#but I had some people but unnecessarily rude to me

[victory-cookies]

The difference between my two jobs today was so jarring. The bookstore was three hours of consistent, fairly easy work, and the print shop was two hours of sitting on my phone and then one hour of the most hectic, insane, intense work. And it’s always like this

[kavehayati]

I cannot fathom the level of self importance some people must have to behave this way

[dogfish4200]

the party and the after party

you and Leon hate each other, simple enough. CW: smut!

To put it simply, Leon is an asshole. A pure pile of dogshit you want to leave on the ground for someone else to deal with. He’s cocky to the point of narcissism, unnecessarily rude under the guise of “sarcasm,” and doesn’t seem to care enough to ever apologize. Essentially, the opposite of you, with straight As and a track record of volunteer work, the epitome of a goody two shoes which you don’t see as an insult anyway.

So, when he shows up at your birthday party unannounced and uninvited, it takes pretty much everything in you to not walk over and slap the grin off his stupid face.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Leon.” It’s not said like a question. The words roll off your tongue coated in venom, and to be honest the few drinks in your system have made you more confident than you actually feel.

“What’s wrong? Thought this lame excuse of a party could use some entertainment.” Leon cocks his head to the side and gives you a wink, unbothered by the obvious tension in the room.

Everyone here knows the fights between you guys get real nasty real fast, the last time it happened you both got kicked out of the library for yelling and throwing books. That time though, it was because Leon had copied your scholarship project idea and submitted it before you, forcing you to redo the entire thing a week before the deadline.

“You weren’t invited, shithead, and why would you even think I would want you here in the first place? All you do is walk around like you own everything and treat people like they're worthless.” Heat was rushing to your face now, and you didn’t really mean to escalate things so quickly, but when he stood in front you with a look of pure spite, who could really blame you?

Leon simply shrugged, pushing past and knocking into your shoulder on the way through the hallway. As he moved by, he leaned down next to your ear and whispered, “if you really want me to leave, it’ll take more convincing than a few middle school level insults.” He let out a chuckle at the way your body tensed before continuing on his way inside the house.

It’s an hour later before you see him again, this time with his head thrown back laughing at a joke someone said. He’s leaning against the kitchen counter, one hand holding a red solo cup and the other firmly planted around the waist of some girl you know from an old volunteer group.

It’s unclear why, but you find yourself walking over and grabbing another cup. Leon’s eyes are locked onto your every move and his mouth is curled into another one of his signature smirks as he raises his drink.

He watches you accidentally pour a little more liquor than necessary into the cup, follows the motion as you bring it to your lips and tilt your head back to swallow the entirety of the liquid in one go. You catch his gaze for a second, wincing slightly at the burn of the vodka sliding down your throat, and see him lean down to tell the girl something before letting her go and striding over to where you stand.

“For someone who turns homicidal over a little project, I’m not surprised that that didn't make you puke.” The sarcasm in his voice is not lost on you, it wasn’t a compliment. You look up to meet his eyes, glaring intently while deciding how to respond.

“Guess you don’t have me as figured out as you think you do then.” You turn away from him and attempt to pour another shot for yourself, but Leon’s hand is suddenly ripping the bottle away from you. “What the fuck is your problem? Does it look like that was for you?”

Leon shoots you a devilish grin, uncapping the liquor and bringing the mouth of the bottle up to his own lips before taking a long, exaggerated pull. Setting the bottle back on the counter, he replies “You said it yourself didn’t you? I own everything.”

“That’s not what I said. I said you act like you own everything, big difference dumbass.” You roll your eyes at him and shove him backwards, noticing how close he had gotten over the last minute. Leon barely blinks an eye at the reaction, and instead of letting you walk away, grabs your wrist roughly to pull you back towards him. He’s turned you around so your back is pressed into the counter and you can feel his breath on your face as he speaks. “Are you always this bratty? Or is this something you save just for me?”

The hold he has on your wrist is tight, tight enough that you think it should hurt if you didn’t have the amount of adrenaline equivalent to skydiving running through your body right now. “You think me telling you you’re a piece of shit is being bratty? I’m pretty sure if I was being bratty, I wouldn’t win all our fights.”

“You think you’re so much better than me because what? You get good grades? Win some scholarships? Newsflash, sweetheart, people are only friends with you because it looks good. Because you’re a pushover and they want to use you for their own gain. At least, that’s what I’ve heard anyway.” Leon releases your wrist and reaches for his cup again, smiling like he just won the fucking lottery.

The rage boiling inside you is not well hidden, and your impulse control is significantly lacking in your current state. Instead of playing the “bigger person” and staying silent this time, you grab his cup and splash it directly in his face before turning and storming out of the room, leaving a now sufficiently soaked Leon in your wake.

Stomping up the stairs, gripping the handrail so tight you might as well bring it with you, you make your way to the second floor bathroom. You step instead and slam the door shut, albeit a tad harder than was necessary, but you can’t find in you to care right now.

As you're splashing cool water on yourself and attempting to pull it together, it is your birthday after all, the doorknob jiggles slightly before the door swings open to reveal none other than the man you wish would burn to ash under your gaze. Bile pools in your stomach at the sight of Leon, strutting into the poorly lit bathroom without a care in the world as if he didn’t just stab you with a knife and twist the blade.

“Long time no see, your majesty.” He makes a point of overexaggerating a bow before roughly shoving you out of the way of the sink and grabbing a towel to wipe his face. “You know, you’re really just as much of a piece of shit as I am with the way you act towards me.”

Rage fuels you at this point, a string of sentences too obscene even for you snaking their way around your tongue, held back only by the determination to not prove his point. You scoff and cross your arms over your chest, “If I was such a bad person, I wouldn’t be helping as many people as I do.”

“Right, because changing the world is all about being a kiss ass who does whatever they’re told.” Leon rolls his eyes before continuing, “Don’t you get bored of being who everyone else wants you to be?”

The question could be read as caring if you didn’t hear the malice in Leon’s tone, words chosen specifically because he knew it was something that would get under your skin. “Who said I’m not doing what I want? Just because you can’t handle the thought of caring about another human being doesn’t mean I can’t too.”

“That’s what you want? A nice house with a nice job and a nice car and a nice boy who praises everything you do? I’m not convinced, but if that’s what life is about for you,” He paused briefly, turning away from the sink and taking a step towards you, “then I hope you fucking hate every second of it.”

White noise filled your eardrums, blood rushed to your face, and you stick a pointer finger in his chest as you respond “What makes you think I care about your opinion? Why would anything you say hold any meaning to me? You’re just scared because you know you’ll end up alone and sad regardless.”

A shift in Leon’s eyes signal you touched a nerve, and his usually flippant demeanor suddenly morphed into a look of fury that you had yet to observe up close. You became increasingly aware of the wall behind you and the way Leon continued to press forward, leaving minimal space between the two of you.

The tone of his voice when he spoke was lower than before and raspy, as if he was fighting an internal battle to not smash something. “You think you’re some untouchable princess that gets whatever you want handed over on a silver fucking platter, but I swear to god,” his voice dropped impossibly lower as he placed one hand on either side of your head, caging you in against the wall, “I could ruin every good thing about you right now if I wanted to.”

Centimeters separated your faces, heavy breathing filled the space as both of you stared the other down, not willing to be the first one to break away. “Such a fucking shame that someone as pretty as you has to be so damn ugly,” he begins twirling a strand of your hair around his finger, “I guess nice guys finish last because you don’t let them come first, huh?”

Your breath was caught in your throat at the implication behind his words, mind reeling both at the way you wanted to break his nose and also prove him wrong. “Nice guys finish last, Leon , because they know how to be a gentleman unlike you.”

Your voice comes out shakier than intended, but you stand your ground, eyes locked onto his as he suddenly stops twirling and instead grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls your head back into the wall with a thud. “Maybe so, but nice guys don’t know how to fully satisfy you, do they? Always left wanting more, just like everything else in your life.”

Leon’s grip in your hair was brutal, keeping you in place as his whispered insults travel the short distance to your ear and his mouth ghosts over the skin of your neck. “You haven’t asked me what I want in life, princess.”

You draw in a slow breath, extremely aware of every nerve on the right side of your neck where Leon’s teeth nip at you. “Why should I care what you want, asshole?”

“Because, darling, I think you might like it.” You feel a wicked grin spread over his face as he bites down, hard, right under the curve of your jaw. “I want everyone downstairs to know you like screaming my name in more ways than one.”

Another bite, just below the first.

“I want to show you that you don’t deserve anyone better than me.”

A third bite lands even lower than the others.

“And, I want you to admit that it feels good to give up for once.” Leon’s tongue presses flat against your throat, moving swiftly up over the places he just bit, his spit cooling the fire on your skin only slightly.

“Tell me I’m wrong, and I’ll stop, but if you say nothing, well, there’s no one here to stop me from taking what I want is there?” Leon lifted his head back up to meet your eyes, dark pools of anger staring as you fight to try to form a sentence, a word even, to tell him to get the fuck away from you and leave you alone for good.

You pause for a second too long, Leon now placing both hands on your shoulders and practically throwing you on your knees in front of him. Letting out a groan of pain as you land on the tile, Leon looks down at you with nothing but a grandiose aura surrounding him. “Look at you, on your knees for someone you claim to hate so badly.”

“You shoved me down here, now my knee hurts and I’m too drunk to want to get up.” The sentence comes tumbling out of your mouth, embarrassment rising and rapidly overtaking the red hot rage fueling you before.

“Sure, but I bet if I took my cock out you’d suck it anyways, wouldn’t you? You want to be a slut, don’t you? But it would ruin the perfect little image everyone has of you.”Leon leans down to place a hand around your throat, squeezing so hard you think you might pass out before anything else can happen. “I know you, and I know you’re willing to take whatever the fuck I’m about to give you, so shut the fuck up and open that disgusting mouth of yours.”

He releases the grip on your throat and you let out a cough, gasping for the air that was so forcibly removed from you, and sit back on your heels without saying a word. You glare up at him, and if love is thinking someone planted the stars in the sky just for you, your hatred for Leon was as if he had stolen each and every one for himself, leaving behind a trail of tears everywhere he went. Leon makes quick work of removing his belt and unbuttoning his pants, pulling them down around his thighs and revealing the aching hard on hiding beneath. You steal a glance at it, taking note of how easy it would be to punch him and run for it, but something keeps you frozen in place and waiting for his next move.

A hand angrily grabs at your face, gripping the sides of your jaw and a calloused thumb reaches to force your lips to part. “By the way,” he drops his hand away and pulls his briefs down in one motion, “I’m not going to apologize if I leave bruises,” he takes the base of his cock in one hand and brings the tip up to meet your mouth, precum glazing over your bottom lip, “and I definitely won’t apologize when I finish first.”

With a harsh thrust forward,Leon forces his entire cock into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat and causing you to choke around him. He takes a sharp inhale between gritted teeth, looking down and whispering a string of curse words before moving his hips back only to immediately slam himself into your mouth again.

Tears spring to the corners of your eyes almost instantly, the force of him fucking into your mouth causing your head to hit the wall before he snakes fingers into your hair and holds you still. The sounds of spit and breathy moans fill the bathroom, faint music from downstairs is heard as Leon sets a relentless pace on your throat.

“Fuck, look at you, such a dirty fucking slut. I wish everyone could see you right now, gagging on my fucking cock and whining like a little bitch.”Leon’s words send a tremor down your spine as you look back up at him with blurry eyes and tear stained cheeks. “No one will ever want you when they find out what a whore you are. Just a toy for others to play with. Fuck.” Leon suddenly pulls out of your mouth, the hand in your hair forcing you to a standing position as the other rips open the button down shirt you had on. He makes quick work of pulling it off you, kicking his pants into a corner at the same time. He pushes you to the other side of the room, stomach pressed against the edge of the sink as you stare at yourself in the mirror.

“Be a good fucking whore for me and take those pants off, yeah?” He whispers menacingly into your ear, the implication of what’s about to happen dancing on his tongue with each syllable. You find yourself complying, too shaken from the events that are unfolding to put on a facade of denial. Slowly, you push your jeans down and over the curve of your ass, and as soon as skin is exposed a harsh slap is delivered, sending you forward and clutching onto the counter edge.

“Hurry the fuck up, bitch, you think I want this to last all night?”Leon growls out, taking your pants the rest of the way off in one aggressive pull. You let out a whimper as the skin on your ass turns red and the shape of Leon’s hand appears to mark the sinful acts being done. “Look at yourself, bent over and naked, crying and panting like a fucking dog, and I haven’t even fucking touched you. Pathetic.”

You can’t help the small and high pitched moan that escapes your mouth, something about the way he was saying these things to you made you completely pliant under him. You didn’t want to admit it, but you wondered if there was anybody else who could make you feel like this.

“Leon-” Another hard slap is delivered, this time on the back of your thigh, and it makes your knees weak enough where you feel like it’d be easier to crumple back down on the floor.

“Did I say you could fucking talk? I don’t want to hear a word from you unless I ask, and even then it should only be you begging me to fuck you.” Suddenly a hand was pulling your hair again, this time forcing you to make eye contact with him in the mirror as he jerked himself off with his free hand. “Say yes if you understand.”

The pain was mixing with pleasure at this point, sharp and shooting but so fucking sweet. You gasp out at the whiplash of being manhandled this way and liking it. “Y-yes.” Your voice is a whisper and you’re unsure if he even heard it at all, but then he arches your head back somehow further and spits on you without warning, and you can barely think about anything at all regardless.

“Yes, what?” He smiles at you, not kindly and not the way someone who was enjoying themselves would. No, instead, he smiled at you like he owned you. Like you were a prize he only won because he knew he could. Like you were merely a pawn in a game of chess that he played with his eyes closed. And it drove you fucking crazy.

“You don’t deserve more than the yes, asshole.” You gasp out in between breaths, body trembling and aching from the aggression being taken out on you.

That sealed your fate, the grip in your hair going limp as he takes his cock and lines it up with your entrance, not even bothering to check if you were ready though you knew he didn’t care either way. Rough hands found their way to either side of your hips, a bruising grip as he pulled you back onto his dick, beginning to pound into you using years of pent up anger to fuel him. One hand slid it’s way up and around to the front of your throat, squeezing again over the bite marks he left behind earlier.

He paused for a second, his dick deep inside you and your breathing uneven and ragged at the sheer size of him. You hated that it felt good, hated that you wanted him to break you in half.

“Still think I only deserve a yes?” Leon saw the way your eyes rolled back as he thrusted in, noticed the hitch in your breathing and the way your hips have started rotating in circular motions since he stopped. He picked up on all of it, and now he was a man on a goddamn mission.

You felt him bend down to grab something off the floor, hearing the jingle of his belt as he replaced his hand with the cool leather, looping it through and pulling the end of it like it was a fucking leash. “Remember when I said I wouldn’t apologize for leaving bruises?”

You didn’t have time to answer before he started thrusting into you again, the pace somehow faster and harder than before and making you see white spots in your vision. He tugged back on the belt, the lack of oxygen to your brain making everything else heightened as if you were free falling off the Empire State building.

You reached your hands out to place flat against the mirror, sweaty palms leaving behind streaks as Leon’s dick broke you down over and over until you weren’t even holding yourself up, the belt around your neck the only thing keeping you from slamming your face into the countertop.

The sounds you let fall out of your mouth somewhere between a cry and a moan echoed off the walls and mixed with the sound of skin hitting skin. Leon suddenly releases his deathgrip on the belt and pulls it off your head, never letting his pace falter, and gripping it in one hand. You let your head fall forwards, gasping and entire body shaking, he lifts one of your legs up onto the edge of the sink driving himself deeper inside you, forcing out a choked “f-fucking sh-shit, Leon.”

The crack of leather against skin breaks through the noise, causing you to yell out and try to move towards the mirror and away. Leon’s grip is strong as he moves you back to the edge, “remember what I fucking said about not talking?” Another slap from the belt blanks out your mind, every thought in your head nothing short of a pleading cry for more.

“Pl-please.” You choke out through sobs, weak and feeble, and you can see the way it makes the fire in Leon’s eyes ignite. He looks like a predator, like something that could swallow you whole and leave no trace you existed, and it makes you sick realizing you would let him.

“There it is,” Leon groans, “begging like the fucking slut I knew you were. Too bad I don’t. fucking. care.” He throws the belt back to the floor, hands digging into your sides leaving crescent shaped imprints and red scratch marks. His voice is rough around the edges, eyes roaming every inch of your body as he continues to fuck into you.

You feel the sensations pooling in your lower stomach, the intensity of everything catching up with you as you continue sobbing and pleading with him to just fucking touch you more. But, a man of his word, Leon’s pace becomes sloppy and his moans grow louder as he reaches his high.

A final hard thrust jerks you forward, hands splayed in front of you as he throws his head back and groans, finishing inside you. He continues to fuck you through his orgasm, out of breath and covered in a layer of sweat, both of you significantly less drunk than when this all started. Leon pulls out and you let slip a small whine at the feeling of loss as you collapse onto the counter when he lets go of your hips. You attempt to catch your breath and ground yourself again as Leon walks around cleaning himself off with the towel he had used on his face earlier. He tosses the towel in your general direction, landing on your back and causing your body to twitch involuntarily.

You glance up in the mirror, looking at the bruises covering your neck and shoulders, and see Leon sliding his clothes back onto his body. “What are you doing?” You wanted it to sound more mean, but it comes out needy and desperate.

“I got what I wanted, now have a good fucking time explaining this to everybody else.” And with that,Leon flashes a terrifyingly calm smile as he gathers the rest of his things off the floor and walks out of the room, leaving you with his cum dripping down your thighs and slouched over, alone.

You let out a sigh, “I fucking hate him so much.”

[layyeschips]

Patron Ghost King AU #2

A sort of continuation to this

"hey bats, I think your kid's broken" "hn" "what's green flavour?" "what's a poptart?" "dude you don't know what a poptart is?!?!?"

Tim couldn't be bothered to figure what came from who, not when he's just trying to block out the unnecessarily bright lights of the watchtower. So he did the thing that any other self respecting tired student���️ would do, which is tossing the spare oreo he had in his suit pocket onto the hastily drawn summoning circle that one John Constantine brought with him on a piece of paper.

Now the last thing the League was expecting to happen was the lights dimming and green smoke coming from the printer paper that John took from who knows where.

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

Danny doesn't usually do this much paperwork in one sitting but someone just left a full mug of coffee on his shrine in hopes of being able to finish their assignment on time so he might as well finish the small pile he has on his desk. Ever since he accidentally gained a following he could taste the offerings and even feel the strong emotions from each one of them. It's not a really a big deal, pushing waves of calm/relax/focus doesn't take much energy and the offerings are nice too. So when he felt the pull of a summoning followed by drowsiness, exhaustion and the familiar taste of a stale oreo, who was he to reject the call of one of his favourite humans?

First of all, kind of rude to be summoning your patron by using such a small summoning circle but he'll cut the poor student some slack. Secondly, bright lights were definitely no good for this sleep deprived human, he'd probably be more comfortable if Danny turns it down a bit. The room full of heroes and magic users were unexpected but, hoLY- IS HE IN SPACE????? Did he say one of his favourites? He meant his number 1 favourite.

Sorry this was a bit short but feel free to write down/comment your own additions to this au. I also don't mind if anyone wants to write their own fic based on this but do tag me if you do!

Also sorry if I missed some tags, I tried. I won't be doing a tag list in the future because I don't want there to be people who are left out

[tag list] @gin2212 @jaggedheart11 @amercurio @raven-6-10 @onlyhereforthechaos @booklover9114 @fisticuffsatapplebees @overtherose @impulsiveasshole @shorterthanadverage @mimilikey @mnemovoid @chip-thief @mouzerequis @thegatorsgoose @spectralstardustandphantomnights @malice-of-the-sunrise @temporalhunter @nappinginhell @idkmrpianoman @vythika96 @seraphinedemort @meira-3919 @avelnfear @akikkobara @addie-lover-of-stories @ghostface3100 @yurineko135 @sjrose1216 @proper-idiocy @screamingtofillthevoid @sailor-goddess @the-legal-shipper @alcorbearson @dannyphantomphan @lady-time-lord- @starlightcat04 @liedboutmurder @jerithe @dixiwoods @gamma-radio @mirellacoco @blankliferain @violetfox2 @nexux-point

[perpetuallydaydreaming]

stop flirting with the nurse, it’s embarrassing.

it’s hard to act cool if james’ beautiful, hot nurse can hear his heart rate.

tags: james potter x gn!reader,, modern au,, hospitals,, nurse!reader,, remus pov,, melodramatic sirius and peter,, fluffy,, crack(?),, short around 1.3k wc,, no mentions of y/n

a/n: contrary to the title, there are no flirting just james being awkward lol,, i have no idea about the process of how vital checking goes sorry,, finding photos for this probably took longer than writing the fic itself rip.

it is to be noted that remus, resignedly, accepted it was only a matter of time before james got hospitalized for his recklessness.

now, with sirius and peter on either side of him, they wait for james to gain consciousness from his surgical procedure. it was a minor one, hardly one that needed 24/7 surveillance that sirius begged him to be a part of nor is the blubbering phone call from peter about james dying. the doctors even said he could be discharged the same day, if he woke up within the hour or so.

but remus is nothing but a people-pleaser. so, he stayed to watch over james as sirius requested and comforted peter that their loud, obnoxious (/fond) friend will wake up soon.

the room ridiculously quiet, a word rarely used as an adjective if they were involved, but it was. the only sound in the room, is the constant slow stream of the heart monitor and james’ soft breathing. remus can attribute this peace that the unnecessarily frantic and ballistic duo has now gone to sleep on the hospital’s stiff couch.

your head poked in first through the curtain before offering the gentlest smile and a silent request for you to come closer. you had been nothing but kind and attentive, to the point you were somewhat spoiling his overdramatic friends and their bemoaning about death and pain.

acknowledging their concerns with facts, reassurances, and empathic smiles. though he couldn’t miss the twitch of your lips as you try and stop, what remus imagines is a bellowing laughter at their dramatic reactions over james’ “demise.” not that remus blames you if you did let out a little laugh, it was getting theatric for a simple, small, and successful surgery. but he understands that professionalism comes first, such reactions might not be appropriate.

“well, everything seems fine here. your friend should be waking up anytime soon, if he does, don’t hesitate to ring us over so we can have him checked and he can be discharged. but before i leave the room, do you want me to do anything for you, any questions or concerns?” you say, voice gentle and firm

“no, we’re good, thank you.”

you nodded and gave a pretty smile, “okay then.”

you adjusted the curtain to close it fully, giving a stirring james and the sleeping visitors some privacy.

it wasn’t long before james woke up, groaning and stretching as if he had just been napping. albeit, a little delirious still, from the anesthesia no doubt.

he had opened his eyes now, unnaturally drooping and hazed, remus reached over and thwacked sirius and peter on their heads, “james’ awake.” he hums, giving nothing but an innocent looking smile as they glare for their rude awakening.

any sort of complaints from the smack quickly died out when they saw james, crowding over him and hugging him as if he’s been gone for 3 years and not 3 hours.

peter grabs james’ hands and recounts his experience of how he heard the news (from a text). at the same time with sirius exclaiming,

“oh, i’m so relieved you’re alright!” sirius cries, cradling james’ head to his chest, nuzzling through the knotted mass of curls to which remus only rolls his eyes at the theatrics of it all.

leaving remus no choice but to call you back into their section and have him checked for the last time.

“i’m fine,” james rasps, giving a sleepy smile and sluggishly patting both of the melodramatic thespians as comfort.

he looked fine, his hair no doubt knotted, his lips cracked dry but still rosy-cheeked.

when you arrived, sirius and peter have behaved themselves to sit down on the chair beside james’ bed. you slid the curtains fully, letting the light into their area. the fluorescent lights behind your head creating a soft halo as you kindly smile at james.

he looked to be stuck in a dazed trance. eyes still drooping but wider than when he first woke up, mouth slightly open, and body seemed to be frozen in place.

at first, remus thought of this due to the lingering effects of anesthetics but heard james’ heart rate steadily increase in speed.

the beeping machine seemingly louder now than before.

“hello, james. how are you feeling?” you hum, walking to go near him to do your routine check up.

the beeping seem to have picked up in speed as you neared his bed.

remus looked to the others to see if they noticed. the three of them, doing their best to cover their mouths to muffle their laughter.

“..’m fine..” james mumbled, starry-eyed gaze stuck to your face as you check his file and vitals.

“no pain? or headaches? any discomfort?” you ask, jotting down notes.

“jus’ perfect. ” he said, sounding a bit breathless.

the beeping was just going incrementally faster, the nearer you go to him.

you look at the monitor, face looking confused and worried all the same. “is it okay if i touch you? i’m just going to check on something really quick.”

the beeping stops for 2 whole seconds before continuing its raging beats. by now the three boys are having a field day, face red from the silent laughter and disbelief.

his heart literally skipped a beat, what even is this guy really? remus amusedly thinks to himself.

james couldn’t seem to say anything but give a measly nod. you grab your stethoscope, and listened to his raging heartbeat to see if anything was wrong. but james’ heart rate just seemed to have gained more momentum as you gently place your hand on his shoulder.

you move away, and slowly the heart rate slowed down, but still fast enough that you looked at him in slight concern.

“your heart rates a bit fast,” you noted, looking straight at him.

james’, oh sweet james, cheeks bloomed a glowing red and bashfully looked down.

you wrapped the stethoscope around your neck again and gave him a sweet, reassuring smile, “but other than that, everything looks to be in order. i’ll bring over the papers you have to sign and then you guys are free to go.”

when you finally walked away, james heart rate seemed to slow down to the normal speed once more. lolling his head to the side, as he groans in utter embarrassment and self-loathing.

“what is wrong with me?” he groans, cheeks still aflame.

sirius smirks, “your usual weakness to utter babes, that’s what.”

“your heart was going so fast i thought it was going to pop.” peter gushed laughing.

james playing with his starchy blanket, muttering lowly, “you think the pretty nurse heard that?”

the boys snorts out a laugh,

“i think the whole bloody hospital heard it mate,” remus cackled.

you came into view again, attending to another patient checking their vitals. offering the same kind of glowwy smile you gave them not a minute ago.

and because james just loves torturing himself, his gaze lands on you again. the same dazed look, body frozen but his eyes actively following your every move. the boys heard his heart rate—the beeping sounds picking up again.

this time sirius couldn’t stop his bark of laughter, causing you to look over them, curious.

your gaze connecting with james for a solid second.

they heard the monitor give another long pause before resuming its fast beeps. remus shook his head laughing, telling you not to worry.

you give remus a small nod, before looking over at his flustered friend, giving james a smaller, but somehow the sweetest smile you showed all day and abashedly looking away.

and james looking undeniably enamoured by your brief exchange. letting his tongue wet his dry lips as a giddy, rather boyish smile erupts from his face.

hopefully, this doesn’t give james more reason to be reckless and get himself admitted to the hospital more often. but if he does, at least it’ll be a funny story.

[simonisferal]

not you again “scaramouche x male reader”

episode four — yes grandma, i'll rub your bare feet. just don't call grandpa over to tell his war stories again... 📖

warnings: vulgar language, toxic family relations (scara/ei)

notes: i was too lazy to think of a real plot 🫶

“We’re going to Inazuma to visit some of your aunts. When you go home, go up to your room and pack, Kunikuzushi.”

Ei stood silently, her back turned to her son as she watched the courtyard down below the principal’s office window. She was ‘patrolling’ again, some idiotic habit she developed from surveilling her past soliders. Scaramouche was sulked in a chair with his arms crossed and face and knuckles bandaged.

“Can’t I go to Sumeru? You always send me there when I do something that doesn’t fit your dumb expectations.”

Sumeru was the only place he could actually stand. The warm weather made it perfectly for the male to wear his shorts and not Liyue’s…unnecessarily disgusting uniforms.

Ei didn’t bother turning around when she responded. “Kusanali told me of your… endeavors with Inazuma. I can’t possibly send you back to Sumeru if you’re still struggling with your culture. How will you follow in your mother’s steps?”

“Step-mother’s. Just because she gets your pussy wet doesn’t mean I have to like her.”

When those words left his mouth, Scaramouche immediately pressed his lips together. He sulked lower in his chair as he waited for his mother to respond. She didn’t for a while, the silence almost deafening.

She spoke, her voice cold and stern like a dagger made of ice. “You will be going whether you want to or not. You will not disappoint me again.”

( Ningguang has sat quiet many times before. It’s not like she feared Raiden, oh no, but she has power to make the very institution that she has worked her ass off to build the most pathetic school you can send your child to.

She has a kid of her own, adopted, but very loved by her and her wife. She can’t imagine what Scaramouche is feeling right now. )

“As much as I love the punishments for someone’s actions,” Ningguang started. “This is a young man’s education we are discussing. I would suggest taking time out of your day to home school him so Scaramouche can still get his high school diploma.”

It was quiet after she spoke. Scaramouche didn’t have a loving mother, or someone he could talk to in Inazuma and homeschooling him would give him something both what he and his mother wants, 1) his high school diploma, and 2) some control over his moving situation.

Ei sighed, turning around to meet Ningguang and Scaramouche. ”…Fine.” She pauses as she looks at the time on her watch. “I suppose I should care somewhat about his future.”

“Aww Y/N! I’m gonna miss you!” Ajax hugged you really tightly, his muscles from wrestling choking you. You tap his arm repeatedly, “Too tight..!” He doesn’t let you go until Yanfei pulls him off of you, pulling his ear like a stern mother.

You catch your breath, silently thanking Yanfei for her help. “I’ll come back after the summer. Don’t miss me too much.”

Hu-Tao sulks siltently and Yanfei scolds her, “‘Tao! Aren’t you gonna say goodbye?” Hu-Tao eyes her before continuing to text on her phone.

“It’s not like we can’t call him. Y/N’ll still have his phone.” She snorts like it was an obvious fact. It was still rude but you couldn’t blame her. Hu-Tao always had a weird way of saying goodbye to people.

Xingqui speaks up, “Didn’t you hear? Y/N’s dad placed him on a phone-ban.”

Hu-Tao immediately drops her phone and runs up to hug you almost as tightly Tartaglia did. “No! This can’t be! Please tell me the boy with blue hair and pronouns is lying!” She whined, pawing at your shirt.

“He’s not. I’ma have to… email you guys.”

Childe sobs and both him and Hu-Tao get on their knees, heart broken. “E-email?! Who uses that anymore?!” Yanfei coughs and Xingqui diverts his eyes.

Before any other gay could speak, the large airport had rung its announcement. A loud speaker phone spoke, “Flight 827, Liyue to Mondstadt, please begin boarding. Flight 827, Liyue to Mondstadt, please begin boarding…”

“It’s time.” Yanfei frowns. She gives you one last hug before patting your back. “Good luck with your college applications.”

Hu-Tao looks up from her crying, “C-college?” You snort at her crying face, trying to maintain a serious composure. “M-mhmh…” You nod.

You start walking away to your flight before the announcement rings again with Hu-Tao and Childe crying louder now that they still have work to do over the summer while Yanfei and Xingqui comfort them.

Let’s just hope that nothing weird happens.

Your flight wasn’t weird, you mainly just listened to music and slept the entire four hour flight. The sweet lady seated beside you woke you up once your flight landed.

Getting off was even better, your luggage and small suitcases of clothing and necessities were the easiest things to notice in the crowd of colorful and decorated vacation luggage.

“Y/N, my sweetie! You’ve grown so big, you don’t fit in my arms anymore.” A lady runs up to you and hugged you, probably in her late forties or early fifties. She wore a pink dress for spring while a man (also looked around forty or fifty) accompanied her.

“Hi granny. Hey gramps.”

“Oh come on, give your granny a kiss! I haven’t seen my little boy in so long!” Your grandmother squishes your cheeks and stretches them. “Grandma!”

Your grandfather has to pull her off of you for her to stop. “Honey, let him be. He must be tired-sick from his long flight.”

”Oh you’re right! Come, sweetie, let’s take you home; I’ll make you the best apple pie you can eat!”

masterlist — prev — next

taglist: open! bold means i can’t tag you

beginning with... @mizumetamorphosis , @wawanluvr , @shutingstar , @pookiemax , @chemiru ,

@scaradooche , @swivy123 , @yangbbokari , @academiq , @thystarsshine ,

@zoropookie , @notrsz , @justyoureader , @mercy-not-merci , @kiekole ,

@kazumiku , @featuredtofu , @yourfavoritefreakyhan , @b2tr09 , @ell1e2010 ,

@pwaap , @vxcmx , @vamxpi , @moonslie04, @allaboutiknowthatyoubeingdead ,

@somnium-kiss , @crxwned-mxnarch

(@simonisferal 2024)

[nightlyrequiem]

Be Still My Heart

Chapter 18- Love is a Verb, Love is a Doing Word

Masterlist AO3 Next Previous

New Chapter Every Saturday

You're the best in the meth industry but a new product suddenly pops up. You and your boss, Valeria, must figure out who is making it so you can take back the market. All the while tension is building between the two of you.

A/N: The ball took forever to get rolling but here it is. Took Reader and Val long enough for their relationship to develop in a positive direction. I almost feel bad for what's in store. Almost. Also I think this might actually be my favourite chapter. Nothing too important happens but I just think my writing is good here.

Tags/Warnings: Illegal Substances, Boss Employee Relationship, Angst, Some Hurt/Comfort, Violence, Manipulation, Suggestive Themes, Smut (But Only in CH19.), Dual POV

Valeria feels silly for thinking the crack house would have a functioning AC. It's supposed to get cooler at night but inside the house it feels like hell itself is burning brimstone behind the walls. Valeria is on the bed, sticky with sweat. She's changed into a tank top and shorts, showing off the muscles in her legs and arms. She forgoes a bra and suddenly you make much more eye contact than usual.

With how hot it is, she's not shocked to find you doing the same, though she notices you kept your bra. A funny thing to do since she's already seen you naked but whatever makes you more comfortable. She groans as she lays down, trying to find a comfortable position. The mattress is too firm and despite the shit she gave you for being so uppity about the cleanliness, she's finding herself discomforted by the mysterious stains beneath her.

You sit down on the edge of the bed, hunched with fatigue. Your skin is still damp from the shower you had. The sight makes Valeria feel even more hot. No one likes being sweaty but the idea of being scantily clad, sweaty, and sharing a small bed with you isn't so awful. She stares at you for awhile before speaking.

"Good idea sitting there," Valeria says. "Don't want to get too close to me, I bite."

You turn your head to look at her over your shoulder, that annoyed expression she adores plastered all over your face. "It's common practice to put down dogs unable to keep their teeth to themselves." You reply.

Amusement bubbles up in her chest.

"I like you better like this." She comments. "It's better than that sulky attitude you've had all week."

You frown and turn back around. "It's difficult not to have an attitude when the woman you work for is so rude." You mutter. "I don't feel liked or respected here."

Valeria finds herself mimicking your frown, playful attitude evaporating. She's never been one to care about how she makes other people feel, she just simply doesn't have the capacity for it. Though she can feel the inklings of empathy stirring in her somewhere. Like dull flashes of light in the dark. "Because I... don't let you get away with everything?" She asks.

You sigh.

"No, Valeria." You reply. "Because you're cruel, and unnecessarily rude to me... being called replaceable doesn't make me want to be better it makes me want to put less effort in."

Valeria listens to you. She didn't mean it when she said it. Truthfully, even if you were, she doesn't want to replace you. "I don't think you're replaceable." She sits up, eyes roving over your back.

"Stop that." You snap suddenly, turning to face her. Your eyes glint with anger. Valeria furrows her brows, she doesn't understand what she did this time. What could you possibly be mad at her for now?

"Stop what?" She asks with aggravation, running a hand through her hair.

"Playing games with me." You say. "You act all... nice one day and then like a jerk the next. I don't understand the push and pull shit you're doing, is it fun to you? Are you that much of a sociopath that the only way to amuse yourself is by playing with the feelings of other people?" You go off on her with a surprising amount of passion.

Valeria sits there, a little stunned. You standing up to her is nothing new, and she does like it when you do. When your fire feeds off of hers, but there's nothing fun about this squabble.

"I'm not playing games with you." She says finally. Disappointed with her own lackluster response. You roll your eyes. "I'm not." She insists.

"Good, because I'm not playing either."

Valeria hesitates. This is usually where her relationships come to an end. When her partner begins to feel unloved by her and she always without fail lets them go. Because Valeria sees how far she can push people. To see if they'll leave like she believes they will. If they do, they didn't love her enough. You two aren't together but the principle still stands. 

Valeria doesn't want this to end though. Not before it's even started. She slowly reaches out and puts a hand on your shoulder, your skin feeling like fire.

"I'm not good at being good." She says, voice uncharacteristically soft. "But that doesn't mean I'm not capable of doing good things. All of the kind things I've said to you were true. I meant them. You are important and valuable... I like having you around."

You furrow your brows, the harsh lighting of the ceiling light casting dark shadows under your eyes. "Then why do you treat me so badly?" You ask quietly. 

Valeria stares back. "Because I don't know how to behave around you." She admits.

You shake your head and Valeria realizes that's not the answer you wanted. She's not sure what you want. She isn't sure what to say. Valeria feels helpless for the first time in years. She's forgotten that feeling. 

"I like you." She says, feeling foolish for uttering such simple words to describe such an unsimple feeling. She grows frustrated the longer you don't respond. She reaches out and gently takes ahold of your jaw, making you face her.

Valeria is supposed to say more, explain herself and her feelings but her mind draws a blank. She's never felt more like an idiot. Her eyes drift to your lips for a split second. You're such an inconvenience. Her life was much simpler before you barged your way into it. She inches closer and you don't pull away. Your breath ghosts over her face. Her grip on your shoulder tightens and she leans forward, lightly pressing her lips to yours. She relaxes her shoulders, finding solace in you. Months of pining lifted from her back.

When you kiss back she pulls you closer, wrapping her arms around you tightly. Her hand moves up to cup the back of your head. Your lips moving together in longing. Trading breaths like confessions. It's not a kiss of hunger or lust but of pure, devastating want. Valeria slowly lowers you to your back and cradles your face, disconnecting from you. She lays her head on your chest, listening to your heart. She feels vulnerable and exposed. She has the sudden urge to run and leave you behind before you can pick at the pieces of herself she's kept hidden.

The next morning, Valeria wakes and silently moves off of you. Dressing herself and leaving before you wake up. The events of last night playing on a loop in her mind. The way you felt, the way you tasted, the way it made her feel to be so open. She feels herself doing what she always does when she gets too close to someone. She's downing her second cup of coffee when you wander into the kitchen. You make eye contact before looking away, sensing her trepidation.

The group is sat around the coffee table. Mark has done everyone the favour of attempting to clear it of its ashtrays and stumped blunts. In her peripheral she watches you pluck at loose threads on the old couch.

"Some of my guys they uh, buy the other stuff." Mark says, casting an apologetic glance at Valeria. "But that's a good thing, means we have access to one of this guy's dealers."

"Mhm." Valeria nods for him to contiue.

"We can pay them like fifty each to jump the guy and bring him back." He says, smiling.

"You can pay them, you mean." Alain speaks up. 

Alain is sprawled back in one of the chairs. A bored expression on his face. Mark hesitates. 

"Yeah," He nods, rubbing his neck. "yeah I can pay them."

"Great." Valeria sighs, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Its been a while since she's had a smoke and she's starting to get a headache. She glances at you again before standing and walking out of the room.

She walks out back into the foggy backyard and reaches into her pocket for her pack. She pulls one out and lights it with a hand curled protective around the flame. The backdoor creaks open and you step out. Joining her on the deck. You rest your arms on the rail and stare out at the small yard.

"Did you mean it?" You ask.

She takes a puff before replying. "Mean what?" She mumbles around the cig. 

"The kiss.' you say. "... and liking me. Did you mean it?"

Valeria takes her time in answering. Inhaling, holding, exhaling. "I did." She says. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Do you... regret it?" You ask hesitantly.

Valeria thinks about it. A part of her does, because there's no going back now. "Not entirely." She answers honestly.

She finishes her smoke and throws it to the ground, snubbing it out with her heel.

"I'm not sure where this will go, but I know it won't be easy." She says calmly. She looks at you. "I am not a good person, dear chemist. I've been chasing you for so long but now that I'm catching up I'm worried I'll like the race more than the finish line." Valeria leaves her words to hang in the morning fog as she retreats back inside the house.

[mikuni14]

I assume that the series will not make Maya a bad person and it will turn out that she is "not that bad", that she only had Kohei's good at heart and in the end she will understand everything and even reconcile and be friends with Taichi 🙃 But I'll tell you why I dgaf and why such a character bothers me, especially when she's a girl in a BL series:

Maya is completely unnecessarily rude and I mean rude personally. You don't even know how pissed I was that she called Taichi's handwriting and drawings "ugly", which to me is on the same level as calling someone ugly. Even when someone's handwriting is bad and you can't read it, you can point it out in a normal, polite way!

Maya simply acts weird with Taichi and his friends, haughtily and with barely concealed arrogance. She also behaves in their presence as if she was with them as a punishment, she treats each invitation like: "oh joy, another meal 🙄"

her body language suggests that only Kohei is the "good one" and the rest of the people are either almost predators or some poor, stinking peasants, I mean, the way she looks at Taichi with an appraising gaze made my blood boil and and my pocket guillotine opened

it's interesting how Kohei described his problems with his disability, belittling himself, and how she uses her disability to look down on other people

she also uses her and Kohei's disability to create divisions and isolation

she thinks she knows what is best for Kohei and steers/manipulates him in this direction without asking his opinion

assuming that "I have it the worst in life" is an exceptional level of ignorance and narcissism, we have no idea what happened in other people's lives, what is currently happening in their lives, and the funniest, seemingly happiest poeple often hide biggest traumas

I will return again to the exceptional rudeness, which is completely unnecessary: ​​the personal comments, zero filter and manners in conversation, different behavior in the presence of Taichi and different when Kohei appears, which screams bad intention, deceit and duplicity. And yes - her behavior towards Taichi and his friends is a bit classist, intentionally or not. Her entire conversation with Taichi, just shocked me ngl, it was one terrible sentence and accusation after another terrible sentence and accusation

I dislike everything about this person, she is not some poor, lost girl trying ineptly to "save" Kohei. She INTENTIONALLY offends innocent people who have done nothing wrong, often for things beyond their control and about which she has no idea, divides people using manipulation, is false and pretends and is different in contacts with different people. There is some kind of malice in her, which will be hard to defend in the future. And did I mention that she's extremely rude? And not in a funny way like Methas from TLDHLB, but in a mean, arrogant way? Just in case, I'll remind you again 😉

(And to make it even messier and funnier, I don't even know if she's interested in Kohei romantically. If so, that makes her an even worse person)

[lurkingshan]

We have arrived at a mutual crush, people! And the way they did it makes total sense. Of course the thing that catches Jane's interest and starts those warm feelings toward Ryan is Ryan seeing him in a way no one else at work does. Just the fact that he actually asked Jane about the rumors instead of going along with negative assumptions was already notable, but to then follow that up by acknowledging that he sees how hard Jane tries and how much he's holding--of course Jane is going to want to keep someone like that close. Everyone else in this place just hands him burdens and then criticizes every imperfection in the way he shoulders them; he needs someone who is actually on his side.

Which is not to say he will do anything about any personal feelings he is developing for Ryan. Jane is a professional and there is no way he will be hitting on his intern, and I liked that despite inviting Ryan to his home, we saw that he kept an appropriate distance and kept the conversation focused on work. It was really nice to see him take a beat to recognize that he was unnecessarily rude to Ryan amidst his stress and actually apologize for that, and then take the time to teach him something properly. It's another characteristic of a great leader to recognize their shortcomings and have some humility about mistakes. Btw, I will be needing an analysis of every item in his home, that set was jam-packed with rich character details.

I also really loved the way we saw Ryan blossom under some proper mentorship and get excited about putting together a pitch deck once he had a better sense of how to think about it. His giddiness at getting to wear Jane's clothes to the office was also adorable, and I like that next week we're going to start dealing with the fallout of people noticing his crush. He is not exactly subtle with the adoring looks and radiant smiles whenever Jane is on his mind.

That all of this happened in parallel with Ba-Mhee finally starting to take her job seriously was also excellent. I was glad to get the backstory on her and Tae because it helped me understand her fixation on him a lot better. She was chasing him for years before he finally acknowledged her, and part of her must feel insecure about how mutual their feelings really are. But it doesn't seem to me like he doesn't care about her, he's just wired differently. I am now hoping that rather than a breakup, this is headed for Ba-Mhee finding herself outside this relationship and getting to a healthier balance.

[avianconcept]

Lucas Johnson, and why he was one of my favorites in TSC.

I see a lot of people hating on him for his reactions + actions towards Jean in TSC, which is fine! Everyone’s allowed to not like characters, and we’re all on Jean’s side! Lucas enabled a really traumatizing and dangerous situation. But I keep seeing these posts referring to him as an asshole who Jean should have revenge of some sort on, and I’m like ??? 

I thought Lucas had one of the most interesting arcs in TSC, and tied in really well with one of the central messages of the story. I think he’s a character who is in a lot of distress that he is unprepared to handle, and is still seeking the painful truth. Yes he was a dick to Jean several times, but I don’t think this makes him an Evil Antagonist or a little shit or whatever else he is referred to as. I found Lucas and Jean’s plotline to be one of the most compelling in the whole book. It made me think about how much knowing the truth matters, even if it can’t change the scenario. This is going to be a long and unstructured mess that is sort of about Lucas, sort of about the Ravens vs Trojans, sort of about themes. I apologize in advance, but this has been kicking around in my brain since I finished TSC the day it came out. 

I’m going to start with the straightforward bit: why I personally think Lucas is over-hated, and why I liked him. 

I think most of it comes from the fact that we as readers forget that not all characters are operating with the same information and perspective that we are. Our perception of the situation is informed by Jean’s POV– in a lot of ways, his perception is ours. So we have known from pretty much minute one that Jean isn’t an asshole, that the rumors about him aren’t true, and that Grayson is a serial rapist. So when we see Lucas not believing Jean, questioning him or calling him a whore, we see it the way Jean sees it: a nosy, rude, foolish man who is going out of his way to make Jean’s and his own life difficult unnecessarily. 

But when you think about it from Lucas’ POV, remembering that Lucas does not know the things we know about Jean and Grayson, Lucas’ actions make a lot more sense. 

Imagine, for a moment, that you have an older brother. You grew up together, you played the same sport, you loved him. And then he leaves, and goes no contact out of the blue. You try and try and you can’t get a hold of him, even when you join a college team yourself. But then one day, after his team falls apart, he comes home. He comes home angry and wrong and you can barely recognize him.The only way you can get him to engage with you is about this ex teammate of his. He gets angry, attacks you, hits you until you lose teeth. The rest of his team is being put in inpatient care in psych hospitals. You’re not sure whats wrong with him, only that this is not the brother you loved– there is something very wrong with him, and the only thing he’ll talk about is Jean Moreau. 

I feel like when we see it this way, it isn’t hard to get why Lucas came out so hostile when he met Jean. Jean was already surrounded by this (false, unfair) media perception, and then Grayson talks about how much he hates him. When you bear in mind that Lucas has known Grayson his whole life (minus the last four or so years), and Jean for about two minutes– it doesn’t surprise me that he does not immediately take Jean’s side. I’d even go so far as to say that it would make no sense if he did. ESPECIALLY when from Lucas’ POV, Jean starts saying all of this horrible (true) shit about Grayson, which has got to be a sore spot for Lucas atm. Because Lucas doesn’t understand that 

Sidebar: I don’t say any of this to blame Jean, or say that Lucas is without flaw– I say it because it’s a really well written conflict. In both characters' heads, they’re each making perfect sense. It’s irritating to me in books when the author has thrown in a conflict for drama only, by making two characters hate each other for no reason. This situation is really compelling to read about for this reason. 

I’ve seen a few of takes along the lines of, “How dare Lucas keep pushing Jean for answers/bring Grayson to the Gold Court/not believe Jean when Jean is CLEARLY traumatized.” And I get it– it was painful and frustrating to see him not understand. But also I think we as longtime lovers of AFTG have had ten-ish years to get used to the Foxes, and their understanding of trauma. For them, the parts of trauma that are triggers and erratic behavior and strange boundaries are navigated almost instinctively because it is all of their lived experience. They all (mostly) learned the language of when to push and when to back off because they have areas themselves that they don’t want to be asked about. Though they don’t use therapy speak, and though the way they deal with it often ranges from unorthodox to downright problematic, they have an understanding of the weight of what they’re working around. 

Lucas Johnson does not come from this world. He does not have this understanding– it is likely that the first time he was afraid in his own house was when Grayson came home. Now, compared to how gently and tactfully some of the other Trojans handle Jean, like Jeremy, Cat, and Laila, or even Cody and Xavier knowing to back off about Jean’s scars; Lucas isn’t doing so great. He could have been better. There are a few things to consider though. 

One: None of Jeremy, Cat, Laila, Cody or Xavier have as much of a personal stake in this situation as Lucas does. For them, it's an issue between two teammates, not the brother they’re slowly realizing they don’t know anymore. 

Two: There’s been two instances of drama mentioned, one being whatever Cat’s freshman year drama was, and two being whatever Jeremy’s banquet situation is. So the floozies might actually have a little more of a clue about how to deal with difficult situations. 

Three: Lucas is also undergoing trauma. He had the shit beat out of him by the brother he so desperately wanted back. He’s realizing the brother he loved may actually be dead. That is traumatic and painful and does not make someone act like their best self. 

All of this to say– he goes about the situation in a really indelicate, inexperienced way, makes some really bad judgment calls, and I think that makes a ton of sense! 

ANYWAYS. God. 

The reason I think Lucas ties in really well with one of the main messages of TSC is how he reacts as he finds out more and more about Grayson. In his final conversation with Jean, he is grieving, afraid, and in shock, but he is willing to accept that Grayson is not the man he knew anymore– that Grayson turned into something horrific. 

Lucas, upon realizing this new information, doesn’t cling onto his old world view. He doesn’t try to find ways to spin it to keep his brother in the right and Jean in the wrong. He faces the evidence in front of him, and makes an effort to realign his perspective with what he now understands the truth to be. Put a pin in that for a second. 

One of the messages of TSC seems to be that to look away when you know something malignant is going on is an act of violence. 

Jeremy is the one who outright says it, I will not look away, but that sentiment is echoed in the actions of so many characters. Cat and Laila’s continued rejection of Jean’s scrimmages excuse for his injuries. Neil looking for more than a second at the state Jean was in after Grayson’s attack and realizing something was wrong. Lisinski not brushing off Jean’s reaction to the water and banning him from swimming, to keep him from doing it anyway. Xavier, Cat and Cody’s reactions to Jean's scars. Over and over again we see people refuse to look away. 

Think about the Nest, about the sexual assaults Jean’s freshman year. The backliners who assaulted him all knew Riko put them up to it, but none of them ever said it outright. This implies that everyone outside of the backline doesn’t know. Jean caused a stir because of his age and how quickly he changed partners– which means the Ravens knew he was sixteen. The Ravens, though they are psychologically screwed now, came from normal lives. Even though they didn’t know about Riko’s involvement, at least a few likely understood the concept of statutory rape. We know Thea at least saw what was going on, we know Zane KNEW about the assaults, Kevin apparently understands ‘half the truth’; either way, at a certain point, metaphorically or literally, they all turned away from the truth. 

This extends to Riko’s abuse of Jean and Kevin, too. Jean mentions that he and Kevin went to great lengths to hide what Riko was doing to them from the Ravens. But, given the level of forced proximity on the team, I think that even with these layers of secrets, it isn’t insane to think that the Ravens likely saw clues. They apparently knew Riko was violent. They know Tetsuji is, so really, how big of a stretch would it be? In Lazarus, Renee notices that Zane sounds hesitant when he says that Jean was with Riko, which implies that he does have a clue what's going on in that sense.

I don’t say all of this under the impression that the Ravens could have stood up to Riko or Tetsuji, or put a stop to much of it. I say this to point out the significance of the truth, and acknowledging or avoiding it. 

The point is– for these lies to work, for the story to hold, everyone around them had to reach a point of Looking Away. 

Looking away from someone in distress and accepting the simple narrative is easy, but the right thing is always to not look away. To keep looking until you see the whole picture, because the person you’re looking at is worth it. Even if it can change nothing, the truth matters.

To me, Lucas does this! When you think about it from his POV, he has SO MUCH MORE of a reason to believe Grayson. He was a reason to want Grayson’s version to be true. If Grayson is telling the truth, then Jean is a whore and an asshole and maybe, just maybe, Lucas can still have his brother back. Sure, Grayson’s hurt him, but that could just be stress and Raven related trauma. Not acknowledging that Grayson has crossed irredeemable lines leaves the door open for Lucas to keep the version of his brother that he dearly loves and misses. It would be easier for him to double down, to deny and defend. To buy the easy, common story  And yet he doesn’t. He questions and starts to see his brother differently- he BELIEVES that his brother could be different than the man who left four years ago. He does not blind himself to the things he's seeing and hearing in favor of holding onto some false, memory version of Grayson. To me, that takes an immense strength of character, and a commitment to what is right.  And that is why Lucas was one of my favorite

[rynnthefangirl]

I rarely wanted to slap a character more than when Sansa Stark disrespected her Uncle Edmure in the GOT finale. It’s so incredibly emblematic of the problem with Sansa in the last two seasons of Game of Thrones: she makes objectively poor political choices, but it’s framed as smart and good because she sounds confident and badass about it, and the show protects her from facing any consequences.

In this scene, Sansa’s goal is establishing an independent North. For her to achieve that goal with the least amount of difficulty, she needs the acquiescence of whoever is chosen as King. Edmure proposes himself. He is Sansa’s own uncle, a non-greedy, non-conniving man, with a decent sense of honor and (most importantly) a history as an active supporter of Northern Independence. If Edmure becomes King, Sansa should have a pretty easy time becoming Queen in the North. This is a choice that benefits her political goals

And how does she act? She basically tells him to shut the fuck up. Now, is Edmure the best candidate? No. He is a bit of a fool and has made mistakes. But he is a decent man. He is also a long time prisoner of war who suffered immensely as a result of him covering for Sansa’s brother’s political blunder. He fought, bled, and suffered for Sansa’s family and deserves basic respect. But Sansa has no respect. She just insults him, even though not only was it unnecessary, but it is also against her own interests. She shuts downs a candidate who will give her exactly what she wants, presumably because she is so filled with smug superiority that she just can’t help but diminish people that she sees as beneath her.

She can probably get away with it to Edmure, who is family and not the type to hold a grudge like that. But when she does that to some other lord with no reason to support her? It’s going to make an enemy rather than make an ally. And that’s what Sansa’s entire approach to politics in season 7-8 is: making enemies rather than allies.

It reminds me a little bit of Aegon III shutting down and dismissing Torrhen Manderly. But the key difference is the histories acknowledge Aegon’s coldness towards his subjects as the major flaw of his character, the thing that held back his rule from being as well regarded and successful as it could have been. But with Sansa, there is no criticism. It’s framed as just her being a cool badass. It doesn’t matter that she rudely and stupidly shut down a candidate that aligns with her goals, because guess what? Tyrion happens to nominate her brother for king, who will also give her whatever she wants. Sansa had no way of knowing that Bran would be king, she certainly didn’t suggest him.

It’s understandable for Sansa’s trauma to manifest as coldness, suspicion, and unnecessarily antagonistic behavior. But we see with Aegon III that when those traits go too far, it becomes a hinderance rather than a strength. But precious Sansa is spared from such consequences. She can treat anyone as rude as she wants, and it’s fine. It’s just her being smart and shrewd and playing the game. Because playing the game at the expense of honor and compassion and fighting the true threat of the white walkers is bad… unless it’s Sansa doing it.

[90sastroglam]

6th house synastry - my experience

This is honestly my LEAST favorite synastry to have with someone else, but only if I’m the 6th house person (which seems ironic, however it’s really true). I don’t know it this is due to the fact that I don’t have any 6th house placements on my chart…

Also I think this might depend on the sign it is in. In my case, it’s in Aries and they honestly get on my nerves. I’ve had this synastry with SO MANY people in my life. Friends AND family. My mom has her moon in my 6th house, my dad has his SUN and my sister has her MARS in my 6th house (guess who annoys me the most... cough cough mars, although sometimes it’s hard to tell who’s worse). I’ve also been gotten romantically involved with a man who’s mercury was in my 6th house, one of my longtime friends has her venus and one of my college friends has her ascendant in the same house.

Based on this, I would say the venus and ascendant synastry in this house is the easiest to deal with (and the moon in second). My problem with these people is that I often feel as though they’re like overly nitpicky, even cruel and unfair in their critiques - they’ll point things out unnecessarily thinking they’re “protecting me” when really they’re just making me doubt myself. I’ve found that they’ll also criticize me for things they do themselves ALL THE TIME - so they’re basically projecting onto me. And I would be lying if I said they don’t make me feel like shit sometimes. Oh and they’ll do it in public too…

Another detail - these critiques are never constructive… hell nah. They’ll just point out my flaws like no other. Then I try to tell them that they’re crossing boundaries and call them out, ask them to stop… yet they don’t stop and keep pushing ‘till I break. Oh and when I break they’ll literally stare at me like I’m the one who’s insane, even though they provoked everything (I also can’t act like them, ‘cause when I do I’m mean and harsh… they’re the only ones who can do it). To me, they just seem like hypocrites, who project onto me and then claim (as an excuse) they were doing it for me… when really they’re being selfish.

Just to give you an exemple… the guy I was romantically involved with began critiquing my looks soon after we started hanging out… he would often point out my break outs (which he knew were a sensitive topic for me and one of my biggest insecurities, as I was bullied for having a lot of acne when I was younger). Soon he started pointing out my stomach when I was bloated and my weight (I literally have a flat stomach and I’m skinny af… THESE ARE MY ORGANS SIR). As you can pretty much tell, it didn’t workout. I started getting sick of his BS and broke it off, as he would also be rude to me out of nowhere sometimes… then pretend he didn’t do anything And this guy is just a light case, as I was done way worse by both my family and some “friends” with placements in my 6th house.

To me, people with placements in my 6th house just seem rude, bitter and insensitive for NO REASON… no really…. NO REASON AT ALL. Yes they CAN be of service… but they can also be so invasive and even controlling. These are the people who have backstabbed me the most and I was so loyal and respectful towards them. See I would forgive them (yet call then out) so many times, but they really NEVER stop. Because they’re Aries placements they probably won’t be the ones who’ll serve you… I feel like depending on the sign this will work in different ways and let me tell you: aries will never be the submissive ones.

REMINDER: this is just my personal experience. This doesn’t mean aries placements are gonna treat everyone like shit either, it just depends on where they sit in your chart. Please tell me the experience with the sign of your 6th house and which sign it is.

xoxo,

lily.

[pigeonpeach]

Love behind the Spotlight

Aka Robin x fmab reader

SPOILERS BTW made before the most recent update!

Warnings: death, spoilers, suicidal thoughts, lil smut, reader is called girlfriend sometimes, not proofread

“Sorry I’m late! The paparazzi out there are ruthless!” You quickly pushed your back to the door and locked it just incase. You visibly relaxed upon hearing the familiar click.

“Its okay love, you’re one time actually, they have to fix the set so we have some time.” Robin said, getting up from her chair to give you a quick peck. This woman was a goddess in your eyes, how else could you explain how easily you relaxed in her company, how all the troubles of the world faded into nothing when her wings cupped your face while you kissed. A bottle of soulglad could never compare to a kiss from Robin to you. Dreamscape or not, Robin is what truly made your life magical. You could tell she was a little tense, she seemed worried.

“Is something the matter? Was someone rude?” You rolled up your sleeves but she placed her hand on your arm.

“No…its just those articles.. they say I’ve gained weight..” Robin’s smile faded.

“Gained? If anything you should! You’re quite literally light as a feather! Those journalists have their heads up their ass and gossip on the brain 24/7. You could get a actual trashcan to write a better article than most of them. They only want more attention, and you just happened to be the prettiest and most perfect punching bag for them to take it out on.” You gently petted her wings, not wanting to mess up her hair. She reminded you of your pet bird in the way her eyes would close a little whenever you tended to her like this.

“I know its just exhausting to constantly be a target. At least I have you… I hope that we can go public someday..” she looked at you with smile, that radiant curve that rewired your brain like a addiction.

“Someday, I’m going to kiss you right infront of those annoying fans who try to ask you out. And I’ll flip them off. I’ll give those journalists something to write about.” You smiled. She did as well..

“This.. this is your choice in partner?” Sunday didn’t seemed pleased. Robin seemed agitated at that.

“What do you mean by that? They’re nothing but loyal and honest to me!” She was on edge and he could sense that.

“I just simply thought you could do better. Even if you are into… well.. girls, there’s far better options for a celebrity like yourself. Not that I doubt you love them, if you’re relationship with them ever got out then it would be nothing but controversy. People would accuse you of taking advantage of them, lying to your fans, all sorts of things.” He sighed. “It’s just a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Well.. I’d rather have them by my side for that then. They make me feel more confident and assured. I feel safe in their presence. I already get unnecessarily criticized and wrapped into controversies regardless of what I do, At least this way I do so happily.” She huffed.

“I can see they’ve been a influence on you, although I can’t say its that bad.. just be careful. We’ll try to ease the public into it. Probably starting with the notion, then more public appearances, song’s mentioning the situation and then finally the announcement. How long have you two been dating?”

“A year actually.”

“YOU didn’t TELL ME!”

“I should leave soon, otherwise the media will be wondering why I’m sleeping over.” You sighed, starting to lace up your attire, your back turned to her, you knew if you just saw the top of her collarbone right now you would never be able to leave this room, but then the media would speculate. There was already rumors, you had seen it online of people joking Robin was into you even from your friendly interactions. If you didn’t leave soon then it would only add fuel to the fire. But you didn’t want to. Her bed was comfy, the sheets were silken and soft and the mattress cupped your body so lovingly, that’s not even mentioning the cuddle expert Robin is. How her gentle voice is better than the sleeping pills you have to take if you wish to get any sleep, how her soft hands hold you like otters drifting in the sea, and when you watch her wings twitch in her sleep. Her hand traced your back, like a hypnosis you had ceased movement, but Robin would never need to use the harmony on you, if she wanted something she could ask and you would comply easily.

“Please?” That’s all it took for your resolve to crumble. You could never say no to that face or that voice. You discarded your pants that hadn’t even been zipped yet, kicking them off to some corner in the dark.

“Who am I to refuse?” You smiled playfully as you rejoined her under the sheets. Her hands quickly yanked you into her embrace. She pecked your face with kisses, like a bird preening its lover, her hands smoothed the messy bedhair you now had.

“I love you.. I love you so much..” she whispered inbetween kisses. You could tell from her voice and demeanor then that you wouldn’t sleep that night.

Your hand found its way to her back, tracing the shoulder blades while she dotted your face with whatever was left of her lipstick. You would go through a whole packet of makeup wipes tomorrow but it’d be worth it. You wouldn’t leave this bed if your life depended on it. It would be nice to die in her arms afterall, you would die happy if you went out while she was eating you out. Her kisses trailed down and down until she was at your chest, without hesitation she swirled her tongue on your breasts like she knew you liked it. You gasped as you held your hand to your mouth.

“Robin? Robin?” A voice sounded from the door as you both froze. By instinct you dove under the sheets as she hurriedly put her night gown back on, meanwhile you covered yourself in her pillows and plushies to further hide your form.

“Sorry sorry.” She said as she placed one final pillow over you then opened the door. “What is it?”

“Your performance was cancelled due to a technical issue at the venue. Apparently some of the tech there broke overnight and they don’t have hopes itll be repaired in time. So you can sleep in tonight.” Sunday said.

“Oh that’s great!”

“Also has your assistant gone home? I didn’t see them take one of the guest rooms.” He asked. She paused before smiling a bit.

“Actually.. they’re spending the night..” she said quietly to him. He looked at her skeptically, but ultimately he just sighed.

“Just be quiet.” He left afterwards. You heard the door close and lock as Robin quickly pounced onto the bed, digging you out of your makeshift burial with a eager expression. “You won’t mind being quiet tonight right?”

“You’ll have to gag me.”

“Where’s Robin?” You approached Sunday confused, you had a week off work so you had been having some time to yourself, enjoying the festivities and atmosphere of the dreamscape. Sunday seemed different, usually he was more relaxed in a situation like this, where he’s simply standing around at the balcony, overlooking Peacony’s scenery like he is its god.

“She’s… a little busy at the moment. Your vacation has been extended. Enjoy your time off.” He said. You immediately didn’t buy it.

“Bull shit where the fuck is she?” You said, your heart starting to race. For once Sunday looked uncertain, panicked even. It was not pleasing or assuring to see, you felt dread building in your stomach. “What happened… why aren’t you saying anything…”

“Robin… is fine.. just enjoy your vacation. Its paid as well so you’ll have no worries.” He repeated like a broken record.

“She has a performance coming up, I’m supposed to go with her.” You said. “Are you firing me? What is going on?!”

“You are not being fired. You l.. lets take this inside..” he looked at you with a look you could only describe as guilt and sympathy. You felt only worse as you followed him into his office.

“There you are~” you felt relieved to hear her voice coming from behind. Robin smiled as always as she quickly engulfed you in a hug.

“Don’t be so silly brother~ I could always use a extra hand!” Robins arm wrapped around you confidently, something she only did in complete utter privacy. Your heart sank, this isn’t her usual demeanor. She’s playful in scenarios sure, where its just you and her, or sunday too sometimes, but she has some composure to her.

“Robin I’m so goad you’re okay.” You hugged her awkwardly, wondering if something was wrong. You could hear Sunday growing apprehensive.

“That’s enough you fool.. its one thing to play an act for appearances but to try and fool her lover?!” Sunday hissed, you immediately backed off looking at him then ‘Robin’ who now had a uncharacteristic smile on her face. Within a instant its like she was gone, now replaced by a twin tailed, scantily dressed, clothed in red lady with the most devilish smirk.

“You’re no fun, i thought we really had to sell this illusion.” She teased.

“What the fuck”. You backed up as you felt your world crumble. Sunday got s stand in… but why? What happened to Robin. He turned to you with a look of sympathy.

“Look I understand you’re confused but you can’t speak about this. The Family is trying to avoid a panic so we must keep this under wraps.. Robin is.. well..” you had always known Sunday to be the perfect guy, spokesperson, model, negotiator, whatever. His composure was pristine and his fake smile never faltered even with you. Now it did. And that devilish lady wasn’t helping.

“You’re little girlfriend is dead~” she said tauntingly. With that you felt a sense of numbness come over.

“Bu-but… people can’t die in the dreamscapes.. how..”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out. Now I ask you don’t react irrationally, I could use some help on the case and-“

“Robin is dead… she’s dead.. like.. I’ll never see her again?” You asked baffled.

“She got murdered by some weird black eyed creature~” The lady added, Sunday shot her another glare.

“Sparkle if you’re going to be so insensitive then I ask you leave, you are not helping this meeting!” He said.

“Hey, I’m not the one who can’t tell her the truth. She was your sister’s girlfriend the least you can do is tell her what happened!” She didn’t stand down one bit.

But you weren’t focused on them. They were to busy arguing to notice you were now crying. You thought about your last text to her. ‘It doesn’t feel like a vacation when you’re not here with me :(‘ she had responded with a heart, and a message assuring you that you would be reunited soon. Maybe even a joke about how she’d work you even harder since you liked your job so much. Such things that warmed your heart now froze it instead, tearing at the veins and flesh like a blender. You sunk to the floor as you failed to comprehend the world around you.

“Do you feel better now.” Sunday asked cautiously as you laid in the cushions in his office. Sparkle having been kicked out for her unhelpful comments. You had never known Sunday to be fond of you in any way. To be honest you didn’t think he was capable of of it. But you guessed he just wanted to share his pain with someone. You knew how the family was, you knew how secretive everything must be. You never took the job offer with the intention of falling for its shinning idol. In fact you initially thought of her as annoying. She was so perfect in the light with no flaws, but when you saw the person off stage and in the shadows you fell for her. You loved Robin, not the idol not the celebrity, the person. The person who’s wings would hide her face when she was shy, the person who was always so nice to you, who saw you as more than a hired help but a person. You had worked for many celebrities before, smaller and bigger and none were like her. Your love had been the slowest of burns, and you imagined it would be a eternal flame.

“I don’t… I feel like shit.” You replied. You would never feel her warmth, her presence, her love, her sudden boldness, anything Robin was now gone.

“I understand. Its why I wanted to give you more vacation time.” He explained.

“So you wouldn’t have told me?” You asked, you were too tired to yell or scream. You had always been a passionate person. You would curse out paparazzi and make rude remarks. You would play the villain so Robin didn’t have to ruin her image by standing up for herself, but now you could only be as you were. A corpse laying on the ground waiting to be engulfed by the earth.

“I wasn’t allowed to. No one is supposed to know of her death. The family.. is covering it up until more information comes out.”

“How did she die.. how can anyone die in the dreamscape?” You asked. He paused.

“She was.. murdered… as for death in the dreamscape, I’m just as puzzled as you are.” He said, but you felt he knew more. You had no more fight in you now though, he could shoot you right here and you wouldn’t budge or try to dodge.

“If death can happen in the dreamscape… could it happen to me too.” You didn’t mean to say that outloud but he heard it anyways.

“Are-are you saying that you wish to die!” He sounded shocked.

“I don’t have anything outside of work. All I have ever been is a employee for brighter stars, Robin was the only one who made life more enjoyable and lively. I haven’t. I promised to protect her till the end and I failed. The least I could do is join her in death.” You said. You didn’t bother to look at his face.

“I understand how you feel. I miss Robin too. I want nothing more than to find her murderer and drag them through the streets. I’d love nothing more than to just curse them out on live television. But i cannot.”

“I loved her Sunday. I loved her more than anything in this life, dreamscape, reality, nothing compared to her. I’d pluck the stars from the skies if she asked, I’d grovel at her feet and lay my jacket in muddy puddles if she asked. I’d do anything.. and now all I’m left with is this pain. I hate it… I hate it.” You sat up clutching your head.

“I understand. I never had any doubts that you loved her. Nor did I ever doubt your loyalty to her once. All my life I have been the protective brother, I felt like I had to be, the world was so cruel and she was so innocent. When you joined it made me worried, I did everything I could to find something against you, nothing weighed enough to prove my suspicions right. If anyone was a good fit for my sister, it was you.” He said. You sighed.

“How am I supposed to live like this then? What exactly should I live for. What use is life when no one gives you a reason to live.” You sighed.

“I don’t want to lose you too. Although we aren’t close, I don’t want to be the only one in this world who grieves for her. The loneliness I feel is so much worse without her.”

“Its hard to smile when you have nothing to smile for huh?” You added. “How do you plan on handling this, you always have a plan don’t you?”

“I do alright. I’ll make that.. creature pay…” his tone changed. You looked at him with a little surprise. You learned a lot more about your almost brother in law in this moment than you had the years you worked for his sister.

“Wouldn’t it be dangerous, if it can kill people in the dreamscape then how could you possibly.. handle it.”

“Rest assured I have my plans and theories. If you would like, I could use help enacting some.” He said. You sat uncertain. His tone was more unhinged, his hands were clutched at the table’s edge so tight you swore the wood creaked. The halo on his head shook as he attempted to steady himself. You were scared seeing him like this. He had been mad before but he never once let down that polite smile or mannered voice.

“Just get me a bottle of something and I’ll hear you out. I don’t want to feel this pain in my chest anymore.”

“That’s not an answer.” He said. You pondered for a minute. You weighed by grief, kept in the seat. But you knew you needed something to do if you wanted to live.

“I’ll help.“ you answered.

[n0tamused]

Hi! I saw that you requests were open and I had a brain rot about an idea, with platonic! Ratio with a student who acts like Bronya Zaychik. Feel free to ignore this if you don't feel like writing this! I love your work sm! Take care🗣🗣🗣

- 🧈 anon

A/N: My first emoji anon >:D Hello! Thank you so much for your request, I do hope I did it justice. I do have to say I did not play HI3 besides a little bit of the start, so I am not that well versed with Bronya's character there, but I did ask a friend to tell me about her, so I hope this is alright <3 Enjoy! You take care too!

Contents: PLATONIC! Dr Ratio x Reader, hcs, fluff?? Fight me

-Dr. Ratio is hard to get close to, both as a professor and an individual outside the Intelligentsia Guild. With that comes great impartiality when dealing with people, no one gets a better or a necessarily worse treatment by him, unless they’re really asking for it

-This does not mean that he is not keen on observation. Seldom few things can go by him without his notice, and that includes the little details about the students he teaches. The things they think escape the view of others

-It took some time, some odd few months before he really began to focus a bit more on you, all past observations accounting up to what he thinks now. His view definitely changed, positively so too.

-He is very appreciative of you, as a bright spark among the sea of dull minds, and he also began to look forward to your essays and exam papers. Although his rather harsh outward demeanor is yet to soften, it is clear he is taking steps to take a bit more care about you, taking steps to nurture your mind and to encourage its further growth

-Dr. Ratio really does want to spread knowledge far and wide, that is his life mission, and his way of teaching can be hard to catch on to, something he is aware of. So whenever he does see someone grasping his talks and being in tune with the material, he will do his best to not let that student stray from this path

-As a professor it is his duty and responsibility to be like that, but he takes that duty on tenfold

-During the days and classes which are spent in practical learning, Dr. Ratio would observe your way of going about the task, the way you look so…deadpan when being seemingly sarcastic with your peers, and how much you just cherish those few people in your closest circle, and how they cherish you in return- it is something that leaves him with an odd sense of pride in his chest.

-Having mentioned that, he finds it oddly peculiar and curious how you seem to refer to yourself as a third person too, and at times he does find it to be a pet peeve of his. In his mind it’s a cruel way to demean yourself like that, and at times when it seems as if you’re being rude to yourself, he will jump in to correct you - not only on the way you refer to yourself, but also the way you talk about yourself. He may be blunt, but he is not unnecessarily rude and there is care interwoven between his sharp words. Dr. Ratio does not take out rage on his students either, unless asked for, obviously - when did he ever mince his words or  actions with idiots? But you are human, so at least treat yourself as one.

-It is an odd feeling Dr. Ratio feels,  a sense of paternal protectiveness when it comes to you after a long while of teaching you and getting to know you through small talks here and there and through the answers you offer. 

-Should you encounter an issue, any issue, rest assured, Dr. Ratio does not mind repeating himself - after he let a small sassy remark fall from his lips about having to repeat himself. He shows you how he does it himself, before letting you take a go under his watchful eye. You may even catch a subtle praise or two slip from him

-He is well aware of the setbacks you can encounter, mainly with the issues of walking and going about. Dr. Ratio would try to accommodate the needs of his students, including you, as practically as he could. Thankfully, you won’t need to walk much at all during his classes. 

-Going back to the protectiveness he feels, he sort of has that demeanor which in a nutshell is just “I can yell at them but no one else can”. The other professors at the Guild can really strike his nerves when they are just rude and cruel to students, and aeons save the person that dares to dig their nasty teeth into either one of his students. They’re not gonna hear the end of it

-Say what you want about him, but one thing that is not true is that Dr. Ratio is emotionless, or that he lacks empathy. He was a student once too, and someone’s child. And now you’re his student, and while you may not be coddled in any way, you will be taken care of.

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for being suspicious of a coworker buying me food?

I (18 FtM) work at a retail store. one of my coworkers "Bob" (40s-50s M) has a bad reputation for being unnecessarily argumentative/rude with customers and has allegedly sexually harassed coworkers. he's decently nice to me most of the time, but I view him as a generally shitty person and try to limit interactions with him

Bob semi-frequently buys snacks for other coworkers to share. for example, he once bought grapes for a group of coworkers bc one coworker mentioned wanting some. he has also bought packs of oreos and similar things for people to share. he's never said why he does this and is the only person who will randomly buy food for people. I always decline when Bob offers me food because I have many allergies which he is aware of

now for the actual AITA. yesterday, Bob bought me gluten free oreos. when he first offered me them, I thought it was a prank and was suspicious. he explained it was because he felt bad that I couldn't eat most of the snacks he had bought in the past, so I at that point I just thanked him politely and took them

immediately after this, I went to chat with another coworker about Bob buying me oreos. she agreed it was pretty weird. a few hours later, she ended up joking to Bob that I said it was suspicious that he bought me oreos. this is true, I said that and I did feel that way. Bob seemed to be genuinely hurt by this – not angry, just slightly sad

when I was leaving for the night, Bob approached me to ask if I wasn't taking the oreos home. I realized that I had forgotten them at the guest service desk. this was just me being genuinely forgetful, but he again seemed slightly sad. after that I retrieved the oreos and did bring them home

I haven't seen him since bc this literally happened yesterday, but I'm honestly feeling bad about the whole thing. he was trying to be nice to me, but I was too suspicious of him to just be polite and take them. but at the same time, he's not a great guy and I feel that it's reasonable for me to be suspicious of a man who is decades older than me randomly buying me food. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[apheliia]

HYDRANGEAS, CH. 1. — In which Tokito [Name] is invited to join the Corps.

— series synopsis. Hydrangeas, in some cultures, have been known to symbolize apology. The Hashira Tokito [Name] has many things to apologize for, indeed.

— trigger & content warnings. minor blood.

— pairings & notes. tokito muichiro, tokito yuichiro, ubuyashiki amane, ubuyashiki kagaya, rengoku kyojuro, & reader. reader is 11 in this chapter. reader is gender neutral (they/them pronouns used). 10k words.

— author's thoughts. hydrangeas is also posted on ao3!

    Snap. Snap. Snap.

    The repeated sound of splitting and snapping wood fibers, of an axe tearing through the middle of logs, was among one of the few sounds filling the air—the chirping of distant birds, the soft rustle of the breeze through blades of grass and leaves… it was quite serene, in a way. The young one responsible for cutting up spare firewood huffed, wiping away a little bit of sweat that collected at their brow before continuing; their muscles did not throb or ache, and they were quite used to completing household chores that demanded strength or endurance, but that didn’t change the fact that their task could indeed be a laborious one.

    A series of quieter snaps and the soft crunching of grass underneath the weight of someone’s footsteps drew their attention, and they stopped, turning around to face the direction that the noises had come from.

    Briefly, they had thought that their family had returned—they weren’t expecting any visitors, but they were expecting their father, mother, and little brothers to return sometime soon. However, they quickly realized that such a thing simply was not possible; had that been the case, there would have been four pairs of footsteps, but they could only discern two.

    Furthermore, when they turned around, they did not see any trace of their family. Instead, a light-haired woman and another person clad in what they guessed to be some kind of uniform stood a comfortable distance away from them., and… was that a blade? It was sheathed, and the uniform-wearing stranger did not seem keen on drawing it, but still!

    Their heart picked up speed for two reasons. One, that person had a weapon; anyone with any sense of danger would be concerned if someone armed approached them unexpectedly. Two, it was… kind of cool, actually. They knew better than to exclaim and gush about how cool that sword looked and ask about where the person had gotten it or what it was used for—was this person a martial artist? A samurai? Though, they thought that samurais no longer existed… then a shinobi, maybe? Or a former samurai?

    …Right. No. They knew better than to ask. These people were strangers. Even if that woman was practically ethereal, carrying herself with such beauty and grace that they really would not have doubted her if she said she was nobility, and that person had a very cool sword… they were still strangers.

    Of course, that didn’t mean that they needed to be unnecessarily harsh or rude. The people did not seem to have ill-intent, anyway; if they did, something surely would have happened by now.

    “Hello,” they greeted kindly, offering the two a polite smile as they set their axe down next to the pile of chopped wood. “Are you lost, miss? I can take you to the nearby village, if so.”

    “No,” she replied. “Thank you, young one, but we are not lost.”

    “Oh? Um… then…”

    It was as if she had read their mind, going on to answer their unspoken question:

    “I have come to find you.”

    “Me?” A variety of emotions flashed across their features—fear, disconcertment, unease—before finally settling on cautious curiosity. “Why?”

    Her professional, cool disposition did not falter at all. “You are the descendant of a great swordsman,” she vaguely explained, her tone smooth and almost soothing, in a way. “My duty, the purpose of my visit, is to ask if you would like to join the Demon Slayer Corps and carry on the legacy that he left behind.”

    “I… I am?”

    “Yes.”

    “I…” they trailed off, head almost spinning at the information she relayed to them and its implications, but with how earnest her expression seemed… it was hard to think that she was lying. That would explain the swordsman at her side (who had yet to say a single word and seemed to be largely on guard, constantly surveying the area for threats, ready to strike at a moment’s notice; perhaps this woman was not nobility, but she must have been important in one way or another to have such a stoic, attentive bodyguard).

    Demon Slayers—they did not doubt their existence. After all, their father often spoke of them, but it seemed so impossible. So fictional, like the kinds of stories and tales that one might tell a child to help them fall asleep.

    Yet, standing before them was a mysterious woman asking if they wanted to join them.

    “...I thought Demon Slayers were just fictional. Like— like the stories you tell little kids.”

    The uniform-clad person beside her made a noise at that. It sounded like a laugh. They were being laughed at.

    “Most people do,” she said, nodding, and the person next to her straightened up again; it was as if that person realized that maybe they shouldn’t have laughed, since it was a common misconception. “Demon Slayers are not recognized by the government. Therefore, save for the people who are already Demon Slayers and their families, most people do not believe in demons.” She stopped, but then clarified: “...But they are real, and they are an active threat.”

    “Um, would you like to have tea?” Nervously, they wrung their hands together. “I’m sorry, I… it’s a lot to take in at once, and I don’t want to force you to stand for as long as it takes to explain it to me. I think that would make me a rude host. So, um, would you like to have tea with me, miss?”

    "Very well."

    With a kind smile that seemed to waver and tremble a little bit under the intensity of the gaze of her bodyguard, they approached the woman, gingerly taking one of her hands in theirs and leading her along the path paved by frequent usage. She seemed surprised, eyes widening and calm expression faltering somewhat.

    …But then, her lips twitched upwards into the ghost of an adorning smile at the sheer innocence of their actions as she allowed herself to be led along, the Demon Slayer following close behind.

    “Oh!” They stopped, turning around to face her. “I’m so sorry, miss, I never asked for your name.”

    “That is quite alright,” she reassured, the diplomacy in her demeanor seeming to soften quite significantly as she looked down at them. “My name is Ubuyashiki Amane.”

    “I suppose I probably don’t have to introduce myself to you…”

    “No, you do not. It is a pleasure to meet you, Tokito [Name].”

                       — flower of the universe !! 🌸

    “Should I call you Lady Amane?” they wondered softly as their calloused hands carefully poured the tea into three cups—one for them, one for Amane, and one for the Demon Slayer. The person seemed surprised as they handed one cup to them, offering a quiet ‘thank you’ in response. “Or, um, Lady Ubuyashiki?”

    “Most of the Corps’ children would call me Lady Amane,” she explained, “but you do not have to, since it is just us. You may call me Mrs. Ubuyashiki or even Mrs. Amane if you wish. Truthfully, even in front of others, you may still address me a bit less formally. It is only a display of respect, and we do not demand respect from our children. It is completely up to you if you wish to refer to me formally or informally.”

    A timid smile graced their face as they gazed down at the cup clutched between their two hands. “Mrs. Ubuyashiki… if I am a descendant of a swordsman, does that mean my little brothers are as well? And one of my parents?”

    “Yes, that is correct,” Amane confirmed, “but neither my husband nor I could ask young children to make the same commitment that we are asking of you. Furthermore, we also cannot ask a father to leave his home—his wife and his children—to fight in a war that defies nature, such as this one.”

    She raised the cup to her lips, basking in and appreciating both the warmth and flavor of the tea. It was a very much welcomed courtesy after her journey to find them.

    Silence descended upon the group for a short moment.

    Their little brothers, the twins… they were only four. She was indeed correct; they barely knew right from wrong at that age. It was far too young, and to ask their father to abandon his wife and little children would be deeply insensitive. She was right.

    Perhaps…

    Perhaps they really were the only viable candidate among their family at the moment.

    Before they could speak, Amane did.

    “Please understand that this is your choice,” she said. “We will not hold it against you if you say no. It is a difficult burden to bear. There are not many people who are suited for it, and there is no shame in being unsuited to carry such a weight on your shoulders.”

    “I understand,” they reassured, gnawing on the corner of their lip thoughtfully. “If… If I were to join the Demon Slayer Corps, what would that mean? What would happen?”

    Amane hummed thoughtfully. It was a valid question, and one that she had to answer very wisely.

    “If you were to join the Corps,” she began, “it would mean that you lose the promise of a tomorrow.”

    “I don’t think anyone is promised a tomorrow,” they cut in. “I mean, there is no way of knowing if we’ll really wake up tomorrow morning, is there? That’s why you have to cherish the moment while you’re in it, and be kind without reservation.”

    “...You’re right, little one. No-one who walks this world is promised a tomorrow. The members of the Corps have a very special understanding of this. If you join, you must understand that you could die at any given time, but it seems you already know this.”

    “My father taught me that. We don’t live very long, so we should make the most of it.”

    She smiled. They could not help but mirror it.

    “He was right.” She then continued, “Given that you understand this idea, I do not feel the need to emphasize it any longer. You asked what would happen, what it would mean to join… it would mean joining a war. You are welcome to leave at any time, but most do not. Many spend their entire lives fighting off demons to keep other people safe.”

    “I would be protecting others.”

    “Yes.”

    “So…” They met her gaze; there was a kind of wisdom in their young eyes, and it astounded her a bit. “Even though I would be leaving my family for who knows how long, I would get to protect them. To lower the chance that a demon might wander into our home and… and unjustly end our lives. If I joined the Corps, we wouldn’t be defenseless…”

    Demons were an invisible threat—a threat that they did not know existed, but one that they were now acutely aware of, and one that they would not be able to forget now that it had been revealed to them.

    “Yes.”

    “I could protect innocent lives.”

    “You could, indeed, but there is another thing you must be aware of: to join the Corps, you must train for and then survive a week-long event on a demon-infested mountain. Many people train for at least two years before this event, but some… well, some train for a much shorter amount of time and still survive. It will depend on you and your specific abilities.”

    "I see," they murmured softly, allowing the information to sink in. They stared into the swirling green tea in their cup.

    They were only eleven, soon to turn twelve. Were they capable of making this kind of decision? Were they allowed to? Was this okay? What might their father say, when they inevitably discuss the entirety of their encounter with Amane with him?

    …

    They didn’t know. They couldn’t be sure, but their heart was set—they wanted to do this. Protecting people, they and their father both believed, was a noble endeavor; he always encouraged them to be kind and selfless, and… it was indeed true that they mostly wanted to protect their family from a threat that otherwise could not be fended off. Nonetheless, they would still protect strangers.

    They would get to protect everyone.

    At their extended silence, Amane spoke up, "I understand if this is jarring and sudden—"

    “No— I mean, it is,” they managed to chuckle a bit as they gazed at her. “It’s okay, though, because if I become a Demon Slayer, I can protect people. I can protect my family so that no demon ever gets the chance to hurt them, right?”

    Amane was quiet for a second. Then, she offered the smallest yet sweetest smile. "Yes, that’s right."

                       — flower of the universe !! 🌸

    The golden afternoon light bathed their face in its gentle warmth.

    Shortly following Amane’s departure, they had returned to chopping wood, though the encounter never did leave their head. Truthfully, for the following hours, it was all they could think about; the repetitive nature of their task did not make it any easier not to focus on what had happened.

    However, what did make it easy to forget about (at least, for the moment) was the sound of small, excited footsteps heading in their direction. They smiled to themselves, setting the axe down before turning around.

    “[Name]! [Name], look!” the brighter of the twins, Muichiro, exclaimed as he ran up to them, stumbling cutely to a stop before thrusting his arm outwards and up towards them. In it, a little flower was clasped. “It’s for you!”

    Amusedly trailing behind the boy were both parents and his slightly older brother, whose hand was held only somewhat securely in his mother’s. They waved with a bright smile at their parents before turning their attention back to their brother and kneeling down. “Aw,” they cooed. “Thank you Mui. That’s really sweet.”

    “Yuichiro has one too, but he’s too shy to give it to you,” the boy commented as he gently, gingerly placed the flower behind their ear.

    “Oh?” they replied, a teasing lilt in their voice as they curiously shifted their gaze from the youngest twin to the eldest. Yuichiro puffed out his slightly flushed cheeks with childish irritation that they had to actively restrain themselves from cooing at. “Is that so?”

    “Don’t say that, Muichiro,” Yuichiro huffed, shaking his hand free of his mother’s grip and reluctantly shuffling over to them. “Here,” he murmured, tucking his flower behind their other ear.

    They stared. Yuichiro knew instantly that he was in trouble. ‘Trouble,’ of course, meaning nothing serious—only that they were going to relentlessly tease him until the event became overshadowed by other tease-worthy occurrences.

    “You know, that’s cute,” they teased, hands reaching out and gently patting each of their heads, “you guys are the cutest.”

    Their parents only smiled at the interaction.

                       — flower of the universe !! 🌸

    “Papa,” they murmured quietly from their place a few feet behind him where they were sitting on a vacant stump, fidgeting with their sleeves as they thought about how to proceed—how to bring up what had happened earlier in the day. The rhythmic snapping of wood that they had grown so used to came to a halt as the man smiled, his warm eyes turning to his oldest child.

    The light of the afternoon had long since sunk below the horizon, leaving the sky an ombre of blues as it got darker, shadows enveloping the world in the sun’s absence. Their father’s voice was gentle, considerate of their blatant anxiety, as he asked, “What is it?”

    “You know the stories about Demon Slayers you tell me sometimes?” they wondered, gaze directed downwards as an inexplicable sense of guilt began to settle in their gut. It was as if they were doing something wrong, as if the direction that the conversation would inevitably go in was somehow punishable. He walked over to them, kneeling in front of where they were sitting. “Are— are they true..?”

    “Of course. I wouldn’t tell you lies,” he laughed, reaching out to ruffle their hair. For a brief moment, the gesture seemed to calm their racing heart and trembling palms ever so slightly, but the anxiety came back just as soon as it had gone. “Why the sudden interest?”

    Their stomach twisted.

    …But really, they had no way out of it now—the truth was going to come out one way or another, and if they tried to back out, it would look suspicious.

    They always told him when something was bothering them. This ‘something’ should have been no different, but it was.

    “Um, when you all were out today…” they trailed off, now picking at the skin around their nails. Their father’s gentle but calloused—equally calloused as their own, if not more so—hands cupped theirs the second they began to do so. It was as if he was softly discouraging them from doing something that could be potentially harmful. Of course, the gentle discouragement would never be enough to fully put a stop to the habit, but it was good enough for the time being.

    “Go on. What is on your mind?”

    “When you all were out today,” they continued, taking a deep breath to soothe themselves, “a woman visited. She was nice. Her name was Ubuyashiki Amane. She explained to me that I had descended from a swordsman.”

    “That’s true,” their father confirmed, thumbs rubbing along their knuckles. “Somewhere on my side of the family, I believe, there was a great swordsman.”

    “Right.” They nodded. “She didn’t say what side, but… that’s what she told me. She’s the wife of the leader of the Demon Slayer Corps, and she asked me if I would join them.”

    “...Well, do you want to?”

    “Yes…” Ashamed heat built up underneath their skin, and they only managed to squeak out a quiet ‘I’m sorry.’

    “No, no,” he immediately insisted, gripping his child’s hands with more purpose now. “Don’t be sorry. Just answer me this, okay? Do you understand the implications of that?”

    They could only nod. It was far too hard to speak under the weight of guilt and shame and embarrassment creeping around their neck and onto their chest. 

    “You are no weak child.” He smiled again. “I have to be honest, [Name]. I would rather that you didn’t join them, but I also know that you would make a fine swordsman.”

    “You— you think so?”

    “I’m certain of it.”

    A calm, reassuring silence descended. They were exceedingly aware of the ambient sounds of the night—the distant hum of insects, the—now much colder—breeze still weaving its way through the grass and leaves…

    “I know it’s dangerous,” they whispered, “but I want to be able to save people, papa. I want to be able to save you and mama and— and Mui and Yui—” 

    “Shh. I know, little one. The last thing I want is to see you get hurt,” he said, now caressing their face with his hands and bringing his forehead to theirs, “but that is a beautiful want. I raised you this way, so this comes as no surprise to me. Will she be returning?”

    “She said she would come back in three days.”

    He then withdrew, pressing a kiss to the crown of their head. “Then… I suppose I’ll have to let you go in three days.”

                       — flower of the universe !! 🌸

    That night, the only thing they could hear was the pounding of rain on the roof and the roaring of rain throughout the night.

    A soft sigh left their lips, head resting against one of the walls of their small, cozy room. Despite the powerful sense of safety their little room induced, sleep failed to find them. No matter how hard they tried, they simply could not fall asleep. Was it anxiety? Was it the stress of the day, of the decision they made? Was it the knowledge that in three days, they’d be leaving? They didn’t know. They couldn’t be sure. 

    Again, they sighed. Their eyelids closed as they listened to the repetitive tapping of the rain.

    Over the rain, they just barely managed to catch the sound of their door sliding open, but they did manage to catch it. Their tired eyes opened. Upon seeing the boy in the doorway, they smiled.

    “Hi, Yui.”

    It most certainly was not the first time one of the twins ran to their room late at night; shockingly, however, it was usually the oldest who would run to them. Muichiro was notorious for being a heavy sleeper, and he generally didn’t have nightmares, nor did thunderstorms wake him up. Yuichiro, however, slept far more lightly and was prone to waking up in the middle of the night. He disliked bothering his parents and would typically be the one to comfort Muichiro if he couldn’t sleep, so who did the older of the twins end up running to when he had trouble sleeping?

    His older sibling, of course. They would not have it any other way.

    “I guess the thunder’s just a bit too loud for you tonight,” they mused, just loud enough to be heard over the storm but not loud enough to potentially wake up anyone else. Yuichiro trembled, chewing on his bottom lip; even in the dark, they could still see the gloss of unshed tears in his eyes. “C’mere,” they murmured, opening their arms invitingly. “Guess mama and papa are asleep if you’re running to me, huh? And I’ll bet Mui is too, the heavy sleeper he is.”

    Yuichiro nodded quickly, shuffling over to them. They lifted up their blanket, readjusting it over his head when he crawled onto their futon. The way the blanket draped over his head and body almost made it look as if he was wearing a cloak of sorts—the thought made them giggle. 

    When loud thunder suddenly struck, the boom! resonating all throughout the area, he squeaked, burying his face in their torso. They hummed, leaning back against the wall. "It’s okay to be scared," they murmured now that he was close enough to hear. Soothingly, their fingers toyed with his long hair. "I’m here. I’m watching over you. You’re safe, alright?"

    Though he would likely not admit it out loud, their words soothed the fear building in his little body. He finally relaxed against their chest.

    Soon enough, he'd fallen asleep like that. It was easy to tell; the frantic, panicked breaths had become steady and slow, and he would no longer give any indication of having heard whatever they were saying to him. After some time of sitting there with him, they found that his light weight against their chest was aiding with their own sleeplessness. Eventually, they too managed to fall asleep.

    The next morning consisted much of their parents cooing over how cute the two were.

                       — flower of the universe !! 🌸

    Three days passed peacefully without incident.

    Just as Amane had promised, she returned on the morning of the fourth day, again with a Demon Slayer at her side. They weren’t sure if it was the same one, but they supposed that didn’t really matter much. 

    “Shall we take this conversation outside?” their mother suggested, to which they nodded… but they did not fail to notice their little brothers’ intense stares boring into the back of their skull from their hiding place behind one of the other doors, and it seemed that their mother also noticed.

    “I’ll tell them to wait in here, mama.”

    She smiled, thanking her child before stepping outside with her husband and Amane. Only when the front door had shut did they turn around, meeting their brothers’ gazes with equal intensity, making them squeak in unison.

    “Psst. Come here, you two.”

    Defeatedly, the twins waddled out. Muichiro was lightly clutching Yuichiro’s sleeve. Perhaps it was because of the presence of an unfamiliar woman? Muichiro was shy. He always had been—Yuichiro was the calmer one, in that respect. Muichiro was friendly, having waved timidly in Amane’s direction when she entered, but he was still shy. Their father was always trying to encourage him to be bolder, but that was easier said than done. It was often in his moments of anxiety, such as the current one, that he clung onto his twin brother, so… they supposed that could be why. 

    No. That was most definitely why.

    They kneeled down to the height of their little siblings. “Listen, I’m going away for some time, okay?”

    Muichiro’s reaction was instant—little mint eyes widened as he immediately reached forward, now tugging on their sleeve with a pouty expression. “No,” he whined. “[Name] can’t leave…”

    “I’m not leaving forever!” they quickly clarified, at which the younger twin seemed to calm down somewhat. “I’ll visit as much as I can, and I’ll send lots of letters and presents, okay?”

    They knew very well that they could not promise many visits, though… they would try their best. Hopefully, that would be enough for their brothers.

    Yuichiro, too, pouted, shooting them a childishly cute glare as he—rather weakly; he was just far too little to do any real damage—punched their arm. “You better,” he huffed.

    “Of course,” they reassured. “I can’t disappoint my little brothers, now can I?”

    Both boys shook their heads, as if to agree and say, ‘No, you can’t.’ Though, they were not oblivious, and they took notice of the generally downcast demeanors the two bore. Well… if their mother wasn’t here, wasn’t looking, then… they grinned a mischievous smile, reaching into the clothes draped over their body and pulled out two pieces of candy. Their clothes, particularly the folds and the sleeves, were exceptional places to store bribery material.

    The two children seemed to brighten up almost instantly at the sight of the sweets in their open palm (though, the brightening was less obvious on Yuichiro’s face, but they could tell that his mood did indeed improve, if only a little). Each took one from their palm, and they leaned forward to press kisses to each of their foreheads.

    “Don’t tell mama, okay?”

“[Name],” Yuichiro whined in protest, his face twisting in dramatic disgust. Muichiro only giggled at his brother’s annoyance. “Gross.”

    “Oh, hush,” they replied. “It’s not gross.”

    “Yeah, it is,” the older of the twins insisted, sticking his tongue out at them, to which they playfully rolled their eyes. “Bleh.”

    “Hey, you’re going to miss my ‘gross’ affection when I’m not at home all the time to give it to you,” they laughed as they stood up. “I’m going to head outside now, okay? Me, mama, and papa are just going to talk to that nice lady, so wait in here for us.”

    When the twins finally nodded, their reluctance not completely erased but placated for the moment, they finally slid open the front door and stepped out of the house.

    “Good morning, Lady Amane,” they greeted with a little smile as they closed the door behind them before walking over to said woman, who was in conversation with their parents. A small smile graced her elegant features once her eyes landed on them.

    “Hello, child.”

    A hand belonging to none other than their father found its way onto their head, ruffling their locks of hair, before falling back to his side. “So, they’ll have a safe place to stay while training, and you won’t let them go to… ah, forgive me—the Final Selection, was it called?”

    “Yes,” she confirmed, “and please, do not worry. We would not permit a child under our care to partake in the selection unless they were fully prepared to do so. Furthermore, we would be more than happy to host them at our home on the days that they do not return home.”

    Though their mother was reluctant—far more so than their father—she sighed, wringing her hands together before her arms settled back down at her sides. “Well… very well, then.” Her cool, mint-toned eyes shifted downwards to them. They stared back up at her, wide-eyed and anticipating her response. Her nimble fingers gently raked through their hair, stroking over the top of her oldest child’s head and down to just below their ear, before settling on cupping their face. “You have to promise to write to us often and come to visit when you can, okay?”

    “Yes! I will, mama, I promise.”

    “Then… you may go. Be careful, love, and save lots of people, too.”

    “I will!”

                       — flower of the universe !! 🌸

    Truth be told, they did not own much. There wasn’t much of anything they needed to take with them—even clothes were not necessary, since Amane said that the Corps would cover it.

    Following the conversation, after giving hugs and—much to Yuichiro’s absolute despair—kisses, they left alongside the woman.

    “The journey back will be long,” Amane began, tilting her face in their direction to speak directly to them. They couldn’t help but admire the way her pale locks framed her face, tickling her cheeks and truly reinforcing the noble image of her that they had created in their head. “Therefore, we will spend the night at the current Flame Hashira’s manor. Demons are at their most active at nighttime, as they cannot survive exposure to direct sunlight, so we should avoid traveling after sundown as diligently as possible.”

    “Hashira?”

    “Ah. You have not yet learned of our ranking system… it seems I neglected to explain that detail. I am sorry, little one.”

    “No, no!” They waved their hands frantically as they went on to reassure her: “Please don’t apologize to me! It’s okay! I’m sure there’s lots of things you couldn’t possibly have had the time to explain to me in the short conversations we’ve had! It’s not your fault!”

    “Shall I explain now, then?” Briefly, she turned to face the accompanying Demon Slayer. “How long is the trip to Lord Rengoku’s estate?”

    Immediately, the person straightened up, giving her their complete attention. “Yes, Lady Amane! The walk will be about three hours!”

    “Then,” she began, turning back to face them with what seemed to be her usual serenity, “we do have time, if you would like to hear the explanation of the ranking system as we walk. It will also be explained to you at the end of the Final Selection, but you needn’t wait until then if you would like to know in advance.”

    “If you wouldn’t mind”--they offered her a timid smile, almost embarrassed to ask such a thing of her, even though she was the one who extended the offer in the first place—”I would like to hear about it. Since— since we have the time. If you don’t mind. Um. I said that already, didn’t I..?”

    She mirrored their smile, except hers reflected great grace and calmness that theirs certainly lacked (at least, that it lacked in that moment; something about their situation felt exceedingly surreal, as if they could not believe that it was actually happening, so it was quite difficult to maintain a steady expression and tone). 

    “Very well. At the very bottom are Mizunotos…”

                       — flower of the universe !! 🌸

    Amane’s explanation, naturally, did not last the full three hours it took to reach the estate.

    Really, it only took about thirty minutes. They did, however, ask a multitude of questions that extended the length of the discussion for quite some time. The conversation drifted between topics—she did not have any children yet, they learned, though she did express the desire to have a few; they wondered if she felt at all compelled to, or if she simply wanted to be a mother… it wasn’t their place to make any kind of assumptions, so they did not dare to ask such a question—for some time, before settling into a comfortable silence for the remainder of the walk.

    By the time they reached the open gate of the house, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon.

    “Good afternoon, Lord Rengoku.”

    A man stood tall slightly in front of the gateway, white haori dipped in the tones of flames blowing in the breeze alongside his matching hair (really, all they could possibly think when they looked at him was flames). Beside him stood a boy practically identical to him.

    Oh, that had to be his son. They genuinely could not fathom another explanation.

    “Lady Amane,” the older man greeted, his sharp gaze briefly flicking in their direction and making them squeak at its intensity, “welcome. I hope your journey was pleasant.”

    “It went smoothly. Thank you for your concern.” She then reached out, placing a gentle hand on their upper back. They instinctively straightened up somewhat, now completely under the scrutiny of that intense-eyed man and his intense-eyed son. “This is Tokito [Name], one living descendant of the first swordsman to use Breathing Styles, Tsugikuni Yoriichi.”

    “I see.”

    “It— It’s nice to meet you, sir!” they exclaimed, voice wavering slightly under the weight of their sudden shyness, bowing at the waist level.

    Silence.

    Then, a gruff snort—a chuckle—from the older man. A tough hand settled on their head and ruffled their locks. “Hey, kid. I am Rengoku Shinjuro, the Demon Slayer Corps’ Flame Hashira. Stand up straight. You know how to use a sword?”

    “I don’t, sir,” they replied, straightening their body once again and beginning to pick at the skin around their nails. 

    (This time, their father was not there to gently stop them. It was too soon to be growing homesick, but suddenly, a little bit of sadness settled in their gut. They could only hope that it did not show on their face.)

    “Well, now’s as good a time as any to start learning.” He turned his attention to his son. “Kyojuro—”

    “Yes, father!”

Oh. They winced. That boy was surely going to blow their eardrums out if he kept talking like that, but at the very least, his enthusiasm made them feel a bit better.

    “--why don’t you go ahead and teach them the basics of swordsmanship?”

    He beamed at the idea; they almost had to squint at the sheer brightness his face shone with. “Yes, father!”

    Kyojuro looked at them with a grin, his shoulders squared and proud as he extended one of his hands to them. “I am Rengoku Kyojuro!”

    “It’s nice to meet you, Rengoku, I’m— ah?!” they cut themselves off with a yelp as, the very second they placed their hand in his, he darted off beyond the gates and into the estate’s grounds, effectively dragging them along with him. They barely even had time to spare Amane a glance.

    Then, he suddenly stopped, causing them to stumble into his back with a small ‘oof!’

    “Ow.”

    “Sorry!” he apologized, glancing around the open space, as if searching for something. His gaze landed on a weapon rack, and his face immediately brightened again as he walked over to it. Two wooden swords, among a variety of other weapons, rested there. He picked up both. Then, with only a quick ‘Catch!’ as a warning, he tossed one in their direction.

    Deft hands caught it by the handle.

    Having spent much of their childhood chopping wood, they knew not to catch or grab any tools by the blade unless completely necessary.

    (When Muichiro was two, a visitor to their home left one hatchet in an extremely poor place. When it fell down, it may have very well split the poor boy’s face in half…

    …If not for their stopping it with their hand, that is. He did end up with a little bit of blood on his face, but they were just thankful that it wasn’t his; their wound meant nothing as long as he was okay. The scar, even two years later, would still stare back at them if they were to open their right hand and look for it—a huge slit across their palm that could have very easily affected their grip strength permanently. It served as a reminder of the stupid things they would do to protect their little brothers.

    Their current endeavor was also kind of stupid, now that they thought about it.)

    Technically, the wooden sword had no blade. It was more about the principle than the actual situation; they should never get into the habit of grabbing a wooden sword by its “blade,” lest that habit end up getting them hurt when they start using real swords with real blades.

    Kyojuro seemed delighted at their handling of the practice sword, too.

    “Okay!” he exclaimed. “Your first lesson is on how to hold the sword correctly! And the proper stance!”

    “The correct stance…” they echoed quietly.

    “Yes. When you stand, your feet should be shoulder’s width apart,” Kyojuro explained. Subconsciously, they adjusted their stance when he explained. He seemed to have calmed down somewhat by then, the volume of his voice having lowered quite considerably as he settled into his explanation. He approached them, gently and carefully tapping the back of their locked knees with his practice sword. “Also, don’t lock your knees”

    “Right.”

    “If you lock your knees, it makes it easier for people to knock you off balance. Sometimes it also can lead to injuries or make it easier for you to be injured, so keep them slightly bent at all times. There might be exceptions later down the line, but that’s just the general rule.”

    The younger child stepped back, raising his hand to his chin thoughtfully as he picked apart their stance for any significant errors or anything that needed to be corrected. When he found nothing, he nodded firmly, his bright smile returning to replace the thoughtful expression on his face.

    “Onto holding the sword, then!”

                       — flower of the universe !! 🌸

    By the time Kyojuro had gone over all the basics that he felt were necessary, the sun had long since set, leaving the moon in its wake to bathe the Earth below in its soothing, cool light. The boy with the fiery hair had insisted on sparring with them.

    ‘Just a little!’ he had said. ‘I won’t push you too hard!’

    …They shot said boy a playful glare as their chest heaved, the wooden sword helping to support some of their weight as they caught their breath. They were careful to not put too much weight on the sword, though—oh, they’d feel terrible if they somehow broke or chipped it, no matter how unlikely that scenario actually was.

    (Amane had mentioned on the journey to the Flame Estate that Hashira are paid as much as they want, so they were fairly certain that Shinjuro would easily be able to afford a replacement without even causing so much as a dent in his savings. Still… they were a guest. To just waltz into someone’s home and recklessly break their belongings would be utterly unforgivable!

    …Even if that wouldn’t have even been close to what would have happened.)

    Kyojuro laughed boisterously at the look they gave him. “You’re strong, Tokito!”

    “Thanks… so are you. Ahh… my arms hurt…”

    He didn’t reply for a moment—if he was looking at something, they couldn’t really tell, as their head was tilted down while they tried to catch their breath and slow their racing heartbeat.

    “Oh!” he suddenly gasped, grabbing their hand and running over to one of the entrances to the house. “Hello, mother! This is Tokito [Name]!”

    Between the shock of being suddenly dragged along again and the panting from sparring with him, it took them a minute to raise their head. When they did, however, they were greeted with the sight of a dark-haired, red-eyed woman (she looked concerningly pale, they noted, but did not ask about something so potentially personal) with a boy identical to Kyojuro and his father clutching her sleeve shyly. He didn’t dare to meet their gaze, no matter how gentle they may have looked.

    “You have a brother?” they asked Kyojuro, smiling kindly at the little boy when he made a small noise of surprise at being indirectly addressed.

    Before the older son could respond, the woman did. “Yes,” she said. “This is Rengoku Senjuro, and I am Rengoku Ruka.”

    The lady of the house.

    “Ah, I’m— I’m so sorry for not addressing you first, Lady Rengoku!” they quickly apologized. “It’s just that I have—”

    She raised a hand, and they stopped.

    “Please. Mrs. Rengoku is perfectly fine,” she softly assured. “Continue, little one.”

    “Ah… of course, Mrs. Rengoku.” Heat rushed to their cheeks, and they reached up to shyly scratch the back of their neck. “I have little brothers that are probably around his age, and one of them is really shy. It just made me think of him, so I wanted to address Senjuro gently instead of pretending he wasn’t there. All kids are different, but… I think that maybe it helps to establish kindness first and foremost.”

    The ghost of a smile graced her lips at that. “It is to protect them that you’ve decided to join the Corps, yes?”

    “Yes, miss. That is a big part of why,” they started, “but I also want to protect a lot of other people, too. My dad always told me I should.”

    She nodded. Something unidentifiable flashed across her face for a moment, but just as fast as it had arrived, it left. All they could discern was that it was not necessarily negative. She then began to speak again.

    “Thank you for being Kyojuro’s friend. I hope Senjuro will also be friends with you one day.”

    The little boy buried his face in his mother’s side at that.

    Somehow—though they were sure it should not have been possible—Kyojuro’s face brightened immeasurably, as if it wasn’t bright enough already. He had yet to let go of their hand.

    “Oh— oh, of course!” No friendship had really been ‘formally established,’ in that he never explicitly asked if they wanted to be friends with him, but they didn’t mind much. “No, I really should be thanking him… he’s technically my first friend within the Corps, or my first friend who is associated with the Corps. It makes the idea of beginning my training before the Final Selection seem a lot less intimidating.”

    “That is good, then.” Her gaze shifted between the two of them. She looked as if she were contemplating something, as if whatever she planned to say next had to be considered carefully. Then, she finally murmured, “Protect one another out there, alright?”

                       — flower of the universe !! 🌸

    Morning had come quickly after the conversation with Ruka. They had been fed, clothed, and given a room to stay in. Once the sun had risen and they greeted the Hashira, they tried to return the nightclothes, but Shinjuro had simply brushed it off, telling them that they should keep the set. Following that, Amane had departed with them and her Demon Slayer guard, though not before they said their goodbyes to Kyojuro.

    The remainder of the walk—about four hours—was completed in peaceful silence.

    As they approached, finally approached, their destination, an overwhelming but not unpleasant scent filled their senses.

    “Wisteria?”

    “It wards off demons.”

    “I see…” they murmured, awestruck at the sheer amount of wisteria trees surrounding the estate, the vines draping down and creating what could only possibly be described as an ethereal barrier between the outside world and the important family that lived within. 

    Upon pushing past the flower barrier, their eyes widened somewhat.

    "This," Amane began, "is the Demon Slayer Corps' headquarters. My husband and I live here. You are welcome to stay here until after the Final Selection, when you begin missions."

    “Are…” They trailed off, eyes flicking around the astonishing expanse of the home and admiring its beauty. Their attention was also drawn to the masked Demon Slayers scurrying around; unlike regular Slayers, these did not bear weapons. Other Demon Slayers, they also noted, seemed to always be unmasked, but these... 

    “They’re the Kakushi,” Amane’s guard said. They blinked—once, twice. That was the first time that they’d heard that person speak a whole sentence. Ignoring their bewilderment, the guard went on: “You could think of them as a cleanup and medical crew. They’re usually the people who have no swordsmanship skills, but still wanted to help our cause in some way.”

    “Ah.”

    “Right. Well, then…” The Slayer stepped forward and bowed to Amane. “I will be taking my leave, Lady Amane! I pray for your continued safety!”

    “Very well.” Amane nodded. “Thank you for escorting us safely.”

    “Of course!”

    With that, the person was off, and they were reminded of what they were initially going to ask.

    “Um… are you sure it’s okay for me to stay here, Lady Amane? I wouldn’t want to be a bother. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

    “Worry not,” she reassured. “It is no imposition. Come along. The master would like to meet you."

    With graceful, practiced strides, she began walking again, and they were quick to stumble after her. They followed along closely as she entered the home (though not before removing her shoes, and they swiftly followed her motion), peering curiously down different hallways as they walked.

    Already, they could foresee themselves getting lost… and probably more than once. The halls weren’t particularly difficult to navigate—there were just an astonishing amount of them that branched off, leading to different rooms and sometimes even additional hallways. It was dizzying, in a way.

    They couldn’t linger on those thoughts for too long, though, as Amane slowed to a stop in front of one particular room. Her gentle hands slid the door open, and she motioned for them to go inside.

    “Go ahead. Master is waiting.”

    “You’re not coming?”

    She smiled. The gesture alone immensely reassured them, easing whatever irrational concerns they had fabricated in their mind. “No, young one. I also have my own responsibilities to take care of, but worry not. Whatever it is that you are expecting, whatever you have envisioned that is causing you such fear, I assure you that the boy in that room will be nothing like it.”

Boy?

    Nonetheless, they nodded, whispering a quiet ‘thank you’ to her before stepping inside. She slid the door closed once they did.

    Beyond the threshold of the door, they spotted him for the first time—a dark-haired boy barely any older than they were, sitting with his legs tucked underneath himself on one side of a short table. The other side was vacant, presumably a seat for anyone he needed to speak to. Their breath hitched.

    He really was a boy. If they had to guess, they would say he was maybe twelve or thirteen; he was virtually their age. It made them fleetingly wonder how he could sit there and look so graceful. When the weight of leading the entire Corps through what could only be described as a war, how could he look so at peace? They dared not ask. Maybe they were too afraid to, or perhaps they really didn’t want to know.

    His attention shifted to them, and he smiled.

    They would be nervous to be under his scrutiny, but… it really didn’t feel like he was scrutinizing them—only gazing over their nervous form. It was then that they took notice of the sickly purple threatening to creep down his face from his hairline, which was another thing they were not keen on asking about, whether that be because they did not want to come off as impolite or because they knew that the answer may not be pleasant.

    “Come. Have a seat,” he beckoned gently, tone making their head spin at its utter softness.

    They snapped out of their daze, timidly shuffling over to the table and gingerly situating themselves on the side opposite to him. Embarrassed heat flooded their cheeks at the simple thought alone that their first impression might have gone poorly. They stood there like a child awaiting instruction! They tried not to think too deeply about that, lest they grow overcome by the wish to melt into the floor and disappear. “Of course. I’m sorry.”

    “There is nothing to apologize for,” he reassured. “My name is Ubuyashiki Kagaya. You may address me in whatever manner that you feel most comfortable, but most of the Corps’ children call me me Master. It is a pleasure to meet you, [Name].”

    “Y— You as well,” they somehow managed to stutter out, feeling a bit lighter every time he spoke to them. 

    Carefully, with motions surely just as practiced as—if not more so than—Amane, he rose to his feet. “Walk with me. Any questions you may have, I would be more than happy to answer.”

                       — flower of the universe !! 🌸

    Questions, questions.

    They certainly had many. How did the Corps come to be? They had heard Lady Amane mention breathing styles—what exactly were they? Each question was answered in full with kind patience. Kagaya truly was more than happy to engage them as he brought them around the estate grounds. They’d even gotten answers to questions they were previously afraid to ask without even needing to work up the courage to ask them. Every single detail about the Corps was covered thoroughly, and the knowledge they attained was beyond reassuring. Things no longer seemed so intimidating.

    Of course, the idea of going head-to-head in combat with a demon whose strength undoubtedly exceeded theirs as a human was… certainly unsettling. It was still intimidating, but at the very least, they now fully understood the expectations in place for them and all other Demon Slayers.

    Coming to a halt in front of a door, Kagaya turned to them. “This is the room in which you will be staying. It is quite barren at this time, but you are wholly encouraged to decorate it to your tastes.”

    The walk continued after that. Down another hallway, turning another few corners… and then, he stopped again, this time sliding the door he had stopped in front of open.

    Warm, gentle rays of sunlight seeped into the room through a crack in another door opposite to where they were standing. If they had to make a guess, they would say that it led out into the little courtyard garden in the middle of the house. Shelves lined the inside of the room, filled to the brim with stacks of books on a vast variety of topics. A small table sat in an otherwise vacant space between two of the bookcases.

    “In this room, you will find books on quite possibly anything you could imagine,” Kagaya began, watching with a gentle, adorning smile as they cautiously stepped into the room, as if they feared causing even the smallest bit of damage or disturbance. “In particular, you should be able to find a record of nearly every breathing style to exist, even the unique ones that were personally tailored to suit their creator’s needs. Spend as much time as you would like in here. Find a breathing style that resonates with you, and then come find either myself or Amane.”

    They nodded fervently, quickly spinning around to face him and bowing. “I will. Thank you.”

    “Also,” he started once more, “do not be shy to explore the expanse of the estate’s land. You will be spending some time here, so please do familiarize yourself with the layout.”

    “Yes, I will,” they replied, standing up straight once again. “Thank you again.”

    With that, he nodded at them, the soft smile on his lips still remaining as he slid the door shut, before—presumably—leaving.

    A gentle, thoughtful hum rose in their throat as they stepped closer to one of the shelves. Mindful fingertips trailed along the spines of each book, reading the labels as they went along. It just so happened that this shelf was one of what they assumed would be many with some books about breathing styles.

    Kagaya’s explanation was thorough. From it, they had come to understand the five fundamental Breathing Styles—Water, Flame, Wind, Stone, and Thunder. Then, the derivatives, such as Flower, Insect, and Mist. Their options were plentiful and certainly not limited, which they supposed was a good thing, but it was also… overwhelming. Insanely so. How were they meant to know which Breathing Style would be the best for them, for their body?

    …Maybe they should ask Kagaya.

    Though, that could wait until later. For now, the very least they could do was research—the only way they’d know what Breath Style to pursue would be by investigating the demands of each one.

    Of course, their combat style was hardly even their main focus; first and foremost, they would need to focus on getting stronger. However, it was never a bad idea to prepare in advance, and the leader of the Corps must have thought the same; otherwise, they couldn’t possibly imagine why he might lead them here and leave them to their devices.

    A soft sigh left through their nose, thoughts drifting back to the family they left behind. It really was too soon to grow homesick, and yet…

    They were utterly powerless to stop sick feeling from clawing at their throat and sinking into their skin.

    They hadn’t thought too deeply about it before, but from here on out, they saw themselves being exceedingly busy. Too busy to visit as often as they would like to, at least. They could only see it getting worse one they were actually an active member of the Corps. Would they have time to see their parents? To see their brothers? The thought that their family may one day perceive their joining the Corps as abandonment made their stomach twist, as if someone shoved a knife into them.

    …But there was nothing to be done about that at the moment. No amount of regret could change the decision they made, and really, could they say they regretted it? They didn’t think so. What they did regret, however, was how distant their home was from the Ubuyashiki Estate. Seven hours… it was quite the distance.

    They sighed again, shaking those thoughts off before they could spiral again as they delicately plucked one book out of its spot.

    Its contents were about the most basic of Breathing Styles—Water Breathing.

                       — flower of the universe !! 🌸

    What had once been light yellow midday light peeking through the crack of the door was now golden, late afternoon light that crawled further into the space than it did before as the sun crept downwards.

    Sleepily, their hand toyed with the edge of one paper page, the other hand being used to prop up their chin as they fought desperately to keep their heavy eyelids open. Lazy eyes sluggishly scanned the words hand-written on the page, barely comprehending what was written—something about the proper positioning of each foot for the specific form that they were reading about, which was… actually, they weren’t even sure anymore. What Breathing Style was this book even about? Their head hurt.

    Two other books were neatly stacked off to the side.

    It had taken quite a few hours of walking to get from the Flame Estate to the Ubuyashiki Estate. Although they were well-used to physical exertion—one impact of growing up among a family of woodcutters—walking for hours on end was tiring, especially for someone so young. Though, it was hardly the physical exertion that made them tired, but that paired with the mental exhaustion caused by studying several different books for multiple hours was certainly enough to make them sleepy.

    "I see you’ve taken interest in Mist Breathing," a calm voice, harboring just the slightest twinge of amusement, spoke up, scaring them into awareness.

    Oh, right. Mist Breathing. That’s what the book in front of them was about.

    Their eyes snapped fully open, body jolting into an upright position. Once they swiftly twisted their body to look at the source of the voice, they calmed down somewhat, although their face did flood with embarrassed warmth again. “Master…"

    A light chuckle resonated through the room. He paced over to the table, situating himself at the other end. “We, unfortunately, do not have any active trainers for Mist Breathing.” His gaze shifted to the other two books. “Ah, Water Breathing and Flower Breathing. While we also lack a trainer for the latter, we do have one for the former, if that is something you would be interested in.”

    They perked up suddenly at the discussion of Breathing Styles. Blinking away the growing sleep in their eyes, they dared to finally, properly meet his gaze.

    “Oh, actually… how do you know what Breathing Style to pursue? I just… I’m kind of having trouble deciding. It all feels so overwhelming.”

    “It is normal to feel that way,” Kagaya assured, “but the truth is that there is no way to simply know.”

    “Ah…”

    Then, he hummed thoughtfully. “Your ancestor, Tsugikuni Yoriichi, was the creator of Breathing Styles and used the most powerful one of them all, Sun Breathing.”

    An unspoken question danced on their lips. They did not need to voice it; Kagaya seemed to know what they might ask, and so, he went on to answer.

    “We have very little information about it.”

    “Ah. That’s a shame, then.”

    “Indeed,” he agreed, nodding. “...If you wanted to pursue it, though, I would not be opposed to doing further research into it.”

    Their face brightened up almost instantly. Still, they did not immediately take his offer.

    “Are you sure?” they wondered, going to pick at the skin around their nails once again. It was almost guaranteed that their fingertips would be raw within the next few days if they kept it up. “I would not want to ask something so… I don’t know. Something so demanding of you and your time, knowing how busy you are.”

    A smile adorned his features, and his eyes crinkled somewhat with something they couldn’t quite discern. It almost seemed to be fondness, or something extremely similar.

    “I am quite sure. I would not have extended the offer to you otherwise. I will look into Sun Breathing, but for now, I would advise picking an alternative.”

    “Well…” they mused, gaze flicking back down to the open book in front of them. “...In that case, I think I’d like to teach myself Mist Breathing. I am not the type of person to shy away from a challenge.”

    Kagaya nodded. "Very well, then. Despite being unable to perform Breathing Styles myself, I have had the immense honor of witnessing many talented swordsmen execute them. As such, I will be able to offer you corrections on your stance, though I am afraid I will not be able to do much else in the way of assisting your training.”

    They nodded, listening attentively despite their tiredness.

    Truly, it was an honor that he was so willing to help at all; he very well could have left them completely on their own to figure it out, and yet, here he was, expressing regret over being unable to help them in some other way.

    "Another important aspect of training for the Final Selection is developing an exercise routine alongside practicing your chosen Breath Style. Your exercise routine should take precedence. The goal is to increase skills such as endurance, speed, and strength," the young leader explained further. Noticing their tired expression, he chuckled. "That is something to handle tomorrow, though. You should rest; your journey was not a short one, after all."

    All they could do was offer a timid, astonished nod. The boy then rose to his feet and they quickly followed suit, picking up the three books on the table as they did. With focused caution despite the exhaustion permeating their bones, they put the first two back on the shelves.

    "You can borrow the Mist Breathing book," Kagaya said before they could put it away. "It will be a good reference for you to have.”

    "Are you sure?" they questioned, holding the last book in their hands. The care with which they held it was almost laughable, though not in a mocking manner—laughable in that their nervousness was simply endearing. It spoke volumes about the way that they were raised. "Is... is that really okay?"

    "Of course. Now, come along. You can begin training tomorrow once you have adequately rested."

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