#though I am nowhere near an expert on the topic

[abominableastronaut]

☕ transhumanism?

Hmmm, complicated I guess? I like that we can use technology to help us improve our quality of life, but it does come with its caveats and flaws. It's also something I didn't really consider on more than a casual level until recent years.

This is difficult to phrase in an ask answer bc I like to ramble but I tried to keep it consise! These are a few topics I've seen come up in discussions that I have thoughts about.

On the assistive tech side, I'm pretty sceptical of any improvement that has not taken into account the opinions and desires of its intended users, and I think that the intended audience of any improvements should be heavily involved in development. Also, who can afford this? Who can use it? How practical is it? What are the costs, as well as the benefits? Anything we make is going to be imperfect, so what flaws do we consider acceptable? What does ethical testing look like?

On the pursuit of immortality/extension of life, hell yeah in theory but in practice can we support an ageing population? Are other technologies able to help people have fulfilling later lives? Some people at 80-90 are active and comfortable, and some are in pain. What does combatting ageing look like and do we expect people to work 9-5 (or more) to afford to live, forever? I'll stop here bc I could ramble on about stuff only vaguely related to the topic for a while. :)

There's also stuff with genetic enhancement and focus on human biology where the eugenecists like to creep in and I'm beating them back with a stick. Reproductive technology is a wild field.

[juliewillruinu]

Garden of Forbidden Melodies | Chapter one | Sukuna x oc

TW: This fanfiction will contain mature content such as smut, violence, blood, and sensitive topics. You have been warned and enjoyed ♡ -J.B

' ' = Inner thoughts

No warnings for this chapter

ᴘʀᴏʟᴏɢᴜᴇ, ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ, ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴏ, ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ...

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒏𝒆: 𝑬𝒏𝒅𝒖𝒓𝒆

𝗜𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗺, golden light of a late afternoon, a young woman sat poised on the tatami mat. With her legs crossed beneath her and her hair neatly arranged in a bun, she struggled against the oppressive heat of summer. The biwa rested comfortably against her chest, its polished wood gleaming softly in the light. As she began to play, her fingers danced deftly over the strings, creating a melody that floated through the air like a gentle breeze.

Hana’s eyes fluttered closed, her dark lashes casting delicate shadows on her cheeks. Each stroke of her fingers was precise and deliberate, the music guiding her mind around the village. She could not see anything, but she could feel everything—the laughter of children, the friendly banter of men sharing stories, and the rhythmic sound of women weaving clothes.

Across from her sat a man slightly older than she—a storm brewing beneath his tense exterior. With arms crossed tightly over his chest and a furrowed brow, Kizuki Yoshida, the village leader and her uncle, watched her intently. His frustration simmered, echoing in the tightness of his features. Something felt amiss in the village, a presence that did not belong, and this disturbance was unlike anything she had encountered before.

As Hana continued to play, lost in her realm of melodies, the ethereal notes contrasted sharply with the tension in the room. She could sense the music reaching for him, but it only seemed to bounce off the walls, finding no reciprocation. Despite pouring her heart into the biwa, his irritation remained unchanged, a stone wall against her art.

She was not oblivious to his discontent; she could have chosen a gentler melody to soften his mood. However, Kizuki had constantly failed to send over the necessary herbs and medicines for her ailing brother, Isamu. Why should she expend her energy for a man who saw her mere existence as a nuisance? Despite her frustrations, Hana had reluctantly let him into her home when word reached her about the disappearance of a local woman.

The shoji door slid open suddenly, and her little brother Isamu, just ten years old, entered, bowing as he approached Kizuki. His pale skin and bright, cheerful features contrasted sharply with Hana’s more reserved demeanor—a reflection of their late mother’s gentility.  With black hair and warm brown eyes, Isamu received a bright smile from Hana despite the heavy air between her and their uncle.

“Hello, Uncle Kizuki,” he chirped, innocent of the tension.

Kizuki’s only response was a twitch of irritation. “Are you done, Hana?”

Lost in her thoughts, Hana took a deep breath, her fingers stilling on the strings. “I cannot find it, Uncle.”

“What?!” His voice erupted, slamming his fist against the table and rattling the teacups. “What do you mean by that?! This is something you should be an expert on!"

Remaining composed, Hana responded, “This isn’t just any curse. This energy is different—strong enough that I know it’s somewhere in the village, but it has hidden itself well.”

Kizuki stood abruptly, pacing the room with agitation. Isamu twisted his face in concerned confusion, choosing to crawl toward Hana, holding onto her arm. Though Hana’s eyes never left Kizuki, she squeezed her brother’s small, warm hand reassuringly.

“If I was allowed inside the village—"

“No! Out of the question.” Kizuki rubbed his temple, annoyance morphing into anger as he continued. “I won’t have you scaring everyone half to dead.”

“Trust me, Uncle, I am nowhere near as dangerous as being inside the village with whatever lies within it. Uncle—”

“No.” He snapped, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.

“Uncle, please just listen to me. I can—”

“Did you hear me?” He shot back, his voice a low growl.

Leaning forward, Hana pressed on, urgency lacing her words. “That thing is hurting people. Innocent people.”

Kizuki’s frustration only deepened. “Stop attempting to brainwash me! You think you know better than me? There’s a reason you two were sent up here. You cause chaos and disrupt the peace I’ve worked hard to maintain. Be thankful our family hasn’t decided to—”

“The medicine, Uncle!”

He groaned in annoyance. “What?”

“Isamu’s medicine. His monthly dosage should have been sent here a week ago, but it wasn’t.” A long pause stretched between them, and Kizuki turned back, a mocking smirk replacing his previous aggression.

“Yes, his medicine... Once you find this creature and destroy it, I shall have his medicine sent over immediately.”

“He needs his medicine now! Without it, his illness will worsen.”

Fixed to her uncle’s glare, she could see Kizuki weighing his options. “Then you better hurry.”

Hana watched as he stormed out, his heavy footsteps echoing ominously, leaving her alone with Isamu, who clung to her arm tightly. The once-warm afternoon light now felt dim, the air thick with unspoken fears and unfinished business.

“Don’t worry, Isamu,” she whispered, squeezing his little hand gently. “I’ll figure something out. I always do.”

With wide eyes full of innocence and concern, he looked up at her, his voice trembling. “Do you think he’ll send the medicine if you find the monster? What if he doesn’t?”

Taking a deep breath, Hana fought back her frustration and sorrow. She wanted to soothe him, but the weight of their situation hung heavy above them. “I don’t know,” she admitted softly, “but I won’t give up. You need that medicine, and there are people like you who need protection down there.”

She released his hand, turning back to her biwa—the instrument that had always been her solace in troubled times. More than wood and strings, it allowed her to express her emotions and connect her heart to those around her. As her fingers brushed over the strings once more, a flicker of resolve ignited within her.

“I'll need to go find it myself,” she declared suddenly, startling Isamu. The conviction in her voice was unmistakable.

“But that’s dangerous!” He protested, shaking his head. “You can’t go out there, big sis!”

“We can’t wait for Uncle Kizuki.” She knelt to his level, softening her expression. “You trust me, don’t you?”

Isamu hesitated, conflict evident on his face before he finally nodded, albeit reluctantly. “Okay… but what if you get caught?”

Hana smiled, though the worry lingered in her heart. “I’ll wear a disguise to blend in. Many people pass through the village. Even if I’m caught, Uncle won’t let anything too terrible happen when he still needs me. While I’m gone, stay here where it’s safe.”

“I can do that!”

“Good,” she urged, rising to her full height. “Help me gather a few things. If I’m going to confront this creature, I need to be prepared.”

•••

Hana stepped carefully, the crunch of branches and leaves underneath her feet a sharp contrast to the tranquility of the forest. Her hair was hidden beneath a woven bamboo hat, her biwa wrapped securely in a white cloth strapped to her back and dressed in her father’s old grey men's clothing, she felt the weight of her disguise. Binding her chest with bandages had been an uncomfortable choice, leaving her breathless, but it was a necessary process.

Holding her hat down with one hand, she moved gracefully beneath a long rope straying in the air, covered in ofudas. This was her uncle's attempt to ward off the villagers—the falsehood that an evil spirit occupied the mountain, while a dark fog often wove itself through the trees like a ghostly figure, enough to solidify fear in hearts.

After a mile or two, she finally reached the village—a sight both foreign and familiar. Awe washed over her as she glimpsed the life unfolding before her. She could hear the hubbub of merchants hawking their wares, the laughter of families enjoying the day, and the mouthwatering aromas of food wafting through the air, filling her senses with nostalgia. The vibrant energy of the village was overwhelming, making her heart swell with memory.

But she reminded herself—don’t get distracted.

Just as she was about to turn away from the chaos, a voice broke through the ambient noise. “Hey! Hey you!”

She continued walking, dismissing the call.

“Hey, mister, wait up!”

Hana’s eyes darted around, looking for the speaker but finding no one.

‘Surely, they can’t be talking to me…?’

With hesitating steps, she turned, half expecting to find someone else in her vicinity only to be tackled from behind, falling chest-first into the dirt.

“Owwie. Not again. Geez, thanks for breaking my fall, mister.”

“I-I think you broke something of mine in the process,” Hana stammered, her voice slightly muffled in the dirt. “Uh, would you mind...getting off me now?”

“Oh, oops.”

The girl complied, springing to her feet and quickly helping Hana up, revealing herself to be much smaller than anticipated. Though Hana expected someone heftier to hit her with such force, the girl’s slender build surprised her.

“Sorry! My boss says I can be clumsy when stressed, haha.” The girl awkwardly brushed dirt off of Hana’s shoulders, her laughter a touch too loud.

Hana flinched slightly at the touch. It had been years since she’d spoken to anyone outside her family, and this was a jarring experience. Still, the girl’s vibrant energy was hard to resist.

“Is something funny, mister? Does my misery bring you joy?”

Hana chuckled softly, “No, no! I’m sorry, I'm not laughing at you. Just... I’ve never met anyone quite like you.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” The girl placed her hands on her hips, mock indignation flaring on her face.

“Someone so… amazing, I suppose.”

The girl’s cheeks flushed a bright red. “W-whatever”

Hana picked up her lonely instrument from the ground, inspecting it for any damages. She spotted the enthusiasm in the girl’s eyes like sunlight illuminating a clearing in the woods.

“Ahh! That is a biwa, isn’t it? I knew my eyes hadn't deceived me. You can play it?”

“I can,” Hana replied, gathering her composure.

“Then I’ve found a man to entertain my customer! Come on, please!”

“Wait, hold on! I don't know if I can help just yet. There’s something I need to do first.”

“Oh, come on, mister. This is the only job I’ve ever been able to keep! I need this! My husband works hard as a traveling doctor, but we’ll never get by without this, please!”

Hana felt a swell of warmth at the girl's determination, her immediate desire to help surface faster than a rising tide. “Alright, I can do one song,” she conceded.

“Make it three! He wants three different songs!”

“Three? I suppose I can manage that,” Hana replied, her spirit lifting alongside hers.

The girl didn’t waste a moment, grabbing Hana’s hand and leading her away from the thrumming marketplace. “Oh, thank you, thank you! I’ll ask my boss if she can pay you!”

“No need for payment. Knowing I helped someone is enough for me,” Hana insisted, only half aware that they were already dissolving into a plan of collaboration. “But first, could I have your name?”

The girl paused, eyes sparkling with recognition. “Suki Akagi! What about you?”

Hana hesitated for a moment, fiddling with her thoughts. “...Sato.”

[miscellaneoussmp]

Soulmate posting! Soulmate posting!!!

I operate on the idea of strings of fate and mindlinks because I am absolute sucker for both!!

Pac can see the string that attaches Em, Pepito, and Sunny together, and they can see the string that attaches Pac and Mike together.

When Pac first met the kids, he was a bit surprised to see a string that fades from orange to cream to pink tying the three together. He's never actually seen another set of soulmates. Pac honestly finds it very adorable and maybe gets a tiny bit (the biggest bit) nostalgic over them because it reminds him of when he and Mike were kids.

Em, Pepito, and Sunny stare at the string that fades from blue to green (with various levels of subtlety, and honestly, they can just barely see the green). They all get very curious and often ask Pac questions about soulmates and strings, though it's often with the explanation that he's nowhere near an expert on the topic.

On separate occasions, Em, Pepito, and Sunny had all asked when could they meet Pac's soulmate? That was the only question that was left unanswered (not even Pac knows the answer).

I think Em, Pepito, and Sunny's mindlink is more so emotions/feelings based than thought based. It's due to a mix of their young ages and the fact that sharing emotions/feelings uses less energy.

On the other hand, I think Pac and Mike's mindlink is more a mix of emotions/feelings and thoughts. It's because they're more familiar with their link, and both have enough energy to share thoughts.

[diaphin93]

Fantastical Misconceptions Part 1: Rhea and the fire-breathing water dragon.

So I came across some screenshots of a post here by Fantasyinvader through Twitter and I can't just help myself but to put forward my own two cents on it and the issues I have with the take.

This already starts off bad because what Fantasyinvader describes here is not an oversimplification, it is just the description of an attitude, one primarily driven by the bad reception of Engage and its storyline. I would also imagine that it is a reaction towards many Rhea and Church apologist false statements and misinterpretations as Dragons being unambigiously good and the fact that we fight the Dragon in Crimson Flower as proof that its the evil route, by pointing out that actually, fighting against tyrannical dragons who want to control or destroy humanity is more of the norm than not in the series.

My real issue begins with fantasyinvader asserting their views on the supposed inspirations behind the dragons into Fire emblem and the very one sided and superficial way they interpret and assert eastern philosophy and religion into their posts. I am by no means an expert on those topics, but even I can identify that fantasyinvader, like many weebs, has a very simplistic and I would say fetishistic view of eastern mythology and japan on itself, akin to many weebs who construe Japan as this isolated culture that is free of disliked modern western influences and homogenously ideologically alligned to what is comfortable for them. This blogger does this alot as far as I have seen it in the past and especially their takes on the Church of Seiros and trying to deny all christian inspirations behind it often come with a fairly uninformed and franky condescending attitude towards the knowledge and familiarity japan has with christianity as a religion.

In this case Fantasyinvader already starts by ignoring the fact that japan is extremely ambivalent towards dragons as mythological figures, with there being benevolent and antagonistic dragon deities in the shinto mythology. There is naturally Ryujin who is considered the ruler of the ocean and a benevolent deity and patron god of japan, but on the other hand there is also the evil dragon serpent Yamata no Orochi. There are other examples and the role of dragons in japanese mythology is nowhere near as clear cut as fantasyinvader tries to make it out to be. And while it is true that traditionally, Dragons in european and abrahamic mythology where usually antagonistic and evil, Fantasyinvader does play fast and lose on what kind of inspirations dragons supposedly take, between modern popular fiction and classical mythology.

Like, lets take a detour and go into the fact that this is a very weird headcanon that fantasyinvader pushes forward as a fact that Rhea is supposedly an ice dragon. We know the type of dragon she is through the dragonstones you can get in NG+, she is the Sky Dragon. The Ice Dragon Sign is associated with the Crest of Aubin, while the water dragon is Indech. Aesthetically and visually, she seems clearly inspired by members of the Divine Dragon Tribe, especially the likes of Naga, Mila and Tiki, though I personally feel like her prime inspiration is a combination of Mila and Duma, looking at the melting elements in her design. I don't know what they are on about in terms of attacks either, as Rheas standart attack is breathing blue fire and her special attack is a white-golden fire beam. What Fantasyinvader describes is also a weird conflation of modern depictions of dragons with classical characterizations. It starts with the fact that the association with fire is not purely western and depictions of fire-breathing dragons is also present in japanese mythology, but it also glosses over the fact that going by mythological inspirations, most dragons are associated with water as well, it is not a purely eastern trait. The Leviathan, the original biblical dragon serpent, is described as a sea serpent, as is the Jörmungandr of norse mythology. So the association of dragons with either water or fire is an entirely artificial construct, as both elements were always present in the east and the west.

What fantasyinvader also does though is ignoring modern popcultural developments of Dragons in contemporary fictions, as well as in heraldry. Starting with heraldry, Dragons got more positive connotations in their use and became associated with valiance, strength and protectiveness, while wyverns, which are two legged dragons in heraldry, became associated with the overthrowing of the tyranny of satan and his forces. In popular fiction, by the time the Fire Emblem games were released dragons already god a much more nuanced presentation in western fantasy, with dragons at this time already often being depicted as intelligent and noble friends or guardians to humans. This is important because while Fantasyinvader loves to frame japanese people as largely unaware and without influence of western art and thought, this depictions are already present in one of the foundational influences of the japanese fantasy genre and the JRPG Genre, to which Fire Emblem belongs, especially: Dungeons & Dragons. There is no understatement in how much D&D exploded in popularity in japan during the 80s and how much it shaped the landscape of japanese fantasy, with many popular tropes in JRPG's, Fantasy Anime and Isekai having their roots in D&D. What D&D also features is, as many will know, the concept of benevolent and malevolent dragon deities. While there is no denial that as japanese developers, many ideas and attitudes are inspired by japanese culture, Fire Emblem itself is clearly a series that is highly inspired by western fantasy popularized in japan and adapted through a japanese lense.

I sidetracked alot here, but I think I made my point clear, that Fantasyinvaders core thesis going into it is already flawed and at best superficially informed, especially since, after having informed myself more about the entirety of the post, they play fast and lose on where 3 Houses is primarily buddhist in ideas and inspirations and where christian ideas are inserted when it benefits them. There is also a hugh misinterpretation of the divine dragons as purely protagonistic force in Fire Emblem and the initial premise of the game, which I will also go into a bit before stopping at the topic of Edelgard.

Divine Dragons are usually a benevolent tribe in Fire Emblem, so much is true, but the series already subverted this assumption as early as its second installment, Gaiden, better known through its remake Shadow of Valentia in the west. In there, Duma, the central antagonist of the game, is himself a member of the Divine Dragon Tribe, together with his sister Mila, who is presented as more benevolent but equally corruptive and misguided as Duma. Fire Emblem already did the whole plotline of liberating humanity from its oppressive dragon deities in its second installment, as it did framing the plan of overthrowing dragon gods as ultimatively good.

Fire Emblem 3 Houses is fundamentally build as a homage towards the old Fire Emblem Games, Geneology of Holy War was often namedropped during interviews, while also going through great lengths to subvert the conventions laid out by them or playing them straight in unexpected ways. Divine Bloodlines for example are featured heavily in the games narrative, only to be subverted in having their origins in the genocide of dragons, the ancient King who wielded a divine sword and was blessed with the 'Fire Emblem' who was said to have banished evil gods with the blessing of the divine dragon goddess being himself nothing but a powerhungry bandit who killed the divine dragon goddess to steal her power and bones.

In a similar way, Rhea herself is a homage to classical divine dragons while subverting them. She invokes characters like Tiki or Naga in her design, but also Mila. Ultimately, we can see her as a mix of both Duma and Mila, having both Milas benevolent and peace loving aspects as well as Dumas warrior like and conquering traits, with herself ruling as a religious leader over the continent who controls humanity through lies and an extreme of superficial peace, which by the time of the game lead into fragmentation and stagnation of humans under her control. Similarily, there is the subversive elements of many older fire emblem villains scheming to rebirth an evil dragon god, while in Rheas case we have her villainy in holding humanity in her grip with the goal to revive the divine dragon goddess of this game, which is framed as wrong and misguided by the game and even herself in the case of redeeming her in Silver Snow.

Ultimately, as far as I see it, Fantasyinvader does the mistake of basically and misinterpreting the games deliberately to spin a reading of it as fully and unconditionally validating Rhea and the Church, which is just not supported by the games text as well. I see this often and I have to ask myself what these people are really after. When it comes to being very pro-Edelgard, the answer of interpreting her as fully heroic is very clear, as many members of her fanbase are drawn to her for example as the first canonically queer non-avatar Lord in the series and she resonates alot towards queer and left leaning people due to her secularist fight against religious authority as well as her anti-feudal war. But I'm really honest, even when it comes to religious fans of the series, to which I mean no disrespect, this obsession with validating a clearly medieval catholic church inspired institution and at times also the feudal system it reigns over and upholds, in this case a feudal system based on eugenics, is incredibly suss to me. It just, for me, seems very reactionary. I personally find Silver Snow distasteful due to the route ending in the rule of an immortal theocratic god-monarch over all of Fodlan, when the game gives me the option to fight for secularism and against feudalism. Especially when the route possibly ends with said God-Monarch marrying their grandmother to establish a full on theocratic dynasty. But I get it, some people might have an incest kink or chose to ignore it due to liking Rhea and wanting to side with her, or due to personal anti-war and anti-revolutionary attitudes. But the game already offers a redemption for Rhea and her becoming a more virtuous leader for the church, so I still don't get why there is this massive obsession with having her entirely right from the start to finish against the games text, her own S-Support and basically any modern value we should possess. For me it strikes as FE3H having garnered a super religious, anti-modernist following who see the game as a safe space to play out their fantasy of theocracy, anti-modernism and religious nationalism, if I'm honest here.

But yeah, this was a very over blown post and I will write a follow up centered around Edelgard.

[lucithornz]

What is your smut writing process like? Can you share any tips or inspirations for newer writers? I really like your style and want to learn. I notice you don't get super into anatomy which is interesting to me.

Okay, I am going to try to answer this(it's come up before and I dodged it).

I have to start with the disclaimer that I am very very new to writing smut, and am very much still learning, I'd Lie is really the "Luci teaches herself to write smut project". So the secret is that I have a very fragile grasp on what I'm doing. IL is my second attempt at smut, and the first fic with it was rougher(I thought of it as my training wheels fic) Just be aware that I am far from an expert. But I'll tell you a few tips I use to write smut that really help me:

Write what YOU think is hot. If it's not hot to you then it's really hard to sell it as hot to someone else. I have tried to force scenes before and it just is nowhere near as good.

Music plays a big role in my writing process and it's no different here. Make a playlist of your favorite horny songs and have at it. "Slow an' Easy" by Whitesnake is a personal favorite of mine as is Bob Seger's "Night Moves". Also Taylor Swift recently blessed us with "I Can See You".

No weird euphemisms for body parts. Sticking with the basics and the classics here. This also loops back to tip 1, use the WORDS you think are hot.

One thing I'll say about my actual process is that most of my smut tends to be written at night, like on my notes app at 1 am, seems that's when my brain cooks up the steamy stuff best.

Eventually I do plan on making a longer post about this(when I figure out what I'm doing) So keep an eventual eye out for that.

I wish I could answer better, but we are really in the same boat figuring this whole smut thing out. I'd be happy to answer any specific questions you might have on the topic though.

Thanks for asking <3

[the-littlest-goblin]

It didn’t take long for the newest teacher at the Soltryce Academy to gain something of a reputation. News of his hiring flew among the staff on sprightly wings before the ink on his contract was even dry. Though the Mighty Nein remained unsung heroes for their world-saving deeds, Caleb Widogast was far from anonymous in Rexxentrum, especially in magical spheres. This was the man who had aided the Cobalt Soul in ruining Trent Ikithon; the former scourger who broke ranks and returned nearly two decades later to expose not only the existence of the program, but the unrelenting cruelty of its leader’s practices. The man who had stood in front of the highest law court in the Empire and admitted, with shining eyes but a steady voice, to murdering his parents under the orders of an Archmage. The man who had turned down membership to the Cerberus Assembly.

Some people called him brave. Some people called him a traitor. Some people said it was all a hoax. But no one dared to speak a word when Professor Widogast strolled through the halls of the Soltryce Academy on his way to his office for the first time, a calico cat wrapped around his shoulders and a teetering stack of books floating out in front of him.

New rumors were born as soon as his first lesson was dismissed. By the end of the first day of classes that semester, even students who had been nowhere near Widogast’s classroom knew that he had spent a good twenty minutes out of the lecture (longer, depending on who you asked) pontificating on the unique ethical quandaries which magic presents, and how to be a truly good mage one must be not only intelligent and determined, but also principled and empathetic. And then there had been quite a while more on top of that devoted to discussing a hypothetical system of governance which allowed self-interested wizards to operate at the highest levels of government with little to no oversight, and would the students consider such a system corrupt, or merely irresponsible? 

Also, he’d brought his cat to class, and let his students pet it as they left.

The very next morning at breakfast, yet another batch of rumors twittered across the tables, whispering into the ears of student and faculty alike that Professor Widogast had been summoned to visit the Headmaster’s office last night. A few astute people glanced around to confirm that Widogast was not in the dining hall enjoying the free meals Soltryce provided to its staff, and by the time the wave of gossip reached from one side of the room to the other, half of the student body and one third of the faculty were convinced the Academy’s newest hire had been fired after only one day of teaching.

After breakfast concluded, the students in Professor Widogast’s 9:00 am lecture dawdled outside the classroom, wondering if they should still bother going in. Could the Headmaster have possibly found a substitute so quickly, or would class be canceled?

The first student brave enough to step through the door found Widogast seated at his desk, underlining passages in a thick book and stroking his purring cat. He looked remarkably unconcerned for someone who had recently been fired.

Slowly, uncertainly, the rest of the class filed into their seats. Widogast closed his book, and the students seated in the front row craned their necks to peek at the title. It was written in a foreign language which none of them could read, but the few who managed to recognize it as Undercommon widened their eyes in shock.

Widogast stood up and took his position in front of the blackboard. 

“Today, we will be continuing our study of basic runes where we left off last class. However, before we can begin, it has been requested of me by our esteemed Headmaster that I amend some of the comments I made yesterday.” Professor Widogast’s expression remained appropriately neutral, but a hint of something hard and resolute shone in his eyes. “Apparently, I have been hired to teach Transmutation, not political theory. Personally, I find that an interdisciplinary approach is extremely beneficial in education, but I would not dare to question the wisdom of this Academy.” His lips twitched, and a spark of mirth twinkled in his eyes now. “But some of you seemed very engaged with our conversation yesterday, so I’ve taken it upon myself to find a compromise. Are you all familiar with the dancing hall on Birke Street, a few blocks from here?”

He gazed questioningly out over the classroom. A few students nodded their affirmation, but mostly he received only looks of confusion.

“I have arranged for a friend of mine to speak there tonight on some of the topics I have been… encouraged to avoid. It’s probably better this way—she is far more of an expert in such matters than I am. If you are interested, come by the hall at 8:00 tonight, after dinner. You can find me after class if you need directions. Now, back to runes…” 

Expositor Beauregard Lionett’s extracurricular discussions/Q&A sessions became a regular occurrence from that point on. Sporadic, due to her busy schedule, but always well attended when the word got out. And Professor Widogast would prove to be even more of a lightning rod for rumors than his first day indicated.

[thestorycfus]

Behind these two white highway lines

Pairing: Erik Lehnsherr x gn!Reader

Summary: Erik and Reader always kept some distance, but they get a better glimpse of each other when they are tasked with bringing a new mutant to the school. The teen doesn’t like being a mutant, but Erik and Reader help him see the bright side of his identity.

Warnings and notes: This is a very self indulgent and obvious metaphor to how lonely it feels to be ‘the only one different’, and it’s not nearly as well written as it should be. There’s mentions of family discrimination, feelings of isolation, self-doubt and a journey to acceptance. But just... Not well written, for real. Other X-Men (First Class generation) are mentioned. 

Word count: 2,641

Masterlist

Erik Lehnsherr was quite a mystery to you. He was close to Charles and Raven, and he was great at training with the kids, but you had never even had a full conversation with Erik. Even though you had gotten to know everyone else in the Institute after it became your home, the metal bender preferred to keep his distance. He wasn’t rude, just… Private, it seemed. Maybe he had something against you, or maybe he was like that with every new mutant. You wouldn’t be able to tell. The guy made you a little nervous, to be honest. He was serious, powerful, strong-willed and, of course, irritatingly handsome too. If he didn’t want to be bothered, the best you could do was let him be.

For months, that was exactly what you did. You kept teaching your classes and working on your powers, while Erik kept doing whatever Erik does. You rarely talked to each other, despite living in the same house. The Institute was always full and always busy, so there was no need for you two to exchange more than a few words, nothing beyond small talk or work-related communication. You still wondered what Lehnsherr was all about, for a while, the quiet balance worked.

The equilibrium started to crack when Charles gave you a mission. He had detected a new mutant, a teenager with human parents living out of state, and it seemed like the kid was having trouble controlling his abilities. The parents were more than grateful when Professor Xavier called and offered to help their son understand and use his power, but they couldn’t drive him to the institute. With everyone else busy, Charles chose you and Erik to bring the kid to the school.

It sounded like a simple task, but you felt nervous all the same. The road trip was a little awkward, but overall uneventful, with you driving there so Lehnsherr could drive on the way back. As far as you were told, the kid would be ready to go as soon as you arrived. You both got out of the car and Erik rang the doorbell, always keeping a safe distance from you, as if you were about to bite him. You tried not to role your eyes, focusing on your most welcoming smile – very important when meeting a student and their family. The door opened to reveal a fidgety mother, who looked at you and Erik as if you were a miracle.

“I am so glad you are here, we don’t know what else to do. I’m Christine Johnson. Please, come in.”

At the same time, you heard shouting coming from upstairs, with a distinct scream of ‘I am NOT going to that freak show’, followed by the bang of a door closing. You and Erik exchanged a look before introducing yourselves and following Mrs. Johnson to the living room. Nobody had informed the school of it, but you were more than familiar with that sort of conflict. Being a mutant wasn’t always easy, and being a mutant teenager with a bunch of human friends and relatives was a mess, most of the times.

“Please, make yourselves at home. I will go get Jay, we will be ready in just a minute.” Mrs. Johnson said, looking towards the stairs and back to you and Erik. Before she could leave, you took a step forward.

“Maybe we could talk to him first? He might feel more comfortable if he gets to know us a bit before leaving.” You offered, only then remembering to give Erik a glance. He nodded discreetly, ready to follow you. There was a tension on him that you weren’t used to witnessing, but you couldn’t wonder about that now. This kid needed guidance and support, and that was the reason you went to the Institute in the first place. Mutant kids deserved better than what the world usually offered them, and the X mansion was their best opportunity to have that.

“That is very kind of you, Professor, if you don’t mind trying… Come upstairs, he’s in his room.”

You both followed Mrs. Johnson to the hall of the second floor, where her husband was pilling up bags. She called him to help with the something in the kitchen and they practically run downstairs, in an obvious attempt to not be a part of the conversation. You took a deep breath, not wishing to lose your temper, but the way the parents seemed desperate to get rid of the problem made your blood boil. To your surprise, it was Erik who knocked on the bedroom door.

“Hello, Jay. I’m Erik. I am here with my colleague Y/N. We would like to talk to you for a minute, if that is okay.”

There was silence for a moment. Erik beside you in the narrow hall, more serious than you had ever seen him. You watched his expression get lighter when he heard the doorknob click. Jay opened the door and stared at the two strangers with childish curiosity, but quickly looked away and went back inside his room. He sat at the bed, absent mindedly playing with a ring of old keys in his hands.

“It’s nothing personal, but I won’t be going to your school. I already told my parents, if they want me to leave, I’ll just move in with my friend until I get a job. His parents said it’s all good. Sorry you had to drive all the way here for nothing, though.”

His tone broke your heart. You had heard it so many times before, seen so many scared kids who were tired of sticking out, terrified because the people supposed to love them the most just saw them as an issue to fix. You and Erik walked into the room together and you sat down on the floor, leaning against the bedside table. Jay’s eyes scanned you as if you were about to shoot lasers at him – and for all he knew, maybe you were – and even you were surprised when Erik followed you, sitting on the carpet too.

“Let’s start from the beginning. I’m Professor Y/N L/N and I work at the Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, which, as you might know, is home to many mutants, including myself and…” You gestured to Erik, who took your cue.

“I’m Erik Lehnsherr, also a Professor at Xavier’s and also a mutant. If you do not wish to join us, that is perfectly fine, but you could at least hear us out first. You know, to compensate for the long drive.” He opened his right hand, and Jay’s ring of keys came flying towards him, floating just above his palm.

You smiled at the way Jay stared, looking so lost, but also as if he had just been found. He looked so young, so starved for some understanding… Erik’s approach was a bit on the nose, but it was worth a try.

Since you entered the room, you had spotted the few plants that decorated the room, including a succulent on the table next to you. You reached up and grabbed it, touching the delicate flower that was just beginning to appear on top of it. At your touch, the flower grew, opening up in yellow and orange tones. Jay’s eyes went from you to Erik and back to you.

“What do you even do in there, though? I bet you’re not studying chemistry or something.”

You chuckled at that, and Erik had big grin when he answered.

“You would be surprised. Just because someone is blue, doesn’t mean they aren’t a science genius.”

“Blue as in sad or blue as in… Blue?” Jay probably sounded more invested than he intended to.

“Blue as in blue. Dr McCoy is a biochemistry expert, and he can also take down all three of us in a fight at the same time with very little effort. And he is blue, but he’s not the only one at that.” You explained, amused to see the kid look so curious.

“Actually, Hank couldn’t take me down unless the fight took place in a plastic prison, and even then it would be a close call.” Lehnsherr feigned offense, and you chuckled again. It was nice to see him being so casual and playful.

“No, it wouldn’t, but I won’t insist on that topic.” You turned back to the kid with a soft smile, while making a couple more flowers appear in the plant you were holding. “There’s a lot to discover at the school. You don’t have to stay there forever, but you could meet everyone, take a few classes and see if you like the place.”

“Sounds like all of you have everything figured out, uh?” As Jay spoke, a small flame emerged from his fingers, and he threw it from one hand to the other. “I’m not that good at keeping this under control.” There was a challenge in his eyes, as if he doubted that the school would be able to handle his abilities, even though you were used to students with powers way more complicated.

“Controlling all the metal near you isn’t as simple as it may seem. Most mutants are not in control of their powers when they first appear, but we can develop our abilities to degrees you can’t even dream of, Jay. That’s the reason Charles found the school in the first place – so all mutants can be safe and proud. I used to believe I was alone until he found me, and I was almost lost in my anger. The others allowed me to see that there is more than just one path for us.” Erik answered, making the keys fly back to their owner. Jay extinguished the flame and caught the keys midair. He remained in silence, so you continued Erik’s speech. Everything he had said really resonated with you, making you even more certain of the point you wanted to get across.

“You may make fire, but we have a guy who turns into and produces ice, a lady who can literally control the weather, some laser-shooters and a few telepaths and the list goes on. Even a seemly harmless mutation can be trouble, like when I have a nightmare and break the floor with tree roots growing out of nowhere, and the scariest powers can save all of us very often.” You felt Lehnsherr’s eyes on you, but you focused on Jay. You thought of how tiny you felt before you knew of others like you, remembering the desperation of dealing with a part of yourself that nobody around you could know, because they would never have to handle something similar. Until you were surrounded by other mutants, you were never able to allow yourself to just be.

“We know how hard it is to be the only one that is different. Pardon my language, but it royally sucks, doesn’t it? It gets lonely and terrifying, and it seems like there’s not a single person in your life that can understand. But we do. We have all been through it, one way or the other, and it gets much easier and much more fun when you have a community, if you’re willing to give us a chance.” The honesty in your words was undeniable. Even though no two mutants were the same, and each of the residents of the X Mansion had their own past and their identities, with the x gene being just one aspect of who they were, finding your community had being freeing in ways you didn’t even know you needed. There were still many barriers to face, and a lot of grief for everything that couldn’t be. It wasn’t fair, and it still hurt, but it didn’t hurt after you became more comfortable in yourself. The love you had for every mutant in the institute and the bonds you created made you see yourself in a brand new light, and you had seem the same magic happen to many others. You hoped it would happen to Jay too.

“I’m not just talking of making the burden less heavy. I’m talking of honestly understanding that there isn’t a burden at all. Even if I said I was proud of myself, I wasn’t really happy to be me until I was with the others. Now, when I say I’m a mutant and proud, I mean it. I know how strong, how amazing, how brilliant we are, and I’d never change a thing. I wish the world wasn’t as tough on us, I wish we didn’t have to be strong, but kid, I’m really thankful and proud to say that we can take it, and we’re worth standing up for and celebrating.” You finally stopped talking, feeling a bit self conscious about how much you had said, but opening up was worth it if it gave Jay a better chance of experience those changes. Before you could say more, though, Erik spoke again.

“I had an entire mutant pride speech ready, but I believe Y/N spoke for us both on what really matters here. Give it a try. If the school isn’t for you, you can come back to your friend’s house with some interesting stories.” You smiled at his words, waiting for Jay’s answer.

“Will someone drive me back here if I don’t stay or do I have to find a new ride?” The kid was already getting up and collecting stuff around the room. Erik stood up and offered you his hand. You took it, standing up too and smiling at him.

“Maybe our teleport guy will be back by then. We usually take the road when we’re inviting a new student, but we’ll figure something out.” Erik replied, which gained him an impressed look from Jay.

“Of course there’s a teleport guy. You could have lead with that.” He continued gathering his belongings but, besides the plants, there wasn’t a lot more to pack. Most of the stuff was already in the bags in hall. Jay arranged most of the plants in a metal shelf so they would be easier to carry, but he shook his head when you tried to hand him the succulent in your left hand. “You keep that one. She likes you.”

You nodded, turning around to leave the room and help bring the bags to the car. Only then you noticed that you were still holding Erik’s hand. You let your hand fall, but the two of you didn’t stand so distant to each other now. All three mutants walked out of the room and divided the bags among you, with Lehnsherr showing off and making every metal object float to the front door. Once everything was in the car, Jay went to talk to his parents. There were tears and goodbyes and promises of behaving, but you and Erik stayed outside to give the family some privacy. The Johnsons might not be the best parents a mutant could get, but they were still Jay’s mom and dad, and the process would be important for him.

While you two waited, you decided to break the silence.

“Turns out we can make a good team, Lehnsherr.”

“Wait to see if the kid comes running back home when he sees Alex explode something before you start to boast.”

“Oh, shut up. Alex will be his favorite.”

“Yeah, he will. And we do make a good team.”

The conversation was cut short when the Johnsons came out of the door, with Mrs. Johnson hugging Jay. You and Erik promised to take care of him and finally got in the car. The ride back to the institute was a little less awkward and silent, even though the kid fell asleep in half an hour. You could definitely count that day as a win.

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

The Onsen (Ghost of Tsushima One-Shot) 🌬️

Reimagined and revisioned: September 2023 👺

One-shot description: Jin Sakai is known as a proud Samurai living on a small island near the great Japanese empire - Tsushima. And when he gets washed on a beach near your home, it obviously caught a lot of attention.

A/N: For starters, I know that ghost of Tsushima has a few missteps here and there, especially when we’re looking at the historical part (Jin couldn’t be using katana bcs it didn't exist at this period, Mongols would never agree to an individual duel because they didn’t know what does it mean, Mongols didn't wear much armor (NAKED BOIS) etc, insert more whining here), but hey. I never tended to learn more about the Japanese culture and this game certainly sparked some interest inside of me.  Also, I am no Japanese culture expert. This one-shot was written though a course of seven days and I tried to Google the fucking maximum about both the culture (at this given time period) and Japanese relationship towards sex, as well as all the activities related to this topic, but it won't be 100% accurate nonetheless. Yet I can say proudly that I've tried to treat the concept with respect and love.

Word count: 14.5K

Pairing: Jin Sakai x female reader (He HAS a strong chaotic-bi energy, but he's talking about girls in the hot springs, so... 👀)

Warnings: Fluffy smut 🥵❤️

Tsushima, the Izahura region, the Akamo prefecture, 1274:

The last few weeks... How would you even start talking about the last few weeks? It all started on Komoda Beach, on one memorable summer night - the night that gave birth to a legend. It also was the same summer night during which most of Tsushima's regions lost all their hope and fell in flames. On that night, the forces of fierce Mongolian invaders and samurai defending their homes have clashed... The Mongols came out of the battle victorious. You hadn't been on the beach to witness the battle with your own eyes, but the flames and smoke that shrouded the Izahura region told everyone more than they needed to know. The samurai have been slain, their blood soaked into the wet sand and hope slowly faded.

That was until... Until the legend started to spread. It was spread by the monks, peasants, and traveling merchants. All it took was the story of a vengeful samurai spirit that was protecting and avenging the regular folk for the first sparks of resistance to be forged. People were now trying to fight back, they learned their own methods of dealing with the Mongols as well as traitors and bandits who were trying to benefit from the chaos. Well, that was how you came into play.

It turned out that Mongolian invaders were more than mesmerized by geishas and concubines. The men were inclined to lower their guards and talk about important information in front of the dancing women, letting them gather intel as well as inform other cells of the resistance. To keep safe, the geishas of Izahura started to gather in mansions where they lived together in harmony. The times were desperate and independent women needed to support independent women. You were nowhere near being a geisha. You hadn't entered Okiya as a teenager nor received any proper training in the arts of communication and culture.

All you were was a regular peasant coming from a nearby village, just around half a kilometer away from the farm glorified to a geisha residence. You managed to run when the attack came, saving your life as you watched your home turn into ash. For some time, you wandered around the Akamo prefecture, getting by thanks to foraging and your knowledge of the herbs. Back in your village, you've been the healer's apprentice, learning the art of Kampo. And one day, starved, dehydrated, and almost delusional, you stumbled right into the farm's fields. The geishas took notice of you as they ran towards you, but they didn't catch you in time. All they could do was drag you into the residence, nursing you back to health. The women took a liking to you and since all of them agreed that they could use help around the household. While the geishas tried to gather as much information as possible, you were the person actually running the house - doing dishes, buying food from merchants, doing the laundry, cleaning up... Sometimes, you posed as company to geishas themselves, serving as a shoulder to cry on or pretending to be a client for the apprentices. If there was no one on hand, you even had to serve food and saké to geishas and their clients, always leaving the room as soon as you could. There was always so much to do to occupy your mind.

The women weren't mean enough to let you work all alone, but it felt nice to have a spare pair of hands who could cover everything they couldn't. When you found yourself with nothing to do, you oftentimes left the households to pay respect to kami or to take care of nearby shrines as you felt that it could also boost the spirits all around. It was a simple life and a very shaky piece of stability in the heart of the Akuma prefecture, but it almost appeared as if the war had never touched this small piece of heaven.

It was one evening when you heard some fuss coming all the way from the beach. The two minarai (author's note: minarai is a stage in geisha's apprenticeship in which the geisha-to-be finds a mentor whom she watches and learns the craft by literally accompanying them and watching them) living inside the household had taken a stroll down the beach while you sat in the garden, doing the laundry in a lazy, relaxed pace. You've felt lazy that day, not really looking to overwork yourself - which couldn't get further from what was about to happen. The two girls were leading a strong, noble horse behind them. The animal was majestic, taken care of as well as equipped with intricate war equipment. You've seen the equipment once or twice in your lifetime; it was during the evening when the noble samurai of the Adachi clan came to patrol over your village, making sure everything was in order. That meant that the limp male body lying on the horseback was a... A samurai.

The man became hot news in the household instantly - all the samurai were supposed to be dead, weren't they? They all died that night on Komoda beach, didn't they? Who was this? An impostor, trying to give hope to people? Was this someone pretending to be a samurai to either scare off the invaders or scam people? The women put the man in your care, adding yet another chore to your calendar. It was logical that he was assigned to your care; you’ve been the only one who had medical training. The man… He looked bad. His armor was torn to shreds, and his mask cracked right in the middle. His skin was pale due to the blood loss, and the wounds on his hips were wide and deep. It took you enormous amounts of herb tinctures, cloths, and other corrective measures just to stop the bleeding. As the sun started coming out, you were sitting next to the man with your arms covered in his blood all the way up to your elbows, multiple buckets of bloody and muddy water were situated around both your bodies. Good news? You’ve managed to stop the bleeding. Bad news? The samurai was covered in ice-cold sweat, his muscles were spasming uncontrollably as his fever started to rise.

When you finally caught a breath, you climbed down into the living room, briefing all the curious women and lady Kohaku on the man’s physical state. Since there was very little time to loose, you’ve taken his horse and rode to almost every nearby villages, trading a serious amount of your supplies for various herbs and tinctures you weren’t skilled enough to make. However, as you climbed back into the attic without the rush of yesterday’s urgency, there was this sneaking sense of shyness creeping at the back of your head. This time, before even looking in his general direction, you prayed to Inizagi to let the man survive the hardships he was enduring.

Usually, as you finished praying, you picked up enough courage to undo his shitagi and tug his hakama a bit lower. Your fingertips moved on his skin lightly, as tips of brushes; the movements needed to be swift and precise so you wouldn’t tear his wounds open on accident. Taking care of the mysterious samurai usually meant that you took cloth soaked with pus off, disinfected all the wounds, put healing tinctures all over his chest, and then covered all the wounds with freshly washed cloths, which you also put through alcohol cleansing and hot steam disinfection.

The longer you've spent tending to his wounds, the more one quality about this man became obvious. It was the fact that… The mysterious man was a fighter. He wasn’t going down anytime soon. There were remnants of many scars everywhere around his chest and arms, most of them weren’t even properly taken care of; forever remaining bulky and pink. Yet no matter how many scars there were, how deep they reached, or how ugly they looked, the samurai seemingly dealt with all of them... And kept on pushing forward. Whoever he was, he had to have an enormous amount of will to live; on top of numerous scars, he was also recovering pretty quickly. On the third day of his recovery and the third evening of his coma, there were sturdy and solid scabs instead of opened layers of skin and sometimes even muscle tissues.

That night, you’ve also taken matters a step further. First in order, there was changing the pieces of cloth, of course. After finishing tenting to the wounds and clothing the man, you've also made sure that his hair is neatly tugged behind an elegant black hachimaki. It was right there and then when you finally took a moment to look at his face, shoving a bucket of warm water next to you, preparing a washcloth to finally clean him from all of the mud and sand. Slowly and carefully, you've moved the last strands of hair off his forehead. This was the first time you've noticed your fingers shaking subtly. It was hard to breathe calmly, actually; your cheeks started to warm up and your blood started to boil slowly, moment by moment. It had been so long since you'd spent some time alone... With a man. Well, you've never technically spent intimate time with a man; you've only spent a few hasty moments with young, loutish boys, stealing kisses in corners the adults couldn't see.

Never in your life have you touched a man in an empty room, especially having the freedom to let your palms roam free. Sure, the man might've been unconscious, but there wouldn't be anyone to snitch on you. And the man laying on the futon in front of you was... Handsome. With the utmost care, you've cleaned every crevice of his face. You've dragged the washcloth over the curve of his nose, over the closed lids of his eyes, soft scoops of his upper and lower lip... Finishing up with his round chin and the stubble. To calm down, you've started moving all of the buckets downstairs as well as dragging his swords, armor, and mask along so you could clean his gear.

The farmhouse was practically empty at this hour of the day; most of the geishas were either with their clients (both in various rooms inside the house as well as traveling to their client's designed locations) or asleep, there was a bunch of girls sitting under sakura trees in the garden, plucking their music instruments and the only person present, really, was lady Kohaku. The woman was smoking in the corner of the room, going through the accountancy to see all of the expenses and earnings while preparing new pieces of information for the rebellious forces. Letting a deep breath out, you've sat down next to a water pump, laying out the armor in front of you. As you cleaned the armor itself, it wasn't anything special. There was nothing to take note of - no crests to be found, any special materials used to craft... It wasn't much more than regular samurai armor. Almost every samurai riding to Komoda Beach on that faithful night was wearing a similar armor set. The realization hit you as you picked up his katana and tanto to start polishing it. The moment you've seen the crest, the moment you've let it fall onto the ground. Lady Kohaku took immediate notice of the ruckus.

A furrow had appeared on her face as she approached you, taking one last drag out of her kiseru (author's note: kiseru is basically a Japanese tobacco pipe; it was invented in the 16th century, way after the story takes place, but when I think about an older woman who is the head of a brothel, concubine or geisha house, I just think that smoking goes hand in hand with their overall image) before she pulled her silky robe rightly to her body and walked over to the veranda. - "What's the matter, young one? Did you cut your finger?" "No, ma'am." - You admitted, quickly picking up the samurai's gear off the ground. It could be perceived as an act of disrespect if the Lady wouldn't know you for as long as she did. The older woman actually really enjoyed having you around, she admired your personality and all the help you've brought to the house. Because of that, Kohaku knew you'd been caught off guard. - "I'm sorry for interrupting you, ma'am." "Don't apologize, child. Have you noticed something worrisome on the gear?" - The woman dismissed. The quick glance over your shoulder had told her more than she needed to know. You've realized something.

"The man we're hiding in the attic might be very, very dangerous, ma'am. If the Mongols find him..." "Do you know who he is?" "I'm assuming I do, ma'am." - As you started to explain in a somber, quiet tone, your eyes admired the katana. - "The village I was born in was under the watch of clan Adachi. And they've been the most wonderful masters. It's also commonly known that the Adachi clan had strong connections to other clans around Tsushima. And one of the clans was the Sakai clan." - As you finished, your thumb moved out of the way, showing Kohaku the Sakai crest decorating the fuchi.

Lady Kohaku was speechless for a moment. This woman was practically a genius who knew about all of the stories going around Tsushima, all of the gossip and rumors were a sea she was well-oriented in. Naturally, the woman realized what you've been telling her. The man laying in the attic was no ordinary samurai, no. He was one of a kind, the last successor to the clan of Sakai. And as the story went, this man was no ordinary samurai - he turned into the vengeful spirit of Tsushima's people, the single vedge restraining the Mongols from a full-on, devastating invasion further into the Izahura region. The man turned into the Ghost, into all of the fury and hatred of the people as well as vengeance and retaliation which the peasants wanted. This was no ordinary damn samurai.

"I see." - Kohaku answered simply, picking her kiseru up to have a long drag. Then, she fell silent for quite some time; she let out a long huff, letting heavy smoke slowly come out of her mouth and nose. The smoke was so heavy, in fact, that it covered her face for quite some time. - "The best thing to do is to keep it yourself, young one. Don't alert the girls, don't tell them who Lord Sakai is. We shall pretend he had never graced our house with his presence. Giggling about having a samurai in the attic is more than enough, we don't want them to go entirely crazy over the man." "Understood, ma'am. I'll get back to cleaning his equipment now, sorry for bothering you." "You aren't bothering me." - The woman chuckled, pouring you a tea before she carried it to you. - "Have this and take it slow. It'll help, trust me." - As you promised, so you did; before calling it a day, you managed to clean all of his gear and carry it back to the attic before other girls could take notice.

As the fifth day of Sakai laying in a coma rolled around, you took his horse for another ride. The horse was sweet, very calm, and very responsive. Even though it was a war horse that was trained to survive even the most stressful of situations, it seemingly enjoyed dragging the cart around as you set on your regular route - buying rice, trading fish, pastries, spices, and saké. It was a long route since you traveled all over the Akamo prefecture. Usually, the locals also invite you for a bowl of rice and some tea to have a chat, to tell you what's new. People liked you ever since you started trading with them a few weeks back, you simply had that kind of oomph about you. Naturally, as per usual, you've arrived back rather late in the day. As you gave all the records to Kohaku, you prepared warm water and disinfected pieces of cloth in preparation to clean Sakai's wounds. Yet as you climbed up, your body already buzzing with excitement to let your gaze wander around his face and dragging tips of your fingers across his chest, to your horror you realized that the attic is... Empty. The armor was gone, and his katana too.

With blood disappearing out of your face, you carefully climbed back down and walked right to Lady Kohaku. Your palms were trembling, and you began sweating profoundly. The house wasn't raided, clearly, but having a man of such importance simply vanish was... Something. Especially given his state. Had he subdued to his wounds? Had he passed aways while you were gone, making sure all of the errands are taken care of? This possibility scared you even more. "He's... Gone." - This was everything you were able to say out loud to Kohaku at that moment. Her dark brown eyes raised to you as she put her shodo down, chuckling. - "Had he... Did I do something wrong? I've used all my knowledge and cared for his health according to my best skill. I am..." "Follow me, young one. Take a breath and come." - The old matriarch laughed under her breath, waiting for you to get your shit together. As you stop an incoming panic attack, you've followed the woman outside.

It was a beautiful, warm late spring evening; everything you planted in the gardens and on the soil was blossoming, giving the gardens a breath of fresh air. When geishas wanted to let out some steam and just generally come to other thoughts, they didn't shy away from picking up the farm tools and dug around in the soil for hours on end, planting various seeds and flowers. For you, the gardens were a sanctum. When you felt tired or just overall weren't in a good mood, you mostly found yourself sitting in the gardens for hours as you watched life move around you - dancing classes, as well as musical and cultural lectures, took place outside, so you always had something to watch. Sometimes, the geishas invited you to join the classes too just so you wouldn't be left alone in a corner. It was usually Yui who persistently asked you to join them in training the arts.

It took you off guard when you heard a few notes of music coming from the far end of the garden; you've been used to listening to shamisen all the time... You never heard a flute being played in the gardens. As was to be expected, the girls gathered at a good viewing point, watching the mysterious samurai play as they chattered and whispered excitedly. Although you usually didn't share their excitement for men and activities connected to them, you also couldn't but stare at the man for a second. For a moment, a vacuum filled your head as you saw him awake for the very first time. His skin had a peachy, healthy tone and the bags under his eyes became less prominent; this was mainly due to Kohaku's hospitality. As soon as she noticed Jin climbing down rather clumsily, she invited him for tea and lunch which the girls just finished cooking. He was also even more attractive than before; his posture was good, he carried himself with grace and nobility, and his warm expression added a bit of something that wasn't present in his face when he was in limbo. Lord Sakai was... Really handsome. And you've touched him, unsupervised, for hours on end. Wow.

"There he is, alive and well, nursed back to good spirits and health." - Lady Kohaku explained, smiling at you and bowing slightly, paying the samurai respect. The man finished his song in return, putting the flute down before fixing his hachimaki - when he was done and looked up to Kohaku, he realized she was not alone; in the same instant, he was respectfully bowing down, his forehead touching the ground as he paid you an enormous amount of respect. It didn't slip you that after he bowed, he hissed under his breath; the movement was too sudden for his wounds. Also, this much respect wasn't anything you had imagined in your wildest dreams - all you expected was a thank you, a smile, and a slight bow in the very best scenario. And rightfully so - Sakai was a nobleman, you weren't much more than a simple peasant. Rather awkwardly, you bowed yourself. - "We better honor the kami for letting Y/N do the best she could." "Thank you for adhering to my wish, Lady Kohaku." - The man said quietly enough to keep the topic of discussion a secret from all the ears and eyes glued to you. With that, Sakai picked himself up (even the slightest movements seemingly caused him a lot of pain) and smiled at you. It was a warm and sincere smile... That made you even more confused. Why was he acting so nice? "That's the simplest request I could fulfill, my lord. I'll let you discuss the matters you wish to talk about with Y/N. After you're done, come find me. We need to have a talk." - The last piece of information was for you, so you nodded in Kohaku's direction, still caught off guard by Jin Sakai in his entirety. With that, Kohaku turned on her heels and left the two of you alone, walking back into the house. Jin, painfully aware of his small fan club, prompted you to take a walk in the opposite direction - this wooden road led to a nearby onsen which the geishas claimed after they bought the farm. It was great for the clientele.

"Never in my wildest dreams would I expect to wake up in a place like this." - That was the first thing he said after you've been far enough from the other geishas. The tone of his voice gave away some sort of tenderness and curiosity. This complimented you greatly. - "Needless to say, it saved my life. Kami were watching over me on that day and I couldn't be more grateful. Without your care, I'd most likely die in the wilderness, washed up on the shore. "It was my duty, Lord Sakai. Your uncle is the lord of Tsushima... Not giving you a helping hand would bring us back luck for many years to come as well as it would attract oni. It would bring misfortune and shame to a house which already doesn't have the best name." - At that, you chuckled to let Sakai know you were joking to some degree or another. The way he raised the corner of his lips made you sure that the joke landed, amusing Sakai.

"Can I confide in you?" - Sakai followed up right after, making your blood pressure rise even higher. Being alone with a man of his social status was scandalous enough already, but letting him confide in you and listen to his secrets was directly inappropriate. And yet, even though realizing all of that, you nodded and waited for what he had on his mind. - "Of course, my lord. What's ailing you?" "It's just that... I haven't felt this calm in a long time. Now that it's war and I have to defend my home, I need to be ready to draw my katana any second. It feels like on each step of my journey, I sought justice and only found bloodshed. It's wonderful to see a place that wasn't touched by war. It feels like sanctuary, place where people still live in peace with the land and kami. It's charming." - The man confided, grinning.

The confession made you grin too. Such kind words coming from a lord felt... Refreshing. At the end of the day, your reputation didn't matter to Lord Sakai at all. It didn't matter what names the folk called you or what insensitive insults they thrown your way... Sakai felt safe and calm. Explaining the importance this message would be an impossible task, it just made you proud. For a moment, you walked in silence, just listening to the lively buzz. Letting your heart rate slow down a bit, you waited before you opened another topic. Sakai stopped in his tracks, leaning his shoulder into a tree trunk as he watched lady Yuriko and her apprentice Akali learning how to dance. Yuriko was a very strict teacher, never shying away from using a reed if necessary. Now, she watched her apprentice like a hawk, tapping her reed in an unexistent melodious rhythm - anytime Akali made a mistake, Yuriko's tessen slapped either her feet or her hands instantaneously.

You've almost stayed silent, leaving Sakai to his little oasis in the middle of the garden. It was a nice sight, after all. The silent beauty almost made you jealous. In the last second, you've managed to gather enough courage to start another chit chat. "How are your wounds, my lord? Are you feeling better?"

He hadn't answer at first, he just glanced at you and let his eyes slip across your face. Sakai surely wasn't stupid in any regard, he knew he wasn't talking to a geisha. Your art of communication wasn't sufficient neither meaningful enough, it resembled a stomping bear if anything. In fact, you were positive that every word you've chosen could get you into trouble - in fact, the Lord would ponder if you were rude just few months back. Your overall energy wasn't matching teirs in any way, but in a good way. It was enjoyable. There was something so delicate about you, something so innocent and gentle that Jin Sakai feared he'd break it if he touched it. It was exactly that little something was thrilling Sakai beyond the boundaries of every good manner in existence.

He'd asked about his savior from the first moment he woke up. Lady Kohaku took a few hours to give into his insistence, but then shetold him everything there was about you. The story about a normal, everyday woman charmed him. Truth was, he was expecting just an everyday girl he'd just thank and move on with his adventures. There wasn't anything he'd describe as everyday about you - in fact, he had trouble taking his eyes off you. The more he realized you two were brought up in two entirely different worlds, the more he was reeled under your spell. This dilemma was as exciting as it was confusing.

Samurai were brought up with honor and a very strict moral code that wasn't to be bent in any way. Let's say that being seduced by a peasant, someone leagues below his social status, was something to be frowned upon. Especially when said peasant wasn't doing it actively. Everything about this situation was, in fact, forbidden.

"I'm feeling well, lady Y/N." - Sakai said after staring at you for longer than socially acceptable. Much to his dismay, you were staring into the distance, taking in the beautiful sunset in distance. - "The wounds are deep and they'll take weeks before healing properly. It'll take months before I'll be able to do everything I'm used to, but your care saved me a lot of time. Tell me, how comes a common peasant knows so much about medicine?" - Your eyes snapped back to Sakai, making his heart skip a beat. Imperceptible blush spreaded on his cheeks, the knowledge of your attention spreading hot blood through his stream. The spark in his eyes intensified ever so slightly.

"That's simple, my Lord. Back at my home, I was an appretince to a wise healer who tried passing her legacy onto me. The woman taught me how to ready and how to write, so I sould archive various medical records and read how to mix and make tinctures and medicine otherwise too intricate to memorize. In exchange for her time and patience, I helped running her household and took care of everyday things for her, I cooked for her, did her dishes, washed her clothes... The healer even let me assist her when bandits or ronins assaulted our homes. It could be a perfect little life if it didn't anger my parents so much." "Why wouldn't your parents be proud of their daughter becoming a healer? Such life path is always admirable, healers are needed and well-respected." "Not for them, no. They've always dreamt of marrying me and sister off to a good family, a family where they'd have a lot of food, good husbands... Envisioned me with children. Being a healer might be rewarding, but it's also lonely. Their envisioment of my life wouldn't excite me, neither would it fulfill me."

"Going against your parents wishes..." "There aren't any wishes anymore, my Lord, not after what the Mongols did to them. I'm a woman without a family and past, without dowry and therefore, without any future. Lady Kohaku knows I'm unmarriable, but accepted my services anyway, so I'm very grateful." - Bowing elegantly, you forced a smile on your face. Your desire was to be a healer, that much was true; but becoming one wouldn't mean you'd be forever alone. You wanted a family and children. But it would be a gruel task to achiever such dream without any dowry or estate. Seeing the muscles in your face twitch unhappily, Sakai decided not to follow up on the topic - he was curious, of course, but bringing you grief and pain would be insensitive.

"Where's my horse?" - Sakai asked instead. Watching the corners of your mouth turn upward calmed him, realising he hadn't lost you just yet. "I've personally taken care of it, lord Sakai. It's a strong, stubborn one... Took me a few days before I calmed it down enough to approach it. Such horses, however, also need regular rides to stretch their legs." "Let me guess, you've helped Sora stretched her legs?" - Slowly, Sakai started walking toward the residence. Your time together was coming short - a fact you were painfully aware of. You'd anything just to prolong it a bit more, now that you've caught a glimpse of the thoughtful, playful man under the stone mask of a samurai. You were saddened by his incoming departure. This departure surely meant you won't speak to lord Sakai again. Things like these happened once in a lifetime. At least you were lucky enough to live through it. "Yes. Stretched her legs well, she helped me taking care of everyday needs, helped me bring rice and food." "She's calm, she's an amazing horse. I'm glad she could be of use."

With that, you finally reached the back shoji leading into the kitchen. Sakai swung onto the terace, still facing you, his lips sealed in one thing, straight line. If you'd have to describe Jin Sakai, you'd have to threat carefully. A wrong word would reveal all the excitement you felt in your guts - it would reveal how close was this man to bringing you onto your knees. You'd start by disclosing he's very handsome and charming, something you wouldn't see yourself admitting about a samurai. Truth be told, you didn't have a lot of experience with men, as you've said. Kohaku always said that good manners were a way into a girl's heart and also, when she got too drunk, she'd admit it was a good way between her legs... Well, lady Kohaku was right. This was the first intimate conversation with a man since you've been a little kid. The first conversation that had your face flushed.

"I'll leave you to your reconvalescence now, lord Sakai. It was my pleasure." - As good manners dictated, you bowed properly and deeply. To your surprise, Sakai repeated your actions, bowing even deeper than you did. Such respect... How did you earn it? "I shall thank you for your time and attention then, lady Y/N. May the Kami forever favor you. I am in your debt." - Sakai answered. "Don't... I... I am not a lady, my lord. Just a simple girl who doesn't deserve your gratitude." - Saying that, you straightened up and turned on your heels, leaving him there to pursue your duties.

That day's chores weren't dreadful neither were they long. The excitement of walking around Lord Sakai, even if it was walking on eggshells, made everything more enjoyable. Even doing the dishes wasn't as dreadful as it usually was, in fact, it was done better and faster than it would be otherwise. When you were done with everything, you finally gathered yourself for the talk with lady Kohaku. She was calm as usual, casually informing you about your duties for the following week. Having a schedule always calmed you down.

Soon after, you were finished with your duties, joining the other girls in the gathering room. Just as expected, Lord Sakai was the guest of honor for the evening, sitting right in the middle. The Geishas were amusing him with music, dance and various anectodes. It was a surprise to all when Sakai stood up way before the night was coming to an end. He didn't seem bored, so all the girls looked at Kohaku with confusion. The lady of the house, however, accepted Sakai's bow with one of her own and watched as he started walking toward the shoji.

"I can't thank you and your Geishas enough for providing me with help and pleasant distraction in time of dire need, lady Kohaku. I shall leave your residence early in the following morning, not to cause more trouble than necessary." - Sakai expressed with true gratitutude written all over his face. Kohaku chuckled in response, waving her palm at him. As you and the other Geishas bowed to lord Sakai as well, you couldn't help but raise your eyes and take a good look at him for one last time. For the love of gods, this man was so handsome it was painful - each of his moves was filled with grace, his face one of the most beautiful views you've seen in your life. The yukata lady Kohaku landed Sakai was highlighting his neck and shoulders - your fingers itched just so you could touch his warm skin again. That, however, was forever to be just a fragment memory, an indecent wish and a hopeless with. You still recalled every crevice of his form, all the muscles, fair skin, wounds and unhealed scars. Seeing him walking around like that was making your imagination run wild. Kohaku, thankfully, put an end to your wandering and distracted mind.

"It was our utmost pleasure to provide you with refuge and aid, young master. Please, carry on with my wish and chose a companion for your bath, as the proof of our utmost loyalty and support. My girls are excited to entertain you." - At that moment, you could hear the giggles and excited sighs all over the room. It felt like a gutwrenching punch, taking all the color from your face. Lord Sakai was to choose a companion for the night, huh? Someone who'd make him laugh, someone who'd ease his mind and make lo... A companion. He might've been a man of honor, but you weren't a silly little girl either. You knew how accompanying such a handsome and interesting man went. No Gaisha would be strong enough to endure his charm.

Your house had all kinds of entertainers. These were the most beautiful and graceful women your prefecture had to offer, the best of the best. Yui was dangerous, seductive and not adhering to the Geisha code at all - she'd keep lord Sakai very entertained, you imagined. His eyes turned in her direction, having you almost throw your heart out, that much was for sure, but he just nodded at Kohaku and stood up. After that, he was on his way.

"I've already informed you of my choice, lady Kohaku. I'm not plannig on acceptin anyone's company... Other than hers, that is. I can't express enough of my gratitude for the care lady Y/N has provided me with, I'm afraid, so this would be my way of thanking her. Please, I hope you adhere to my sincere wish." "And as I've said, young man, it's for her to choose. I won't force this upon her, since she's not one of my Geishas." - The woman answered with a mischievous grin, having all the girls giggle even more uncontrollably. You could feel their palms on your shoulders, their excited whispers and sighs. Even Yui was looking at you with genuine surprise. "Wouldn't expect you to do otherwise, ma'am." - Sakai whispered, leaving the gathering room. In that instant, the ruckus started - the girls were talking over one another, giggling excitedly. Some of them were giving you tips on how to behave, what topic to avoid, some were offering to lend you their best kimonos. It wasn't until Kohaku clapped her hand that they fell silent, stepping aside.

You, you realized. Sakai chose you as his companion for the night. He chose an everyday woman over all these beautiful, interesting Geishas. Kohaku knew well it wouldn't be wise to let you accompany Sakai. You were a damn peasant, not a woman brought up to be an entertainer. Lady Kohaku was well aware of that fact. She even thought about denying the request right away... But... It was lord Sakai she was talking about. This man was a myth and a legend giving strength to people. He was their reason to continue living and fighting. He was the reason the Mongolians haven't destroyed all fibres of hope just yet. And, well, Kohaku promised to show the utmost loyalty of the house. Being in Sakai's good graces would lead to being in lord Shimura's good grace - that was why she turned to you, waiting for you to stutter out any semblance of an answer.

"Well, get on your feet, dear girl. The young lord chose you as his company for the night." "Ma'am, you can't do this to me. I'm just a peasant, I have no manners, I'll let some ridiculous thought slip past my lips and anger his grace - it's not a good idea. Yui or Akali would be much wiser, safer choice..." "Young one." - Kohaku stopped you, watching as the other girls prepared sake and refreshments for the young lord. - "Have more faith in yourself. If it was such a bad idea, I wouldn't even play with the thought. Worry not, I'm not naive - I'm aware that young lord sees something in you, something he doesn't see in the others. You've learnt much from watching my other girls. All you have to do is to be polite, empathise with his feelings and understand his thoughts - don't forget you're not only representing yourself, you're representing this house. Here." - Carefully, Kohaku pressed the wooden tray into your palms. - "All you have to do is disagree. If you wouldn't want to do..." "I want to do it. I want to... Entertain and accompany the young lord." - You exclaimed to stop her rambling, agreeing maybe a bit too enthusiastically. Kohaku didn't say a word, but her smile said it all. "You aren't a Geisha tonight, young one. Forget the pressure and stay calm for me, all right? As for the question of your mizuage..." (author's note: mizuage is basically a geisha selling her virginity to her highest bitting client) "Ma'am!" - You exclaimed, pure shock in your expression. "... I claim no ownership over it. Whatever you wish to do with your worth and purity is your own decision. As I've said, you aren't a Geisha under my watch." - And with that, Kohaku pushed you right out the door.

Before you gathered yourself, Sakai turned to you - to a decomposed, trembling, flustered mess of a woman, whose palms shook so wildly that she almost dropped all the damn alcohol and food. Trying to stay composed, you inhaled deeply and attempted to send him a warm smile. When he returned the smile, your heart flipped inside your chest. Something in his expression made you feel special and beautiful… Seen. As if someone, for the first time in your life, acknowledged your presence properly. Under his gaze, you didn't feel like a lowly peasant. You felt like a desirable woman. Well, you might've been delusional, but it was a nice illusion.

"For a moment I was sure you'd turn my wish down. It must've troubled you greatly, I imagine. Let me express my gratitude for adhering to it." - With a silent sigh, he took a step closer to steady the palm in your arms - his quiet, endeared scoff didn't slip past your ears. - "Now that I think about it, I hope this foolish wish hadn't caught you off-guard. That would trouble me greatly." - The emotion in his voice almost sent you down on your knees. No way in the world would you be courageous enough to look in the man's face. If his proximity and tone alone made you weak, Sakai's boyish grin would surely send you off to meet the Kami…. Or the Oni. "I'm honored to make you company, my Lord. Please, follow me. I'll lead you to the onsen." - Despite putting in your best efforts to appear collected, you failed to get your voice under control. It was still very shaky, threatening to fail you any second.

As you walked around the garden, Sakai followed you slowly. Neither of you spoke, only the sounds of wind following all your steps. Ownership of an onsen hidden away from the public eye was Lady Kohaku's greatest pride. The hot spring was a well-hidden, secluded sanctuary hidden away from all unwanted glances and attention. It was partially hidden behind a rock formation and plenty of Sakura trees hid it away, bending over under the weight of all their petals and branches. When you had a lucky day and caught Lady Kohaku in a good mood, she allowed you to soak in the hot water. Usually, you'd prepare yourself a cup of hot tea and watch the birds hiding in the Sakura trees as the sun slowly set down. It was a beautiful place. Lady Kohaku usually allowed you and all the other girls to use the onsen after a dutiful, challenging day. It helped tremendously, cleared your mind, and lifted your spirits.

Even though it was a sanctuary, the serenity was nowhere to be found as you walked to it, setting the tray onto a designed spot carved into the stone. The reason your sanctuary wasn't offering any safety was just arriving, sighing pleasantly upon seeing the onsen. Hot, humid air curled atop it, inviting you to relax your body. The sweet scent of flowers and water filled the air, the last rays of sunshine sinking through the petals. Working in silence, you positioned the sake so he could grab it, putting the first batch of Yui's renowned Sashimi right next to it. You could pinpoint the moment Sakai slipped out of his yukata - the fabric slipping off his shoulders had you gasp for air. You kneeled frozen for some time, waiting until you heard a familiar splash of water and a contained sigh. Sakai, thankfully, didn't leave you waiting for long.

"Is there any topic you'd wish to discuss, my lord?" - Hearing your careful, gentle tone, Sakai turned his head to you as he leaned his elbows next to him. Taking careful steps, you'd sit in the grass opposite of him, the lamps lighting your face delicately. The man took his time as he let his eyes slip on your face, another boyish grin forming on his lips. Yep. There it was. You knew it. The grin broke all hell loose in your belly, butterflies tickling you almost violently.

Let it be known that Jin Sakai was a strong man - a samurai raised with a strong sense of morals forcefully instilled within him by his uncle. And yet… You had him weak. Whether he'd bend to your will or break entirely, he was in your grace. Every shy glance excited him, sending shivers down his spine. Each time you took a step back, Sakai's body desired to close the gap. While everything you did showed Sakai respect worthy of a lord, the distance between you felt torturous. From everything you've told Jin hinted you find yourself desirable enough - and he hated you felt this way. If only it wouldn't be forbidden to disclose his attraction… If only he could disclose all the images in his mind, most of which you weren't clothed. If only… He realized you were possibly the most beautiful woman Jin encountered throughout years of loneliness, the most intriguing human being anyway. The samurai wished to listen to every thought and memory in your mind. It would be heaven to lean his head into your lap, letting you yap away about anything and everything. He also realized this night was the only chance for you to live through a small infinity. He'd leave by the morning, leaving you behind. Despite this realization breaking his heart, it needed to be done. Jin was a man on a mission that couldn't be postponed. The Mongolian invasion was a matter of now or never. Every small victory supported and strengthened the cause. He realized the Ghost was needed to keep folks' spirits lifted. Jin dared to postpone it… Just for the night. Just until you fall asleep safely, making his hasty departure a bit easier. Jin postponed it for you.

"Whatever comes to your mind, my lady." - The man murmured after a long time, turning his gaze somewhere in the onsen. - "When I find myself in an onsen, I tend to reflect upon my life, journey, and my destiny; about the paths I've already endured and the ones I'm yet to take." - He explained calmly. "Would you like me to leave?" "No." - The man blurted almost too fast. - "I'm trying to say I wasn't accompanied in an onsen for some time. The change is exciting and endearing. I'm glad to know I'm not alone." "I'm the one to start the conversation, then? Won't you take it as a sign of disrespect?" - You wondered. "Ask me whatever your heart desires, my lady." - The respectful address still made you uneasy. Next to the young lord, you had no social status. There wasn't a singular, logical reason Sakai had to treat you with such an amount of respect… The only explanation was that Jin Sakai understood you as an equal. If his uncle would get to know…

"Are you alone often, my lord?" - You asked, Jin's eyes darted back to you immediately. It was a very intimate question, that you'd admit. Whatever your heart desired, though - that's how Sakai put it. Was it too much? Bowing down, you started apologizing. - "Excuse my rudeness. My words were too bold…" "The path of a warrior is a lonely one. You often lose those who you care for, as I lost my uncle. Ever since the invasion started and I swore to bring justice and honor to his death, I was alone… I had allies, and few friends, but… The answer is yes." - His expression was somber, subdued with painful memories. - "Never apologize for being curious, please, my lady. It's refreshing when someone asks exactly what's on their mind. Most wouldn't dare." - His words were true. Yes, Jin, just like other men, enjoyed being in the presence of Geisha. They were charming, but the conversation got very repetitive. The women dodged giving him a direct piece of information, they never challenged his views or asked daring, eyebrow-rising questions. Your raw curiosity and absence of a filter made the exchange interesting. This was getting fun.

"You must accept my apologies for I'm no geisha, my lord. Whatever it is you expect from me I'll be unable to perform - I can't dance, neither have I mastered the art of communication." - Still bowing, you slowly sat up to see him… Frowning, leaning his head toward his left shoulder. "That's… Why I asked you to join me. I know you're not one of them, a keen eye notices the difference. Trust me, Lady Kohaku informed me about your role in the house very well." - With that, he took a breath. - "Do not take my words as an insult, but normal people like you are humbling - soothing to be around when needed. It's the likes of you that can keep our minds settled in reality. Without normal people, we wouldn't be anything." - Well, Sakai just managed to inform you of being just a lowly peasant - but he was so polite about it that it sounded like politeness. "Thank you for the trust, my lord…" "Jin." - Now, he was looking into your eyes with his lips slightly parted. This was the first time the gentle, vulnerable soul of Jin Sakai poked its head out. As you made eye contact with him, the dynamic slowly started to shift. Jin had some ulterior motives he was chasing with this plea, but you nodded either way. - "Please, do me a favor and call me Jin. I yearn to be just a normal human for tonight. Help me forget about the outside world."

"I was just polite, just like Lady Kohaku taught me to be." - You disclosed sincerely, sending a small grin back - earning one right back. "Let me tell you a secret, Y/N… Born to the Sakai clan, to the clan leading over Tsushima, ensured I'd head a multitude of titles and polite addresses every day. Each word and each act served as a reminder to me of my duties to the people and the codex I swore to revere. But… Sometimes, I yearned for someone who'd peek under the pleasantries and titles… Someone who'd see me for the person, for Jin hiding inside lord Sakai. It's very difficult to ask for most of the time." - There it was again… The raw honesty.

It wasn't hard to imagine since people always took you for what you truly were. Your father was a fisherman, your mother took care of the household - you were just everyday people. You were nowhere near being royalty. Imagine you'd be locked up behind a character you carefully constructed for the public to see, smothering your true self under that mask… A smile appeared on your lips, an endearing twinkle showing in your eyes. As you inhaled deeply, your body started to relax. - "I'll do my best, Jin." "Thank you."

You stayed silent for a bit, waiting for whatever Jin would be up to next. The moment you realized he started bathing, your eyes widened in horror. - "You can't do that! Your wounds will reopen." "Oh, you want to do this yourself?" - Sakai teased with a grin, assuming you were joking. As his eyes glanced at the sincerity and seriousness in your expression, he realized he might get exactly what he asked for. You started to fold the sleeves of your yukata, breathing shakily. Despite joking, upon the realization dawning on him, his abdomen throbbed with excitement. - "… Please?" As you walked over to him, a heart attack was on the horizon. Both of you knew that touching a man like this was highly inappropriate, never mind the fact you were alone. And yet, you slowly dipped your palms in the warm water, sliding your fingers across his shoulders and upper back. To your surprise, the samurai gave into your touch willingly, almost desperately. His breath was hitching with excitement as his muscles naturally followed every small touch. Whenever you'd lean away, even ever so slightly, Jin's body would naturally follow you. This was much more exciting than it should, the loneliness leaving a mark on him. A mark Jin wasn't the proudest of. As you started talking, Jin almost freaked out with how much you scared him.

"Excuse me?" - Jin murmured, looking up to you. Whatever was going on, you furrowed at Sakai - his eyes were darkened with lust (despite never being with a man, you were positive you'd know when a man desired you), his hair breaking out of the bun giving him a very desirable look. His cheeks were rosy and filled with blood, lips parted as if he was waiting for something… Dear Kami, you thought, Jin Sakai was beautiful. "I was just asking if you're alright, Jin?" - Jin, you had to smile to yourself. Jin. You liked his name. You loved pronouncing it, letting the letters slip down your tongue. If it wouldn't be so inappropriate, you'd swear it almost tasted sweet. He wasn't able to form a coherent answer as your thumb pressure on the nape of his neck, tugging on his hachimaki to let his hair down. With a nod, Jin agreed, feeling strands of hair getting released.

"Better than alright." - Sakai sighed dreamily, murmuring as your fingertips dipped into his hair, massaging his scalp. His palm was searching for something, tapping the rock behind his shoulder. At first, you assumed he wanted to have some saké - but then, his fingers scratched your calf. As if he'd done it a thousand times before, Jin lazily threw your leg over his shoulder. Just when you thought it couldn't get better, his palm started smoothing the skin on your foot and calf. "What… What are you doing?" - Trying to keep calm, you still smoother Jin's hair, and played with it absentmindedly. Truth be told, you didn't pay an ounce of attention to anything else other than Jin Sakai, the Ghost of Tsushima himself, having your leg lazily thrown over his shoulder. You watched as his palm thoughtfully teased your skin, the back of his head leaning into your inner thigh as his eyes found yours. Having his head this close to the source of heat that set your body ablaze had you hissing excitedly. Based on his smile, Jin heard the sound.

Watching and feeling as you slowly got excited complimented Jin dearly. The knowledge of your body willingly giving into his unspoken offers with consent sent him into heat beyond his wildest dreams. All the desire written all over your face sent Jin into an abyss he wasn't sure he'd ever escape. The shadows on your face enhanced your features, bringing them into the forefront. The samurai couldn't pinpoint what exactly was it, but you looked ethereal. Each flicker of your lashes allured Jin, nailing in place. It was impossible to look away from you, from all the warmth and sweetness you emitted. Gods… You were breathtaking. With each nail in the coffin of his samurai codex, Jin felt more alive. The passion was too tempting to ignore. As he mentioned, Lord Shurima raised him as his son and a samurai. As such, Sakai knew it wasn't wise or right to give in to his emotions. As a samurai, Sakai was taught to keep his feelings in check, to keep his head clear, and to keep his honor at the forefront of all of his decisions… Jin was failing miserably at that moment.

It could've been months since he'd had a lover by his side. Ako was one of the concubines in his uncle's court, one who showed great interest in Sakai. If it wasn't for the invasion and her subsequent execution, she would've been in the best position to bore Jin's child. As for having a wife, Shimura hadn't introduced any potential candidate. As any man would, he yearned for a lover's touch. He wished to touch the woman's silky skin, run his palms across her curves, kiss the soft spots on her body, and flicker his tongue on their thighs or necks… And… There you were. You were close and your body was warm, making a cold shiver run down his spine. Presumably, it would be wiser to act on those primal thoughts before continuing on his quest… Wouldn't it?

Lazily, Jin smoother your knee pit with the tip of his nose, giving you one last look. It was a plea, a silent question. Utterly mesmerized, you nodded, watching the man plant a gentle kiss on the spot. Your body jointed at the touch, making Jin grin. The reaction gave away more than any amount of words would ever do. Jin found it admirable to find a woman who was still oblivious to one's touch. It was rare to meet one among geishas and concubines - all of them were knowledgeable in the arts of pleasure, having explored each inch of their bodies, knowing exactly what excites them. Jin, however, always felt deeper sympathies toward empty sheets of paper.

Inhaling the scent of your skin, Jin pressed more kisses to the small, gentle spot. Jolting again, your fingers tugged on Sakai's hair, fixing his head in place. It wasn't painful, just tight enough to make Jin moan weakly. As he pushed your leg off his shoulder, he turned to face you, slowly standing up from the body of water. His lips traveled up your leg, planting delicate yet meaningful pecks in an invisible trail. It didn't bother Sakai that you were clothed, he just led the trail atop your clothes. At a point, it became an impossible task to breathe normally - each breath sent a fresh batch of boiling blood running through your veins, every kiss gathering tension in the small bundle of nerves between your thighs. As Jin's head hovered over you, his darkened eyes sent another silent question in your direction. It would be preposterous to simply bore his head between your thighs, but the simple image of Sakai's tongue flickering at the spot where it itched the most… It would be so shameless. But dear Kami, you desperately wanted it.

Sakai couldn't gather how he regained control of himself, but he opted to tower over you, leaning his palms next to your thighs. His fingers itched to undress you, his eyes imagined you nude and in hundreds, thousands of scandalous positions that would please you. Fuck, he was hard for you already. Thankfully, the darkness and very few lamps hid any sign of indecency under the veil of night. As he stared at you, you didn't bother hiding your struggle to breathe and stay still. Still mesmerized by his beauty, you straightened up to match his pose - just so your face and torso would be closer to Jin's. The man lustfully dragged his eyes on your lips before looking into your eyes.

"Can I have an outlandish request?" - Sakai murmured, smoothing your cheek with his thumb. You could feel his breath on your face, the scorching heat of his body, and his smell invading your head. Unable to form words, you nodded. - "Join me… I beg you, Y/N. I won't utter a word to Lady Kohaku… This secret will be safe with me." There was a frantic sense of urge in his tone, his palm pulling your face closer before he stole a peck from your cheek. Looking away, you ran your tongue across your lips as you thought about the offer - Sakai, seemingly hypnotized, hissed. To gain a bit of personal space, you put your palms on his chest… Which was the straw that broke the camel's back. His body was tense, filled to the brim with blind lust, his heart ready to jump out of his chest - just like yours. Could it be? Was he as enchanted with you as you were with him?

Nothing about this situation was wise. You weren't stupid. One thing would lead to another - first, you undress, enter the onsen and before you'd grasp what's happening, you'd be lighter of a mizuage. Mizuage. Purity. Your only palpable worth. It was your only ticket to leave the geisha's house one day. Now that you didn't have family or a dowry, your purity was a commodity you could use as a means of transaction. Surely you weren't in a rush to leave the safety, mainly due to the ongoing invasion, but sometime in the future… On the other hand, you realized well this was a once-in-a-lifetime encounter and your body was betraying you long before Jin planted the images in your head. You desired him, you wished to see his eyes darken and lips smile loosely, you wished to see him undone. Everything about the man ensured he'd be careful. That he'd be slow. And most importantly, he wouldn't tell. Even if you wouldn't be pure by the time the morning sun arose, anyone would know. It would be easy to pretend, wouldn't it? Despite all of this going against your code, you turned your eyes toward the farmhouse. All the lights were out. The girls went to sleep, giving you privacy.

"Under one circumstance." - You muttered finally, pushing him away from you. "What is it you wish?" - … I'll give it to you, Jin almost added. "Don't look at me until I'm sat." - The sincere worry in your expression made Jin laugh, nodding, turning away as you asked. Quickly, you slipped out of your worn-out yukata, hastily throwing it somewhere aside. To ensure he's keeping his word, you held onto his shoulder as you slipped into the onsen. The water's relaxing effect kicked in immediately, making you sigh blissfully. That was the only time Sakai's head turned in your direction… Turning away before he could see anything. Before he knew it, you sat across him. "Thank you, Y/N. I mean it." - Sakai bowed, pouring you a cup of saké. As he handed it over, you shook your head.

"That's your gift from Lady Kohaku, Jin. I'm not allowed to drink it." "But I wish so. Drink up with me." - At first, Sakai came across as pushy, teasing you again. Then, the vulnerable man showed up again, sending you one of those shy boyish smiles. This expression broke you, making you accept the cup. "To your best health, my lord." - Teasing back, you toasted and took a first sip - Jin copying your actions. It was delicious, one from the fresh batch that you'd just delivered. You didn't have good saké in months.

Alcohol was sure to untie your tongues and smudge the social barriers between you, giving you time to relax and ensure everyone in the house was truly asleep. As the night darkened, you chatted away about everything - the conversation was pleasant and smooth. First, you talked about your memories of your birth village and friends while Jin shared stories about his companions, allies, and friends too. It turned sour once you got to the events of Komoda Beach, the knot that seemingly brought your paths together. The atmosphere was somber before you dispersed Jin with anecdotes about your life with the geishas. Alcohol in combination with hot was emboldened you, however - and Sakai too, apparently.

"What did you hear about me, the great Lord Sakai?" - Jin grinned, raising his eyebrows teasingly while pouring you another cup. The question made you laugh, despite Jin's expression darkening a bit. "A lot." - You murmured, winking at him playfully. When you pretended you wouldn't answer, Jin's palm raised the cup out of your reach. - "Heard you're talking to foxes and birds, following them around Tsushima, learning all their secrets, and earning the blessings of Kami… Also heard stories of a guardian, who's hiding in the shadows and patiently awaits the moment when he could strike and defend his land and people again… But I've also heard of the Ghost. That's the most infamous story about you - the most well-known." - As Jin scoffed, he gave you your cup back. When on the topic of unpleasant questions…

"Let me ask… Why did you choose me, Jin? This farmhouse is filled with sensual, gorgeous women, but you asked for a peasant. This feels like a strange dream." - One you were horrified of waking up from, you wished to add. But you sat patiently, waiting for Jin to form an answer. "Which answer do you want?" - Jin muttered without looking at you, sipping on his last cup of saké before setting it aside. "What do you mean?" "Do you want me to be polite… Or shall I say what's on my mind?" - He only raised his eyes at you during the latter part of his sentence, watching you like prey. There wasn't a need for words, your daring smile said it all. Of course, you wanted Jin to be raw and honest. - "Kohaku promised me company for the night if I'd like some, her approximation was simple - I can ask for whoever catches my eye. Don't get me wrong, Akali and Yui are wonderful women… But the moment I laid my eyes on you, I couldn't stop thinking about your smile. Once she disclosed you were my savior, I was lost; the only thing I'm certain of is that the gods blessed me. Under your beautiful face, there's thoughtfulness, intelligence, let alone humor and honesty I wouldn't find in any of these women sleeping inside that house." - Sakai disclosed honestly as you sipped on your saké, his words tarnishing every remnant of politeness. Soon, you felt his foot bumping into yours under the water, caressing it with care.

Even though all he said was evident from his demeanor and acts alone, it felt different to hear it out loud. He truly found you beautiful, he thought you were intelligent and funny. Social class or status was long forgotten - it was just Jin and Y/N ogling at each other in the onsen, trying to suppress all the inappropriate thoughts. "I suppose that wasn't the polite answer, was it?" - Whispering, your foot caressed his calf in return… Making Jin smile and blush. All muscles in his body tensed up under your touch, shivers running down his spine by the time your toe brushed his thigh. Your abdomen tensed up with that beautiful, torturous warmth again. "We promised we'd be honest with each other, right?" - Suddenly, Jin slipped underwater to clear his face and hair, resurfacing again. Strands of hair were messily framing his face, tugging out of the bun he'd attempted to make after you joined him in the onsen.

"What's on your mind right now, Y/N?" - Jin whispered, watching as you licked your lips just as before. This simple, subconscious gesture of yours almost made Sakai jump at you without asking. As his palms found your knees to circle them around his pelvis, you were already fucking lost. Ensuring you were okay with it, his palms slowly found your bottom and kneaded the gentle skin, bringing you closer. Realizing it was his penis poking at your belly made your eyes widen. "You, Jin. You're on my mind." - As he scoffed, you furrowed in response. Did you say something stupid? - "What's funny about that?" "… You're on my mind too." - Sakai admitted, finally leaning closer to kiss you. The entire time you sat across him felt like torture - each time you'd smile, Jin was on the brink of begging. He'd do anything for a simple peck. Your lips tasted better than he'd imagine, and just like you did before, he licked your lips for you. They were so soft… Before you could stop it, you moaned quietly. It happened once before with one of the loutish boys, but it hadn't happened this fast. You forgot how kissing felt, you forgot what a warm, tender feeling spreads inside your chest. Smiling, your palm smoothed Jin's jaw as you brought him for another one.

The hot water made your blood boil. Your muscles turned into mush, your body limb as Jin kissed you until he had to take a breath. As he did so, your palm explored everything in your reach - his neck and jaw covered in unkempt stubble, his collarbones, his heart beating inside his chest, all the scars on his torso… Jin's palms smoothed you almost subconsciously, each stroke parting your thighs further away. After he'd started teasing the inner part of it, he could feel you shutting, recoiling in response… And yes, his fingers were trembling too. To be frank, the man found it fascinating - amused with the way your body responded, he slowly built up the tension within you. You barely recalled the moment you moaned audibly enough for Jin's tongue to enter your mouth, making you tug on his hair response - for this, Jin awarded you with a greedy whimper and a nod. He liked that. If Jin would get enlightened all of a sudden, remembering his code, yapping about how immoral this was, you'd just slap him out of it and make him finish what he started.

Everything about the kiss was a bit… Sloppy in an endearing way. Based on Jin's looks, manners, and choice of words, you'd assume he's a hit among the ladies - let alone he was lonely for the past few months. Women must've gone crazy for him, surely, just like all the geishas did. Jin Sakai with all his attributes must've been a sexual idol, if you will. He'd already broken his codes along the way - what would be one more rule on top of the list? What his uncle didn't know, that couldn't hurt him, Why wouldn't Jin accept the advances? Why not give in? And you'd be dead wrong. Yes, he had the looks and manners, but Jin lacked the outright confidence to accede. Well… Until this evening, that was. As Jin admitted, he was borderline obsessed with you. Even though you didn't show an ounce of sexual interest in him back in the garden, Sakai realized he'd go mad if he didn't have you. Realizing you were both fish out of water calmed you down. It was nice to know you were both equally nervous.

"Don't you pass out on me, Jin, alright?" - You teased as you both gasped for air. Jin tried diving right back in, but when you dodged, he leaned his forehead against you to keep at least some sort of physical contact with you. He grinned upon the joke. "I'm afraid my wounds will surely reopen because of all the excitement you're making me feel." - His voice getting raspier made you put your index finger under his chin, raising his eyes to you. That shy Jin was far gone - this man was ready to… Whatever he was ready to do, it ran your mouth dry. Sakai wasn't creating pressure, you could always turn him down and he could do the same. And this, seemingly, was your last chance to wiggle out of his arms, walk to your futon, and go to sleep. "Would you mind sharing the excitement, my lord?" - Fuck, that address. The one you were shyly pronouncing all evening long. Each you'd address him as such, his dick twitched under his clothes. Thank gods that the yukata was very loose. - "Or would you prefer to keep it to yourself?" - Your voice finally cracked when you realized Jin's fingers started to caress your inner thigh again. It wasn't teasingly, however, no.

His tongue skillfully flickered on your neck, leaving trails of saliva he'd carefully kiss with his lips, each touch spreading your thighs until his palm lay settled between them. Before smoothing it for the first time, Jin'd ensure you were looking up to him - that you wanted this just as much as he wanted it. That small weak spot was boiling, begging to be touched and pleasured. Even though he'd been with women before, it never felt natural, not as much as this. Even though it was just a carefully constructed lie, an illusion, Jin felt the two of you had all the time in the world to try whatever you desired. Fuck, Jin wished that would come true. The eternity sounded nice next to you.

Nothing prepared you for the sudden cutting pain spreading between your legs when Jin pushed two of his fingers inside you. In response, your body recoiled, your eyes swelling with tears, squirming at the strange new sensation. After Jin attempted to talk to you, but without any response, he caressed your head and pecked your lips until you relaxed around him. He was scared to move his hand even an inch. Sitting obediently between your legs, he waited until you came to.

"Did I hurt you? If you want me to stop…" "Give me a moment." - You muttered with eyes closed, leaning your back into the edge of the onsen. Trying to get used to the feeling, you kissed Jin and started smoothing his body again, realizing every phalanx of Jin's curled fingers inside you. After a bit, when it started feeling enjoyable, you nodded and started moving, grinding on his palm with utmost care, avoiding the pain. When Sakai deemed it appropriate, his palm started grinding against your pace, thrusting to give you a bit of the edge - the needed friction. It felt overwhelming, so you dug your nails into his shoulders to steady yourself in the moment. Jin's darkened yet warm gaze followed your journey towards climax, the man seemingly fascinated by each twitch in your face. Carefully, your hand slipped down to accompany his, playing with the small sensitive bud as your instincts guided you.

The unfamiliar sensation sent a wave of heat through your body, curling up your toes. You wanted more. You needed more. You had no clue what the sensation was, but the faster you rubbed it, the more you needed. All the build-up turned into moans and whines, raspy whispers of Jin's name falling off your lips like a silent prayer. Until your body tensed up… And exploded into bits and pieces. For a bit, you didn't know who you were or where you were, you could just see the universe expanding behind your closed eyes. You've tried masturbating, of course, you weren't a stranger to it. But this… This felt better than before. Much better. A contained smile, accompanied by relaxed sighs, appeared on your face as Sakai slipped out of you. Based on his endearing expression, he was pleased with himself.

"Was that enough excitement for you, dearest, or would you want some more?" - Even speaking was problematic for Sakai as he watched you get undone, spasming around his fingers so tightly he was worried you wouldn't ever let go… Not that he'd mind. Also, the nickname - such an intimate, endearing one. Dearest, you repeated in your mind over and over again. You loved the sound of that. "I'm sure I'll handle more if you'll be gentle, dearest." - Matching his tone, you caressed his face. Your head felt light and dizzy from the orgasm, sake, and hot water, but you were dying to feel all of him. You were craving his dick inside you if you'd have to say it outright. Jin's smile brightened. - "Why are you still smiling?"

As you moved onto the cold grass next to the onsen, Jin shook his head. He didn't want to ruin the moment by explaining. He simply wished to make you moan. Every moment of what had happened was engraved into the back of his head. Those will be the memories accompanying him on long travels and lonely nights, surely. A sense of hope built inside his chest. Maybe once everything's over… Maybe he could meet you again, pay for you, and make you his concubine. Over time, you could become more than that… Jin shook his head again, unable to contain the excitement this thought gave him. This could be more than just a one-time occasion, surely. Either he could ask you to follow him across Tsushima, to leave by his side in the early morning… He could give it a shot. If you wouldn't agree, he could propose the former plan. Would you agree? Gods, Jin hoped you would.

As Sakai kneeled atop you, lost in his thoughts with his dick hard, you kissed his cheek to bring him back. The grass was soothing, nicely cold, and velvet soft, so you didn't mind laying on it as Jin positioned between your legs - his eyes traveled from your lap to your face, analyzing every crevice of your skin. There was so much Jin wanted to do, so much he wanted to show you, but he sadly didn't have the time to do so. He wanted to entwine his fingers between strands of your hair, run his palms down your shoulders and back, palm both of your breasts, and play with your nipples. There was a multitude of positions Jin imagined you in, each one making him hornier than the one before. He needed you. And that's what he could get right now, watching as you nodded. You needed him too.

Carefully supporting your pelvis with all the clothes, he lifted it off the ground so you'd have an easier time taking him. Despite his best efforts of being careful and loving, your mouth opened agape, and your head turned back at an unnatural angle. Realizing how tight you were, his hips buckled against his will, making your body shiver as your palms found his, your nails digging into his skin. He tried staying in the position for as long as his willpower let him before slowly pulling out and sliding back in. The motions were extremely slow, each inch stretching you inside feeling like torture for the first few minutes. Carefully grabbing one of your nipples, his thumb toyed with it until your clit started tingling again. Just like before, you rubbed it, feeling as you relaxed around him. It even eased the friction, your juices soaking his dick with each thrust. After sinking his entire length inside you without you seemingly realizing, Sakai's eyes gazed at the spot where your bodies connected - he watched himself slipping out and thrusting back in before all the remnants of willpower broke inside him, utterly mesmerized. His hips buckled again as he gained speed, hastily thrusting into you in search of his release.

He laid down, letting you messily embrace him - one of his hands smoothed your hair and face, and the other leaned next to your hair as he continued pounding deep into the core of your warmth. You were silky soft, tightly wrapped around him… It felt so right. Everything was almost too fucking good. Nails in the skin on his back, your breath on his face, your eyes staring deep into his, your palm rubbing your clit… Everything about it was so right. The fact that Jin started to verbalize his pleasure aroused you - low growls, whines, and moans were leaving his mouth as his moves got sloppier and sloppier. In response to his sounds, your mouth let out some of the most erotic and heavenly moans of your own. As he furrowed and burrowed his head to your next, he moaned your name and slipped out, letting warm fluid cover your belly as his hips recoiled with pleasure. You couldn't care less about not reaching climax too. All that mattered was that Jin Sakai laid next to you, alive, happy and relaxed.

"Let's clean you up, dearest, come on." - The man breathed out laboriously, helping you back on your feet. The post-orgasm bliss erased all the horrors written in his face. For a bit, it allowed Jin to forget who or where he was. It was just Jin and Y/N, nothing else could penetrate this barrier. As you sat back to the onsen, Sakai curled you up to his chest, relaxing as he breathed in your scent and held your shoulders with his arms. After a careful examination, you realize none of the wounds reopened. Those were great news and you planned on giving a few quality offerings to the spirits. For the first time since you've met him, Jin Sakai looked healthy.

"Never in my life had I experienced anything this beautiful." - You mumbled after a moment, Jin leaning for a gentle kiss on your forehead. Based on his sigh, you assumed there was something on his mind - so you asked. "Are you happy? Are you fulfilled living your mundane life? Or is it a matter of habit and safety? Have you ever thought about this?" - Even Jin himself seemed caught off-guard by the depth of his thoughts. He furrowed, a V forming between his eyebrows. What was he chasing after? "Actually, I am. There's something nice about the mundane life of a peasant. You know, I was born into one, I can't imagine being anyone else. I wasn't rose to fight for honor a dignity… My parents taught me to be a good person who treats others with decency and empathy. That's who I am. So… Yes. I am happy." - Nodding with conviction, you looked up at the starry night. "So… If I'd propose you'd leave this place with me…" - Just muttered, making you look at him while he gathered the courage to finish what he was saying. - "To fight for the right thing, would you accept the proposition?" - Yes, Jin was dead serious. This idea was as stupid as it was dangerous. If there would be any nail in the coffin of his samurai honor, it would be traveling around Tsushima with a peasant. Let alone imagine Jin publically proclaiming you as his partner. Unrealistic. It wasn't enough for Sakai to be forced to commit seppuku for violating bushido in such a way. These relationships were strongly frowned upon, being more or less forbidden. If there were such instances, they were hushed and kept in secret, usually dismissed as rumors. Was Jin simply trying to get a fighter for his cause, then?

"I wouldn't accept the offer, my lord." - Smiling, you sat on his lap, caressing both sides of his face. - "The girls need my help around the house, especially in times like these. I shall be forever grateful for the appreciation and care they gave me in this house. I couldn't stumble into a better house - they treat me as an equal, with respect and love. I'm family, Jin." - Your expression grew somber, the gentle warmth in your eyes fading as they swelled with tears. - "Calling you by your name and seeing the true you, Jin, is enough of a privilege to me. Don't take my words personally, but I don't think we'd make it… Not in a million years. I would raise a lot of distrust into the samurai of clan Sakai, bringing you and our potential children a century of misfortune and karma."

You were right, of course, you were right. And yet, despite everything, there was still some sort of a safe harbor inside your eyes. Tight there, in the onsen, was where Jin was meant to be - with you. He was sure of it. All hells of the surrounding worlds ceased to exist when you smiled at him. There wasn't any woman, except Yuriko, who'd make him feel like this. And Jin Sakai was not ready to let go as easily. "Your care for my honor is admirable, Y/N, but… I've already bent and violated the bushido codex many times in so many ways I'll be let go to wander the world as rōnin once everything's done. I'm sure lord Shimura wouldn't make commit seppuku, but he won't accept me as his samurai ever again." - Jin explained, smoothing your hips. You realized what Jin's getting at, your heart pounding upon the realization. - "All differences between us will disappear and my social status won't matter after, you know?" "If we meet again one day, I'll be sure it was meant by destiny. Until that day, it is how it is." - You sighed, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck. Sakai didn't dwell, his hand smoothing your back once more. - "I'm just a woman sitting next to an honorous samurai, Jin Sakai. You will leave in the morning and make me proud because you were destined to achieve amazing things."

[helioark]

A Guide to the Amber Woods 

This blog, its writings, and its characters are all copyright to the author of this blog. All opinions and ideas expressed within are not guaranteed to be factual and are the product of the blog owner’s research and creativity. Trust not the Fae. 

… 

Where Am I?

Welcome to the Amber Woods. Currently located in the midst of the verdant depths of the Willamette Valley, the Amber Woods are the haunting grounds of an ancient, secretive Archfaerie, fallen from grace and on the run from his past.  He answers to The Warden (or Cecil, if you’re on good terms) and he lives in a strange-looking cabin by the river, selling trinkets made of amber and glass for unusual forms of payment. The sun is red in the sky, and the shadows of the trees are long against the ferns. It’s hard to concentrate with the sound of the river so loud in your ears, which is odd, because you’re nowhere near it. You keep walking, because you came here for a reason.

What was it again?

Who’s Who?

The Author

Hi! My name is James, I’m the (very human) author of this blog. I hail from the misty locales of Oregon, where the rain is our sunshine and you end up in the town center of TIllamook no matter how many times you think you’ve left it. I’m a self-diagnosed mythology nerd and a semi-consistent creative writer with a love for horror and fantasy. I run this blog to practice my writing, interact with people who enjoy the topics I write about, and to give myself an outlet to express my love for the weird shit I find on the internet. Most posts that are not focused on faerie mythology, eldritch/occult stuff, or similar are the things that I post. Almost all of that content can be found under the hashtag [# not the warden], or if I’m lazy, no hashtag at all. If you want to ask me about my research, creative story lines, or just tell me about your day, my inbox is always open! 

The Warden 

The Warden is the character I run this blog as. He is my original creation, though he is heavily inspired by several Celtic, Irish, and British folkloric legends. In the Amber Woods canon, the Warden and I are separate people that exist at the same time. Almost all of the content that The Warden deals with is tagged [# the warden speaks]. 

The Warden will answer asks about the Fae, his past, or the occult, and does business through the inbox. It is not necessary to do business in order to ask a question, and asking a question does not require payment. If you wish to buy amber from the Warden, he will expect you to give him something valuable in return. The Warden will make a post with the hashtag [ # restocking] to announce that the inbox is open for amber selling, and a post with the hashtag [ # out of stock] to indicate that it is closed. As with all transactions with the Fae, mind your manners and your words. The Warden is kind but will not hesitate to rob you. General offerings are also appreciated, and will be used to make lunch. As with all faeries, follow the rules. Additionally, never mention crows.

If you would like to hear it, below is part of The Warden’s story. Also found below is the tag directory and some necessary disclaimers. I hope you enjoy your visit to the Amber Woods! If you don’t, well, that’s hardly our fault, is it? 

. . . 

The Warden is an ex-Archfaerie of the High Court of Summer, where he ruled at the right hand of the Midsummer Queen herself and was responsible for defending the Courts of Summer against defamation and attack. He hails from one of the first generations of the Aos Sí, born on the edges of the last great war between the Fomorians and the Tuatha Dé Danann, rescued from near certain death by Ghillie Dhu and given to his sister for safekeeping. He is the eighth child of the Last Great King, younger sibling to the seventh daughter, the powerful sídhe who would eventually come to rule the Summer Courts.

 He ruled as commander of the armies of midsummer and guardian of the great emerald woods of the hills for nigh on six thousand years, becoming known to many humans as The Green Knight. The story of his downfall is not mine to tell, but after committing a great act of treason against the Queen, he fled the Summer Court and wandered the edges of the feywilds for another three thousand years, acquiring enemies and friends alike, hiding his face, never speaking his own name. Some say that the legend of Crom Dubh stems from this period, but the Warden denies this. 

After some time, The Warden wandered a little too close to the edges of the world and discovered the truth of his past, hidden from him by his sister. He chased these threads of history into the twilight hell of the Gloaming Courts, and he currently refuses to tell anyone anything else about what happened then besides the fact that he stole an artifact of great power and barely escaped with his life. Using this artifact, the Amber Woods were created, and the Warden finds himself now haunting the forests of the Pacific Northwest, exchanging the bereft dreams and wishes of humans for amber. He hides from the Queen of Midsummer yet, but he swears that someday, he will reclaim his inheritance. How, I do not know.

… 

How to Navigate the Woods

Taglist: 

[ # the warden speaks]: Denotes a post that the warden has reblogged or added onto. 

[ # not the warden / # the author speaks]: Denotes a post that I have reblogged or added onto out of character.

[ # machinations of the fae]: Denotes a post that describes an action, creation, or person belonging to faerie lore that isn’t about the warden.  

[ # abominations of the fae]: Denotes a post about non-faerie cryptids, beasts, or other affronts to sensibility. 

[ # teaching the mortals how to speak with faeries]: Denotes a post where someone breaks a rule of faerie etiquette in the ask box. 

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I will add more as necessary. 

… 

Hillkeeping

This blog sometimes interacts with @thetatteredveil and @normal-horoscopes. It was inspired by both of these blogs and does not claim any canonicity within said blogs. Both blogs exist within the Amber Woods canon; none of their content is considered my intellectual property.  

If you would like to create a blog or character within the Amber Woods canon, message me! I would love to work with other creators and writers. 

As stated above, all information and creative licence posted within this blog cannot be considered consistently factual. I have done surface-level research on the common Gaelic, Irish, and Scottish folklore and mythology that forms the basis of my characters and stories. Check your facts and consult with experts, of which I do not consider myself one. 

Finally, friends, be kind to each other and the world you live in. You have no idea what listens to you when you think you are alone.

[presidentrhodes]

How about some IronHusbands? Tony keeps telling the avengers how awesome his husband is but they don't believe he exists because it has been months and they still haven't met him yet and then finally, Rhodey comes home :)

See, I was going to write a cute 700-word fic for this, but your prompt was too good and this turned into a 5K monster. I’m sorry. :(

Title: The Other Mr Stark: Pilot, Scientist and Iron Man’s Mysterious Paramour

Rating: PG

Pairing: Tony Stark/James Rhodes

Summary: Clint leans over to Tony and whispers. “For the record, I know you’re lying. You’re describing the perfect man and he doesn’t exist. You might as well say you’re dating Superman because at least Christopher Reeve was a looker.“ 

This ignores the chronology and canon from Iron Man 2. It’s not yet beta-ed so, I apologise for all mistakes!

***

“Don’t be ridiculous, Stark,” Clint says from the lounge floor, where he sits cross-legged, trying to build a house of cards on the table. Natasha’s lying on the sofa next to him, her feet on Steve’s lap as he massages them. Bruce sits in an armchair opposite them, his attention fixed on the Starkpad in his hands. Thor stands by the floor-to-ceiling window behind Bruce, watching the cars driving along Park Avenue 80 floors down. “You’re making shit up." 

It’s team-bonding night: Steve came up with the idea a month after the Avengers stopped an alien invasion and moved into the spacious penthouse atop Stark Tower. New York began the long, arduous process of rebuilding; tall construction cranes wedged between damaged skyscrapers carried out repair work and men in reflective vests and bright yellow helmets became a common sight all over the city. 

Tony’s at the bar mixing drinks for the team, even though he hasn’t touched alcohol in over a decade. His cocktails, he claims, are still kickass. "Why would I lie to you, Barton? I am going to get nothing out of it." 

They have been going back and forth for an hour since Tony let it slip that contrary to what the New York Post says every week, he’s happily married. His husband’s a decorated Air Force Colonel and a rocket scientist by training and, Tony insists, he once fought a homophobe bare-chested outside MIT in the freezing Northeast winter, for insulting Tony.

"It was my birthday. Honeybear had no time for assholes,” Tony says, shaking the martini he’s making for Natasha. “The fight was brutal, and this guy was built like a horse. I thought Platypus wouldn’t last a minute but I was wrong. Dead wrong.” Tony gesticulates at appropriate moments in his recounting of the tale and embellishes it with just the right amount of spice to impress upon the demi-gods, assassins and supersoldiers in his audience that his husband is a goddamn hero. 

Tony’s husband had apparently exchanged punches with the bigot that left both men bleeding profusely from their noses. “Then Honeybear uppercuts him out of nowhere and it’s a total KO,” Tony says, moving on to make Steve’s drink—a mojito; how typical of Captain Boyscout McSexypants. “I thought I was watching Ali versus Foreman on replay. It was beautiful.”

Bruce snorts at the comparison without glancing up from the tablet. 

Clint’s face contorts and he knits his brows in frustration as the sparse details from Tony fail to add up in his mind. The stacked cards look dangerously close to toppling over. “You want us to believe in this ‘mysterious’ paramour, and all you’re giving out are a bunch of ridiculous nicknames and made-up stories with no evidence and no pictures. Sounds completely legitimate.”

“Hey, why did I never come across this husband of yours when I was your PA?” Natasha chips in, the corner of her mouth quirks up. Steve grins at the way Tony’s face turns red and his nostrils flair—from what he has learned, courtesy of Shield and Ms Potts, Tony’s pride hasn’t recovered from being thoroughly fooled by the Black Widow two summers ago.

Tony tosses a lime at Natasha. She swats it away with an expert backhand, and the lime crashes into Clint’s deck of cards. The archer snarls a string of expletives, forcing out Steve’s stern 'Captain America is disappointed in you, son’ look. Tony flashes a lopsided smile from the bar. “Well, Ms Rushman, I don’t discuss all aspects of my life with personal assistants. Even ones as attractive as you.”

“Call me Rushman one more time and—" 

Thor finally turns to join the conversation and butts in before Natasha delivers the rest of her threat. "Your husband must be a good, honourable man. I’m sure he’s worthy of his place in Valhalla."  The response draws surprised looks around the room. Even Tony double-takes at first, his eyes wide and bug-like as if he can’t believe what his ears are picking up. He recovers fast and rubs his hands together in glee. "See? The god agrees with me. It’s settled, I win.”

The conversation turns to Fury and Shield—specifically, determining if Phil Coulson is a human mimicking an AI or an artificial intelligence pretending to be a 39-year-old homo sapiens sapiens. Tony brings over the drinks and sinks to the floor next to Clint. The archer leans over and whispers. “For the record, I know you’re lying. You’re describing the perfect man and he doesn’t exist. You might as well say you’re married to Superman because at least Christopher Reeve was a looker." 

Tony rolls his eyes. "You’ll eat your words soon enough, birdbrain." 

***

‘Soon enough’ turns out to be a month later when the topic of Tony’s mystery husband makes an unannounced appearance in the middle of a mission. Taking on a small army of unidentified robots possessing a hive brain, near a country fair, leaves Steve, Natasha and Tony in charge of shepherding a group of children away from the direct line of fire. Thor and Hulk keep the main fighting focused on them while Clint takes out the spare droids, one by one, from his spot on a nearby roof. 

Natasha leads them past smouldering scraps of metal and burning tarp, towards the carousel where the children huddle together, their faces white as sheets. Behind her, Steve’s limping along. He’s bleeding into his suit after taking several hits earlier from the droids and their shoulder-mounted plasma cannons. Tony provides aerial support, keeping the stray robots away from the kids. 

"You know,” he begins on the team’s shared comms channel, watching Natasha approach the terrified children with an unnatural, almost enviable, ease, like she has spent a lifetime perfecting the art of looking after them. “Platypus is really good with kids too. His sister sometimes leaves her daughter with us when she’s travelling, and he’s a natural with her. I always thought kids are fussy about everything.” Clint groans. Tony ignores him and continues, letting JARVIS take control of the armour to round up and disable the remaining droids. 

“Jeannie always says Lila is a fussy baby at home. She has made a career out of screaming when things don’t go her way. When she stays with us, she turns into an angel because of Platypus.” No one responds. Tony’s attention shifts to how pale Steve looks in his viewfinder. He watches the Captain stagger behind Natasha and asks JARVIS to scan his teammate to take stock of his injuries; Tony knows once the mission is over, Steve will downplay his condition. He’ll brush it off as “just a couple of knocks, nothing too serious,” and bury himself in paperwork in his office to avoid medical attention. The man hates hospitals. Tony can’t blame Steve—he detests them, too. 

“My scans detect Captain Rogers has sustained three broken ribs and severe lacerations,” JARVIS drawls in his thick, mechanical voice. “Readings indicate his supersoldier abilities have already contained the bleeding, and the ribs should heal on their own by the week’s end.”

“Thanks, J.” Tony lands on the ground next to Steve. They watch Natasha usher the children towards the perimeter that Shield agents, who finally arrived at the scene, have set up. Worried parents, some of them openly sobbing, stand behind the barricades, waiting to be reunited with their children. “Captain. You’re hurt,” Tony informs Steve as a matter of fact. 

“I hadn’t noticed,” Steve says, deadpan, and lets out a pained breath. 

The faceplate lifts. Tony gives a half-smile at Steve. “Let me carry you back to the infirmary. You need medical attention and my husband is a big fan. He’ll lose his mind when I tell him I carried Captain America bridal style back to base.” Fortunately for Tony, whatever objection Steve’s about to raise dies on his lips as exhaustion wins him over. He collapses face-first on the muddy field, and Tony’s kneeling by his side in a flash, checking for a pulse. He sags inside the suit in relief when he finds one, and JARVIS helpfully diagnoses “severe fatigue” for the Captain. The AI chooses that precise moment to reveal to Tony that Steve Rogers hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in three months. 

“Avenger down,” Tony tells the team. A chorus of concerned voices floods the comms channel. “The Captain’s had a long day. I’m taking him back to medical, you guys handle cleanup and Coulson. I am busy in the evening, so, don’t call me or page me unless the world is on fire and one of you is actually dying." 

No one speaks for a few moments. Clint cuts through the static in a flat, disinterested tone. "What’s keeping you busy, Stark? Sexy date in the Bahamas with your imaginary husband?" 

"If you have to know, birdbrain, it’s our anniversary and I’m going to the base to see him.”

Clint chortles. 

“You still won’t tell us what base he’s stationed at. Let me guess, is it Area 51? Is your imaginary husband an alien, Stark? Holy shit, you’re married to Superman." 

The words vex Tony. "Do you ever shut up, Barton?” He doesn’t wait for a reply and turns off his comms. Tony carries Steve in his arms and flies back to the Tower.

***

A few weeks later, after pulling another all-nighter in the lab, Tony walks in on Steve, Natasha and Bruce gathered in the kitchen for breakfast. Clint’s on vacation. Tony counts that as a blessing. He knows despite Clint’s cynicism, at some point, the archer started tailing Tony’s every move, inside and outside the Tower, to find out more about Platypus. Working as an assassin over the years, Clint honed his ability to stay under the radar, but all of that training didn’t stand a chance against JARVIS and his all-sensing presence.

“Barton’s been following me,” Tony says, pouring himself a coffee. He curses—someone, and he knows it’s Thor, keeps leaving coffee grounds inside the pot. That barbarian. “He thought he was being clever by using the vents, but nothing gets past JARVIS.”

Bruce narrows sleep-heavy eyes at Tony: “I thought J doesn’t surveil us.” The words come out as nothing more than a low, gruff mumble. Stifling a yawn, Bruce slouches forward and rests his face on the granite countertop. His eyes droop; for all of his unparalleled work in anti-electron collision theory, Bruce Banner remains incapable of being a morning person.   

“He doesn’t when you’re in your private quarters. The vents are public areas, and standard building security protocols apply.” Tony strains his coffee. He makes a mental note to speak to Thor—the Asgardian proved himself to be a fast learner of Earthly etiquettes. He’s come a long way from smashing coffee mugs to ordering customised drinks at Starbucks without pissing off the baristas. Even Captain America sometimes gets the stink eye when he asks for soy milk instead of dairy. Tony suspects baristas around the city are too enamoured by Thor’s godly presence to ever crib about his order.  

“Why would Clint stalk you through the vents?” Steve asks. Tony finds the puzzled look on Steve’s face endearing. “50% of his DNA is bird. He’s just following his instincts,” he says. Tony bites back a laugh at Steve’s hardened expression; he appears genuinely distressed by the idea that one of his human teammates may not be 100% human. 

Tony admires the way the Captain works hard to adjust to his new life in the 21st century—waking up to an alien invasion led by a horned Norse god proved to be a hell of a way to get over the initial culture shock. And, while Steve made a quick study of smart kitchen appliances and most of the Internet, genetic modifications and other advances in technology set off regular alarm bells in his head. Noticing the way Steve’s lips curl downward, Natasha offers a quick clarification: “Tony’s being an idiot. Clint’s not actually part bird, even if he is as obtuse as one." 

"Well, birdbrain has to get more creative than vents to get the jump on JARVIS,” Tony says, squeezing between Steve and Natasha. They hear Bruce’s gentle snores—he really hates mornings—and Tony whispers. “Honeybear is the only one who has gotten past J.”

On cue, JARVIS chimes in softly: “That is correct. His method was delightfully inventive, one that has enhanced my detection abilities tenfolds.”

Without being prompted, Tony volunteers the information to his teammates in a hushed tone: “We had a bet. Each of us picked a random day to break into Stark Industries. The goal was to get into my office without alerting J." 

Steve and Natasha listen, their expressions dull, as Tony explains in unnecessary details how his husband got the jump on artificial intelligence—Natasha makes mental notes to make her own attempt later if only to test her own skills against an all-seeing machine. 

"Honeybear set off a small and easily contained fire in our backyard while I was sleeping. Because J’s primary protocol is to protect me, he had to assess its threat level. But, it was in a contained environment; the variables were known, and the calculation should’ve been easy, except his protocol says he cannot dismiss the threat until it is eliminated,” Tony says, watching Steve’s eyes widen. The Captain, ever the cynic, is probably working out a hundred different world-ending scenarios about a rogue AI. He and J aren’t so different in their personalities, Tony thinks. 

“JARVIS spent most of his processing power keeping an eye on me. His second protocol says he must at all times protect the Stark Secure Server, my private server. And, no, Natasha, I know that look. It’s not at Stark Industries, I know you’ve looked, and I won’t tell you where it is so that Shield can go snooping.” Natasha glowers at him, her cheeks flushed at being caught red-handed. “That left J with very little juice to handle everything else for all Stark Industries offices around the world. He didn’t even notice Honeybear walk onto the premises or enter my office.”

Tony pauses to let his teammates absorb and appreciate his husband’s ingenuity: Steve looks impressed, Natasha scowls at Tony. Bruce, with his eyes still closed and head down, breaks the silence. “I’ve seen J’s documentation. You wrote him to back himself up on local servers precisely to avoid this situation. You said your roommate at MIT gave you the idea. Plus, you use an insane amount of RAM, I’ve seen your set up.”

Tony claps.

“Finally. Someone who sees the obvious error in this story. And yet, somehow, Honeybear got into my office undetected. Either he’s the superspy of the millennium—sorry, Widow—or someone is lying.” Tony glances at the ceiling. “What? You like him better or something?” JARVIS doesn’t respond. Instead, music flits in from the overhead speakers: Tell me lies. Tell me sweet little lies (Tell me lies, tell me, tell me lies). Oh, no, no you can’t disguise. 

“Smartass.”

***

On Christmas Eve, Tony arrives at the common floor and overhears the team in deep conversation. His curiosity plants him in a corner outside the lounge, within hearing distance, but strategically hidden from the occupants inside. He picks up on Natasha speaking with an underlying worry in her tone. “That’s not the point, Clint. When I assessed him, he was dying. Very painfully, if I may add. He’s proven himself to be a team player and he’s a vital member of this team—" 

Clint cuts her off. "He’s delusional, Nat. He’s making up an entire person and coming up with these larger than life stories. It was funny the first time, but it’s clear he believes in the stuff he says. If he’s losing it, we need to know because we’re a team. We have got to have each other’s backs at all times.”

Steve chimes in: “His life is his own. We should respect his privacy, Clint. I’m sure when he’s ready, he’ll introduce us to his husband. Don’t force it on him.” Tony’s built-in cynicism would have once made fun of the unadulterated optimism behind Steve’s words. But, hearing the Captain speak in his, and Platypus’, defence like that makes Tony want to immediately buy the Brooklyn apartment he knows Steve’s eyeing and give him the keys in a gift-wrapped box with a bow. 

Captain America’s assurances fail to convince Clint or soothe his exasperation. “Your optimism is misplaced, Cap. There is no husband, no boyfriend. Nothing! Nat and I have looked everywhere and there’s not a trace of Stark ever getting hitched, let alone to another military man. I get it, don't ask, don't tell when that was still the law, right? What about now? There has to be some kind of a legal record, somewhere, if Stark's really married.”

“Maybe it’s a manifestation of his trauma,” Bruce supplies. “He’s well overdue a psych evaluation. He hasn’t talked to anyone since the invasion. We should cut him some slack.”

Clint doubles down. “We need to know if he’s hallucinating before someone tries to take over the world again. It’s one thing if he’s making it up for street cred, but if he genuinely believes in it…" 

"He’s creating another armour,” Natasha says. Tony feels vindicated by the admission—he knows she pokes around his lab whenever Stark Industries business calls him away to the other coast. Her clandestine efforts fail to outsmart J’s all-sensing presence, but confronting the Black Widow about it, and risking dismemberment, ranks low on Tony’s list of priorities. To have her admit it in front of their teammates takes a small weight off his chest. “I’ve seen the blueprint. This is a leaner, tougher armour with some serious firepower.”

“Yeah. Fury commissioned it,” Steve says. Someone—Bruce—curses out loud at the revelation. Tony bites his lips and presses a hand over his mouth to stop himself cackling. Fools, those god-damn irredeemable fools, Tony thinks. Steve continues. “He wants to recruit that Air Force Colonel he always raves about.”

“James Rhodes.” Clint jumps in. “See, now he is an impressive man. I’ve read his files and I can see why Fury’s in love with him. Hell, I’m in love with him, too.” Tony’s close to tears from holding back his laughter at the archer’s enthusiastic tone; he doesn’t want to risk giving away his location and miss the rest of the conversation about the new recruit. “So, Stark’s agreed to make a suit for the Colonel. That's…surprising, seeing how possessive he is of his tech. He tased me last month when I tried to get a good look under the hood.”

“Maybe, Fury made him an offer he can’t refuse.”

“Does Stark know?” Natasha asks. “About Fury’s plans to recruit the Colonel? I heard Nick mentored him in college.”

“Shit,” Clint shouts. Tony regrets the lack of visual cues to go with the congregation inside and makes his own: Clint jumps on the sofa without warning next to Bruce, who turns a deep shade of green. While Steve and Natasha work to calm Bruce down, Clint squats on top of the backrest, like a bird perched on its nest among sky-high branches. Tony laughs at the imagery in silence. 

“Rhodes went to MIT too, didn’t he? He studied aeronautics and astronautics—basically, rocket science. And, he’s Stark’s age. It’s not impossible they crossed paths there. Do you think Stark is holding onto some creepy university crush or did he make up his fake husband based on the Colonel?" 

"He really needs that psych eval." 

That’s when Tony decides he’s heard enough. He can barely keep himself together and in his excitement, he knocks into a solid, immovable mass. "Fuck,” Tony mutters and looks up into Thor’s dark blue eyes. Maybe the city baristas had a point, Tony thinks, and it’s futile to fight the Asgardian charm that oozes from every pore on Thor’s body. 

Tony still pinches himself from time to time and wonders how a god fell out of legends, waltzed into his life and took up residence in his penthouse. After butting heads over Thor’s murderous brother Loki, they forged a friendship based on mutual respect—another thing which puzzles Tony because Thor’s a deity and he’s just a guy. Thor protested once when Tony blurted it out. “You’re not just a 'guy’.”

Thor’s quieter and more reserved than his broad GQ-model-like physique suggests; he prefers to observe instead of participating in the team’s special brand of eccentricity. Everyone on the team agrees that Thor is immeasurably perceptive. 

“Hello, Pointbreak,” Tony says, clasping his shoulder. “What are you doing out here? You’re missing all the fun inside. They’re talking about having me committed because they don’t believe Platypus is real. They think I’m hallucinating.”

Thor’s face twists into a frown, a contrast to Tony’s playful grin. “Then they are silly,” he says. “I have seen how fondly you speak of him, Tony. You love your husband." 

"More than I can put into words, buddy.” Tony sighs as his smile falters, his arms crossing over his chest. “Platypus is the bedrock of my life. Got me through some really bad times. After everything he has seen me say or do, he’s still here, and I wonder what I did to deserve him. You know? It’s surreal. Which god answered my prayers that I got so lucky?”

Thor steps forward until he’s up in Tony’s face, mere inches separating them. That man may possess a delightful and exuberant personality. But he has no concept of personal space, which Tony files under 'Usual Asgardian Oddities’, along with Thor’s habit of speaking to inanimate objects when he thinks no one is looking. Large hands rest his bony shoulders in a hard grip, and Tony thinks Thor is about to impart some godly wisdom. Interruption, if only to point out the awkwardness of their proximity, may come across as rude. "Listen here, Tony Stark. I have lived and watched over your realm for a thousand years. I’ve seen civilisations rise and fall, kingdoms destroyed by greed, great men brought down by hubris. But, you, my friend, you are among the best of them. Midgard should be proud to call you her son. Never ever doubt your worthiness.” Thor beams. 

Tony tries to think up a response to that, but his mouth snaps shut. How does one top a speech where an actual god calls you worthy? In the end, Tony nods and stays still until Thor lets him go. “I will consider it a great honour the day you choose to let us meet the man who has stolen your heart. For one who’s deserving of your love, I also consider him worthy.”

On his way out, Tony texts his husband: You won’t believe it but I think Thor just blessed our marriage. 

The reply comes immediately: Holy shit. I feel blessed already. Merry Christmas and see you soon xx. 

***

Fury calls the team for an urgent meeting after New Year’s Day. His memo reads like every other missive he sends, curt and to the point: Meeting at 10 @ HQ. Don’t be late. 

They take Tony’s private jet to DC because the Quinjet was out of commission, undergoing repairs after their latest mission—a villain holding Manhattan’s power grids hostage—damaged the engines. Onboard, they huddle in front of the flatscreen watching CNN analyse Justin Hammer’s trial. Tony gives them a breakdown of his business rival—how Justin tried to sabotage the Stark Expo by presenting cheap knockoffs of the Iron Man armour that blew up the entire venue. The anchor reads out charges levelled against Hammer: money laundering, racketeering, fraud, public endangerment, copyright infringement. And a dozen lawsuits from Stark Industries and affected civilians.

“Ouch,” Clint says, reclining in his seat. “That’s a bit excessive, even for making cheap knockoffs of your suit and blowing them up at your expo, Stark.”

“Trust me, birdbrain, we take corporate espionage very seriously,” Tony replies. A live feed shows Hammer arriving at the courthouse in orange overalls, with dark circles under his eyes and his hair in disarray. The press swarms around him, shoving microphones and cameras in his face. Hammer tries to push his way through the crowd. “Oh, Justin. You know, if he had even an ounce of charm in his bones he could’ve gotten the charges reduced.”

“You can’t charm your way through everything, Tony,” Bruce points out. 

Tony smiles. “Not everyone can, no. My husband on the other hand—” The shift in the atmosphere is palpable. Clint tunes out of the conversation to stare out the window. Bruce shifts uncomfortably in his seat, Natasha presses her lips together in a frown, and Steve surveys the lines on his palms. Only Thor shows interest, so, Tony continues. “Few years ago, I dared him to charm a store manager at Macy’s. They had this perfume set from their exclusive collection. I wanted to see if Platypus could convince her to give him a set for free. You should’ve seen him, Thor. He knew all the right things to say, the right moments to smile, and I think if he had asked, she’d have given him the keys to the store. We gave it back later because it would’ve come out of her paycheck, otherwise. Platypus is a real charmer. You’ll love him.”

Thor’s laughs drown out Clint’s audible scoff. “I look forward to meeting him.”

“We should buckle up, we’re about to land,” Steve says, pointing to the seat belt sign. 

***

Fury waits for them in a conference room on the top floor of the Triskelion. One by one, the Avengers fill in, with Tony being the last to enter. He takes the seat closest to the door. 

“I’ll keep this short,” Fury says, without preamble. It’s one of the few things Tony admires about the director—he loathes wasting time as much as Tony. “The Avengers Initiative was started to be Earth’s first and last line of defence against extraterrestrial threats. We’ve shown the world why we need to exist and your heroic efforts have won us more goodwill from the public than we have anticipated. My bosses have instructed me to expand this team. You will meet the new recruits over the course of the year. They will train with you and Stark has agreed to house them at the Tower.”

Clint perks up. “Colonel Hottie said yes?" 

Natasha kicks him under the table. 

"What? He’s perfect. He’s smart, brave, and real. No offence, Stark.” Tony shoots him a dirty look. Clint turns to Steve. “Hey Cap, what’s your opinion on team romances? Yay or nay?" 

"Clint,” Steve gives him his best 'Son, stop disappointing Captain America’ look. “This is neither the time nor the place.” The archer slumps in his chair and says loudly, “Look, I just want to know how many protocols I’ll be breaking to ask Colonel Rhodes out on a date." 

Before Steve or Fury can answer, a new voice replies. "The answer would be none, Mr Barton. As flattering as your proposition sounds, I am unfortunately off the market.” All seven pairs of eyes turn to the doorway—James Rhodes leans against the doorframe in a grey polo shirt, a black bomber jacket and a pair of tight-fitting black jeans. Clint swallows and stammers. Natasha kicks him again. 

“Colonel Rhodes,” Fury says and motions him to come forward. “Meet the team." 

Rhodes takes stock of the room, his eyes resting a millisecond longer on Tony, and says, "Hey. Call me Jim." 

Steve’s the first to rise as he moves in to shake Rhodes’ hand. "Good to meet you, Colonel. We’ve heard a lot about you from Fury, and we’re looking forward to having you on the team.” Bruce and Natasha go next: They exchange quick, courteous 'hello’s before Clint almost trips over himself to greet Rhodes. He tries to play it cool but stutters at the last moment, and the words—"I’ve read your file, Colonel, where have you been all my life?“—come out all jumbled, lacking the charm and finesse he had practised ever since Steve let it slip that Fury was trying to recruit Rhodes. On his turn, Thor flashes the Colonel a knowing smirk, and despite never reading any of Rhodes’ files, he says, "Good to finally meet you, Jim. I’ve heard a lot about your adventures." 

Finally, Rhodes turns to Tony, who has been hanging back with his hands jammed in his front pockets and a closed-off expression on his face. "You look like the cat peed in your cereal today." 

"It’s your fucking cat,” Tony grumbles. He doesn’t move away as Rhodes treads over and steals a peck on the lips. The rest of the team stare in stunned silence; except Fury, who rolls his eye, and Thor, whose indulgent smile suggests he feels pretty damn good about himself for uncovering some hidden knowledge before everyone else. Steve notices the identical wedding bands on Tony and Rhodes’ fingers first, and it finally clicks. “You’re married to Tony?" 

"I am afraid the secret’s out, Captain. I am the mystery husband you’ve been hearing about and I assure you, I’m very real.” Rhodes slings a hand over Tony’s shoulder, and Tony melts into the touch, leaning on him for support, with a hand around Rhodes’ waist. No one speaks—no one fully overcomes the shock around the revelation, and though Steve looks like he’s working out the right words to say in his head, he stays quiet. At some point, Thor starts recording the confusion in the room as it unfolds—for a Space Viking who gives off strong Luddite vibes, he turns out to be exceptionally adept at using Earth tech. Tony isn’t surprised that Thor not only knows how to use a smartphone camera but he also developed a keen sense of when to use it—Barton looking like a flustered deer caught in headlights should be memorialised in every medium. 

“I’ve been told the secrecy around my existence has become a matter of concern among the team,” Rhodes says, fixing his gaze on Clint. The archer shrinks in his seat. He avoids looking at Tony. Or Rhodes. “I’m happy to answer questions, perhaps over dinner, and provide clarifications on whatever my husband has told you about me. He likes to exaggerate, as I’m sure you know. But if you don’t mind, I’d like some privacy with Tones right now. We haven’t seen each other in a year and this meeting was not my idea of a reunion. It’s lacking in some quality action if you know what I mean.” He leaves very little to the imagination. Steve’s scandalised; jaws clenched and his eyes dart from Tony to Rhodes and back to Tony. Thor continues recording as he holds the smartphone in front of the Captain’s face until Steve tries to swat it away, and misses. Only Bruce, Tony notices, shows remorse for doubting his accounts and questioning his sanity. 

With a final nod at the team, Rhodes walks out. “Coming?” He asks from the doorway. “I’ll catch up,” Tony says and lingers long enough for Fury to dismiss the team and leave. Clint’s sour expression—his nose crinkles as if he smelled something horrible—clashes with the way Tony’s eyes sparkle and his grin stretches ear to ear. “Hey birdbrain, how does it feel to be a clown? For what it’s worth, you never had a shot with him because I sealed the deal in '87. You were still working the circus. Yeah, that’s right, I read your files too—even the 'redacted’ ones.” Tony trots out of the room as Clint flips him off, with a big, smug grin plastered over his face. Some things are worth the wait—Rhodey has always been worth it. 

–FIN–

[himikiyo]

love they say // himikiyo week day 3

Himikiyo Week Day 3: Fashion + Makeup 

When dedicating an evening to something, wasn't it best to just go all the way with it? It wasn't as if they had many other calming activities, nor did they have any more pressing matters to attend to. Spending time together and enjoying a bit of peace was all that mattered.

Doing each other's makeup is always a pleasant way to spend time.

Read on AO3 or under the cut

A warehouse wasn’t the most traditional place for a date. It was full of cramped, cluttered shelves, illuminated by harsh, industrial light. There was nowhere comfortable to sit. It was more likely than not that someone would interrupt — Himiko was expecting the door to burst open at any moment. She’d be lucky if it wasn’t Tenko. Despite all of that, there was nowhere else she’d rather be at the moment.

“I’ve always found it impressive how well stocked this place is. It seems our captors truly are prepared to keep us here as long as necessary.” Korekiyo leaned against the nearest shelving structure, arms crossed. “Not only do they cater to everyone’s preferences when it comes to the essentials, like food and clothing, they provide near-endless entertainment and luxuries. It’s fascinating.”

“Everything’s restocked so often too,” Himiko chimed in. “I’ve never heard anyone complain about being out of something.” And yet, how were new supplies delivered? Nobody had ever witnessed it happen, nor were they aware of any potential entry points, aside from perhaps the end of the underground tunnel they were never able to get through. It was a question that had crossed her mind more than once, and one that Korekiyo voiced as soon as she thought of it again.

“However are they able to make deliveries undetected?”

“They must have powerful magic,” she said solemnly. “Invisibility and space-type magic? It’s not easy.” The truth, of course, was that she had no idea. They both knew that, but Kiyo always played along with her magic-themed excuses. It was one of the many things she loved about them.

“Well, if even an expert mage thinks it would be difficult, then they must be formidable opponents indeed.”

“We’ll all defeat them and get out of here someday though. I’m sure of it.” She closed the distance between them in just a few steps, winding her arms around Korekiyo’s waist and leaning her head against their chest. Feeling their arms wrap around her in return, she was content to just stay there for a few moments, savoring their embrace.

“I agree. And to me, how long it takes is of little consequence. With plenty to observe, and you by my side, I am content. My other goals can be...put on hold temporarily.”

“What kinds of goals? You mean the stuff you have to do for your sister?” Despite having spent months getting closer and closer, Himiko still didn’t know what those goals were. Korekiyo was cagey about their past. No matter how much she pushed, it felt like they were always holding something back. They had an older sister who died, but she didn’t know when or how. They had a mission they apparently promised her they’d complete, but Himiko didn’t know what it was. There was always more to learn. She was doing her best to be patient.

“Yes, precisely.” A bandaged hand carded through her hair once, twice. Gentle, yet somehow perfunctory. “No need to focus on such topics right now though. I believe we’re here for something else, aren’t we?” There was a hint of playfulness creeping into their voice, and when Himiko pulled back a little, she could see the slight crinkles in their mask, suggesting that they were smiling beneath it.

“Yeah,” she said, lips quirking into a smile in return. Despite how long they’d been lingering there being affectionate, the warehouse wasn’t actually the main destination for their date. It was just a necessary stop along the way. They had to pick up a few things for their cozy evening together. “Shall we?”

It seemed they hardly needed reminding. The words were barely out of her mouth by the time Korekiyo was turning to inspect the shelf in front of them. They stayed at a cozy distance though, brushing against her side every time they moved. Surprisingly enough, the little cosmetics section wasn't as picked over as one might think. Everyone either didn't care about such things at all, or could take things in moderation. The one exception to that might have been Miu, but she was just one person among sixteen. Their date wouldn't be ruined by her.

One by one, different shades and formulations of makeup were plucked from the shelf and placed into the bag Kiyo brought. They took turns picking things out — a tube of brightly colored lipstick here, a shimmery eyeshadow there, until they had a nice collection of things. Not only makeup, but nail polish and hair accessories too. When dedicating an evening to something, wasn't it best to just go all the way with it? It wasn't as if they had many other calming activities, nor did they have any more pressing matters to attend to. Spending time together and enjoying a bit of peace was all that mattered.

"I think these would look cute on you," Himiko announced, holding up a small set of barrettes. They seemed to have a Halloween theme — little ghosts, bats, and jack o lanterns. Though the style was much more cutesy than their usual macabre aesthetic, she thought it would be nice to see anyway. In her opinion, creepy-cute was pretty much Korekiyo's whole thing.

"You think so?" they echoed, a thoughtful hand cupping their cheek. "Are they even seasonally appropriate?"

At that question, she had to pause, biting her lip. She wasn't sure, she realized. After so long inside the academy, it was sometimes difficult to keep track of the days. The fake outdoors always looked the same, but that didn't mean much inside the dome encasing them. Couldn't the 'weather' be whatever the kidnappers wanted it to be? It felt like it should be autumn by now.

Before she could speak, Korekiyo beat her to it.

"My apologies, Himiko, dear. It wasn't my intention to remind you of any unpleasant thoughts. Halloween is lovely no matter the day." They seemed genuinely sheepish, or as close to it as they ever got, which was only ever around her. She brushed it off though, shaking her head and tugging them into a brief, sideways hug.

"It's okay. Don't worry about it. If we have enough, let's just get out of this warehouse before someone comes by to distract us," she said. "I don't feel like sharing you tonight." Just as she predicted, that seemed to make them smile behind the mask.

Once they’d returned to Kiyo’s dorm room, it was time to get to work. The stash of supplies from the warehouse was on the bed, and the tea set was laid out on their desk, faint ribbons of steam curling up into the air. Self-care night was in full swing.

Himiko herself was settled on the bed too, watching them sift through the bag of makeup. With this, much like everything else, they were meticulous. Picking something up and putting it down again, humming under their breath, then repeating the whole cycle again, as if planning to paint a priceless canvas rather than just do her makeup for fun.

“You’re so beautiful,” they crooned eventually to break the silence, partway through applying her eyeliner. She couldn’t even look at their expression, only able to imagine the downright hungry grin she’d seen on their face before. She could only sit there, light pressure and cool ink being drawn along her lash line in what she knew would be two perfect wings.

“I think you’re mostly responsible for that. If you weren’t an anthropologist, I bet you could be a makeup artist.”

Korekiyo chuckled, airy and melodic.

“I’m pleased you think so highly of my skills, but that was not what I meant. You’re beautiful both with and without makeup. I’m an artist only insofar as I’m permitted to work on a piece of art like you.” The gentle sensation of the eyeliner pen retreated, and she heard the soft click of them capping it. Able to open her eyes again, she did so, greeted with just the expression she expected. Their cheeks flushed, pupils dilated, and a needy sort of look that was nowhere near as innocent as it ought to be.

“You’re so...” She choked back a wordless sound, heavy with affection and bewilderment. It wasn’t the first time they’d said something like that to her, but she doubted she’d ever get used to it.

They shushed her gently, something that had no right to be attractive, but very much was anyway. It wasn’t a gesture of condescension. No, if anything, she typically felt like the one in control. They protected her, yes, but often played the role of supplicant, eager to give in to her every whim and desire. There was something driving them beyond simple affection and desire, some deep-seated something that she couldn’t yet understand, but she welcomed it.

Bandaged fingers slipped under her chin to tilt her head up slightly, other hand opening a tube of lip gloss. It was a deep berry color, rich and eye-catching. The scent was fruity too, sweet like strawberries. Even as they gently swept the applicator over her lips in tiny, perfect motions, she found herself thinking that it would look lovely on them too, a little different from the shades of crimson they typically favored.

Kiyo must have been thinking the same thing. They paused, frowning thoughtfully after what she knew wasn’t an error. Their hands were too steady to slip, and she would have felt it if they did.

“Ah, my mistake,” they said anyway. “Allow me to fix that.” Rather than reaching for something to wipe away the nonexistent smudge with, or even using their finger, they leaned in and kissed her. As her arms wound around them, lips parting, their tongue darted out to catch a taste, berries and earthy matcha mingling together.

“I think you might need to start over,” she said when the kiss was eventually broken, reaching out to wipe a smear of dark purpley-pink from the corner of their mouth.

“Yes, I suppose I might.”

[allisondraste]

tips for writing solas

Several weeks ago, I was recommended by @bitchesofostwick​ as someone who could possibly provide tips for writing an in-character Solas.  I was and am still very flattered by this recommendation, even though I think there are plenty out there better than I to seek such tips from. However, I am in a meta kind of mood today (and I’m on semester break), so I thought I might sit down and type some of these out.

Note: I don’t claim to be any sort of authority on the matter at all.  These are just a collection of thoughts I have when I write him in case anyone is struggling. 

Whenever I go to write Solas, there are several qualities that I try to capture: intelligence, passion/excitability, perceptiveness/curiosity, emotionality, and confidence.  Solas also has a particular way in which he uses words that is important to consider, and all of his different “attributes” can be influenced in their presentation by his relationship with the person to whom he is speaking.  

I’m going to try to address each thing separately below:

The Qualities

Intelligence

It is no secret that Solas possesses a considerable breadth and depth of knowledge, which he offers readily to others, typically without being prompted to do so.  He enjoys sharing his wisdom with others, even if they’d rather not hear it sometimes.  

In addition to being knowledgeable, he also has a really impressive vocabulary and regularly uses complex, “smart” words that are not common in day-to-day speech, such as “machinations,” “indomitable,” and the like.  However, he doesn’t only  speak in large words.  If he sounds like a talking thesaurus, or is just difficult to understand, then there is too much “smart talk.”  Solas presents things in an intelligent, yet accessible manner.  He wants people to “get” what he is talking about.

Solas is allowed to use contractions, I promise.  While he says them much less than other characters, he is known to say an “I can’t” or “Don’t,” particularly when he is emotional.   Use them sparingly and at the right moments, as if they are an expensive spice, but don’t think that it is OOC to do so.

Passion/Excitability

In the same vein as his enjoyment for sharing knowledge, Solas is also inherently passionate about certain topics.  More specifically, the Fade, Magic, the Elves, etc.  His discussions of the Fade and/or the past are where we tend to hear that rhythmic, sing-song speech he is known for.  I am nowhere near a skilled enough writer to have him speak in iambs or to the beat of Hallelujah; however, it is helpful to pay attention to the rhythm of his speech when he is excited. 

Perceptiveness/Curiosity

Solas is very curious, and as much as he talks and shares information, he also listens and attends to body language and behaviors.  He frequently begins conversations with a question or stated observation, and will then either expand on his question/observation, or give others a chance to respond.

This is not only important for dialogue, but also for writing from his POV.  Solas is very observant and perceptive.  He watches people, their movements, the choices they make, how they speak, etc.  He often forms assumptions, correct or otherwise, based upon his own observations.  When writing Solas, it is helpful to include the subtleties he notices in his surroundings.

Emotionality

This is one that I notice catches people up a lot, and there is a tendency to portray Solas as this “Mr. Spock,” type of logical character, who bases his decisions on logic and nothing else.  However, Solas is much more like The Doctor.  His intelligence and confidence sometimes mask his feelings, and he does present himself as aloof and serene; however, he is very highly emotional and is driven largely by those emotions.

Whenever he is feeling particularly strongly about something, Solas is more likely to reveal things about himself that he might have preferred to remain secret.  He makes his biggest slip-ups when he is angry. Even outside of the bigger slip-ups, Solas is not detached from the things he says.  He is not above expressing his emotions pretty obviously.

I’m not sure where else this next piece might fit, so I’m sticking it here: Solas has a sense of humor.  While he may not be a “funny” person, he is able to appreciate a joke/prank/etc., unless of course he believes it is too personal.  His humor can be seen in his playful teasing of Sera about magic in response to her putting lizards in his bedroll, in his participation in the banter about Iron Bull X Inquisitor, and several other places. It’s a subtle, sometimes biting humor, but it is there.

Confidence

Some people might describe this as arrogance, which works just as well.  Either way you spin it, Solas has it.  He is very certain of himself and his beliefs to the very end.  Whenever his way of thinking is challenged, he often becomes defensive and balks at it because he knows, he’s right, he has to be.

That being said, he does waver.  It usually occurs internally, so he is more likely to second guess himself in his thoughts, and perhaps with someone he is really really close to.

Word Choice

One of the biggest most important things to consider when writing Solas is word choice, and not from your perspective as the author, but from his.  Many characters say things exactly as or similar to how they come to mind, and Solas is not so different in that regard.  He is not shy about saying what he thinks; however, he is careful in choosing how he says something.  He rarely says things he does not intend to say and when he does it is usually attributed to an emotional response of some sort (Or inebriation if you are in the camp, as I am, that believes he is just a bit drunk at Halamshiral).

Solas uses words like tools, or even weapons.  Because he is observant and perceptive, and because he is intelligent, he is an effective manipulator for lack of a better term, an expert at “The Game.”   He knows exactly what he needs to say to persuade someone and he can manufacture the perfect insult.  When he chooses to flirt, he does so deliberately and unapologetically.

And on the topic of “lying,” Solas rarely actually tells a bold-faced lie.  Much of his hiding of his identity is done through omission of truths and deflection.  This is what leaves us with that “Oooh should have known” feeling whenever we know the truth and replay the game.

Relational Effects

The last point I would like to hit on is that Solas’ attitude and speech change depending on the person he is talking to.  Everything I described above, generally fits Solas when he has a neutral or friendly relationship with someone.  Solas is biting, brutal, and often more honest with characters he does not like compared to those he is fond of.   His intelligence and confidence look more like pride and arrogance.  His emotionality is usually expressed through anger, and he is more likely to observe and point out things he perceives to be flaws in choices and thinking.  Everything he thought was right, and he is allowed to be upset and antagonistic, and it shows in his words and tone.

It is easy as a writer to let one’s own feelings about a character influence our writing of that character.  With Solas, people tend to feel very strongly in one way or another and it often reflects in how we portray him.  Authors who do not like him may have him be antagonistic rival Solas even when he is speaking to a character he has a good relationship with.  Conversely, people who love him, might miss some of the more antagonistic qualities that he has in situations.  In general this leaves him feeling flat, and very much like a caricature in one way or another.  

That’s all folks.  Thank you for coming to this long and unnecessary ted talk.  It’s been fun.

[asleepinawell]

Things That Go Bang In The Night

Shoot Haunted House fic for halloween, except not really scary at all and mostly silly. Arranged as a series of shorts, or incidents as the case may be.

Based very loosely in my chaos au, but the only thing you need to know is it’s post-samaritan and shoot are a firmly established relationship at this point.

_________________

Nighttime Disturbances

John is cooking an aggressive amount of pancakes when Root comes downstairs. Root looks at the heaping plates full of breakfast food on the counter of the surprisingly modern kitchen and then at the dark circles under John's eyes and manages not to laugh. She does, however, smile ever so slightly and John's eye twitches just a fraction.

Shaw is the next to show up, wearing a shirt Root thinks might actually belong to her, but the mutual clothing-theft has gotten to the point where it's basically irrelevant. Shaw looks at John and John glares at Shaw and Shaw smirks for all she's worth. She takes two overflowing plates of pancakes, tucks a bottle maple syrup in the crook of her arm and secures a seat for herself at the big stone table in the kitchen. She looks at her plates for a few seconds and then shuffles the pancakes around with a fork until all but three are on one plate. The smaller helping gets pushed over in front of Root.

By the time John joins them at the table, Shaw has eaten half her pancakes, but she still eyes the plate of bacon and eggs he has. He puts a protective arm around his plate before he starts in.

Root waits until he’s drinking his orange juice before asking, innocently, “Did you sleep well, John?”

She's disappointed when he doesn't spit out his drink, but he does scowl at her around his glass.

Fusco shows up before John can answer and collapses into a vacant chair.

“Boy, when you said this place was haunted, you weren't joking.”

Root does not smile even a little bit. Shaw stuffs more pancakes in her mouth, a look of intense concentration on her face. On the other side of the table, John is grimacing.

Fusco doesn't seem to notice. “Creaks and bangs all night and ghostly moans. I don't think I got a wink of sleep.”

Root adjusts the collar of her shirt a little and she sees John's eyes narrow when he focuses in on the movement.

“Maybe we should attempt an exorcism tonight,” he says. “Pour some cold holy water all over the ghosts when they start being a nuisance.”

Fusco's forehead wrinkles in confusion. “I thought that was for vampires.” He gets up to investigate the pancake situation. “You really cooked a lot of these, huh?”

“I had trouble sleeping. For some reason.”

Root is done with her breakfast, but Shaw's still going strong. Root watches her stuff her cheeks like a squirrel preparing for winter.

“You two hear anything?” Fusco asks.

Root pretends not be watching John out of the corner of her eye. “Not that I can recall.”

“Funny. It was really loud. I was scared out of my mind. Spent the whole night pointing my gun at the door.”

“Do bullets even work on ghosts?” Shaw asks, her mouth momentarily pancake-free. “Silver bullets maybe?”

“That's werewolves,” Root corrects and Shaw shrugs as if defense against the supernatural is not an extremely important topic.

“I'm sorry we missed the excitement,” Root says. “I rather enjoy things that go bump in the night.” The eyebrow waggle might be a little too much, but she can't help herself.

John stands up, maybe just a little too fast.

“I'm going to go explore the rest of the house.”

_________________

Cleaning out the Attic

“Still don't see why we have to do this,” Shaw grumbles after she recovers from another sneezing fit. Everything here is covered with a thick layer of dust and it feels like her lungs are full of it, and Root has it even worse with the sneezing and itchy eyes. What a dumb mission.

“She thought it would be nice for all of us to get out of the city for a few days,” Root calls from the other side of the room. The boxes here are stacked high enough that Shaw can't see her over them.

“She could have given us an actual vacation then, not digging through moldy paperwork in a drafty old house in the middle of fucking nowhere.”

Root pops her head around the nearest stack of boxes. There's dust in her hair, a grey smudge across one of her cheeks, and she's wearing a shirt with an overly cute little ghost on it that says 'hey boo-tiful’. Shaw shouldn't think she looks hot like that. She blames it on the boredom. And on the glasses which she knows Root doesn't need for this but she's wearing anyway as some sort of attack on Shaw's sanity.

“Am I not entertaining enough for you, sweetie?” Root's practically leering at her now which looks really dorky with her wearing that shirt.

Shaw drops a stack of paper onto the floor and brushes her hands off. “We can do that anywhere. Preferably somewhere warmer with room service.”

“But we'd be missing out on the added bonus of messing with the boys.” Root prods the stack of papers. “Nothing in these?”

“Not unless she's interested in a detailed hand-written accounting of how much it costs to redo the roof like eighty years ago.”

Root taps her lower lip with one finger. “Hmmm.”

“You can't be serious.”

Root shrugs helplessly. “She says you never know what She might need some day.”

Shaw has been basically over the Machine's new data collecting obsession since it started three months ago. She can acknowledge that there is a ton of information and history out in the world that's never been digitized and that some small fraction of it might help the Machine help humanity, but this is ridiculous.

The Machine can hardly rely on just them to dig up every paper document in the city, let alone in the world, and Shaw suspects she has a lot of people working for her without them realizing what their employer is. They get sent on occasional random missions though, most of which are horribly dull and involve a lot of sorting through paper and not a lot of knee-capping.

“If she really is going to want every single piece of paper in this house, she should say that and we can get a bigger van and just cram everything in there and let someone else sort it out.” Shaw has Claire still working on scanning in the thousands of pages from their last little trip, and that had been months ago.

“Afraid that's not the mission, Shaw.” Root prods the half-full box in front of Shaw meaningfully with one long finger. “And how often do you get to stay in one of the most haunted houses on the east coast?”

“I'd think New England would be lousy with the things.” Shaw takes in Root's expression, gauging her options. She knows she can get out of this, but she's got to approach it the right way. “Anyway, it's not like we've seen any ghostly activity here. Scariest thing to happen was that kale disaster Reese made for dinner last night.” Reese is a decent enough cook, but there are sometimes lapses in his judgment.

“Maybe we'll get lucky and see something spooky tonight since John exiled us to the east wing. It's supposed to be where most of the haunting has taken place historically.”

Reese had half-ordered, half-begged them to move to the other wing, and while Shaw doesn't take orders from him, she’s decided to be merciful. Most rooms in the house are huge and empty which lends it some interesting acoustics and, well, Root never was much of one for keeping quiet. Which brings Shaw back to her current mission to get out of sorting papers.

“You know,” Shaw says, shifting her weight to move herself a little closer to Root, “we could get lucky right now.”

The Machine must really want these damn papers because Root actually hesitates, but Shaw knows Root has no defense against a smooth come-on like that. She bites her lower lip (an unfair move) and sees Root's already-weak defenses crumble away in a flash.

“Attics are notoriously haunted,” Root says thoughtfully. “Might as well give this one a reputation.”

There's paper carpeting the attic floor by the time they're both worn out, some of which the Machine is probably going to yell at them for irrevocably damaging, but it's so worth it.

Root rolls over in the nest of scattered papers, looking for her shirt, and picks up a paper instead.

“This is about that kid that died here.” Root hands the paper over to her. “He was found drowned in a bathtub in the east wing. Everyone suspected his older sister, but no one could ever prove it.”

Shaw looks over the paper. It's got a clipping from a newspaper attached to it talking about the death of some kid called Phillip. She vaguely remembers Root talking about the whole thing on the drive up here. Supposedly the kid's ghost haunts the house and grounds and once drowned a gardener in one of the fountains on the lawn.

“Does the Machine care about stuff that's clearly just superstition?”

Root gets up and pulls her shirt back on, much to Shaw's disappointment. “She cares about how humans react to death and grief and fear, so in that sense, yes.”

“What about you? Do you believe in ghosts, Root?” Shaw teases.

“No.” Root smiles, but it's one of those hard, cold smiles, not one of the happy ones. “Ghosts tend to haunt people who wronged them during their life, right?”

“I guess?” She thinks there's something with loved ones getting haunted too, but she's hardly an expert on these things.

“If anyone was going to have been haunted…” Root trails off and shrugs. “So the odds are against them existing.”

Shaw rolls her eyes, because of course Root's ego would dictate that if she hasn't seen a ghost no one could have.

Root offers her a hand up off the floor. “What about you, Sameen?”

“Most things people take to be ghostly activity can be explained by quantifiable, scientific means. People are always blaming things they can't explain on the supernatural. It's lazy.”

Root grins and leans in so her face is right near Shaw's. “So what will you do when the ghost of little Phillip comes wailing down the hall to drown you in the tub?”

Shaw headbutts her gently in the face. “Any ghost shows up, I'll punch its ethereal teeth in, okay?”

Root backs up, clearly amused, and then glances around at the mess they'd made. “I think we should try the library. We can let Lionel finish up with the attic.”

“He'll love that.” Shaw hasn't been looking forwards to cleaning up the mess they made. She looks around the paper-covered floor one last time and then follows Root back down into the main house.

_________________

The Face in the Fountain

It's cold outside and Root wishes she'd brought a jacket, but the house and grounds are so large that going back for one would take at least twenty minutes. It might be worth it, except she's really tired and doesn't want to budge from the edge of the fountain she's perched on. The house has an unfortunate number of steps and she's been lugging boxes up and down them for the last day.

From out here she's got a pretty good view of the entire house. It's a massive thing, built out of grey and brown bricks with dark, empty windows lining every side. There's two distinct wings coming off the main house: the west wing which juts out onto the front lawn at a right angle from the rest of the house, and the east wing which, inexplicably, does the reverse and sticks out into the woods behind the house.

The front lawn has a few pathways across the overgrown grass, all in poor repair, and a handful of crumbling, ornamental fountains full of brackish water, including the one Root's sitting on. The back lawn has what was once a hedge maze but is now an impassable wall of brambles that the forest is hurrying to reclaim.

Shaw is running laps around the front lawn. Root figures she's working out the frustration of being stuck here for a week with no one to shoot. Shaw pauses next to the fountain on her next lap.

“You don't have to wait for me out here if you're cold.”

“I don't mind.” There's no easy way to watch Shaw work out back in the city, but here she can watch the full length of every lap Shaw runs and discreetly take pictures with her phone.

“Probably shouldn't stay by these things too long anyway.” Shaw peers into the murky water in the fountain with distaste. “Who knows what sort of shit's growing in there.”

Root looks in as well, but other than a distorted reflection of herself she can't see much.

“Maybe breathing in spores from whatever's growing in this toxic sludge is where all the ghost stories come from in the first place,” Shaw says. She drops a large rock in and it vanishes below the surface with a sploop noise. Ripples run across the surface of the water further distorting Root's reflection and stirring up the mud from the bottom. Something moves in the murky depths.

Root jerks back from the water and falls off the edge of the fountain to land on the ground.

“Root?”

Shaw looks at her like she's gone nuts and Root takes a second to get her breathing back under control before she answers.

“I didn't want to get splashed.” She gets back to her feet and tries to brush the dirt off, but the lawn was still damp from the rain last night so her pants are pretty much hopeless.

“It didn't even splash.” Shaw peers at the water as if she's expecting to find some other cause.

Root keeps her distance from the fountain. “We should head back inside and get changed before dinner.”

“Guess so.”

Root resolutely doesn't look back as they head up to the house for dinner. She knows it was just her imagination combined with reading stories of this place, but she can't quite shake the image of a corpse-pale face floating under the water, it's glassy eyes opened wide and staring at the sky.

_________________

The Face in the Fountain (continued)

They eat all their meals in the kitchen because the dining room is enormous, dusty, poorly lit, and even Shaw can admit it's a bit creepy. The kitchen is more than large enough and one of the few mostly clean rooms in the house. It should be a nice, friendly team dinner, but Fusco is exhausted and freaked out from the ‘ghost activity’ the previous evening, Reese is still sulking, and Root has been quiet since they came in for dinner. Shaw isn't sure what's up with her, but she figures it's nothing Root's going to open up about with the other two here.

After dinner they have to get their bags from their rooms to move to the east wing. Shaw brings a flashlight along since the electricity here seems to have a mind of its own and the wiring in the east wing is supposedly even worse. She thinks about calling the whole thing off and staying in the west wing, but she knows she'd get shit from Reese about being scared of ghosts if she did.

She briefly reconsiders again though because Root is still acting weird and making sure Root is okay is more important than not being teased by Reese, but Root doesn't seem to have any issue with switching wings. Still, she knows something is still up because Root doesn't hit on her once during the walk over and she's being all jumpy. Maybe she should have brought Bear along after all.

The rooms here are larger and probably had been nicer once upon a time, but now they're mostly dusty and full of covered furniture. The cleaning service the Machine had sent here ahead of time had salvaged a few bedrooms in both wings so there's a few habitable ones the choose from. Root opts for the smallest and Shaw doesn't argue because the rooms here are unreasonably large.

She waits until they climb into bed for the night before she tries to get an explanation out of Root.

“You've been quiet.”

Root murmurs something in response but it's muffled by her pillow. Shaw speaks evasive-Root-tactics well enough by this point that she can figure out by the pitch of Root's voice that she's brushing off the question. Shaw might have pushed further normally, but she's tired from lugging boxes of papers up and down stairs all day so she settles for rolling over closer to Root and dropping her arm over her. Root puts her hand over Shaw's and settles in.

Shaw isn't sure what wakes her up in the middle of the night, but she's suddenly wide awake and Root isn't next to her anymore. An unnecessarily dramatic flash of lightning from outside shows her that the other half of the bed is empty.

She figures Root probably just went to the bathroom, but the whole creepy house situation seems to merit her checking just in case. The bathroom is empty and Shaw stops back in her room to grab a flashlight before looking any further. Root took her slippers with her, she notes, so it wasn't like she ran out in a panic.

There's only a few places in the house they've all spent any amount of time in. She knows Root wouldn't go to the library since the extreme amount of dust there had caused her the sneezing fits that had sent them outside earlier that day. She wouldn't have a reason to go back to the room they'd stayed in previously, and a quick check of the main entrance hall has it full of shadowy corners but empty of Root. So that leaves the kitchen.

Root's sitting on the counter in the dark eating ice cream out of the container. Her hair is back in a messy ponytail and her bunny slippers are on her dangling feet. Shaw admits that she's maybe a tiny bit relieved by the sight even though she hadn't really thought anything bad had happened.

“I couldn't sleep,” Root says by way of explanation.

There's another flash of lightning outside followed by a peal of thunder and then it starts pouring. Raindrops hammer on the windows.

Root's face lights up in glee.

“Thunderstorm in a haunted house. Another item to cross off the bucket list.”

At least she seems to be in a better mood now even if she is working her way through their entire supply of ice cream. Shaw tries to rescue the remains of the pint, but Root loops her stupidly long legs around her and traps her there up against the counter. Root holds a large spoon of ice cream up and pushes it at Shaw’s face and no way is Shaw letting herself be fed like a child even if it is ice cream.

She ends up with ice cream smeared across her face before she escapes from Root's hold. The whole thing is extremely undignified and she's glad Reese isn't here to see it. She might discreetly wipe the remaining ice cream off her face with one hand and then lick it off her fingers, but there's no proof.

“Are you done now?” she asks, still indignant, but somewhat mollified by the delicious chocolate goodness.

Root evaluates her almost empty ice cream carton. “I suppose so.”

The ice cream goes back in the fridge and they walk back together by the light of Shaw's flashlight. Root seems okay now, but Shaw is still curious about earlier. She doesn't like it when she doesn't know why Root's upset, and if she doesn't find out what caused this round how can she prevent it next time?

“Did you see something when we were outside?” she asks as they cross the entrance hall. “In the fountain?” That's when this had started.

Root makes a small hmph noise. “Ghosts aren't real.”

“You saw a ghost out there?”

“Obviously I couldn't have since they're not real.” Root's tone is a bit condescending which Shaw takes as an improvement.

“Sure, but there could have been a dead animal or who knows what else in there. We can go take another look tomorrow if you want.”

“Yes, maybe that's just the thing.”

The way Root says it is maybe a bit ominous, but Shaw is glad enough that Root’s in a better mood that she doesn't read into it too much.

The next morning Root is already up and gone when Shaw wakes up. Shaw heads down to the kitchen and after a few very pointed hints from Reese makes a detour to the front lawn.

There is a huge truck parked on the front lawn. And a bulldozer.

Definitely suspicious.

Shaw goes back inside and gets coffee before investigating further because asking her to deal with Root's shenanigans without caffeine is cruel. When she gets over to the truck she sees some workers have a huge black hose running into the fountain Root had been sitting on yesterday and are draining it. Root stands nearby watching over the proceedings.

“When I said we could take another look…” Shaw trails off.

Root beams at her. “It was a great suggestion, so I figured I'd get right on it.”

“Right.”

The workers at the fountain wave them over. One of them points at something in the bottom of the drained basin. Shaw goes over to look and there, nestled in the wet weeds and filth, is the most repugnant looking baby doll she's ever seen. It's face is ghostly white and cracked and its glossy black eyes are wide and gaping like a fish's. If there'd been hair on it once it’s long gone now and most of the body is crushed.

“This what you saw yesterday?” Shaw can understand why seeing that bob up under the water might be disturbing, especially given the setting and the whole gardener-drowned-in-the-fountain story.

Root has a nasty glint in her eyes. “Unimportant now.”

She steps back from the fountain and waves an arm at the woman driving the bulldozer. Shaw sees where this is going and retreats to a safe distance. She'd ask Root if destroying the fountain is strictly necessary, but she already knows the answer she'd get and anyway Root just looks so pleased with herself and it's kind of endearing.

It's a weird sort of morning, she thinks. She's standing on the lawn of a haunted mansion wearing her boxers and a hoodie and Root's bright pink flip flops and drinking coffee out of a mug with a cartoon penguin on it. Root's next to her watching the bulldozer demolish the fountain with a look of intense satisfaction on her face. Her clothing situation isn't much better, though she at least managed to put on pants. She's got a new shirt Shaw hasn't before yet that says ‘ghouls just wanna have fun’ on it (Shaw is sensing a theme here) and an oversized flannel that Shaw thinks she might have stolen from one of their recent numbers and is barefoot much to Shaw's horror.

“Can I have a sip of that?” Root asks as the bulldozer backs up to make another pass at the ruined fountain.

“No,” Shaw says and hands her the mug.

“Thanks, Sameen.”

_________________

The Monster in the Conservatory

Fusco is red-faced and out of breath when he comes running into the lounge.

“It's...it's in the…” He pauses panting for breath.

Root waits politely for him to finish. Or leave. She's not picky.

“In the conservatory,” Fusco manages to get out.

Root sets down the ornamental dagger she's been considering accidentally acquiring for herself. “What is?”

“M-monster.” Fusco collapses into a mildewed arm chair.

Shaw peeks around the door frame from the next room. “What sort of monster?”

“Big...angry…teeth…”

“Evil dentures in the greenhouse sounds like a John problem,” Root says and ducks down to open the cabinet under the table.

“I want to fight the monster,” Shaw says. Her tone allows for no arguments.

Root can't not watch that so she gives up on robbing the place and follows Shaw. They pick up John from the smoking room along the way and head, not to the main entrance to the conservatory, but upstairs to the walkway entrance.

The conservatory is relatively newer than the rest of the house, a two story greenhouse built out of thick sheets of glass to let the sunlight in. There's a walkway on the second level of it that's accessible via a small staircase in the conservatory or an actual door from the second floor of the main house.

Shaw pauses as they near the door and reaches behind one of the creepy statues that line the hallways to pull out...a sniper rifle.

Root is impressed and slightly turned on. Maybe more than slightly. She wonders how many guns Shaw has hidden all over the house now.

“Let's see what this monster is,” Shaw says and pushes the door open.

The air inside smells awful, like rotten plants and soil and Root wrinkles her nose in disgust. Left untended, everything in the conservatory has either died or spread out to overtake all the other plants. There's vines and small trees below them and it looks a little like a jungle.

Shaw holds a finger up to her lips and then drops down to her hands and knees on the metal walkway to peer down into the forest below. Root looks over the edge of the railing, but nothing catches her eye. Maybe Fusco was imagining things.

Shaw smacks her on the leg and points and sure enough there's some leaves and branches rustling in the far corner. At first Root thinks it must be a squirrel, but it's pretty clearly something much larger. Maybe a deer?

All three of them watch the greenery closely as the shaking foliage gets nearer and nearer to the center of the room. Their quarry bursts out of the leaves and raises its large face to gaze up at them and sniff the air.

“Not a monster after all,” Reese says as they watch their new companion yawn hugely and show off its massive teeth and pink tongue.

“She's beautiful,” Shaw says softly, her voice full of wonder that's usually reserved for dogs.

Root isn't sure ‘beautiful’ is the word she'd use for the massive black bear munching on things in their house, but Shaw's obvious delight is adorable. Root, however, now feels totally justified in her previous caution about bears as those teeth are very large and its paws look impossibly huge. She's glad they're up high.

“There's a broken pane in the back,” Reese says. “She must have wandered in looking for food.”

Shaw frowns. “I hope she didn't step on any of the glass. Maybe we should check…”

Root is about to ask just how she plans to do that, but John seems to be one step ahead of her.

“We are not tranqing the bear, Shaw.”

Shaw actually pouts, lower lip stuck out like a child.

“But she might be hurt.”

They all watch the enormous bear stand up on its hind legs to rip a branch off a little tree. The walkway is high enough that she couldn't ever reach them, but it's still intimidating.

Shaw sighs. “Fine.” She sits down with her legs dangling over the side. Root figures she's staying until the bear gets safely away. She's torn between wanting to stay and watch Shaw watch the bear and going back to investigate the possibility of further fancy weaponry in need of a new owner.

Staying with Shaw wins out easily in the end. They sit side by side with their legs hanging off the walkway watching the bear snort and huff its way around the floor. Shaw's theory is there was some sort of fruit tree or berry bush down there and the bear is searching the ground for leftovers. Shaw takes the scope off her rifle so she can watch it close up.

After about an hour, the bear must run out of food because it lumbers back out the broken pane (Shaw watches with concern) and back into the woods at the edge of the property.

“I hope she's okay.”

“She'll be fine, Sameen.” It's sweet the way Shaw worries about some things so much, often things (people, animals) that no one else seems to care about. “Should we rip your clothes a bit and mess up your hair so we can tell Fusco the tale of your epic battle against the greenhouse monster?”

“No clothes ripping.”

Root could say several somethings about the hypocrisy of that, but she doesn't want to discourage Shaw from future over-enthusiastic clothing removals.

“We should make it look good though,” Shaw says and offers her a hand up. “Guess you'll need to give me a hand with that.”

“My pleasure.”

_________________

The Ghost of the East Wing

Root has to admit that the east wing of the house has a good, spooky atmosphere. There's scorch marks on some of the walls from a fire that partially burned down the wing years ago (the stories have it that you can still smell the smoke in the air, but Root has yet to smell anything other than mildew), and all the furniture is under white sheets. The wind howls through the cracks and rattles the windows enough to be irritating and make the whole place chilly. And then there's the fact the forest has grown in thick around this wing so there's nothing but dark woods outside the windows.

But the heating works well enough to keep the place comfortable and she's got Shaw as an extra heater, so it could be much worse.

Shaw whines in protest when Root sticks her cold feet up against her leg to warm them up. It's a cute enough noise that Root pulls her feet back and pushes them up against Shaw's other leg to see if she can get a repeat.

What she actually gets is socked in the face with a pillow.

It takes a few minutes of shuffling around before they're both comfortable enough to drift off and Root is so worn out from all the excitement of the day that she falls asleep quickly and doesn't wake up again until Shaw shakes her by the shoulder.

“Hhzzmhh?” Root asks. It's pitch black and she's still tired.

Shaw lays a finger across her lips to shush her and tilts her head to one side as if listening. Root goes as quiet as she can, barely breathing, and focuses on every little noise the house is making.

Footsteps. Those are definitely footsteps, and they're coming closer down the creaky floorboards of the hall.

Shaw rolls out of bed and drops to the floor in a crouch. Root knows for a fact that there's no way to move across the floor in this room without the floorboards making a racket, and yet Shaw is completely silent.

The footsteps are getting closer, and even though Root knows that ghosts don't exist and that the house isn't really haunted, she still feels a slight twist of fear in her stomach. She grabs her taser off the nightstand since Shaw has a gun already and if somehow she's been wrong all these years and ghosts really do exist, then maybe an electric current will be more effective against them than a bullet.

The door bursts open and there's a tall, formless white figure in the hallway.

“OoooOOOooooo,” it moans.

Root sighs. He wasn't even trying very hard, was he?

Shaw leaps up from where she was crouched next to the door and socks the ghost squarely in where it's face would be.

“Oww!” the ghost yells.

Shaw kicks it in the leg and slams into it so it falls over, twisted in its own sheet.

Root gingerly climbs out of bed and winces when her feet hit the bare floor. She tests the power on her taser as she moves towards the fallen ghost. Sure, she knows it's John, but he doesn't know that she knows so who could blame her for defending herself?

It's hours before anyone gets back to sleep.

_________________

Reassignment

Shaw wakes up to the news that they've been taken off the mission and are to return to the city immediately. She'd sort of been hoping to see the bear again, but otherwise she's pretty glad to get out of this place.

The list of reasons Root gives for their sudden departure is hard to argue with. The many incidents the Machine took issue with include: destruction of valuable historical documents, destruction of historic architecture, petty larceny, grand larceny, discussion of unsafe animal handling techniques (Shaw rolls her eyes at that one), excessive sneezing on valuable books, using historical stone gargoyles as target practice, attempted assault on an asset with a non-lethal weapon, and successful unarmed assault of an asset leading to a mild injury.

It's an impressive list and Shaw figures it's no wonder she feels so tired.

Reese is loading the car when she gets outside. He still isn't speaking to her and is holding an ice pack to his bruised jaw. Really he should be grateful she'd stopped Root from tasing him. It's not their fault he decided to try and scare them and they're hardly to blame for retaliating.

Root is a little sad they're leaving early and still sulking about missing out on a good tasing, but she seems eager to get back home as well. She steals the passenger’s seat before either of the boys can try to claim it.

Fusco is grumpy despite being the only one to have gotten a full night's sleep. “Next time you three need help, don't call me.”

Reese broods intensely in the back seat.

“Guess it'll just be you and me for the next haunted house,” Root says.

Shaw considers pointing out that basically every single strike against them from the Machine was either her or Root's fault (though Reese had brought that slug in the jaw on himself), and that the chances of either of them ever being sent on a similar mission are slim to none.

“I think we're scarier than a bunch of ghosts,” she says instead.

Root looks quite pleased with that response and begins listing off directions to get them back to the highway and out of this desolate area. Shaw starts the car down the driveway, the slightly-more-decrepit-than-they'd-found-it house in her rearview mirror.

[ruler-of-scientists]

Eden ( Interaction transcript)

[ The Dome, ostensibly Grimwere's HQ on the Homeworld but also generally an open resource centre for biologists of all kinds across the metal planet. Nowhere else on the Homeworld, let alone the star cluster, possessed such a verdant and varied concentration of plants, it was a blast of colours and scents emanating from the sheer collection of flora available here. It was a miniature paradise contained in glass visible from above even in space, standing out from the myriad of other metal structures...

Grimwere *did* like to make a statement.

At present, Deire was wandering through the jungle-like interior, ears swivelling about, searching for any sound of her host; she had a subtle glow about her, as if she were psionically protecting herself from any lingering scents or possible insect life. Auri followed close behind, not quite as phased, unprotected by any fields as he was. ]

Deire: Hm, hm...where is she....

Auri: We are nearing the coordinates translated in the message.

Deire: Imagine being inside a building so large it requires navigational coordinates to get anywhere. [ it's said in a lightly sarcastic tone as she floats onwards, pushing through some thick leaves ]

???: Oh, there you are!

[Deire would recognize this voice, and perhaps get bothered by the mildly amused tone those words have. A feminine Arkan would appear shortly afterwards from the depths of the more lush section of the greenery, ruby red eyes glistening with delight.]

???: [Hovering in rather calmly, like she spends so much time in this place it's not that hard to navigate for her.] It's been a while, hasn't it, Deire? [Then notices the accompanying starman and acknowledges him with a polite nod.] Hello, Auri. Nice having both of you here today~

[Her fur has a quite pale, greenish coloration that seems to match harmoniously with those ruby eyes. There's a holographic screen idling next to her, indicating that she was taking some notes, perhaps working on something.]

Deire: [ raised an eyebrow at the clear amusement, though doesn't take it further than that. Instead she...offers a small smile, hovering a little closer to the other Arkan. ] Indeed it has been...Eden. Perhaps too long. Taking over from Veryn has done a number on my ability to find free time for anything else.

Auri: Fortunate then that you were sensible enough to -vrr- send Deire an invitation, Madam. She would never have left the Tower otherwise.

Deire: Oh, hush. [ looks back to Eden, noting the holographic screen] Hm. Working on something plant-related I assume? I can hardly imagine little else, given our surroundings. [ gestures around herself, vaguely ]

Eden: [Shaking her head lightly.] That I can tell, you look like you haven't gotten proper rest in ages... [Then blinks, noticing the screen in a way that suggests she was actually going to close it, and indeed does so.] It's just a little project I've been developing, but nothing too impressive. To Grimwere, at least. I imagine he must be too busy at the moment to look at a handful of sprouts.

[And her tone on that statement is a still somewhat amused one, as she gently makes a beckoning gesture and turns around, to hover towards a nearby table with a bench next to it. There's already a kettle and two cups waiting on it.]

Deire: I wouldn't be surprised, he seems fonder of grander designs...then again you never know with him. He's so very secretive. [ she followed Eden along, ears rising in intrigue at the sight of the table with the assorted tea set waiting for them. She raised an eyebrow as she sat down, Auri standing guard nearby. ] Hm...I haven't had tea in some time. But it would be very welcome. You think of everything, don't you?

Eden: You know me~ [And she smiles somewhat knowingly, while sitting down.] I am aware of the properties of coffee, but tea has a lot to offer too, especially when it comes to stress. How do you think I manage to stay this calm for so long? [And for a moment it looks like she will laugh, but instead her expression rather fades.] ...Ah yes, secretive. I suppose that's one thing he and Veryn have in common, huh...? 

Deire: Honestly I should take life lessons from you and drink more tea, it would make things much easier I think... [ she actually takes the liberty of levitating the kettle and pouring the tea into both cups for them, taking her cup and raising it in acknowledgement to her host before taking a sniff of the tea's aroma and sighing, looking into its depths ponderously with a similarly ponderous expression. ] Yes, Veryn is quite the secret-keeper himself....rather distressingly so. I imagine Grimwere keeps a lot of them from you, does he not? Secrets? I suppose it must not bother you too much considering his position over yours...no offence. 

[Eden's smile returns, albeit to a smaller degree, as Deire serves the tea. Then she levitates the cup closer to her and carefully blows into it, though she doesn't think it's too hot, but one is never too careful.]

Eden: Well... I believe we work in different areas. Some subjects might overlap, but I try to not let it affect me. I don't think our viewpoints are the same, anyway...

[Then she pauses for a second to take a liiiittle sip, and her smile widens.]

Eden: It's chamomile. Ever heard of chamomile?

Deire:  Hm, I suppose that has its merits. If we all shared the same viewpoints then there would be no room for new creation. [ She decided not to elaborate on her own inner turmoil- over how Veryn was keeping secrets from her, despite her loyalty to him. Her relationship with her mentor was different from the one Eden shared with Grimwere it seemed, so perhaps she wouldn't understand.

Deciding to focus on the tea, she takes a sip herself, and blinks once, before looking up at Eden, intrigued] ...no, I'm afraid I have not. There are a lot of teas available on the intergalactic market but this is foreign to me...then again I am no tea expert. It *is* pleasant however. [ the tip of her tail was waving slowly to and fro as if to demonstrate this, she was quite at ease now. ]

[Even despite how satisfying it is for her to see Deire simmering down, Eden can still tell that something is bothering her, and it's not just the overall stress of her work.

Perhaps she will manage to discuss it properly with her, perhaps not. The important thing now, either way, is Deire's well-being. It seems clear that she hasn't had a decent break in too long and, as one of her closest colleagues, Eden simply can't allow such thing. It's not only detrimental in a personal sense, but a practical one as well. How can Deire expect to perform efficiently when she's not giving herself enough time to recharge? Unacceptable.]

Eden: Oh no, you're quite right. This flavor is considered a rarity. [And she takes another sip, and her own tail begins waving softly, as if showing content.] It's from a planet called... [Pauses, seemingly trying to recall.] Earth? I think?

Deire: [ takes another sip, but pauses when Eden mentioned Earth; she lowers the cup, savouring the taste before swallowing her sip of tea, then addressed the current topic of interest with ears straight up, indicating clear intrigue. ] Earth...that planet that concerns the Giegue incident? The very same? Intriguing. I suppose this tea is a human invention then. Hm.  [ she peers more closely at the tea now, not like there was anything wrong or suspicious about it, but more out of increased curiosity. ]

[Eden tilts her head. Like it takes her a moment to recall, but then does so. Then nods.]

Eden: The Giegue incident, yes... [Then takes yet another, more thoughtful sip.] There were some rumors about that. Rumors about the discovery of even more life forms capable of PSI, though... if you ask me, it shouldn't be too surprising at this point. The rest of the Solar System has already shown high concentrations of psionic energy. If anything, it's interesting that it's available in so many planets in a row, don't you think...?

Deire: We aren't the only species to have developed psionics, but...still, for it to have developed in such a high concentration of planets is rare in itself. [ she frowned] Nontheless, humanity stole that power...they didn't develop it naturally and as such they have to be punished. Our species is not one to be crossed. [ polite sip] I'm amazed you managed to obtain such tea at all, it has to be contraband.... [ a small, somewhat cheeky smirk, very unlike her but oddly befitting. ] How did you obtain this, Eden? 

Eden: [Shrugs lightly, and shows another amused smile.] Maybe they were jealous, who knows... [And the smile seems to intensify when Deire herself smiles.] Nothing too spectacular. A friend of a friend, you know... Earth seems to have caught a lot of people's attention with this whole issue. 

Deire: A 'friend of a friend?' My, and I though I was the only one with such connections...then again, I use mine for salad. [ it was said in a clearly amused tone, the Arkan taking another sip of her tea before putting the cup down and interlacing her fingers] It will catch a lot more attention soon enough....hopefully the same entities you've received this contraband from will stay away once our activities there begin. Third parties won't be tolerated. 

Eden: [Doesn't shrug to not look too repetitive, but her expression clearly indicates that she would have shrugged otherwise.] That would be their problem. I would just have to look for a different tea flavor, and I like experimenting, so... [Takes another sip, then seems to observe Deire more attentively.] Is it true then? Will there be a mission to stop Earth's psionic potential from developing any further? 

Deire: Oh, it's certainly true. And it's not the matter of 'will there be' either- it's currently ongoing. One of our commanders is on his way to the Earth as we speak, in a warship, with an army. [says this rather casually, as if talking about a mission possibly involving war was some easy conversation topic as opposed to anything dreadfully serious. ] I hope it will be a swift campaign, one small planet isn't worth even one army in my honest opinion. 

Eden: It certainly isn't... [Squints with a hint of concern, but not about the prospect of war at all, that's everyday life. She's merely as intrigued about indeed getting so overworked about what's practically considered a little speck of dirt compared to other planets.] ...Do you think they might know something we ignore? Something about this planet...? 

Deire: [ paused. What a peculiar thing Eden had just said. she was about to take another sip of her tea (practically the last sip before it was finished) but stopped to look at Eden over the rim of the cup instead.] It's to curb the spread of PSI, Eden. Little more. Though the identity of the commander tasked with the mission makes it all rather...intriguing. 

Eden: Just because they... stole it? I mean, don't get me wrong, that's a very fair motive... There's just something odd about it, it almost feels like they think PSI wielding earthlings could represent an actual... [Then suddenly pauses upon catching that last bit, ears standing up.] Oh? Why would that be? Who is it...? 

Deire: [ finally finishes her tea, then puts the cup down and funnily enough licks her lips a little in some satisfaction, before she sat straight and looked at Eden neutrally. ] Well, if you must know...the reason it is intriguing is because the commander tasked with leading the invasion is that curious specimen raised by humans himself.

Deire: Of course, I'm talking about Giegue.

[ Deire and Eden are now available for asks! ]

[blackidyll]

I'm pretty tired.

I don't think it's really hit me that I'm actually done with my YOI reverse bang fic. Or that I've somehow written the equivalent of a novel for it. It's interesting, because I've been writing the fic in one long document, so the total word count is right there in the Word document and on AO3 now that the last chapter is up, and yet that number is like... what? 92K words, what does that mean?

It means I've written double the amount of my previous longest running fic - which is Freefall, 45K words, completed earlier this year in March. It took me over four months to write Freefall and around five months to write Myriad, so what caused the dramatic change? It's not that I became a better writer in that short amount of time, although Myriad definitely challenged me greatly as a writer.

It could be that for my Bond reverse bang fic, I chose to write about a topic and setting that required me to do a lot more research to write certain scenes accurately. I had to research for my YOI fic as well, but that was more for background details like competition timing, figure skating technicalities, etc - I could easily write entire scenes and chapters and come back to edit those smaller details later. I couldn't do that for my Bond fic, not when the setting was practically a character of its own right in the story.

It could be that I related a lot easier to Katsuki Yuuri, a high-functioning anxiety-ridden working professional, than I do to Q, a young genius cybertechnology expert who works for a government organization shrouded in mystery, even though I love both characters dearly. I channel Yuuri quite easily - Q, on the other hand, is a mystery I have to unravel before I feel like I can write him authentically.

Mainly though, the biggest difference is that I was unwell for most of the time I was writing Myriad.

I've been dealing with various health issues since late April. Normally, when I'm unwell or dealing with a lot of personal issues, I stop writing. I can't concentrate, I can't speak to the characters or hear their stories. But this time, I think I needed the distraction badly enough that I wrote continuously even when I didn't feel like it, and also because Katsuki Yuuri is a lot easier for me to relate to. If I was writing a Bond fic that required me to go off and research and plot a lot I'd have sunk that project for sure.

I ended being incredibly productive - fic writing wise - these past four months because I've been in a state of discomfort and mild to mid-range pain for a lot of it. Other than going to work because I like having a paycheck and medical insurance, I stayed a home a lot because it took too much energy to go out or do anything but sit or lie down in bed. I read a lot during this time. But writing takes me out of my head more effectively than reading does, so writing is what I did when the panic and worry became overwhelming and I needed badly to escape but couldn't do that in a physical way in the real world.

So I wrote of Yuuri's struggles and his worry and his grief over losing Vicchan, but I didn't write him in physical pain, because I'm dealing with that and wouldn't wish that on him (plus he's a figure skater and probably has a higher pain threshold than I do. I'm a wimp when it comes to pain). And when I wrote him growing closer to Victor and the two of them spending time together and being happy, well, that's because I wanted them to be happy, and it made me happy to write them being happy and soft and supportive of each other.

I'm feeling much, much better now, health-wise. I'm still struggling with paranoia over my health, where every twinge or bite of pain makes me worry like hell that the issues are coming back, and my doctor has said I can come off my meds, so I've been really grumpy and dealing with some discomfort/pain these few days as my body adjusts. But I'm feeling better, which means I have more head space to think about the past few months and it's just... I can't process it properly. I've never been unwell for this long before. I've bashed up my knee and had to go into physiotherapy for half a year, but I've never dealt with this kind of illness where I had no idea what was wrong with me or how to fix it or even how to deal with it, and going to the GP was guess-work half the time until I finally went to a specialist. At least with the knee, I knew I just needed time and to follow the steps in my physio to get better.

So, I'm pretty tired. And I have a lot of mixed feelings about Myriad. It will always be associated with one of the hardest periods of my life, but I love the story dearly. How can I not? It's distracted me and given me reasons to push through my pain. I love all the characters and writing them interacting with each other. The feedback and support from my readers has been utterly, utterly amazing - I've woken up from medical tests and laid in bed at the hospital reading comments while I waited for my results to come out (they were clean!) - and all those wonderful and kind words had nothing to do with my personal life or my health. I could just bask in our mutual love for this series and these characters and the story I happen to want to share with the world.

So even though I still can't quite process what I've done with Myriad or how I managed to write all of that - and in the eyes of my readers, write it well - I'm proud of it. It'll always be something I accomplished. Just, haha, I don't think I could do it again, not like this. I really hope I won't be in the type of situation that would allow me to write another 90K word fic in such a short period of time. Other people can do it, and they are amazing. Maybe in a few years, I could do it normally too - I've definitely started writing a lot faster now, and planning long fics is easier too. But I've done nothing but write and write these past nine months, and I need a break from that now.

I have a lot of WIPs on my list, in so many fandoms. The 00Q reverse bang starts up in October for writers, and I haven't touched the Hallowed Heart sequel in years so I want to work on that again. I promised Hetalia folks I would update Cloudy with a Chance of Fog once I was done with my fandom challenges. The World Ends With You is coming to the Nintendo Switch later this year and ahhhhhh I hope it's the resurgence of my tiny obscure fandom so I really want to write something for it! And of course, I am nowhere near done writing for YOI. But I'm not scheduling anything. I'm not planning any big projects. I'm going on vacation the next two weeks (and boy was that another thing I was worrying about, because we bought the plane tics months ago and how could I travel when I was in pain and on meds and had doctor appointments, but thankfully I feel well enough to go now) and I will try to be kind to myself.

No need to respond to this spiel - I simply wanted to wrap my head around the last few months. Just, do me a favour? Chances are, you've read a fic or seen an artwork or a fanmix or gifset or a translation or podfic or some kind of fandom work today. Drop them some love. Like, reblog, kudos, yell in the tags, leave a comment, whatever you're comfortable with. We rarely know what's going on in the creators' lives. But that little bit of love will be appreciated. It will definitely be appreciated.

♥

[salemroleplayhq]

Do you only consider poc characters FCS related to African or Chinese and Korean culture or do FCS as Turkish, Latin & mixed count as well? Sorry imm new at roleplay but i liked yours

Hi! Please don’t apologize for the question, though the answer to this is, unfortunately, a bit complicated. I want to preface it by saying I am by no means an expert and defer to anyone who feels they need to correct me. I try my absolute best to do the research and listen to the discourse, but my answer will likely be nowhere near as eloquent as others you will find if this is a topic of genuine interest to you. If you want to learn more, I can point you in the direction of some valuable resources.

The short, very simple answer is that no group is a monolith. Some Latinx people are people of color, and others are not. (See: Ana de Armas, who is Cuban, but also generally acknowledged as a white woman. We would therefore not accept her as a character of color.)

The discourse on Turkish faceclaims is even more complicated because while many are white/white passing, the country as a whole has a strong non-European Islamic origin. I've seen some varying opinions on this, but our solution is that we would accept a Turkish character as a diverse character, but only under the circumstances that their culture is properly researched and incorporated into their backstory.

There are a lot of nuances, and more than I could ever possibly hope to explain for what I'm sure was supposed to be a simple question, but I hope this answers it at least somewhat. If you have a faceclaim you're unsure about, I'd suggest doing some research or coming to us to discuss.

—Molly