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#this is very inaccurate...whoops

triona-tribblescore · 1 month

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Concept from a few days ago that has been ROTTING my brain. BIKER ANGEL BABYYY!!! Something I didn't know I needed in life-

Hes so cool and like, idk I just need to consume more media where angel is being badass. DGMW!!! I LOVE HIS PRETTY FEM SIDE. But also I think ppl forget he's a chaos maker/ prankster/ turf war participator who will run you down without hesitation if in a fight uvu

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demonic-kotlc · 9 months

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Kotlc Characters as things I’ve done (a series) :

Biana - using adult scissors to trim her nails in elementary 💅

Sophie - Going 3-4 days with a a grand total of 15(??) hours of sleep

Dex - figuring out how to report websites that offer products but scam people (never got around to actually doing it but he would’ve )

Tam - wearing black

Fitz - holding a grudge against the British partly because of ancestry

Keefe - starting and finishing an essay an hour before the due date and getting an A

Linh - peace signs after crying

#tam I’m so sorry I made you very bland #and you too linh #I don’t recall much about them whoops #anyways sorry if any of these seem inaccurate #might do some more with other characters later #kotlc #sophie foster #kotlc thoughts #keefe sencen #fitz vacker #biana vacker #tam song #linh song #dex dizznee #black swan

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corvidcall · 2 years

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None Of You Know What Haiku Are

I'm going to preface this by saying that i am not an expert in ANY form of poetry, just an enthusiast. Also, this post is... really long. Too long? Definitely too long. Whoops! I love poetry.

If you ask most English-speaking people (or haiku-bot) what a haiku is, they would probably say that it's a form of poetry that has 3 lines, with 5, and then 7, and then 5 syllables in them. That's certainly what I was taught in school when we did our scant poetry unit, but since... idk elementary school when I learned that, I've learned that that's actually a pretty inaccurate definition of haiku. And I think that inaccurate definition is a big part of why most people (myself included until relatively recently!) think that haiku are kind of... dumb? unimpressive? simple and boring? I mean, if you can just put any words with the right number of syllables into 3 lines, what makes it special?

Well, let me get into why the 5-7-5 understanding of haiku is wrong, and also what makes haiku so special (with examples)!

First of all, Japanese doesn't have syllables! There's a few different names for what phonetic units actually make up the language- In Japanese, they're called "On" (音), which translates to "sound", although English-language linguists often call it a "mora" (μ), which (quoting from Wikipedia here) "is a basic timing unit in the phonology of some spoken languages, equal to or shorter than a syllable." (x) "Oh" is one syllable, and also one mora, whereas "Oi" has one syllable, but two moras. "Ba" has one mora, "Baa" has two moras, etc. In English, we would say that a haiku is made up of three lines, with 5-7-5 syllables in them, 17 syllables total. In Japanese, that would be 17 sounds.

For an example of the difference, the word "haiku", in English, has 2 syllables (hai-ku), but in Japanese, はいく has 3 sounds (ha-i-ku). "Christmas" has 2 syllables, but in Japanese, "クリスマス" (ku-ri-su-ma-su) is 5 sounds! that's a while line on its own! Sometimes the syllables are the same as the sounds ("sushi" is two syllables, and すし is two sounds), but sometimes they're very different.

In addition, words in Japanese are frequently longer than their English equivalents. For example, the word "cuckoo" in Japanese is "ほととぎす" (hototogisu).

Now, I'm sure you're all very impressed at how I can use an English to Japanese dictionary (thank you, my mother is proud), but what does any of this matter? So two languages are different. How does that impact our understanding of haiku?

Well, if you think about the fact that Japanese words are frequently longer than English words, AND that Japanese counts sounds and not syllables, you can see how, "based purely on a 17-syllable counting method, a poet writing in English could easily slip in enough words for two haiku in Japanese” (quote from Grit, Grace, and Gold: Haiku Celebrating the Sports of Summer by Kit Pancoast Nagamura). If you're writing a poem using 17 English syllables, you are writing significantly more content than is in an authentic Japanese haiku.

(Also not all Japanese haiku are 17 sounds at all. It's really more of a guideline.)

Focusing on the 5-7-5 form leads to ignoring other strategies/common conventions of haiku, which personally, I think are more interesting! Two of the big ones are kigo, a season word, and kireji, a cutting word.

Kigo are words/phrases/images associated with a particular season, like snow for winter, or cherry blossoms for spring. In Japan, they actually publish reference books of kigo called saijiki, which is basically like a dictionary or almanac of kigo, describing the meaning, providing a list of related words, and some haiku that use that kigo. Using a a particular kigo both grounds the haiku in a particular time, but also alludes to other haiku that have used the same one.

Kireji is a thing that doesn't easily translate to English, but it's almost like a spoken piece of punctuation, separating the haiku into two parts/images that resonate with and add depth to each other. Some examples of kireji would be "ya", "keri", and "kana." Here's kireji in action in one of the most famous haiku:

古池や　蛙飛び込む　水の音 (Furu ike ya　kawazu tobikomu　mizu no oto) (The old pond — A frog jumps in The sound of the water.)

You can see the kireji at the end of the first line- 古池や literally translates to "old pond ya". The "ya" doesn't have linguistic meaning, but it denotes the separation between the two focuses of the haiku. First, we are picturing a pond. It's old, mature. The water is still. And then there's a frog! It's spring and he's fresh and new to the world! He jumps into the pond and goes "splash"! Wowie! When I say "cutting word", instead of say, a knife cutting, I like to imagine a film cut. The camera shows the pond, and then it cuts to the frog who jumps in.

English doesn't really have a version of this, at least not one that's spoken, but in English language haiku, people will frequently use a dash or an ellipses to fill the same role.

Format aside, there are also some conventions of the actual content, too. They frequently focus on nature, and are generally use direct language without metaphor. They use concrete images without judgement or analysis, inviting the reader to step into their shoes and imagine how they'd feel in the situation. It's not about describing how you feel, so much as it's about describing what made you feel.

Now, let's put it all together, looking at a haiku written Yosa Buson around 1760 (translated by Harold G. Henderson)

The piercing chill I feel: my dead wife's comb, in our bedroom, under my heel

We've got our kigo with "the piercing chill." We read that, and we imagine it's probably winter. It's cold, and the kind of cold wind that cuts through you. There's our kireji- this translation uses a colon to differentiate our two images: the piercing chill, and the poet stepping on his dead wife's comb. There's no descriptions of what the poet is feeling, but you can imagine stepping into his shoes. You can imagine the pain he's experiencing in that moment on your own.

"But tumblr user corvidcall!" I hear you say, "All the examples you've used so far are Japanese haiku that have been translated! Are you implying that it's impossible for a good haiku to be written in English?" NO!!!!! I love English haiku! Here's a good example, which won first place in the 2000 Henderson haiku contest, sponsored by the Haiku Society of America:

meteor shower . . . a gentle wave wets our sandals

When you read this one, can you imagine being in the poet's place? Do you feel the surprise as the tide comes in? Do you feel the summer-ness of the moment? Haiku are about describing things with the senses, and how you take in the world around you. In a way, it's like the poet is only setting a scene, which you inhabit and fill with meaning based on your own experiences. You and I are imagining different beaches, different waves, different people that make up the "our" it mentioned.

"Do I HAVE to include all these things when I write haiku? If I include all these things, does that mean my haiku will be good?" I mean, I don't know. What colors make up a good painting? What scenes make up a good play? It's a creative medium, and nobody can really tell you you can't experiment with form. Certainly not me! But I think it's important to know what the conventions of the form are, so you can appreciate good examples of it, and so you can know what you're actually experimenting with. And I mean... I'm not the poetry cops. But if you're not interested in engaging with the actual conventions and limitations of the form, then why are you even using that form?

I'll leave you with one more English language haiku, which is probably my favorite haiku ever. It was written by Tom Bierovic, and won first place at the 2021 Haiku Society of America Haiku Awards

a year at most . . . we pretend to watch the hummingbirds

Sources: (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x)

Further reading:

Forms in English Haiku by Keiko Imaoka Haiku: A Whole Lot More Than 5-7-5 by Jack How to Write a Bad Haiku by KrisL Haiku Are Not a Joke: A Plea from a Poet Who Has Had It Up to Here by Sandra Simpson Haiku Checklist by Katherine Raine

#poetry #haiku #writing #literature #anime life #long post #i want to apologize but i had to get something off my chest #and the thing was. i love haiku #and when i see posts on here about haiku. i get so angy.#well ok i really get more disappointed bc nobody is really engaging with the form on its own terms #anyway i hope you enjoy some of my favorite haiku because theyre in there!!!!!#i didnt really get into the history of haiku. and i also did not get into why i got really into it #but i will say that i was really inspired by Jacob Geller's video A Thousand Ways of Seeing a Forest #which is a lot about translation #(which i mean. as an interpreter AND a poetry-enjoyer. really appealed to me lol)

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mcdonaldsplayground · 1 year

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| actually the worst | part 2

ao’nung x f!reader

summary: lessons with the metkayina have started and the only bad thing about them is ao'nung. hating him is easy, but understanding how you truly feel is more complex. why can't he just leave you alone?

includes: enemies to lovers, swearing, teasing, ao'nung being a cocky mf😌

word count: 2k

a/n: the timeline in this is probably wildly inaccurate😅 also, this is very short but i am working on more parts:)

“Come on!” Your brothers whooped as they jumped from the walkway into the ocean. Their splash soaked you and your sisters who were still standing cautiously over the water. However, the fearlessness of Neteyam and Lo’ak seemed to inspire Kiri and Tuk because they grinned at each other and jumped after the boys, splashing you again. You weren’t so keen to get in.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like swimming or were afraid of the ocean. It was more of a symbolic thing. To get in the water and start learning the Metkayina way was like giving up on the idea of ever returning home. You knew you were here to stay, but you didn’t have to like it.

“[Y/N]! Join us! We will start the lesson soon—when Ao’nung arrives.” Tsireya called out from beside your siblings, the five of them treading water. Her smile was reassuring, but the mention of her brother dampened your mood even more. Instead of jumping in, you sat down at the edge of the walkway, sticking your feet in the water.

“I’ll just wait until then, I guess.” You replied, hoping you didn’t sound rude. You actually really liked Tsireya and didn’t want her to think badly of you.

“Wait’s over, forest girl.” Ao’nung’s voice made you jump, whipping around to find him smirking behind you. Apparently he had a thing for sneaking up on you. “Time to get in.” His face was so punchable it made your fingers twitch.

When you didn’t move, Ao’nung huffed and dropped his stupid smirk, stepping closer. “Don’t be a baby. Get in the water, freak.”

“Oh, so now I’m a freak for not wanting to swim?” You rolled your eyes, turning your gaze back to the water where everyone else waited and watched. You felt a little embarrassed, but you weren’t about to back down now.

“You were always a freak, actually. But now you’re a freak who’s scared of water.” Your blood boiled and you stood up quickly, narrowing your eyes.

“Did it ever occur to you that I just don’t want to take lessons with the world’s biggest douchebag?” You spat, not leaving him any time to reply before you jumped in angrily, hoping you splashed him. When you resurfaced, you found that he had jumped after you. You scoffed, swimming over to Kiri with a scowl. She just shook her head at you, holding in a laugh.

“It’s not funny, Ki.”

“Yes it is.”

You actually found yourself enjoying the ocean much more than you thought you would. Everything about the reef was breathtaking. The only problem you and your siblings were having was keeping up with the Metkayina. They seemed to be forgetting that your underwater experience was limited.

Despite having only been holding your breath for a minute or two, your lungs were burning and you desperately looked around at your siblings to see if they needed air too. Looking down, you noticed the confusion in the faces of Tsireya, Rotxo, and Ao’nung. You felt bad slowing them down, but you physically couldn’t stay underwater. Your siblings were quick to follow you to the surface.

“They keep trying to talk to us with their hands…” Neteyam panted, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the sun. You nodded.

“Another thing to learn, I guess.” You sighed, watching Lo’ak quickly duck his head back under water. “Are they coming up?” You asked, and he nodded.

When they resurfaced, you took some comfort in the fact that Tsireya seemed understanding, patient enough to wait. Her brother, however, did not seem to have the same virtue.

“You are not good divers. Maybe good at swinging through trees, but-” He was cut off by Tsireya swatting him gently, causing him to scowl. You wondered how much an underwater punch would hurt.

“We don’t speak this… finger-talk, you guys. We don’t know what you’re saying.” Neteyam cut in, ignoring Ao’nung’s dig.

“It’s all right. I will teach you.” Tsireya smiled. “Come, we will swim some more and I can show you.” She disappeared under the water, beckoning for the rest of you to follow. Everyone took a huge breath before diving back under too. You were about to do the same when something tugged at your ankle, pulling you down. You let out a scream, but it was muffled by the water and only resulted in you swallowing some of it. Sputtering, you managed to kick up to the surface again and tried not to choke for a second time when Ao’nung popped up beside you, laughing hysterically.

“Oh my eywa, the look on your face-” The boy could barely get the sentence out before erupting back into a fit of laughter.

“Jesus christ! Are you a psychopath or what?” You glared, heart racing from the scare but also because of how close he was swimming to you. The spot where he had grabbed your ankle felt electric, goosebumps rising on your skin.

“What?” He had managed to stop laughing and now looked genuinely confused. “I do not know what a jesus christ or a psychopath is.” He admitted, and it dawned on you that he wouldn’t know the terms as you had learned them from your father. It almost made you laugh, but instead you contorted your features into smug surprise.

“You mean King Ao’nung doesn’t know everything?” You feigned shock as he narrowed his eyes.

“Whatever, skxawng. At least I know how to swim.”

“Wow, you’re on par with the fish, that’s great.”

“Tell me what a psychopath is.” He pressed, the word coming out halted and mangled as he tried to imitate english. This time, you did laugh.

“It’s you. Unstable, aggressive, unfeeling… Do I need to go on?” You smirked as his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. “Want to know what a jesus christ is?” You asked, knowing you were getting to him.

“No.” With that, he swam away, clearly fed up. For you, that was a triumph. Now the trick was going to be making him stay away.

A few days later, you found yourself standing waist-deep in the water, listening as Ao’nung made noises to supposedly call the ilu creatures over. As much as his voice usually made you want to rip your ears off, you had to admit that the sounds were impressive, especially when a group of ilu swam up to him.

“If you want to live here,” He gestured to the open sea, turning back to face everyone while his eyes locked on yours. You shivered. “You have to ride.” He reached out to pat one of the ilu and Tsireya jumped in.

“Who wants to try first?” Neteyam pushed Lo’ak forward, grinning, and you felt some relief at getting to hang back. Lo’ak looked nervous, but you could tell he was trying to impress Tsireya and the others as he shrugged and started getting ready. Everyone watched as he made the bond and mounted the creature, Tsireya helping him.

“Want to bet on how long he lasts?” Neteyam nudged you and Kiri, raising his eyebrows with a smile. Just as you opened your mouth to reply, Lo’ak shot forward on his ilu and went plunging under the water. Shocked at the abruptness, you stepped forward and ducked your head under to see if you could see him. You felt your heart racing for him, hoping he was alright. When you spotted him, he was barely holding on to the speeding ilu, slipping off as soon as it turned slightly. Beside you, Ao’nung laughed loudly. When the two of you stood up straight you found yourself punching him in the shoulder, irritated.

“Hey! What was that for?” He turned to you, looking incredulous.

“Don’t laugh at my brother, dickhead.” You huffed. “You’re being a psychopath again.”

At the mention of that word, Ao’nung grimaced, looking briefly annoyed before cracking a grin to cover it up.

“Come, try for yourself so I can laugh at you this time.” He beckoned one of the other ilu over, holding it steady for you. Heat rushed to your face as you tried to think of how to get out of it. When you could think of nothing, you resigned yourself to the task, looking back briefly at your staring siblings for some comfort. Ao’nung chuckled. “Scared, forest girl?”

“Of what? Your face?” You retorted. “Yeah, a little actually.” At this he scoffed while everyone else laughed. That only briefly made you feel better until you actually started to mount the ilu. You tried to approach it like the ikran, but it was much more slippery and your legs felt too close to your body. Ao’nung’s presence right beside you only made things all the more awkward.

“That’s not how you do it, freak.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Fine, but you’re going to fall off.”

“Fine.” You weren’t about to admit how terrified you felt to him. He just rolled his eyes, stepping close enough that you could feel his body heat.

“Ugh, don’t be so stubborn. Here,” He put his hand on your knee, pushing it down and adjusting the rest of your leg into a more natural and comfortable position. You wanted to slap him away, but his touch left a trail of fire along your leg despite the cooling waves lapping over you, and your brain momentarily stopped functioning.

“Okay, you look slightly less ridiculous now.” Ao’nung smirked, stepping away. You didn’t miss how his fingers trailed along your thigh slightly longer than necessary. Kiri snapped you out of your strange stupor.

“We’re waiting, [Y/N]!” She laughed, and you were convinced she knew what had just happened. You made a mental note to threaten your twin later in case she decided to bring it up. Without acknowledging Ao’nung, you mentally guided your ilu forward, willing it to go slow. Surprisingly, it listened, and you found yourself gracefully learning the nuances of riding underwater. You hated to admit it even to yourself, but Ao’nung was right about your legs. If he hadn’t fixed them you would have slipped right off like Lo’ak.

Eventually, you guided your ilu back to the group, most of whom were grinning and cheering. You smiled, proud of yourself. As Tsireya came forward to congratulate you, you noticed Ao’nung staring intensely, eyebrows furrowed and jaw set. When it was Neteyam’s turn to ride, you made your way over the Metkayina boy.

“Don’t look too happy for me.” You said and he scoffed at your words, crossing his arms.

“Just thank me and get over yourself.”

You snorted and began dramatically, “Thank you Ao’nung, King of the Ocean, Lord of the Sea, Master Ilu Tamer! How could I have ever done it without you?”

He whipped his head toward you, somehow glaring even more than before. There was a long silence before he seemed to think of something and a smirk twisted onto his face.

“You’re really cocky for someone who can’t handle being touched.” He said, looking around before stepping closer to you. Again, you could practically feel his body heat and you froze at his words, your heart rapidly speeding up.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You said as steadily as you could manage, steeling yourself enough to meet his eyes. He chuckled. The two of you stood like that for what felt like an eternity until you heard your siblings cheering for Neteyam who had probably come back from riding his ilu.

You finally moved, starting to push past Ao’nung to get back to the group. As you went by him, you felt that familiar fire blaze across your leg as he once again trailed his fingers along your skin. It was so brief that you thought maybe you had imagined it until you heard him whisper,

“Liar.”

#ao'nung #aonung #ao'nung x reader #ao'nung x you #aonung x you #aonung x reader #aonung x y/n #ao'nung x y/n #avatar #avatar 2 #aonung fanfiction #ao'nung fanfiction #aonung fluff #ao'nung fluff #the way of water #avatar movie #avatar imagine #atwow #atwow ao'nung

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soft--dragon · 3 months

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Snow Day

Just a small drabble for you guys to snack on before I post the bigger one :D

Word Count: 1,177

Warnings: None

This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)

Casey was practically vibrating with excitement, booted feet doing mini stomps - a stim he’d picked up from Donnie at a young age - as he looked out over the white powered landscape of New York City Park. Mikey, who was stood right beside him snickered at his child-like behavior, giving a friendly grin.

“You’ve really never seen snow before, huh Junior?”

Casey shook his head rapidly, eyes so wide as if he was trying to memorise every single detail of the park. “There was never white snow in the future, it was like ash, but this… Michelangelo, this is amazing!”

Mikey’s brow dipped slightly at the mention of the harsh, desolate future Casey had come from, but he gave the boy a gentle nudge to dispel the memory. “Mikey, Casey, call me Mikey,” he reminded lightly.

Whether Casey registered the soft words was up for debate, the boy’s spellbound expression never wavering when Leo seemed to drop out of nowhere to sling an arm around Casey’s shoulders.

“Not a bad view, aye Casey?” he grinned.

“It’s incredible,” the young warrior murmured, his smile lifting his eyes.

“Well what are you waiting for? Come on!” Leo grabbed his students hand and ran, dragging along Casey who almost fell flat on his face from the sudden force.

“Wait up Leo!” Mikey yelled after his brother, taking off right behind the pair, with the rest of the family in tow.

Leo didn’t even hesitate before he dove into the snow with a gleeful whoop, dragging Casey into the soft powder and laughing when the boy just about screamed.

“JESUS! It’s cold, Leo!” “Welcome to the ice age, Jones!”

There was an audible scoff from above the two. “Incorrect Leo, the ice age was thousands of years ago when creatures such as mammoths used to roam the earth and- hey!”

A snowball smashed into the back of Donnie’s head from non-other than April who was grinning similar to a Cheshire cat. “Sorry, did I interrupt you?”

“Yes actually, I was trying to educate Leo on his very historically inaccurate claim- ow!” A second snowball had splattered straight into Donnie’s face, the teen being thrown to the ground with the force of it. “APRIL!”

Raph high fived the girl in passing, moving to Leo and Casey who were still lying in the snow. “Don’t you two go catching a cold alright? We don’t want to get the whole fam sick.” “We’ll be fine, Raph, don’t worry,” Leo smirked up at his older brother, “We’re well protected from the cold.” “Yes, but some of us aren’t that used to winter, remember?”

“Oh, I know.” Leo’s hand planted itself in Casey’s mop of unruly hair, messing with the black locks and making the kid yelp and squirm in protest. “I’ll keep an eye on the snow baby.”

Casey baulked from under Leo’s fingers. “The- the snow what?” Raph sighed with a small, fond smile. “If he gets sick you’re taking care of him.” “Don’t I always?”

“Fair enough.”

“I’m right here you guys.” “Hush snow baby,” Leo scooped up some snow and shoved it in Casey’s unsuspecting face, trying and failing to hide his grin at the boy’s wild screech of alarm and offence. “The adults are talking.”

The snow removed, Casey tried leaning away only for Leo’s hand to come back and to pinch his cheek. “Augh! Stop! Your hands are freezing!”

“Oh, are they actually?” Leo’s hands were then diving under Casey’s scarf to press them against his neck, and the scream the boy gave was almost ear splitting.

“NO! Off, off, off! Get away from me!” Casey scrambled across the snow to escape, only for Leo to follow with an evil gleam in his eyes. “Guys help!”

Casey, who had fallen victim to Leo’s schemes more than once, knew the outcome of this dilemma, and scrambled off the ground in an instant. He was running laps of the park, laughing over his shoulder at the turtle who was pursuing him with outstretched hands and taunting loudly.

“Should we stop them before they fall into the lake?” Mikey asked with a laugh.

Raph shrugged, smirking. “Eh, let em tire themselves out, it’ll be easier to get them to sleep later.”

“I concur, I do not want to deal with a hyperactive Leo,” Donnie raised a hand from where he was still lying on the ground from April’s snowball attack.

The green jacketed girl rolled her eyes. “Donnie, get up.”

“Can’t. I’ve been shot.”

A scream echoed through the park, making the group whip around in alarm to where Leo and Casey were tussling on the ground, the blue coded turtle pressing his fingers underneath Casey’s scarf to target his neck. The raven haired teen was screeching at the chill spreading through his skin, bursts of laughter mingling with his yelps as Leo refused to let up.

“LEHEHO! Stohohopihit!”

“What? Can’t hear you Snow Baby, sorry, I’ve got ear muffs on.”

“YOU DON'T!”

“Invisible ear muffs are the modern style Case, I thought you’d know that cause you’re from the future.”

One of Casey’s hands came up to shove at Leo’s face, the other trying to push away the turtle’s fingers assaulting his sensitive skin. “Thahat’s soho duhumb!”

Leo’s mouth dropped open and gasped loudly. “How dare you insult my invisible earmuffs, that is so mean.”

Casey cracked an eye open to peer up at Leo smugly. “Thought you couldn’t hear me with those ear muffs?”

Scoffing an incredulous laugh, Leo furrowed his brow playfully. “Alright, wise guy, you asked for this.” Leo lightened his touch enough so that his fingernails were just grazing along Casey’s neck, causing the boy to try and turn into a turtle himself and scrunch his head down, all the while in fits of panicked giggles.

“DahAHAamnit LehehEHEO!” He cried, grappling with the turtle’s arms to dislodge his freezing fingers. “Nohohoho!”

Using the tassels of Casey’s scarf to dust along his cheek just to be annoying, Leo cooed, “I warned you bud; insult the muffs, get the fluff.”

Pressing his cheek into the snow, Casey batted at his mentor with horribly uncoordinated movements. “Yohou suhuck!”

“Ouch, what a burn. Good thing we’re surrounded by so much ice that I can treat it.”

Casey landed a smack on his shoulder, rolling his eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t roll right out of his head. “Dork,” he bit out between peals of laughter.

“Oh I’m a dork now am I? Wow, really laying it on thick with the insults today, kiddo,” Leo snorted. The attempts of ‘insulting’ Leo really weren’t really that cutting at all, he was gonna have to teach this kid some curse words to help him along. Raph may kill him for it, but he was the sensei of Jones Junior, not his big brother. Casey did end up catching a cold from the snow, though Leo held up his promise and was vigilant during the boy’s recovery. This was his kid after all, he was always going to look out for his Snow Baby.

#my fanfic #rottmnt tickle #rottmnt #tmnt tickle #lee!casey #ler!leo #casey jones #rise donnie #rise leo #rise raph #rise april #april o'neil

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mrsjellymunson · 5 months

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What's His Name Again?

Written for the @steddiemicrofic December prompt ‘pine’ | Rating: T | WC: 508 | CW: Modern AU, fluff, flirting (mild), swearing, inaccurate depiction of a movie’s release date (bc I just had to make this festive) | Tags: Love confession (sort of), Steve’s bi awakening, getting together. A/N: Massive thanks to @steddieas-shegoes and @wynnyfryd for organising these challenges. I learn and/or experience something new every time, from both taking part and reading. Also, apologies if this is stretching the prompt too far 😆

“Thanks for coming with me, dude. I know it’s not really your thing.”

“No problem, man. I know how desperate you are to see it. The kids can’t skip school to see the first showing, and I couldn’t let you come alone like some kind of loser.”

Steve gives Eddie a wry smile. He retrieves their popcorn and they shuffle into the padded seats at the back of the theatre.

“What else has he been in?”

“I told you. The new Star Trek movies, Wonder Woman, some thriller, I forget the name. You’ll recognise him, I swear.”

“It’s a real treat for you, huh? An actor you like, in a film about D&D?”

“Yeah, it’s niche, but I’m definitely not complaining.”

Eddie gives Steve a little smile.

Wait, is he nervous?

Steve says the name in his head again. It’s still not familiar.

“So what is it about this Chris Pine guy that you like so much?”, nudging Eddie’s elbow.

Even in the dim lighting, Steve spots his pinkening cheeks.

“Weeeelll, he usually plays the good guy, but he can play darker too. He’s got cute hair, a super-buff bod, intense eyes. Jesus, those fuckin’ eyes…”

Eddie’s voice trails off, cracking slightly.

Steve looks sideways, and sees that Eddie isn’t looking at the screen. He’s looking straight at Steve.

Oh.

Steve swallows, shifts in his seat. Tries not to make it obvious that he’s hiding the appearance of an unexpected semi.

OH.

They watch the movie mostly in silence, apart from Steve occasionally gaining clarification on D&D-related plot points and them both whooping and groaning at appropriate junctures.

Steve enjoys it more than he thought he would, admitting,

“That Chris guy is pretty good. I can see why you… like him.”

Eddie coughs.

“Yeah, he’s a pretty good actor, if, y’know, that’s your thing.”

Do it, Steve, just fucking do it.

“It’s still early, do you maybe wanna do something else before the kids get out of school?”

Eddie replies enthusiastically, “Sure!” Adding, more nonchalantly, ”I mean, sure, if you wanted to. Like what?”

“We could go back to your place? You could educate me on the finer points of D&D lore?”

A year later, Steve and Eddie are setting up a tree, celebrating their first Christmas in their new apartment.

The kids are coming over for a festive get-together. Dustin’s the first to arrive, brandishing a small package.

Eddie admonishes, “Hey, we said no presents!”

“I don't care. This is special.”

Steve tears the wrapping, revealing a DVD of ‘Dungeons and Dragons: Honour Among Thieves’.

“Dustin, how did you know?”

“Dude, it was all over the pair of you as soon as you’d seen it! Since Chris Pine is basically your Cupid, we figured you might like to watch it on your anniversary.”

Eddie grabs the DVD, flings it to the sofa, and bundles his boyfriend into a loose hug.

“Don’t need it, I’ve got my very own Chris Pine right here. Cute hair, super-buff bod, intense eyes.”

He stares deeply into Steve’s.

“Jesus, those fuckin’ eyes…”

Thanks for reading! Please consider commenting on and/or reblogging stuff you like, it really does make Tumblr spin.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddiemicrofic #steddie microfic challenge #eddie munson fluff #Steve Harrington fluff #steddie fluff #Steve’s bi awakening #Steve Harrington’s bi awakening #D&D: honour among thieves #Chris Pine #D&D #stranger things #stranger things fanfic

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veronicaphoenix · 2 days

Text

THE UNMAKING OF A WARRIOR — PART VII

Pairing: samurai/ronin!noah x fem. reader | Words: 11.5k

Chapter tags & trigger warnings: tiny bit of sexual content at the beginning, fluff, subtle talks of dom/sub dynamic, mentions of bondage, torture, nightmares, anxiety, mentions of underage sexual experiences, blade to throat, death threats, blood, mentions of supernatural forces, mentions of Noah having killed people before (sorry, he's a samurai, after all), mentions of pregnancy, angst, cliffhanger at the end whoops. so many things, i'm taking this fic very seriously no joke

Author's note: okay everybody, i've done a bunch of research for this fic and I love learning about different cultures and expanding my knowledge about the world, but the entire thing is obviously historically inaccurate (not that this is exactly a historical fic but anyway), also I don't think people wore sweatpants in feudal Japan, but I can't picture Noah not wearing them, so here you go, a samurai wearing sweatpants. 🤭 I haven't done a second review to check for any last typos or mistakes, so I apologize for that.

Additional useful info: - Kami: japanese word for a deity, divinity, or spirit. - Yakuza: individual involved in criminal organizations, thought to have descended from gangs of ronin (masterless samurai) - Rei and Ren are two different people in the story. Rei we like, Ren we definitely do not like.

THE UNMAKING OF A WARRIOR

PART VII

Waking up to Noah’s serene form beside me felt like a blessing.

His peaceful slumber was a sight I’d seen many times in the dark, when he slept by my side and I sacrificed my own hours of rest just to watch him, knowing that with the dawn, he would be gone.

But this time, watching him held a special tranquility. His young features, usually marked by a furrowed brow, were now softened in repose, free from the burdens of worry that plagued him even in sleep.

During the night, his rest had been disturbed, his subconscious grappling with the lingering echoes of the past few days. Despite the idyllic surroundings we found ourselves in, a part of him remained tethered to the fears and uncertainties of our choices. His dreams were plagued with scenarios of what could have happened days ago, before escaping from my father’s estate. At one point, he tossed and turned so fervently in bed that he flung the sheets off his body. A thin layer of sweat covered his forehead, neck, and chest.

Now that morning had unfolded, and sunlight streamed into our modest dwelling, I found myself drawn to Noah’s profile, his beautiful lines illuminated by the gentle glow. Even while sleeping, his features exuded a captivating allure, making him look even more handsome than he already was. His shirt had shifted during the night, when he found himself trapped in a nightmare, and a glimpse of his abdomen was now revealed to me alongside the scars that marred his warrior skin. A pang of sadness washed over me at the reminder of the trials he had endured, being born into a family of Samurai where the path of battle was but an unavoidable destiny.

My eyes shifted from one ugly scar under his left pectoral to the tattoos adorning his skin.

Noah’s fascination with tattoos had always intrigued me, especially considering the strict code of the Samurai that forbade such adornments. Samurai detested tattoos. Yet, Noah had received his first one at the age of eighteen, during a chance encounter with a group of ronin on the outskirts of the estate. I remember him recounting the tale to me with a mix of trepidation and wonder, describing how he had nearly fled at the sight of the masterless samurai. Yet, he found himself drawn to their stories and the reasons why they had decided to break the Bushido code and now lived in the shadows. A ronin had been the one to ink a small dragon onto Noah’s skin, unaware that Noah would become one of them years later. As he showed the tattoo to me and I traced the red and blue lines with my fingertips, I became aware that he would have to keep it hidden. It terrified me to know what my father would do to him if he found out Noah had stained his skin.

This morning, my fingers traced the same path, sliding down gently from the head of the dragon to its ferocious tail. Noah stirred slightly beneath my touch, though he remained slightly lost in his sleep. I shot a wary glance at his face, and as soon as I saw his eyes remained closed, I moved my fingers to his navel and down, towards the line of hair that descended and disappeared under the waistband of his pants.

He whispered my name, a gentle protest.

“Stop that. It tickles,” he mumbled, his voice coarse.

His words only triggered me to continue my tracing, which made him open his eyes and, in an instant, he had flipped me onto my back, his grin infectious as he pinned me beneath him.

The unmistakable hardness of his morning erection didn’t go unnoticed to me as it pressed against my hip.

“Good morning,” I said quietly, but even with my sweet voice I couldn’t hide my intentions. Noah narrowed his gaze on me, his fingers moving a few strands of hair from my face.

“Good morning,” he replied. “Someone had a good night’s sleep, I see.”

As soon as he said that, I subtly arched my hips, seeking out some friction. Noah’s eyes darkened. With one hand on my hip, he kept me pinned to the mattress, but I was feeling feisty enough and I slid a hand down and inside his sweatpants, making my way beneath his underwear and wrapping my fingers around his hard, thick length.

Locked in a silent exchange of desire, Noah’s eyes bore into mine, a vein beginning to pulse on his neck. Just as I was poised to take things further, to pump him once, laughter from outside shattered the moment, snapping us both back to reality.

Noah immediately flipped back to his side of the bed, both slightly breathless and eager for the privacy we had momentarily lost. We turned our attention towards the balcony door, our sanctuary now breached by the intrusion of the outside world.

We had no idea what time it was, but suddenly we were very aware of the noise outside, the chatter of voices, the chirping of birds, the occasional deer call, and the distant clucking of chickens. I was momentarily disoriented.

As the chaos settled around us, a sense of clarity began to emerge.

We were far from home, —or what home had been—. We were nestled in a humble abode offered by a community we had only just discovered. Surrounded by life in all its vibrant forms, if we got lucky enough, Noah and I could dare to hope for a future together in this place. The laughter of children drifting away outside made me wish with all my might that the opportunity came to us and all the dreams I had with Noah became a reality.

Despite the realization that we still didn’t have the privacy we would like, I wanted to embrace this new reality. To wake up to the symphony of birdsong, the joyous laughter of children, and the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze—these simple pleasures whispered promises of a life yet to be lived.

After composing ourselves and tending to the necessities of the morning, I ventured out onto the porch, greeted by the sweet fragrance of nearby flowers and the soft caress of the morning breeze. In the distance, I spotted Rika and Milla’s children, their playful antics adding a sweet touch to the warmth of our new community.

Near the door, a package caught my eye, it’s presence a tangible reminder of the kindness that surrounded us. Attached to it was a tag bearing Rika’s name. With a grateful smile, I carried the package inside, closing the wooden doors behind me.

As Noah caught sight of me, a softness settled over his features. I could tell he was still living in the short moment we had shared in bed as we woke up.

I carefully read the note attached to the package in my hands,

“I thought these clothes might be useful for now. I hope they fit you. I used to wear them before I got pregnant with my first child. There are some from my husband that might fit Noah.

Rika.”

Surveying the contents of the package, Noah selected a pair of black trousers and a matching tunic, securing his katana at his waist with a belt of the same color as he finished getting dressed. Meanwhile, I found myself staring in awe at the array of dresses Rika had offered, each one an affirmation of her generosity and kindness.

After much deliberation, I chose a delicate white summer dress adorned with tiny blue flowers, its charm a contrast to the uncertainty of our circumstances. But as I held it in my hands and examined it, a sense of determination flooded me. I wanted this to work, and as silly as it sounded, I considered that, by wearing a cute dress, I could give it a start.

However, as I struggled with the intricate straps at the back of it, a sense of frustration took over me, and I found myself longing for the assistance of the maids back at my father’s estate.

Noah appeared behind me. In a heartbeat, his hands covered mine, his touch gentle yet confident.

“Let me,” he murmured, his voice a soothing melody in the quiet of the room as I dropped my hands.

With practiced ease, he skillfully tightened the straps and tied a knot. I held my breath, acutely aware of the precision in his touch.

His proficiency with ropes, honed through years as a samurai, carried with it a weight of history and pain that lingered beneath the surface.

I had witnessed the anguish that haunted Noah’s eyes on those nights we spent entwined beneath the covers, grappling with demons of his past. The torment of inflicting pain upon innocent prisoners that had been tied up with ropes in impossible ways weighed heavily upon him, a burden he bore with a heavy heart. And in those moments of darkness, I knew that I had to find a way to replace the agony with something else. I might not be able to make it disappear, but I could help him deal with it in a different way, build a new memory related to that bondage he was meant to perform on those people considered traitors.

The first time, many years ago when I asked him to tie me up, his horror at my proposal was obvious, and his refusal resolute and unwavering. He got very upset, and I didn’t insist any further that night. But I refused to be deterred, though, and patiently waited for the opportunity to convey the depth of my intentions and why I believed it could help him.

“I’m not asking you to hurt me,” I whispered. “I’m asking you to show me how much you’re capable of loving; to show me that by being completely at your mercy, I’m safe; that beneath the warrior lies a man of compassion and tenderness; that despite everything, you’re a man of good heart.”

It was a gradual journey, fraught with a lot of uncertainty and hesitation. But as Noah discovered the profound emotional bond that the bindings on my body provided, there was no turning back, and soon I found myself bound and completely subjected to him in bed, feeling every one of his touches more intensely than ever, every kiss he placed on every inch of my body more devoted than the last.

The restraints provided by the bindings seemed to ignite the rest of my senses, making my skin tingle and increasing my ability to feel and understand that Noah was mine and I was his. Never, not once, did I fear him. That confidence toppled the last ounce of insecurity that remained in Noah, and since then, we knew that we wouldn’t be able to live without each other.

With Noah, I found a sanctuary where submission was a choice made freely. It had nothing to do with the control that defined my life and that I hated. With Noah I could be honest, and I could submit without fear. And Noah, despite not being able to escape the expectations of his samurai heritage, despite not being able to rid himself of that part of him that yearned for control and dominance, he embraced it when I was in his arms.

When we were with each other, the dynamic was wonderful, and there was no moment when we felt more united than when I let go, surrendered to his mercy.

As I turned around and thanked him for tying the straps of the dress, I noticed that his eyes had darkened, and I understood that the same thoughts had been crossing his mind as he tied the ribbons.

“Beautiful”, he murmured, but more than a sigh, the way he pronounced the word resembled a growl.

With a sheepish smile, I tiptoed to kiss him, my hands pressed against his hard stomach, and for a moment I damned that a few more moments alone together, in that comfortable bed that had been offered to us, had been stolen.

I’d had Noah inside me a couple of days ago, but still, the ache of missing and wanting him was too potent.

Noah parted his lips to kiss me deeper, but a growl from his stomach interrupted us. A hint of embarrassment colored his cheeks as I laughed.

“I’m hungry,” he said. He traced a strand of hair that fell across my face, his fingers falling to my neck and caressing it in a tantalizing caress. “I could eat you.”

He leaned in to feign a bite at my neck, prompting me to laugh louder. I squirmed under his touch, laughing and letting out little squeals.

It wasn’t as late as we initially thought. When we left the house, traces of dew still lingered on the plants, and some moisture collected on the stone paths.

We walked to the main dining hall, warmly greeting the people who recognized us from the previous day, exchanging good mornings with a wave of the hand or a polite nod. In the dining hall, much like the night before, there weren’t many people, but the same woman who served me dinner the previous night was there, delighted to see me in good spirits and well accompanied. Noah and I had breakfast in silence, occasionally glancing around, absorbing the details of the place and familiarizing ourselves with the community’s routine. The woman serving the food assured us we could eat as much as we wanted, gesturing with her arms to indicate the abundance of fresh fruit baskets, cereals, and other hot delicacies piled up on a long table at the opposite end of the hall.

I was finishing a cup of hot tea when an elderly couple, around eighty, perhaps,, approached us very slowly, delicate smiles on their wrinkled faces. I exchanged a cautious glance with Noah, unsure how to greet them, whether we should stand up, or if we should stop eating. As soon as Noah made a move to rise from the bench, the woman gestured with her hand and shook her head, then gave him a couple of gentle pats on the shoulder. The encounter didn’t go beyond that.

Not long after, when Rika appeared on the porch leading to the dining hall, she informed us that they were the oldest couple in the community, residing at the top of the hill at the back end of the village, just behind the temple we had seen upon our arrival the day before. They were very quiet and reserved people, and being older, their community tasks had already ceased, and now they spent their time strolling around the village, helping just in whatever way they could and warding off evil spirits.

“They are very wise people,” Rika told us. “If you ever need advice or help, you’ll likely find them at the temple. They take care of keeping it clean and orderly, and often perform rituals for the well-being of the community.”

We were leaning on the veranda of the porch when Rei, the man who’d led us into the village the day before, approached. He greeted Noah warmly and apologized to me for not including me in his tour yesterday, to which I replied that it hadn’t mattered and that I appreciated their concern for me and letting me rest.

I hadn’t finished talking when a gentle brush against my thigh through the porch bars drew my attention, and as I turned around, I was met with the sight of a curious deer lingering near the porch. Its innocent gaze and delicate features captivated me instantly, and unable to resist it, I walked off the porch and onto the stone path, approaching the creature with a mixture of fascination and wonder.

As if sensing my presence, the deer remained still, showing a genuine trust toward me that warmed my heart. Noah, Rei, and Rika observed from the porch.

“They’re quite friendly,” Rika said, her voice carrying a sense of tranquility that matched the peaceful surroundings. “The children love playing with them.”

Indeed, as soon as a group of children noticed me petting the deer, they joined in, their laughter filling the air as they frolicked alongside the gentle creature. It was a scene of pure joy and innocence, a stark contrast to the hardships Noah and I had faced in recent days. It was hard to believe two days ago we had been sleeping in an abandoned and ruined cottage in the middle of nowhere, with barely any food nor water.

As the children gathered around, their eyes wide with wonder, I knelt down beside them, the soft breeze carrying the scent of pine and earth.

“Did you know that deer shed their antlers every year?” I began to explain, my voice soft yet animated. “They use them for protection and to attract mates.”

The children listened intently, their fascination evident as they hung onto my every word. I had always been fascinated by animals, my knowledge about them being nurtured by years of education and exploration. Close to my father’s estate there was a deer sanctuary, a haven where Noah and I met each other on numerous occasions, allowing the creatures to bear witness to the blossoming of our love. “Really?” one of the children exclaimed, their curiosity piqued. He must have been four or five. His cheeks were full and his eyes a sweet light brown. “So, does that mean they have new antlers every year?”

I nodded, delighted by their enthusiasm to learn. “That’s right! In the spring, new antlers start to grow, covered in a soft, fuzzy layer called velvet. And as they grow, they become stronger and more durable.”

The children exchanged excited whispers among themselves, their eyes shining.

Rika watched from the porch, her eyes twinkling with pride at the scene unfolding before her.

“You’re wonderful with children,” she noticed.

I glanced up at her, and just uttered a simple “thank you”, not knowing what else to say to that. When my eyes diverted to Noah, I caught his gaze fixed on me with a newfound intensity. It was as if a sudden realization had dawned on him, a silent acknowledgment of the future we might share together.

Before he said anything, Rei interjected, “It’s very hard to keep them still these days. The children, I mean. All they want to do is run around,” he said. “You seem to have a knack for handling them,” he remarked, his tone gentle yet inquisitive, and then, “Noah told me you’re very skilled at archery.”

“A little,” I replied, somewhat confused at the change of topics.

“She’s very good,” Noah corrected, emphasizing his words with a nod of his head, his words flooding my mind with images from the time I showed Noah my skills and he had been shockingly impressed. I had been sixteen at the time, and I had been able to shoot a 25lb light bow straight into my aiming point at a distance of ten yards.

“My father wanted me to train in the art of archery from a young age,” I explained, with a hint of bitterness in my voice. Talking about my father would always put me on edge after the events that had just transpired.

“You could continue your training here, or if you prefer, you could teach the children,” Rei suggested as the deer at my side fed on some grass growing between the stones. “It would be nice to have someone else to instruct them. The current instructor is getting too old for it.”

“Oh. Um—I don’t know,” I was not expecting such proposal less than twenty-four hours since we’d set foot on this place. “I’d have to think about it. I don’t think I’m good enough for that.”

But Noah’s raised eyebrow told me I didn’t have to be so modest.

Rei continued, “I think they would benefit greatly from your experience and guidance.”

“It would be great,” Rika added. “My husband has always wanted our son to learn how to use the bow.”

Rei insisted, his voice soft but filled with conviction, “the children of our community are always eager to learn new skills. I can’t help but think that, if you’re as good as Noah says, your expertise in archery would be a valuable asset to them, honestly.”

His words sparked a flicker of excitement within me, “You really think so?” I asked, apprehensive.

“Absolutely,” he affirmed, his voice steady and sure. “If you have a gift, the children would be lucky to learn from you.”

But alongside the thrill of possibility, a wave of self-doubt came my way, threatening to extinguish the flame of enthusiasm. What if I wasn’t good enough? What if I failed to inspire the children, or worse, disappointed them? I had never really spent that much time around children, much less teaching them something. Archery was a challenge, far from a simple task. It demanded perseverance through frustration, disappointments, and physical exhaustion.

But as I looked up at Noah again, I saw his unwavering faith in me reflected in the depths of his brown eyes. I found the courage to push aside my doubts and embrace the opportunity before me. With a determined nod, I made up my mind to seize the moment and trust in the strength of my own abilities.

The idea was certainly appealing, and teaching archery to the children would not only allow me to share my skills but also contribute to the community in a meaningful way, something totally different from the future that had waited for me at Ren’s estate if I had married him…

“Well, I... think I would like that,” I concluded.

As we continued our conversation, Rei proceeded to explain in detail how the community worked to sustain itself. Each member contributed in their own way, whether it was teaching skills like archery, gardening, tending to the harvest, fishing, construction, preparing food, or other subjects more related to history, mathematics, and literature. It was a system built on mutual support and cooperation, where everyone played a vital role in ensuring the community thrived.

Rika, sensing her duties calling, excused herself with a warm smile, suggesting that Noah and I explore the town market later. “It’s a lovely place and not far from here,” she added before walking away towards the northwest side of the village. “You can buy anything you need there.”

Following Rei’s lead, we made our way to the Samurai training grounds, where he proudly showed us the disciplined regimen of the warriors just as he had showed to Noah the day before. The purpose of teaching combat wasn’t the same as the one imposed to those born into a Samurai lineage like Noah. While Noah and his kin were bound by duty to bow to authority and dedicate their lives to the service of war, the kids and youngsters that engaged in combat training here at this place did it with the aim of cultivating their physical strength, honing mental discipline, and equipping themselves with skills needed for self-defense, should the need arise. It was a practice rooted in self-reliance and empowerment, rather than obligation and allegiance.

Next to the training grounds, the archery training fields awaited.

Arriving there, I was met with a breathtaking panorama of lush greenery stretching out before me, the distant mountains standing sentinel against the azure sky.

A its center, there was a row of sturdy wooden targets, each with rings painted in red. Along the periphery, racks of polished bows stood in neat rows, the curves catching the sunlight, and nearby, quivers waited with arrows arranged next to them.

It was truly a wonderful place, even though my momentary admiration was broken by Rei’s next words.

“Why don’t you show us what you can do?”

I frowned.

“What?” Immediately, I shook my head. “No. No, I don’t—I don’t think I’m dressed appropriately,” I confessed, feeling a pang of self-consciousness as I looked down at my dress.

“I’ve seen you shoot while dressed in much less appropriate attire,” Noah teased gently, his eyes twinkling.

It took him less than a sentence to convince me to do anything.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward, my eyes fixed on the bows. I examined them until I choose one that seemed the most appropriate for my height and the length of my arms. My fingers trembled slightly as they closed around the familiar weight of the bow. For a moment, time seemed to stand still, the world around me fading into insignificance as I prepared myself and focused all my attention on one of the targets ahead.

With a silent prayer on my lips, I drew back the bowstring, feeling the tension build in my muscles with eachsecond. And then, with a swift release, I let the arrow fly, watching with bated breath as it soared through the air with deadly accuracy.

The moment seemed to stretch into eternity, the world holding its breath as the arrow found its mark with a satisfying thud. A rush of exhilaration surged through me, filling every fiber of my being with a sense of triumph and accomplishment.

Turning to face Rei and Noah, I was met with looks of awe and admiration, Noah’s eyes shining with pride as Rei’s watched me with respect. Not even my mother had ever shown so much pride and gratefulness in her daughter.

“Noah was right. You do possess a remarkable talent,” Rei acknowledged. “The children will undoubtedly benefit greatly from the opportunity to learn from you.”

“I would be honored to teach them,” I replied, my voice filled with determination and a new sense of purpose.

As the soft hues of a sunny morning painted shadows around us, Noah and I set out on our journey towards the nearby town, hand in hand, our footsteps light upon the forest path. The air was alive with the symphony of nature, the gentle rustle of leaves and the sweet delicacy of a birdsong.

It was the first time we walked with my hand clutched in his as two people who were free, although a part of me still felt reluctant. I was so used to the ingrained fear that holding Noah’s hand was a crime that even after deciding to go against all the rules of our society, I couldn’t entirely erase the lingering apprehension. I couldn’t shake the feeling that at some point someone would show up, point us out, and make us pay for the “crime” of falling in love.

I was aware that Noah was also grappling with similar anxieties, although he had always been more adept at concealing his fears and worries, of course.

My thoughts were confirmed when, instead of reveling in the liberation of the moment, he diverted our attention to something he had forgotten to mention the night before.

In the backpack my grandmother had given us, at the bottom of it, Noah had found another packet containing a handful of coins and bills. Enough money to get us out of harm’s way for a while longer.

With everything that had happened to us in the last three days, I hadn’t even stopped to think about money. For me, it had never been a problem, but by deciding to run away with Noah, I had also decided to forsake a life of luxury in the castles of the royal families, the fortune that would fall into my hands just for being the daughter of a Shogun, or the inheritance that would be left in my name once my parents were no longer here. Noah and I had nothing. No coins to our name, no possessions but the clothes on our backs. It was a cold reminder of the consequences of our impulsive actions —a samurai and a princess reduced to fugitives, stripped of all the wealth and status that had once defined us.

That just showed how little I cared about money. Still, Noah managed to alleviate some of my unease with the news that at least we had something on our hands, which led me to realize that, in the excitement of setting out to explore the town, I hadn’t thought to take my grandfather’s katana. When I mentioned it to Noah, telling him that I suddenly felt vulnerable and exposed considering we were still being searched for by my father’s army, he made us stop and forced me to look deep into his eyes as he held my face in his calloused hands.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to carry a weapon with you at all times,” he said. “Maybe you should have taken it today, in case you were going out alone, but you’re not. You’re with me. Nothing is going to happen, and I’ll make sure that from now on, you won’t feel the need to be armed whenever you decide to go somewhere.”

That was sweet, the way he implied that he would give me a life of freedom and absent of fear, but they didn’t entirely dispel my anxiety.

“I’ve got mine,” he said as he noted my angst not subsiding, his thumbs caressing the curve of my cheeks. “I’ll keep us safe, don’t worry.”

Attempting to reassure him more than myself, I nodded, forcing a small smile.

As I started to resume our walk, Noah’s hand clasped my wrist, halting me in place. When I looked up at him, I noticed a special glint in his eyes.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I’m aware I told you how beautiful you are mere hours ago,” he began, his voice a quiet whisper in the forest. The way he was looking at me was tender and adoring, the touch of his touch around my wrist a soothing, honeyed sensation. “But there’s something…” he cleared his throat. “I’ve always wanted to tell you how pretty you look in these dresses,” he continued, more confidence in his voice this time. “Whenever I saw you around your father’s gardens, I was… mesmerized. But I couldn’t say anything.” For obvious reasons. “You look pretty. I just wanted you to know.”

I blushed, but despite the embarrassment I was able to stand on my tiptoes and give him a soft kiss, cupping his cheek in one of my hands.

In about twenty minutes, we caught sight of the first houses that comprised the town. Nestled in the center of the picturesque valley, the town was flanked by towering mountains and crisscrossed by a river, likely the same one Noah and I had followed on our journey.

At the entrance to the town, a stone structure welcomed us, shaped by two vertical pillar and two horizontal crossbeams.

Venturing further, excitement flowing through me as I held tightly onto Noah’s hand, we found ourselves amidst a bustling scene. The narrow main street bustled with activity as locals and visitors alike moved briskly, carrying bags of provisions and exchanging lively greetings.

The air was alive with the aromas of freshly baked bread and simmering rice, wafting from tiny eateries just beginning to open their doors. Though being daytime, lanterns overhead cast a warm glow and added illumination to the cobblestone path below our feet.

As we strolled along, I was captivated by the sights and sounds that surrounded us. Quaint tea houses adorned with cherry blossoms stood alongside market stalls offering an array of treasures.

I pulled Noah to a stop when we came across a group of street performers.

Dressed in elegant kimonos and covered in vibrant colors, a pair of dancers performed a kabuki-inspired dance, bringing to life ancient tales of heroism and love while a skilled percussionist put on display a performance of taiko drumming on massive drums. The music filled the street with thunderous rhythms that reverberated through the crowd. We watched, enthralled. By the time they reached the heart of their act, Noah’s arms had slid around my waist from behind, and I swayed a little with my back pressed against his chest, my hands resting on top of his over my stomach.And as the final notes of music faded into the air, we were left with a profound desire to belong to this place.

Even when the crowd started to dissipate, I remained tucked in Noah’s arms, feeling a bittersweet feeling inside of me. I could like it here. I could love it. I was already mesmerized by it all, but the reminder that this what at the cost of my parents put a heaviness in my chest that every once in a while made it difficult to breath.

As always, so perceptive, Noah pressed a kiss to my hair, prompting me to close my eyes and relish the feeling of being there with him, surrounded by people that accepted our love, that allowed us to be.

Thankfully, the crowd surrounding me serves as a reminder to keep me anchored in the present moment. My life didn’t belong to my parents, and life was not meant to be perfect, either. I could have paradise at a certain cost, and I would take it. I would take this which was standing in front of me, around me, right now.

With Noah encouraging us to keep exploring, we stumbled upon a small gathering of locals at a fork in the street, huddled together in animated conversation. They were whispering legends that seemed to dance upon the breeze and that kept children and adults spellbounded by the narratives.

An old man, his face weathered by years of wisdom, was regaling locals and visitors with tales of ancient warriors and mythical beasts, his voice rising and falling like the ebb and flow of a tide. As he spoke, Noah and I listened and exchanged knowing glances. These tales had been our companions in the quiet of bedtime as children and had accompanied us through our teenage years, intertwined with the poetry and literature of our respective educations.

As the day wore on and the rumble of hunger coming from my stomach elicited a playful comment from Noah this time, we sought out the nearest food stall, its colorful banners and fragrant spices alluring us closer. We approached the stall with hunger, our mouths watering at the tantalizing aroma that wafted through the air.

Noah’s eyes danced with excitement as he perused the selection of dishes on display, his adventurous spirit evident as he selected a variety of savory skewers and steaming dumplings.

“What would you like to have?” he asked.

“There’s so much to choose from,” I replied, my eyes darting from one plate to another. “Everything looks delicious.”

Noah engaged the vendor, asking about a few specific delicacies before making our selections.

“Would you like to try these? They’ve just been made and are still warm,” the vendor offered, gesturing to a plate of unfamiliar bites.

“Sure,” I agreed, accepting the bite from Noah’s fingers. His act of feeding me felt intimate and sweet, and elicited a smile I couldn’t shake as I chewed, my gaze locked on his until his laughter broke the spell.

“What?” I asked, my mouth still full.

“You look like a hamster,” he teased, his eyes alight with amusement. When he attempted to pinch my cheeks, I punched him playfully on the shoulder before covering my mouth with my hand.

But as I swallowed and tried to avoid his excited expression, I was overwhelmed by a sense of completeness. I had never seen Noah like this, so carefree, so happy. I wanted him like this forever. I would take the good and the bad, but I didn’t want anyone to take this happiness from him.

I vowed to protect this happiness at all costs.

As the taste settled in, an unexpected sharp sting spread across my tongue.

“Gods, this is so spicy!” I exclaimed, feeling the heat intensify.

The vendor let out a little laugh at my reaction. Noah observed my cheeks tinging red, and without letting his amusement fade, he asked the vendor for a glass of water, which the man quickly offered to me.

After my tongue found some relief and I insisted on avoiding further adventurous bites, Noah and I retreated to a quiet corner to enjoy our meal. Our conversation was light-hearted, focused on the scene unfolding around us and the animate characters populating the market street. We didn’t discuss the situation we were still in for we didn’t want to break the spell of this merry morning.

A while later, hand in hand and with contented stomachs, we continued to wander through the streets, our hearts buoyant and our spirits lifted by the vibrant energy around. We marveled at the myriad of wonders on display. I couldn’t resist stealing a glance at the elegant dresses adorning one of the stalls, which caught the sunlight and seemed to be calling out to me.

Ever so attentive to my desires, Noah noticed my gaze and suggested we take a closer look. I was initially hesitant, for the notion of indulging in something as frivolous as a dress seemed quite selfish from my part. But Noah gently took my hand in his and told me that it was perfectly acceptable to indulge in a little luxury now and then, that I deserved it, and that seeing me happy was all he desired.

Already feeling content simply walking beside him, hand in hand and basking in his love, I relented, allowing myself to be swept away by the beauty of the exquisite garments on display. I explored the racks of dresses with Noah following my steps. Each dress was more enchanting than the last, and Noah offered his candid opinion and commented on which colors seemed to complement me best, which I found quite adorable. Who would have thought that a Samurai could be so dept at navigating the world of fashion?

Lost in the array of fabrics and colors, my moment of indulgence was suddenly interrupted by the unexpected appearance of Kenzo, Rika’s husband. Spotting us from a distance, he called out our names, drawing our attention away from the dresses and back to the street.

With a friendly salute, Kenzo greeted us, mentioning that he had just finished selling some rice to the vendors from the nearby stalls while his brother remained in the fields. Curious about our impressions of the town, he inquired about our experience so far, prompting me to gush with cheerful comments about the warmth of the people and the beauty of the place.

Everything felt so delightful. Such mundane tasks as shopping for food and clothes were luxuries that I had seldom enjoyed during my time at my father’s estate, which made this experience all the more special for me.

“I can’t help but notice that my clothes fit you well,” he pointed out, looking at Noah’s outfit.

“Yeah, thank you. I’ll make sure to get something else today so that we don’t have to keep borrowing clothes,” Noah replied humbly. No hint of embarrassment. I guess he didn’t care, truly.

“Do not worry too much about it. The dress looks good on you, too,” he said to me. “I hadn’t seen Rika wearing that dress since she got pregnant.” At the mention, his eyes showed a glimpse of a fond memory, maybe his wife, round with their child in her tummy. “It’s nice to see that we can still give use to things we don’t need anymore.”

“All the dresses were so pretty,” I said, running my fingers over the delicate fabric of the skirt, admiring its design.

“She’s got another lot from when she was pregnant. We’re not considering having another baby for a while now, but if you do, do not hesitate to ask her. I’m sure she’ll be elated to borrow you some clothes if you like them. Otherwise, there is a shop down the street, on the left, that only sells clothes for pregnant women.”

While his offer was undoubtedly kind, his remarks about pregnancy and babies only served to exacerbate my internal turmoil. The prospect of starting a family with Noah had crossed my mind on occasion, the image of Noah holding our tiny baby in his long arms, tucking him or her against his chest… I had entertained the thought a few times, but it was a topic I wasn’t ready to confront fully yet. It felt daunting considering the tumultuous world we were living in at the moment. Motherhood could wait for a more opportune moment, when our hearts and minds were truly ready.

Just as Kenzo was pointing towards the location of said maternity shop, the three of us realized the air was crackling with tension nearby. A commotion was growing, the voices of angry merchants rising in protest over some disputed deal. Noah exchanged a concerned glance with me, then touched Kenzo’s shoulder.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Noah said.

“Not at all,” Kenzo agreed.

“Mind if we go and see if we can help defuse the situation?” Noah suggested before starting to leave the clothing stall.

“No, sure. Let’s go, see if we can be of any help,” was Kenzo’s answer.

“You stay here,” Noah said to me, extending his arm to grab my hand and give it a gentle squeeze while he smiled a little. “Get a dress you like. I’ll be back in a moment.”

“Okay, just be safe,” I told him.

“I will,” he nodded.

With my heart a little heavy, I released his hand reluctantly and let Noah fade into the crowd, followed by Kenzo. They hurried off towards the source of disturbance, to which I didn’t really pay much attention. I had enough to worry about, and I knew that whatever was going on, would get settled soon, with Noah and Kenzo’s help.

I let myself be dragged on by the energy of the other people around me, also checking clothes and buying food in the nearby stalls.

As I stood amidst the colorful dresses, I tried to push aside the worry gnawing at my insides and immerse myself in the moment. I touched the fabrics, marveled at the craftsmanship and attention poured to the details in the designs. Each garment was a work of art in its own right.

The vendor, a kindly old woman with a warm smile and twinkling eyes, noticed my interest and approached with a gentle curiosity. With a nod of greeting, she began to share stories of the dresses – their origins, the traditions behind their designs, and the meaning woven into every stitch. Her words were like music to my ears, soothing my troubled mind and drawing me deeper into the enchanting world of the shop.

But just as I began to relax into the moment, a strange presence abruptly stopped just behind me, and a chill swept over me, sending shivers down my spine.

Instinctively, I tensed, my senses on high alert.

A body pressed against mine threateningly.

The heat pressing against my back lacked the comforting warmth I felt when Noah was near. My heart raced, and I found myself frozen for a few seconds, staring straight ahead, eyes wide open, my hand still gripping the side of the dress I had contemplated buying.

Around me, people bustled about, occupied with their tasks, chatting with their neighbors and friends as they held shopping bags and carried boxes of produce. As my eyes scanned the crowd panickily, I couldn’t spot Noah. The commotion at the end of the street seemed to have magnified and I couldn’t get a glimpse of his tall frame.

Even amidst the busy street, fear enveloped me.

I had no weapons with me, and Noah didn’t know I was in danger. There was no possible way I could tell him that he was, too.

I was on the verge of screaming when the voice behind me said, “Dare to utter a sound, and I assure you the blade of the knife I’m holding against your side will pierce your skin, deep enough to stain the pretty dress you’re wearing. No one will be able to do anything to stop it, not even Noah. So listen to me: turn around and walk to the alley on the right, and keep going until the end. Don’t stop, and don’t even think about running or screaming for your hapless Ronin to come to your rescue. Understood?”

I didn’t reply, my blood turning cold as my thoughts raced. If I could just be quick enough to grab something sharp from the stall and turn around to attack him first…

The tip of his blade pressed against my side, and a twinge of pain shot through me. I knew the dress was torn, just as I knew there was nothing I could do.

The lovely vendor that had entertained me minutes ago was now engrossed in serving with another customer, her back turned to me. A lump formed in my throat as I swallowed, my breaths coming in ragged gasps.

Behind me, the voice sliced through the air as it uttered my name, a dangerous warning dripping from his tone. His wasn’t a familiar voice, but I knew it well enough to know who it belonged to.

“Understood?” He demanded.

“Understood,” I replied in a low voice, barely audible over the clamor of the shopping street.

“Good. Move.”

I turned around, the figure behind me following the same steps, not letting me see his face just yet.

I turned the corner of the first alley and walked with the tip of the blade pressed to my side, still threatening to slice through my skin. The sounds of the crowd faded away. It wasn’t until we reached a secluded corner, the damp stones beneath our feet and the sun struggling to penetrate the narrow passageway, that the tension seemed to ease if only just a little.

I cautiously took two steps away from the figure behind me, and then, I turned to face him.

“Ren,” I said, my voice steady despite the unease that gnawed at me.

Ren looked just as he had three days ago, when my father had expected Noah to take his own life. Ren wore the same attire, only now it was marred by mud and grime. Fatigue etched lines on his face, and beneath the weariness, simmered an unmistakable anger.

“Look at you,” he sneered. “All dolled up and parading through the streets as if you hadn’t tarnished your family’s name and fled with a man who’s lost his honor.”

I ignored his comment. I focused on maintaining my composure, swallowing down my fear. If I could keep Ren talking, perhaps Noah would find me before any harm befell me.

“How did you find us?” I inquired, my gaze steady.

“Did you truly think I would grant you the same courtesy as your father and allow you a twenty-four-hour head start to run away with that wretch of a man?” His words cut through the air like a blade, each one laced with venomous resentment.

“Don’t talk like that about Noah,” I shot back, my voice trembling now with defiance.

“I do because that’s what he is—if anything. He took you away from your parents, from your duty as the daughter of the Shogun. From me,” he retorted bitterly.

“He didn’t take me away,” much less from you, I wanted to say. “It was my choice,” I countered with a rough edge in my voice that betrayed my growing anxiety. “I left because I was not happy with the future that had been decided for me.”

Ren scoffed. “No one is happy with their future, but we take it nonetheless and fulfill our duties.”

“And you don’t think that maybe things should change? That people should be allowed to choose their fate?”

“This is not a fantasy tale,” he retorted, mentioning my name at the end, and piercing me with his cold gaze. “You had responsibilities in your hands, and you dropped them the moment that pathetic excuse of a man got between your legs. Am I wrong?”

I contained the urge to slap him as my cheeks burned.

“You are wrong,” I said sharply, my chest raising. I wouldn’t let him see my vulnerability. “But entertain me” I continued. “According to me, my responsibilities were that I made sure to choose wisely so that I could secure a future built on happiness, love, and power. Isn’t that what all those tales they tell us as kids say? If you are so sure I did wrong, tell me what my responsibilities were. Tell me how I should have done things.”

I knew. He didn’t have to say. He didn’t have to enumerate them.

I knew them fucking well.

But I needed time. I wasn’t certain what Ren was capable of, but the recent threat he imposed on me had sounded all too genuine, and I had a feeling that he would dare to hurt me if as a result he could take me back to my father, even if it was by force.

“Your family is one of the most powerful ones of the province. You are the only daughter of the Shogun, the only heiress to his position and inheritance. You had to respect the order of things, follow your parents’ steps, and marry me.”

I never really like Ren. It wasn’t merely his current presence that fueled my distaste, but rather his embodiment of the quintessential royal archetype—obedient to tradition, entitled, and expecting the world to kneel at his feed and fulfill him with whatever need he had. Ren’s life had been scripted from birth, with every detail set up prior to his arrival. He’d had nothing to worry about. I supposed he had already assumed that I would be his wife one day, merging our families’ legacies to consolidate power across the peninsula. Yet, all those presumptions shattered when I confronted my father and threatened him with his own sword in front of his army while also forcing Ren to return Noah his katana. I had put him to shame in front of the entire province, veneering him of any privilege and igniting a flame of resentment inside of him that he wouldn’t let go.

I had never found him interesting, either. The times we were forced to meet in my father’s estate or in his, there had never been any connection, not even one that would give way to friendship. It’s also to be considered that by the time I met him for the first time, I was already head over heels in love with Noah. In fact, the first time Ren and I were introduced to each other had been the day after Noah and I had had one of our first sexual experiences. We were still teenagers. We hadn’t slept together, but we had touched each other, our hands exploring those unfamiliar nooks and crannies of the opposite anatomy, attentive to the little noises the other made and the expressions of pleasure that crossed our faces each time we caressed a special place. I had almost died of embarrassment when Ren greeted me, looking at me with that expression that said, “I’ll be the first”, having no idea that he no longer had anything to do. I was still a virgin, but Noah had already touched me, and I wouldn’t let any man other than Noah get his hands on me. Noah would be the first, and the last.

And I was going to keep it that way.

I felt sorry for Ren, truly, but this was a battle he couldn’t hope to win. I’d sooner face death than live without Noah. It was a truth I’d held steadfast in my mind and heart for as long as I could remember. I would be with Noah, or I just wouldn’t be. I would marry him, or no one else. I would give birth to children that bore the same eye-shape as his and his smile, or I wouldn’t have any.

“We would have never been happy together,” I said, keeping it simple and practical. I didn’t hold much hope for Ren to understand. Perhaps he believed that happiness was a collective responsibility, one that could be achieved with work and effort, one that could be built the same way you build a house. Or maybe he simply believed that women were not worthy of finding happiness the way I did, by crossing paths with a soldier in her father’s gardens when we were just kids. Of course Ren would have been happy with me, or at least pleased in a way. But I would definitely not have been. Would he have cared? I would never know.

“Happiness can be attained if you work for it,” was his reply, affirming my suspicions. His ideas aligned with the conventional wisdom: first, you get married, then you toil tirelessly in pursuit of happiness, with no guarantee of success.

“I don’t believe that’s how happiness is supposed to work,” I replied firmly. “I found happiness without searching for it, I seized it and held on tight,” I told him, referring to Noah. I didn’t have to specify because he already knew.

“You cannot be referring to that miserable ronin. Do you truly think someone like him is capable of providing happiness?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” I maintained my composure, refusing to be rattled by Ren’s palpable disdain for Noah. “Just because he was born and raised as a Samurai, meant to serve a master, does not mean he lacks the capacity to feel or to please others as he served my father for years, earning his trust as his finest swordsman. You have a misguided perception, Ren, and you’re making a mistake by being here. Noah will notice my absence. He will find us, and I don’t want to witness what he will do to you when he does.”

His eyes widened as the weight of my warning sank in.

“No,” he retorted, brandishing the dagger and closing the distance between us. His katana was secured at his waist, and I could see his other hand hovering close in case he needed it. “You have made a terrible mistake. You’ve forsaken your life as the Shogun’s daughter for someone who is way below your status. Your future was already written, and you decided to burn down the vellum. What does he have to offer you? He had nothing, and now he isnothing. He’s abandoned the Bushido Code. He’s a ronin now, and he might end up joining the Yakuza. If he betrayed the kingdom, he could betray you.”

“He won’t,” I said as a matter of fact. “Noah did not choose me for what I had or for my status. He chose me for the things I decided to give him myself—my heart. That’s the only thing I have to offer to him now. I am no longer a princess. I have no wealth in my hands. I only have uncertainty about my future. And yet, Noah still wants me. I know this is difficult for you to accept, Ren, and it was never truly my intention to hurt you, but I’ve been in love with Noah since I was a little girl. He was my first love, and he will be my last.”

Rage was pouring from him now. It was evident on his eyes, in his expression, in the taut muscles of his body and the veins pulsating in his neck and forehead. His black hair was in disarray from the days he must have endured away from his family’s estate, too.

In one single step, he bridged the gap that separated us. His hand tangled in my hair, wrenching my head back sharply, eliciting a gasp from me as the blade’s edge pressed against my neck, stinging.

“Do not speak another word. Whatever he’s done to you, whatever lies he’s spun to persuade you, you are wrong, and someone needs to bring you back down to earth, princess.”

“Ren…” I began to plead, but he cut me off forcefully.

“No! He’s doomed but you still have a chance. Return with me to the Shogun’s castle. Marry me, bear my children, and give an heir to secure the future of your father’s dynasty.”

The realization of his intentions suddenly terrified me. I had always known, deep down, that this was the expectation placed upon royal women. It was the destiny that had been laid out for me. The same one it would be laid out for my daughter. But hearing it articulated so callously, reducing me to a mere vessel for producing heirs, filled me with dread, chilling me to the bone.

“Ren, you’re hurting me,” I managed to say. Both physically and emotionally. Fear coursed through me. If Noah didn’t find me soon, I would start screaming, consequences be damned.

“And you think you didn’t hurt me? Or your parents? You think you’re the only one entitled to your pain?” His grip tightened. “You might have run away with that disgraceful man, but you still have a princess complex inside of you. You’re greedy and selfish, and if that bastard hasn’t realized it yet, he will soon.”

“I hope so, because she fucking deserves to be selfish.”

Noah’s voice cut through the tension like a lifeline, an antidote to cure the poison in my body.

And then, everything happened in a blur.

Ren was forcefully yanked away from me, the blade grazing my skin as Noah’s strength pulled him back with such intensity that he stumbled, gasping for air. Noah’s grip on Ren’s tunic tightened around his neck, momentarily choking him.

Ren had clearly underestimated Noah. He had foolishly believed that Noah wouldn’t notice I was gone, that he wouldn’t panic the moment he couldn’t find me among the stalls, wouldn’t suspect that something had gone wrong.

But Noah wasn’t a fucking prince with a misguided sense of superiority. He was a Samurai—resourceful, cunning, and relentless. He would stop at nothing to find me, no matter where I was.

Ren was just wrong about Noah in every possible way.

And now he was going to pay for it.

In a second, Noah had unsheathed his katana, the gleaming blade immediately touching Ren’s throat. Reflexively, Ren extended his own sword towards Noah, the dagger now discarded on the ground.

“Drop it,” Noah commanded, not an ounce concerned about having another sword pointed at him, “before I slit your throat and drag you to the forest so that the wolves can feast on you.”

“I’m not afraid of you, ronin,” Ren retorted, but the fear in his eyes betrayed his bravado. I could see it just the same as Noah.

This was not even a battle, and yet, Ren had already lost.

“You will be when I start cutting every finger that has touched her. I won’t repeat myself. Drop your fucking weapon.”

It took only seconds. My hands had stopped trembling the moment Noah appeared. Now, it was Ren’s hands that shook as he released his katana, his shoulders sagging in resignation as the sound of the blade meeting the ground reverberated in the air. I watched as he struggled to maintain his composure, suppressing the indignation of once again having to bow to a Samurai’s—or rather, a ronin’s— will.

“If she’s harmed in any physical way, you will pay with your own flesh. If she’s not, you will pay either way.”

After his threat, there was a heavy pause. None of us said anything until Noah, never once averting his gaze from Ren, called my name.

“Are you hurt?”

Perhaps Ren didn’t catch it, or perhaps he lacked the ability to decipher the nuances in Noah’s voice as I did. But I heard it—the subtle tremor, the fear.

Noah was scared.

Bringing my fingers to my neck, I located the spot where Ren’s blade had pressed, and my breath caught when I felt the dampness coating my fingertips. Looking down, I found them stained with blood. Not much, but enough to awaken the beast within Noah.

“I’m bleeding.”

In an instant, Noah’s movements blurred with precision and controlled fury. The punishing blow to Ren’s liver landed with the force of a sledgehammer, delivered by the heel of Noah’s boot. With resolve, Noah maintained his grip on his katana, his muscles coiled with a lethal combination of strength and determination.

The impact reverberated through Ren’s body like a thunderclap, sending shockwaves of agony coursing through every fiber of his being. Gasping for breath, he crumpled to the ground as pain engulfed him in its merciless embrace.

Through the haze of agony, Ren could barely make out Noah’s figure looming over him, his eyes ablaze with a fierce intensity. In that moment, Ren realized the extent of Noah’s determination to protect me.

I had warned him, but he didn’t listen.

With trembling hands, Ren reached out in a feeble attempt to plead for mercy, but his words dissolved into a choked gasp as Noah’s steely gaze bore down on him. There would be no forgiveness.

In the aftermath of the brutal blow, a heavy silence descended upon the scene, broken only by the ragged sound of Ren’s labored breathing and the distant echo of Noah’s heartbeat and mine. And as Ren lay sprawled on the ground, his body wracked with pain, he knew that he had awoken the wrath of a man whose love knew no bounds, and whose fury was as unyielding as the steel of his blade.

“I won’t give you the chance to touch her again, but if you even conceive the idea of doing so, I will make sure you don’t recover from this pain,” Noah declared. He knelt down briefly, bringing himself to eye level with Ren, whose face was red and contorted with agony, hands clutching his own body. “I was once a Samurai. I killed men in battle. But I am a ronin now. I will not hesitate to kill anything, or anyone, that is a threat to her. May this serve you as a reminder that I follow no code anymore.”

Though Noah’s words should have chilled me, they didn’t.

As Ren lay writhing on the ground, noah slowly turned to me, his features softening instantly.

I extended a hand to him, the one free of bloodstains.

The fear I saw in his eyes disarmed me.

His fingers gently lifted my chin to examine the cut on my neck. It wasn’t deep, but it would leave a scar.

Before I could reassure Noah, he slid one arm around my shoulder and pulled me into his embrace, enveloping me in a cocoon of safety. I wrapped my arms around his torso, pressing my face against his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat beneath his skin.

We turned to face Ren.

“This isn’t over,” Ren managed to say, one hand on the floor now, the other one still on his stomach.

“It is for you,” Noah replied firmly.

Ren’s gaze shifted to me, ignoring him.

“Your father is not far. When he finds you, he will show no mercy to him. Or to you.”

I swallowed, but I kept my chin held high.

“Leave, Ren,” I asserted. “There is nothing for you here. I chose Noah. I will marry him. I will bear his children. I’m here today because I have chosen my future. Me. No one did it for me. There’s nothing here for you to fight for.”

Ren spat on the ground; the action tinted with blood. Noah stood his ground. Eventually, Ren managed to retrieve his katana and rise. I doubted he would be able to bend down again to retrieve the dagger, but I didn’t care.

“You don’t deserve her,” Ren sneered at Noah.

“I’m aware,” Noah admitted, “but I’ll spend the rest of my days trying my damnest hard to make myself worthy of her.”

Those were our final words to Ren.

That would be the last time we ever saw Ren. I didn’t know at that time, and didn’t even conceive the thought because a part of me was actually terrified of what could happen in the upcoming days, in the upcoming hours —but we would never cross paths again.

Back in the bustling street, tucked against Noah’s side and still reeling from the shock, we searched for Kenzo, Noah calling out to him without drawing undue attention from the locals.

When Kenzo arrived and saw the blood staining my neck, he was poised to rally the community’s trained warriors, but I stopped him. Noah told him what happened and urged him to get someone who could tend to my wound.

Kenzo led us to a nearby house, just a stone’s throw away. Noah never once released his grip on me.

Ascending wooden stairs to the first floor of the modest house, after a couple of polite knocks, the door creaked open, revealing a diminutive, kindly-faced old woman. Upon Kenzo’s introduction and a plea for assistance, she ushered us inside.

She asked no questions, directing me to recline on a bed in what appeared to be a makeshift nurse’s room. Instructing me to tilt my neck for examination, she diligently tended to my wound, cleansing and dressing it with practiced care.

Noah stood never too far, a silent sentinel with arms crossed tightly over his chest, his expression taut with worry. Kenzo attempted to engage him in conversation, but Noah remained reticent, his attention fixated on the street below as he stood by the window, peering out through parted curtains.

In that moment, it was as though the samurai had taken the place of my lover, and I didn’t know when I was going to get him back.

“Should we consider returning to the community as soon as possible?” Kenzo asked, casting a concerned glance in my direction, a consideration he had after noting Noah’s suddenly silent demeanor.

“Yes,” I said softly, aching to reach out to Noah but held back by the old woman’s ministrations as she applied a strange liquid-soaked cotton pad to my neck. “If my father is nearby, they should be informed. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to your com—.”

“I’ll take care of him”, Noah interjected suddenly, his tone conveying a sense of determination that unsettled me.

However, it was Kenzo who responded to Noah’s declaration.

“No,” he said. “Firstly, this community is not just ours, it’s yours now, too. Our sanctuary transcends royalty and government jurisdiction. There’s a higher power at play here, one that protects us. Besides, we’re well-equipped to handle such situations. Many of us come from similar backgrounds. We’re accustomed to defending our own, and you two are now part of our community.”

Noah was not expecting that, and neither was I.

“You will be all right,” the old lady assured me, redirecting my focus away from the conversation. Her gentle pat on my shoulder offered solace. I was about to reach for my neck, but she shook her head, advising against it. “It will heal just fine but avoid touching it. Keep it clean throughout the day, and it will soon fade away”.

A soft “thank you” escaped my lips, overwhelmed by the kindness and care we were receiving. Tears threatened to spill from my eyes as I sat up on the bed, seeking out Noah’s attention with a silent plea.

Finally, he noticed my distress and approached me. His arm enveloped my shoulders once more, while his other hand gently cradled the back of my head. As I wrapped my arms around him, he pressed me to his chest, planting a tender kiss on my hair as I struggled to contain my tears.

We journeyed back to the sanctuary on horseback, a magnificent creature provided by a local resident keen on making our trip back quicker. Kenzo rode at the front on his own horse. I rode together with Noah, seated in front of him, feeling the tension emanating from his body envelop me. I could sense his restraint in his muscles, on his chest pressed against my back. I could see it at the way his grip tightened on the horse leash, his knuckles whitening.

Upon crossing the southwest gate, Noah dismounted first, reaching out to lift me down from the horse. As my feet touched the ground, a fleeting sense of relief washed over me, grateful to be within the safety of the community once more.

However, my respite was short-lived.

After we secured the horses and made our way toward the main square, an eerie silence hung in the air, contrasting the usual bustle of activity we had found the day before. There were no deer grazing nearby, no children’s laughter echoing through the streets.

I noticed Rei, Maura, and two others approaching us, their expressions somber, katanas sheathed at their waists.

“The Shogun is here,” Maura announced.

The moment the news reached me, I spotted my father approaching us, coming down from the main stone path, his battle armor on, weapons ready, surrounded by an army of at least eight Samurai, flanking him from each side. His stride was determined, and the look on his eyes fierce.

My heart clenched.

No. I won’t let him get near Noah again.

I seized hold of Noah’s katana, drawing it from its sheath, ready to fight my father one more time.

The last time.

Author's note: I just want to say thank you to each of you that has shown love in any way for this fic. I started it as a oneshot from a random idea i got after seeing a picture of Noah with a katana, and here we are now. I have spent hours writing these chapters and doing research and trying to make my writing as good as it can get, considering the historical aspect of this fic. It means a lot to me to know that you're following Noah's and his princess' journey. I can't wait to share with you the next part very soon and then, the epilogue.

All my love <3

#the unmaking of a warrior #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian x ofc #noah sebastian x you #bad omens #bad omens cult #bad omens fanfic #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian fic #thank you all for giving this fic so much love #it means a lot #samurai!noah

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little-red-fool · 3 months

Note

I wanna learn about silver tongue I love abyss lore

Heehee I’ll gladly talk about Silvertongue and his backstory. I don’t know as much about Forgotten Realms lore as I would like to so correct me if anything seems inaccurate, also I haven’t fully fleshed out his lore yet but this might still be quite long because I like rambling lol so I’ll try to summarise it a little (also I might have changed some of the Dark Urge lore to fit his backstory too whoops).

*cracks knuckles* Ok so as a bit of an overview of his character, Silvertongue originally started off as a half-elf bard when I made him, he was also chaotic good but I was able to develop his character a lot more when I decided to ship him with Raphael and made him chaotic evil instead because I thought two evil bards would be really funny, which then led me into researching into Forgotten Realms lore; I found out that cambions can also be half demons in some versions of D&D so that’s why he’s like how he is now.

I’ll talk a bit about his backstory now that you have a brief summary of his character. Whilst Silvertongue’s a half-demon cambion, he’s still a half-elf in game so I decided to make his mother a high elf, although like other cambions she died during childbirth, and I like to think that the reason is because like some animals (such as spiders) he ate his way out of her womb rather than being delivered naturally. Although he was born in Blood Tor, he was very quickly transported to Toril where he grew up in an orphanage in human society (possibly in Baldur’s Gate but I haven’t decided), and for the most part his demonic heritage wasn’t prominent and he fit in well with the other children despite the odd outburst and rampage which were few and far between and wouldn’t last long—he was always drawn to music as a child which lead him to learning how to play violin and flute, and that started his career as a bard when he was a teenager. As he grew older though it became harder to hide his heritage and his urges grew stronger and more difficult to manage, he became more malicious and deceitful, as well as more sadistic, which then escalated and led to him attacking and killing a few people. After this happened he was hunted down like an animal when people discovered his heritage so he fled the city. It wasn’t long after this that his father—a demon—managed to track him down and bring him to the Abyss, saying that he would fit in better there and that his talents would be appreciated more.

This was when he came back to Blood Tor, where he spent his mid twenties to his late fifties. Whilst there he was a vassal to Beshaba and served as a manservant in the court, sometimes directly assisting Beshaba. When he was older he was drafted into the Blood War as a soldier and was trained to fight. He was originally sent on raids with other demons to the City of Strife to steal souls from the Wall of the Faithless, but later on he was sent into proper battles in Oinos, and much later he was stationed in Avernus up until recently. Whilst Silvertongue had a few mortal friends on Toril, he didn’t really have any in the Abyss due to the untrusting and malicious nature of most demons, however he was close with a couple of other cambions that also served under Beshaba at the same time as him. They were also drafted into the Blood War alongside Silvertongue, however one was killed during a baatezu attack in Bloor Tor, but he managed to save his other friend from an orthon attack, however this meant that he suffered many injuries and his clothes were tattered—he still wears the coat he wore from the orthon attack as he views it as a symbol of pride and a reminder that he saved his friend. Silvertongue is probably around 300 or so years old (give or take) so he served in the Blood War for over 250 years, and he was a decent soldier. He was often picked on due to his diminutive stature compared to the other demon soldiers, however what he lacked in strength and size he made up in agility and stealth. That isn’t to say he’s weak though he could still easily rip a human in half.

Now that I’ve given you most of his backstory I’ll talk about the events that took place recently to when BG3 starts. This part is also linked to the Dark Urge backstory, which I altered a bit for Silvertongue’s backstory. Although he was still fighting in Avernus, he started going on missions to Toril in order to disrupt devils from gaining souls from mortals, and for this he went to lots of different cities, one of these being Baldur’s Gate. This is when he ran into the cult of Bhaal, and long story short he ended up becoming involved—he didn’t worship Bhaal but he thought that having the Bhaalists on his side would be useful. Not too long after he met Gortash, and he found out about his affiliation with Bane, and learned about the Crown of Karsus and the Elderbrain, which is when Silvertongue forged the plan to use the Elderbrain and the ilithid tadpoles to turn the people into mindflayers as it would completely destroy the devils’ ability to recruit mortal souls as mindflayers were soulless. Him, Gortash and Ketheric carry out the plan etc etc and during these times Silvertongue keeps occasionally returning to Avernus to continue fighting in the Blood War.

This is right before the events of the game, as he was in Avernus when the nautiloid passed through it at the beginning, and due to being half-elf and therefore somewhat mortal he was swept up by the nautiloid and infected by a tadpole. Similar to some of the other companions—such as Wyll and Gale—Silvertongue’s stronger abilities and a lot of his power were sealed due to the tadpole’s influence, and he was trapped in his mortal aspect with very little magic. His current goal, like the other companions, is to get rid of the tadpole in order to regain his demonic aspect and his powers so he can continue to fight in the Blood War, although reluctantly—he recognises that it’s his duty and it gives him the opportunity to maim and kill others, but he’s still quite connected to his mortal lineage and he likes the thought of retiring, or at least living in Toril rather than continuing to fight in the Blood War.

Alright now on to him and Raphael (and a bit of Haarlep). Their first meeting was interesting, Silvertongue immediately clocked Raphael as a devil and tried to attack him, whilst in my interpretation of Raphael he’s never fought in the Blood War himself and has only witnessed it from afar so he can’t easily distinguish a demon when they’re not in an easily recognisable form, so he just thought Silvertongue was a bit jumpy and paranoid. I haven’t gotten Silvertongue past Act 1 yet, so whilst these events haven’t taken place yet I’m still going to refer to them in past tense for ease. Raphael manages to figure out that Silvertongue’s a half-demon at Last Light and that he was a soldier in the Blood War, which is what prompts him to get Silvertongue to kill Yurgir. In Act 3 I think Raphael’s contract would be slightly altered for Silvertongue, instead offering to remove his tadpole rather than giving him the Orphic Hammer. In exchange Raphael still receives the Crown of Karsus. Since Silvertongue has spent most of his life in the Abyss and hasn’t encountered any devils in a peaceful or conversational setting, he doesn’t really know how tricky they are and the weight of their contracts and how binding they are, so he signs Raphael’s contract; Raphael keeps his word and removes his tadpole. Unfortunately, with Silvertongue having grown attached to his companions and hating authority figures, he decides to break into Raphael’s home to nick the Orphic Hammer so he can free Orpheus, but he doesn’t take his contract as he just thinks it’s some old piece of paper, he doesn’t think that it actually holds any power over him or his soul. As you might know if you break into Raphael’s home without stealing your contract he, uh, incinerates you. My interpretation of this is that the player character then becomes one of his debtors trapped in his house, which is exactly what happens to Silvertongue. Fortunately his companions were able to escape with the hammer, however Helsik then closed the portal because let’s be real who wants a rampaging devil chasing after you into Toril, so essentially Silvertongue is stuck there as his soul is bound and his companions currently had no way of breaking him out.

Raphael doesn’t have as much power over Silvertongue as his other debtors due to his Abyssal heritage and not being fully mortal, so Silvertongue still has some freedom and is (mostly) sane (or as sane as he was before becoming a debtor), he’s mostly just bound to the house and unable to harm Raphael. Silvertongue is not happy about his situation and spends the first couple of weeks essentially throwing a huge tantrum and destroying half the furniture. He meets Haarlep during this time and since I headcanon Haarlep as being an enslaved tanar’ri (thanks to this post which completely hey this place isn’t too bad, it’s warm, I get a bed aechanged my outlook) they hit it off well pretty quickly, so they became quite close and shit-talked Raphael. It took a few weeks but Silvertongue realised that hey this place isn’t that bad, it’s warm, I get a bed and free food and I’m not constantly praying for my life and I don’t have to kill devils 24/7 for hundreds of years so he very quickly becomes a lot like a house cat, although he also realises that whilst he might be stuck with Raphael, Raphael is also stuck with him, which gives him the motivation to be an absolute prick but in a petty and mischievous way rather than an overly destructive and murderous way. Raphael absolutely hates this at first but over time they get more comfortable with each other and less antagonistic, which then evolves into a slight fondness (well more of a mild love-hate relationship), and I think that’s all up-to-date.

I’m so sorry that was so long ajdnshdndn but I really enjoyed infodumping about Silvertongue’s backstory, thank you so much for this ask!

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riacte · 8 months

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@treebarkweek 2023 Day 3: Saplings / Puppies!

(Probably biologically inaccurate and many creative liberties taken, but a really fun exercise nonetheless!)

One day, years and years after the Fall:

A young, spirited dogwood sapling emerges from the damp spring soil. It cautiously inspects its feeble, thin stalk and bright green leaves. "Well, not bad," it says. "At least winter's over, and spring's arrived."

The sapling doesn't know much, but it instinctively knows spring is the time for rebirth and growth. And so it likes the spring. But not much happens next— the ground is defrosting and it's quiet, but that's it. The sapling is alone, and it starts getting bored.

And then a persistent voice, small and desperate and coming from beneath the sapling:

"Helloooo? Is anybody freakin' there?! I'm so lonely down here!"

The sapling sways, pleasantly surprised. "Oh! Who are you?"

"I'm a rose seedling!" the voice says. "Erm, are you that tall, thin stick next to me? I can't see you!"

The sapling's tiny leaves rustle. "How rude!" it exclaims. "I'm a dogwood sapling, not a stick!"

"Whoops. Sorry." The seedling chuckles awkwardly. "Didn't mean to upset my only neighbour."

"Nah, it's okay. I'm in need of some company, actually."

There's a pause, then the seedling cries out, "Oh high and mighty sapling, at thou great height, do you see any others that may become our friends?" It ends with a hopeful tone.

The sapling feels pretty pleased at being called tall, but unfortunately it can't see anything from its height. "There's a grey stone wall next to me, but it seems to go on forever."

"Oh, really?" The seedling sounds sad. "That's all there is?"

"I guess it's just you and me in this world," the sapling says.

"Just you and me," the seedling echoes dramatically, and the sapling is amused.

"Just you and me, together forever."

"Forever!" The seedling sounds content.

The days pass. Sunshine peeks out from the clouds and covers them with a layer of warmth. Raindrops roll off their leaves and into the ground. It's still very quiet, but the sapling and the seedling talk whenever they can. They're both growing in the spring season, but the sapling grows faster, and is always taller than the seedling.

"I don't like this," the rose seedling declares one day. "I'm anxious! I'm respirating from places I shouldn't be respirating from! You're gonna become so tall that you won't be able to talk with me! You'll leave me, dude!"

"I mean, it's not like I want to!" the dogwood sapling responds. "I'm a tree. You're a bush. That's the way we are, dude."

"I don't like it," the seedling continues stubbornly. "I want to become a tree too. I wanna grow tall and grow old with you, my brother from another sapling."

The sapling holds back a sharp "that's not how it works at all" and indulges the seedling.

"By the way, if you're really a rose, why don't I see a single speck of red from up here?"

"Exsqueeze me?!" the seedling demands. "Art thou questioning my noble character? I'm just an innocent seedling! I haven't grown into a bush yet, let alone grow flowers, geez!"

"Well, one day, I'm gonna become a dogwood, you're gonna become a rosebush, and that's just how nature works," the sapling says briskly.

"And since you're a dogwood, are you gonna grow so tall that you'll be far far away from me?" The seedling sounds sad.

As silly as the rose seedling may be sometimes, the sapling has to admit it likes having it around. "I mean, I don't want to go far away. But it's my nature as a sapling. I have to go up, as high up as I can, get all that good sunshine, and survive. That's what we plants are meant to do. Survive."

"Well," the rose seedling says skeptically. "How about, y'know, making sure our leaves are shiny and our flowers are pretty? And attracting bees and making new friends?"

The sapling considers this. "That's nice, but in order to do that, we've got to survive. That's harder than it seems. You'll see."

The rain and the wind come in one dark night, and both the sapling and the seedling shed leaves. Thankfully, their stems are still strong and intact.

The days pass. They get their energy from the sun, their water from the ground. The sapling sprouts more and more leaves and stretches itself towards the sky.

"I wanna get my flowers," the rose seedling whines. "I wanna look pretty instead of having these ugly thorns and leaves."

"Hmm. You're always pretty to me," the sapling says to comfort its friend.

"Well, thank you," the seedling says eventually. "That's nice. I-I like that you think I'm pretty."

The sun sets, the sun rises. The dogwood sapling and the rose seedling spend their time chatting and enjoying the sunshine. The sapling is pretty glad that despite being close to the seedling, they aren't competing for nutrients with their roots. It'll be a pretty bad thing if their roots intertwine, it supposes.

"Have you ever wondered where we came from?" the rose seedling asks. "I've been thinking about that a lot lately. Y'know, the secrets of the universe."

"We obviously come from seeds," the sapling says, but now it's curious too. "Tell you what, one day I'll be taller than the stone wall, and I'll see what's outside of it. We'll make our theories when that day comes, okay?"

"Promise?" the rose seedling asks, a little pathetically.

The sapling's leaves sways in the wind. "Promise," it says in reassurance.

They both lose track of time. The sapling gets greedy and wants to get taller and taller. It marks its growth by every stone brick it reaches past. Nutrients are less abundant now, and it becomes a bit of struggle.

"You can have some of mine," the rosebush (not a seedling now) offers. "You need it to grow strong and tall, and I don't think I'll be growing flowers anyway."

Once upon a time, the young dogwood might've stolen from the rosebush, but that was back when it was a wee sapling. The rosebush is the dogwood's loyal (and only) companion. They're good friends. Good friends don't steal from each other.

"Take it," the rosebush insists. "I wanna know what's beyond that grey wall. I'm a useless bush anyway."

"You're not useless," the dogwood says, but finds itself unable to refuse the rosebush's offer. The dogwood thinks it won't ever be able to refuse the rosebush— the dainty, silly, but still wholly sincere rosebush.

So the rosebush shrivels up, and the dogwood flourishes. The dogwood doesn't like seeing its beloved friend suffer. The dogwood drops down its leaves as fertilizer for both of them.

"Stop shedding your leaves," the rosebush says, concerned.

"Then stop giving me your nutrients," the dogwood retorts.

Day by day, the dogwood and the rosebush grow apart. Despite that, they still manage to talk, although their voices grow smaller and smaller from the distance. The dogwood passes brick by brick, and it would've felt more pleased with itself if it could bring the rosebush with it.

One day, the rosebush screams excitedly, "I got a rosebud! I'll finally be pretty!"

"Congrats, dude," the dogwood says from above. It's sincere. "I think I can see it. A small, pink little thing. I'm proud of you."

"And I'm proud of you too. You have to be close to the end of the wall now."

"Yeah." The dogwood's not there yet, but it can see where the grey vanishes and becomes the blue sky. "Remember the pact we made when I was a sapling and you were a seedling? I'll tell you what I see beyond the wall when I reach it. It'll be any day now, I'm sure."

"And we'll magically figure out where we come from. But, y'know, I'm worried."

"About what?"

"That when you're taller than the wall, you'll be too far away to speak to me. Will that be worth it?"

That completely stops the dogwood in its tracks. Its leaves stop moving. "Err. Y-you're making me reconsider my entire life, dude."

"Umm, ignore me then. Don't respirate about it, dude. Keep on growing."

The rosebush gains more rosebuds. The dogwood is getting closer and closer to where the wall ends, its own white buds brimming on its branches. It's exciting, but also weirdly melancholic. The dogwood's life mission is about to be achieved. What will they see beyond the wall? What wondrous sights will they be greeted with?

"I think today's the day," the dogwood announces solemnly. It's a fully grown tree now, handsome and strong, and one of its branches is about to peek over the wall.

"Today's a good day for me too," the rosebush declares. "I think I'm going in full bloom mode, dude! I'm a happy rosebush!"

"Yeah, I think my flowers are ready too," the dogwood says, but it's mostly preoccupied with taking care of its branches. It can't afford to look pretty. The dogwood's branch is about to cross the previously insurmountable stone wall.

"I'm gonna do it," the dogwood promises. "I'll muster up my energy, and I'm doing it."

"Let's go! Ohh, I'm so freaking happy for you, dude. I'll hold your branch in support if I can. We're gonna find out what else is in the world!"

The dogwood's leaves tremble, and then it pushes its branch across the wall—

And nothing.

Nothing at all.

Well, it's not completely nothing. It's just— patches of untamed grass. Some wildflowers. Rocks. And the beautiful blue sky above them. Nothing they haven't guessed already.

The dogwood stares. And stares. When it finally turns back, it stills in complete shock.

Because from above, the dogwood finally sees where it and the rosebush came from.

Two skeletons, half buried by the soil, one plant emerging from each skeleton. The hands of the skeletons are intertwined. Hand in unlovable hand, still together in death. Down there, the rosebush is gazing up at the dogwood, its petals as red as the blood that was once spilled upon the soil that it grew from. The dogwood begins to bloom, soft white petals unfurling, as pure as the colour of snow.

In the dogwood's furious race to grow taller, it neglected to look down and see the whole picture. It didn't realise they were born from the remnants of two humans.

The dogwood wanted to see beyond the wall. The dogwood and the rosebush thought the wall was their ultimate obstacle. But no, they're wrong.

Because the stone wall protects them. What the dogwood wanted to see was within the walls all this time. And what the dogwood actually wants is within the walls.

Because within these walls is the dogwood's home.

And the dogwood's home is where the rosebush is.

Well, that was a fun if not wholly scientifically inaccurate writing exercise. Forgive my grammar mistakes because it's late at night haha.

Dogwood sapling Martyn and rose seedling Ren are so precious. I've grown attached now. This is some fantasy plant reincarnation AU I guess.

Thanks for reading! Anyways the dogwood and the rosebush live together happily ever after in the ruins of Dogwarts <3 <3

#treebarkweek #treebarkweek2023 #treebark #renchanting #rendog #inthelittlewood #ria.fic #plant reincarnation...#wrote this in one sitting. i have headache and im sleepy haha #getting the craziest ideas at 1am

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lucaasunn · 1 year

Text

☆ do you want somebody (like i want somebody) ☆

koga oogami x gn!reader

word count: 1.9k words

info: fluff, probably inaccurate lore, reader isnt in the idol course but also not a regular student or producer, maybe counts as a song fic ☾ditto - newjeans☽, npc friends that i couldn't think up good names for whoops, minor language near the end.

a/n: i wrote this while at a cousin’s house HELP. this is purely self indulgent because i’ve been thinking about newjeans recently LMAO.

You can remember every moment you’ve shared with Koga ever since you first met back in your first year at Yumenosaki. His ups, his downs, and everything in between, you were there for it all. You remember comforting him whenever Rei used to go overseas, and eventually DEADMANZ’s disbandment. He always tried to be so indifferent, but you could always tell. Of course you could. He would never let anyone see him like this but you. You supported his impulsive B1 DreFes performances, even if you did get in trouble with the council. You can remember the scolding you two would receive from Keito. Your other friends would always see you sulking when you got to your building afterwards. Everything he did, you were always by his side.

Of course, Koga was always there for you too. Whenever he could, he would make it to your practices. When he did, you never really got any progress done. You would always goof off before he “scolds” you for not being on task. and then he proceeds to distract you further. You’ve had to ban him from the practice rooms a few times. In the middle of your own performances, you could always see him somewhere in the crowd. Every time you walked onto the stage, you would scan the crowd to find him. He found out and would purposefully blend in and make you scan even harder. If you never saw him, he would come up to you after your performance and boast about his “win”.

As the years passed with him, you started to view him differently. Your heart would start to beat faster around him. You could feel your face bloom into warmth when you would accidentally brush hands. You’ve spent nights thinking about his touch, how it would feel to hold his slightly callused hands. And since when did you start staring at his lips when you walked together? You would rant to the friends who shared the same course as you.

“That is seriously sappy. You are so head over heels for him,” Shuntaro teased. You glared at him before you heard another voice speak up.

“Literally! It sounds like it came straight out of a romance novel!”, Hikari exclaimed. You groaned, feeling the heat creep back up your cheeks. You really didn’t want to admit it, but it was very obvious to everyone.

You’re in love with Koga Oogami, your best friend.

“HnhnhnnnggAAAAHH!! God I hate this… I don’t know what to do…”, you complain, your hands gripping the sides of your head before dropping them. You prop one of your arms on the table where the three of you sat, resting your head in your hand.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe just go up to him and tell him you like him?”, Shuntaro suggested, a teasing grin lying on his face. You and Hikari turn to face him, you staring at him with a deadpan expression, and Hikari looking at him as if he murdered someone.

“Dude, they can’t just do that! This is their best best friend. They can’t just casually walk up to him and say ‘Hey, I like you and have liked you since the start of our second year!’”, she argues for you, but you shake your head.

“No no, he’s right. But I’m not doing that. No way,” you look at Hikari, a small almost apologetic smile on your face. She nods. Silence washes over the three of you, not that you minded too much. It takes a bit, but finally someone spoke.

“So, how do you plan on confessing to him?”, Hikari asked you. You didn’t really give the confession much thought. You told yourself that you’d find a way to do it later constantly, even before this conversation, but you never did. you thought about it harder. You want something direct, but still romantic. not abrupt, but not beating around the bush.

What can bridge the two together, you wonder.

“Heeeeyyy, you still there??” Hikari waves a hand in front of your eyes while you blink, focus back on your friends.

“My bad.. I thought about it for a little bit, but I think I have an idea.” You motion for them to lean in and whisper in their ears.

——————

God this was so stupid. That was the most cliché thing you ever thought of. But it’s too late to go back. Your friends are rooting for you now, and you are not chickening out.

Walking next to Koga, you could feel your heart beat out of your chest. You’re not sure what exactly it is. Is it just your feelings for him or is it the anxiety of confessing? The nervousness of messing up your dream scenario? The uncertainty of your best friend becoming your boyfriend or said best friend rejecting you and slowly drifting away afterward? You wish someone could tell you.

Despite all the nerves in your body telling you not to, you managed to ask Koga to wait for you by the front of the school.

“Huh? why d’ya need me to do that? miss me walkin’ you home?”, he teases, leaning forward slightly. You can’t deny that. He has been busy the past few months that you haven’t had time to do so. Still, you jokingly push him away.

“That doesn’t matter right now. I just need you-“ “Hah! You didn’t deny it!” You were cut off short by Koga. You can feel the familiar heat return to your cheeks. This man can be so annoying, but you won’t lie, it was kinda cute.

“If you could let me FINISH, I just need you to meet me there. It’s something important.”

“What’s so important that you need me there? Can’tcha just text or call me?”

All of a sudden your nerves are telling you to back out. To tell him never mind. To keep your relationship the way it is. Don’t ruin it.

“I.. I just need you there, kay?”, you mustered out. He looked at you, admittedly confused, but he left it alone. Whatever it was, he’ll find out later anyway. The two of you make it to the gate and part ways to your respective buildings.

Once you’re sure he’s out of sight, you open your bag, peeking inside before reaching in. You grab a pristine envelope, a paw print sticker sealing the flap shut. You check for any folds or wrinkles, relieved to find none.

‘Even in the worst case scenario, I can at least hope he at least appreciates the effort.’, you thought to yourself sarcastically.

After school came a lot faster than you thought it would. The confession was plaguing you all day, and it was obvious. At least to your friends. You kept thinking of the possible outcomes. Thousands. Thousands of outcomes came to you, some more unrealistic than others.

To say you were anxious was an understatement. But still, you trudged on anyway. You made your way to the front of the main building. It wasn’t difficult to spot Koga, but it was difficult to reach him. The wave of students walking up to friends or leaving made it harder than you thought to get to him him. Still, you made it.

“There ‘ya are. Took ‘ya forever to get here.”

“Not my fault my building is further away from the main building. Besides, don’t you see the sea of other students? I had to weave my way around just to get here!”, you complained. You should’ve thought about this more. There’s way too many people around.

“Well ‘ya should’ve-“ “Yeah, I know, I know. Tell you to meet me somewhere else. Well now we’re going to that somewhere else, okay?” Before he could answer, you grab his hand and run back into the building. You were too focused on getting somewhere private that you didn’t realize that the two of you had intertwined fingers, a pink flush prominent on Koga’s face.

You finally made it to an empty hallway. You let go of his hand. You both take a second to catch your breath.

“What was that for?!”, he yelled.

“I know I said this was important, but I forgot to mention this is also private.”

“Well what is it? I’ve got no clue as ‘ta what this could be.” The question you dreaded, but had also been anticipating for so long. You reach into your bag and hand him the letter.

“To the idiot receiving this letter,

I hope you know I put my whole heart and soul into this.

As you know, we’ve been friends ever since the start of our time at Yumenosaki. Everyday I’ve spent with you has made my life so much better, even if I don’t say it out loud. You’ve been there for me through every important event in not only my performing career, but in my life.

As the days have passed, however, I couldn’t help but feel different around you. I didn’t know what it was at first. I just thought that maybe stage fright was getting to me, since I had a show that week. but it never went away. It only grew. When I sat down to think about it, it all clicked.

My heart would skip beats every time you were near me. I started actively looking to impress you, even in more mundane situations. I looked your way much more than I ever did before. When I lay in bed at night, my thoughts were always filled with you.

My feelings for you, like the memories we share, have grown so big.

I’m in love with you, Koga Oogami.

From,

[name]”

He looked over the letter for what felt like an eternity. The entire time he read it, you couldn’t even look at him. You looked anywhere but him. The silence between you was deafening. He finally spoke up, but he didn’t say anything you expected.

“Say it.”

“..Huh?”

“Say it.”

Out of all the outcomes and scenarios you had envisioned, you never thought he would say this.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to make me say?” You tilt your head in confusion.

“And you call me an idiot. I’m sayin’ to tell me what you wrote to me. Directly. I want ‘ya to.”

And all of sudden, you’re stunned. Your face flushes at his words. Never in a million years did you think this would happen.

“I… I’m in love with you, Koga Oogami.” You feel his callused hands grab hold of yours.

“I’m in love with you too, [name, last name]. ‘Have been for so long.”

You really feel like you’re in heaven. Hesitantly, you go to cup his face, searching for any signs of refusal. Instead, he looks at you with an unfamiliar, yet all too familiar look of tenderness in his eyes. His golden eyes. You always thought they were beautiful.

Subconsciously, you and Koga leaned your faces in closer. Before you knew it, you closed your eyes shut and felt a pair of lips against yours. You've dreamed of this moment for so long, and now it's a reality. His lips fit perfectly against yours, just as you had hoped. You could feel his arms wrap around you, as if ensuring you wouldn’t pull away too early.

Finally, he pulls his lips away from yours. You take a minute to just gaze at him lovingly before cracking and snickering. It isn’t long before he joins too.

“What? We both just confessed to each other and now you’re laughing? Damn.”, he says in between laughs.

“God this was so fucking cheesy.”, You chuckle out.

You wouldn’t have had it any other way.

#ajax writes #enstars #ensemble stars #enstars x reader #ensemble stars x reader #enstars fluff #ensemble stars fluff #koga oogami #koga oogami x reader #are yall proud of me i finally wrote a fic for once!!! /j #idk man kpop songs have the gears in my mind turning #also koga might be kinda ooc soz AUAUAGHHHH

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matd0 · 1 year

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life update ig ??:

hi hi hi hi hi hi hi !!!

ok so

1. i mentioned about having medical issues and some people got concerned so i just want to quickly explain the thing yk; in short it turns out having anxiety can cause heart arrhythmia ????? which can be like kinda dangerous;; but like in most cases it's fairly harmless so i should be alright :] !! still have to go check it out at the hospital (which i have been sorta putting off for a while bc yk. anxiety,, lol) but like other than it stressing me out a bit, everything is relatively fine :]

2. school is kicking my ass rn 💀 have a lot of unfinished work and missed a ton of classes bc my mental health kinda sucks,, so yk it's not exactly going great lol. but uhhhhhhhhhh im sure I'll figure it out ? ig ?? ye.

3. got a small art block. well it's more like "i have so much work to do, how dare i draw at a time like this" (and then just go to sleep bc im soo stressed and overwhelmed about everything 💀) but like. I'll probably get over it soon 🤷

idk i also just feel super obligated to always post super high effort paintings if i have many followers yk? like alot of the time i just feel like my drawings aren't good enough and everyone will like despise me for it;; and idk ig i just need constant approval for everything i do for some reason sjdhjshd. ik it's like. a really inaccurate and terrible way to look at it but i just can't rlly help it;;

uhhh all that to say, i hope it's alright if i post more sketches and unfinished drawings ? ;;

4. i would like to formally apologize for barely responding to literally anything. like. im so sorry dudes;;;;;;; unfortunately i have. very intense social anxiety and literally do not respond to anyone ever. (/srs it's like. a genuine issue in my life. whoops) but like i feel super bad about it bc i don't want to seem like i don't care T_T cuz lik e. i literally read every comment, message, tag, etc. and they always make me so so so happy ;;;;; like i routinely show screencaps of random comment to my friends gush about how nice they are 💀 idk point being; im a loser, i love all of you and it blows my mind that anyone cares about my silly drawings for a p much dead fandom lol.

extra: also i uh made a creepypasta oc 🧍‍♂️might post about him maybe idk im scared it'll be cringe sjhsjsgdhgdhd epic

TLDR; pretty stressed, small art block, school suckz, might die but probably not lol.

(sorry this came off super negative and sort of venty 💀 its all good i swear, im just silly)

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simper-maximus · 1 year

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Courtiers Headcanons Yoo

Thoughts are flooding my head, here is me draining it out even though I have no experience in writing.

Now, warning: I only finished Lucio's route so these could contain inaccurate information. Since I basically know most of the story from memes. Oh well.

Today's topic is bodily functions and other slightly disgusting stuff. Enjoy.

Volta

➼Overall there is a common headcanon (or maybe it's canon? don't remember) that the courtiers do not need to eat, and thus have no bodily functions overall.

➼In my opinion, while that is mostly true, it only is to an extent. They don't need to eat, but if they do, you better believe it has to come out too

➼With that being said, Volta, with all her eating, practically lives in the loo

➼The first month when she got to the palace and became the darling lil procurator we know, she was overjoyed by being fed whenever she felt like it

➼(Which is basically all the time because everyone though of her as some sickly victorian child wannabe) (And hey, gotta feed the workers)

➼And at first everyone though it was because her scrawny body was just getting used to the now normal food intake

➼But nah she just had no control over herself and would go full sneaky mode and eat five cow's worth of food a day whoops

➼So the cooks and even Nadia got concerned

➼Why is this precious baby always running to the bathroom?? Is the food contaminated? But everyone else is fine??

➼They took her to the head doctor, darling Valdemar to check for allergies because what if she is lactose intolerant? Or has gluten problems?? They can't risk losing their most accurate poison check worker

➼This obviously annoyed the other demon because damn it, WHY couldn't Volta just chill and at least TRY not to raise attention?

➼In the end Valdemar prescribed her some fake pills and got her her own bathroom. Problem solved, nobody is suspicious now

Valdemar

➼Another headcanon I see often is that their shell of a body is fused with their clothes, basically making it part of the disguise

➼Yeah, no

➼They work with blood and other non solid waste that could stain their clothes

➼If those clothes were fused with their body it would make it sooo much harder to keep it clean

➼Not to mention anything could get stuck in that delicate fabric. Geting all up in the nooks and crannies

➼Good luck washing it out if that is the case. They'd have to throw their whole self in the washing machine

➼That being said they have a normal body under the uniform, and take daily showers even if they didn't get particularly dirty that day

➼They do however use those very old block soaps that makes your skin texture feel sticky in a way too clean sense. Either that or the strongest one they can find. Doesn't matter that it makes their skin dry as hell

➼That being said their skin is unbelievably dry all the time. Please put some lotion on them

Vulgora

➼HOW are they always so sweaty

➼Maybe definitely that is the reason they are always so angry all the time

➼How can you thrive in an environment where your foes keep getting away because of your slippery body, huh??

➼Brings Vlastomil to shame

➼The Vesuvian temperature doesn't help one bit. Therefore this demon loves the winter, despite claiming to dislike it because "the colors don't go well with their outfits"

➼They definitely tried the "pads inside your clothes" lifehack to lessen the damage. Don't ask where the pads came from

➼Also those facial oil remover rolls? They got like four in each pocket

➼Weirdly cares a lot about skin care though, so they often brag that the oils are the cause of their baby soft skin

➼You could not find one (1) pore on this demon's face. And of course, everybody noticed that

➼They tried to profit off of this, and sold some wacky "skincare scrub cream" to the civillians. (For the purpose of buying some sick weapons with the cash of course) Didn't work. Had to wait for a whole generation to die off to escape the shame

➼So how does their makeup never get smeared? Don't ask an enby their secrets~~

Vlastomil

➼He, like Volta loves a good feast and always joins in whenever he can

➼However he hates when fish is served because it reminds him that worms are often used as bait to catch said fish

➼Glares at the palace aquarium as he walks by

➼He is probably the most normal one of the bunch

➼Doesn't have to deal with anything extreme

➼Good for him honestly

Extra: Valerius

➼He is slowly starting to go bald but admits it to no one

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michael-aftonz · 5 months

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guess who got back into writing omg... i finally finished this but bear with me, this was the first thing i've written that wasn't academic in literal years but Phew boy. this all stemmed from one single idea and my brain kinda exploded.

DISCLAIMERS:

* vanessa is NOT an afton in this fic. if you believe/hc that she is, this is not the fic for you.

* i DO NOT ship michael and vanessa, anything that happens between them in this fic is platonic + helps to further the plot.

* i am a GAY MALE and can reclaim the f slur.

* this fic contains homophobia and several mentions of the F slur, if this makes you uncomfortable, please skip over this fic or read at your own risk.

* there are descriptions of parental abuse and manipulation. there are also descriptions of anxiety attacks. if these topics make you uncomfortable, please do not read or read at your own risk!

* this is supposed to be set in the early 1980s so i tried to fill it with pop culture from that time, if it seems inaccurate please let me know and i'll find an alternative!

word count: 10,333 words 😦

name: i honestly hadn't thought of one Whoops. if you have any ideas let me know!

characters: michael afton, jeremy fitzgerald, vanessa shelly, william afton and mrs. fitzgerald.

ships: michael afton x jeremy fitzgerald

The three childhood friends were hanging out as usual, playing a very intense game of “truth or dare.” However, things were not turning out the way Michael had hoped. It was his turn once again and his friend Vanessa had an evil grin that spread from ear to ear.

“Okay, Mikey,” she started, practically erupting with excitement, “truth or dare.”

Now, Michael was never one to turn down a dare. However, he felt that this would only end badly. But then again, when was he known to listen to his instincts?

“Dare.”

Vanessa pretended to think for a moment before spouting out, “I've got it! You have to kiss everyone in this room.”

“Seriously, Van?” Michael rolled his eyes, but noticing that Vanessa was, indeed, serious he let out an exasperated groan. “Ugh, fine. But I better not find a polaroid of this on your wall later.”

Easy enough: all he had to do was kiss both Jeremy and Vanessa. No big deal. Besides, it wouldn't mean anything, right?

Michael scooted towards Vanessa first, who made quite a dramatic show of poking her lips out and pointing at them with her index finger. He leaned in and it was over without much further thought.

Now, he turned to his best friend - Jeremy Fitzgerald - and gave a little awkward smile.

“If this is too weird, Mike, I can have her give you another dare. I'm pretty sure she just wanted you to kiss her, anyway,” Jeremy spoke. He was always so considerate.

“It's only weird if you make it weird, man. Besides, a dare’s a dare.”

Michael took a deep breath and pressed a kiss onto Jeremy’s lips. However, this one was different than the previous one. While he felt nothing with Vanessa, his entire body felt like it had gotten set on fire. His heart rate quickened and suddenly the walls felt like they were close in around him. He couldn't breathe.

The only thing that jolted him back to reality was a familiar British voice going “Michael? Your siblings and I are back from the workshop.”

Michael quickly came back to his senses and backed away from Jeremy. He wiped his lips and made a show of being remotely disgusted.

“Ew, Jer, what did you eat? I swear, your breath smelled like salt and vinegar chips.” Michael teased, trying his hardest to make sure no one else noticed his racing heart. What he couldn't figure out, though, is why he had such a different reaction to Jeremy’s kiss than Vanessa's. Maybe, he thought, it's because it wasn't right. Yeah, I'm supposed to kiss girls - not boys. That's the only reasonable explanation; my brain is trying to rationalize why I'd kiss Jeremy of all people.

The night continued semi-peacefully, no other heart racing dares occurred - which Michael appreciated.

The day ended and Michael’s friends went home, leaving him to his thoughts. No matter how hard he tried, he kept thinking about the events from earlier in the day - more specifically, the kiss between Jeremy and himself. He grabbed his walkman, rewound the tape, and put the headphones over his ears. If he couldn't hear how loud his heart was beating, he could ignore the noise inside his head too. All he needed was to melt into the music. And to never confront this problem. Ever.

Michael drifted off into a fitful sleep - tossing and turning every second. His mind kept returning to his best friend’s kiss; the warmth he felt throughout his entire body, the loud beating of his heart, and the short moment where he could swear he felt Jeremy kiss back. It was all too much for him to handle right now. He needed to talk to someone. Normally, he'd call Jeremy and invite him over, but these circumstances were very different.

He sighed and walked to the landline before imputing the all too familiar number.

She picked up right away, which wasn't surprising.

“Mikey? Is something wrong?” Vanessa's voice sounded through the speaker, full of concern. Michael never called her this late.

“Hey, Ness.. I- uh.. Can you meet me at the park?” Michael whispered, trying his best not to worry his friend any more than he already had.

“Sure thing. But, Mikey, you need to tell me if something is wrong.”

“Yeah, yeah. I'll tell you when we get there, okay? It's… hard to explain.”

He didn't even wait on her reply before he hung up the phone and ran to grab his windbreaker. Carefully, he slid open the window and climbed through - making sure not to make any noise. Once he made it through, he silently closed the window all but a crack. He'd need to get back in somehow.

He noticed Vanessa's brightly colored sweater and walked over.

“Thanks for coming. I really needed someone to talk to.” He smiled slightly and pulled her into a hug.

“Of course. You can always talk to me, Mike.” Vanessa smiled back and motioned for the two of them to sit on the bench.

The two sat down and Michael exhaled.

“Vanessa, have you ever… Ugh. I don't know how to word this.” Michael started, slowly hiding his face in his hands.

Vanessa placed a reassuring hand on Michael’s shoulders and made a “go on” gesture.

“When you kiss someone, right, you're supposed to… I don't know. Feel something?” Michael continued - growing increasingly more frustrated.

“Typically, yes. If you like that person.” Vanessa replied, a curious look on her face. Could this be what she had hoped?

Michael took another deep breath.

“Vanessa, this might be a weird request.. But.. I need to know if I'm going crazy or not. I.. I need you to kiss me again.”

Vanessa looked at him like he'd just grown two heads.

“You're right, Mike. That is weird. You're being really weird right now.”

“Ness, I know it's strange. I need to test something. Please just do this one thing for me and I won't ask anything weird of you ever again.” Michael pleaded, looking towards his friend.

Vanessa thought for a moment before nodding. She leaned in and placed a small kiss on his lips. Michael waited patiently for something to happen and… Shit Nothing. No electricity, no loud heart beating. Michael pulled away and shrugged.

“Vanessa… You said you were supposed to feel something if you kissed someone you liked, right?” Michael spoke, pursing his lips together and debating if he should actually tell her what was on his mind.

“Mike, you're a great friend… But I don't see you that way,” Vanessa replied, placing a small hand on Michael’s shoulder in a sort of “let him down easy” gesture.

Michael couldn't help but laugh at this. “Vanessa.. I wasn't talking about our kiss. I.. uh.”

Vanessa looked incredibly confused and if she raised her eyebrow any more it might possibly leave her head.

“When.. when we played truth or dare.. Um.. and you told me to kiss everyone in the room.. Well. uh..” Michael stammered, trying to piece his thoughts together, “something.. Happened when I kissed Jeremy. It felt ‘different’ when we kissed than when I kissed him. It felt.. like lightning was coursing through my body. My heart felt like it was going to explode. It was so loud. And then with you.. There was nothing. I really just felt like you needed some chapstick..” He rambled on, looking down and fidgeting with the zipper on his windbreaker.

Vanessa looked oddly relieved that Mike wasn't confessing his feelings for her.

“Mikey, it sounds to me that you might have yourself a little crush on our friend Jerry.” She smiled and patted her friend on the back.

“That's the problem.. I'm not supposed to,” Michael sighed, placing his head into his hands once again, “do you have any idea how my Dad would react if he found out that I…” He shook his head and trailed off.

Vanessa’s smile slightly dropped, “Well.. Don't tell him. Don't tell your Dad. Have you even thought about telling Jeremy?”

“No! I can't tell Jeremy. What if he laughs at me? What if he never wants to see me again? Vanessa, he's my best friend. I can't have him thinking of me like that…” Michael began to sniffle and he hid his head even further.

His friend moved to pat his back but Michael quickly shot off the bench. All his tears began to turn into anger.

“I already get so much shit for my dorky little sister and my wimpy little brother. Do you know how much more I’d get for being a fucking faggot?” He huffed and began to storm back toward his house.

“Mike, wait!”

“You have it so easy, Vanessa! You don't understand.” And before Vanessa could even utter the first syllable of her next word, Michael had already left the park and trudged back towards his house.

He crept back inside the window and marched toward his room - still making sure to be quiet. However, when he was in to his room, he shut his door and angrily threw this windbreaker towards his bed.

Michael sniffled once again, reaching for his walkman and quickly placing the headphones on his ears. As his tape began to play, Michael tucked his head between his knees and tears began streaming down his cheeks.

He had never quite mastered the act of silent crying, but he wasn't as dramatic as his younger brother, either. Michael hated how weak he felt when crying, he also hated how imaginary words from William could ruin his evening.

Michael, himself, didn't even understand why he felt this way about Jeremy. He only knew two things: one, for some reason, he desperately wanted to kiss Jeremy again and two, his father would most likely kill him if he found out. Oh, and three, he hated himself for feeling like this - especially about his friend.

After a few more minutes of quietly sobbing against his bedroom door, Michael had finally stopped crying. He sniffled once again and wiped off his face.

Michael looked up at the flashing alarm clock on his nightstand. 6:00 am. He realized he hadn't slept much the night before - and the guilt of snapping at Vanessa was weighing on him. I should apologize, Michael thought to himself, she was only trying to help, after all.

He took off his headphones and neatly placed his walkman back on the nightstand. He walked outside his bedroom door and noted a small plush fox sitting there with a note that read: Heard you crying. I left my friend because they make me feel better.

Upon reading the note, Michael’s anger slightly returned from the night before. The Crybaby is making fun of me? He picked up the plush toy and ripped apart the seems before throwing it down the hallway.

He scoffed and walked out the door, intent on seeing Vanessa first and apologizing. While on his way towards his friends house, he noticed Jeremy heading the same way. Had Vanessa invited Jeremy here? Did Vanessa tell him what happened between herself and Michael last night? He really hoped not. Yes, Michael had snapped at Vanessa, but he told her everything in confidence.

He tried his best to avoid Jeremy, but something about hm seemed different. Michael couldn't stop noticing little details about him: The way his hair swayed when he walked, the clink of all the patches on his bag, the ever present smile on his face. All of these things were just distracting Michael. He came to apologize to Vanessa, not stare at his best friend.

Michael shook himself out of his stupor and he gave a small wave to Jeremy before going to Vanessa’s door and knocking.

As soon as the door opened, Michael was already rambling.

“Ness, I'm so sorry about last night. I didn't mean to snap at you.. I was just… you know. Overwhelmed.” He pushed himself inside the doorframe and wrapped his friend into a hug.

Vanessa simply nodded and hugged Michael back, “Mikey, I knew you'd be here to apologize so… I invited Jeremy, too. I think you two need to talk.”

A look of shock crosses over Michael's face, but before he could say anything, Jeremy walked in to the room.

“Van? You said you wanted to see me?” Jeremy asked, his voice causing the hair on the back of Michael's neck to stand up.

“Actually, Jerry, Mike has something he needs to talk to you about.” Vanessa responded, smiling from ear to ear. “I'll just be in the other room. You two can talk.”

Michael gave her a subtle “I am going to murder you later” look as Vanessa left the room. Soon, it was just him and Jeremy standing in the walkway of Vanessa's home.

Jeremy gave his typical reassuring smile, which caused Michael's heart to do jumping jacks.

“What's up? Is.. is your dad being weird again?” Jeremy asked, genuine concern filling his voice, and he moved to place a caring hand on Michael’s shoulder.

“That's.. that's the thing, Jer. You’re always so thoughtful and.. you care so much about Vanessa and I. It's really sweet,” Michael started, his nerves being to bubble in his stomach.

“Okay…? I don't really understand what this has to do with anything.. Am I too nice?” Jeremy looked utterly confused (and concerned). He honestly had no idea where this was going but he wanted to be supportive of his friend.

Michael smiled at Jeremy’s response, shaking his head lightly. “No, you're not too nice. You're.. the right amount of nice. I always appreciate everything you do for me. However, I didn't realize that until recently.” He was silent for a moment, weighing how to proceed next. “Jeremy, can I ask you a serious question?”

“Of course, Mike, You can ask me whatever you want. I'll try my best to answer.” Jeremy nodded and sent another reassuring smile at Michael.

Michael took a deep breath and nodded. I'm going to do this. I'm actually going to do this. “Did you… feel.. uh.. feel anything when,” his cheeks flushed a light pink and he began speaking again, much quieter this time, “when we kissed…?”

“I'm sorry? I didn't hear that last part, Mike. Can you repeat that?” Jeremy furrowed his brows, turning his head to his right side – as he is partially deaf in his left ear and hears better on his right side.

Michael closed his eyes and began repeating what he just said, “Did you feel anything… when we kissed?”

Jeremy’s eyes widened slightly and he raised an eyebrow, “Well.. nothing I don't usually feel when I'm around you. What, exactly, do you mean by that?”

Michael was slightly disappointed and then he realized Jeremy asked for clarification. “I mean like.. I don't know. When- when we kissed.. It felt like my body was on fire. My heartbeat was so fast and.. to be honest, I.. I can't stop thinking about it. I'm sorry if this was weir-” He was quickly interrupted by the soft press of Jeremy’s lips against his own. Michael's eyes widened but, once he got his bearings, he leaned into the other.

Jeremy pulled away after a few seconds - but not being the all too familiar shutter-click of Vanessa's polaroid camera went off - and smiled brightly up at Michael.

“I hope that answers your question, Mike.” Jeremy laughed, his own cheeks. “I was really wondering when you'd notice. I.. uh.. I've liked you for a very long time.”

Michael's eyes were still wide and he couldn't quite believe what had just happened. His cheeks were now a bright red. However, he soon snapped out of his daze and realized he heard the camera click.

“Vanessa, PLEASE tell me you didn't take a picture of that!” Michael moved away from Jeremy and pratically sprinted towards the other room.

“Mike, wait!” Jeremy called out as he followed after his two friends.

Vanessa was busy trying to hide and dodge underneath several pieces of furniture while Michael chased her.

“Ness, please give me that picture. You don't know what will happen if my Dad find that. And you know how often he visits your dad. They literally work together.” Michael pleaded, crouching down to try and yank Vanessa out from underneath her bed.

“Fine, fine. Only because you're my friend, Michael. But you owe me film!” Vanessa caved, crawling out from underneath the bed and reluctantly handing over the polaroid.

Michael made a small movement of triumph, however, he quickly turned embarrassed when he took a closer look at the picture (which had almost fully developed by now). Apparently, Michael had placed his hand on the base of Jeremy's neck without noticing and the photo made it look as if he was pulling him in closer.

“So..,” Vanessa started as she took her two friends by their wrists and plopped them down on her bed, “did you two decide what you're going to call.. this?” She motioned to the two of them and raised her eyebrow. “I mean, if you decide to call it anything, that is.”

The boys shrugged and looked at each other. They were both silent for a moment and Jeremy finally spoke. “I know that your dad is.. kinda weird about this type of stuff, but my parents are cool with it. And.. if you're comfortable with it, I'd like to call myself your boyfriend, Mike. At.. at least to my parents.”

Michael remained silent for a moment, thinking over the options. After a few seconds, he nodded and placed his hand inside of Jeremy’s.

“I'd really like that, Jer. I'm just sorry that I can't tell my family. I mean, if my Mom was still here, she'd be supportive.” Michael replied as a small smile spread across his lips. Jeremy nodded and simply pulled him into a side hug. However, the cute moment was soon interrupted by Vanessa throwing herself in between the two and snapping another picture before they could protest.

“At least let me keep this one! It's just the three of us, so it's not incriminating!” Vanessa asked, already moving to make a sprint if she needed.

“Fine, fine. I have no objections there.”

The rest of the evening continued in much of the normal fashion: the three of them playing various games and making fun of each other. However, Michael caught himself glancing over at Jeremy more frequently. Soon, Michael knew it was time to head home.

“Hey, Mike, do you mind if I tag along on your walk home? I live a few minutes away from your place.” Jeremy asked, jogging up beside Michael after he walked out of Vanessa’s house.

Michael nodded with a smile. He'd secretly been hoping that Jeremy would suggest this. He loves Vanessa and all, but he wanted a few moments of just himself and Jeremy.

The lanky boy walked next to Michael and reached for his hand. Michael hesitated for a moment, looking around the neighborhood for any sign of his father, before taking Jeremy’s hand.

They continued on their walk until they were at Michael's doorstep. He said his goodbyes and - even though it hurt his heart - waved instead of sending Jeremy off with something more affectionate.

He fumbled with the door knob, the door then swung open and the creaky hinges alerted anyone within a 1,200 mile radius. Michael physically recoiled at the sound and entered the house - hoping for less noise.

He had made it less than a foot from the door before the trouble began. He noticed it instantly: the disappointed look in his father’s eyes. What did I do now? Michael thought, bracing himself for the worst possible outcome.

“Michael,” the agitating voice stated.

Well. Better get this over with.

“Father,” Michael replied, trying not to make the grit in his teeth obvious with his speech. He hated called William anything formal, especially since he was the only one of his siblings who had to.

“Do you have ANY idea of the distress you caused?”

“No, sir.”

“You know exactly what you did. Your poor brother came into my workshop crying. Do you know why that was?”

“Isn't the little shit always crying?”

“Don't get smart with me, boy. And, you will not use that kind of language when speaking to me, or this will get a whole lot worse for you. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Michael grits his teeth even harder.

“Now, your brother comes to me, and in his hands are the pieces of a prototype product for my new animatronic line. The fox plush.”

Shit.

“Michael, I will ask you one time. What did you do to the product?”

“I didn't know it was important, Father. He was making fun of me and I thought - Hey, he has enough toys. He won't miss this one. I destroyed it... to teach him a lesson.”

“Destroyed it to teach him a lesson? Fascinating. And how would you feel if something like that happened to your precious walkman? Or.. those.. cassette tapes with those grotesque songs you seem to enjoy? Hmm?”

Michael's face fell and he reared back in horror.

“You wouldn't.”

“Oh, believe me, Michael. I would. As a matter of fact, go pick out your favorites and bring them to me. Along with the scissors.”

This completely ruined his good mood from today, but he knew that there was no getting out of this. Michael begrudgingly went into his bedroom, crouched down, and riffled through his box of cassette tapes. Of course, he was smart enough not to choose his actual favorites. He chose some he wouldn't mind losing (probably those he was recommended and didn't like as well as the others) and stashed his favorites inside of his sock drawer - along with the polaroid of himself and Jeremy.

Michael hesitated before handing several tapes and a pair of sharp scissors to his father. He cringed as his father opened the latch that concealed the tape and began unwinding - cutting each segment until all that was left was a pile of tape shreddings and several plastic cases.

“I hope you've learned your lesson, Michael. If this happens again, I will fish around for every single tape you've hidden. Now, clean this up.”

Michael gulped in surprise; how did his father know he had hidden several tapes? His mouth remained agape as he bent down and began cleaning up the remains of his music taste.

The staleness of the room only dimmed his mood: the too dark carpet with mysterious stains, the uneven curtains with several moth-eaten holes, the overall greyness of the place. It wasn't a mystery why William had destroyed his tapes, the man clearly had a love of all things boring and soulless.

Once he had finished, Michael knew he couldn't stay here. He entered his bedroom, making sure to lock the door the from inside. He looked around for a bit before grabbing a draw-string bag from his closet and began stuffing clothes inside of it. All packed, Michael once again cracked open his window and crept outside - leaving it open enough for him to enter once he got back. If he came back, of course.

He really only had one place to go - and the fact that there was only one person he wanted to see.

The gloomy atmosphere from his apartment seemed to drift out into the streets: the skies were much darker than before and there was a certain musk that meant it was going to rain soon. Because of Michael's quick packing, he was ill-prepared for the rain.

Better walk fast, I guess. I've still got three blocks to go. Michael thought to himself, tugging on the strings on his bag to ensure it was secured. However, the rain came much faster than he could walk and soon he was drenched - with still a block and a half to go. There looked to be no end in sight for the sudden monsune of rain. Just my luck. Just my fucking luck.

He began sprinting, his brightly colored sneakers squeaking against the pavement and his body getting continuously soaked. By the time he arrived at Jeremy’s, he looked like a kitten someone had just given a bath - completely soaked and fuming. He hesitated for a moment before knocking on the door.

Who answered, however, was not who he expected. A polite, older woman (who he knew as Mrs. Fitzgerald) answered the door with a look of utter concern.

“Michael, honey! You're soaking wet.” Her smooth voice radiated with motherly concern and the slight southern twang made everything feel more homey.

“I apologize for showing up uninvited, Mrs. Fitzgerald.” Michael replied sheepishly, “I.. I can leave if it's too much of a bother.”

“Nonsense! You get in here and dry off. I'll let Jeremy know you're here. It's a wonder you didn't get swept away in this terrible storm,” Mrs. Fitzgerald replied, opening the door wide enough to let Michael in before closing it to prevent any more cool air from seeping in.

Michael thanked the woman once again and politely wiped his feet on the mat. Mrs. Fitzgerald turned around and looked at his clothes once more.

“Oh dear.. You're completely soaked through. Don't worry, I'm sure either Jeremy or my husband have something you can borrow. I'll get those washed and dried for you soon, sweetheart. You stay right here. I'll go find you something nice.”

Michael nodded, having really no other option than to wait for Mrs. Fitzgerald to come back. Soon the woman returned with a large pile of clothing - from t-shirts with interesting tie-dye patterns to large, oversized sweaters that Michael was pretty sure he could use as a blanket if he needed to. He was soon completely dried and dressed from head to toe in the warmest clothes Jeremy’s mother could stuff him in. He quickly handed his sopping wet clothing to Mrs. Fitzgerald and gave her another round of thanks.

As he did this, Jeremy practically ran down the stairs.

“Mike? Is something wrong?” The blonde asked, concern filling his voice. He moved closer and began checking Michael’s hands and arms for any sign of injuries.

“I'm fine, Jer, seriously.” Michael gave him a reassuring smile and placed a caring hand onto his shoulder, “can we just go talk in your room? I.. I couldn't stay at home tonight.”

Jeremy nodded and motioned for Michael to follow him up the stairs. Once upstairs, Michael was simply blown away. This room was basically identical to the person who lived in it: colorful, full of life, and it had a sort of “I'm at home” feeling. Jeremy’s room at everything - from too many blankets to count to the newest NES system. Michael had only been in here once before, as the three of them usually went to his house or Vanessa's, but it still amazed him how much it replicated Jeremy’s personality.

Jeremy sat on the edge of his bed and motioned for Michael to join him, to which he quickly obliged. The two talked for a while - mostly just Michael avoiding the topic he originally intended to talk about - and eventually Michael grew restless of sitting and laid himself across Jeremy’s lap. Jeremy smiled down at him and absentmindedly began twirling a strand of Michael's long hair around his finger.

“Mike, can you please tell me what happened? I know when you're avoiding talking about something.” Jeremy scolded, a small pout forming on his lips. He had been Michael’s best friend for year, of course he was going to pick up on the little things - especially when Michael wasn't being entirely truthful.

“Fine, fine. I did something stupid, okay? That brat of a brother I have heard something he shouldn't have and I decided he needed a little payback,” Michael started, slightly embarrassed that he'd have to tell this to Jeremy - of all people - because Jeremy was part of the reason he did this, “anyway, so.. I took one of his plush toys that he left in my doorway and I.. ripped it up.”

Jeremy raised his eyebrow, as if to question why this meant he was not able to stay home, but he didn't interrupt Michael.

“Well, it turns out that it didn't actually belong to the little shit. It was something Father was working on. A prototype, I don't know,” Michael made a shrugging gesture and continued with his explanation, “Either way, let's just say he wasn't too thrilled about the damage done to it. And uh.. several of my tapes got the axe. I managed to hide the best ones, but I doubt they'll last for long.”

“That's.. awful. Mike, I'm so sorry.” Jeremy’s frown deepened and he brushed a small strand of Michael’s hair away from his face.

“Nah, I probably had it coming. He just.. he makes me so angry sometimes, Jeremy. I fight so hard for his attention and yet some snot nosed crybaby gets it for free? How is that fair?” Michael's face morphed into a frown and he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Aw, Mike. I'm sure he doesn't mean to ignore you. Look, you're wonderful. If he doesn't see that, than it's his problem.” Jeremy leaned over, making his face a few inches away from Michael's, and placing a hand on his chin.

Seeing that Michael’s frown still remained, Jeremy pressed a small kiss against his lips. And another. And another. Until Michael finally smiled and playfully pushed him off.

“Jer, you're going to suffocate me,” Michael teased, laughing as he kept his hand up to prevent any further kiss attacks.

“Well, it's not my fault! I couldn't just let you be sad.”

Michael rolled his eyes and gave Jeremy one more playful shove, “Jeremy Fitzgerald, you are insufferable.” However, Michael was glad for the distraction. He moved from his position on Jeremy's lap and laid down across the end of the blonde’s bed - spreading out like a starfish. Tonight was just perfect; absolutely nothing could ruin Michael's night.

Or so he thought.

–

Back at Michael’s house, everything was not as peaceful as the Fitzgeralds’. William was knocking on Michael's door - but he received no response, obviously.

“Michael? I told you not to lock your door.”

Silence.

“Michael?”

More silence.

William tried the handle one more time, getting increasingly more angry when it continued not to open.

William walked outside, retracing what little footsteps hadn't been washed away in the rainstorm. However, Michael's “sneaky escape” hadn't been as sneaky as he had hoped. William instantly noticed the trampled flowers which Michael had climbed down onto. This caused him to look up and notice the window slightly ajar.

Michael, Michael, Michael.. Oh, I wish I raised you better. William thought to himself, shaking his head with a loud “tsk-tsk.” He quickly hoisted himself onto the ledge and opened the window - making sure to close it at just the right height to make it seem unnoticeable in case Michael returned sooner than he expected.

You've brought this on yourself, Michael. William tsk’d once again before he began rummaging through Michael’s drawers - taking any tape he could find. When he got to the last drawer, however, he noticed something that wasn't.. quite a tape. It was flipped upside down, but it was evident that it was a polaroid of some kind.

William pondered for a moment before picking it up and flipping it over to check the contents. He reared back in horror upon seeing what it was: a picture of his son and some blonde boy together.

William was seething as he crumpled the photo in his palm and he began searching faster for the remaining tapes. Once he had them, William placed all the tapes into a bag and - after unlocking the door - took them outside and grabbed one of his favorite instruments: the hammer.

Smash!

Crunch!

Crack!

William hefted the hammer over his shoulder again and again until there was nothing left but shards of plastic and several unwound tapes. His breathing grew ragged as his anger continued to overtake him. Eventually, he placed the hammer down and stood up - dusting off his pants and walking back inside.

Now, he needed to wait for Michael to return. And where else than his son’s bedroom.

–

Michael had closed his eyes and was listening to the sounds of Jeremy’s room, which were all incredibly calming. He could hear the faint rain against Jeremy's window, the sound of his own breathing, the emptiness in his mind. Everything was quiet, just as it should be. He heard the creak of the steps and the following soft click of the door opening. Jeremy had stepped out a while ago to find them some snacks, and apparently, he had succeeded. The sound of rustling chip bags (and Jeremy struggling to get inside the door) shook Michael out of his stupor and he quickly went to help, opening the door wide enough for Jeremy and his armful of prizes to enter.

“My knight in shining armor,” Jeremy joked, sending a bright smile towards Michael. “I was wondering when you'd open the door.”

“Oh, really? Did I not move fast enough for you, your highness?” Michael teased back and sent and eyeroll towards the blonde. “Here, let me help you.” He grabbed a few of the spoils from Jeremy’s arms and arranged them in a makeshift pile - it wasn't neat, but it was the best he could do without putting them on the floor.

Jeremy thanked him before placing the remaining spoils into the pile - they had enough snacks to last for weeks. Michael sat down and scooped out a handful of chips, popping one into his mouth and occasionally trying to catch them. Jeremy plopped himself down next to Michael and leaned his head against his shoulder. This caused Michael to widen his eyes in surprise. He really didn't know what to do in this situation. He hadn't been in a relationship before - let alone with someone like Jeremy. He hesitated and then placed his hand on Jeremy's lower back.

A soft knock on the door caused Michael to look up. Michael felt his pace quicken: this would be one of Jeremy's parents, which worried him. He knew they were more accepting than his own Father, but he also didn't know what they would be willing to accept. Plus, Jeremy was currently laying against him - which would be hard to explain if they weren't accepting.

Before he could think, the door slowly opened and Mrs Fitzgerald stuck her head inside.

“Oh! Sorry, boys. I didn't realize you were busy! I made some cookies and I.. I wanted to share some with you,” She spoke, slightly embarrassed that they already had so many snacks.

“No thanks, Mom. We’re good,” Jeremy spoke, smiling at his mother. He thought for a moment before adding, “Hey.. Mom?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Come in here.. Uh. Mike and I want to tell you something,” Jeremy spoke, briefly standing up to open the door and motion for his mother in.

Michael locked eyes with his boyfriend as if telepathically saying “are we really doing this??” Jeremy simply laughed in response and walked back over to Michael, offering the brown haired boy his hand. Michael hesitated before taking Jeremy's hand and standing up next to him.

Jeremy took a deep breath and wrapped his arm around Michael's shoulders. “Mom.. Michael and I.. are,” he begun shaking a little and Michael quickly turned his head towards Jeremy and gave a reassuring squeeze to his shoulder. He quietly whispered something encouraging to the blonde and turned back towards Jeremy’s mother.

“Mom. Michael and I are.. dating. He's my boyfriend,” Jeremy finally managed to speak the words (and release the breath he didn't know he was holding) and then he looked towards his mother, awaiting her response.

Jeremy's mother was silent for a while and then she broke out into a big grin. She moved closer to the two boys and wrapped them into a hug.

“Oh, sweetheart, I'm so happy for you. Thank you so much for telling me,” Mrs. Fitzgerald spoke softly, moving her hands and gently cupping Jeremy’s face.

“Mooom, you're embarrassing me,” Jeremy complained, trying to wriggle out of his mother’s grasp. Michael couldn't help but smile at the scene, however, something inside him hurt. He realized he could never experience this situation. To be honest, it made him jealous. But he'd never tell Jeremy that, of course. Just because Michael's family had not been the best didn't mean he needed to ruin someone else’s happiness.

“Oh, Michael, get in here! Let me give you a big hug. You have no idea how happy my Jeremy-Bear is when he talks about you,” Mrs. Fitzgerald spoke, quickly moving to drag Michael into the hug once again before he could protest. “I'm very proud of both of you boys. I know it's tough to tell someone something like this.”

She gave them each one more tender, motherly arm squeeze before exiting back down the stairs.

“Your mom is so sweet, Jer,” Michael spoke once Mrs. Fitzgerald had left, though he didn't seem to notice the sadness that had seeped into his voice. But Jeremy did. He always did. He felt Jeremy's arms wrapped around him before he heard him move.

“She loves you, Mike.” Jeremy spoke softly, his grip tightening slightly around the shorter boy.

Michael smiled sadly and nodded before burying his head in the crook of Jeremy's neck. “I'm glad someone does, at least.”

“Don’t you dare say shit like that again, Michael Afton. You have so many people who care about you - my parents, Vanessa, Vanessa’s parents, me! Your dad can go to hell.”

Michael sort of shrugged, but made no effort to respond. Jeremy moved back a bit, gripping Michael by both shoulders, and shook him.

“I’m serious. You're so important to everyone around you. Who cares what your father thinks?”

“Sorry-”

“No. You have nothing to apologize for. None of this is your fault. Life dealt you a bad hand - but, Mike, you're the strongest person I know. Most people would've crumbled by now.” Jeremy cut him off before Michael could apologize any more, cupping the sides of his face so Michael was looking him in the eye.

“I'm so tired, Jeremy. Everyday he gets worse, I never know when he’ll snap next.”

“Yes, but you shouldn't have to! That's the thing.”

“Please.. can we just drop it?” Michael avoided Jeremy’s gaze and began fidgeting with the sleeves of his borrowed sweater.

“You're right, I'm sorry,” Jeremy apologized and released Michael's face. Then, he realized that Michael probably was physically tired, too. “C'mon, let's head to bed. It's been a wild day. Plus, the rain doesn't seem to be letting up anytime soon. I'm sure my Mom wouldn't mind you staying the night.”

Before Michael could respond, Jeremy had moved away and began untucking the layers of blankets that seemed to hide his bed.

Jeremy grabbed Michael's wrist and gently pulled him towards the bed and sat him down.

“You can use as many blankets as you want, I don't mind!” Jeremy beamed. He then preceded to have an “oh!” moment and disappeared inside his closet. Michael heard lots of rummaging and his curiosity continued to grow. Soon, Jeremy emerged once again. This time, he was holding a pair of pajamas with various pictures of E.T. littered across them.

“They might be a little big, but you can borrow them for the night,” Jeremy spoke as he walked over and placed them in Michael’s hands, “unless you want to sleep in old jeans..?” He raised an eyebrow, though it was nothing more than teasing.

Michael rolled his eyes, thanked Jeremy, and quickly went to change into the pajamas. Once he returned, he nearly folded his borrowed clothing and placed them on the nearest flat surface. He hesitated a bit - unsure of where he should lay down. However, Jeremy quickly patted the spot next to him on his bed.

“I don't mind sharing, really. And! I don't bite. Mostly,” Jeremy reassured the shorter as he scooted over to make room. “Besides, we did this at plenty of sleep overs before. Just think of it like that!”

Michael nodded and laid down next to Jeremy, who gave him another reassuring smile. “Thanks. I'm sorry for imposing myself on you, especially without calling first.” He whispered while pulling some blankets over the two of them.

“Nah, don't worry about it. You're welcome any time you like.”

The two sat in silence for a while and eventually Jeremy began to drift off. Michael hesitated, thinking over his next decision carefully, and then impulsively turned and rested his head against Jeremy's chest.

Jeremy let out a sleepy “huh?” at the feeling of weight on his chest and then smiled when he realized what Michael had done. He let his arms naturally fall and land on Michael's upper back, however one moved to its earlier position of twirling a few strands of Michael's hair around his fingers.

A few more minutes of silence pass and Jeremy begins to drift off once again, however he is quickly interrupted.

“Jeremy?” Michael asked quietly, waiting a bit to see if Jeremy had fully fallen asleep.

“Mm?” Jeremy replied with a sleepy mumble.

“Why is everything in my life so difficult?”

“I don't know, Mike.. I really don't know.”

Michael sighed and decided that would be the best answer he'd get - unless he wanted some sort of religious spiel about certain plans and whatnot. He left Jeremy return to sleep before joining him a few minutes later. He decided he better enjoy this moment while it lasted, despite the bubbling anxiety that was welling up in his stomach. He certainly didn't look forward to returning home tomorrow.

One problem at a time, Mike. One problem at a time. He thought to himself as he was finally able to drift off to sleep.

–

Turns out it would be several problems at one time.

Michael dressed in his (now clean and dry, thanks to Mrs. Fitzgerald) clothes from the previous day and began his trek back to his own apartment - making sure to pick a time he knew William would be working in the hellscape he called his workshop.

He carefully retraced his usual path and made it to the front lawn. Taking another step, Michael heard a loud crunch. He looked around noticed several objects glinting in the sun and went over to investigate. Michael felt his heart sank when he realized it was pieces of plastic. He knelt down and took a closer look, finding the pieces of all his favorite tapes. And, he was pretty sure he had his favorite songs stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

Damn it, Michael thought as he sighed and moved away from the pile of plastic scraps, I guess he noticed I was gone.

He shook his head and continued toward his bedroom window - which looked exactly the same as he had left it the night before.

Not thinking anything of it, and with the rain having washed away any evidence of William’s entrance, Michael pushed open his window and hoisted himself inside. He landed with a small “oomph” and dusted his pants off. While dusting his pants, however, he noticed another shadow present in the room. He slowly looked up and locked eyes with none other than William himself.

“William Michael Afton, where have you been?” William spoke, his arms crossed over his chest and he stood in a powerful stance. However, Michael noticed there was something crumpled in his left fist.

“Don't fucking call me that. My name is Michael,” Michael spat back, absolutely seething at being called his legal name - no one EVER called him by that, he'd probably punch them if they did.

“I wouldn't be so sure, Junior. You see, I was the one who named you. I think I know what your name is.” There he went again, dismissing Michael's entire personhood. Well, it wasn't anything he wasn't used to. Michael used to cry every night until his Mother finally agreed to let him go by Michael instead.

“Anyway, you haven't answered my question. Where. The. Hell. Have. You. Been?” William spoke again, moving closer and jabbing a finger harshly into Michael's ribs with every word. “Answer me.”

“Nowhere, sir.”

“Are you sure that's the answer you want to go with?” William narrows his eyes, leaning over his son in an attempt to make him cave in; shrink himself down and disappear. After all, that's what he wants. For Michael to disappear.

Michael briefly glanced at his father's eyes, noting the only emotions present were anger and boredom. That's how he always looked at Michael, though sometimes there was a sprinkle of disappointment. He looked back at the floor and gulped. Just tell him, Egghead. He already knows you left. He mentally scolded himself before speaking.

“A friend’s. I was at a friend’s house, Father.”

“Hmm,” William pursed his lips and scrutinized Michael’s body language and tone for any hint of dishonesty. “Which friend, exactly?”

Michael gulped once again. If he told him, he risked putting Jeremy in danger. But if he didn't, then he put himself in danger. No big deal, he could handle that. But he desperately wanted to protect Jeremy, so he remained silent.

“Answer me, goddamn it!” William raised his voice, his hand flying to the collar of Michael's shirt. Michael still remained silent, even as William had slammed him into the bookshelf and sent several personal objects (some of them glass) cascading to the floor with a loud crash.

Michael had to bite his lip to avoid crying out in pain - he was sure that he would have a few bruises, most likely cuts too, since the glasses broke on the impact and gashed through his windbreaker, managing to hit skin. Another large glass photo frame crashed into his face and left a large gash across his left eye and a bruise across his cheekbone.

“Your silence is not his protection, you know,” William whispered, setting Michael back on the ground and releasing his collar.

“W.. what are you talking about?” Michael spoke, straightening his jacket and still refusing to look at William.

“Don't play dumb with me,” William finally unfurled his left fist and revealed a crumpled up polaroid. Michael's heart sank once again; he knew exactly what that was. “If that faggot Fitzgerald is making you think you're one of those queers, I will never let you see him again.”

“N-no.. that's not.. He's not.. Uh.. I'm not-” Michael shook his head furiously, scrambling to come up with an excuse.

“I don't care what he does in his own home, but he will not infect mine. Not with this.. disease,” William scoffed and shoved the polaroid into Michael’s face - trying to emphasize what exactly the ‘disease’ was.

“If you ever pull something like this again, I will destroy more things than you cassette tapes, William Michael Afton.”

“Stop. Stop fucking calling me that,” Michael finally broke out of his stupor and began shaking uncontrollably. His anger was beginning to take control of him and he hated how much it made him look like William.

“Just.. leave me alone. I'm not gay, alright! It was just some stupid dare. It didn't mean anything. Vanessa took the picture as a joke, okay? It's all one big fucking joke!” The words felt like poison leaving Michael's mouth, they burned as they bubbled through his throat. He felt awful for not being able to defend himself or Jeremy. He felt awful that William was his father. He just felt awful.

“Good. Then you won't be needing this, will you?” William asked, the hatred evident in his voice. Michael looked up just as he heard the first rip - right through Jeremy’s face on the polaroid. He felt a pang in his heart but simply shook his head “no.” William continued until the entire thing was no more than a few paper scraps with what remained of Jeremy and Michael’s facial features.

“Oh, and clean up this room.” And with that, William stormed out once again. Michael slid down the backside of his door and crumpled to his knees. He had never felt so empty and alone in his life. He desperately wanted to cry but he would not give William the satisfaction over controlling his emotions. He would not cry. He would not cry. He would not cry.

A single tear began trailing down his cheek. He would cry.

–

Brrng Brrrng

The phone rang for what felt like the seventeenth time. It was getting on William’s nerves. He started to call out for someone else to answer it, but he couldn't exactly say “hey, Michael, I know we had a little argument yesterday but can you answer the phone? Pretty please??” and bat his eyelids. He groaned and rolled up his oil-covered sleeves, grabbing the nearest cloth like object and wiping off his hands.

William begrudgingly answered the phone with a slightly annoyed sounding “'Ello?”

“Mr. Afton! I'm sorry. I was trying to reach Michael.. we were supposed to hang out today,” the voice spoke through the speaker. It sounded very embarrassed to have called the wrong person.

“Who is this?”

“Oh! Umm.. It’s Jeremy, sir. Jeremy Fitzgerald?... Michael's.. best friend..?”

“Ah. Fitzgerald, yes. I remember… Michael is not available right now. He seems to.. have come down with a cold. He was complaining about.. cold rain and having to walk through it earlier.” William scrambled to come up with an excuse. This was the boy who was fond of his son? Now was the perfect chance to ruin whatever budding relationship they might've had.

“Actually, Johnny,”

“Jeremy.”

“Whatever. Let me see if Michael will be willing to take your call.”

William had the perfect plan, and it involved his newest prototype: the Hand Unit, now with built in voice synthesizer and voice capture abilities. Of course, William who was always plotting, and had recorded his argument with Michael the night before. He fiddled around with the buttons on the Hand Unit and switched it to the “angsty teen” setting - one he designed specifically to sound like Michael. Once he had it set up, he took his hand off of the receiver and made a test ‘hello?’

“Mike? Oh, thank God! I was worried you'd never pick up.” Jeremy's voice sounded through the speaker once again and William scowled at the relief he heard. Teenagers are so gullible these days.

“Jeremy?” William typed into the touchpad on the Hand Unit, amazed at his own handiwork and how clear it came out.

“Are you still able to come over today?”

William pressed a few more buttons, spewing out the first of the pre-recorded messages: “What are you talking about?”

“Don't you remember? You said you'd try to come over later today.”

William rolled his eyes and began flipping a few switches. It's now or never, I guess. He thought to himself as he searched through the messages for the real zinger: “Just.. leave me alone.”

“What..?”

“I'm not gay, alright! It was just some stupid dare. It didn't mean anything. Vanessa took the picture as a joke, okay? It's all one big fucking joke!” William’s lips moved into an evil smile as he awaited Jeremy’s response. This is more fun than I imagined. He thought to himself, giving him an imaginary pat on the back.

“Mike? You.. you don't mean that, right?” The hurt in the boy’s voice almost made William feel bad. Almost.

He had one final phrase to say and loaded it in as fast as he could: “Stop fucking calling me.”

Just as the Hand Unit finished the last sentence, it began to short out. William groaned in frustration and accidentally took his hand off the receiver, “Blasted thing. I thought I fixed that.” However, William did not realize that Jeremy very clearly heard that. William quickly hung up the phone and returned to his work, which now included fixing the Hand Unit.

Jeremy was a mixture of hurt and confused, had Michael actually said those things? And what was that strange thing Mr. Afton had said? “Blasted thing?” Something seemed fishy here, and he was going to figure out what happened.

–

Jeremy practically stormed out of his house, sprinting down the sidewalk as fast as his lanky build could carry him. By the time he arrived at the Afton’s doorstep, he was out of breath. He quickly knocked on the front door before hunching over to regain control of his breathing.

No answer. That's odd. They always answer on the first knock. Jeremy thought to himself. How else could he get in? And then it hit him; Michael's window. He grabbed a few pebbles (in case the window wasn't already open) and trekked around the side of the building.

Just his luck, the window was firmly shut. Jeremy selected a medium sized pebble, said a silent prayer that this glass was reinforced, and gently threw the pebble towards the small window. It landed against the glass with a small thump. Jeremy thanked whatever higher being that it hadn't shattered instantly

Seeing that there was no response to the first pebble, Jeremy picked up another and threw it much harder.

Michael glanced over at the sudden noise, just in time to see a small object land against his window. He pushed himself off the floor - wincing slightly as his injuries were still fresh (and had been left untreated). He shuffled over and glanced outside. Seeing that someone was outside (and actively throwing pebbles), Michael opened his window and tried to get a better look.

“Jeremy? What are you doing here?” Michael asked - confusion and a headache swarmed around his skull.

“Mike! I tried the front door but no one answered. I needed to talk to you in person.” Jeremy looked relieved when Michael had actually opened the doors. He placed down his handful of pebbles and began climbing in through the window.

Once he was inside, he dusted himself off and then finally looked at Michael.

“Oh.. Mike, what happened?” Jeremy walked over and gently grabbed Michael's chin, turning his head towards the light so he could better see the damage. The entire left side of Michael's face was swollen and slightly purple from the new bruising. Jeremy subconsciously ran his thumb over Michael's swollen lip, though he quickly moved his hand back when Michael flinched.

Jeremy took a closer look at the room and quickly noticed the large amount of broken glass that little Michael's bedroom floor.

“I'm fine, Jeremy. I.. tripped… into the bookshelf. And took a picture frame right to the face,” Michael quickly lied, even adding a chuckle to make it seem more accident like.

“We need to get you to a doctor, Michael. This could be seriously infected!” Jeremy moved back over to Michael and motioned to his injured face.

“No!” Michael snapped, then realized his tone and softened his words as he continued speaking, “No doctors. They'll.. they'll ask questions I'm not prepared to answer, okay? I'm fine.”

“Fine, but at least let me use a first aid kit, okay? I don't want there to be an infection,” Jeremy didn't even wait on a reply before fishing around in his bag full of necessary items, that he ALWAYS carried with him, and pulling out a small, travel sized first aid kit.

Jeremy sat down on Michael's bed and motioned for him to sit down as well. Michael obliged, though he was hesitant to let Jeremy doctor his wounds.

“By the way, Mike,” Jeremy began speaking in between Michael's winces as the cold antiseptic touched his face, “did you answer the phone earlier?”

“No..? I haven't left my room all day,” Michael shrugged and motioned to the state he was currently in, “Besides, Father banned me from using the phones.”

“Then.. who did I speak to earlier? It sounded just like you.. and you said some really mean things.” Jeremy's brow furrowed as he thought back to the earlier phone conversation.

Michael's eyes widened. Someone had spoken to Jeremy and pretended to be him? Not only that, but they apparently said something awful?

“If.. you don't mind me asking, what sort of things were said?” Michael asked, glancing up at Jeremy - who was still in deep thought.

“Well, first of all, you acted like you had no idea about our plans. Then, you started saying that.. that everything was just a joke and that you only did this because it was a dare. And that it meant nothing.. It really hurt to hear you say that,” Jeremy frowned, scanning Michael's face for any recognition for the words.

“Did the person say anything else?”

“Well, you said.. ‘stop fucking calling me’. And then the phone hung up.” Jeremy shrugged and searched his own memory for anything else that happened.

Michael's own expression was one of horror, he had recalled all of those things - but he distinctly remembered saying them to his father, not Jeremy.

“Jeremy, all those things.. They were part of an argument with my Father. He.. I was just trying to protect you. I didn't mean anything I said to him. I don't know how you heard it, but none of it was true,” Michael spoke softly, reaching over and gently squeezing Jeremy's hand.

“And that last part?”

“He kept calling me by my legal name - not Michael. The full context was ‘stop fucking calling me that'. I would never tell you to stop calling me.” Michael noticed how hurt Jeremy had seemed and placed a gentle hand on his cheek, “Please believe me, Jer. I'm sorry if my image was used to hurt you.”

Jeremy leaned into Michael's hand before placing his own on top of it. “I do believe you. But there was something else. Something weird.”

“What?”

“After the last sentence, it didn't instantly hang up. It sounded like wires shortcircuiting - oh, and I heard someone say ‘Blasted thing’,” Jeremy recalled, trying to give Michael as much detail as possible to help solve this mystery, “any ideas?”

Michael's expression dropped: he knew exactly what this was. “My father.”

Jeremy cocked his head to the side, clearly confused by this statement, “What do you mean by that?”

“My father. He's the one behind it. He.. he threatened that I would never be able to talk to you again. I.. I didn't know he'd do something like this, though.” Michael shook his head as the dots all seemed to connect in his brain.

Jeremy made another sort of ‘okay he's lost his mind’ gesture and his confusion continued to grow.

“Jeremy, he makes things. It's not impossible he could make something that captured the argument he and I had. What if.. what if he used that to try and dissuade you from.. from seeing me.” Michael placed his hand on Jeremy's shoulder and continued to gesture with his other. His eyes were wild as he realized just how far his father planned ahead. His breathing grew faster and his chest felt tight. How much had his father known? What else would he know?

Everything was too loud. Michael felt as if the walls were closing in around him. He began shaking once again. He didn't even seem to notice Jeremy calling his name. He was having an anxiety attack. Michael hadn't experienced one this bad since after his mother had passed away. Everything felt distant and like it was too close at the same time.

“Mike? Mike?” Jeremy's concerned voice couldn't reach him. “Michael?” The concern grew even louder.

Jeremy hesitated before placing his hands on both sides of Michael's face. “Mike, look at me. You're okay. It's okay.”

Michael remained frozen in place for a few more seconds until he felt the warmth of Jeremy’s hands against his cheeks. He slowly came back to reality, focusing on Jeremy's face instead of his overwhelming thoughts.

Jeremy stayed like that until Michael had calmed down enough to speak.

“I'm sorry for scaring you, Jer..” He trailed off, still worked up from the moments before.

Jeremy simply shook his head and wrapped his arms around Michael, pulling him as close as he could and hugging him as tightly as he dared - he was still unsure where else the injuries had spread and didn't want to harm Michael even more. Jeremy kept repeating “it's okay, you're okay” while gently rubbing his hand up and down Michael's back.

Michael sank into Jeremy’s arms and sniffled slightly. Jeremy placed a gentle kiss onto the top of Michael's hair.

“We’ll figure this out, Mike. Together.” Jeremy spoke before resting his chin on the top of his head. “We don't have to do anything right now, okay?”

Michael nodded and remained in this position until he completely calmed down.

“Jeremy, can we leave? Tonight? I don't want to be around him anymore.” Michael asked as he finally removed his head off of Jeremy's shoulder. He looked up at him hopefully, eagerly awaiting his response.

“Okay. If you want to,” Jeremy spoke, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind Michael's ear, “I'm sure my mom won't mind.”

So the two packed until Michael's room was completely empty. They carried as much as their backpacks could hold. Then they ran as fast as their legs could carry them. They ran until they were gasping for air.

The two of them soon arrived at the Fitzgerald household - where Mrs. Fitzgerald let them in without any questions. She was familiar with William's harsh parenting styles and knew that questions made Michael uncomfortable.

She quickly hugged Michael and agreed to let him stay as long as he wanted. Michael felt the burning of tears well up in his eyes. It's been a long time since he had a place where he felt wanted. It was quite nice.

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benetnvsch · 5 months

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Hi I'm making a kunikidazai playlist, do you have any kunikidazai song recommendations?

Ps i love your kunikida and dazai dogies!

aaaah wait this is so fun ?? Huge to Me that ur coming to me for knkdz song recs ahh im flattered *stares at u with my big ol eyes*

unfortunately, I have like... No Taste in Songs and all the songs I like which I think 'fit them' are for very specific reasons that Probably Only exist to me but shhh- it'll try my best to share them in a way that makes sense and u can give them a listen if u want or just ignore them ahah :'')

Anyway - here's some songs that have made me think of kunikidazai when listening to but they get more and more obscure/inaccurate (might just be me taking an opportunity to talk about songs I like... whoops)!!

Adding a break cuz it's long ahah

1. Worst Case Scenario- The Hoosiers

This song to me is such a one to the other song, can be either knkd or dz addressing it to the other - both kind of criticizing each other's lives and how they behave but genuinely wishing the other to be better

2. Icarus - Bastille

Similar to the last one, feels like it could easily be a one to the other song but where they're more just aggressively concerned for each other's lives (Dazai w/Kunikida and his ideals and Kunikida with Dazai and his suicidal tendencies and both of them with their self-sacrificing tendencies (knkd and the helicopter and dz in the elevator))

3. Remains- Bastille/Rag n'Bone Man, Skunk Anansie

Another Bastille song,, this one is closer to an actual love song KDJFHKFJh but uhh,, it's a nice lil tune about always loving each other, even after death- even if not getting along always and that kind of just makes me think of knkdz (55 minutes knkdz specifically bc they do die (for a bit) together there)

(Also poet by Bastille is the Kunikida song ever if ur interested in just knkd)

4. Stranger- Covey

had to sneak a covey song in somewhere ahah- feel like this one would be more of a Dazai POV one just Not Feeling good enough for Kunikida's partnership (work, platonic, romantic or otherwise) esp when his past was still kept secret from him

5. New Face- James

This one's strange but here me out... It's Dazai's entrance Exam Kunikida POV coded to me- Been wanting to make an edit with this to the entrance exam stage play for forever

extra lyric,, that is vaguely also kunisaki to me ehehe

6. Cornflower Blue - Flower Face

This whole Song is SO Knkdz to me,, romance but in some strange morbid-is way with foreboding dark undertones and the constant threat of losing the other ahah

7. Garamond - Arm's Length

Garamond feels like another realistic KNKDZ song where it's... Not The Best Relationship but they're trying and are both dedicated to each other but it's still somewhat destructive/self sacrificing so idk??

8. Chateau Lobby #4 (in C for Two Virgins) - Father John Misty

This might be one of my favorite romantic songs of all time and so I just had to find a way to connect it to KNKDZ ahah- but? I like to view it as maybe?? them both trying to find a Normal relationship in another and just experiencing actual like,, healthy romance,, but this I feel?? would kinda be not accurate to canon and represent perhaps more of an idealized version of knkdz </3

but yeah, these two lyrics specifically remind me of them,, the first one would be from kunikida's pov as has always made me think of his plan of waiting till a certain age to date/get married/etc. and the idea that falling in love with Dazai would change how he views that and the second would be from Dazai's pov when they actually get together

Anyway - you probably didn't ask for such a long response and I'm sorry for rambling I just really like music ahah kdhj-

#and I wrote an essay I am so sorry </3 #rlly flattered u wanted to ask me ty ty #kite answers #kite watches bsd #kunikida doppo #Dazai osamu #kunikidazai #knkdz #kite talks about music #sorry not sorry talking abt music makes me so happy I love when ppl asking me about it ahhh #everyone talk to me abt music pls

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littleladymab · 7 months

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look at THIS a sw-tober that is ON TIME, answering a prompt from @keeve-trenniis that is very much NOT on time whoops

Again, thank you to @fanfoolishness and @dankfarrikdrabbles for the prompt list 8) (I forgot to tag you when I posted this whoops)

15. Poncho - Ellie's request was "tired after day out exploring and it's cold so Cal gives merrin one of his ponchos and they accidentally fall asleep against each other"

+++

The hatch to the Mantis closes behind them and the ice-cold bite of the wind is cut off. The drumming of the rain is still audible on the hull of the ship, occasionally joined by the sharp plink of hail.

Cal and Merrin stand dripping in the entry way, taking a moment to simply relish the stillness and regain their bearings.

BD-1 beeps indignantly as he hops onto the table, shaking the condensation off one leg.

“We checked the weather before we left, it’s not my fault it was inaccurate,” Cal counters. “Besides, you were deeply invested in those carvings and wouldn’t leave, even when we wanted to keep moving.”

At his side, using him for support as she knocks mud off her boots, the tips of Merrin’s ears and her nose are a bright and chapped pink that he’s never seen on her before. “I am simply blaming both of you,” she grumbles. Her teeth are chattering, but she’s doing a remarkable job keeping her composure. “So accept your guilt.”

The droid gives another cheeky beep in his defense, but Cal sighs and resigns himself to being scolded by both of them.

“We should go get changed before we catch a cold.” Cal reaches back and tugs his shirt off over his head. “Merrin, you can use the ‘fresher first. I’ll try to clean up a bit so Greez doesn’t decide to haunt me from the comforts of his hotel room.”

She gives a dignified but still incredibly sodden nod, swiping her hair back from her forehead. “I am beginning to regret agreeing to explore with you,” she says, but there’s a twist to her lips he knows is her attempt at hiding a smile. “I could be comfortable and warm with Cere and Greez in town.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Cal counters and let’s his grin take over his face.

Merrin ruffles his hair, sending a small shower of droplets down into his face, and turns to leave.

Cal waits for the door to the fresher close behind her before he tugs off his boots and uses his shirt as a makeshift towel on his hair. “BD, can you get the ship systems on so we can try and get some heat in here?”

It won’t be much, as it’s always just enough to combat the cold of space, but it will be more temperate than outside. The lashing rain and driving winds are a completely different kind of cold, and now that both he and Merrin are soaked to the bone, it will take too long to warm back up.

He contemplates the pros and cons of simply abandoning Cere and Greez here for a few days while he and Merrin take the Mantis to somewhere warmer — but immediately dismisses it. At the rate that trip would take, they’d be better off making a mad dash into town to join their companions at the hotel.

But they ran for the Mantis instead when the weather immediately changed because the ship was closer and it was hard to think against the stinging ice-cold rain.

The metal floor of the ship is cold against the bottoms of Cal’s bare feet, but he cleans up the mud tracked across the common areas and the water they dripped to the best of his ability. He leaves his tool kit and lightsaber on the bench in the back and tosses his shirt and vest into the laundry area to dry after his shower.

He is starting to shiver by the time Merrin emerges, dry but disgruntled.

“I have decided that I do not like to be in the rain,” she tells him as they shuffle past each other. “I know I said before I like it? I lied. I do not like it.”

“If you’re still trying to make me feel guilty, it’s working,” he answers, and she gives him another one of her secret smiles.

By the time Cal showers and changes, Merrin is curled on the couch with a mug of something hot clenched between her hands. She has her feet tucked up beneath her and could almost look comfortable except for the fact that her nose is still pink and her shoulders are hunched up high around her ears.

“There is some caf for you,” she tells him.

“You look miserable,” he tells her as he grabs a mug.

Merrin frowns, no hint of a smile for him now. “It is still very cold. Why are there no blankets on this ship? I am going to buy myself a blanket the next place we go to.”

Cal opens his mouth but realizes he doesn’t have a satisfying answer. He and Cere grew up as Jedi with little to their name, but that’s been years now. But the things they’ve picked up along the way are small trinkets and items that remind them of people and places. But still not in a way to make a place home.

The Mantis is home, of course, the crew is family, but it’s one that is always on the move. Not one ready to settle down with blankets.

“I am from a very warm planet,” Merrin is saying. “You are either very resilient, or you enjoy making yourself miserable. I cannot decide which one is which.”

“Well now you’re just being mean,” he teases. “Hold on, I don’t have a blanket but I have something close.”

She quirks an eyebrow but remains seated as he heads back towards his sleeping quarters. From one of the shelves he plucks two folded ponchos and brings them back to the common area.

“Here.” Cal tosses one at her, and she swats it down before it can knock into the cup of caf she has in a deathgrip in one hand. “Put that on.” He scoops up his own cup from where he left it on the counter and joins her on the couch.

Merrin holds the poncho up with both hands, studying it before giving him a skeptical look. But she slips it on over her head and wriggles her arms free of the sleeves. “You collect ponchos but not blankets.”

“I can wear these when I go out.”

“I am so glad you did not say for blending in.” Merrin picks her cup back up and settles comfortably into the couch. “Because they do not help you blend in.”

Cal resists the urge to roll his eyes as he pulls on his own poncho. “Yeah yeah, everyone makes fun of the poncho until they are wearing it to keep themselves warm.”

“Oh, I am still making fun of it even though I am wearing it to keep me warm.” Merrin nudges bumps their shoulders together before she leans over and rests her head on his. She’s stopped shivering at least. “But thank you. It is helping.”

Cal freezes at first, uncertain how to react. But when she doesn’t move except to nudge him again — this time with her elbow — he allows himself to relax as well.

They talk for a bit, listening to the storm rage on outside, until eventually their caf is empty and the warmth of the space between them lulls them both to sleep.

#sw-tober #mab's may 4th madness #fallen order #star wars #a lil miss fic #lil miss writings

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