#in the time it took me to answer this ask i crossed a country learned yoga and maybe got a new job

[spookystew]

📝 <3

<3

[bokettochild]

Febuwhump Day 5 - Rope Burn

Well this took forever! I actualy finished last ight but then I wasn't sure if I hated it or not, so I had to sleep on it. If you see any typos, no you do not.

Wordcount: 9,300

Rating: Teen

Summary: After Twilight reveals some information about his past, Four tries to use it as a learning opportunity for all of them. It does not go as expected.

-

  “There is no way a military leader was that incompetent.”  

  Wild pauses in his story, much to Wind’s frustration, because he really did want to hear the end of it, which he’s about to say, only the vet’s voice raises, a smirk touching the other’s face as he settles down at the fire with the rest of them after coming back from doing rounds. “Sounds about right to me.”  

  “Too competent,” Warriors challenges, dropping his head to thoroughly tousle his hair, “half my men couldn’t do that.” That’s fair, Wind decides, he remembers the captain’s men as all being somewhat... stupid. 

  The champion stares at them, openly astounded. “How,” he begins, glancing between the vet and captain “are your kingdoms still standing? If the leaders of your defenses are less capable than Master I-killed-myself-on-accident-with-my-own-power Kohga?” 

  “Spoilers!” That’s how the story ends? Wild had only just begun to get to the part where he fought Kohga, but now the ending has been well and truly ruined! Although, it seems they’re getting derailed, so it’s quite likely he won’t even get to hear said ending, considering the champion is too busy looking between captain and veteran for answers. 

  The vet just snorts, unknowing of what he’s missed, and of Wind’s ire, and simply crossing his legs and focusing on the fire. “Where do you think I got the title of veteran? I don’t just sit on my fanny all day, champ.” 

  When the champion’s eyes turn to Warriors, the captain just shakes his head. “I have no clue.” It‘s more sigh than anything, as though the captain’s long since given up hopes for competency among his people. “I’d say Impa, but even she can’t hold the country together by herself, so I’m assuming it’s pure dumb luck.” 

  Across camp, Sky, who’d been the first one to say anything after the champion’s insane story, stares. “You’re saying I brought down the knights of Skyloft just so they could devolve into idiotic half-competent protectors of the country and leave kids to be the ones to save the world?” It’s harsh, but it’s fair as well, although not everyone seems to think so. Wind can’t say anything on the matter though because the closest to military groups they have in his world are pirates, and pirates don’t exactly serve the people. 

  The group as a whole gives each other considering looks, although Legend and Warriors are too busy talking with their eyes- Legend raising a brow and Warriors sighing, rolling his own eyes and earning a smirk in answer- to really care about what everyone else thinks. He thinks Legend asked a question, but how either of them can read each other that well, considering how rarely they even interact, he’s not sure.  

  “The knights in my era are half-competent,” Four assures, “easily manipulated by magic, but they’re just people, so I can’t really blame them. They’re good at their work though.” 

  “Lucky,” Legend scoffs. 

  Time also seems confident in the soldiers of his era, but Twilight adds that his own are cowards and pathetic, so it seems they’re split. Wind, Wild, and Hyrule can’t add anything, due to the lack of military forces in their eras, the soldier is in agreement with their farm boys on the idiocy of his own people, and only their first two and the old man seem to have any faith whatsoever in those set to guard their era. He wonders if maybe there was a decline, after one of them, that led to the army of Hyrule falling, but he doesn’t ask, since it’s unlikely they can say for sure anyway. 

  “How often do you interact with knights though?” Sky challenges, glancing between them. Most haven’t been around them often, but those who’ve got only ill to say all scoff, almost simultaneously, which startles them as much as it does the rest of the group. 

  “I live with them,” the captain starts slowly, glancing between Twilight and Legend with a curious half-smile as though he’s actively trying to figure out what on earth could tie them to the people whom they so frequently scorn. “Spent the last five or six years in the army.” 

  The vet’s a bit more hesitant with his answer, staring between them warily, guarded. “My sister is a knight commander, and our family has ties with the army, so I end up around them a lot more than I’d like, even when they aren’t actively hunting me down.” And Wind wants to stop the conversation there and ask about the fact that Legend apparently has a family and also a reason for the army to be up his ass about something, but he doesn’t get a chance because once more, someone else speaks first. 

  “I grew up on a military base,” Twilight snorts, “trust me, soldiers are as dumb as rocks.” 

  And well, Legend having a family isn’t that crazy in comparison to that. 

  Warriors starts, staring at the rancher, blinking slowly as though still trying to process the words of the other. “I’m sorry- you what?” 

  “I thought you grew up in Ordon?” Wild questions, turning to his mentor, confusion on clear display. 

  Yeah, Wind has a feeling that Wild’s story is well and truly over now, but he supposes it’s worth it. Learning something about their rancher is, he supposes, better than hearing the rest of the story the cook had already spoiled the ending too, especially as the limit of their knowledge about the rancher at this point is that he’s from Ordon, used to work as a ranch hand, and is descended from Time and Malon somehow. The fact that he’s a hero goes without saying, but the ranch hand nearly never shares anything about himself, even though he seems to love talking about his hometown and all the people in it, to the point where some of them feel they know the village and its residents already, despite still not having been there yet. 

  Yet, the rancher is grinning as he leans back, the sprig of hylian rice between his teeth bouncing some as he flashes a wolfish grin at them. “Well, yeah, sort of.” 

  “Sort of?” Time nudges his pup, looking thoroughly unimpressed. Their leader isn’t keen on them being cryptic with him, even though he frequently does so himself. The hypocrite. “Explain.” 

  The rancher chuckles, a nervous little thing, but obediently pulls himself up, resting his weight over his knees as he looks around the fire at all of them, eyes glinting slightly. “Well, y’see, I a’tually grew up in a citadel on the edge of Hyrule.” 

  Warriors jaw drops so fast. “Holy Hylia you’re a military brat.” 

  He can’t help it; he bursts into laughter. Yes, objectively, it’s funny to see Warriors so shocked, but from an outsider's perspective it is so, so much funnier because he’s met Warriors parents and sisters, and he’s seen for himself the proof that the captain is anything but the sissy city boy Twilight likes to accuse him of being. No, the captain was born in Hebra, so far out from cities that he thought Kakariko was huge. Meanwhile, it turns out their “country boy” actually grew up in a military base? Not the country? It turns out Twilight is the military brat and Warriors was the hill-billy? How the turn tables have turned! 

  The rest of the heroes stare at him, confused, but the captain just rolls blue eyes, pinching the tip of his ear to make him shut up. “Ignore him.” 

  Twilight’s dark gaze flicks between them, but apparently, he determines to listen to the captain for once. “Right, so, my dad was a’tually a knight from some family o’ knights or summat, an’ my mom comes from desert folk, so I grew up on the border studyin’ with other knights’ kids to take on our fathers’ duties ’n protect Hyrule one day.” 

  The stares are very, very evident by now, although Legend’s in particular is strangely intense, studying the other with his mouth half open like he’s got a question about the rancher’s words.  

 Broad shoulders shrug, a bit awkward as the rancher grins at them. “My friends growin’ up were dumber’n rocks, an’ every knight I’ve met since is the same, so yeah. Knights ‘re stupid.” 

  “Just a question,” and it seems the vet decided to actually ask whatever’s in his head, “but your knight family, they Hyrulian Knights?” 

  “Yeah?” 

  The vet nods, slowly, lips pursed like he’s sucking on a lemon. “Oh.” 

 “Why?” 

  A shake of pink hair, eyes turning back to the fire. “Same hat is all.” 

  “You too?” 

  “Born and raised, but never followed. Your folks drag you to Snowpeak every winter too?” 

  The rancher shakes his head. “Naw, yeti’s took the place over some time ago. I’d heard it used to be ours though, never thought much of it though. You’ve been?” 

 “Yeah.” 

  “Hold up,” Watrriors interrupts the, frankly unexpected, moment between their rancher and vet to stare between both of them “You’re both military brats, you both hate soldiers, and you both neglected to say anything until freaking now? Also, Hyrulian Knights? You’re talking about the fabled family that sealed back Ganon here, right? Produced the Savior of Labrynna, may or may not be the family of the Hero of Time?” That has their old man looking up, startled, for a moment. It’s only a moment though, because that one wide eye promptly shoots down to Twilight and then, as though on second thought, Legend too, Time’s stare growing ever more startled and shaken, ears twitching like they used too when he was particularly confused or trying to work something out in his head. 

  Legend snorts. “Yes.” 

  “Heads up,” Hyrule chuckles, “Legend is the Hero of Labrynna, so keep your hero worship at a minimum there, Wars.” 

  He thinks that the captain’s face flickers through all five stages of grief for a moment there before the man gets up and simply...walks away, leaving Hyrule rocking in his seat from laughter and Sky looking thoroughly befuddled. “Is he okay?” 

  “Big hero worship,” Wind says, like the snitch he is. He’s no traitor in most senses, but if he can give Warriors a little grief, tease him a bit, he will. He’s fine with sharing some of the things he’d learned under the care of the other. “Apparently he views that guy like I did with Time, wanted to be like him and everything.” 

  Rather than flush or falter, Legend’s lemon-sucking face gets even more pronounced. “Why?” 

  “Because apparently the stories all say you were such an inspiring leader to Labrynna’s army that soldiers and generals emulated both your tactics and speeches for decades after Ganon’s defeat.” It’s amazing to watch the vet’s entire world-view shatter at the words, the man apparently not sure if he should look off towards their captain who’s flopped on his bedroll to contemplate his whole life all over again or down at the ground to contemplate his own. Like the problem child he usually chooses not to be, Wind decides to make it worse. “His Hyrule considers you the greatest knight that ever lived.” 

  Ringed hands bury in pink hair, violet eyes blowing wide as the other hunches over, mind clearly blown. Beside the vet, Twilight gently (and by gently, Wind means very cautiously) claps his brother’s back, his own face a bit tense. 

 Wind is loving watching this. This is better than listening to Wild explain his exploits against the Yiga! Although, he’s also curious. “Did you really grow up in a citadel, Twi?” 

  “Yeah,” a brief nod, dark eyes lingering on their malfunctioning veteran, “I only traveled up Ordon way around your age, when the citadel fell.” 

  Okay, not touching that bomb. “What was it like?” 

  His question earns a grin. “What you’d expect, I s’pose. We were monsters as kids, an’ I s’pose growin’ up military gave us a twisted view of the world. Or, rather, of what was normal any’ays.” 

  “Like how?” Sky, who grew up in a knight’s academy and seems entirely normal by what standards Wind has, asks. 

  “Our main games usually centered around pretendin’ to be knights an’ capturin’ each other or doin’ what we saw our dads doin’ most of the time.” 

  “Like?” Time prods again. 

 Twilight grins, and then falters, looking suddenly alarmed as he glances over the rest of them. “Okay, in hindsight, it was messed up.”   

  Now he really wants to know. “What did you do?”  

  The others all stare; those who aren’t, like Warriors and Legend, currently questioning their existence. Their concern is steadily growing the more Twilight falters and flushes, and Wind is now very much dying to know what sort of shenanigans the rancher used to get up to as a kid. Whatever it was, it can’t be worse than what Time used to put him through during the war, although the idea of their sweet and warm rancher being related to the gremlin he remembers from back then is now not so insane a concept anymore. 

  “Alright,” The (apparently not from Ordon) Ordonian starts at last, and Wind’s not sure if the rancher is aware that he’s moved his hand up to be toying with the vet’s hair now, a nervous sort of stroking, but the vet hasn’t snapped at him for it yet, although maybe that’s because he’s just too lost in his own head to notice, “don’t judge.” 

  “I will reserve my judgement,” Four answers, slowly, “but no promises.” 

  “I grew up on the edge of the desert, an’ most of what our folks did was hunt Gerudo thieves an’ protect traders in an’ outta the desert.” Which makes sense, but he feels like Twilight’s getting at something less than what his parents did for a living. “Nowadays, my hairs a fair bit darker, but it was purdy red back then an’ the other kids kind of figured it meant that when we played, I had to be the evil Gerudo thief, since, y’know, red hair.” 

  Ah, racism in children, now Wind sees it. Not what he was hoping for but he’s not sure what he was expecting. 

  “So,” Twilight clears his throat awkwardly, “when we played, I’d be the bad guy an’ they’d chase me down and ‘capture’ me. In hindsight, it probably was less play an’ more bullyin’ since I wasn’t too well liked at first an’ they weren’t very nice about it.” 

  “But?” Sky asks, maybe too hopefully. 

  “But,” the rancher accepts, because apparently there's something good in this after all, or at least something that makes the man smile, “part of the ‘game’ involved them tryin’ to tie me up. Unfortunately for them, I got mighty good at escapin’ bein’ tied up. I think I must’ve impressed ‘em, because they started makin’ a game of if I could escape various crazy things, an’ sometimes would ask me to help ‘em tie each other up so they could try a hand at it too.” Sharp teeth glint in a fond smile. “Got a reputation for bein’ slippery as a snake and sly as a fox, an’ t’others all started treatin’ me like some sorta genius. We became friends awful fast after.” 

  An awkward silence settles over camp after that, the rancher’s words sinking in and the rest of them processing what was said. Surprisingly, it’s Legend who breaks it, lifting his head from his own hands, apparently having decided to shelf whatever feelings he’s having, but also apparently missing the hand still tangled in his hair. “So, in other words, you earned the respect of your bullies and made their bullying into what sounds like a perfectly normal childhood game.” 

  “What sort of a childhood did you have again?” Sky deadpans. “Didn’t you start adventuring at like, eight?” 

  “And?” The vet returns, looking actually, genuinely confused as to what that has to do with anything. 

  Their chosen hero sighs, shaking his head, apparently already giving up on trying to explain the flaw in the vet’s logic. Honestly, Wind can’t see it, whatever it is, but he’s getting the impression that kids on Skyloft and kids in Hyrule have very, very different experiences.  

- 

  It’s about a week later that someone brings it up again, and surprisingly, it’s Four. 

  They’re sitting around the main room of the smithy’s house, keeping warm after spending the last day out in the middle of a strange mix of fog and rain while hunting monsters. The smithy’s parents have been very welcoming towards their guests, and all of them are savoring the chance to fully relax for the first time in a good while. Well, most of them, Legend and Hyrule don’t seem particularly capable of fully relaxing, so Four’s mother has roped them into helping her in the little garden out back, which seems to be quite to the vet’s tastes and, while foreign to Hyrule, a new experience the traveler doesn't seem keen on passing up. 

  That leaves the rest of them free in the otherwise empty house, left to their own devices while the smithy’s father attends to his work at the castle. Twilight is trying (and failing) to teach Warriors how to play chess, and Wind and Wild are busy playing with Four’s cat, Tongs, when the smithy suddenly walks into the room again after coming downstairs and addresses the rancher. “Do you think you could still escape being tied up?” 

  Time, who was sitting on the couch, looking halfway towards dozing off, suddenly starts awake again and stares, as do the rest of them. 

  “Pardon?” The rancher asks, sighing in defeat as Warriors knocks all the pieces off the chess board with an agitated scowl, signifying his disinterest in continuing to try and learn the “stupid” game. 

  “The game you mentioned,” Four reminds them, crossing the room to perch on the couch arm closest to the rancher, although why he doesn’t just sit on the couch, Wind’s not sure. “You said your friends were really impressed by your ability to escape all the time. Do you think you could still do that?” 

  Twilight shrugs, scooping up the fallen chess pieces to put back in their box, all while Warriors glares at one of the rooks like it’s personally offended him. Wind wasn’t watching close enough to know if it had or not. “I mean, I might, haven’t tried in a while. Why?” 

  The smithy kicks his feet, well off the floor, and frowns, a thoughtful frown like he’s slowly piecing his words together. “I was curious. I’ve never been good at that sort of thing, and I wanted to know if you’d be willing to show us so I could get better.” 

  “And why do you need to get better at escaping being tied up?” The captain interjects, tossing the white rook into the box with a twitch of a frown. 

  “So sure you want to ask that?” Sky snorts, moseying in from the kitchen where Four’s mother had given them free access to make tea and grab food. The face the captain makes at him is scandalized but their chosen hero just slurps his tea, staring over the rim of his cup with raised brows. 

  Wind doesn’t get the joke. He’s not sure if he wants to. 

  Four huffs, slightly red in the cheeks, but presses on. “During my adventure, I made...some mistakes. It resulted in my capture, and I couldn’t exactly escape. I don’t want that to happen again.” It’s a simple enough answer, glazing over anything and everything other than the smithy getting captured, but it still raises questions, although not the ones the smithy was likely trying to avoid. 

  “I thought you were a knight?” Warriors picks up the queen piece, not dropping it yet but not staring at it either, instead focusing his narrowed eyes on their smithy. “All soldiers are trained on what to do in the case of capture, torture, and questioning. Did you not recieve that training?” 

  It’s Twilight’s turn to shift about to stare at the captain. “How would they train that sort of thing?” 

  The captain’s face screws up, “Am I the only one who was taught this? Sky,” the man drops the queen and it goes rolling across the table, “did you or did you not receive-” 

  “No,” the chosen hero doesn’t even wait for the other to finish. “Who on earth would even interrogate us? Skyloftian knights fight monsters, not men.” A long sip follows the words before Sky frowns and turns to look down at the seated soldier. “Do they seriously teach you about torture?” 

  “Yes?” Warriors glances around, but all of them look back at him with confusion. “All common soldiers learn this? You have to in order to progress through the ranks?” 

  “Not ringing a bell,” Time deadpans, staring at the captain with both eyes. 

  Warriors blinks, like the idea that his experience with knighthood not being universal is, in fact, a surprise to him. Wind can’t blame him though, considering based off of what he knows about the other, Warriors had gone through most of his experiences beside dozens of other young men, including his own childhood friends, in order to reach the rank he was at before the war started and he’d been suddenly promoted to captain. 

  “Well,” Four shifts, crossing his legs, “that’s a can of worms to be addressed later, but back to my question: Twilight, can you teach me escape tricks?” 

  “Correction,” Time sits up and turns around, eyes lingering on the captain a moment more before turning on his pup, “Twilight, Warriors, would both of you two be willing to help the rest of us learn escape methods and-” a vague hand motion is made at the soldier, “-whatever sort of training you received that all the rest of the knights here haven’t.” 

  The request seems to make the captain extremely uncomfortable and Wind doesn't miss the way royal blue eyes dart to him, hesitant. “Not the torture part.” 

  “What does that entail?” Sky asks, stare sharp and heavy in ways the man usually never is. 

  “Doesn’t matter,” Warriors is already moving to stand, leaving Twilight to clean up the rest of their game by himself. “I’m not teaching that to kids.” 

 “I am not a child!” It feels like the thousandth time he’s said that, but the look in the captain’s eyes.... yeah, he’ll let the man have this one. He's not sure he wants to see what it is that Warriors is trying to protect them from, especially after he saw everything that happened to the man during the war. 

  - 

  They have to recruit Legend and Hyrule from the garden, which Four does, and in the meantime Wind produces a length of rope for them to use for the exercise. The captain and Twilight are speaking in hushed whispers in the corner when Four returns with the others, and Legend shoots them a curious look as he heads over to where Wind is uncoiling all the rope he had in his bag. 

  “What’s going on?” 

  “Training exercise.” He answers, handing off the rope to the vet, who starts slightly at the contact but then helps him in re-coiling the loose chord.  

  “Why is the captain so tense?” 

  Those words make him look up, staring for a moment. Twilight seems perfectly at ease, but their soldier’s shoulders are tense, jaw set in a way he usually only has during a battle or shortly after one. Even the captain’s hands are still; devoid of their typical tremor, and if that’s not a sign to make him worry, he’s not sure what is. That said, he’s a bit surprised Legend had picked up on that. “I think he’s got bad memories of doing this before, he was pretty firm with Time about what he was and wasn’t willing to teach us.” 

  “Which is?” 

  “What to do if you’re captured or otherwise held against your will,” Time seems to materialize out of nowhere to answer the question, making Legend start slightly and scowl at the man. “Apparently most knights are trained to handle it, and I think you boys could benefit from having that knowledge too.” 

  “Yeah,” Legend snips, “because the shadow is totally gonna tie us to a chair and demand to know all our secrets.” 

  The conversation in the corner breaks off, Warriors running both hands through his hair in an agitated way while Twilight moves over to join the rest of them. “Maybe not, but the shadow ain’t the only threat out there, vet. You know that.” 

  The point is conceded, and the rest of them move in close, following their rancher’s example and watching as the man settles down into a kitchen chair Four had provided for their use. Twilight is not the one to start though, instead \turning his own attention, and thus the others do as well, towards the captain, who’s looking a little less like his normal self. It takes a moment, but Wind finally decides it’s the mess the man’s hair is in, that and the way all his emotions seem to have been wiped away cleanly as he stalks towards where the rancher is sitting.  

 “Twilight has agreed to show you all how to handle this, meanwhile, as I have the training, I will be instructing.” His breathing is off. “In some cases- most actually, the likelihood of being captured and watched by a large group is rare. Most of you don’t look like a major threat and few of you have a rank worth exploiting by your enemies, so your chances of being captured and tortured are low. The chances of questioning is also low, although possible, but considering how well you all keep your own secrets, I don’t think I have to teach you how to keep your mouths shut.” There’s the slightest quirk of a smile at that, and a few smile back. 

  Wind doesn’t. Wind is too busy watching the way too-steady hands reach out to take the rope Legend is still holding. 

  “I don’t need to teach you all how to watch the enemy, or how to be cautious, sneaky, how to move about without being seen- you know these things already.” The rope snaps in what he knows is a purposeful motion by the soldier to unsettle them, and that, if anything, is assurance that Warriors is still in there, and not entirely overwhelmed. Come to think of it, he may even be purposefully throwing them off with his behavior and appearance in order to better convey what it’s like to be held captive by a stranger. The thought actually makes him start and stare, watching closely. The hand thing can’t be faked, so maybe there’s some truth to the terrifying mask the captain is pulling; cold, harsh, calculating and seeking a reaction, but he genuinely hopes most of it really is just put on. “But how do you escape binds of different kinds? How do you quickly turn the tables to take yourself from prisoner to captor?” A twist of the hands and Warriors has made knot dangerously close to a noose. “Let’s try that, shall we?” 

  At his side, Legend tenses, eyes fixed on the captain as the man wraps the noose quickly around one of Twilight’s wrists, the rancher allowing himself to be manipulated as needed for the time being while Warriors twists and pulls and ties the rope this way and that. It's genuinely impressive, the kinds of knots and the effort put into them, far more than most enemies are likely to bother using, but the man still uses them, calling their attention to the different kinds and showing how some give way with a tug and others tighten, informing them that feeling the sort of knot used can be a huge step in escaping it, as it provides clues on how to manipulate your bindings to your own will. 

  Once the captain is finished, Twilight’s wrists and ankles are both quite effectively restrained, the rancher sitting quietly as he allows the rest of them to look over the bonds and Warriors to explain further about why certain knots are used and which ones to be on the lookout for. They are allowed to touch, encouraged even, to see how the rope feels, because- as the captain instructs them, clipped and cold- the likelihood of being granted sight is very low indeed when held captive. 

  “Everyone got all that?” At their nods, Warriors turns to Twilight. “Go nuts.” 

  Watching Twilight escape is very nearly as interesting as watching him get tied up. The rancher doesn’t explain nearly anything at all, focusing instead on getting out, but Warriors fills the blanks, pointing out that shifting, tugging and rolling your limbs can help loosen most bonds, even if it does tend to tighten the knots. “You don’t want to untie each knot, just get out of them. Most escapes need to be quick so as to actually be able to get out, but some circumstances give you time enough to pick over the knots later if you need the rope for something else. Getting a read on your situation at all times is crucial, but you have to rely on your own judgement much of the time in order to know what skills to employ and what to set aside.” 

  By the time the man is done speaking, Twilight is springing up out of the chair and making a grab at the captain. Almost without breathing, Warriors catches the other in a headlock. It's like watching a snake strike, one moment it looks like Twilight has him, and the next, the rancher is doubled over with their captain’s arms around his neck. 

  “Good try.” 

  Twi grins. “Woudla had’ja if I’d had time to slip my feet free.” 

  “Or if I’d been paying less attention,” the captain smiles, but it’s cold, thin, and very much not like their brother. The man’s hands let loose the other, leaving Twilight free to tug loose his feet while he turns back to the rest of them. “A key point is to watch for opening at all times. If your enemy turns their back or drops their guard, they give you a chance to over-power, injure, or kill them.” It’s said too coldly, too clinically, as though Warriors isn’t even talking about a life at all. He's beginning to see why the man spoke about this sort of training like he did; Warriors will be dumbing it down for them, making it something they can process, but with soldiers, commanders who didn’t give a shit about the innocence of their students, he can only imagine how this sort of thing would have been, especially paired with the knowledge that Warriors had also withstood training for torture and interrogation, so the mental strain would have been far worse then. 

  Honestly, maybe it’s not an act. Maybe Warriors is just used to shutting his emotions off when it comes to issues like this. 

  “Any questions?” 

 “Yeah,” it’s a new voice, one he doesn't know yet, which speaks, and it has all the heroes turning about abruptly at the sound of it, except the captain, who seems unsurprised, unlike them, to see Four’s father standing in the doorway “What on earth is going on here?” 

  As though of one mind, they all turn on the smithy. 

  “Training?” 

  “What kind?” The man leans in the door, one brow raised. He doesn’t look upset, maybe bemused, but Wind still feels Legend draw up stiff beside him. 

  “Escape training, sir,” Warriors clips, stepping forwards to address the man, “your son tells me he hasn't had a chance to undergo such training previously.” 

  “No.” It’s a very loaded word, “he hasn’t.” Guarded, wary, maybe even pained. Wind’s not sure, but he supposes maybe Four’s father doesn’t like the idea of his son undergoing whatever this training entails. 

  The captain doesn’t let the other knight’s tone bother him though. “All due respect sir, he requested that the Hero of Twilight and I instruct him, and the rest, in order that he might have some knowledge of what to do in the case of capture, sir.” Oh, Warriors is falling into soldier mode for real now. Shit. 

  Sir Smith notices too, apparently, face softening some as he looks at the younger soldier. “As ease, captain.” 

  Warriors does not relax in the slightest. 

  “Well,” their smithy’s father turns to look over them and the room in general, “I suppose it’s good knowledge to have, and about time you had it. Is there anything I can do to assist?” 

The offer is accepted eagerly by their smithy, and while Warriors still looks somewhat tense, Wind’s quite sure it’s the nature of the training and not the man offering to help with it. No, the captain and this world’s army commander had got on like a housefire last night, and he knows Warriors likes the man. It’s fine, his brother is just uncomfortable and thus falling into familiar patterns and behaviors in order to not betray that. Given time after, and Warriors will slowly drop those and return to his normal self once he’s ready. He’ll be okay. 

 “Escapin’ is like pretty boy said,” Twilight tells them, standing up again now that he’s free, “it’s a matter of gettin’ the ropes loose enough t’slip out. Amateurs tend to go too loose, an’ they keep it quick an’ easy. ‘pparently soldiers cover all the bases though.” The last part is added with a snort and a light nudge at their captain. 

  Time nods, slowly. “Four minutes and seventeen seconds. Quite impressive, pup.” 

  The words have the rancher beaming. 

  “Right,” Warriors plows ahead, ignoring the moment and looking over each of them. “Legend, you said you’d been trained, how about you show the rest how a smaller individual can handle this?”  

  The vet glares at the implications but doesn’t say anything. It’s fact that most of them aren’t nearly as big as Twilight and, considering few of them possess his brute strength either, having a few examples will probably give them more to work off of in the long run. Still, there’s something wary about the way the vet approaches the chair, hands already fisted as he stands in front of it, rather than deliberately sitting as the rancher had done. 

 “Commander,” Warriors turns over to Four’s father (he’s introduced himself as Leon, right?) and motions to the vet. “I believe you have more experience than I.” 

  The elder soldier nods, in one motion both conveying respect and also submitting himself to the command of the younger soldier for the time being, which Wind thinks is very grand of him considering it’s the older man’s own house they’re in, and his son they’re teaching. Then again though, Four had said that his dad is the sort of person who isn’t afraid to let a younger person take the lead if they know what they’re doing. 

  He wonders how Four knows that to be able to say it so confidently. What on earth does he get up to on his own? 

  A question for later, he guesses. Right now, it’s time to pay attention, because even if he hopes to grow as big as Twilight, Legend and he are pretty close in size now, so this will be more useful for him than watching the rancher. 

  Unlike Twilight, Legend doesn’t go easily, making Leon actually have to fight against him in order to continue. That, apparently, it is good though, as Warriors makes it a teaching point, “Generally speaking,” one large hand catches the vet’s dominant one, “you don’t want to let the enemy tie you down in the first place. Honor is all well and good, but when it comes to surviving, no one’s blaming you for fighting dirty.” Something Legend is notorious for. “Watch how the vet handles this, then we’ll discuss after. Sir Leon-” that is the right name then, great! “-will probably approach it differently than I do as well, so be aware that all captors are not the same.” 

  And the smithy’s father definitely doesn’t handle things the way Warriors did, nor does Legend. Where Twilight had let Warriors shift and move him as needed, Legend fights, and where Warriors had given little vocal cues to his “prisoner” and guided his motions carefully, well aware that a wrong move from the rancher at close proximity could do damage, Leon isn’t nearly as careful, instead grabbing, holding, and forcing the vet’s arms behind his back before slinging a rope around them with all the speed of a sailor in a storm. Also, unlike Warriors, Leon doesn’t use a variety of knots, rather keeping it quick and tight. 

  “He’s got thin wrists, so a tighter bind is needed. Some tie it tight enough to harm, but that’s not the goal here. Know it happens though.” The elder soldier tells them, yanking back on the vet who makes to push away. He doesn’t try to force the vet into the chair, instead catching the younger by the collar while his free hand works, hissing, “stay still, you wriggly thing!” 

  Wind’s not sure what exactly about the situation is wrong, but he swears he hears the vet’s breath catch, stutter, and then with a truly terrific show of strength, Legend rips himself free of the man’s hold, kicking back against the knight and propelling himself forwards hard enough that his collar slips free from the man’s hands and the vet can stumble very quickly away. Rather than stage an “attack” though, the hero just spins about, and the whole room freezes. 

  Legend’s stance is too tightly wound, breath too sharp, too harsh, but most obvious is the utter and complete terror shining in blown out violet eyes.  

  “Shit,” Warriors is moving before any of them have a clue what to do, and all aggression, put on though it was, immediately disappears from Leon’s own stance as both knights recognize what Wind himself has as well. He doesn't know how, and he doesn’t know why, but something about the situation has acted as enough to trigger the vet into some sort of panic, and what to them is a training exercise, has become, to his mind, very, very real. 

  “Lad-” Leon’s motion towards the vet earns a start back, one that is made even worse when Four jumps up from where he’d been watching. Wind can’t imagine why the sight of Four, of all of the people in the room, would make Legend stumble so far back that he falls flat on his ass, but it happens. It happens and none of them, especially the smithy, miss it. 

  “Vet?” They’re all worried, and several of them step forwards, reaching out, ready to help, wanting to help, only for both Hyrule and Wild to grab those closest to them and pull them back, something Wind does himself, catching ahold of the smithy. The last thing the vet needs is people crowding in and leaving him no space to breathe. Being surrounded when you’re vulnerable is bad, very bad, and if watching out for Mask and watching the captain taught him anything, it’s that letting an experienced adult handle it and keeping everyone else away is the best course of action. 

  “Is he-” again, Leon’s voice is cut off, this time though by a strangled sound from the vet. 

  “Leon,” and it’s the first time that the soldier’s voice has dropped titles to use anything else, “leave.” 

  “Excuse me?” Four hisses, but that also seems to have a very negative effect, one that has the captain turning, slowly, voice low and soft but cold enough to freeze.  

 “You too, smithy.” 

  Whatever is about to be said in return is cut off by Leon hefting his son over his shoulder and quickly leaving the room, although both he and Four look after the others even as they exit the door. If the situation were any different, Wind thinks he might have laughed at Four’s easy acceptance of being carried like a potato sack by his father, but right now dealing with the vet takes precedence. Luckily for all at hand, even if Warriors isn’t the most qualified to run a training simulation, there’s no one better at handing panic attacks. 

  Despite being downed, Legend’s still managed to shift enough that the ropes Leon was working to be decently tight have been mostly ripped off, although they’ve left a nasty burn across the hero’s skin, one that’s bleeding slightly in the worst areas along the inside of his wrists. No one stops him freeing himself though, and while the performance is definitely over, there’s also a part of all of them that notes how quickly Legend pulls himself free, the sailor even hears Time whisper a soft “two minutes, fourteen seconds” to himself, slightly awed. 

  “Hey,” Warriors’ voice has lost every amount of edge, ice, or stiffness as he settles down in front of their felled brother, now as full of warmth as if he’s back on the field, talking Mask out of his own head after the younger hero’s namesake was put away again. “You with me?” 

  Ragged breathing would indicate that no, Legend is not. He’s very much not, just staring after the door where Four and his father had disappeared, eyes still wide and breath too shallow. 

  The captain reaches out; slow, deliberate motions, easy to track as he reaches for the other hero. “You’re okay, alright? You’re safe. We were training, but it’s over. There is no threat here.” 

  The vet flinches away from the hand, inches from his arm, back slamming against a cabinet and making whatever’s inside clatter loudly, which just sees to further unsettled the shaken hero, who jumps at the sound, whipping his head around to look back, only to flick unseeing eyes back towards the captain. 

  Warriors doesn’t so much as falter, using his lifted hand to slowly push shaggy hair out of where it’d been over his eyes for the last while, messy and just slightly wavy at the ends, like he’s not had time to straighten it in a while. “Hey, it’s me. It’s Warriors, you in there, Link?” 

  Violet eyes flicker across the older man’s face, and this time, when Warriors reaches out, Legend doesn’t start away again, although he watches the hand reaching for him like it’ll produce a knife at any second. Luckily for all, the captain’s not capable of that sort of a trick, and all his hand does is catch one of Legend’s own, not by the wrist as Leon had done, but gently catching fingers in his own and guiding them towards himself, pulling the vet’s hand to settle over his chest, eyes locking with the other’s as he breathes a long, purposeful, breath. 

 Just like Mask used to, Legend mimics the action, although his own breath catches some. It doesn’t stop the captain from trying again though, and slowly, steadily, Legend’s breathing evens out again, clarity returning to his eyes like stars coming out at dusk. 

  “There you are,” their brother breathes, soft and warm and gentle and everything that eases tension and doesn’t spark it further, “keep breathing, you’re okay.” 

 Just because he says it though, doesn't mean it works, because the next breath that escapes their brother sounds more like a strangled sob. 

  Warriors doesn’t so much as falter. “You’re okay. It’s alright,” the hand that lifts is flinched back from, so the captain drops it again, resting it only over the hand still pressed to his own chest. “Keep breathing- there we go. You’re okay, you’re safe.” 

 The dart of dark eyes to the door betrays that Legend doesn’t believe him for a moment, but the vet shudders only a bit, focusing on Warriors again as he pulls away from the cabinets, although not so much to be closer to the captain as to not longer be shrinking away. It’s a sign of some recognition though, which is far better than nothing, and apparently a cue for the soldier to find out what is going on. 

  “That escalated a bit quick, wanna tell me what went wrong?” 

  Legend opens his mouth to answer, but a hitching breath is all that comes out, face twisting and screwing up again enough to warn that a repeat is very much in the cards. 

  Warriors counters quickly. “Was it the ropes? Too tight? Too many people?” He keeps the questions far enough apart to give time for a signal one way or another, but Legend doesn't do much more than force shaking breathes out as his hands reach to tangle in his wild hair. His hat fell off in the scuffle, and currently lies at Time’s feet. “Was Leon too-” 

  The strangled sound at the man’s name cuts Warriors off, and recognition shines in blue eyes. 

  “Leon.” Warriors repeats. 

  Legend’s eyes squeeze closed; face pinched up and shattered. 

  The soldier sighs. “Can I touch you?” 

  “No.” The fact that it’s verbalized is a huge step, and Wind sighs a breath of relief. 

  Warriors, likewise, accepts the boundary, shifting back a bit to grant their vet more space, but not so much as to seem like he’s leaving. “Okay, this is related to Leon. Was it how he handled you?” 

  Nothing. 

  “Was it something one of us said?” 

  A hitch in the vet’s breath, the captain opens his mouth to try again, to press, but Legend answers aloud again this time, voice a wreck. “I- he-” a desperate gasp for air as ringed fingers tug at messy hair, “he’s sounds-”  

  No doubt recognizing Mask’s same struggle with words in the other, Warriors offers his own, soft and quiet, but not yet a whisper. “Did he sound like someone you know?” 

  A nod. A fervent, desperate, nod as violet eyes squeeze shut again. “Sorry...” 

  Hearing the vet apologize has never sounded like such an awful thing. He hates it. 

  The captain clearly does too, but he says nothing to that effect, although the brief flick of his ears and flash of his eyes says it for him. “It’s not your fault. It happens to the best of us.” 

 A scoff. Yeah, Legend’s still in there. 

  Warriors presses on. “No really, it does. It sucks, but it happens.” 

  Dark eyes peek open, fixing on the captain. 

  “Yes, even with me.” The smile there is pained, strained, but real, despite all, and the flick down of the vet’s eyes to still outheld hands prompts the captain to reach out once more. “Would you like me to touch now?”  

 There’s a pause, nothing said, and nothing done, just a stillness as Legend considers the offer. He’s wary about touch even on good days, but usually only when it’s expressly offered or pointed out. When no one says anything, it’s usually met with acceptance as long as it’s not demeaning in any way.  

  As though catching onto a similar train of thought, Warriors changes his offer. “I could lend you my scarf?” 

  A glare. Okay, rude, it’s not that demeaning! Wind likes the scarf! Mask adored the scarf! Enough to throw fits when it wasn't his turn with it! Legend doesn’t have to want it, but there’s no need to make faces like that! It earns a laugh from their captain though, eyes creasing the way they rarely do, and only when he really means it, hand falling to rest gently on the foot of the other. Legend doesn’t shake him off, just stares, then lifts his gaze back up to search the captain’s face again. 

  Warriors meets it, smile fading back to the sad one again. 

 The vet’s gaze drops, arms falling to wrap around himself rather than digging his fingers into his scalp. “He looks-” a breath, harsh and strained, angry as it whishes between clenched teeth, brows drawing low with inward turned frustration, “the- our-” 

  “He looks like someone you know?” At yet another, hesitant, nod, Warriors presses further. “Someone who hurt you? Maybe someone you used to trust?” 

  A sigh. A slow nod before the vet’s head drops to rest against his raised knees. He's still shaking. 

  It’s clear as day that Warriors wants nothing more than to wrap an arm around their brother, pull hm close and assure, but he doesn’t. No, the captain respects the established boundary and doesn’t move any closer, hand just resting on one ankle as he crouches in front of their brother. “I get that.” his voice is softer now, bittersweet, “it sucks, I know. There's someone you trust and then you can’t trust them anymore, and it’s hard, especially when you meet someone who reminds you of them.” 

  Shit. Wind knows he shouldn’t, knows both he and Time know better, but neither can help it as they turn their focus on the captain, wary and watching. That is never a good subject to talk about, but the fact that Warriors is the one broaching it for the first time in forever is frankly shocking. 

  “You too?” Legend’s trying to pass off a tired smile of his own, but it just looks like he’s trying not to cry. 

 The captain nods, lifting his hand (definitely noticing how Legend’s breath catches at the loss of contact) and instead turning to lean his own back against the china cabinet, settling in beside their shaken brother, eyes falling closed in what’s both an open sign of trust, but also an obvious bid to ignore the sharp stares of both his boys on him. “Yeah, me too. It sucks, doesn’t it?” 

 “Sounds just like him,” Legend says, the first full sentence since he’d gone down, and Wind doesn't miss the way the other hero leans a bit closer into the captain’s space, although he doesn't touch him. “Looks like ‘im too.” 

  Blue eyes open again, turning past all their curious and worried ones to watch the vet, warm and gentle, that same look that he’d turn on Mask, and Wind doesn't doubt it was turned on him too, when Warriors thought they weren't looking. 

  The vet shudders, steeling himself up again, walls visibly reconstructing before their eyes. “He used to visit, when I was small. I saw him like a grandfather-” and they crumble again, the vet blinking violently, voice small. “He has granddaughters my age.” 

  “What happened?” Wind doesn’t mean to let the words slip, but they do. 

  Legend’s head hits the cabinet doors. “Corrupted.” 

 The captain nods. He knows. Wind knows that he knows. “I’m sorry.” 

  “He sounded just like him.” 

  “I know,” it’s a hysterical sort of laughter that escapes the older hero this time, “trust me, I get it. Every time I hear an Ordon accent, any time someone suggests playing chess,” the captain’s eyes roll upwards, and Wind’s kind of shocked when he realizes there’s tears there. “It sucks. Gods it sucks, but you live with it. I wish I could say it gets better, but I’m not there yet.” 

  Pink hair drops, settling against faintly shaking shoulders. “You were close?” 

Suddenly the moment before them feels too private to witness anymore. Suddenly, being there feels wrong, hearing Legend ask things that everyone at home in Warriors’ world knows better than to speak of. He doesn't know why Warriors answers, maybe out of guilt for pulling the vet into the exercise, maybe out of a need to set an example or assure, maybe out of his own sort of desperation, but an answer is given. 

  “Yeah. Grew up together. He teased me for my accent, I teased him for his. We ran our mothers to worry and our commanders to madness. I hauled his ass out of prison, he watched mine on the field. Heck,” a smile, bittersweet as the captain settles a cheek in rosy hair, “we went through our trailing- kinda like what I was trying to show the others- we did that together too.” A soft scoff, not a sob, but close, “I think he’s the only reason I made it through training t’all. Would’ve gone mad wit’out ‘im.” 

  “What happened?” Twilight dares speak up, and Wind doesn’t miss the way the man’s thick accent is held in check, nearly gone altogether. So, Twi did hear the comment about Ordon. 

  The captain sighs, lifting his head and staring out at the rest of them, eyes fixing on the rancher last of all. “Ganon. As with most things.” 

  Twilight winces. 

  Warriors chuckles. “Some days it’s like he never left though. He’s still on my ass, still callin’ me ‘pretty boy and tryin’ to get a rise outta me.” Wind doesn’t miss how Twilight’s face crumbles when he realizes blue eyes are still fixed on his. The captain doesn’t either, smile twitching alive again. “It’s nice, sometimes, like seeing what he’d be like if nothing happened. Other days, it’s difficult, and it makes it hard to get through the day.” 

  “How do you handle us?” Legend breathes, half scoff and half awe, eyes trying for a smile again and doing much better. It’s not happy, but it’s kind. 

  The captain doesn’t miss it. “Hylia only knows,” he teases, knocking his shoulder against the one still pressed against it, and then, more serious, “I draw back if I need. Sure, Twilight reminds me of him a lot, some days, but then he does something Gassun would never, or does something so stupid only a hero would do it, and then I remember again and I’m fine.” 

 “Really?” The Stare of Disappointment was definitely something Time learned from the captain, so Wind can’t fathom why the man tries to use it on their brother, but here he is, doing just that. “You expect us to believe that?” 

  “Have faith in me,” Warriors snorts, “I don’t wander around in my own head all day. If I did, you’d’ve burned the world down already!” 

  It sort of ends like that. Warriors redirecting their attention and Legend rolling his eyes at their antics, slowly uncurling again until Four’s mother comes back inside and requests access to her kitchen again. They scatter after, Warriors throwing an arm around the vet and guiding him upstairs so they can have a talk, Time going off in search of the smithy and his father, Wild joining in dinner preparations, and the rest of them cleaning up their mess before leaving. 

 Hyrule still has questions for Twilight about escaping, but Sky heads upstairs after the others, worry creasing his brow in ways it rarely does, but Wind stays behind, scooping up Tongs to keep him company in the wake of his brothers all leaving. Even so, he makes a note to ask the others how they are later. 

  Of course, later, Twilight also asks about what Warriors said, and the captain, to the shock of both his charges, explains himself. Thinking back, it’s no wonder Warriors sees a resemblance; Twilight may have spent his last few years in Ordon, but the military haircut is still very present, a mirror of the captain's own and quite similar to said captain's old friend. Granted, Twilight is darker, hair redder and eyes bright blue, but the accent is the same, rough manner so similar, and the nicknames definitely finish the picture. He doesn’t like the implications of that, not for either of the two, but Twilight walks out of the conversation only looking someone thoughtful, rather than upset, and Warriors seems normal enough, although still quiet for the rest of their time in the smithy’s Hyrule. 

 Collectively, they agree to abandon the escape training. If they want tips, they’ll go to Twilight, but the emotional toll taken on both the vet and the captain isn’t worth it to any of them. Not a second time. Not when they all regret the first one. 

[bitchlessdino]

chan- your personal knight/guard. been by your side since what feels like practically forever and has protected you against pretty much everything. You both are close but despite knowing him for so many years and being so close you realise you don’t actually know that much about him so on a walk maybe you’re just asking him random questions about him and learning more about him as a person. Somehow the conversations moved from something like his favourite colour to why he’s not settled down and without missing a beat he’s already answered because of you. Queue a love confession from your knight/guard that you reciprocate.

On a regular basis struggling with cheol and chan rot but today felt fluffy- idk i just think chan would be so sweet as your guard like him being super protective like ‘don’t pick that flower it might be poisonous let me check it’ and it’s like a dandelion or somet 😭

anyways just wanted to leave this with you and express how much I love your work!! I hope you have a good rest of your day or evening and genuinely thank you for taking the time to write on here, i truly appreciate the fact you take time out of your own day to read peoples requests and write whatever comes to mind <33

Pairing: royal!reader x bodyguard!chan

Genre: fluff

Word count: 3.1k

tags: royal au, overprotective chan, yearning, childhood au, love confessions, misunderstandings

author note: I forget how much fun fluff can be and I thought this concept was so cute also to the person requesting. I hope you like it. I love taking requests, including this one and i apprecate your kind words so much. we could all use your positivity. 💕

You remember when you first met Chan. He was the son of the Head of security that would tend to your father's every public and private safety. In a land ruled by a monarchy, these things were just necessary. You’ve been taught about the value you hold simply because of your bloodline and how you were the most precious there is, you must be protected and guarded at all costs. That’s where Chan came in.

He always claimed to be destined to take on a job much like his father, promising to protect you until the end of your days. That was a huge proclamation for an 8-year-old. He carried a wooden sword wherever he went and always had that big goofy smile on his face. It was his life goal to be strong and dependable like his father, and you believed he one day would.

That was the first and last time you saw him until he was officially appointed your personal bodyguard when he turned 18 years old. You were taking etiquette classes and studying scholarly journals of your country’s history, he trained day and night, mastering every possible martial art to exceed expectations as a protector. He was much different when he returned to you, and much stronger as well. He did not disappoint, but the light in his eyes as a child seemed to have faded, leaving a solemn shell of a man who lives to serve his master.

“Chan!”

He responds promptly. He stands by your side in an instant in proper attire, fit for both professional settings and in case he needs to be active, and meets your eyes. “Yes, your highness.”

“Bake with me.”

He blinks, “Your Highness. Would you not rather have the chefs bake something for you if sweets are what you desire?”

You stare back at him pointedly, crossing your arms, “Are you talking back to me?”

His gaze perks up at the accusation, immediately shaking his head, “No, your high—“

You laugh, doubling over at his panicked expression. “Just kidding. I wanted us to bond! No better bonding than creating delectable pastries. No objections.”

“Yes, your highness.”

He was there whenever you needed him. He never told you ‘no’ and he always did what you told him to. All done with a stone face. He took his duty seriously. He was far from who he used to be, which was probably a given, it had been around a decade. That’s when you executed a plan of action to peel away those layers, hoping to find the cute boy that childishly wanted to blindly protect you. 

It was over time you saw progress, seeing him smile at every comment or the little mistakes you couldn’t help but make (you swear to him you’re normally more graceful than that) when he thinks you aren’t looking. You loved that: making him laugh. He has a beautiful smile. And the more you spent time with him, the more it feels he knows you, even bringing things you need without you even having to ask, but what was it you know about him?

“Chan.”

Right on the dot as always. “Yes, your highness.”

“Walk around the garden with me.” You take his hand before he can even answer and had him trodding beside you out of the palace.

“Please slow down, your highness.”

You practically dragged him, it was necessary given the Palace’s size.

“There is very little daylight left. We must make the most of our day. This is a royal order!” You playfully command.

“It is 3 pm, your highness!”

“Royal order!”

You walk side by side with him taking in the air, the freshly cut grass, and hearing the birds sing their sweet melody. Calling it a beautiful afternoon was an understatement. Even after living in the place you call home for so long, there is more that surprises you. “Doesn’t the sky look extra blue today, Chan?”

He softly grins. “It does, your highness.”

You turn your head, watching the smile slip out of view, “Speaking of which, what is your favorite color, Chan?”

He thinks for a moment. “Blue, actually, your highness.”

You offer him a wide grin. “That suits you very well. I’m glad I know that. How was it that you’ve protected me for so long and I never knew that?”

Chan is quiet at that, not sure how to answer.

“My favorite color is green, or was it purple?” You cross your arms in thought, a single finger tapping against your cheek, “Last week it was pink.”

“It should be yellow, your highness. You decided to wear the yellow two-piece today.”

You look down at your attire and confirm his statement, seeing the pretty outfit you properly picked out the day before with Chan. You twirl, watching how the sun reflects off the expensive fabric, “You’re right. Looks like you know me better than I know myself again, but of course.”

His eyes fill with concern. “Does that make you uncomfortable, your highness?”

“No. Not necessarily. It just feels very one-sided. You know so much about me, but I feel like I know so little about you.” You skip ahead of him and you hear his footsteps catching up.

“I apologize, your highness. I never believed it was necessary information.”

“Of course, it is. How am I supposed to trust you if I know nothing about you?” You pointed out nonchalantly.

“I apologize again, your highness. This was careless of me.”

You turn around and let him stand beside him and push him ahead, “Nevermind that. What’s your favorite food?”

He stumbles slightly but does not let the matter phase him, used to you treating him much like a companion rather than the help, “Barbeque.”

“Favorite animal?”

“Otters.”

“Favorite ice cream flavor?”

“Chocolate.”

“Least favorite thing about me?”

“Nothing.”

“Ah ha–oh.” You tilt your head. “Nothing? Seriously?”

“There is nothing to dislike, your highness, and even if there was, I could not speak out on it. However, there isn’t.”

You blink back at him dubiously, an aggressive finger pointing at his chest, “Are you lying, Chan?”

“Not at all, your highness.”

He would have no reason to lie, you thought. And like he said, if he did, he much rather not answer. You stare at him for a little longer, scanning his frame before simply shrugging and continuing your leisure stroll.

“Hmm, alright. Favorite genre of music?”

“...girl group pop.”

Your eyes widen at that, smiling from ear to ear. “No way! Which group?”

The tips of his ears cause a hue of red, spreading all across his cheeks in an instant. “Apink…”

“Ooo, how refreshing. I would’ve never guessed.”

Chan was relieved to hear such a positive and encouraging response, feeling his hairs falter just a little bit, quite enjoying your company. “It’s very encouraging when I train. They lift my spirits.”

You chortle. “That’s quite endearing of you, Chan. I feel like I’m knowing you way better already.”

“That’s a relief, your highness.”

“What else do you like to do in your free time? You spend most of the day with me, even tend to events with me, but I have no idea what you do for fun?”

He was drawing a blank. What did he do worth mentioning? “Mmm, lots of activities. Such as…”

“Such as?” You egg on.

“Such as–-horseback riding, jousting, martial arts–”

You wave the list off. “Save the pleasantries. I mean real hobbies, ones not instilled by the palace. Things that are actually fun.”

“They are fun, you highness…But I guess I do like dancing.”

You perk up once more, strutting backward to talk while facing him, “Dancing? How lovely! You must show me how you move. This instant!”

He grows flustered, knowing they were still very close to the other guards and staff in the palace. He wasn’t sure he felt about showing off his moves this publicly. “Another time, your highness. I feel rather shy at the moment.”

“Oh, but you must, you must! What do you do? Ballroom? Contemporary? Interpretive–Wha!” You feel yourself trip over a rock, falling backward in slow motion, shutting your eyes for impact, until a strong pair of arms prevent you from collapsing.

“Your highness, are you alright?”

Feeling him pull you against his chest, you stare back into the eyes of your savior. His genuine fright and concern peek through his gaze and he grips your build extra firmly. He instinctively frowns, lips quivering anxiously, sweeping your stray hairs away from your face. You naturally melt in his embrace.

You nod, sighing a breath of relief. “I am fine, Chan. Thank you.”

“Who knows what you could’ve landed on.” His gaze scans over the bed of flowers behind you, vibrant and vivacious, “they could be poisonous for all we know.”

You allow yourself to land back on your feet, turning your gaze on the same bed of flowers. “Those are dandelions.”

Chan feels redder than a tomato in August. How is he constantly embarrassing himself, he thought to himself. “Oh. Well, better safe than sorry. Your Highness.”

You chuckle, infatuated by his thought process. “You truly are something, Lee Chan. Your significant other does not have a boring life with you around.”

“I don’t have a significant other, your highness.” 

“That's strange. I’d say you’re at the age to be married or betrothed. Why aren’t you?” You mention, decidedly walking side by side with him.

“Why, my work is the most important thing in my life. I do not have the time to commit myself to someone other than the royal family.”

You raise a brow, “Your father was married and had two kids by your age. If he could do it, I don’t see how you couldn’t.”

“Now, you’re sounding like my mother,” he jokes.

“She is a wise woman.”

He splays a bittersweet smile. “If I’m being honest, I’ve been given a few opportunities, but I don’t believe they can take the place of the person I hold in my heart. No one will.”

You clap your hands together in excitement. “So you are interested in dating? Tell, good sir. Who is the lucky lad or lass?”

“Someone far worthy than I’ll ever be and deserves more than what I can give them.”

You slightly shove him, finding such an assumption doubtful. “Oh please. You’re strong, you’re kind, you’re handsome…anyone would absolutely be ecstatic to have you.”

Chan felt warm all over, taking your words into careful consideration, “Do you truly mean that, your highness?”

“Are you doubting a royal?” You chuckle, “I do. Tell them. I am sure they would happily return your feelings.”

He halts his steps, and you quickly follow, curious about his abrupt actions, “...You ask me why I am still unwedded and untaken. How would you feel if I said you were the reason?”

“No excuses. You can’t use work as an excuse for your lack of love life.” You wag a finger at him.

“Not like that,” He takes your hand in his, bringing it up in mid-air, thumbing over the pristine skin of your knuckles, “How would you feel if I admitted the person I hold dearest to my heart is you, your Highness?”

A gust of wind takes you by surprise, the fallen flowers and leave being picked up with it and fall around you like a picture-esque scene in a movie. Your heart pounds a million times a minute, staring back in awe at his presence, overflowing with love and sincerity, and your eyes flutter from the breathlessness you feel in your chest and throat. You stare at Chan like the first time you were reunited with him, with pure unadulterated infatuation.

“Me, you say? Well, I’d say I was surprised, flabbergasted,…flattered.”

You feel the heat of your cheeks from the back of your free hand. “And inexplicably flustered.”

You release your hand from his grasp, the lingering sensation of his hand on your skin causing you to clench and release, and your heart easily audibly through your eardrums. You look towards the ground, finding it hard to meet your guard’s eyes. “Your choice of humor is rather brass.”

“Your highness–”

“It’s supper time. I must get going. I will see you back at the palace, Chan.”

You make your grand escape, clutching your frills, shielding your face from others in the palace with your arm before heading u to your room. You collapse against the bed, clutching your burning face in a silk pillow, yelling muffled songs of your fluster, reimagining the majestic look on his face when he confessed his feelings. Deep down you knew there was truth in his words, but how could you normally react to something so abrupt from someone so…admirable.

You embrace your pillow, push down your swelling heart, and smile. Tears of bliss fall to your cheeks and you can’t help but kick your feet like an excited schoolgirl.

You find yourself making glances at Chan when you reunite at the dinner. As usual, he does not have dinner with you but he stays by you for your own protection and eats afterward once you’ve finished. He’d look as solemn as he always did in front of other people. He took his job almost too seriously, sometimes even tasting your meal with a separate spoon in case it was poisoned. You used to laugh at his old-fashioned methods of work, there was technology for that sort of thing now, but you finally understand his devotion to his service. There more to meet the eyes, you realize.

When he follows you all the way up to your room for a night's rest, you part ways. You squirm in his presence, his confession fresh in your mind. “Good night, Chan.”

You are ready to run from him until he calls out to you, hesitancy in his voice. You meet his apologetic gaze, regretful of their last close encounter. He wishes you would not see him any differently, that he was simply a lowly guard and protector to you. His feelings towards you would not have changed regardless of your reaction. He knew his place and that was by your side as a human shield.

“Please take no more than a single thought at my confession today. Do not let it diminish my utmost respect and loyalty to the royal family. Have a good slumber, your highness.”

He retreats to his quarters conveniently not too far from your chambers, standing by the door, he gestures for you to enter your room and you obliged, watching his figure disappear behind your door. You fear that the air had changed between you, and perhaps not for the better. Your sleep would be anything but peaceful that night.

“Your highness, Good morning.”

He stands tall and firm with a smile as wide as a river. He holds beside him a fairly large trunk, gripping it by the handle.

You peer at his figure in worry, and earnest fear. “What is this, Chan?”

“I’ve decided to leave the palace forever. I realize my life was being wasted away taking care of someone who could never love me as much as I love them. So, I’ve taken on a lover of the same status.”

As if by magic a common lady appears, taking him by the arm and nuzzling his nose. They look in love, happy, and a sharp pain would shoot through your heart.

“No.” You chant.

“You will never see my face again. Goodbye. Your Highness.”

“Chan, no.”

The image of their silhouette gets smaller and smaller as they walk further away. You fall to your knees in desperation. “Chan please!”

You sob in your sleeves, hands reaching out to their shirking figures until you can only hear the echoes of your pleas.

“CHAN!”

You sit up from your bed, perspiration dampening your forehead and you are flushed to the touch. Clutching your sheets, you sigh a breath of relief that was only a dream. Soon after, your doors swing open, and a panicked guard in his baby blue nighttime attire runs to claim you, “Your Highness. I’m here. I’m here.”

His strong arms wrap tightly around your frame, soothing strokes to your hair, whispering to you it’d be okay. Your hands instinctively hold on to the fabric of his clothes, squeezing the flesh underneath, drinking in his soap’s scent and noticing how pleasant and just to your taste it was. “I know.”

He pulls you away to stare back at you, scanning you for any signs of danger placed upon you.

“I’m okay,” you reassure, “just a bad nightmare.”

“What foul image betrays you to cause such a reaction? I was ready to spar with whatever evil demon tried kidnapping you.”

He must’ve been still asleep, you assume. His colorful vocabulary, wakes you up delightfully.

“I am fine. I promise. Come, I’ll walk you to the door.”

You push him out of bed, meeting the exit, while your guard’s doubts seep out of him like a fountain. 

“Are you sure? Was it truly just a nightmare? Do you need new sheets? A snack to soothe you?”

“Not at all, all good, my good sir. Good night.”

You attempt to push him out completely but he holds you back from doing so, gripping the rims of the bedroom door. “I just want to assure you’re okay, your highness.”

You fall a little deep into those eyes, perceiving the truth of his word in them. It drove you insane how a simple confession could affect you this much. You brighten up your world, open your eyes, and made you feel alive, just like a person in love does. “I am. Just…don’t go anywhere. Stay right where you are.”

He gives a confused smile, his gaze softening the same way your tone does. “But your highness, you were just pushing me away a few seconds ago—“

You tug against his shirt and your lips for the first time make contact, his plush surface meeting yours seamlessly. Your hands clasp over his cheeks and neck, languidly moving them against him. You slowly process how he reciprocates, holding you to his chest tenderly, savoring your warmth, taste, and how it all excited him. The thin fabric between your body was the only thing to stop you, and the world around you simply disappeared. 

Before you both knew it, you were pulling him back into the bedroom. He’d quickly follow, doesn’t leave until the following morning, carrying out what he only imagined in his dreams, even if it was only for the night. It was the matter of his duty to keep you safe, to keep you happy. And he knew he could make you happy.

[white-poppie]

Racer Mikey x reader a little bit of age gap?!? And idk like she's an University student

𝐎𝐇𝐌♡𝐌𝐈!

Synopsis: Racer!Mikey takes you on a date, a special one where he teaches you how to ride a bike

Pairing: S.sano x AFAB!reader Genre: Fluff SFW TW: Age gap, sexual tension WC: 1k Song rec: OHMAMI by Case Atlantic

A/N: Also check out: If we live 𝔣𝔞𝔰𝔱, let us die 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔤’ (How being in a relationship with Racer!Mikey is like)

Twenty minutes...For twenty minutes you have been waiting in front of your university gates, the harsh summer sun shining overhead, making sweat run down your makeup that you had recently fixed in the washroom.

The familiar rev of the engine made your ears perk, looking towards the source of the sound that had the entire country turning their heads. The sight of the onyx locks of asymmetric hair, that flow backwards in a dance with the wind. His piercing eyes almost devouring your being in the most achingly pleasant way possible as he rolled down the tinted windows.

His slender hands clad in finger-less leather gloves that gripped the steering wheel of his car with the same ease as he gripped the handles of his bike.

"Manjiro..." you deadpanned and crossed your arms in front of your chest.

Mikey chuckled softly, hint of pearlescent teeth peeking through his chiseled mouth. He reached downwards and pulled out a bouquet of gorgeous, white lillies.

Your frown turned into a gasp and then a big smile and you looked him.

"Sorry baby, was getting these ready for you, the fixes in my bike took more time than I planned so I got late in coming here," he said with a soft smile and and gestured you to come sit on the seat next him.

You open the car door and sit beside, tucking yourself with the seatbelt.

"Thank you, 'Jiro," you say with a flustered grin, holding the the lillies and sniffing their saccharine scent.

Mikey smiles and looks at you briefly squeezing the flesh on your thigh as he returns his eyes on the road, driving to the location of today's date.

"How's college been going?" he asks calmly, eyes focused on the road. The corners of his eyes, decked with fine-smile lines.

"It's been going..." you sigh tiredly, "I'm just really tired."

"My poor girl," he coos at you with a playful, little smile, his fingers trailing up and down on your thigh, "so much stress they put on your little shoulders, tsk." He mutters, "I would've helped you, but I was never the studies-kinda guy."

A flash of an idea comes into his brain as he looks at you, "I should just get you tuitions, huh? That would make it so much easier for you, and you'll get more time to spend with me."

Your eyes widen at the tempting proposition, "No, Manjiro, I can manage, really!"

Mikey raises his eyebrows as he hears your answer, but decides not to speak anything at ruin the mood for the date, "your wish, although the offer stands forever."

You nod and smile as you see the Mikey's bike garage approaching, this was your idea for the date: Manjiro teaching you how to ride a bike and Mikey was more than happy to indulge, ready to spend some quality time with you. Mikey had already gotten a spare bike from Draken's shop for you, although he insisted that you should learn on atop quality bike, you were scared to touch that thing with your rookie skills, much the less drive it.

Mikey opens the car door for you, as you smile and get up, and walk towards the bike, a little hesitant.

He puts on a helmet on you, tightening the strap around your neck and checks its sturdiness, before taking one step away, "there you go."

He walks alongside you and guides you to the bike, "alright, lets start with the basics, push the stand up, but keep holding the bike from its handles, else it will fall."

He says and you nod, easy enough, you push the stand, up with your foot, while holding the bike with your hands.

"Alright, next, plant your feet sturdily and mount the bike, easy enough." He says and stand behind the bike, just in case you lose your balance, "keep your body straight and your grip on the handle tight, just mount it like a bicycle." he explains calmly.

You take a deep breath, apprehensive, its quite different from a bicycle, but nonetheless, you follow his instructions and successfully mount the bike without falling, your feet planted on the ground.

MIkey smiles and moves towards the front and leans close, patting your head, "Good job." He says raspily, as he teaches you the basic controls of a bike, the gears, the acceleration, the pedal, the buttons.

His voice is all low and concentrated when he explains things to you. One hand on the small of your back, another on the handle, his minty breath tickling your face.

Its so difficult to concentrate at the proximity, your eyes occasionally wander to his face when he explains and you just nod.

He looks at your reaction to see if you understood or not, he chuckles when he notices how your gaze is on him instead of the bike. Leaning close to your ears, he whispers, "focus, baby." He says and you flush completely, biting your lips as you look back at the bike.

"I-I was focusing!" you retort, embarassed.

"Sure you were," he says with a laugh, his eyes moving as if he is undressing the very bits of your existence, "pay attention to me sweetheart, we wouldn't want you getting hurt when we do a little test drive tomorrow, yeah?"

You nod, softly as he explains again, this time actually paying attention.

"Phew, alright we're done for today," he says with a smile and stretches his limbs with a breathy groan, his leather jacket rising up a little.

"Alright, wanna get something eat now?" he says and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close, "my treat for you being such a nice student, such a good girl." He whispers and leans in to capture your lips in his.

© white-poppie 2023. all rights reserved. do not repost, modify, or translate without permission. do not claim work or layout as yours.

— TOKYO REVENGERS - Fanfictions

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psst, hey, over here! Uhm hi :) Do you like reading? If so can you please check out my first novel? I am a 15-year-old author who needs support, I assure you it won't disappoint! It's okay if you don't buy, it would be enough to share the link with someone else who might be interested! I humbly request you support my career as a child author by purchasing my book. This would help me to write more books in future. “Of Vengeance and Ashes” -> BUY NOW!!!!

Also Check out: L'appel du vide (✔️) (Synopsis: Your husband, Hanma Shuji is dead! With no memories of what transpired two days before his death, you team up with Tachibana Naoto, Chifuyu Matsuno, Ryuguji Ken and Mitsuya Takashi, you go on a journey full of betrayals and twists. Can you find out what really happened to your husband? 🌼 ☕🪐🧸🦋)

[punkeccentricenigma]

Hello, I saw your requests are open. So I decided to send something.

Could you write a few headcanons for the rise boys with a reader that’s from another country. And could you leave it open from where? And reader has a different native language, English would be their second language. It would be kinda funny if the turtles (or one of them) doesn’t realize reader is a foreigner at first.

I‘m not from the USA and would love to see something with a foreign reader.

Thank you and have a nice rest of your day. :3

Rise!Boys with Reader from different country

Relationship status: platonic/romantic

Reader prounouns: They/Them

TW: Some grammatical errors because english is not my first language.

Author's note: I apologize for the long wait for this order; a lot has happened in my life. Not only did many of my childhood idols turn out to be bad people, but also my mom told me to leave home after we argued, and I poured out all my grievances to her. So, well, soon I probably won't have a place to live because my savings are too small to even rent a room. Plus, my mom took away all my painkillers, and the migraines haven't disappeared, so I'm in pain all the time.

But on the bright side, with the help of my friend, I managed to create a CV, and tomorrow I'm going to submit it to a company where I can work :D Unfortunately, I'll have to wait over a month for the tests, but it will be the first step in overcoming my fear of people.

But anyway, thank you anon, have a nice day/night too!! :D

Leonardo

◇Do I really have to state the obvious as if it weren't clear? Leo is a goof; not a single thought crossed his mind that you might be even more different than him.

◇Even if April dropped subtle hints about your nationality, it just didn't register. Comics with Jupiter Jim are too captivating for him to bother with trivial facts.

◇It only hit him when your phone rang during a shared skateboarding session. When you answered and started speaking in your language, the guy literally had a Pikachu's surprised face.

◇After that, brace yourself for a million questions from the curious turtle. You'll be happy to answer.

◇Leonardo has a knack for learning languages, even if it's just basic words.

◇Thanks to Sr Hueso in his life, he's picking up Spanish. So, what's stopping him from learning your language too?

◇Btw, praise him every time he says something right; he needs that.

◇He'll also be eager to learn about cultural differences between you two. You might not seem very different, but a deeper look might reveal significant distinctions.

◇Ohohoho! National costumes? He'd gladly try them on.

◇But expect him to tease you by intentionally mispronouncing a few words or judging you based on stereotypes about people from your country.

◇If it makes you cry or get angry, he'll make sure never to do it again.

◇He likes food from your country but more as an occasional thing. If he could, he'd probably just eat pizza all the time.

Raphael

◇Raph, despite not being as dumb as Leo, suspected from the start that something was up with you that you hadn't mentioned.

◇But it never occurred to him to ask.

◇He ultimately found out from his father. Indirect, but still.

Raphael sighed throatily, rummaging through his kitchen cabinets. Your ears lightly twitched at each muffled or not-so-muffled clatter of things in those cabinets.

"What are you looking for?" Their voice carried both curiosity and a hint of irritation as she added more pepperoni slices to the light pizza dough. The turtle sighed again, this time softer, closing another cabinet to look at Their.

"I can't find any cups or glasses anywhere," his gaze expressed annoyance. "Probably those idiots kept taking new dishes instead of washing theirs, and now they're hoarding a mountain of dirty ones like hamsters."

"You complain about them, but guess whose kitchen I found a bunch of dirty plates breeding a new species in?" Their laughter started to grate on his head, but despite his efforts, a smile appeared on his rough lips.

"That's different; I, um... I'm the oldest, I'm allowed!"

"Ohohoho! [Y.N], my dear!" Splinter entered the red kitchen excitedly, appearing right behind the teenager using his ninja skills. "Are you making your delicious [Most popular dish in your country] again? My mouth waters at the mere thought!"

"Er, what?" Raph had a slightly puzzled expression, hearing about such a dish for the first time. What is that even?

"Oh, unfortunately no, just regular pizza," [Y.N] replied with an apologetic look, placing the last slice of meat. "But don't worry, maybe I'll bring that tomorrow, sounds good?"

"Oh, yes, definitely!"

◇Shortly after that incident, he asked about that dish.

"Oh? That's one of the dishes from my country."

"From your country? I didn't think America had such food to offer."

"Raph, I'm not from America."

"... What?"

◇Less surprised than Leo, but still.

◇Since then, you've been explaining everything about yourself and your country to him.

◇The biggest fan of dishes from your country, especially the way you make them.

◇Raph has a simple mind, so it will take a long time before he grasps the basics of your language, but he remembers many words that he tries to use at the nearest opportunity.

◇He loves it when he says a word correctly, and you pat him on the head as a reward.

◇As for clothing... sorry, but he's too big for that.

◇BUT, you'll make him bracelets in the colors of the flag if he insists.

◇There won't be jokes about your origin; Raph is too respectful turtle for that.

Donatello

◇He's not dumb (usually), and I think he'll be the first to ask if there's anything you haven't told him.

◇Of course, what is life without a bit of fun? You denied it.

◇Thanks to that, it was a game of cat and mouse for two weeks.

◇Eventually, Donnie hacked into one of your social media accounts where you clearly stated which country you're from. If not, he just had to check the login history in different countries.

◇Of course, he got a smack on the back of the head.

(And it's very possible his brothers put him in isolation overnight, you know, that place when Splinter had a fever? Who knows.)

◇You think he won't quickly learn the basics of your language? Dude, he taught a squirrels sign language, what can't he do?

◇Thanks to that, you can talk about various topics that shouldn't be brought up around his family in your native language.

◇And as a fun fact, wanting to surprise him, you asked Shelldon to teach you binary code. The guy was amazed, and Leo wanted to perform exorcisms on you.

◇Maybe he's not as intrigued by your culture, but he wouldn't want to offend you, so if you start talking about it, he won't stop you.

◇On the other hand, he really appreciates national costumes, maybe even doing that scene with you like they were hypnotized? You won't have to ask him for long.

◇Not a big fan of your national dishes, maybe because of the consistency? Or the unusual taste?

◇He'll likely tease you about your origin, but they'll be harmless jokes.

Michelangelo

◇Silly kid. Just a silly kid.

◇Nah, kidding, it just never crossed his mind that his friend is from a different country.

◇And you found it amusing to some extent.

◇Eventually, you told him about it when he got fascinated by a painting from your country.

◇Surprised Pikachu face ver.2

◇Probably the most excited about learning your culture, even if he doesn't understand it and it differs significantly from what's prevalent in America.

◇If your country has an unusual drawing style, he'll beg you to try it together. How can you refuse such an angel? (Not really an angel, especially when Dr. Rude comes into play)

◇He'll be the first to want to try on national costumes, both male and female.

◇He'll also want to, this time by himself, cook some dishes from your country.

◇He burned the kitchen.

◇A total failure when it comes to learning languages, so either you give up on teaching him, or you'll need a lot of patience.

◇Relatively supportive turtle, but he won't be as mindful of your origin afterward; it'll be like it used to be with the extra toppings.

[theworldoffostering]

The kids are learning so much! Pumpkin hates having her nails clipped, but a near-empty jar of peanut butter made her content enough to allow E to give it a shot.

H wanted to learn how to make jello. I never buy it but hey, that’s a cheap and easy skill to learn so we did that this week. E wanted to make mac n’ cheese so we did that too, in addition to the scratch cinnamon rolls.

I spent a very stressful week fighting with insurance. I took DS to an appt last week at our local clinic where we have been patients for more than 20 years. They refused to see him because they said his insurance was out of network. We’ve had the same insurance all year. I pulled it up on the website and showed that they were in-network. It didn’t matter. They told me to call the 800 number and made me leave.

I left. I called the 800 number. The insurance people at corporate said I was in network. I called the local clinic back and they said they needed to work things out and they would call me back. They did not call me back. I called them again on Tuesday and Thursday. No one could articulate what the issue was. They told me to take DS to the ER. It was a muscle strain as he’s running on the cross country team so the ER wasn’t warranted. I asked to speak to the clinic manager. They refused. They told me that a financial advocate was working on things. How would a financial advocate be working for me when they won’t speak to me. The phone manager said she could “see both sides” of the issue. When I asked her to clarify the “sides” because I did not understand the problem, she refused.

Yesterday someone from the clinic called and told me our insurance was in network. She was super, super rude to me when I asked questions to try to ascertain what the issue was and she actually hung up the phone on me! I again asked to speak to a clinic manager. She refused. Then I asked her to tell me the name of the manager. She refused.

The whole thing is so bizarre. Finally got DS in for an appt a week after the original appt was scheduled (that’s how long it took them to work it out), but only to urgent care. They said there’s a problem, but we don’t know what yet.

I’m pretty sure what the clinic did was illegal. Refused care when we are in-network. Can they do that?

I filed a formal complaint with their corporate office and am trying to understand if this sort of thing falls under the responsibilities of the state insurance commissioner. I also told HR at my job and they said they would follow up with the clinic.

But hours of phone calls, no answers, and a kid who is still hurting is not my idea of a good time.

[disturbedbeautywrites]

🎵: send me a song and a character and I’ll write a blurb based on it

mood ring by kira kosarin + steve harrington

Mood Ring - Steve Harrington

A/N: so this idea wouldn’t leave my head so here’s some angsty fluff :)

Nothing bad can ever happen to us as long as we’re together. That was the motto you and Steve Harrington lived by growing up. It started when you both learned to ride your bikes, each helping the other up when you fell. It followed you into school, sticking together to keep bullies away. It helped you navigate the awkward firsts; deciding to be each others first kisses and first hand holds to get it out of the way.

The two of you were two peas in a pod; inseparable since you moved in next door to him at the age of 4. The two of you were the best of friends and you continued to be when Steve asked you to the Valentines Dance when the two of you were in 8th grade and you decided to date each other; becoming each others first boyfriend and girlfriend.

Things were going amazing for the two of you, until one day your parents dropped a bomb on you that you were moving for your dads job. It broke your heart and you and Steve decided to try long distance. However, navigating love and relationships across the country at the age of 15 proved to be too much for both of you. You both decided to end things mutually, vowing to stay best friends. That, however, did not happen.

Once you were gone and he was in high school, Steve started getting girls attention like never before. He barely even had to try and they were throwing themselves at him; especially once you weren’t on his arm constantly. He didn’t mind, actually relishing the attention and soon you were only a fleeting thought in his mind. His phone calls got fewer and fewer to the point that you just gave up on him calling anymore.

That was 3 years ago and now you were back in Hawkins for your senior year of high school. You couldn’t be happier to be back in your home town with all of your old friends. Since moving, they had tried to keep you updated with everything Hawkins with the exception of what was going on with Steve. It was too hurtful to even hear his name. Steve Harrington was a stranger to you and you were now one to him. Maybe that’s the way things were meant to be.

Your thoughts were racing as you sat in the cafeteria at the table farthest away from the door, your eyes scanning your new schedule. You heard someone clear their throat at you, your eyes landing on the frame of a red haired girl who looked down right pissed. “Don’t you know this table is reserved?” Her tone was prissy in a way that made you roll your eyes, looking behind you. “Well, I don’t see a name on it.”

The girl gasped, looking at the boy beside her. Your eyes now focused on him, taking in his appearance. He was handsome, but the girl on his arm that was trying way too hard to get his attention was a huge distraction. “There doesn’t have to be a name sweetheart. The Steve Harrington sits there every single lunch period, how do you not know that?” The name hit you like a ton of bricks and you thought your eyes might bulge out of your head. You took a second to compose yourself, your eyes taking in the boy again and seeing how he kind of resembled the Steve you knew years ago.

“I-um… I’m new here.” You gathered up your stuff and stood up, deciding to see how Steve would react to the news you were about to break to him. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N). I just transferred back in from California.” You gave them a small smile, seeing Steve’s eyes flash with realization as he slowly dropped his smirk.

“Wait- as in…? The (Y/N)? Your best friend?” The girl looked at Steve, her eyes furrowing in confusion as you let out a dark chuckle, crossing your arms over your chest. Oh, this would be good. You decided to let him answer, just seeing him stammer and stutter over his words. “Uh- no. That was a long time ago, Carol..” He didn’t have anything else to say, his voice faltering off as you nodded and cleared your throat.

“Yeah, such a long time ago.” You looked down at your feet and kicked at the floor. “But uh, I actually have to go.” You shook your head before excusing yourself, walking off to somewhere you could catch your breath. You felt tears welling up in your eyes, sinking down against a wall in a nearby bathroom. You pulled your knees up to your chest, hearing the door open. You ignored it and felt the wet spots drip down your cheeks as a body sat next to you.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?” His voice had changed. It was deeper now, more fitting of the man he had filled out to be. At the sound, you dared to look up at him. His eyes were still the same dark brown, concern lacing them as he looked down at you. He was never good at hiding his emotions, ever.

You scoffed, shaking your head at him. “As if you would’ve answered the damn phone anyways. You stopped calling years ago. You forgot about me.” Your voice broke and showed timidness, seeing hurt flash in his brown orbs. “But, I can see why now. You got popular, didn’t you? You didn’t need me anymore. You had better friends.”

Steve started to shake his head before he sighed, picking up your chin with his index finger. “That’s not how that happened.” He showed sincerity in his eyes as he ran his gaze over your face; his fingers staying under your chin. “I was devastated when you left. Hell, I’m still devastated.”

You let out another cold chuckle, shaking your head. “You don’t look too devastated. You have a girl on your arm and girls practically throwing themselves at you. There were girls that were freaking out if you even looked at them in the lunchroom.” You never thought you would be having this conversation with Steve. You didn’t think this much would change since you last saw him, but here you were. “You’ve changed so much.”

A silence passed between the two of you before he started to talk, treading carefully on his words. “Yeah, I changed. But, it’s been 3 years! You have to understand that.” He tan a hand through his hair, chewing on his bottom lip. “Once you left, I didn’t know what to do with myself. Talking to you on the phone made me happy but also sad. It was hard, hearing you upset and not being able to help. I also felt like I was making you even sadder..”

“Okay, no. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to turn this around on me like you were doing me a favor.” You glared at him, moving your face from his grip, shaking your head at him and biting back more tears. “We were best friends and you just disappeared..”

A sigh left his lips as he carefully moved to sit in front of you again, his hand moving up to cup your cheek in his hand. “I know and I regret it every day.” He was stroking your cheek with his thumb, his eyes staring deep into yours. “And the reason I changed was because I didn’t know how to be without you. I was so sad, I started to go to parties. When I went to parties, I started meeting girls. It started an unhealthy lifestyle that I got sucked into as a distraction.”

You just listened, your cheek instinctively moving into his hand as his familiar touch sent shocks through your body. You put your hand over his, finding yourself moving a little closer to him.

“I miss you everyday, pretty girl. What do you say we try the whole thing over? I can actually take you on a real date without my mom having to be there this time.” He smiled his charming smile, making your heart race as you nodded. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss that made your head spin and your heart race.

“As long as you promise that we go on better dates this time.”

[blankdblank]

Eclipse Buddy

Oc approaches Superman off to the side for a moment of somewhat privacy at end of Justice League meeting wrapping up their latest day in the office. “Oh, and there’s going to be a solar eclipse tomorrow.”

“...Good, to know...Hope you enjoy it.” Superman says and says good day, flying off uncertain of why they brought it up to him like that.

Oc when Superman is gone turns to the others and says, “Now guys, don’t forget, tomorrow is the Solar eclipse and Superman is not going to be available, so plan accordingly if you get a call for help message.” The group as oc leaves with a grin chat quietly amongst themselves, curious about how they had missed Supes was a solar system fan.

.

 For the first time in his entire life Clark Kent woke up feeling just awful. Spending the first hour of his day checking for possible hidden Kryptonite pockets hidden inside his home before eating and heading off to work, not feeling like he slept or ate at all. Barely able to need to fake being weak or a clutz today. Still he expected someone to call as he learned of various troubles across the country the rest of the team seemed to be buddying up to take on. Not a single one messaging him at all, until he got one from Aquaman to meet up in the park.

Blanket, pillows, snacks and beer for the both of them around a matching set of eclipse glasses with his teammate who watched the caped hero arrive on the public bus as it was a bit hard for him to fly at the moment. “Hey buddy, figured you might want some company. Been a while since I got up to anything like stargazing,” heavily Superman plopped down and crossed his legs accepting the beer Aquaman had removed the metal top to it and offered to him. “But I figure if you’re a big star buff be nice to have some company with it and all.” Aquaman grinned at him in opening his own beer he tapped to the bottom of Superman’s, the latter who just blinked at his teammate a moment then took a curious sip to not be rude. “So, you always take eclipses and all that off? Hear something’s set to go down with the color of the moon in a couple months when the sun gets blocked off its path, must be excited about that.”

“I, what? Who said I take eclipses off?”

“Oc, said not to forget you were taking off for the eclipse. So, what’s your favorite moon color, actually caught it turn this purple color once when I was helping my dad on his boat, I was six, I think. Couldn’t have been older than nine.”

“I, I mean I like it when it turns orange,” Superman answered and contained his absolute bewilderment at this topic he held in to not spoil the fun his teammate seemed to be having for the few hours they spent watching the eclipse come on and pass by.

.

The next day Superman floats up behind Oc when they are alone and with direct eye contact in a flat tone, to be direct but not outwardly rude, he asked, “Oc, why did you tell the team I am an avid fan of Astronomy? And more importantly, why did you tell them not to contact me yesterday?”

“Because of the eclipse,” oc answered plainly and his brows arched up. “I never said you were an Astronomy fan.”

“Oc, I’m going to ask you again, why did you tell the team-?”

“Because of the eclipse.” Oc repeated and he inadvertently began to lean in out of irritation at the lack of an answer he could decipher. “You said it yourself that one time about your ice fortress dad in the North Pole, he said you get your strength from the red sun.”

“Oc,” he repeated and felt his brow twitch at his determination.

Only making oc reach up and tug him down closer to their face by the base of his cape around his neck, “An eclipse is the absence of the sun. The giant red star that grants Superman his strength according to his ice fortress of a father.” His lips parted as it dawned on him and Oc nods, “Faster than a speeding bullet but you still haven’t upgraded the dialup in the noggin.” Oc lets go of his cape and pats him on the cheek twice in their turn to walk away to get back to their pre meeting tasks and he straightens up again.

Saying to himself, “That’s what was wrong with me…” only to follow after oc asking, “What do you suppose is going to go down with that moon thing in a couple months? We’ve got some plans in the works for that ring of shape shifters.”

[ariel-seagull-wings]

THE MAGICIAN OF VENICE

@themousefromfantasyland @princesssarisa @tamisdava2 @grimoireoffolkloreandfairytales @softlytowardthesun @the-gentile-folklorist @the-blue-fairie @professorlehnsherr-almashy

(Spanish Folktale)

There lived in the city of Córdoba, Spain, a young aristocrat. Of an aristocrat, in fact, he was only in name, since his family had lost all their money. His palace, magnificent in the past, had also fallen into disrepair.

He walked, desolate, through the streets of the city, insensible to the charm of the courtyards where the fountains sang and exhaled an intoxicating scent of orange blossoms. The young man could start working, earning a living, but just thinking about the word work made him want to yawn. He only dreamed of glory and power.

One day, the young man heard about a great magician capable of fulfilling all wishes. He lived in Venice, in faraway Italy. So he decided to leave, crossing the Pyrenees, bordering the Mediterranean Sea and crossing the Alps. After a good few weeks he arrived in Venice. He walked through the city of a hundred bridges, dozens of canals and narrow streets. Thanks to his noble name, he was invited to visit the most sumptuous palaces in the city. He dined with men covered in gold and women in velvet and satin.

He witnessed secret conversations in which coups, poisonings and betrayals were plotted. He courted princesses with delicate faces and dry hearts. Basking in this life of luxuries and pleasures, his desire for power only increased.

However, it was in a stinking alley, next to a dirty water channel, that he found the magician's miserable house. The young man opened the door, entered and found a dark and cold room.

There, a frail old man was reading by candlelight an ancient book of magic with yellowed pages.

“What are you looking for that is so important that took you on such a long journey?”

“I seek glory and power.”

Answered the young man, sure.

“I'm ready to pay whatever it takes to find them."

The magician asked the visitor to sit down, opened a bottle of wine and, while he drank, watched him in silence.

“I can give you what you want.”

Finally said the magician.

“But in three years' time, as soon as your wishes are fulfilled, I ask you to bring me a beautiful roast goose yourself, on a silver platter. That will be my only payment.”

The young man, happy to obtain the realization of his dreams at such a low price, accepted immediately. The magician then blew out the candle. The room was plunged into complete darkness and he simply whispered:

“Very well, off you go!”

The young man felt transported by air. In the blink of an eye, he was home again, in his city in Spain, thousands of kilometers from Venice.

His life changed immediately. He, who had never learned to read and write, received an invitation to be the bishop of the region. Shortly thereafter, thanks to the influence of important people with whom he befriended, he became a cardinal. No one had ever seen such a rapid rise in the Church hierarchy. He went on to have devoted employees and command dozens of people. Courtiers crowded into his halls, all wanting the honor of being his friend.

Lo and behold, the pope of Rome died and he was appointed to replace him! He began to reign over the entire Christian world and also over kings of countless countries who, at that time, were subject to the pope's authority. He was at the height of his glory and his power!

But one night, retracing his successor journey in thought, the young aristocrat remembered that the following day would be three years since his meeting with the magician. He remembered the promise and with a slightly mocking smile he said to himself:

“Certainly this man did not foresee how far my conquest would go. I owe him the bird I promised.”

He, however, had much more important things to do than go to Venice to deliver it! Unavoidable meetings awaited him and he thought it unworthy to go out and get lost in the magician's stinking street. If anyone recognized him, it would be the end of his reputation!

The aristocrat then called an employee and asked him to bring the most beautiful roast goose he could find to the magician, on a magnificent silver platter. And he completed:

“And don't worry about the costs. I want the best and most beautiful!”

But, as soon as he gave that order, he felt a great chill. His eyes closed for a moment and when he opened them he saw the magician bending over him.

“You've only slept an hour, young man. The wine you drank had properties that made you dream of the destiny you aspired to. And then I could see that you weren't worthy of glory and power, you wouldn't know how to make good use of them. You sent the bird that called us through the servants. How can you ignore that no silver platter is worth more than a friendship? How vile you are, without soul and heart! Vile you will remain, in the oblivion of the world. As for me, what a pity, it will not be this time that I will be able to taste the taste of a roasted goose! I can just offer you my dinner, this dish of lentils..."

Without a word, the traveler got to his feet. Without a word, he returned to his home, brooding over his fate, or perhaps just himself.

[aurumacadicus]

I posted 1,619 times in 2022

That's 185 more posts than 2021!

1,265 posts created (78%)

354 posts reblogged (22%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@aurumacadicus

@reioka-reads

@gayspacesprinkles

@daughter-of-sea-and-wisdom

@thatpunnyperson

I tagged 1,507 of my posts in 2022

Only 7% of my posts had no tags

#real life tbh - 221 posts

#me - 196 posts

#movies - 135 posts

#delete later - 102 posts

#family stories - 95 posts

#writing updates - 90 posts

#aurumacadicus answers - 88 posts

#stony - 81 posts

#books - 77 posts

#my photos - 76 posts

Longest Tag: 133 characters

#to be clear: pepper and happy asked her out separately and may panicked and threw a picture frame at them and she fuckin nailed happy

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Sometimes… using spark notes…. Is better.

315 notes - Posted June 8, 2022

#4

Reverse Indiana Jones where archaeologists from looted countries break in to steal back antiquities from White Museums. I know it’s been mentioned before but no one mentioned this idea, which is: It’s a different archaeologist from each country and they get together to plan a heist. The group as a whole is called Indiana Jones but in the group their code names are all “Your favorite pet’s name is your first name and the most common last name in your country is your last name.”

Bonus: Some of these archaeologists know the others because hey they read papers and go to conferences but they are absolutely committed to the joke.

375 notes - Posted January 24, 2022

#3

When I say Iron Man is the best MCU movie I mean that in a “it was made before the MCU became a behemoth, it really wasn’t expected to be as loved as it was, it was a perfect storm of everything falling into place and if it had been made later in the series it would have been just as soulless as the later films and shows” way. Like yes it’s also a “because I love Iron Man” way but it’s also the movie that started it all. If they’d made Endgame with even a fraction of the fun and joy and genuine love and care for the character that Jon Favreau had, it would have been a better movie.

The actors literally didn’t know what was happening around them in the scenes they acted in in Endgame. In stark contrast, Iron Man only had the story and action details down pat, not dialogue, and the actors could play around with what little script they did have, ad-libbing most of the film, so it comes out more natural. Jeff Bridges even said he was uncomfortable not having a whole script because he liked knowing all his lines beforehand, but “realizing it was like being in a ‘two hundred-million-dollar student film’ took the pressure off of him and made it fun.” Endgame could never.

512 notes - Posted September 4, 2022

#2

I’m thinking of an Identity Porn AU where Steve came out of the ice, looked at SHIELD for two seconds, then went “nah” and fucked off to go be Nomad. He’s still Captain America sometimes, when he needs to be, but most people think he’s a phony, so he sticks to the Nomad costume for most things, including interacting with the Avengers (the only one of whom he can identify is Natasha, and who immediately clocks him because “you’re built like Cool Ranch, Steve.”).

Of course, because he has rapport with Natasha, he follows her on Twitter, and right now she’s in a battle with someone whose handle is simply “TheMechanic,” but whose name is “NomadRawMeChallenge.”

“You really need to learn how to be appropriate on the internet,” Natasha had tweeted.

“What I really need is Nomad to raw me until I’m too dick-stupid to tweet,” TheMechanic had replied.

And, well, Steve is just a man, okay? He thinks it’s funny that TheMechanic has a tweet chain fifty-seven tweets long that’s just an ode to the deep V of his costume, or the obviously drunken ramblings of how he’d been an equestrian when he was younger so he could absolutely “ride Nomad hard enough his eyes fucking cross under that dumb domino mask.” Sometimes Natasha begs him to filter himself and TheMechanic belligerently asks her if she thinks his ass deserves to not be fucked and if she really wanted him to shut up she should prove her strap game.

“What’s a strap game?” Steve types into google, and mostly just has more questions, because it looks like TheMechanic wants Natasha to prove she’s got guns on her.

But again. Steve’s just a man. So one day when he’s feeling a little horny, he recklessly tweets to TheMechanic, “Hey,” and then a selfie he’d taken the night before on a rooftop right before he’d taken down some AIM thugs trying to steal from Stark Industries. He doesn’t get an immediate response but that’s okay. The guy doesn’t have to be online all the time.

Steve is just tucking his phone into his pocket when Iron Man flies into the room—literally flies, repulsors leaving scorch marks on the carpet. Steve opens his mouth to scold him.

“NATASHA WE HAVE A CODE RED NOMAD TWEETED ME HELP WHAT DO I SAY,” Iron Man bellows, and Steve nearly swallows his tongue. “Oh hi Steve, hope I’m not interrupting. NATASHA THIS IS IMPORTANT,” he shouts, turning back to her.

Natasha lets out a bark of hysterical laughter. Steve can only surmise that it’s because his mouth is still hanging open and he’s staring at Iron Man like he’s a ghost.

“Natasha this is important I only have one first impression,” Iron Man hisses. “I need to ride that dick. I have been horny since the first night I saw that stupid costume NATASHA HELP ME.”

“I’ll just leave you two to work on this,” Steve says hastily.

It’s only his super hearing that catches Iron Man mournfully asking, “Do you think your hot artist friend would be willing to pity-dick me if Nomad turns me down?”

“Oh my god,” Natasha chokes out, voice full of mirth, and Steve hates that this is probably the most fun she’s had in literal years.

579 notes - Posted March 28, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Just had the funniest fucking crack idea: Pepper and Rhodey require written essays from Tony’s prospective beaus now. He is ridiculously codependent with Rhodey and Pepper thinks it’s hilarious so she encourages it. Why do they like Tony? How do they feel about him? Why do they think they deserve him? Rhodey and Pepper are mostly doing it for shits and giggles but sometimes an essay alarms them enough to put their feet down and scare someone off. But mostly it’s for fun.

“What the fuck is this,” Rhodey asks as Steve hands him a sheaf of paper. It looks a lot like one of his dissertations from college. It’s professionally bound and everything.

“Natasha told me that people who want to date Tony have to submit an essay on why they should be able to for you and Pepper to read,” Steve answers earnestly.

Rhodey does not burst out laughing in his face, but only because he’s flipped to the back page and sees Steve really did write a fucking dissertation on why he should be able to date Tony. It’s almost three hundred pages. Even his dissertation at MIT wasn’t that long. “Uh, okay,” he finally says, for lack of anything else, and then, “Oh my God. A citation page.”

“I had to go through some stuff about me and Captain America as a whole to state my case and Bruce said I needed to cite my sources because apparently I can’t just say ‘my life,’” Steve huffs. “Especially if I’m arguing against it.”

It’s APA format to boot. Rhodey stares at it. “Okay.” He looks up at Steve. “Did you get this professionally edited, or…”

“Natasha edited it and Bruce went over it for citation errors,” Steve answers, enthused again. “I wanted to be thorough. I really like Tony.”

“Okay,” Rhodey says again, wondering if he can just skim it. His phone vibrates. He picks it up to look at the text.

Jim fuck oh my god look at this

He opens the picture and immediately wants to weep at how fucking funny it is.

Tony is an asshole. He steals my coffee in the mornings and makes fun of my shirts and is an idiot for not realizing I wear them on purpose because he likes to stare at my muscles. In this section I will list why 1) he is stupid, 2) I like that about him, 3) he must be blind, and 4) I would like to simultaneously throw him down the garbage chute and also very delicately kiss the laugh lines around his beautiful eyes.

“I’ll go sit with Pepper and read this behemoth,” Rhodey chokes out, forcing back tears of mirth. He gets up and moves toward the elevator.

“If you have any suggestions on things I could change, I’m open to them,” Steve tells him seriously, and Rhodey loses the battle and starts cackling before the elevator doors close.

Rhodey is almost put off by the section labeled “Intercourse: Why It Would Be Great” but it’s mostly just cited pictures of Tony labeled “look at this shit. How am I meant to go on. Who allowed him to wear these pants.” Well, first of all, Rhodey, and second of all, it was the eighties and everyone was wearing them.

609 notes - Posted January 21, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[tfrb-forest-fire-survivors-au]

Incorrect quotas firefighter Duo and Cody addition

Cody: Sometimes I like to place my hands on someone’s cheeks, look into their eyes...

Cody: ...And violently jerk their head until it snaps.

Kade: ...That took an unexpected turn.

Heatwave: So did their neck.

Kade: Something tells me Cody's going to be a bit more unhinged today...

Cody, holding a lit match and a bag of cheetos: Leave me be, Heatwave isn't home to stop me, I'm going feral.

Heatwave: Guess what number I’m thinking of.

Kade: 420?

Heatwave: No, that’s really immature of you. Someone else guess, and please take this seriously.

Cody: 69.

Heatwave: Yeah it was 69.

Cody: *accidentally eats something too spicy so his eyes start to water*

Heatwave: cody, look at me. It's okay. I would die for you. I love you so much. You're the best person I know.

Cody: I'm not crying?

Heatwave, hugging Cody in his hand: shhhh

*Cody sneezes*

Heatwave: cody, are you sick? Here, let me wrap you in a blanket and hand-feed you some warm soup while singing you a lullaby!

*Kade sneezes*

Heatwave: Oh my god. Shut the hell up.

Store Worker: Would a “Heatwave” please come to the front desk?

Heatwave, arriving at the desk: Hello, is there a problem?

Store Worker, pointing to Cody and Kade: I believe they belong to you?

Cody and Kade, simultaneously: We got lost.

Heatwave: I didn’t even bring you guys here with me—

Kade: I dropped Cody.

Heatwave: Kade, what the fuck.

Heatwave: Dinosaurs aren't extinct. I mean, Kade is walking in this room.

Cody: *wheeze*

Heatwave: You need a hobby.

Kade: I have a hobby!

Heatwave: making fun of Cody isn't a hobby.

*Kade and heatwave teaching Cody to drive*

Kade: That's a pothole. To the left!

Cody: Take it back now y'all *Drives into pothole*

Heatwave: Cha Cha real smooth.

Cody: I don't think that's how the song goes.

Kade, crying and gripping the handle: Please just take me home.

Cody: Country Roads.

Heatwave: To the place.

Cody and Heatwave in unison: I Belong!

Kade, crying harder: What the fuck?

Heatwave: Cody, what does IDK, ILY, and TTYL mean?

Cody: I don’t know, I love you, talk to you later.

Heatwave: Alright, I love you too, I'll ask Kade.

Cody: Wait- Heatwave, no-

Heatwave: Where’s Cody?

Kade: Around.

Heatwave: Around?

Heatwave: You don’t have any idea, do you?

Cody, dropping down from above: Did you know there’s a space above the ceiling?

Kade, knocking on the door: cody, open up!

Cody: It all started when I was a kid.

Kade: That’s not what I-

Heatwave: Let him finish!

Kade: Heatwave isn’t answering my messages.

Cody: Allow me.

Kade: I tried 6 times, what makes you thi-

Heatwave: *replying to message* Hello

Cody, learning how to drive: What happens if I press the gas and the brake at the same time?

Kade: The car takes a screenshot.

Heatwave: Please let go of the wheel. I’m driving now.

Kade: So, Heatwave and Cody.

Kade: According to this, you two are being accused of: Armed Robbery, Vandalism, Drug Abuse, Grand Theft Auto…

Heatwave: We had a bad day.

Kade: And… MURDER?!

Cody: It was a pretty bad day

Kade: So, Cody is no longer allowed to take the trash out at night.

Heatwave: Why?

Kade: Because Dad's caught them trying to train raccoons to fight five times in a row.

Cody, arms crossed and pouting: You'll all be thanking me when the third raccoon battalion saves your ass.

[btscarnivalnet]

Headliner of the Month

Hello, Carnival Goers and Performers alike. Please give a round of applause for our Headliner of the Month: Our Wonderful Performer: Satvrn @herecomesjoon You are our Headliner of the Month! During this month, we want to showcase your incredible talent and skill and share it with the Carnival! For this month, we want you to pick three fics of yours that you’d like us to showcase, and we also wanted to ask you some questions so we can understand how you write, why and what you want to get across with your fics.

All questions are answered based on these three fics. Please read and give them some love!

A Year Of Sunshine Summary: You had always talked about being parents, but you didn’t imagine it would happen like this. Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Rating: 16+

A Brand New Day Summary: Moving away from home is terrifying, especially away from family. A lot can go wrong. But when you move cross country and start your first year of college, you learn that making your own family where you are is what will help you through the next several years. Pairing: Jungkook x Reader x Jimin x Reader x Hoseok Rating: 16+ Light Jar Summary: You grew up with him, and fell in love with him, knowing in your heart that he would never feel the same. An escape to college brought you stability, and you were able to set aside your adolescent feelings. When Namjoon showed up at your college coffee shop, you realized that those feelings never went away.  Pairing: Namjoon x Reader Rating: 18+

When did you start writing fics, and why? 

I started writing BTS Fanfic specifically in December of 2021. Dec. 11th is the one year anniversary for my first fic in the fandom. Overall though, man I think I published something when I was 16 or 17, so 2006 or 2007. But I’ve been writing in general as a way to explore the ideas and feelings I’ve had but had never had the courage or energy to explore. My introduction to ARMY was one that was pleasant and safe, and so after several months of just watching from the sidelines. Liking fic after reading them and reblogging visual content, I took the plunge. I started writing Light Jar first, but Switch ended up being the first published. Which looking back was the better call. I feel like if I had forced myself into completing Light Jar first, the final chapter wouldn’t have been as cathartic as it was for me. 

I think fanfic in general is a safe space for people to explore themselves. To indulge in ideas and fantasies that they can’t otherwise. And along the same lines, play by post roleplay is similar. Being able to put yourself into someone else’s shoes lets you think about these things. 

What was your first fic? (provide a link if you want?) First published BTS fic, Switch.

What is your latest fic? I’ve written several drabbles, but full length oneshot, A Year Of Sunshine

Fic Specific Questions

Why did you choose to write about the fics you have chosen? 

AYOS was started as an exploration in grief and mourning at a time that I really hadn’t experienced that. Outside of my grandmothers passing back in 2015, all of my family are still around, though I still miss my Grandma every day.

Sadly, the passing of my husband in September 2022 changed that. However, I’m glad that I had this fic as a way to comfort myself. A gentle reminder to lean on the people that were still around me, and that with time comes healing. In that way, AYOS has quickly become my favorite thing I’ve written.

Light Jar was a love letter to my roots in role play and my younger self. The plots and relationships that me and my friends would build together were wild and dramatic. The knowing looks from your friends, and the exasperation when two people you care about are so obviously in love. In a way too, this mirrored my own relationship with my husband, which at its core, was a solid friendship.

A Brand New Day was originally going to be a one-shot and it quickly grew out of hand. I wanted to write a ‘I fell for my grumpy neighbor’ fic that quickly got bigger than it should have been. It’s still incomplete due to life happening, but it still is one of the fics that I am most proud of. Because I did start writing this earlier in 2022, and while I was still figuring out how I wanted to approach writing fanfic, I decided to have a named reader. I think if I could go back and start again, I would just have Charlie be an OC and I should have written in the more familiar and comfortable third person. 

One of the things that I like about this fic too is that although it is written from Charlie's perspective, I still found ways to show the relationships between the guys as well. I know that Member x Member fic aren’t the most popular, at least here on tumblr, but the desire to share and tell queer stories is important to me. I wanted it to be clear that all of the guys had a relationship before Charlie, and her being added into the mix didn’t suddenly change the dynamic that they had before. It felt dishonest I guess, to have Hobi, or JK say that suddenly, they didn’t want to continue their relationships with each other all because some girl came along. And more importantly, that she wasn’t needed to make whatever they had whole. 

As it were, I still really love this fic because it was a comforting message of leaning into your own feelings and letting them just exist without overwhelming. I still have a lot of plans for Charlie and the guys, so I can’t wait to share those with everyone

What was the most memorable line for you in each of the fics?

A Year of Sunshine

“NO! IT’S NOT READY!” She came running out of the closet, half dressed in one of her nice dresses and sparkly leggings. 

“What’s not ready?” You noticed that she had pulled out the Army Bombs that you had gifted her over the years and used hair ties and scarves to attach them to some of the squishmallows.

“My concert isn’t ready!” She shouted at you again and pushed you back towards the door and out into the hallway.

Light Jar

You still could hardly believe it, and you touched the tips of your fingers delicately to your lips, still able to feel the way he melted into you. It felt right, like he was the missing piece to the puzzle of your life, and you could hold it in your hands, seeing how the contours of him would fit so snugly and seamlessly. The only thing to do now was to press him into place, right where he belonged with you. 

What was your writing process like for each fic? 

I start most of my fics with a very specific feeling in mind, usually accompanied by a little scene. I remember early on in writing ABND there was a scene with Jimin, Jungkook and Charlie that was such a clear picture in my mind. I actually wrote it before I started the first chapter of that fic. And then as a sort of test for the idea, I did write Something Borrowed, which is a glimpse of Charlie deep into her relationship with the guys and really coming into her own. I could see so clearly in my mind how she and Namjoon would start dating. 

All of these moods and vignettes sort of become the center of the fic and I build around them. I ask myself, how do we get to this point? What has to happen in order for these feelings and events to make sense? And what happens after? Are these characters where I want them to be by the time this scene happens, and if not, how do they proceed?

What do you hope readers will take away from the fics?

The biggest thing I hope people get is just a sense of comfort. I also hope that I can trigger some sort of memory or feeling, especially when I describe places or the quiet moments between two people.

Why do you keep writing? What drives you?

My need to create. I had a 7 year dry spell, and when I was finally finding joy in writing again, I just could not stop. Ultimately, I create for myself. I write the stories that I want to read. Having other people read them and enjoy them is a bonus. 

Any writing goals you’ve recently hit? Any goals that you are planning to hit?

It’s already been a year since I published my first fic in this fandom. In that year, I have published a little over 88 thousand words. If you take into account all of the WIP stuff, I have over 100k. I know it’s not a competition, and no award is waiting for me for accomplishing this, but I am still proud of myself. Each word that I’ve written is proof that I still have things to say. Still have things that I want to explore and share. I hope in the next year, I can maybe have part two of the Seven Ways To Love series. Who knows, maybe I can double that yearly word count. 

[notesonartistry]

Taylor Swift's road to fame

Behind the scenes of the teen sensation's career, from guitar lessons to sold-out shows

By Chris Willman

Updated February 05, 2008 at 05:00 AM EST

”I love turning on pop radio and hearing my song,” allows Taylor Swift, the 18-year-old country music sensation. ”But,” she adds, mindful of her base, ”I don’t look at it as crossover as much as spillover.”

Her cup definitely runneth over. In 2007, Swift’s debut album was one of the top 10 all-genre SoundScan sellers. And all those sales came in while a lot of non-country-lovers had yet to hear of her…or, if they had, were still asking, ”Taylor Swift? Who’s he?” She’s harder to escape now: Besides several smash hits at country radio, she’s moved into the upper levels of the Top 40 format with a remix of her heartbreak ballad ”Teardrops on My Guitar.” (In recent years, only Carrie Underwood, with ”Before He Cheats,” has successfully managed that leap.) MTV is even playing it. And since the album has such legs, it’s a good bet to cross the triple-platinum mark, almost unheard of in this era of plunging record sales. She’s got to be the most popular high school senior in America right now. So: teardrops, schmeardrops… Did being 18 ever suck any less?

But she wasn’t always the belle of the ball, personally or professionally; those rejection anthems she’s so adept at writing weren’t penned purely as fiction. We profiled the rising siren in this week’s issue of EW. But for this exclusive EW.com bonus feature, we also talked with some of the people who were with her on the way up, including her mother, manager, and label president, to find out some of the strategizing that went into achieving one of the last year’s few true musical success stories.

NEXT PAGE: From karaoke to Nashville

The chipmunk years. ”When I was 10, or younger than that, even, I would watch these biographies on Faith Hill or the Dixie Chicks or Shania Twain or LeAnn Rimes, and the thing I kept hearing was that they had to go to Nashville,” Swift remembers. She talked her parents into letting her fly out for a visit. ”I took my demo CDs of karaoke songs, where I sound like a chipmunk — it’s pretty awesome — and my mom waited in the car with my little brother while I knocked on doors up and down Music Row. I would say, ‘Hi, I’m Taylor. I’m 11; I want a record deal. Call me.”’ They didn’t. (But you have to wonder how many of the folks who answered those doors suddenly flashed back to that moment when they saw a grown-up Swift screaming over her Best New Artist nod at the Grammy nominations press conference.)

Rather than discouraging her, that rejection was like rocket fuel. It dawned on her that karaoke-style singing wasn’t going to cut it at any age; she needed to become a full-fledged guitar-picking singer/songwriter. ”She came back from that trip to Nashville and realized she needed to be different, and part of that would be to learn the guitar,” says her mother, Andrea Swift. Earlier, she had tried picking up an acoustic guitar and had no interest in it, but things had changed. ”Now, at 12, she saw a 12-string guitar and thought it was the coolest thing. And of course we immediately said, ‘Oh no, absolutely not, your fingers are too small — not till you’re much older will you be able to play the 12-string guitar.’ Well, that was all it took. Don’t ever say never or can’t do to Taylor. She started playing it four hours a day — six on the weekends. She would get calluses on her fingers and they would crack and bleed, and we would tape them up and she’d just keep on playing. That’s all she played, till a couple of years later, which was the first time she ever picked up a six-string guitar. And when she did, it was like, wow, this is really easy!”

She started writing, too. Two of the songs she’d recorded (”The Outside,” on her debut album, and ”Christmas Must Mean Something More,” from a Target-exclusive Christmas EP she released) were written when she was 12. When she went back to Nashville with her own songs in tow, people took notice: At 13, she signed a development deal with RCA Records, working with that label’s Joe Galante and Renee Bell, a couple of legendary figures in town. But when the deal came up for renewal after a year, she opted out, because she felt she’d have to record outside material if she got to the point of cutting her debut — and at 14, she was already married to the idea of only recording material she had a hand in writing. Not coincidentally, at 14, she became the youngest person ever signed to the major songwriting company in Nashville, Sony/ATV Publishing.

NEXT PAGE: Taking chances

Nashville acceptance, hometown alienation. Swift started to feel cut off from some of her friends, since she was writing songs while they were either playing soccer or partying. ”A lot of people ask me, how did you have the courage to walk up to record labels when you were 12 or 13 and jump right into the music industry? It’s because I knew I could never feel the kind of rejection that I felt in middle school. Because in the music industry, if they’re gonna say no to you, at least they’re gonna be polite about it.” (Being unusually tall for her age, or any age — she’s now 5’11”, without her cowboy boot heels — may have made her more of a junior high outcast.)

Now that she had publishing and recording deals in hand, she convinced her parents, when she was in the eighth grade, that it was time to move where the action is. ”I was from a small town, and nobody really expects you to leave, especially before you graduate. That doesn’t happen. I actually went back a couple months ago and played a sold-out show in my hometown, and it was amazing; ever since all this stuff started happening, the people in Pennsylvania have been the most supportive people I’ve ever known. But I wouldn’t change a thing about growing up and not exactly fitting in. If I had been popular, I probably wouldn’t have wanted to leave.”

The Swifts never pushed their daughter toward a music career, and the family uprooted itself from the Christmas-tree farm where they lived only after it was clear that her stockbroker dad could do his job just as effectively down South. ”I never wanted to make that move about her ‘making it,”’ says her mom, Andrea. ”Because what a horrible thing if it hadn’t happened, for her to carry that kind of guilt or pressure around. And we moved far enough outside Nashville [to nearby Hendersonville] to where she didn’t have to be going to school with producers’ kids and label presidents’ kids and be reminded constantly that she was struggling to make it. We’ve always told her that this is not about putting food on our table or making our dreams come true. There would always be an escape hatch into normal life if she decided this wasn’t something she had to pursue. And of course that’s like saying to her, ‘If you want to stop breathing, that’s cool.”’

After getting out of her RCA deal, Swift found a believer in Scott Borchetta, who was then a big cheese at the Universal label group. ”I thought, ‘Oh, awesome, I’m gonna get to deal with Universal!’ I get this call a couple of weeks later, after I do this showcase and Scott’s on board and everything’s rocking. He goes, ‘I have good news and bad news. The good news is I want to sign you, and the bad news is I’m not gonna be with Universal Records anymore.’ Because he was leaving to start up this whole new record label.” She took a chance and went with what would become a new powerhouse indie label, Big Machine, figuring that at least she’d get more individual attention there. ”They only had 10 employees at the record label to start out with, so when they were releasing my first single, my mom and I came in to help stuff the CD singles into envelopes to send to radio. We sat out on the floor and did it because there wasn’t furniture at the label yet.”

NEXT PAGE: The viral marketing plan

The MySpace triumph. Swift’s album wasn’t Big Machine’s first release, or even its first relative success. Another early signing, Texas rocker Jack Ingram, had a song go to No. 1 on the country chart — but he still didn’t sell boatloads of albums. That would be up to Swift, and her success would help little Big Machine go on to become Garth Brooks’ new label, not to mention giving Borchetta the heft to sign Jewel (one of Swift’s childhood influences) to a country deal.

”The story that everyone is gonna tell with Taylor is her use of technology and viral marketing techniques — MySpace and texting — that are non-traditional for the country format,” says RJ Curtis, country editor for the weekly trade magazine Radio & Records. ”This kind of flies in the face of how to market a new artist from Nashville. It’s partly her being in that life group and using the things teens use to communicate and spread music around, but her label had a lot of savvy in that area too.”

But Swift’s manager, Rick Barker, gives the singer and her family most of the credit for working the Web. ”The parents already had her MySpace and her website up and running,” he says. ”The mom and dad both have great marketing minds. I don’t want to say fake it until you make it, but when you looked at her stuff, it was very professional even before she got her deal. And we put her music up there on MySpace before it was out, to help decide what was gonna be on the record. ‘Our Song’ made it to the record because of MySpace.” That song has been her biggest radio hit to date — written about her first real romance, premiered at her ninth-grade talent show, and nearly lost to the cutting room floor. ”If you notice the running order on the record, ‘Our Song’ is No. 11,” the manager points out. ”It was the last song added to the album, and a lot of that had to do with buzz that was being created on MySpace.”

Once the album was actually finished and ready for promotion, MySpace came in even handier. ”People laughed at me,” says Big Machine founder-president Borchetta. ”They said, ‘You’re starting a new record label and you signed a 15-year-old female country singer — good for you! You have a teenager — there’s a lot of those on country radio. You have a new female artist — there’s a lot of those on country radio.’ They were looking at me like I had two strikes. But I knew we didn’t want to count on country radio out of the box. So we went heavy on TV, putting the video out before the single, and doing a special with [cable channel] GAC, and we went heavy on her MySpace and online stuff. By the time we got to country radio, we said: We have you surrounded and you don’t even know it.”

It still wasn’t an easy sell. ”Her records are not records that researched fantastically,” says R&R‘s Curtis — and he ought to know, because when Swift’s single ”Tim McGraw” was first coming out in late 2006, he was then the program director of L.A.’s KZLA, and one of the guys balking at putting her on the air. ”But the radio guys hung in there because anybody who’s programming a station wants to get some younger listeners. Country does a good job of naturally getting 35-plus listeners, so getting someone who fits the image of the 18-to-34-year-old, that’s an asset. There’s a need for [youthfulness] in the format. When Gretchen Wilson and Big & Rich and the whole Muzik Mafia thing came along a few years ago, I said that, for the first time since the Garth phenomenon in the early ’90s, there seems to be a real movement happening here. It didn’t last long, because it was more of a fad than a trend; Gretchen really only had that one huge hit, and while Big & Rich have continued to have big songs, it’s been with their more traditional-sounding ballads. But there is definitely a need for a younger artist, younger feel.” Curtis thinks Swift’s adolescent-themed songs have a dual appeal to older and more youthful listeners: ”A lot of the theme of the album is first love, and those are things everybody can get sentimental about, no matter the demo. With things like ‘Our Song,’ a lot of people can relate because it takes them back to their innocent years — and in her case, she just happens to be living her innocent years right now.”

Barker, her manager, offers up some specifics about how they used MySpace to make the Taylor Case to radio. ”Radio does research, and we have no idea who they’re researching, but it was saying people weren’t digging ‘Tim McGraw.’ So we had to go out and create our own research — and that’s what we did with MySpace. What she did was put up a blog on her MySpace that said, ‘Guys, I would like to thank whatever station you’re hearing my song on.’ And people started telling us” — even with stations that were only tentatively programming the song in the middle of the night. ”We were able to take those comments back to radio in individual markets and say, ‘You’re saying researching is telling you it’s not doing that great, but here are 85 people who are telling us they love your station because you played ‘Tim McGraw.’ What MySpace and online told radio stations was: She’s already familiar to your audience. And radio loves familiarity.

”MySpace allowed us to tell the story about Taylor. And it really is her space,” adds Barker. ”She wrote her bio, writes her blogs, and if someone gets commented back to, it’s from Taylor. A lot of times, you can tell it’s somebody else hired to sit there at a computer. Taylor’s space is her space — that’s our secret.”

NEXT PAGE: Embracing the fame

Taylormania. On a brisk night in late January of 2008, the nexus for all this popularity is the Rabobank Theatre, a sold-out 3,000-seater in inland California where Swift is doing a headlining show. About a third of the way back, one delusionally hopeful suitor holds up a sign with his plea: ”PROM? 343-7547.” In the front row, a college-aged dude in a cowboy hat patiently waits for a break in the shrieking before finally blurting out, with half-shy boisterousness, ”Taylor, you’re hot!” But it’s hard for a male fan to get a word in edgewise when the young women in the house spend the entire show standing and screaming, much as their little sisters would for Hannah Montana. There are enough kids and parents on hand that it’s clear she has some appeal to the Disney Channel demographic, as well as to the 17- to 25-year-olds who make up most of the audience, though she writes about adolescent romance not as an aspirant but a fellow survivor. Swift represents the countrified missing link between Miley Cyrus and Alanis Morissette.

She is introducing her soon-to-be-released fourth single, the gleefully vengeful ”Picture to Burn,” which, like many of her songs, was inspired by an old school flame she refers to as ”Bad Cheater Guy.” Swift’s so impressed by the screaming, while going into her nightly spiel about getting back at the boys who spurned her, she adds a nod to tonight’s host city. ”Please know that I try to be a really nice person, in general,” she says as her band vamps through the intro. ”But, if you break my heart, or if you hurt my feelings — or ANY OF MY FRIENDS FROM BAKERSFIELD, CALIFORNIA — well, I will have to write a song about you!” Total eruption, as she marches across the stage in her spangly sun dress and cowboy boots, strumming on her six-string and singing: ”I hate that stupid old pickup truck you never let me drive/ You’re a redneck heartbreak who’s really bad at lying…”

Before the show, we watched her pose for photos for an hour at a meet-and-greet full of fan-club and radio-contest winners. (That’s nothing, for her; at most of the hundreds of shows she’s played so far, she stayed afterward to sign autographs till the last fan was gone, which might last anywhere from two-and-a-half to four hours. But as the crowds grow, those late-night signings are becoming increasingly more difficult to work in.) It’s clear that Swift doesn’t have the steeliness of a lot of starlets her age who were groomed for that by their parents almost from birth. Maybe because this whole massive career thing was her idea, she’s still digging it. When a little kid approaches, she gets down on her nyloned knees and cranes her neck in so that it is pressed against the tot’s. In pretty much every picture, she will look like that person’s conjoined twin. Every so often, with someone closer to her own age, she’ll say, ”Let’s do a funny one,” and urge the fan to screw up his or her face with her.

”She can’t go now to a store without having people come up to her — which she loves,” says her mom, Andrea. ”It makes her day when she’s gone somewhere and people have come up to her and said, ‘I love your music — can I take a picture?’ She’s always grabbing the camera and going, ‘Come here’ and getting the MySpace shot, holding the camera and posing together. She likes that attention. I think where she differs from some people who get to that spot and realize that they don’t really like their privacy sort of being restricted — well, for her that’s not an issue.

”But she never in her life ever said, ‘I want to be famous’ or ‘I want to be rich’ or ‘I want to be a star.’ Those words absolutely never came out of her mouth. If they had, I would have said, ‘Honey, maybe you’re doing it kind of for the wrong reasons.’ For her, the happiest I ever see her is just after she’s written a killer song. As a parent, I felt really good about that. If that’s where she draws happiness from, she’ll have that the rest of her life. She’s not always gonna have the awards, or the attention, or the celebrity, but she will always have the ability to write a song.”

”She has the combination of that 30-year-old business mentality with a real innocence,” says R&R‘s Curtis. But can country fans and programmers — who tend to be a little bit territorial — expect to keep Swift to themselves? Will the pop crossover success get to her? ”We’re talking about an 18-year-old, so it’s hard to know for sure what she’ll be doing five years from now,” Curtis says. ”But just from talking with her, I would say that her value system is a really good fit for country.” And though MTV recently did its first airing of her ”Teardrops on My Guitar” video on TRL, it did look a little bit uncharacteristically wholesome, programmed between Britney and Pitbull, so it’ll be interesting to see how things play out.

In the meantime, there’s still high school to finish up — home-schooled version, while her mom accompanies her on some dates this spring, when she’ll be opening an arena tour for Rascal Flatts. Says Swift, ”I already finished most of my course work, so I just have two electives left.” Which are? ”Public speaking and vocal performance. I guess I’m kind of coasting.”

[187days]

Day Twenty-Five

I went back to assigned seats in both sections of World. I’d been asking students to work on two things: staying quiet while someone is speaking to the class (whether it’s me, one of their classmates, or someone else), and respecting each other’s personal space and property (the boys play-fight, they all like to steal each other’s phones, pens, whatever). However, they weren’t really showing any improvement. I don’t think anyone was being deliberately disrespectful or malicious; a lot of students just found it too difficult to sit with their friends without talking, or grabbing each other’s stuff, or whatever. It’s too tempting. So, since I want them to have a positive experience in my classroom and be successful in my course, I’ve removed the temptation for the time being. 

I did have one student tell me that assigned seats are really stupid, and I answered with a simple, “You’re allowed to think so.” The student looked surprised, as if he’d been expecting to hurt my feelings or get me to change my mind by being angry. Everyone else accepted my decision without comment, even if they didn’t like it (which I said was fine, they don’t have to like it), and life and learning went on.

The other thing I had to address was a first for me: a student had taken a picture of me in class without my knowledge and consent.

I’d helped out at a cross country meet on Saturday, and some of the kids who were there to cheer told me the picture had been airdropped during lunch on Friday. It’s from the day my students found out I could do martial arts, it’s me demonstrating a round kick. So it’s not a bad picture, but, obviously, it’s still not okay that it was taken, and I had to think a lot about how I wanted to handle it. 

The student who took the picture is in my Block 3 class, but I also let the Block 2 kids know that I knew it’d happened, that it’s a problem, etc, etc... Given that word travels fast in any high school, that meant my Block 3 students knew their talking-to was coming, so they entered the room in a pretty subdued manner. I said, “Alright, let’s rip the bandaid off,” and explained why taking pictures without consent is a serious issue even if they think it’s harmless, and what the consequences can be, and how I personally felt about it. I’m not throwing the book at anyone because they’re 14, and at that age I figure they’re allowed one screw-up, but I was clear that this can’t ever happen again. 

Then I went on with class: reading time, a quick set of notes on the origins of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, and an annotation about the history and customs of Judaism. I was impressed with some of the background knowledge students shared, and the questions they asked. We went on a tangent about holiday traditions for a bit, too, but it was a fun one and easy enough for me to reel back, so I didn’t mind. Students did good work, too, on the annotation assignment. Most of them realized how much more quickly time flies in class- in a good way- and how much more easily they can do their work when there aren’t so many disruptions or distractions.

Whew.

Oh, and APGOV went from 0 to 100mph first thing this morning because I was teaching students how to write FRQs. They did pretty well, though. More of that tomorrow.

[casspurrjoybell-33]

Unlikely Places - Chapter 15 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Chapter: 15 - Far From Average

No one was perfect and I knew that better than anyone.

I was who I was and I never tried to hide it.

I had never had a reason to but now, at this moment, I didn't want to broadcast it either.

Tell me anyone in the initial 'getting to know you' stages who wanted to do so by laying all of the negative things about themselves out on the table.

I knew the answer had to be pretty much no one and I was one of those no ones.

The beginning should be lighter and more fun with focus on the attraction and the silly stuff like what is your favorite color, favorite movie, favorite food.

It shouldn't be about what causes your anxiety attacks and what makes you uncomfortable.

Those questions could wait for the fourth or fifth date at least.

I stumbled mentally to a stop, date?

I floundered at the direction of my thoughts.

Why I was suddenly thinking of this luncheon as a date?

When had my mind crossed the boundary from work to personal?

Was it even what I wanted?

"You look unusually pale, Jackson," Pierce commented, squatting down beside me.

I jumped, startled by his voice so close.

I took a quick sip of the cold water, trying to buy myself a few seconds before answering.

I couldn't very well answer honestly but I wasn't a good liar either.

I chewed at my bottom lip indecisively.

"Granted," Pierce started talking again, his hand rising up, his finger barely grazing across my cheekbone.

"You already have a uniquely pale complexion, so it could just be the lighting."

I stayed still as his warm soft skin lightly stroked across my face.

His soft touch combined with his proximity and strangely flattering words revived the impulsive prickly sensation that only he could draw forth.

I sipped again at the water trying to hide any tell-tale movements of my body that would reveal the effect he had on me.

At least now I understood what the electric shiver was and what it was caused by.

I may not necessarily like it or even understand it clearly and I definitely had my doubts about what to do about it but I could at least recognize it for what it was.

I was absolutely attracted to Pierce.

If I had any doubts before, his touch now proved it.

Thankfully, Pierce withdrew his hand and stood to his feet.

He stepped around the glass table and sat down across from me, watching.

His eyes roamed my face and I swear I felt his visual touch as much as I had his fingertip moments before.

"Your entire appearance is unique, I think," Pierce admitted conversationally.

I swallowed.

Though he talked as if it were about the weather, his eyes revealed his greater interest.

The sudden dawning understanding that Pierce was just as attracted to me as I was to him hit me out of the blue.

The realization was both flattering and surprising.

In comparison to Pierce, I was as average as they came.

I couldn't help but feel curious as to his thoughts.

I watched him as he continued to talk, his eyes still drifting occasionally from my eyes to flitter over my face as he spoke.

"Which parent is Korean?" he asked, surprising me.

"My father," I answered.

I quickly realized I shouldn't be so surprised at his knowing.

First off, it was clear I wasn't completely Caucasian and of course it was my eyes that gave me away.

I was very surprised though that he had guessed correctly about which nationality.

I had learned long ago that most people couldn't differentiate between Asian countries when it came to looks.

Asian's tended to be lumped into one group.

I had always appreciated the few people that had taken the time to either notice or ask.

It spoke volumes to me about the kind of person they were.

The fact that Pierce not only noticed the difference but knew exactly my heritage made me feel, soft and buttery inside.

I had him pegged as close-mind but every encounter he showed me more and more that he was anything but and it only made me more curious about him.

He nodded his head and frowned a bit as if thinking.

"That's unusual isn't or am I being stereotypical?" he asked with genuine curiosity.

I didn't take offense, it was a legitimate question.

"My mother traveled for work. She is an interpreter. She met my father in South Korea. They fell in love and he chose to immigrate here for her career."

Pierce looked suitably impressed.

"That's an amazingly romantic story," he responded.

I scoured his face looking for signs of sarcasm but couldn't find any. He looked genuinely touched by my parent's story.

"Was it all as simple as that?" Pierce queried, looking legitimately interested. I nodded my head.

"It really was. My dad is good with numbers and was able to make a good career for himself here. My mom said it was love at first sight for her. She had always watched K-dramas and she said she knew when she had found her Oppa," I answered with a small smile.

My mom never failed to make me smile when she talked about meeting my dad for the first time and their date that had followed.

Though I had never been interested in finding love it didn't mean I couldn't appreciate and be happy for those who had.

The fact that they were my parents made it even more special.

No broken home for me.

It had always made me feel secure.

"So, you must take after him, then?" Pierce asked, eyeing me.

I shook my head.

"No. Not at all," I murmured.

"Why would you say that?"

"Jackson you are amazing with numbers. It was an easy jump considering what you just said about your dad."

I blushed at his unintended compliment.

The fact that he saw and readily appreciated my talent was unexpectedly satisfying.

"Oh," I said trying to not show how happy he had made me feel.

"I guess that's true but that's where it stops. My Dad looks like he could star in one of those K-dramas my mom watches. I don't," I finished somewhat lamely.

It was the easiest way to say it though.

Dad was six feet one with pale flawless skin and looks most K-drama stars went under the knife to get.

Not my dad.

He was one hundred percent flawless Korean with perfect genes.

I just didn't happen to get any of them.

[carolinemillerbooks]

New Post has been published on Books by Caroline Miller

New Post has been published on https://www.booksbycarolinemiller.com/musings/a-passage-to-america/

A Passage To America

In my mid-forties, one of my duties as the head of a local teachers union was to attend a national convention in Florida.   My mother, in her sixties at the time, and, always eager to travel, suggested we take this opportunity to make a cross-country motor trip together. Though different in many ways, the pair of us were amiable traveling companions, preferring by-ways to highways, so I agreed. The journey had its challenges. Our rental car suffered a flat tire along a seldom traveled country road;  a sudden storm forced us to take lodgings in a place that might have passed for the Bates Motel; and one afternoon, we found our road-weary selves seated in a  restaurant that served cold biscuits and omelets crisp enough to break apart with our fingers.   The time was somewhere in the 1970s, a period when an AAA trip tik served as automotive navigation. Not only did the thick pamphlet contain maps of our route but it provided information about lodging and places to eat along the way.  Having served us well on the outward-bound leg of our journey, we were confident when the time came for the return trip. Even so, somewhere in Florida, I took a wrong turn and found myself in an area where billboard messages were written in Spanish. My mother could read them, being born in Costa Rica, but I could not. Afraid I’d speak English with an accent if I were bi-lingual, my father refused to allow me to learn my mother’s native language.  So, on the day she and I were lost, I relied upon her translations to find my way.  Unfortunately, these directions always came after the fact, making them useless. “You should have turned right two blocks ago.”  Eventually, I pulled the car to the side of the road in front of an eatery that was ablaze with light. Perhaps a waiter could guide me.       Trip tik in hand, I entered the premises to the sound of a bell jangling above the transom. Though not much larger than a thimble, it made a piercing sound, like a kettle on the boil, so I was not surprised when the restaurant’s patrons looked up from their plates with startled expressions.  Not wanting to remain the center of attention, I hurried toward the cashier standing behind a counter. A man somewhere in his early fifties with a crown of black hair and a girth to suggest he never said no to a tamale stared at me with the same expression as his customers. When I pointed to my map and asked for the way to the road north, his eyes became more vacant.  Repeating my question failed to garner a response other than to cause him to scratch his head.  Either he was deaf or did not speak English. Rather than guess, I turned to two men seated at a nearby table.  Did they know how to reach the northbound freeway? Like the cashier, they answered me with silence, their expressions suggesting that if I wanted conversation, I should try the morgue. “Wake up and come with me,” I said as I rapped on the car window behind which my mother was snoozing.  “No one inside speaks English.” A cat-like grin stretched across her face which I found annoying but she was quick to follow my steps to the restaurant.  The bell overhead rang a second time, and as if a spotlight had flared on center stage, my mother came to life.  I don’t know what she said to her audience, but after some well-chosen words, the diner filled with laughter. The young men I’d spoken to earlier scrapped back their chairs in response and came toward us.  Their heads almost touched as they studied my trip tik, joined by the cashier who seemed eager to add to their consultation. They murmured to one another for some time, though I was unable to understand their conversation. Eventually, the cashier lifted his head to address me and then used his pen to trace a route on my map for me to follow. “The freeway’s not far.  Maybe five minutes. You can’t miss it,” he said. His English was flawless.  After a cursory, “Thank you,” I stormed from the restaurant. “What was that about?” I snapped to my mother as if she were to blame for what had occurred.“Why did they treat me like I was foreign?” I turned the key to the car’s engine hard enough to make a grinding noise which seemed to amuse my mother. “Pay no attention, Petunia. They’re Cubans. Not like the rest of us Latins.”  I tell this story because if the goal of our county is to embrace inclusion, people of all social and ethnic cultures have to make an effort. That steamy day in Florida, when I was made to feel like a stranger opened a wound. Particularly when the prejudice came from a segment of society that I least expected.  The child of an immigrant, I understand why ethnic enclaves exist. People build barriers when they fear rejection or want to feel safe. But,  Before I built a wall I’d ask to know what I was walling and walling out.* Solid fences can become prisons where the landscape offers a dreary sameness. Take food for example. Who wants a steady diet of biscuits and gravy when they could add pizzas? Or curries?  Or Gveltifisch? Well, maybe not Gveltifisch. But Baklava, yes!  As a writer, I appreciate the foreign terms that enrich our language.  Hopefully, English may one day become as varied as that of the  Inuits. They have dozens of words for snow. Why should English struggle with less? Ezra Pound peppered his poetry with foreign terms. English, he decided, was too spare.  I agree. Sometimes I’m tempted to invent onomatopoeic words to express my meaning the way Lewis Carroll did in Jabberwocky. A blend of different cultures also helps expand our horizons. Getting Lost to Find Home cites several East […]