#the way that there was already a developing comfortability between them during their first proper interaction too :'>>

[enjakey]

How would the New York series Niki, Jake, or Sunghoon react to their reader taking off their engagement ring during an argument? (or all of them, totally up to you) (if you wanna do this)

AHHHHH I LOVE YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING THIS ITS MY FIRST REQUEST FOR THIS SERIES. and if you don’t mind I only did the three as I have not formed proper personalities for the others yet. HOPE YOU ENJOY (it’s a little long).

MASTERLIST

JAKE

“Do you think you’ll ever stop modelling?”

Jake asked you that question casually. He didn’t mean harm by it- it was just a passing thought he had while you were watching a movie together. You were snuggled into his side, his arm draped over you.

But for some reason, the question seemed to offend you. You shifted slightly, craning your neck in shock to look at his face. Instinctively, feeling your anger, Jake recalled his arm.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You asked, pulling your lips together in a purse.

“No, nothing, just-” Jake sucked in a breath. “I’m not telling you to do anything here. Obviously, baby, I’m gonna support you in whatever you do,” he clarified. “I just thought-”

“Thought what?”

“That if we had kids then-”

“You think I’m not capable?” You crossed your arms, playing with your engagement ring out of frustration. It was a habit you had developed since he’d put that ring on your finger.

“I’m not saying that,” Jake raised his hands in defence. “I was simply wondering.”

“Right…”

“And honestly, I’d always thought. If I ever get married, I’d spoil my wife. Let her enjoy a life at home while I provide-”

“Jake, that’s cute but I like modelling-“

As you said it, your engagement ring had slipped off your finger. It was by mistake- honestly speaking. It was just a slip of the finger. And it landed in the couch, right in between the pair of you.

And Jake saw it, sparkling against the dull fabric of the couch.

He looked at the ring. Then he looked at you.

“Y/N, what the fuck,” he said, voice a bit raised. “It was just a question.”

“What? No-” you rushed to put it back on. “It slipped off, I swear-”

Jake was angry, you could tell. He was making that face- jaw clenched, brows pulled together, lips pursed. Jake angry was not a pretty sight.

“Do that again, I swear to God, Y/N,” he huffed. “It’s not funny.”

SUNGHOON

The topic of moving to a new apartment had been in the talks for a few months now. Ever since you’d gotten engaged, Sunghoon was persistent on living together. He said that was how it was with his parents- that back in the day, the second they got engaged, they started building a house to move in together and start their family. Plus, he was just too clingy (not in a bad way).

“I like coming home to you,” he had said. “It’s comforting.”

And it wasn’t that you had an issue with it. You were excited to live with him. To be a homebody with him- despite the fact that most of your things were already in his apartment and you were there most of the time anyway- was something you knew you couldn’t wait to experience. But it was just… stressful.

To look for an apartment in New York wasn’t easy- it was a whole job in itself. And your job at NYU was already taking up most of your time and soon, you were even on your way to a dig for a few months.

Knowing all this, Sunghoon assured he’d bear the burden of looking for the apartment. All you had to do was respond to his video calls and messages while he was house hunting. And it wasn’t that he was doing it all alone. Most of his friends, especially Jay, were also helping him.

But you didn’t even seem interested while he would fill you in about apartment hunting. Sunghoon had even taken a few days off from being a skating coach for this while you barely paid any head to it- always busy correcting papers or in meetings that stretched too long because the head of department was a pain in the ass.

And you weren’t trying to be distant or uninterested about it. It truly was just stressful and with exam season looming around, all your students seemed to be needing extra help and guidance with study material.

You’d come home late everyday and would usually sleep without dinner. And you were just so exhausted.

And Sunghoon knew this- he really did. And it wasn’t that he was mad at you- he was stressed too. He was stressed about not finding a suitable apartment yet, stressed about you being too busy with work, stressed about how nothing seemed to be going his way.

One day, over a lazy dinner of ramen and rice, Sunghoon just snapped. He couldn’t take it anymore, your lack of enthusiasm and his lack of progress.

“I just wish you’d be a little more excited about this,” he said, rolling his eyes and gripping his hair. His food was pushed to the side, elbows slamming on the table.

You kept your spoon down slowly, letting your head hang heavy. “Sunghoon, I’m excited. Obviously I’m excited. I’m just so busy and exhausted-”

“You’ve been saying that for months- I’m exhausted too,” he pushed himself out of the chair, making his way to the hall.

You followed him, guilt weighing on your chest.

“Hoon, I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry,” you cried. “I wish I had more energy for this too but you gotta understand. I’m about to travel soon. My students are on edge-”

“Screw your damn students,” he was yelling now. But he didn’t mean any harm. He was just… sad. He was sad that his effort wasn’t being acknowledged. He was sad he was doing this without you. And he just wanted you by his side while preparing for their new step together.

His eyes were welling with tears now. But you didn’t notice, offended by what he said.

You folded your arms together and your brows pulled together. Sunghoon knew he messed up by saying that. He knew how much you adored your students- he knew the lengths you’d go for them. Once, you took them all out for lunch just because one of them said- in passing- that they were too broke to even buy a meal.

But in that moment? Nothing mattered more than his emotional weight.

“That’s not fair,” you snapped. “You don’t get to shit on my students.”

“Well you pretty much said fuck you to living together,” Sunghoon folded his arms too. “Just say it. Say you don’t wanna live together. Stop beating around the bush because I’m tired-”

“Fuck you,” you rolled your eyes. “Stop projecting. I’m fucking tired, too. Can’t you just… just accept that I wanna live with you? It’s just terrible fucking timing, Hoon. You know this. You know this time of the year is most stressful for me.”

“You’re so busy that you can’t even respond to my texts? To a call?”

“I’m usually in class.”

“Fuck, Y/N,” he broke. He was ready to crumble. Sunghoon collapsed onto his couch, dragging his palms down his face. His looked down at his lap, sighing.

Sunghoon saw you, from the corner of his eyes, discarding your jewellery. You usually did that when you felt heavy and overstimulated. Your necklace, your earrings and your rings were placed on the table and then-

And then your engagement ring.

His head shot up, eyes blood shot as he scanned your face. You were sighing too, kneeling in front of him with your head in your hands.

He couldn’t understand what it meant.

And he started to panic.

“Y/N-”

The crack in his house had you lifting your head. He looked distressed, like he was just told terrible truth.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m being an asshole about this,” he reached for your hands, trying to pull you up. “We can work through this, I swear.”

As he pulled you into his lap, desperately moving closer to find your lips, you looked at him puzzled. Your hands pushed against his chest, confused at the tears that started to streak his cheeks. Your heart cracked at the sight- Sunghoon never cried, not like this.

You cupped his face, fingers swiping at his wet cheeks. “Hoon, I’m sorry, too. It’s okay, we’re both stressed. We should just take a break-”

“What do you mean, a break?” His eyes darting across your face, his lips pulled downwards.

He looked like a puppy- a sad, sad, lost from home puppy. You didn’t know what to do.

“Don’t do this to me-”

“Sunghoon, once exam season is over we can look for apartments together, okay?” You said, tilting your head. “Until then, let’s just chill. Let’s take a break- I think we both need it-”

“I don’t want a break. Y/N, a break? You’re serious?”

“Baby, I meant let’s go out for ice cream or something,” you said, pulling your brows together. “What on Earth are you on about?”

“… your engagement ring,” his hand moved from your waist to point behind you, at the pristine and shinning wedding ring that sat on the coffee table.

“Oh, my God,” you scrambled off him, moving to wear your engagement ring again. “Baby, I’m so sorry,” you cupped his cheeks again. “Force of habit.”

Sunghoon looked up at you, his features relaxing with a breath of relief. “Don’t ever do that again. I thought I was going to fucking die.”

NIKI

“You don’t like Sinners?”

“Yeah, it’s a bit mid,” he said, throwing his keys onto the kitchen counter.

You had just come back to his house after watching the film and you were raving about it throughout the car ride. After all, to become a director was what you were studying towards and Ryan Coogler was one of your favourite directors.

“It’s not as good as Black Panther-”

“But it’s unfair to compare the two,” you said, crossing your arms. “Sinners is more culturally rooted.”

“Yeah, see. You know that cuz you’re movie buff. You do this for a living,” he pointed a hand at you, not realising how offended you actually were. “What about the people who just watch it for the entertainment?”

“You’re saying you didn’t like the visuals?” You raised your brows.

“Don’t you think they romanticised slavery a little bit?”

“Did you and I watch the same movie?” You were tapping your foot now. “I literally just ranted about everything about the film in the car. Were you even listening?”

“Of course I was-”

“No you weren’t. You never listen,” your voice raised a bit and Niki was taken aback. “You think you’re so cool and know everything about films like you forget this is literally what I spent so many years studying and doing-”

“No, Y/N, I-”

“Like, seriously. Why can’t you just listen? This is the one thing I’m passionate about. I’ve built my whole life around movies and somehow, you take that side of me so lightly-”

“I'm not taking it lightly! I just didn’t like the movie, Y/N!”

“It’s never just the movie with you. It’s always some stupid one-liner and you acting like you’re too cool to care.”

Your voice was already shaking when you stopped talking, and the weight of your anger was sitting too heavy on your chest to keep standing still. You turned, pulled the engagement ring off your finger, and placed it- too gently- on the counter between you. Not thrown. Just… placed. Like it was louder that way.

Niki went completely still.

His expression flickered from irritated to confused to absolutely floored in under two seconds.

“What are you doing?” he said. His voice was quieter now, no longer defensive- just stunned. “Y/N…”

He didn’t move toward the ring. He didn’t touch it. He just stared at you like the gesture had knocked the wind out of him.

You didn’t say anything at first. You crossed your arms, tried to keep your face from falling apart.

“I’m not saying I’m walking away,” you muttered, eyes on the floor. “I’m just- I don’t know. I needed you to see that this mattered. That you not listening mattered.”

He blinked, like he hadn’t even realised what this argument had turned into. Then slowly, he took a step forward, hands still down by his sides.

“I’m sorry,” he said- he wasn't being sarcastic. He was sincere. “I was being a dick. I didn’t get the movie, and I didn’t want to admit I didn’t get it. So I said some dumb shit instead.”

You stayed quiet.

Niki glanced at the ring on the counter like it was radioactive. “I didn’t think you’d take it off over something like this.”

“It’s not about the movie, Niki,” you said, voice finally steady. “It’s about how easy it is for you to dismiss something that means everything to me.”

That landed. You could tell. He scratched the back of his neck, looked down at the floor, then back up at you.

“Okay,” he said. “Got it. No more dismissing. I’ll let you school me on everything from colour grading to lighting to… whatever else makes me sound smart next time we’re at a screening.”

You bit back a laugh, but it slipped through anyway, because of course he couldn’t help it.

“I hate you,” you muttered.

He grinned. “Nah, you love me. You just wanna fight me sometimes.”

You shook your head. And then- because you didn’t want to fight anymore- you reached across the counter, picked up the ring, and slid it back onto your finger.

Niki let out the tiniest breath of relief. “Thank God. That was the scariest two minutes of my life.”

“You’ve jumped out of a plane before.”

“Yeah, and that was less terrifying.”

[eternalwritess]

jjk matchup exchange with @thecurrator

i match you with... 𝓢𝓾𝓰𝓾𝓻𝓾 𝓖𝓮𝓽𝓸 ██ 20% _ ████ 60% _ █████ 80% _ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 100% ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ!

♥ You two technically met at Jujutsu Tech, as you went to the same school and passed by each other in classes and sometimes trained together. But you never truly had an exactly proper introduction, you just knew each others names, grades and that was about it

♥ You both got more formally introduced when you were both sent out on a mission together to exorcise a high level curse and on the way there Suguru didn't really like the awkward silence in between you two so he was the first one to speak up, asking you if you had been on any missions like this before

♥ You likely gave him a short answer and he pressed on, talking about how he was sent on missions like these quite a bit. He sort of ignored your 'resting bitch face' as trust him, he's seen worse on Satoru. He's seen even worse on Shoko when Satoru decided to do some dumb shit, so your outward scary demeanor didn't really affect him all that much

♥ Once it was clear that you weren't into talking all that much and didn't seem all that comfortable with him he apologized for talking so much and you two finally arrived at your destination. Turns out a few more curses had ended up spawning and the two of you ended up staying there longer than you originally intended to. Something that you and him were slightly upset about, but he didn't show it on his face

♥ On the way back he tried talking to you some more, you two were communicating during the fighting but it was short and snappy. So instead he ended up complimenting you and your fighting style, then giving you some tips on how to fight better

♥ He even offered to help you train if you were up to it, you thanked him for it and didn't really plan on taking him up on that offer until you both had to train together for an assignment. It wasn't anything with curse techniques but it was hand to hand combat which Suguru excelled at. He ended up beating you most of the time and ended up showing you things that you were messing up on, stance, balance, hand placement

♥ You and him ended up just working on your combat the entire day when he asked you if you planned on doing anything else after this. It wasn't in an 'asking you out' sort of way, more that he was just curious. When you responded no he nodded along and said that everyone was gonna go out later to hang out and was wondering if you wanted to come along with them

♥ You were gonna decline when suddenly you didn't have a choice as Satoru was already there and in both of your faces, dragging the two of you along somewhere. You all ended up going to some fast food place where you felt uncomfortable. You didn't really wanna be here and Suguru noticed that soon later

♥ He apologized for Satoru's behavior and said that he just does whatever he wants sometimes, not really listening to others and their opinions. He then mentioned something about him never growing up under his breath, that got you to laugh a little. The whole time you guys hung out he stayed close to you and slowly you began getting more acquainted with the group as a whole, getting more and more comfortable around them

♥ Hell Suguru even got Satoru to apologize for dragging you out, although it took a while, and a lot of mean comments back and forth. Which was nice to say the least

♥ He found out that you liked poetry once he saw you reading a book about it once and immediately asked you who your favorite poet was, he then explained that he also read a bit of poetry here and there but he's never really had all that much time since he came here, being a special grade and all

♥ For about an hour you two just sat there and talked about poetry rambling on and on about it and about your day, it developed into books and book recommendations and you found out that he read some fiction here and there but most of the books he read were about the mind and peoples thoughts

♥ From there on out you two were both truly friends, whenever he saw you he would walk up to you and just talk to you about anything and everything that he possibly could. You were a nice break from Satoru for him, and while he loved hanging out with Satoru it could be a lot sometimes, you calmed him down

♥ Sometimes you two would talk so long that it would soon turn dark and this you'd both just sit and watch the sunsets, and whenever you two woke up early in the mornings you'd watch the sunrise. It was during once of these moments when you were watching them he found himself watching you. The way your hair framed you face, the suns rays bouncing off of your skin, and thats when he realized that he was in love

♥ He ignored it, he planned on confessing yes but not now. Not until he was at least somewhat sure that you felt the same for him. Mostly because he didn't want to get rejected, and he didn't want to possibly ruin what you two already had, cause he did genuinely like you

♥ It took him a few days to work up the courage to do so and thankfully he did it before Satoru realized that he liked you. He ended up writing you a small poem just about things that he adored about you. He didn't know how else to confess, he also told you that he understood if you didn't feel the same way about him

♥ When he discovered that you did feel the same way about him he was so happy, he hid it though under a small smile and then asked you when you were open for a date. You both established a time and date for it to happen

♥ You ended up going to a small cafe where you both got some food and drinks. He paid for everything and then you guys saw that a good movie was playing and decided to go and watch it

♥ When Shoko heard that you two were dating she was happy, honestly she saw Suguru's crush on you coming from about a mile away

♥ Utahime thought that you two made such a cute couple, she was so excited over it and said that she hopes everything ends up working out between the two of you. She was also happy that Suguru got a significant other before Gojo

♥ Nanami thought that it wouldn't work out, especially with the risk everyone was taking with being a sorcerer and all, and while he briefly expressed it he never did anything to stop you two from dating

♥ Gojo was the last one to know and yes, he was offended. Going on and on about how you stole all of Suguru's affection from him and how'd he never forgive you for it (he was joking ofc)

♥ Your relationship dynamics are: friends to lovers, high school sweet hearts, and star-crossed lovers (maybe)

^_ .̫ _^

♥ You and Suguru talk, a lot. Just about anything really, your latest hyperfixation, a new poem that you both had read. Maybe a movie that the other saw. Maybe some stupid shit you saw one of the others do, you two are always talking though. That's a fact

♥ You observe what the group does quite a bit and watch as they get in trouble with Suguru. He tries to stop it sometimes but when he sees that you're just sitting back and watching it all happen he sits and watches it with you, and then laughs when things don't work out

♥ He does things for you a lot, helping you with your homework (if you need it), giving you small gifts, helping you make something, helping you improve you technique. He's constantly trying to help you, he just wants you to not be burdened by anything

♥ He also compliments your looks a lot and tends to give criticism when needed and he's pretty good at it too. Even then afterwards he'll help you work on anything and everything

♥ He spends a lot of time in your dorm just hanging out with you, it doesn't even matter to him what the two of you are doing. You could literally be saying, and doing nothing and he'd still savor every second of the moment with you

♥ Hidden Inventory arc... remember that star crossed lovers bit? Yeah this is where that maybe comes in so lets talk

♥ After he comes back from the mission you noticed that something was wrong with him, he was constantly spacing out and sometimes forgetting things like due dates, he stopped hanging out with you as much and obviously you were hurt by this. You also wanted to know what happened so you talked to him

♥ When you tried all he told you was the the Star Plasma Vessel, Riko Amanai, had died when it was his and Satoru's mission to protect her. That's all you really ever got out of him, anything else you wished to extract from him was soon impossible as when you'd bring it up he would excuse himself for missions

♥ Until one day you had him cornered, you could tell that he wasn't okay and that this death was still affecting him. So you tried asking him again, and again, and again, and each time it was like listening to a broken record.

"Riko Amanai, the Star Plasma Vessel died"

♥ According to him there was nothing more to it than that and only that. Nothing you ever did for him got through. You tried spending time with him again and he appreciated it, it was fun but it wasn't the same. He was spacing out like you, something that he didn't usually do and soon enough it just felt like he wasn't the same anymore

♥ You soon enough came to Satoru, you knew that he went on that mission with Suguru so you wanted him to tell you what happened, and all you got out of that was just that the death must've been affecting him pretty hard. But to not worry about it because he'll recover 'because he's the strongest, like me' were his exact words

♥ You didn't really get another chance to talk to him about it as the next time you heard anything about him it was that he had killed an entire village on non-sorcerers. Reason? Unknown

♥ Satoru was the one to tell you this, brief and hard. He didn't say much before leaving, you wanted to ask where he was going but it was pretty simple. To talk to Suguru, for a second you wanted to go with him but stuck it back out at your dorm wondering why he would do this

♥ You got your answer when you met him next, he wanted to get rid of curses, and to do that he needed to get rid of the source. Non-sorcerers, humans, people

♥ Maybe the worst part of it all was that he seemed better than he had since the mission, maybe better than he had his entire life. Either way, it was scary, and you were mad. So, what next?

[a-rose-tinted-life]

A Rose-Tinted Life

Episode Seven: Having a vision for life

Today I want to talk about the power of having a clear vision for our dream lives. It all begins with one big crucial step: introspection.

I know, big scary word, but trust me this is important to help you set up your vision. But before we go into the topic of introspection, I want to break down the purpose of having a vision.

A vision is defined as the outline of a set number of small goals that contribute to one big goal. Having a vision is a powerful tool in turning your life into the life you want.

I know it sounds like we’ve gone over this a million times already but I’m gonna give you a quick hint. Becoming your dream self and accomplishing your dream life are two different journeys. I know they sound very similar but I can promise you. They are two different things.

Becoming your dream self comes from an internal reflection of yourself. A deep look at things like your personality, habits, and aspirations for life and completely reflecting on them. It’s developing a positive mindset, confidence, and healthy relationships in your current life.

Accomplishing your dream life is hard work. Getting your hands dirty and putting in the physical work. Creating and accomplishing your dream life can mean starting a business, traveling the world, or buying/building your ideal home. Accomplishing your dream life includes doing things that not just you see but the world around you sees. So when you buy your dream car, you are taking a step towards accomplishing your dream life.

Now that we know the difference between them, let’s go back to the concept of introspection real quick. Introspection is the process of reflecting on your mental, emotional, and spiritual settings and looking at how to mold them into the kind of settings you see for yourself. Introspection is part of the self-reflection and self-awareness I mentioned in the last couple of episodes. I do recommend taking a look back at that episode for more information.

Now let’s talk about what is needed to create your dream life.

To manifest your dream life into reality, we first need to plan. For me, the first step in any plan I make is having a clear vision of what I want. To refresh, a vision is the outline of your big goal. A vision is what your future success looks like. In this case, your big goal is “Accomplishing your dream life” and as I’ve said to many others before you, my dear readers, a vision is always possible. If you can see it, you can be it.

Having a clear vision of what you want, knowing how to set proper goals, resilience, perseverance, and adaptability. Along with organization and the willingness to grow and learn on the journey. This is a process of pursuing your dreams and taking care of yourself along the way. In addition, having a positive mindset, a strong support system, and the willingness to take the necessary calculated risks and step outside your comfort zone is what is going to make your dream life a reality.

There are many resources available to help you accomplish your dream life. Mentors like Tony Robbins and Arthur Brooks are great examples of this because they can teach and motivate just about anybody to truly look at themselves and find the passion within them to embrace who they are and expand to their full potential.

Productivity books, online communities, and motivational podcasts with inspirational talks are just a small piece of the kind of help the world has to offer.

Some people may ask why you’d want to dedicate yourself to this vision. This dream life you have envisioned for yourself. And here’s what you tell them. When someone asks why you put so much investment and work into yourself, you say

“Because I know I can make my dreams come true and my life, my success will be a testament to the power of hard work and perseverance”

During this time of your life, you making the necessary sacrifices towards freedom and life fulfillment. And saying this every day will help you push through to the other side.

First I want to introduce you all to something. Something called SMART goals. This is used by scouts and leaders to create practical and detailed goals.

Specific: Detailed, defined, and determined goals. Be clear with what you want to accomplish

Measurable: Ask yourself if you’re able to keep track of these goals. Keep a thorough record of your progress.

Attainable: Ask yourself, Is it realistic? Is it practical? Can it be done?

Relevant: Why is this important to you? What is the motivation behind it?

Timely: How long is this going to take?

Use this tool to help you customize your goals and realize your vision. I’ve used this many times and I can guarantee you, this helps you stay organized and keep you on track so you don’t wander off course.

Now back to where we were earlier, in order to accomplish this goals need to be set. Here is a system that has worked for me. Take your vision, break it down into big goals, and then break those down into small goals.

Small goals are the little things that will eventually turn into habits and go towards accomplishing the big goal. The small goals are the stepping stones to accomplishing the big goals, which in turn are the big steps toward accomplishing your dream life.

Some examples of big goals may include “Save $10,000” or “Adopt a healthier lifestyle”. A small goal for this may include eating cleaner, working out more, and quitting bad habits.

So if a big goal of mine was “Adopt a healthier lifestyle”, these would be smaller pieces of my vision. My ultimate prize.

And I am recommending to everyone here, to make your vision “Accomplishing your dream life” this is your future success. And it allows you to determine for yourself what your future success looks like.

Now, my dear readers, I want you all to remember that the walk down this road is difficult. I cannot stress enough how important it is to seek the support of close family, friends, and mentors to help you through when the current gets too strong to handle on your own.

Remember you are on the path to freedom, authenticity, and fulfillment of purpose. This path is extremely challenging but it is deeply worth it in the end. This journey may take months or even years but it will lead to a lifetime of security and fulfillment. Living the life you designed for yourself having that weight taken off your shoulders and allowing that sense of pride and peace of mind is going to feel better than anything you will ever experience.

Having the career of your dreams, sleeping in your dream home, driving your dream car, in your dream wardrobe. But not just that. Being able to tell people that you put in the hard work and accomplished what most people consider impossible.

Making your deepest dreams come true.

I want to challenge you to say that to yourself today. Look in the mirror and tell yourself this:

“My vision is what my future success looks like, if I can see it I can be it”

Thank you so much for reading! Make sure to show your support and get updates by following my Instagram and X

Instagram: @arosetintedlife2024

X: @Arosetintedlife

[flydotnet]

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where I give myself stupidly niche requests according to this marvelous card… or something. It’s been three years dawg. (Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled).

Besides, if I didn't mess up in the first place, this wouldn't have happened.

This fic is quite a long time in the making. I started working on it last year, before I even had the idea for Rice Vinegar, a previous entry in this bingo card series. I was reading/catching up to the absolute banging series that is Brimstone in my Garden, Roses set on Fire by @inkblackorchid. I was on my yearly YGO kick, this time mostly 5D's-related (it's either 5D's or Arc-V, I've come to notice) and reading Snapping Jaws and Piercing Horns (which you absolutely should read, btw, but I have a sneaking suspicion that, if you're reading this, then you've at least heard of SJPH), when the idea for this fic came to me. I really like the friendship between Aki and Crow that the series sets up during the WRGP arc, because it's got my two favourite 5D's characters involved and also it's got canonical whump material linked to it and I'm a sucker for that stuff. Everything was here for success; I was unemployed at the time so I had a bunch of free time on my hands, the inspiration was crisp and I could fuck around and find out with writing new characters I hadn't before. Issue: I hated what I was actually writing.

Since I was reading InkBlackOrchid's works, I was like "God, I need it to be as good as hers". Problem is, I don't have her writing style at all, all the while I was somehow attempting to pastiche how she writes Aki's POV. The result was a very spiteful narration that doesn't even fit Aki at this point of her character development or even the story I was trying to tell in the first place, and a lot of clumsy descriptions. It was bad, y'all. Now, that was the first draft. I had abandonned it at first, thinking I'd just never do anything with it nor with the idea I had, but I just happened to look at my AO3 subscriptions, remembered the banger 5D's fic series, and finally went on InkBlackOrchid's Tumblr. Reading her Autopsy of Crow series of posts reminded me of my WIP and made me want to finish it so I could throw my two cents in the 5D's fight.

I mention Brimstone in my Garden, Roses set on Fire this much because my love for this series is a genuine explanation for some elements of this fic. I like its version of canon so much I wrote established Faithship into this fic as if they were actually dating by this time of the series, forgetting that actually didn't happen in 5D's proper. Sorry not sorry on that front, btw, I've always shipped them and I don't think I'll stop anytime soon. The very first version of this idea wasn't even going to delve into Aki losing her powers after her crash pre-Team Catastrophe (my very own guilty pleasure of a duel, I actually really like it lol), but since I was so inspired by something that did, I figured I had to tackle the question as well. I hope it doesn't fall flat on its face. Be Careful what you Wish for had me by the gametes.

Wow, I had a lot of things to say for something that's kind of just whump I decided to write on a whim like a year ago, huh. I don't even know if my characters sound right (as in, I think my Aki is OOC, she's too open if that makes sense?), it's my first rodeo and it's scary but hey, getting out of your comfort zone is how you improve, ain't it? I don't know if this story is good, I didn't really rewatch 5D's before writing it, just pantsed it out based on memory and what I rewatched earlier this year (I think it was this year? I remember writing a post for my side Tumblr back then mentioning Max Verstappen out of all people and I wasn't into F1 until late 2023. Anyway).

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Outside the Comfort Zone

Summary: Aki passes by Yusei and Co.'s living quarters to retrieve a copybook. Crow makes it way harder than it has any right to be. (or: a recently-ish powerless Aki finds herself having to care for a very stubborn, unwell Crow, and it goes as well as you'd expect.)

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! 5D's (set during the WRGP arc)

Word Count: 4K words

AO3 version available here.

Event run by @badthingshappenbingo

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There’s something off with the garage of Poppo’s Time, today.

Oh, of course, most of it is obvious: the air’s still, there’s a distinct lack of mechanical clicking and Yusei isn’t here. It’s a minutia of various little details that, added together, make the entire place tilt forty-five degrees to the left.

It’s, unfortunately, not just these which make her feel this way. Frankly, if it was, Aki would’ve already gone out the door and back home. She’s just here to recover a copybook and it should’ve only taken her mere minutes to do that; yet there she is, ten minutes after stepping on the other side of the door, still without her biology copybook, still in a home that isn’t hers, and unsure of where to take the situation next.

The reason might just be the odd-looking Crow that’s standing in the way between her copybook and her.

Is she friends with said Crow? Yes? Maybe? “Friends” sounds a bit strong for their relationship, she’d say; there are no strangers to each other, and she likes sharing a room with him enough to consider them on friendly terms, but they don’t share enough emotional intimacy for them to be friends. At least, that’s how she sees it – maybe he sees it another way.

(Or maybe they’re already friends, and she’s just too afraid of rejection to admit it to herself – better be safe than sorry, even around the most transparent person she knows).

Whatever their relationship is, what Aki knows without much doubt is that Crow isn’t looking like himself. His stance is slouched and unsteady, his hand is holding the doorway just a little too tight for comfort and his eyes look mussed. It’s like his gaze, while explicitly trying to focus on her, is instead looking at something right behind her – as if seeing through her, which is a thought Aki truly has no time to unpack.

“Oh, hi Aki,” he tells her with an indignant wave, head bobbing along with the sway of his hand.

“Goo – good afternoon.”

His smile turns into a puzzled expression, which doesn’t help the impression she’s gotten so far. He looks around, his left eye twitching and his brow furrowed, then looks back at her when it seems like he hasn’t found what he wanted.

“You not hangin’ out with Yusei?”

Aki almost freezes.

“What do you mean?” She asks back, a shiver going down her spine.

Crow’s brow furrows even further, finally pointing her in the direction of the dark rings under his eyes.

“What do you mean, what do you mean? You come here to hang with Yusei, right?”

“He’s… He’s not here, Crow,” her voice staggers against her will. “He’s in Peru with Jack. I just came her to get a copybook I forgot here.”

The reminder, as useless as it should’ve been, seems to have confused him even further.

“Why the fuck would they go to Peru?” Crow asks, anger sipping in his tone. “That’s on the other side of the damn planet!”

He then hacks a lung out, prompting Aki to jump out. It’s harsh, not unlike the coughs she’d get when she was ill as a child and it seemed like the world was melting around her, psychic powers mixing in with the fever – the powers who, like so many people before, have abandoned her.

The silence is too heavy. She can’t let herself falter now. She may be in danger – scratch that, she’s fine, Crow is the one who needs help as far as she’s concerned. They’re friends, or as close as it gets, and she needs to step up now that his foster brothers aren’t here.

“They’re there to follow on a lead Bommer gave them.”

Her heart sinks a little further when all she sees is confusion. In fact, anything she says seems to result in confusion.

“How? That guy’s dead, y’know,” he gulps with a wince. “I know. I watched it happen. And, like, the dead don’t send emails.”

It’s an understandably difficult thing to swallow, she’ll give it to him. To this day, and despite her (former) psychic powers and links to the extrasensory through her Signer’s Mark, she still has little idea how Carly or Misty have managed to rise from the dead. It’s beyond either of their comprehension.

What shouldn’t be for Crow, however, is the whole travel thing. He was there when Yusei and Jack announced they were going. He must’ve been there to fret over them and their budget like Jack likes to complain about. So how come he cannot remember any of this? Why is he so—

“What time is it already?” Crow asks out of the blue.

It takes her aback, but she looks over her phone screen anyway.

“It’s fifteen to six in the evening.”

His face gets splattered in surprise.

“Shit! I’ve got a shift to attend to!”

“What shi—”

His hand lets go of the doorway.

“Sorry to leave this quick, Aki, I’m in a hurry—”

He walks past her, but before he can make it past her, he folds in half into another coughing fit. Fearing the worst, Aki runs to catch him with her arms, the click of her heels almost hiding the harsh sound of his cough. Heat sips through his clothes and through her gloves, ringing the final alarm that finally allows her to deduce what it was that bothered her so much about his appearance.

Despite the audible pain in his breath and the grimace on his face when he moves his arms, Crow still tries rising to his feet on his own. He weakly bats her away with his hands, but he has to lean against the nearest wall to stay upright. It’s an unreal sight, knowing how stubborn and enduring he truly is. Where is the man who was driving with an injured shoulder mere weeks ago?

“Is this shift really that urgent?” She makes no attempt at hiding her ever-growing concern. “You don’t seem like in any state to go to work…”

“What day of the week are we on?” is all he says back to her.

“It’s… Wednesday? Why?”

Crow’s face finally lights up.

“Oh! I’ve got some time ahead of me then.” He chuckles, but it dissolves into a cough, and she can’t keep her grimace to herself. “I thought we were Monday, for some reason?”

“You honestly seem very out of it,” she ends up bluntly stating instead of going along. “I really don’t think you should go work today.” Or tomorrow.

“Can’t afford not to,” he croaks back, but it lacks any sort of sting.

What looks to her like a dizzy spell ends up taking his resolution out, his whole body pitching forward. Once more, almost in rhythm, her body moves on its own as a result, her arms catching him in his fall.

Heat lingers on her hands even after she has finished bringing him to his room.

Unlike most of Team 5Ds, Aki has never had to care for someone else. She has none of Yusei’s instinct for help nor Crow’s experience with dealing with children. Usually, when faced with this sort of situations, she’d entrust the person in need of care to someone with a lot more ease in this domain – as it turns out, most of the time, it’s asking Jack’s childhood friends to handle his problems, much to his protests. As such, she’s never had to play nursemaid before, and nobody has trusted her with such a role until Yusei came along, and for once, she hadn’t wanted that to change (except for Yusei, but this is a situation that’s unrelated to her current predicament).

Whatever she’s used to, unfortunately, is now out of the realm of possibility. The two people she could ask about it on any other occasion where the need could rise up are respectively currently in Peru with terrible reception and too busy refusing to stay in bed for much longer than a minute to give her a precious hand.

And, you know, you don’t usually ask someone who’s sick to take care of themselves, let alone help you in the process.

Very much to her misfortune, this is all without taking into account that Crow is as stubborn as a patient as he is in every other thing. It was to be expected, of course, and Crow is nothing if not stubborn; but it hasn’t made anything easier. If anything, she should’ve seen it coming as soon as he was too beyond himself to know where his housemates were and why.

Still, it doesn’t mean she shouldn’t try her best in this situation. What friend would she be if she left a comrade in need on his own, harmful to himself? (And she craves for empathy, a part of her whispers, the part of her who misses her powers for the bond she enjoyed having with Black Rose).

Despite a losing battle against his own voice and the way his limbs tremble whenever he tries holding himself out of bed, Crow is insisting that, no, he’s fine to go work, and she has no reason to worry, because it’s not his first rodeo… or something along those lines. Admittedly, it’s difficult to understand everything when he’s struggling to push the sentence out of his throat to begin with, let alone articulate his thoughts.

All that ends up doing as a result is annoying her, because this is oh so similar to Yusei but in all the wrong ways, but that’s once more beside the point. She isn’t here to lash out her annoyance at Crow being an idiot, she’s here to make sure he doesn’t die an idiot.

“I’m tellin’ you, I’m fine,” he whines, a hand already back at gripping the edge of the blanket.

“Why are you so insistent on pretending you are?”

(She doubts it’s because of a martyr syndrome like Yusei’s).

“I’m not pretendin’ anythin’. I’m actually fine.”

His voice is feeble, his words tremble out of his mouth.

“Crow, I know you’re not. Please stop making this harder than it has to be.”

He deflates with a single, wheezing sigh.

“It’s Satellite nature, I guess,” he shrugs with a slight smile. “Both Yusei and Jack got it too, y’know.”

“Speaking of Yusei, right now you’re just like him in that regard.” She lets herself sigh. “Pretending like you’re fine when all signs point to the contrary.”

“Yeah, it’s… Y’know, when you were sick in Satellite, unless you had someone to shelter you and cover your back, ‘t was like signin’ your death certificate.” He coughs again, and it keeps dragging on, worsening, and it pangs at her heart every single time. “Guess that never went away, even now.”

“Even for something like a work shift?”

“Especially for a work shift. Do y’know how tight our finances are? Jack sure don’t seem to, that asshole!” A barking cough interrupts him. “Fuck this shit, I could be literally anywhere else but here. Plus…” He turns to her, and despite the evident weariness on his face and in his eyes, his gaze is sharp. “You should be doin’ better things with your time than watching over me, though.”

Aki rises an eyebrow.

“Such as?”

He shrugs again as a response.

“I dunno. Studyin’. Playin’ cards. Drivin’ a D-Wheel. Tryin’ to… sort through what mess that must’ve been for you, these past few weeks.”

The last bit hits her a lot harder than the previous ones. Having to replace Crow in haste due to a mysterious crash, the conflicting sentiment of her first race as a member of Team 5Ds, her own crash, and now, having to grapple with the sudden and unexplained disappearance of her powers… It’s been a lot of turmoil. Too much, in fact.

Despite all of the pain, it’s somewhat heartwarming to have someone genuinely worry for her, even if it tugs at an uncomfortable heartstring. It means she has the company she so desperately looked for and thought to have found in Divine, now truthful and actually what she needed. Yet, she feels uneasy when she has to show vulnerability in front of them, afraid of what they could take advantage of, of hidden intentions that may be hiding beneath a smile. Letting go of her masks has been terrifying, even if it’s the right thing to do.

For the longest time, she could protect herself with her powers. They were her curse, they were her blessing. They made her unlike the others but allowed her to connect with Black Rose and all of her deck. She misses them even now as she’s within the warmth of Team 5Ds; who don’t judge her for them like the others. Who care for her, like Yusei has ever since meeting her, like Crow is at the moment. Even in pain, they care.

The least she can do is pay them back now that gets the chance to. Now that her powers have left her more vulnerable than ever and created a void she can’t seem to fill on her own.

“I’ll be fine not brooding about it for a while,” is all she tells him in response.

Because it’s the truth. Sometimes, letting the dark clouds consume you is worse. It’ll always be worse, no matter how easy it looks.

“You sure? Because watching over an ill guy gets boring real fast.” He gives her a small smile. “I’d know, I’m usually the one doing the watching.”

She replies with a smile of her own.

“A bit of calm would do the both of us some good, I believe, after all that happened.”

He closes his eyes with a deep sigh.

“Can’t go against that, I guess.”

“Take some rest. I’ll be here by the time you wake up.”

It’s not intended to be a lie to make him feel better about sleeping.

“If you’re lookin’ for it, the medicine is in the cabinet in the bathroom. Pretty sure we got the right stuff at least.”

“I’ll go get it.”

That, and a basin of water, and everything she can remember from hazy memories of childhood illnesses.

Yusei once told her to write down thoughts that were confusing to her, as a way to at least alleviate the black clouds in her mind. He helped her pick a cute-looking notebook for it too, just the size of her uniform pockets, red with an embroidered rose on top of it. It seemed too fitting not to pick it, and Yusei seemed even happier about it than she was. She isn’t sure if what she’s writing in it right now makes sense, but it feels nice to have a place where to dump all of the thoughts that’d usually fester and poison her mind nonetheless.

The loss of her powers continues to leave her at a loss. The best way she can describe the feeling is a bittersweet void it’s left behind: she’s finally normal, like she wished for so long when pretending to be a witch, yet now that she is, it’s like this life wasn’t for her. She misses the bond she had with her Monsters, now that she can’t caress Black Rose Dragon like she could for so long. It makes her feel lonelier in a way that’s wrong to her. It’s like she never knew what she actually wanted out of life, out of the world.

Writing down this loss, this void and this coldness is what’s helping her process some of it. It onsets the way the melancholy would’ve taken ahead of her before she met Yusei and the others. It allows her some lookback and to keep her head out of the water until she can find a solution or get used to a new situation. It feels… soothing, at times, despite it just being scribbles on paper.

A hand strangles her arm, her hands lets go of her pen, her notebook falls to the ground.

“What—”

“Who the hell are you?!”

Shaken, she stares back at her assailant – a frazzled-looking Crow, his eyes glazed over and his pupils dilated. His breathing is erratic, coming out in little wheezes, his teeth gritting.

“I…”

Aki has no idea what to do. A stranger attacking her is no surprise, but a friend? Clearly, something is very wrong with Crow, and she has trouble connecting the dots as to why he’s in such a state. Did she not look after him hard enough? Is she just as neglectful as she was when she was isolated and lost, manipulated, used as a weapon? Is this retribution for that, to be forgotten by those she cherishes?

He lets go of her arm, seemingly against his will – it seems like he doesn’t have enough strength left to actually fight her. She can hardly breathe normally, every gasp of air coming quicker than the last, but she has to compose herself back anyway. She’s the one who’s supposed to fix things here, and now, she doesn’t want to destroy anyone further. Perhaps she can still find redemption.

“What’re you doin’ here?!”

Crow’s voice is unsteady, made all the worse by the cough that’s dried it into being hoarse, and his words slur together, making him very difficult to understand. Aki wishes she knew what do say back, but…

“I’m – I’m looking after you,” she explains back, because calming him down seems like a good idea.

He cocks an eyebrow at her, doubt just barely readable in his half-closed eyes.

“Who’re you?”

“I’m Aki. I’m Yusei’s girl… I’m his friend. I’m your friend.”

His hands grab at her shoulders.

“What’s tellin’ me you are, huh?!”

She looks around the room, trying to ignore how uncomfortable the pressure from his knuckles on his shoulders are, and the heat sipping from them almost right into her skin, before finding a sign of reassurance.

“See this basin of water?” She points it with her finger, he follows it to the bottom of the chair where she sits. “It’s mine. I was trying to keep your fever in check.” That sounded like a good idea, at the time. “I’m admittedly… not great at it, unlike you are, but I’m trying.”

His gaze slightly clears up – and then his eyes flutter close and don’t open up, leaving him in her arms once more.

It’s sort of a wake-up call for Aki, as she puts him back to bed. She should’ve kept a keener eye, but instead got lost in thoughts. She was so sure she had done all of the right things already, yet there she is, only realizing after the fact she wasn’t careful by being attacked by a delirious guy who mistook her for the enemy. Talk about failing at the mission you assigned yourself.

She takes off her gloves and puts a hand on his forehead – his fever has gone back up when she wasn’t looking. It makes sense, miserably so. But this is no time to mop for herself, she must be more like Yusei. She must help out her friend even if she has her own issues. She can’t do anything about her powers, but she can do something so Crow doesn’t have to see things that aren’t there.

So she picks up the washcloth that fell onto his lap and twists it cold again, determined to correct her mistakes.

Aki is staring at Crow when he finally opens his eyes again. They’re clear, able to follow the way her hair sways when she backs up from the bed and back into the chair. Her back is trying to make her pay for the unnatural positions she made it endure, but it’ll have to bear through it for a bit. She’s not letting him down now.

“Hey,” he tells her, stifling a cough.

“Glad to see you awake again,” she confesses. “How are you?”

“Erh… Sore. Sick. You know the deal.” He sits up with the help of the headboard of the bed. “How long was I asleep for?”

“I’d say… an hour or so.”

“And you’re still here?” He chuckles, even if it dissolves yet again into a coughing fit. “Gah, forgot how much that sucked.”

“I… I didn’t want to leave you alone like this.”

“Don’t worry, I went through worse. I’m a big bird, I can deal with it on my own.”

The way she’s staring back at him must’ve looked suspicious, because he looks concerned, now, and it’s like cold water seeping through her socks.

“Hey… Did something happen?”

“No, nothing. It’s… it’s not important.”

“Tch, you’re like Yusei. ‘Not important’ my ass.”

“I don’t think I should tell you about it.”

“You’re not makin’ your case any easier. Shoot ahead anyway.”

Aki looks at her hands on her lap, her knuckles almost white. Her skin looks slightly red, especially without her gloves.

“You weren’t yourself earlier,” she manages to get out, “and you thought I was some sort of enemy.”

She can’t bring herself to look up and see what his reaction to that is. Her head’s weighing heavily on her neck.

“Shit, did… I did something to you, right?”

“You… You tried to attack me, yes,” and she realizes how bad that sounds, “but it’s nothing. You weren’t yourself and it wasn’t a big deal. I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound like you are, though… Shit, I’m so sorry, Aki…”

She rises a careful eye, only to see pain distort Crow’s pallid face.

“It shouldn’t have happened,” she replies. “I should’ve done a better job.”

“Hey. Look at me, Aki.”

Hesitantly, she does – and finds no anger, no disappointment in Crow’s eyes, only compassion.

“You didn’t have to put up with my shit, and I was trying to push you away, but you did it anyway. Attacking you was wrong no matter what. You’ve got a lot to deal with at the moment and none of this is me. Don’t beat yourself up for not handlin’ everythin’ perfectly.” He smiles. “So, thanks, Aki. Don’t worry about good ol’ me, I’ll handle myself from now on.”

Silence follows.

“Though I get why you’d doubt that. We don’t really have a good track record when it comes to that stuff, do we.”

“Not really, no,” she manages to chuckle. “But friends need to trust each other.”

“You catch on quick!” He coughs into his elbow. “I’m sure it’s starting to get late, your parents may be worried. You should head home.”

“Can I… Can I stay here for a little longer? At least until Bruno comes back from whatever errand he may be running. I’d… feel better if I knew someone could watch you over.” Like she’d like it if she was as vulnerable as Crow is right now. “It keeps me occupied too.”

He gives her a sympathetic look from which she wants to recoil, but stops herself from doing.

“Make yourself a home, then. Yusei’s bedroom should be available.”

He winks, right in time for her face to warm up.

“Thank you, Crow.”

“If you need an ear to talk to and I ain’t sleepin’, don’t hesitate, okay? I promise I won’t bite your head off this time.”

“I’ll keep it in mind, thanks.”

She doubts she’ll bother him with this when all she’s tried to make him do today was resting, but she very much appreciates the reminder. It’s always nice to know she’s not only accepted, but also cared for by people whose honest intentions she can be sure of.

It’s making her feel welcome, and just for that, she’s more thankful – her and her missing powers, her and her conflicting feelings it, her and her past that she’s just now feeling comfortable with disclosing anything about. Her and the ghost that may continue pursuing her in the future, but which are leaving her mostly unscathed for now.

Perhaps that’s what home is – and it may just take the shape of a friend’s bedroom, or of a garage.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"In keeping with the popular sentiment of the temperance and moderation movements of the 1920s and developing pressures from professionalized social workers within the province, the LCBO specifically aimed at preventing sales to "poor people, whose families could ill afford the loss.” Within temperance discourse concerning the immorality of liquor sales, the financial factor was of central importance. Many political cartoons and temperance tracts depicted the impoverishment of working-class families through the economic impact of unscrupulous saloon workers and class-based male drinking.

In the 1920s and 1930s it was accepted wisdom within temperance and moderation discourses that the "poor" "working" man had little or no disposable income and thus his purchases of liquor must come at the expense of his family. In its own reports the LCBO stressed this point, explaining:

The purchase of liquor ought to come and must come after, and a long way after the necessities of life, and adequate duty to dependents, if proper living conditions are to be maintained.

It added that it would see to it that liquor would only go to those who could afford it. When Ontario was turning towards prohibition in the early twentieth century the drinking habits of the working class - and particularly the drinking that took place within the saloon - formed a central piece of evidence used as a rallying call. Although upper-class drinking was characterized as a case of moderation and civility, lower-class drinking was characterized as a case of swearing, gambling, and sexual deviance.  When drinking returned to the province, working-class customs and rituals had already developed "around the consumption of booze" - taking on a symbolic "collective defiance of bourgeois efforts to control them."

The classist element of the temperance movement was not lost on the working class. As a Windsor, Ontario, man observed:

Workers resented the implication that there was no difference between the drunkard and the man who wanted to refresh himself at the end of the working day with a glass of beer.

What working people were experiencing was, according to an Ontario bricklayer, "a direct attempt to take away the comfort and pleasure of the worker more than of the leisured and privileged class.” To battle this "misspending" of income, the LCBO incorporated several regulatory and procedural actions to maintain the temperance of the working class. First, its stores were specifically directed not to remain open after 5:00p.m. as a means of removing temptation for the working man during the evening - a matter quickly remedied by political action (Globe 1927). Second, the Board required liquor permits to record the occupation of the bearer and to devote a column within the permit to the totals spent and projected income.

…

Although the LCBO presented itself as seeking out interdiction on the amount of money being "misspent," its methodology was somewhat questionable because excessive purchased were determined not by volume but on the flimsy basis of wealth extrapolated from the reported occupation. Indeed, the LCBO's policy surrounding sales displayed a distinctive economic angle that made the categories of wealthy and drunkards nearly mutually exclusive. As one early Board circular noted: 

While the Board sets as a maximum the quantities set forth at the end of this letter, it was never by the wildest stretch of the imagination intended that every individual in this province should be permitted to purchase at any one time the maximum quantity. The feeling of the Board was that there were individuals whose financial condition would permit them to purchase to the extent of the maximum, bur it was never intended that people of limited financial means should be permitted to make excessive purchases of spirits, wine and beers (LCBO Circular no. 333, 1928)

In a circular to its vendors the Board reported, "Certain law-abiding citizens are very unnecessarily humiliated in front of the public when questioned about the amount of purchases on their permit."

It went on to explain “At no time was it the intention that the general public should be limited in their Purchasing from our stores.... If people are law-abiding and financially able [there] is no reason why they should not be granted the privilege of buying that they wish.

It was with this in mind that the LCBO perceived intemperate drinking as being nearly exclusive problem of the poor and working class and structured its efforts to control this type of drinking based on occupational classification."

- Gary Genosko and Scott Thompson, Punched Drunk: Alcohol, Surveillance and the LCBO 1927–1975. Winnipeg and Halifax: Fernwood Press, 2009. p. 130-132.

[timesonata]

�� ༺ :||        A simple thanks. Were it anyone else, it would surely be heard halfheartedly on wounded ears. Coming from Ton... Even in such an awkward and unsure manner, there was a pleasant, genuine happiness. He didn't know, and she dared not part with any following acknowledgement beyond smiling eyes.

Allowing the door fall shut between them, she seemed as if to glide across a brighter hue of carpet- leaving her pets that had followed behind with a quizzical expression until they, too, dispersed.

How the stars aligned for her. The reality of it still lost within a fantastical daydream.

Plans were temporarily on hold. It wasn't like the past beneath the slumber of the Ellone machine would be too far beyond reach. There was still yet time for her ideal time compression of course. For now, she wished to dance within this chance moment.

Broken as he was, there was much work to be done. And Ultimecia passed through a hall with a fiendish twirl upon claw-tipped foot and expanded wingtips gracing walls as if welcoming this task- much like she'd shown her devoted and domesticated beasts. Ton would be a shining spectacle of an obedient knight and share in the eternity at the center of time by her side.

Finding the room she'd not entered since upon making this castle her home, Ultimecia strode towards the lone bureau and pulled free a black-stained drawer. Dreamily sifting amongst what was available, the garments inside may not have proper sizing for Ton. Still, they were clean and would suffice until a fitting wardrobe could properly be procured. Coats, belts, boots, more than a single closet could contain.

She delightfully rolled a cotton coat and a single pair of pants into a grey bundle within her arms.

The refined trek back to the washroom came quicker than the departure without any slow, wistful dance. And outside the door, a whiff of her soaps permeated the air.

Ah, right. He'd likely enjoy other luxuries as well. Garments, soaps and shampoos... An assortment of accessories and leisurely entertainments. Those would all be arranged in the coming days.

For now, the sorceress would greet the room with familiar comfort of her senses.

Ever regal air, she wasn't inclined towards modesty- especially not within the confounds of her own home. Unperturbed, Ultimecia hadn't expected him out of the bath so soon. "Over and done already?" she'd muse aloud. Suppose she was just in time then before he put those rags back on and set the bundle upon the vanity.

"Wear these until a permanent assortment is arranged."

Ultimecia moved to offer privacy with transportation next in immediate thought and bid him a relaxing wait. However, the hard 'K' of her tongue withheld where attention finally landed upon him.

An awful silence fell.

...

Time magic flared in a burst where she once stood feet away, and now suddenly before him.

...

Minute curve of her lips, sorceress eyes scanned Ton's bare body only partially concealed by toweling.

Scars.

Scars covered him. And not merely those that would surely develop with the freshest of wounds.

Did humans do this? Or was it his own beasts so aggressively attracted towards him? Or a culmination of the two....

During the time he first fell unconscious where she pried into his mind, the hurt had been real- felt. Scars, she knew, carved upon his heart, but now seeing the physical evidence added one upon another from years of endurance jerked her back into the light of hellish reality of why she despised humanity. Hated them for this tormented hell.

Padded feet steadily clicked in echo upon the floor of the bathroom. In a deliberate, scrutinizing circle, she walked around him wordlessly inspecting. Slashes. Burns. Piercings. Indistinguishable injuries having faded only in the sense of time. Jaw clenched until a flexed, clawed hand would finally touch him as if the thinnest sheet of already broken glass which would give way at any more than a feather's weight.

Following the deeper incisions, faraway eyes finally resting upon where one of his own were missing. An eyepatch indeed hid more than anticipated, and she reached up to brush the wet blue from the marred socket.

Oh. Ton... To stir the pain she'd bottled in her cold heart...

Hate, sorrow, and pity. She knew. She understood.

Thumb racked across his cheek, catching a water droplet as if dispelling a tear.

Much like she lovingly continued to do, Ultimecia held his face, but this time compelled placing a brisk, sorrowful kiss upon his jawline. A sporadic imparting promise of intention.

"Rest until I return," she softly ordered, still unable to see anything beyond his canvas of scars.

All things considered, the reception was warmer than what he usually got.

With a passive shift he followed after the sorceress, keeping to the space between her and her creatures as they moved through another set of doors. The next room was lit by moonlight and candle, window panes and shadow painting a mercurial kaleidoscope of color across her back.

It made her look as unreal as the entire situation felt.

Still he followed, though, eventually taking the first steps down a plunging staircase. Down, down they went - his eye lingering occasionally on some detail or another of the castle - before she finally stopped, lingering outside one of the hold's many doorways.

He couldn't distinguish it from any of the others. Judging by her words, though-

"Alright," he acknowledged.

Then, hesitating a moment before the door....

"Thanks."

He didn't linger past that. Already he was through the door, pulling his attention from the sorceress - as well as his apprehensive thoughts - and focusing instead on the room in front of him.

...A bathing room.

He took a breath, leaning back against the door.

.............

None of it settled. He exhaled wearily, pushing off and padding quietly across the floor, gaze lingering around the dim corners of the room.

Much like the previous, the only light came from flickering candles and a large, stained glass window, situated within the back wall. They must be high up, for he could see nothing but distant land through the panes, rolling out of view under the glow of the moon.

The rest of the room matched the castle, too. A broad, decorated bathtub lurked near the window, clawed feet feeling like some sort of homage to the sorceress' pets. Gargantua must have done their job, for a swirl of steam rose from its depths, stained glass reflecting upon still water. Next to the tub, a stack of towels waited atop a metallic stand. Near that, several bottles of what he could only presume to be soap.

.....Well. After all this, he might as well use it.

Glancing to the side, he shrugged his coat from his shoulders. The scarf went next - folded carefully atop his coat - before he went for his boots. After removing his belts he set them nearby, weapons making a metallic clink as they made contact with the stand. Gloves, socks. The air of the castle felt cold against his skin as he removed his shirt, though, thankfully, nothing like the bite of outside.

Or like the telltale signs of his former 'friends'.

Once he'd pulled off the rest, setting aside his eyepatch at the very end, he stuck a finger into the water to test.

Hot. Not too hot, though.

He stared for a moment. Then, giving one last test of the water, he stepped into the tub, sinking down into the water up to his neck.

.......

It had been. So long....since he'd had a hot bath. His last bath at all had only been yesterday, but it, like all the rest the past few years, had been in the grip of icy river water. He couldn't help but simply sit there - taking in the soothing warmth and letting it ease the ache in his muscles. Even the sting of his wounds faded to the background, nothing but a dull throb against the water.

...........

Right. He should start washing.

Reluctantly, he turned, eying the soaps he'd spied earlier before reaching out to take one. Popping off the top, it smelled like -

Mint and wood?

The sorceress had possessed a similar scent.

Not that it mattered - he wasn't about to pass up the chance for some real soap, regardless of who it smelled like. After making sure it was, in fact, soap, he went about lathering it on, scrubbing away at the grime that had managed to build up over the past day.

His brief stint in the grass definitely hadn't helped any.

As he washed, his stare flickered across the room again. He couldn't help but focus on the candles, in particular.

...How did she keep them all lit? Surely she didn't walk around with a lighter, replacing each one once they melted away. Perhaps...another sorceress skill?

He doused himself, clearing the notion away along with the suds.

Shampoo was a luxury he'd lacked even longer than soap, and he'd not pass on that, either. Whatever Ultimecia might have planned for him, at least he'd sparkle for the occasion.

Perhaps she aimed to use him for some sort of ritual sacrifice. Or a mad experiment? He let out a quiet, dry snort at the thought, cupping water and letting it fall over his head in order to rinse the bubbles from his hair.

Maybe she really did just want him to be her knight.

He frowned, watching past droplets of water as his reflection danced along the water's surface. It looked broken - scattered by the subtle waves.

A knight.

Without ceremony, he rose from the water. A swing of one leg brought him over the edge of the tub before he stepped out fully, reaching for one of the towels in order to start drying himself off.

[owlyflufff]

"The idle fleeting thought that he was a star crossed my mind."

"It was like a blast of ice water to the face."

"Hey, uhh, Akashi-kun?" "It's Akaashi."

"Could you please help me practice spikes for a little bit?"

"AKASHI!" "It's Akaashi...-"

"Your tosses are the best!"

"It made me incredibly happy to be so directly praised by someone."

(Bokuaka first meeting you will always be famous)

[librathefangirl]

Headcanons About Meliodas' Sleep

(Brought to you by this post and encouraged by @7-ratsinatrenchcoat)

Okay. First of all, demons are nocturnal. You cannot convince me otherwise. It's literally canon that they are at least twice as strong at night. You expect me to believe they just sleep through that? No chance. Demons are nocturnal; their sleepy time is the daytime.

Of course this doesn't mean they can only sleep during the day. Demons are as flexible with their sleep as any other race. They're also forced to be so more than any other race, given the war with races who very much are not nocturnal. But the best and most natural option for them is to sleep during the day.

Demons also need less sleep than humans.

Now Meliodas has always had a crappy sleep schedule. Between his father, Chandler, leading the Ten Commandments and the constant conflict with the goddesses, Meliodas doesn't have the time (or takes the time) to take care of himself properly.

His sleep especially suffers from this. Because not only does it not match the expectations placed on him, it also means leaving himself more open and vulnerable than he's comfortable with.

Because of this, Meliodas is also a very light sleeper; always alert in the case of a threat. The only times he actually sleeps deeply is when he feels completely safe (around people he trusts).

The first time it happened was with Elizabeth at Heaven's Theater. It wasn't something he planned to do, of course, but it was the first time in a long time that he actually felt at peace. (And even he can only go so long without any proper sleep). When Elizabeth noticed that he'd fallen asleep, she just let him sleep, keeping watch over him. It ended up being the best sleep he'd had in years.

After Meliodas joins Stigma, his sleep does not get any better. He doesn't have any more reason to feel safe there than he did in the Demon Realm, and with Stigma's members being diurnal, his opportunities to sleep during the day is significantly decreased (Ludociel is not about to accommodate for a demon's needs).

He technically could sleep during the night instead, but it's not something that comes naturally to him, and frankly, he doesn't like it. So when he can get away with it, he doesn't. Instead, he gets his sleep mostly through naps of varying lengths during the day.

Elizabeth, Gloxinia and Drole all work together to make sure that Meliodas gets the sleep that he needs. They do this by giving Meliodas time to sleep, distracting Ludociel, keeping non-demon friendly Stigma members away, and just watching over him.

As much as possible, they try to make sure at least one of them is by his side as he sleeps. Because he sleeps a lot better around people he trusts, but also because otherwise they'd have to trust him to take care of his own sleep (and as we've already established, he sucks at this).

After the curse, things get a lot worse before they get better. During that first time (before he meets Elizabeth's first reincarnation), Meliodas just goes through the motions. Sometimes he's awake/walks until he collapses, sometimes he sleeps for days; caught up in his grief and burdened by his newfound immortality.

Starting with the Elizabeths, Meliodas finally regains some regularity back into his sleep. Mostly because he needs to keep her safe, needs to figure out a way to break the curse; but also because she's always Elizabeth, she always cares about him and his well-being.

Adjusting to a human sleeping schedule is hard. Over the years, Meliodas develops some hybrid sleep pattern. He sleeps some during the nights, but also stays awake through most of them and sleeps during the day whenever he can.

Meliodas' sleep is at its best when he's with Elizabeth and/or have something that requires him to keep to a proper schedule.

Meliodas still sucks at taking care of himself though and will often mess up his sleep up. Something Merlin has been on his case about many times over the years; there have been threats of violence.

For that she is grateful for more than one reason when they gather the rest of the Seven Deadly Sins. With how close they are all living, how close they are all working, Meliodas has less openings to fuck upp his sleep. Especially since the other Sins don't know that he is a demon, meaning they expect him to keep to a human sleep schedule. If he fucks it up, they notice, and they care.

Meliodas also feels a lot of responsibility for the other Sins, so he's more careful about making sure he gets his sleep, so not to mess up their chances at a better life.

He still doesn't like sleeping at night, however, so he works around that whenever he can. For example, insisting on keeping watch during the night while the others sleep.

This also means he frequently takes naps during the day. It's something that the others think is weird at first, but over the years they just accept it as a quirk of their captain.

Meliodas has the habit of falling asleep randomly and pretty much anywhere, when around the other Sins. He knows that even if these people don't know the truth about him, they will have his back. So he feels safe around them, and relaxes enough to fall asleep. And when I say anywhere, I mean ANYWHERE. Just as long as someone else of the Sins is nearby.

Mostly it happens when they're alone, just the Seven Deadly Sins. But sometimes it has happened in more public situations. If anyone would dare to say anything about the captain of the legendary Seven Deadly Sins falling asleep "inappropriately", well, they'd be quickly shut down by the rest.

After the Seven Deadly Sins are framed and forced into hiding, Meliodas struggles not to fall back into bad habits. It's mostly keeping to his routines (running the tavern, being around Hawk, etc.) that keeps him from slipping too badly.

It's hard though, not being around the people who he feels most safe with. Thankfully, the Boar Hat gives him privacy at least, letting him be more relaxed.

Being away from Elizabeth is the hardest. The not knowing what's going on with her. He knows she's alive, because the curse says she'll die in front of him. But that's only a small comfort, and over the decade her fate and well-being sometimes keeps him awake both night and day.

After his secret/race is properly revealed, Meliodas is more open with his sleep. His sleep doesn't really change much compared to before, but the way he deals with it does. He's all lot more honest about it - yeah, he hasn't slept yet, it's night, he doesn't really feel like sleeping.

The others approach it differently now too. It's not just an odd quirk of their captain, it's part of his nature. This means that if he wants to sleep during the day, he should sleep during the day. Of course, they've always let him do that, but now they're more adamant about it (not even Meliodas is allowed to get in the way of Meliodas' natural sleep kind of adamant).

As king of Liones, Meliodas doesn't always have the luxury of sleeping whenever he wants to - but he still keeps to more of a hybrid sleep pattern. He loves falling asleep with Elizabeth, so he will sleep some during the night. But will also stay awake most of it and take some nap during the day - depending on the day and the state of the kingdom/his duties that day.

When Tristan was little, he and Meliodas used to nap together during the day (you know, something like this).

[edendaphne]

“Discordant Sonata” Chapter 18

>>Click here to read on Ao3<<

>>Click here to read on Wattpad<<

——-

CHAPTER 18: AFFETUOSO

 Music glossary:

 Affetuoso: to perform with passion and emotion

**Chapter illustration by @corgi-likes-chat​ **

----

(Mood Music: “Christofori’s Dream” - David Lanz)

Adrien’s eyelids fluttered open, a sleepy smile still present on his face. He breathed out a long, contented sigh, stretching his limbs out wide enough that they poked out of the bedcovers. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so well.

Last night, after Marinette awoke him from his most harrowing night terror to date, he’d fallen back asleep and something remarkable happened: for the second time in years, he’d actually had a pleasant dream. The only other time he hadn’t suffered from his usual nightmares ever since becoming Chat Noir was on the first night that he’d arrived at the Dupain-Cheng residence.

He tried to think back, wondering what might have caused this, not just last night, but back on that first day Marinette had brought him home. What did these two occurrences have in common?

His mouth quirked to the side and his brow furrowed, deep in thought, trying to remember. He wasn’t exactly in the best frame of mind when he’d arrived a couple of months back, given all that had happened when he ran away from his father; so it was no surprise that his memory of that night was hazy at best. Nevertheless, he hoped to find a correlation; if there was one, maybe he could figure out how to repeat it.

His thoughts were interrupted by a gentle hand sliding across his midsection. Disturbed by his movements, a smaller body rolled toward him, settling comfortably on his chest and breathing out a drowsy sigh.

He looked down and there she was: sweet, lovely Marinette; one of the dearest and most important people in his life. The raven-haired girl stirred, letting out a small whine; Adrien stilled, subconsciously holding his breath, not wanting to wake her and accidentally reveal his identity.

This became much harder when she reached around him, her fingers lightly skimming across his rib cage. His muscles tensed and he bit back a laugh; why did he have to be so darn ticklish?!

He readjusted himself, trying to shuffle out from underneath her; but she clinged to him like an overgrown barnacle, even in her unconscious state. I guess she’s a cuddler, he thought, and he couldn’t help but smile about how well that suited her.

It was still pretty dark in the room, as the sun hadn’t risen yet. He glanced over at the wall clock; he still had about an hour and a half before he had to report to work at the bakery, so he didn’t have to rush to get ready. Relieved, he sagged back down onto his pillow. He could relax for a little longer, he supposed.

Deciding to check his notifications while Marinette slept, he gingerly reached towards his nightstand to grab his phone, careful not to disturb her. He’d deactivated all his social media accounts since running away from home, so there weren’t very many notifications; there was a school-related email and a couple of late night funny memes from Nino.

Adrien checked the Ladyblog next. No news about any akumas this morning, thankfully. However, there were a few blurry snapshots of the previous night’s attack. He scrolled down for a bit, then stopped, his eyes popping open as he focused his attention on a particular photo.

He couldn’t suppress the lovestruck sigh that escaped his lips when he stared at a picture of Ladybug. His Lady was breathtaking, her eyes so ethereal, her smile utterly resplendent. She was indescribably beautiful, both inside and out and there was absolutely nothing he would change about her. He was hopelessly smitten, no doubt about it.

A few months ago, he would have berated himself for feeling this way about his mortal enemy. But his entire life had been turned upside down since then, and he wholeheartedly embraced this unexpected development.

The next photo was taken after the akuma was purified and the Miraculous Cure had set everything back to where it should be. Ladybug had seen that Alya was about to snap a photo, so she grabbed Chat and turned him around to face the camera, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. She grinned widely, and did a peace sign with her free hand. So cute.

He glanced over to his own face and instinctively grimaced. He was winking at the camera with a goofy, cheerful salute, not bothering to channel the suave, sophisticated mannerisms of a proper model that he’d incurred over the years. God, I’m so cringy, he thought.

Nevertheless, he saved the picture onto his phone. It was the first photo of them together like this, as opposed to impersonal ones taken by the media from afar, or during press releases and interviews.

It had only been posted a few hours ago, but already it had thousands of likes and comments. He didn’t dare look through those, however. Not since he first discovered the kinds of things people wrote about Chat Noir, both before and after his change in alliances. It was better to avoid those, lest he ruin his day reading about how much some people still hated him.

But he remembered Marinette’s words from the night before. She was right; he had to have hope, and believe that things would slowly get better. Attitude was everything.

Speaking of Marinette…

He looked down at his roommate once again. By this point, she’d slinked and climbed almost entirely on top of him, utilizing him like a mattress. His eyebrows scrunched together, and he wondered how in the world he’d be able to slip out of bed undetected.

All the stealth-based videogames I’ve ever played have prepared me for this moment. I got this!! he thought, hyping himself up.

Taking a deep breath in, he rolled over to his side, managing to slide Marinette’s ragdoll-like form back onto the mattress. She made a small noise and he froze, electricity crawling up the back of his neck. A few tense moments passed, and her stirring subsided, her breathing becoming slow and even once again. He exhaled, just now realizing he’d been holding his breath.

Freedom!! Adrien celebrated as he stood, stretching his arms high over his head, taking care not to hit the ceiling lights. His skin felt grimy with dried sweat from the night before; a shower was exactly what he needed right now. He tiptoed over to get a change of clothes from the dresser, giving the occasional glance towards the bed to make sure Marinette was still asleep.

As he made his way to the bathroom, he stopped by her side, a warm smile spreading across his face. He bent over and gave the top of her head a small kiss. Where would he be without her and her family? She and Sabine especially went out of their way to help him feel at home, to make him feel like he belonged, instead of treating him like a nuisance, or like some freeloader just taking up space. He loved them all so much; he vowed to himself to make it up to them someday.

He pulled the bedcovers up to Marinette’s shoulders so she wouldn’t miss the extra warmth too much, then made his way to the bathroom to start the day.

--

Marinette stirred, enveloped in softness and a familiar scent of spice and fresh rain. Eyes still closed, she extended her arm, reaching for the oversized cat pillow on her bed that she always liked to cuddle.

Her searching hand found something soft. Aha! She brought it closer, snuggling it tight, then began to get comfortable again. But then, her pillow started poking her cheek, over and over and over. The pillow’s poking only intensified when she tried squeezing it even harder. How rude!

Wait... what?

A single eyelid groggily slid open, meeting a small pair of eyes of a distinctive shade of green. A rather frazzled-looking Plagg stared back, his expression unamused from being squished between her and the pillow she was hugging.

“Sorry, Plagg,” she slurred sleepily as she pulled away to give him some space. “What are you doing here?”

He crossed his little arms, raising a brow. “I live here, remember?”

“But why are you in my room–– oh, wait…” she stopped, the memory of last night starting to rush back to her. This wasn’t her room; it was Chat’s. She’d slept in his room last night. And the bed she was lying in was his bed. These were his blankets and pillows, and they carried his scent. Heat rose to her face and a multitude of imaginary butterflies swarmed in her stomach as she realized that she’d actually spent the night with him, albeit under less than ideal circumstances.

And then a second realization dawned on her: Chat Noir was gone.

She sat up with a start, her head whipping back and forth to search for him. As she was about to panic, she heard the shower running in the en suite bathroom, punctuated by some cheerful humming. With a heavy, relieved sigh, she laid back down, careful not to squish the tiny cat god next to her.

“By the way, Little Bug,” Plagg murmured, meekly rubbing the back of his head. “Thanks for helping my kid last night.”

“Oh, of course, Plagg!” she replied. “I’m always happy to help however I can.”

He gave her a melancholy smile. “I just wish there was more I could’ve done. I tried waking him up myself, but he couldn’t hear me at all, no matter how hard I tried.” He sighed, twisting his mouth into a pained frown. “He doesn’t deserve this. He's already gone through so much.”

“Plagg, no, it’s okay! You did your best, and I’m sure Chat knows that too. I’m just glad I was able to get through to him. It was lucky that I happened to be downstairs at that time. Chat couldn’t ask for a better friend than you.”

Plagg grinned widely at her. “I always knew I liked you,” he remarked, scooting closer and nuzzling into her.

Marinette smiled back, returning the hug and kissing the top of his head, followed by providing him with some gentle scratches behind the ears. He let out a small, contented purr as he leaned into her hand.

After a few moments of hesitation, Plagg spoke again, “Little Bug, there’s... something else you need to know.”

They pulled apart, and Marinette eyed him with trepidation. “What is it?”

“It was too dark, so you didn’t see it, but–” he said with a grim tone in his voice, “–I need to let you know what really happened last night.”

“Huh?” Marinette’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. “What do you mean? I know he said his night terrors aren’t usually this bad, but was there something else?”

A dark look flickered on Plagg’s face. “Hawkmoth tried to akumatize him last night.”

Marinette felt like she’d been dropped into a vat of ice water. “W- WHAT?!” she sputtered. “B-but how is that possible?! Akumatized?? He was asleep! Hawkmoth can’t akumatize people who are unconscious!!” She paused, pondering the possibility. “Right…?”

“It’s tricky, but not impossible,” Plagg replied. “Hawkmoth knows about Chat Noir’s nightmares, so he must’ve sensed his opportunity and finally taken it last night.”

Marinette brought a hand to her temple in disbelief.

Plagg continued, “I don’t know why he decided to try it now, instead of when he first ran away. And what if–” he gulped, and his voice quavered slightly as he continued, unable to conceal his fear, “What if he tries it again? What if he tries it every night?”

“No… he wouldn’t… he can’t!!” Marinette cried, staring at the bathroom door, her mind racing a million miles a minute. She clenched her fists as she tried not to give into the feelings of dismay and anxiety that were clawing away at her. “Plagg… What do we do?! Hawkmoth’s patterns seem to be getting more erratic and desperate recently. Is he under some kind of deadline? Why is he doing this??”

“I can think of a couple of reasons,” Tikki answered from across the room.

Marinette practically leaped off the bed in surprise due to Tikki’s abrupt entrance. “Tikki!” she exclaimed.

The brightly colored kwami hovered towards them and elaborated, “Firstly, as Chat grows older, his powers will continue to get stronger, as will yours, so you’ll be more difficult for Hawkmoth to defeat as time goes on. Secondly, I think the effects of misusing the butterfly miraculous must be catching up to him as well. His desperation suggests that maybe he thinks he’s running out of time.”

“Out of time? What do you mean?” Marinette asked, confused.

Plagg sighed. “It’s his health,” he answered. "He wasn’t doing very well even before we left. Slowly but steadily, it’s been getting worse for a while.” He turned to face Tikki. “You think Hawkmoth believes that he’s gonna… you know... soon?”

Tikki shrugged in response, her expression blank.

“Oh… I see,” Marinette said, her voice almost a whisper.

Her mind raced, a torrent of emotions crashing into her simultaneously, like a rowboat in a tempest, slamming into a cliffside without respite.

She wasn’t sure how to feel about this new information. Her chest felt tight, like it did when she wanted to cry. Should she feel happy or sad that her mortal enemy was getting sicker and sicker, to the point where his life was potentially in danger? Was it okay to feel–dare she say it– relieved?

What was she supposed to think? As a hero, was it more important to be merciful, or was it more important to be just? Her heart felt like it was being pulled in two completely opposite directions. Despite hating the man with every fiber of her being, part of her thought that maybe dying was too extreme a punishment. And yet, at the same time, the hurt, embittered part of herself thought that maybe dying would be too easy, like he was getting let off the hook instead of being forced to acknowledge his wrongs and feel remorse for the horrible things he’d done.

For years, she’d dreamed about the day when Hawkmoth would be defeated and his miraculous confiscated. It was supposed to be a happy time, full of rejoicing and excitement. But she’d never considered the possibility that Hawkmoth would be defeated by an entirely different force, one that she had no say in how or when it happened. It didn’t feel fair. She hated feeling this powerless.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a brief tug at her sleeve. She looked down at Tikki, who motioned towards the bathroom with a small nod. It was then that she noticed the noise–or rather– the absence of it, which could only mean one thing: Chat Noir had finished his shower, and he’d be coming out of the bathroom any minute now.

“I think that’s our cue to leave,” Tikki whispered.

Marinette nodded. She turned to Plagg and whispered, “We’ll talk more later. I’ll call Master Fu later today and see if he has any advice.”

“M’kay. See ya,” he replied with a small wave. “Bye, Sugarcube.��

Tikki looked back and gave him a reassuring smile, then followed Marinette out the door.

Plagg hovered towards the windowsill while he waited for his charge, plopping down with a heavy sigh. He leaned against the window, taking in the many colors of the dawn sky, which looked almost too bright and vibrant for his liking. How dare the heavens look so beautiful while he felt so miserable inside? The day hadn’t even really started, and yet the only thing he wanted to do was to just crawl back into bed. He dearly hoped that the heavy, uneasy feeling in his gut would go away soon.

(A short while later)

Work at the bakery had been lively and hectic today; so much so that Chat Noir had to be reminded when his shift was over and that he needed to head to school. He gave Sabine a parting hug, the latter thanking him for his hard work and giving him some encouraging words as she helped dust the flour off his suit and hair.

Chat retrieved his cloak from a coat hanger by the door and stepped into the stairwell that led to the living quarters, so that he could retrieve his school supplies and exit through Marinette’s balcony trap door as he normally did. That was definitely one of the plus sides of working in the kitchen while transformed; he could wear his school outfit underneath and not require a change of clothes or a shower when he was through. He could merely detransform and be good as new.

As he ascended up the stairs, he heard a familiar deep voice call out to him from below. Chat froze, then turned around, trying to keep his nerves under control.

“Could I speak with you for a minute?” Tom asked.

Uh-oh.

“O-of course, Mr. Dupain,” Chat replied, trying to keep his voice even despite his nerves.

Tom’s face was mostly neutral, but his body was rigid and there was a hint of gloom in his eyes. Chat did his best not to cringe as he stood in front of the much taller man who, despite not being a superhero, looked like he could toss him clear to the Eiffel Tower if he felt like it. To prevent himself from fidgeting, Chat finally opted to stick his hands inside his pockets.

“What is it, sir? D-did I do something wrong?” he asked. “I was running a bit late, so I apologize if I didn’t put something back in the right spot. O-or did I mess up an order?? I’m sorry, I can go back and fix… whatever it is!”

“No, everything’s fine; it’s something else,” he answered, and Chat felt the stiffness in his shoulders ease a tiny bit.

However, it came back full force when Tom didn’t say anything else. Chat’s heartbeat sped up as they stood face to face in silence, unsure of the route this conversation was about to take.

What else could he be in trouble for? Did he find out Marinette had fallen asleep in his bedroom yesterday? Oh no… Did Tom think he and Marinette had… done something unseemly together last night?! Was he getting kicked out of the house?? His mind raced and his chest thumped, and he prepared himself to beg on his knees for forgiveness if need be.

A few agonizingly long and awkward seconds later, Tom spoke again, “Chat Noir… I wanted to apologize to you.”

“Oh, I see. Wait… WHAT?!?” Chat felt like someone had yanked the carpet out from underneath him. “Apologize?? What for?”

Tom lifted his arm to rub the back of his head, his entire posture taut as a bowstring. “We didn’t really get off on the right foot, you and I. You’ve been nothing but cordial and polite, and all I’ve done since you arrived is give you the cold shoulder, and for that I’m truly sorry. I wanted to clear the air and start over, if that’s okay with you.”

“Mr. Dupain! N-no, please, it’s okay!” Chat sputtered, his hands waving frantically. “I totally understand why you would have reservations about me living here, o-or even interacting with you guys at all! They’re totally justified concerns! I mean, up until a few months ago, I was still working with Hawkmoth; so the fact that you even allowed me into your home at all is incredibly kind of you! I’ve never felt any ill will towards you, I swear! You were just doing what any good father would––” he trailed off, trying to keep the melancholy out of his voice, “–would do.”

Tom winced and sighed heavily, crossing his arms. “That’s exactly my point, though. It may have been justified at first, but that was back then . I tolerated you for the sake of my wife and daughter, but I was always suspicious. I should’ve given you a chance instead of just judging you for no reason, especially after all this time. So I wanted to try to make it up to you.”

It was then that Tom brought something shiny out of his shirt pocket. It was an adorable little keychain shaped like a croissant. But wait… no, it wasn’t just a keychain, Chat realized. There was a key dangling on the end. A house key. Tom handed it over, doing his best to try to conceal a timid smile.

Chat gaped at him, reeling from what was happening. “I… I don’t know what to say. That is so generous of you! Thank you, Mr. Dupain,” he replied meekly, staring into his hands at the key. HIS key.

He felt the man’s large hand pat him on the shoulder and Chat looked up, meeting his soft, forest green eyes. “Please, call me Tom.”

Chat had to consciously fight the urge to let his jaw drop. If he wasn’t dreaming last night with Ladybug’s revelation, he was surely dreaming now. “Y-yes, sir! Uhh, Mr. Tom, sir. Uhh, I mean…” he stammered, still not recovered from having been gobsmacked out of nowhere.

The older man gave out a hearty laugh. “Just Tom. And please, if there’s anything you need, just say the word. Even if it’s just someone to lend an ear. You’ve got a good heart despite the bad hand that’s been dealt to you, and you have so much potential. We’re happy to have you in our family, even if you’re only here temporarily. Just know you’ll always have a home here with us.”

Chat’s heart swelled with affection, so full that it felt like it might burst, and his eyesight became blurry with unshed tears. He threw his arms around the giant man in front of him, someone who he never thought would fully accept him, squeezing hard.

“Thank you, Tom! Thank you so much, I’m just–” he let out a shuddering sigh then continued, voice cracking, “–thank you.”

Tom squeezed back firmly, giving him an affectionate pat. Failing to hide a sniffle, he then added, “I should let you get going, I don’t wanna make you late for school.” The pair pulled apart, and Tom ruffled Chat’s hair. “Be safe out there, kiddo.”

After saying their goodbyes, Chat bounded up the stairs, practically floating with glee. He’d missed this feeling; the feeling of being part of a family. As he emerged onto the rooftop balcony, he took a deep breath of the crisp autumn air, his heart full of excitement and hope.

He arrived at the school in high spirits and a huge grin on his face. He detransformed in a discreet location and practically skipped to the school’s entrance; then he entered the campus, carefree, joyful, and blissfully unaware of the dark eyes that followed him inside.

[animeomegas]

Omega!Saeran - Nesting while stressed

Anon: can i request some omega saeran choi hcs? maybe what he’s like when stressed out or upset- does he make a nest? if so, what’s it like? and what role does his alpha play during these times- does he need them or would he rather have space? or would he rather they help him get ready for whatever he does if he doesn’t end up nesting?sorry if this isn’t a good request, i won’t hold anything against you if you’re unable to do it 💕-🍣

(Yes, you can indeed! It was a lovely request, thank you so much for sending it in! I hope you like the headcanons, sushi anon 😘)

Warnings: None

General:

Saeran has never really had a nest in his life.

His mother definitely never ‘wasted’ money on nesting material for her sons, leaving them with only each other for comfort.

When he lived with Rika and V, they gave him a few toys and Saeran was so happy, because they were so soft and they were his. Those soft toys were Saeran’s prized possessions.

And then in Mint Eye, Rika used those against him. If he didn’t do as he was told, if he didn’t take his elixir, then his cuddly toys would be taken from him. It worked every time in convincing him to do as he was told. They were his only comfort after he lost Saeyoung, so the thought of losing them was unbearable.

But there was never a proper nest for him, and never enough materials for him to build one himself. 

So, when a kind and amazing smelling alpha walks (is technically kidnapped) into his life and then they suddenly take him away from Mint Eye and he’s seeing his brother for the first time in years, and his system is cleaned of drugs… Everything changed so fast, and he clings to the friendly alpha to provide him some familiarity. 

He relies on them to guide him in the world he knows so little about, and he trusts them so much more than he trusts anyone else.

And they help him make a nest and they tell him he can get any blankets and pillows that he wants. Soft toys too, and while he had to abandon his original toys at Mint Eye (something which makes his chest hurt so much when he thinks about it), his new ones were given to him by his special alpha as a mark of his new life and they’re just as special to him.

At first, he didn’t understand the full appeal of nesting. I mean, it was nice and comfortable to lay in the blankets, and his soft toys were always a good comfort, but it wasn’t anything that incredible.

But then he has a panic attack, something he has fairly frequently, but this time his nice alpha is with him, and they decide to pick him up and put him in his nest when they're enable to calm him down by themselves.

And suddenly, his own scent is mixing so well with the scent of his nice alpha and his soft toys are there and everything doesn’t seem so bad anymore, because he’s safe.

But when his alpha tries to leave, he darts out a hand to stop them, pleading with them to stay with him, and they do.

After that night, nesting becomes his go to way to comfort himself.

His nest:

His first nest is very generic because his alpha builds it for him as a way to comfort him and get him used to nesting.

But as he starts to find his own style, his nest begins to change.

Saeran builds his nest on a large window seat that can be separated from his bedroom with curtains.

He likes being able to see outside while he’s nesting, because nesting in a wardrobe would be too claustrophobic. He likes to feel free and see the outside as much as possible.

It’s a bit squishy at times, but very cozy. 

He prefers lighter shades, whites, beiges, pastel blues and pinks for the fabrics in his nest.

He also likes soft toys a lot, and fluffy blankets. He particularly likes wool blankets (which is quite a divisive material between omegas haha).

When he finds out that some omegas have mini fridges/freezers by their nests, he’s enamoured by the idea of having ice cream readily available while he’s in his nest.

He doesn’t want to ask for too much, but when his alpha asks what he wants for his birthday… well… the freezer idea slips out before he can stop himself and on the morning of his birthday, he finds a new mini freezer with a bow on top sitting innocently by the window seat. 

Saeran always keeps it filled with his and his alpha’s favourite ice cream and between said ice cream and his nest, he can always de-stress and calm down.

His alpha’s role:

Saeran wants his alpha in his nest as much as possible, even before they were properly mated.

In the above scenario in which his alpha brings him to his nest during a panic attack, Saeran and his alpha weren’t mated yet, so they were just planning to put Saeran on the edge and leave him (not wanting to cross any boundaries more than they had already done), but Saeran pulled them in and begged them to stay.

Most omegas would probably freak if an alpha they didn’t know super well came into their nest while they were distressed, but Saeran sort of clung to his alpha to feel safe only a few days after he met them, so he’s more than happy to let them into his safe space.

(Saeyoung is also allowed in eventually, and maybe Yoosung if their friendship develops because it’s always nice to have another omega around to talk to.)

As far as what Saeran’s alpha can do to help Saeran when he’s stressed, a gentle embrace goes a long way. He doesn’t like to be held super tightly, but a gentle cuddle and some caresses are his favourite.

(Saeran will also let his alpha feed him his ice cream if he’s feeling stressed enough.)

His favourite cuddling position is any position that allows you to hear him if he whispers, because it always feels wrong to talk at normal volume in his nest. It feels like a space he should be quiet and careful in, and he asks his alpha to do the same. 

But really, all that Saeran’s alpha has to do is be there for Saeran. He hasn’t had any stable figures in his life to love him, and that’s what he needs more than anything: stability and love.

[robininthelabyrinth]

CQL-Verse: Wen Ning did a whole lot of risky stuff saving JC and the bodies at Lotus Pier. What if NMJ hears and gets talked into helping protect him and the Wen remnants by the Jiang bros, because even if he's a wen, he still 1. whole ass poisoned wen chao 2. straight up commited treason and was punished for it to protect sect heirs and 3. is extremely baby brotherable. you can fit so much h/c into this bad boy

ao3

Untamed

1

Wen Qing was angry about the trials, but Wen Ning thought they made a reasonable amount of sense.

After all, how was the rest of the cultivation world supposed to know what they did in the war without a proper trial? It was only reasonable for them to make certain assumptions about them based on their surname, the same way everyone assumed that those surnamed Jin were rich, those surnamed Lan were beautiful, those surnamed Jiang were bold to the point of arrogance…

The Nie were supposedly known for their tempers, but Wen Ning hadn’t seen much evidence of that so far.

In fairness, his only experiences with a Nie were, firstly, with Nie Huaisang at the Cloud Recesses, which he was fairly sure didn’t count, and now, during the trial, with Nie Mingjue.

Nie Mingjue laughed the entire trial.

“You poisoned the wine,” he sniggered. “At their own celebratory feast…! And then you just went straight to Yiling, where your sister was in charge. And it still took him how long to find you?”

“Weeks,” Wen Ning meekly admitted.  

“Can we go back to the bit where you saved Wei-xiong from the giant dog beast using stolen needles?” Nie Huaisang asked.

“No, we cannot,” Nie Mingjue’s deputy – a somewhat long-suffering looking man that they all called Meng Yao – said. “He’s already gone over it four times, Huaisang.”

“But –”

“No.”

“Spoilsport! Look at how much fun da-ge’s having; it’s not fair.”

“He’s the sect leader. If he wants to hoot like a shrieking monkey, he’s entitled to it.”

“I’m not hooting,” Nie Mingjue protested. “I am recognizing talent.”

“Talent.”

“Exactly. Talent.”

“At…what, exactly?”

“Causing trouble,” Nie Huaisang volunteered. “I recognize it from Wei-xiong, I could spot it anywhere.”

“Could we possibly proceed with the trial?” Meng Yao asked, obviously deciding not to continue with that discussion. “We have six more to finish today. Can I assume that given the evidence of Wen-gongzi’s subversive activities and his subsequent imprisonment throughout much of the Sunshot Campaign, he is absolved of all crimes and allowed to go free?”

“You spoilsport,” Nie Mingjue said, rolling his eyes at him. “Yes, I think so. Wen Qionglin, you are free to go your own way – though if you wish to stay here in Qinghe as a guest cultivator, we would be glad to have you for however long you wish.”

Wen Ning thought that sounded all right.

2

The Nie sect were known for their tempers, and justly so, but Wen Ning quickly figured out that he didn’t need to be afraid of Nie Mingjue’s occasional outbursts (quickly roused, quickly doused) or Nie Huaisang’s temper tantrums (petty) and occasional grudge-holding (rarer but much more dangerous).

No, Wen Ning figured out very quickly in his first weeks that the one to be afraid of was clearly Meng Yao.

Wen Ning had been weak and sickly his whole life in a sect that valued strength above all; he had survived hiding behind his sister, but she couldn’t always be there for him, no matter how she tried. He’d soon learned that surviving on his own meant being quiet and obedient, never making trouble or drawing attention to himself, and it also meant being extremely attuned to the minute expressions that might signal the difference between Wen Chao being angry enough to throwing a teacup at his head and being angry enough to order him to be taken outside and beaten until unconscious.

The same skills helped him in the Nie sect, where people were very often angry. Wen Ning could tell the difference between Nie Mingjue raging to let out steam (moderately common and generally innocuous, easily ignored) and being actually upset (typically only dangerous to the furniture, which was a nice change, but more worrisome in the sense that he might go and do something stupid afterwards), and he could tell that Nie Huaisang’s true anger, so rarely triggered, tended more towards the cold and hidden (definitely a sign he was going to do something, but unfortunately for everyone involved it’d invariably be far more malicious - enough to make you long for stupid).

He could tell that Meng Yao was, despite all his smiles, very often angry.

Like Nie Mingjue, Meng Yao’s temper was easily roused to the point of fury; like Nie Huaisang, his anger lasted a long time and usually called for some malicious action before it could be properly assuaged.

“Senior Meng,” Wen Ning tentatively said one day when his curiosity got to be too much for him. “Could I ask a rude question?”

Meng Yao’s temper, hidden deep in his eyes, flared at once, preemptively, and Wen Ning shivered and looked down at the ground. He had known what he was risking, but he hoped that asking permission in advance might allow him to get the question out with minimal reprisals – cold meals for a few days, perhaps, or being assigned to the training yard only when the most sadistic training-master was supervising, but only for a week or so.

“Of course, Wen-gongzi,” Meng Yao said, and he sounded nice and pleasant and like no question could possibly be rude enough to cause him any disturbance. It was a little frightening how good he was at that. “I can’t imagine what you would want to know that would be rude.”

“Are you related?” Wen Ning blurted out. “To Sect Leader Nie, I mean – his family –”

Meng Yao stared at him. His mouth was slightly hanging open.

“…it’s a stupid question,” Wen Ning concluded, feeling ashamed. Of course Meng Yao had been promoted entirely on merit; it was only his imagination getting away from him. “I’m sorry. I’ll go –”

“No, wait,” Meng Yao croaked. “Related – to the Nie sect – forgive me. How did you reach that conclusion?”

“I mean, you’re obviously treated as part of the main family,” Wen Ning pointed out. There were plenty of Nie cousins that weren’t treated anywhere near as well; both Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang were not only protective but almost possessive over Meng Yao’s time and dignity - surely by now everyone knew that the surest way to get them each angry in their own ways was to slight Meng Yao. “You wear Nie braids like them – you wear clothing like them – you have a temper like them –”

Meng Yao started laughing.

“…did I miss something?”

3

“I’m surprised you didn’t go to the Lotus Pier after you’d been absolved,” Nie Huaisang said, tapping the weiqi piece on the board a few times before making a move. “Given your fondness for Wei-xiong and all that.”

“Wei-gongzi’s very nice,” Wen Ning said vaguely, staring down at the board. He’d played a lot of weiqi in his life – including against Wen Ruohan when the man had still been remotely sane, mostly because he’d been the only one stuck back at the palace with him more often than not – but playing against Nie Huaisang required all of his attention. The first time he looked away, he’d get lured into a trap. “Very kind.”

“And yet you stay here,” Nie Huaisang prompted. “In Qinghe, with us, when even your sister picked the Lotus Pier.”

Wen Ning had never been without his sister this long before. He knew that she still expected him to come to the Lotus Pier. She hadn’t expected him to last the week without her; she’d said as much when she first went, huffing at him for being ridiculous – a Wen as a guest cultivator in the Nie sect, of all places? – and telling him, in between reminders to take his medicine on time, that she’d prepare a place for him there so that he would be comfortable when he arrived.

Her letters, in the weeks and now months since that time, had never overtly asked when he was going to finally get around to moving there, and had recently developed an almost quizzical tone, as if she’d finally realized that he wasn’t.

“I like it here,” Wen Ning said, and moved his piece.

Nie Huaisang moved his own almost immediately in response, which meant that Wen Ning had made a horrible mistake that played straight into Nie Huaisang’s hands. Not an uncommon occurrence. 

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “We like having you here, too.”

Surprised, Wen Ning looked up.

Nie Huaisang was smiling at him – he smiled nearly as often as Meng Yao, but unlike Meng Yao, he never smiled if he didn’t want to, so his smiles were actually sincerely meant each and every time. He had a wide range of smiles: nervous smiles, cheerful smiles, devious smiles…

Wen Ning was good at reading expressions, but he had to admit he’d never had to work as hard at it as he did with Nie Huaisang.

“We’re a very nice sect, really,” Nie Huaisang said, and even seemed to believe it. “We’re always open to people who are like us. The only thing we can’t tolerate is injustice and betrayal; as long as you stick with us and put us first, you’re ours, and we’re yours.”

That sounded nice, Wen Ning thought, and moved a piece blindly. “You think I’m like you? My sister doesn’t think so.”

“I think you fit in very nicely,” Nie Huaisang said, and his smile had teeth to it. He moved quickly, again. “You’re angry and resentful, but you don’t let it get in the way of what you want - just like us. Your sister probably doesn’t think that about you, either, but then again, that’s why she’s in the Jiang sect, with their heads in the air, dreaming of the impossible. I bet she never even noticed that you had a temper.”

She hadn’t. Wen Ning had been her baby brother and nothing else for a long time; he never had to defend himself as long as she was around. 

He’d never had the chance to defend himself.

(He didn’t resent her for that. He didn’t. She was his big sister, his favorite person, and he loved her so much that he didn’t mind the way that all her fussing sometimes made the world feel cramped and small, as if he were being forced into a place that he’d long since outgrown.)

“Do I have a temper?” he asked, and moved another piece.

“Oh, yes,” Nie Huaisang said. “You’re like me – slow to boil – and like Meng Yao, hiding it behind your eyes. You’re even a bit like da-ge: you don’t need to be the one get the frustration out as long as something deals with it, but if nothing does, it nags at you and wears at you, like a thorn stuck in your flesh, until you can’t be silent any longer. Until you have to do something, or else you’ll explode.”

That sounded about right, Wen Ning thought. He’d never really had a chance to explode in the Wen sect, out of fear of what they’d do to his sister if he did, and he’d been sick with it – he’d limited himself to little rebellions, nameless pranks, right up until he met Wei Wuxian, who was kind to him, and couldn’t stop himself from helping him. He sometimes thought, in the days he’d spent in the dungeons, that if he died he’d come back as a fierce corpse, soul-calming rituals or no, and he’d might even enjoy it if only for the opportunity to finally vent his feelings – to finally pay back every single injustice that he’d ever seen, each one marked down in his heart in an indelible list of regrets.

Maybe Nie Huaisang was right. 

Maybe that was why he stayed here, in the Nie sect, the sect of do not tolerate evil instead of the Lan sect’s chivalry and righteousness or the Jiang sect’s attempt the impossible.

Maybe he wanted to fight back for once. To have a temper, to have rage, to be something more than Wen Qing’s shy, stuttering shadow.

“I like it here,” he said again, but if his words were the same then the flavor was different: he meant it this time.  

He understood, this time, what he meant by it.

Nie Huaisang smiled at him and moved another piece. Winning the game, Wen Ning noticed.

“Good,” he said. “Now move over – sit in front of the mirror. I’ll show you how to do your hair right.”

“Really?”

“Really. Also, Da-ge’s been practically champing at the bit to teach you saber, and Meng Yao has been making grandiose plans about redoing the way we recruit and train doctors with you leading the charge, so if you’re not up for either of those, now’s the time to say something.”

Wen Ning settled down in front of the mirror.

“No,” he said. “Those sound good to me.”

[howelljenkins]

As a muslim Iraqi American with a significant tumblr following, I feel as though I should let it be known exactly where I stand when it comes to Riordan’s statement about Samirah. I have copied and pasted it down below and my reaction to it will be written down below. This will be the first time I have read it. If you want to engage with me or tell me that I’m wrong, I expect you to be a muslim, hijabi, Iraqi American, and from Baghdad. If you are not, I suggest you sit down and keep quiet because you are not the authority on the way I should be represented.

Like many of my characters, Samirah was inspired by former students of mine. Over the course of my middle school teaching career, I worked with dozens of Muslim students and their families, representing the expanse of the Muslim world and both Shia and Sunni traditions. One of my most poignant memories about the September 11, 2001, attack of the World Trade Center was when a Muslima student burst into tears when she heard the news – not just because it was horrific, but also because she knew what it meant for her, her family, her faith. She had unwillingly become an ambassador to everyone she knew who, would have questions about how this attack happened and why the perpetrators called themselves “Muslim.” Her life had just become exponentially more difficult because of factors completely beyond her control. It was not right. It was not fair. And I wasn’t sure how to comfort or support her.

Starting off your statement with one of the most traumatic events in history for muslim Americans is already one of the most predictably bad moves he could pull. By starting off this way, you are acknowledging the fact that a) this t*rrorist attack is still the first thing you think of when you think of muslims and b) that those muslim students who you had prior to 9/11 occupied so little space in your mind that it took a national disaster for you to start to even try to empathize with them.

During the following years, I tried to be especially attuned to the needs of my Muslim students. I dealt with 9/11 the same way I deal with most things: by reading and learning more. When I taught world religions in social studies, I would talk to my Muslim students about Islam to make sure I was representing their experience correctly. They taught me quite a bit, which eventually contributed to my depiction of Samirah al-Abbas. As always, though, where I have made mistakes in my understanding, those mistakes are wholly on me.

As always, you have chosen to use “I based this character off my students” in order to justify the way they are written. News flash: you taught middle school children. Children who are already scrutinized and alienated and desperate to fit in. Of course their words shouldn’t be enough for you to decide you are representing them correctly, because they are still coming to terms with their identities and they are doing this in an environment where they are desperate to find the approval of white Americans. I know that as a child I would often tweak the way I explained my culture and religion to my teachers in order to gain their approval and avoid ruffling any feathers. They told you what they thought you’d want to hear because you are their teacher and hold a position of power over them and they both want your approval and want to avoid saying the wrong thing and having that hang over their heads every time they enter your classroom.

What did I read for research? I have read five different English interpretations of the Qur’an. (I understand the message is inseparable from the original Arabic, so it cannot be considered ‘translated’). I have read the entirety of the Sahih Bukhari and Sahih Muslim hadith collections. I’ve read three biographies of Prophet Muhammed (peace be upon him) and well over a dozen books about the history of Islam and modern Islam. I took a six-week course in Arabic. (I was not very good at it, but I found it fascinating). I fasted the month of Ramadan in solidarity with my students. I even memorized some of the surahs in Arabic because I found the poetry beautiful. (They’re a little rusty now, I’ll admit, but I can still recite al-Fātihah from memory.) I also read some anti-Islamic screeds written in the aftermath of 9/11 so I would understand what those commenters were saying about the religion, and indirectly, about my students. I get mad when people attack my students.

And yet here you are actively avoiding the criticism from those of us who could very well have been the children sitting in your classroom. 

The Quran is so deep and complex that its meanings are still being discovered to this day. Yes, reading these old scripts is a must for writing muslim characters, but you cannot claim to understand them without also holding active discussions with current scholars on how the Quran’s teachings apply today.

When preparing to write Samirah’s background, I drew on all of this, but also read many stories on Iraqi traditions and customs in particular and the experiences of immigrant families who came to the U.S. I figured out how Samirah’s history would intertwine with the Norse world through the medieval writer Ahmad ibn Fadhlan, her distant ancestor and one of the first outsiders to describe the Vikings in writing.  I knew Samirah would be a ferocious brave fighter who always stood for what was right. She would be an excellent student who had dreams of being an aviator. She would have a complicated personal situation to wrestle with, in that she’s a practicing Muslim who finds out Valhalla is a real place. Odin and Thor and Loki are still around. How do you reconcile that with your faith? Not only that, but her mom had a romance with Loki, who is her dad. Yikes.

First of all, writing this paragraph in the same tone you use to emulate a 12 year old is already disrespectful. “Yikes” is correct. You have committed serious transgressions and can’t even commit to acting serious and writing like the almost 60 year old man that you are. Tone tells the reader a lot, and your tone is telling me that you are explaining your mistakes the same way you tell your little stories: childishly and jokingly. 

Stories are not enough. They are not and never will be. Stories cannot even begin to pierce the rich culture and history and customs of Iraq. Iraq itself is not even homogenous enough for you to rely on these “Iraqi” stories. Someone’s story from Najaf is completely unique from someone from Baghdad or Nasriyyah or Basrah or Mosul. Add that to the fact that these stories are written with a certain audience in mind and you realize that there’s no way they can tell the whole story because at their core they are catering to a specific audience.

Yes, those are good, but they are meaningless without you consulting an actual Baghdadi and asking specific questions. You made conclusions and assumptions based on these stories when the obvious way to go was to consult someone from Baghdad every step of the writing process. Instead, you chose to trust the conclusions that you (a white man) drew from a handful of stories. Who are you to convey a muslim’s internal struggle when you did not even do the bare minimum and have an actual muslim read over your words?

Thankfully, the feedback from Muslim readers over the years to Samirah al-Abbas has been overwhelmingly positive. I have gotten so many letters and messages online from young fans, talking about how much it meant to them to see a hijabi character portrayed in a positive light in a ‘mainstream’ novel.

Yeah. Because we’re desperate, and half of them are children still developing their sense of self and critical reading skills. A starving man will thank you for moldy bread but that does not negate the mold. 

Some readers had questions, sure! The big mistake I will totally own, and which I have apologized for many times, was my statement that during the fasting hours of Ramadan, bathing (i.e. total immersion in water) was to be avoided. This was advice I had read on a Shia website when I myself was preparing to fast Ramadan. It is advice I followed for the entire month. Whoops! The intent behind that advice, as I understood it, was that if you totally immersed yourself during daylight hours, you might inadvertently get some water between your lips and invalidate your fast. But, as I have since learned, that was simply one teacher’s personal opinion, not a widespread practice. We have corrected this detail (which involved the deletion of one line) in future editions, but as I mentioned in my last post, you will still find it in copies since the vast majority of books are from the first printing.

This is actually really embarrassing for you and speaks to your lack of research and reading comprehension. It is true that for shia, immersion breaks one’s fast. If you had bothered to actually ask questions and use common sense, you would realize that this is referring to actions like swimming, where one’s whole body is underwater, rather than bathing. Did you not question the fact that the same religion that encourages the cleansing of oneself five times a day banned bathing during the holiest month? Yes, it was one teacher’s opinion, but you literally did not even take the time to fully understand that opinion before chucking it into your book.

Another question was about Samirah’s wearing of the hijab. To some readers, she seemed cavalier about when she would take it off and how she would wear it. It’s not my place to be prescriptive about proper hijab-wearing. As any Muslim knows, the custom and practice varies greatly from one country to another, and from one individual to another. I can, however, describe what I have seen in the U.S., and Samirah’s wearing of the hijab reflects the practice of some of my own students, so it seemed to be within the realm of reason for a third-generation Iraqi-American Muslima. Samirah would wear hijab most of the time — in public, at school, at mosque. She would probably but not always wear it in Valhalla, as she views this as her home, and the fallen warriors as her own kin. This is described in the Magnus Chase books. I also admit I just loved the idea of a Muslima whose hijab is a magic item that can camouflage her in times of need.

Before I get into this paragraph, Samirah is second generation. Her grandparents immigrated from Iraq. Her mother was first gen.

Once again, you turn to what you have seen from your students, who are literal children. They are in middle school while Samirah is in high school, so they are very obviously at different stages of development, both emotional and religious. If you had bothered to talk to adults who had gone through these stages, you would understand that often times young girls have stages where they “practice” hijab or wear it “part time”, very often in middle school. However, both her age and the way in which you described Samirah lead the reader to believe that she is a “full timer,” so you playing willy nilly with her scarf as a white man is gross.

For someone who claims to have read all of these religious texts, it’s funny that you choose to overlook the fact that “kin” is very specifically described. Muslims do not go around deciding who they consider “kin” or “family” to take off their hijab in front of. There is no excuse for including this in her character, especially since you claim to have carefully read the Quran and ahadith.

You have no place to “just love” any magical extension of the hijab until you approach it with respect. Point blank period. Especially when you have ascribed it a magical property that justifies her taking it on and off like it’s no big deal, especially when current media portrayals of hijab almost always revolve around it being removed. You are adding to the harmful portrayal and using your “fun little magic camoflauge” to excuse it.

As for her betrothal to Amir Fadhlan, only recently have I gotten any questions about this. My understanding from my readings, and from what I have been told by Muslims I know, is that arranged marriages are still quite common in many Muslim countries (not just Muslim countries, of course) and that these matches are sometimes negotiated by the families when the bride-to-be and groom-to-be are quite young. Prior to writing Magnus Chase, one of the complaints I often heard or read from Muslims is how Westerners tend to judge this custom and look down on it because it does not accord with Western ideas. Of course, arranged marriages carry the potential for abuse, especially if there is an age differential or the woman is not consulted. Child marriages are a huge problem. The arrangement of betrothals years in advance of the marriage, however, is an ancient custom in many cultures, and those people I know who were married in this way have shared with me how glad they were to have done it and how they believe the practice is unfairly villainized. My idea with Samirah was to flip the stereotype of the terrible abusive arranged match on its head, and show how it was possible that two people who actually love each other dearly might find happiness through this traditional custom when they have families that listen to their concerns and honor their wishes, and want them to be happy. Amir and Samirah are very distant cousins, yes. This, too, is hardly unusual in many cultures. They will not actually marry until they are both adults. But they have been betrothed since childhood, and respect and love each other. If that were not the case, my sense is that Samirah would only have to say something to her grandparents, and the match would be cancelled. Again, most of the comments I have received from Muslim readers have been to thank me for presenting traditional customs in a positive rather than a negative light, not judging them by Western standards. In no way do I condone child marriage, and that (to my mind) is not anywhere implied in the Magnus Chase books.

I simply can’t even begin to explain everything that is wrong with this paragraph. Here is a good post about how her getting engaged at 12 is absolutely wrong religiously and would not happen. Add that on to the fact that Samirah herself is second-generation (although Riordan calls her third generation in this post) and this practice isn’t super common even in first generation people (and for those that it DOES apply to, it is when they are old enough to be married and not literal children). 

As a white man you can’t flip the stereotype. You can’t. Even with tons of research you cannot assume the authority to “flip” a stereotype that does not affect you because you will never come close to truly understanding it inside and out. Instead of flipping a stereotype, Rick fed into it and provided more fodder to the flames and added on to it to make it even worse.

I would be uncomfortable with a white author writing about arranged marriages in brown tradition no matter the context, but for him to offhandedly include it in a children’s book where it is badly explained and barely touched on is inexcusable. Your target audience is children who will no doubt overlook your clumsy attempt at flipping stereotypes.

It does not matter what your mind thinks you are implying. Rick Riordan is not your target audience, children are. So you cannot brush this away by stating that you did not see the harm done by your writing. You are almost 60 years old. Maybe you can read in between your lines, but I guarantee your target audience largely cannot.

Finally, recently someone on Twitter decided to screenshot a passage out-of-context from Ship of the Deadwhere Magnus hears Samirah use the phrase “Allahu Akbar,” and the only context he has ever heard it in before was in news reports when some Western reporter would be talking about a terrorist attack. Here is the passage in full:

Samirah: “My dad may have power over me because he’s my dad. But he’s not the biggest power. Allahu akbar.”

I knew that term, but I’d never heard Sam use it before. I’ll admit it gave me an instinctive jolt in the gut. The news media loved to talk about how terrorists would say that right before they did something horrible and blew people up. I wasn’t going to mention that to Sam. I imagined she was painfully aware.

She couldn’t walk the streets of Boston in her hijab most days without somebody screaming at her to go home, and (if she was in a bad mood) she’d scream back, “I’m from Dorchester!”

“Yeah,” I said. “That means God is great, right?”

Sam shook her head. “That’s a slightly inaccurate translation. It means God is greater.”

“Than what?”

“Everything. The whole point of saying it is to remind yourself that God is greater than whatever you are facing—your fears, your problems, your thirst, your hunger, your anger.

337-338

To me, this is Samirah educating Magnus, and through him the readers, about what this phrase actually means and the religious significance it carries. I think the expression is beautiful and profound. However, like a lot of Americans, Magnus has grown up only hearing about it in a negative context from the news. For him to think: “I had never heard that phrase, and it carried absolutely no negative connotations!” would be silly and unrealistic. This is a teachable moment between two characters, two friends who respect each other despite how different they are. Magnus learns something beautiful and true about Samirah’s religion, and hopefully so do the readers. If that strikes you as Islamophobic in its full context, or if Samirah seems like a hurtful stereotype . . . all I can say is I strongly disagree.

I will give you some credit here in that I mostly agree with this scene. The phrase does carry negative connotations with many white people and I do not fault you for explaining it the way you did. However, don’t try to sneak in that last sentence like we won’t notice. You have no place to decide whether or not Samirah’s character as a whole is harmful and stereotypical. 

It is 2 am and that is all I have the willpower to address. This is messy and this is long and this is not well worded, but this had to be addressed. I do not speak for every muslim, both world wide and within this online community, but these were my raw reactions to his statement. I have been working on and will continue to work on a masterpost of Samirah Al-Abbas as I work through the books, but for now, let it be known that Riordan has bastardized my identity and continues to excuse himself and profit off of enforcing harmful stereotypes. Good night.

[physicalturian]

[G] Gentle summer - Rengoku Kyojuro x GN!Reader - Part 1

[Contains spoilers from the movie, and the manga] [No pronouns used for the reader, no physical description; Everyone +18] Words : 8533 Archive of our own

Warnings : Blood / Injuries / PTSD

Summary : After the event of the Infinity Train, the Fire Pillar is staying at the Butterfly Mansion where you take care of him. The path to recovery is long, which leaves time for some feelings to develop between you and Rengoku. Proper courtship is what the swordsman has in mind once he set it on you.

A slow burn of two people letting time do its work the more they spend it together.

If you feel like I should add more warnings, send me a dm or and ask

--

It was one of those rare quiet nights at the mansion. Crickets in the summer night could be heard in the well-tended gardens along the sound of the water in the ponds. The cool air the late night provided felt refreshing, it gave some respite before the summer heat returned in the early morning, but it was appreciated, nonetheless. It was relaxing, so relaxing it could almost make one forget of the danger looming over them. Big plans were being made, new recruits were being trained and the ones used to it all… well, they were resting the best they could before the big fight.

Among those resting were a few Pillars, those who weren’t at the mansion were doing their best to get out of their head by doing some missions. Giyuu was one of the few who stayed, he wasn’t so lucky as to be alone in his room; The new recruits, who counted among their ranks a demon girl, were sleeping by his side, snoring and taking too much space on the futons spread on the tatami mat. As I stood by the door, I noticed the light was still on and tip-toed inside the room to turn it off, avoiding luring the mosquitoes in.

I stopped dead in my tracks when the floor creaked, I waited a moment before going back to the door, hoping I hadn’t woken anyone up. Once out, I slid it closed gently and padded away to my room, knowing full well I wasn’t going to be able to sleep with all the stress I was feeling. On my way there, I noticed the flickering light coming from the Fire Pillar’s room. The shadow of the lantern was projected on the shoji doors, I waited a moment to see if there was any movement but when I didn’t see anything, I opened the door. Not wanting for him to wake up during the night to turn it off, I stepped inside carefully but stopped when I couldn’t see him around.

For a moment, my heart jumped out of my chest as I considered the possibility of him having been kidnapped by the demon who wasn’t able to finish him. Maybe he even left to the forest to fight with him, he would do that to avoid getting us in danger. No, no… No demon ever found the mansion, I don’t see why they would find it now.

Blowing the light out, I found that the moon’s glow was enough to brighten the room with a fair white color all over the room. As I stepped towards the door that led to some green patches outside, I paused when I noticed a form leaning on one of the wooden posts outside. Approaching soundlessly, I quickly recognized Rengoku’s haori on the ground. The man was sitting on the wooden veranda outside, his head was leaning on the post, his arms crossed over his chest. He wasn’t wearing his Pillar outfit but instead wore a lighter traditional kimono, that suited him perfectly.

“Rengoku?” I called his name softly, hoping to get his attention without surprising him too much. Perhaps it was too tender as the man did not respond. With just as much care, I stepped closer and saw his relaxed face, deep in slumber, the usual determined frown on his face gone from how peaceful he was right now. Still, it mustn’t be comfortable to be sleeping here, I thought as I stepped in front of the man and considered my choices.

Mirroring him some way, I crossed my arms over my chest and took a good look at him as I considered what to do. While doing so, I also enjoyed his features. The fresh scar on his forehead was never hidden by his hair, seeing as he styled it in a mane-like fashion. I’d still feel a pinch in my heart when I’d see it, remembering how the three young recruits sent their crow to get the medical people on the field.

Both of them were crying, thinking the man was gone, I had to keep my composure as I checked his pulse, desperately wishing he was still alive.

I held my breath, then felt the slight pulse. The man was a strong-willed fighter, but as I took care of his wounds the best I could, I started to believe strong-will was not going to get him through it. When my crew and I gave him the first care treatment, we brought him back to the mansion where he was passed out for a few days. When he finally woke up, I was changing the flowers on his bedside. As I pulled them out of the vase, a strong hand gripped my wrist. I gasped loudly at the touch, then at the realization he had woken up.

“Rengoku, you’ve awakened. I’ll bring you-“ “You’re the one, right?” He uttered, his mouth still not used to speaking just yet. Giving him a confused expression, he chuckled lightly, then painfully before getting his composure back. “The one who’s been singing to me, so many times-“ “I do apologize, I was not aware you could hear me. I hope I haven’t troubled your sleep much, and that you are rested,” I bowed, feeling my cheeks burn from embarrassment. Yet, I had to keep some professionalism with the Pillar in front of me, for his rank was higher than mine.

“Your voice, it’s soothing, can you keep doing it? Singing, I mean! I’m awake now, but I really enjoyed hearing you,”

Chuckling nervously, I placed the fresh flowers in the vase once the man had let go of my hand and threw the dried ones in the bin. “I don’t think so, it’s not professional, disturbing you wouldn’t-“ “It helped me, I found myself sleeping more peacefully upon hearing you delicate singing. Without it, I wouldn’t be as well-rested,” His voice was a lot louder now. He must have strained himself with the energy he put in his whole attitude since he leaned forward a bit, a hand on his stomach.

“Alright, I’ll keep singing, only if you stop moving. You haven’t healed fully yet Rengoku. You should rest some more,” I told him softly. I pried his hand away from his stomach and asked if I could check, he allowed me. “Maybe quiet down, even for a moment, you’ve only been asleep for a few days, your wounds haven’t healed enough for you to move that much,” When he didn’t say anything, I looked up at his face and saw him with his eyes closed and mouth slightly open. He was focusing his breath on the healing, which I would not allow.

Calling his name, I tried to get his attention, but he ignored me. Now, I might be a healer, but I knew how to deal damage and how to deal with strong people. With a hand on his stomach and the other on his shoulder, I put some pressure on the latter to make him lean back. His eyes opened wide as a breathless gasp left his mouth in surprise. “Don’t start this. I am asking you to simply, stay in bed and do nothing, is that too much to ask?” I asked him as I let go of his form.

His beautiful wide eyes stared right at mine, unrelenting, with an expression I couldn’t decipher. As uneasy as it made me feel, I matched his stare and did not move. That is until he smiled, “Only if I am allowed to have some food, I am starving! Food would help with my healing, right?” He added my name at the end of his question, surprising me. The amount of time I interacted with the Pillars could not be counted on two hands, I remembered them, their wounds, their fragile state when in their weakest state. I saw them train, I myself was trained by one of them. And yet, I was surprised when the Fire Pillar remembered my name.

I didn’t let it slip, that I liked it, that it caught me off guard, nor that he had the gentlest tone when saying my name, a tone that made my heart skip even for just a second. “I will bring you food. I’m only asking of you to stay put, can you do that?” Nodding, he put his hands a bit higher from his stomach and stood still, his eyes looking at the ceiling. “For you, I will, I won’t move an inch-“ “Not for me, for you. For your health, Rengoku.” I huffed while standing up, a hand on the mattress. As I turned around, a hand quickly grabbed mine, just like before. I didn’t pull back, fearing the man would lean in with.

Turning to face him, I quirked a brow and asked if he needed anything else, “Kyojuro, call me Kyojuro, you have taken care of me enough time to be familiar with me. I owe you my life,” Chuckling lightly, I unhooked his hand from my wrist and smiled, “It’s my job, I will try my best to call you by your name then, Kyojuro.” With a nod, I left the room to get his meal that the younger recruits were probably already making. They would always sit by the door of the wounded, waiting for anything to happen, their ears ready for any sudden sound.

My suspicions were correct when I found the tray right in front of the door, they must have left the moment they realized he had awakened. Smiling to myself, I grabbed the tray and entered Kyojuro’s room once more. “It seems we-“ I hurriedly put the tray on the bed next to Kyojuro’s when I saw he wasn’t in his bed. “Rengoku! Where did you go,” I mumbled the last part as I slipped on my geta and trotted to the veranda. I was quick to let a sigh of relief when I saw the man in question, practicing with his sword, the sun illuminating his gorgeous mane.

As beautiful as he may be under the sun, the jinbei he was wearing to sleep had a growing red stain on his stomach. His wound had reopened, and he did not seem to mind one bit. I did. “Rengoku, would you please come back to bed?” I asked with some softness. When he did not hear me, or ignored me, whichever it was I did not care, I called his name more sternly. His stances and actions got a bit more intense in his practice.

Taking a deep breath, I calmed my breathing and sped to his side, hearing his surprise. Not wasting time, I hit one of the spots on his hand to make it go numb as he dropped his sword. I took it in my hand, stepping away from him quickly to avoid him taking it back. He looked at me in defeat, as defeated as a man like him could look like. The Fire Pillar looked at me in awe, then smiled. “Well done! A good practice, perhaps we could train more together-“ Putting the sword delicately on the ground, I approached him and pressed on his stomach wound, making him groan in pain as he bent forward, pushing my hand away.

“You are in no condition to fight, train or move. Go back to bed, or I will have to use force to get you there myself,” The look he gave me broke my heart, that was defeat. That was a man so out of his comfort zone, he did not know how to cope. Known for always standing, always be the last one with will, ready to fight and to get everyone’s hopes up. He closed his eyes a moment, then gave me a stern nod. “Very well,”

It needed convincing to let me help him to the bed, where I had to change his clothes and bandages, but he let me. Perhaps I had gotten to him, perhaps he was now fully aware of how dire his situation was. “If you stay put, you’ll be back on your feet in no time,” I told him while finishing wrapping the bandages around his stomach. I hummed to myself, trying to convince myself too. I had no idea how long it would take, because I knew he would not listen. Yet, I hoped it was enough to get him back to his hype.

“Will you sing for me?” The ginger asked once I handed him a fresh attire on my way to get the tray from the other bed. Stopping in my tracks, I returned slowly to his bedside. “You should eat first, slowly, please,” I told him with a short smile. Once he had dressed up, albeit groaning upon moving to slide his arms inside the sleeves, I put the tray on his lap and gestured for him to go on.

The peace of the moment did not last when he started eating like he hadn’t seen a meal in years, portions after portions, too big to fit his mouth, I had to stop him and take the chopsticks from his hand. “Are you purposedly doing the opposite of what I tell you, Kyojuro?” I asked, slightly annoyed.

“Those are small! I am hungry, can I have my chopsticks back, songbird?” He asked, his hand extended. I had to hold back from choking when I heard the nickname he had given me but decided against saying anything. It had some charm, and if I said anything he might stop, I liked it for now…

Instead, I sighed. “This,” I scooped some food with the chopsticks and showed him, “Is an adequate portion, you have to be careful-“ I stared at him in awe when he leaned in and ate the rice from the chopsticks I was holding. Once he was done, he looked back at me with smile, “More,” was all he said.

I blinked a few times, considering telling him off but I felt like he would still gobble down the whole meal if I didn’t do it myself. With a roll of my eyes, I took more rice and placed my hand under it as I brought it to his mouth, “You are a chaotic man,” there was a huge grin on his lips as he ate, speaking before he even finished, “Delicious! More!”

There was no helping the smile that drew itself on my face, “I’ll tell them you enjoyed it,” I huffed, feeding him some more. Every bite he would tell me to give him more, as annoying as it was, it was also growing on me in an endearing way. He did ask for another portion, which surprised me considering how much he ate but I complied. Once we were done, he seemed to be a lot calmer than he had been since he had woken up. His mind was somewhere else as he stared at his battered hands, there were a few cuts on it from his fight and I was afraid he was thinking about it too much.

“Now that your stomach is full, perhaps you should rest, Kyojuro,” Fluffing his pillow, I asked him to lay down, but he wasn’t in the mood for that. No, he was still staring at his hands, lost in thoughts. I put the tray outside and came back, placing my hands delicately on his. It seemed efficient enough since he looked up with wide eyes, a look that pierced a soul for simply coming from him. “I still have a lot of energy, would you mind staying?” He asked, his tone loud, his hands gripping mine. I hid the surprise of his actions and laughed lightly.

“I have things to do, it is still the morning, I will come back by noon-“ “What do you have to do? Can you do it here?” He apologized just as fast as he interrupted me, then he laid down with a groan. “I should rest, please wake me up when you come back,”

Finding his attitude odd, I stayed between the bed and door, half-way to each. Could he be sleeping badly? Could he be in the need of company? I looked around and pondered a moment. All I had to do was train and take a look at everyone in the mansion. The latter having been done for the morning, I only had one thing to do for now. So, I went back to the ginger. “I have to train, while you are not fit to do so yourself, perhaps would you like to help me out? Give some pointers of things I could improve? Would that suit you?”

The speed at which he sat up mad me rush to his side as I held onto his shoulders and told him to calm his enthusiasm. He only smiled in return, telling me he could not contain the joy it brought him to leave the bed. “You have only been awake for so little time, you are quite easily bored,” I stated as I told him to wrap an arm around my shoulders so that I could help him move to the veranda, making sure he took a pillow with him. “I’ll let you sit outside, but you don’t move from there, understood?” He nodded firmly in response as he dropped the pillow on the ground. I helped him sit down with care, then, albeit hesitantly, brought him his sword from the ground and set it beside him.

“Don’t move,” I extended my hand as a gesture to keep him on the spot, “You stay put, and you don’t practice, you stay right- there,” I continued while stepping back. When he laughed oh so charmingly, I almost tripped on the tatami. “I’m not moving!” It’s not without a side-glance that I left the room, only to come back just as fast, changing from a heavy kimono to a lighter jinbei. It wasn’t light-colored like the one we let the wounded wear, it was dark blue and nice to wear.

As I positioned in front of the veranda, in the grass, I couldn’t help but glance at the pair of eyes watching me. “I don’t usually train in front of others, it’s strange,” I chuckled, maybe more self-conscious than I thought I’d be. This was not the time to feel as such, so I reprimanded myself internally and got myself together.

“Don’t mind me! I love sword training; I won’t bother you!” He said loud enough for me to hear, perhaps even to become deaf if I was close enough. Nodding, I started my usual training, feeling very aware of the intense stare of the man. He wasn’t looking as carefree as before, he was observing, gauging all my movements, the way I held my sword, the way I positioned my feet, each of my slashes. A knot formed in my throat, a need to prove myself arose. This was a Pillar, after all.

Just as he said, I ignored his presence the best I could. It was hard to not glance at him every time I felt like I messed up, when I would peek, he would be looking at me intently. His gaze would stay on my mind as I focused back on my training, I was taking a liking to it. As much as it pressured me some way, unvoluntary to him, I found his face too beautiful to feel fear from the intensity of his look.

While thinking of him, and my movements, I trained until noon. Not a word was being exchanged between us, but I was glad it kept him from moving. I could have gone on and on once I was in the proper headspace and I was able to tune out the Fire Pillar’s strong presence, that was until Naho came in and tugged my sleeve, asking me to lean in. Crouching to her height, I listened carefully then let her go.

“I have tasks that need my attention, I will have to leave you-“ I stammered at the end when I saw the look of awe in Rengoku’s eyes, it elated a nervous laugh from my part as I leaned in to help his arm around my shoulders. Once he was stable, he looked at me with a big smile, “I’ve never seen such sword style, it’s so beautiful! I can see the way your heart is set ablaze once you are focused properly, you enjoy fighting and it shows,” He said it with such astonishment and appreciation that it made heat rush to my face, I only mumbled a thank you in response.

“Would you mind bringing me to my room? Sickbay is uneventful, if I get to my room perhaps one of the recruits will come barging in and bring entertainment with them!” Staying in the infirmary would be better for him, but I knew that every passing second he was focused on his breathing to make the healing process faster, tiring himself on the way. Giving him a curt nod, I said, “Very well, this means I’ll have to come visit you more. The three girls are afraid to go in the Pillars’ wing and won’t be able to watch over you, make it easier for both of us and be good, Kyojuro.” I paused before saying his name, not yet used to it.

He laughed loudly in response, only to grunt in pain quickly after, “That hurt- you made me laugh too hard,” The man seemed out of breath, which wasn’t reassuring for the little he had moved but we were closing in on his room. It wasn’t too far from the infirmary and also had a view on the garden that surrounded the mansion. “It was not in my plan to make you laugh; may I ask what brought that fit of laughter?” I was curious, I’ll admit.

“You said it as if it was a pain to have you visit more often, but I find your company relaxing. I will gladly appreciate each second of your presence by my side,” Upon hearing his words, I choked on my saliva but hid it behind a clearing of my throat as I looked to the side, a neutral expression on my face. “Sleep and you’ll find me by your side a lot sooner than expected, does it sound fair to you?” I asked as I slid the door open and helped him inside, asking him to stand still, wordlessly. “The excitement of seeing you again will keep me restless!” He said while I laid his futon on the ground.

“You have two choices then, you sleep on your own accord or I find that one spot in your neck to make you pass out. Which would it be?” He blinked in response, laughing breathlessly as he ushered to the futon, leaning on me as I set him down. “I will try to sleep, if you promise to sing for me when you come back,”

Rolling my eyes in response, I agreed. “I will see you in a few hours, rest well. And stop the focused breathing, you’ll only get tired more,” Rengoku’s eyes widened, as if surprised by my guess. The man thought himself slick enough to not get caught being sneaky, if sneaky was the adequate word. He was putting a lot of effort in his healing, but also slowing it down since his body was too tired, which rendered it all in vain. He nodded, a serene expression on his face while a small smile displayed on his lips. “Sleep it is, wake me up once you are back,” Another curt nod was what I gave him before departing.

For some reason, as I checked up on the patients in the medical wing, my mind kept wandering off. There was this feeling inside my chest that I could only describe as excitement at the thought of seeing the Fire Pillar again. His aura was so welcoming and warm, one could only feel drawn to it, to him, to his strong-willed attitude, his delightful albeit loud laugh and his oh so bright smile. As I was finishing up my tour, I had time to dwell in my thoughts no more when the young recruit in front of me tried to get out of bed.

“Tanjirou, you are to stay in bed until tomorrow. Should I call Aoi so that she keeps you bound to bed?” I knew the younger healer had some affection to spare for the newest slayer, I was not yet sure if he felt the same way, but he was well-enough aware that she was strong enough to keep him unmoving until the proper time. Her goal was to see all the injured slayers back on their feet, and while she wouldn’t admit it, she made it her top priority when Tanjirou was part of those injured people. “I’m fine! Look, I can move, I have to train! Being bed ridden is not enough of an impairment that it’d stop me from getting better, I have to-“ “If you leave this bed I won’t tell you what I know about a certain Pillar,” I trailed off, holding back the mischievous smile from my lips.

The brunette stopped everything and looked at me with wide-eyes, his scarred hands gripping mine, “Where is Rengoku! How- can I see him? His wounds, are they-“ “Let’s take a breath first, hm? He is awake-“

“I have to see him! I need to see him, please bring me to his room nurse-“ I made an exhausted face, “I’m not a nurse. The closest you’ll get to nurses would be Naho, Kiyu and Sumi, also Aoi but she is a strong fighter. I am here to treat your wounds, that is it.” He quickly apologized then fell silent. His state was not as bad as Rengoku’s, physically, but seeing the Pillar almost die in front of his eyes had an effect on the young man that was clearly visible if you paid enough attention. “He is bored and bed-ridden, but…” A glint of hope lit up in the young slayer’s eyes. “He wishes some company, if you promise to let me help you to his room, and to stay put once there, I am willing to bring you there. Only if you promise those things, is that clear?”

Nodding vigorously, he threw his legs to the side of the bed and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. I quickly realized he was in a better shape that I thought, for he did not need to lean on me much. On our way out I grabbed the crutches one of the girls had left and made our way to Kyojuro’s room. “Kyojuro, can I come in?” I called out once we arrived at his door.

“Yes you may!” So he is awake… does fatigue mean nothing to him? “I’ve been thinking, perhaps we could-“ He stopped mid-sentence when he saw Tanjirou by my side. I was also caught off guard when I saw the ginger kneeling on his heels, waiting expectantly while facing the door in which I stepped in. “Young Tanjirou! A pleasant surprise indeed, it is great to see that you are well-“ once more he could not finish his sentence as the brunette threw himself at him and hugged him tight. A loud huff escaped the ginger’s lips, but he hugged back, for a second I wondered how it’d feel to be wrapped around his inviting arms, but it was only a mere moment before I rushed to their collapsed form on the tatami.

“Tanjirou, Kyojuro is in no shape to get tackled yet. Would you mind getting off of him?” I tried to pry him away from the Pillar, but he was holding tight.

“It’s alright! It is a very welcomed hug! Would you like to join in, songbird?” My heart skipped a beat once again when the nickname rolled of his tongue after his invitation. It brought a smile to my face, but I only shook my head in response, “You are both too brute, I’ll wait until you’re done worsening your state, then I’ll step in,” I joked, making the Pillar laugh loudly. For some reason, it brought great pride in my heart to have made him laugh as such.

After a few minutes, Tanjirou moved away from the Fire Pillar, his eyes red and his cheeks stained with tears. Rengoku was in a better state, but if you paid closer attention, his eyes were watery from tears threatening to fall. I let them talk a while, when a few hours passed and Tanjirou’s eyelids were drooping, I interrupted them, “I believe it is enough for today, wouldn’t you agree?” I asked both men, but only one answered, the other one was kneeling next to him, sniffling. “The young man needs some rest; It was quite the adventure to see me it seems!” “I’ll bring him back to his room-“

“I’ll do it!” Aoi suddenly entered the room, a frown on her face. “He shouldn’t have left the bed in the first place, but you seem to be bending the rules a lot today,” She threw me a glare that quickly softened when she looked at Kyojuro then at me. A smug smile followed, “The things we do for lo-“ “And now you leave, I’ll see you at dinner. Refrain from bothering me any more than necessary, understood?”

With the same smile, she gave me a thumbs up, “Oh I understood very clearly, very very clearly. No interruption, no, none!” She then ushered away, Tanjirou at her side as she berated him lovingly on her way out. Once they were gone, I sighed.

“How is your wound?” I asked the Pillar as I knelt beside him, it was exhausting how prone he was to do exactly the opposite of what I would tell him. And yet, he was still a real sunshine to be with. “You are very worried, why is that? It’ll heal, it has not reopened, I am fine.” He said, lifting the shirt to show the wrappings still intact.

It’s with a deep breath that I explained one of the reasons I needed him in good health, “You are very valuable, and even if Master Ubuyashiki said he did not want you to fight you’d join fight anyway. The same fight that is in preparation, the one you’ll have to be ready for. I want you to be able to fight at the best of your abilities, because I trust you are powerful enough to tip the scale in our favor. So, make it easy for me, for both of us... I do not wish to be the reason you lose your life during the fight just because I did not treat you well enough, please…”

There was a short silence, sincerity was the best way to go with a man like him. He wanted that, he needed truths, not matter how it went, so I gave it to him. I was expecting him to be stubborn and tell me that he was fine, but he surprised me instead, “I will do my best to ease the burden of treating me!” “You’re not a burden- I did not mean it as such, I meant-“

“I am joking! I will stay put. Would you mind staying a bit longer? Having some company keeps me in check, it stops me from needing to do something to distract me from my thoughts,”

It caught me off guard, how blunt it was. I could have guessed something was troubling his mind, a lot could be doing so, but admitting he did not want to be alone… That was surprising, I could only accept. “I do owe you a song, do I not?” A huge smile made its way on his lips, it made my cheeks heat up from the undivided attention he now brought to me. I cleared my throat, when I was about to start he leaned in and held the side of my face, his thumb brushing over my right cheek. “You are embarrassed! Don’t be, I genuinely enjoy your voice, please don’t feel shy,”

There was no way I could tell him it did not help now that he had touched me, and that I felt my whole body set aflame. Instead, I moved his hand from my cheek and held it in mine, then started singing one of the many songs I was taught as a child. It always threw me back to my childhood, a wave of nostalgia hitting me. I closed my eyes, picturing old memories from when I was in my childhood home, running around with the other kids, summers, such as this one, spent in the fields, catching beetles. Helping my dad bring back wood to the house, it all came back to me.

Slowly, the song ended, I opened my eyes again and, in front of me, Kyojuro had tears rolling slowly down his face. “I’m sorry, did that song bring bad memories?”

“It was beautiful, it made me think of my little brother. I often helped him train with a wooden sword, before I became a Pillar. I miss him dearly, but plan on visiting my father’s house once this is over, maybe show him my breathing technique.” He paused, then smiled kindly, “You have a delicate voice, it felt like you were telling a story with such beautiful words. Would you care to sing another one?” A knot formed in my throat at the compliment he directed at me, not hearing his request at first. There was a delay in my response, but I nodded.

I patted his futon, “I’ll sing as many songs as you need until you fall asleep, I know you haven’t slept since I left,” “I don’t want to miss any of them!” I chuckled at his enthusiasm and went to grab a pillow from the closet to get more comfortable. “That is a problem, you are keen on not sleeping. I will not ask the reason why, but is there any way to convince you to sleep?”

The soft chuckle that left his lips made me uneasy, I saw the way his eyes looked askance as he slowly laid back on the futon. “Awful dreams plague my mind, it makes me restless, I found some respite when hearing your voice in my dreams… But it seems it’s not enough to keep them at bay,” He paused and huffed a laugh, “It is nothing I can’t get through, do not worry-“ “I’ll stay by your side until you’re asleep then, I’ll make sure to come check up on you throughout the night if you wish.”

His eyes widened, I caught myself off guard too. I should leave him; it was not a requirement to make sure he slept like a baby. It was not a requirement to care that much, but I felt a pull. Like planets around the sun, I felt right, it felt reassuring. “There is no need! I could never ask this much of you, I will be fine.”

I huffed and gesture for him to wait as I left the room, to only come back a few minutes after with trays of food. “Let us say, it is like I’m staying over for the night. Like when we were children, staying at a friend’s house,” Putting the trays next to Rengoku’s futon, I went to the cabinet and pulled out the other futon that was tucked away, and the small tables to keep the tray at a proper height. “Sumi will bring us tea, and you,” I placed his tray on the table next to him, “Will eat slowly, or I will make sure you don’t fight at all, understood?”

Relief flooded my body when he laughed loudly, nodding as he sat up. “Promised! Although, it would mean you would take care of me longer, I would not be against it,” My breath hitched in my throat, I looked at him without speaking. Then he let out a breathless laugh, “You are getting very playful, but your determination could not withstand being bed-ridden longer than necessary,” I started, opening the shoji-doors to take the teapot from Sumi’s hands, “You yearn for a fight, you would never let me worsen your state,” I said lightly as I knelt by my small table and poured tea inside Kyojuro’s cup.

“I yearn for something, someone, worth defending, protecting. I do not enjoy fighting aimlessly, I fight to protect the innocents and the ones who make my heart burn with passion,” He stared right at me as he said so, I felt how strongly he meant those words he had spoken. The need to apologize for assuming he was but a hot-blooded fighter was too strong, so I did. I apologized to him. “Do not, do not! It’s alright, I know a few Pillars who enjoy a good fight. If they ever ask to fight me, I will gladly accept, it is always a good practice,” He added, grinning as he brought a good portion of food with his chopsticks.

Feeling the need to lighten the mood, I ate a bit and told him, “Naho told me you enjoyed sweet potatoes, she is going to make some tomorrow, that ought to brighten your spirit-“ “Absolutely! Will you eat with me?” Looking up, I quirked a brow and smiled softly, about to explain, “I usually eat with-“ “Until I get back on my feet! After that, I will let you go back to Naho, Sumi and Kiyo. It would be an honor to have you eat with me while I get back to health!” He cut me off.

Closing my mouth, I weighed his words- how did he know I usually ate with them? “I am surprised you know of my evening routine, should I be worried of the extra pair of eyes watching my every movement?” It was a first, to see his face turn red in embarrassment. I had said so playfully, but it seems it made him a lot more bashful. “I did not mean to make you uncomfortable! I see you around the mansion, often around the same time in the evening you eat with them, that is all! I may have asked them to tell me when you are free, too. To no avail, they are silent as a tomb regarding your person,”

Sipping from my cup, I was now the one embarrassed as I asked, “Why would you want to know when I am free? I do not bite, you can ask me. Since Tengen is very curious, I told them to not tell a soul anything about me, that is all,”

Instead of replying, he shoved as much food in his mouth, before pointing at it and making me understand he couldn’t speak if it’s full. “I did tell you to eat small portions, Kyojuro. You’re going to-“ Choke is how I finished the sentence as I handed him his cup to help him swallow what he was choking on.

Once he was good, he cleared his throat and stared at me, a big smile on his face. The pink dust on his cheek had not left, “You are very busy, and resolved!” I laughed at that, nodding. “It shows when you train, even under the rain! You are not thrown off by such things, you are tenacious and strong. I like that!” The more he talked, the more I was becoming aware I was not the only one who would try to catch a glimpse of him, he would look my way too. I never caught him looking at me, we talked many times when crossing paths in the mansion, or when I’d treat his injuries. But here, it was different.

Here he was admitting he would try to find the right time to come my way, strike a conversation. Make it seem accidental too, but he was, as per his words, also very determined in his own actions. Perhaps too subtle, which was ironic coming from such a loud man, in his endeavor. “You admit you’ve been gawking when I train?” I asked jokingly, elating a silent gasp as he looked to the side only for a moment before looking at me.

“I am, yes! I wish to get to know you better and being bed-ridden seems to be the best way to do so,” I hummed in response, he continued, “I also see you lurking! You are bad at hiding your presence, but it’s alright. I can help you with that, if you’d like?” This time I was the one to choke on my food, he was just as fast to hand me his cup, instead of mine. I hesitantly took it, and drank some of his tea, handing it back to him with a thank you.

“I do not lurk, I come across your training and- and simply get fascinated by your movements. When Pillars are at the mansion, they leave just as soon, you do not, I take every opportunity to better my skills, that is all… And I do watch them train too… A bit,” I shrugged, putting my chopsticks horizontally on the bowl once I was done. It was a half-truth, it was part of the reason, yes. But when the others were training, I would let them be. When the Fire Pillar was part of the equation, I’ll admit I was gawking, drinking in the sight when he’d attach his long sleeves with a ribbon and tie his hair back. His eyes focused and sharp, he could see everything. No wonder he caught me.

“I asked the others! They sometimes catch you glancing at them, but that’s it. You only watch me, I do not mind! It’s cute, maybe we could train together if you are so willing to better your great skills,” He said genuinely, as if he hadn’t exposed my longing. Maybe he had not understood how much I enjoyed looking at him, craving to get closer and talk to him. But he had said so too, we both wanted to get to know one another.

Putting his chopsticks down, he was about to help me tidy up without saying anything more, but I told him to stay there. “Don’t, I’ll do it. You should lay down,” I said as I stood up, cleaning everything. “Lay down? Do you not know that if you go to sleep right after eating, you turn into a cow?” He said jokingly. “That is a superstition, as a child I believed so, but I know better now,” I walked to the door and placed everything outside, calling for the girls and hearing their socks against the well-waxed parquet as they rushed to the room. “I will be spending the night here, do not disturb,” I whispered to them. It earned me reddened cheeks as they ushered away, giggling and murmuring to each other.

Once I went back inside, Rengoku was standing with the crutches as he looked at me, beaming, “We should go for a walk! I do not wish to turn into a cow,” He said with conviction, a playful gleam in his eyes as he gestured with his head to follow him. “You…” I squinted my eyes, in a threatening way.

“I am not ready to go to sleep just yet, I wish to spend more time with you! Join me for a stroll?” Sighing, I reached his side and stood close to him as we wandered to the veranda. I was ready to catch him at any time if he tripped but he seemed to be managing well, “You do not really believe you’ll turn into a cow, do you?” I broke the silence, elating a loud laugh from the Fire Pillar. “I do not! Perhaps Senjuro believes it still, he is afraid to whistle at night in fear of attracting serpents,” Wanting to fool him a bit, I looked at him in shock, “Does it not?” His eyes widened as he stood still, looking at me in surprise.

Bursting out laughing, I held his arm and waved my arm in front of him, “I’m joking! You should have seen your face,” I laughed, trying to stay as silent as possible. “I am not a very superstitious person. But do not tell Master Ubuyashiki, he is a firm believer,” I told him discretely, noticing Kiyo at the corner ahead of us. She was eavesdropping, probably curious since I told them I would be staying in the Fire Pillar’s room tonight. “We have company,” I whispered, glancing subtly towards her. Without looking, Kyojuro smiled beautifully, “I am very aware, hopefully they will not tell Aoi that I am out of bed, bad things happen when we go against her orders,” His tone was lower than I’ve ever heard it, I even believed he did not know how to whisper. But he could, visibly.

“You are under my responsibility now, she has nothing to say with what I do with, or to, you,” I said in a playful tone, hoping to convey that I could do anything if he did not listen to me. Warmth filled my body when he threw me a side-glance and smirked. It was quick and gone like the breeze, but I caught it and it made me feel very much alive. We then both talked at the same time, I told him to go ahead but he encouraged me to go on, which I did, “They spread rumors like wildfire, those three girls, if Aoi is in on it, it’s going to be quite fast,” I said off-handedly, looking around to see if they were still here.

Laughing, Kyojuro stopped and leaned against the wall a moment, smiling my way, “The saying goes: rumors only last 75 days. All we will need to do is turn that rumor into truth! If it’s not a rumor, it’s not a problem!” I turned around, my eyes open wide in surprise as my mouth opened only slightly, speechless. Chuckling nervously, I did not comment on it and simply changed topic, clearing my throat as I nodded his way, “Let me help you back to your room, you seem exhausted,” Did he not realize what he was saying? How blunt, how forthright, and yet he seemed to be liking the idea a lot since he was smiling from ear to ear.

“I am not tired, maybe I’ve thought my recovery better than it actual is,” He laughed, letting me help him. He kept one crutch as we made our way back, while leaving the other behind. I was sure Kiyo would take it back to his room before we even arrived. “I forgot to ask you, what did you want to say earlier?” “That I wish to court-“ Repeating ‘no’ many times, I quickly interrupted him, ignoring the direction his sentence was going. “When we both spoke at the same time, you were going to say something,” He went silent a moment.

Then he laughed lightly, he moved his hand holding the crutch, losing his balance a bit. He seemed to stammer as he tried to find his words then found himself and said with confidence, “I would like to hold your hand, unfortunately it would be hard in the position we are in right now,”

A sound left my throat, out of surprise. Followed by a nervous laugh, before I moved my hand that was holding his elbow around my shoulders, to holding his hand. It was a strange position, the back of my hand was in his palm, our fingers intertwined. His hands were rough but warm, it felt comforting. None of us spoke until we arrived at his room, that’s when I gently removed his arm from around my shoulders to let him lay down, but he did not let go. Looking at him, I noticed the redness of his cheeks as he spoke, “I meant what I said, I wish to properly court you. Perhaps a few steps have been skimmed over already since you are in my chambers-“

I couldn’t help the embarrassed laugh, thinking he meant that since we were in the same bedroom we could have sex, but he quickly let go of my hand and moved them in front of him in panic, “Not in the way we should do anything! I find it funny that you are staying tonight, and I am grateful for it too-“ He paused and rubbed the back of his head before looking at me, “I am not good at this! But I like you!” He said loudly.

I snorted as I moved the crutch Kiyo brought back, next to his futon, then the penny dropped. I hadn’t paid attention to the last part, and it was now being assimilated in my brain. Keep your cool, get to know him, then see how it goes.

“I accept your courting, I would also like to get to know you…” Trailing off, I sat down on my futon after having blown the light off, “You are interesting Kyojuro, you’d be even more interesting if you listened to me once in a while,” I said playfully while laying down, facing his futon. He did the same, but did not seem exhausted at all, he was staring at me with wide eyes and a smile. “I am so excited to recover fully to finally be able to train with you!” He reached out across the tatami, his arm not long enough to reach my side with the distance between us.

My hand clenched the pillow tight, then I let go and reached out for his hand. I didn’t say anything, only continuing the conversation, but I stuttered as I spoke when I saw the content smile on his lips once I wrapped my hand around his. “I’ll see if Shinobu can help with your healing, I cannot promise anything… It’s funny because all you have to do is: nothing, and yet you’re struggling,” I huffed, laying on my back, while still holding his hand, “You mentioned someone called Senjurou, is that your brother?” I whispered, directing the question to the only person in the room.

Yet, I did not receive and answer. Calling his name softly, no answer was given again. I looked at him from the corner of my eye and saw he had fallen asleep, “Already?” I breathed, facing him once more. “Good…” When I tried to free my hand from his grasp, he held tighter but did not wake up. I let out a breathy laugh and squeezed back, thinking that there was no leaving him tonight. There were worse predicaments than this one, like having to take care of Sanemi’s wounds, right.

With how quiet the night was, sleep easily came to me. Deep inside, I was not convinced it was the quiet of the night that made it so easy to sleep, perhaps it was the comforting presence of the Pillar by my side. Whichever it was, I did not care.

[Part 2]

[bumblesimagines]

Green Thumb

Part 8

Request: Yes or No

Sam and y/n had more development than y/n and Wanda lmao

~

You crossed your arms as you entered the room, glancing at the older man. You shared a look with Sam and Wanda, taking a seat in between Sam and Vision. You licked your lips, leaning towards Sam.

"What's this about?" You asked quietly, gaze flickering to Tony who sat in a corner.

"If I had to guess.. Probably about what happened in Lagos." Sam replied, glancing at Steve and Natasha. You frowned, looking at the Secretary of State.

"The world owes the Avengers an unpayable debt." He began, gaze sweeping over everyone in the room.

"You have.. Fought for us, protected us, risked your lives but while a great many people see you as heroes, there are some who would prefer the term 'vigilantes.'"

"And what word would you use, Mr. Secretary?" Natasha asked, studying the older man. You looked back at Tony Stark, making brief eye contact with him. It felt like an intervention. Or a teacher scolding their class after they made the sub cry.

"How about dangerous?" You frowned, looking forward when you heard his words.

"What would you call a group of US based enhanced individuals who routinely ignore borders and inflict their will wherever they choose and who, quite frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?" Mr. Secretary asked, looking over the small group in disappointed. You'd hate to admit it, but he had a point. The citizens of Sokovia were left to find new homes and the people of Lagos had to fix what had been destroyed. Mr. Secretary stepped to the side, looking at the screen. Videos began playing of all the times the Avengers caused destruction and most likely death. Wanda looked away, growing uncomfortable as the aftermath of the Lagos incident played. She already felt guilty enough about it. She had told you many times how she wished it would've gone differently. Steve noticed, frown deepening.

"That's enough." He called, watching the screen turn off.

"For the last few years, you've operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That's a decision the governments of the world can no longer tolerate." Mr. Secretary told them, hands clasped behind his back. You frowned, brows furrowing slightly.

"But we have a solution." Mr. Secretary took a book from his bodyguard, stepping forward and handing it to Wanda. Wanda picked it up, looking it over.

"The Sokovia Accords.. Approved by a hundred and seventeen countries." Wanda slid the book over to Rhodes so he could take a proper look at it. You looked at Mr. Secretary as he walked around the table.

"It states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they'll operate under the supervision of The United Nations Panel, only when and if that panel deems it necessary."

"That's such bullshit." You whispered. Mr. Secretary turned towards you, cocking a brow. Natasha let an amused smile slip while Sam covered up his snicker with a cough.

"The Avengers were created to make the world a safer place." Steve spoke up before he could address you.

"This is the middle ground." Mr. Secretary said, walking to the front again and facing everyone.

"The Accords will be ratified in a couple days." Steve turned towards Tony, earning a silent response.

"I'll leave you to discuss."

"And if we come to a decision you don't like?" Leave it to Natasha to say what was on everyones' minds. Mr. Secretary paused as he approached the door.

"Then you retire." He answered plainly. You watched him leave, picking up the cup of water infront of You You went to take a sip but it turned to ice before you could drink from it. With a small huff, you placed it down.

"That's new." Natasha called with a small smile, hoping to ease the tension in the room. You stood up, leaving the meeting room and heading to the lounge. The others followed, taking more comfortable seats on the couch. A debate quickly started between Rhodes and Sam while Steve looked through the Accords.

"Have you two thought about starting a debate club?" You asked, tapping the frozen water a few times before it finally turned back to normal water. Natasha let out a small snort, chuckling as she shook her head.

"I have an equation." Vision announced, stopping Rhodes and Sam. They turned towards him.

"In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of enhanced people has grown and during the same period, the number of world ending events has risen."

"So, it's Starks' fault?" You asked, leaning back in your seat with a tilted head. Tony scoffed from his spot on the couch, rolling his eyes.

"I'm saying, there might be a causality. Our very strength invites challenge, challenge insights conflict, and conflict... Breeds catastrophe. Oversight is not an idea that should be dismissed."

"I wish I understood half of what you said." You muttered softly, running your finger the leaf of a plant beside the seat. Natasha turned towards Tony, watching him.

"You're being uncharacteristic non-hyper verbal." Natasha pointed out softly as he looked at her with a deep sigh. Steve looked up from the Accords.

"It's cause he already made up his mind." Steve said, earning a small eye roll. Tony slowly sat up, rubbing the back of his head.

"Actually, I'm nursing a headache." He muttered as he stood up, walking towards the coffee machine. He poured himself some coffee and grabbed a bottle of pills before sighing and placing down a device. He showed an image of a young man.

"Oh, that's Charles Spencer, by the way. A great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA, had a floor level gig for the fall. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the people in Sokovia." Tony said, obviously agitated as he looked over everyone. You wondered why he now cared for the people who were injured during attacks.

"He wanted to make a difference although we'll never know cause we dropped a building on him while kicking ass." Everyone stayed silent as he spoke. You watched him take a pill, drinking it with the coffee.

"There's no decision making here. We need to be put in check. Whatever form that takes, I'm game. If we can't accept limitations, we're no better than the bad guys."

"Tony, when someone dies on your watch, you don't give up." Steve closed the Accords, looking at Tony with a frown.

"Who says we're giving up?"

"We are by not taking responsibilities for our actions. This document shifts the blame." Steve voiced his opinion, shrugging lightly.

"Steve, that is dangerously arrogant." Rhodes spoke up, shaking his head. Steve turned towards him.

"This is the United Nations we're talking about. It's not the world security counsel, it's not S.H.I.E.L.D, it's not HYDRA-"

"But it's run by people with agendas and agendas change." Steve pointed out as you rubbed your forehead, sighing softly. Both sides had good points but you sided with Steve. The team was obviously divided.

"What do you think, (Y/N)?" Vision asked, looking at you curiously. You licked your lips, gaze focusing on Tony.

"I'm curious as to why you care so much about this Charles guy. You've had, what was it? Eight years as Iron Man to care about the people who get hurt? Why now? Cause you realized one of those people could become the new you? Would you care this much about Charles if he had been a typical guy? No degree, no plans for the future, just a normal guy working a normal 9 to 5 job and just trying to make it through the week. I agree with Steve. What if something happens and they don't send us to help because it doesn't go with their agenda? People get hurt cause you've never set up a system to help after these things happen. You're a fucking billionaire, Tony. Make a company that's designed to help people get back on their feet after the Avengers bulldoze through cities." You said, legs crossing as you looked over everyone else. Steve gave a small nod, glad you were seeing his side. He checked his phone, abruptly standing and announcing he had to leave. You and the others watched him go in confusion.

"To answer your questions, I do care about normal people." Tony said, arms crossing. You let out a soft groan, leaning back in the couch.

"I'm sorry, what are you? Twelve? Didn't you turn twenty this year?" Tony cocked a brow, watching as you rolled your eyes and stood.

"Yeah, I did turn twenty. Surprised you knew considering you've never particularly liked me."

"Well, first impressions are everything and you did try impaling me with a branch."

"Maybe I should've."

"Alright, boys, let's calm down." Natasha called, placing a hand on your shoulder. You turned and walked towards the steps, heading down to your room at the facility. You entered and plopped down on the bed, running a hand through your hair. You tapped your foot on the ground, fingers going to the root bracelets in an attempt to relax. Wanda opened the door, closing it behind her and sitting beside you.

"What's wrong?" She asked softly, staring at you in concern. You weren't one to snap at others so quickly.

"There's so much going on. The Accords, my fucking powers, the sudden change in Nat and Tony, you possibly getting into trouble cause of the Lagos incident.. That could've been me." You breathed out. Wanda frowned, brows furrowing.

"No, it wouldn't have."

"I shot fire out of my hands and turned water to ice without meaning to. They're getting unpredictable." You looked at her, grip on the roots tightening. Wanda's gaze flickered to the window, making you turn. Part of the window was covered in a thin layer of ice.

"And that just proved my point."

"You're an incredible person, (N/N). Have faith in yourself. You'll gain control of them sooner or later. You have beautiful powers that could change and heal the world." Wanda pointed out gently, having you rest your head on her shoulder. She softly began to hum a lullaby. You didn't understand the words but her soft voice proved to be soothing.

"Thank you."

~~~~~~~~~~

"Why'd you call me again?" You asked, toying with the strings of your hoodie as you looked around the cafe. You had planned on taking a nap and watching a new show on Netflix but it seemed like Steve had other plans for you.

"Because I trust you and need your help." Steve replied, fixing his baseball cap as he tried avoiding eye contact with civilians.

"Really?" You asked softly. Steve nodded, offering a smile. He licked his lips, nodding to the tv. You turned, looking at the news. You really didn't have to considering what they were showing was right down the street.

"Your friend?" You looked back at Steve with a tilted head.

"We gotta find him before anyone else does." Steve said. You nodded, watching him. Steve had been desperately trying to find his friend, Bucky, since the attempt on Furys' life.

"I'll go in alone. We don't want to seem threatening or set him off by going in as a trio."

"(Y/N)? Being threatening? He can't even scare a baby!" Sam said in amusement, shooting you a playful grin.

"Right back at you, bird boy."

"I'm sorry, who here is named after the top bird of prey?" Sam asked, leaning forward slightly as Steve let out an amused sigh.

"Oh, I didn't know you were named after eagles." You responded, smiling in triumph when Sam huffed lightly.

"Come on, you two." Steve chuckled, leaving the cafe and heading down the sidewalk.

"I don't trust Stark." You told them, arms crossing. Sam glanced at you as Steve turned into an alleyway.

"Not surprised considering the little fight you two had."

"I think he had Vis keep an eye on me and Wanda. I snuck out while he was with Wanda in the kitchen." You told him, frowning.

"Firstly, I'm an adult-"

"That's questionable."

"-And secondly, he's not my dad." You took off the hoodie as Steve unlocked a car parked in the alleyway, giving Sam the duffle bag with his outfit. You looked at your phone when it buzzed, seeing texts from Clint.

Clint

Heard you had a fight with Stark

Clint

You're officially an Avenger now

You smiled softly, chuckling softly at the texts. You waited for the guys to finish changing before taking the earpiece from Steve. The apartment building had been nearby so you and Sam headed onto the roof while Steve entered.

"How well do you think this will go?" You asked Sam, looking for any sign of law enforcement.

"Wanna bet?"

"How much?" You looked at him, giving a small grin. Sam looked up at the sky for a moment, thinking it over.

"30 bucks. I bet this will go to shit and this dude will escape."

"I bet we'll get into serious shit but this dude will either come with us or get caught." You replied. Sam stuck out his hand, nodding. You shook it, chuckling softly. You turned your head, noticing movement.

"We've got company, Cap."

"They're approaching from the south." Sam added, attention focused on them. You heard Steve begin to talk to someone, watching the cars pull in and get ready. You turned your head, hearing the door to the roof open.

"Shit." You whispered, letting Sam pick you up and lift you into the air. You could hear the fight going on inside through the earpiece.

"Should we help?" You asked, glancing up at Sam.

"No clue." Sam replied, watching Bucky jump from the apartment onto the roof of another building. You noticed someone running at a high speed, jumping up onto the roof and knocking Bucky down.

"They have cat ears." You mumbled, pushing Sam's arms away.

"Deal with them." You motioned to the German police force on the roof, hoping down onto the roof. You raised your hand, a root shooting out and grabbing the strangers arm, refraining them from clawing at Bucky. Bucky turned his head, making eye contact with you. Your eyes widened when the man grabbed the root, using what felt like super strength to toss you off the roof. You quickly used a root to grab onto the side, breathing out a sigh of relief. Sam took care of a helicopter before flying by to grab you.

"Thanks." You breathed out, holding onto him as he followed the chase. Steve, Bucky, and the cat guy went into one of the tunnels. Sam flew in once there was an opening, trying to help Steve with the cat guy. You huffed when the cat guy grabbed Sam's ankle, pointing your hand at him and shooting a strong gust of air. The cat guy lost his grip monetarily but quickly grabbed on again. Bucky threw up an explosive so Sam quickly stopped, flinging the guy off him. Sam landed, walking past the rubble. You sighed, raising your hands as you and Sam were quickly surrounded by cops.

"Mom's gonna kill me." You whispered.

"That's what you're concerned about?" Sam asked, glancing at you in disbelief.

"We're getting arrested, (Y/N)!"

[ckneal]

There’s a midam AU idea that’s been living in the back of my mind for months now, but it’s been slow going. Mainly because I suspect that doing the idea justice is going to mean doing more research than I’m used to, and maybe even rewatching the series proper to help me fill in some of the weak spots, and I have so many other story ideas that are frankly just easier to work on, two of which are already slated to be multi-chapter works. . . But I’m in the mood to type up something longwinded, so here we go. Keep reading if you’d like to see a rough outline of the first few chapters of this story I really hope to write out properly sometime.

(Warning, this is a long one.)

So, this story is loosely based on the Hundred Years War that took place between England and France from 1337-1453. But it’s only very loosely inspired. Very, very loosely. As in, I was reading a book, I read about one thing that happened, it germinated in my head, and then suddenly I had a plot developing that featured my current favorite ship. Additional sources of inspiration include one of my favorite fantasy series, and a personally beloved trashy romance novel. Because it’s fanfiction, folks. There are no rules here.

Of course, in this AU, the entire world is going to be made up, with neither side of the war distinctly being assigned the role of England or France—or Flanders or Burgundy, for that matter. I barrowed an inciting incident, and few smaller details from history to help things along here and there, but with no regard for keeping all the French things assigned to one group and the English ones to another.

That said, the inciting incident took its inspiration from the Battle of Poiters, a conflict during which England not only won against the French, but also took their king hostage. King Jean II was later ransomed back to his people, but at a sum that was so high, France could not afford to pay it all at once. England still returned France’s king, but new hostages were provided to serve as collateral during the interim, including the King’s son.

So. . .crown Prince Michael Shurley completely decimates King John Winchester on the battlefield, and sends his demands to John’s queen, Mary Winchester. The two kingdoms have been locked in a territory dispute for several decades, and this is one of the more humiliating events to befall the smaller kingdom yet, especially since they are unable to meet all of Michael’s demands. When the Winchesters begrudgingly admit this to the Shurley representatives, they’re caught off guard when they’re offered a trade: John Winchester will be returned, so long Dean Winchester takes his place as collateral.

Things are less than stable in the Winchester kingdom however, with more than a few factions quietly scheming for power. John and Mary were an arranged marriage that was originally held up like a fairytale when the two seemingly fell madly in love during their mandated courtship, but the years afterward had changed them. Civil unrest sparked by the war had brought out a lot of disagreements between the Winchesters and the Campbells and their approaches to governing.

John’s supporters are the ones to step forward with a plan, and convince Mary that it’s vitally important the people are not alarmed by their king’s capture. Mary initially finds it distasteful, but it’s talked around and adjusted and reframed, as John’s people ferret out more and more information about the vital party involved, until she finally agrees.

Because John Winchester just happened to have a bastard son. The resemblance to Dean might not be particularly remarkable, but no one at the Shurley court has ever seen the Winchester heir before. Plus, Adam Milligan has spent the entirety of his teen years studying to become a physician, of all things. He’s perfect for their purposes. 

Ten years prior, the Shurley court had had to deal with its own bout of civil unrest, when King Chuck Shurley’s second eldest son had attempted to overthrow him with the support of several nobles from one the kingdom’s richest providences. Lucifer had allegedly been driven into exile following his defeat, and Chuck had been said to have contracted some sort of mysterious illness. According to rumors, the king had shut himself up in his private chambers and refused to admit anyone apart from his remaining children. Even servants were barred from tending him directly.

They snatch Adam away from his studies and force him into compliance by dusting off an archaic law left over from before the start of the war, when the kingdom relied on a conscription military force rather than a standing army full of career military professionals—this law empowering the crown to call on any of its citizens for a minimum forty days of military service per year. They tell Adam that his mission seems more dangerous than it is—really, all he has to do is pretend to be Dean, and use his medical knowledge to figure out exactly what mysterious illness has bedridden the enemy monarch.

Sam and Dean—the proverbial heir and spare of the kingdom—are not at court to meet their younger brother, when he’s hastily fitted for a royal wardrobe and put through a crash course on court etiquette. Sam is very publicly put on display at a holiday festival in another part of the kingdom, while Dean is sent orders to quietly stay behind at a country estate while his valet, Kevin Tran, is sent on to court. Neither of the princes is told about the plan until after Adam has already been shipped out, with Kevin in toe to help Adam along with the impersonation.

No one involved is in anyway comfortable with the mission. But it was only supposed to be for forty days. Adam was assured that the necessary funds to pay off the ransom would either be raised by the end of the minimum mandated service, or they would make contact to extract him. The Campbells and the Winchesters both allegedly had spies in the Shurley court, and they would make themselves known when the time was right.

Adam is given the impression that the latter had been told to him with the intention of making him feel safer. It did not work.

He’s terrified when he arrives—almost would have preferred being promptly thrown into a dungeon upon arrival, instead of a room full of foreign nobility who one and all give off the impression that if cut they’d bleed straight silver, and look at “Dean,” the hostage prince and purported military genius from the tiny, vicious country across the channel, as a curiosity to be studied. He��s assigned two guards (who I decided will be Anael and Samandriel, based entirely on the tags I threw together at then end of this post, during which I decided that I love these three together), who follow him around relentlessly, but beyond that, he’s. . .pretty much treated like a guest. If a stiflingly monitored one. There are limitations on where he can go and what he can do, but for the most part he’s just sort of. . .there.

Most unnerving of all, however, is the small package that Adam finds in his room when he first settles in. Kevin swears he has no idea who left it. It has the Campbell’s insignia clearly worked into the pattern of the paper it’s wrapped in, and inside he finds a knife small enough to conceal on his person, and a number of different herbs and powders that he recognizes from his studies—though of course, he’s more familiar with remedies to counteract their effects.

In other words, he finds an assassin’s-first-kill-job kit, and instructions on how and when to use it, if opportunity arises. This had not been part of the deal when Adam reluctantly signed on.

Unbeknownst to Adam however—though suspected by some parties in the Winchester court—Adam cannot assassinate Chuck Shurley, because Chuck is not there. Shortly after Lucifer’s insurrection, Chuck had quietly disappeared. Michael had only been a teenager at the time. He invented the story about Chuck being ill on impulse, certain that Chuck would be back sooner than later, and Raphael had gone along with it because, being twelve years old, Raphael was not yet old enough to question Michael’s judgement. It is now an awkward point between them.

Adam soon becomes another.

Michael regularly checks in to see how Adam’s getting on, in a way that Kevin assures Adam is entirely appropriate, since Michael is under the impression that Adam is going to be a fellow monarch someday, and is likely trying to be courteous. Adam inherently feels somewhat flustered around Michael though, which is not helped by the fact that Michael is somehow always present whenever Adam puts his foot in his mouth socially. On more than one occasion, he’s thankful that almost no one has actually been to his homeland, allowing Adam to blame an astonishing number of fuck ups on cultural differences.

Michael and Adam’s early one on one interaction are intensely awkward. Adam will forget to wear gloves, and then Michael will comment that Adam’s hands are oddly devoid of callouses for someone who’d practically been raised with a sword in his hand, leaving Adam to scramble for some flimsy excuse about hand cream. Adam will inquisitively ask questions about what sort of illness would be severe enough to leave someone bedridden for a decade but not kill them in that time (Kevin frantically motioning over Michael’s shoulder to convey that that is NOT the right way to fish for details on such a sensitive subject), and Michael will struggle to find an excuse around the quietly bubbling panic, because he hasn’t had to try to explain anything about his father since that first year, and he is not a particularly gifted liar.  

And then there’s Raphael.

Unlike Michael, Raphael is suspicious of “Dean” right from the start, pulling Michael aside to point out things that don’t seem quite right according to what their informants have told them about Dean Winchester.

“Doesn’t he look a bit young?”

“Some people look younger than they are, Raphael.”

“I was told Dean Winchester had dark hair.”

“Dark blond is dark.”

“Aren’t his eyes supposed to be green?”

“They’re obviously blue.”

“That’s exactly my point.”

The forty days come and go with Adam and Kevin nervously waiting for some sort of sign from home. Roughly two weeks later, a messenger arrives with unexpected news for Michael’s court: the Campbells have officially broken ties with the Winchesters in a violent bid for power that has left the kingdom at war with itself.

According to Kevin, the civil war has probably slowed things down a bit, if it’s as bad as the rumors say. . .

Adam and Kevin are stranded.

“Don’t worry though—I know Dean, and he knows our necks are on the line. He’ll keep out of sight until they manage to get us out of here.”

Adam finds it difficult to put faith in the virtues of a brother he’s never met, but doesn’t have it in him to question Kevin’s faith. He worries about his mother, who might have been safe in the countryside, but also might have made the trek to the capitol when it came out that Adam had been abducted for the sake of persevering the royal family's throne. He can’t be sure.

And to top it off, Michael takes to stopping by Adam’s room every couple of days to privately talk about the movements of the various factions—who has been sighted where and in what condition, where they’re rumored to be headed. Adam interprets it as an attempt to shake out inside information. One day, Adam finally tries to set him straight by saying it doesn’t matter how many ugly details Michael throws at him, Adam can’t help him because he doesn’t know anything—and is promptly put to shame when Michael looks at him in surprise and says, “You misunderstand. I assumed that you would want to know these things, because they are your family.”

Michael leaves, and Adam’s guards exchange a look. When asked, Samandriel awkwardly tells Adam that the royal family used to have a fourth child. Gabriel. He was lost during Lucifer’s insurrection. Pirates overtook his ship. They’d never received a ransom. Michael had purportedly offered a standing reward for any news of Gabriel, and put an unwise amount of resources into searching for him until it threatened the war effort.

Adam and Michael start talking more frequently from there, starting with an apology on Adam’s part. It’s tricky at first, because Michael starts out asking questions about Dean Winchester's military exploits—it is the most likely common ground between them, after all—and Adam has to hastily change the subject every time. By the two month mark, they’re talking affably, and rumors start to circulate through the courts as Michael's routine check ins on Adam start getting less formal and more frequent.

On the four month mark, rumors get even worse. Raphael finally sits Michael down and really gets into all of the things about “Dean” that don’t add up, item by item. If he’s trying to pretend he doesn’t know anything about his country’s military exploits, he’s far too convincing given his reported record, and Raphael has it on good authority that more than half of those “cultural differences” in etiquette that keep cropping up are completely unfounded—and look here, three different informants have sent lists of Dean Winchester’s physical characteristics, and the foreign prince DOES NOT MATCH.

“Michael, something is not right here.”

“Fine, I’ll talk to him about it now.”

And Michael storms off to address “Dean,” while Raphael calls after him that he should wait until morning. Because it is the middle of the night.

Adam just happens to be up reading. Michael’s familiar with the book. Michael gets distracted, and they talk all night. The sun’s coming up when Michael finally leaves, and a servant happens to see him slipping out of Adam’s room. Suggestive conjectures promptly follow, and Raphael exasperatedly admits they only have themself to blame.

And this only gets worse, because now Adam and Michael have transitioned into being friends. No more guarded conversations where one is convinced the other is about to catch them in some sort of lie. When Raphael mentions that some of the lesser nobles are starting to think Michael and Adam are courting, Michael’s fidgeting is not at all lost on them, as Michael assures them that of course that isn't the case. He and Dean are merely establishing friendly relations that will serve them well down the road politically—

“After the war is over?”

“Of course, after the war is over.”

Adam’s been stranded in the Shurley court for almost a year by the time that he finally slips into his room and sees a sealed message set out on his bed. Adam doesn’t recognize the insignia as belonging to either the Winchesters or the Campbells, but it’s signed with the initials “SW” at the bottom. It mostly contains a lot of vague phrases that make Adam wonder if he was supposed to be versed in some sort of code. As far as he’s concerned, the only important information comes at the end: Kate Milligan has been safely relocated for the duration of the civil war.

Relieved, Adam goes down to dinner, where some sort of seasonal holiday is being celebrated, and has a bit more wine than he normally would. The Shurley court is one of those stuffy courts where seating is stiffly dictated by tradition. As a foreign prince, Adam’s assigned seat is at the same table as Michael, although, according to Kevin, his placement's much further down due to his being a hostage. After a few drinks, and after most of the nobles have cleared off from the table to talk and celebrate elsewhere in the hall, Adam sees no reason not to get up and relocate down the line of chairs to sit closer to Michael. It was against the rules, but Adam was aware enough not to sit in Raphael’s empty seat, and he’d been seen with Michael so often that Anael and Samandriel barely even blinked, because Adam obviously wasn’t about to attack their prince or anything.

However, it is worth noting that while talking to Adam, Michael consumes a decent amount more wine than he would normally have as well.

Later that night, Michael’s walking Adam back to his room, and he starts to comment that Adam seems happier than usual. But even when sober, Michael would struggle to say something like that—if he’d even attempt it while sober—and Adam winds up biting his lip as he watches Michael’s mounting embarrassment, as a simple compliment inexplicably morphs—words seemingly forcing their way out as Michael tries and utterly fails to stop them—into a compliment about how Adam is beautiful—that is, he’s always beautiful—that is, Michael can’t help noticing Adam most days—that is. . .

. . .Michael is adorable. And in a moment of pure, thoughtless impulse, Adam leans in and kisses Michael right there in the corridor.

Michael is profoundly shocked, and his reaction delayed. Adam had only gone in intending to briefly press his lips against Michael’s, but as he’s pulling away Michael abruptly leans in and reseals the kiss, and Adam in turn takes that as an invitation to pull Michael closer. And a few minutes later, Raphael happens to walk down the hallway and find the two of them enthusiastically kissing against the wall.

And Raphael promptly turns around and goes back the way they came, only stopping at one point to flag down a servant and order them not to let anyone else walk down that particular corridor for at least an hour, hoping that Michael and Adam’s “friendly relations” wouldn’t result in anything too inappropriate.

As it happens, nothing particularly inappropriate happens. Nonetheless, Michael still wakes up the next morning, fully clothed in his own bed, in panic because the first thought to distinctly make its way through the ungodly pain in his head is that he’d taken liberties with a guest the night before. The heir to a foreign power at that, a peer, a hostage! Michael never thought he was capable of something so dishonorable--he’d had Dean pressed up against the wall as if they were a couple of ill-bred urchins, and how does one even go about apologizing for something like that?

(Of course, if Michael were thinking clearly, he might have remembered that Adam had actually been the one to back himself up against the wall, with Michael obligingly following along, quite malleable to whatever positioning Adam wanted so long as Adam kept kissing him.)

Michael’s behavior was beyond unacceptable. If his father hadn’t already abandoned them, he’d likely disown Michael out of pure shame. There was no telling what kind of damage he’d done to the relationship between their kingdoms. At best, Michael’s uncouth actions would be a dirty secret between them in the years to come, after Dean married, and Michael was left barely able to look Dean’s spouse in the eye. If Michael were a lesser noble, his parents might demand he married Dean outright.

And suddenly Michael sat up in bed, realizing he could marry Dean. His mind begins racing, because of course he could marry Dean! It made perfect sense. They enjoyed each other’s company, and with both of them being heir to their respective kingdoms, their union would effectively end the war. It might be complicated—especially given some of the odd customs Dean had introduced to Michael’s court—but marriages had been used to cemented alliances often enough, and the thought of marrying Dean elicited a curiously hot feeling in Michael’s stomach, remembering the way Adam had pulled him close the night before.

(Fun fact, England and France actually did try to do this with the Treaty of Troyes in 1420; it did not go as planned.)

Michael goes through the rest of his day in an uncharacteristically upbeat mindset, because now it all seems to just be a matter of organizing things, and he is good at organizing. He would have to write to either John or Mary Winchester as soon as the situation in their kingdom settled, and formally ask for Dean’s hand, and he and Dean should have a chaperone present at all times moving forward to avoid scandal--though there would be no way to sidestep scandal altogether, of course. Adam was still technically Michael’s prisoner. 

More than likely, the Winchesters or Campbells would demand Michael relinquish his claim to at least half of the territories that they’d spent the last few decades fighting over, but that would be fine. It’s traditional in Michael’s country to give gifts to one’s in-laws, and Dean is a future monarch. Anything too little would be insulting, and all would be consolidated eventually when Dean and Michael assumed their respective thrones. . .

Michael is still walking around delightfully living in his own head when Raphael pulls him into an empty room to discuss what they witnessed the night before. While not the most shocking scenario they could have imagined, they were not expecting to hear their brother announce that he and Dean Winchester would be getting married.

“And how are we to explain away our father’s absence during the proceedings, Michael?”

Michael’s good mood promptly withers. Because of course Chuck would be expected to play some part in arranging his son’s wedding. Ill or not, at the very least, he would be expected to make an appearance at the wedding. To have no part in it at all would be suspicious, not to mention rude.

While Raphael intended to snap Michael back to his senses, they had not meant to shake Michael into an immediate depression. They try for a gentler tone.

“You know, Michael. Our father has been gone for over a decade. He left no formal plans, he's sent no word. By any standard, he's abdicated. Perhaps this isn’t the right time to introduce a political marriage. Perhaps we should consider your assuming the kingship, and then come back around to formalizing your relationship with Dean—”

Michael, of course, is against this. Because their father is alive, and he will come back, and it will not be to find that another one of his sons had greedily tried to usurp the throne.

Seeing Michael about to fall back onto a familiar tangent, Raphael chooses the lesser of two evils and takes the conversation back to “Dean.” They ask which out of the two of them proposed to the other.

Michael abruptly realizes that he's forgotten something.

Meanwhile, Adam starts his morning on a much happier note. His headache is less punishing than Michael’s, and while feeling the normal amount of embarrassment that comes with drinking a little too much, the feeling does not extend to kissing Michael. His mother’s safe, he’s nailing his Dean impression, and Michael apparently likes him. Things could not be better. Until Adam remembers how the latter two items on that list are linked.

Michael is not like a classmate back home, who he could chat up, get a drink with, and maybe start seeing regularly if all things went well. Michael is, in fact, the acting ruler of one of the most powerful countries in the world, which just so happens to be at war with Adam’s, and under the explicit impression that Adam is similarly situated in the world.

Adam promptly begins freaking out.

And then Michael finds him.

Adam’s in the library at the time. Michael walks in and quietly dismisses Adam’s guards, and Kevin, leaving the two of them completely alone. Adam doesn’t realize what Michael’s doing right away, though he’s spent enough time with Michael to recognize how nervous he is as he starts talking about a proposal to end the war—selling the idea, as if Michael wouldn’t be enough on his own—and then sheepishly tapering into the idea that both he and Adam seem to have feelings for one another. And if Adam were able to go back in time and strangle his tipsy past self, he would, because then he wouldn’t have to see the look on Michael’s face when he says no.

And no, Michael does not understand.

Adam can hear years of living in the public eye at work in Michael voice, as he just manages to keep his voice level in asking, “Even if it would mean peace?”

"I'm sorry, I just—I can't."

". . .I see."

Michael excuses himself, and Adam collapses onto a couch, assuring himself that no was the only right answer, and he shouldn’t feel terrible—which, of course, since Adam’s spent the last couple of months flirting with Michael while posing as someone else, is not an easy idea to buy into.

Michael and Adam avoid eye contact at dinner, even as Raphael—who has zero doubts as to who initiated what the night before—practically burns holes into Adam’s skin with the looks they shoot down the table.

And then a messenger comes in. One of the wealthiest duchies in the kingdom (the same one that had once supported Lucifer, and of course would be populated with demon characters in the narrative) has declared its independence, having formed an alliance with the Campbells, and has launched an attack not far from the castle. Several villages have already been attacked along the way. Michael accompanies the armed forces he sends out to quash the uprising.

Raphael is left behind to fortify the castle and take in the refugees, who the messenger assured them are not far behind. Unlike Michael, Raphael rarely saw combat. Officially, it was because Raphael had adamantly insisted on training as a healer rather than a warrior, which was true enough. Unofficially though, Michael and Raphael are both fully aware that if anything happened to Michael, Raphael is the only one left to inherent the crown.

Samandirel and Anael escort Adam back to his room. Samandriel assures Adam that no one thinks he had anything to do with the duchy double crossing them, but it would probably just be safer for Adam to stay out of sight until things calm down. Anael is more closed-lipped about the situation.

From his window, Adam watches the first of the villagers come trickling in, and even from his vantage point he can make out burn wounds, makeshift bandages and hastily thrown together tourniquets, and he’s in hell, because it seems the only two options in front of him are to worry about Michael, or feel absolutely sick with guilt because he’s a trained physician and he should be down there helping.

Finally he pokes his head out into the corridor and asks if someone can find Kevin for him. Anael raises an eyebrow that “Dean,” who’s usually inordinately self-suffice for a prince, is suddenly insisting that he needs to see his manservant, but Samandriel is already helpfully heading down the hall. A few minutes later, Kevin is in Adam’s room, confused, as Adam asks him to take off his clothes.

“You can have mine, just switch with me, okay?”

“Uuh. . . Don’t you think mine will be a little tight on you—”

“Less talk! Strip!”

Michael had probably errored in assigning the same two guards to watch over Adam. After a year, the three of them had gotten to be on fairly familiar terms. Adam waited until Samandriel started to get chatty, and slipped quietly out of his room when Anael was distracted—neither of them having had any reason to think Adam would try to escape, because he had been nothing but compliant since the day he arrived.

From there, he goes straight to the infirmary.

Raphael had set up tents in the courtyard to accommodate the high number of people in need of care. Adam was a year out of practice, but the atmosphere was still familiar to him, and he slipped into the chaos unnoticed. Raphael doesn’t notice him until they are well into the thick of things, and Adam’s as covered in grime and gore as anyone else present. Adam had just gone for more bandages and the two of them nearly ran into each other, and for a split second Adam thinks Raphael just might not recognize him until hand closes around his arm like a vice.

“What exactly are YOU doing here?”

Then Raphael notices the stitches Adam had just finished putting in for his latest patient—and Adam’s stitchwork is immaculate, not the clumsy, half-hazard work of a solider who picked up the mechanics of it over the course of their career.

"YOU did that?"

Adam starts to fumble out an answer, but they are interrupted because then Michael is being brought in. The fighting is over. Raphael and Adam promptly drop everything.

Michael has a concussion. He’s also been lightly stabbed. You know, just lightly. Needs stitches though. Raphael is adamant that Adam leave immediately, but Michael, who is delirious, sees Adam and absolutely refuses to let Raphael send him away. Raphael winds up patching Michael together while Adam—annoyingly, to Raphael—is sat next to him, holding Michael’s hand. Adam winds up sitting next to Michael all night, because it’s the only way to keep Michael from getting up and tearing his stitches like a feverish moron.

Initially, Raphael refuses to leave too, not trusting their brother’s suspiciously competent love interest, whose family was purportedly allied with the traitors who’d just attacked their people. There are still more wounded to tend to, however, and Raphael begrudgingly has to step away—making sure to leave orders that a guard be present in the room the entire time that Raphael is gone.

Little does Raphael know, Adam would have lowkey given a limb to have Raphael stay. Michael’s demeanor is a lot less closed off when he’s feverish and concussed. Shortly after Raphael leaves, Michael starts apologizing for proposing earlier, and Adam feels like he’s been stabbed in the gut. And as he’s lying there, looking at Adam’s hand in his, Michael starts saying things he would not normally blurt out—like that ending the war was not the main reason he wanted to marry Adam, because the last year has been the best he can remember, and it is entirely due to spending time with Adam—even if Adam was only there by obligation—and he would do anything to make Adam happy, even if they weren’t together—and Adam is just stuck there, highkey dying on the inside.

Then Michael sees his face.

"I apologize, you’ve already said you do not want to marry me, I should not have brought this up—”

Michael starts to get out of bed completely unconcerned about his stab wounds, and as Adam’s pushing him back down, the words “That’s not true!” just sort of. . .fly out.

Then Michael’s suddenly looking at Adam, and his face is suddenly very sober, and Adam can feel his own face turning red.

"That is, I. . ." Adam realizes, suddenly, that he’s fucked. Telling Michael the truth is somehow both the right and wrong thing to do at the same time, and Michael is definitely in no condition to hear it either way. “How about, if you still want to marry me when all this is over, then I’ll say yes?”

The next morning is a string of stressful events for Adam. Raphael shooed him out of Michael room at dawn, and Adam went straight back to his own. Kevin, Samandriel, and Anael had all been reprimanded for Adam’s escape, with the latter two being replaced as Adam’s guard under Raphael’s orders. His first interaction with Ishim and Maribel does not bode well for them becoming friends.

When Adam tells Kevin that he’s thinking about coming clean to Michael, Kevin panics. News from the Winchesters had dried up weeks ago, even for Michael and Raphael’s sources. Kevin argues that they’d be better off attempting to escape on their own if the charade was getting to be too much for Adam, especially after last night—but even then, they should wait awhile longer. Why take any chances right now? And Adam doesn’t know how to go about explaining the why. . .

And it gets taken out of his hands anyway, when they step out of the room and find that it’s somehow leaked that Adam and Michael—who had completely misunderstood what Adam meant by “when all this is over”—are engaged.

Kevin doesn’t get another moment alone with Adam to discuss how stupidly dangerous this whole situation is, and Adam, no matter how hard he tries—can’t seem to get a moment alone with his fiancé to try to explain that the situation is not what he thinks it is. Everyone had vastly underestimated how far the rumors about Michael and Adam secretly courting had gone, and Adam can barely take three steps without a noble or courtier or someone pulling him aside to offer their congratulations, and as Adam gets closer to Michael’s chambers, there’s Raphael, circling like a shark and Adam does not want to make his confession to Raphael before he sees Michael.

Come dinner time, Adam finds that his seat had been reassigned. He now sits directly to Michael’s left. He keeps trying to convince Michael to step out into the hall with him for a second, while Raphael, seated in their normal place to Michael’s right, continuously circumvents him, firmly believing that Adam has done more than enough in private.

Then there’s a scream. A servant comes running out into the dining hall, carrying a bloody knife. They run up to Michael—up until the guards step forward to stop her, but she’s not attacking. Instead she hands over the knife and says that she found in the corridor outside the king’s chambers. She had been worried, so she broke protocol and went in. The king’s bed was drenched in blood.

Adam looks over and feels a chill when he recognizes the same knife that had been included in the murder kit he found in his room on day one.

If Raphael had looked up, Adam had no doubt that Raphael would have read something in his face, but they didn’t get the chance to. Michael and Raphael are busy staring at each, the only ones in the room who know beyond any doubt that the implication could not be true, because there had not been anyone in that bed to assassinate in over ten years. Neither of them is given the chance to try to spin the knife’s implications in any direction, however. While the court is still reeling in shocked silence, a guard walks in—completely oblivious—and announces that a messenger has arrived with urgent news.

Adam looks up, and finds he has room to panic more, when he sees Anna Milton walk in, a serving maid in the Winchester court, and as she drops a curtsey to Michael, she identifies herself as one of Raphael’s spies. She had held her place in the Winchester court for as long as she could, but when her real identity had been uncovered she’d had no choice but to flee, and she’s come with monumental news. The civil war across the channel has ended, the Campbells having been forced to seek asylum with their allies outside the kingdom, John Winchester deposed, and Dean Winchester installed on the throne in his place. She had witnessed his coronation herself the very day they identified her.

And Adam feels very cold, as if his blood had actually managed to turn into ice, which would have explained why he couldn’t seem to move, as every eye in the room immediately turns to him.

 And that would be the end of part one.

[the-pale-goddess]

Ethan & Tiffany: Endgame (HC)

A quick reminder: I've rejected canon Third Year completely, so mind that none of OHTY bs happens in my E&T canon timeline.

A/N: I tried my best to write every major fact down - hopefully the final product isn’t too messy or too boring, I’m new to the headcanon business and this isn’t even written in the headcanon form because I’m a rebel lol

Huge thanks to the lovely Anon who requested this HC and every single one of you still interested in E&T’s shenanigans, your support is the greatest gift I could ever receive! If you have some more specific questions about these two, feel free to hit my askbox anytime 💕

Now let’s check what’s in store for Tiffany and Ethan!

Children

Neither of them planned children in their lives; they were perfectly comfortable in the relationship they had—living together, advancing their glittering careers while supporting each other, slaying the game as the ultimate power couple.

But life has its ways, of course, and a week prior to their third anniversary Tiffany found out she was pregnant. The news sparked blind panic in the 30-year-old doctor; she thought her whole world fell like dominoes. Tiffany wouldn't intentionally start a family: she'd just started turning her dreams and plans into reality and she didn't even consider herself fit to be a mother (even though deep down she craved it).

She'd spent an entire week full of doubts, listing all her options, before she finally shared the news with Ethan. His reaction was surprisingly calm, considering his stance on having children. Based on the evidence gathered throughout the week, he'd already suspected pregnancy and did some calculations on his own.

They both agreed it wasn’t the best time—their busy schedules didn’t allow them to even reconsider the concept of starting a family. Nevertheless, the baby was coming, and their hearts filled with strange excitement. Having a baby on board seemed surreal at first, but after the dust had settled they felt oddly content about the unforseen circumstances.

E&T's world turned upside down the second their son was born. Raising a child happened to be the greatest challenge these two brilliant doctors had encountered. Luckily, they both relish a good challenge. Guided by the unexpected overflow of affection, they quickly settled into the alien routine of parenthood.

Nathaniel Jonah (also known as NJ, Nate) turned out to be a perfect blend of his parents' most prominent features & traits: Ethan's ocean eyes and stubbornness mixed with Tiffany's smile and warm heart.

Three years later, another surprise awaited. The most shocking thing about the second pregnancy was that it didn't happen sooner (they'd been exceptionally careless). Nicolette „Letty”, a spitting image of her mother, stole Ethan's heart from the start, bringing even more joy to their controlled chaos.

The fancy condo was too small for a family of four, so The Ramdams were forced to find a new home. They moved to a dreamy house in the Boston suburbs merely a month before their daughter was born.

The third one (for a change) received a proper invitation to this world. Tiffany wasn't the biggest fan of the idea of having another baby, but her window was closing (she was 38) and Ethan's palpable excitement tipped the scales. Everyone jokes Aine must be adopted because she's the most unproblematic angel, unlike her parents.

The family wouldn't be full without pets: Nettie (British Shorthair cat) & Hopper (English bulldog).

Marriage

Marriage was never on their agenda. Neither of them felt the need to make their relationship formal, it wouldn't change anything between them—they were already acting like a married couple. Both Tiffany and Ethan think there are more valuable symbols of love than some paper signed in the presence of everyone they know. Partnership they were in seemed like the most comfortable and obvious choice.

The topic resurfaced with the pregnancy news. Our good guy Ethan, our Mr Must-Do-What’s-Right, proposed to Tiffany on their third anniversary dinner, right after they discovered they were expecting. He did it because it made sense. Because it was convenient. Because it was a decent thing to do.

But guess what...Tiffany rejected the proposal. She didn’t want to marry out of obligation. If they were really going to jump into marriage, she wanted it to matter. Ethan understood her point of view, though it didn't stop him from jokingly annoying her on every given occasion that she rejected him.

He waited two years before popping the question again. This time she said yes.

Dr. Grumpsey was willing to agree on a lavish wedding if Tiffany would insist. Lucky for him, his woman hates big, conventional weddings and all that unnecessary attention around the reception. They're both very private people, so they planned the wedding they were actually excited about.

They eloped to Miami where it all started, exchanging vows to the accompaniment of the ocean waves, with little NJ by their side. The wedding reception was just three people enjoying their day at the beach.

As you may suspect, their friends and family flew into a rage when they found out the wedding took place behind their backs. Jackie's death threats were particularly disturbing, so E&T decided to throw an afterparty for their loved ones only.

Career

Tiffany saw her future in diagnostics and followed that path, balancing her personal goals with striving for improvement in patient care. The word about her accomplishments with one of the best diagnostics teams spread fast; shortly after her challenging yet successful residency, Doctor Addams quickly proved to be one of the most valuable and respected diagnosticians—not only at Edenbrook, but also statewide, and later nationwide. She cracked some of the toughest, most hopeless cases, saving lives of many patients considered lost causes.

During her first pregnancy, her career was already on high speed and the situation made her even more determined to keep it that way. She didn't want to sacrifice her newly established position and Ethan did everything he could to support her and her career development.

She remained a vital part of Edenbrook's Diagnostics Team under Ethan's leadership for a few years. Their minds combined gave spectacular results and above it all they truly enjoyed working together. However, when Letty was born sharing responsibilities at home and managing the time got significantly harder. With minimal hesitation, Ethan decided it was his cue to leave.

He'd been thinking about the change for much longer than he was willing to admit: over the years he'd accomplished everything he could dream of and Edenbrook had become more of a duty than a challenge. So he quit, leaving the team in the most capable hands of Doctor Addams-Ramsey.

For a year and a half The Ethan Ramsey was a stay-at-home dad, juggling family, research for his second book and setting up his clinic with none other than Tobias Carrick.

Ethan wasn't 100% convinced if starting the practice with Tobias would be a wise move, but the clinic exceeded his expectations. Apart from the great sense of accomplishment, he finally gained full independence at work. And there were no bloody interns to babysit anymore.

When little Ramdams got older, he approached Tiffany with a job offer; the best diagnostician in the country was the last missing link in his clinic. She let it marinate for a few years and accepted the offer at the launch of her second book, soon after Letty's 18th birthday.

____

If there’s a typo or a mistake somewhere...No, there isn’t kgjdkgjdk

Thanks for reading 🥰 I have a few exciting fics in the making (both AUs & canon) and I hope I’ll be able to finish them soon!