind him, and then you finally decided to speak. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Do what?” he asked, slotting in a few coins into the machine.

“You— you with your friend,” you fumbled, trying your best to speak your mind, but how were you supposed to say ‘cut your conversation short with your friend because of me’ without seeming like a total headass? You could have waited until they were finished.

With a soft smile, he passed a canned, carbonated drink into your hands— lemon, you read— and took one for himself. He didn’t answer your incomprehensible question and decided to walk across the field leading to a bench area, but you were sure he got what you were trying to say. He simply chose not to answer. Or did he? Hell, you didn’t even know anymore. Annoyed, you decided to gulp down the drink in one go to distract yourself, even when the bubbles stung your throat. Jaemin stared at you in horror.

“Were you that thirsty? You should have told—”

“Na Jaemin!”

In sync, your heads snapped towards the direction of the ear-ripping screech, which was quite coincidentally where you two were headed. There were two boys sitting on a bench, one more on the table with a guitar. You assumed that it was one of them that screamed out your friend’s name— probably the one that was making eye contact with him before dramatically turning away with a butchered sob.

“Na Jaemin! Traitor of the brotherhood! I remember when he would still come running the moment I call his name but now— forgotten for dust! He doesn’t care about us anymore, Renjun. He even has a new—”

“What are you on about this time, Haechan?”

Haechan’s evidently fake sobbing stopped, pushing away the boy that he had just been crying into moments prior. “Oh you’re here,” he deadpanned.

It was almost horrific how three pairs of eyes immediately zeroed in on you as you meekly hid behind Jaemin, causing the hairs at the back of your neck to stand as if you were about to die in a fucking horror movie. You could tell from that alone that despite having many friends, these guys were probably his closest— whether it was better or worse, you had no idea. All of a sudden you were dawned with the intimidating task of trying to get them to like you, which was already way too out of reach because the one with the guitar was practically ripping you to shreds with his eyes alone.

“Please stop trying to scare, Y/N. Jeno, you might actually make her cry, stop that.”

“Whoops,” Jeno stopped his death staring. “Hyuck initiated it.”

“Actually it was Renjun, but whatever,” before Renjun could even bite back after being falsely accused, Haechan had already blocked him off and had directed his attention towards you, legs crossed and a critical gaze. “Fuck formalities. Y/N, right? Who are you and why are you trying to steal—”

“Alright, no more scare tactics. Y/N, there are my friends, Jeno, Haechan— or Donghyuck, whichever you prefer, he doesn’t mind— and Renjun. They’re just trying to mess with you, don’t worry. Friends, this Y/N L/N, my childhood friend for like four, five years before she left Korea and moved to LA.”

The term childhood friend lit a spark within the three boys, but before they could do or say anything dangerous that would jeopardize your relationship, Jaemin the ever popular boy was called out by a group of girls. He excused himself to leave for a moment, but not before apologizing to you a million times over (“If you’re really sorry,” Renjun chided before he ran off. “Treat us and Miss Y/N to Kun’s, yeah?”). He agreed without even hearing him properly, and now you were left with his three friends that felt more like three sharks that circled around you. They were fucking out for blood.

“So,” the moment Jaemin disappeared from the parameter, Haechan pulled you to the bench in between him and Renjun with a devilish grin. “Childhood friend, huh?”

Your eyes snapped over to Renjun who was on your right to ask for a way out of this, but the guy was busy filming the entire thing on his phone. Why did Jaemin leave you behind? You had no chance of escaping. Haechan locked you down by swinging his arm around your neck just as you were about to stand. He signalled at his friend who was sitting on the table. “Jeno, drop the beat.”

There was a moment of miscommunication in between because instead of dropping the beat like Haechan asked, Jeno started strumming a sickeningly sweet tune on his guitar. Or maybe that was what he intended. Either way, Haechan was flexible enough to go along with it.

“You know what they say about childhood friends,” another strum. Haechan sang. Was this a fucking oration? “You either end up forgetting each other, hating each other, or you end up toge—”

“That is not—”

“Hush!” he silenced. Renjun was losing it at the side. So was Jeno, because the guitar tune was long replaced by fits of strangled laughter. “It is, clueless Y/N. It is. How many childhood friends have you met that stayed as childhood friends? None, I assume. I’m never wrong, you see.”

“Weren’t you and Mark childhood friends, too—”

“Shut the fuck up, Huang. This isn’t about me. Y/N, listen.”

Grabbing your shoulders, Haechan pulled you away from Renjun, the sudden movement nearly giving you a whiplash.

“From my expert calculations, you and Jaemin are undeniably going down route three, but the both of you are moving at an agonizingly slow pace, correct?” you stared at him, wide eyed, and he was staring right back. “Correct! Now, in order to speed things up a bit, all you have to do is follow Hyuck’s five step guide on How To Trap Your Childhood Friend Into—”

“Isn’t this the same guide that ruined your—”

“I said shut the fuck up!”

The two ended up quarrelling and you ended up being forgotten. You weren’t sure whether to be thankful or be offended. Jeno shot you a look of remorse on behalf of his friends, bringing you to the conclusion that this must have been a normal occurrence. Your eyes shot towards the sky, clouds covering the sun just enough so you wouldn’t be blinded, ears picking up the argument occuring that went back and forth on both of your sides. They’re a lively bunch, you breathed out, a subtle smile on your face.

Eventually Jaemin showed his face again, jogging over to your group and you greeted him with a beaming grin. “You guys seem to be getting along,” he said the moment he stopped before you.

“Oh, Romeo returns,” Renjun decided to stop picking a fight with Haechan. “Where’d you get dragged off to this time?”

There was silence, all four sets of eyes heavily sparked with curiosity as you waited for Jaemin’s response, but the boy was rather hesitant. “Well—” he fumbled, a faint baby pink blush powdering his cheeks. Sheepish, he continued. “Someone confessed to me.”

The first person that reacted was Jeno, who released a loud snort and scooted a little more forward. “Shouldn’t you be used to it by now?” Jaemin indignantly refuted as he continued to be teased by the other two boys, the remaining uncharacteristically not joining in. At that very moment you could feel Haechan looking at you, a gaze that you couldn’t quite put a finger on but it was enough to shoot him a glare back.

“Who was it? Is she pretty?” you chose to ignore the annoying male beside you and decide to focus all of your interest and attention on Jaemin instead.

“Jiah,” he mindlessly answered, pushing Haechan to the side so he could sit next to you. “From nursing? I think?”

“Dude,” you turned your head to Renjun. “Kang Jiah? Holy shit, that’s crazy.”

Noticing the lost look in your eyes, Renjun proceeded to explain that not only was the alluded Kang Jiah arguably the prettiest in her department, she was at the top of her class too. You didn’t understand which part about that was crazy because for you, that was exactly the kind of person that Jaemin was destined to end up with. You wouldn’t be surprised if they do become a thing— well, there was only one way to find the answer to that.

“Well, what did you say? You said yes right?” you asked him, looking forward to his answer.

“Oh,” he shrugged. “I turned her down.”

What?

“Of course,” Renjun scoffed, shaking head with his arms crossed. “Only you would turn someone like Jiah down. At this rate you’ll end up dying an old hermit.”

“You have a crush on her or something?”

“Pff— no? I just think she’s pretty,”

“You’re not fooling anyone, dumbass. Come over here, I’m gonna squeeze it out of you—”

While the two quarrelled again in the middle of the field with Jeno being the one filming this time, you remained frozen in your seat, somewhat surprised. Huh, you blinked, wanting to ask him why he turned her down but frankly it was none of your business. You turned your head to face him. “Wow, I didn’t expect you to turn into such a heartbreaker, Jaems.”

He clicked his tongue, face scrunched into a bitter look of disapproval as reached out to mess up your hair. “Stop thinking weird thoughts,” he scolded. “Instead, why don’t I finally take you to the art building?”

Your eyes immediately lit up after the mention, and he stifled a laugh at your reaction, patting your head once more before sneaking off without the other three’s knowledge.

Jaemin’s tour of the whole campus actually deemed to be pretty useful because after three whole weeks of going to NCT U, you’d only gotten lost seven times— pretty remarkable if you do say so yourself. Within those three weeks, you had actually expected that your old childhood friend would leave you off on your own once you got used to everything, but no. He tried his best to meet you in between classes even though your buildings were nowhere near each other, and the times when he couldn’t, he’d never failed to call or text you. “I promised your parents!” he reasoned, but you weren’t sure if that promise included asking you if you’ve eaten breakfast every morning.

“Breakfast?”

You repeated into the phone as you and your recently made friend Soorim walked to your Visual Studies class. You’d met her during your first week and the both of you immediately hit off. It was nice to have someone else other than Jaemin and his friends, but of course you appreciated their company, too.

“I, uh, actually haven’t eaten— no wait! Before you nag me, I have a valid excuse, okay!” Soorim gave you a sidelong glance, curious and suspicious over your loud phone call so she tried to lean her ear closer to the device but you quickly evaded without even looking at her. “Listen, I was in a hurry to school! I actually planned on grabbing a bite on the way but I… forgot my wallet because again, I was in a hurry and— no, shut up, you don’t have the right to scold me for this, too! You literally left your report at home yesterday and I had to walk all the way back to save your butt so you’re no better, Mr. Na.”

Without even realizing, you were already in front of the doors to your classroom, and so you hurried a goodbye to Jaemin just before you and Soorim took your seats at the near back.

“Alright, I’m in the classroom now. See you later. Yes, I’ll eat after, yes, I promise to double check my wallet from now on. Bye.”

The moment you settled on your seat, setting your phone and backpack aside, Soorim swiveled her chair to face you, legs crossed, hands resting with poise on her thigh, and she batted her eyelashes expectantly. You ignored her, twisting open your water bottle because it was the only thing you had that could somewhat silence your crying stomach.

“So,” she started anyway. The bottle opening was hovering over your lips. You narrowed your eyes at her. What the fuck was she doing. “When are you introducing me to your boyfriend?”

You choked while drinking.

“Boy— what,” with a grimace, you ripped away the bottle from your face, slamming it down on the table. You looked at your friend in disgust. “If I had one I wouldn’t be hanging out with you.”

Soorim rolled her eyes, sneering at you. She held up her hand to the side of her face, all fingers closed except for her pinky and her thumb, shaking it a little. You sighed.

“He’s a friend.”

“The same friend that kept on calling you during our night out because he was worried?”

“Yes, well,” your sweat dropped. “He’s just like that, you know?”

“Sure,” she scrunched her nose, haphazardly throwing her giant notebook on the table. There was a brief moment of quiet that overtook because Soorim decided to stop egging on you as you waited for your professor, but that quiet only lasted for a while. She nudged you, and you looked up from your desk. “Oh, look who's coming.”

Huang Renjun sauntered in with an expression not fitting for a “good morning” greeting, so you chose to remain silent and simply stare at him in judgment as he settled right before you and Soorim, plastic bag in hand and binder in the other. What shat in his coffee this early in the morning?

“This is all your fault,” with a grunt, he dropped the bag filled with all sorts of food and snacks right in front of you, immediately pulling out a chair and sitting his ass onto it after. “My plans of turning up late are ruined because of you.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, picking out a small container of strawberry milk from the bunch. How was this your fault? Furthermore, what exactly was all of this?

“Ooh, you making moves on Y/N, Huang?” Soorim, on the other hand, was digging into the rest of the goods, stealing a bun filled with red bean paste with a happy smile.

“Ew, as if.”

Renjun fake gagged, earning a look of offense from you which he completely ignored and disregarded. He took a box of pepero from the pile, shooting you a smug look before adding.

“It’s from Nana.”

(“You’re at school already? It’s very early. You’ve eaten breakfast, right?”

At a convenience store nearby the school, Jaemin and Renjun decided to eat their first meal there. Though, it appeared that the latter was the only one doing all the eating because his friend seemed to be far too preoccupied with his conversation on the phone to even notice that he took some of his sushi right in front of his face. Renjun silently chewed as he watched the colors on his friend’s face change at each sentence.

“Aish, it’s the most important meal of the day for a reason. How many times do I have to tell you—”

Another piece of sushi stolen. He wondered how far he could get away with it.

“Y/N, I—”

Jaemin let out a long sigh, causing Renjun to drop the food back onto the plate, retracting his chopsticks back to his own food— a bowl of ramen noodles that he had still yet to finish. He discreetly slurped it down as if he hadn’t been stealing since earlier. He was sure that Jaemin noticed though, but knowing his friend, he probably just let him. Renjun noticed the small pout on Jaemin, eliciting his curiosity.

“Okay,” he’s whining, Renjun concluded. “See you later.”

The moment Jaemin shut off his phone, Renjun expected him to say something, to air out why the fuck he was being all that this early in the morning, maybe even tell him what the call was about like a friend would, but no. Instead, Jaemin promptly stood up from his seat, disappeared into the limited selection of isles in the store, basket in hand, and started throwing a mountain full of food with a scrunched out, concentrated expression. Renjun had his mouth hanging open, brows knitted together, and wondering what in the ever loving fuck was going on with his friend as he stared at him pay for everything at the counter.

He sat back, eyeing Jaemin as he returned in front of him, who placed the full bag on top of the table as he took a seat.

“The hell?” a particular carton caught Renjun’s eye, and he immediately fished for it in primal disbelief. “Strawberry milk? You literally hate strawberries and milk separately yet you’re buying them combined? Are you sick?”

Jaemin did not answer. In fact, he dismissed the question completely with a smile, deciding to ask one of his own.

“It’s almost time for your first class, right? Visual Studies?”

At that point it hit him— the call, the food, the stupid behavior of his friend. It was completely obvious.

“Oh,” Renjun dropped the drink back onto the table. “Oh my god, you’re so fucking whipped.”)

“Shut up.”

After hearing Renjun’s story, you couldn’t look at all the multicolored snacks laid in front of you without heating up a million degrees anymore. It was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

“You’re just messing with me, shut up.”

Renjun scoffed. “Why would I even make up something so stupid? C’mon, Y/N. You know I’m way better than that.”

You couldn’t argue that this wasn’t something Jaemin would do. No, because this was exactly something sickly sweet Jaemin would do and your sad attempt of denial was simply because your heart might actually run away if you admit it to yourself. And as if to give you more assurance or to fluster you even further, your phone vibrated, causing you to jump in your seat. Before either of the two’s nosiness could take a peek, you quickly snatched your phone, leaning your chair all the way back to read the message.

[<nana3: never skip breakfast okok?!? u don’t have your wallet right? wait for me in front of the bio building later. let’s eat lunch together 🥰💚]

Dear lord Jesus, have mercy on your soul. Renjun took your squeak as a sign of victory.

“Wait a minute,” Soorim looked at you wide in a sudden moment of epiphany. “Nana as in Na Jaemin? The fucking Na Jaemin? Is he the friend you’ve been mentioning? The guy you were calling and bought all this? Holy fuck, Y/N—!”

Your body moved before you could think and you thanked god that your professor wasn’t here yet because you would have caught the entire class’ attention when you leaped forward to slap your hands over Soorim’s mouth.

Renjun’s excessive giggling brought you back to reality, pulling your hands off of her with a gasp and an apology. “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry.”

“What the fuck, why did you do that?”

“I don’t know, it felt like you were about to say something stupid!”

She gave a look, half done and half amazed at your willpower. You’d never been this fired up for anything. “Is it stupid to say that one of the hottest guys on campus is literally—”

“Stupid!” another slap on her mouth. Renjun was about to fall off his chair laughing. “You were going to say something stupid. Please don’t even think about finishing that.”

Lucky for you, your professor had finally come in. Unlucky for you, Soorim shot you the signature dirty stare which meant that you wouldn’t be let off that easily. How fun.

Class went on quiet and boring as usual— you’d never been one for technicalities, preferring heading straight into the creative process with nothing but inspiration coursing through your veins, so your professor’s voice was nothing but white noise running in the background as you busied yourself with your thoughts. Your eyes flickered to the floor, cheek resting on your palm, and you gazed down to the plastic back beside your backpack. Twirling your pencil between your fingers, you pulled out a scrap piece of paper, every move that you made triggered by nothing except the abstract flow of your mind.

There was only one person you were thinking of. The same person living inside your head the moment you stepped foot back into Korea, the same person that made you feel as if you were someone special out of all the eight billion people in the world, the same person that bought you three persons worth of food because he didn’t want you skipping breakfast, the same person that felt more like a dream than anything.

Mindlessly, you started sketching the face of your childhood friend, filling in all the details of his face that you could see whenever you closed your eyes, up until the bell rang that signalled the end of the class.

“Y/N! Your father and I are leaving, now!”

“There’s extra money on top of the fridge if you want to eat out.”

Saturday evening. Your parents decided to go out on a well-deserved date that night, leaving you alone inside your apartment. You saw them out the door, locking it up once they left, and as you pressed your back against the white washed wooden door, your eyes darted over to the clock hanging on your living room wall. Six-twenty-three. There were still a few hours until closing.

An art exhibition was to be held on the same evening, and this was the last day that the actual artist was going to be there. Free and you got to meet world renowned artist Ten Lee? You’d be insane not to go. Though, as you made your way into your room to change out of your raggedy old sweatpants and Jaemin’s (stolen) mint hoodie, you’d come to a realization that maybe the venue was too far for you to just walk. Your parents were using the car and it wasn’t like you could drive anyway. You could commute, but there was a better idea in your system.

Opening your phone, a smile involuntarily tugged at the corners of your mouth as you pressed the contact number that seemed to have never left your recents.

[you: nana! are you free rn? there’s an art exhibition out of town! i need a ride :p and you need some time off your studies too bcs i noticed youve been more tired than usual so good idea i think yes hehe]

As usual, he took no more than a minute to reply. But after lighting up when you saw his name flash on your screen, you bit down your bottom lip to prevent a frown from forming.

[<nana3: TT i’m attending a seminar for an org rn y/nie huhu i don’t know what time it’s ending so i’m not sure if i can make it 😫😭]

[you: it’s okay!! jhfdj sorry for disturbing u!! please listen well to the speaker hehe and tell me how it went]

[<nana3: i’m so sorry]

It was difficult to pinpoint how you exactly felt.

You chewed the inside of your mouth, staring at the phone screen. He shouldn’t be apologizing.

After shutting your closet door down to a close, you fell face down onto your bed, your phone thrown over to the side. Yes, you were disappointed, but it wasn’t what weighed you down; the actual reason feeling like a disgusting, throbbing feeling writhing underneath your skin after being suppressed for awhile now. It never left your system the moment you'd arrived, the moment he showed you what his life was like, making you realize the stark difference between you and him.

You couldn’t care less about the exhibition now. In fact, fuck that entire plan entirely. As you were loitering, fooling around, planning on going to pointless events that wouldn’t be of benefit to your future, Jaemin was there, making connections and decisions and taking a step further into life.

It made you wonder what exactly had you been doing these past seven years— what haven’t you been doing, what you should be doing. You were ashamed to admit it, but it plagued the back of your mind since you got here.

Jaemin was far too out of reach.

It made the wrench in your gut worse whenever he made an effort to not make you feel that way. He’d always include you whenever he’d be with his other friends, always made sure that you didn’t feel left out since you came here, whether it be by his little cute texts even though you were in the same room just to make you smile, or by giving you all of his attention despite the many people vying for his. God, you didn’t deserve him. You didn’t deserve to like him.

What did you deserve?

Just then, there was a knock on your front door, followed by a buzz from your phone.

[<nana3: open the door!]

And you did, scrambling out of your bed and nearly tripping over your feet as you ran just to swing it open. Jaemin stood before you with his hair tousled by the wind, a purple and orange varsity jacket covering his frame. He greeted you with brightened eyes.

“I thought you had—”

“I left early,” he smiled at you, walking inside. “Why aren’t you dressed yet? Hurry, I’ll wait here.”

You blinked at him as he passed you by to sit on your couch, unable to understand what led him to such a decision, staring as he stretched his arms over his head with a yaw. He shouldn’t have come here. “Jaemin, it’s just an exhibition, it’s not as important as your seminar.”

He raised a brow at you, stealing a pillow into his lap. “But you want to go, right?”

“Well…” you did want to go, even after your small episode earlier. “Yeah, but—”

“Then it’s more important.”

He smiled at you. You cursed at yourself for letting your heart dither.

“Besides, you actually think I’d let you go out alone this late at night?” Jaemin stood up from the sofa, resting his hand on top of your head with an affectionate gaze. “You should go change. Or maybe not. You look good in my clothes, anyway.”

It was cold outside, so Jaemin made sure that you were wearing enough layers so that you won’t get sick, forcing you back inside when he deemed that you weren’t covered enough.

“Jaem, I’m fucking sweating.”

You huffed as you lugged yourself to the front seat, but your padded winter coat was preventing you from making a smooth landing inside.

“Sweating is a good sign! That means you’re healthy,” noticing your struggle, Jaemin relented to leaving the coat at the back of the car, but keeping it there just in case. He got in after you, starting the car and turning on the radio for some background noise. “Reconnaissance Gallery Right? What’s the name of the show?”

“Mono,” you replied. “It’s by Ten Lee.”

“Oh! I remember you talking about him once,” he exclaimed. “We should hurry then.”

It was a generally quiet car ride, but the silence was welcomed. After asking where you wanted to eat dinner once you were done with the exhibit, Jaemin didn’t talk anymore. Your eyes followed the moving lights that were lit up all around the night scene, and from time to time they flickered over to admire the boy beside you who seemed to be far too engrossed with his driving. An unconscious smile grew, warmth fluttering inside. You were lucky enough to meet him again in this lifetime, even after being set apart for so long.

“Something wrong?”

He asked without looking. He must have noticed you staring.

“No,” you replied with a soft voice. “Just remembered how baby-faced you were back then.”

With a laugh, he shook his head, one hand stretched out to the steering wheel. “You’re one to talk. Alright, I think we’re here.”

You felt a rush the moment you went past the glass doors, met by a relatively large interior with walls painted either black or white and lined with numerous paintings that contrasted the wall they were hung on. With a large grin, you quickly tugged Jaemin’s arm deeper into the venue, your footsteps making hollow echoes inside the place. He was taken aback by your sudden action, heart racing when he felt your grip on him, never slowing down even when you stopped in front of one of the larger works in the exhibit. “Oh my gosh, I love this painting— wait let me take a picture.”

As you fumbled with your phone, Jaemin couldn’t help but stare at you as if you were a part of the exhibit itself. There were more people inside, yet he didn’t even notice them; paintings as pretty as the night sky, yet it was you that he couldn’t take his eyes off of. Your phone camera captured it with an audible click, and he took it as a signal to scramble and take his out too.

Click!

“The painting’s really pretty, right?”

He nodded at you. “Yeah,” it wasn’t the painting that he wanted to capture. He dug his phone back into his pocket after sneaking a brief glance at your excited grin behind the screen. It wasn’t every day that you smiled like this since you were usually reserved. He didn’t want to miss saving a memory. “You wanna walk around more?”

At his suggestion, you and Jaemin decided to move deeper into the exhibit. You knew he wasn’t that knowledgeable about art, but he still listened intently whenever you told him something about the strokes and composition of some of the works displayed. You hadn’t run into Ten Lee yet even after an hour of walking around and taking pictures, but you didn’t mind at all. Jaemin froze in front of a certain painting— the visage of what seemed to be a face formed together by different objects, drawn in a style similar to the rest with the black and white motif, graffiti-esque structure, and the overall whimsical and abstract feel to it. There was a smile on his face, you wondered what he was thinking about.

“One day, it’s gonna be your paintings that will be displayed here. You promise you won’t forget about me when that happens, okay?" he started, turning his attention to you. “You should also paint a portrait dedicated to me," he joked, nudging you a little.

You smiled at him. Jaemin noticed that this wasn’t your usual smile, but he chose to not say anything. “Okay,” you breathed out before looking down seconds before he could see your expression melt away. How was he thinking so highly of you when it was him who was too far to reach?

He was about to ask— he didn’t know what to ask— but he would say whatever just to erase whatever was bothering your peace of mind. But he wasn’t able to. In fact, just as he lifted a hand to rest over your shoulder as an act of comfort, your head shot up, turning to face the sudden eruption of a commotion that Jaemin had failed to notice in his worry for you.

“Holy crap,” you gasped. “Is that—”

Ten Lee, just a few feet away from you with cameras and crowd surrounding him. You wasted no time to run to him, grabbing Jaemin’s hand in a flash to drag him behind. His eyes softened upon seeing the excited bounce of your hair as you ran. At least your spirits were brought back up again.

Jaemin watched as you nervously fiddled with the hem of your jacket as you waited for an opening to talk to the famous artist, how you would stand on your toes to peek above the small crowd and stand back down again after feeling too shy. Eventually the crowd dissipated to only around four or five people. This was your chance. You looked at him Jaemin. He nudged you with his shoulder. ‘Go,’ he mouthed. You pressed your lips together before finally deciding to march up to the artist. He didn’t realize you have been holding his hands until you let go.

“A-ah, hi!”

He followed after you in case you were feeling too nervous, but he was relieved to see that Ten Lee was pretty down to earth and easy going for someone famous. He stayed a few steps behind you as he listened to the ongoing conversation.

“I can’t tell you enough how much I adore your works. Especially, Monarch! I took a picture of it earlier and it’s so much more captivating in person,” you said, watching as Ten signed your phone case. “Actually, I—I look up to you a lot as an artist. A few of my paintings were actually inspired by your style, but of course it— it would be an insult to compare.”

“You shouldn’t compare,” he scolded, adding in a little sermon about your art is yours and that it should stand alone as your own. He handed your phone back, a smile on his face. “Can I see?”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. In a flustered rush, you quickly scrolled through your gallery folders to find the specific paintings you were referring to, and Jaemin, out of curiosity, hovered over your shoulders to see as well. As you passed through your works with your friend’s mouth hanging open in awe (he wanted to gush about them, but figured this wasn’t formally appropriate), his eyes caught a glimpse of an image that you quickly swiped past— far too glaring too miss because he was sure that it looked something like his face. It was a different kind of pride that he felt when he saw that.

Ten’s eyes flickered as he saw through your paintings, something formulating within even after you hid your phone. He looked at you, grabbing your hands without any warning which caused you to squeak. “Y/N, right?” you nodded, wide eyed. “You know, I’m hosting an online gallery within the upcoming weeks. It’s for young, aspiring artists like you to be recognized at a larger scale.”

Hold on, you tried to catch on to what he was saying. Was he—

“Are you interested?”

—serious? Was he actually serious? It looked like he was because when he let go of you, a business card suddenly materialized in your hands. Holy shit.

“Think about it, okay? Just email me your portfolio and everything. Who knows, what if you get recognized and scouted after this?”

He winked at you, shooting you a thumbs up. This had to be a dream. You were still trying to process the piece of fucking paper that you were holding and now all of a sudden Ten came in between you and Jaemin, swinging his arms around your neck and giving you a pat on the back

“Anyhow, thanks to the both of you for coming to my show. And Y/N—” he looked at you with a grin. “Looking forward to your more of your works.”

Ten disappeared off with two other people, their footsteps clacking against the cold, tiled floor. You stared at the card in your hands for a few moments— Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul, it wrote— before snapping your eyes back to Jaemin who was wearing a far too large smile. “Oh my god.”

Jaemin wasted no time in drowning you into a hug, knocking the air out of your lungs when he nearly toppled you onto the ground.

“Y/N,” his voice was soft in comparison to the roughness of his actions, sweetly fluttering into your ears as he rocked you left and right with his squeezing embrace. “I’m so proud of you.”

His words nearly broke you down to tears.

“This calls for a celebration, right?” he pulled away, hand automatically falling to hold onto yours as he led you to the gallery’s exit. “My treat! I know a place nearby, we should eat an entire feast!”

“Nana, you already treated me to lunch last time, I can’t just—”

“No, no no! I’m treating you, okay? This is your achievement so I should congratulate properly.”

There was no point arguing with him when he already had his mind set, but even during your drive to a nearby barbecue place, even when you were already halfway with the meal, you kept on insisting that you’d pay him back for all of this someday. He’d only laugh it off, telling you that he doesn’t mind as long as you’re enjoying yourself. You downed a shot of soju after hearing that, hoping that it would make you forget momentarily about how fast your heart was beating.

Somehow the clock eventually struck nine, and rather than going home, the both of you took an impulsive detour to a nearby public beach. The sounds of waves crashing against the solemn quiet of the night was heard as you neared the area, bringing you to a moment of peace.

Instead of going to the sandy shore, you two decided to take a spot on the beach cliff right above the rolling water. “Be careful,” Jaemin whispered from behind as he guided you along the rocky surface, heating up from the way he was so, so close with his hands steady on your back. You two sat side by side on the cliff, underneath the veil of stars, with the ocean right in front of you.

“Are your parents okay with you staying out this late?” he cocked his head to face you in a manner that was far too cute for you to suppress a giggle.

“Jaems, they’d probably allow me to disappear off to Italy as long as you’re with me.”

The both of you broke into laughter, but it was eventually replaced by the noises of the ocean. You breathed in the salty scent of the sea, folding your knees to your chest with your arms hugging them together. For a moment your eyes flickered over to Jaemin, and a chord was strung, tugging your heart towards him, but it was impossible for it to leap out of your chest so it only rattled against your ribcage desperately just like the waves. You stared at the way his dark hair melted into the night sky, the wind brushing it away, the way he had his legs stretched out freely over the rocks while you squeezed yourself as small as you could get, and lastly, the way he flashed over to look at the exact moment that you wanted him to.

If there was such a thing as a perfect instance where the stars of the night sky aligned, it would be this.

“You know,” you started, letting your arms fall to your sides as you looked over to the distance. “I envy you sometimes.”

Jaemin was taken aback by your confession.

“I also admire you,” you pressed your lips together tightly, forming it into a smile. “A lot. I admire you a lot. To the point that it made me feel like you’re living in a completely different world from me and that I wasn’t deserving of you.”

You’d finally mustered up the courage to tell him everything you’d pent up during your first month back here— it was better than just letting it fester into something worse, even if there was a risk of completely ruining your friendship. It was better than playing pretend.

“We’re both only a year apart but it seems like you have your life all tied together while I’m still barely able to walk on my own two feet. I wouldn’t even have been able to go to the exhibit if it weren’t for you,” you crossed your legs, a mirthless laugh slipping past your lips as the wind brushed against your cheeks .“I don’t… want to seem ungrateful for everything you’ve done or make you feel bad or anything, because Jaemin—”

You turned around, looking at him.

“If I had the choice to stay back then, I would have gladly chosen to spend those seven years together with you.”

Jaemin stared at you, speechless, unblinking. He had a gut feeling that there was something bothering you all this time, but he never had thought that it would be this.

“But the feeling of seeing you again after all this time is a feeling that I wouldn’t trade for the world either,” you hummed, looking down as you traced the creases of the rocky ground with your fingers, a shaky breath slipping past you. “If only… I wasn’t just so insecure then maybe everything would be perfect.”

For a moment there was nothing— only the lulling sounds of the sea that became quieter after you laid your heart out to the ground. The next moment, Jaemin spoke up.

“I got into an accident four years ago.”

You shot up in a single instant.

Jaemin laughed a little, bringing his hand to the crown of your head in assurance. “I had a herniated disc which got worse during a dance camp. It was definitely scary, how it seemed like I was in a standstill for two years while everyone else carried on with their lives,” he continued, letting his hand drop once more right beside yours. “It’s hard to get out of that hopeless mentality. It takes small steps, but once you do, things will eventually start looking up.”

He shot you a smile, eyes twinkling under the light of the moon. You couldn’t help but put your head down after hearing everything.

“I understand how and why you’re feeling that way, don’t worry I’m not upset. You don’t think I am, right?” he caught you sniffling, leaning forward to take a look at your face but you kept on turning away. “Y/N— Y/N, look at me, okay? I’ll be your personal cheerleader from now on, yeah? Up until you realize that you’re actually greater than you think you are.”

He was too good to you.

“I’m— I’m sorry I couldn’t be there when you were having a tough time.”

You silently muttered, meekly sneaking a glance at him to see that he was actually smiling at you this entire time. He’d always been like this.

“It’s alright, you didn’t have a choice, right?” he assured. “And I’m all better now, as you can see. I can even jump off the cliff into the ocean without having a single scratch!”

Right, you managed a laugh from his silly proclamation. He lit up upon hearing you. Maybe you can try to be like that too.

“What’s important is that from now on.”

There had been a gap between the two of you that entire time, but Jaemin bridged it the moment his hand brushed against your skin, his pinky interlocking with yours against the coarse ground. You met his eyes. He shot you a smile. That same smile that you could never get enough of.

“You’ll be with me.”

“Jaemin, please put your shirt back on.”

When you walked back into the living room, easel and canvas in your arms, you did not expect to be met with your childhood friend-slash-boyfriend mid-strip. In fact you were far too in shock that you dropped everything to the floor at that exact moment, only managing to utter those previous words once you were busy picking them all back up and not looking at him. He quickly ran to help you.

“Oh, I thought this was—” he passed you a paintbrush, helping you stand back up once you’ve gotten everything. “Aren’t the models for your classes usually, like, naked?”

“You think I was gonna paint you nude?!”

“Well,” he mused, holding his shirt to his bare chest. “If you want— okay, sorry! Shirt on! Shirt on!”

You settled down the easel that you just threatened to launch at him near the window where the afternoon sunlight was leaking through. A few days prior, you had contacted Ten Lee regarding the online exhibit, asking when the deadline was because you wanted to include one more piece in your portfolio.

“Nana, can you sit over here?”

There was a stool situated a few feet in front of the easel and right beside the window. He did as you said, now fully dressed and sitting properly and well behaved. You marched up to him, moving around his limbs into a specific pose. Jaemin wore a subtle smile as you grabbed his arms to a certain position, his shoulders into a certain angle, and when your fingers landed on his jaw to adjust his head, he just couldn’t help but throw all your work out the window by pulling you towards him by the waist.

“What are you—” a kiss fell on your nose. Jaemin shot you a cheeky smile.

“Sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t help it.”

You weren’t inclined to do anything else but forgive him, even if it meant refixing him into position, but somehow you managed. Running back behind the easel, you wore a satisfied smile upon seeing the composition, flicking your wrist to start the initial sketch. There was music running in the background. Jaemin sat still for thirty whole minutes.

“Can I move for a sec?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you answered. “I got the basic shapes down anyway.”

He let out an amazed gasp, lips forming into an ‘o’ shape. “So cool,” he said, and you let out a little laugh.

You were trying to focus, but in between a few strokes of your pencil, he wiggled his eyebrows when you looked at him again. You threw your head down to suppress a barrage of giggles. “Okay, this is— this is going nowhere. Can I just take a picture of you?”

Even taking a shot of him was difficult because he just wouldn’t sit still. He’d always do something to make you laugh or smile just when you were about to take a picture. You scolded him, telling him that all you needed was a few takes then the both of you can make a run for some popsicles at the nearby store. He straightened upon hearing, and you finally got to do the job.

“Do you have a title in mind for the piece?” he asked, just as you finished taking the last photo of his face up close.

You did have one. In fact, you’ve had it in mind for a while now.

“Yeah,” you answered, smiling. “Mahiwaga.”

Haechan, for whatever suspicious reason, volunteered to treat you out to lunch today at a family restaurant near the uni. You did not know why, and he would not tell you why, but you could not pass up free food. You texted Soorim to follow just in case you needed mental support because as you sat across him, looking up from your phone while munching your fries to catch the terrifying stare he was giving you, you could tell that you needed at least one other person around.

[you: dude, i think hes actually planning on killing me please hurry up]

[soorim: omw babe]

[soorim: but ur paying for me right]

You sighed, telling her yes you already ordered her food, and she replied with an annoying heart that you refused to mark read. Just as you were about to shut off your phone, ready to hear whatever Haechan was brewing, another message was sent your way.

[<nana3: baby, i saw the exhibition!! 🤩 you know, you’re so amazing, you know?!?! nana is super super proud of you 🥺💚 and i’m sure your parents are, too!! i sent the link to all of my friends yesterday hehe. also i’ll call you immediately after my class, ok?? don’t forget to drink lots of water today 😚 byebye! 💚]

“Are you two fucking yet?”

Haechan’s question caused you to choke on your fries, dropping your phone to the table so you can reach for the glass of Sprite. You looked at him, appalled. “I’m sorry?”

“What are we talking about?”

Soorim had belatedly joined in the party, pushing you farther into the seat to make room for herself. Her eyes zeroed in on the table, choosing the giant burger to attack first. You scrunched your nose as you looked at her.

“We—”

“Whether Y/N and Jaemin have done the dirty yet,” Haechan interrupted. You looked at him in offense and horror. He reciprocated with a deadpan stare. “You have, haven’t you? I went to Jaemin’s house at four in the morning yesterday and—”

“Why were you at his house at four?!”

“Doesn’t matter.”

You looked at him in disbelief, scoffing, and you looked over to Soorim with the words ‘can you believe this guy?’ ready to fire from your tongue. You could not say it. Not when Soorim looked absolutely compelled by Haechan’s bullshit allegations. She even stopped scarfing down her food. You made a mistake in calling her up here.

“What matters is that he looked absolutely fucked out absolutely naked, but not only that!” a scrunchie. He pulled out a scrunchie from his backpack. That was yours. Even had your hair on it. “This is yours isn’t it? I’ve caught you red handed, Y/N, now answer me—”

Haechan’s eyes were out to kill.

“You wrapped it, right? I’m too young to be called Uncle Hyuck so please tell me you did.”

“We are not—”

“That explains why you were walking all weird yesterday!” Soorim exclaimed. “Y/N, you know you could tell me these things, right? There is no—”

“We are not fucking!”

This wasn’t the best conversation to have at a family restaurant.

A waiter stopped serving the table next to you, it’s occupants (that included three kids and their parents) froze and looked at you in horror. An innocent passerby spilled his drink on his tray. You sharply inhaled, bowing your head apologetically. Thank god there weren’t any managers here— the three of you might have actually gotten kicked out.

With a cough, you collected yourself, giving both of your companions the stink eye for putting you in such a compromising position. “Can I not sleep at my boyfriend’s place without— without doing anything of that sort?” you huffed, ignoring the red hot heat creeping up your neck. “And as a matter of fact, I was walking weird because I fell down the while lugging plywood up the stairs, so shut the fuck up.”

The two of them let out a shriek at the same time.

“Boyfriend?! And what— you fell off the fucking stairs?!”

“Did you do as I told you?! Did you follow Hyuck’s five step guide on How To Trap Your—”

“Quiet!”

You shushed the both of them before the three of you actually got kicked out.

“Yes, boyfriend. Yes, I fell off the stairs. No, I did not follow Hyuck’s guide to whatever,” you spitefully took a sip from your drink. “You never even told me what the hell that was.”

As Haechan started to further explain his guide with Soorim enthusiastically taking everything in, you were caught by the buzzing of your phone. The screen lit up. Someone sent you an e-mail— the sender you did not recognize at all. You wiped your fingers with some tissues on the table before taking the device, clicking on the notification immediately after.

“Right. After you tell him that you’re— hey! Y/N, are you even listening?”

You shot up. Haechan noticed the distraught look in your eyes. His brows furrowed together.

“What’s wrong?”

The following weekend, you went out and treated Jaemin to dinner at a fancy Chinese restaurant despite his many complaints. He was about to pay for everything again, but this time you were faster in stealing the check. Afterward, you stopped by a nearby hardware store to buy another two pieces of plywood. You’ve been painting a lot more frequently lately, and you’ve been experimenting more on larger scale works. It was fortunate that Jaemin was there to help you bring the large sheets of wood this time.

“There we go.”

Jaemin settled the wood resting upright against your living room wall, right beside a few stained cans of paint underneath layers of newspaper. You thanked him, smiling, and he ruffled the hair on your head.

“You should ask me whenever you need to do some heavy work alright? We don’t want a rerun of last time,” you cringed upon recalling. That wasn’t a pretty fall. “How are your legs? Have the bruises healed?”

“Almost. You don’t have to worry,” you assured him. He sighed in relief.

Dinner and a shopping trip weren’t the only reasons you called him out tonight. You had actually been meaning to tell him something within the past three days. Your parents knew, Haechan and Soorim found out during lunch last time, Renjun and Jeno might have already found out thanks to their loudmouthed friend. All that’s left was Jaemin. It was his reaction that would help you make the decision.

But why was it so difficult to start talking?

“I’m gonna head out now,” he hummed, pulling you into his chest. You bit down your lip, contemplating, and maybe he noticed your unease and hesitation, as if he could hear your unsaid thoughts, because he lightly pulled away to look at your face and spoke. “What is it? Do you wanna tell me something?”

Of course, you thought to yourself. He’d probably know you’re hungry before your stomach could even rumble.

You gently pried away his hands from your arms, a hollow smile directed to him. Concern flashed through his eyes, but he held back his tongue, waiting for you to say your mind instead.

“Yeah…” you started. “I— I do have something to tell you.”

That was what you said, but as the clock ticked a couple dozen times in the background, you still had yet to tell him. It wasn’t easy to tell him. Because you were afraid that the moment you opened your mouth to squeeze out a single word, you might not make it to finish the entire sentence. If it were him, this might have been easy. But you were not, so it took a little more effort on your part to let the words go.

Maybe you shouldn’t have looked him in the eye, because the moment you did, your eyes stung from the threat of tears and so you jerked your head to the side.

But you weren’t able to evade, because Jaemin decided to follow you. You turned away again, looking towards the unplugged television, but it was once again replaced by Jaemin’s dark brown eyes. Your eyes stung, your lips pressed together, and at that moment you couldn’t help but laugh at his ridiculous actions throwing your head down in the midst of it, but your laughter got choked up by the sudden streaming of tears that you had come unprompted.

Jaemin panicked.

“Hey, hey, baby, what’s wrong? What is it?” he ducked down to reach your face, cupping your cheeks with his large hands as you wiped away your tears. “It’s okay, you can tell me, baby. I’ll listen to everything, okay?”

It took you a while to regain your voice, but Jaemin patiently waited with words of consolation. You couldn’t understand how one person could have this much goodwill and kindness in them.

Eventually your sniffling died down, and so you finally willed yourself to speak. “I— I joined Ten’s exhibition, right? And— and there was a possibility that other artists or institutions might be interested in the participants, right?”

“Mhm,” he replied, stroking the back of your head as you tightly gripped the front of his shirt. “Go on.”

“I— I got scouted? You know PIOA? In Paris? They— they offered me a full scholarship if I…” you paused for a moment, biting the inside of your mouth. “If I transfer there for the remaining months until my last year.”

Jaemin took a while to absorb it, silence flooding along with your occasional sniffles.

“Isn’t that a good thing? Ah, ah, baby look at me, look at me,” he grabbed your shoulders, frowning when he made contact with your red stained eyes. He brushed your cheek with his thumb, heart heavy from seeing you like this. It pained him to see you this way. “Why are you crying? Don’t you want to go?”

A beat of silence. You swallowed, speaking in a small, shaky voice.

“Do you want me to go?”

Another beat of silence.

“Of course! Can you imagine that out of all the people that joined that exhibit, they chose you! Your talent and hard work shouldn’t go to waste,” Jaemin inhaled sharply in between his speech, managing a smile for you to see. “I’m really proud of you, Y/N. An opportunity like this doesn’t come that easily.”

“Jaemin.”

You softly sounded, letting your head fall into his chest. He held you close, as if you were leaving at that instant.

“You know I was so happy when we got in touch again, when I came back to Korea. I know I don’t have a lot going on for me, but I could easily forget all of that because I’m with you,” once more, you felt the tears start to rise up again, but you tried your hardest to swallow them down. “It hasn’t even been that long since we got reunited and now you’re… you’re just telling me to leave you again miles, miles away as if it’s nothing.”

“It’s not like that, Y/N. It’s hard for me too, you know,” he muttered into your hair with a slight whine, his chin resting over your head. “But it’s not like we’re never going to see each other again, right? We managed for seven years, what’s two or three more?”

When he heard you stifle a laugh, laughing despite your sniveling, he couldn’t help but laugh along too. Once more and perhaps the last that night, he pulled away so he could look at the smile on your face, eyes still red and watery, and he pressed a warm kiss on your forehead.

“You have nothing to worry about, baby. We can visit each other during breaks and—” he breathed out, lips curling into a smile. “I’ll call you every day.”

Right, you wiped away your remaining tears, huffing out a brief, airy chuckle.

You looked at him, hopeful, earnest.

“Every day?”

You asked.

“Every day.”

He answered.

You were never going to get used to airports. They always carried a bitter, cold air that signified a goodbye that you were far too familiar with. Today was no different.

“Don’t forget to drink your vitamins alright? It’s a new environment so you might need some time to get used to it. Oh! And—”

“Dude, you’re worse than her actual mom.”

Jaemin shot a smile to your mother at the mention, who was waiting for your group to finish from a distance with your father. Your mother was to stay with you in Paris for a week until you got everything settled down while the four boys, Soorim, and your father decided to send you off today. Though, unlike your usual experiences with leaving and returning, today was much louder, more rowdy. It was a nice change— you only wished that it would last longer.

“It’s okay, I appreciate the concern,” you laughed. “Do I have to report back to you everything before I go to bed?”

“Well, if you can,” Jaemin mused, locking his pinky finger with yours and swinging your hand into the air from side to side. “Kidding, kidding. I trust you’ll take care of yourself there.”

A chorus of gagging noises broke out when you pulled his shirt, burying your face into his chest, prompting him to smile and wrap his arms around you. You drowned them out, though, only focusing on how warm he was despite the cold brushing of the wind, how he held you with so much gentleness that one would think he was afraid that he might break you.

It was funny how free you felt when you were trapped inside his embrace.

“How many times do I have to say goodbye to you at the fucking airport?” you grumbled, tears welling up again and so you wiped them away with your sweater sleeve. “Wait, why aren’t you crying. Aren’t you even at the very least sad that I’m gonna leave?”

Jaemin chuckled, replacing your hand with his to brush away the stray tears.

“If I cry in front of you then you probably won’t even board the plane.”

You hated that he was right.

“I’ll do it after you leave,” he let out a laugh, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. At that moment, the pre-boarding announcement rang throughout the area's speakers, signalling that it was time for you and your mother to go. Grabbing your suitcase, you sent a grateful look to each one of them— your father, Jeno, Renjun, Donghyuck, Soorim, and—

Jaemin suddenly grabbed your suitcase handle before you could go, his hand right beside yours. You locked eyes with him, wide and surprised.

He landed a kiss right on your lips.

“Call me when you arrive, okay?”

You mindlessly nodded, still in the midst of recovering from shock. Your mother called out to you to start moving.

As you walked away, head still locked behind, you watched as the four screamed, cheered, and teased your boyfriend as they shook and pushed him around like a ragdoll, while he just kept on looking at you with a smile.

“Don’t worry, Y/N! I’ll record his crying face!”

Haechan screamed despite being several feet away already, and you stifled out a laugh.

You might have to say goodbye today, but time will come when you would meet again.

Across the cobblestone tiled sidewalk, people were walking about, the streets were filled with tourists and natives, the mid noon sun was just in reach. Summers had always been crowded in the city, and you were swimming in the middle of the crowd in a far too inappropriate attire, sweating as you spoke into the phone.

“Oh, yeah. I’m on my way to the gallery now— I had to stop by at a cafe first, though.”

“You seem busy.”

Jaemin’s voice echoed from your phone’s speakers. The streetlight turned red. You followed the crowd as you crossed the street.

“Yeah… It’s a lot of back and forth work, even on the last day of the show, but it’s all worth it,”you replied. “Did you know that people kept on asking me who my muse was for Mahiwaga? Ever the popular boy, even when you’re not here.”

It has been a year and a half since you first got to France. Things have been going well on your part with your budding art career— and so far you’ve guested in three exhibitions, but you have yet to have one solo. Even though you and Jaemin promised to see each other during breaks, it was practically impossible to align your time. He was busy with internships and his organizations this year and so were you. But one thing the both of you have faithfully maintained throughout the course of your time away was calling each other every day, even if it was just for a few minutes.

A cyclist sped past you. Jaemin’s voice was heard again. He laughed at your last remark, saying that he wasn’t that popular, but all of a sudden his voice turned into a more serious tone.

“Since you have a lot of work these days…”

Your brows furrowed, squinting as the light shone into your eyes. You clutched your sling bag, heels clattering as you passed by the cream, brown, and grey buildings.

“Should we call less often?”

You stopped in your tracks.

What?

“No— no, Jaems, what are you saying? Are you sick? Are you not feeling well?” you were almost late for the opening, but you couldn’t care less at the moment. What was he on about? Call less? Never had that crossed your mind even once. “I don’t even get to see you anymore, so if anything… we should call as often as we can.”

A few people passed from behind. His end of the line was silent. Your lips scrunched into a frown, confused.

“Jaemin?”

“That’s a relief.”

Before you could even ask him anything, the call ended.

“What the hell?” you huffed, staring at your phone screen in perplexity before you returned it to your pocket. Maybe he was feeling a lot more lonely than usual— that was unavoidable, but the both of you made it work. You should ask him what that was all about later. Now, you really needed to head to the gallery. With a sigh, you marched forward, stopping at an intersection where the large, eggshell white walls of the gallery stood across.

You stopped before the crosswalk, the lights green, and a few vehicles passed by, and your thoughts were once again clouded by Na Jaemin and why did he suddenly propose that. Was he getting sick of you? Was this his way of hinting a breakup? Your face contorted into a look of horror. No, you shook your head at the notion. He literally sent you a picture of a weird keychain last night  saying it reminded him of you. Another sigh. The light went red. You crossed the street.

Maybe it was because you were thinking too much of him, maybe you were missing him too much, but the moment you reached the middle of the crosswalk, your heart suddenly stopped, legs froze, eyes stuck to the sight right in front of you.

There he stood, right before the front stairs of the gallery with dozens of people disappearing and passing by. He spotted you, eyes lighting up, the corners of lips automatically quirking upwards. He sent you a small wave.

You ran.

“Hi— woah!”

Maybe you were causing a scene, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t find it in you to care when Na Jaemin was right fucking here. He chuckled when you suddenly ran into him, wrapping you in a tight hug that matched your own. “You know, I was afraid that you’d actually agree to limiting our calls,” he started, and you looked up, the light shining into your eyes. Jaemin’s smile was as bright as the sun. “I thought I would have to deport myself back to Korea.”

Your lips quivered, unable to hold it back. Yeah, you shook your head, a shaky laugh leaving your lips. It’s always been like this.

“Is this where you’re holding the exhibit? Wow, it’s a lot bigger than in pictures.”

There are points in your life where you’re met with a choice— to stay or leave, to smile or cry. Always him between something else. Twice. You’ve said goodbye to him twice choosing to leave. For a moment, it might seem that you’ve chosen the other. But that was never the case, because at the end of each day it was him you were thinking of, it was him that your lines end, it would always be—

“Y/N? Y/N? Are you crying?” he exclaimed, frowning as he wiped away your tears. “Ah, it’s such a happy day today, you shouldn’t be crying.”

“I missed you, you dummy.”

—Him. You’d always choose him. Na Jaemin. Jaems. Nana. Your childhood best friend. Your boyfriend—

He smiled at you, eyes shining, pressing a kiss on your forehead before taking you into his arms once more with a shaky breath. “I missed you too.”

—Your mahiwaga.

hannie-dul-set, 2020.

[farmerlan]

A guide to commonly used honorifics in 魔道祖师/The Untamed

OK - so, I’ve actually seen some confusion floating around on specific honorifics commonly used in 魔道祖师 and I figured I will put a post up to address some of this - especially the situations when they get used. Hopefully it’ll be helpful for fic writers or whoever else out there that’s getting turned around by the various translations.

As with most of Chinese vernacular, there’s a TON of similar, but different situations in which it may be permissible to use certain titles/honorifics, so bear in mind this is not an exhaustive guide. Also, I don’t have a PhD in Chinese honorifics or anything, I’m just a Chinese person that watches/reads a fair amount of historical dramas. So if I missed anything/if there was anything that was kind of unclear in the novel or drama, feel free to let me know!

公子 / gongzi/ master

Let’s start with the hardest so I can get this out of the way. You will see this translated in a variety of different ways - master, young master, sir...and they are all correct! Congratulations, you’ve hit the jackpot - depending on the situation, gongzi can be a whole hodgepodge of things.

Master: The most commonly used version in MDZS. This is a separate meaning of master from some of the honorifics discussed below - it is specifically used to address either:

Your literal master if you are a servant in the household

A somebody from a distinguished household in a polite way

General honorific: Gongzi can also be used between strangers/acquaintances as a respectful term. Gongzi is, in some ways, an indicator of respect of the other person’s status. So oftentimes you’ll find two young masters from different sects referring to each other as gongzi politely, but you wouldn’t find two beggars on the street calling each other that. and it’s usually used to address someone younger or a similar age as you. If you‘re talking to someone who is clearly your senior, use 前辈 or 先生.

Because it has the connotation of youth and aristocracy associated with it, oftentimes innkeepers/sellers may use gongzi to address male customers  (particularly youthful men) because it’s a bit more flattering. Kind of like how the modern day shopkeeper calls you ‘美女’ (beauty) or even ‘亲爱的’（my dear - IDK when this started becoming a thing but if you do any online shopping on Taobao you know what I’m talking about) in China. They don’t actually think you’re beautiful/feel affection for you, it’s just a way of addressing the customer to make you feel good about yourself HA. It’s nice to be called gongzi even if you’re not actually a noble.

There’s variants of this - 小公子/ xiaogongzi is typically young master, although I think some translations just directly use the young master for gongzi. It can also mean the younger master if there is an older sibling in question here (e.g. Wen Chao was referred to as 温小公子 as he was the younger son), although you can also use 二公子 （second master), as many do when referring to Lan Wangji. It sounds a little less juvenile.

This term is used for guys - I would say the female equivalent could be 千金/ qianjin or 小姐 /xiaojie.

宗主 / zongzhu/ sect leader

This can only refer to the sect leader - it is a title, and it is passed down. There is typically only one sect leader at any one time, and his eldest male heir will be the successive leader of the sect. I’m going to take this chance to clear up some misconceptions:

Unless Lan Xichen bears no male heirs before his death, Lan Wangji will not succeed him. Lan Sizhui, given that he is not a Lan by birth, will likely never be the Lan sect leader. Yes yes, we all know he’s the adoptive son, but adoptive means literally nothing in the progenical world of Chinese history. Plus, he’s not even the adoptive son of Lan Xichen, so he is a long, long way down from ever being sect leader unless he forms his own, which he would likely never because that’s kind of like betraying your family.

On that same topic, Nie Huaisang succeeded Nie Mingjue because Nie Mingjue died without an heir and Nie Huaisang was the closest blood relative.

For the Jin sect, the succession would have been Jin Guangshan -> Jin Zixuan -> Jin Ling. (y’all I wrote here that it was Jin Zixun first in line but I totally blanked that he was actually a cousin and NOT the son of JGS so ignore that LOL) Since Jin Zixuan died, it became Jin Guangyao - Jin Ling is next in line as he is of the next generation and too young at that time to rule. Honestly, if Jin Ling was older at the time of Jin Zixuan’s death and if this was a Chinese historical palace drama, there would probably be some serious internal political intrigue going on as Jin Guangyao’s claim over the seat would arguably be weaker than Jin Ling’s since he is illegitimate.

For the Jiang sect, Jiang Cheng is the heir even though Jiang Yanli is older because he is male. The question of who will inherit his seat (a very valid question given his luck with dating, although I am sure someone somewhere will eventually warm the prickly cockles of his heart) remains open. IMO there is a less than zero chance that Jin Ling succeeds him unless Jiang Cheng specifically demands for it, but he likely wouldn’t because he is all about decorum and also it would put Jin Ling in an incredibly difficult situation, which is the last thing he would want for his nephew. If he doesn’t end up producing heirs, the seat will likely go to whomever he names as successor, even if non-blood related - maybe the current head disciple.

With that said, although there were generally established rules for succession, actual Chinese history (like all of history) often played out very differently (e.g. Emperor Kangxi stripped crown prince Yinreng of his right to succeed and appointed Yinzhen (Yongzheng), who was the fourth surviving prince, as his successor) so really, even if you were to base sect succession off imperial succession traditions, you could still make the argument that anything goes as long as you have the right people in your corner. HA.

老祖/ laozu/ grandmaster/forefather

I mean, I think grandmaster is probably a fair translation of laozu, which, to be honest, is a harder honorific to translate. It’s definitely influenced by Taoism and not very common at all, but it’s likely derived from Hongjun Laozu (鸿钧老祖), who was a deity and teacher. It does NOT only stand for a senior teacher/master however, because 祖 itself has ancestral connotations, so I think I would personally translate this as forefather. IMO, it’s really only fair to use this on Wei Wuxian and/or originators of a certain branch of study in the MDZS universe - I would consider laozu as the term of respect afforded to people who were pioneers in their fields/sects.

In that sense, Lan Qiren is NOT the grandmaster of the Lan sect. He is an elder - a very respected elder that was basically interim sect leader, but in terms of official title, technically, Lan Xichen could pull rank on him, but he likely wouldn’t unless pressed to because he is also Lan Xichen’s elder.

前辈 / qianbei/ senior/elder

This is kind of an in-between term to politely refer to someone who is your senior, but with whom you really have no formal affiliation with. Unlike 先生, it’s also unisex. A related term is 长辈 /zhangbei, but that is used for people whom you have familial/closer ties with - like an uncle, or someone within your own sect.

师父/师尊/ shifu/shizun / master

Your teacher/master, but not in the servant-master context. Someone who mentors you for years - in the xianxia/wuxia culture, this is a pretty special term because most disciples will only ever belong to one sect and will only ever have one master, and everyone else is a qianbei. The disciple has to ‘拜师’ (to formally request this relationship) and the master also has to ‘收徒’ (to formally accept disciples). So a lot of people went to Yiling in an attempt to 拜师, but Wei Wuxian never did 收徒.

In the wuxia/xianxia context, shifu is technically unisex even though 父 in itself is a male-centric term, although female masters might be more commonly referred to by the gender-neutral shizun instead.

Now that I think about it, shifu doesn’t actually appear in MDZS. Lan Wangji calls Lan Qiren 叔父 /shufu, which is completely different. It means uncle (father’s younger brother, to be exact lol), since that is their relationship.

老头/ laotou/ old man

Wei Wuxian uses this to address Lan Qiren behind his back. It literally just means old man, haha. It’s informal but not a term you would use to refer to someone who is close to you/whom you like, but not exactly a term that is insulting or derogatory, although in Lan Qiren’s case, it is irreverent because it is ill-fitting for the relationship that Wei Wuxian and Lan Qiren have. Meant to be used on men, usually for women it would be 老婆婆/ laopopo (NOT THE SAME as 老婆/ laopo, which means wife. Welcome to the weird wonderful world of the Chinese language!)

师弟/哥/兄/姐/妹/ shi di/ge/xiong/jie/mei/ younger brother/ older brother/ another variant of older brother/ older sister/ younger sister

NOT TO BE USED FOR YOUR ACTUAL FAMILY. This is in the context of the sect only. Your fellow disciples, but with varying levels of seniority. Familial honorifics are a whole different thing.

In the context of the sect, who you call your shidi/ge etc. is usually NOT based on age - it is based on someone’s seniority within the sect. If you have been in the sect/under your master’s tutelage for longer, you are the senior, even if you are younger in age.

With that, I think the novel states that both Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng are similar in age, so it is actually incredibly hard to determine if the author deliberately went against this convention and Wei Wuxian calls Jiang Cheng shidi because he is genuinely younger than Wei Wuxian, or if it is simply because Wei Wuxian is the head disciple of the sect (and therefore, technically, everyone is his shidi). I actually think it might be the former because he refers to Jiang Yanli as shijie, although now that I think about it, it might be the latter...as a reflection of the level of admiration Wei Wuxian has for Jiang Yanli WOAH.

(Fun fact: there’s a scene in the novel in Yi city where Wei Wuxian was silently weirded out that Xiao Xingchen referred to him as ‘qianbei’ - because Xiao Xingchen is his mother’s shidi, which makes him Wei Wuxian’s senior, but then he quickly realizes it’s because he’s talking to Xue Yang and not Xiao Xingchen.)

先生 /xiansheng/ mister/sir/teacher

In present day, this is literally the most vanilla term you can use to politely address a guy. Can be a stranger, or an acquaintance you want to politely address. Usually older than you, although if you’re both similar in age and you’re not really familiar with each other, you might still use it just to err on the side of caution. In xianxia/ancient China, this is usually used more like ‘teacher/sir’ to address an elder. It’s more scholastic in its implication and less generic than qianbei.

In the Lan sect, by crowd definition, 先生 refers to Lan Qiren unless otherwise stated, which makes sense and shows the amount of respect he is afforded in the sect.

夫人 / furen/ wife/madam

A term of respect for typically older women, or can also be used to refer to one’s wife.

Lastly, let me just add that this is just something that’s meant to be helpful for people as they work through the series - at the end of the day, it’s all fictional/xianxia itself as a genre is fantasy so if you need to subvert any one of the generally held succession traditions or whatnot in order to make your fic work, go!!! Do it!!!

[svnflowervol666]

Ma Petite Chérie: Christmas Then (Harry Styles x fem!Reader)

Read more from this little universe, Ma Petite Chérie, in my masterlist!

Word Count: 6k

Summary: It’s the happiest time of the year, but it couldn’t be more miserable for Harry and Y/N.

Author’s Note: Reupload because it wasn’t working in the tags! Here is the first of two Christmas bits for Harry, Y/N and Tallulah! I’ve told you all that I planned on writing about Harry and Y/N breaking up early on in their relationship, so I decided to add a little Christmas spirit into the mix in honor of the season. I promise, the next part isn’t this sad. I always feel like I’m not that great at writing angst, mostly because it hurts my heart too much, but I hope I did this story enough justice. Feedback is greatly appreciated, it helps to keep me going and to write things that you guys actually want to read. Any who, enjoy! The next part will be up by the end of the month. Take care and TPWK.

Harry had never thought that a night out with his colleagues would cost him his world. It was supposed to be a celebration of another successful year at his job, nothing more. It was supposed to be dinner, a few rounds of whiskey with his team, and an early night back to the two girls he loved the most who waited impatiently for his return. It wasn’t supposed to be a trip to the club, where the bass in the speakers replaced Harry’s own heartbeat and made his mind temporarily forget where his priorities lied. He thought that he’d only be there long enough to not seem like an uptight asshole that didn’t care to have any fun, but alas. Harry can be quite the pushover, and quickly slipped into that inedbriated state that often persuades you to do things you know you shouldn’t.

Harry had certainly thought wrong.

Y/N, on the other hand, was only supposed to be gone long enough to clear her head. Steam was practically billowing out of her at lightspeed the night this all happened. It would later be referred to as “The-Incident-That-We-Don’t-Speak-About-Because-It’s-Painful-Too-Even-Think-About” in the future, but right now, it consumed her. Every little detail of that night and the argument that followed haunted her like a reoccurring bad dream that she couldn’t shake. The way he smelled like cigarettes from keeping his coworkers company on the club’s smoking patio, the way his eyes were glassy from one (or two) ((or three)) too many shots of tequila, the way he yelled at her. She had assured him that all she needed was time to think, and then she’d be back to talk. At the time, she had told him that she quite frankly didn’t want to even be in the same postal code as him, so she left. All that was in the duffle bag she packed in four minutes flat was her toothbrush, face wash, and enough clothes to get her through the weekend while she cooled off at her friend’s apartment.

She didn’t plan on being gone for sixteen days.

A lot had occurred to her in her time away from Harry. One, was that this was the first time they had fought. Ever. She’d always wondered if her time with Harry would ever stop feeling like a fairytale that only existed in novels and storybooks. Everything about the two of them was picture-perfect from its conception, and had somehow only gotten sweeter as the years had passed. She firmly believed that they weren’t like everybody else, those that put on a charade around others, but were unbearably miserable in private. She had started to think that maybe it was supernatural, the way that they fit together so perfectly that she thought no one else on the planet could make her feel the way Harry does, perfectly complete and peaceful. But it was turning out to be as simple as the age-old saying, life is not always rainbows and butterflies.

Two, was this really what Y/N wanted? She didn’t give it a second thought when it came to Harry having a child, quickly stepping into the role of being someone important in Tallulah’s life. And Harry let her, too. As cautious as he is about who he involves his daughter with, it was almost scary the way he let her in and allowed her to love and care for her. Yes, scary. Scary, because children are permanent and they are hard work and they include making sacrifices that sometimes don’t seem fair. So, Y/N had been asking herself if this was where she saw herself staying, as she had too big of a heart to become such an important character in Tallulah’s life to decide somewhere down the line that she suddenly didn’t want to be tied down anymore. It wasn’t fair to the poor girl, just a measly four years old, to have to go through losing someone that had promised to love her forever. Twice.

Deep down, she knew that this, Harry’s modest yet still lavish home with a pastel yellow door and vegetable garden out back that was often littered with dolls and abandoned sun hats from the cutest little thing that Y/N had ever seen, was where she wanted to be. But this brought her to the third thing she had pondered whilst she rotted on her friend’s uncomfortable sofa at 2 a.m. as she’d waited for her melatonin supplements to enter her system and send her off into a subdued state.

Could she ever forgive him for what he said?

//

It was just one week before Christmas. Harry texted her at least once everyday, Y/N only replying to the ones when he’d asked her if she was ready to talk, to which she’d tell him that she wasn’t, and that she promised she’d tell him when she was. Part of her stayed away from him for so long because she feared that somehow, deep down, the right thing to do was to stay away forever, and that was certainly going to be the worst day of her life. It would be for the better, Y/N thinks, if that is the case, but she’s trying very hard not to think about that being the endgame for her and Harry. Hence the inner turmoil that’s consuming Y/N’s body whole.

Sarah had promised her that Harry wasn’t coming. They sided with her on this one, she’d said, thus rescinding his invitation to her and Mitch’s annual holiday party. It felt somewhat wrong to be going to see Harry’s friends without him, especially given the fact that they’d more or less been split up for the past two weeks. But as much as they were Harry’s friends, they were also hers too. Harry really knew how to pick the ones he held closest - they were good people. He knows how to chose them because Harry is also a good person and Y/N knows this, and that makes it all the more painful when she pulls into the car park designated for guests of the condominium where Mitch and Sarah lived.

They’d seemed a bit off when they welcomed her into the sizey flat with the small, wrapped gift she’d brought for their exchange, but Y/N dismisses their seemingly rehearsed greetings as pity. Although the last thing she wants is to talk about Harry, she finds their condolences and overall presence soothing. She hadn’t seen much aside from her friend that she’d been staying with and her overweight, powder white cat these days, so human interracton in any capacity was refreshing.

Until it wasn’t.

The longer she stood in the circle of the others that came to the party, mindlessly nodding along to whatever was being said but not actually paying any attention, the longer she was left to sit with her thoughts. She remembers the three other times she’d come to Mitch and Sarah’s for this exact party, and how warm and loved she felt. Right now, all she feels is the cold radiating off of the sliding glass door that she’s leaning on and loneliness. To Y/N, it almost felt like everyone in the room knew what had happened to her and Harry. Like they were trying too hard to be cordial with her because they saw her as the girl that Harry yelled terrible things at and did terrible things too. It was overbearing and she had to get out before she exploded.

Finding aid in the very sliding glass door that chilled her to the bone, she wandered out on the patio to get away from the noise that was so loud yet so quiet at the same time. Tiny snowflakes coated the railing and the outdoor furniture, enough to illuminate her surroundings in an almost purple glow despite the time of night. If Tallulah were here, she’d convince Y/N to catch them on her tongue with her. Any other time, a thought like that would have made her smile, but right now it just made her sad. She wasn’t wearing a coat, yet she couldn’t find herself to care in this moment.

She wanted Harry. She wanted Harry there with her, whispering in her ear that Josie is full of herself and will say anything to get people’s attention and that he thinks they should ditch the party early so they can “warm each other up” at home. Despite the ache in her bones that wished for him, she couldn’t stop thinking about the last time she saw him.

~

“You’re lying.”

“Wha’ are you talkin’ about, Y/N?” he was swaying back and forth where he stood, clearly too drunk to keep his balance.

He almost sounded annoyed, but it was moreso because she’d interrupted his treck to the bedroom where his warm bed was waiting for him to ail his drunkenness and less because of her prodding.

“Clara was there, Harry. At the club. The one you forgot to tell me you were going to? She saw you. Talking to her. Any of that ring a bell?”

She made sure not to raise her voice in fear of waking up the toddler that had fallen asleep on the sofa waiting for her dad to come home so she could show him the ornaments she’d made with Y/N while he was gone, but he hadn’t come home when he’d promised her. Y/N wasn’t trying to fight, just get some answers. Yet here Harry stood, in their bathroom, lying to her face.

“Okay. So she was there ‘n we talked. We work for the same people. You’re not tellin’ me your mad that I talked t’ her about work, are yeh? Talked t’ her about work at a work party?”

“I’m not stupid, Harry. Stop doing that.”

Harry huffed in annoyance, as if her mere presence was beginning to cause his disdain.

“Then stop actin’ like it was somethin’ that it wasn’t. Swear t’ you. She came up to me, asked how Lulah had been, we talked about work for a second, and that was it. Fuck, even told her about you for christ’s sake.”

“I couldn’t care less that you talked to her, Harry. It’s the fact that you didn’t tell me you’d be out later than you said, went to a club, talked to her, the girl that broke your fucking heart, and I found out from a friend. And when I asked you about it, you lied. Do you see how fucking bad that looks?”

“Why don’t yeh ask Clara what she saw, hmm? Since you’re so keen on taking her word for it. She’s gonna tell you that nothing. Happened. I’m truly sorry I didn’t tell yeh I’d be out late. Didn’t think I’d be gone that long and just got carried away.”

Y/N was fighting tears now. He was talking in circles, unwilling to see her side and acknowledge that he’d done wrong.

“That’s what you’ve been saying for the past month, Harry. You’re always getting carried away with work and leaving me to take care of her. I can’t tell you how many times Tallulah’s asked why you’re always missing dinner and why you don’t go take her to her ice skating lessons or help her wash her hair anymore. She misses you. So do I. And then you go and do this. I know you’re busy this time of year but I also know you’re doing more than you’re being asked of, so don’t pull that shit with me. Would it kill you to come home every now and then and at least eat some pasta with your fucking daughter?”

Harry’s brows were furrowed together, eyes dark and half-shut in what was the beginning of a drunken rage. For a split second, Y/N saw a flicker of sadness within the deep green of his irises, but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

“Yeh say that like she’s a burden. ‘S that it? You’re mad that you have t’ babysit?”

“Harry,” Y/N warned him.

He was treading territory that would be hard to back away from once he took the first step.

“What? If it was that big of a fuckin’ deal, you could have told me that you don’t like keeping after her.”

“Jesus, it’s not!”

She was yelling now, unable to keep her emotions from getting the best of her. She looked after Tallulah like she was the one that had given birth to the four year old that slept peacefully on the couch, cuddling her stuffed elephant in place of her father.

“You know that I love her and that I’d do anything for her, but it’s different when you leave me alone with her all of the time. She needs you, Har. More than she needs me, and you’re acting like your job is more important than her. You have to be there for her, Harry.”

A nasty scoff left Harry’s chest that would haunt Y/N forever. She’d never forget what he said next.

“Right. Thanks for the parenting tip. Last time I checked you weren’t her fucking mu-”

~

“Yeh gonna freeze t’ death out here, ya know?”

The same voice that plagued her head pulled her out of reliving the events that landed her here, on a snow-covered patio, just as the first of what she knew were going to be many tears rolled down her face.

Y/N whipped her head around, frowning when she realized that Sarah and Mitch had lied to her and that they definitely had invited both of them to the Christmas party.

“Should have known those two were up to something,” was all she replied, quickly swiping the single, stray tear that stung her cheek as it touched the cold air.

“Jesus, you’re shivering. Here,” Harry began shrugging off his coat, ready to offer it to Y/N to keep her from catching pnuemonia.

She hadn’t realized just how cold she was. Her lips felt like they were going to crack at any moment, and she was almost certain it would take upwards of an hour for her to feel her toes again.

“Harry-” Y/N started, her voice sounding soft and defeated.

“Please don’t be stupid, Y/N. You’re gonna get sick.”

He spoke to her in the way that he would Tallulah when she refused to let him brush her hair after a bath, sternly insisting that she’d wake up with painful knots in her head if she didn’t let him run a comb through it. There was something comforting about it, but also something so incredibly sad about it all at the same time.

Reluctantly and without looking him directly in the eyes, she took the long, fur-lined coat from his hands, almost flinching when she accidentally touched pinkies with him. The coat was well-loved, ridden with his scent and most likely permanently stained with a little bit of spit up from when Tallulah was a baby. It smelled like home, Y/N thought.

There was a long pause between them, neither knowing what to say or where to even start. Y/N found herself missing Harry even more now that he was standing right next to her, brawny arms leaning against the frozen railing.

“How’s Lulah?” she asked, able to find her voice amongst the anxiety prodding every inch of her body.

Harry nodded as if to say she was alright, then cleared his throat.

“Good. Misses you.”

He wanted to tell her that he missed her, too. A whole fucking lot. But he was trying to prolong having that conversation in fear that it wouldn’t end the way he’d planned it in his head and she’d walk away from him forever.

“She asks about you every day. ‘Bout when you’re comin’ home. Said she doesn’t like how quiet it is without your music playing in the kitchen.”

She was crying now. Fat, wet, silent tears in the opposite of Harry’s direction so he couldn’t see. She missed hearing Tallulah’s raspy voice asking her question after question about where eggs come from and why anyone would dare take away someone’s babies the way farmers do with mummy chickens.

“I know you’re not ready to talk,” Harry began.

“But do yeh think you could at least come home? It doesn’t feel right without you there.”

Y/N did what she could could manage the tears streaming down her face like a waterfall, hoping Harry would think her face was just cold as she aggressively rubbed her cheeks with her fists.

She was ready to give in, seeing him in person immediately shattering any bit of strength to stay away from him that she had left. Maybe she’d find some clarity if she stopped sleeping on a pull-out sofa that did absolutely nothing for her already-bad back and went back to where she’d lived for over a year with the two people she felt like she’d spent a lifetime loving.

Slowly, her eyes went to meet his. She saw how tired he looked, for lack of a better word. Even though it was dark, the light from the snow accentuated the deep circles under his eyes. His hair looked like it hadnt been washed in days, the way it used to look when Tallulah was a baby that cried at all hours of the night. His posture was, to be quite honest, shittier than it normally was. Y/N knows it hasn’t been that long since she’d been gone, but she could almost swear he looked skinnier than the last time she’d seen him, given that the hollows of his cheeks looked concave and scrawny.

Just as she parted her surely-blue lips, ready to tell him everything she’d wanted to tell him for the past two weeks, the ringing of Harry’s cell phone caused them both to jump.

“Fuck,” Harry muttered under his breath.

“’M sorry. It’s mum. She’s got Lulah. Give me just one second.”

His eyes were pleading, almost like he was silently begging her not to run off if that’s what she was thinking of doing. Y/N’s ears perked up at the mention of his mother. She wondered if she knew about any of this. Surely she did, as Harry tends to confide in her for just about everything.

She was trying not to be nosy, but it appeared that Anne was speaking quite loudly, so it was a bit hard for her not to. She couldn’t make out exactly what she was saying, but she did hear one word. It was clear as day, and she knew immediately that something was wrong.

Raspberries.

Y/N’s head whipped around in Harry’s direction, and she saw the way his face was void of all color and his chest had started to heave.

“That’s never happened before. Did you give her the antihistamine?....What’s she sayin’?....Jesus Christ, mum. You have to calm down. Just go ahead and take her. I’ll meet yeh there. They’ll probably just have t’ give her a shot or somethin’....Mum, it’s alright. You didn’t know. Just get her in the car, please. I’ll be there in twenty.”

Harry clicked his phone off and shoved it in his back pocket, a sense of urgency taking over him.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’ve got t-”

“What happened?”

Y/N was just as worried as Harry was, feeling sick to her stomach that something clearly awful had happened to her.

“Mum’s watching Rosie, too. Lulah got into the bag Gem packed for her and ate somethin’ with raspberries in it. Said her throat feels scratchy, which is-”

“That’s not normal,” Y/N stated, being keenly aware of how Tallulah only ever tends to break out in a slight rash every time she eats the bright pink fruit.

“Yeah,” Harry replied.

“Y/N, I have t’ go. But I really want to talk t’ you. You don’t have t’ say anything back. Just hear me out, yeah? Please don’t disappear on me again.”

She wasn’t listening to him, only worried about the little girl with too many allergies and a keen interest in anything sweet.

“Can I go with you?”

Her voice was quiet, as if she were afraid of Harry telling her that she wasn’t allowed to see his daughter. She knew it was his decision and that she had to respect it, but all she wanted to do was hold her tiny body in her arms and tell her how much she missed her and that she was going to be alright.

Harry stuttered a bit, clearly not expecting her to ask him such a thing. Part of him was happy that she was willingly offering to be near him, but he supposes it’s only got to do with her worry for his daughter.

“I, erm, uh, yeah. Of course. Let’s go. Mum’s taking her t’ the hospital over by her house.”

He ushered her back into the warm apartment and back out the front door towards his car. They couldn’t even be bothered to acknowledge the stares thrown their way.

//

The car ride was quiet. Harry had left the radio off during his drive to Mitch and Sarah’s, too busy rehearsing what he was going to say to Y/N if she actually let him talk to her. Y/N sat with her knees to her chest, but opted not to turn away from him. That was a good sign, Harry thought. The heat was on, but Y/N was still freezing. She supposes Harry was right about her getting sick.

“Could you drive a little faster?” Y/N asked after some time, fiddling with the cuff of her jeans.

“No,” Harry retorted.

“It’s snowing, Y/N. Don’t need all three of us t’ end up in the hospital.”

She had half the nerve to roll her eyes at him, but she knew he was right.

“Hey,” Harry called out to her.

He started to reach over the center console for her hand out of habit, but felt his heart sink into his stomach when he remembered the state of their relationship and slowly retracted it. He thought she didn’t notice, but she did.

“She’s gonna be fine. Mum said she wasn’t even crying. Probably just needs a few shots t’ make the swelling go down.”

Y/N nodded instead of responding, sinking further into the seat but keeping her eyes on the snowy road ahead of her.

Silence took over again as they trecked through the snow towards Tallulah, with tension so thick it felt suffocating. From the corner of her eye, she saw a pair of Tallulah’s winter gloves tucked into one of the cup holders and she wanted to cry again.

But instead of doing that, she laid her palm face-up on the console, waiting for Harry’s eyes to catch them. When they did, he hesitated, flickering between her hand and her face. She still wasn’t looking directly at him, but he knew she knew he was looking at her.

He tested her first, lying his hand next to hers, but not touching. She didn’t pull her hand away, and he swears when he looked down, he saw her hand inch towards his as if she were coaxing him. Harry thinks this might be the last time he gets to touch her if she decides that she can’t forgive him for what he said, so he goes for it.

He laces his fingers with hers, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief take over his head and his heart when he finally got to feel her skin against his after what felt like centuries. She doesn’t wrap her fingers around his like he did to hers, her hand still lying limp against the arm rest, but he’s okay with that.

It isn’t until they’re pulling into the hospital that Y/N gives Harry’s hand a squeeze.

They were getting there. At least Harry hoped.

//

Y/N is physically unable to keep herself from smiling when she hears Tallulah practically squeal her name the second she steps into the room she’d been given. Her voice was deeper than usual, most definitely due to the accident that landed her here in the first place. Tallulah all but jumped out of her bed to greet her with a hug, which Y/N accepted without a second thought as she wrapped her arms around the small girl and sat with her on the bed, most likely staining Harry’s coat with the emollient cream they’d coated her rash with at the hospital. As if that coat could take any more beatings.

Harry watched from the corner, feeling somewhat out of place for whatever reason. He knew he owed Y/N an apology for what he said to her that night, and at that moment he felt like he owed Tallulah one, too. How could he say those things to her? How could he let his arrogance get the best of him and ruin the best thing that’s ever happened to him?

Anne briefed him while Tallulah had her mini-reunion with Y/N, letting him know they’d given her a few shots and could go home as soon as the swelling in her throat had gone down. She wouldn’t stop apologizing to Harry for causing her grandbaby harm, but Harry assured her for the twentieth time that accidents happen and that it certainly could have been worse. Anne soon sensed the tension between Harry and who she hoped would be her daughter-in-law one day, and told Harry she’d better get going because she’d left Rosie with the neighbor. Her eyes urged Harry to fix this shit at all costs because she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and Harry was not one to disobey his mother.

“Are you coming home?” Harry heard Tallulah ask Y/N.

He locked eyes with her for a split-second.

“Yeah,” Y/N sighed.

Harry felt his heart jump as he was now paying extra attention to the woman holding his daughter like she was the most precious thing on earth.

“Gotta make sure you get tucked into bed alright.”

And then it sunk.

“Will you be there when I wake up?” Tallulah asked with eerily familiar green eyes peering up at Y/N from her lap.

This time it was her heart that sunk.

“I....don’t know, Lulah. We’ll see,” she whispered, feeling tears pool in her eyes once again.

Y/N hid her face in Tallulah’s hair, for fear that Harry would see her.

“How’s Carrot, hmm? ‘S he doing good?” Y/N blurts out in diversion, hoping Tallulah would be more interested in talking about the fish Y/N had won her at a carnival a few years ago than where she stood with her and Harry.

Tallulah talked her ear off, filling her in on everything she’d missed while she was gone. She tells Y/N that their kale plant in the garden was huge now, seemingly sprouting overnight. She also tells Y/N that Rosie can walk now, or at least can wobble a few steps before falling down on her bum.

Harry watches as Y/N pretends like everything Tallulah is telling her is the most interesting news she’s ever heard. That’s what parents do, and that’s exactly what Harry had shouted at Y/N that she wasn’t. He had fucked up in the worst way and only fate could tell him whether or not he’d be able to fix it.

It was Harry’s turn to cry now, pretending to rub exhaustion out of his eyes rather than tears. Much like earlier when he’d instinctively reached for her hand, he’d hoped she didn’t see it.

She did.

//

Y/N kept her promise to Tallulah and tucked her into bed after she was discharged and sent home with a steroid pack and rash cream. She willed away the wave of nausea she felt walking into the house she’d shared with Harry after all of this time, telling herself that she just needed to make sure Tallulah knew she was at least there to tuck her in. She took turns with Harry, each of them running their fingers through her curls and telling her to have sweet dreams and that they hoped she felt better in the morning. Tallulah insisted that she was fine and wanted to stay up and talk to Y/N about what she thought Santa was doing right now and if he was going to bring her the glittery nail polish that she’d asked him for, but the sleepiness in her eyes told a different story.

“Do you want me t’ call Sarah and have her take you back to your car?” Harry asked when they returned to the living room where they’d entered.

“Figured we ought to have that talk,” she said, unable to meet his eyes for the umpteenth time that night.

“Yeah,” Harry replied in a tone that almost sounds like relief.

“We can definitely do that.”

The pair find their way to the couch, sitting faced towards each other, but not touching. It’s awkward and it makes Y/N want to fall apart because this is her Harry and she’s in her own home, yet it didn’t quite feel it.

“You hurt my feelings,” is all she says, picking at a loose thread on the sofa.

“I know I did,” Harry began.

“I can’t take any of that back, but I want you t’ know how sorry I am, Y/N. None of that shit was true. I should have told you I was gonna be out late. Shouldn’t have even gone out with them, t’ be honest. I couldn’t even tell yeh why I lied when you asked if I saw her there. Just didn’t want you t’ get the wrong idea, I guess.”

“Harry, I already told you that I didn’t care that you-”

“I know yeh did,” Harry interjected, “But I want you t’ know that I’d never even think about doing something like that t’ you. You’re quite literally the best thing that’s ever happened t’ me. Sometimes I don’t even think you’re real. I wouldn’t have made it without you. Neither would Lulah. And that...”

He pauses, trying not to burst into tears right in front of her. Y/N sees his jaw tensing, something Tallulah does when she’s attempting to calm herself down after throwing a fit. She isn’t sure why, but she begins to feel at ease the longer he talks. Maybe it’s just hearing the sound of his voice after so long or maybe it’s because he’s telling her what she’s been wanting to hear, what she was once afraid that she’d never be able to.

“That shit I said about you not being Lulah’s mum. That’s a load. I know you know that. You are her mum, whether she knows that or not. I’m sure she does... I know she does. You’ve been there for everything. You never complain when it gets hard. Yeh could’ve been doing anything else besides helping my sorry ass take care of her, but you didn’t. ‘M not sure if I’m doin’ a good job of convincing you to stay, wouldn’t blame you if yeh didn’t want to, but I really hope that you do. If you don’t, I still want yeh t’ know that you’re her mum. You’ve done things for her that she doesn’t even realize. She loves you so much, Y/N. And so do I. You’re the love of my life. Always will be. I don’t think there’s anybody else out there that makes me feel the way you do. You’re it for me and I need you t’ know that.”

He’s blubbering now, not caring that she sees the salty streaks subconsciously flowing from his dark and gloomy eyes. He felt it coming. She was going to leave. She was going to finish packing tonight and walk out of his life and he wouldn’t get to spend the rest of his life showing her how much he loved her.

That’s when he feels a hand on his shoulder. It’s light, but it’s meant to be comforting.

“Can it be my turn now?” her voice laced with tears as well.

Clearly it was a night for crying.

Harry nods, because that’s all he can do.

“I was frustrated, that night. I don’t think I should have made as big of deal out of you staying out so la-”

“No. You should have. I was being an ars-”

“Harry,” she pleads, “Let me finish, please.”

He lets out a shaky, “Okay,” and she continues.

“It’s not a big deal when you go out with your friends. You’ve just been so....absent lately and that was what set me off. When Clara called me that night it was just so, embarrassing I guess? I didn’t know what to say to her, and it obviously didn’t look good. But I know you wouldn’t do that to me. You’re a good person and a good dad, Harry. I hope you know that, even if you don’t feel like it right now. And the Lulah thing...that hurt. A lot. I know you’re stubborn and hate admitting that you’re wrong, so I’m going to let that speak for itself, but I’ve never once regretted anything that I’ve done with you two. I knew it would be different being with you, but I’ve never thought of any of this as a sacrifice or a burden. You guys make me so happy. I don’t think you’ll ever understand how much of a privilege this has felt like to me, to be able to watch her grow up and be a part of it. She is the most magical thing that’s ever happened to me. And so are you.”

Harry’s staring at her, still crying, sillhouette lit up by the lights on the Christmas tree behind her that’s decorated with the ornaments she made with his daughter on that dreadful night. He doesn’t want to hurt Lulah’s feelings, but he makes a mental note to throw them away the second he’s able to so he doesn’t have to think about this ever again.

“I love you, Harry. Please don’t ever lie to me again. Even if it’s about how many minutes you are away from the grocery store. I can’t take it. And I can’t stand to feel so far away from you like this. It’s....gross. And I hate it.”

He perks up at what she’s just said, wondering if she’s saying what he thinks she’s saying.

“You’re staying?” he sounds hoarse and both him and Y/N know he’ll wake up in the morning with a headache from how much he’d been crying.

“Don’t think I have it in me to leave, bubs.”

There’s the slightest hint of a smile on her lips, and Harry’s pulling her into his chest. She holds him as he weeps silently into her neck. The cloud of sadness that had held her captive like a nightmare rushed out of her body so quickly that she couldn’t quite process it. All she felt now were Harry’s arms holding her close and his blubbering into her hair about how he was sorry over and over again.

“I know you are,” Y/N cooed, scratching his scalp in the way that she knew calmed him down.

“‘M gonna keep sayin’ it until you believe me,” he whimpered.

“I do believe you, Harry. I promise. We’re gonna be alright.”

That seemed to steady him a bit as he collected himself. He still held her as his shaking breaths began to even out. He wouldn’t dream of letting her go ever again.

“We’re gonna be alright,” Harry repeated to her, his voice almost inaudible had Y/N not been as close to him as she possibly could have been.

She pulls back to brush the stray curls from his forehead, where she pressed her lips gently to his temple as if he was so delicate that he might shatter if she used anymore force.

This time it was Y/N that saw his face surrounded by the multi-colored lights strung around the fir tree they’d picked from the farm just days before they thought their world was ending. He was beautiful, from the crown of his hair to the tips of his toes, inside and out, she thought. Maybe he didn’t feel like it at the moment, but Y/N made a promise to herself that she’d spend the rest of her life proving to him that he was.

[bonyarishitafuan]

A lot of people probably are gonna hate me for this, and if you disagree with what I’m about to say, please don't bother to respond, just ignore me completely and move on, go make yourself happy.

It’s just that I honestly don't see how this:

can be the same as this:

Personally, I don't care for Dick-lite Pre-Crisis Jason at all, because he’s never seemed to me a real character with any real personality of his own, and I just really don’t buy the idea of a teenager, with still very recently murdered parents that might as well be every bit as the same kind of loving parents and positive influences to their kid as the Flying Graysons, getting over the loss of their old parents’ and accepting someone they’ve only just met around the time their parents died as his true new parent in practically no time at all...especially when it’s happened in a world where a preteen could end up spending the rest of his adulthood fighting crimes in a bat suit after witnessing his parents being gunned down by a mugger.

The only thing Pre-Crisis/Earth 1 Jason Robin seemed to have going on was being a son to Batman/Bruce (and a son to Nocturna, because clearly if he could’ve gotten over his real dad so easily, why wouldn’t he have also gotten over his real mom and come to think of this mysterious criminal lady as his true new mom when she had wanted so much for him to be her son and they had lived together for like a week)--and I feel that if the executives at the time had really wanted Bruce to become a dad, they'd probably just let him settle down and give him a biological child as in the Golden Age, but instead they gave him a second Robin; and the way they laid themselves out to make the relationship between him and this second Robin to be exactly father-and-son despite the fact that Bruce would’ve had to be real stupid to actively endangering a young person whom he consider his own little boy by bringing him to fight crimes just never sits right with me.

It always seems to me like they’re just trying to retcon the original Batman and Robin relationship without actually retconning Bruce and Dick, who hadn’t really been Bruce’s adopted kid just then and had often regarded his mentor Bruce as more of his older brother/closest friend rather than just plain old “dad”--It’s like they’re just trying to remove every implication that there's ever anything gay/creepy in the original Batman and Robin dynamic, simply by bringing in another Robin character, one with the exact same backstory as Dick and nothing that could actually differentiate him from Dick (except him being originally blond-haired and himself outright telling people that he’s “not Dick” in one of his few featurings in the New Titans where he’s portrayed as every bit as much as a smart, decent, capable young person equipped to be a successful young hero just as Dick Robin or Tim Robin would’ve easily been portrayed), and making his relationship with Batman to be plainly, unequivocally father-and-son, then with there being no actual difference between Robin II and Robin I and the two Robins being virtually the same, sure the viewers would see that the relationship between Batman and Robin II and the relationship between Batman and Robin I are very much the same too, and no one could say if there’s any resemblance of a gay couple with a creepy age difference in the original Batman and Robin’s dynamic ever again since they’ve always been father and son.

It just feels so manipulative to me and I hate it, but that’s just how I feel and I’m not saying that it’s truly the case. I’m sorry if this offends anyone who loves Earth 1 Jason. If you love him, that’s great. There’s nothing wrong to love a wholesome Robin and his altogether wholesome relationship with Batman, nor there’s anything wrong to love Red Hood Jason but prefer his softer New52 version which would’ve certainly seemed to be a less drastic change from his Pre52 version if he’s more like his Earth 1 counterpart to begin with.

There’s absolutely nothing wrong to prefer one version of a character to another, to just say fuck canon and recreate a character you love into the way you could enjoy them most and have all the fun you want with them.

What gets to me and drives me bonkers, is when people couldn’t just be happy with their headcanon, but have to go out of their way to tell other people that it’s fact that Pre-Crsis/Earth 1 Jason and Post-Crisis/New Earth Jason are the same character, while in actuality, they weren’t even meant to be the same in the first place.

If DC had ever wanted to just keep using Pre-Crisis Jason but give him a new backstory, they would just follow up on whatever he had been doing with Bruce as his pre-crisis self while casually throwing in his new backstory at some point, just as they did with a lot of other characters such as Donna post-crisis, not give him a full reintroduction in Batman #408 and rewrite his relationship with Bruce from the ground up.

It just makes me want to scream, when people, who never seems to have a lot of problems with Under the Hood and maybe also Lost Days, have to go out and call every portrayal of Pre-52 Jason and some of the more recent Red Hood Jason that shares a resemblance to him wrong for not portraying Jason as that sweet little bookworm he really truly was, and that an entire different life experience just cannot change a character in any substantial way, and Jason being an angry kid with aggressive and violent tendencies is just something that had never been established until the more recent retcon/the OOC work of Jim Starlin, while in truth Pre-Crisis Jason with the exact same backstory as Dick just simply cannot be the same as Crime Alley Kid Jason, who doesn’t even have the same biological parents as Pre-Crisis Jason to provide him with the same gene that the Flying Todds, which were Joe and Trina Todd, had created their son with. 

If Pre-Crisis Jason and Post-Crisis Jason are one and the same, then it’d mean Dick is also very much the same as Jason is the same as Tim is the same as Damian is the same as Bruce and no one character is truly unique and special because every character ever made is just an alternate version of another character.

It had been shown most clearly since his first appearance that Post-Crisis/New Earth Jason, other than literally being a different kid with the same name, was nothing like his pre-crisis counterpart, but rather a bold, outspoken, confrontational, fully independent and proactive ghetto kid, who had got some serious stones to rob Batman’s gear, actually succeed in taking the tire off the freaking Batmobile and getting away originally, and had only run into Batman when he had come back to steal more, and called Batman a “big boob” after he had given him a good hit right in his Bat stomach.

This precious cupcake here↓

↑...that was often used as a proof that the NE Angry Robin Jason is a later retcon/ mere misconception had actually only ever existed in Detective Comics #569-573 during the earlier part of the writer Mike Barr’s run. These 5 issues from Barr are all notably 60s-ish, and while they’re published after CoIE and Batman Year one, it’s clear that they’re Earth 1 stories, seeing that they’re written with characters such as Earth 1 Catwoman. It was only in #574 that Jason’s New Earth origin was first introduced in Detective Comics, right before Batman Year Two; and although the issue was still written by Mike Barr and it did seem to have followed directly after #573, the previous issue was ended with the caption of “The New Origin of Batman”, and the tone of #574 as well as the writer’s latter issues and his portrayal of Jason Robin were no longer the same.

↑Detective Comics #574↑

It was stated by Bruce repeatedly, in both his own title and Detective Comics, that the reason he had taken in NE Jason as his new Robin was to save him from walking down the wrong path and to provide an outlet for his rage.

While no doubt Jim Starlin’s NE Jason Robin (that everyone hates) was the most aggressive and violent, it had never contradicted how the character was initially written by Max Allen Collins, the writer of Batman #408.

↑Batman #410 by Collins↑

↑ Batman #411 by Collins, after Jason had found out that Willis was murdered by Two-Face and Bruce had been hiding the information from him ↑

Although in the end of Batman #411, Jason did seem to have gotten over his anger and saved Two-Face’s life, judging by the way he’d talked about his dad Willis in his first introduction and the fact that he’d never before bothered to find out what had happened to the man the whole time while he’s in the manor where he had all the resources to acquire the information, it was doubtful that he and Willis had had a good relationship, and what he’d felt for his crook dad then could hardly be the same as what he felt later in “The Diplomat’s Son” story.

NE Jason had always been consistent in being a fearless, proactive, feisty individual with a hot temper, even in the hand of a writer with a much mellower sense of writing like Mike Barr.

↑ Jason and Bruce encountered Two-Face again in Detective Comics #580-581 by Barrs ↑

It had been established from the get-go that NE Jason Robin was the type of kid who would challenge Batman and go out handling a criminal on his own without consulting him or anyone else first, and was morally questionable with tendencies to aggression and violence, which was perfectly understandable for someone with his background--Only at the beginning it’s easy to brush these things off, because there's never any real consequence to his behavior and so Bruce was okay when he’d behaved this way at the beginning, and since Jason’d still got a lot to learn and was eager to learn from Bruce at the beginning, it would only be right that he’s more agreeable and willing to obey Bruce, but once he had completed his training and been allowed on the field, it would also only be right for him to feel like he had learnt enough and gotten the hang of the business already, and so just easily slipped into his old habit of handling things on his own, just as he had always been while he had been surviving in the Crime Alley on his own before Bruce came along.

NE Jason Robin wasn’t suddenly turned from 0-100 in The Diplomat’s Son story (though I really doubt that it’d be impossible for someone, especially someone around Jason’s age, to go from 0-100 if they have to deal with what Jason had dealt with in the story)--

↓ This didn’t happen until after the diplomat’s son was let go by the police due to his status, and on his way out of the police station where he’d been initially brought in by Jason and Bruce for raping and kidnapping an innocent woman, the mofo called his victim right in front of Jason and Bruce and threatened her on the phone, which led the woman to immediately commit suicide. 

I’ve always thought it’s a good story and a lot more tasteful than it’s usually given credit for. It wouldn’t even have been the first time a “teenage superhero” has killed in the DCU (whether it was accidental or intentional); it’s certainly not something so dark and controversial that DC wouldn’t go for it, they could’ve easily just gone for it and had Jason Robin murder a criminal then, except they never really showed that he did. The audience just naturally assumed that he did because the whole scene was shown through Bruce’s view, and Bruce could see that even if Jason didn’t really kill the rapist then, he might very well be capable of it, and it makes the whole Under the Hood storyline as well as the continuation of Red Hood Jason possible.

The concept of Under the Hood and the continuing existence of Red Hood Jason works, instead of just being a complete character assassination like One-Year-Later Cass, only with Jason being his post-crisis version with all of his very established traits and his very established problems with Bruce.

If Under the Hood Jason is indeed Earth 1 Jason or similar to him, he would really need to be under some outside influence for him to do the things he had done, for there’s just no other justification for his action.

He would really have to be driven mad by the effect of the Lazarus Pit (which has only ever been showed to exist momentarily on other characters), he would have to be incapacitated the whole time, unable to control his own action or even form any conscious decision--and it would only make it extremely possible for him to do something truly awful such as killing some innocent or other heroes or even someone in the Batfam, since he wouldn’t be able to stop himself even if he wanted to, or be able to tell if that’s wrong; that’s what being incapacitated means, that’s why people who’s committed crimes, even as bad as murders, cannot be held legally accountable when they’re proven to be mentally ill--and if that’s truly the case, then Bruce as well as Dick (who had a pretty amicable relationship with Earth 1 Jason) and everybody else who has any knowledge about the matter would all have to be some real awful persons to not lift a finger to help him, by making it a point to stop him from committing any more murder that he wouldn’t have committed if he could help it, and figuring out a way to relieve him from the influence by means of the various science and magic overflowing in their world, like they’ve repeatedly done for many others who’ve been in the similar position, and eventually getting him the hell out of this altogether traumatic crime-fighting life, so he could finally begin to heal from his extensive traumas, including being forced to kill which has always been a very common cause of PTSD for soldiers at war; and even if Jason doesn’t leave the crime-fighting life forever, he could no longer continue operating as the Red Hood; it’d just make no sense for him to keep up the identity previously belonged to his murderer, and have it constantly remind him of how he didn’t just get brutally murdered, he was also forced into becoming a murderer himself, which.he never would’ve become if he wasn’t literally out of his mind.

Moreover, there could never have been a Tim Robin (even if Tim didn’t go by Robin but something else), if the Jason who died in A Death in the Family had the same disposition as Earth 1 Jason and none of his NE traits which was the one and only justification Bruce had for taking in Tim as his third teenage partner, seeing that Tim is patient and careful and cooperative with all the qualities to become the same kind of hero like Dick, and not at all “reckless” and “rebellious” like NE Jason, and so he’s likely to turn out like Dick and not get himself killed like Jason (that’s the only true significant retcon Pre52 Jason had. Although NE Jason Robin could be rather reckless and rebellious, that’s certainly not why he had gotten killed. They just made Bruce and everyone pretend that that’s what killed him, so it wouldn’t seem so utterly horrible for Bruce to endanger another teenage kid with no superpower or any previous fighting training by bringing them in the business that had already gotten one kid killed, and also for Dick and everyone else to just let him).

It’s a complete disregard of facts and logic to call Earth 1 Jason and Red Hood Jason the same character, which doesn’t really matter as long as it’s only headcanon; but when people push it as a fact, it really just sound to me like they’re saying that it’s wrong to like Pre 52 Jason/Post-Crisis Jason Robin, which I very much do because I actually think he’s an interesting character with an interesting and more coherent story than a lot of other DC characters.

It’s like they’re saying that it’s just plain wrong and unnatural for a person to have aggressive and violent tendencies and be inclined to criminal behavior simply because they had grown up in a most crime-infested place and had to rely on themselves and learned to do what it takes to survive since before twelve, or become more and more violent simply because they’ve been made to work in an extremely violent environment and have never been provided with any kind of actual aid for their mental health the entire time.

It’s like that if a person, after being brutally murdered and then coming back to find that their mentor/guardian who was the closest thing they had to a family and was also responsible for their death in a major way just didn’t seem to be giving any shit about that at all, is filled with such murderous rage that they could very well just go out and kill a bunch of criminals, but they aren’t actually a smol whump baby with no absolutely agency of their own that must be protected at all times all along, then they’re just no good at all and don’t deserve any love or respect or understanding.

...I don’t like myself for ranting about this. I hope I could just not give any shit about this dumb thing, but it’d been driving me crazy and I’d just got to let it out.

[songofclarity]

Im curious. Do you think much or anything at all would have changed if dad-nie had not died? Ramble to your heart content, this is not a topic i often see discused, if ar all.

I'm going to answer this one on the assumption that the saber incident just does not happen. And I accidentally first read the question as would anything have changed for Nie MingJue if dad-nie had not died? Which shows I just have Da-ge on the brain all day, every day.

The big change, of course, is that Nie MingJue wouldn't become a Sect Leader as a teenager!

I think a large part of Nie MingJue's character, how reserved he is at times and how dedicated he is to his job, is because he becomes a leader at a young age to an angry sect when he, too, is angry. Tensions are high and the chance for vengeance to relieve that tension are low. Everyone is upset, including him, and yet he's the one who is in charge of making decisions and handling all of this. This helps Nie MingJue learn to set aside his own feelings, in that he can put his saber down when filled with fury at being betrayed and focus on making goal-oriented decisions, but the cost for that lesson is high. There is no more time for play and he has to get straight to business. So goodbye hobbies and friendship and hello office hours!

That's stressful! I know popular fanon is Da-ge To All, but I actually think Nie MingJue makes (sadly) a very pitiful if well-meaning Da-ge even to those who called him Da-ge. He is not having an easy time of things and it shows. Lan XiChen and Meng Yao are both the closest people to him by the time he's at Hejian because they are kind, mild-mannered, and eager to help. He needs help whether he asks for it or not. That's why he accepts Lan XiChen's help during the war without question, not even realizing the information Lan XiChen provided meant there was a spy. That's why he accepts Jin GuangYao playing music for him even though he hates the kind of person Jin GuangYao has revealed himself to be. Nie MingJue is just trying to do his best and keep himself and everyone else alive--something his father failed to do when he let his rage destroy him and left his family and sect picking up the pieces.

So keeping Nie Dad alive would arguably mean Nie MingJue is spared all that. He could have hobbies! He could have casual friends! He wouldn't feel responsible for Nie HuaiSang's education or protecting Nie HuaiSang from the hard truth of their saber cultivation. There are adults, adults who aren't angry about a dead Nie Dad, who can handle all that and provide the needed discipline. So ideally his relationship with Nie HuaiSang would improve as well. They could be proper brothers. If Nie HuaiSang doesn't want to practice his saber, Nie MingJue could weigh in why he thinks Nie HuaiSang should, but it's not on him now to force it. Nie HuaiSang will not have to wait until Nie MingJue dies to realize that his brother cares for him.

Another change, then, is that Nie HuaiSang might not be as spoiled or be able to run off to do as he pleases with dad around and the sect functioning normally lol

Although much of this depends on what kind of man Nie Dad was, and what that would mean for Nie MingJue and the Nie Sect if he were still alive. Was he as arrogant and prideful as the guest cultivator said? Would his behavior have created a stressful environment at home? What if Nie Dad truly did prize and prioritize his saber and he was the one who made Nie MingJue throw his hobbies away and focus only on saber practice in the first place?

Nie HuaiSang could have turned out very differently in that case.

There's also the possibility that Nie MingJue was just always being a dutiful son to his father's wishes, whether his father lived or died. Maybe Nie MingJue never though about having hobbies in the first place because of this. Him becoming sect leader in the canon timeline could have been him simply copying Nie Dad.

Maybe Nie MingJue would still be the exact same person in that case.

And then there is the maybe that Lan XiChen and Nie MingJue never become friends, or have to become friends much later in life, because the Qinghe Nie are stable and don't need help from outsiders this time around.

Maybe Nie Dad staying alive would have made things worse.

Maybe Nie Dad was obedient and subservient to the Qishan Wen already. After all, he went when summoned and handed over his saber when asked and was only annoyed by Wen RuoHan's attitude rather than alarmed or insulted by it. Perhaps he was not unlike Jin GuangShan, trying to warm up to a higher power by being helpful and obedient. Without Wen RuoHan's trick, the Qinghe Nie remain at the side of the Qishan Wen, who now become unstoppable.

Which is an interesting contrast to the canon where the Nie Sect under Nie MingJue bow to no one. Out of all the Sects, the Qinghe Nie after the death of Nie Dad were the ones who seemed to have escaped the bullying of the Qishan Wen. Nie HuaiSang isn't mentioned as being at the indoctrination camp and any supervisory office should have been in Qinghe or the Unclean Realm, not way off in Hejian if it was even there at all. Wen RuoHan notes that Nie MingJue does not bend and likely he means Nie MingJue will not bend to the will of the Qishan Wen. After Nie Dad dies, the Qishan Wen appear to have just ignored the Qinghe Nie, who had gone feral against them and might have not been worth the effort to subdue lol

Because consider the canon set-up: Cloud Recesses was destroyed, Lotus Pier was massacred, and the Lanling Jin were expected to go crawling back to hug the leg of the Qishan Wen for protection... But the Qinghe Nie stood on their own. With Nie MingJue's leadership, they were the first out the door and they fought the hardest and the longest compared to everyone else. They were ready to fight to protect themselves and others. Under Nie MingJue's leadership, it was the Qinghe Nie, not the Lanling Jin, that were set to take the place of power of the Qishan Wen post-Sunshot Campaign.

Nie MingJue made the Qinghe Nie powerful! The only reason the Lanling Jin came out on top was because Meng Yao dealt Nie MingJue a critical blow and Nie MingJue never wanted power in the first place.

Could Nie Dad have done the same or better?

in which case I propose a BIG change: a Qishan Wen and Qinghe Nie alliance where everyone lives/nobody dies.

Before the guest cultivator spoke up, the Wen Sect and Nie Sect appear to have had a good relationship. Remember how Wang LingJiao at Lotus Pier was like, the boy shot down a kite that looked like the sun and the Qishan Wen are represented by the sun so the boy was shooting down the sun? Now we apply it to the gifted saber Wen RuoHan received. Wen RuoHan likes this gifted saber and the Qinghe Nie are a sect that prize sabers so Wen RuoHan likes the Qinghe Nie.

Truly, the only possible outcome from what the guest cultivator was saying was to destroy Wen-Nie relations. Nie Dad can no longer be trusted to speak the truth, Wen RuoHan is offended and wants to punish, and if Nie Dad ends up injured or dead, the guest cultivator isn't going to cry about it when he's sitting at his second fancy Wen banquet. So when the Qishan Wen and Qinghe Nie are getting too cozy with each other, the guest cultivator speaks up and ruins it.

But now we have Nie Dad still alive and relations are still good with Wen RuoHan, who is either just a powerful sect leader or the most powerful sect leader. We know that all the other sect leaders failed to make Wen RuoHan respect them, but what if Nie Dad was the exception all along? Considering how powerful Nie MingJue was at 25 that Wei WuXian ranked him in the top three cultivators, Nie Dad at 40/50/60+ has a reason to feel prideful towards his saber and his position in life!

If what the guest cultivator was saying, then Nie Dad bows to no one and he met Wen RuoHan face-on as equals.

Nie MingJue said before at Koi Tower that if the right person, such as Wen Qing, just spoke in Wen RuoHan's ear, all that disaster and chaos might not have happened. Just one person.

And maybe that was Nie Dad.

Nie Dad, dad to all...

[jarienn972]

Weathering the Storm - Part Four

For a multitude of reasons, it has been ages since I've been able to update this story. I had the chapter all plotted out, but never seemed to be able to find time (or sometimes just motivation) to write. I appreciate those who reached out to me asking if I planned to update it and I thank you so much for your patience! I absolutely plan to finish it and right now, there are 2 more planned chapters to close everything out.

For now though, since it has been a few months, here’s a quick recap of where we left off in the last chapter: Emma braved the elements to investigate the abandoned Sheriff cruiser, and after seeing the dashcam video, knows that her husband is injured after the disastrous traffic stop. She's made the assumption that Killian would try to make his way to the closest dwelling to the lonely stretch of highway - Zelena's farmhouse. We're going to pick up at that same farmhouse as the unrelenting thunderstorm continues. 

If you’d like to catch up from the beginning, you can find all of the current chapters on FF.net and AO3. Tumblr: Part One  Part Two  Part Three

Despite the warm glow from the flickering orange and gold flames in the fireplace behind her chair, the lingering dreariness of the day was wearing heavily on Zelena's mood. The sky was still laden with dull, grey clouds unleashing unholy torrents of rain upon the farmhouse's metal roof and continuous gusts of wind threatened to blow away the fluttering blue tarp which was only barely protecting them from the elements.

Oh, what she wouldn't have given right now if she could still possess the ability to poof them all away from this isolated outpost deep in the forest. Maybe she shouldn't have been so hasty and rammed that beat up old jalopy of hers into the Black Fairy. She wasn't particularly good at driving the beast but perhaps she could have managed to get into town… Oh, heavens...who was she kidding? In this weather, she wouldn't have made it to the end of the drive, and anyway, the ugly, metal death-trap was still sitting on a lot in town, rusting away as it awaited repairs. It hadn't been a high priority to fix when she'd had electricity and a working telephone to call Regina who'd pop in with supplies and whatever if she needed a hand with something. If she couldn't solve the problem with magic from a distance, she'd drive out to help her sister and niece, but she certainly couldn't do that right now.

At least, she could be thankful for the simple fact that Robin would sleep through almost anything when she had a full tummy. She couldn't recall the exact time she'd put her daughter down for her afternoon nap, but she estimated that it had been about an hour and a half, meaning her child was going to awaken soon and Zelena would have to figure out a way to entertain a cranky toddler in a dark, drafty house. For now though, the exasperated mom was enjoying the quiet reprieve from this stress-filled day before Robin was awake and wanting to play ,and then Zelena would also have to figure a way to keep the baby from bothering their guest.

Their guest.

How long had it been now since Hook showed up sopping wet on her doorstep? Two hours? Closer to three? Surely Emma would have realized that something was amiss if she'd not heard from her husband by now. How long might it take before someone realized that he was lying on her sofa right at this very moment? He was still semi-peacefully slumbering after taking a swig of the children's pain reliever which might have taken enough of the edge off to allow him to rest - or he'd just passed out from sheer agony and exhaustion.

Either way, she tried to distract herself with a little bit of reading by the firelight. The dancing flames cast odd shadows across the pages making the text difficult to see at times, but then she wasn't fully paying attention to the prose before her. She could scarcely recall a thing she'd read from the prior chapter, much less the last paragraph. She just needed something - anything - to keep her weary mind occupied during this brief reprieve. She was going bloody stir crazy, even beginning to believe she was hearing things that weren't there. She'd swear she just heard something rapping on the kitchen window, but quickly dismissed the thought, figuring it was just the swirling wind rattling the creaky door.

Until she was certain that she heard the sound of her name being called over the howling of the storm.

**********

Emma had briefly considered poofing herself right into the center of Zelena's kitchen, but decided against it at the last second, instead materializing from a cloud of pale grey smoke on the front porch instead. While she was somewhat protected from the storm by the narrow extension of the roof, rain water poured over the eaves in sheets. Considering that the gravel driveway leading up from the road had morphed into a shallow, muddy lake, the porch was relatively dry in comparison, although Emma wasn't certain just how protected she was from Mother Nature's fury when a bolt of lightning lit up the darkened skies. The tin roof above her head probably wasn't the safest right now…

She took a long stride closer to the door, wiping away some condensation from the glass with her sleeve as she peered through the window. She couldn't make out much inside the empty kitchen as it was fairly dark with a faint orangish glow in the distance. Zelena probably had a fire burning to provide some light and heat to stave off the chills with the power still out. She couldn't hear any voices emanating from the interior of the house, but it was possible that the noise of the rain striking the metal roof was drowning out any sounds from inside. But in the dim backlight provided by the firelight, Emma could make out a dark mass draped around the back of one of the ladderback chairs - a shape that looked decidedly like the collar and shoulders of a coat. A dark coat that had enough of a sheen on its surface to reflect the warm hue of the flames. Just like a certain black leather coat that her husband had been wearing when he departed for the station this morning.

Please, let that be Killian's coat, she begged of whatever higher power might be listening as she knocked anxiously on the window. Not noticing any movement inside the farmhouse, she rapped again, but this time on the wooden door instead of the glass as her sight fell upon a ruddy stain upon the white paint. Was that blood?

"Zelena?" she shouted, hoping that her voice would carry louder than her knocking. "Zelena? Are you in there?" Well, that was a stupid question...Of course she had to be inside. Most people wouldn't leave home with a fire still burning and where exactly would she go? Even if she'd managed to get her crappy car running, there was no way she would have made it into town in this downpour. She probably wouldn't have reached the end of the driveway… "Zelena!" she cried out even louder this time.

Seeing the familiar hue of the former witch's wild auburn hair through the steamed up glass, Emma's nerves abated momentarily and she let out a relieved exhale as the door was yanked open.

"Emma?" a startled Zelena muttered as she found the drenched, blonde sheriff standing at her doorstep, but her mood instantly lifted. "I am so happy to see you! I was hoping that you'd soon figure out your husband came here to seek help."

"Thank goodness. There weren't many places he could have gone, so I was really hoping he made it here. He recorded the whole thing on the dashcam, so I know he was shot. Is he alright?" Emma tried to keep her nerves in check, but as she rambled on, she knew she was failing miserably.

"He's in on the sofa. He's sleeping right now. Well, at least I think he's sleeping… He's been in and out of consciousness," Zelena explained as she waved Emma inside. Emma brushed past the redhead who closed the door quickly before the wind blew any more of the never-ending precipitation into the kitchen. Zelena continued detailing all she'd done to help, even though she doubted Emma heard half of it. "I've tried my best to get the bleeding under control. It isn't near as heavy as it was before, but he still lost a lot. The bullet that hit him went clean through and I don't think anything too vital was struck, but I really don't know for certain. He's still a bloody mess and a bit feverish. I tried giving him some of Robin's baby ibuprofen to help with the pain too, but I don't have a bloody clue how well that worked..."

Half-listening as she rounded the corner into the living room, Emma made a bee-line over to the sofa where she discovered her husband curled on his side with a woolen blanket draped over him. Even with the golden glow cast by the flames, his skin bore a deathly pallor. "Oh, Killian…," she sighed as she dropped to her knees on the floor beside him. She cupped her palm around his cheek, finding it cool and clammy beneath the warmth of her fingers. A muted, but guttural moan escaped his throat as he stirred at her touch. He blinked twice in the low light but as his sight adjusted, his eyelids parted fully to focus on the unexpected, but magnificent face of his true love.

"Swan?" he mumbled, his muddled brain trying to determine if she was real or just a cruel hallucination.

"It's me," Emma smiled, happy to find him conscious and communicative. "I'm here and I'm going to get you help…"

"Now that you can heal him, it'll all be fine," Zelena spoke up. "I would have already done that if I still had my magic, but now Emma can get you all fixed up," she gave a nod to Killian but the expression that crossed Emma's face confused her.

"Unfortunately, it isn't quite that simple…," Emma groaned in frustration. "Because this situation involved criminals from outside of Storybrooke, I had to have David notify the state police and put out a bulletin to watch for the vehicle. They'll have questions about the shooting, and if the deputy who they can see being shot on dashcam footage is suddenly, miraculously healed, those questions are going to get uncomfortable and weird and cast doubt on the whole thing. I don't even think that saying Killian was wearing a bulletproof vest would hold up under the circumstances…"

"So, what does that mean?" Zelena questioned.

"I'll have to get him back to Whale - transport him directly to the hospital…"

Emma was cut off mid-sentence as the storm unleashed a tremendous gust of wind that blasted through the broken window, billowing out the tarp until the nails could no longer hold and the resulting gush extinguished the fire. Swirls of raindrops, leaves and other debris were forced through the opening as the tarp floundered and flopped about the floor. Without a moment's hesitation, she spun around and raised her hands. In a split-second, a magical wave of bright light filled the room, vanquishing the tarp and all of the storm debris as it repaired the damaged window, restoring it to its original state like its twin further down the living room wall.

Zelena breathed a sigh of relief as the threat of further damage subsided for the time being, even though the room was plunged into darkness without the flames illuminating it. She wasn't going to miss that ugly plastic sheet, nor would she miss the drafts and rainwater that seeped in around its edges.

"Thank you for fixing that awful eyesore," Zelena said as Robin let out a terrified wail after being awakened by all of the commotion. "I'm coming, my love," she assured her daughter but she also gave Emma a quizzical look before heading over to the play yard. "Do you think you're going to have to explain that one?" she asked Emma with a gesture towards the repaired window.

"Hopefully, it won't come to it, but I suppose I'll think of something, if necessary," Emma replied as she turned her attention back to her wounded husband while Zelena scooped up a whimpering toddler. "Okay, one crisis averted," she whispered as she gently squeezed her husband's bicep through the blanket. "Let's get you into town so we can get you fixed up too."

Killian gave a weak nod and allowed his eyes to fall closed again as he steeled himself for teleportation, never knowing how rough the landing may be when they re-materialized. The commonplace of magical transport was something this grizzled mariner was still getting used to.

"Take us with you," Zelena interrupted. Unprepared for such a request, Emma glanced upward into the pleading eyes of the redhead who was still bouncing a teary-eyed toddler on her hip.

"What?" Emma stammered, her brow knitted in confusion. Had she heard that right?

"Please… Will you transport us there with you? I promise, we will be out of your way as soon as we get there. I'll call Regina to come pick us up, but I can't stay isolated out here in this bloody storm with no power and no way to get in touch with anyone. I hate not having magic anymore… I don't want to be a bother, but please…?"

"Um...sure, I guess," Emma responded. "For everything you've done for Killian today, I suppose it's the least I could do."

"Oh, thank you! Thank you!" the former witch gushed. "Let me grab Robin's things. I'll be less than a minute!" She scurried into the bedroom to collect Robin's diaper bag as well as a jacket for each of them, then quickly darted into the kitchen to grab the baby's pre-made evening bottle, which the little one eyed greedily as they returned to the living room. Her final task was to toss a pitcher of water onto the smoldering remnants of the fire to ensure it was completely out before they vacated the farmhouse. Returning to Emma's side, Zelena gave her daughter a tight hug and exclaimed: "All ready."

"Then off to Storybrooke Hospital we go," Emma stated, swishing her wrist before the magical cloud enveloped them.

[thewhitefluffyhat]

Featherine Augustus Aurora

What is this guide?

<< Previous (Lambdadelta)

Reading List: Highlights

Umineko Episode 6/Dawn “??? Tea Party” [ Video / Text ]

Featherine requests her old miko return to her service once more. (Everything to know about Featherine’s personality in one scene)

Umineko Episode 6/Dawn “The Witch of Theatergoing” scene

Video [Scene starts roughly 6:20 and continues to the end of the video]

Text [Search on “Amakusa ran his finger down my cheek.” Scene continues to end of the page.]

[Spoilers - this references several major twists from the previous two Episodes, though not the truth of the mystery.] Featherine ropes another human into acting as her miko. (A demonstration of the way Featherine/Hachijou blends the mundane and the magical worlds.)

Umineko Episode 8/Twilight “Magical Battle” scene

Video [Scene starts roughly 38:40, stop before 53:35]

Text [Start at top of the page and stop at the screencap of the key.]

[Spoilers - this is one of the battles at the climax of Umineko! It doesn’t involve the core mystery, but it will spoil which characters ultimately side with the protagonists.] A scene for if you’re curious what happens when Featherine gets serious.

Reading List: I want it all

(These are all repeats from the list for Bernkastel.)

”Whose Tea Party?” [ Video / Text ]

Bern gets invited to a tea party. (A simple and silly scenario, but also a window into the differences in how Featherine and Lambda think of Bern.)

”Bernkastel’s Letter” [ Video / Text ]

Bernkastel writes a letter to (maybe) Featherine, explaining what she’s discovered about the rules to Beatrice’s game. (This is a bit of a strange one - to me it feels like some details of Bern’s relationships in this early work were retconned by the time of Umineko Episodes 6-8.)

Umineko Chiru (Episode 6/Dawn, Episode 7/Requiem, Episode 8/Twilight)

Umineko Saku’s Last Note of the Golden Witch involves Featherine somewhat. Blink and you’ll miss it, but she’s in 07th Theater too.

-...And that’s it! On the plus side, it’s easy to read all there is of Featherine, since there’s so little. Unfortunately, as you can see from the Highlights, what does exist is often neck deep in spoiler territory…

Wiki Links

https://07th-expansion.fandom.com/wiki/Featherine_Augustus_Aurora [Some spoilers, though only the same as in the Highlights links above.]

Quick Facts

-As Hanyuu is in Higurashi, Featherine is the closest being to a god in Umineko.  However, while gods in Higurashi are related to Shinto concepts (plus parasites and viruses and aliens), Umineko’s godhood is based on the idea of an author being god of their story, summoning universes out of the nothingness of a blank page.

-Featherine’s unusual name is probably a reference to Hanyuu. The kanji for Hanyuu (羽入) are “羽=feather” and “入=in”. And Augustus Aurora = Hanyuu’s “Au au” catchphrase. Hachijou (八城) can also be read “yashiro,” as in Oyashiro-sama.

-Physically, Featherine appears as an elegant adult woman whose exact age is hard to place. She does not have horns, but she does have that suspiciously horn-like memory device floating around her head.

According to that Umineko Episode 8 battle scene linked above, Featherine’s memory device once was damaged, leading to Featherine having a different personality and appearance for a time.

(As it so happens, Hanyuu has a chipped horn and a very different personality from Featherine, what an intriguing coincidence...)

-Long before the events of Umineko, Featherine ascended to the realm of the gods and returned. She also goes through a cycle of sleep/death and rebirth which can last centuries.  All aspects that call to mind that ascension Hanyuu mentions in Saikoroshi.

-Outside the Meta-World, Featherine’s double is a mysterious and reclusive author who goes by many names. (Hachijou Tohya is just one of them.)

-Remember how Ooishi and Akasaka write a book called “Higurashi no naku koro ni” in-universe? Umineko does something similar, but explores the idea even further. Hachijou is the supposed in-universe author of some of Umineko’s arcs, and as such, some fans consider Featherine/Hachijou as a stand-in for Ryukishi07 himself.

Personality

-Much as Bern’s personality is similar to “dark Rika” but kicked up to eleven, Featherine’s personality is similar to Hanyuu when Hanyuu acts as a god. She’s calm, serious, and refers to humans as “child of man.”

-Lacking Hanyuu’s shy and childish mannerisms, Featherine comes across as intimidating and rather condescending. Though she’s more polite and reasonable than the average witch. (Which honestly says more about other witches than her, really...)

-Bern and Lambda are very fey-like, tricking and tempting mortals into doing what they want. Featherine, in contrast, doesn’t use tricks or threaten violence because she doesn’t need to. Asking for consent from mortals is a gesture of respect from her - you don’t have the ability to refuse.

-In almost the inverse of Hanyuu, Featherine has no problems getting other characters to perceive her; indeed, she’s subtle but often quite forceful about dragging others into conversations inside her realm.

-Also unlike Hanyuu, Featherine has no particular love of sweets (that’s Lambda), and does seem to enjoy alcohol.

-Featherine, an ancient being, suffers from the “disease” of boredom. Entertaining herself with stories is the only medicine for this ailment, and the relief it provides is only temporary.

-As such, Featherine enjoys stories as deeply and thoroughly as possible.  Meaning, she doesn’t just appreciate mysteries and characters as they’re first presented - she also likes to “tear out the guts” to see what makes them tick.

...Not with her own hands of course!  That’s Bern’s job.

What, did you think you were done with the Watanagashi imagery when you finished Higurashi?

-At several points in Umineko, Featherine a gets called a monster. While this may be yet another callback to Higurashi, unlike Hanyuu who hates that label, Featherine takes it as a compliment.

-So… is Featherine evil? Many characters, and even Ryukishi07 himself in interviews, call her such. That being said, in Umineko, Featherine can be callous, but she doesn’t revel in sadism the way other witches do. Although, presumably she was much worse in the past...

Abilities

-Featherine is the “Witch of Theatergoing” - she is primarily a spectator to the events of Umineko, rather than a player on the stage. (Just like Hanyuu.)

-Bern’s “Theatergoing Authority” may derive from her. She also has the ability to instantly promote a character to the position of Game Master.

-Featherine is an author and therefore a “Creator,” surpassing the level of even powerful witches like Bern and Lambda. Her powers function as her breaking the fourth wall and literally writing the rest of the script on a page.

-Like Hanyuu, Featherine can stop time. Though unlike Hanyuu, Featherine can act in the frozen time, including that aforementioned reality writing.

-Featherine’s home is the *deep breath*  “Great Witch of Theatergoing, Drama, and Spectating's Noble City of Carefully Selected Books” - an impossibly large magical library filled with countless stories, each a universe of their own like a Fragment.  (Everyone just calls it the “City of Books.”)

-Featherine’s servants are the main characters of these stories, now in the form of black cats.

-Featherine’s relationships with her mikos are also through the lens of an author. Featherine’s mikos are also known as “Readers” - they narrate the events of a game board to Featherine. As an author is a god, a reader is also able to put their own interpretation on the story they tell.

Featherine and Bernkastel

-As Hanyuu is to Rika, so Featherine is to Bern... more or less. They’re still a god and her miko.

-Unlike Rika and Hanyuu, Bern and Featherine do not share their senses.

-Rika and Bern have both lived beyond a normal human’s lifespan, but they both still consider themselves young in comparison to Hanyuu/Featherine’s ancient existence.

-When Rika would bully Hanyuu, Hanyuu did little but cry and complain.  Bern still backtalks and is generally disrespectful of Featherine, but the result is different - Bern’s the one acting defensive and scared while Featherine is merely amused by it.

-Bern is also distrustful yet subservient toward Featherine in a way Rika never was to Hanyuu.

-However, when Bern is in danger, she will demand that Featherine help her, much as how Rika did the same to Hanyuu once in Matsuribayashi.

Featherine and Lambdadelta

-Featherine and Lambda appear to be on amicable, if not especially close terms.

-On Featherine’s side, she primarily seems to know Lambda as Bern’s friend and playmate.

-On Lambda’s side, she knows she’s completely outclassed by Featherine, and is very afraid of crossing her.

-Lambda does know quite a bit about Featherine - including that tidbit about Featherine’s personality change in the past.

Featherine in Higurashi Gou?

Is this Featherine? And what does that mean for the rest of Higurashi Gou? 

Well, after reading this guide, what do you think?

Regardless, this is as far as I can guide you with my knowledge of Umineko. If you wish to go further, you’ll have to forge that path yourself, through the ravenous wilderness of unconfirmed theories and dangerous speculation.

Good luck!

PS: If you’d like a rough map of some popular destinations, I also have an old Bingo Card of Umineko-Gou connection theories.

PPS to folks from Reddit: If you liked this guide, I also do episode analysis/theory posts too.

[staincdglass]

name: milla evelyn barnett

age: 45 years old

birthplace: new york city

current residence: forest hills, queens

occupation: trauma & addiction specialist

orientation: bisexual biromantic

marital status: married, separated

children: one

ethnicity: caucasian

financial status: middle class

trigger warning for sibling death, addiction & cheating

Born and raised in Queens, Milla is a New Yorker through and through. She was raised in Flushing in a family of four children. Three girls, one boy. To this day, she’s still considered the fiery one. The oldest child was the ‘parent sibling’, while as the second eldest, she was caring and always had everyone’s back, but she was also the one to encourage rule-breaking and mischief. It’s still this way now. This woman is chaotic good down to her marrow.

Sadly when Milla was 18, her youngest sister passed away unexpectedly due to a drug overdose. She was closest with this sibling and consider her to be one of her best friends only to have her taken away from her so young. After the death, she lived in a blur for a few years --- even now she can’t remember at least 2 years of her life after the tragedy.

That experience is something that pushes her everyday to continue to do what she does. At the time of her sister’s passing, she was studying psychology and it pushed her to use it in a way that can benefit others. She decided she wanted to specialise in trauma and addiction therapy to help those struggling with addiction and to also support people who have gone through trauma in their lives.

She’s considered one of the best in New York and she loves her job, but deep down it does take a toll on her. More than she’d care to admit.

Milla still lives in Queens. Forest Hills, to be exact. She doesn’t see herself ever leaving the borough. It’s her home. She has a 10 year old daughter with her husband, although, she’s currently separated from him at the moment. Their relationship practically burst into flames at the end of last year after she found out he drunkenly slept with a co-worker.

She will admit --- her reaction to this revelation was petty. She ended up going out and having sex with her husband’s best friend just as a way to get even. It certainly was an immature thing to have done, but honestly? The sex with his friend was excellent so she doesn’t regret that in the slightest. Maybe just the fact she went out of her way to be petty.

Deep down she still loves her husband very much and there is a hope that they could one day get back together, but at the moment she’s making the most of single life.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

patients who struggle with drug addiction and/or trauma

best friends ( i would LOVE her to have a bff group like the girls in sex and the city 👀)

fellow queens residents

flings / friends with benefits

blind date / tinder date / etc

[stopeatingwhales]

talk tonight x noel gallagher

i’m back with another noel fic ;) i know the meaning behind the song is completely different to how this story is presenting it, but i’m changing it up so it can fit the storyline. i don’t know why i always write so much for noel BUT he deserves it <3

Paring: 90s noel gallagher x reader

Warnings: its just really fucking soft okay

Word count: 3.809

Requested by anon <3

༉‧₊˚✧

“Stop writing so many mopey songs!” Liam yelled, tossing the now wrinkled piece of paper at his brother, containing heartfelt lyrics to another one of Noel’s melancholic masterpieces. “We’re not a sad band, for fucks sakes!” 

Sighing, Noel looked away from his sibling’s frustrated stares. Taking a hold of the paper, he unfolded it slowly, attempting to stretch out its unfortunate bruises: formed when gripped firmly in Liam’s palm as he skim read it atrociously. His eyes trailed from the top, all the way to the bottom of the page, examining the lyrics that messily peppered the sheet. He had spent hours, days, relentlessly trying to get the words right; it seemingly sounded better in his head rather than on the paper, his heartfelt remorse towards the amounts of paper he used - and eventually binned - ghosting his mind as he stared at the title of the song. Talk Tonight. 

Usually, he would be skilfully speedy with writing such anthems, yet, with this song, he felt it contained more of him than anything else did - his bare heart, unexpectedly torn out of its ligaments, dusted on a random chopping board, framed for the entire world to see. The public would have no idea who it was about and why he had written it, but knowing the obsessive fans that queued for hours just to buy a 7” single, crammed gigantic concert halls, chanted back memorable lyrics, which were either written hurriedly, wanting to complete the song or were age old melodies, well thought out in his childhood bedroom - accompanied by Liam’s occasional interrupting with his rowdy complaints about their mother not allowing him to go out and mess around with his friends at the time. His fans may either be oblivious as to the meanings of the song, or they may be able to depict it as adroitly as a neurosurgeon figuring out the exact muscle which broke apart the spine. You never knew. 

Noel stayed silent, not replying to Liam, leaving the standing sibling puzzled by his distanced expression. Expectedly, he assumed Noel would answer him, perhaps with a scolding, reminding him that he doesn’t write the songs, and that Noel’s the mastermind of it all, to which Liam would throw a hissy fit, storming out of the room in anger towards his repetitive comeback. Nevertheless, all that sounded in the room was a light hiss of wind escaping from the outdoors, seemingly into the small crack of the slightly opened window; you couldn’t tell whether it was shut or open. The fresh seeping air felt like it was intruder, like a fox deciding it was their place to rummage through your neighbours’ bins for a midnight snack, and after not managing to find anything, leaving all the bin bags ripped open, the trash every place imaginable in the adjacent front yard. “Noel?” Liam spoke, walking up to where his brother was sat, eventually inviting himself to sit next to him.

Liam’s words snapped Noel out of his ponder over what seemed to be anything imaginable. Blinking a couple times, he rubbed his right eye irritatingly, finally responding to his awaiting brother. “What?” he asked, folding up the paper once again, hiding it from Liam, as if he hadn’t already seen it previously. There was an element of secrecy in this song, something he found himself afraid to admit, even to the closest person to him. 

Taking note of this, Liam slowly gained an idea of the reasoning behind his aloof body language. “Who’s it about?” he questioned, snatching the piece of paper out of his sibling’s grip, once again. As he opened the fold, he noticed Noel’s tense body again from the abrupt clutch of his work. He re-read the roughly written lyrics - some endings of the words resulted in being smudged due to the pen his brother was using - this time seeing the lines in a completely different light. Noel was calling out for someone, a hint of plead, offhand desperation, a simple crave for attention, all effortlessly foreshadowed in his words. This wasn’t an ordinary song; this was about someone, someone close to him. 

“Who’s it about?” he repeated, his tone on the stretch between rough and soft, like a baby’s screeching, features soft yet voice ever so repulsive. Noel’s dry, lifeless responses began to agitate him, though he tried to hide it, his eyes trailing off to study the older brother’s distinctive features in a midst of the silence, always taking interest into his sibling’s prescence. He took note of his messily arranged mop hair-do, decorated lightly with significant stands sticking out freely; it was obvious that his attention being undivided towards his meaningful lyrics made him feel that he had no need to do himself for anyone else, along with the curved bridge of his nose, morphed in a delicate overlay of skin, a unique microcosm to who he really was. Both Gallagher brothers were pictured in the magazines as loud, condescending, boisterous teenagers from a poor, working class background, each one oblivious to the understanding of how to control (and handle) the spotlight - yet always wanted it to be on them. However, the way the world pictured Noel wasn’t fully correct: yes, there were times he was off of his head, drugged up in all sorts of class A drugs he seemingly was able to purchase from the insane sales their debut album, Definitely Maybe, had scored. Regardless, the world saw Noel as the twin of Liam: the same, when without a doubt both carried such idiosyncratic differences.

Once again, Noel kept quiet, engrossed between his many thoughts and ideations, not knowing whether to answer Liam or keep his silence. Noel felt the strong stare of his sibling being emitted onto his flesh, drawing himself two options: telling Liam and having him shut up about it, although he knew he wouldn’t, or keep his brother asking the same questions, his curiosity - and aggravation - increasing every millisecond as his quietness progressed on. “Is it someone I know?” the sibling asked, causing Noel to swivel his head instantly - locking eyes with him in surprise. Yes, Liam, it is. 

Liam was quick to catch Noel's startled expression, immediately thinking of all the girls they had been friends with, or had been working with them within the past year. They didn’t have many girl-friends; when you’re front page on practically every entertainment article about how loud and tatty you usually were tended to result in hatred by the mass population of women. Regardless, there were enough girls to be friendly with; when you’re drunk in a pub at three in the morning searching for a passionate night with someone, it’s less likely you’re going to keep your eye out to not sleep with someone as attractive as the Gallaghers. “Is it Matilda?” 

“No,”

“Evelyn?”

“No,”

“Nicole?”

“No! It’s Y/N!” Noel yelled, agitated by his brother's bombarded neediness to know.

“So not Nicole?” 

“No,” he repeated, his mind beginning to despise the word after the countless amounts of it rushing off his tongue in the mass of a few seconds.

“Good, because I like Nicole,” Liam mumbled, gazing straight at the window, intently listening to the quiet sound of cars driving by on the road beside them. 

Shocked, the older brother bunched his eyebrows together and squinted his eyes. “You have Patsy, Liam,”

“Yeah, but,” the younger brother began, before being caught in realisation. “Wait, Y/N?” 

Sighing, Noel came to a conclusion that there was no way of escaping the situation. “Yes, her,” he replied, taking the song out of Liam’s palms. He had stared blankly at the sheet hundreds of times, lost in a dream, yet each time he felt as if he was reading it for the first. Every time his eyes laid upon the first few lines, his heart felt as if it was a balloon being punctured with a toothpick on accident, cascading out of a little child’s hand in the middle of the sidewalk, flying onto the road making it unable to get a hold of it again. The kid cries, but the mother tells him to get over it, you’ll get another soon, she says. Noel rarely spoke to Y/N, and when he did, he either stuttered or was too drunk to finish a sentence. She made his heart flutter, in the most endearing ways, receiving a small smile from the girl brightened his day to the fullest. Sometimes he wondered if he was in love with her, love at first sight when they first locked eyes in the recording studio, the band’s manager introducing them to the band as the recording assistant. She was the prettiest girl he had ever laid eyes upon.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Liam asked, wrapping an arm around Noel. “Or even, why haven’t you gone out with the girl yet? She’s single ain’t she?” 

Noel nodded his head, staring down at his fingers as they cradled the sheet cautiously, hoping not to rip it in the slightest. “I was thinking of showing the song to her, since I have no fuckin’ clue how I’m supposed to tell her how I feel,” he added, pulling his hand up to chew on his nails - out of nervousness of the idea of presenting such a heart-wrenching song to her. 

“Tell her tomorrow, show her the song after recording,” Liam suggested, slipping his top lip into his mouth, wondering what was battling his brother’s thoughts. He had never seen his brother so naive to how to talk to a girl, tell her he wants to go out for a drink with her, enjoy each other’s company as friends, not co-workers, for once. It was like the entire topic was something so new to the sibling - not even his brother could aid him with directions over what to do, exactly presenting a child the quadratic form, they would never be able to understand it. 

A few long, impatient seconds whistled by in the room - the ambience tense yet soft, bubbled to the brim with thought. Liam didn’t want to say anything else, knowing his brother wouldn’t answer; he wanted to wait for a well thought out response, one that would make sense - unlike receiving flat-out no’s, which brought both boys off guard over the repetitiveness. “You think it's good enough?” Noel questioned, locking eyes with the opposing brother once again. Funnily enough, he knew the exact answer he was going to receive; he could hear it in the room, bouncing off of the walls, the exact words rolling off of Liam’s tongue. He knew him so well, he didn’t need a conformation of words as they fell off of his lips.  

“Go for it,”

~~~

After another strenuous day of recording, bickering, and a sporadic storming out by the lead singer, they somehow managed to record two songs: Acquiesce and Headshrinker, both songs to be included in their first single release, Some Might Say, for their upcoming album. There was high anticipation for this forthcoming LP - tabloids had the topic stained on their lips, the matter embossed in their heads, it being the only thing they were able to talk about with a such excitement, almost exactly like the buzz the band received with their first album, due to it becoming the fastest selling debut LP in the UK charts. Everyone was shocked by their sudden appearance, and along with their rugged up, tough looks, you couldn’t take your eyes off of them. Unsurprisingly, the air in the room was filled with up to the brim in fog - all from the hundreds of joints that were scruffily wrapped up and burnt, all up to its butt to be chucked away in the dustbins. There were ashtrays decorated all around the room; some practically overflowing in dust, others merely sprinkled in ash it could almost present as unused and clean. Time felt distant; with the clock itching to strike hour 5, the atmosphere was left fussy, all five boys drained entirely from the ridiculous amounts of re-recordings they had to do, along with Guigsy being especially annoyed by a decision their label had made for an upcoming gig they seemingly had to start planning for. Bollocks, he shouts, slouching down in his seat, as Bonehead scoffs at his continuous childlike behaviour.

“Right well, I’m out,” Liam yells, his eyes immediately drifting onto Noel. Giving his sibling a nod, he grabs hold of his spliff again, his fingers softly entwining with the roughened fabric, inhaling sharply before exhaling out its poignant contents in front of Y/N’s face. “Bye, Y/N,” he adds, turning his head away and swaying out the door - trying to present a cool-like physique. The rest of the boys follow, except Noel. She laughs at him, whispering a short bye before carrying on with her previous activities. The boys were planning on going to the nearest bar to  hang out, we deserve it after all our hard work and dedication to this shitting album, Liam would always repeat. Not like their lives aren’t situated with cigarettes, bars and alcohol practically everyday. I want to find a bird to sleep with. You have Patsy! Oh, yeah.  

After everyone had left, it was only Noel and Y/N left in the space. Noel was sat in the recording room, playing around with the strings on one of his many Gibson’s, his fingers lightly tapping on the metal cords, attempting to settle another melody for another upcoming song he had thought about. He was always like this. He was the definition of the I’ll-see-you-guys-there type; he constantly had something to do beforehand. He carried such a creative mind, you never wanted to interrupt him when he was left in his element, you knew he was going to create something amazing - he always did. Y/N currently had her headphones on, her head slowly bopping to the sounds of the music she was playing as her eyes were focused on the controls. Every few seconds she would mess around with the controls, either boosting the bass or lowering the sound of the guitars, continuously finding something fun to do with the tunes. As the song she was listening to had come to a close, she clapped lightly to herself, accompanied with a wide grin plastering on her face. Listening to music was her favourite thing in the world to do; it repeatedly gained her such emotional satisfaction you’d envy it from afar. 

His eyes drifted onto stare at Y/N. Every time he laid her eyes on her, he was perpetually enthralled. Enthralled by her presence, enthralled by how much dedication she can hold to one small, simple thing - she never seemed to get tired by anything, even by his younger brother’s whiney behaviour. She was most certainly the best one to speak to him whenever he was pissed, agitated or refusing to do as everyone was telling him to: whether it be because of an argument he had in the midst of recording about how the lyrics sounded, resulting in him storming out, or about a petty comment that was slipped out of their managers’ lips about how hard they are to work with, she consistently knew what to do. Her voice always held this calming tone, almost like she could never shout, get mad, even if she tried to. What made Noel inspired for his songs wasn’t the same, rapid rush of exhilaration that he’d gain as he was nearing finishing the song; it was the Oasis in her eyes that motivated him. She saw them as this power, this light that no one was able to obtain, Noel being the only one able to unlock the true colours behind it. The mastermind. Whatever she said, whatever followed off her tongue professedly felt like it came straight out of a book - no matter what conversation was occurring. Her words would repeat in his head until they became engraved and cherished, saved for another moment to remember.  It would never leave his mind. He was constantly captivated by her, in the most desiring ways.

“What are you doing?” Noel asked, attempting to hold a conversation. His fingers were still messing around with the cords, this time his other arm resting on his lap instead of situated on the neck of the guitar. He watched her head lift up, switching her gaze from the controls to instantly lock eyes with Noel, a bright smile now glued onto her face. 

“Just having a bit of a play with the controls,” she grinned. “And you, mister Noel?” 

Laughing lightly at the tiny nickname he had received from her, his heart warmed by her blissful aura of everything he had wanted to see in a girl. She always carried optimism wherever she went, consistently held her head up high. “Figuring out something for a song,” he mumbled to her, to which she nodded her head slowly in reply, her eyes now staring at the guitar placed on his lap. Her eyes kept switching from to the nape of the instrument straight to its body, practically analysing everything that was on it. This carried on for a few seconds, the air mute until Noel decided to speak up with something he was anxious about bringing up. “I wanted to show you something,”

Building up enough courage, Noel placed his electric guitar on the stand next him, exiting the crammed recording room to quickly enter the lounging space. Y/N’s eyes never left his body; her curiosity stretched out in the masses towards the lanky boy’s withdrawn approach, striking her attention right away. The entire time he avoided locking eyes with her, trotting into the space quickly as he went to grab a random acoustic thrown on one of the couches in the room, knowing his nerves would reach a breaking point soon enough, for even thinking of creating contact with her enticing, sunlit orbs, filled with an itch of interest and consistent undivided attention, would cause him to shrivel back into the young Mancunian boy he once was, before stuttering slightly and rushing out of the room - danced in embarrassment. He had never come across a girl who was able to strike him in such a way his nervous system was at a risk of collapsing, the only songs he was able to write about people tended to either be his brother, or situations with friends - for it was never a girl, he was never like that. 

Snatching the previous seat of the acoustic that was cradled in his arms, Noel pulled the instrument closely to his body - the wooden material now in contact with his clothed chest. Inhaling the air as if it were a spliff coiled with weed, he took deep breaths, counting down from the number five before speaking up again. “This one’s called Talk Tonight,” he echoed, before his fingers - as if magically casted a spell - automatically shifted places on the fretboard, beginning to strum the solemn notes, beautified with adoration. At this point, Y/N’s chair was completely swivelled, her gaze fixated exactly on Noel, her heart agape as she marvelled at the boy merely inches in front of her. The heavy strums were the only thing sounding in the room, settling on a peaceful, luscious tone, containing powers to set you in a stupor of harmony, reconciliation, sending you straight to sleep in just a few seconds. It had power to heal you, like an antidote adorning your skin, the pain at first making your face scrunch up in distress, then relaxing after a short while, pleasure washing over your veins to realise you were finally healed. 

Once Noel began singing, he became a different person. His nerves were long gone - escaped from his mind, for all tension was now released from his body as his fingers swept across the strings freely. Without even looking at Noel, it was clear that the piece he was performing meant a lot to him, his vocal chords perfecting the notes in hilarity, infatuated by the idea that he was truly presenting it, in real life, to the girl he couldn’t stop thinking about for days on end.  He was singing it like he had nothing left to lose, for he was unmasking a side to him he never dared to even think of letting escape; it all his thoughts, his feelings, pouring out in a short 3-minute song, pacified with emotion - it was impossible not to feel an attachment to the music. As he was nearing the last couple lines of the song, he lifted his stare from his instrument, looking to see if Y/N was watching him, and to his surprise, he was instantly met with her gaping at him. Their eyes were glued to one another’s, almost like they were afraid to blink, or do something to prevent not sharing the moment with each other - even if that meant having your eyes burn out of dehydration. 

“I wanna talk tonight, Until the morning light, ‘Bout how you saved my life, I wanna talk tonight.”                                                                                         

After the song ended, there was immediate clapping from Y/N. It was the same, quiet clapping she bestowed earlier when she had finished listening to one of their demos by the control centre, but this time for Noel, and only him. “Was that for me?” she asked, her grin blaring out in her words. She knew it was, all from the beginning with his awkward walking to grab the guitar, yet she still asked anyways. Noel didn’t answer, looking away to stare at his free hand stroking the couch nimbly. He didn’t know what to say, slightly embarrassed yet glad he finally accomplished what he was trying to muster out for months. At first it was a quickened heartbeat as she walked past him, him being all flushed out with a simple doing, to not even knowing what to say when she asked him a question about his guitar riff he performed, to which he’d turn to look at Bonehead, asking him to reply a question he didn’t know the answer to. “Because if that’s the case, I feel the same way,” she added, knowing Noel’s head would turn almost immediately. And it did. He was met with her lips, brushing against his teasingly, their noses colliding together, on the verge of morphing into each other. He felt that he had finally found the one person who understood him best among anyone he knew; he felt as if she knew him more than he knew himself, without even communicating. It was a feeling so scarce and infrequent, he finally understood life for what it really was, for he would prefer dying in that exact moment than pulling away, having to endure the ache of realisation: realisation he would never have a moment so perfect ever again. 

[tundrainafrica]

Title: Trials and Tributes (Complete)

Summary:  

"There were witches who lived among them. Or so that's what Levi was told. He just could not believe for the life of him that she'd be one of them."

Levi is a soldier who interrogates witches before they are put on trial and Hange might just be a witch.

Levihan Secret Santa Gift for @cleacourgette 

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Link to other chapters:   1 2 3 4 5

Notes: Merry Christmas! @cleacourgette. Here is the completed story.

Although I did some research on this, I don't think I would have been able to pull this story off without taking some liberties on my end history-wise. If you've read Rangers Apprentice, you might find some slight Easter eggs here since I based a lot of the medieval setting from medieval fiction more than actual medieval history. I hope you enjoy this though! 

There were witches who lived among them. Or so that was what Levi was told.

Their powers manifested in the occasional droughts, the famines and most notably for Levi the plague that had taken his mother from him. That plague and the aftermath was what had him moving into a cabin with his uncle at the tender age of eight and training to be an assassin.

Having lived most of his young life in that small cabin, as a kid, Levi was never really able to pinpoint when exactly humanity decided to fight back against the witches. A few times his uncle had brought him to the square to watch the trials which usually ended with a witch being burned at stake or a witch being thrown into the sea.

As a child, he had felt his gut clench watching the desperate faces of the women tied to the stake as the flames licked at them for a few minutes before they started to consume them alive. By the time the flames did morph into a carnivorous tiger ready to devour its prey alive, young Levi would look away--- every single time.

That was more than a decade ago. Levi had seen more than enough trials and the crimes the women were accused of and the angry fathers and the crying mothers who broke down while they testified the crimes were more than enough for Levi to understand the need for retribution and King Fritz’s declaration to rid the word of witches.

They were responsible for the plague that had taken the first son of the parents, the child that had wandered into the forest and was eaten by a boar and the crop shortage in one village that had caused their downfall.

As the king’s right hand man and most trusted soldier, Levi stood at every single trial and every single execution. Compared to back when he was a kid, he at least had the stomach to look the witch in the face every time. His heart still clenched as he had made eye contact with them or caught the moment their eyes went dark as the flames consumed them.

It could just be their powers. If the witches had the power to start plagues and cause chaos in villages then they probably had the power to manipulate hearts too. Levi had to remind himself of just that every time he felt that bitter taste in his mouth at every witch they had executed.

It was a painful scene to watch every single time, only leaving Levi mentally exhausted and so mentally distraught that he would have preferred to have spent the day shooting a thousand arrows with the hardest bow or to do a thousand swings with the heaviest sword in the weaponry.

Instead of closing his heart to them though, he ended up doing the complete opposite.

He made sure to see a human in every single one of them. Willing himself to see it was a small, personal yet excruciatingly painful challenge Levi forced on himself every time. The more he allowed himself to sympathize, the more he would be able to get to know himself and his emotions and consequently the better he’d be able to stop himself from being manipulated when it mattered.

It was a lesson on mental constitution and loyalty towards his cause. Levi was determined to stand for it, unwavering. Levi found himself talking to them before they stood on trial, learning their back stories. Some had gone crazy denying accusations and even attacking him. Others had just laughed it off. Others have even remained catatonic.

Levi had become familiar with the many ways witches handled the accusations and the impending trial. The sights and sounds of witches and the way they had all handled their impending trials were all gut wrenching but routine. And routine was the only reason why Levi was able to stop himself from planning an escape route for every one of them.

Routines---like rules and all other things--- are meant to be broken and for most people, will be broken eventually. For Levi, it was broken when he entered that same interrogation room to catch a whiff of that scent. Levi had relied so easily on the sights and sounds, on the tears on the witches’ faces and their desperate final screams. Nothing had prepared him for the way witches could smell and the faint scent she had exuded as he entered the room. It only left Levi a little taken aback and maybe a little vulnerable.  

Others would have probably described it as flowery. To others it would have been fruity.

To Levi, those two scents were just too intertwined. If he did have to sum it up into one word, he would have just said ‘different’. It was fruity. Yet it was also flowery. The most glaring part about that scent though was the way it chilled the air closest to him. It entered his nostrils as a cool wind every time and even during the hottest days of summer, it would be winter in his nostrils. It was cold yet it smelled of late spring and early summer. So unnatural. So unique. Maybe that was what made it easy for Levi to connect that scent to one from some buried memory long ago.

Even before he took in the unkempt brown hair hastily tied up and those hazel eyes as they looked up at him, just by her scent, Levi knew for sure who it was and where they had met.

But why is she here? Levi thought to himself as he made eye contact with her.

“You sure she’s a witch?”

“She was captured in your hometown sir. In the nearby woods.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.” Of course she’d be there. That’s where I found her so many years ago. That’s where I fucking grew up.

The guard tensed up. “Sincerest apologies Mr. Ackerman. I don’t know the exact details. They will be made public in the trial.”

“Give us time and space then. I’ll ask her myself.”

“But sir, you mustn't stay too near. She might hex you.”

“And I’m willing to take that risk,” Levi said tersely as he settled himself on the seat in front of her.

“Sir, you’re our best weapon in the army. We ca--”

“It’s an order.”

The guard may have been a few years older than Levi. The latter had proven himself to be a competent fighter on multiple occasions, putting himself in a rank much higher above most of the soldiers. He never took advantage of it. Until that moment. Somehow, it felt like it was a risk worth taking.

Her face had matured yet the glint of mischief and wonder in her eyes had remained. He took in the view in front of him and indulged in the wave of nostalgia that came with it.

"Is the herb garden still there? Did you finally put borders around it so people wouldn’t mistake it for weeds?" He started with questions only she would have answered correctly.

                                    Trials and Tributes

Levi carefully trudged through the soil. The boots Kenny had given him actually worked to mask the sound of foot rubbing on earth and the spray of the sun as he did. It wasn’t enough though, the grass seemed particularly eager to announce the entrance of any human who stepped on them.

With every blade of grass he stepped on, he was probably killing more of them. It’s only natural that anyone would want their murderer caught red-handed.

Imagining the grass beneath him at least had some sentience was a small thought Levi decided to play with, having gotten tired of doing the same drills alone everyday since Kenny had left a week ago for a mission.

At that point, Levi was still learning to stay silent. The cloak he was given did a good job giving a base at which to work with. In the end though, it was only the weapon. A weapon is only as valuable as its user and while Levi still struggled to master the art of silent movement, the cloak can only be too valuable too.

The change was gradual but from the short patches of grass, Levi found himself entering an area where the grass shot up closer to his shins. The longer the grass was, the more challenging it would be to breeze through it silently. There was just more area for the grass to brush against, rustling and consequently making the sounds Levi had so wanted to avoid.

He had made at least a few feet, completely satisfied by the fact that he had not made an embarrassingly loud rustle just yet.

Just yet. Maybe he had been a little too careless or a little too excited. Maybe for a second he had been so into his little daydreams about grass being obsessed with justice that he had failed to notice the rustles, then the angry footsteps. It was only when the warm air was right on his neck did he realize he had been the one who had failed to notice that he was still very loud.  

“Hey! Get off my herb garden!”

                                   Trials and Tributes

“No. I’m not putting them in cages.”

I want them to grow freely. Putting up borders makes them look like caged animals. She had explained before that putting up fences and borders around plants had only made her heart hurt similarly for them as she had done for the many animals she’d seen in cages as a kid.

Witches were evil. All they caused were chaos, death, destruction. They were all in the testimonies he had watched so many times before. The proclamations by King Fritz.

Levi could not believe that someone with that much empathy for anything living could be what she was being arrested for.

Why did they arrest you? He’d find out the reason soon enough during the trial.

“What were you doing when they arrested you?” It was a question with an answer which was so commonly and easily twisted by the guards assigned to catch the witches that Levi always felt it so necessary to ask it to them directly

“I was in my cabin, mixing poultices and potions.”

My cabin. Somehow, the way she had said it brought Levi back to that isolated cabin in the woods he would visit when Kenny wasn’t home. He lived a little too far from the town square and had been swamped with combat training. He had craved for some company, ideally someone his age and she who lived in that little cabin surrounded by herbs had been the only one he could turn to.

“Poultices and potions for what?”

“Healing."

"Healing who?"

"The townspeople."

Levi could not help but smile. “Why am I not surprised that you got into that type of work.”

Of course, she has always been good at that.

                                     Trials and Tributes

“And this is why you shouldn’t be using a bow and arrow for that long.”

Levi bit his lip and looked away. The last thing he had wanted her to see was the tears he was fighting to keep in, just in case they did come out. He had had enough cuts, injuries and even close calls with death to know how many ways the body can get fucked over by nature and man made objects. Blisters ranked up there among the most painful wounds and  stubbing one’s toe.  

She was gentle though when she had wrapped the bandages. The poultice she had put on his blisters surprisingly did not sting. In fact within minutes, the stinging pain had calmed into something dull and easily forgettable.

“Did you make it yourself?” Levi observed more closely the interior of the cabin. There were glass bottles lined up on the wall with different liquids and preserved matter in them. He had been there many times already but it was only then, as he finally got to experience the healing powers of the liquids first hand did he really allow himself a good look at the room.

So many poultices and potions were lining the walls yet Levi had never seen anyone else in the cabin. He eventually figured out that was the only logical explanation. He was sure though she was only early into her teenage years, just like he was.

“Yes. I made everything here myself,” She answered, only confirming his suspicion.

“For what?”

“For fun. What else is there to do here?”

Share it to the world. Levi had wanted to say. He kept it to himself though. The way her face darkened as she asked that question only made Levi think that it was something he shouldn’t pry on her. When he did think about it, someone as friendly as her would not have lived in isolation against her will. Something must have happened.

“So what happens to the poultices you make?”

“They just sit here and when they go bad, I throw them away.”

Levi felt a second hand pain at the thought of wasting such effective ingredients. “Would you mind if I came back here more? So at least someone could use them?”

She beamed. “I would honestly love it if you did.”

                                   Trials and Tributes

“You look like you’ve grown since then,” she gave him a naughty smile. “Maybe an inch?”

“Watch your mouth. You’ll be going on trial soon,” Levi said sternly. He knew the smile which so naturally crept up his lips betrayed the tone of his voice. She had made that same joke many times before.  

“I meant you’ve changed,” she clarified.

“Of course, I have. How long has it been? Ten years?”

“Wow? That long? I’ve waited for you that long?” Her eyes widened in surprise. The brunette stood up and slammed her hands on the table. It was loud and maybe the way she stared at him and slammed her feet on the table was a little chaotic. They had dealt with crazier witches though and the guards did not even bother to peek in.  

Levi bit his lip, quelling the guilt inside him. He still remembered, he did promise her they’d meet again. I mean, we did meet again right? Levi thought wryly to himself as he considered the circumstances of their reunion. He had considered visiting a long time before. But the three day walk or the one day carriage ride just did not seem worth it, especially since he had gotten busier with work.  

“You said you’d be back. I had faith we’d meet again. I just didn’t think we’d meet like this.”

                                       Trials and Tributes

His uncle Kenny had been missing for over two years. He should have seen it coming. His uncle had said so himself multiple times, he was not fit to be a father.

The one thing that had made the isolation all the more bearable was the cabin only a ten minute walk away. They had gotten closer over time and Levi started to feel more and more at home when he’d stop by after a long day of training to get his cuts and blisters treated.

Every month, he would still make the long trek to the nearest town once or twice. That was where the opportunity to enlist in the king’s army made itself known to him. They had sold the idea as one for glory, for money. Levi saw it as something else.

The training his uncle had given him from sneaking skills, archery skills, knife throwing and combat skills had to have been for something. As the town crier stood on his platform  announcing the call for manpower for the next war, Levi’s mind was racing. Maybe it was an opportunity to find his uncle. Maybe it would be a good chance to see the world. Maybe it was a way to find out the origins of the witches that took his mother away from him so many years ago.

He knew though, to answer the many questions running through his head, he had to find a way out of their small village. The easiest way lay in front of him as King’s army enlistment. The town crier prattled on about free transportation, free weapons, free training and the opportunity to live a life of luxury in the capital but Levi did not listen. He had already made his decision.

“So you’ve finally decided to leave huh?” She didn’t bother to hide the disappointment on her face as she placed a mug of tea in front of him.

“There are just some questions I need answered. Can’t do it here.”

“Yeah, should have known. Nobody would want to live in a cabin in the woods their whole lives.”

“Why don’t you go with me?”

“I’ve told you before. I can’t leave.” She avoided his gaze. Why had she never left the woods?  He had asked that question so many times before, only for the conversation to shift elsewhere.

“You’ll come back though right?”

“Of course. I grew up here. This is still my home.”

“Then I’ll wait.” She went towards the cupboards, took something out, walked back to him and pressed it on his palm.

Levi could only stare.

“Why do you look so dumbstruck? It’s a poultice.” She explained. “You’ve tried everything else I’ve made. Now that I think about it, maybe that’s why your aim is so good now.” She noted playfully.

Levi had to nod as she said that. Ever since he had started taking her potions and applying her poultices, he improved remarkably as a fighter. “What’s this one for though?”

“It can soothe pain, sores. I thought you’d need it fighting a war.”

He only needed to open the bag slightly for the scent to waft out and fill the room.

“It’s pretty strong so you’ll only need a pinch every time you’re injured,” She said as she quickly pulled the drawstring bag closed again. She was too late though. The strong scent had already settled in the air. “It’s my favorite. Definitely the one I’m most proud of. And you can get a free refill when you come back. Maybe I can even make a better one.” She smiled ruefully. “You promise you’ll be back though right?”

“Promise.”

                                         Trials and Tributes

The room had smelled just like the poultice when he had closed the door on her. That was the one poultice that saw him through the two year war, then three more years working for the military. Maybe that was why at that moment when he laid eyes on her in the interrogation room, it had brought him such a wave of nostalgia, making him recognize her almost instantly.

“Did something happen?”  His superior asked within a second of Levi entering his office. It was just like Erwin to know something was not routine at first glance.

“Hm?”  

“This last visit to the prison took you longer than usual. And you seemed a little distracted when you entered  my office.”

Levi looked out the window. The sun was far past the horizon already and the sky was too dark to even make out shapes against it. The prison was underground so it was a little more difficult to notice the passage of time there. He couldn’t help but note though that that was the first time he had come out of there to see that it was dark outside.

“That's what I wanted to talk to you about.” Levi had rehearsed his lines on the way up. Only the king would be able to give him permission to do what he wanted to do and the only person who could convince the king was his superior Erwin. He trusted Erwin but from his eyes, his request seemed so out of character, he could not even predict how Erwin would react. With Erwin’s comment though, he had given Levi a good opening to ask.

It’s now or never. “I want to handle the trials of the witch I met in the prison today. The one who came from my hometown.”

“Hange Zoe?”

That was her whole name? Years ago, he had only ever called her by her first name Hange. He had even forgotten her first name. During the meeting, he had been so focused on how they had both changed, the promise he had failed to meet and the circumstances of their reunion. As his mind raced trying to process that piece of crucial information, Levi could manage a nod.

“I guessed there might have been something between you too. Your hometown was a pretty small place.” Just like Erwin to be a little sharper. “Also, this is strange. You never really wanted to get involved in the actual trials and executions. Until now.”

Levi was trusted enough by the king and the military for his presence to always be requested in every trial and every burning. Every trial had left his chest a little heavier and his mouth a little more bitter-tasting. Erwin had at least noticed that enough to never request Levi to be there to facilitate it.    

Regardless of his lack of history with any of those witches who had gone on trial, a heavy chest and a bitter taste in his mouth were always there, maybe they were even just the bare minimum of what he felt with every trial.

Compared to many of the others he had interrogated though, he had a history with that Hange Zoe. Levi knew he would be taking a risk. “She might just be the witch who was responsible for my mother’s death. I want to be there in the frontlines when justice is served,” he answered.

And that was a risk he was willing to take.