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deer-with-a-stick · 10 months

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It’s been nearly a year (10 months?) since the Rings of Power show was released and yet somehow I keep finding it on my dash. I have Thoughts and decided to share them.

This will be my attempt to review the show (keeping in mind that I’m part of the group that started it and never really finished but still got spoilers) as civilly and eloquently as I can.

A lot of the debate over this show has just ended up in a screaming match, with some die-hard fans screaming “racist bigot racist bigot racist bigot” while some die-hard haters scream back “woke shit woke shit woke shit”.

I am going to try and express my opinions of the show without that, and if anyone wants to have a civil conversation, feel free to talk to me :)

(Also, this got very long holy moly)

Going to preface this entire thing with “I do not condone criticisms of this show just because it’s ‘woke shit’ nor do I condone bashing the actors themselves for decisions the directors made”. I think it’s wonderful that they’re adding diversity to a world like Middle Earth and I honestly don’t think that canon really contradicts this.

I do have to say something about the whole “token POC character” thing though (please don’t attack me for these opinions. I do also have to say that I am a POC, albeit not black.) Some might argue that they have multiple POC characters that are important to the plotlines and that therefore there isn’t a ‘token POC character’ trope in this show.

One of my main issues with this is that there is only one POC character per race. It feels token-y, especially since the background characters are still all...white.

The second main issue: the diversity in this only extends as far as white people and black people. There is no Middle Eastern representation, there are no South Asians, no Pacific Islanders, and there aren’t even East Asians (who, unfortunately for the rest of Asia, tend to be people’s go-to “Asian diversity casting” these days). It would have been easy to make some of the dwarves some flavor of Asian, seeing that Khazad-Dum has had dwarves come in from all over Middle Earth. You could have made at least some of the Numenorians Pacific Islanders, and the elves could quite literally have the most diverse range of ethnicities.

Moving on from the whole diversity casting thing, I’m going to talk about the changes.

I’m fully aware that the Lord of the Rings trilogy and the Hobbit were modified, but they’re adaptations. Changes are expected. I am also fully aware that had I been one of those Tolkien fans before the movies were released, I too would have likely been pissed over some of the changes: Faramir and Denethor’s personality changes or the army of the dead in Minas Tirith, for example. That being said, I likely would still have enjoyed the trilogy and some of the changes. Changing Glorfindel in for Arwen might have made me a little annoyed, but in the end, I could see why they chose to give Arwen the role of saving Frodo or why they cut Tom Bombadil and the Burning of the Shire.

I have tried to extend this same courtesy to Rings of Power. I have a lot of issues with the things they did, but I am not entirely sure how much of this is actually my opinion and not the influence of social media, so I will be typing them out and working through why these changes bothered me.

Making Galadriel have to work towards the version of herself we saw in Lord of the Rings was something I’d expected to enjoy. But I hadn’t expected them to go for the whole “angry warrior out for revenge” type of thing. For me, it compressed the timeline too much. Had this show been set in the First Age, I would have been all for it.

That Galadriel, having crossed the Helcaraxe and having witnessed the elves that she’d grown up knowing all her lives die horrible deaths on the ice as they tried to make their way to Middle Earth, only to find everything in flames, is one I could see as being this type of character. But this is the Second Age, and this is character development I’d expected her to already have gone through. I had expected her arc to around trying to heal, perhaps, from the scars left by the kinslayings and from the threat of Sauron to this new life and realm she’d been trying to build. That would have created timeline issues as well, but it would, at least for me, have been more believable, especially with the timeline compression they’ve been doing.

I really liked Galadriel because she was a strong female character that didn’t have to be all angry and brash and, I’m not sure if I want to use this phrase but I don’t know how else to say it, hyper-masculine. Strength doesn’t always mean physical strength, and I liked that Galadriel was very obviously portrayed as a strong character without having to lug a sword around everywhere.

For me, I think, I would have enjoyed an arc about Galadriel struggling to put down the sword, or having to pick up the sword again against Sauron after having struggled to put it down, especially with Celebrian alive now.

Furthermore, I find her reactions to certain people...confusing. She’s certainly older than Gil-Galad, and I certainly believe that she wouldn’t seem to act like a petulant child next to him. The whole “Valinor as a gift” also confused me. The Noldor, including Galadriel, had the opportunity to sail back whenever they wished after the War of Wrath. Galadriel chose not to, and sailing isn’t something the High King can demand of the other elves.

Bronwyn and Arondir had potential. I won’t get mad about introducing new original characters because that can go very well, especially in things that take place in worlds like Middle Earth (and also I would be a very big hypocrite because I didn’t mind Tauriel in the Hobbit). I would have loved to see the events of the Second Age and the Last Alliance from the perspective of a common elf and human.

But how they handled it...I think that this could have been an excellent tragedy. I’m not a Tolkien scholar or anything, but I personally think that having this specific arc end up as a tragedy would fit with Tolkien’s themes really well. Bronwyn’s village is relatively small, I think, and Arondir is a soldier stationed there.

The story that could result from the two groups they’re from banding together to stop the orcs as much as they can, knowing that they’ll be overrun but at least it will be worth it because the next generation will survive to continue the fight for a better future, is a story that is more appealing to me than the Sauron’s sword plotline and the mini resistance.

In many of Tolkien’s stories (in the Third Age at least), the hero is one of the common people. In the Second Age, where we have Numenor and the Elves and Khazad-Dum, I think I would have been more impactful to see a village and some soldiers, people whose names wouldn’t normally have been passed down through history and to those Third Age characters, take a stand against the inevitable darkness. And, like the common people, they die, they fail, but they don’t fail in the ways that matter.

They slow the orcs down just enough, perhaps, so that the heroes that history would laud can finish the enemy off. They protect their children the best they can because what they’re fighting for is a future for those children. The common people might not care about the fate of the world as a whole, but they certainly will care about that which they love.

This kind of story, I think, would show that they aren’t the exceptions; they mounted a resistance and they all died in the end. But despite that, their actions mattered, and even if their names won’t be passed down through the history books, the final victory wouldn’t be possible without them, their courage, and their sacrifice.

The Harfoots...alright. I lied. I haven’t moved away from the diversity casting thing. The Harfoots definitely could have been cast better. From what I know, they are described as being “browner of skin” and again, this would have been an excellent opportunity for the show makers to actually display diversity, instead of placing a singular person of color into each race.

I don’t necessarily understand the whole of what is happening about the Irish accent debate, but seeing as I am not Irish and I do not actually know what is going on, I won’t discuss this.

That being said, with the compressed timeline, I suppose it makes sense if the show makers wanted to introduce some Hobbits early. They would have had to come from somewhere, but I think they tried too hard to make them relevant to the plot. The storyline was cute, but if I am going to be honest, the Harfoots plotline is a fairly large part of this show’s “too much going on” problem.

I disliked how they introduced the Stranger. I suppose that it’s fairly obvious that they wanted to get in references to The Lord of the Rings, but they already had Galadriel, Elrond, the Balrog, and the Hobbits. The entire point of the Istari being introduced to Middle Earth was because Sauron had lived, despite the effort of the Last Alliance.

The Valar only sent the Istari because a: they themselves could not interfere with Middle Earth’s affairs directly, due to having sunk all of Beleriand the last time they did, and b: a massive alliance between the three major races of that time, the likes of which hadn’t been seen since Nírnaeth Arnoediad (I believe), had failed in defeating Sauron.

The Second Age has no reason to send the Istari. The inhabitants of Middle Earth have not shown that they are incapable of dealing with Sauron by themselves, so the Valar won’t interfere.

I suppose an argument could be made about how Gandalf showing up early is like how Legolas showed up early in The Hobbit, but in The Hobbit’s defense, it makes sense for Legolas, someone who lives in Mirkwood, to appear when the Company travels through Thranduil’s realm. Gandalf is not native to Middle Earth, and originally, he didn’t want to go out of fear.

Moving on from Gandalf, I’m going to talk very briefly about Celebrimbor and the rings of power. I am quite upset that for a show called The Rings of Power, the rings themselves aren’t all that important until the last episode, and even then, they’re forged in a few moments. I am also fairly upset that Celebrimbor and Sauron’s (or rather, Annatar) relationship that completely thrown out of the window (even if I would have gotten annoyed at the influx of Silvergifting in the fandom).

The show technically wasn’t able to use the Silmarillion, but if they were, I certainly hope that they would have kept this relationship because it’s another illustration of how the Noldor continue to bring their own doom onto themselves.

I think the show tried too hard with the whole “decay of the elves” plotline, but I will accept it for plot and timeline purposes.

I will take issue with the whole “tree with the last light of the Silmaril” thing. I recognize that this is a myth, and would have accepted it had Gil-galad and Celebrimbor not accepted it as truth. But since they do... which Silmaril? Maglor’s? I don’t think Ulmo will give that one up. Is it Maedhros’? That one is in the core of the earth, how could it have gotten into a tree? It certainly isn’t Earendil’s, seeing as that was the first one to be “lost” and that it’s still in the night sky.

Myths and folklore are fine, but it doesn’t work so well when the elves, the immortal race who still remember the truth of these things, believe the myths. Gil-galad and Celebrimbor were both born during the Year of the Trees; Feanor is Celebrimbor’s grandfather (Gil-galad may or may not be related to him, as he is still Son-of-Plothole). I don’t see how both of these two would believe this myth.

If a young elf, one born after the Sinking of Beleriand and part of a family that had (somehow) been disconnected from the Sons of Feanor business in the First Age had proposed this, I might have said “alright, I can accept that this elf doesn’t really know what actually happened to the Silmarils,” especially if an elf who had been alive in the First Age contested that later.

But as it is now...Even if they didn’t have access to the Silmarillion, they had plenty of other options to explain mithril. They could have, for example, explained mithril as Aule taking the few scarce remnants of the Trees’ Light and scattering it across Middle Earth as a last gift to his dwarves and as a way to show to Yavanna that not all her work was lost.

I have mixed feelings about Halbrand. I understand that they didn’t have access to the Silmarillion so they had to make do. I can kind of understand why they chose to have Halbrand echo Aragorn in a way, but I do wish that they’d kept his storyline something close to Annatar’s anyway. Maybe part of my issue with this is the way they compressed the timeline.

Barad-Dur was supposed to rise before Sauron’s deception of the Noldor in Eregion and I think that the mystery aspect of this show could have been more interesting if these two were happening at the same time (if the timeline had to be compressed). They could have explained Halbrand as perhaps an escaped thrall, going to the Noldor with blueprints of a secret weapon that could keep Middle Earth safe from Sauron.

Halbrand and Galadriel’s relationship is something I firmly dislike. Not only does Celeborn deserve more than a throwaway line implying his death, but Celebrian deserves to exist.

Shipping Galadriel with others has been a recurring problem, I suppose, with the specific scene in The Hobbit, but I actually never read that scene between Galadriel and Gandalf that way. For me, the kiss on the forehead was just a form of endearment (although this might actually just be “blind aroace things”).

Halbrand and Galadriel, on the other hand, are explicit. The ship does not make all that much sense to me and frankly, I don’t see the point of including this. Most changes when adapting something have a point.

Denethor’s character was changed likely due to timing issues (especially since we get more book-canon Denethor if the extended versions are considered), Faramir’s character was changed to be more flawed (and more “interesting” for some), and even changes like the Ghost Army have a purpose (even if that purpose is just ex-machina and possibly getting through canon faster).

But there is no purpose to Halbrand and Galadriel, besides perhaps to make Halbrand’s betrayal more potent and give Galadriel further motivation and a tiny bit of character development.

The thing is though, Halbrand’s betrayal should already have been potent. In the books, Eregion falls and the last confirmed living member of the House of Feanor (as well as the kindest), Celebrimbor, is tortured to death. This destroys a haven for the elves and for the Noldor and Galadriel loses yet another relative.

Her character development, in my option, should have been one of gaining confidence as a leader and balancing her desire to put down the sword with the need to pick the sword back up. The “character goes from brash and arrogant warrior to mellowed out and wise person” arc is better given to a human, dwarf, or even a younger elf. What’s more, is that elves tend to change slowly. Galadriel’s arc in the show is very human in terms of timing.

It would make sense for immortal creatures like elves to change slower (although this particular nitpick might just be a me thing). Even a change as drastic as Maedhros’ (from a relatively new leader and fighter that could be argued as relatively innocent and naive to a seasoned war general, tactician, and diplomat) was brought on by roughly thirty years of torture within Angband.

Back to Galadriel, I don’t think she needed more motivation. Finrod was killed by Sauron (in both show and books) and Celebrimbor was too, not to mention that Sauron posed a threat to everything she’d built in Eriador and to the relative peace she’d found after the First Age.

Moving on from Galadriel is Elrond. I actually don’t have as many issues with Elrond, I just wish that they’d not tried to go for the whole “politically ambition son of no-one” kind of plotline. Tolkien loves his “power corrupts” arcs and Elrond has consistently rejected power. He has embraced his duties, raising Rivendell after Eregion fell and leading people when they require it of him, he does not seek it out. He doesn’t want the role of High King of the Noldor, and he rejects it when the crown is offered after Gil-Galad dies.

His lineage is one that could invite genuine criticisms of “Mary-Sue” as he is quite literally part elf, part human, and part angel, with connections to most of the important people throughout history. He is descended from the rulers of Doriath and of Sirion, and his brother founded Numenor. His father is Earendil and his mother defied the Sons of Feanor, and he marries Celebrian, Galadriel’s daughter.

The derisive tone Gil-Galad adopts when he said “Peredhel” in one of the first few episodes rubbed me the wrong way. There is quite literally one person who could claim that title and therefore claim a relationship to Beren and Luthien, and it is viewed with scorn? I don’t understand that particular decision.

All of this being said, I loved Elrond’s friendship with Durin and Disa. Those parts were the only parts I actively looked forward to and enjoyed. The friendship felt natural and the banter was very much reminiscent of Legolas and Gimli’s relationship in some parts. It also made some excellent memes. (I do wish that they didn’t cut Celebrimbor and the Noldor’s friendship with the dwarves, however.)

I love Tolkien’s dwarves, for all their flaws and occasionally problematic portrayals. The thing that drew me to them was, in part, because of their designs. Erebor and Khazad-Dum in the movies were beautiful, and one could easily tell the difference between elven and dwarvish architecture.

Khazad-Dum in the show, on the other hand, takes after elvish sensibilities. The show’s creators explained this as how Khazad-Dum had looked before greed and corruption and decay had set in. But I disagree with Ramsey Avery. Perhaps I am reading into this too much, but I dislike the implication that the elves are the pinnacle of perfection. To me, what this statement implied was that the dwarvish fashion was a result of corruption and greed and that the elvish style was superior in its perceived purity. Those geometric columns, symmetry, and towering ceilings? You can find those in nature. Dwarves try to make their stone beautiful. With gems they shape and polish it and with rock formations like the ones in the Glittering Caves, they leave them alone, so it makes sense that the dwarves would shape and mold the stone.

Dwarvish culture and elvish culture are very different, and their architecture shows this. Elves prefer spaces open to the sky, greenery, bright colors, and curved lines and arches. Dwarves prefer grand halls, jewel and metal tones, sharp angles, and straight lines. The stark differences showed that, without a doubt, these two cultures were vastly different and unique and I would have preferred them to have kept this.

Now that we’ve moved away from lore changes and characters, I’m going to continue talking about the world in this show and its design. The still shots and cinematography of this show are stunning and from a distance, it’s beautiful. I still couldn’t help but be disappointed when the camera came in closer, however.

The production quality for the clothes and armor is...not as good as I’d expected. The metals seem to be made out of tinfoil or spray-painted cardboard at times and there is often a strange quality to the props that reminds me of a cheap cosplayer’s prop that was thrown together in a few hours. The armor was particularly bad. Who proposed the armor-design-printed-onto-shirts idea?

Some of the outfits were decent, but most of the time, I found myself wondering “What are they wearing?”

My main problem is most likely that the clothes they wear don’t give me the problem vibes. The elves seem too...human (as evidenced by the scene where the ship-wrecked humans don’t recognize Galadriel as an elf until they see her ears), Disa’s white-cloth-with-gold-triangles outfit just straight up confuses me every time I see it, and some of the outfits that the humans wear seem out of place and out of time.

Some people find the short hair elves fine, some find them a sin, and I am...somewhere in between. I really would have preferred long hair elves, although if some of them had shorter hair due to the whole “going to war against Sauron” aspect, I would be fine with it. But the modern fade haircuts...they break immersion for me. The way the show makers explained this change also angered me greatly.

The thing about elves, and I will say this again, is that as immortal beings, it would make sense for them to change slowly. Beyond the show makers’ explanation of “oh, hairstyles change over time,” I have been given no reason as to why they all have short hair and why they all have a specific style of hair.

And for a show that liked to laud the fact that they had a strong female character that broke molds, I find it a bit strange that only Galadriel’s hair wasn’t touched. The show makers said they made Galadriel a warrior because of the etymology of her name (which implied a pinned-up hairstyle I believe), but they kept her hair down and loose in fights while giving Finrod (who’s name means Great Hair Guy) a generic fade haircut.

I disliked the beardless dwarf women immensely. At that point, when I saw female dwarves without beards, all I could think of was “Why do elves and dwarves have to follow modern human standards of beauty?” Dwarven culture is “the bigger the beard the more beautiful,” so why are all of the female dwarves beardless? I had really looked forward to see the female dwarves and was sadly disappointed.

(I will address the possible hypocrisy of my criticism here as I quite like The Hobbit. Thorin (as well as Fili and Kili), for the movies, was given the excuse that he’d shorn his beard short after Erebor fell as a way to remind himself of the dishonor of losing Erebor. This is a bit of a thinly veiled excuse to have the actor’s face less covered and more appealing to the audience, but in the flashback scenes that took place before Erebor fell, Thorin does indeed have a longer and slightly more elaborate beard.)

Moving on: Numenor was particularly bad and was honestly like 75% of why I quit the show. Perhaps some people might find beauty, but I got whiplash. I think they tried to mix in too many forms of architecture (I am saying this as someone who has only a few crumbs of architectural knowledge) and the Roman, Greek, several other types of architecture, and the marine life-inspired designs didn’t mesh very well. I would see stone columns (all hard straight lines) and then be immediately hit with a fish carved into an arch.

The armor and fashion did the same thing and the dissonance nearly made me quit. Nearly.

The tipping point was really the army. Numenor, the Atlantis of Middle Earth, known for their powerhouse of a navy, had five ships? Two of which were burnt? If we consider the HMS Victoria (one of the largest wooden warships ever built), she held around 1000 people. So let’s say that Numenor’s navy consisted of somewhere between 5000 to 6000 people (since it’s possible that a few stayed behind).

Comparing this to the Imperial Japanese Navy (as Japan is also an island nation that had been previously isolated from the rest of the world), we see that the Imperial Japanese Navy had lost around 300,000 people by the end of World War Two. This means that there were definitely more than 600,000 people serving in that navy during the war. Even with the Industrial Revolution in my example, it’s clear to see that Numenor’s navy is a joke.

The landing party for the beaches of Normandy was 156,000 people in comparison. Unless the Numenorians decided to abandon their three ships, this means that the landing party and the resulting Numenorian army was less than 5000 people, no where near the “massive army” that had been raised to defeat Sauron in the books.

I am also upset about the changes to Numenor’s story. Numenor is Atlantis, a fact that is widely established. But whereas in the books Numenor falls because of the kings’ pride and hubris, the pride and hubris are shown to be traits that Queen Miriel does not share. Personally, I think that by changing Pharazon to be a simple advisor instead of the King means that the story is less impactful.

I can’t help but get the sense that even in a show like this (that loves to call itself progressive), the female characters have to be irrevocably good. Miriel refuses Galadriel’s demands (and I would have thought that Galadriel would find the act of killing people and stealing their ships abominable) because she wants to protect her people, only agreeing later because she believes the Valar/Gods themselves told her to.

I see a pious and good ruler, a ruler that would have fit in perfectly if the story had not been set near the end of the Second Age (which seems to be between 100 to 200 years due to the compressed timeline). What I do not see are the final warning signs before Numenor’s collapse. Numenor’s story has less of an impact if their rightful ruler, the one whose lineage is directly blessed (as their ancestor was Elros, brother of Elrond, descendent of Luthien and Beren) had been trying to follow the Valar’s rulings and protect their people.

(Also, where is Isildur’s brother, Anarion?)

Adar and the Orcs are...interesting. I suppose that I don’t have too much to say beyond “they might be trying too hard to make a ‘grey’ villain with the whole ‘orcs just want a homeland’ story beat.”

The volcano scene I won’t touch on because I find myself laughing uncontrollably every time I think of it, and also because I left off before that episode. Well. I won’t talk about it beyond “the science isn’t there, although this is a fantasy show, so they’ll get some leeway.” Whether or not I am willing to bend the laws of the natural world enough for me to believe that scene is still up for debate.

My final thought will be on the strange white-clothed women. Who are they, why are they relevant, where did they come from, and what was the purpose of including them in this show?

That’s more or less all I have to say. If you’ve read this far, I have to applaud you because I wrote quite a bit and am not entirely sure if it all made sense. In the end, my issues with the Rings of Power is that it takes things too far. Changes to canon I can accept: it’s an adaptation, after all. But there are too many in Rings of Power and I am quite tired of having my immersion broken so much. It had potential, but they could have, should have done more with their plotlines in terms of fleshing them out and matching them to Tolkien’s themes. Ironically, the show also tries to have too many plotlines, and it got rather tiring of keeping track of Halbrand and Galadriel in Numenor, Elrond in Khazad-Dum, Nori with the Stranger, Bronwyn and Arondir, and also the various side plots in those four main arcs.

If you enjoyed this show, good for you. All I ask is that people be civil when they discuss things.

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lepusrufus · 3 years

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To bargain for immortality pt.1

It's here fellas, the mutation sequel that I've mercilessly teased you with!

Content warnings: gore, torture, blood (like... lots), just a bunch of puking up blood, Miranda being her usual mad scientist self, torture in the name of science, Nicole be sick af (both literally and of crow mommy's bullshit), a little bit of blood drinking as a treat, medical procedures.

////

Tic toc tic toc

God that clock is so annoying.

Nicole wasn’t nervous. No. She chose this, at least for the most part. She had a long conversation with all her family, Alcina and Esteria both assuring her that it would work. It’s been years since the beginning of the experiments and by this point the process was almost perfected.

Miranda knew what she was doing.

That mattered little to her nerves though.

She instinctively pushed herself further into Cassandra’s side, who’s grip around her waist tightened ever so slightly.

The waiting was downright tortuous.

She, along with Cassandra and her two sisters were in her infirmary. The room mixed the ancient decor of the castle with modern medical equipment in a beautiful way. Not that anything less would be acceptable. Not that the familiarity of her workspace brought her any comfort either.

All their eyes snapped in the direction of the door when a heavy set of footsteps, with two lighter ones, were heard down the hallway outside. Soon the door opened with a barely audible creak and the two matriarchs entered, followed suit by Mother Miranda. Her presence alone was enough to make Nicole’s breath get lost somewhere in her throat, on its way to an exhale. The black wings, even partially folded as they were, did their job of making her look so much more intimidating than she was. Not that she needed them to begin with, a look from those icy gray eyes more than enough to send anyone to their knees.

Mother Miranda was, in all ways that mattered, a goddess.

A goddess that was about to infect her with the same thing that failed countless times in the past. The same thing that made the crawling mindless beasts used as guard dogs in the undergrounds. Or that made all the lycans.

Nicole gulped, a gesture gone thankfully unnoticed to anyone other than her painfully dry mouth.

But Miranda didn’t spare her a glance. She simply busied herself with some tools she had brought on one of the metal tables. With each clink the room seemed to close in on her slightly more, until Nicole felt as if she somehow ended up in one of Heisenberg's death traps. Spikes moving closer and closer until they would pierce her body and leave her in a messy pool of blood and entrails.

She shook her head and took a long inhale. No. This was going to work. She was not about to lose her family over a pesky thing such as mortality. She was not about to lose Cassandra. If getting infected by the Cadou was what it took to spend eternity with her lover then so be it. Possible side effects be damned.

Mother Miranda finally seemed to have finished, a now empty flask labeled Cadou sitting on the desk behind her while the parasite was writhing in her hand, thin whip-like tentacles extending frantically around itself. She called her over with a nod, and with a deep breath and a parting hand squeeze from Cassandra, Nicole forced her legs to take her across the room. Her steps didn't waver, she'd be damned if she'd show any hesitancy in front of this.

"Shall we begin."

It wasn't a question really, merely veiled impatience. Miranda did not like her, plain and simple. The fact that she was there to begin with was already a miracle. Miracle that wouldn't have happened were it not for the Ladies themselves asking for it.

"Yes of c-"

Before her words even had time to completely slip out of her mouth, golden talons plunged into the base of her sternum.

"Hopefully this can teach you that I don't like people going behind my back."

Nicole let out a choked gasp, hands instinctively wrapping around Miranda's arm, weakly grabbing at black robes. Ironically enough, those very talons were keeping her upright and, when they were removed from her flesh with a disgusting squelch of blood, Nicole curled in on herself, falling to her knees.

"Wha-... cking ki-... -er!"

Cassandra's voice reached her ears broken up, barely passing through the deafening ringing. Miranda also gave a reply and then seemed to address someone else but her much calmer tone meant that it only sounded like a vague mumble.

Not that Nicole particularly cared at the moment.

She curled into a ball, her hands almost clawing at her chest trying to find some sort of relief. It seemed as if vicious tendrils were making their way into every vein and muscle, tearing their way through any tissue they found. Her chest felt as if it had a hot iron pressed directly onto the skin, searing pain radiating in a cruel pulse matching her frantic heartbeat. By that point she was either sobbing or heaving, something that involved shallow breaths for sure. Her lungs were protesting fiercely, emptying of oxygen and then refusing to refill if not with great strain.

To make everything worse, the pain seemed to shift, now engulfing her spine and sending jolts that made her head spin and want to throw up despite her jaws being clenched shut so tightly that she was sure she'd start to taste copper soon.

She was only vaguely aware of hands shifting her body and soothing words that fell on deaf ears. She was now on a softer surface, but that did nothing to alleviate the assault on each of her senses. Probably she had thrown up at a certain point as her sinuses felt like being scraped by sandpaper with each shuddering breath. Her mouth too had a lingering taste of both bile and blood that made her stomach turn all over again. She would give anything for her body to finally shut down.

Why was she still awake and conscious god damn it. There was only so much her body was supposed to take before the brain shut down and she was reaching her limit of how much agony she could endure at a moment.

Please please please just pass out please.

She didn't though. Her body seemingly deciding to feel every single bit of the infection process, complete with the unending waves of pain and nausea that hit her more than she wanted to count. Any bit of sanity left in her would've probably disappeared had she tried.

---

It took two days for the agonizing pain to subside. Another two for Nicole to be able to form any kind of coherent sentence. Cassandra's soothing voice was of immense comfort, always there to tell her how well she was doing and how it would all be better soon.

God she hoped.

On the fifth day, her stomach still lurched at any movement too sudden. Her lungs seemed to fill with blood, courtesy of the still gaping wound at the bottom of her sternum, with any inhale too deep. The fact that she got used to the coppery taste rising up in her throat was disgusting in and of itself. At least there weren't jolts of pain shooting through every nerve and muscle in waves anymore though. That was something.

The fog in her brain was still clearing. It was hard to focus on anything, and each time Cassandra, or anyone else, asked her a question they would have to repeat it at least three times. It was beyond frustrating, the mind that got her through med school drunk half the time was failing the insurmountable task of saying whether or not she'd like some water. Glorious.

A faint knock on the door reached her ears. A redundant gesture really, as she didn't exactly have the clarity of mind to answer. Besides it was hard to catch her in a more compromising state than curled up in the fetal position, covered in sweat and most likely blood clots stuck to her lips.

Esteria came in, her one blue eye that wasn't covered looking at her with all the gentleness neither of her parents had ever offered her. Or it was just the cruel trick of a delirious brain. Either way, light barefoot steps took the Mistress to her bed. She sat in the chair adjacent to it and, with taloned fingers brushing strands of auburn hair out of Nicole's face, she spoke softly.

"How are you feeling today?"

Her voice was just as melodious as ever. It was the voice one imagines they would hear from an ancient being found deep in the forest. It made Nicole just a tad guilty when the only answer she could give was a pathetic whine.

Esteria simply hummed, talons running through the long messy locks of hair sprawled on the sheets.

"Would you like me to braid this for you dear?"

Nicole frowned. The Mistress was an expert at braiding, quick fingers able to make beautiful designs, both simple and complex. Comes with having floor length hair, her hazy mind guessed. On any normal day, Nicole would've accepted without a second thought. But now? Now she was painfully aware of the state she was currently in.

"It's filthy," she croaked, her voice raw and like stones in her mouth.

And it was. Her hair was waist length and right now it was slowly becoming a curse. It was greasy and sweaty thanks to barely being able to move a limb for nearly a week, which meant no showers. Not to mention how she lost count of the times she bent down to empty the contents of her stomach into a bucket, only to have some rebel locks fall in her face and get subsequently dirty. God she felt awful.

Esteria didn't seem to care too much though, as she simply helped Nicole shift slightly and talons started to work at some pesky mats. In no time, her hair was in a comfortable braid that started relatively high, keeping the locks away from her nape which meant just a tad less overheating. Not to mention it kept it in place and away from her mouth that she didn't trust in the slightest right now.

"Thanks," she actually managed to not let her voice crack this time.

"Oh it's no problem. Also," there seemed to be an odd strain in her voice, "Mother Miranda is coming this evening. She said something about an examination."

Nicole couldn't help but openly wince and curl in on herself a little more at the mere mention of the woman. Her chest seemed to pulsate painfully at the memory of the golden talons embedded deep in her flesh. Right now she wanted those hands anywhere away from her.

"What time is it?"

Esteria looked at the clock placed somewhere on the wall behind them. "About twelve. Still got time."

How hard would it be to drag herself to the adjacent bathroom for a quick shower? The only way her situation could get worse was if none other than Mother Miranda came in to see her in that state. She took a deep breath that her lungs protested against and pushed herself onto her elbows. At Esteria's skeptical expression she tried to sound less horrible than she felt.

"I need a shower."

Esteria pursed her lips. "Sorry dear but I don't believe for one second that you can stand for more than a minute. I'll ask a maid to draw you a bath."

Nicole only nodded weakly and let herself fall back into the cushion.

---

It took far longer than Nicole would ever admit to get herself fully clean. Her muscles were sore and protesting at every pass of the soapy sponge. Her hair was a whole other battle and she had to bite down on her pride and ask the maid positioned outside her door for help. It was a tortuous fifteen minutes until the poor girl managed to detangle the long locks enough to be shampooed and washed.

After she was content with the level of cleanliness of her body and the maid was dismissed, she stood there preparing herself to get out of the basin. In the meantime she looked down at the wound at the bottom of her sternum. Maybe wound wasn't the right word. It looked more like a gray and black scar with vein-like tendrils spreading across pale skin. It looked downright gruesome. Miranda really did not try to do a clean job in the slightest. Didn't even think to use anesthesia, like she had with most other experiments, according to Alcina.

She sighed and finally pushed herself out of the water with shaky arms.

By the time Mother Miranda arrived she was feeling slightly better. Why she came personally was still a mystery to Nicole. Maybe some sick sense of satisfaction in seeing her in pain.

Either way, by the time their so-called goddess came into the infirmary and told Nicole to lay down on one of the tables, she managed to shuffle her way over without her body protesting too much. Cassandra also quietly made her way on the opposite side of Miranda, gaining herself a glare.

"Must you hover over her like that?" Miranda's tone was as even as ever, but her eyes betrayed annoyance.

"Does it hinder you?"

Cassandra was not an idiot, the growl she wanted to add into her question was instead replaced by a tone not too dissimilar to Miranda's own, who simply tugged her lips into a grimace.

"Very well."

At first they went through a normal examination. Pupil dilation, reflexes, all things a normal doctor would do. Then Miranda told her to unbutton her blouse so she could take a look at the infection scar.

Nicole couldn't help flinching when thankfully gloved fingers would poke and prod at the sensitive flesh there. Her cold digits felt like hot coals were spread on her chest and nails dragged uselessly on the metal underneath her body for some sort of distraction.

Mother Miranda decided to get a tissue sample and that's when Nicole decided that maybe she would rather spend eternity as a ghost. She squeezed her eyes shut when a scalpel was brought to the overly sensitive skin. It took her back to when she would do autopsies, years ago. Tissue samples were always an integral part of her work. How ironic that she found herself on the other side of things.

It's fine.

She winced when the blade cut into flesh and sent a jolt of pain through her chest. Nicole couldn't help but think of the long days she spent agonizing while her chest felt like it was burning her alive and hoping that it wouldn't repeat. A sigh of pure relief slipped past her lips when whatever fake deity there was besides this woman, listened to her and the sensation died out quickly. She dared to open her eyes, only to see Mother Miranda frowning down at the small vial in hand.

It was quickly given to an assistant and she unceremoniously grabbed Nicole's wrist, dragging the blade across the length of her forearm.

Nicole gasped at the sudden sharp pain, and even Cassandra dropped a few choice words in romanian due to the surprise. No. No no no. What the hell-

Any questions, or less dignified reaction, died in everyone's throats as they watched the skin stitch itself back together. The repairing muscles gave a tingling sensation but soon the only proof that a cut had been there were thin trails of blood.

Mother Miranda chuckled and wrote down something in the notebook she brought with her. "Accelerated healing. That can be of use."

Nicole couldn't help but throw a glance at Alcina, who was sitting in one of the many chairs with Esteria by her side. Her expression was unreadable, a mix of conflicting emotions flashing in her eyes like rapid lightning. She would've tried to decipher their matriarch's probable thoughts were it not for the smell that was starting to assault her senses.

"Ugh what's that…blood… "

Coherent sentences were still not something her brain wanted to do apparently, but judging by how her nose scrunched up in a grimace, Cassandra got the gist of what she meant.

"Um… your arm," she pointed to the still fresh blood slowly dripping from her skin.

Right. Dumbass.

"Or damaged sinuses. Should go away soon," Miranda added from where she was noting something down and giving instructions to her assistant.

Also fair.

She sighed and tried to ignore it. Her sinuses still felt like sandpaper all the way to the back of her throat. Every time she swallowed, it felt like needles scraping the inside of her neck down to her stomach.

Ugh.

Thankfully, Mother Miranda did not linger for much longer. She wrapped up any samples and was out of the room soon after with her assistant in tow. Then, Nicole could finally go back to laying down in bed and feeling miserable.

And miserable she felt. Her body seemed to have decided to rewire itself into its new mutation. It didn't have any effect on her physical appearance, but the insides seemed to want to liquefy only to be mended back together. It was another week of basically living with a bucket in her lap and throwing up blood clots that seemed to invade her lungs and organs. How she didn't straight up asphyxiate was a mystery that she didn't think she wanted solved.

And to top it off, she was starting to think that humidity from some leaky pipe somewhere in the castle was causing a slight mold problem. Almost everywhere she went, there was this faint moldy scent lingering in the air and it was mixing horribly with the coppery feeling inside her still offended throat and sinuses. Nobody seemed bothered by it though, so maybe it was simply a side effect of the infection that was yet to go away. It wasn’t nicknamed the Mold for nothing, after all.

#unhinged maiden™ my beloved #cassandra dimitrescu x maiden #lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x maiden #momma esteria #mother miranda #fanfic #tw: gore #to bargain for immortality #in which nicole gets way too familiar with miranda's petty side

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whumpurr · 3 years

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Adrien and Sawdust part 1

cw: pet whump (and everything that comes with that), whump recovery, past whump, emeto, disordered eating, unreliable narrator, 'it' as a pronoun

part 2

Adrien didn’t know what possessed him to show up to that sale. Maybe his house was finally too big for him, with it’s cold, empty, dark corridors and uninhabited bedrooms. He knew that he wasn’t looking for any sort of uncouth company, and he wasn’t searching for something to keep his bed warm. The days had blurred together enough that he’d decided to find something to space them apart, to mark each day from the next and to make life interesting again.

And he wanted to help someone.

So he wound up getting in his truck and driving away from his house, the skyscrapers of his fencing fading off into the rest of the woods that surrounded it as he put the wheels to the dirt and headed out.

Adrien was shocked to see that there were only a handful of cars and trucks pulled up to the sale. It was a lot less formal than he had expected as well. He had anticipated more of an auction type setting, in a building with rows of chairs and someone bringing the pets up to the stage to parade them around. He wasn’t too experienced in the matter, but he wasn’t thinking that it would just be the equivalent of a yard sale. The pets are mostly in cages, arranged haphazardly in the mud and grass. Some of the pets are curious, scarred fingers picking at fallen leaves or pebbles that they can reach through the bars of their dog cages. The pets that were not left in cages were either standing or kneeling down in the dirt. There were maybe eight pets, give or take. Adrien couldn’t account for ones he might not be able to see past people’s cars, boxes, and empty crate kennels.

The air had a little bite to it. Adrien was in a heavier jacket- not a full on winter coat- but the majority of the pets were dressed in tattered t-shirts and shorts, kneeling on the hard cage floor or on the cold ground. Adrien couldn’t help but feel his gut wrench as he looked on while people did their deals, talking to some of the ones Adrien could only assume were the sellers. People in simple black polo shirts, scattered about the scene, talking to customers who came in their casual clothes. It really was no big event to many of these people, but for Adrien, this was something he would likely only see this one time.

Welp.

Time to pick one.

Adrien shoved his fists into his jacket’s pockets, trying to look comfortable and blend in with the other patrons. He had been stuck at the entrance just staring for long enough to see a good number of the pets get snatched up by other customers. Adopters? Future owners? He didn’t know what the right word for it was. As dirty as this all felt, leaving a bad taste in Adrien’s mouth, he had only found the event through an ad on his social media. The fact that it would be pushed so casually made him feel even worse about being here.

He approached a cage that had a seller standing near it. The cage had been looked over and passed by a good number of times by the other patrons, and that piqued Adrien’s curiosity, as uncomfortable as he was.

“So,” He cleared his throat, glancing at the opaque plastic dog crate and the worker, “What’s wrong with this one?” He pointed his chin to the crate, trying to sound as gruff and uncaring as he thinks everyone in this event does. The worker looked down at a small clipboard they were carrying.

“This one was a rescue from a previous owner.” The worker stated. Right, rescue. Adrien remembered that the people running this whole even claimed they were ‘rescuers’ of pets. That being said, Adrien still recalled having seen a couple articles exposing them for being viciously cruel to pets while they were in their care.

“Right… And that’s an issue because?” Adrien pushed. The seller looked at him, first like he was stupid, but then with a sense of respect.

“That could mean the previous owner could want them back, at some point.” They put a hand on their hip, “Either you’re dumb or you’ve got a maximum security prison for a house. Speaking of, the old owner was arrested. Something about a dog fighting ring, and the pet’s here now. Got surrendered to us by the cops, they even gave us all it’s shit.” With that, they pointed a finger to a dirty blue duffel bag set next to the crate. “You want it or not?”

A quick look around the venue let Adrien know that most of the pets had been bought already. He hadn’t even gotten to look at this one, but he knew that if he waited much longer, it’d be snatched out from under him.

“Yeah, yeah I’ll take it.” He extended a hand and the paperwork was shoved into it. Listed were places to sign his name, and fill out his information, legally putting the pet under his name. He got to work on signing it. “How- how much is it?”

“Forty five bucks.” The worker said, nonchalant. Adrien’s seen dogs sell for more, much more. He pulled out his wallet and took out forty five in cash, putting it on top of the clipboard as he handed it back. “Thanks. Need someone to help put it in your ride?” The seller must have been asking as a courtesy, they looked like they already knew the answer as they looked up and down Adrien’s muscular body.

“No, thanks.” Adrien picked up the duffel bag first, putting it in the car before returning to grab the pet. Warily, he held onto the handle at the top with two hands, preparing to heave it up. With one solid pull, he almost sent himself flying backwards as the crate weighed maybe a third of what he was expecting. As he stumbled, he heard a small gasp from inside the crate.

Hurriedly walking over to his truck with long, striding steps, he put the crate down on the back seats, pressed against the back of the passenger seat. The metal grate of the front door was facing him as he peered into the dark cavern behind it.

In the cage was a small person, a pet, as he had expected. It had long, matted, brown hair, and deep brown eyes that stared wide at Adrien before diverting. The pet had on at least a shirt, from what Adrien could see. It was cramped in the crate, but even so, the pet pressed itself against the back wall to get away from Adrien.

“Okay,” Adrien sighed out, “I can see that this is all scary for you.” He shut the side door as softly as he could and got in the driver’s seat, turning the car on and turning the heat up. “I’m gonna take you home now. Might be a bit of a rough drive over the dirt, road’s not paved.” He didn’t know if he was talking to himself or to the pet. He didn’t know if the pet could even understand him, or if his voice was possibly freaking it out even more. He drove with the radio off, not wanting to spook the pet.

The drive home felt like it stretched on for ages, but Adrien was eventually greeted by the metal of the gate that surrounded his house, rising up like a series of spears from the earth, glinting in the sunlight that cut through the tree canopy. The worker wasn’t wrong when she assumed he must have some pretty extreme security around his house. He’d had an issue with a stalker before, and with the help of some heavy fencing, a handful of cameras, and some other measures, he intended not to repeat that experience.

The truck came to a stop in front of the house, having cleared the long driveway. Adrien shut off the car, hopped out, unlocked and propped open the front door of the home. He once again brought in the pet’s duffle bag first, then returning for the massive- but light- plastic crate. As he moved it, he could feel the pet trembling so hard that it rattled the cage.

“Shh, shh, you’re okay. I’m just taking you inside. It’s nice and warm in there.”

The cage was put down with a soft thud, Adrien leaving it in the entrance hallway, just before the hall opened out to the kitchen and living room. He undid the latch on the cage’s door, swinging it open.

“You can come out now. You’re safe.” He said in a soft voice. The pet simply trembled, eyes squeezing shut and backing up more against the back of the cage. Adrien took a few steps back, sitting cross legged a little ways away from the pet’s cage. The creature inside it shivered, keeping itself as far into the kennel as it could. Adrien couldn’t even get a good look at it.

“You must be hungry.” He sighed, standing up and taking the few steps he needed to to get into the kitchen. “I’ve got something, here.” He pulled out a box of colorful, fruity, sugary cereal, pouring some out into a bowl and sticking a spoon in it. Next, he went to the fridge,

“Do you drink m- ah.” He quickly came to realize that the pet probably wasn’t going to speak. Rather than risk it, he shut the fridge and set the bowl of dry cereal down in front of the cage, backing up again. A few minutes of frustrating stillness later, Adrien chose to give the pet some space, standing and moving out of the foyer and going into the living room.

“You can come out. That cereal is for you, I hope you like it.” He sat himself down on the sofa. ‘Would it- they? Would they be more comfortable with some background noise?’ Adrien wondered. He took up the television remote from the coffee table and put on a random channel, some kind of reality show. The volume was low, but it was enough for a soft chatting to fill the quiet. Adrien tried to keep himself busy with his phone, scrolling through social media, but he couldn’t stop himself from glancing back at the cage every now and again.

Slowly, gradually, Adrien managed to keep his attention focused on his little device, knowing that if the pet finally did decide to look out of the cage and caught him looking back, it would most certainly panic and retreat again. The room was relatively quiet, save for the sound of the television.

The pair of people on the show were speaking to one another. One man and one woman, and at their feet was a black dog. Adrien wasn’t really listening to what they were saying, but the dog barked. The only reason that that sound suddenly caught Adrien’s attention is because he heard it be repeated.

From behind him.

A dog’s bark came from behind him in the house, from the direction of the foyer. It was almost identical to the one on the television, and as soon as Adrien heard it, the very next thing he heard was a thunk and a rattling from the cage as he assumed that the pet must have moved too quickly or lurched back and hit its back or its head on the ceiling of the crate. Adrien spun around, throwing an arm over the back of the sofa to look back at the crate.

Back in the foyer, Adrien tried to not look too obvious as he stared as the pet inched out of the crate. It kept it’s head low, ever so slowly creeping out of the crate. He watched as he saw pale skin littered with marks and bruises, and light brown eyes, and long, matted brown hair that’d gone too long without care. Around its neck was a bright red collar with a golden tag. The pet’s skin was stretched tight over his body, the raised ridges of bones showing easily.

The pet was dirty, old mud caked on its body, smears of something all over its body, Adrien didn’t know if it was blood or more dirt. Despite that, there was something strange. Sat atop its head in pristine condition was a pair of fake dog ears on a hairband. They looked awfully realistic, but Adrien could see the black band that they were attached to. As the pet fully left the cage to investigate the food, Adrien could see something else, too. Its shorts were filthy and ill fitting, but around its waist through the beltloops of the shorts was a long piece of string. Hanging from it, over the pet’s rear, was a short, fake dog tail, again in perfectly clean condition.

Looking down to the pet’s hands, he saw that they were balled up. Over the small fists was layer after layer of duct tape, dirty and loose from sweat. If the pet wanted them off, Adrien’s certain it could easily pull them off with its teeth, but it makes no move to do so.

The pet lowered its- his, Adrien could see that now- head to the small ceramic bowl filled with colorful cereal. He sniffed it, then quickly pulled away, making a repulsed face. Immediately after his rejection of the food, his eyes went wide and he looked at Adrien, then instantly looked down, trembling.

“Hey, hey,” Adrien lowered the volume on the television and got up, going to the pet and kneeling down. The pet drew back, lowering his head down to the floor, forehead pressing against the wood. “You’re, ah, do you speak?”

“Wruf!” The pet let out another eerily realistic dog bark, though he kept his head on the floor.

“No, no, like… Words? English?” Adrien was kind of at the end of his rope, not quite sure what he should do. “And uh, you can sit up.”

The pet sat back on his legs. Adrien caught sight of the golden tag hanging from the red collar. ‘Sawdust’, it read.

“Sawdust? Is that your name?” Adrien asked. He wanted to reach out and hold the dangling tag so he could make sure he read that right, but he was certain that if he tried that, the pet would get even more scared. The pet glanced over to the side, nodding its head. “Okay, you understand me at least. Can you speak with words?”

“Y- Saw- Uh…” Sawdust stammered out, voice rough and looking as though he was on the verge of tears. “Sawd- dust can speak, sir.” He wanted to know why his new master would want his pet speaking to him, but he knew better than to question his owner.

“Okay, good, good. That’s good.” Master sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Is there something wrong with the food?”

What little color was in Sawdust’s face immediately drained as he went pale. He couldn’t let his master think that he was ungrateful, lest he took away the food altogether. Sawdust looked down at the bowl of rainbow colored cereal.

“N-no, no, Master, thank you for the food.” Sawdust dropped back down onto his paws and knees, lowering his head and chest to the floor. He sniffed at the bowl again. It smelled sickly sweet, sugary unlike any dog food he’d been given, but the sound it made when it was poured and moved did sound like dog food. Hard. Crunchy. That was familiar at least. Maybe it was dog food after all?

“There’s a spoon in there,” Master spoke, his deep voice rattling Sawdust’s bones. “You can use that if you want.”

Sawdust’s breath caught in his throat. Was Master mocking him? Pets can’t use things like that, especially Sawdust with his paws. Was Master testing him? Sawdust hiccupped and swallowed down a whine, not wanting Master to see how upset he was. Instead, he buried his face in the bowl of dry, colorful dog food. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to ignore how fruity it smelled, it smelled like things dogs weren’t allowed to have. He took some into his mouth. It crunched, but it was far easier to eat than dog food. It wasn’t as hard, it didn’t hurt his wounded mouth to chew.

Sawdust trembled. Did Master want him to be sick? That must be it. He hiccupped, tears threatening to roll down his cheeks as his stomach turned. He chewed and swallowed as quickly as he could, resorting to panting and breathing through his mouth to try to not taste the cereal as much. He took another bite.

He gagged.

“Buddy? Sawdust?” Master called. Master’s voice was soft, but Sawdust knew that he was faking it. Sawdust swallowed the bite in his mouth. This wasn’t dog food. He couldn’t eat this. Dogs can’t eat people food. His mouth was filling with saliva that he tried to swallow down, but his body wouldn’t let him. He panted, drool dripping down onto the floor as he pulled away from his Master. Goosebumps erupted across his body and he shivered, body rejecting the people food. With a heavy heave, he turned away from his master and threw up onto the hardwood floor.

#whump #whump blog #whump recovery #whump story #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #my writing #adrien #sawdust #pet whump #pls let me know what yall think!!#thank u for reading!

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thefairyletters · 3 years

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Ships and their wingmen

Part 2

Read -> Part 1

Because we can't be the only one who ship them. Or those who don't.

MinaSaku

In time-travel AU, Sakura will possibly the only one who will not ship it, if only because that will change the future. But casting that aside, Team Minato will do everything in their power to make sure the two adults soon sire a pink-haired, blue-eyed kid or blond-haired, green-eyed kid, or any combination of those colors for that matter.

Kushina will be conflicted whether to pursue Minato and fight her best friend/soul-sister (because Sakura is Kushina in pink hair) or allow Sakura get Minato and keep their relationships as it is. If she chooses latter, she will give up on Minato, simp on Hokage hat instead, and becomes the best damn Hokage Konoha has ever seen. If not, she puts up a good fight, insert-a-lot-of-angst, a heartfelt moment between Sakura and Kushina later simps on Hokage's hat, and becomes the best damn Hokage Konoha has ever seen. Either way, Kushina sooner or later supports MinaSaku, because she doesn't get Minato then only Sakura gets to have him.

Like Ino and Sakura, Inoichi and Sakura become fast friends, even if it starts with Inoichi flirting and Sakura hitting him squarely on his jaw, and the man is excessively protective of his pink-haired friend. He will probably root for KushiMina just so to protect Sakura's chastity. He will give up soon and will make sure no one gets in the way of his OTP.

If it takes place in canon, let's say somehow Minato selectively gets to be revived for extended periodof time for some reason. Or he time-travels to post-war time and finds himself thrown into a loop. Both, in which, MinaSaku is a very slow burn that even Naruto notices the strange air between his dad and his teammate, and everyone comes to conclusion exactly where Naruto had gotten his denseness from. Kakashi ships MinaSaku because it's his father-no-2 and favourite student together, as weird as it sounds. Naruto doesn't ship, at all, because that would make Sakura his step-mother. Most angst in this MinaSaku will be caused by one Naruto Uzumaki. Ino simps for this ship just because Minato is hot, is loosely Sakura's type and she, being a good friend, completely supports her best friend bedding a heartbreaker like Minato.

Tsunade ships because he is a good man.

Konoha council ships because Namikaze genes need to be retained in the village one way or another.

HashiSaku

For starters, Tobirama doesn't ship, at all. Hashirama was already very prone to get distracted even without Sakura in the picture, but now with someone of Sakura's colors by his side, it was as if Tobirama got prematurely promoted as the head of Senju clan AND Hokage. Tobirama doesn't appreciate it at all. He subtly tries to get Sakura killed, to ship her overseas without Hashirama noticing, and convince her to marry someone who wasn't tan-skinned, longhaired and a Senju to boot. When all failed, he tries to seduce her himself as a last-ditch effort to help her move on from Hashirama. He only manages to gain a black-eye and a harsh rejection on top of it. Then, it look a while, but he figured she would be a good leader and a competent backup if Hashirama remains distracted in all his future meetings.

Mito is a proud, powerful woman, and she desires strength in things that catches her attention. So when she found Sakura, she wanted her for herself but instead found herself in competition with Hashirama of all people. Regardless to say, they hate each other.

Madara sees Sakura as the second and the last brain cell of the Senju clan, next to Tobirama. He supports HashiSaku if only so his best friend can learn a thing or two about how to use his bright but otherwise inactive brain cell. He is always ready to adopt her into his clan should Senju throw her out, courtesy of Tobirama.

Izuna likes Sakura and if she likes Hashirama, then he will support it. Easy as that.

MitoSaku

Madara doesn't care because his best friend is married to not one but two beautiful but powerful beasts of women. Hashirama has no room for complaints.

Hashirama is a third wheel in his own marriage.

Tobirama doesn't know if he ships it or not because his brother is married to a woman who is in love with another woman and that woman insists that they all remain together for the better of future.

Izuna ships, to say at least.

TobiSaku

Hashirama is the biggest fan of TobiSaku. He grins his annoying grin in a way that makes everyone present in the room with him blush in embarrassment. He dubbed Sakura as his sister-in-law the moment he saw his brother with her.

Madara doesn't think someone like Tobirama deserves Sakura, but thinks someone like Sakura can persuade Tobirama to chill. It's better for Senju clan in a long run, so he supports their relationship.

Mito simps hard for this ship because she wants Sakura as her sister-in-law. Half of the TobiSaku moments happened because of HashiMito's meddling.

Izuna flirts with Sakura at every chance he could, if only to rile Tobirama. He might like Sakura as a bit more than a friend, but he also finds TobiSaku relationship precious in a passive-agressive way so he doesn't mostly get in their way because they make up to about 65% of his daily entertainment quota which he doesn't wish to lose.

MadaSaku

If there's one person who is a die-hard fan of this ship then it's one Izuna Uchiha. He enjoys teasing his older brother at every chance he gets, ruthlessly and sadistically. He enjoys the way his brother softens at the very mention of Sakura and he thinks that is the most precious thing he's seen his older brother do for anyone who's not him. Sakura gets along with Izuna so well that he often thinks she knows him better than he knows himself, and for that he cherishes Sakura as one of his family. His love for MadaSaku stretches so far that he would kill anyone who dares to get in between two of his most important people.

Tobirama ships them because he thinks Sakura will help Madara lose some of the madness inherent in Uchiha clan. It is because of Sakura that Tobirama becomes less wary of Uchihas and warms up to them.

Hashirama jumps at Madara and Sakura everytime they come for a visit, much to his wife's embarassment. Sakura is considered one of the Senju clan, and with her marrying into Uchiha clan, strengthens Senju-Uchiha alliance. Hashirama, like Izuna, is very happy to see Madara at peace and wishes the best for the couple. Like Izuna, he teases Madara mercilessly everytime Madara does something even slightly uncharacteristic of him. Sakura isn't teased often only because her becoming flustered results only in bodily harm.

Mito approves of the pair, if only because it gets her husband's attention away from Madara and his clan. She respects Sakura and knows the Uchiha clan will thrive with her as their matriarch.

IzuSaku

Madara doesn't ship it at first because his brother is easily charmed by beautiful women and she looked a little too much like a Uzushio woman. Mito and Madara aren't in the best of the terms, regardless of the alliance. He suspected it to be trap when he saw his brother smile a little too gently, his eye softening a little too much than he was accustomed to seeing. He didn't ship IzuSaku at all because he loves his brother first and foremost. Sakura and he started off in bad terms but he soon discerns her good intentions and her honest reciprocal of feelings for Izuna, so he gives them his blessings and promises his protection.

Tobirama doesn't believe it until he sees it. He thinks she is too good for someone like Izuna, but seeing Izuna happy and content with Sakura, he comes to an understanding that this arrangement does save a lot of women from falling his prey.

Hashirama doesn't hold a particular opinion on Izuna but knows his notorious reputation and thus fears for Sakura's heart. He doesn't get in their way but tries to make sure Sakura is safe. When he is assured Izuna is courting her with intention of marriage, he gives them his blessings as well because Sakura is part of his family.

Mito doesn't understand why Sakura chose someone like Izuna given his reputation, and how Izuna really fell hard for the woman like Sakura.

SaiSaku

Sai doesn't have lot of friends to support him, but luckily for him, Sakura has.

It is Ino who digs their relationship. Ino who helps Sai learn a thing or two about women. Ino who helps him learn new ways to impress Sakura (failed everytime). Sai and Ino became close friends the more she stayed around as his part-time trainer/babysitter everytime Sakura is away on a mission/hospital (because Sakura doesn't trust Sai alone without her for long). It is through Ino that they ultimately got together in the end.

Naruto, as if on a clock, becomes sceptical if she didn't see Sasuke in Sai, but that idea goes out of the window everytime Sai opens his pretty mouth. He supports Sai and Sakura because he could. As much as Sai pisses him off, he is still one of his good friends that he treasure, but one he would never admit to about his feelings.

Sasuke never thought his position in Team 7 would be threatened, much less by an ANBU/Root member, and he most definitely didn't think it will be that member who will ultimately date Sakura. As much as he knew the world wouldn't have stopped moving when he left, he also didn't expect new faces to join his team and take what had been promised his. Sakura punches him square on his face when he vocalises his thoughts. Regardless to say, he isn't happy with this arrangement.

Yamato is most pleased to see Sai flourishing as a person instead of a killing machine they were made into. He thinks Sakura is scary and will keep Sai on his toes, but also that she will be patient and guide him on the right path. They couldn't be more different, but he knew they understand each other like no one else.

Yamato and Naruto becomes the best men in SaiSaku wedding, and no sightings of Sasuke is observed anywhere.

ShiSaku

Surprisingly, Shisui gets green signal from all the members of team 7. When asked, he is told many reasons ranging from – "You're the only decent Uchiha" to "You're not emotionally dead.", which ultimately means he is approved because he is everything Sakura expects in a man, and that age is hardly a reason of disapproval from them if it is not a problem for Sakura.

Naruto sometimes – particularly on days when Shisui steals their female teammate to spend time with him – think if Shisui had not brainwashed Sakura into giving in to his vile intentions, because that's exactly what his Sharingan is specialized to do, but when Sakura hears a word about this, she always punches him hard enough to make him reconsider his words. Sasuke and Kakashi are smart enough to keep their opinions about her love life to themselves.

If Itachi thought Shisui was annoying when he was not in love, he thinks Shisui is downright nuts when he is in love. Sakura is all he ever talks about, and while Itachi is pleased to see his cousin and Sakura, who's a good friend to him, so happy in love, there's a line that need not be crossed. He is thankful that both make a lovely couple together who can make Uchiha clan a happy place with their shared positivity. But. But, Shisui is also a jealous idiot and those two words never make a good combination. Itachi blesses the couple for all happiness in the world, but he is just not the person they should come to looking for relationship advice whenever one of them (always Shisui) screws up.

You'd think since Shisui is not part of the main house and having no living family of his own, there'll be no family drama surrounding him and his love life, but you're dead wrong. Once Mikoto and Fugaku hear a word about ShiSaku being canon, they call Shisui in, gives him the earful of the lifetime, demands of him to propose marriage to her, and proceed to prepare for the big wedding. Sakura accepts but that's hardly a point, because next thing Shisui knows is getting adopted into the main house. There goes his freedom.

KibaSaku

Tsume loves Sakura. She wants to adopt Sakura. Inuzuka clan loves Sakura. KibaSaku is real, so what happens? Tsume threatens to disown Kiba unless he proposes to Sakura and make her one of the pack soon. According to Tsume, Kiba has finally chosen "the one who will make up for his lack-of-thereof brain and strength".

When the word gets out about his entanglement with Sakura, Team 8 is pleased – especially Hinata and Shino. Kurenai looks at him like she doesn't believes him. Shino repeats Tsume's sentiments on the matter. Hinata only smiles in a way that screams 'finally!'.

Team 7 is not happy that their precious teammate is getting it on with someone who smells like dog.

Kurenai who is like a mother to both Sakura and Kiba is happy to help them get started with parenting. It got too awkward to further ask Tsume who only said to "break the bed and let nature play its role". Kurenai will take turns with rest of the Team 8 and Team 7 to babysit many kids that KibaSaku will sire because they are wild. Tsume is proud though.

Tsunade blesses the couple and knows she will enjoy spoiling her many grandchildren rotten. Shizune is only happy for her sister-figure, even if she is a bit worried for the children.

Ino smirks at Sakura like a sly cat, every time they meet, all the way until her friend is happily married. Kiba is a catch, even if he smells like a dog. And they both know it.

GaaSaku

Baki cries in joy when GaaSaku reveals their relationship public. He had thought Gaara was a lost cause when it comes to romance. His son-figure made him proud that day.

Temari threatens Sakura if she breaks "her-precious-bean's-fragile-heart", she will see through that her body gets never found in the sand. When it became clear that Sakura was serious about Gaara, Temari crushes the other woman to her chest and cries over how lucky she was to have Gaara as her husband (because there's no way her precious bean, Gaara, is undeserving of someone).

Kankuro breaks down crying, thankful that his little brother Gaara was not asexual and that he only had high expectations of himself because there was no way Sakura wasn't the best bride for Gaara. A match made in heaven, he said. It doesn't help that Kankuro and Sakura are best friends who often conspire ways to make Gaara blush prettily like he does, much to Gaara's chagrin.

Tsunade stans GaaSaku and is aware of the political advantage in their marriage to back up their relationship. Temari marrying into Konoha and Sakura into Sand, is a fair exchange.

Konoha council begs to differ.

Naruto wants to feel betrayed but doesn't because Gaara deserves the love he will get from Sakura, and he knows him and knows her. That doesn't help him from sending threatening letters, dripping on rabbit's blood, to Gaara who isn't alarmed at all and patiently writes back about his feelings concerning his female teammate. Naruto cries like a baby on their wedding because Kazehime is such a fitting title for his precious Sakura-chan.

Sasuke never sees it coming. He is betrayed, but not because Sakura moved on but because it is Gaara she moved on to. He takes personal offence to it, confronts personally about it to her in Suna and Sakura isn't impressed. If Sakura gives him a beating that leaves him in Suna hospital for a week, that's not on Sakura.

Kakashi cannot care less whom his old genin team fucks and marries but he admits he is a bit impressed that Sakura marries Gaara of all people.

ShikaSaku

Team 10 is ecstatic when Shikamaru and Sakura makes their relationship public. Ino is on cloud nine when she hears Sakura gets to be official part of Ino-Shika-Cho. She breaks into Sakura's apartment to crush her best friend in a hug that might as well suffocate her to death but a girl gotta express her joy one way or another. She demands Shikamaru to invite Sakura for all future clan get-togethers so Sakura will feel comfortable in future.

Choji is happy for his best friend. He secretly meets with Yoshino to prepare for the big day. He exclusively invites Sakura for all Akimichi parties when he hears about her passion for cooking, even if she's bad at it. It's safe to say Sakura became part of Ino-Shika-Cho even before her marriage to Shikamaru.

When Sasuke hears about it, he corners Shikamaru and inquires about all the intentions Shikamaru has towards his teammate. He might not like Sakura like she once wished to be liked by him, but she was still part of his family that is Team 7 and he cares enough to make sure she doesn't get heart broken the way she had with him. When he gets right answers, he drops his arm against his throat, draws back his kusanagi and walks away like nothing was amiss.

When Naruto hears about it, he pokes fun at Shikamaru for his taste in women – first Temari, now his teammate. To onlookers, it would look like two friends playfully teasing each other, but if you look closely, you'd notice the red of Naruto's eyes, how the grip on Shikamaru's fingers were tad too tight and the way Shikamaru looked like he would rather be anywhere but there. After a measured shake and few more teasing jabs, Naruto returned to his goofy self.

When Kakashi hears about it and comes across him, Shikamaru doesn't let the older man get a word in. With Kakashi, it might as well be chidori to heart so Shikamaru rushed to firmly asserted his very pure, no vile, feelings for his sole female student. By the time he is finished with his monologue, Kakashi has left.

Tsunade is neutral when the news gets to her. As simple as Shikamaru was, he was also not the most committed person so she decides to test Shikamaru before she gave him her blessings.

Temari flips the table when the word reaches Suna. She immediately leaves the village to make sure Shikamaru was truly serious, this time, about her friend. Gaara follows after her because he is still pissed at the certain man for breaking his sister's heart. Kankuro passes the hat to Baki for the meantime and leaves after his siblings to beat certain someone if this is just another ugly fling for him. Also, because he isn't going to miss on a good show.

If some ink tigers pop out of nowhere and attempt on Shikamaru's life or some carnivorous plants tries to taste the meat on his nether region, he doesn't speak of the incidents to anyone, let alone Sakura. It is only after Sakura is pronounced a Nara that the attempts on his life cease.

The part 2 y'all wanted.

I think I nearly covered all the popular pairings. There's still ShinoSaku, YamaSaku, DeiSaku, KisaSaku, KarinSaku, LeeSaku, HidaSaku and ChoSaku, AsuSaku and IndraSaku though. Maybe next time.

#Kushina for Hokage #Inoichi is male!Ino therefore flirting is crucial #Kakashi and Rin worships the ground Sakura walks on #we all know the only way MinaSaku is happening is time-travel #cant blame naruto for not shipping minasaku #you wouldnt appreciate your father being chosen over you by your first love either #ino is us #hashirama is a poor political leader but Sakura is not #Mito is bisexual babe who simps hard for women who can lift what many powerful men couldnt #i cant help but make uchiha fam love sakura #tobirama is in denial and therefore the passive agressive love between tobisaku #izuna is a worldclass womaniser but sakura loves him anyway. just because he looks like sasuke doesnt mean he is even remotely like him #sai is precious. who sai will go to when sakura is busy? ino ofc #shisui is carefree uchiha who enjoys his freedom. he was at least until uchiha main family heard about his relationship with sakura #multisaku #hashisaku #madasaku #izusaku #shisaku #minasaku #mitosaku #shikasaku #gaasaku #notice how shikamaru gets the short end of the stick and is threatened again and again by all people who is not team 10?#he may be smart but he is also sexist has comittment issues and finds relationships drag. i made him lowkey womanizer which i think he is #kibasaku #he who smells like dog but is too hot to be casted aside #saisaku #everyone loves her #sakura haruno

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the-firebender-girl · 4 years

Text

Thick As Thieves (Zuko x Reader)

-> In which Azula got her redemption arc and gets to be the cool aunt.

Zuko has been equally dreading and anticipating this day for months. The day his sister will finally be released from the asylum on a nearby island. She was continuously monitored and deemed stable now, safe enough to roam free again and insert herself back to society. His last encounter with her a few years back wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience so he doesn’t know what to expect now, will it go awry again? or has she really turned a new leaf? guess he’ll find out sooner than later.

His worries extend far beyond his own discomfort of facing his deranged and misguided sister because he also has others to worry about, he’s got his own family now. A wife, a daughter, and a son. His wife had briefly met Azula when she tagged along with him at one of his visits but he can’t say the same for the younglings. Izumi and Isao, the new beloved princess and prince of the Fire Nation, his pride and joy.

Being a father suprisingly comes natural to him despite his dreadful childhood and having no father figure to look up to. He learnt a lot from watching Hakoda though, he owed that man a lot. Especially now that the closest thing that he has to a father is gone. Uncle Iroh decided that he had done all he could in the material world and chose to ascend to the Spirit World, leaving his mortal body behind and letting his soul make a new home there.

It was a decision that Zuko supports wholeheartedly, but still sometimes he wishes that Iroh is still around to guide him with his wisdom. Now he has this world of ruling and fatherhood that he has to navigate on his own, hoping that he won’t mess it up.

“Love, are you ready?” Y/N’s gentle voice broken his train of thoughts, pulling him back into the real world.

“Yeah... just thinking about... things” He replied lamely, reaching out for her hand which she gives. He always love playing around with her fingers, the contact brings him comfort.

“Don’t get lost in your head too much, okay?” She said, giving him a tender smile.

He stares back at the love of his life appreciatively and gives her a sure nod.

“I just... I don’t know how to feel, it’s like i’m scared of expecting anything if it’ll just put myself up for a disappointment. You know how much of a wildcard she is” Zuko said timidly, looking small and more vulnerable than he has been for years.

“I know Zuko, this must be soo confusing for you, i’m scared too but we’re in this together right? I’ll be with you every step of the way” Y/N assure him, trying to subdue his worries as much as she could. Rubbing comforting touches at his shoulder.

“Spirits, Y/N. What did I ever do to deserve you?” He leaned his head back a bit so that he can nuzzle it into her stomach.

She hums, “I don’t know, you must be a hero or something with what a great catch I am” She grins teasingly, easing up the tension.

She considers it as a triumph when her husband lets out a scoff of disbelief, “Woman you are unbelieveable” Shaking his head at her.

“Part of the charm, love”

To that he can’t help but burst out laughing.

Oh the married life.

———————————————————————

Azula stood on her own two feet, no longer bounded by straitjacket nor in a wheelchair. She stood as a free woman now. She wouldn’t go as far as to say ‘free and changed woman’ because some things just scarred too deep too remove but the therapies she undergo definitely did some good. So was the time she spent away from the capital and from the expectations she used to bear.

Now she stands face to face with Zuko, all out in his Fire Lord regalia. It suits him, not that she would admit that out loud, her pride is still very much intact after all.

“Should I bow to you now?” Her voice sends a cold chill running through Zuko, despite being locked away it seems that his sister managed to keep the bite in her.

“According to formalities you should, but no” He replied, feigning indifferent.

“Whatever you say, Fire Lord Zuzu”

Zuko’s composure cracks at the sound of his childhood nickname combined with what is now his title, one of his eyes twitching in annoyance. From his peripheral vision, he saw Y/N raising one of her hands in front of her mouth to hide her growing smile and a laugh that threatens to escape.

Even the guards who are standing by and thus being a part of this reunion seems to have trouble doing their part after witnessing this exchange. The sound of giggling little voices reaches his ears, at this he softens and put his hands on Izumi and Isao’s shoulder.

“Now who might these be?” Azula said as she redirects her line of vision to the source of noise, raising both of her eyebrows expectantly.

“This is my children, Izumi my eldest....” Zuko said while patting her head lovingly then he moves to do the same to his son, “And Isao, her younger brother”

Azula’s eyes roamed over them, taking in every features as if sizing them up, then she stops when she reaches their faces. Molten gold meets its exact pair, a courtesy of the royal family (superior) gene pool if she say so herself. That eye color might as well be their trademark after all.

“Well hello there little ones, i’m Aunty Azula” She said as she carefully took a step closer towards them. The guards almost block her away but Zuko raised his hand to signal them to be at ease and let her pass.

Izumi shrinks back, scared but at awe at the same time at her aunt’s cat-like movement. It’s soo smooth she looks like she is gliding across the floor and now she��s in front of them in no time. She may be 7 but she’s old enough to understand things, things that she heard people say in a whispers about her aunt whom she never met before. And that is enough to make her reluctant.

Izumi looked to her right at her little brother but Isao doesn’t show the slightest hint of being unfazed. In fact he looks intrigued.

There was a small awkward silence moment before a huge grin bloomed on Isao’s face, making his puffy cheeks even more prominent.

“Hey there aunty! i’m sooo pumped to meet you” He said innocently, excitement oozing from his very being.

Azula is caught off guard by such a welcoming reaction, this is not something that she expected at all. She never even realized her inadequacy in dealing with children until she’s finally forced to face one. What’s the first thing that she should even do? feed them flaming fire flakes? use them as target practice? Agni, Zuzu better not do anything stupid like leaving her with any of them.

Y/N watched as her sister in law seems to be frozen in place, looking at her son as if he’s an alien being. Who knew that the great Azula will one day be stupefied at a mere interaction with a 4 years old child? well the more you know.

“Sooo... lunch, anyone?” Y/N said, a pathetic attempt to break the ice.

Azula just walked past them without a second glance. Making her way inside the palace that she once called home, with Isao tailing behind. Small feet attempting to catch up to her long strides. Zuko and Y/N shared a glance at each other, to which he just shrugs and they too follow after her.

———————————————————————

A week has passed since she came back and Azula is adjusting pretty nicely, well people still cower at the sight of her and most of them stay as far as they can but not that she mind that.

Well everyone except this little bugger called Isao aka his brother’s second spawn. He loves following her around and looking at her with those annoying big round eyes, think that would work on her too huh? too bad she hates children. He really doesn’t know what’s good for him.

Tonight they’re having a family dinner. To formally celebrate her coming back or whatever. At least the food is good. The mouth-watering scent of smoked sea slug, roast duck, komodo sausages, extra spicy fire noodles, and fruit tart filled the air. It’s starting to look more and more like a feast instead of a nice and quiet family dinner. Trust her brother to always make a spectacle out of everything.

Azula was minding her own business, scooping bits of this and that into her plate when the empty chair beside her got dragged back by a pair of small hands. Isao’s round face greeted her as she watches his sorry attempt at climbing the chair. Grumbling, she picks him up and put him securely on top of it before he hits his head on the side of the table or something.

“Thanks Aunty Azula!” He said, giving her his signature wide grin.

“Ughh whatever kiddo”

Azula turns her attention towards the head of the table where Zuko and Y/N are currently sitting, haven’t yet realized that their son has disappeared from his designated chair.

Azula clears her throat, that successfully got their attention.

“Zuko, Y/N would you mind giving some help over here? it’s trying to bond again” A hint of awkwardness creeps into her voice, face scrunching, she’s even shifting left and right in her seat.

Y/N rolls her eyes, “It’s got a name, Azula and he’s your nephew so play nice”

“B-but....” Before she could voice her protest, the couple has already turned their attention away.

She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, Isao’s curious stares burning into her.

Once she opens her eyes again, the boy is already stuffing his mouth full of sausages.

“I guess i’m stuck with you then” She said defeatedly as she watches him happily munching his food down.

———————————————————————

“You know you look exactly like your father when he was little” Azula said to the boy whom she’s babysitting, it pains her to even think about this. What were Zuko and Y/N even thinking when they decided that leaving their son to her care for the day is the best idea. Does she look like she’ll make a good nanny? Spirits, the audacity.

This carbon copy of Zuko is currently sitting beside the pond, with two little feets dangling in the water, creating small ripples here and there. The turtle ducks happily swam around him, waiting for him to throw in another good measure of breadcrumbs.

“Yeah I know that! Grandfather Iroh used to say that a lot” He said to which Azula scoffed and tsked under her breath, “Grandfather Iroh”

“Of course of course....” She said while lazily drawing patterns on the grass, “Good ‘ol Grandfather Iroh”

Isao stops his feeding session and crawled to where Azula is sitting.

“Do you know that my name means ‘honor’ or ‘meritorious’ ? How cool is that huh!? father picked that out himself” He said, wide eyed. Visibly bouncing in his seat while giving her this piece of information.

Azula lets out an incredulous chuckle as she shakes her head, “Of course Zuzu would choose something like that as a name, your father was obsessed with his honor” Drawling out the word obsessed to make her point clear.

“But I think it suits you, little one. So there’s that” She said giving him a shrug. That earned her a smile and Isao makes an exaggerated air fist pump, clearly pleased.

Azula reached out for the picnic basket that Y/N has earlier prepared for them, taking out the wrapped mochi and some tea. She then gives it to Isao, right on time as she hears his stomach rumble.

“Hungry are we? the mochi looks delicious but too bad the tea is already cold”

“Not to worry about that Aunty Azula! I got a little trick I can show you”

Imagine her surprise when fire sparks out of his fingertips, dancing on the bottom of the teapot, warming it quickly to a nice temperature.

“What?!?! how did you do that?” She said still pretty much in shock, watching as the fire slowly dies down.

“I once watched Grandfather Iroh do it, I haven’t figured out how then but now I can do it on command”

This boy really has no idea that he just executed a firebending trick perfectly didn’t he? warming up tea is a complicated form of art, it has to be done perfectly for the leaves and spices to fully release its essence. Such a raw talent in someone so young.

Come to think of it, even if he knows, he wouldn’t have thought about it too much nor dwell on it. If Azula got it right, Zuko’s eldest is a non-bender so Isao most likely or not has no experience in watching a firebending training.

“Kiddo, you can firebend? is there any other tricks that you can do?” Azula asked in an encouraging tone, this attitude is unusual coming from her but even she can’t deny that she has developed a soft spot for her nephew.

“I can create little fire here and there or warm myself up if I needed to but that’s all” Isao replied, looking her straight in the eye.

Azula hums as the gears in her brain is starting to turn, “Would you like me to teach you some things?”

Isao jumps up and down in excitement, this is all soo exciting! he is actually bonding with his aunt.

What an interesting turn of event indeed.

———————————————————————

They are in the middle of a rather pleasant dinner that night when Azula decided to break the news to her brother and sister in law.

“Do any of you know that your son is a firebender?”

The reaction that she earned is priceless, Zuko starts choking on his food whereas Y/N’s jaw dropped open, mouth forming a perfect O-shape.

“He hasn’t shown any sign of firebending abilities, we thought he’s a non-bender like his sister” Y/N answers for her husband because Zuko is still trying to clear up his air pipe.

“Firecracker, why don’t you show the trick that I taught you earlier?” Azula said to Isao, beckoning him with her fingers.

He excitedly nodded and turns to face his parents. He took a deep breath and concentrate, sparks of fire lights up from his fingertips. Slowly he guides the fire into forming a small circle in front of him, the circle then starts to take shape into a dragon, a fire dragon.

Y/N gasps as the shape becomes more and more prominent, flying across the dining hall but never too hot to burn anything. It’s an incredible thing to watch, she is indeed a proud mother. Even Izumi is enjoying the show, her eyes following the dragon’s every movement. Zuko is at loss for words, he can’t believe that his 4 years old son not only can firebend, but he’s damn good at it too. Azula may have discovered his potentials, but of course it’s up to him to mastered it.

Isao can only holds the form for 5 minutes before the fire burns out, after all he’s still young and has a lot more to learn, but that display is enough to make everyone clap their hands.

“Firecracker, you are marvelous! told you they’ll love it” Azula said as she moved one of her hands to tussle his hair teasingly.

Both Zuko and Y/N rushed from their seats to engulf Isao in a hug, Y/N peppering little kisses all over his face, meanwhile Zuko looks as if he’s high on cactus juice.

“Father, mother...stop....I can’t breathe” Little Isao complaints as he attempts to break free.

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Y/N said as she bends her knees so that she can be at head level with her son.

“I want to do it right, mother. That’s why I learned some new tricks first before I showed it to you. I don’t want to accidently burn something” Isao replied.

“And you will do it right, son. I’ll make sure of it” Zuko said as he gaze at his son fondly.

“Yeah! you’ll be a great firebender, brother” Izumi joins in and smiles encouragingly.

Azula can’t help the small smile that tugs at her lips. This is a scene that she and the palace walls never got to witness before, a loving and supportive family. Zuko has done it right.

———————————————————————

That night as Azula makes her way down the corridor of the Royal Wing and passes by Isao’s slightly ajar bedroom door, she can’t help but sneak a peek.

The little boy is being tucked to bed by his mother, Y/N who sensed the presence of someone else turns her head around and gives her a small smile.

“Would you like to wish him goodnight, Azula?” Y/N asks her, inviting her in with a nod.

Azula nodded back and let herself in, meanwhile Y/N stands up and gives Isao a kiss to his forehead, “Sleep well my little prince” Azula can hear her whispers the word softly.

After that Y/N walks out of the room. Azula took a few steps closer to the bed and sit at the edge. Hands rubbing comforting circles at his blanket-covered feet.

“You know you’re literally a mini Zuko but I like you much much better than him, firecracker” Azula said in a teasing tone.

“I’m glad you think so Aunty Azula because I like you too! people said you’re scary but I don’t see it, I think you’re a nice person”

Isao’s words got Azula holding back a choked sob, her eyes starting to get watery. No one had ever told her that she’s a nice person. People just see her as this monster, even her own mother.

Coming back here was a hard thing for her to do, she never had a home anyway or anyone to come back to. That does not comes as a surprise to her of course, her family is as dysfunctional as they come anyway. But this little firecracker proved her wrong. Maybe she too deserves to belong somewhere after all she’s been through.

Azula gives him a smile and a kiss to his head, “Sleep well, firecracker” to which she got a “Goodnight Aunty Azula” back as a reply.

As Azula steps out of the room and closes the door slowly, she turns around and came straight in contact with Zuko, nearly tumbling to the floor.

“Why you..” Azula started before Zuko puts a finger in front of his mouth in a shushing motion, reminding her not to wake up Isao.

Zuko made a motion for her to follow him and she did, they walk side by side along the hallway.

“He’s really fond of you, you know” He said, staring straight forward.

“Agni knows why, but despite him being your son he is actually.... tolerable” Azula said curtly.

“You know you should learn to express yourself better, sister. Some emotions won’t hurt you”

“Are you just gonna lecture me or is there a point to this conversation?”

“Fine, fine” Zuko said as he rolls his eyes in a childish manner, “Will you be Isao’s firebending teacher?”

Azula stopped on spot, “Did I just misheard you or do you actually trust me enough to train your son?”

“Hey, you’re a great firebender! no one can deny that. I can’t think of anyone better to be his master, your moral compass might be crooked but that’s what me and Y/N are here for, right” At this he earned an elbow shoved to his chest.

“You don’t have to be so abusive you know” He mutters.

Azula gives him a grin, satisfied that she caused him a slight pain.

“I’ll teach him, not because you asked me to, but because I genuinely wants him to be even greater. He’s got potentials, Zuko” Azula said, more serious than Zuko has ever heard her.

“Yeah I know that, he’s a great kid”

Azula and Zuko look at each other, sharing a silent understanding, and gave each other a nod.

Zuko reaches a hand out for her to shake, “Truce?”

With no hesitation, she reaches out her own hand and take it, “Truce.”

They both then part ways but before Azula turns around the corner, Zuko speak up again.

“Hey, Azula?”

She turns around and raised one of her eyebrow, silently asking him what.

“I’m glad you’re here.... welcome home” Zuko said, giving her a small smile before he turns around and walk to his chamber.

Azula stood in that same spot even after Zuko’s silhouette has disappeared. Contemplating to herself, before letting out a sigh and a smile that is actually meant for her brother despite him not being able to see it.

“I’m glad that i’m here too, brother.”

———————————————————————

A/N : I’m a sucker for Azula’s redemption arc so I can’t resist myself from writing this one. What do you think about it? would like to hear more from all of you darlings ♥️

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hoe-imaginess · 4 years

Text

Kakashi Hatake x blind!s/o

STOP this was so cute I had to write immediately. Chose Kakashi because he jumped at me and demanded it

and thank you so much!! (hope you’re staying safe as well!!!)

With the sun going down, the glow of activity in Konoha’s streets was diffusing. Shopkeepers closed their doors for the evening, and vendors packed their merchandise and disassembled their stalls.

Kakashi strolled through as the village quieted itself. One of the shopkeepers, recognizing him, waved in greeting. He waved back, sluggish despite having taken a relatively early leave from work.

Though the hour was a rare but generous one for Kakashi to find himself on the path home, he was exhausted to his bones and had to more than once remind his feet to carry their own weight and stop dragging along the dirt.

He loosed a sedative breath.

Paperwork had done in him that day, and though the notion of sliding under his sheets and picking up a novel he was close to finishing was a tempting one, he didn’t think he could scroll his eyes over another inch of lettering without going nauseous. He decided he’d let his pillow have his attention the rest of the night. He needed sleep, desperately.

And so deciding, took a shortcut down a narrow alley which would bring him closer to his street. Turning out of the the alley, he glanced another shopkeeper, stooped to the ground and gathering something in their hands.

When they stood, unaware that Kakashi—who was himself errant of his surroundings, courtesy of exhaustion—was at their heel, their pivoting motion put them in his path and they collided. The shopkeeper’s belongings were knocked from their arm’s clutches.

Senses returned, Kakashi managed to snatch one or two of the tumbling items, which he now saw were various books and pamphlets, before they toppled down into a heap with the rest.

“I’m sorry,” he uttered quickly, going on his haunches to retrieve the others, as he did so, noticing the shopkeeper bent down with him. “I didn’t see you there.”

“It’s okay,” she said, her hands roaming over the ground in search of the fallen objects. He was too muddled by his own inattentiveness to notice the oddity of her seeking movements. “I didn’t see you, either.”

Only once they’d gathered her capsized belongings did he glance up to greet her with his eyes, and only then as he took his careful inspection did he understand why her previous comment had been fastened with such a... nimble, humorous undertone.

She was blind. The glaze of cloudiness over her pupils was indicator enough—a paleness unlike those of the Hyuuga, Kakashi saw—but not the most telling demonstration; though she faced him, she didn’t appear to be looking at him, her eyes idling somewhere around his chest, centering where they felt most agreeable without the proper perception to guide them.

“Sorry,” he muttered again, now stranded with an advancing fluster, and stood to his feet slowly, rising in punctual fashion only when she followed suit.

“It’s okay,” she insisted again.

Behind her on the shop windowsill was a box, which she reached for and claimed with surprising precision. Once she’d slipped her reclaimed books inside the box she proffered it to him, and realizing, he carefully placed his own salvaged items along with hers.

“I wasn’t paying attention,” she granted, smiling kindly, eyes still settled comfortably on a horizon of her choosing, somewhere under his chin. “I might have heard you coming otherwise.”

“My fault, really,” he amended. “I was... I’m sort clumsy when I’m tired.”

But the desire for sleep had absconded his head, and the uncomfortable debacle pumped alertness back into his system. It was silly of him to be so debilitated by this, he knew, yet the pulsing nervousness in him went undisputed.

Another box filled with books caught his attention, previously stocked and placed against her shop door.

“Can I help you with all of this?” Unthinking and without a reply to inspire him, he bent to take the box. “Are you packing up for the day?”

The box included scrolls swathed in metal clasps. She knew he’d claimed it in his arms when the clasps rattled noisily against one another. “I am,” she said. “These are the things I keep out here, on display. And I appreciate the offer, but I can manage. I live a ways down.”

Her nod in the direction at her back confirmed that assistance would take him in the opposite direction of his home, but a searching and restless energy had curtailed his desire to go there.

“I really don’t mind,” he insisted, a touch of over-enthusiasm in his tone. A kind description of willingness in his expression clearly would do no good; he would have to compensate how he could to win her assurance. But he swore he could hear the sheepish skittering of his own voice, and hoped she didn’t hear it, too.

“I do it every day on my own,” she said, with what he presumed was a practiced patience; she still smiled at him, but there was a curve in her lips now that was aware of his fluster and unabashedly amused by it. “Don’t go out of your way.”

Readjusting the box already in her grasp to rest upon her hip, her free arm extended to him, inviting his relinquishment of her other possessions.

Fearful that his persistence might offend, but unwilling to so carelessly resign, he debated his next move until his hands decided course for him; they held the box to his chest resolutely.

“It’s the least I can do,” he said, moving, making his foot falls pointed and auspicious as he took a step in her desired direction. “I’m off work early today, anyways.”

“If you insist,” she yielded with a little laugh, still committed to her friendly smile.

He watched her carefully as she walked in tandem at his side, holding his tongue when he saw some foreboding dip in the terrain’s evenness, or a fellow villager on a direct course to bump into her. But each of these encumbrances she remedied flawlessly, with an unhurried detour in her gait or an acute twist of her body. Clearly she had been telling the truth when she mentioned this being normal routine. Kakashi was almost convinced that she had memorized each and every step of the route.

“Kakashi, is it?” she spoke up, pulling his focus from external anxieties.

“Uh—yes.” Before he could form his next inquiry—though given its presumptuous nature, it would have been a hesitant one to produce, anyways—she anticipated his puzzlement, and granted him mercy by way of an unprovoked answer.

“I’ve heard your voice before,” she explained. “It’s easy to remember voices. Once that’s the only thing you can go off of, at least.”

There was no self-pity in her voice, which in turn, invited none from him. He imagined that was a purposeful tactic of hers.

“But it’s also the chakra,” she went on. “Everyone’s is a little different. Not by much. I’m not a sensor by nature, but I rely on it now. The body will adjust, give a little in one respect when it feels a lacking in another.”

Kakashi looked at her. She was still smiling her little smile, as though this wasn’t the first time she had reasoned through the phenomena and wouldn’t be the last. Nor was the explanation without a sort of confidence; she appeared to have no qualms of her condition, and spoke of it with such steadfast acceptance that it was no doubt she gave it much thought at all anymore.

It was a nice thing, he decided, but it returned to him a meek warmth of shame that he had been so blatantly skeptical before, that he had made such a show of charity in response to his own preconceived doubts.

“That’s interesting,” he replied. “So... you weren’t a sensor at birth? Or at least, as far back as one can really remember that sort of thing...?”

A sweet chuckle sounded from behind closed, smiling lips. “Exactly. I don’t remember much, but I do know when I first started noticing.”

The proceeding conversation put him at ease, made the guilt he felt for trudging along in a hopeful correction of his earlier embarrassment slowly ebb away. She was kind, and clever, too, with an unfairly natural quick-wittedness about her. She made him laugh more than once: a genuine laugh that felt good and warming to be loosed through his wearied body after such a long week.

“I can take it from here,” she said, and came to stop in front of a house.

Kakashi slowed at her side to give the abode a quick admiration: small, but modest and seemingly comfortable. Potted plants lined her windows, well-nurtured vines and flowers sprouted over the edges.

He entertained no hesitation when she reached for the box in in his hands; he gave it over, but, feeling suddenly restless with its desertion, stuff his hands into his pockets to keep them from fidgeting.

“Thank you,” she told him. “I hope this didn’t put you on too much of a detour.”

“Not at all.” He swore her eyes were higher in their post now, though not quite where they could yet make an imitation of eye contact. But Kakashi found it comforting, in a way, and for his own indulgence would resign it as something purposeful and not coincidental.

“You live near my shop, don’t you?” she was asking.

He nodded. “I do. A bit farther down...” Without prompting, he knew what should be offered to mark a pleasant end to their short—regrettably short, if he was being honest—chat, and to secure they might be granted another one soon. “I’ll make sure to stop in when I can. I read quite a bit. Is that all you sell? Books and the like?”

“Among other things. It’s a little ironic, isn’t it? Why own a book shop if you can’t make use of the books? Most people get a laugh out of it.” As if to prove a point, and furthermore soften the vexatious innuendos, laughed at her own notion. “I have my reasons.”

Though he was curious to hear those reasons, the sun was going down behind them, orange and warm, but a reminder nevertheless, that their encounter was a chance one and better left concise for the time being.

“I’d like to hear them at some point.” He would settle on saying that much. Another lukewarm suggestion, a way to tease a future promise of reunion.

“I’ll be happy to tell you. Do stop by, when you get the chance.”

“Will do.”

“Goodnight.”

“Yeah, goodnight.”

He waited until she had felt her way up her porch, opened her door, and closed herself inside—all of this, while still supporting boxes under each arm—then he set about back the way they had walked.

The attentiveness to conversation which usually suffered him through unwanted dialogue had diffused, yet that adrenaline, the one which kept him as engaged as his duties usually needed, still remained. Clearly, it hadn’t been unwanted dialogue after all.

There was a comforting hum relaxing his limbs as he walked, making the hands buried in his pocket slump cozily with the ease of gravity. Liable as he was to avoid trivial contact which exasperated him when he could, especially with his job making sociable demands of him already, this brief run-in had been all parts trivial but none exasperating.

Had such an incidental thing really been so eventful that it continued to swarm over him long after he had left her? Long after he had walked by her shop again, taken a good few minutes to admire it, before heading home?

It was like a little glow, one that hadn’t been there before, clinging to him now that they had parted.

Even when he arrived home and climbed methodically under the sheets, the glow went with him, straying his mind from the invitation of sleep and instead recounting the evening’s events.

Piecing together every little facet of the encounter was like a game, a silly and overkeen game which kept his brain up far longer than his body would have liked.

What was that thing she had told him as they walked, about having in her collection one of the oldest scripts written on The Land of Fire’s river systems? And had she really been returning his attentive glances, as though she had noticed him staring, or was that a trick of his mind? Had he said goodnight first? Or had she? And did she have that same smile on her face when she said it?

Some of the answers were stolid in his memory; others he fought to elucidate, for no reason other than the fact that he wanted to appreciate their encounter in its true, undiluted form.

Such confusing and superfluous thoughts. He was being so stupid, he told himself. Stupid.

But when he twisted under the sheets and finally set his mind to finding sleep, little inklings of memory, her face, her smile, her laugh, continued to ripple beneath the surface.

#kakashi hatake #kakashi imagines #kakashi #kakashi x reader

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city-writes · 3 years

Text

He Knows No Repose

Bakugo was a stubborn man, who prided himself on many things. He was not going to allow a cold, empty bed of all things to defeat him.

Warning(s): Aged-Up Characters; Pro-Hero Characters Pairing(s): Eijirou Kirishima/Katsuki Bakugo (KiriBaku); Izuku Midoriya/Ochako Uraraka (IzuOcha); Background/Mentioned Mirio Togata/Tamaki Amajiki (MiriTama)

Read it here on AO3!

________________________

When Kirishima had first told Bakugo of the weeklong work trip Fat Gum had asked the redhead to accompany him on, Bakugo had thought nothing of it.

Apparently, Fat Gum's agency was going to work with Ryukyu's on a mission that was going to take them out of the Kansai region into Niigata, which was in northern Honshu. With Kirishima being one of Fat Gum's official righthand sidekicks (the other being Tamaki Amajiki), it only made sense for the BMI Hero to want Kirishima by his side. By train alone the trip from Eshua to Niigata was over 6 hours, by plane it was about 3 and a half. Because of this, Fat Gum had kept the number of people teaming up with Ryukyu's agency down to the three of them, not wanting to displace too many people in his own agency. Knowing well enough that both Amajiki and Kirishima wouldn't be too keen on being separated from their respective husbands for that long a time (as well as having a not so secret soft spot for his two boys), Fat Gum had said in not so many words that if Mirio and Bakugo were willing to make the trip with them to Niigata and were willing to work on the mission representing the Fat Gum agency's name, he'd pull strings and call in favors with old friends at the agencies Mirio and Bakugo worked at to make it happen.

Mirio, who'd signed on with the Nighteye Agency under Centipeder's leadership the moment he'd gotten his quirk back, was immediately on board, much to both Tamaki and Fat Gum's pleasure. Having assumed Bakugo would feel more or less the same, Kirishima was baffled when the blonde turned down the offer.

"But... why?"

Bakugo made it a point not to look up from his paperwork on their apartment's kitchen table at the sound of Kirishima's confused voice, knowing from experience that the sharp-toothed male would be giving him a look that he could only akin to the pout of a wounded puppy. "Because," he began, scribbling away at one of the papers he was currently looking over, "even if Fat could get Mirko to agree to let me go, like hell I'm going to give Deku the chance to surpass my spot in the agency again while I'm off in Niigata for a week."

Kirishima rolled his eyes at Bakugo's words, knowing that both he and Midoriya were usually pit against each other by Mirko (all with good intentions) to help each other grow. She'd taken a liking to the both of them: Bakugo for his tough personality and his ability to speak his mind without fear of what others thought (much like Mirko herself), and Midoriya for his tenacity and pragmatism. The two of them, while having come far from where their 'friendship' had been at the beginning of their first year at U.A., still saw each other as rivals, and probably would throughout the rest of their careers as heroes. Because of this, they often went back and forth between who Mirko chose to be her right hand man.

"Come on, Katsuki!" Kirishima groaned, rolling his eyes as his lips curled into an amused smile. He moved behind his husband then, his hands gripping Bakugo's shoulders gently, though he resisted the urge to shake the other male for emphasis, not wanting to ruin Bakugo's paperwork. "How cool would it be for us to work together again?! We haven't teamed up on anything since our last year at U.A.!"

"And the longer you try to pull me away from doing all this legal bullshit for starting our own agency," Bakugo said lowly, glancing up at Kirishima from the corner of his eye as his scribbling slowed to a stop, though there was no true malice in his tone, "the longer you're gonna have to wait before we actually get to work together again." Despite his verbiage, however, Bakugo relaxed into Kirishima's touch, exhaling heavily out his nose.

Kirishima's expression softened then, giving Bakugo's shoulders a squeeze now that he wasn't working on what Kirishima now knew were papers for their agency they'd been planning on starting for a while now. They'd known since that last year at U.A. that they'd wanted to eventually run an agency together, but knew doing so right after graduation was no where near feasible or realistic, so they'd agreed to save up and work towards that together. And initially, things had been working out fine, for the most part. But two years into their savings plan, after being invited to and attending Mirio and Tamaki's wedding, Kirishima realized 3 things.

1: In watching Mirio and Tamaki exchange their vows, in being overwhelmed with emotions in the best possible way, in feeling Bakugo hook their pinkies together subtly while the blond stared straight ahead, in seeing the faintest flush tinting Bakugo's cheeks and ears, Kirishima realized: He was going to propose to Katsuki Bakugo soon. (Not that he hadn't ever planned to marry the man; he just thought he'd be able to hold off proposing until after they'd set up their agency. Apparently, he'd been wrong.)

2: While mid-conversation with Midoriya during the wedding reception, while Uraraka was chattering with Nejire near the chocolate fountain, and Bakugo had excused himself to the bathroom, Midoriya - who'd had maybe a half a glass of champagne too much and was at least a little tipsy - admitted he'd been considering popping the big question to Ochako soon. With the knowledge of Midoriya considering proposing to Uraraka, Kirishima realized: Katsuki would undoubtedly, positively hate it if 'damn Deku' had gotten engaged before him, gotten married before him.

3: Upon seeing the realization in Midoriya's eyes that he'd figured out, even in his slightly tipsy state, that Kirishima too had been considering proposing, Kirishima was very aware that a timer had just begun counting down. Bakugo and Midoriya's rivalry, while no where near as warped and twisted as it was their first year at U.A., was still very much a part of their lives in a healthy way. As Midoriya failed to suppress a tipsy, mischievously knowing smirk, Kirishima realized: He absolutely had to at least propose to Katsuki before Midoriya did to Uraraka. (He didn't expect it to be in the cards financially for he and Bakugo to both plan a wedding as well as funding a beginning agency, but he'd be damned now if he didn't propose first.)

So that fancy saving and budgeting plan that Bakugo had set up for them? Yeah, Kirishima'd absolutely had to alter his end of it a bit, and do so without drawing attention to it.

After all, he'd still wanted to surprise Katsuki. He didn't want to ruin the moment just because of Bakugo and Midoriya's rivalry.

So the down-payment on the engagement ring had ended up making a noticeable little dent in Kirishima's half of their 'this-is-going-to-our-future-agency' funds. But then there was their wedding, and... in all honesty, Kirishima wasn't exactly sure how much their wedding cost because Bakugo refused to let him in on the price of anything, and refused to let him pay for anything either, saying that the redhead had 'been an asshole and bought a fucking ring and proposed before he could, so he didn't deserve to pay for any wedding shit'. But when Kirishima's moms had both offered to help pay for the wedding, Bakugo flat out refused them from doing so. He didn't extend the same courtesy to his own parents, however, though Kirishima wasn't sure if that was because Mitsuki was too stubborn to prevent her son from doing so, or if it was Katsuki's way of getting back at his mother for playful tease, comment, or remark the woman had made throughout the entirety of his relationship with Eijirou.

Regardless, Kirishima knew the wedding still cost a pretty penny. And even if he had no clue how much Bakugo spent, he knew the blond well enough to know he'd definitely paid for more than half of everything. Bakugo's pride wouldn't allow him to split the cost even with Mitsuki. So that'd delayed their agency funding even further.

But now, 7 years after their U.A. graduation, they were so close. The papers were right there.

"You're like, super tense though!" Kirishima lamented as he rubbed his husband's shoulders, fingers kneading the taut muscle beneath them as Bakugo further relaxed into his touch, the explosion hero only half-suppressing his contented groans. "Some time away would totally do you some good!"

Bakugo lolled his head back, looking up at Kirishima unamusedly then. "Dumbass, it's a mission, not a vacation."

"Well, yeah, but--"

"I'm not going." Bakugo grunted as he straightened his head, rolling his shoulders back some. Kirishima pulled his hands away from Bakugo then, only for Bakugo to turn somewhat in his chair and grab at Kirishima's nearest wrist and pull the redhead down to his level. "I don't wanna go cuz there's no guarantee we'll be paired up the entire time, and I'd rather not waste time in a mission I'm not necessary for, especially when I have my own shit I'm dealing with here, not just our agency." He spoke flatly and curtly, the expression on his face leaving Kirishima no room to argue.

With a sigh, Kirishima deflated somewhat, knowing there was no changing Bakugo's mind. "Augh, fine." Huffing, Kirishima pouted in Bakugo's hold.

Bakugo rolled his eyes at his husband's childish reaction, before pulling him in for a simple kiss, his hand moving from Kirishima's wrist to hold the side of his face. After a couple seconds, he pulled away, though Kirishima was quick to chase after the blond's lips and pull him in for another kiss.

"You know..." Kirishima murmured against Bakugo's lips, letting one of his hands gently hold Bakugo's wrist, the other moving to cup the side of Bakugo's face, "It still wouldn't hurt for you to take a small break from all the paperwork..."

"Ei, c'mon, I--"

"I wasn't exaggerating when I said you were super tense." The hand at Bakugo's wrist slid up so that Kirishima could rest his hand over Bakugo's. He pulled his face away from the blond's, so he could turn his head inwards towards Bakugo's palm, pressing gentle kisses to it while keeping eye contact with him. "Gimme an hour, Katsuki. Lemme take the edge off."

Bakugo didn't work on anything else the rest of that evening.

_____________________________

It took only two nights into that week-long work trip Kirishima was taking for Bakugo to realize he'd fucked up.

It wasn't that he and Kirishima hadn't spent nights apart before, there'd been more than once where one of them would take a late shift or a double shift or there was some type of emergency that prevented them from falling asleep together. But when those times occurred, if there hadn't been the guarantee of at least waking up to one another, there'd at least be some sign of life from the other around their apartment, be it Kirishima leaving some pain killers and a water bottle left at the nightstand for Bakugo to wake up to for the 'emergency' nights where he was bound to overwork himself and put some strain on his arms, or be it Bakugo making a lunch bento for Kirishima because he knew the redhead would sleep in and not feel like cooking for himself when he'd finally wake up.

But two nights in, with no real interaction from Kirishima other than phone calls and texts, Bakugo was reconsidering his choice to not take Fat Gum up on that offer. Lying on his stomach, Bakugo hummed lowly as he cocked his head from side to side, cracking his neck in the process, trying to loosen up and get at least a little comfortable. His arms were folded under his pillow, and he buried his face in the cushion, groaning irritably as he stewed in his displeasure. Picking his head up after a few moments of silence, scarlet eyes glanced over to the digital clock on his nightstand, watching as the numbers flickered into half past midnight.

Fucking hell, he'd been laying in bed for a little over an hour already.

Clenching his hands open and closed repetitively in a desperate attempt to relieve some of his stress, Bakugo re-positioned himself for what felt the fiftieth time that night, laying on his side, folding his arms against his chest and facing Kirishima's side of the bed. A shiver crawled up his spine as he did so, the thick blanket the blond was using still not doing much to combat the cold of a winter night. Without thinking, one of Bakugo's arms moved, reaching over to Kirishima's side of the bed and resting against the mattress there, as if the spot was exuding Kirishima's natural warmth.

Of course, it wasn't, and the cold, empty reminder that Kirishima wasn't there - and wouldn't be there for another five days - merely pissed Bakugo off further.

His day at the agency had been uneventful for the most part, save the usual spar with Deku before they usually headed home. But apparently, Round Face, who was working under Ryukyu with Frog Girl, had either heard of or figured out about Fat Gum's offer to Amajiki and Kirishima, probably when she saw Mirio there. She ended up telling Deku about it at some point, because Deku brought it up to him after they'd initially finished sparring.

"Hah?" Bakugo glared at Deku from his spot on the bench in the agency's training room, the green-eyed male looking slightly sheepish then.

"I'm just surprised, is all." Deku said, taking a quick swig of his water bottle before continuing, "Ochako seemed pretty jealous that Ryukyu didn't give her, Tsu, and Nejire the same offer that Fat Gum gave Kirishima and Amajiki. If she had, I would have agreed to go in a heartbeat. Well, assuming Mirko would have let me go." Deku looked contemplative then as he stood there, Bakugo using his momentary silence as an opportunity to take a swig of his own water bottle. "I just can't see why you didn't go too, Kacchan."

"Don't fuckin' judge me." Bakugo grunted, rolling his eyes. "You think I woulda given you the chance to get ahead here?" A scoff escaped the blond then, placing his water bottle on the bench as his palms rested on his knees, leaning forward in Deku's direction slightly. "Besides, the Hero Association wants me to fill out all that legal shit and turn it in as soon as possible. I don't have time to run to the other side of the country on a whim just because my idiot husband might get lonely." Bakugo closed his eyes then, leaning back against the wall, exhaling. "I've got this agency, and my future agency to worry about. I don't need to lump in a third one."

At the lack of a response, Bakugo cracked open an eye, noticing Deku staring at him with a soft smile on his face. "What's with that stupid look, Deku?"

Deku chuckled then, his gaze fond as he met Bakugo's own. "I know its been a couple years since you got married, but it's still nice hearing you refer to Kirishima as your husband." Deku moved to sit next to him on the bench then, placing his water bottle on the ground by his feet. "I remember when you both started dating back at the end of our first year at U.A., you seemed to be allergic to the word 'boyfriend'." Bakugo's eyes narrowed at Deku then, lifting his hands ever so slightly and letting small, controlled explosions pop off in the center of his palms then - a wordless warning that whatever he was on about now should stop there. But Deku merely laughed and kept talking.

"I'm just glad he makes you happy, Kacchan. Even as kids, you talked about having your own agency when you were a pro-hero, so hearing you say at graduation that you and Kirishima were going to start one together?" Deku smiled gently, leaning his back against the wall as well, his gaze no longer meeting Bakugo's. "If I hadn't been convinced about how much you'd cared about him before then, I would have known then."

"Deku..." Bakugo's voice was low, coming out in almost a growl."

"You know you don't have to do all the paperwork by yourself, right?" Deku was looking up at the ceiling then, his hands clasped together, resting in his lap. "I know you, you're probably not letting Kirishima help because you don't want him stressing out over it, but you're covering it up by saying that he'd be too annoying or too confused or too disorganized to figure it all out with." Bakugo tensed at that, before forcing himself to relax, not wanting to give Deku any indication that he was right. "But that's alot of pressure on you. I haven't started planning anything towards my own agency yet because Ochako and I are trying to figure out if we wanna have a kid first..." Deku trailed off then, and Bakugo could hear the smile in his tone, not having to look at the other to know it was there. "...But I know you, and you don't want to risk getting anything wrong, any Hero Association details, any legal details, any financial details. So you're more than likely going over everything three times, at least".

With a snarl, Bakugo pushed himself up from his spot, causing Deku to blink and look toward him. "Kacchan?"

"If you still have enough energy to be over-analyzin' and spoutin' that stupid shit, you obviously were holding back on me." Looking over his shoulder with a glare, Bakugo flexed his fingers, allowing another round of small controlled explosions to pop off again for a moment. Deku's gaze met his, green eyes widening slightly as Bakugo leaned in to roughly grab at his wrist, yanking the One For All successor back towards the center of the training room.

"K-Kacchan?!"

Bakugo rolled his eyes, letting Deku go after leading him to one side of the training mat, before taking a place opposite of him and getting into a stance. "We're going again, Deku."

"But-"

"Its not like you have a wife to go home to right now," Bakugo snipped, clenching and unclenching his hands, "So come on, one more round!"

Unfortunately, 'one more round' had evolved into another hour and a half of sparring, causing Bakugo to get home especially late. By the time he'd made and eaten dinner, worked on the agency paperwork, showered, and texted Kirishima goodnight, it was already a little past 11pm, more than an hour past his usual self-imposed 10pm bedtime. That hour alone was going to be enough to resort in him not feeling well-rested in the morning and admittedly irritable throughout the next day.

So that fact that it was 12:30 in the morning, 2 and a half hours after 10pm, and he still wasn't asleep yet?

Yeah no, Bakugo was definitely not looking forward to tomorrow.

Again, Bakugo turned, now with his back towards Kirishima's spot, instead facing his own nightstand. Reaching for his phone, Bakugo swiped at the screen upon seeing a text from Kirishima, wincing slightly at the light his phone produced before reading the other male's text.

(12:18) Eijirou: Sry for txting back late, I just got back to the hotel from checking in with Niigata's police force w/ Fat!

(12:19) Eijirou: I know you're sleeping rn but gnight Katsuki! I love you <3

(12:22) Eijirou: Txt me when you wake up! I don't gotta head back up to the agency building we're working out of til noon!

(12:22) Eijirou: Maybe we can call and talk b4 you head to Mirko's! :D

Katsuki couldn't fight the tired smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips, and was tempted to text Kirishima back. After all, his last text had come in only eight minutes ago, and while he was a deep sleeper, it took Kirishima a little while to actually fall asleep, so the chances of him being awake right now were fairly good. But in re-reading those texts, Bakugo's eyes landed on 'I know you're sleeping right now', and he internally cursed at himself. As much as he wanted to reply to Kirishima, he knew his husband would be more than concerned that he was still awake and would call to check on him. That would only keep them both up longer, though, and Bakugo knew he was pushing his luck with being up this late as it was.

With a sigh, Bakugo put his phone back down on the nightstand and shifted, pulling the blanket up over his head. God, ne needed to get to sleep right the fuck now.

______________________________

Much to his chagrin, Bakugo didn't get that morning call from Kirishima.

He texted and called the redheaded dumbass but when he received no answer, he resigned himself to the conclusion that Kirishima was completely knocked out from whatever work called for in that previous day and either didn't remember to put the sound on for his phone, or was just sleeping through it. The lack of any promised communication with his husband, in addition to feeling how unrested and drained he was due to his lack of proper sleep, simply propelled the blond's mood past irritable and into aggravated.

He was prickly throughout his entire shift at Mirko's, the only ones at the agency daring enough to approach him or talk to him being Deku and Mirko herself. He was curt with civilians and officers at best during his patrol, irritated that he couldn't let off any steam against any villains or ne'er-do-wells due to the lack of them during his patrol.

The apologetic texts from Kirishima didn't help his mood any, either. Bakugo saw them after getting back from patrol, having left his personal phone in his locker at the agency, and while some form of apology was appreciated, it only soured Bakugo's mood further, the blond only being reminded that there'd be no one waiting for him at home tonight, and for the next three nights at least.

___________________________

By the fourth day of the worktrip, Kacchan was a hair trigger waiting to go off.

Midoriya recognized the little things, signs he'd known since they were kids. The repeated curling and uncurling of Kacchan's fingers, the way he'd rub his thumb against the side of his pointer finger, the speed at which he bounced his right leg when sitting down, the way he'd scratch at the back of his head, the way his breathing changed when he was trying to calm himself down (Midoriya was easily able to mentally count out the 5 seconds Kacchan would breathe in, the 2 seconds he'd hold it, and the 5 seconds he'd breathe out). He did everything he could to make sure no stress went Kacchan's way, intercepting anyone who was heading towards the blond with either news or paperwork, and staying later than usual for their post-shift spar, letting Kacchan get his frustrations out as best he could that way. He wasn't letting himself just be a punching bag for the other male though, dishing out just as much as he was given, but Kacchan was right: It wasn't like he had Ochako waiting for him at home. And honestly, even if she was, he'd still take the extra time to help Kacchan; He knew Ochako would understand.

The fifth day wasn't any better. Midoriya was greeted that early afternoon in the doorway of the agency's locker room by the sound of Kacchan's voice cursing up a storm, followed by the slam of a locker. Exhaling, Midoriya stepped in the locker room, intent on walking towards his own locker, which was next to Kacchan's. Upon turning into the row of lockers that theirs was on, Midoriya saw that the explosive hero was already half dressed in his winter hero costume, his top half unclothed, his bottom half clad in his black and green pants, metal kneepads, and black and red boots. However, he was hunched over, a hand and his forehead both pressed against his locker, his eyes closed as his chest heaved with long, slow breaths. Midoriya simply stood in place upon seeing that, not making a move towards their lockers.

From an outsider's point of view, or at the very least from the view of someone who didn't know them well enough, one would assume that Midoriya was keeping his space out of fear.

Had this been junior high, or the majority of that first year at U.A., then that would have been true. But both the young men currently in the locker room knew that Midoriya was keeping his space both out of respect, and silent support.

They both knew the blond would feel suffocated if someone were to get in his space uninvited when he was letting off steam, especially when he'd been doing so alone before being walked in on. They both knew he was prone to act before thinking when angered (well arguably, they both were), and the uninvited touch of a well meaning hand would spell disaster in more ways than one. They both knew he needed room to breathe, room to think.

Again, Midoriya could notice the way he was breathing was that 5-2-5 count, and he was thankful that the other male was leagues ahead from where he was with his anger issues as a kid, actively taking steps to soothe himself. Regardless, the air was still thick with tension, the only sound being those slow, long breaths. After a minute or so, the silence was shattered.

"I'm fine."

Kacchan didn't open his eyes, but Midoriya knew he was speaking directly to him. He was back to breathing regularly, but the fingers on the hand splayed flat against the locker curled in on themselves, and the tension in his shoulders fell slack.

"I'm fine."

Midoriya's expression remained steely, but he internally frowned at the blond's repeated words, the insistance in them, the slight crack to his voice in that second word. He said nothing in return, letting his childhood friend get out what he needed to, but couldn't help the tug he felt at his heart. Was Kirishima's absence really affecting him this much? He knew the two of them had been practically attached at the hip since U.A., knew that they helped each other grow and learn, knew they'd become so integrated in each other's lives... Midoriya's brows furrowed slightly in thought. When was the last time Kirishima and Kacchan had truly been apart for this long? His mind scoured through the past instances where something like this could have happened, and honestly? The most recent time he could come up with was probably the vacation breaks they took during their last year at U.A., but even then, there was the very likely chance that they'd met up several times over the duration of the break, seeing as they were dating back then. Regardless, their last year at U.A. was 7 years ago. If that was honestly that last time, the most recent time that they'd spent a significant of time apart? That really wasn't good for Kacchan's mental state. Not that Kacchan was codependent on Kirishima, he knew their relationship was a very healthy interdependency, a mutual give-and-take. They were each other's pillars of support, but whereas Kirishima could easily open up to others he trusted, Kacchan would close himself off to nearly everyone, save Kirishima and arguably Midoriya himself.

He wanted to say something, tried to formulate what to say as he watched Kacchan shook his head slightly, his eyes remaining closed all the while.

"I'm fine."

At this point, they both knew he was no longer talking to the bearer of One For All. At this point, they both knew he was trying to convince himself.

You're not fine. Part of Midoriya wanted to say, but he knew to refrain. He quickly began thinking: What could he do to help? Fat Gum and Ryukyu's agencies weren't coming back for another two days, assuming everything went according to plan and no complications arose, causing them to stay longer. He knew Kacchan's usual day off was coming soon, it falling under the presumed last day of the worktrip that Kirishima and Ochako were on. Would it help more, or hurt more, if Midoriya gave up one of his own upcoming off days? Sure, he would have used it to spend time with Ochako since she'd be back from the worktrip, but if it'd help Kacchan... Midoriya's eyes widened slightly then, recalling Kacchan's words from a couple days ago: 'Its not like you have a wife to go home to right now.'

Kacchan was... lonely, Midoriya realized. For the first time in practically a decade, the blond was lonely, and he didn't know how to deal with it.

Did he even realize it was loneliness? Or was he perceiving it as weakness, that he'd become 'soft' from being around Kirishima for so long?

He should have noticed sooner, should have seen that statement as the first sign. Yes, he didn't have Ochako to go home to, but just like him, Kacchan didn't have Kirishima to go home to. Yes, his house was empty, but Midoriya himself had his mother and Iida and Aoyama and Todoroki and Asui that he'd either call or text or visit before or after work when he had the chance. Kacchan's house was empty too, but Kacchan would probably die before visiting his parents in an attempt to make himself feel less lonely. He wouldn't call his friends, either. He'd bet anything that if Kacchan had heard from Mina or Kaminari or Sero, that they were the ones initiating the conversation, and that Kacchan would only text them back, if he responded to them at all.

Knowing the stress he was under from working on making his and Kirishima's agency a reality, Midoriya could only assume Kacchan was stuck in a routine of self-isolation. Wake up, eat, work, eat, sleep, repeat. Maybe get a call or text from Kirishima somewhere in between-- wait, how often did he even get that? He himself hadn't heard much from Ochako recently, they had their 'good morning!' texts and every now and then some intermittant interactions, but they hadn't talked on the phone in a couple of days. Was it the same for Kacchan? Was it worse? Maybe giving Kacchan one of his days off wasn't the best idea then. Aside from the fact that Kacchan would see it as a move of pity or maybe a move to try and get ahead in Mirko's good graces, if Kacchan was lonely, giving him a day to himself, by himself, with no one there at home wouldn't really help things much, would it? Maybe there was something else he could do, maybe--

"I can hear you overthinking from here, nerd."

Midoriya looked up to Kacchan then, the green haired male's gaze having fallen to the floor at some point without him noticing. His own fist had been brought up to his mouth, like it tended to do when he overthought and subsequently began to mutter aloud. Thank god he hadn't begun doing that, Kacchan would have probably ripped him apart.

Kacchan's eyes were still closed, but seconds after Midoriya's gaze returned to look back at him, Kacchan finally opened his eyes, turning his head slightly to look back at him.

"Don't--"

"What are you doing after work?"

Midoriya cut the blond off unintentionally, the words having just flew out of his mouth. Though when Kacchan didn't answer, didn't try repeating what he was cut off from saying, Midoriya continued. "I was wondering... if you could help me."

He watched as Kacchan blinked, before the blond pulled himself away from the locker, standing up straight now, his brows furrowed.

"...What?"

"Remember how I told you the other day that I hadn't started making any moves towards starting my own agency because Ochako and I were considering having a baby?" Midoriya watched as Kacchan's furrowed brows relaxed momentarily, only for one of them to arch in confusion, his lip curling into a slight sneer, but one that Midoriya recognized he used when feigning disinterest, masking his curiosity at something he didn't want to admit interest in. "I was wondering if you could help me get an understanding of what all I need to prepare for. Mainly in terms of finance, cuz, ya know," Midoriya chuckled awkwardly then, a hand going to rub at the back of his head, "babies aren't cheap."

A moment of silence hung between them, and eventually, Kacchan sighed, shaking his head as he moved to put on the top half of his winter hero costume. "You'd be better off just having the damn kid and then starting an agency after it starts school or some shit." His voice was soft, and he stopped speaking in order to slip his top on, resuming when he was settled. "You'll burn out if you're taking care of a brat and starting an agency at the same time. Either start the agency first or wait 'til you don't have to be watching a kid 24/7."

"Assuming we only have one." Midoriya said absentmindedly, before his brain caught up to his words and a small blush rose to his face.

Kacchan's expression morphed into one of actual disinterest, scoffing and shaking his head. "Don't fuckin' start gettin' all sappy on me. Talk to your wife about that shit." At that, Kacchan opened his locker and pulled out a stick of eyeliner, as well as his mask and headpieces, before closing it again. "Get your ass over here and start getting changed already, we have patrol in ten. I'm headed to the mirror." With that, Kacchan turned away, walking towards the back of the locker room, where a full length mirror ran from the floor to about a half a foot away from the ceiling, slipping on his mask before darkening his eyelids and the small gaps of skin between the mask and his eyes with eyeliner.

Exhaling, Midoriya moved to his own locker, beginning to change. Before he knew it, Kacchan was back at his own locker, opening it to toss the eyeliner inside, and closing it much more gently than when Midoriya heard him slamming it earlier. "I'm going to get my gauntlets." Kacchan said, beginning to walk out of the locker room. He stopped before crossing the threshold, however, a sigh leaving him.

"I'm leaving right after we're done sparring, Deku." He said softly, but still with enough gruff to his voice that would warn the average person to stay way. Midoriya turned his head then to look at Kacchan, eyes widening slightly as the other continued speaking. "So you better get any shit you need to get done for work done before I go because if you're not walking out of here the same time I am, I'm not letting you in my damn apartment."

A look of relief crossed Midoriya's features then, and he nodded, despite Kacchan's back being turned and him not being able to see it. "Right. Thanks, Kacchan."

Kacchan only scoffed, before muttering a 'yeah, whatever' and leaving the locker room.

________________________________

True to his word, Bakugo bolted for the door after showering and changing into his civilian clothes and jacket after his and Deku's post-shift spar. Whatever work related paperwork or issues Deku had needed to get through during the day were apparently taken care of because the nerd was right at Bakugo's fucking heels when he reached the front door. The two shared a look of understanding before they headed out into the winter early evening, the journey to the apartment mainly silent.

Upon shuffling inside, Bakugo kicked off his shoes by the door, giving a grunt and nod of his head for Deku to do the same. He then headed towards his bedroom, grabbing the folder that held all his financial, legal, and Hero Association paperwork for his and Kirishima's agency out of the safe in their closet, and walking back into the living room, where Deku had sat quietly on the couch, looking over his phone.

"Oi, nerd. Kitchen." Bakugo began walking to the kitchen then, Deku silently padding behind him. Placing the folder down on the kitchen table, Bakugo nudged one of the chairs with the side of his foot, moving it towards Deku. "Sit. Look over what you need to while I start cooking."

He could feel Deku's gaze on him as he turned his back to him, beginning to make his way towards the fridge to look at what to make. "You're not sitting."

"Right." Deku's voice answered, quickly followed by the sound of a chair being pulled out further, and soon after, the sound of papers being shuffled around.

"You better not mess my shit up, Deku." He called out, though his tone lacked any real bite. The warning was empty, he knew Deku was, while scatterbrained mentally, really fucking organized physically. All those Hero Analysis journals he had and such made a point of that.

For the most part, they each worked in silence, Bakugo making the two of them dinner, and Deku reading over the paperwork, asking only a couple a questions when the need arose. Things were silent as well as they ate, though Bakugo could fucking feel the wheels in Deku's brain running as he was deep in thought, presumably about what he was going to do about his future kid and agency. The blond had to even snap Deku back to attention once, the nerd having spaced out somewhat while raising his chopsticks to his mouth, having just stopped halfway and not moved for a second. Deku had apologized but Bakugo just rolled his eyes and finished eating his own food.

After they were both done, and Deku had thanked Bakugo for the meal, the two of them deliberated back and forth on the detailed aspects of agencies for a long while, and honestly? As much as he hated to admit it, he was feeling less high-strung than he had been the past couple of days.

He wasn't an idiot. He knew Deku could have looked this agency shit up on his own, at his own home. But of course he had to butt into Bakugo's personal business under the guise of needing help, when he was just doing it to help him instead. Deku probably knew he knew too.

He wouldn't thank him out loud though. Wasn't even going to thank him mentally. Nope. Take that, fucking nerd.

But when a yawn left Bakugo only a couple minutes after 10, Deku blinked, and looked at the clock. "Is it 10 already?" A sigh escaped the nerd, and he began re-organizing the agency paperwork, settling it neatly inside its folder. "I need to start heading back to my place."

Bakugo rolled his eyes then, getting up from the kitchen table and grabbing the folder, stretching out his back. "What time is your shift tomorrow?"

Deku paused, blinking as he looked at Bakugo then. "Uh, noon. Why?"

Beginning to head out of the kitchen, Bakugo looked over his shoulder. "Might as well stay here for the night since you've welcomed yourself into my damn apartment, eatin' my damn food and shit." He grumbled, looking back out of the kitchen as he instead looked down and thumbed through the papers in the folder, quickly making sure there wasn't one out of place. "Your place is on the other side of town, anyway. Just sleep in the the spare bedroom. Extra toothbrushes and shit are in the bottom cabinet under the bathroom sink. Eijirou insisted we keep several for when the other idiots stay over. Same thing with clothes in the spare bedroom's closet and dresser." With that, Bakugo began walking into the living room, crossing it so he could head into the hallway towards his and Eijirou's bedroom.

"Thanks, Kacchan."

A sigh left Bakugo then as he paused again, turning slightly to see Deku turning off the kitchen light, and heading towards the hallway as well. There was a gentle, tired smile on Deku's face, and Bakugo shook his head, huffing before muttering, "Yeah, sure." He opened the door to his and Eijirou's bedroom, stepping inside so Deku could pass him and head to the spare bedroom, though he half stepped back out, keeping his gaze away from him. "My shift's the same time as yours tomorrow. I don't give a shit if you leave before me, but like hell I'm leaving you alone in my damn apartment. So if you're not ready when I leave, that's your own fuckin' fault."

Deku chuckled, fucking chuckled, and spoke. "Gotcha. Thanks again." Bakugo heard the spare bedroom's door open then. "G'night, Kacchan."

"Whatever."

Bakugo still had some trouble falling asleep that night, still wishing Kirishima were fucking home already, but managed to fall asleep before 11, at least. And when he woke up the next morning, he felt a little better, due to getting more sleep than usual, He texted his husband before getting up, getting ready, and beginning to cook breakfast. Deku at least had the decency to not make any comments other than a 'thank you' upon seeing he'd gotten another meal out of Bakugo.

_____________________________

While still wound up, Bakugo was at least a slight bit more tolerable with others as the day went on. He was ready for it to be tomorrow though, not because it was his day off, but because Eijirou was coming home tomorrow night.

He'd managed to get in bed at least at a decent time today, even if it was 15 minutes later than he'd liked, but unfortunately, that was apparently the only decency that life had decided to grant to his sleep schedule, because now it was fucking one in the morning, and he still was awake. The air was crisp and cold, and despite the extra blanket he'd pulled out of the hallway's linen closet an hour ago out of desperation to stay fucking warm, Bakugo still could not get comfortable. To make matters worse, Kirishima's fucking pillow, which Bakugo had started clinging to after that third night in both an attempt for some extra heat and to try and replicate the feeling of the idiot sleeping next to him, barely smelled like him any more.

Bakugo scowled as he buried his face into Kirishima's pillow. How fucking pathetic was he? He was cold, he was tired, he was pissed, and he fucking missed the hell out of Kirishima.

At least tomorrow was his day off, maybe he could just sleep intermittently throughout the day to try and catch up on all the sleep he'd been missing.

Slender fingers curled into the cushion beneath them, Bakugo's body similarly curling in on itself. A faint voice in the back of his brain suggested, try jerking off, maybe that will help!, but Bakugo quickly smothered the thought, because it was too fucking cold to get out from under the covers to jerk off, and he sure as hell wasn't going to jerk off under them. Doing so in a hot shower was out of the question as well, because sure he'd be warm in the shower, but the moment the water gets turned off and he's out of the shower, the cold air would just come rushing back to him, more fiercely than before.

An irritated groan left the blond then, a shiver running down his spine as he momentarily thought about repositioning himself from laying on his left side side to his right, but deciding against it, not wanting to shift too much and let the cold seep in more than it should have whenever he moved. He was basically stuck in this position for the night.

The faint sound of his phone buzzing against the nightstand caught his attention, but Bakugo made no move to reach for it and see what the notification was, or who it was from. More likely than not, it was Kirishima, replying to the 'good night' text Bakugo had sent him as he'd gotten into bed. Scoffing, Bakugo shook his head. The damn idiot was probably just getting back to the hotel if he was receiving a text this late, and as much as he wanted to hear Kirishima's voice just talk him to sleep, he refrained from seeing what the text said and calling him. Sure, Bakugo had the day off tomorrow, but Kirishima didn't, and keeping him up later than one in the morning when he was close to ending his worktrip just because he missed the redhead would have been an asshole move.

Also it was really fucking cold, and god forbid he prolong his sleep any longer because he couldn't resist the urge to talk to Kirishima on the phone and let the cold attack him in the process of checking the damn phone.

Bakugo wasn't sure when he'd entered that weird limbo between sleep and consciousness, but he was aware of being pulled out of it when he thought he heard a small, muted 'thud!' from somewhere around him. Blinking, Bakugo looked to the clock again, it now reading 1:37, and stayed still, trying to hone in on any other noises that might have followed. He couldn't tell if it was the heater or the pipes, or if it was even from his apartment or not. It was quiet enough that it could have been from one of the neighboring apartments, but at the same time, the likelihood of someone being awake at this hour to even make noise was slim. He quieted his breathing, his gaze unfocusing as he tried to see if there were any other telltale noises that could--

At the sound of the bedroom door opening, Bakugo tensed, a scowl curling onto his lips as he immediately sat up, palms crackling with weak, tiny poofs of explosions because who the fuck was in his apartment--

"Katsuki?"

At the sound of Kirishima's tired, yet surprised voice, Bakugo blinked, eyes slowly adjusting to Kirishima's form in the doorway. Their hallway light was on, making Bakugo squint, but he watched as the redhead's arms rose in surrender, gently waving his hands from side to side. "Hey, you're good, it's all good. It's ok, Katsuki. Relax."

It was then that Bakugo realized that he hadn't ceased the small 'pop!s' in his hands, though with as cold as he was, and the chilly, arid air drying up the miniscule amount of sweat he'd barely managed to build up, those pops were no real threat. Regardless, Bakugo exhaled, his adrenaline dying away as he stopped making sorry excuses for explosions, shivering as the cold finally started to make itself known on his skin.

"Sorry," Kirishima said, turning off the hallway light, "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"You're fine." Bakugo muttered tiredly, reaching over to the nightstand to turn on a lamp so that Kirishima would be able to at least see, wincing slightly at the light it gave off. "I was already awake."

At that, Kirishima paused his movements of putting his suitcase by the dresser, instead looking to Bakugo, cocking his head to the side in concern. "You were? You're usually dead asleep right now." He moved to Bakugo's side of the bed then, a hand reaching out to cup the side of the blond's face. "You ok?"

Bakugo hated how easily he melted at Kirishima's touch, his eyes closing as he leaned into the warmth of the other male's hand. When he failed to answer the question, however, he felt Kirishima's other hand cup the other side of his face, and as he felt Kirishima's lips gently press against his forehead, Bakugo felt at peace for the first time in days. Kirishima's thumbs brushed against his cheeks and Bakugo tilted his head up as he felt Kirishima pull away from his forehead, the motion a silent demand for a proper kiss.

Kirishima easily obliged Bakugo's quiet order with a smile, pressing his lips to Katsuki's gently, slowly kissing the explosive male.

When they broke apart, Bakugo's eyes opened, looking over Kirishima's face before frowning slightly, though there was no hint of true upset behind the expression. "You're back early." It was more a statement than a question.

Nodding, Kirishima brushed one of his thumbs against Bakugo's cheek again. "Yeah, we rounded up the villains we were helping locate and detain earlier this afternoon, and Fat got me, Tamaki, and Mirio an early flight home after filling in a little paperwork. He said he'd cover the rest with Ryukyu and the others and they'd head home tomorrow-- or, uh..." His eyes glanced to the clock on the nightstand then, and he let out a small chuckle. "Err, today, technically, I guess."

In his comforted, sleep-deprived state, Bakugo could only really nod, a smirk tugging at his lips as Kirishima pressed another kiss to his forehead. He closed his eyes again, hearing Kirishima start talking again, but he couldn't fully focus on it, it mainly going in one ear and out the other, though he nodded every couple of seconds, trying to focus. At the sound of Kirishima's amused, gentle laughter Bakugo's smirk softened, and he felt yet another kiss to his forehead. Though that smile was quick to vanish when the warmth of Kirishima's presence quickly faded away. Red eyes fluttered open, and when Bakugo's line of sight was met with nothing but an empty bedroom, he blinked, his chest tightening. Was he really that fucking tired that he was hallucinating? What the actual fuck.

"Katsuki?"

Bakugo turned his head towards the sound of Kirishima's voice, the redhead having apparently made his way to their bathroom. He was standing in the doorway of it, a pair of sweatpants and boxers in hand, but his expression was a mix between amused and concerned, his gaze transfixed on Bakugo. Blinking, Bakugo felt a moment of relief because he wasn't actually hallucinating, thank fuck but quickly frowned, though out of actual displeasure this time. "What are you doing?"

A small huff of amusement left Kirishima then, and he leaned against the doorway. "I just said I was gonna take a shower after I brushed my teeth." He watched Bakugo's nose and eyebrows scruntched as he attempted to recall being told that, a chuckle leaving the sturdy hero at that. "I guess I was right to think you were falling asleep while I was talking. Go ahead and lay down, I'll be out of the shower soon enough."

Something in Katsuki seemed to snap to attention at that, because the blonde was quick to sit up straight, his scruntched expression melting back into a frown. "Just shower in the morning, get your ass in bed right now."

"Huh?" Kirishima blinked at the demand, not missing the insistance hidden in Bakugo's tone. He looked at the other male for a moment, before tired, amused laughter bubbled up from the depths of his chest. "Dude, I missed you too," Kirishima began, running the hand not holding his clothes through his hair, "but I'm too tired to do anything other than sleep tonight, Katsuki."

He watched as Bakugo took a moment to process his words, and blinked as the blond rolled his eyes. "Dumbass, I'm not saying get in bed so we can fuck, I'm saying get in bed because I'm fucking cold, and if you take a shower now, you'll be fucking cold too."

At that, Kirishima laughed again, nodding in understanding. "Alright, got it, got it. I still wanna brush my teeth though." With that, Kirishima walked into the bathroom, and Bakugo turned off the lamp, moving Kirishima's pillow back to its original spot before settling back down, watching the bathroom doorway expectantly, until Kirishima walked through the doorway, all smiles as he flung himself into bed, the action making the mattress bounce, and Bakugo along with it.

"You're lucky I'm fucking tired, or I'd kick your ass out of the bed for that." Bakugo muttered as Kirishima settled under the blankets, though as he felt Kirishima's arms wrap around him and draw him close, any bite Bakugo had was washed away, and he easily gave in to the warmth that surrounded him, his arms going to wrap around Kirishima in return.

Kirishima slowly pressed gentle kisses to Katsuki's face, enjoying how the blond completely melted against him at each one. His eyes darted to the clock then, and he winced slightly at the time it read. "What time do you have work tomorrow? Because it's about to be 2."

Bakugo's eyes were closed then, a grunt of acknowledgement leaving him at the sound of Kirishima's voice. He gave a proper response after a second though, when he felt the other's concerned gaze not leaving him. "Don't have work tomorrow. Day off."

Kirishima smiled at that, exhaling before replying. "Fat gave Tamaki and me a few days off for going with him to Niigata." He watched as Bakugo cracked an eye open at that, and he continued speaking. "So that means we both have the day off tomorrow."

"Thank fuck," Bakugo muttered, letting his eye close again, "because you're not leaving this goddamn bed until I say so."

"For sleep or for sex?" Kirishima sounded almost apologetic then, fingers running through the hair on the back of Bakugo's head. "Because I'm too tired to figure out what you mean right now."

"Both. Sleep first." Bakugo leaned into the touch, Kirishima pressing a kiss to his cheek then.

"Sounds good." A comfortable silence settled between them, Kirishima mindlessly threading his finger's through Bakugo's hair, nails faintly scratching against his scalp at random intervals. When a hum of contentment left the blond, Kirishima couldn't help the tired smile that tugged at his lips. "Hey, Katsuki?"

"Hmm?"

"I missed you."

Inhaling a slow and deep breath, Bakugo opened his eyes, looking over Kirishima's relaxed expression, before leaning in to kiss him. The kiss wasn't exactly chaste, but it was simple enough that when the two of them pulled apart, meeting each other's gaze, they both smiled, Bakugo leaning in to bury his face against Kirishima's neck.

"Missed you too, Eijirou." Kirishima felt a gentle kiss pressed against his neck, and felt his heart swell upon hearing him quietly say, "I love you."

And as Bakugo began to drift away into his first restful sleep in nearly a week, he smiled against Eijirou's skin, the last thing he heard being his husband's voice gently replying, "I love you too, Katsuki."

#Krys writes #My Hero Academia #KiriBaku #IzuOcha #Eijirou Kirishima #Katsuki Bakugo #Izuku Midoriya

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melmoths · 4 years

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james and thomas can build a happy life together post-canon.

i'll go out on a limb and say that it's the only plausible scenario for them - and not simply because i feel like they deserve it, but because i feel like their narrative arcs lead to that conclusion no matter what.

of course the road to recovery would be long and hard, considering how deeply traumatised they both are, but once you accept that james mcgraw and james flint are not two separate people, that both james and thomas knew this, and that thomas is not a static character, no other future makes sense for them - whether they choose to retire and live a cosy domestic life or to dedicate themselves to another cause bigger than them both.

first things first: when silver claims that the man who reached savannah was not james flint, but james mcgraw he's lying. it's a lie! and not in the sense that it's something that he knows "deep down" even if he wishes things were different: it's a plain, old-fashioned lie, and he doesn't believe in it, not even for a second! he stands in front of madi, after having destroyed everything she's ever worked for and condemned her people (and many others) to centuries of oppression, and he lies.

'cause if he truly thought james was out of control and blinded by his rage over losing thomas, if he truly thought that getting thomas back would "kill" flint and his desire for revenge, if he truly thought thomas' death was the only reason he was fighting england, why bring james to savannah in the first place? why sell him into slavery? silver could have simply freed thomas (a man that he knew was innocent, by the way!) and let the two of them start a new life together wherever they wished - but he didn't, because he knew that james was truly fighting for the cause at that point, that he would have finished what he'd started because it was the right thing to do (and that thomas would have probably joined his efforts). killing him would have turned him into a martyr for the cause, so he had to remove him from the action entirely and spread the rumour he'd retired, and the fact that he chose for james the prison thomas was already in doesn't make it any better (eat my whole entire arsehole if you think otherwise).

i also want to stress the fact that not even james thinks james mcgraw and james flint are two different people. sure, james talks a lot about creating a persona that he later wants to get rid of, but he never truly believes he can separate himself from his own actions; that's why carrying their burden becomes harder and harder as time goes on. and on top of that, an element of performance is always present in the way he thinks about himself: he's a closeted gay man in XVIII century england! he's forced to live in a state where he has to lie constantly if he doesn't want to experience systemic violence.

but he's always fully aware of who and what he is (despite being ashamed of it, at least before meeting thomas). he knows he's got a tender, gentle side and a much more violent, flawed one: he knows he possesses the potential for great violence - maybe he's not aware of how far he can go, but he knows he's capable of causing great harm, although it doesn't necessarily bring him joy (in fact he tends to opt for violent solutions only when he feels trapped, but changes his mind when shown another way that might lead to his desired outcome). james flint is his persona in the sense that he's a version of james mcgraw in which his "good" side isn't allowed to exist - a hyperviolent façade that doesn't fully match his true self, and a façade he has to keep up almost everyday until he's done what he needs to do (i know people like to call him "unhinged" a lot, but if you exclude his mental breakdown after miranda's death he's always in control of his actions).

and again, i think thomas and miranda were aware of james' violent side. miranda might have seen it first-hand, but i do think thomas knew about it as well. their connection is so deep ("my truest love," hello?) and they seem to know each other so fully that i don't think a relationship between them could have worked otherwise. maybe thomas heard of the fight that broke out between james and the officer that insulted him and miranda, and that got him thinking; maybe he worked it out otherwise (although i do believe they eventually talked about the fight, and about hennessey's weirdly protective attitude); but the fact that he's the one to come up with the pardons, unbeknownst to james, is pretty telling. it shows that despite his privilege thomas is instinctually more capable of understanding why disenfranchised people might turn to violence (i.e. piracy). and if he's ready to forgive all the pirates, all the violent men, why would he not extend the same courtesy to the one he loves?

when he wrote "know no shame" he wasn't simply telling james not to be ashamed of being gay; he was telling him not to be ashamed of any part of himself, including the one that's more prone to violence, because at that point i don't think james truly believed himself worthy of being loved in his entirety, and thomas felt he had to fix that. and he succeeded - not immediately, of course, but by the time he'd come back from nassau james had fully internalised his message, based on the way he talks about his relationship with thomas to miranda and his wish to get away from london with the both of them (and ten years later, when james and miranda fight, he tells her that he does not feel ashamed of having loved thomas, but only of his inaction once thomas had been locked up in bedlam).

for this reason i don't believe that thomas would be "disgusted" by james' actions when they eventually reunite in savannah. i'm not saying he would enthusiastically condone all of them - he wouldn't go "hey, darling, good job on snapping your quartermaster's neck!", for example - but he would understand the motive behind them. he would understand why james - james who believed him dead, james who'd been stripped off the career he'd worked so hard for, james who had truly lost everything - felt like he had no other choice and put himself through so much pain. when james arrives in savannah i don't think thomas believes in reconciliation with england anymore.

i've noticed a weird tendency in this fandom to idealise thomas, to deny his growth in order to present him as flawless, as exclusively kind and "good" and stuck in time (often in opposition to post-london james). i hate it!

first of all, i feel like this angelic persona does not fit his characterisation at all. he is a good man, but when his father says he's impertinent and self-righteous, or when miranda talks about how he'd basically make people wish they were dead during his salons, i don't get the impression that thomas is a tall giant who simply smiles at everyone and can do no harm. he's an extremely opinionated man that wants to do the right thing even if that makes him unbearable to the people in his proximity because, as james says, he truly believes in what he's saying and, just like james, he's shown to change his mind when presented with new facts; he's open to new ideas, and that's why he comes up with the pardons.

second of all, we're talking about a man who's been betrayed by those closest to him, who's been imprisoned, tortured and dehumanised to the point that no one questioned his apparent suicide, who's been enslaved for ten years and subjected to yet more and more horrors. why would he not be a changed man, in the same way james is? why would his own ten years of hell not have stripped him of any trace of naivety he had left (the naivety inherent to his privilege and that had led him to believe that gradual change was the best solution), in the same way james was stripped of his after learning of peter's betrayal and seeing miranda killed in front of his eyes? just because this change happens offscreen for thomas it doesn't mean it doesn't happen at all.

if anything, i would say that the conceptual passage from gradualism to revolution might have happened sooner for thomas than for james. let's also remember that when silver asks james if he'd trade the war to have thomas back again, james says thomas wouldn't want him to. he believes him dead, but he knew him well enough to be certain that if he were alive he'd agree with him that no compromise can be made with a colonial empire.

i'm also convinced that thomas always knew (or at least very strongly suspected) james was captain flint. he was imprisoned and isolated from the rest of the world, sure, but plantations didn't exist in a bubble where no news about the outside world could reach them (and the show makes it clear so many times). thomas is an extremely intelligent man. i doubt he would have had a hard time connecting the murder of his father, the rise of captain flint, the events of charlestown, the existence of an army of people still willing to follow a pirate captain in battle despite the pardons and tom morgan coming to look for him in savannah (although i suppose he thought james had found out he was alive and was going to get him out). when james shows up looking very much like a pirate, thomas is clearly happy beyond belief - but he doesn't strike me as someone who had no idea james might come to him someday.

that's why i think that any scenario in which james and thomas drift apart is not only completely unjustified, but extremely cruel and partly motivated by a desire to justify silver despite all evidence of him being a massive piece of shit. and justifying silver is justifying the english empire and all the atrocities it has inflicted - and i can't stand for that. in truth, i can't stand for any scenario in which two people who loved each other so dearly and were so harshly punished for it and for wanting to better society, even if just a little bit, don't get some measure of peace and happiness in which to heal together.

on a side-note, all the people who claim thomas was exactly like woodes rogers and that james' war was not really revolutionary because he was only waging it for selfish reasons fail to understand that:

1) thomas was trying to challenge the status quo and to defend a group of disenfranchised people in an age where criminals were seen as less than human and death sentences were extremely common, while woodes rogers was trying to preserve the status quo and to get rich in the process without giving much of a shit about pirates at all;

2) every revolution or civil rights movement is at least partly motivated by selfish reasons: people don't want their loved ones and future generations to go through what they've gone through, and often seek some form of retribution in the process. and frankly, i don't care how "selfish" someone's motivations are as long as their actions lead to a more equal world and to better conditions for the people who inhabit it - and i'd rather fight alongside those who try to challenge hegemonic powers, whatever reasons they might have to do so, than be a passive observer of all the horrors that happen around me as long as they don't affect me directly.

anyway, love is real, james and thomas burn that plantation to the ground and silver sucks me good and hard through my jorts

#black sails #flinthamilton #i regret to inform you all that love wins in the end!! motherfuckers!!

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marvelbbyx · 4 years

Text

And they were roommates! (College AU: Mason Weaver x Fem! Reader)

Summary:

You discovered that you liked girls when you were very young, knowing how others would react, you kept it a secret from your loved ones. Hiding from it well into your adult years.

Starting college, you expected yourself to keep your head down, get good grades, and stay out of everyone’s way. That is until you were roomed with Mason Weaver, a bold and intrepid individual that surprised you the moment you laid eyes on her. Certain feelings arising between the two of you, in order to try and put a stop to it, you distance yourself from Mason.

Until she realizes what’s going on and urges you to tell her how you feel.

Author’s Note: This is for the @versdan writing challenge! I chose Mason Weaver for this because there is a lack of Mason Weaver FICS on this platform. But if you’d like me to write more I will! Enjoy! ☺️

This fic is also based in the ’60s.

Prompt:

“I don’t get why you can’t tell me how you truly feel.”

Song featured: Leavin’ On Your Mind- Patsy Cline

Warnings! A little lengthy but that’s it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sunday

August 8th, 1965

You set down your last box in the corner of your side of the dorm before plopping yourself down face first on your new bed. Your arms were sore and worn out from carrying all of your stuff up and down the stairs, thankfully you were finished now and could rest a bit before you unpack everything.

You were mainly excited to unpack your record player, a powder blue 1964 Dansette Tempo—with four speeds. After begging for one for years, your parents got it for you as a graduation gift. Eventually starting your horde of record albums. Your favorites were: Doris Day’s Day by Night—Connie Francis’s Who’s Sorry Now?—and Patsy Cline’s single Leavin’ On Your Mind.

Besides your impressive collection of records, you also own a vast majority of books. Books have kept you company since you were very small. When you hit the age of twelve, everything seemed to have made sense quicker than you realized, beginning to show more romantic feelings towards your childhood friend, Caroline.

As you were moving stuff into your room, you couldn’t help but hear whispers and murmurs as you walked. The paranoid side of you thought that they were about you, but you knew that you were just overthinking it. Even if they did know about you, the comments would be just as hurtful. But you couldn’t do anything about it nor wanted to. That would cause more problems on your part, especially if it got one of the deans involved. So you decided that it was best to keep to yourself and not stir up any trouble for you or anyone.

Your head perks up when you hear the doorknob turning, automatically; you surmise that it’s your new roommate and await the worst. You see a girl walk through the door carrying a large box, wearing high-waisted denim jeans and a button-up red flannel shirt. Her hair cascades down her shoulders in long dark blonde waves.

She shuts the door behind her, her hazel eyes darting up to look at you. “Oh wow, I’m sorry, I didn’t think anyone was in here. Were you sleeping?”

You shook your head vigorously. “N-No, I was just resting. My arms are tired.” You say meekly.

She breathes out a laugh, making your heart flutter inside your chest.

“I’m Mason, Mason Weaver.” She extended a free hand towards you, keeping the box close to her chest with the other. You were rooted to your spot, unable to stand or reach your arm out to hers. Even if you did you’d probably melt all over the floor.

Mason’s eyes scan you up and down curiously, “Ya know when someone introduces themselves it’s common courtesy to do the same.”

“Y/N...Y/N L/N.” You say quietly, sitting up and lifting your hand to shake hers.

“Oh, she does have a name,” The blonde jokes with a grin. You nearly turn red at her words, the cool drawl in her voice causing your stomach to do somersaults.

Mason turns her back to you and sets her box down on the bed opposite to yours. Sitting down next to it and kicking off her boots, you tried your best not to stare at her but something about her held your gaze. You felt warm, you wanted to think because of how hot it was outside, but you knew it was because of her.

You saw her start to unpack her box, the contents inside weren’t exactly what you had expected to be inside. You anticipated something like toiletries or old books. Instead, she took out 35mm film rolls and a Canon Demi.

“You take pictures?” You ask softly.

You see her nod. “Yeah, I’m majoring in photography, so I have to take a lot of pictures. What’s yours?”

“Biochemistry.” You reply ducking your head down. “It sounds lame compared to yours.”

Mason shook her head. “Not at all. It’s different, I like different.” She beams over at you.

The overwhelming heat now scorched your face, you felt faint and light-headed. You needed to leave as soon as possible or else you’d pass out right then and there. You quickly rose to your feet, the dizzy feeling only intensifying. “I’m-I’m gonna go check out the library.”

“Oh, o-okay.” She gives you a small wave as you dashed out the door, beating yourself mentally for acting a fool in front of her.

You could only imagine how tomorrow would play out...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Monday

August 9th, 1965

You were the first one to wake up the following morning, it was surprising that you didn’t wake up Mason with all of the noise that you were making. You raced out the door before she could wake up and greet you. You had three classes today, the first two blowing by fast. You couldn’t wait to be done for the day. That way you could go back to the dorm to listen to your records and unpack everything.

Upon arriving to one of them, you were asked to sit in the front row, your professor claimed that it would make an example of yourself to the students in the back. Instead, the front happened to be an ideal shooting range for paper hornets from the two boys sitting behind you.

A few hit the back of your neck as you were taking notes.

You were now seated at one of the far lunch tables on the outside of the cafeteria, reading your textbook for your next class, Math. You stopped once you heard someone sit down next to you, lifting your head up slowly to see Mason sitting across from you.

“Hey roomie,” She breathes, giving you a soft smile.

“Oh, hi.” You say softly, looking back down at your book to mask your now flushing face.

Mason wipes her forehead with the back of her hand, emitting another sigh, “God, I’m beat, I can’t wait to head back to the dorm and rest a bit after this next class.”

You hummed in response, flipping onto the next page of your textbook.

“So...how was the library yesterday? I assume it was good since you were gone all day, and you left so fast this morning I didn’t even get to talk to you.”

“I’m sorry if I woke you up,” You murmured.

She waves a dismissive hand. “I had to get up early anyway, the best pictures are at sunrise and sunset.”

You lifted your eyes from your book once more. “Because of the lighting?”

“That and the colors in the sky are absolutely gorgeous.”

There was sunshine in her smile and her eyes. The brown orbs showing a glimpse of her soul when she smiled, the honeyed hues twinkling in the sun like a rich topaz. They were safe and welcoming, perhaps that was the best way to describe them. And though you never saw them yourself, you could assume that Mason’s pictures were damn near incomparable to her.

But what had confused you was the fact that someone as pretty as her was carrying a conversation with you. Though you hardly exchanged any words back—she still talked to you. You wondered if she knew about you, maybe she didn’t. Or maybe she did and just didn’t care. Or maybe she did and she was just being nice to you out of sympathy. Whatever it was—it had started to scare you.

“My next class is two hours long,” Mason comments as she takes out the list of her classes. “College Mathematics with Dr. Mayfield.”

“I have that class too.” You managed to speak out.

A grin plays on Mason’s lips. “Really? Well, this day just keeps getting better. I’m glad I’m not going in blind.” She stands up from the table, your eyes following her form. “I finally have a walking buddy.”

“You wanna walk...with me?” You questioned innocently.

“Yeah, is there something wrong with that?”

“I-I don’t know. I just—“

“Come on.”

Mason takes your hand, pulling you out from the seat. You quickly collect all of your stuff before walking with her—your hand still in hers. Butterflies fluttered within your stomach, no—all over your body. To your surprise, you were shocked that she couldn’t feel your pulse racing while your hand was clasped on hers.

Even when you two were inside of the building she still held your hand, earning disapproving looks from students as well as some teachers in the hallways. But Mason didn’t seem to care about that. She appeared to not care about a lot of things.

~~~~~~~~

The second the two of walked into your dorm room, you dashed over your box full of records. Forgoing your backpack and all of the contents inside. Mason gave you a quizzical look until she saw what you had pulled out from behind your bed.

“Is that a record player?” She asks.

You nodded eagerly. “Yeah, my parents got it for me when I graduated high school. I’ve been dying to listen to it all day.”

You took out the powder blue chest and set it up on your bed, then you took the Patsy Cline record and gently placed it over the spindle, you then turned the power knob until you heard it click, after that you adjusted the tone arm, setting it down on the record as it spun around. Soon the music began to play and Patsy Cline’s beautiful voice filled the dorm.

If you got leavin' on your mind

Tell me now, get it over

Hurt me now, get it over

If you got leavin' on your mind

“You like this song too?” Mason asked excitedly.

Your eyes lit up, “Yes!”

“Not a lot of people do,” Mason chirps. “But I’m glad you at least have taste.”

You blush. “I have more, if you wanna listen to them.”

“Do you have The Beatles?”

You bit your lip and nod. “Mm-hm,”

If there's a new love in your heart

Tell me now, get it over

Hurt me now, get it over

If there's a new love in your heart

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a few weeks now, and since that day you and Mason have gotten closer than ever. Everyday after your classes you would head back to the dorm and listen to your records, dancing in your room and failing your arms around like no one was watching.

In that time you now realized that you had fallen for Mason, and hard. Everything that she did had sent your heart in a frenzy, you were drowning and sinking deeper by the second. But you didn’t know if she felt the same and it pained you everyday. One day after Mayfield’s, you saw her talking with a guy, you thought nothing of it until she gave him a hug. Not a buddy hug either, a good hug. A hug that you desperately wanted to receive from her. Which hurt even more.

Since then, you decided to distance yourself from her, exchanging only a few words such as: ‘Hi’ and ‘Bye’. Keeping to yourself from the time you woke up to the time you went to bed. Mason had tried to talk with you as you were doing homework or studying, but you had just given her the cold shoulder. Ignoring whatever she tried to say.

And that made her angry.

You didn’t want to ignore her, in fact, you wanted the opposite. You wanted nothing more than to talk to her all day long, basking in each other’s presence, and to press a light kiss to her lips without a care in the world. But that guy—that guy you saw hugging her. Hugging the girl you loved. Killed you inside.

~~~~~~~~

Monday

August 23rd, 1965

You had been in the library for two hours now, you weren’t studying or anything, you just wanted to pass the time until Mason went to sleep. She had to wake up early tomorrow to develop her photos. So you decided to stay a little longer until the library closed, then you would head back to your room and go to sleep, doing the same thing tomorrow morning.

You felt guilty. Guiltier than normal. It started to make you sick, your stomach bubbling up with bile. Why was it so hard to talk to her? Why was it so hard to take away this pain? Distancing yourself keeps you from getting hurt, right? If so, then why wasn’t it working? Why wasn’t anything working? It hurt so much and you could only imagine the way Mason was feeling right now.

With that, you decided to leave the library and head back to your dorm. To your surprise Mason was waiting up for you, sitting at the edge of her bed, Leavin’ On Your Mind playing in the background. She looked like she had been crying, swollen eyes an irritated shade of red, crinkling slightly as she managed a weak smile for you.

“Hey,”

“Hey,” You say.

“Can we talk?”

“Yeah,” You nodded, making way to your bed.

Don't leave me here, in a world

Filled with dreams that might have been

Hurt me now, get it over

I may learn to love again

Your hands patted a rhythm on your knees, as you awaited what Mason was going to say. You heard your heart thudding loudly in your ears, a thick gob of spit in the pit of your throat made it hard to swallow. Please...say something. You thought.

“Did I do something wrong?” Mason asks hoarsely. “If so, can you tell me?”

“You didn’t.” You mutter.

“Then why are you ignoring me? I must’ve done something if you’re not talking to me anymore.” Tears streamed down from her eyes. “Y/N, can you please tell me?”

You shook your head. “If I do then we won’t be friends anymore.”

Mason sprung off the bed and onto her feet, “You’re acting like we’re not friends now!” She boomed. “You’re my only friend here, and you’re treating me like I did something wrong. Like I’ve offended you in some way. Why?”

“Because...” You trailed off.

“Because what, Y/N?” Mason cried. “I don’t get why you can’t tell me how you truly feel!”

“Because I love you!” You shout at her, warm tears spilling down your face. “For so long I had to hide myself because I was afraid of getting hurt by somebody I loved. You brought out those feelings—Mason—feelings of complete and utter happiness. I never wanted to be around someone more than I want to be around you...and I’m so sorry I did that to you. But I know you don’t love me, so that’s why I stayed away from you!”

If there's a new love in your heart

Tell me now, get it over

Hurt me now, get it over

If there's a new love in your heart

“Did you think that that would work?” Mason questions harshly. “That ignoring me for a long time would help you?”

“But I saw you with that guy the other day. I assumed that he was your boyfriend and I just—it hurt so much watching that. So much that I couldn’t bear to be around you anymore.” You explained with a sob.

“Boyfriend? No, he’s one of my classmates from photography! He found my camera in the darkroom after I left it there accidentally.” She tells you. “And he’s not important to me because it’s you that I want!” You felt Mason’s hands cup both of your cheeks, inching her face closer to you. “It’s always been you. From the very beginning.“

The next thing you knew, her mouth was pressed firmly against yours, knocking the wind out of your lungs and making you lose balance. It was the most incredible feeling you had ever known.

So you kissed her back, desperate and eager, your hands finding their way around her neck and into her beautiful hair. Mason’s hands fell to your waist pulling you in closer. You eventually pull away from each other, your chests rising and falling fast as your struggles to catch your breath.

A blush crept over your cheeks. “So...does that mean you love me too?”

Mason laughs and nods. “Yes, Y/N. I do love you too.” She wipes your tears with the pads of her thumbs before kissing you again, the kiss soft and syrupy this time.

Hurt me now, get it over

If there's a new love in your heart

#versdan800wc #mason weaver imagine #mason weaver x reader #mason weaver #mason weaver imagines #kong skull island #kong skull island imagine #brie larson

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pamphletstoinspire · 3 years

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Feast of the Holy Family – Sunday after Epiphany - Latin Calendar

Little Litany of the Holy Family

Lord, have mercy on us. Christ, have mercy on us. Lord, have mercy on us.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Hear us. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Help our family.

That we may love poverty, Holy Family, hear us. That we may love humility, Holy Family, hear us. That we may love labor, Holy Family, hear us. That we may love order, Holy Family, hear us. That we may love quiet, Holy Family, hear us. That we may love kindness, Holy Family, hear us. That we may love charity, Holy Family, hear us. That we may love courtesy, Holy Family, hear us. That we may love peace, Holy Family, hear us.

O Lord God Who on earth loved poverty and humility, teach us to live in our families in peace and quiet order and with charity to all. Amen.

by Abbot Gueranger

This Sunday has been chosen by the Church for the celebration of the Feast of the Holy Family; the liturgy of the day, as expressed in the Gospel, harmonizes well with the mystery of this Feast, for it carries us forward to the childhood of our Emmanuel and gives us those wonderful words of His Blessed Mother, we must ever ponder within our hearts: “And He went down with them, and came to Nazareth, and was subject to them.”

The Feast of the Holy Family is of recent origin. In 1663 Barbara d’Hillehoust founded at Montreal the Association of the Holy Family; this devotion soon spread and in 1893 Pope Leo XIII expressed his approval of a Feast under this title and himself composed part of the Office. The Feast was welcomed by succeeding Pontiffs as an efficacious means for bringing home to the Christian people the example of the Holy Family at Nazareth, and by the restoration of the true spirit of family life, stemming, in some measure, the evils of modern society. These motives led Pope Benedict XV to insert the Feast into the Universal Calendar, and from 1921 it has been fixed for this present Sunday.

The Lessons for the Second Nocturn of Matins are taken from the Apostolic Letter of Pope Leo XIII, Neminem Fugit, of June 14, 1892:

When a merciful God determined to complete the work of human reparation which the world had awaited throughout long ages, He so established and designed the whole, that from its very inception, it would show to the world the sublime pattern of a divinely constituted family. In this all men should see the perfect example of domestic unity, and of all virtue and holiness. Such was the Holy Family of Nazareth, in which before He had shone forth in full light to all nations, the Sun of Justice, Christ Our Lord and Savior, led a hidden life with the Virgin Mary for Mother and most Holy Joseph for foster-father. There is no doubt that all those virtues of ordinary home life, those acts of mutual love, holy behavior and pious practices shone forth in the highest degree in this Holy Family, destined to be a model for all others. Accordingly, the benign dispositions of Providence fashioned that Family so that every individual Christian, whatever his condition or station, by turning his attention to it, could find in it easily, reason and incentive for the exercise of every virtue.

Fathers of families, for example, have in St. Joseph a shining pattern for watchfulness and foresight. Mothers have in the most Holy Virgin Mother of God an extraordinary model of love, of modesty, of submissiveness of mind, and of perfect faith. Children of the family have in Jesus, Who was subject to Joseph and Mary, a divine example of obedience to admire, cultivate and imitate. Those nobly born may learn from a Family of royal blood how to restrain themselves in good fortune, and to retain their dignity in ill. The rich may learn from this family how much less estimable are riches than virtue. If working men and all those sorely harassed by family distresses and meager circumstances would but look to the most holy members of this domestic society, they would find there reason to rejoice rather than to grieve at their lot. In common with the Holy Family they have to work, they have to provide for the daily needs of life. St. Joseph had to work at his trade to earn a living; even the divine hands toiled at the artisan’s profession. Surely then we need not wonder that wise men who were rich, cast their wealth aside willingly, and chose poverty in company with Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

For all these reasons, therefore, it was right and proper that devotion to the Holy Family should have been introduced among Catholics and once begun should have grown from day to day. Proof of this lies first in the sodalities instituted under the invocation of the Holy Family; then in the unique honors bestowed upon it; and above all, by the privileges and favors granted to this devotion by Our predecessors to stimulate fervor and piety in its regard. This devotion was held in great honor, even in the seventeenth century. Having been widely propagated through Italy, France and Belgium, it spread through practically the whole of Europe. Passing over the vast tract of the Atlantic Ocean, it was extended in America, throughout Canada, where under favorable circumstances, it flourished. Nothing truly can be more salutary or efficacious for Christian families to meditate upon than the example of the Holy Family, which embraces the perfection and completeness of all domestic virtues. When Jesus, Mary and Joseph are invoked in the home, there They foster charity, there They exert a good influence over conduct, set an example of virtue, and make more bearable the hardships of every life. — To increase devotion to the Holy Family, Pope Leo XIII prescribed that Christian families should be dedicated to It. Pope Benedict XV extended the Mass and Office to the whole Church.

In the Third Nocturn, St. Bernard comments on the Gospel of the day (given below):

“And He was subject to them.” Who? To whom? God to man! God, I say, to Whom the Angels are subject, Whom Principalities and Powers obey, He, indeed, was subject to Mary. Nor to Mary only, but to Joseph because of Mary. Marvel, therefore, at both, and choose whether you will most wonder at the benign condescension of the Son, or the exceedingly great dignity of the Mother. Both are amazing; both miraculous. That God should obey a woman is humility without parallel. That a woman should rule God is sublimity without equal. In praise of virgins, it is sung, that they follow the Lamb whithersoever He goes. But what praise can set forth Her dignity, Who leads Him.

Learn, O man, to obey. Learn, O earth, to be subject. Learn, O dust, to submit. The Evangelist, in speaking of thy Maker says, and He was subject to them. Without any doubt he was subject to Mary and Joseph. Be ashamed, O proud ashes. God humbles Himself, and you—do you exalt yourself? God subjected Himself to men, and do you, longing to dominate men, place yourself above your Creator? Should I, at any time, think such a thing, would that God would deign to answer me as He answered in rebuking His Apostle: “Get behind Me, satan… for thou dost not mind the things of God, but those of men.” (Matt. 16: 23) As often as I desire pre-eminence over men, so often do I strive to go before God. Truly then I savor not the things that are of God. For of Him it was said, and He was subject to them. If, man, you disdain to imitate the example of men, surely it will not be an indignity to you to follow that of your Creator. If, perchance, you cannot follow Him whithersoever He goes, deign at least to follow Him when He humbles Himself for you.

If you are not able to walk along the sublime path of virginity, at least follow God by the very safe way of humility. Should anyone depart from this straight way—even though he be a virgin—he does not, the truth must be told, follow the Lamb whithersoever He goes. The one is not able to ascend to the spotlessness of the Lamb Who is without spot, nor does the other deign to descend to the meekness of the Lamb Who remained dumb, not before His shearers only, but before His murderers. Yet the sinner following in humility chooses a more salutary way than the proud man who follows in virginity, inasmuch as the humble satisfaction cleanses the uncleanness of the first, whereas pride defiles the chastity of the other.

In the Holy Sacrifice, the Introit recalls the joy that must have filled the cave of Bethlehem on that Christmas night; let us again rejoice with Mary and Joseph and sing the praises of the resting-place of the Lord of Hosts:

(Prov. 23) The father of the Just rejoices greatly; let Thy father and Thy mother be joyful, and let her rejoice that bore Thee. (Ps. 83) How lovely are Thy tabernacles, O Lord of Hosts: my soul longs and faints for the courts of the Lord. V. Glory be to the Father…

The Church prays in the Collect that the home life of every Christian family may be sanctified and perfected by the example of that of the Holy Family; this is Her unceasing wish for Her children:

O Lord Jesus Christ, Who by subjecting Thyself to Mary and Joseph didst consecrate family life with wonderful virtues: grant that, by Their joint assistance, we may fashion our lives after the example of Thy Holy Family, and obtain everlasting fellowship with It. Who livest and reignest…

After the Commemorations of the Sunday and of the Octave, there follows a Lesson from the Epistle of St. Paul the Apostle to the Collosians:

Brethren: Put on, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, a heart of mercy, kindness, humility, meekness, patience. Bear with one another and forgive one another, if anyone has grievance against any other; even as the Lord has forgiven you, so also do you forgive. But above all these things have charity, which is the bond of perfection. And may the peace of Christ reign in your hearts; unto that peace, indeed, you were called in one body. Show yourselves thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you abundantly: in all wisdom teach and admonish one another by psalms, hymns and spiritual songs, singing in your hearts to God by His grace. Whatever you do in word or in work, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him. (c. 3)

If we would attain to charity, the bond of perfection which unites all Christians together in the one great family of God, we must pay heed to those virtues which the Epistle puts before us. We must be full of mercy, benignity, humility, modesty and patience; we must bear with one another and forgive one another, after the example of the Incarnate Word. Then the peace of Christ will dwell not only in our hearts, but in those around us, and our homes will truly become like that of Nazareth, where Jesus, Mary and Joseph were ever singing in Their hearts to God by His grace.

In the Gradual Holy Church again celebrates the praises of the House of the Lord; She proclaims the blessedness of those that obtain lasting fellowship in the heavenly home above; yet in the Alleluia verse She recalls the lowliness of the earthly home of our Emmanuel, which made Him truly a hidden King:

(Ps. 26) One thing I have asked of the Lord, this will I seek after: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life. V. (Ps. 83) Blessed are they who dwell in Thy house, O Lord; they shall praise Thee forever and ever. Alleluia, alleluia. V. (Isa. 45) Verily Thou art a hidden God, the God of Israel, the Savior. Alleluia.

The Gospel is taken from the Second Chapter of St. Luke:

When Jesus was twelve years old, they went up to Jerusalem according to the custom of the feast. And after they had fulfilled the days, when they were returning, the Boy Jesus remained in Jerusalem, and His parents did not know it. But thinking that He was in the caravan, they had come a day’s journey before it occurred to them to look for Him among their relatives and acquaintances. And not finding Him, they returned to Jerusalem in search of Him. And it came to pass after three days, that they found Him in the temple, sitting in the midst of the teachers, both listening to them and asking them questions. And all who were listening to Him were amazed at His understanding and His answers. And when they saw Him, they were astonished. And His Mother said to Him, “Son, why hast Thou done so to us? Behold, Thy father and I have been seeking Thee sorrowing.” And He said to them, “How is it that you sought Me? Did you not know I must be about My Father’s business?” And they did not understand the word that He spoke to them. And He went down with them and came to Nazareth, and was subject to them; and His Mother kept all these things carefully in Her Heart. And Jesus advanced in wisdom and age and grace before God and men.

Thus, O Jesus, didst Thou come down from Heaven to teach us. The tender age of Childhood, which Thou didst take upon Thyself, is no hindrance to the ardor of Thy desire that we should know the one and only God, Who made all things, and Thee, His Son, Whom He sent to us. When laid in the Crib, Thou didst instruct the Shepherds by a mere look; when swathed in Thy humble swaddling-clothes, and subjected to the voluntary silence Thou hadst imposed on Thyself, Thou didst reveal to the Magi the light they sought in following the star. When twelve years old, Thou didst explain to the Doctors of Israel the Scriptures which bear testimony to Thee. Thou gradually didst dispel the shadows of the Law by Thy presence and Thy words. In order to fulfill the commands of Thy Heavenly Father, Thou dost not hesitate to occasion sorrow to the Heart of Thy Mother, by thus going in quest of souls that need enlightening. Thy love of man will pierce that tender Heart of Mary with a still sharper sword, when She shall behold Thee hanging on the Cross, and expiring in the midst of cruelest pain. Blessed be Thou, sweet Jesus, in these first Mysteries of Thine Infancy, wherein Thou already showest Thyself devoted to us, and leavest the company of Thy Blessed Mother for that of sinful men, who will one day conspire Thy Death.

Prayer for a Catholic Family

God of goodness and mercy, we commend to thy all-powerful protection our home, our family and all that we possess. Bless us all as thou didst bless the holy family of Nazareth.

O Jesus, our most holy Redeemer, by the love with which thou didst become man in order to save us, by the mercy through which thou didst die for us upon the cross, we entreat thee to bless our home, our family, our household. Preserve us from all evil and from the snares of men; preserve us from lightning and hail and fire, from flood and from the rage of the elements; preserve us from thy wrath, from all hatred and from the evil intentions of our enemies, from plague, famine and war. Let no one of us die without the Holy Sacraments. Bless us, that we may always openly confess our faith which is to sanctify us, that we may never falter in our hope, even amid pain and affliction, that we may ever grow in love for Thee and in charity toward our neighbor.

O Jesus, bless us, protect us.

O Mary, Mother of grace and mercy, bless us, protect us against the evil spirit; lead us by the hand through this vale of tears; reconcile us with thy divine Son; commend us to Him, that we may be made worthy of his promises.

Saint Joseph, reputed father of our Saviour, guardian of his most holy Mother, head of the holy family, intercede for us, bless and protect our home always.

Saint Michael, defend us against all the wicked wiles of hell.

Saint Gabriel, obtain for us that we may understand the holy will of God.

Saint Raphael, preserve us from ill health and all danger to life.

Holy Guardian Angels, keep us day and night in the way to salvation.

Holy Patrons, pray for us before the throne of God.

Bless this house, Thou, God our Father, who didst create us; Thou, divine Son, who didst suffer for us on the cross; Thou, Holy Spirit, who didst sanctify us in baptism. May God, in his three Divine Persons, preserve our body, purify our soul, direct our heart, and lead us to life everlasting.

Glory be to the Father, glory be to the Son, glory be to the Holy Ghost. Amen.

(Indulgence 200 days Leo XIII)

#holy family

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tomeandflickcorner · 3 years

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Falcon And Winter Soldier Episode 5- My Thoughts

Oh boy, this one might be a bit longer than usual. There’s a lot to go through in this episode. As always, spoilers under the cut.

It immediately picks up after Walker brutally murdered Nico in that crowded square. We see he’s taken off running, and ends up in some deserted warehouse of some kind. For a moment, you almost think he’s starting to grasp the gravity of what he’s done, but he’s then plagued by memories of his time with Hoskins, which only leads to him further slipping into insanity and convincing himself that he did what was necessary. That’s when Bucky and Sam enter the scene. They quickly figure out that Walker’s off his rocker. Particularly when Walker tries to justify his actions by claiming that Nico was the one who killed Hoskins, even though it was clear that Karli was the one who killed him. They do their best to try and help him realize that revenge is not the same as justice, but Walker isn’t willing to listen. Sam, slipping into councilor mode, attempts to calm him down. Unfortunately, if his words were having any affect on Walker, it all went downhill fast when Sam told Walker to hand the Shield over to them. Because Walker firmly believed the Shield was his rightful property, so he was not about to willingly give it up. So Bucky and Sam have no choice but to take the Shield back by force. At one point during this fight, Bucky gets momentarily dazed upon getting thrown into some sort of circuit breaker box, which also seems to briefly cause his vibranium arm to short-circuit. Of course, Sam can’t really hold his own against a crazed Super Soldier one-on-one for long, and Walker eventually has him pinned to the ground. He even destroys Sam’s Falcon wings. But just before Walker could actually kill Sam- yeah, he was actually about to kill Sam there!- Bucky recovers and rejoins the fight. Together, Sam and Bucky manage to pry the Shield away from Walker’s tight grip. Though they have to break his arm in the process. But even then, Walker isn’t backing down. Because he still firmly believes HE is Captain America. It takes a pretty awesome combo move from Bucky and Sam to take Walker down. Because not even a Super Soldier can withstand getting swung into a jet-packed fueled blow from the Shield. With Walker defeated, Bucky pretty much places the Shield at Sam’s feet, effectivly giving it to him once again, before walking off without a word.

So, after that pretty epic battle, the episode allows the characters, and the viewing audience, a chance to catch their breaths. Karli and the Flag Smashers have pretty much gone underground, making it impossible for anyone to locate them. Not that the government doesn’t try, as they conduct raids to all the GRC facilities that housed them, and even arrest the people that offered them shelter. But still, no sign of Karli anywhere. So Bucky and Sam decide there’s not much more they can do, particularly since they’ve been benched by the government officials. Even so, Sam still wants to do what he can in seeing this whole thing to the end. So he asks his friend and associate, Joaquín Torres (who we haven’t seen since Episode 2), to keep him posted. Although, Sam also leaves his broken wingsuit with Joaquín. Which is probably a reference to the fact that Joaquín took up the mantle of Falcon after Sam in the comics.

Of course, there’s still the loose end of Zemo. Bucky manages to track him down in Sokovia, at the memorial that was put up in honor of everyone who died there during the events of Age of Ultron. Which does make sense, since Zemo’s wife and children were among the casualties.

Now, I gotta pause for a moment to talk about something here. During the Previously On segment for this episode, we got reminded of a scene from a previous episode, in which Zemo seemed to be trying to shame Sam and Bucky for not ever visiting the memorial themselves. Maybe it’s me, but that seems kinda unfair. For starters, Bucky and Sam weren’t even involved during the events of Age Of Ultron. With Sam, I don’t think he was officially an Avenger at that point. He was part of the reserve team, if anything. And Bucky was in Romania, trying to reacquaint himself with his true identity while hiding from both the CIA and what was left of Hydra. Even if that wasn’t the case, when exactly were they supposed to visit the memorial? As of the events of Civil War, Sam was on the run as a fugitive alongside Steve and Natasha. And Bucky was in Wakanda, either in cryofreeze or going through mental rehabilitation. And then they both got dusted at the end of Infinity War, meaning they were erased from existence for the next five years. So when exactly could they have visited the Sokovia Memorial to pay their respects? Of course, I do get what the episode was trying to say, since the Avengers didn’t really do much in offering Sokovia any sort of relief efforts. (Though you could also argue that Tony should have been the one to handle that, considering the whole situation with Ultron was his own fault. And goodness knows he had the monetary means to do something, with him being the billionaire and all. But I guess that’s all semantics.)

Anyway, Zemo tells Bucky that the only way they can hope to stop Karli now is by killing her, but Bucky tells him they’re going to try to do things their own way. At this point, Bucky aims a gun at Zemo’s head. But it’s soon revealed that Bucky had previously made sure the gun was already empty when he shows that he’d removed the bullets beforehand. Which I guess was his way of showing Zemo that he was wrong about him. And that Bucky, despite being an enhanced individual (something that Zemo clearly hates), still chose to spare his life. At this point, the Dora Milaje show up, with the intention of bringing Zemo to the Raft, that prison we last saw in Civil War. Before Zemo is escorted off, he tells Bucky he took the liberty of crossing his name out of Bucky’s book, and that he doesn’t blame Bucky for doing what he thought was right. Wow, how magnanimous of him, right? Shame he couldn’t have extended this same level of courtesy towards the rest of the Avengers.

Still, I guess this means we’ve seen the last of Zemo. At least for now. Eh, good riddance, I say. I personally hope we never see him again, While I do sympathize that he lost his family, I still don’t like him in the slightest. On the other hand, I did like that Ayo indicated that Bucky is at least partially forgiven for helping break Zemo out of jail. Sure, she does tell him that he should still stay away from Wakanda for the time being, but she is calling him White Wolf again. Which indicates that their friendship wasn’t broken beyond repair. Before they part ways, however, Bucky tells Ayo that he has one more favor to ask of her.

Here, the episode begins to focus on Sam as he begins to head back home to Louisiana. But first, he makes a detour back to Baltimore, in order to sit down and really talk with Isaiah. Which enables us to really learn exactly what happened with him in the 1950s. Turns out, he didn’t get injected with the Super Serum knowingly He and a few other Black men were essentially used as guinea pigs, in which they were told they were being given tuberculosis shots or something when it was actually an experimental recreation of the Super Serum. But it seems that, for some reason, the other Black test subjects begin displaying some manner of unfortunate side effects to the Serum, which suggested it wasn’t stabilizing with them. Only Isaiah was able to successfully transition into a true Super Soldier like Steve Rogers. So when the other Black test subjects were captured behind enemy lines (because this was the time of the Korean War), the US government were simply planning to drop bombs on the POW camps, in order to prevent word of their little experiment from getting out. When Isaiah found out what they were planning, he took it upon himself to get those men out of there, in a similar manner to what Steve did in the first Captain America movie. Except he was rewarded for his bravery by being locked up like a criminal, with the US government conducting experiments on him to try and figure out why the Super Serum worked with him and not the other test subjects. They even told Isaiah’s wife that he was dead while making sure he never received any of the letters she’s sent him. In the end, Isaiah only escaped because this nameless nurse took pity on him and helped him escape by essentially faking his death. This backstory really is sad and tragic, especially when you realize it’s partially based on an actual historical event. Just try looking up the Tuskegee Experiment sometime. It’s really messed up. Anyway, Isaiah finishes his sad story by telling Sam that, regardless of what he might believe, the world hasn’t changed that much. And that not only will the world never accept a Black man as Captain America, no self-respecting Black man would even attempt to take up the mantle because of how America has always treated men like them.

With that advice still weighing on his mind, Sam returns home to rejoin his sister, Sarah, and his two nephews, AJ and Cass. So now we’re getting back to the subplot from the first episode, involving the failing family-run fishing business. It seems Sarah is still thinking it’s time to throw in the towel and simply sell their family’s fishing boat. The main issue with that is, because it’s all run down and in need of serious repair, nobody would even consider buying it. Fortunately, Sam has an idea. Remembering how their parents, who apparently died some time ago, had been long-standing pillars in the community and had often offered aid to their neighbors, Sam makes a few phone calls and gets the whole community to come pitch in and help repair the old fishing boat, thereby repaying the previous kindness of Sam and Sarah’s late parents. One of the neighbors even comes by with a brand new engine for the fishing boat. But then, just as Sam is wondering how they’re going to manage getting the heavy-looking boat engine off the back of the truck, Bucky appears out of nowhere, using his Super Soldier strength to effortlessly lift the motor up over his shoulders.

Bucky explains his presence away, stating he’s only there to drop off a crate for Sam, which clearly came from the Wakandans. It’s implied the contents of the crate have something to do with the favor he asked of Ayo. But then, Bucky ends up sticking around to help Sam fix up the fishing boat. Cue a boat repairing montage, complete with a song playing over the whole sequence. Bit bizarre we’re getting something like this in the penultimate episode, but it’s still pretty enjoyable. Particularly since we get to see Bucky and Sam actually bonding as themselves. And yes, there does seem to be vague implications that there might eventually be something between Bucky and Sarah. Although, I don’t know if I necessarily ship it. At least not yet. I’d need to see more of them interacting with each other besides just seeing Bucky saying ‘hi’ to her a few times before I make up my mind. Granted it would be an interesting thing to explore of course. Particularly since, to my knowledge, it would be the first biracial couple featured in the MCU. Unless you count Peter Quill and Gamora, of course. (And that brief thing that was going on between Peggy and Jason Wilkes in the woefully short-lived Agent Carter series.) At present, though, I think Bucky’s obvious affection towards Sam’s family seems more tied to his own memories of his life before WW2. When he wakes up the next morning on the couch (because Sam invited him to crash at the house instead of finding a hotel room somewhere), a genuine smile appears on his face when he catches AJ and Cass playing around with the Shield in the living room. Those of you who have read Bucky’s bio in the MCU wiki might remember that Bucky was the oldest child of four, so seeing AJ and Cass might be reminding him of how he used to play with his younger sisters. And interestingly enough, Sam’s sister’s name is Sarah. Which was also the name of Steve Roger’s mother, which is probably making Bucky feel even more nostalgia. (Side note- Bucky was actually sleeping on the couch. Which is a step up from where we first saw him in the first episode, where he was sleeping on the cold, hard floor. This is probably an indication that Bucky is starting to heal.)

Anyway, we then see Bucky helping train Sam in throwing the Shield around. They even set up an obstacle course of sorts, with mats being tied to a few of the surrounding trees. They briefly discuss the lingering issue of the Flag Smashers. There’s still no sign of Karli, but Sam promises to give Bucky a call when he gets a new lead, and Bucky promises that he’ll come back to assist Sam at that time. However, the main focus of the scene involves Bucky finally apologizing to Sam for giving him a hard time over the Shield in the first place, with him acknowledging how he and Steve didn’t really grasp what it might feel like to a Black man to be given the Shield. We also get an indication that Steve and Bucky did discuss Steve’s plans of retiring by staying in the past to live a life with Peggy after returning the Infinity Stones ahead of time. It was vaguely suggested in a read-between-the-lines sort of way at the end of Endgame, but it’s nice they confirmed that Steve didn’t just up and decide to do that on the fly. Bucky then starts opening up to Sam, admitting to him that the reason why he was so angry about the Shield in the first place was that, to him, the Shield felt like his last connection he had to Steve, who was the closest thing he had to a family. And that feeling has intensified now that Steve is gone. (Can we please get some clarification on what they mean by ‘gone,’ by the way? Did Steve actually pass away from old age offscreen? Up until now, it’s something they’ve only vaguely inferred to. Like maybe, maybe, maybe. But if that’s what happened, I wish they’d quit tiptoeing around the issue and just tell us straight out.) Anyway, it’s really cool that Bucky is talking to Sam about all of this. It does show that he truly does trust Sam. Especially more than he does that crappy therapist they forced on him. Just saying, Bucky was still denying to her that he was having nightmares, despite apparently having sessions with her for six months. But he freely admits to Sam that he is still having nightmares after only a week or so of them working together. If that doesn’t illustrate how poorly Bucky’s relationship with his government issued therapist was going, I don’t know what does.

As if getting how big a deal this is, for Bucky to open up to him like this, Sam once again slips into counselor mode. He tells Bucky that he shouldn’t put so much concern onto what Steve thought of him, because Bucky can’t let what others think of him determine his own self-value. Or something to that effect. He also advises Bucky to stop taking the easy way out in regards of alleviating his guilt over what he did as the Winter Soldier. Up until now, Bucky was only going after past Hydra agents to bring them to justice in an effort to make himself feel better. But if Bucky really wants to gain peace of mind, he should instead focus on helping the victims feel better. Which probably means that Bucky is going to go back and see that old man, Yori, from Episode 1 again and help him find closure by telling him the truth about what happened to his dead son. I admit, I’m really nervous about watching that scene unfold. Yeah, Yori does deserve the truth, but I’m scared about how he might take it. It would be understandable if he ends up blaming Bucky, sure. But at the same time, it’s kinda been rubbing me the wrong way how this show seems to be acting like Bucky is a reformed assassin who has to atone for what he’s done. No, that was what Natasha was. Bucky, on the other hand, was the world’s longest serving POW. Someone who was tortured and brainwashed by evil Nazi scientists who stripped him of his free will and autonomy. (And, if we consider the implications that Episode 3 gave us, we can also add sexual abuse to the list of things Hydra did to him.) Yeah, it’s only natural Bucky feels bad for what Hydra made him do. But that just indicates he’s naturally a good man with a good heart. I’m not exactly a fan of the idea that he should be made to feel like he should atone for anything he did. Because he was as much of a victim in all of that as the people Hydra sent him after. Still, if trying to make up for what Hydra forced him to do is what Bucky needs to do in order to forgive himself, then I guess I can support that. Do what you have to do to find closure for yourself, buddy.

Anyway, after Bucky leaves, Sam and Sarah continue to finish repairs on the fishing boat in preparation for selling it. But just before Sam is going to paint over the names of their parents, which is printed on the side of the boat, Sarah stops him. It seems she’s changed her mind about selling the boat, considering the boat is part of their family legacy. Which is something that Sam is relieved to hear, as he didn’t want to see the boat getting sold off, either. The siblings begin having a heart-to-heart, with Sarah telling Sam that, even though she’s always given him a hard time about the matter, she’d never thought he was running away from things whenever he went off to save the world and whatnot. She also tells him that she knows he’s been dwelling on what Isaiah said to him, but helps Sam make a decision involving the Shield. While Isaiah had good reasons for believing the way he did, Sam ultimately decides that the pain Isaiah went through would be in vain if nobody continued to fight for the future. And so, Sam decides that he’s now willing to accept the mantle of Captain America. Which leads to another montage. This time of Sam going through a self-training session with the Shied, with his nephews, AJ and Cass, helping out. The training montage ends with us seeing that Sam has become a pro at throwing and catching the Shield.

Of course, just when you start to think this episode is feeling like the series finale, with everything wrapping up and setting the stage for a future adventure, we get the reminder that there is still one more episode to go. It seems that Karli has been pushed over the edge after the death of Nico, as well as seeing all the GRC facilities raided and cleared out of refugees. And she is now out for revenge. Specifically, she plans to rally up what remains of her followers and attack the GRC headquarters, as they plan to vote on the Patch Act, which would force millions of people to relocate to their home states. To achieve this goal, Karli manage to join forces with Batroc, who had previously appeared at the beginning of Episode 1. Strangely enough, an earlier scene does suggest Batroc was actually hired to team up with Karli and the Flag Smashers by Sharon Carter, which only further indicates that Sharon is a bit shady. What exactly is Sharon up to? Is she a bad guy now? That would kinda stink, since she is Peggy Carter’s great niece or something. Talk about besmirching your family name.

Anyway, right when the Flag Smasher’s attack on GRC headquarters is about to begin, Sam gets a tip off from Joaquín, who had been keeping his ear to the grapevine in terms of the Flag Smasher’s movements. Apparently, the Flag Smashers coordinate their attacks via this coded cellphone signal, which Joaquín had figured out how to hack into. And he notifies Sam that the coded cellphone signal is now showing up in New York City. Sam seems to figure out what the Flag Smashers are about to do when he sees a news report on the TV about the GRC voting on the Patch Act that evening. Deciding to go and do something about it, he opens up that Wakandan crate Bucky had dropped off. The episode ends before we can see what exactly was inside the crate, though. They’re clearly saving that reveal for the final episode. Although, my boyfriend, who is also my viewing partner for this show, is a bit of an expert on what went on in the Marvel comics. (He even worked in a comic book/gaming store before we met.) It seems that, in the comics, Sam Wilson did end up getting a pair of Falcon wings that utilized hologram technology of some kind. So he’s theorizing that’s what it is. Still, we have to wait until next Friday to know for sure. Either way, it looks like this next episode will decide what happens with Karli and the Flag Smashers. I honestly don’t see how it’s possible to resolve things with Karli peacefully, though. She seems too far gone at this point. But I’m sure Sam will still try to talk her down, which only deepens my respect for him. And who knows? Maybe Sam will succeed, with Karli going the Coalhouse Walker route- agreeing to stand down in exchange for the promise of a fair trial, which would allow her to state her case. (Of course, I hope they don’t do things exactly how it went down in Ragtime. Because in that story, they pretty much promise Coalhouse that he’ll receive a fair trial, but the moment he surrenders himself, the police immediately open fire and shoot him dead. Which is not even remotely cool.)

Oh, and then there’s still the matter of Walker. Unfortunately, I don’t think we’ve seen the last of him. Because even though Sam and Bucky effectivly took him down AND he received a dishonorable discharge by the US government, he still refuses to believe he did anything wrong. He’s convinced that he still deserves to be Captain America. While a small part of me does pity him, he really is displaying what appears to be a fragile White male ego. He even goes up to Hoskin’s grieving parents and sister and lies to them about how Nico was the one who killed their son, and that they should take comfort in the fact that justice was served. There’s also a mid-credits scene where we see he’s trying to make his own version of the Shield. Doubt its made of vibranium, of course. I Gotta say, I’m seeing a lot of parallels between Walker and Karli right now. Both of them have convinced themselves that they are 100% in the right, and everything they do is completely justified. Which naturally makes them both very dangerous. However, I’m mostly concerned by this mysterious woman. Contessa, or whatever it was she called herself. She approached Walker after his trial to tell him that he didn’t do anything wrong before giving him what appears to be a blank business card. (I’m guessing there’s some sort of secret decoded message on this business card that Walker will decipher later on.) I have no idea who this woman is supposed to be or what her goal is. I’m guessing she’s someone comic book experts would recognize, but my boyfriend/viewing partner, who is familiar with the comics, didn’t seem to recognize her name, either. So it’s a big mystery at this point.

Before I wrap up my thoughts for this week’s episode, there is something partially unrelated I should mention. For those of you who haven’t heard, Sebastian Stan’s latest movie, Monday, recently came out. And it seems that this movie includes Sebastian and his female co-star in a full-frontal nudity scene. From what I’ve heard, there have been some select individuals who have seen fit to criticize Sebastian’s appearance in this scene, because he wasn’t in perfect shape or something like that. If you were one of those select individuals who decided to body shame Sebastian after watching this movie? Grow up! Bodies come in all shapes and sizes. And to expect a male actor to have a completely chiseled physique at all times is extremely unrealistic, particularly when they’re portraying an ordinary person. The fact that people were acting like this is even more disgusting when you consider the fact that Sebastian Stan apparently already has some body issues. The fact that he was still willing to film this full-frontal scene despite those issues just illustrates his passion and dedication to his skill as an actor and the message this movie was meant to convey. He did not deserve to have his body objectified the way it was. Nobody does. So once again, this is me condemning the behavior of those select ‘fans.’

#falcon and winter soldier #falcon and winter solider series

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mobscene-london · 3 years

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BASIC INFORMATION:

NAME: Jean Palfroix. AGE: 34. PLACE OF BIRTH: Paris, France. AFFILIATION: The French Organization. OCCUPATION: Commandant of Haringey. FACE CLAIM: Aldis Hodge. AVAILABILITY: TAKEN.

BIOGRAPHY:

To say he’d had a rough upbringing felt like an understatement.

It seemed the only people who honestly thought Paris was some bright, beautiful dream were those who had never visited its suburbs. God forbid all those drugs, gang fights and arson attacks hurt the tourist pull, huh?

Maybe it was counter-intuitive to deal to the outcasts of French society when drugs were the very reason things had always been so shit for him and his little brother. If his father hadn’t been a violent fucking crack addict, maybe his kids would have had a better shot at turning things around. Jean knew he should’ve been averse; not wanting to put other children through what he had suffered from his parents whilst they were gagging for their next fix.

Too bad money trumped morals when you were dirt poor.

Thanks to the neglectful parents he despised, raising his little brother Eliott—and himself, for that matter—fell very much to him. Jean never really felt like a father figure, and the ideal didn’t mean all that much given that he’d never had one, but that didn’t stop Eliott from seeing him as one anyway. In school, they were inseparable. Eliott had a penchant for starting fights, but it was usually his brother that ended up finishing them. They were a formidable team, and soon enough, that translated to the streets where they would head in search of a second chance.

Everybody in the Parisian Banlieues had heard tales of the St. Clair family, and his teenage years hailed what the cités began to refer to as The Exodus. Those who were lucky enough to be spared dealing to their own left for the city proper to be utilized by the Commandants. What appealed most of all—and earned the favour of its lowest ranks—was that it wasn’t just a hunt for slave labour that they could treat like trash further down the line. They had as good a shot as the city boys at making something of themselves, and for Eliott in particular, that was a big fucking deal. There was no hope in Hell of getting anywhere if they stayed.

By the time he was nineteen, Jean and his best friend, JJ, had made their names as two of the most reliable, no-time-for-anyone’s-shit drug dealers in the area. Unfortunately, before his reputation could earn him the favour of the French Organization, however, he ended up getting his ass sent to jail for armed robbery. As if losing his freedom wasn’t enough, leaving his little brother of sixteen out on the streets alone filled him with fear. They were not kind, and if his absence meant he came to any harm, there was no way he could’ve ever forgiven himself.

Little did he know that the kid would prove more than capable of handling things.

It soon came to his attention that Eliott had done what he could not; attracted the attention of the French Organization. When life in prison started feeling a little easier than it had done before, he knew it was because the St. Clairs were extending gratitude for Eliott’s efforts in the only way he would’ve wanted; by keeping his big brother safe.

Of course, it earned Jean’s favour. And that was very much the point

As soon as he was finished serving his time, there was a job ready and waiting for him in Paris. Eliott had earned the trust of his new found family so quickly that Jean’s standing was solid by association before he’d arrived. Even if he’d by some miracle come to the conclusion that crime wasn’t worth his freedom whilst serving, there was no way he could decline after what they had done for him. After they had looked after his brother when he could not.

Much in the same way they had back home, the two brothers, alongside their best friends Thierry and JJ, found themselves back on the drug scene. It was what they knew best, and where they felt comfortable enough to excel. Working for the St. Clairs wasn’t always easy, but it was most certainly fair, and that wasn’t always a courtesy extended by suppliers. When Jean got pinched for a second time—this time to serve three years—the authorities had attempted to flip him for information on his new friends. Silence made things harder this time, but he would not cave, and for his loyalty, he was rewarded immensely.

It was the first time he’d felt as though he really had a family. There was no chance in Hell he would turn his back on them now.

Jean was leading a life he could never have dreamt of as a child. He had respect, ambition, and loyalty to something other than himself. He had legitimate goals that went beyond making it to the next day, for fuck’s sake. Even though he and Eliott were still immensely close, his little brother had gone off to take a Commandant’s position in the United States. Launceston was the city the Parisians seemed least interested in serving in, but only because it was so heavily contested that those in roles of leadership didn’t seem to last very long. Knowing how dangerous it was for his brother was something he had to learn to live with, but Jean was so proud of him that he supported any move that made him happy. Even if it meant Launceston.

So for his brother to lose his life in a fucking fist fight in Porto Velho?

That fucked him up.

For all his years in prison, the Frenchman had never been as angry as he was when he found out Eliott had survived the bloodstained streets of the most hellish city on the face of the fucking planet only to die at the hands of an Italian in the British attempt at New Vegas. As much as he blamed the Auditores, though, the fact that Lara fucking Rutherford chose not to end the fight despite calls to do so made her complicit in his brother’s murder. Although he’d never paid much thought to leaving Paris, when he found out that the French were gearing up to take London from the Rutherford family as punishment for their many other indiscretions in Porto Velho, he couldn’t say no.

The promotion to Commandant was merely a bonus.

Jean might’ve been waiting years already but somebody, eventually, will pay for his brother’s unjust death.

For what it’s worth? He hopes it’s her.

SOCIAL CONNECTIONS:

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Not specified. FAMILY: Eliott Palfroix (younger brother, deceased) CONNECTIONS:

Thierry Vendroux: Best friend. Even though he was always closer with JJ growing up, since getting out of prison, it’s Thierry that has become his go-to person. Whilst he might’ve lost Eliott, he still finds some comfort in the fact he has another brother at his side. Without him, he’s sure that London would seem even more daunting. Jean also finds himself incredibly protective of Thierry; particularly as he, like Eliott, enjoys taking part in Lara’s fights.

Delphine St. Clair: Good friend. During their first proper meeting, he hadn’t realised who she was. Jean had spent the night drunkenly hitting on her, and she’d rewarded his efforts with a broken nose. It wasn’t until later that Thierry explained who she was. The next time they crossed paths he’d expected a frosty reception. To his surprise, however, Delphi had a sense of humour about what’d happened. The two have been good friends ever since, and their harsh banter is legendary amongst the bros.

Lara Rutherford: Enemy. Despite almost three years having passed since his brother’s death, Jean still holds onto all of the bitterness of losing him. Whilst he can’t get his hands on the Italian responsible for dealing the fatal blow, he’s hoping for the next best thing: the bitch who not only organized the fight to begin with, but refused to stop it despite knowing that things were going to end badly. Jean doesn’t care what it costs him, he’ll make sure she pays.

#french #commandant #jeanpalfroix #aldis hodge #mobadvent2020 #taken #takenm

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delicioussshame · 4 years

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It’s the terrible return of the demon king/peak lord SY AU, courtesy of the Oscars. Usual warnings apply.

Shen Qingqiu flinches as the dreaded portal opens.

Before he can think, Luo Binghe has crowded him against the wall and is forcing his tongue down his throat.

To say Shen Qingqiu is taken by surprise would be an understatement. He doesn’t have much to recommend Luo Binghe for, but he was never this curt with him. Even if it’s just masquerade, he always asks before he starts taking.

Something is wrong. Shen Qingqiu braces himself to resist the fallout of whatever catastrophe Luo Binghe is looking to unleash upon him.

His clothes are ripped off him, thrown on the floor of his room before Luo Binghe pushes his thighs open and shoves barely oiled fingers inside him. Shen Qingqiu hisses in Luo Binghe’s mouth, scrambling to hold himself upright under the rough assault.

A moment later, Luo Binghe’s blood starts taking effect, relaxing him and arousing his very uninterested body into cooperation.

Luo Binghe’s hands slide behind and under his thighs, lifting him off the floor and onto his erect cock. It would have been too much, too soon if Luo Binghe hadn’t decided otherwise.

Shen Qingqiu’s head thumps against the wall, dislodging Luo Binghe’s mouth. It finds his way along his neck, leaving a string of bites before reaching his ear.

“You’re mine.”

Normally, Shen Qingqiu would tell him no one is contesting his claim, least of all him. He surrendered any right he had to choose his own path long ago.

It’s just that he’s not the one Luo Binghe is trying to convince.

Shen Qingqiu blinks, trying to keep his mind clear as Luo Binghe does all he can to fog it. What happened? Why is Luo Binghe doubting his hold on him now? Is this about Liu Qingge again?

Luo Binghe’s hands dig into his thighs harder. “You’re mine. I won’t let you go.”

Shen Qingqiu bites his tongue not to reply. He knows. He’s been made aware of this very often.

Luo Binghe’s eyes are wet with unshed tears.

Shen Qingqiu restrains his astonishment with difficulty. Is Luo Binghe… crying? Why?

Luo Binghe muffles his cries into his neck, his whole body crushing Shen Qingqiu’s against the wall.

When they’re so close, Shen Qingqiu cannot ignore the tremors travelling through Luo Binghe, who is too strong to shake with effort no matter how long he supports him.

What could have happened for the monster of the demon realm to be so shaken?

____________

“I’m thinking of marrying again.”

Su Xiyan barely gives him a glance. “I’m sure she’s very pretty.”

“He is.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Unusual for you.”

He shrugs. “Not unprecedented.”

She lifts her cup of tea gingerly. It’s some of the best tea the demon world can provide. Even if his mother’s movements and influence have been confined to the palace since his father’s death, she managed to keep herself in luxury. “And you came here to tell me yourself because? You never bothered before.”

Luo Binghe hesitates. He’s never been very close to his mother. His father’s generals, allies and family hadn’t wanted her humanity to blunt him.

Now that he himself is their ruler, he can visit her whenever he wishes to.

It’s still somewhat nerve-wracking. “He hasn’t agreed to yet.”

His mother is one of the few people alive who dares to mock him. “Someone who can resist my son’s famous charisma? I might like him better than your insipid wives.”

He bites back his annoyance. “He’s human. A cultivator, like you.”

“From which sect?”

“Cang Qiong.”

She puts back her cup. “I suppose this has nothing to do with your sudden mercy on them, of course. Mercy you haven’t bothered to extend to my own sect, might I remember you.”

“Huan Hua didn’t deserve mercy.”

She doesn’t reply. He knows she still hasn’t forgiven them for the way they treated her, and neither did he. She’s just making a point. “And? What do you want from your mother?”

“He’s not… receptive to my advances.”

This time, she laughs out loud. “You plan to marry someone who isn’t interested? Bold.”

“He isn’t! He responds to me quite well when given the proper incentive.”

“So? What is your issue?”

“It doesn’t extend outside the bedroom. He’s still scared of me, no matter how careful I am with him.”

His mother’s amusement fades. “He’s scared of you?”

“Yes! I understand he’s human, so I don’t blame him, but it’s a hindrance.”

Su Xiyan isn’t smiling at all anymore. “You consider the fact that someone you’re bedding is scared of you a hindrance.”

“Yes. Wouldn’t you?”

“Someone scared of me wouldn’t want to bed me.” Considering who she is, Luo Binghe isn’t sure that’s the case. “Did your latest flame want to?”

He chose to, Luo Binghe wants to say. He gave Shen Qingqiu a choice! A lady of his realm would have been flattered by his attention!

He takes too long to answer. “Binghe, my son, you asked my opinion as a human regarding another human, so I’m going to give it to you. I don’t know how you managed to get that cultivator in your bed, and quite frankly I do not think I want to. Maybe a demon would find the interest of someone as powerful as you thrilling. Maybe they would appreciate the power play. But if the subject of your affections felt coerced, the best thing you could do for you both is let him go.”

Luo Binghe freezes all over. Let Shen Qingqiu go? Stop visiting him, stop pleasing him, stop holding his sleeping body and caressing his hair, stop waiting for the time where Shen Qingqiu will wake up, see Luo Binghe still lying beside him and smile? Give up on all of this? “No. He’s mine. I will have him. He just hasn’t accepted it yet. That’s why I’m asking for your help.” She doesn’t understand. He thought she would. He imagined what linked him to Shen Qingqiu must have been similar to what bonded her to his father. “Father and you must have struggled at first, haven’t you? It’s the same thing.”

“If your father had done anything to me without my explicit consent, you wouldn’t be here today. If you did, marriage isn’t a matter you can make happen, no matter how much you want it. He will only resent you more if you try to force him. If you’re convinced this is real, that what you did can be forgiven or isn’t as bad as it seems, apologise and retreat. Let him make the next move.”

Let Shen Qingqiu decide? If Luo Binghe gives Shen Qingqiu the possibility of leaving him, he’ll never see him again. He’ll run into the arms of Liu Qingge or whoever else, and never look back. He’s not ready yet. That doesn’t mean he’ll never be ready. With enough time, with enough of Luo Binghe, he’ll realise they’re made for each other. “You’re wrong. You don’t know him. I can’t let him remain by himself. It wouldn’t be good for either of us. I need to stay by his side until he changes his mind.”

“You can’t make him love you.”

Luo Binghe flinches. He never dared to think… “I can try.”

Su Xiyan stares at him, unblinking. “Then do it.” She gestures at her grand apartments, the space she made her own, both castle and prison since his father’s death at her people’s hands. “When you get your heart broken, I’ll still be waiting here.”

“You’ll be waiting a long time.”

She smiles at him with bright eyes. “I hope so.”

_______________

Shen Qingqiu remains puzzled even after Luo Binghe finishes and carries him to bed for another round, where he takes what feels like hours to tear down each and every of Shen Qingqiu’s walls. Luo Binghe looks vulnerable the way he never does, the way Shen Qingqiu didn’t think him capable of.

If he was anyone else, he might have let himself soften. He might have offered solace. Considering their position, that solace might have taken the form of physical affection, a hug or a gentle kiss.

But this is Luo Binghe. Whatever is causing him pain, he probably brought it on himself. He can suffer a little, see how that feels for a while. Shen Qingqiu will still be there when he’s done. Luo Binghe made sure of that.

#The Scum Villain Self Serving System #Scum Villain #BingQiu #The Peak Lord SY/Demon King LBH AU

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tsuki-chibi · 4 years

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Passionfruit (November) Day 13: Material

See the whole fic on AO3: Passionfruit

————

Adrien lay on his bed, hands tucked behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. The only other sound in the room was that of Plagg’s noisy breathing; his kwami had just finished scarfing down a full wheel of Camembert and was trying to sleep it off. Unfortunately, Plagg’s stinky breath was making it hard for Adrien to think.

He rolled over onto his side, propping himself up with an elbow, and gently nudged Plagg in the side with a finger. “Plagg, wake up.”

“N’ugh, go ‘way,” Plagg moaned, drool running down the side of his face. Adrien rolled his eyes. That Camembert should’ve lasted Plagg for three days, not three minutes.

“I have some questions,” Adrien said, nudging him again.

“Nooooo...” Plagg whined.

“Yes. Answer my questions and I’ll buy you more cheese tomorrow,” Adrien coaxed.

A green eye opened. “The creamy kind?”

“Sure,” Adrien said. There went his allowance for the week, but it would be worth it. He hoped.

Plagg yawned loudly. “I suppose I could answer a question or two if I have to,” he said grumpily. “What do you want to know?”

“What would happen if Ladybug and I were soulmates?” Adrien asked.

“Why do you care? I thought you were dating Pigtails,” Plagg said, rubbing his eyes. “You woke me up for this?”

“I’m just curious,” Adrien said. “I mean, I thought Ladybug and I were supposed to be two halves of a whole. How can that be the case if we weren’t soulmates? And we can’t be, because she didn’t say my words...” He looked at Plagg expectantly.

“Don’t take the two halves of a whole thing so literally. Soulmates are a different ball game and besides, miraculous glamour extends to soulmate connections,” Plagg said. He burped. “It’s a safety feature.”

“The miraculous... glamour?” Adrien echoed, eyebrows furrowed. He wished Marinette were awake to hear this, but she needed her sleep.

“Yeah. God, kid, your face is plastered all over this city. You really think it’s a coincidence no one has put two and two together and realized you look an awful lot like a certain cat-themed superhero?” Plagg scoffed at him. “Come on. The miraculous glamour prevents people from realizing who you are unless they’re presented with irrefutable proof, like... I dunno, you transformed right in front of them.”

“So... what does that mean for the soulmate connection?” Adrien prodded. Marinette had already heard this from Tikki, but Adrien found himself wanting to hear Plagg say it. He wrapped his hand around the kwagatama, which was strung around his neck on cord courtesy of Marinette, and stared intently at his kwami.

“It means that even if you and Ladybug were soulmates, and she had said your words and you said hers when you first met, so long as one of you was transformed the magic would block your connection,” Plagg replied, shrugging.

“That’s horrible,” Adrien said flatly.

Plagg gave a grim chuckle. “Oh, you think so? You know what’s even more horrible? Having an untrustworthy Ladybug or Chat Noir that goes over to the dark side and gets their partner killed because, as soulmates, they know each other’s identities.”

“Wait... you mean that happened?” Adrien said, shocked.

“Unfortunately. And it’s not the only situation that went sideways because Ladybug and Chat Noir found out they were soulmates too early. Believe me, it’s for your own safety,” Plagg said, sounding more alert. “You have no idea who is behind Ladybug’s mask.”

That wasn’t exactly true, though Adrien couldn’t say as much. He thought for a moment, then said, “So... let’s say Ladybug and I met as civilians and we found out we were soulmates, and we got our connection so we knew who each other was. What happens then?”

“It depends,” Plagg said with a shrug.

“On what?” Adrien pressed.

Plagg sighed. “On whether you’re good at your jobs, whether you’re both trustworthy, whether you can still fight together without getting distracted, whether the enemy knows and can use it against you, whether the the soulmate connection is a good thing as opposed to a bad thing... it’s not always a benefit to relationships, you know.”

“I know,” Adrien said quietly.

“There are a lot of different factors, and in the end it’s not mine and Tikki’s decision anyway,” Plagg went on.

“Then whose decision is it?” Adrien asked.

Plagg froze, eyes widening. “Uh...”

“Plagg?” Adrien said, narrowing his eyes. “Whose decision is it?”

“Sorry, can’t talk. Too full.” Plagg flopped over and started dramatically fake snoring.

“Plaaaaagg,” Adrien said, leaning in until his nose was mere inches from the kwami. He poked at Plagg again until Plagg groaned.

“I can’t tell you,” Plagg said reluctantly.

“Why not?” Adrien asked.

“Because I can’t. Not until you’re ready,” Plagg said. “I know you probably think it’s dumb. And I realize that soulmate connections are really important to you humans. But there’s a reason you and Ladybug are masked, Adrien."

“Right,” Adrien said, troubled and realizing he wasn’t going to get anything more out of Plagg. He’d learned a few things, but not nearly as much as he’d hoped. Who was this mysterious person that had control over who Ladybug and Chat Noir were?

And it seemed so wrong for Tikki and Plagg to block a soulmate connection, though they clearly thought they had their reasons. Plagg seemed just as at ease about it as Tikki had. Only he and Marinette had known who the other was from day one, and they hadn’t run into any problems so far.

Had they? He leaned back, considering the question. He felt like the ability to talk telepathically gave them an edge during battle, because he and Ladybug could develop plans that an akuma didn’t know about. But there had definitely been moments when Ladybug put herself in danger that had practically paralyzed him, and he knew the same went for her.

Then there was the effect that losing your soulmate could have on the one left behind. Adrien had seen first-hand the potential impact of that. His father had dramatically changed after Émilie Agreste passed away. Gabriel had never been a warm or loving parent, but now Adrien could honestly say that he wasn’t even sure his father loved him anymore. It was like Gabriel’s ability to love had been stripped away with Émilie’s death.

He wrapped his arms around himself, wondering how he or Ladybug would function if the worst happened. He couldn’t say for sure about his partner, but losing Marinette would absolutely devastate Adrien. He didn’t know if he’d be able to go on. In the span of about six months, she had become everything to him. If Hawkmoth took one of them down, he’d at least incapacitate, if not outright cripple or destroy, the other.

Maybe Plagg and Tikki weren’t so wrong about blocking the soulmate connection after all.

Adrien dwelled on those thoughts for most of the night; he didn’t sleep well, and was awake long before his alarm went off. When Marinette woke up at last, he immediately shared everything he’d learned with her and the potential implications. As much as he hated to share it, she would learn it anyway just by virtue of the fact that Adrien couldn’t stop thinking about it.

‘I never thought of it like that,’ Marinette thought after a long pause. She was upset and troubled by what he’d learned.

‘Me either,’ Adrien thought back, staring unenthusiastically at his meager breakfast.

‘Do you think...’ Marinette hesitated. ‘Do you think we should tell them?’

Adrien poked at his oatmeal. ‘I dunno. What if whoever Plagg wouldn’t tell me about takes our miraculous away? I don’t want to lose Plagg. And I don’t want to stop being Chat Noir.’

‘I feel the same way about Tikki and being Ladybug,’ Marinette thought. ‘But... losing you is the worst thing I can think of.’ The thought was shot through with genuine grief that made Adrien shiver. He knew neither of them wanted to give up, even though the risks suddenly seemed a lot heavier.

‘Really, what could they do if we did tell them?’ he thought instead. ‘I wouldn’t work anyone else, and neither would you. Do you think they... or whoever... would chose new holders?’

Marinette finished her hair. ‘I... maybe? But how could they be sure that those new holders wouldn’t have soulmates?’ she reasoned. ‘It must be a risk they have to take. We can’t be the only Ladybug and Chat Noir who were soulmates beforehand.’

‘No, but we might be the only ones facing an enemy who gets into people’s heads,’ Adrien thought reluctantly.

‘I know. I thought of that too,’ Marinette thought. ‘It’s too late now. We can’t change what we’ve already done. But maybe... maybe we should think about saying something. Even if it’s just to cover our butts.’

“Adrien?” Nathalie said.

Adrien started and jerked his head up. “Sorry, what?”

Nathalie frowned at him. “If you’re finished, you’re going to be late.”

“Oh, uh, right.” Adrien stood up, leaving his untouched bowl behind, and felt Marinette grimace.

‘We can finish our conversation on patrol tonight,’ she thought. ‘I’ll bring you something way better for breakfast.’

‘You’re the absolute best,’ Adrien thought, walking out to the car.

He was running late this morning, so Marinette met him at the gate. As promised, she had two freshly baked muffins with her. She handed him one practically as soon as he’d gotten out of the car. Adrien thought she’d eat the other, but instead Marinette leaned into the car, cast Adrien’s bodyguard a sweet smile, and set the bag down on the passenger front seat.

“Have a good day, Monsieur,” she said politely. The Gorilla grunted in response.

“You’re so kind,” Adrien said once his bodyguard had driven away.

This time, her smile was sly as she linked their arms together. “Can’t hurt to try and get on his good side!”

“Did I mention you’re also brilliant?” he asked as they walked through the gates, the material of her shirt rubbing pleasantly against his arm. He loved being so closed to her.

Marinette giggled. “You didn’t, but please go on. I love hearing you compliment me,” she said, a twinkle in her eyes.

“Gladly. You’re also clever and kind and -” Adrien began.

“Oh my god, it’s like listening to an anime,” Alya said as she walked over to join them. “Cool it, Sunshine, you’re making the rest of us look bad with all your romantic notions.”

Adrien pouted at her. “I am not.”

“You totally are,” Alya said with a grin. “Maybe you can give Kim some tips.”

“Kim? What do you mean?” Marinette asked, curiosity radiating off of her.

“I heard Kim is going to ask someone out. He won’t say who it is, but he bought a present for her and everything,” Alya whispered loudly and, as one, all three of them turned to look in Kim’s direction. He was standing in the corner of the yard with Max. Both their heads were bent over a small box. Even to Adrien’s inexperienced eye, Kim looked incredibly nervous.

“That’s so cute! Is he doing it now?” Marinette said.

“Nope. He’s waiting until after school. I tried to get him to tell me who it is, but he refused.” Alya sighed and put her hands on her hips.

“Maybe he’s afraid you’ll ruin the surprise,” Adrien said.

Alya adopted a wounded look. “I would never!”

Adrien gave her a skeptical look. “Really.”

“Your doubt hurts, Sunshine, it really does,” Alya said, dramatically clasping her chest.

“Do you think it’s Alix?” Marinette wondered, ignoring their antics.

“I doubt it,” Alya said. “Alix and Kim don’t really have that vibe, you know? It’s not like you two.”

“Uh... what do you mean?” Adrien said warily.

Alya gestured at them. “Just look at you. Anyone who pays attention can tell you’re head over heels for each other.”

“Does that mean you don’t pay attention since you had no idea until I told you?” Marinette asked innocently.

“Rude!” Alya threw her hands up. “I get zero respect!”

Adrien laughed. “She’s got a point.”

“I can’t help it if you two are sneaky as heck!” Alya said, wagging her finger playfully at them. “I’ll tell you one thing, though. I won’t rest until I know who Kim is going to ask out!”

“Oh, Alya. I’m sure it’ll be all over the place before we know it,” Marinette said. “I hope that whoever it is, they say yes.” She hugged Adrien’s arm.

“I guess we’ll know as soon as school is out,” Alya said. “Now, can I get an escort into class or is this a Marinette-only thing?”

“I think I can escort two beautiful ladies just once,” Adrien said, offering his arm to Alya. She giggled and the three of them walked into school together.

#passionfruit #adrien agreste #marinette dupain-cheng #plagg #alya cesaire #soulmates #soulmate au #le dislocœur #dark cupid #passionfruit november #miraculous ladybug

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