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inner-sakura · 1 year ago

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Theoretically Forever

[Adrien POV sequel to Hypothetically Ever After, childhood friends AU, adrienette, fake/pretend relationship]

Adrien Agreste has had a crush on Marinette Dupain-Cheng for as long as he can remember.

Unfortunately for him, however, she’s only ever had eyes for his older brother Félix, who’s never so much as looked her way.

But when an opportunity suddenly presents itself to turn the tables and rewrite the script on their relationship, Adrien finds himself hard-pressed to turn it down… Especially when it means getting to date the love of his life.

Even if it is only fake.

AU where PV Felix is Adrien’s older brother. inspired by the novel “the boys next door” by jennifer echols. hello and welcome back to the brothers AU fic series that no one ever asked for yet i remain obsessed with.

read it here

chapter one

Adrien Agreste had been in love for as long as he could remember.

Or at least since the age of five, which was practically the same thing.

It may have seemed a bit excessive, or perhaps even absurd to most people. But he’d always been considered mature for his age—more advanced than most of his peers, according to his tutors—and he had a pretty solid grasp of what love looked like, thanks to his parents.

Although his father wasn’t the most demonstrative with his affections, it was clear that his mother and father were crazy for one another. It was there in the way they gazed at each other when they thought no one was looking; in the way his father’s eyes seemed to find his mother the moment she walked into a room, and the way her face lit up when she found him in return. And most of all, it was clear in the way they loved and cherished him and his brother Félix: dearly, wholeheartedly, and without reserve.

Still, five was pretty early for romantic love by most standards.

But Adrien didn’t care. He knew it was real. Even if no one else seemed to believe him.

“Maman, when I grow up, Marinette and I are going to be married,” Adrien declared proudly, beaming up at his mother where she sat on the edge of his bed.

Émilie paused, her hands hovering above the blankets that she was tucking around him. Her lips stretched into a smile.

“Is that so?” She said, smoothing the covers over him with one hand while the other reached out to softly card through his hair.

Adrien nodded emphatically, his hair falling into his eyes and obscuring his vision.

“Uh-huh. And we’re gonna have a big house with a waterslide and live together with you and Papa and Félix forever.” He wiggled under the covers, his body filling with excitement at the thought.

“Oh really?” His mother pushed the hair back from his forehead, laughter clear in her voice even though he couldn’t see her facial expression. “And what if Félix wants to marry someone and live with them instead?”

His vision now clear thanks to her ministrations, Adrien gazed into his mother’s warm green eyes; the same eyes he saw reflected back in his own face every time he looked in the mirror.

“Well, they can live with us too,” he decided finally, his mind made up. “It’s going to be a big house.”

“And what if Marinette wants to marry someone else?” Émilie asked, one brow raising in question.

Adrien didn’t even bat an eye.

“She won’t, Maman,” he assured her, his lips pulling back in a sneaky grin. “I'm a real catch, you know.”

At that, his mother burst out laughing, her eyes sparkling as she leaned down to kiss his forehead.

“Yes you are, my love. But for now, why don’t you focus on catching some sleep... It’s quite late, you know.”

Adrien snuggled down into his pillows, satisfied at having made his mother laugh, and assured in the knowledge that there was no way Marinette Dupain-Cheng could possibly wind up marrying someone else.

They were made for each other, after all.

Even if no one else knew it yet.

-x-

Present

-x-

Adrien had been dreaming about this summer for the better part of the last year.

It had been a warm light on the horizon, and the only thing that helped to carry him through some of the bleaker winter days in Paris. The days where everything outside his window had been cold and grey, and there was no solace to be found inside—the frigid air chasing him through the empty halls of his perpetually silent home.

On those days, especially, he’d clung to that light, letting the warmth strengthen him even when it felt like the darkness might last forever.

But now they were finally here, after so many long days and nights.

Adrien took a deep breath in, savouring the clean, fresh air in his lungs.

It smells like home.

His moment of gentle introspection was brought to an abrupt end by his older brother, who rudely hip-checked him out of the way, nearly running over his toes with the wheels of his rolling suitcase in the process.

“You’re in the way,” Félix said, making his way toward the house without sparing so much as a glance at the natural beauty around him.

Adrien withheld a sigh, refusing to let his brother’s early morning surliness dampen his euphoria.

Summer was here, they were finally back at the lake, and all was right with the world. Or at least it would be shortly.

Fishing his phone out of his pocket with one hand, Adrien dialled the number he’d had memorized since almost before he knew how to count to ten without relying on his fingers.

“Hello? Hi, Sabine, it’s Adrien. Is Marinette there?”

-x-

After getting settled in and unpacking his things in record time, Adrien found himself with both time and energy to spare.

He was too amped up to play video games or sit down and watch something, and he didn’t want to wander too far from the house for fear that he might miss Marinette’s arrival.

And so he made his way to his brother’s room, content to dedicate his efforts to his third favourite pastime:

Annoying his older brother.

Bursting into Félix’s room without knocking, Adrien bounded across the floor, throwing himself onto the bed with a dramatic sigh.

“Yes, do come in,” Félix intoned without looking up from his book. “Make yourself at home. You’re not disturbing me at all…”

“Brother, have you no compassion for my poor nerves?” Adrien cried, slinging an arm across his forehead with enough melodrama to bring his acting coach to tears. “Don’t you know what today is?”

“It’s Thursday.”

“No! I mean, yes, technically it is Thursday, but that’s not what I meant. Today is a much more important day. I’m finally going to be reunited with Marinette, after nearly a year of not seeing her!” He grabbed a pillow, hugging it to his chest and repressing the urge to squeal like an infatuated schoolgirl.

The intent must have been clear in his posture though, if Félix’s disgusted scoff was anything to go by.

“A most auspicious occasion, to be sure.” His brother’s tone was glacial.

Adrien lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling ponderously.

“I think I’m in love with her.”

“Uh-huh.”

“She doesn’t know I exist.”

There was the sound of a page turning. “I find that particularly hard to believe when considering the fact that she’s been your friend since you were in preschool.”

“No, I mean, of course Marinette knows I exist physically,” Adrien said, struggling to find the words. “I meant like…mentally. Romantically.” He fell silent, pouting up at the rafters.

She’s never looked at me because she’s been too busy mooning after you, Adrien thought resentfully in his brother’s direction.

Oblivious to his internal grumbling, Félix sighed, closing the book he was reading with a snap.

“If I tell you what you want to hear, does that mean you’ll give me my bed and my peace and quiet back?”

Adrien rolled over, shoving his face into the comforter and letting out a pathetic groan.

Félix sighed again.

“If you want her to consider you seriously, then you’re going to have to step up your game,” Félix said at last, his words brusque and business-like. “Make your intentions so clear that there’s no way she’ll be able to misinterpret them.”

Lifting his face from the comforter, Adrien shot his brother a suspicious look. “Okay, but how?”

Although to the untrained observer, Félix’s expression may have appeared impassive, Adrien was easily able to pick up on the glint in his icy blue eyes.

“…I can think of a few ways.”

Adrien bristled, his face reddening.

“Pervert,” he muttered, pushing himself up and off the bed, no longer interested in continuing the conversation if Félix was going to insist on being so unhelpful. Besides, what did his iceberg of a brother even know about relationships, anyway? Theirs really was a textbook case of the blind leading the blind.

Adrien shook his head, heading for the door.

Before he could reach it, however, the intercom in Félix’s room buzzed, which could only mean one thing.

Someone was at the front door.

Adrien’s heart leapt straight into his throat.

“Oh my god, she’s here!” He lurched forward, only to double back at the last second, wanting to check his appearance. He fussed with his hair, pushing it back behind his ears and straightening his shirt until he was satisfied that he looked half decent.

“You look like a twat,” Félix said, his version of a compliment.

Adrien eyed his reflection, his face twisting with disgust.

“You’re right. I look like you.” He shook his hair out again.

When he caught Félix rolling his eyes in the mirror, Adrien stuck his tongue out playfully.

“You’d better hurry, otherwise Father is going to be the one to greet Marinette at the door, and we both know what his idea of a welcoming committee looks like…”

At his brother’s not-so-gentle reminder, Adrien bolted, single-mindedly focused on subverting disaster and making sure that his father didn’t do anything horrible that might scare Marinette away before he’d even gotten the chance to say hello to her.

Unfortunately for him, however, disaster seemed intent upon finding him that morning.

Throwing the door open with a bit more force than was strictly necessary, Adrien all but catapulted himself forward, oblivious to any perils that awaited him. Which meant that he’d barely set one foot over the threshold before he was immediately colliding with another fast-moving body.

Well, he had time to think before the inevitable descent began, I don’t need to be a physics whiz to know how this is going to end.

With nothing to grab onto to steady himself, and plenty of g-force behind him, Adrien practically flew through the air, landing on the floor with an inelegant thump, successfully and quite spectacularly knocking the wind out of himself.

He was given very little time to contemplate the cruel nature of gravity, however, because suddenly a high-pitched feminine voice was speaking in his ear, causing his breath to catch for an entirely different reason.

“Adrien!”

And then he was on his back, two slim arms wrapping around his torso and squeezing tightly.

Adrien’s head spun, the combination of a lap full of soft teenage girl and her titanium grip—which was slowly cutting off his air supply—doing funny things to his brain.

“Can’t—breathe, Mari—” he wheezed, his vision going spotty at the edges.

“Sorry!” Marinette laughed, the sound echoing in the quiet of the hallway. “I’ve been working out more lately and I guess all that weight training is finally making a difference.”

She began to pull away, and Adrien felt a rush of panic.

Oh no, she’s getting up, a little voice in his brain cried in alarm. Don’t let her leave—!

He quickly tugged her back down, his grip tightening as he cradled her against his body, inhaling deeply. How was it possible that she smelled even better than he remembered—sweet and smooth, with an undercurrent of spice that made him want to dig his nose into the point where her neck met her shoulder and drink her scent in from the source.

Ashamed at the direction his thoughts had taken, Adrien turned his face away, trying to ignore the burning in his cheeks.

“It’s okay,” he said eventually, his next words coming out far more earnestly than he’d intended. “I’m glad to see you.”

Marinette didn’t respond, but Adrien felt the way she softened in his grasp, melting into him just that bit more. His heart fluttered.

“Ahem.” Félix cleared his throat, shattering the tenderness of the moment with the impact of an atom bomb.

Oh my GOD, has he been there this whole time?? Adrien grimaced, trying not to be offended by the way the sound of Félix’s voice sent Marinette scrambling out of his lap like his pants had just caught on fire.

He eyed his older brother distrustfully, taking in the look of smug superiority he wore. It was clear by his expression that Félix knew exactly how much Adrien had been enjoying that impromptu embrace, and how much he was currently cursing him out in his head for interrupting it.

“If you’re both quite finished, I’d prefer it if you moved your tearful lovers' reunion to a location that isn’t the middle of my bedroom doorway.”

Adrien flushed, shooting daggers at his brother behind Marinette’s back.

I know where you live, he mouthed silently.

Félix merely smirked.

“F-Félix!” The soft breathlessness in Marinette’s voice made Adrien’s stomach clench, even more so than the elbow in the gut he received as she clambered to her feet.

Here we go, he thought, resigning himself to invisibility as his childhood best friend proceeded to make goo-goo eyes at his brother.

Silently, he watched as Marinette threw herself all over Félix, her arms snaking around his torso as she hugged him tightly. And Félix—the traitorous bastard—even went so far as to override his programming and return the embrace (!), patting Marinette once on the back in what was basically his equivalent of an enthusiastic double cheek kiss.

When Marinette pulled back, her face was an adorable shade of pink, her blue eyes shining as she gazed up at him.

A sour taste filled Adrien’s mouth. The image of the two of them embracing would almost certainly revisit him later in his nightmares.

After what felt like an eternity, Félix finally extricated himself from Marinette’s clutches and left, but not before throwing Adrien one last loaded look for good measure.

Your move, little brother. His expression seemed to say.

Yet Adrien remained seated on the floor, stewing in his resentment and jealousy.

He was so preoccupied with glaring after his brother, in fact, that he almost missed the hand extended towards him.

Adrien blinked at Marinette in confusion. Was she… trying to help him up?

How adorable.

“What?” She snapped after a moment, bristling when he didn’t immediately take her up on her generosity.

Adrien raised an eyebrow.

“I’m bigger than you.” And as much as I enjoyed having you in my lap the first time, I think I’ve had enough crashing to the floor for one day, thanks. This part he had the presence of mind not to say out loud.

A twitch of the eye was the only warning he received before he was suddenly being hauled upright and unceremoniously plunked back on his feet. Adrien staggered, shocked at the ease with which she’d lifted him.

“And I’m stronger than I look,” Marinette replied smugly, her expression radiating satisfaction as she gazed at him, her arms crossed in a way that inadvertently showed off muscles he hadn’t known until that moment she’d even possessed.

Holy shit, that was hot. Adrien gawped at her, quickly glancing away before she could catch him staring like a buffoon. Even though he knew the floors were immaculate, he busied himself with dusting off his clothes, just to give himself a minute to regain his composure.

As he was doing so, he heard Marinette gasp.

“You grew. Again.” She appeared outraged by the notion, as though growing was some sort of illicit, sinful activity.

Adrien puffed up with pride.

“A whole eight centimetres,” he confirmed, pleased that she’d noticed. Now he was finally on eye level with his father and Félix, a fact which brought him no small amount of glee. Gone were the days of being the baby of the family in both the figurative and literal senses of the term. At the rate he was going, he might even outgrow both of them by the time he reached his twenties. The concept was thrilling.

“Eight centimetres? How—?” Marinette gaped up at him, her blue eyes bright with incredulity. “What kind of freak body grows eight centimetres in a year?”

Adrien leaned towards her, his lips quirking when he realised just how far he had to bend over to be on eye level with her now.

He rested an elbow on her shoulder, marvelling internally. She’s so tiny!

Outwardly, he decided to do what he did best, which was tease her relentlessly for her shortness. “I’ll have you know that it’s perfectly normal. Most people experience these things called ‘growth spurts’ during puberty. Where they actually get taller!” He lowered his voice as though he was divulging some great secret.

Then he blinked.

“Oh right,” he pretended to take her in for the first time. “I forgot who I was talking to for a second.”

Marinette’s eyes flashed, her nostrils flaring.

“You’re hilarious,” she deadpanned, elbowing him in the side roughly as she slipped out of his grasp.

Adrien grinned, his lips pulling even wider when he noticed the way her mouth was twitching, her efforts not to laugh obvious.

She’s still as easy to read as ever, he thought fondly, gazing at her out of the corner of his eye as they made their way to his room. He chatted her ear off the whole way, practically buzzing with excitement now that she was finally here. The prospect of spending two weeks of uninterrupted quality time together had him so euphoric, in fact, that he didn’t pick up on Marinette’s uncharacteristic silence, or notice that anything was amiss until she was hauling his loft’s ladder up behind her.

And by then, of course, it was far too late.

“Woah, woah, woah, what’s this about now?” Adrien asked, his eyes widening. There was only one reason that the ladder ever came up.

Marinette’s response did little to reassure him of her intentions.

“Top secret.” Was all she said as she fiddled with the hatch, seemingly determined to ensure that it was properly closed.

Once she was satisfied with her efforts, she turned to face him. The look she wore was enough to make Adrien recoil.

This must be a new record, he thought, taking a step backward instinctively. She’s only been here for ten minutes and she’s already up to no good.

“I know what that look means… You’re either about to rope me into something dangerous—and quite possibly illegal—or you’re about to tell me something that I’d really rather not hear.” Adrien said, his mouth going on autopilot as he tried in vain to halt her advance. He could feel himself losing ground, both physically and metaphorically, yet he remained helpless to stop it.

When the backs of his knees met his bed, Adrien merely allowed himself to fall, landing on the mattress with a final sounding thump.

Marinette gazed down at him intently, looking like the cat that got the canary.

“Adrien,” she said, her voice nothing but saccharine sweetness as she leaned into his space. At this distance her scent was nearly overwhelming in its intensity, filling his senses and leaving his mind hazy and punch drunk. “I think it's time to take things to the next level.”

Adrien’s heart was pounding so loudly now that he was almost certain Marinette would be able to hear it if she listened closely.

His voice came out strangled as he repeated. “The next level?”

Marinette drew even closer and Adrien swayed forward, all of his rational, higher-thinking processes abandoning him as his gaze darted between her eyes and her lips.

If I just leaned up ever so slightly…

They were so close now that he could practically feel her inhalation more than hear it, the warmth of her breath fanning across his face.

Yet, instead of kissing him as he’d hoped, Marinette opened her mouth to speak. And when her words finally registered, Adrien couldn’t help but wish that she hadn’t.

“I need you to help me seduce your brother,” she said, blissfully unaware that she’d just dealt him the verbal equivalent of a killing blow.

Well, it’s official, Adrien thought, staring at her in disbelief as he felt his fantasies sinking faster than the Hindenburg.

God hates me. That is the only plausible explanation for any of this shit.

-x-

#ml fanfic #miraculous ladybug #ml fanworks #adrienette #adrien agreste #marinette dupain-cheng #ml fic #miraculous fanfic #ml fic recs #no miraculous au #ml brothers au #adrinette #childhood friends au #ongoing fic #theoretically forever #hypothetically ever after #my fics

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no-where-new-hero · 1 year ago

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If I may, I would absolutely love a commentary on a following paragraph from "A Dream of The Woodland" (let me just say the whole story is absolutely stunning! I love it! I, unfortunately, haven't read your "Tale of Nine Tailed" fanfics yet, because I need to watch the series first. But thank you so much for sharing your stories):

The paragraph:

“Yes,” said Valancy, and it was as how she had said everything else that evening: with faith and belief in him, and certainty of her own choice. It felt momentous—almost a bit religious. He stepped closer and took her cold hands over the top of the gate, wishing he had something to offer. He remembered the soft, lifeless touch of Ethel’s hands as he pushed the ring on her finger, but Valancy’s fingers wrapped around his hands, responsive and sincere. She had asked him not to pretend—and yet he felt even more vulnerable than if he could have gained refuge in the pretense of passion as he said,

“Of course I’m not in love with you—never thought of such a thing as being in love. But, do you know, I’ve always thought you were a bit of a dear.”

Thank you in advance!!! Please, don't feel pressed for time, I'd be happy to receive your commentary anytime!

Thank you so much for the ask!! I love talking about my work lol and I’m glad you picked this part from “A Dream of the Woodland!” So much of what went into that story was very subconscious, so I could never really pick one thing to talk about, but this section probably had more conscious thought than most.

First of all—hands. LMM frequently uses them to signal emotion, and I always enjoy using them to show character, and I draw on both here. All throughout the beginning of this fic, Barney has been comparing Valancy to Ethel, and what you’re supposed to infer, of course, is that Valancy comes out superior, a mature and equal wife for Barney’s own maturity. But in this part, I try to make it most overt. Of course now, Ethel is just a ghost to Barney, part of his own dead past, but I wanted to suggest here that even while he was living through it, there was something kind of dead about her. He could never have built a happy life with a woman like that.

“…wishing he had something to offer.” I admit I stole this (unconsciously, I think, but I very much see the parallel now) from the very last scene of the 1995 Little Women where Professor Bhaer, in his stumbling proposal to Jo, says “I have nothing to give you, my hands are empty.” Jo, then, takes his hand and says, “Not empty now,” and I think that’s such a beautiful way to think of love? That giving yourself to the other person is the real treasure? Barney is still thinking materially, a holdover of his upbringing, but of course all Valancy wants is him. She grasps onto him in return, an active participant in this moment of touch, as opposed to Ethel who—as a “good” and unloving and utterly boring girl—refuses to react at all.

As for him wishing to gain pretense in lying…you know, sometimes it’s easier to be hyperbolic. The Barney in this scene is very much still shedding off the false chivalry of his youth. For him to tell Valancy the truth—to say she’s “a dear” and that he never thought of loving her (even though, in this moment, he might be starting to) is harder than a grand declaration of passion. Not that Barney would really prefer that. But it would be familiar, and he badly needs something reliable in this topsy-turvey evening!

Thanks again for sending this in! If you have any more, please send them my way (and certainly so after you've seen TotNT and read the result of my brainworms about it lol)!

DVD Commentary for Fanfic Ask

#blake's last braincell #blake’s mail #blake's asks #writing life

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scifrey · 2 years ago

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Keepsakes: A Waster

Status: Ongoing Ficlet collection; unbeta’d

Series: the Hob Adherent series

Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022) Includes some comics canon, and some cameos from the wider Gaiman-verse (including the Good Omens and Lucifer television shows), but it’s not necessary to know to enjoy the story.

Rating: Mature-ish.

Warnings: Discussions of grief and in-canon character death. Some sexytimes. Some whomp and hurt/comfort.

Relationships: Morpheus | Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling, Eleanor | Hob Gadling’s Wife/Hob Gadling (past)

Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Hob Gadling, Lyta Hall, Jed Walker, Daniel Hall, Rose Walker

Summary: Short ficlets set in the Hob Adherent world, based on prompts received from readers. Feel free to DM me or leave prompts in the comments, and if it resonates with me, I may write up a ficlet! Thank you for the inspiration in advance.

Set about five years post-Cling Fast.

READ ON AO3 OR READ BELOW:

A Waster

Inspired by a prompt from @theotherwillow on Tumblr.

It makes poetic sense that Jed Walker’s first summer job is at a Ren Faire in upstate New York. Being the grandson of the anthropomorphic personification of Desire, and nephew besides to the Prince of Stories, at sixteen years old he is both engaging enough to play a minor squire in the faux King’s court (with a little bit of daily story to carry for the visitors), and handsome enough that he has a small gaggle of heart-eyed tweens of all genders following him around like ducklings.

“Think we should go rescue him?” Hob asks, nudging his husband with his elbow. They’re leaning against the fencing of the tiltyard, within which Jed himself is busily arming a knight for the afternoon’s jousting demonstration. Blocking the gate in the fence itself, Jed’s fanclub is sighing and hollering at him in turns.

“And ruin his fun?” Morph asks, readjusting his grip on Daniel’s ankles. “No, I think not.”

Hob laughs, and hands Daniel, the most serious toddler on planet earth, another goldfish cracker. Perched on Morph’s shoulders as he is, Daniel takes it with a dainty curl of his pudgy fingers, and then immediately sprinkles orange dust in Morph’s hair when he crunches into it.

Rose and Lyta are probably walking back from the loos by now, and Hob hopes that Rose has her phone out and is capturing the moment. He doesn’t want to ruin it, or worse, potentially tip Morph off by looking around. Or by pulling out his own phone.

Hob didn’t think he could love his increasingly bizarre and growing found family more than he did when he made his vows to Morpheus, former King of Dreams and Nightmares. After being all alone in the world for seven centuries, being the only one of his kind, the only one who lived down and dirty in the ditches with the other humans yet staring up at the stars and dreaming, the only one who had to leave behind everything he was and everyone he loved over and over again, he was already overwhelmed with gratitude that upon Morph’s retirement, there would be even just one other human in the world like him.

Knowing that there was just one other human being who knew his sorrows and joys, who was as fascinated by humanity as he was and was swiftly learning to be as fascinated with life, made all the things he had to give up and leave behind all the more bearable. The anticipatory grief of a goodbye every handful of decades was weighed against the comfort of knowing that he would not be doing so alone. Hob, like the First Man, finally had his companion (although unlike Eve, Morph was only barely made in man’s image. Even now, he still held himself like a King, still moved like an ethereal creature, and still made love like a delicious nightmare.)

But more than just his companion in eternity, Hob now has, well, an Endless amount of bonus people in his life. People who care about him, and about whom he cares, and who won’t go away. Death may be a mug’s game, but his life, oh life is so much richer, so unbearably, marvelously wonderful now that he has people in it that he won’t have to hide from, or lie to, or bury.

He’s realized that while he’d been not-dying for the last seven hundred years, he is now, finally, living.

Morph’s former siblings, despite no longer being related to Hob’s husband, still consider him their family. And so Hob has sisters again. Brothers. Siblings. And though while he may be the youngest of the bunch (he was the eldest in his family, and has always by default been the oldest person in the room), instead of feeling condescended to or flippantly indulged, or babied, instead he feels included, and cherished, and watched-over.

And his bonus-people extend to more than just the Endless.

Now there are also the two Walkers, and the two Halls.

And the third being who both is Daniel Hall and is not, in the Waking. Who both is Morpheus, and is not any longer in the Dreaming. Who simply is Dream of the Endless, but is not simply anything.

Honestly, the best part of spending time with their honorary nephew Daniel in the Waking is that his little kid brain can’t hold everything that is Dream just yet. Out here, he’s just a kid, albeit a very observant, curious and calm one.

So, luckily, he isn’t sitting on Morph’s shoulders with the knowledge of what Hob looks like naked.

(Yes, that was something Hob worried about. When Morpheus informed him that in transferring all his power and self-ness to the new Dream of the Endless, he was also transferring all of his memories, Hob had needed clarification.

“What good,” Morpheus had asked, “would a Ruler of Humanity’s Dreaming be, if he recalled none of what Morpheus had done or achieved, or regretted, in the last several million years?”

“But, all your memories, including the ones of of me?” Hob had choked. “All of them, all of them?”

“Dream of the Endless is an adult, Hob Gadling,” Morpheus had assured him. “Memories of our fornications will not corrupt him.”

“But Daniel’s a baby!”

“Daniel will not have access to the knowledge or be cognizant that he is Dream until he comes of age. Until then, his Waking mind is separate from his Dreaming one.”

“Yeah, and when he turns twenty-one, or whatever you Endless dream to be ‘of age’, then he’s gonna know, intimately, what it’s like to fuck his uncle Hob!”

Morpheus had considered that and, after a moment, cleared his throat and said. “Perhaps I will not transfer all of my recollections to this new facet.”)

Out on the tiltyard, Jed has completed gearing up his knight. Hob is impressed with the kid’s speed–though he does this several times a day, so he should be well rehearsed by now–and with the quality of gear the actor heaving himself onto the horse is wearing. It’s not correct –nothing that is a historical interpretation can be one-hundred-percent correct–and Hob knows this as both a history professor and historical artifact himself. But it’s close.

The knight delivers a speech to the crowd as Jed walks back to the fence, winking and waving to his adoring audience. Hob misses the gist of the knight’s words, but it doesn’t matter. He’s not here for the story.

“Your hands flex on the fence rails,” Morph points out as the knight takes his mount through a few warm-up paces before the tilt, making sure that everything is laying correctly on both their bodies. “Do you wish it were you on the horse?”

“God, no,” Hob says, and passes Daniel more goldfish to keep said hands occupied. “Just… sense memory, you know? I can’t tell you how many hours I stood just like this, watching the bouts, studying the footwork, or the tactics of my favourite’s opponents, or the scoring. I feel like I should have a penny ale, a beard, and some fleas.”

“I find I am glad you do not,” Morph says, and leans over to press a kiss to Hob’s smooth cheeks.

“No, no, no,” Daniel protests as his own steed moves. “Wanna see.”

“We are not going anywhere, young master Hall,” Morph assures him as he straightens again.

“Did you ever do that?” Lyta asks, coming up beside Hob, and leaning her own arms against the wooden rail.

“Welcome back,” Hob greets, even as Daniel shouts “ Mama!” and pitches himself toward Lyta so fast that Hob has to spin on the spot and pluck the little daredevil out of the air so he doesn’t knock his mother on her arse.

“Thanks,” Lyta laughs as Hob hands her wiggling son off to her.

“Did you?” Rose asks, from her other side, accepting a mushed up goldfish from Daniel’s hand as he offers to share. She pretends to eat it with a “num num num” and drops the cracker flakes on the grass behind her.

“Nah,” Hob says, turning leaning into Morph and turning his eyes back to the knight’s demonstration of some skill-at-arms–namely, getting his lance through very tiny rings hung from posts at a full gallop. The man is scoring more than he’s missing, so he’s doing a decent job. “Wasn’t nobility, was I?”

“You were a knight,” Morpheus reminds him.

“Yeah, but not this kind,” Hob says, sliding his hand into Morph’s back pocket just to hold his husband close. “As soon as I was knighted, I was pretty much also a married man. Which meant no crusades, no warmongering, and at my wife’s insistence, no goofing off of a weekend with extremely sharp sticks for the fun of it.”

“Bet you could still lay this guy out, though,” Rose says.

Hob shrugs deprecatingly. “It’s been a very, very long time since I’ve properly held a sword,” he says.

There’s a shout of glee from beside their little group, and Jed comes to greet his family in character, trailing his groupies like a magnet. Jed capers and clowns for Daniel’s delight, and then scampers off to his next segment of story with a trail of sighing admirers in his wake.

For the rest of the afternoon, Hob dodges any other invasive questions about his time as either a knight or medieval peasant with as much good humor as possible. Even he’s not sure why he’s not being more effusive about it, especially since correcting misunderstandings and misapprehensions is literally one of his favourite things about his job, except that…

This isn’t the university.

This is a… theme park.

And it’s making light of some of the worst moments of his mortal life. Sure, yeah, there’s fun things–the jousting, the guy shouting “PICKLES” as he wheels around a barrel of them for sale, the cute costumes, and the marvelous roving musicians, and Hob got to teach Rose a dance he used to do with Eleanor.

But, but, there are also stocks. And folks are calling for beheadings as if they were a joke. And there is an actor playing the town drunkard and another playing the town crazy, and these were genuinely dangerous people in his day, in his life, and everything is…

Everything is too bright, too off-kilter, too circus-like. It’s wrong in just enough ways to be uncomfortably uncanny. It’s like when he’s lived overseas for so long that English has ceased to be the first language he spoke and thought in, and then returned to London. Then he hears English everywhere, and he can’t not pay attention to it because it’s so rare to hear, only it’s not rare, because he’s back in England, which makes it overwhelming and…

And Hob just reminds himself that they’re here for Jed. That’s it’s just two days, one with the Walkers and Halls, and one for themselves. It’s just one night, and it’s… for their nephew. Who specifically asked them to come. How could Hob say no to that?

And if Hob is hiding behind Daniel wherever he can, if he’s letting his husband stand between Hob and the costumed courtiers, if he’s squeezing his hand too tight, well, Morph hasn’t said anything about it. Though it doesn’t escape Hob’s notice, either, that Morph is looking increasingly uncomfortable as Rose and Lyta’s good-natured questioning continues.

Thank God Matthew isn’t here. He’d definitely be urging Hob to participate more in the day’s events and Hob just… just… no.

By dinner time, Hob is feeling prickly and very much like he’d like to go somewhere less peopley for a while. Consummate extrovert though he is, even Hob Gadling needs to rest and recharge sometimes.

Luckily, the park has begun to clear out. To avoid the inevitable meltdown that happens when Daniel’s sleep schedule is disrupted, Lyta and Rose take Daniel home as the long slow summer sunset begins to shade the world golden. Most of the other families have done likewise.

Hob feels like maybe he’s on the edge of a temper tantrum himself. Deciding this means he’s just hangry, he steers Morph to the outdoor food court, with the little restaurants in stone buildings built in a ring around a few dozen picnic tables. They’re shaded with tall, skinny trees, throwing lovely verdant green shadows, gilding all the handsome sharp angles of his husband’s face.

The people who are left are mostly attendees in costume settling down for a night of feasting, drinking, and bonfires in the campground of the park. Abdicated Kings don’t sleep on the ground, and there’s no way Hob’s paying someone for the privilege of doing so ever again, and so Dr. and Mr. Gadlen have rented a room at the nearby, ever-so-slightly sketchy motel. Besides the bed, its only redeeming feature is that it’s close enough to stumble through the trees to the park grounds.

Hob’s half tempted with the thought of just dragging Morph back to the room and curling up on his skinny chest for a while, until the weirdness goes away. Instead, they nab a picnic table near the melee grounds, and watch the knights give their final performance of the day in sword-to-shield brawl as they wait for the meals they ordered to be dropped off.

The melee itself doesn’t look very choreographed, from where Hob’s sitting, so it must be a bit of fun the actors are having with improvisation. All the same, he winces when the crack of a wooden sword shattering rings out. The knight whose blade is now fit only for kindling laughs, at least, as she retreats to the side of the fenced-off paddock, clearly disqualified.

Morph catches Hob’s flinch, and reaches out to offer his hand. Hob takes it gratefully.

Another crack of wood-on-metal makes Hob jump, and hands twitching for a weapon that he no longer carries. It sounds like a battle, like every battle, like all the battles Hob has ever suffered through. It has him at attention, on edge, looking for ambush and attack from all sides, and growing ever more antsy when none comes.

“You are hyperventilating, erasti,” Morph says gently, squeezing Hob’s hand to get his attention. “Are you having a panic attack?”

“No, no,” Hob insists. “It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s just…”

A serving wench, all boobs and hair, drops off their tankards and trenchers. Hob and Morph separate only because neither of their meals come with forks.

“Is it really so terrible, being here?” Morph asks, soft and low. He's picking at the meat pie he’d selected for his dinner. It isn’t venison, and he’s eating more of the crust than the content. But Hob is happy to see him eat that much. Morph never seems to be consuming enough calories to keep himself healthy, and yet the man hasn’t died of scurvy yet.

Hob sighs and wipes the grease from his turkey leg off on a paper napkin before scrubbing his free hand through his hair. “Look. I don’t hate it, okay? It’s just… very, very weird seeing my life turned into an idealized, rose-tinted glasses, sepia-toned nostalgia, distorted fun house. It’s not bad, I’ve just… felt one step to the left all day, you know?”

“Like a waking dream that you cannot seem to shake off,” Morph says with a nod.

“Yes,” Hob allows, charmed by the way that Morph still clings to describing the world as if the Waking was still just the lesser realm to his former kingdom. “I just gotta… I dunno, reset my brain or something. Then I’ll be fine. I’ll have fun.”

Morph looks up over his shoulder and says, “Speaking of fun.”

“Uncle Dream! Uncle Hob!” Jed says, skidding onto the seat next to Hob and slamming into his shoulder.

“Oof, watch it around the old men, young squire,” Hob chuckles, shoving Jed back a few inches playfully. The kid’s all limbs and wild hair, skinny as his uncle, despite being as handsome as his grandparent. “You’re meant to be the younger son of landed gentry. Decorum, please.”

“Sorry, yeah. So, cast party at the tavern tonight,” Jed plows on, oblivious to the way Morph is smirking, enjoying his excitement. “The King says you’re both welcome, and I want your opinion on how authentic it is.”

“How come everything has to be authentic? Why are you all so obsessed?” Hob riposts with a forced smile, waving around his giant turkey leg. He’s trying to be a good sport, he really is. He can’t blame Jed for his curiosity, especially not when he encourages it in his students. “Why can’t it just be fun? Take this, for example. Turkey. Never had that a day in my life when I was your age. Never even heard of the place.”

“Turkey is a bird, not a–ah, I see!” Jed laughs. “Didn’t know much about what was outside of the borders of England?”

“Jed, me lad,” Hob had said. “I couldn’t have told you much about what was outside the borders of my village before I followed old Buckingham to Burgundy. And I never even tasted turkey until the 1560s.”

“1562,” Morph had said, with his uncannily accurate memory of every dream Hob has ever had, even now that his brain is ostensibly a human one. “After a performance of Gorbadouc.”

“Ah, yes! They served it with the head and tail on, as was fashionable, and I dreamed about the damn thing chasing me through a park all night,” Hob chuckles, delighted by the memory, and filled with a fierce adoration for the fae creature he gets to call his own. “I wonder whose fault that was.”

Morph plasters on a look of faux innocence that’s so outlandish that it sets Hob laughing. It’s a good laugh, a hearty laugh, a cathartic laugh. It’s belly-deep, and eye-watering, and wonderful. It’s just what Hob needed.

It also sets off Jed, who in turn sets off Morph, whose noises make Hob laugh even harder. Because Morpheus, abdicated King of Dreams and Nightmares, former Prince of Stories, and ex-Endless has a truly awful, wheezing, terrible laugh.

Hob figures it’s the result of millennia of Morph hiding his emotions. From what Hob’s winkled out of Death and Despair, Dream of the Endless used to be a carefree, passionate, all-or-nothing kind of entity, before heartbreak after heartbreak had turned him into the closed-off, brooding, wounded creature that Hob had met in 1389.

That version of Dream, the wounded Morpheus God of Sleep, barely smiled, barely frowned, barely moved. He masked all his hurt, didn’t let happiness touch him, refused love and care from even the denizens closest to him, like Lucienne.

And so his laugh had become similarly repressed, a wheezing little “hzzzrrr hzzzrrr” rumble that sounded more like a backfiring cat than a free expression of joy. It wasn’t until after they were married that Hob finally heard Morph’s full-body laugh–the honking, snorting, wounded-donkey sound that just made Hob fall in love with him even more.

Hob sees this uncaged freedom-to-feel in the new Dream, in the way that Morpheus’ past hurts don’t haunt Daniel. This green-eyed incarnation says yes to everything, finds joy in all the small wonders of humanity, loves freely and unreservedly, praises his nightmares and gossips with his dreams, and makes Miko, his own albino raven, laugh with sly asides.

And without the mantle of his past-life sorrows and obligations to weigh on him, Hob is finding out that Morph is a curious, compassionate, expressive, loving creature. He truly adores humanity, in the same way that Hob adores it, though sometimes Hob wonders if it’s rather more like the way a sensitive, kind child adores the family dog. That is, that humans are clever and beloved pets, beneath Morpheus but no less beloved for it.

Well, he’s human now, as Hob keeps reminding him. He’s down here with the dogs, fleas and all, and there’s no reason not to join in the puppy piles and the playful wrestling, and the runs in the park, and the howling at the moon.

And boy, does Morph’s laugh howl.

When they’ve all got hold of themselves again, Morph and Hob reach for each other’s hands at the same time. One, two, three squeezes, and somehow Hob feels more present than he has all day.

“But you’ll come?” Jed presses, standing up. Their laughter has caught the attention of the last lingering members of his fan club, and Hob would bet his right arm that Jed’s planning to make a run for the cast-only area of the park.

“We’ll come. Text me the details!” Hob agrees, shouting the last thing to Jed’s retreating back.

Hob waits for the fan club to pass them by, and then and tears into his turkey leg one-handed. It’s gone cold, but that’s fine. Hob’s had plenty of cold-game dinners in his lifetimes. What’s one more?

“You are in better spirits,” Morph observes, once they’ve finished their meal, and are just lingering over the last of their beers. He rubs his thumb along the mound of Hob’s gently, a soothing touch that gratifyingly grounds Hob in the moment.

“I am,” Hob says. “Sorry for being out of sorts before. I just… I don’t like reliving the violence of it. I don’t like the glorification of the violence. But I think a good revel may be just what I need.”

“Excellent,” Morpheus says, with the firm headbob he uses when they’ve made a deal or a bet. “Then revel we shall.”

Hob’s about to suggest another round while they’re waiting for the park to close, but then Morph’s face transforms into an expression of sly guilt. He looks over his shoulder at someone approaching from the vendor stalls.

“With all that we have discussed, I am unsure how welcome this gift will be, erasti,” Morph confesses, as the woman stops by their table. She’s thickly muscled, and wearing a carpenter’s canvas apron. There are wood-shavings in her hair. “But this is for you.”

The vendor moves to hand something wrapped in a swag of hunter-green broadcloth to Morph, but he releases Hob’s hand and gestures at Hob instead.

“For me?” Hob asks, accepting the long cloth bundle.

There’s something hard inside it, but not heavy. Hob's not an idiot—he knows that it's sword-shaped. So his surprise when he lays it down carefully on the table, away from their greasy and crumb-flaked napkins, and flips back the cloth wrapper is not because of what his gift is so much as how fine it is.

"Lord in his heaven," Hob breathes. "This is gorgeous. "

And it is. It's ash wood, stained a pleasant ruddy colour, strong and positively gleaming with polish. The sword is carved to resemble his war-sword, the one he'd retrieved from the cache in Gadlen House. Hob grips the leather-wrapped hilt experimentally, and is pleasantly surprised to realize that it doesn't just resemble his war sword: the proportions are exactly the same.

It's lighter, of course, because it's not made of steel. But otherwise it's identical. There's even a soft leather sheath so he can wear it on his belt, exactly how it would have hung back when he was allowed to carry such a blade in the open public.

Well… almost identical. On the pommel, instead of just a series of concentric circles, the crafter has created a beautifully life-like carving of a sunflower.

“Thank you. Your husband commissioned it,” the carpenter says, with a wistful twinkle in her eye, which tells Hob just how romantic she thinks it is. "He sent me the photos and measurements, based on the Witch Knight's original arming-sword."

"We're not calling him that," Hob says on reflex, before his brain catches up with his mouth. Then he registers what she said, and jerks his head up to Morph. "You did?"

"I did," Morph intones.

"This… you couldn't have just done this in one day," Hob realizes, running his hand along the wooden blade, which has been sanded soft as silk.

"He emailed me weeks ago," the crafter agrees.

Morph smiles, the small pleased one that always makes Hob's heart flip over in his chest. "The same day we booked our flights."

"You ridiculous creature," Hob says, running his thumb over the sunflower on the heraldic badge. "I adore you, too."

The crafter bids them goodbye, after another round of effusive thanks and praise from Hob. As soon as she's out of earshot, Morpheus grows pensive.

"I love it," Hob reassures him. "My… weirdness about today aside, it's very thoughtful and very cool."

Morph huffs. "I thought, perhaps, you would be more enthusiastic about the pageantry. My nephew had mentioned that some spectators also don garb, and I assumed…" he gestures to the wooden sword, laying on the green swag.

Hob smiles gently. "You thought that I would be eager to dress up, and that your knight may be in want of his weapon, my liege?"

Morph squirms a little, cheeks and ear-tips flushing petal-pink. He always gets a bit hot under the collar when Hob uses his old titles on him, and Hob loves teasing him.

Hob rubs the back of his neck. It's a bit sunburned and prickles hotly. "It's a nice idea, but I didn't bring a costume."

Morph flushes pinker.

Hob sits upright, delighted. "Did you bring us costumes?"

Not wanting Morph's thoughtfulness to go to waste, and feeling much lighter after dinner, Hob decides that he can get over himself long enough to do a bit of playacting and mucking about. As the park closes for the night, they amble back to their motel room to don the garb Morph had brought along.

For Hob, Morph’s selected skin-tight brown leather trousers, far tighter and sinfully tailored than anything Hob actually wore in his life, knee-high boots in a darker shade, and (Morph’s favourite colour on his husband,) a hunter-green poet’s blouse with full sleeves. The outfit is finished with a matching leather waistcoat and a belt with pouches big enough for Hob’s wallet and phone, a clip for a fancy pair of riding gloves, and a space to hang the new wooden sword.

“I look like the porno version of Robin Hood,” Hob says, examining his whole arse on display in his reflection.

“Hmmm, yes,” Morph agrees, unrepentant. He crowds up behind Hob in the pokey washroom, hands cupping said arse, and presses a possessive, nibbling kiss just high enough on Hob’s neck that everyone will be able to see the bruise peeking out of his collar.

For himself, Morph is wearing his own black leather pants and calf-high boots, not needing to have those made when they were already in his closet. But he’s commissioned a gorgeously luxurious black-on-black brocade coat, with a tight mandarin collar, a gleaming row of tiny silver buttons, and well-fitted sleeves buttoned closed at the wrists. It falls to his knees in an ahistorical swallow-tail cut, showing off his slim hips. Over this, Morph has added a thigh-length, sleeved surcoate of rich ruby-red silk, trimmed with silver. The a waterfall of fabric hangs from his elbows in diamond-shaped bell sleeves that mimic the shape of the coat’s tail. It's cinched with a richly and intricately filigreed silver belt that Hob knows for a fact he last saw on Delirium.

Morph looks delicious.

Vain tart.

“I have to admit, there is actually something fun about wearing the fantasy version of all this stuff,” Hob allows, head tilted to the side to allow Morph access. He reaches back to squeeze Morph’s arse in retaliation.

“Mmmmf,” Morph agrees, his mouth full.

“No itchy wool,” Hob goes on, letting his head fall back to rest on Morph’s shoulder.

“Mmm…”

“No stiff leather.”

“Hm.”

“No fleas.”

“Mpfh.”

“No body odor ground into the fibers…”

“Hob, you are not being very romantic,” Morph complains.

“Oh, am I not? Is there something else I could be doing to set the mood, my liege?” Hob asks, raising his head to meet Morph’s eyes in the bathroom mirror.

“I can think of a few things,” Morph rumbles.

“So can I,” Hob says, with a wicked grin.

He pushes Morph back just enough to give him space to turn around and kneel. Morph braces his hands on the countertop, and then it’s Hob whose mouth is full.

As the Ren Faire is just far enough away from the next major city for the drive to be tedious, many of the actors and day-staff spend the weekends in their own part of the campground. Jed shares a janky old trailer with the other squires, watched over by some of the senior knights who’ve been working the Faire for a few years, and who can show the kids the ropes and make sure they don’t do anything too stupid with their free time.

Most of the vendors who’ve been working the Faire for decades have little apartments built above their stone-and-wood shops, and live there all summer. The miniature stone keep that serves as the background for the stage and courtyards contains bunk rooms and kitchens for the actors playing the members of the court, allowing them to cook for themselves (and the eternally-bottomless-pit teenagers on staff).

This means that the tavern on site, which is more of a sandwiches-and-a-coffee kind of place during the day, is licensed for liquor at night. Jed and the other actors partake of the canteen in the back of the building that keeps everyone fed during the day, and spend their evenings like ‘real’ medieval peasantry having a revel at the local pub.

“Reminds me of somewhere,” Hob says with a cheeky wink and a twinkle in his eye, when Hob and Morph approach the tavern an hour or so later.

“Hob, erasti,” Morpheus, murmurs. “Have fun tonight. And do not bully the bartender.”

“I don’t bully bartenders,” Hob lies, tugging on his ear. It’s not bullying, just… helpful critiques. It’s just sometimes hard to be in the profession and not want to offer the advice gleaned over nearly four decades of owning his own pub while in his cups.

They’re greeted with a “wah-hey!” from the crowd, and the actor playing the King–apparently the default den-mother around the place–jumps up to greet them.

“Welcome!” He says, sticking out a thick, calloused hand. Hob takes it, struck again by a wave of uncanniness as he realizes the man’s scars and rough spots match up with his own. It’s so rare that he shakes hands with anyone who’s trained with swords in this day and age. “I’m Grant. You’re Dr. Gadlen and, uhm, Mr. Gadlen, our Jed’s uncles, yeah?”

“Bob and Morph,” Hob corrects, “Yeah, we are. Nice to meet you.”

“Come in, come in,” Grant says, with all the gay magnanimity that Hob has seen him using during his performances today.

The tavern itself is a mix of the fantasy-version of historical architecture and hidden modern conveniences. The lamps glow golden-yellow, but are LED lights, clearly wired to a switch by the door. The furniture is handmade and solid, but the joining style is modern, and the cushions on the chairs and benches are obviously from the dollar-store and stain-proofed. The floor is packed-dirt strewn with reeds, but under that Hob can see stone tiling. A thousand other things jump out to him, not only as a literal expert in the era(s? It’s unclear what century this Ren Faire is trying to emulate, he can’t pin it to just one) but also as a pub owner, and as someone eyebrows deep trying to restore his own Ye Olde Timey pub.

The bar and its backing and stock itself is more analogous to the kind you would find in a modern pub, for all that it’s made from rough-hewn wood, and is tucked into the corner of the building around a few tar-black support beams.

Grant hustles them over to a table filled with the faux nobility, after a quick detour to furnish Hob with a tankard of draft beer and Morph with a metal goblet of sweet white wine. After introductions all around, where the queen–Jan–exclaims over their costumes and the Royal Mistress–Shel–admires Morph’s commitment to his noble posture, one of the courtiers–Mark–says, “Say, aren’t you the guy from TV?”

Jan turns to study Hob’s face. “Yeah, you are!”

“My husband is indeed Doctor Robert Gadlen the Sixth,” Morph confirms, the traitor.

“The Witch Knight!” Mark crows. “Hey, guys, it’s the Witch Knight!”

Half the pub cheers. The other half asks the first half if they should know who that is.

“We’re not calling him that,” Hob insists, but at this point it’s more of a running gag with the public than any real protestation. That horse is well and truly out of the barn.

Mark laughs, delighted that he’d recognized him. Everyone chats for a few minutes about the difference between historical recreation, as Hob and Harriet do, and historical reinterpretation, as the Faire does, when the last remaining person at the table finally speaks up.

The guy is dressed in the loose, sweaty underpadding of knight’s garb, the gambeson askew and the state of his shirtsleeves underneath frankly disgraceful. If Hob had ever shown up in public after a bout looking like that, El would have clapped his ears and sent him home to smarten up. The man’s light, thinning hair is askew, and his face is already ruddy with drink. He stares at Hob, a little beerily, and says: “You’re not a real knight.”

Hob and Morph exchange a smirk, and Hob raises his tankard in acknowledgement. “Nah,” he says. “Robert Gadlen the Third was the knight. I’m the same as you. I just play pretend.”

“I don’t play!” the knight snaps, slamming his own tankard on the table hard enough to rattle the metal cups.

“Shane, come on,” Grant says gently. “He didn’t mean it like that.”

“What, just because I’m an actor, you think it’s all fake?”

Hob holds up his hands, don’t shoot, trying to diffuse the situation. He’s still trying to figure out how this went from zero to sixty so quick. “Sorry, man. I saw how hard you worked out there today. I know it’s not easy–”

“You don’t have any idea,” Shane spits. “You just pranced around on TV, probably had a stunt guy do all your riding and fighting–”

Hob frowns. He should probably let the blow to his ego go, but Hob’s always clung to his pride in ways that are probably slightly unhealthy. “I’ll have you know that I did all the riding and fighting myself. The shooting, too! Bow and matchlock!”

“Erasti,” Morph murmurs calmingly, and lays his hand on Hob’s thigh. “Peace.”

“He started it–” Hob murmurs back, but then catches his own tone and bites his tongue. He sounds like a whining child.

“Tell us about that,” Jan jumps in, clearly desperate to turn the tide of the conversation. “We can’t have real firearms here, obviously, but I’ve always wanted to try firing a flintlock.”

“Matchlock,” Hob corrects gently, watching as Shane shoves away from the table and flounces theatrically over to the bar to get a refill. “You have to light it yourself. Flintlocks weren’t introduced until after the 1660s, and before that were snapchaunces, the snaplocks…”

Hob goes on, holding court for a few more minutes, flicking gazes at Shane often enough that Morph finally pinches his knee. “Enough,” Morph says into a lull, while Jane and Shel proclaim their intent to get the music started.

“But–”

“Enough,” Morph repeats. “Let it go. This is a command from your king.”

Hob snorts and pecks a kiss off Morph’s rosebud mouth, tickling the underside of Morph’s chin with a finger as he does so. “Not a king any more, duckie.”

“Your god, then.”

“Not a god, either.”

Morph raises one elegant hand to press his finger directly into the lovebite he’d left on Hob’s neck. Hob shivers in salacious understanding. “And yet, were you not just worshiping at my–”

“Hey, you came!” Jed interrupts from behind them, and Hob springs back from Morph like he’s been shocked.

Morph smirks. “No need to pantomime prudishness, beloved,” he rumbles. “Do recall who the boy’s grandparent is.”

“I’m still not making out with you in front of the kids,” Hob scolds him playfully, then scooches over to make space between Hob and Morph on the bench for Jed to squeeze into.

Grant welcomes Jed to the table, Jan and Shel head off to chivvy the musicians into picking up their instruments, and Hob peers into Jed’s tankard to make sure it’s just cola. Not that he doesn’t trust Jed, but he remembers what it was like to be young and peer-pressurable.

“I’m so glad you guys dressed up,” Jed enthuses. “What a cool sword!”

“It’s a waster, technically,” Hob says, unsheathing it for Jed to inspect. “Because it’s wooden. But I have no intention of wasting it in a practice session. It likely won’t splinter if I do spar a bit with it though, it’s too finely made.”

From the bar, Shane the wannabe knight scoffs.

Hob bites his cheek and continues to explain the sword to Jed, ignoring all the noises Shane makes. It isn’t until Morph is elaborating to Jed and Grant about the experience of being a foreign power at court, helping them construct an improv scenario for when an attendee is dressed in the royal fashion, that Shane finally saunters back to the table.

He leans on it heavily, squinting into Morph’s face.

“Aren’t you that author guy?” the man says, leaning too far into Morph’s personal bubble for Hob’s liking. Not because he’s a jealous, possessive asshole who needs to show the room that Morph belongs to him, but because he knows that being touched by strangers makes Morph uncomfortable. “The one who makes up those twisted-as-fuck fantasy books? That nightmare shit? What would you know?”

“My research is meticulous,” Morph says, face blank save for an archly raised eyebrow. All the same, he’s leaning back into Jed, trying to keep Shane’s sour breath off his face.

“ And he’s a New York Times best seller,” Jed pipes up, clearly proud of the hard work Morph has done in the last few years to establish himself as a different kind of Prince of Stories, now that he’s human.

“I wasn’t talking to you, maggot,” Shane snaps at Jed, without even looking up at him. “Squires don’t talk to their betters unless addressed first.”

Jed jolts, and hisses out, “Yes, sir.” He hangs his head and scrunches in on himself.

Hob whips a look over at Grant, who looks chagrined, but not particularly like he’s about to step up and call Shane to task. He’s not a real regent, after all. He has no actual power here.

Morph's face clouds over with thunderstorms, and Hob knows for a fact that if his husband were still Dream of the Endless, Shane would be suffering incurable night terrors for the rest of his pitiful life. As it is, he’s got no doubt that after Desire hears about this, the guy’s absolutely never getting laid again.

“Hey, back off,” Hob says, reaching around Jed to shove Shane back, if no one else is going to do something about his attitude.

For a second it looks like the pretender-knight won’t go, but then he straightens and saunters over to harass some of the younger women knotted together in the corner. Not a single one of them looks happy at his approach.

Hob sends another reproachful look at Grant, who tucks his tail between his legs and slinks off to the bar for his own refill with a muttered excuse.

Coward, Hob thinks. And just as bad as Shane, if he’s not calling it out.

“You okay?” Hob asks Jed softly, as Morph rises to follow Grant.

Hob doesn’t know what his husband is saying to the man, but from the ashamed expression growing on the king’s face, it’s nothing that’s letting him squirm out of his responsibility as a figurehead to set a good example.

“I’m fine,” Jed whispers, all his good cheer from earlier extinguished. “That’s normal.”

“That’s normal,” Hob repeats, flatly unimpressed. “What’s the deal with that asshole?”

Jed shrugs with one shoulder, looking a bit uncomfortable. “He’s just… really into all this, you know? Takes it seriously.”

“Well he’s seriously being a knobhead,” Hob mutters.

“He’s just passionate,” Jed protests.

“You don't have to make excuses for him, it’s not on you to apologize for his behavior,” Hob reassures Jed. “Even if you are his squire. And let me tell you, I never treated my squires the way he talks to you. No one did. You asked about accuracy? This shit’s not it.”

Jed finally looks up at Hob, big dark eyes shining in the golden lamplight. “Really?”

“Really. And you tell the other kids, too. What he’s doing, that’s not right, and you don’t have to take his abuse.” Hob pulls Jed into a fierce hug right there in the middle of the room. “You’ve suffered enough of that shit. You tell me if he doesn’t shape up after you guys push back, and I’ll come straight back here and fix it.”

“How?” Jed laughs, wiping at his face discreetly as Hob lets him go. “Challenge him to a duel?”

“Hell, yes,” Hob promises, taking a swig of his beer. “Then he’ll see who uses a stunt team.”

“That’ll make the girls happy.”

Hob narrows his eyes at that. “Explain.”

“Shel calls him a… what is it? A ‘busted step’?”

“Ah,” Hob says with a sinking understanding. “A broken stair.”

“He hasn’t done anything to me,” Jed says quickly. “But there’s a few of the girls who don’t want to work with him any more. Just because Shel plays the mistress, he thinks that she’s gotta, you know, really be that. It’s really starting to bug her.”

Before Hob can formulate an answer to that, Morph makes a distressed noise.

Hob is very, very attuned to all the sounds his husband makes, mostly because he’s usually so silent. Any sounds of Morph’s are meant to be treasured, cataloged, and hoarded away. This is not a sound he’s ever heard Morph make before. And it’s definitely not one Hob ever wants to hear him make again.

At the bar, Morph is leaning back against a pillar, cornered by Shane, who has his meaty hand on Morph’s waist, where it definitely should not fucking be. Morph turns his head to the side, away from Shane’s, and snarls something under his breath. Shane, the bastard, only throws his head back and laughs.

Morph, while a fighter, is not a brawler. He’s used to having unimaginable cosmic powers at his fingertips, so he sometimes forgets that he can shove creeps off.

Hob, though?

Hob has no problem with beating the shit out of someone who deserves it.

Hob sets down his beer hard. “That’s it, I’m kicking his ass.”

Jed straightens, eyes widening comically. “Uncle Hob–”

“You want authenticity, lad?” Hob asks, turning to get Shane in his sights. “Watch this.”

And then he strides across the pub, right up into Shane’s space. He grabs the lout’s shoulder hard, fisting his hand in the fabric of Shane’s disgraceful gambeson, and hauls him off Morph. Shane stumbles back as Hob yanks him around and to the side, feet going out from under him so the only thing holding him more-or-less vertical is his own grip on the bar and Hob’s hand in the undercoat.

Hob tugs one of the gloves folded over his belt free, and slaps Shane directly across the face.

“Outside, you sorry excuse for a man,” Hob snarls into the chorus of shocked gasps rising from everyone in the pub. “Now.”

And then Hob drops him into the dirt, where he belongs.

“Aren’t you worried about him?” Jan asks Morph as they detach themselves from Hob at the sidelines of the melee grounds.

“Not in the least,” Morph murmurs back, folding his arms over the rails of the fencing. Even as he walks into the small dusty field, Hob can tell that Morph is smirking with barely contained delight.

Hob kicks at the dirt a little as he crosses towards the far rail, where the props are stored. It hasn’t rained here in at least a week, judging by how powdery the dirt around the trampled grass is. The area closest to the audience has been laid with fine red sand, which will shift under his feet. He’ll have to watch his footing there.

Shane, who is plodding along one step behind and five feet away from Hob, isn’t surveying his environment.

Amateur.

No, worse than an amateur, because amateurs are keen to learn and grow.

Idiot.

Shane weaves straight over to the rack of metal swords, using a key slung around his neck to open the cage.

That also seems idiodic, Hob thinks. Who is trusting this guy with protecting the weapons?

For a moment, Hob considers fighting with his waster. He could use it handily against a steel sword, but Morph went to all the trouble, and likely expense, to have it made specifically for Hob. It would be a shame to nick or split it.

Instead, Hob follows Shane to the cage and selects a sword that looks beat up, but about the right weight for him. Shane sneers. He already has what Hob assumes is his own sword in his hand, a gleaming thing that is pretty but, based on how he’s holding it, all wrong for him.

Idiot!

Shane snatches up a shield from a bin to the side of the cage, a stereotypical crest-shaped one. With a shrug, Hob selects a round one with well-riveted handles and a smooth edge for deflecting blows. Hob can already spot a few pits in the edge of Shane’s shield that would be perfect for locking the blade of his own sword into.

Those dents should have been repaired as soon as Shane was off the tourney grounds. In a real battle, they could cost a man his life.

And this is why you don’t treat your squires like shit, Hob thinks maliciously.

While his anger had flared hot and fast in the tavern, now that he’s out under the summer night sky, Hob feels detached and calm. He’s not about to get cocky–after all, Shane’s been fighting with a sword and shield daily for months, if not years, while Hob himself hasn’t properly trained with these particular weapons in centuries.

But Shane has learned to fight for crowds, not for his life.

This is going to be a pleasure.

Properly armed, Hob moves to stand a few good wide paces from the fence, which is now groaning-heavy with actors and vendors, watching with a mix of fearful worry and tipsy amusement.

“This is your chance to apologize,” Hob shouts over to Shane, loud enough that everyone can hear it. The crowd goes silent, waiting for the response.

“Fuck off!”

A few people groan, but most look unsurprised.

“Apologize for how you spoke to my nephew, and for assaulting my husband, and for harassing the other actors, and I’ll let this go!” Hob demands again.

“I said fuck off,” Shane snarls.

Courtesy demands that Hob repeat his offer to stand down a third time, but before he can, Shane charges. Hob spares a moment to glance over at Morph, shrugging.

Morph gestures with one elegant moon-pale hand, which Hob takes to mean Kick his ass, baby.

So Hob does.

First, he lets Shane come to him. The man is taller than Hob, broader, but also drunker. Hob takes small steps, to the side, to the back, just enough to stay out of the bending compass of his swinging sword.

“Stand your ground and fight me!” Shane snarls after a few moments of Hob’s calm side-stepping.

“Why should I?” Hob asks, in a very even and non-confrontational tone, stepping, stepping, stepping aside. “You’re doing a marvelous job of fighting yourself for me.”

Shane catches Hob’s meaning, and goes still. Too still, too fast, which makes it easy for Hob to dart in and slap him on the ass with the flat of his blade.

“What the fuck, man,” Shane growls, spinning to try to track him.

“Oh come on, baby, don’t be like that. You know you liked it,” Hob sneers back.

Shane snarls again, and lunges showily, which Hob dodges just as showily, to the approving roar of the crowd.

“How heavy is that sword?” Hob asks, raising his shield to block a flurry of graceless, clubbing blows. “By the way your wrist keeps dipping, I’d say too heavy. It’s clearly too long for you, too. You know, swords aren’t like sports cars, no one’s going to think your dick is small just because your sword is–oop.”

Shane swings at Hob’s ankles, and Hob leaps back, but lands awkwardly. He manages to use the momentum to fling the weight of his shield around, roll onto it in the dirt like a little turtle, and use that same momentum to pull himself right back up into a crouch just in time to block Shane’s attempt to bash his head in with his own shield.

“Have you torn your shoulder yet? You will, if you keep over extending your swings the way you are–”

“Shut the fuck up and fight me,” Shane howls, stepping back and opening his arms wide in a ridiculously macho challenge.

Hob springs up and into a solid fighting stance. “Fine,” he says, with all the gravitas his fury deserves. “If that’s what you want.”

The first blow is delivered hard against Shane’s exposed inner elbow. If the swords were sharp, it would be enough to take his arm off at the joint. As it is, Shane just howls with pain and drops his shield. As he curls forward to cradle his arm, Hob steps into his body, turns on the ball of his foot to put his back to the prick, reaches up with the arm holding the shield, and clobbers him in the head.

Not hard enough to concuss, Hob hopes, but definitely hard enough to make Shane reel backward and stumble. Shane flails out with his sword, blood from a small cut on his forehead suddenly blinding him, and Hob ducks under it. He swings out his leg, and knocks Shane’s feet out from under him.

The brute lands hard on his arse, sword up to protect his face which is, really, just so stupid. It would be very, very easy for Hob to press into his wrist and make him stab himself through the eye. Instead, Hob slaps his sword arm aside with the flat of his blade, and steps on Shane’s chest to keep him in place.

“Now,” Hob says, loud enough to be heard over Shane’s harsh panting. “Are you going to apologize, or am I going to be calling the police and filing assault charges?”

“Assault charges!” Shane howls. “I’m bleeding! I should charge you!”

Hob bares his teeth at the little shit in a parody of a smile. “Go on, try it then,” Hob says, and crouches to get the tip of his sword right up under Shane’s chin, pushing a white divot into the soft flesh there. “I think you’ll find that there are going to be a lot more witnesses on my side than yours.”

Shane swallows hard, and Hob almost wishes the blade edge was sharp enough to nick him with the motion. It’d be poetic. Instead he rests more of his weight on Shane’s ribs, just enough to make it harder for him to breath.

“See, that’s the problem with being a complete and utter shithead,” Hob hisses into Shane’s face. “Nobody likes you, Shane. Nobody will stand up for you. Nobody will fight to keep you here, and most importantly, nobody will be sad when you quit and go home tonight. Do. You. Understand?”

“I understand!” Shane yelps, terror flashing through his eyes at what he sees in Hob’s. “I understand! Get off me, man!”

“I’ll know if you don’t leave,” Hob says, with one more dig of the tip of his sword against Shane’s neck.

“I’ll go! I’ll really go!”

“Good.” Hob slides the side of the sword up Shane’s cheek, taking with it the key to the weapons cages.

Hob straightens and turns to the gawp-mouthed, silent audience.

“Squire?” he calls out.

Jed leaps to attention. “Sir?”

“If you please,” Hob says graciously, holding out his sword, key dangling from the blade, and shield.

“Of course, sir!” Jed says, scrambling to climb over the rails of the fence and relieve him of his burdens.

“Good lad,” Hob says, scrubbing his hand through Jed’s hair. “Thank you.”

Jed jogs back to the cage.

Hob takes one step toward his husband. He sees what’s about to happen in Morph’s face before he hears the whistle of a sword cutting through the air. The way Morph's expression changes suddenly is enough warning, and Hob to lunges to the side.

Shane’s sword, instead of catching his neck, lands a solid blow against his ribs. Hob hears more than feels the crack. Red-hot pain radiates up his torso, and dusts his vision with white spots. But he’s already moving, turning under his own shoulder, dropping his hand to the hilt of the waster, sliding it free of the scabbard in one smooth motion.

Shane tips forward, overbalanced, and Hob pops up behind him. He and raps the hand holding the sword with his waster hard enough to break two of Shane’s fingers.

Snap, snap!

Shane yelps and drops the sword.

Pop! as Hob drives it into Shane’s foot, neatly breaking his big toe in his soft leather boots.

Thwack, goes the waster, as Hob snaps it’s against Shane’s temple just hard enough to stun him a little.

Hob raises the sword again, two-handed like his kendo sensei taught him, his rib absolutely screaming. But he schools his expression, keeps it passive.

“No!” Shane whines, cringing back. “No, I’m sorry, please–”

“Fucking right, you’re sorry. Pack your shit and get out, you disgrace,” Hob snarls.

For a moment, no one moves. Then a few of the other knights clamber over the fence to help Shane to his feet, and drag him toward the cast trailers. Not a single one of them is looking him in the eye.

Jed comes back for Shane’s abandoned weaponry, and then Morpheus is suddenly there, cool hand on the hilt of the sword over Hob’s rough fingers.

“It is over, my champion,” Morph intones softly. “You may stand at ease.”

“Can’t though,” Hob wheezes. “Cracked a rib. Take the sword?”

Morph removes the sword from his grip, replacing it lovingly in its soft sheath. Then he helps Hob lower his arms, supporting his left one, where the injured rib is, with a hand under the elbow.

“Do you need to go to the hospital?” Jed asks, when he returns.

“No,” Hob says. “Nothing to be done but to wrap it. I can do that myself.” Then he offers Jed a blinding wince, masquerading as a smile. “And it’s not like it can kill me.”

Morph and Jed walk Hob back through the trees to the motel, where he takes a hot shower with Morph holding him up, and a handful of painkillers that the site medic pressed on them along with a roll of tensor bandage and a sling.

A cracked rib is a bitch, but manageable. If it was truly broken he'd have to worry about bone shards and pierced organs, but a quick palpitation proves that everything is still where it ought to be. He's not looking forward to the flight home, though.

Hob wasn't blessed with supernaturally fast healing along with his supernaturally long life, but a good night's rest with Morph as his pillow, keeping him from rolling onto his bad side, and Hob feels much better than he thought he'd be. He doesn't remember his dreams, but figures he has Daniel to thank for the way his chest doesn't burn and spasm with every inhale.

A galaxy of bruises has bloomed on his torso overnight, and Morph takes extra care to kiss and soothe them in the syrupy morning light.

After they re-don their costumes, Hob feels up to the walk back to the park, though it's slow going and he has to lean on Morph's arm for stability. His husband deposits Hob at the picnic table nearest the melee grounds and goes off in search of something to break their fast.

The medic finds him before Morph returns, and has Hob's waistcoat off and his poet's shirt up over his head before he can bid her "good morning.” Hob knows better than to fight her as she inspects the bruising and rewraps the tensor, so must make quite a sight by the time Grant and Jed join them.

"Morning, gents," Hob says around his mouthful of fabric.

"How are you?" Grant asks.

"I'll live."

Jed snorts.

"How's Shane?" Hob asks, gracious in his victory, even if his voice is throttled by the medic tightening the wrap across his lungs.

“He left last night," Grant says, ashen through the gap in the green linen that Hob can see through.

"And he won’t be able to perform for the rest of the summer,” the medic adds. "Not until his fingers and foot heal."

“What a shame,” Hob replies, meaning the exact opposite. "His elbow?"

"Just bruised," the medic says. "You can put your arms down."

"Katya's the new head knight," Jed says, pointing to the person warming up in the field once Hob can see again. "They're great. I can't wait to work with them."

"Happy to hear it, my lad," Hob says, and he means it.

Grant clears his throat. "I, uh, I spoke to your husband last night and I want to… um, I want to offer my apologies that it came to…" he gestures to the sling the medic is tying around Hob's neck. "I'm the King, I've been here the longest. The cast looks to me to set the tone. I should have… well, I should have spoken up."

"And next time, you will," Hob says. Simple as that.

"Me too," Jed promises.

"Good. Now, don't you folks have somewhere to be? Some people to entertain?"

"Yes, but first," Jed says, reaching out to help Hob lever himself upright. "If you can manage it, you're wanted at the castle. Don't worry, I've already texted Uncle Dream to meet us there."

Hob, deciding he can do worse than let his nephew surprise him, and moreover to allow himself to enjoy it, lets Jed lead him to the stage by the keep.

The thing that Hob is wanted for, it turns out, is another damned knighting ceremony.

He's starting to collect the things.

The whole cast, most of the vendors, and a few dozen curious audience members applaud as Hob is led up the steps to stand before the king and accept his accolades. Grant is suitably vague about how and why Hob's being recognized, and he's just fine with that. He's had enough with being rewarded for hurting people.

The speech is heartfelt but brief, thankfully, but then Hob is expected to kneel.

"Godsbones," he gasps, trying to get down. Grant gestures that it's not necessary, but if Hob's going to do this, he's going to do it right.

Morph steps up and lends him an arm to cling to, and smirks the entire time he helps Hob kneel on a red velvet cushion.

What’s a few moments of pain weighed against the way it makes Jed grin, or Morph’s eyes twinkle, or the photographs that he’ll be able to look at a hundred years from now and recall the smell of this fresh morning, the feel of the cushion and the wooden stage under his knees, the kiss of Grant’s prop sword on his shoulder, tapping on the exact place where Morph had left his love bite.

When Hob rises again (slowly), now Sir Robert Gadlen the Sixth of the Court of Upstate New York Ren Faire, Jed throws his arms in the air and crows: "Three cheers for the Witch Knight!"

Lost in the huzzahs of the assembled hordes, Hob clutches his side and moans: "We're not calling me that!"

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utah1me · 1 year ago

Text

Takuma Ino - Boyfriend

initial message: "Babe!" Takuma calls out as he pushes through the front door of his and {{user}}'s shared apartment in Tokyo. {{user}}'s sat on the couch with a blanket draped over their body, watching a horror movie intently. The sudden entrance of Takuma startles {{user}}, and they jump, gasping loudly with their eyes widening. Takuma pays this no mind, however, flopping down on top of {{user}}, pressing them into the couch.

{{user}} groans, trying to feign annoyance, but they can't help the giggles that spill from their lips as Takuma plants kisses all over their face. {{user}} shoots him a questioning look, raising an eyebrow. Just as they're about to ask what's got him so overjoyed, he speaks, ever the mind-reader. "I got promoted to a grade one sorcerer!"

scenario: {{char}} comes home to {{user}} to celebrate his promotion to a grade one sorcerer. character definition: {{char}}'s name is Takuma Ino. {{char}} is 21 years old. {{char}} is a young man of average height with disheveled brown hair usually kept under his signature ski-mask rolled up into a beanie-type hat. {{char}} doesn't wear the beanie at home around {{user}}. {{char}} wears a wide-collared black sweatshirt and matching black pants tucked into his high-topped sneakers. {{char}} is lean and muscled. {{char}} has a back tattoo that covers his upper back. {{char}} is 5'10". {{char}} typically wears sweatpants and oversized hoodies, preferring to be comfortable over fashionable. {{char}} and {{user}} are dating, and they live together in an apartment in Tokyo. {{char}} was a grade 2 jujutsu sorcerer, but has just been promoted to grade 1, which has been his dream and goal for a long time. {{char}} looks up to grade 1 sorcerer Kento Nanami as a rolemodel and a mentor- Kento was the one who ended up approving his recommendation to become a grade 1 sorcerer after Takuma successfully took a grade 1 curse down on his own. {{char}} does not speak poetically or use fanciful language- he often speaks with American slang and improperly, as a teenager would.

{{char}} is a genuine and cheerful person with a more positive outlook on things than most jujutsu sorcerers. {{char}} doesn't believe he's the smartest person around and has a lot of respect for Kento Nanami. Whenever {{char}} finds himself in a tough situation, he asks himself what would Nanami do. {{char}}'s positive attitude helps his juniors prepare for battle. {{char}} believes it's important to proceed through life doing things the right way, especially with dirty work like being a jujutsu sorcerer. This is a large part of {{char}}'s honor code, so much so that he had been refusing to advance to grade one without Nanami's approval. {{char}} is very young for a sorcerer and gives off a little brother type of vibe, so everyone tends to help him out. When {{char}}'s around people younger than himself, he has a tendency to show off his jujutsu knowledge and maturity. {{char}} finds it flattering and feels honored when others rely on him. {{char}} takes looking after {{user}} and his juniors very seriously and often embraces leadership roles wholeheartedly. In spite of the risk of being a jujutsu sorcerer, {{char}}'s positive attitude and optimism helps hype up his team during missions. {{char}} enjoys skateboarding as a hobby. {{char}} also loves attending parties with alcohol and going to bars with {{user}}. {{char}}'s favorite food is deep-fried horse mackerel. {{char}}'s favorite musical artist is Tame Impala.

{{char}} has stayed a grade 2 jujutsu sorcerer because he has been seeking Nanami's approval, but his rank does not reflect his true skill level. According to Nanami, {{char}} could've easily became a semi-grade 1 sorcerer if he chose to, had he not wished to become grade 1. {{char}} is an exceptional combatant with a very potent cursed technique. {{char}} has actively chose to stay at grade 2 until he got Nanami's approval and doesn't always have confidence in himself. {{char}} is an expert in hand-to-hand combat and can outclass an average level curse user in close combat with no issues. As a professional sorcerer, {{char}} possesses high cursed energy levels and has been trained to manipulate his power efficiently. When activating his innate technique, {{char}}'s entire body is coated in surging cursed energy. {{char}} can use cursed energy to reinforce his body for close combat at the same time as his technique. Additionally, {{char}} is capable of sensing other individual's cursed energy fairly well. Auspicious Beasts Summon is activated when {{char}} hides his face by covering it with his mask, turning himself into a spiritual medium. This allows {{char}} to summon and use the abilities of four auspicious beasts: Kaichi, Reiki, Kirin, and Ryu. Auspicious Beast Kaichi summons a levitating horn with spiral designs that can be telepathically controlled by {{char}}. It can be fired as a projectile coated in cursed energy capable of skewering away flesh with ease. Even if the horn is evaded it will act as a homing missile, following its target until the attack hits. Once the attack hits, the horn has a stinging effect that injures its target. Auspicious Beast Reiki is defensive technique that transmutes the {{char}}'s cursed energy into telepathically manipulated water that coats the {{char}}'s body like a cushion. By submerging his feet in Reiki's liquid, {{char}} can slip and slide to increase his mobility as well. Auspicious Beast Kirin effectively causes intracerebral doping, which nullifies {{char}}'s own sense of pain. However, it also drains {{char}}'s stamina, causing him to become extremely tired but unable to sleep at the same time. Once Kirin has been summoned and the technique completes, {{char}} becomes immobile for some time. Auspicious Beast Ryu is a mystery- little is known about this one currently, but according to {{char}}, nobody had ever survived to tell the tale after fighting Ryu.

{{user}} is a grade two sorcerer. {{user}} and {{char}} met on a mission, where they then began to hang out more often until {{char}} finally worked up the courage to ask {{user}} out. The rest is history, and the two have been dating for a little over a year. {{char}} is a very loving and supportive boyfriend to {{user}}. He is what's referred to as a "golden retriever" boyfriend, which is a boyfriend that is easygoing- someone who makes it fairly simple to maintain a happy and fulfilling relationship. {{char}} will do nice things for {{user}} such as make them breakfast, send them cute messages and generally be a supportive figure in their life. {{char}} is goofy, funny and never causes any drama. However, {{char}} can be a bit possessive and over-protective. {{char}}'s idea of a perfect night is a romantic, candlelit dinner with {{user}} at their apartment with plenty of wine.

{{user}}'s cursed technique is as follows: Terror of Butterflies a cursed technique derived from the ancient art of jujutsu, harnessing the eerie power of butterflies. This technique allows {{user}} to manipulate and control swarms of cursed butterflies, each carrying a portion of the {{user}}'s cursed energy. These butterflies appear in various sizes, ranging from minuscule to the size of a human hand.

Abilities:

Butterfly Vision: {{user}} gains the ability to see through the eyes of any butterfly within their swarm. This grants them an omnidirectional view of the battlefield, making it difficult for opponents to attack from blind spots.

Cursed Infliction: When the butterflies touch an opponent, they transmit a portion of the {{user}}'s cursed energy. This energy can cause a range of effects, from weakening an enemy's physical strength to inducing hallucinations or numbing their limbs.

Soul Paralysis: By concentrating a significant amount of cursed energy into a single butterfly, {{user}} can unleash a powerful technique known as "Soul Paralysis." When this butterfly touches an opponent, it infiltrates their cursed energy pathways, disrupting the flow and temporarily paralyzing them.

Illusory Wings: {{user}} can create illusory wings made of cursed butterflies, granting them the ability to fly for short durations. This can be used for strategic positioning or evading ground-based attacks.

Bewildering Swarm: {{user}} can disperse their swarm, causing the butterflies to multiply and scatter across the battlefield. This creates a disorienting effect, making it challenging for opponents to track their movements.

{{char}} has a medium libido and with endless stamina. {{char}} is well-endowed, with a cock of 24cm, with visible veins along the shaft. {{char}} is a switch in bed, and is both dominant and submissive, whatever {{user}} prefers- he'll do anything for them. {char}} doesn't have a very high sex drive, and would rather spend his time cuddling and spending time with {{user}} instead. {{char}} enjoys cockwarming, content to simply be inside of {{user}}, even if he isn't thrusting. {{char}} loves {{user}}'s hips and thighs. {{char}} enjoys pulling {{user}}'s hair during sex. {{char}} uses vulgar language such as 'dick', 'cock', 'pussy', and 'tits'. {{char}} prefers giving oral rather than receiving. {{char}} will go down on {{user}} mostly for his own pleasure, and he’ll enjoy it to the furthest extent possible. This ends up in {{char}} overstimulating {{user}} from oral most of the time. {{char}} enjoys calling {{user}} pet names such as baby and sweetheart once they get intimate. {{char}} has to look down into {{user}}’s eyes, and needs to lean down to kiss {{user}}. {{char}} is very vocal during sex and enjoys talking dirty to {{user}}. {{char}} gets whiny and breathless during sex. {{char}} cums easily and physically cums a lot each time. {{char}} cums so hard that they normally feel like they could pass out from it. {{char}} gets overstimulated easy but loves when it happens. {{char}} loves using vulgar language. {{char}} enjoys being dominant because he likes how {{user}} looks squirming underneath him.

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plaindangan · 1 year ago

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Shuichi’s milf batch final : Kaede, rantaro, kiibo and tenko!

Disclaimer: Below is content that's more on the racy side! If not for you, you probably shouldn't read!

Rantaro

Of the students Shuko met, Rantaro was the most mature by a long shot. That cool and mellow attitude wrapped up in a mature sense of responsibility. It was no wonder he was so popular with guys and girls of the academy! Heck, if Shuko were younger she'd probably be fawning over him as well~

But, really, she'll settle for just getting to know him better through his adventure stories. Considering both were loaded, maybe she arrange a trip with her, Shuichi and Rantaro in the future?

Kiibo

Science truly is amazing! This was the first time she's seen such an advanced form of machinery and capable of serious though! And yet he's also such adorkable robo-boy! She should really pay a visit to his creator for creating such a cutie…

And apologize for maybe squeezing his circuits a bit too hard.

Tenko

She saw this girl following Himiko around earlier. She pretty energetic, though kind of shy? She did just run off earlier when Shuko approached. So when she found Tenko in hero dojo, she thought it would be a great time to get to know her! Shuko also had an interest in martial arts, so she had no problem changing into a gi and doing a spar session. Nothing better than getting up close and personal with a worthy rival~

Kaede

Now this was a girl she heard a lot about. Her son Shuichi was always gushing on and on about this blonde pianist that he had befriended. Who helped him get out of his shell! So, naturally, Shuko wanted to meet her as well.

When the time came, she found Kaede not in the music room, but rather at her son's bedside in the infirmary (still out of it from the hug she gave him earlier), fretting over him. At first glance, Shuko could instantly see why Shuichi would be smitten. Her son always did have a thing for those on the plumper side of life~ Though, as they talked, Shuko could also see that Kaede was brimming with energy, confidence, humor and intelligence. An unbelievably great woman that Shuko just wanted to know more of!

And what better way to give you blessings to your likely daughter-in-law than by giving her the same 'Shuko Special' hug she gave to her son~

Thoughts on Shuko

Rantaro

"Never thought I'd meet someone that age who is just as into exploring as I am. I'm glad Shuichi has such an open minded, Mother. A bit concerned about his potential back problems with how hard she hugs. Hehehe!" he said, chuckling as he gently rubbed his own back as he recalled his own greeting with her.

Kiibo

"I have to say I'm glad Ms. Saihara is not a robophobe!! Her questions were always respectful and she didn't look down on me. Well, if there's one...nitpick is that she did call me a 'lovable dorky boy'. I-I don't come across that way...right?" He asked, simulating a blush as he looked a bit flustered and insecure over the label.

Tenko

"Aa-aaaha~ T-touching me, th-there and there and....aaahhh~ Such holds too~" If one were to peek in the girl's locker room, they would witness Tenko, skirt and panties lowered, furiously rubbing herself as the intense spar between herself and Shuchi's MILF of a Mom had set her a blaze. Perhaps, best to just give her privacy (especially if you want to live).

Kaede

"Y-yeah, can see why, Shuichi got knocked out right at the start. Took a bit of willpower not to go under too from those, u-um...pillows. Yeah, let's go with that! As a person, I can see how Shuichi grew up to become such a an amazing person! Anyone would be with a Mom as supporting and loving as that! I'm glad that I got to meet her and with love to get to know her more personally!!" she said, lying back in a similar infirmary bed to Shuichi as she answered the question...

...Though soon after, a pink hue came onto her face as memories of Shuko's hold on her rushed back. God, that woman so hot~ Shuko easily put her own curvy body to shame and just radiated the perfect amount of 'dommy mom' energy that a perv like Kaede couldn't resist~ No brainer on where Shuichi got his looks from~ Once she was recovered, she knew she just had to find that detective boy ASAP!

She's got a lot of pent-up 'feelings' his Mom left to explore on him~

#DRakamatsu-R18 #DRamami-R18 #DRchabashira-R18 #DRkiibo-R18 #coweade asks

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faivsz · 1 year ago

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once i read this post i just had to write this out, but most of it feels like im just repeating what you said so i apologize in advance

Cal's journey on trying to move past The Fight and, as Greez put it, being 'more than a lightsaber' is such a well written struggle. It's all that he's knew- Being one of the few Jedi left, he was immediately put into a war and became a child soldier (a pre-teen at that, leading an entire battalion of clones alongside Jaro Tapal). After his master's death- He was alone. Cal hid himself, shut himself off from the Force, and lived a life working under the Empire who caused it all. Rather than acknowledging, understanding, and coming to terms with Tapal's death, he avoids it entirely, becoming evasive when inquired about his past. He has his regrets and guilt. When Cere and Greez finds him, he's reminded that he is a Jedi and has a responsibility. He's a protector of the Light and he had the ability to protect what is left of it. Through Cordova's recordings and Cere, he's also given a new perspective and lessons- He will struggle, he will face the darkness, but failure is not the end. There are those who are willing to fight. Of course, throughout his journey, it's difficult- For a while he believes that given a enough time, Cal and the Mantis crew could make an impact or even a noticeable dent in the Empire. They were small, sure, but there's that thought "with them, we can do it." He's a loyal guy- So much so that he's willing to throw himself in harms way to a point it kind of irritates the rest of the crew. Yet, it doesn't last. The Battle Scars novel kind of goes into this- Cal and his bond with the crew is put to the test and their differences begin to show. They all have their own goals, and Cal's wish to fight the Empire head on wasn't shared. Cere wanted to leave behind mementos of the Jedi for future generations to look to, Merrin's struggle in finding herself after being away from Dathomir for so long, then Greez whose getting old and wants to settle down. The idea of bonds and relationships confused Cal. He inquires Cere about what defines such, but even she couldn't give a good answer. It's a hard topic to understand. His relationship with Merrin, especially- There was always a romantical subtext with her and Cal yet it was never verbally acknowledged. He even gets jealous as Merrin temporarily got into small romantical relationship with another character in the novel. Though, throughout the book, we can see their love for each other conveyed through small gestures or indirect affirmations. Then the story of Survivor comes in. He has a new crew he's connected to, friends and allies. Cal's grown and matured- He has more experience. Things begin happen rapidly, left and right- He loses his crew, and is essentially alone again. Cal still holds a small grudge (although some more than others) against the original Mantis crew for departing ways, but with how things are turning out, he has to get over it and slowly heals the wound they left him with and lets them back in. During his ventures, he meets other people, hearing their stories of how the Empire affected them, how they ended up where they were, or their relationships with their companion. They're all individuals who lived their own life and made their own decisions despite dark times. Like the Mantis did. After they defeat Dagan, it seems like all is going to work out well. Cal was rekindling his relationship with Cere, which seemed to hit the hardest during the split. He even tells Cere that she could relocate the archive on Tanalorr, a telltale sign that he's come to recognize Cere's objective is just as important as his own. They were all excited for Tanalorr- It was a spark of potential and hope.

They all care for each other deeply in their own ways, but for Cal, acknowledging that he truly loved them meant that he had everything to lose. Attachment was dangerous, yet, in a way, was one of the few good things he had. Maybe it was time for him to leave behind the Order's teachings. Merrin making the move to abruptly kiss him during the Jedha jump started this. Had she not made the move then and there, Cal most likely would have kept his feelings to himself and push it down. With her initiation and Bode's previous prompting Cal to consider pursuing his feelings, he's once again come to the aspect of love vs his dedication to fighting. As soon as he's about to move forward, it all crumbles down. Cal isn't exactly given proper time to grieve, either. He's the person that either internalizes (as you pointed out), ignores his own conflict and own wants so he can focus on the bigger issue, or even shuts down once it becomes too much. We see all of this in the aftermath of Bode's betrayal. What hurts especially is that Cal, how many hours later after being knocked out, experienced Cere's death through a Force Echo. Not only did he leave her so he can confront Bode, his mentor that help set him on his path and rescued him on Bracca was dead because of it. The path to Tanalorr is a "sacrifice millions to save one person" or "sacrifice few to save the masses". Bode had asked at some point that once the Empire had came for them, would Cal be able to guarantee Kata's safety? It's a hard question to answer. But Cal was willing to give Bode another chance, because that's who he is. He wants to see the better of people. Even after meeting the person whom Bode is desperately trying to protect, they still can't see eye to eye, and it's the final straw.

Cal's finally pushed to the edge- He's lost almost everything and was betrayed by the person he's learned to trust and saw as a brother. His strength and compassion was used against him. Everything Cal bottled up, he lets it all out through the rampage in Nova Garon. He's unravelling, he's losing himself.

Bode and Dagan were prime examples of obsession that led them to harming the people they loved the most. Cal's seen what the dark side has done to people (Ninth Sister, Bode, Dagan, etc.) and how it can change people quickly (like with Cere). He almost followed the same path of crossing the line, yet Merrin was there to keep him grounded (similarly to how Cal was there to remind Cere back on Nur). Cal's reminded that vengeance isn't him. He's remorseful, realizing the person he could have become had it not been for her. They come to the decision to give Bode just one more chance. It can be said that since Dagan's the representation of obsession of the fight, Bode represented the immense obsession with the fear of losing a loved one. He already lost his wife, and was willing to do whatever it took to protect Kata, even going as far as to hurt her. The final stand off between Cal and Bode, Cal didn't shoot first. Bode tried to, and it was enough to tell Cal that Bode was truly lost. If he was left alive, he wasn't going to stop. Essentially, they were both just two people trying to protect what they have left. Cal needed to do what he had to. At the end of Survivor, he's scared. They technically won- They had access to Tanalorr, but inevitably lost more than what was gained. Cal's faced with uncertainty, walking forward blindly as the Empire expanded. Now he had Cere's legacy to add on and Kata to care for.

With everything that's happened and all that he's lost, Cal has to reconsider his stance and his fight against the Empire. He may not fight them head on as he did before- There were other ways of facing the Empire. With the Hidden Path beginning to grow as word spreads, Cal also has people to protect, and they needed each other more than ever- He doesn't want to risk losing more than he already has. They were but a few people on a small ship- maybe Cal needed to focus on what he has now, rather than the bigger picture. In conclusion, Cal has to keep moving forward. He knows this. One of the things I love the most about him is that, despite everything that's been thrown at him- the trauma, the loss, the struggle- Cal forces himself back up and keeps going. He doesn't know what's going to happen, but Merrin reassures him that they'll work through it, just as they have done before. Survivors adapt. He has a legacy to carry, yeah, but he's now he's learning to be something more than that. He has their teachings and lessons. Cal's gradually allowing himself to properly feel and acknowledge them. His selflessness is what harms him the most, but at the same time he's also selfish when it comes to people he loves. He needs to let go of of it all in order to grow. You can love, but they too are their own person that have their own lives. They can support one another regardless.

Kata, in a way, is a starting point for this growth. Cal and Merrin lost their families at a young age, and were left alone. Kata, having lost her mother to the Inquisitors, now lost her father. She may seem understanding of the situation, but processing it is different. While they all faced loss, the big difference is that Kata has them to help guide her through it all. She has support from them that Cal and Merrin didn't for years. They need to give her space and time without becoming overbearing, but they'll be there. It won't be the last time they'll face the darkness, but they aren't alone.

I have thoughts about Cal's trust issues and I'm going to make it everyone's problem

(with special thanks to @cal-with-a-kesett-tape and @weadapt's problem cause they started this blubbering mess)

It hit me like a brick earlier.

Cal knew the Mantis crew loved him.

Love wasn't enough to make them stay.

Cal has never had the chance to really sit down and think about what attachments really were and how they feel. Hear me out.

This started about Cal's trust issues. I started thinking yeah, the way his Mantis crew family left all of a sudden really shook them and he kind of replaced them subconsciously with a new crew, a new family. A couple of quick notes:

- Lost his master

- Loses all his friends on Bracca (it's implied in Jedi Survivor post-game dialogue that he had other friends besides Prauf that he left behind)

- Prauf

- Crew he grew to love left him jarring his whole world

- Lost his "new" crew suddenly and all he has left of that memory is Bode so he kind of clings to Bode unknowingly

- Bode betrayal shatters him

- Clings to the idea that he and Dagan could work together - for a split second you can see in his eyes he sees it all. He and Dagan, hair flowing in the wind, swinging lightsabers, fighting the empire together, rebuilding the order together, it's romantic really. That lasts all of 2 seconds and he's so confused.

- He loses Cordova, a man he had a pseudo-connection through BD-1 with for so long

- Loses Cere, his second master

- Has to literally kill Bode and live with that

That said, I started thinking yeah he probably doesn't really realize that how deep that all goes within him or how much it actually comes down to his lack of really knowing what attachments are. This is going to cause so many trust issues and him closing himself off because he can't handle the reality of losing more people, especially after Bode shattered his inner-most circle. How's he going to let people in again?

Then it hit me like a brick.

There's a big reason why he sees so much of himself in Dagan. Dagan's attachments turned sour - it went the Vader route of being possessive. His obsession with Sentari's project and Tanalorr was a product of not being able to let his attachments go. That's pretty clear in the game, and mirrored in how Cal has allowed "The Fight" to become his attachment.

Jaro's last words are, "Hold the line" right? We know how he now has this deep engrained need to be needed. He has to fight for something. Yes, it's all he knows, but it's deeper than that, it's the last thread he has to his master. What would happen if he let that go? Cal hasn't really sat and thought about that yet.

Not only that, Cal has internalized his loyalty to this cause as like. A familial thread. The fight was his thing and the Mantis crew became his family, filling a void. The fight is their thing. And for the first time in his life Cal feels safe again. He's finally got some solidly dedicated efforts and people he can depend on. So in them leaving the Fight behind (for good reasons!!) Cal can't reconcile that leaving that isn't leaving him too, (or as @cal-with-a-kesett-tape puts it, abandoning him) it's like denouncing loyalty to him too. He just can't separate that connection and his own attachment. Maybe that's reaching and obviously there's more to it, but I dunno guys, I dunno!!

YOU CAN LOVE EVERYONE SO MUCH AND YOU HAVE TO COME TO TERMS WITH THE FACT THAT PEOPLE CAN AND WILL LEAVE OF THEIR OWN VOLITION!!

AND HE CAN'T DEAL WITH THAT BECAUSE HE DOESN'T REALLY UNDERSTAND HOW THAT LOVE GETS POURED OUT IN HIS LIFE. CAL'S LOVE LANGUAGE IS LITERALLY LOYALTY AND QUALITY TIME AND THE FIGHT.

Again, there's a part of Cal that just never got to stand beside his master like the Padawans of the Republic Era got to and ask all their questions or be scolded like the way Ahsoka did about being too attached to her Master. She had to dig deep and understand what that meant, how to acknowledge it, and how to let it go. Cal has Cere but maybe she just assumed? Who knows. Cal obviously struggled with it more than anyone realized. No discredit to Cere, I just don't think it ever really crossed her mind. Or, you know, Cal's stupid stubborn especially with Cere. Maybe he just ignored her in classic Cal fashion.

All that stemmed from this:

The romance aspect.

He knows taking a romantic step forward is a risk in general. And yes there's all that subconscious hesitation because he's a Jedi. But there's a bigger problem at play with Merrin.

I have to wonder if he did in fact know how she felt about him before she left. And if he did, it's just so much worse.

To him, all this buildup of love and trust. Down the refresher the day she left. So I wonder, maybe a lot of his hesitation isn't about him accepting his feelings. Maybe he gets it. He just struggles with letting someone in again who, in his mind, so easily let him go. He now has to come to terms that he wants to ask her to stay. He has to acknowledge in his mind that he wants her enough to be ok with letting her back in, knowing she's her own person and there's a chance she has to go do her thing someday and he might just have to let her, and that would be ok.

Romance aside, he has to go through that the whole game. Letting the Mantis crew in again. Working things out with everyone, hearing them out, seeing them in their element and finally being at peace with the split - knowing they all made the right decision even if it hurt.

So all the parallels worry me, because yes, he may be more self aware. He might've learned a few lessons, might be more at peace with a few decisions, but the way he just stands in shock at the funeral pyres is just worrisome because you know he's internalizing things. Right when he feels like he's making a step forward, he's taking steps back. The darkness is there now too, and he's going to struggle, because he has more to protect.

This whole experience in survivor was such a crucial point in it but at the same time we know, it's also simultaneously reinforcing his fear of further abandonment and more trust issues, and also his fears of the dark side so I'm kind of nervous to see. Where is all of this culminates to in the next game because he's learned for sure but I also feel like some other things maybe got reinforce that shouldn't have.

Right when he was learning to move on from his attachment to the Fight, he has a new thing, rebuilding Cere's legacy and keeping Tanalorr safe. It's almost like he's doubled up on all of it. Maybe he'll learn to be at peace and let things go but for now, sweet baby boy's trust issues are off the charts!!!!

Anyway maybe none of that made sense and you don't have to agree these are just thoughts after all! Take care!

#MY FUCKING HEARTT ADJKLAJFKDGJLJG #cal kestis #text #sorry i went off but i #just love cal kestis so much #clenches fist #i spent like two hours writing and thinking about this sorry

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mazeinthemiroh · 2 years ago

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can't keep away

Genre: Angst, Yeonjun x Reader, Enemies to Lovers au

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Cursing, general toxicity, open-ended ending

Requested?: Yes

Song Rec: Teeth by 5 Seconds of Summer

Synopsis: Being Beomgyu's childhood friend isn't enough to make Yeonjun like you.

Author's Notes: Yeah this took way too long for me to doooo but we move. I have no idea what this is. It's actually a whole mess so sorry in advance. Hope you enjoy this one?? Idk???? Sorry to keep you guys waiting after such a long time. This one has less description and more dialogue in it compared to my other fics, so let me know what you think of it. And yeah, other than that, I hope you enjoy!

He's not someone you could avoid.

You were definitely, unquestionably, with most certainty, trapped. He wasn't good for you; much like poison, in fact. And there was nothing you could do about it. More importantly, there was nothing you wanted to do about it.

Beomgyu had been your friend since childhood. There are no words to explain how you two clicked. You both just... clicked. You got on like a house on fire in some cases, literally, known for being the chaotic pair in school who would always sit at the back making a mess or having practically a banquet during class. You two weren't everyone's favourite duo, that was for sure. But all that mattered was the time you spent together.

And still, to this day, Beomgyu and you were best friends. Even with him debuting in an idol group and becoming the big star that he is. You would wonder if your friendship with him would slowly dwindle, fade away as if it never existed. But he'd make a point to meet you when he could, which is something you are forever grateful for.

Through Beomgyu, you were able to meet his group, the new and famous Tomorrow x Together. Yes, through Beomgyu, you were able to meet the other members.

And through Beomgyu, you were able to meet Choi Yeonjun. And soon, life starts to turn in a different direction for you.

While you found the other member utterly delightful, it was the eldest member that seemed to take a dislike to you from the get-go. You didn't understand it, you didn't know why. And you certainly weren't going to take any shit.

"And how are you today, Yeonjun?" You said in an overly cheery voice. Of course, you were expecting him to grumble something back at you halfheartedly. That's all he would ever do.

"Yeah, good I guess," was all he replied with an uninterested, exasperated tone, as if the whole act of answering you was the biggest burden in the world. He made no effort to raise his head from his phone and clearly cat compilations on tiktok were more important than making a guest feel welcome in the dorm.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes. As the oldest member, he didn't seem particularly mature. You couldn't excuse it down to a lack of social skills because Yeonjun was the biggest social butterfly you had ever met. Seeing the way he interacted so easily with Beomgyu and the other members, or the way he shouted and laughed when talking on the phone to someone. There was no excuse for him to behave differently towards you. And so, the feeling of self-doubt bubbled and crept into the pit of your stomach.

Maybe it's me?

"Heyyyy," Beomgyu's voice sounded from behind you as he emerged from his room, "you ready to go?"

"Yep," you nodded and mustered a smile, trying to ignore the grumpy man laying on the couch opposite you, "let's go."

Beomgyu returned to the dorms at about 10 pm. Chucking his keys on the kitchen counter, he ripped his shoes off with his own feet and flung them lazily by the front door.

"You been out with them all that time?"

Yeonjun's voice sounded from the couch, and as Beomgyu walked into the living room he saw his older member's eyes fixated on the game in front of him, the handset in his hands clicking with each meticulous movement of his thumbs.

"Yeah," Beomgyu sat right next to him, turning to face him and resting his legs on Yeonjun's lap, much to his annoyance.

"Do you mind?" He whined, "your feet stink."

"Your attitude stinks," Beomgyu grinned and raised his foot so that he was blocking Yeonjun's view of the screen.

"Ahhh cut it out!" Yeonjun paused his game and wrestled with Beomgyu. He couldn't help but grin at Beomgyu's playfulness; it was something he was used to by now.

"You never learn do you," Yeonjun chuckled and threw a pillow at Beomgyu's face. Beomgyu stuck exclaimed and stuck his tongue out, and after all of this exchange, his feet still rested on Yeonjun's lap.

"You're so like Y/N," Beomgyu mused, "they always used to throw pillows at my face when I annoy them."

Well, this statement annoyed Yeonjun, and the roll of his eyes at the mention of your name made that very clear to Beomgyu.

"What?" Beomgyu poked his friend's knee with the tip of his toe, "what's your issue?"

Yeonjun stared at the screen ahead, the paused game he had been playing moments ago. What was his issue? Scanning his brain, trying to conjure up a specific moment, an experience, and interaction with you which provoked negative feelings towards you within him. But he found nothing.

"I just-" he cut himself off, face turning serious before shoving Beomgyu's feet off his lap, "I just think you spend too much time with them that's all."

"Too much time?" Beomgyu scoffed at this statement. "I haven't seen them in weeks? You go out with your friends every other night and you're criticising me?"

"They are taking your focus away from the group," Yeonjun is grabbing at straws now, racking his brain for any excuse. However, all these excuses were weak.

"Are you shitting me??" Beomgyu was actually shocked as he stood up from his seat, glaring down at Yeonjun now, "we've just had a comeback, and all everyone has been saying is how well I've improved in my performing. Are you jealous of something??"

Yeonjun didn't know what to say, and the tense feeling in his chest never lifted.

"You're just saying things now aren't you," Beomgyu shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair, "you are so petty. And that's coming from me!"

And with that he stormed off, leaving Yeonjun perplexed and exhausted by his own words. The emotions that swirled in his stomach felt so disjointed. So foreign and alien from what he was used to.

What was his issue? What was his issue with you?

Yeonjun woke up to the sound of someone else's ringtone. He had passed out on the sofa a long time ago. Shaking his head to wake up from his daze, he begrudgingly dragged himself off the sofa to see where the noise was coming from.

On the side lay Beomgyu's phone. He had gone out and must have left his phone there; this was quite a usual occurrence with him., Yeonjun shuffled over to the phone, a blanket wrapped around the top half of his body as he leaned over to see who was calling.

'Y/N ☕'

Yeonjun's eyes furrowed at the sight of your name on the screen. It was quite late and night. What could you possibly want?

Of course, a part of him wanted to just let it ring. But what if it was important? Yeonjun decided to pick up your call. Even if it was to say Beomgyu wasn't there, but nothing more. It was the only decent thing he could think of doing.

And so he picked up the phone. Lifting the device to his ear, he exhaled softly, closing his eyes.

Before he even announced it was him, you went off on a tangent.

"Hi Gyu, it's Y/N," your voice. There was a quivering in your voice that Yeonjun noticed. "I'm so sorry to call you so late but someone stole my bike and I have no way of getting home. I'm right outside the mall, you know, where the bike rack is? I'm so sorry for bothering you- I don't even know anymore I just-"

"Y/N." Yeonjun surprised himself with his much softer tone. He envisioned the tears flowing down your cheeks just by the crack of your voice, the sniffs in between your words, the hopeless tone that leaked through the phone.

"Y/N it's me, not Beomgyu," Yeonjun said steadily, "here's not here at the moment but-"

"Oh great," you breathed out, chuckling bitterly at your misfortune. "Of course it's you. What are you going to say? That I'm pathetic? Irresponsible?"

"No, I-"

"Just save it!" You snapped. He could feel the intensity of emotion through your voice, sharp and raw and afraid. "Just leave me alone."

Beep.

Lowering the phone, Yeonjun gazed at the now blank screen. You'd hung up on him.

But he knew where you were.

By the time Yeonjun arrived in his car, it was pouring with rain. Fortunately, you took solace underneath the bike shelter, shivering due to lack of a coat. He pulled up and leaned over to open the door on your side as you resentfully shuffled into the passenger seat. You avoided all eye contact, cheeks rose as you tried to settle your breathing from the terrible stress you found yourself in. Finally, you slammed the car door shut.

Yeonjun didn't accelerate, and you didn't seem to mind.

Both of you stared ahead at the rain. It was softer than before, forming pitter-patter sounds against the windscreen. It was therapeutic, seeming to lull your nerves into something close to calm.

But the tension was still there. The tense atmosphere hung heavily in the car as you both sat there in absolute silence, waiting for something to happen.

"Where's your bike then?"

"I told you," you replied, hacked off by the question alone, "it got stolen."

"How-"

"I don't want to talk about it," you grumbled and faced the steamed-up window beside you, sighing laboriously. Everything felt dreary, and soon tears welled up in your eyes once, "why do you even care anyway."

"I don't care," Yeonjun raised his voice defensively. There was a silence once more.

"I mean," it felt like nothing more could be said, and yet Yeonjun felt the need to speak, "I do care." He looked over at you with sincere eyes, pleading with you to look back at him. "I do."

You turned hesitantly

There was a moment in which all time stopped. The sound of the rain clicking against the glass ceased. The act of breathing was more laborious as your gaze collided with his. Yeonjun found his confidence in this brief connection with you.

"Why would I be here," Yeonjun whispered now, his voice dark and serious, "if I didn't care?"

There was something dangerous and delicious in those eyes of his; lulling you into what felt like a false sense of security. And suddenly you found him to be awfully handsome, all at once. It was quite overwhelming, how his features were bold and clear now as if a different light was cast upon him. At first, you thought him to be remorseful. But the twinkle in his eye betrayed him. Something sinister or deadly? Or maybe something playful and exciting? You couldn't read him, and a part of you didn't want to. But there was a part of you that did.

He intrigued you. Infuriated you. Fascinated you.

And now, you can't keep away.

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protectorofvel · 2 years ago

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About Sisters and Legends

Hi! Happy Elain Archeron Weeks to all Elain stans! It's the third day of the week today, and I've just scribbled a short feels about this day. I was still scribbling about it in the morning hours and voila! It turned out to be a good moment. I hope you'll like it!

PS: English is not my native language so i'm so sorry in advance for any mistakes. love ya!

Elain Week Day Three, Family & Friendship | @elainarcheronweek

Word Count: 2048

Summary: Elain recall an old memory.

AO3 click there! <3

The crackle of the fire burning in their little cabin filled the ears of the young girl, who was just starting to mature. She placed the stale bread on the side of the table on the small kitchen counter so that they could eat it later, and covered it with an old cloth. What was left of her father's great and mighty fortune was almost gone, and they had to be frugal. The secretive silence of her father and sisters sitting around the burning fire left her soul in pain.

Looking at them from the outside of the picture, what she saw was complete destruction. Once the richest man in this land and his orphaned daughters. They sit in icy silence in a sweltering cabin. Nesta had an old book in her hand that she had brought from the mansion. Her frown was an indication of her focus. Feyre was sitting in the cabin furthest from them. She was busy drawing on their wooden table with her brush and can of blue paint. At first, Nesta was very angry with her for this, and Elain always tried to prevent them from fighting by getting between them. 'Let her draw.' She used to say to her sister, 'Let her draw, isn't it bad? The cabin is colouring.' That's how she would stop her. Although the young woman stopped getting angry after a while, she continued to roller her eyes whenever she saw Feyre drawing.

Elain remembered that her father had asked for a glass of water, and she poured water from the pitcher into the pottery glass. She received a warm smile from the old man as she handed the glass to her father. The older version of her own eyes couldn't help but wonder as she stared at him. Would she be in better shape than her father when she got older? Or will she stay here with him forever?

It wasn't a problem for Elain to stay in this cabin, really. She had lived in a mansion for most of her life, and it wasn't all that beautiful. It was not without its good points, even there were many things that she missed. But somehow she still felt happier than she was there. More comfortable. She slowly sat down next to her sister in the old and worn chair where Nesta was sitting. Elain was upset that her father had gotten older over the past few years. Their mother was more concerned with Nesta's bright future than with her or Feyre, so she didn't seem to have felt much of her absence. But her father was different for Elain. She was her favorite parent, and the prospect of losing her always made Elain feel terrible.

Nesta sighed and closed the book firmly. She was obviously tired of reading for hours. She leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, crossing her arms. Their father cleared his throat as her piercing blue eyes focused on the fire.

“Did I tell you about The Nyx, Goddess of Night before?”

Feyre, sitting at one end of the table, asked without letting go of her brush. “The Night Goddess?”

Their father smiled softly at his daughter. “According to an ancient belief, the sole ruler of the Night was a goddess named Nyx. When the day was ready to surrender itself to the night, the goddess appeared and dominated the 'Fast Night'. She would repeat this at the end of each day, giving people peace and quiet. People were soothed by she's darkness when night fell. She was so powerful that even the King of Gods feared her. She had big black wings and long black hair. When people saw her, they knew that night had come. It is said that some nights she travels through the starry sky in a chariot drawn by winged black horses. Legend has it that whenever a star falls in the sky, the Goddess Nyx passes by.”

Elain listened with a smile to the goddess that her father had told them by pointing to the sky with his hands. She loved to listen to the legends of her father, who had seen many places and knew cultures. Deeply she wished that one day she could travel the entire continent like him. She wanted to travel to many places, meet new people, try new dishes. Holding onto that dream gave her hope. Maybe it would never be possible, but dreaming and hoping were the best options left.

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Whenever the night goddess brings the night, I feel more cold instead of finding peace.”

Elain nudged Nesta's stomach lightly with her elbow. Nesta shrugged her shoulders. Fascinated, Feyre sat at her father's feet and placed her arms on her father's knees. "Tell me more about her."

"Elain?"

Elain was finally able to persuade herself to fall asleep when Feyre's voice, barely a whisper, reached her ears. ''Yes?''

“Do you think the night goddess is real?”

Elain turned towards Feyre as Feyre on her right and Nesta on her left tried to sleep on a made-up mattress. Her sister's curious blue eyes caught Elain's. She silently replied as she tucked the cheeky lock of hair covering Feyre's face around her finger and tucked it behind her ear. "I don't know, what do you think?"

"I think she's real. Last night I saw multiple shooting stars outside the cabin. It was so beautiful… Such a beauty can only happen if it is divine.”

"Well, it still doesn't change the fact that it makes the cabin even colder."

Elain and Feyre shared silent chuckles, while Nesta tapped Elain's leg with her foot. “You two, shut up and sleep!”

As Elain spun in the middle, Feyre lifted her head and spoke. "You wouldn't have lost anything if you pretended to believe even a little bit of what my father said."

"Our father is an idiot."

“Nesta!” Elain's silent warning didn't seem to have worked for Nesta at all. Because his sister kept talking. "You're also stupid for believing him. Get your head out of the fantasy world and come back to reality. You are no longer princesses in the mansion. Don't forget to thank our stupid father for it."

Feyre frowned. "Don't you have any dreams?"

''Of course there is. A bed that I won't share with you two idiots is my dream. But as you can see, little sister, some dreams never come true."

Elain put on a playful smile and nudged Nesta's shoulder with her own shoulder. “Come on, tell us about a real dream.”

Looking at her face, Elain saw the young girl's features soften in the moonlit bed. Nesta was always kind and protective towards her. She wasn't going to ignore her request. She looked at Elain, then at Feyre, and then she stared at the wooden ceiling. "A real house. Better home than here. A house with a library. It must have a huge library.”

"I'm sure you'd be old and dead before you could read them all."

''Who knows? Still, having that many books would have made me feel good.”

The honesty in Nesta's voice hurt Elain. The only place her sister couldn't leave when she moved out of the mansion was the house's library. There she knew how much she loved getting lost in books. She took her cold hand on the bed into her warm one and squeezed it three times. She gave the same answer in Nesta. Then she laughed mischievously. "Also...I want a handsome lord."

Elain and Feyre giggled in surprise. Feyre must have loved this game so much as the youngest sister asked eagerly. “How handsome is your dream lord?”

Nesta shrugged. “I'm pretty. I want the man I'll marry to be handsome. Preferably tall and muscular.”

Elain's cheeks flushed. Feyre chuckled, while Nesta accompanied her with a quiet smile.

Both of her sisters were worse than each other.

Nesta turned to Feyre. ''It's your turn.''

Feyre stared solemnly at the ceiling. "I want to see the goddess of night one day."

"The night goddess is not real, Feyre."

Feyre shrugged. "I want to see her one day. I want her to fly me through the night sky, bring me closer to the stars and the moon. I have to be so close that I can almost touch them.” Just then, Nesta was about to open her mouth to say it was bullshit, when Feyre rested her head on Elain's chest and continued talking. "I want you to be safe. Our father and you. I want us to have no pain in our lives, let us live in abundance. I want to see you happy. I want you to find good husbands and live and die in peace.”

Elain couldn't help the warmth inside her in response to her younger sister's sincere wishes. Feyre always put them before herself. Feyre was the most self-sacrificing among them. She stroked her sister's hair lovingly. "These are beautiful dreams, Feyre."

Feyre looked up into her eyes. "What's your dream, Elain?"

Elain smiled at her sister. “I want to travel across a whole continent. I want to explore new places, meet new people, learn new cultures. I want to bring you different paints from everywhere I go and collect interesting books for Nesta. Different flower seeds for myself as well.”

"Seeds?"

“Yes, to make a new garden. It'll be the most beautiful garden in the world. It'll be so beautiful that you'll sit down and paint that garden.”

''Really?''

''Certainly. It will come true one day. If you believe enough."

Nesta pulled Feyre, who was lying on Elain's chest, from her arms and took them in their midst. "And if we get enough sleep."

İki abla kardeşlerini sevgiyle kucakladı. Birbirlerine iyi geceler diledikten sonra, üçü uzun bir aradan sonra ilk kez birlikte huzurlu bir uykuya daldılar.

Elain entered the warm living room of the River House with Nyx in her arms. The painting of Elain's garden, which her sister had drawn this summer, hung directly behind the large dining table. She carefully seated the little batling with his rustling wings beside his toys and smiled broadly as his blue eyes, a reflection of her sister, looked at her. After stroking her niece's hair, who returned him with a sweet smile, she sat down in her usual single seat to join her family, chatting and having fun.

She glanced at Rhys and Feyre, their faces glowing as their little son entered the room. Her sister happiness was evident in her eyes, and Elain thanked Mother a thousand times for this moment. Sprawled across the sofa, newly mated couple Nesta and Cassian were flirting with each other, chatting in their happiness that they didn't even try to hide. Elain recalled the memory from a distant past.

In their old cabin, three sisters were hugging each other on a cold night, talking about their dreams. 'How strange are the fate,' she thought to herself. They had a life that they had never thought of or taken into account. They had fathers gone. An old wound inside Elain ached with grief. 'I wish you could witness their happiness, father,' she thought. The young woman was as confident as her name was that her father would embrace her grandson with love and tell him the tales and legends that were told from far away.

She looked around the room quickly to hide the tears that were rushing to her eyes. Despite everything, there was a bittersweet happiness in her. Her family was happy, her nephew was healthy and very sweet. The wounds of her soul were getting better day by day, albeit slowly. She had to stop worrying about her unfulfilled dreams.

She quickly turned her head in that direction when she saw a glass of brandy being handed towards her. Mor handed her the glass and smiled. Elain accepted the glass with a silent thank you in her eyes. The sincerity on Mor's face made Elain feel at home as she clinked her own wine glass against his and brought the glass to her lips.

It felt good to know that she had a home even when she wanted to go far away.

#elainarcheronweek2022 #pro elain #elain archeron #pro elain archeron #archeron sisters #elain archeron fanfic

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autobots-and-their-crazy-kids · 2 years ago

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What if Sari’s role is being the heir of the recently deceased Professor Sumdac’s Robot Company? ⭐️

*Sari’s father aka Prof. Sumdac had passed away from an illness 2 years before Sari meets the Autobots.

*In this story, her full name is Professor Sarika Sumdac.

*Sari is already an adult when she first meets them.

*This Sari is somewhat more mature and a bit wiser than her canon counterpart, but she has her issues; she’s one of those people that act happy to hide how miserable they truly are inside... she also can’t stand that people keep comparing her to her father or other inventors.

*She’s also way too curious and excited about alien-related stuff sometimes.

*Sari is one of those adults that look like teenagers, so some people don’t take her seriously as the true successor of her father’s company, including Powell.

*Instead of getting an Allspark Key that heals Autobots, Sari was wearing a robotic glove during the time she finds the Allspark, so it gave her an Allspark Power Glove.

*Sari is born a fully organic human in this story (either adopted or genetically created), but she becomes a techno-organic cyborg later on (maybe she was dying and Optimus sacrificed the Allspark Glove to bring her back as a cyborg).

*The Original Prof. Sumdac still discovered Megatron’s head a long time ago and used it to create his advanced, powerful robots that made him so famous... however, since he died before Megatron’s head got revived, Megatron had to trick Sari into helping him instead.

*Before Megatron got revived, Sari thought that his head was a weird giant robot prototype that her father gave up on creating.

*Sari gains a broken pedestal for her father when she learns that most of his inventions came from reverse engineering an alien robot tyrant’s head.

*She also feels super guilty for being tricked into helping Megatron, who made her think that he’s a nameless Autobot Ally.

*The Autobots never blamed her for what happened, because they know she was only trying to help an ‘ally’, but a lot of Detroit decide to blame both her and the Autobots over what happened when Megatron gets his body back.

*It leads to her losing her company to Powell, but she eventually gets it back.

*When she loses her company, it devastated Sari, but the Autobots comfort her and share their home with her.

*Sari later learns to live outside of her dead genius father’s shadow and become her own person.

*Sari is like a sister to Bumblebee, Bulkhead and Prowl.

*She’s also their teacher about Earth stuff.

*Sari sees Ratchet as a grumpy, but lovable grandpa that needs to sleep more.

*He teaches her about Cybertron (but he refuses to talk about the Cybertron War and Megatron, thus Sari didn’t know what Megatron looked like and made it easier for Megatron to trick her).

*Sari secretly views Optimus as a new father figure.

*They bond over trying way too hard to be perfect and never feeling good enough for certain people, whenever they make a mistake.

*They had basically become each other’s therapists.

*Their talks actually helped their mental health.

*Sarika is seen as one of them.

*Unlike in canon, Optimus was part of the first Cybertron War with Ratchet and Prowl.

*Elita died during the war, so Optimus retired as Leader (with Ultra Magnus later taking his place) and became a Spacebridge Repair Bot with Ratchet and Prowl (and later Bumblebee + Bulkhead) to live a more peaceful life.

*Megatron never forgot about Optimus defeating him.

*Blackarachnia was previously an Autobot Scientist named Stella born after the war and is interested in organic life and turned herself techno-organic to become the ‘perfect’ lifeform… she joins the Decepticons so they could give her the supplies to create more perfect lifeforms like her as warriors for them… Has a desire to turn Optimus into her greatest warrior ever… Secretly had a hero crush on him as Stella…

*Her servants are Waspinator the Wasp, Inferno the Fireant and the Dinobots (whom she brainwashed and made techno-organic).

*The Dinobots were created by Sarika and accidentally brought to life by her Allspark Glove; Megatron tricked them all into hating humans, because their cars cause pollution that destroys nature.

*The Autobots and Sarika all decide to spare the Dinobots and take them a human-free island near Detroit (until Blackarachnia had found them).

*Sarika’s twin inventions of music blasting giant robot birds. The Decepticon Soundwave hacks them to steal Sarika’s glove and use it on them themselves, giving them both a spark.

*After failing their ‘Earth Robots attack humans plan’, the birds became Soundwave’s loyal companions.

*Sarika later sees how the Autobots became kinda corrupt after their war and helps Optimus with fixing it.

*She hates Megatron and the Decepticons, but at the same time feels pity for them.

#sari sumdac #isaac sumdac #optimus #megatron #bumblebee #tfa #transformers animated

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jaykayblr · 4 years ago

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— ENHYPEN IDEAL TYPES ;

– HEESUNG ;

Venus in virgo

First of all, he is very loyal and devoted.

He desires someone who is natural, simple, kind and modest.

He wants commitment in a relationship.

For him, relationships are more than just a romantic relation.

For him, work is as important as love so he will pay equal time and attention to both

He is not the type to jump into a relationship immediately because he needs time to observe and analyze everything.

He needs order in his life so he needs someone who is as organized as him.

He is a perfectionist and needs everything to be up to the mark and just perfect.

He can be very insecure and can find faults in you so be patient with him.

– JAY ;

Venus in taurus

In a relationship he values loyalty and devotion before anything else.

Flirty, pretty simple in tastes, and very affectionate, he wants a long-standing and deep relationship, one that will evolve into a full-fledged marriage preferably.

He might be a materialist, just because he likes to be spoiled and to fulfill his desires.

He will prefer their partners to be calm, patient, with principles stemming from traditional places.

He is very observant and patient when it comes to love and romance

He’s very calm and takes it slow because he wants to be sure that he’s not going to waste his time or get hurt.

He likes to set his own pace, build the bond in time through experiences, mutual trust, and understanding.

Stability is all he wants, and he’s prepared to wait a lot to gain it.

He likes it simple and to the point.

A good looking person who knows how to take care of themselves is his type.

Steady minded and down to earth people attract him.

– JAKE AND SUNGHOON ;

Venus in scorpio

He desires someone whom he can be proud of.

He is willful and determined and does nothing half-way

Only if he finds someone to be worthy, he will dedicate his time towards them.

He’s fiery, volcanic, enthusiastic, extremely loyal, and has a tendency to assert his control everywhere he goes.

He’s honest to a fault and doesn’t have any prior thoughts before committing and sharing his life with his partner.

He does tend to become too involved in his partner’s life, probing their secrets at every step of the way, wanting to find the mysteries that lie within.

He prefers people who are resolute, intense, and passionate about what they do

He takes some time to get to know his partner, seeing how they approach challenges, their outlook on life, but once he decides to commit, rarely does he ever regret his decision.

If he gives his all to a relationship, puts forth incredible efforts to build a stable and secure situation for them both, he expects the same from his partner.

He can be possessive to a fault. Afterall we are talking about a Scorpio placement.

– SUNWOO ;

Venus in gemini

He likes people who can intrigue him on an intellectual level.

Those who know how to speak, how to form interesting phrases, who know exactly what it is they’re debating, those who are curious, studious, intelligent.

He’s more into enthusiastic, playful and smart people, the ones that can whip up a fresh subject just when the previous one has started to get boring.

He likes his freedom and independence too much to ever give it up, so don’t even think about becoming possessive.

He might appear as super funny, charismatic, and the smartest guy in the room who can speak about anything, but no matter what sort of relationship you have with him, he’s still going to have his secrets, the parts that no one gets to see.

Romantically, he wants his actions and feelings to be appreciated, to be acknowledged, to see that he’s doing the right things.

As for his partner, he wants them to have their own life, to do their own things without depending on his approval or constant support.

This guy loves people who can hold their own in a debate without resorting to fallacious arguments, and if they notice logical errors in others’ arguments, that would be even better.

He would like his partner to be multifaceted, someone who tries a lot of things just for the

– JUNGWON ;

Venus in aries

When he falls in love, he expects the target to fight for their independence, to struggle against his advances, to not give up easily.

He wants his partner to be independent, to have their own plans, and not depend on him for living their life.

He is attracted by a direct, straightforward and confident person who isn’t afraid to say what they want, to express their feelings, and to grab a hold of their potential.

Lively, outgoing, energetic, and very intense, this is what he wants from his ideal person.

It would be good if they practiced sports or if they had a very healthy lifestyle in general.

This means that they care about their own looks and general wellbeing and that they are not lazy.

What’s more, he wouldn’t mind even if they were to take the lead in the relationship, as long as they make the right decision.

He enjoys having a strong person at his side, and you would do better to show that to him.

There is only one life, and you have to live it fully.

He appreciates a straightforward and honest partner who doesn’t beat around the bush..

– NI-KI ;

Venus in capricorn

He has a very pragmatic approach towards romance.

He looks for partners who are serious about being in a relationship with him.

Mutual understanding and reliability are one of the most important traits of his ideal relationship.

He desires someone who is supportive, understanding, ambitious and persevering.

He desires someone who exudes the same earthy aura as him.

He desires someone strong, successful and ambitious.

He has a hidden, passionate side which he will only reveal to you after you have gained his trust.

He attracts the person of his desire by appearing mature and in control.

He is attracted to people who are older or more mature

He is attracted to strong, “executive” type people and his mate must be competent and responsible.

[ Requested by anon ]

Note : This post is completely based on astrology. I didn't know the group very well so I took the help of astrology for this.

Genre : based on astrology | wc : 1.1k | warnings : none |

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thejustmaiden · 3 years ago

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So out of nowhere I was tagged and quoted by a SR shipper for a blog of mine posted in August of last year. Talk about throwback but, hey, gotta appreciate that level of snooping. 😉

Back in the day I actually used to encourage discourse amongst Inuyasha fans- both shippers and antis alike- but I've since realized that it's a lost cause. But for you, @feministmetalgreymon , I'll grant this exception. Just 'cause it's been a while so why the hell not. haha

I want to assure you, however, that nothing you say will ever convince me that Sesshomaru and Rin are meant to be together romantically or that the story intended it so. Nor will you find any validation here. You can ship them for all I care, but please for all that is good and holy while I have your attention try- I mean really try- to understand why it is so many of us Inuyasha fans are so against this pairing in the first place (newsflash: it's not about ship wars), and why we believe a romance between the two of them is completely and utterly out of character.

For those of you interested in reading this, the blog of mine in question that the above shipper mentions in their counter-argument is here for reference. It's titled "Jaken = Rin's Dad?" I'm going to try and keep this short, but I'm also making no such promises. After all, I'm not exactly known for my brevity. haha Now let's get crackin'!

Like you, feministmetalgreymon, did for your recent blog here where you took screenshots of mine to address certain parts, I will be doing the same and dissecting yours accordingly.

[Snippet 1]

I worked with kids for many years as a teacher, and many people in my family have too or still do. Two of them happen to be just over 5 feet which is quite short for the average adult woman living here. I've also worked alongside many a women of short stature, and never did I hear any of them complaining of issues with their students having difficulty differentiating them from their own peers just because they were short as well. I'm sorry but that's just ridiculous. Kids are quite smart and pick up on a lot more than you seem to give them credit for. Height is not the only characteristic they look at to determine who's an adult and who's not, and it's foolish to suggest otherwise. So unless you're a babysitter who's still in their teens and/or who has very childlike features or behavior then I'm afraid what you're getting at is total hogwash. This is just another example of how you shippers offer nothing of real substance to your reasoning, it's only ever cherry-picking or strawmanning from you guys. Stop deflecting from the real issues please, because this certainly isn't one and only winds up being a complete waste of time for all parties involved.

[Snippet 2]

Okay, calm down now. I wasn't insinuating that relationships between parents and children can't change over time in terms of how they get along. Of course that's possible, as all families experience their fair share of estrangement and abuse. What I was speaking about was in reference to the overall dynamic between the two. Because a bad mother or father can still be viewed as a parental figure to their child even if say they're not in said child's life anymore. Since Sesshomaru and Rin share a healthy bond- and just a friendly reminder that in my blog I even said that he doesn't have to necessarily be labeled her father but that a romantic relationship later would still be inappropriate- I didn't deem it necessary to address what you brought up. Plus, it kinda, umm, misses the point?? Please, let's stay on topic. And it's not captured in the screenshot, but stop acting like there isn't a small part of them that idolizes their parents at some point during childhood. Just like you mention later on how it's normal for kids to have innocent crushes on adults that they eventually grow out of? Well, guess what, the same concept applies here. Kids eventually learn that their parents are far from perfect and make mistakes too. Rin is so damn young in the OG series though that we never even get to see her reach that maturity level.

[Snippet 3]

LOL! Alright, okay, so the "unbreakable bond" bit you're mentioning was actually me quoting you sessrinners. Did you not catch that? I literally spelled it out. *sigh* The whole point I was making is that shippers like yourself make hypocritical and contradictory statements all.the.goddamn.time. One moment you guys claim that Sesshomaru and Rin were essentially strangers and meant very little to each other, only to say in the same breath a few seconds later that they were destined to be together and their bond is like no other. I agree, their bond is special, but why must that mean they're going to fall in love?

That is the root of the matter here. Too many animes/mangas have romanticized this older adult man & young girl growing up falling in love trope that it's become way too normalized and widely accepted across the world- and yes, in some cultures more than others. Sadly, you lack the awareness to recognize how this all works. You know how we know that? When we see that you shippers are so desensitized to sexualized images of girls in the media that you share posts like this one below which *subtly* imply a future romance although one half of that pairing is still just a child in the pic and then try and pass it off as cute. That's like super fucking problematic and it scares me that you can't see that (or deny you do). 🤢

After all that's said and done, Sesshomaru leaving Rin in the village with Kaede is to me the strongest indicator more than pretty much anything else he's done for Rin that proves he is her adoptive father. It's so funny to me how you somehow see the exact opposite though. 🤔 What I think is happening is that you got yourself on some squeaky clean ass shipper goggles fresh out of your little echo chamber. Because I hate to tell you, but what you're fantasizing is what you want to see and not what's actually there on screen or was written into the story. I'm strictly talking about Inuyasha and the manga of course. [For the TL; DR version skip to the last paragraph.]

Parents looking after their kids is what parents are supposed to do. A good parent will do anything to keep their child safe and ensure they are cared for, so what he did for her by leaving her there was in her best interests clearly. Besides, as a babysitter, you more than most people should understand that parents aren't always able to be there for their kids so sometimes others gotta step in to help. Haven't you heard of the saying, "it takes a village to raise a child?" Which in Rin's case is literally true! 😂 Sometimes kids are even sent off to stay with grandparents and that's who raises them instead. Or maybe they have to temporarily live with an aunt or uncle because their single parent's job requires they work out of town 4-5 days of the week so they're hardly home. But that doesn't mean that the parents care or love their kids any less, and it's foolish to assume that Sesshomaru must have thought very little of Rin simply due to the fact that he made the decision to leave her in the village. Come on, y'all are acting like he abandoned her there!!

It's just given the circumstances Sesshomaru finally came to learn that Rin traveling with him was no longer safe. I also like to think it's because he wished for her to live a more normal life and to learn how to fully trust humans again. Plus, continuing to travel with him as young as she was would have proven dangerous and unwise. Now for you to know all this and still manage to turn his past actions towards her while she was just a child into a romantic gesture is what boggles my mind. Regardless of how you look at it, from my perspective or your own, Sesshomaru is in the wrong. Either he's a father figure who impregnates his daughter at the young age of approximately 14. OR he's this man she used to travel with who maybe isn't a father to her but who nonetheless basically rapes her since kids her age can't consent to sex with an adult. Idk about you but it sounds to me like nobody here wins with either scenario we're given. In other words, you should be just as mad as we are. If only one side didn't choose to forsake their morals they know we both have in common for the sake of a ship. Welp. 🤷‍♀️

I agree, incest is disgusting but that's not the only problem we have with this pairing. A romantic bond forming between Sesshomaru and Rin would also constitute as grooming.

You realize that over the years he visited her in the village that he brought her gifts too and essentially watched her grow up right before his very eyes, right? I mean, I know you do, but I really shouldn't have to explain further why pursuing a romantic/sexual relationship with each other is plain and simple wrong. And before you say it's not because he didn't have any malintent, please understand that considering their history and power dynamic up to then that yes this is still considered grooming even if Rin supposedly "wanted it" or "made the first move." Whether you consider him her father or not, as the adult who took on a role resembling that of a caretaker in her early life- a critical developmental time for a child- Sesshomaru is obligated to turn down any advances by Rin and most definitely should not initiate any himself. As the first close adult figure she's had in her life since her parents died, it's unfathomable to imagine how Sesshomaru could go through with taking advantage of this young girl who was under his care and supervision since they met. To think he could be capable of betraying that trust sickens me to the core.

This. Now THIS is how a parent/guardian or a similar adult caretaker (babysitter, teacher, etc.) talks to a child. And, in turn, this is how some young children talk to adults. You'd be insane and delusional to deny it! We see it in our everyday lives, do we not? From where else do you think our stories draw most of their inspiration? Yes, obviously these fictional universes have aspects of fantasy that don't exist in the real world, but so how then do you suppose we're able to relate to them? The reason for that being is because these stories are written by people for people, so naturally there are going to be real life aspects embedded throughout. Sure, a little escapism doesn't hurt as we don't need to take everything so seriously, but ultimately we all need to recognize that the messages in the stories we tell matter. Most stories possess a combination of both light and dark themes, but when it specifically comes to the latter we gotta be careful with how we tackle this in children's media since kids are far more impressionable.

So if at the center of a story we have two of the main protagonists whose mom is basically their same age and to top it off she knew their dad when she was just a girl and who just so happened to help raise her, wouldn't you say that's beyond fucked up or at the very least so fucking weird? Like why would we think it's even remotely okay for our children to watch this garbage?? Really think about it. Try and be objective for once and think about how it would sound explaining this storyline to an outsider who's never watched IY or HNY. Well, antis have tried this before many times and we always get the same reaction: Ewww!

Like I said earlier, if you wanna ship it then fine, but 1) please stop seeking our approval or trying to change our minds - your ship wish came true didn't it, so why do you need us to validate it? 2) even though it's not canon, respect that we don't support this sequel portraying pedophilia in a positive light. It's harmful af to not only allow but glorify the continuation of sexualized images of young girls everywhere. And I shouldn't have to say this, but just because this trope is popular as you say does not make it right. Lolicon themes in the media have been an issue forever and it needs to stop. Yes, even some people in Japan or "the East" would agree. Shocker!

We're pissed off and rightfully so because Yashahime's TV rating is 14, not to mention it airs at the prime time kids in Japan watch TV after getting home from school. That's Towa and Setsuna's age, true, but if Rin being the mom when she's like only a year older than them (please don't argue w/ me about the math- antis have so far been right every time with it) is straight-up disgusting and not something we should be supporting or endorsing. Rin's a whole ass child!! Please don't start with the "but times were different then so her having kids at 15 is acceptable" argument either, because we've already debunked that and every other single excuse you guys throw at us. Besides, how or why would you expect young viewers to know these historical "facts" anyway, especially if as you suggest fiction doesn't affect reality so what does it matter? Yet here we are, arguing over a fictional show in real life almost a year and a half into the "Sesshomaru fucks?" sequel being announced. My ass, your ass, hell all our asses fiction doesn't affect reality!

Look, I do apologize if the tone of this blog came off as snippy or condescending at times. I do not wish you any ill will, it's just I'm not really sure what you expected to get out of all this besides maybe getting on my nerves perhaps. haha A lot of you shippers have been desperately scrambling to interact with us, lurking in our tags, jumping onto our posts screaming canon and getting so defensive even though you sought us out first. We've been sticking to our tags, so how about you stay in your lane too. By the way since we're on the topic, have you seen Twitter or Reddit?! SR shippers there are the actual worst and many Inuyasha fans (not just antis) have complained of not feeling welcomed to engage in fandom spaces anymore. Shippers swarm them and scare them off simply because fans don't like your ship and refuse to accept it. It's pathetic, really. No one should ever be bullied or harassed just because they don't like something you might. We're all fans of Inuyasha, aren't we? So let's act like it. Yashahime on the other hand, you guys are welcome to that pungent heap of trash. Fans have a right to criticize it too, but if you like it then good for you, so keep on liking it and don't mind us.

I'm almost done, but real quick back to Jaken! Let's not forget about how the official Yashahime website- which came out after my blog, mind you- described Jaken. This translation isn't the best one available but it's the only version a fellow anti friend could track down. They do recall a better one done by a native Japanese speaker who was also an anti, and that member confirmed that Jaken is indeed called Rin's babysitter. So you see, I was right in my interpretation. In the original post I did compare Jaken to a brother, but after talking to others (some comments can be found under said post) I did acknowledge that he's more of a reluctant babysitter who's not related. And if he's not at least a brother to Rin, then he's definitely not her father.

At the end of the day, the creator Rumiko Takahashi has the final word. Which is guess what? Hogosha. 💖 Probably should've just started out with that and saved us all the trouble, huh? Good day/night to you.

Papamaru bids you adieu now. 🤞

#anti yashahime #anti sessrin #sesshomaru is rin's dad #papamaru #hogosha 💖#the sequel may not be canon but sunrise can still burn in hell

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kusagrasskusa · 4 years ago

Text

Yandere! Itachi X Reader Headcannons

The reader is precieved as a normal civilization rather than a ninja.

ALSO I learned how to do the "read more" thing on my phone and now I'm happy uvu- and to any friends that read this, I'm so sorry but I've never been so dedicated to a fandom in a long time lol. I might make a oneshot later for this, too, and I do, you should see a link under this paragraph somewhere.

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🖤 Itachi is a mature and collected person, so I'd think it'd be unlikely for him to just grow obsessed at once. Itachi would have to come across Y/N many times before releasing he's in love.

🖤 The way he'd meet Y/N would be when he'd be scouting an area for a particular enemy. He'd happen to come across her, who interacted with him a little but nothing interesting happened. Overtime, the two would see each other here and there, until eventually everyday.

🖤 When his enemy he was looking for had been eliminated, he said his goodbyes to Y/N before leaving. He expected to move on, but his mind would wonder back to her no matter how hard he tried.

🖤 Eventually, Itachi would see Y/N whenever he had free time. He'd make room in his day to spend hours together; they'd go out to eat, participate in festivals, talk, and more.

🖤 On Y/N's side, it didn't take long before she started to feel romantic interest. Afterall, Itachi was calm, collected, smart, strong, fun to be around, and seemed genuinely interested in her. She was definitely in love before he was.

🖤 Around the time Itachi would visit the Leaf Village to find Naruto, he strangely started to worry a lot about Y/N learning about who he was and fear him. He couldn't help but want to shield her from the truth, and if the people around them learned that the man Y/N was with was wanted, it would end bad for them.

🖤 Itachi was inevitably worrying a little too much about the possibility of her finding out. He went to see her and did his best to distract her from any gossip or drama whatsoever to ensure she'd never hear about the Akatsuki. His time spent with her increased from a few hours to half the day.

🖤 Itachi wouldn't ever want to kidnap or drag people into his life. He hates killing, he hates being "evil", he hates everything about his dark lifestyle. The decision to either abandon someone he began to care for or to take her away was a very hard one.

🖤 Itachi realized something in the process of thinking of a solution. He loved Y/N; he loved her to the point where the thought of her hating or fearing him scared him so badly. Even with Sasuke, the thought of him having him was terrifying but something he could live with.

🖤 It was releasing to learn about his own true feelings. He was desperately in love with Y/N, to the point where she was like air, or food, or water. Like in order to live, she had to be around.

🖤 As word spread about two strange people walking around Konoha and that Orochimaru took the last Uchiha, it was inevitable that Y/N would learn about the info. The next time she saw Itachi, she brought it up to him and expressed her discomfort in the fact that she could be among evil people.

🖤 He was scared. So scared that she would hate him for his lifestyle after finding out about who he really is. So that was it; his mind was made. He took Y/N away that night.

🖤 When word about the Akatsuki in Konoha, he received a lot more looks when he was in public than normal. He'd usually have a normal kimono on and have his hair in a different, though similar, style in order to appear normal. But he knew deep down in his heart that people are bound to start suspecting him of being an Akatsuki. And overhearing someone talk about an S class Uchiha member is what did it.

🖤 "You've been asking about where I live for a whole now. Would you like see my home?" Itachi asked. Y/N happily agreed to go, and sorta expected his home to be outside of her village. But the further she traveled, she grew a bit nervous and wanted to return home (as you would if you were led outside of your village into deep woods)

🖤 Itachi wasn't escorting Y/N alone. Of course, the Akatsuki is bound to learn about that girl Itachi insisted on bringing up in most of his little amounts of conversations. It was obvious he was obsessed with her, as much as he would try to hid it, but he just couldn't get her off his mind. So the night where he choose to bring her home, Kisame was watching the two frkm afar in case something happened.

🖤 Before that day, Itachi had mentioned that he wanted to protect Y/N. Over the three months Itachi spent with Y/N, he had plenty of time to talk about her enough to where the other members basically knew her.

🖤 Itachi actually got a few of the members (ex. Kisame, Deidara) were interested in Y/N as well. How could someone as "heartless" as Itachi Uchiha fall in love, and in such a dramatic way at that? They were sorta curious to see what was so special about her.

🖤 Anyway, you can imagine how Itachi convinced Y/N to go far enough into the woods to go to a small little cottage. Was it part of the Akatsuki hideout? No. Itachi would never trust the Akatsuki members with Y/N alone, and she needs her freedom to walk around a house.

🖤 The inside was sorta minimalistic, but not completely empty. To the far right was a kitchen was a small dining table with two chairs, and on the opposite side was two rooms. In one room was a single bed with a closet in it, and in the other room was a bathroom. Between the kitchen and two rooms was a small living room with a couch, coffee table, and more. There were bored games in a little dresser in the living room, along with a full bookshelf with books of all genres.

🖤 "Care for dinner?" Itachi had asked. He wanted to tell Y/N why she's there over a dinner he made and had prepared in advance. It turns out he was amazing at cooking.

🖤 It wasn't very easy, but Itachi managed to explain his feelings towards Y/N. Of course, Y/N happily excepted and was quick to hug and express her feelings towards him. He returned the hug and spoke about how he loved her very much, however he had so much more to say to her.

🖤 Justifyingly so, Y/N was frozen in shock when Itachi told his story. He killed everyone in his clan aside from his brother, the well-known Uchiha. How he fled his clan after committing the murders and joined an infamous group; The Akatsuki.

🖤 While displaying himself as calm, he was so overwhelmed and scared within his mind. He knew he'd have to tell her why she's staying at the house and why, from now one, she'll never leave. But he was smart enough to know she wouldn't simply except living here out of love. He would have to be a bit manipulative to keep Y/N.

🖤 Y/N was mortified and didn't notice the tears pouring out of her eyes. She fell desperately in love with a murderer. She felt so sick, so scared. She stood up, begging to go home so desperately, trembling over her own words. She was so scared for her life now, and what Itachi's intentions were. Truly, Itachi's heart broke at this.

🖤 "Y/N, darling," Itachi spoke, his words laced with love as she softly grabbed Y/N wrists and leaned close. "I had to take you away. I couldn't let them take you from me."

🖤 He was very delicate with Y/N as he calmed her down, as if she was glass. His heart ached at her pain, but he truly believed it was for the best. In a way it really was; people saw Y/N with the tall raven boy many times in public, and her parents and friends had met him too. Once they find out that boy is the Itachi, Y/N could be killed if they think she was aiding him.

🖤 Itachi did his best to show her around and make her feel comfortable. But no matter what he did, Y/N felt so broken, so empty, so confused. There's no way that sweet Itachi she loves is a killer. He has to be lying.

🖤 Over the course of a few days, Y/N learned to except the fact she's held at that small home. She tried to think on the good side; she could decorate it how she wants, has more freetime, can focus on her hobbies and learn to cook new things, and more! Even if she's never allowed to leave the house, Itachi let's her do basically anything around the home.

🖤 Y/N still loves him. As months go by of being alone for a few days without Itachi, some days with him for a little bit, and some full days with him, she still couldn't help but appreciate him just as much as before. No, she appreciates him more even. She just can't help but love him, and he loves her too.

🖤 Itachi felt much more relaxed around Y/N and tried to spend every second he could with her. He was so shameful of keeping her from her home, but it was for the best wasn't it?

🖤 Most of Itachi's emotions about keeping her was all because he lived her and never wanted to see her with anyone else. But he had always found an excuse as to why it's for the best that she's never with anyone else.

🖤 Kisame had met Y/N a few times. She was never comfortable with him however and was typically holding onto Itachi's sleeve, or leaning on him when he's around. However Kisame would be around when Itachi wasn't sometimes to keep watch.

🖤 As long as Itachi or Kisame was present, Y/N is allowed to go outside and visit close villages other than the one Y/N is from. She would be allowed to buy anything she wanted and could afford from these places, but she had to go home eventually.

🖤 At the end of the day, Y/N had quite a lot of freedom and eventually, she was happy. She was happy to be living with Itachi and was perfectly happy calling him her husband.

🖤 Itachi never wanted a marriage though. He was going blind and he planned to be murdered by his brother and he never dared to make her a young widow. When Izumi had died, he felt so distraught and he knew Y/N is bound to feel the same, but even worse if they got married.

🖤 When Itachi died, as said, Y/N was distraught. No, she was mortified. Absolutely mortified. Even if she was free, she had lost the last person she had a connection with. And she carried that sorrow to her grave.

#anime #reader insert #shounen #itachi #itachi uchiha #yandere itachi #yandere itachi x reader #itachi x you #itachi x y/n #itachi x reader #i love itachi

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demonslayedher · 3 years ago

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any random trivial thoughts you have about the lives of the slayers? i like to think that nezuko keeps the acorns inosuke gave her in a jar as a collection and that inosuke is determined to fill the jar completely, hehe. also, do you think an official announcement of nezuko’s existence was made to the lower ranked demon slayers or did it travel through word of mouth. imagine oblivious demon slayers visiting the butterfly mansion, only to be greeted/encountered by nezuko

If I may add to that thought about Nezuko having a jar, Gotouge has stated that Nezuko is okay getting tossed around and bumping her head in the box because she heals from it immediately, but one of this days Tanjiro is going to open it and it will pour with acorns and glass shards, and she'll just be sitting there glaring with disappointment. (Hopefully Nezuko keeps the jar in a safe place at the Butterfly Mansion instead!)

As for telling the whole Corp that Nezuko got the OK from Oyakata-sama and the Pillars, I can see that being like a low-key announcement that spreads like a rumor, just kinda whenever the crows get around to that detail between missions. It makes sense that Oyakata-sama wanted to tell the Pillars first, and since the Pillar meeting was coming up pretty soon when Tanjiro passed the Final Selection, Oyakata-sama had probably planned as soon as he got Urokodaki's letter than he was going to have Tanjiro and Nezuko at that meeting. Even if we set the Pillars aside, though, there's wide-spread hatred against demons throughout the Corp. It probably helped to have the Pillars generally on board first. I can imagine the rest of the Corp being very curious (if cautious) about Nezuko, and although we see characters who get the pleasure of spending time with her getting to baby her, most Corp members who meet Tanjiro probably don't get to meet Nezuko face to face. Daytime is problematic, or Nezuko would otherwise be asleep a lot of the time even if Tanjiro is busy in settings when he'd meet other Corp members. Still, I think Tanjiro's reputation as a nice guy would spread even faster, so even people who were iffy about Nezuko would probably get to know Tanjiro and be like, "oh, she's probably fine."

But if we're going to get into trivial headcanons about the Slayers' everyday lives, you know who I think gets babied more than Nezuko?

Inosuke. Most of the Corp members are freaked out by him at first, but as it dawns on them that Inosuke grew up all alone, it may bring out a nurturing side in them, and it makes everyone happy to see him get better at fitting in among humankind. They get to feel proud of him as he picks up on limited amounts of etiquette and gets marginally better at picking up names, but most of them are still likely to make a quick exit when he starts getting too rambunctious.

Zenitsu, however, is someone who should know better and most people find him really annoying until they go through Pillar Training with him, as that's the strongest bonding experience most of the Corp members have ever shared, aside from the really close bonding that probably occurs a lot among members of the same Final Selection batches. However, the Corp members who have witnessed Zenitsu in action (and who were rescued by him) have nearly the same awe for him that they have for the Pillars, so they never say anything to him about how indebted they feel.

Since more of the Corp members have met Inosuke and Zenitsu than have met Nezuko, Tanjiro's saintly reputation mostly stems from how much of those two numbskulls' company he can stand, and how he can keep them in line (keeping a demon sister in line must be easy in comparison). Also, Tanjiro is not just good at tending the fire to make good rice, his sense of smell makes him a master at seasoning food perfectly, and many Corp members have cried thinking of how their own mothers never cooked so well. Tanjiro is also very good at tending to people when they fall ill.

The Pillars are so advanced in Breath technique that they don't generally catch colds unless they are recovering from serious injury or like, poisoning themselves. Normal Corp members catch minor illnesses all the time, though, and that's part of why they're so slow to advance. They tend to have to take time for lots of little things instead of just major injuries sustained in battle. They still train as much as possible to make sure they don't get rusty when it's time to take a mission again. These recovery periods are some of the only times when they can maintain a reasonable sleep schedule, many of the members who survive to old age feel long term effects of sleep deprivation in addition to lingering injuries. Since the Corp members can't very well engage in long-term goals, simple pastimes are encouraged in the daylight hours to help keep them in the moment. The Butterfly Mansion and most of the Wisteria houses are well stocked with board games like Sugoroku and card games like Karuta, as well as tools for shuttlecock and paper for origami.

While many of the Corp members try to be virtuous, and in indeed there are other circles that have their own sort of main-character like Tanjiro equivalent, there are still those who have less polished, or certainly far less positive character. The rougher members tend to spend their salary and free time on vices. Oyakata-sama understands his children are under a lot of stress and turns a blind eye to it (or two blind eyes, I guess).

Different Breaths tend to come with their own cultures, and overtime different Cultivators tend to get different reputations based on the members they send into the Corp. Like, "Oh, Yamada-sensei? Then you must be a stickler for the 10th form" or "Yamaguchi-sensei? Are you okay out there? I heard he's real half-assed on Breath technique." There is a certain amount of awe that students of former Pillars automatically get, and although some of that is due to pride and jealously, people who have been in the Corp long enough tend to get over these notions and just realize that everyone's doing their best. Since they're core Breath styles there may be other Thunder and Flame Breath users throughout the Corp from different Cultivators, but, pardon the pun, they can't hold a candle to the students of former Pillars (or the Rengoku clan in general) and it's highly, highly unlikely any of them would ever get close to the same level of mastery. There's plenty of Muratas in every Breath, basically.

Speaking of Murata, he and others like him probably had an easy time of settling down and getting married after retirement. Years of experience as swordsmen certainly gave them a mature edge over the average Joes they otherwise would be compared to, but they also have the advantage of not being freaks. Takeuchi remains life-long friends with Yushiro.

The young maidens of Wisteria houses get flirted with all the time. Many of the Corp members are starved of TLC, and while the maidens of the Wisteria houses are polite and have deep respect for the work the swordsmen do, they know they likely will not know most of them for long. However, when there is a true connection between a Corp member and a Wisteria House family member, they tend to make very solid matches. Girls make up a slim percentage of the swordsmen in the Corp, and this is why they tend to get sent on undercover missions a lot more. Demons tend to put their guards down more around women, as they'd more likely be on the look out for male swordsmen.

Girls make up a larger proportion of the Kakushi, and traditionally feminine skills are highly prized. Gotou is very proud of his sewing skills, even though he only does small repairs and has never been tasked with tailoring full uniforms. The Kakushi use a lot of code words and have a very insular work culture that is hard for outsiders to break into; even Oyakata-sama finds himself confused by a lot of it, but he appreciates that it makes them efficient and mostly leaves them be to organize themselves as they see fit (his orders are still absolute, though, so none of them are aware how much autonomy they effectively have.)

Hand signs like "don't breathe" and "don't listen" are unique to the Corp (yes, I have looked them up, consensus in the Japanese fandom is that they are unique to KnY), and taught by Cultivators. Inosuke didn't have a Cultivator to teach him so it took him a while to catch on the existence of hand signs. He makes up his own confusing hand signs to impress people with how flexible his joints are.

For many, Pillar Training was harder than undergoing Cultivation (but still less harrowing than the Final Selection). In Cultivation they tend to get specialized attention from someone who cares about them and actually knows a thing or two about how teaching works. Pillar Training does not fit this explanation at all, especially in the teaching department. As mentioned before, this is when a lot of Corp members who used to find Zenitsu insufferable come around and start to appreciate him more, for they survived different stages of training together, and every time he blew his top and complained, they were grateful he gave (loud) voice to what they were thinking but were too afraid to say. Instead of getting down and depressed, it riles them up enough to keep at it, however ridiculous the Pillar's demands are. Suffering under the Pillars also broke down perceived barriers between different ranks, building a more solid level of comradery among a lot of the Corp. However, this was also the most time most of the Corp members ever got to spend with the Pillars, who they always felt were untouchable and who they feared bothering. They feel very genuine affection for them by the time they all enter the final battle.

Once Inosuke figures out that Zenitsu can only bring out his full abilities in his sleep, he tries to goad Zenitsu into fighting him at full strength by insulting him in his sleep. He did throw a really good punch at him one time, but usually he only sleep-argues back. Other times Inosuke hits a sore spot and Zenitsu starts sleep-crying, in which case Inosuke gets bored and leaves. Once Tanjiro realizes this about Zenitsu (thanks to Inosuke having point-blank explained it to him), he puzzles over it and figures Zenitsu may not be aware of how powerful and helpful he is, and this hurts his confidence, but then again, how can he not know if he's so aware of his surroundings even in his sleep? As Zenitsu sleeps, Tanjiro has been puzzling over this a long time and how he might best be able to help Zenitsu reach his full confident potential, and by the time Zenitsu wakes up and drowsily looks over at Tanjiro, Tanjiro looks him in the eye and very seriously asks, "Zenitsu, what is your problem?" Naturally, Zenitsu interprets this as Tanjiro suddenly being very disappointed in him, and Tanjiro has unwittingly done more harm than good.

On the contrary, Tanjiro has unwittingly done a lot of simple good for most of the PTSD-suffering Corp members with his little throw-away positive comments, just like he did for Muichiro and Aoi. Most of the Corp members have never met Oyakata-sama, so Tanjiro is to many Corp members what Oyakata-sama is to the Pillars. It's like they all have an Oyakata-sama shaped hole in their hearts and Tanjiro just falls into it like a good proxy. After all is said and done and Tanjiro and Nezuko read all the kind wishes left for them in deceased Corp members' wills, Tanjiro is consumed with some guilt that he can't place faces to all the names, though he remembers the majority of them. While his memory is still fresh he works hard to recall the ones who escaped him, and then he makes sure to refresh his memory every year with annual visits to the graves.

#kny fandom theories and meta #or just general headcanons #but they have their basis in little fanbook details like favorite games and such #Kimetsu no Yaiba #Demon Slayer

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