#Protected Cultivation market

[crop-protection-market]

Advancements in Greenhouse Technology in Protected Cultivation Industry

Introduction

Innovations in greenhouse technology are revolutionizing the Protected Cultivation Industry, providing advanced solutions for efficient and sustainable crop production. This article delves into the latest trends in greenhouse technology, their impact on protected cultivation, and the opportunities they offer for growers and industry stakeholders.

Market Expansion in Greenhouse Technology

The greenhouse technology for Protected Cultivation Market has witnessed remarkable growth, reaching a market value of $18.5 billion in 2023. Projections indicate a robust Compound Annual Growth Rate CAGR of 10% - 12%, leading to an estimated market size of $30.2 - 35.8 billion by 2028. This growth is fueled by the increasing adoption of advanced greenhouse solutions, the demand for year-round crop production, and the emphasis on sustainable farming practices.

Advanced Climate Control Systems

Innovative climate control systems integrate smart sensors, automated ventilation, and climate monitoring tools to optimize crop growth conditions. These technologies enhance resource utilization, improve crop quality, and mitigate environmental risks, driving efficiency and productivity in protected cultivation.

Energy-Efficient Designs

Greenhouse manufacturers are integrating energy-efficient designs, including solar panels, energy-efficient glazing materials, and insulation systems, to reduce energy consumption and operational costs. These designs promote sustainability, minimize environmental footprint, and enhance overall crop production.

Vertical Farming Solutions

Vertical farming solutions harness hydroponics and aeroponics to maximize space utilization and crop density. These systems incorporate LED lighting, nutrient solutions, and controlled environments to optimize crop growth, increase productivity, and minimize environmental impact.

Market Opportunities and Challenges

Opportunities:

Resource Efficiency: Advanced greenhouse technology solutions optimize resource utilization, reduce water consumption, and minimize environmental impact, leading to increased efficiency and productivity.

Local Food Production: Greenhouse technology contributes to local food production, urban agriculture, and food security, providing fresh, nutritious produce to urban communities.

Innovation and Collaboration: The adoption of advanced greenhouse technologies fosters innovation, collaboration, and knowledge sharing within the industry, driving continuous improvement and industry growth.

Challenges:

Technological Integration: Implementing and managing advanced greenhouse technologies require specialized knowledge, training, and technical expertise, emphasizing the need for continuous education and skill development within the industry.

Regulatory Compliance: Adhering to environmental regulations, energy efficiency standards, and sustainability certifications can pose challenges for greenhouse manufacturers, necessitating compliance measures and industry best practices.

Market Competition: As the greenhouse technology market expands, competition among growers, suppliers, and technology providers intensifies, requiring differentiation strategies, value-added offerings, and continuous innovation to stay competitive in the market.

Conclusion

Innovations in greenhouse technology are driving enhanced Protected Cultivation practices, providing sustainable solutions for efficient crop production. By embracing advanced climate control systems, energy-efficient designs, and vertical farming solutions, growers and stakeholders can lead the way in sustainable agriculture practices and drive industry growth.

#Protected Cultivation Market Analysis #Protected Cultivation Market Demand #Protected Cultivation Market Forecast #Protected Cultivation Market Growth #Protected Cultivation Market Outlook #Protected Cultivation Market Revenue #Protected Cultivation Market Size #Protected Cultivation Market Trends #Protected Cultivation market #Protected Cultivation Industry #Protected Cultivation market share #Protected Cultivation Industry research reports #Protected Cultivation market research reports #Protected Cultivation market major players

[transmutationisms]

in addition to being prone to an obvious naturalistic fallacy, the oft-repeated claim that various supplements / herbs / botanicals are being somehow suppressed by pharmaceutical interests seeking to protect their own profits ('they would rather sell you a pill') belies a clear misunderstanding of the relationship between 'industrial' pharmacology and plant matter. bioprospecting, the search for plants and molecular components of plants that can be developed into commercial products, has been one of the economic motivations and rationalisations for european colonialism and imperialism since the so-called 'age of exploration'. state-funded bioprospectors specifically sought 'exotic' plants that could be imported to europe and sold as food or materia medica—often both, as in the cases of coffee or chocolate—or, even better, cultivated in 'economic' botanical gardens attached to universities, medical schools, or royal palaces and scientific institutions.

this fundamental attitude toward the knowledge systems and medical practices of colonised people—the position, characterising eg much 'ethnobotany', that such knowledge is a resource for imperialist powers and pharmaceutical manufacturers to mine and profit from—is not some kind of bygone historical relic. for example, since the 1880s companies including pfizer, bristol-myers squibb, and unilever have sought to create pharmaceuticals from african medicinal plants, such as strophanthus, cryptolepis, and grains of paradise. in india, state-created databases of valuable 'traditional' medicines have appeared partly in response to a revival of bioprospecting since the 1980s, in an increasingly bureaucratised form characterised by profit-sharing agreements between scientists and local communities that has nonetheless been referred to as "biocapitalism". a 1990 paper published in the proceedings of the novartis foundation symposium (then the ciba foundation symposium) spelled out this form of epistemic colonialism quite bluntly:

Ethnobotany, ethnomedicine, folk medicine and traditional medicine can provide information that is useful as a 'pre-screen' to select plants for experimental pharmacological studies.

there is no inherent oppositional relationship between pharmaceutical industry and 'natural' or plant-based cures. there are of course plenty of examples of bioprospecting that failed to translate into consumer markets: ginseng, introduced to europe in the 17th century through the mercantile system and the east india company, found only limited success in european pharmacology. and there are cases in which knowledge with potential market value has actually been suppressed for other reasons: the peacock flower, used as an abortifacient in the west indies, was 'discovered' by colonial bioprospectors in the 18th century; the plant itself moved easily to europe, but knowledge of its use in reproductive medicine became the subject of a "culturally cultivated ignorance," resulting from a combination of funding priorities, national policies, colonial trade patterns, gender politics, and the functioning of scientific institutions. this form of knowledge suppression was never the result of a conflict wherein bioprospectors or pharmacists viewed the peacock flower as a threat to their own profits; on the contrary, they essentially sacrificed potential financial benefits as a result of the political and social factors that made abortifacient knowledge 'unknowable' in certain state and commercial contexts.

exploitation of plant matter in pharmacology is not a frictionless or infallible process. but the sort of conspiratorial thinking that attempts to position plant therapeutics and 'big pharma' as oppositional or competitive forces is an ahistorical and opportunistic example of appealing to nominally anti-capitalist rhetoric without any deeper understanding of the actual mechanisms of capitalism and colonialism at play. this is of course true whether or not the person making such claims has any personal financial stake in them, though it is of course also true that, often, they do hold such stakes.

#hps

[elryuse]

Yandere Mina?

COLD SKIN

Yandere Mina X Male Reader

The warmth of her touch on his cheek sent a jolt through Y/n. It was a searing contrast to the coldness that usually emanated from her, a coldness that mirrored the sterile perfection of her office. Mina, the CEO of Diamond Star Entertainment, a woman as beautiful as a sculpted marble statue and just as unforgiving, was a terrifying enigma.

Today, however, the enigma seemed to crack. Her eyes, usually sharp and calculating as a hawk's, were red-rimmed and puffy. There was a crumpled tissue on her pristine desk, a silent testament to tears shed. Y/n knew better than to ask. Curiosity was a luxury not afforded to those under Mina's ruthless reign. He remembered the new intern, the one with bright eyes and a hopeful smile, reduced to a sobbing mess in front of the entire company for daring to challenge a marketing strategy.

But today, when Mina finally looked up at him, there was a vulnerability in her gaze that sent a tremor of unease through him. "Y/n," she croaked, her voice devoid of its usual icy authority. "Close the door."

Confused, Y/n obeyed. As the door clicked shut, a dam of emotions seemed to break within Mina. The carefully cultivated image of the iron-fisted CEO crumbled. Tears welled up in her eyes again, spilling over like a cascade. For the first time in years, Mina allowed herself to be vulnerable, a pathetic mess in front of a man who had only ever been on the receiving end of her disdain.

Y/n surprised her then. He pulled her into a hesitant embrace, the familiar scent of his cologne strangely comforting. He didn't speak, didn't judge. He simply placed a hand on hers, the warmth a stark contrast to her icy touch. The tears streamed down her face, hot and furious. This wasn't anger, though; it was a despair so raw it scraped against his soul.

In that moment, a seed took root in Mina's mind, a twisted, possessive vine that would soon choke out all other emotions. The man who had seen her vulnerability, who had offered a moment of solace, couldn't be allowed to leave her sight. He was hers, her one solace in a world that had betrayed her.

Days turned into weeks, the memory of that vulnerability lingering in the air between them. Mina remained outwardly composed, the CEO mask back in place. But around Y/n, a subtle shift occurred. Her touches lingered a beat longer, her eyes held a warmth that sent a shiver down his spine, a warmth that felt dangerously like a warning.

Then, Y/n brought lunch for her. It was a simple gesture, a ham and cheese sandwich from the nearby bakery. Yet, to Mina, it was a declaration. A sign that she was more than just an employee.

As she took a bite, the sweet and savory flavors somehow lost their appeal. The only thing she could taste was the possessiveness blooming in her chest, a dark vine constricting around her heart. She watched Y/n across the desk, his brow furrowed slightly, a crease she found oddly endearing.

Suddenly, a new girl in the office, bubbly and flirtatious, sidled up to him, batting her eyelashes. A cold fury flooded Mina. The sandwich turned to sand in her mouth. She wanted to scream, to rip the girl's perfectly painted smile off her face.

With a voice dripping with ice, Mina called the girl into her office. The humiliation that followed was swift and brutal. The girl fled the building in tears, her dreams of stardom shattered by a woman who could destroy careers with a single word.

Y/n, pale and shaken, stormed into Mina's office. "What did you do?" he demanded, his voice trembling with anger.

Mina met his gaze, her eyes devoid of remorse. "She was bothering you," she said simply.

"That's not your call to make!" he yelled, his voice cracking. Fear, a chilling new sensation, warred with the strange protectiveness blooming in his chest. It was a bizarre combination, this fear and possessiveness, a cocktail that left him both terrified and strangely drawn.

Mina stood up, her cold skin brushing against his as she leaned in. Her lips, usually painted a vibrant red, were pale and bloodless. "But you're mine, aren't you, Y/n?" she whispered, her voice husky with possessiveness.

Y/n's breath hitched. The fear intensified, but then there was something else, something hot and primal sparked by the way she looked at him.

"No," he breathed, but the word lacked conviction.

Mina smiled, a slow, predatory smile that sent shivers down his spine. "Uhm... Didn't you mean Yes," she countered, her voice a silken caress. "You saved me when I was broken. Now......we'll save each other. Forever."

The words hung heavy in the air, laced with an unspoken threat disguised as a promise. Y/n felt trapped, caught in the web of her twisted affection. Fear flickered in his eyes, but Mina mistook it for something more, her pale lips curving into a triumphant smile.

In the following weeks, the lines between affection and obsession blurred. Mina showered him with lavish gifts – a new car, a luxurious apartment in a building she owned. He protested, but his resistance was met with icy glares and veiled threats.

One evening, he found her waiting in his new apartment, a seductive smile playing on her lips. Her usual immaculate attire was replaced by a flimsy silk robe, barely concealing the white expanse of her skin. The air crackled with unspoken desire, an intoxicating mixture of fear and forbidden longing.

Mina moved towards him, her perfume heavy in the air. "You'll get used to it," she whispered, her voice husky. "This… Us." She traced a finger down his chest, sending shivers cascading down his spine.

He wanted to run, but his feet seemed rooted to the spot. The fear that had been simmering within him now boiled over. "Mina, this isn't right. You're my boss!"

She tilted her head, her smile turning icy. "And you're mine," she purred, her voice a chilling counterpoint to the warmth of her touch. She leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear. "Don't you ever forget that."

Desire warred with fear within him. The woman he once feared was now a terrifying enigma, a beautiful viper offering a poisoned kiss. As she leaned in further, he tasted the desperation in her embrace, the cold skin a stark contrast to the heat burning in her eyes.

Suddenly, a memory surfaced – the tear-stained face behind the CEO mask, the raw vulnerability. It sparked a flicker of something akin to pity within him, a dangerous emotion that fueled his decision.

He gently pushed her away, his voice firm. "Mina, you need help. Real help."

The fury in her eyes was terrifying, a storm brewing beneath the surface. But before she could unleash it, his phone buzzed – a work emergency. Relief washed over him, a lifeline thrown in the midst of a brewing storm.

"Later," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Get some rest."

He escaped back into the night, leaving Mina alone in his apartment, the silence broken only by her ragged breaths. As he drove away, a cold dread gripped his heart. He knew he couldn't keep playing this dangerous game. He had to find a way out, or risk becoming another victim of her twisted affection.

The following days were a tense dance. Mina was outwardly calm, the CEO mask back in place. Yet, Y/n felt her watchful gaze constantly on him, a suffocating presence that made his skin crawl. He started making arrangements in secret, searching for a way to escape her clutches.

One evening, as he was leaving the office, a package arrived for him. Inside, nestled in velvet, lay a silver locket. It contained a picture of him, taken without his knowledge, his face plastered with a terrifying smile. A single word was engraved on the locket: ‘Forever.’

Mina was watching him from her office window, a chilling smile playing on her lips. Her obsession with him had morphed into a terrifying possessiveness, a love story written in a script far darker than any K-Pop fantasy. Y/n, trapped in the web she had spun, knew one thing for sure – the battle for his freedom had only just begun.

Y/n stared at the diamond-encrusted wedding band, a heavy weight on his ring finger. The ceremony had been a spectacle, a lavish display of Mina's power and his supposed devotion. Every detail screamed 'ownership,' from the invasive paparazzi drones to the guest list consisting solely of his distant relatives, flown in and out as quickly as puppets on a string.

The honeymoon wasn't a trip to the Maldives, but a permanent relocation to a secluded mansion on a private island. Escape felt like a fever dream – every attempt choked by Mina's vast network of eyes and ears. His phone calls were monitored, his internet access restricted. Even his old apartment stood empty, stripped of all his belongings except the chilling locket that had become a constant reminder of his captivity.

The first night in their opulent bedroom, Mina stood before him, the moonlight reflecting off her silk nightie. The playful coyness was gone, replaced by a steely determination.

"Now," she purred, her voice devoid of warmth, "we begin our Future."

Resistance was futile. Mina had taken away everything that mattered – his career, his freedom, and now, his very agency. Over time, a sense of numb compliance settled over him. He attended business meetings as her trophy husband, his voice reduced to a mere echo beside hers. He learned to navigate the gilded cage, a hollow shell of the man he once was.

Years blurred into a monotonous routine. Mina meticulously planned their lives, their schedules revolving around fertility treatments and doctor appointments. The birth of their first child was another grandiose event, a carefully choreographed media spectacle. More followed, children with large, curious eyes that mirrored Mina's chilling possessiveness.

One evening, as he tucked their youngest daughter into bed, he saw a flash of defiance in her eyes. A flicker of the same spirit that had once resided within him.

"Don't worry," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "I'll try."

It was a promise, a vow to break the cycle before it consumed his children as it had him. He knew his chances were slim, but in that moment, amidst the gilded bars of his cage, a tiny spark of hope flickered to life.

#twice mina #mina #twice #yandere x reader #yandere roleplay #yandere blog #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #sexy content #beautiful #apreciation post #update #yandere #kpop smut

[shanastoryteller]

Happy birthday! Hope its great! The Untamed please? Its one of my favorite fandoms you've gotten me into 🥰

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38

Mo Xuanyu is married to the Second Jade of Lan.

Song Lan had known she’d married into the Lan – it was obvious – but he’d thought it was some not so bright cultivator that had been bewitched by her pretty face, or possibly literally bewitched, which he’d already decided wasn’t any of his damn business. If some stupid Lan wants a terrifying and amoral demonic cultivator for a wife, then good luck to them. Except they obviously don’t know she’s a demonic cultivator, considering their clan’s history with the original. But again, not his business, not his problem. His first priority is Xiao Xingchen and if Mo Xuanyu is going help him, then he really doesn’t care about who she’s terrorizing in her spare time.

Except it appears he’d underestimated her.

Because she’s apparently Jin Xuanyu now, legitimized and married off to the second most eligible bachelor in the cultivation world, superseded only by his brother who’s been unofficially off the market for over a decade.

Hanguang Jun had lived as a widower and Song Lan had been convinced he was going to die as one. Uncharitably, he wonders if maybe Lan Wangji just has a type, then feels bad about it in the next moment.

She orders Sect Leader Lan around and he lets her. She glares Hanguang Jun down.

To say absolutely nothing of the way she’d taken down Xue Yang. And then given him that dubious honor of taking credit for the kill, likely because she didn’t want to try and explain to her family how she’d managed it.

She had been clever and dangerous as a teenager. She’s managed to vault herself from disgraced bastard daughter to wife of the heir to the Lan and the legal mother to the third in line who will likely be the one actually succeeding Lan Xichen.

Jin Xuan – Xuanyu is a friend. She has very firmly shown herself to be a friend, helping him and protecting Xiao Xingchen and showing what certainly looks like genuine kindness to the girl who’d helped them, A-Qing.

Possibly she’s done all this to ensure their silence over what she used to be, what she is, but if so then it’s been successful. Betrayal would be a poor repayment for everything she’s done. The Lan hadn’t helped him or Xiao Xingchen. She had. The Lan can take care of themselves and if they can’t withstand the machinations of one woman, they deserve what they get.

Xiao Xingchen hasn’t said much, and Song Lan owes him so many apologies, but not here in front of everyone. He at least agrees to fly with him without much fuss. It will be difficult for him to fly with all three of them for any significant distance, but A-Qing asks Xuanyu to fly with her and she agrees with a smile.

Lan Sizhui doesn’t seem particularly thrilled, but he apparently is far too respectful of his step mother to disagree with her.

They’re flying back the inn when Xiao Xingchen presses himself back against his chest and tilts his head back to say, “Song Lan.”

It’s been so long since he’s heard Xiao Xingchen say his name. He has to swallow before he says, “Yes?”

“That’s,” he starts, then stops. “Who was that?”

“Who?” he asks. “We’re traveling with the Lans.”

“The woman,” he says.

His lips tug down into a frown but he tries not to panic. He’s been under charms to confuse and dull his senses for months. “That was Mo Xuanyu.”

If he’s already confused, getting into her legitimization probably won’t help anything.

Xiao Xingchen is silent for a few more moment. Then he asks, “Are you sure?”

What on earth. “Who else would she be?”

“She moves like – and sounds – but. It can’t. She’s – different,” he says.

As wonderful as it is to hear him speaking, Song Lan wishes he were saying less worrying things. “It’s been a long time since we saw her last. She’s grown up and married. Of course she’s different.” He squeezes his arms around Xiao Xingchen’s waist, hoping it’s not too presumptuous when they haven’t discussed anything yet. “It’s okay, after everything that’s happened this all must feel very sudden. Xuanyu is the one that found you. We can trust her.”

He thinks they can trust her. They can trust her more than any other sect cultivator, which granted isn’t saying much.

Xiao Xingchen relaxes against him. “Alright. If you say so.”

#song lan has been very busy looking for xxc and so missed all the gossip around the arranged marriage #and he only has his knowledge of the real mxy to base all his conclusions on #asks #sailor-lady #untamed #prompt answers #prompts are closed

[bvidzsoo]

Irrevocable Love

Author: bvidzsoo

Warnings: swearing, mentions of human trafficking, slight sexism and misogyny, blood

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x female reader

Word count: 28,6k

Summary: Jeong Yunho was always protective of what was his. After his mother's death he stopped living a happy life, his father an alcoholic, his best friend was his only hope. The two of you had grown up together and you couldn't imagine living your life without Yunho, so when he tried to sneak onto the Pirate ship and leave without you, you were beyond hurt. Yunho only wanted to protect you, but he wasn't going anywhere without you. And so, the two of you joined Ateez on their adventures, starting your own love story at the same time. (Reader is called Bae Taeri in the following oneshots.)

A/N: Y'all, this one is a beast of a oneshot, lol. It's really long but I say it's worth it. Yunho's part is one of my favorites, so I hope you all enjoy it as much as I had fun writing it. I strongly advise you read the previous parts (especially Jongho, Seonghwa, and San's) since there are many refrences from them (again, especially from San's). If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know, we have three more oneshots left *whew*. And share your thoughts! Enjoy now!

Taglist: @pingyu-in-wonderland @marievllr-abg @lelaleleb @loveforred @horanghae8 @jeonghanscarat7 @orshii @mundayoonimnida @m3tavita @silentcry329 @icarusignite

Series Masterlist ↭ Previous Part

            10 years ago

            Our poor seaside village had always been overlooked by everyone. Nobody ever came here, nobody ever brought anything here to help our living situation. So, that forced us to fend for ourselves, to find ways to survive. Families who were a little bit luckier had a small garden where they could cultivate various vegetables and fruits, and to everyone else’s luck, they were generous enough to hand some out to the rest of the village. Most of us, however, were forced to go out on the sea and fish, which wasn’t always the easiest as the sea wasn’t always serene and gentle to the sailors. Everyone seemed to struggle, but you never heard anyone vocalize their struggles, always sucking it up and greeting the day with a smile on their faces, always so nice to their neighbours and people at the market. Nobody wanted their neighbour to know that they haven’t eaten in two days despite the other person being in the same situation, it was shameful. And so, it didn’t come as a surprise that Yunho never said anything about his own struggles at home. Despite being friends for six years now, we’ve never discussed anything that went down at home between our parents or the hardships we had to face daily. If one of us had even a little bit in plus to share, it could be anything, we’d bring it with ourselves when we met up and shared it, as good friends do.

After Yunho’s mother’s death he rarely had anything to bring with himself, his mother used to make very delicious pastry, but I never complained. I understood. Yunho and his father were struggling, it was very clear. His father was a blacksmith and their business hadn’t been doing well for the past two years now, it was his mother’s bakery which brought most of their money to the house and with her gone…I couldn’t help but worry for my best friend’s fate. He was becoming thinner and thinner as days went by, his eyes lacking the light he previously always had in them, and the bags under his eyes were darker than ever. It didn’t take long to figure out that he was struggling, but I knew by now, that trying to pry it out of him did nothing. It only made him close off even more, so I stayed silent. I allowed him space and time; he'd come to me when he felt ready. And, so, it came as a big surprise when I found him sneaking by my house one night, close to midnight. He had a black cloth thrown over his head, as if to hide his identity, and my eyebrows furrowed as I watched him through the window of my room. His steps were hurried and his tall frame was slightly hunched, as if to hide his height, and he kept glancing over his shoulder. Was he running from someone? Did he do something forbidden? My head spun with endless possibilities as I quickly grabbed my wool coat and threw it over my frame clumsily, eyes still on Yunho as he got further and further away from my house. He lived just up the hill, a five-minute trek away from my own house. I’ve known him my whole life. He said nothing about going somewhere tonight, so seeing him acting like that gave me a sinking feeling in my stomach. Something didn’t feel right about his demeanour, and I quickly left the house freely, not having to sneak out tonight. Three days ago, a pirate ship decked down, and since our town was quite generous with them, they paid us back with gold and many coins. Four days in a row now, they’ve been drinking away their money at the run-down pub by the old mill, all grown-ups gathering there, men and women alike. Children weren’t allowed to enter the pub, my parents forbidding myself from doing so as well, but that meant we were free to do whatever, while they drank away the night. The wind was harsher tonight as I ran down the hill, trying to catch up with Yunho, who was almost at the end of the dark street, pace quickening as he noticed me, seemingly refusing to wait for me. I wanted to cry out, but couldn’t risk someone catching us, we were supposed to be inside our homes, sleeping. Yunho was headed to the beach, towards the little gulf where the pirates had decked down. My breathing came out in ragged puffs as I sprinted towards him, the sand making it harder to keep a steady rhythm. I had grown up here, yet I never learned to enjoy the sand.

“Yunho!” I called out quietly, the wind carrying my voice over the little waves as I was getting closer to my best friend. He stopped looking over his shoulder, yet seemed to be ignoring me as I called out his name again. I knew he could hear me, so why was he ignoring me? My feet sunk deep into the sand as I tried keeping my curly hair out of my eyes, but the wind was strong down here at the beach, and it left me huffing and puffing as I watched Yunho’s body fall to the ground. I yelped and forgot about how much I hated the sand, sprinting towards him, finally reaching his side. But as I tried to help him up, he yanked his arm out of my hold, standing up on his own, head whipping around. I stared at my best friend wide eyed, confused by his reaction. It was just me, why was he acting like that?

“Yunho—”

“What are you doing here?!” His voice was snappy and I stepped back in shock; he has never spoken to me like that before. His eyes were hard and his eyebrows pulled into a frown. What was happening?

“I’m—I—” I stuttered as Yunho glared at me; his demeanour scary. I’ve never seen him like this, he’s never acted like this towards me, “I saw you through my window and I followed you—”

“You should’ve stayed at home.” Yunho snapped and then turned around, taking off again. His long strides made it hard for me to keep up with him and I kept stumbling forward as my legs tangled together due to the sand, eyes trying to fall on his face, but Yunho kept his head turned away from me.

“You should be at home too—” I huffed, still trying to figure out what the issue at hand was, “What are you even doing out here, Yunho?”

My voice raised and I gripped his wrist tightly, hauling him back, and he hissed, suddenly all up in my face. My heart was hammering as I looked up at my best friend, despite being fifteen, he was already a head taller than me. My hands trembled as he was breathing hard, but I refused to let go of him, I refused to cover under his intimidating gaze. He was always smiling, he was always happy, there was always a glint in his eyes. He always made jokes, and he’d tickle me when I was sad or ignoring him. Yunho was warm and the nicest person I have ever met. He is understanding and considerate. But I could find none of those qualities in the boy standing in front of me, glaring down at me.

“Go back home, Y/N.” He snapped, eyebrows furrowing more as I shook my head, biting my lower lip nervously, “Y/N, go back home.”

Each one of his words was emphasized, but I just shook my head again, breath stuttering when he suddenly shouted, “Go home!”

I wasn’t scared of him; I could never be. I was just confused. I started trembling as I shook my head vigorously, biting my lower lip, Yunho’s starting to tremble the longer I defied his wish.

“Y/N, please—” His voice slightly broke and my eyes widened when I noticed the tears in his eyes, “go back home, I can’t—I can’t leave if you’re here—”

“Leave?!” My voice sounded panicked as my heartbeat picked up again as I gripped his other wrist as well, scared he’d run away again. Yunho nodded, averting his eyes as I yanked on his wrists, pulling him almost into myself, “What are you saying?”

“I—” He gulped as he still avoided eye contact, voice barely a whisper, “I’m leaving with the pirates.”

The crash of the waves against the shore filled the void silence engulfing us, the stars shinning down us brightly, darkness around no matter where you looked. Yunho’s eyes shone as the first tears fell, head fallen forward as he let it rest against the top of my own head, shattering my heart into a million of pieces. Yunho wanted to leave. He wanted to leave me alone. He planned to live a life without me. I couldn’t live without him.

“You’re not going anywhere.” My lips trembled as I managed to say out loud those words, my own tears falling, “You won’t leave me here. Alone.”

“I have to.” Yunho sniffed and suddenly he flipped his hands, grabbing mine as I was still holding onto his wrists, “I have decided, Y/N. I must go—”

“No!” I screamed, raising my head and making Yunho take a step back, eyes wide as he gazed at me surprised, “You can’t leave me here! Do you understand that?! I can’t live without you!”

“Y/N,” He seemed to be in pain as he sniffed again, cupping my cheek with one hand, but I slapped it away, gazing at him with fury, “I promise to visit. I will come back every now and then.”

“You mean to say you’ll come back in ten years?” I snapped, voice hardening as I glared at him, “When I might not even be here? When I might be dead?! You mean to say I will have to live the rest of my life without you? Without knowing whether you’re still alive or not? Whether you’ll ever return to me? Whether you still—still remember me?!”

“How could I forget you?” Yunho’s voice was high pitched as he cupped my cheek, closing the distance between us as I craned my neck up to look at him, new tears falling from his eyes, “You’re my light, Y/N. The beacon in my darkness. I could never forget you—”

“Why are you leaving?” I cut him off, needing a reason. He had to have a good one if he was this desperate to go. Yunho gulped and looked away, almost ashamed, his grip on my cheek loosening, but I quickly placed my own hand over his and squeezed his fingers, his eyes falling back on me.

“I just can’t live here anymore.”

“Not a good enough reason.” I snapped, making Yunho’s eyebrows furrow.

“I just hate this life.” I shook my head again, the reason not good enough. I wouldn’t accept such mediocre issues. I didn’t like my life either, but I didn’t plan on running away with pirates. Who could kill me any second.

“Y/N, what does it matter—”

“Because you plan on leaving me behind and I can’t let you go without a good enough reason!” I snapped, more tears falling from my eyes as Yunho shook his head, the wind blowing his bangs away from his forehead.

“I hate my father.” His voice was quiet as he spoke up with a sigh, eyes falling on the sand between our feet, “He’s always been bad, but ever since mother died…I just can’t deal with him anymore. He’s drunk all day and all night and blames everything on me. He expects me to bring money to the house like my mother did, but I can’t even bake one chocolate chip cookie, Y/N. He’s never taught me his job and I can’t help out at the workshop…give it a few more months and we’ll die from hunger.”

The weight of his words settled between us as I took in a deep breath before exhaling slowly, pulling him into my body, my arms wrapping around his torso tightly. I knew Yunho hated pity, but my heart broke for him. I couldn’t stand seeing him cry, chewing his lower lip as his body trembled from the cold.

“I would never let you die like that, you idiot.” I whispered against his neck and Yunho’s body shook as he laughed quietly, before he started crying hard, “You should’ve told me sooner, Yunho. You know I would’ve helped you. You know my parents would’ve helped.”

“I don’t want anyone’s help, I’m a man—”

“You’re a boy.” I reminded him as Yunho squeezed me against his body, holding the back of my head against his neck, his body cold compared to mine. I had just noticed how thinly he was dressed and it broke my heart. His father never bothered getting him new clothes as winter was approaching.

“Boy or man, I have to fend for myself.” Yunho whispered and slowly pulled back, removing his body from mine, “And if I want to live, I have to leave right now. Without you, Y/N. But I promise you that I will return. And when I do, I promise to be rich, and then we’ll both leave this good for nothing town.”

I shook my head, about to complain as Yunho pressed his lips against my forehead, burning my skin as my eyes blurred with tears. As I reached out for him, he stepped back, and he was gone. He turned his body and started walking away, leaving me in disbelief as my body shook from anger and fear of being abandoned by the only person I loved wholeheartedly.

He was already a few good steps away when my next words bubbled out of me, “I will kill myself!”

I was fifteen. I didn’t know better back at that time, but it felt like my whole world was disappearing the further Yunho walked from me. The purpose to live seemed to dim in me as he sauntered off in the darkness. I felt powerless as he walked away from me.

“I will jump off the cliff tonight if you leave me here, Yunho!” I screamed, body shaking violently as Yunho stopped, body going rigid. It looked as if he wasn’t even breathing anymore, so I continued, “I can’t live without you, and if you leave me here, I will kill myself. I will walk up the hill, past my house and yours, and go to the edge, and jump. I will do it; you know I will. It’s a promise, Yunho. And then you won’t have anyone to return to—”

“Stop!” He screamed back and wheeled around, face ablaze as he stormed up to me, breathing quickly, “Stop this non-sense right now!”

“You know I will do it.” I challenged him, glaring up at my best friend.

“You’re crazy.” Yunho whispered speechless, searching my face for a tell-sign that I was joking. But I wasn’t. I meant every word I have just said.

“I can’t live without you.” I repeated for the nth time tonight, making Yunho shake his head in despair as he suddenly gripped my arm, hold careful, and started walking, pulling me after him. I said nothing as I kept up with him, ignoring the way the sand still made me stumble, eyes never leaving the side of Yunho’s face as he gazed ahead determined, grip slightly tightening as if he was afraid I’d rip myself away from him. But I would never do that. My heart was beating fast as I realized we were walking towards the water, towards the pirate ship. Yunho remained quiet as he gave me one final glance, a silent question in his eyes if I truly wanted this. Wherever he went, I followed. Whatever he did, I followed. So, I nodded my head firmly, and we walked inside the water, taking our unsure future in our hands for the first time.

Our fifteen-year-old selves remained clueless as to when the ship sailed off, hidden away behind some barrels in a chamber which looked like a kitchen, Yunho and I had assumed it was one since it had a stove. Our small and lanky bodies huddled close together, Yunho’s hand holding onto my arm the whole night, as if he was scared someone would snatch me away from him. But nobody did. Despite being on an unknown ship with pirates, we slept through the night smoothly, the clanking of loud dishes the only thing which woke us up. My eyes were wide as I stared at Yunho, who’s face held no emotion as he carefully peeked out from behind the barrel, surveying our surroundings. By the sound of it, there was only one man in the kitchen beside us, and I relaxed when Yunho nodded at me reassuringly, leaning down to whisper something in my ear. But our false security was quickly gone as a strong grip on my arm yanked me to my feet, away from Yunho, who sprung up after me, taking a hold of my other arm. I stared up at the scary looking old man, who’s grip was very painful, scared for my life. Perhaps this was the day we’d die.

“Let go of her.” Yunho’s voice held no fear as he stared the old man down, eyes ablaze as he tried tugging me close to himself. The old man just chuckled and looked behind him, where the man who was washing the dishes watched us amused.

“Two children,” The old man chuckled, “what are you doing on my ship?”

“Are you the Captain?” Yunho asked, eyebrows raising. The old man said nothing as he nodded, a curious glint in his eyes as he looked at me before looking back at Yunho.

“I’ll only ask once more before I throw you to the sharks, what are you doing on my ship, children?” I gulped, heart in my throat as I looked at Yunho panicked, trying to tug my arm free from the painful grip of the Captain, but it did nothing. Yunho noticed the discomfort on my face and stepped closer to me, squaring up to the Captain as he pulled his shoulders back, wanting to seem taller and stronger than he was.

“We got bored of our old lives, Captain,” He spoke with determination, the glint I have missed back in his eyes, “And we wanted to start anew. What better way than a pirate ship?”

“If you think I’m going to take you on the adventure of your lifetime, kid, you’re very wrong.” The Captain rolled his eyes and released my arm, pushing me, making me fall into Yunho. He caught me easily and glared at the Captain as he cradled me against his chest, shielding my view of the scary man as he buried my face in his chest. My heart skipped a beat.

“We’re not here for the adventure, Captain, we’re here to work. To do something with our lives. Anything’s better than living in that God forsaken town,” Yunho sighed, his confidence still shining through, “You have seen it with your own eyes.”

The Captain hummed and after a beat of silence, I heard him speak up, “So, you want to work?”

Yunho nodded eagerly and I managed to nod as well, forcefully pulling my head away from Yunho’s chest as he tried to keep me still, “We don’t want to be a burden. You can teach us anything and we’ll do as you say, Captain.”

The Captain chuckled, but I could see his eyes softening a bit. Yunho has always had charm, all the elders loved him back in our town. Every kid wanted to be his friend. I shrunk a bit against Yunho as the Captain’s black eyes fell on me this time, eyebrows furrowing, “You’re a girl.”

I nodded, scared of what would happen next to me. I knew I was at a disadvantage here, but I also knew Yunho would never let anyone touch me or harm me. I was safe with him. The Captain’s eyebrows furrowed even more, and suddenly, he raised his fingers to his mouth and whistled loudly, making my ears ring. The other pirate who had been washing the dishes quickly left the room and suddenly we heard two pairs of footsteps thudding down the hallway loudly. I felt my heart pick up again and bit my lower lip as I held onto Yunho’s arm so tightly it was probably restricting his blood flow, but he said nothing as he held me back just as tightly. Suddenly, the door was thrown open and two boys walked in. They were young, perhaps around our age, both shorter than Yunho as they walked to each side of the Captain. They looked nothing alike, yet the one with cat-like eyes resembled the Captain an awfully lot. Yunho and I glanced at each other as the Captain ruffled the two boys’ hair and then looked at us with a big smile, suddenly looking friendly, the scary man gone.

“These are Hongjoong and Seonghwa,” The Captain said cheerfully as my eyes fell on the boy to his left, who’s eyes were big and his plump lips were pulled into a warm smile, “You two look to be the same age as my boys.”

“Your boys…” Yunho repeated quietly, slightly relaxing against me, my grip leaving his arm as I detached myself from Yunho, suddenly embarrassed, and stood straight up next to him.

“My sons.” The Captain clarified and then looked at me again, “If you truly want to stay on the ship with us, you won’t have an easy life as a girl.”

I sucked in a harsh breath, finally being hit with the harsh truth. A ship. Full of pirates. Of men. And I was a girl. I shuddered and circled my arms around my torso, feeling very uneasy as I saw the two sons glance at each other before their eyes fell on me. Yunho’s eyebrows furrowed and he stepped in front of me, glowering at the Captain’s son whose eyes were cat-like as his eyes seemed to remain on me for longer, “I will kill anyone who dares touch her.”

The Captain’s laughter was loud as it echoed around us and his son cracked a smile, meanwhile the other one looked concerned for a second as his eyes found mine. He looked very nice, and soft; it was weird that he made me feel safe so fast.

“You can’t even lift a sword, son.” The Captain said once he was done laughing, and then grabbed his son’s shoulder, the one that looked nothing like him, and nudged him forward. He glanced back at his father before his eyes fell on me again and he smiled at Yunho warmly as he stepped closer, extending his hand for me.

“I’m Seonghwa, nice to meet you.” His voice was velvety and he was very polite, if we met in any other circumstance, I would’ve never said he was a pirate.

“My name is Y/N.” I said as I shook his hand, lightly pushing Yunho out of the way. He didn’t like it as he watched us closely, but said nothing.

“Seonghwa will take care of you, Y/N,” The Captain said and Seonghwa nodded obediently, “he’ll give you some clothes and help you figure out how to make you look like a man. I don’t mind having you on my ship at all, but you should keep your true identity a secret if you want to be safe. I can’t promise you anything if you decide to stay.”

I looked at Yunho upon hearing the Captain’s words and he turned his head to look at me, determination coating his gaze. I nodded at him and he sighed, jaw clenching, and I knew he was worried about me. About how we were going to pull this off.

“Your hair is really pretty.” Seonghwa suddenly spoke up and as he extended a hand to touch one of my copper curls, Yunho’s hand shot out and gripped his wrist, the other son, Hongjoong, jumping forward and holding a small dagger to Yunho’s neck. I gasped as I looked at the three boys, feeling helpless as I was the cause of it.

“Stop it, Yunho.” I whispered as I stared at the dagger at his neck, heart beating fast as Hongjoong glared at my best friend. The Captain started laughing again and shook his head, pulling Hongjoong back by the arm, Seonghwa stepping back embarrassed as well.

“I see you’ll get along just well,” The Captain said joyfully and looked down at Hongjoong, “You can teach Yunho whatever you feel like, he’s all yours.”

A dangerous glint appeared in Hongjoong’s eyes as he looked back at Yunho, and suddenly I was concerned for him, scared that the pirate would put him through torture.

“We only have one free room and one bed.” The Captain said as he turned around, walking towards the exit, “You’ll have to figure it out yourselves.”

Yunho and I nodded, not foreign to the feeling of sleeping in the same bed. After his mother’s death he slept over at my house quite often, never truly explaining why; but it’s not like it bothered me. His mother really liked me and while she was alive, she’d organize plenty sleepovers for the two of us, baking and cooking her specialties to make our night even better. I missed her.

“Like I said, your hair is really pretty,” Seonghwa spoke up again as the Captain was out of the kitchen, “But it’s too long for a boy…”

I gulped, gripping the ends of my copper hair. I really loved my hair. It was special, nobody else’s in my town was like the colour of mine. It reached the middle of my back, my curls tight. I didn’t want to cut it.

“I don’t want to cut it.” I said quietly and looked at the floor as Seonghwa hummed, rubbing his chin.

“I’ll try to figure something out, then, about clothes you don’t have to worry about, Hongjoong and I have plenty of those to lend over until we deck down in a town and buy some for you two.” I smiled at him thankfully and Yunho nodded his head, looking around the room.

“Will you teach us what pirates do?” I asked quietly, starting to feel excited about the future. Hongjoong chuckled as he played around with his dagger, pointing it at Yunho.

“We aren’t on a playground here, so you better forget you’re just kids.” He said with a scowl, eyes narrowed at Yunho, “And don’t try to play the tough guy either, unless you want to be shark food. Touch Seonghwa again and I’ll cut your hand off—”

“Hongjoong.” Seonghwa sighed with a pointed look at his brother, “He didn’t know what I wanted to do, he was just protecting her—”

“I do not care.” Hongjoong snaped, shooting a silencing look at Seonghwa, “There are ranks on this ship, and you’re at the bottom of it right now.”

Yunho glared at Hongjoong as he raised his chin, staring at him challengingly, “We’ll see for how long, pirate boy.”

Hongjoong chuckled as Seonghwa shook his head and looked at me sadly, motioning with his head for me to follow him, “You should get changed, Y/N, the longer you look like that the longer you’re in danger.”

“Promise you’ll never tell anyone.” Yunho suddenly spoke up, looking at Hongjoong and Seonghwa. The two glanced at each other before they nodded their heads, Seonghwa gently offering his palm for me to take.

“We promise.” Hongjoong said firmly, extending his hand for Yunho, who shook it firmly, “Let me show you your room then.”

            5 years ago

            A while had passed since the pirate ship became my new home. Yunho’s new home. Captain Kim was kind to the two of us, allowed us time to learn what we were best at, and never beat us down with his words like some other pirates, who didn’t try to hide their disdain for us. I did not understand where such hatred came from, but I didn’t dwell too much on it. Yunho was quick on his feet and too smart for his own good, he learned something new every day and mastered it in only a few more days. It was impressive, the Captain became keen of him quite fast and promised to give him a high rank once the right time came. I was scared at first, not truly understanding how I could help out on a ship full of men as my strength was quite questionable and my cooking skills were nowhere to be found, that is, until one day, Seonghwa and I were cleaning up his father’s office, only to find drawings of some old ships and boats. The designs caught my attention and after asking for permission, I took them to my room and started studying them, finding similarities with our own ship. I knew I might’ve been very wrong, but I wanted to have significance and contribute with something, so one evening, when the Captain was gazing out at the dark sea, I walked up to him and whispered to him that I might have some suggestions as to how we could make our ship faster. He listened to me with a smile on his face and the next day I found myself in charge of making the ship faster. And after that, whenever something happened to the ship, I seemed to be one of the few who knew how to fix it. I could feel the heated gazes of the other pirates, those who had been on this ship for too long, throwing insults at me behind my back, cursing me for doing more than they ever could. I had been cornered a few times too, threatened with a beating and becoming shark food, but Yunho somehow was always there at the right time, scaring those pirates off as he glared at them with the scariest look in his eyes. And once they were gone, he’d turn around and cradle me against his chest, promising to always protect me. Captain Kim was also good at keeping me safe, often warning his pirates to keep their slurs to themselves if he heard them sprouting non-sense about my physical appearance, about how weak and frail I looked. Nobody besides a select few people on the ship knew I was a woman, and I intended to keep it that way. The Captain was a great help when it came to it, always shutting down the rumours, but after just six months of having been on his ship, he was killed by a rival pirate crew while we were decked down for supplies. We had a few rough weeks, especially Hongjoong and Seonghwa, but a new order was soon instilled. Kim Hongjoong, the Captain’s only blood related son, was to be the next Captain. He chose Seonghwa to be his Quartermaster and at the late request of his father, Yunho became the Master boatswain. I was assigned the position of Carpenter and Yunho’s deputy if he ever needed help, meanwhile many of the older pirates were disregarded of their positions. Hongjoong wanted to make his own reputation, he became The Slayer, making Ateez one of the most feared pirates in the four seas and four kingdoms. Our crew grew significantly throughout the years and we became a tight circle of nine, Hongjoong’s most trusted people…and friends. Everyone was special to him, and despite not being on the best of terms with everyone myself, I knew they were my family. I knew I could trust them with my life. If Yunho wasn’t there, they always were, all of them being very protective of my gender as the older pirates were quite vile, not liking the changes Hongjoong was making.

I usually stayed up late when I wanted to wash up, preferring to wait until everyone else fell asleep, that way I knew nobody would barge in on me. The little room we used as a washroom was truly small, a few utensils thrown in the corner as we used a larger barrel as a bathtub, luxuries like that weren’t made for ships. The water was almost hot as I dipped my hand in it to check the temperature, and it brought a smile on my face, knowing that Yunho was the one who washed up before me. He knew how I liked being last, so if he could, he always heated the water for me beforehand as carrying buckets filled with water was strenuous for my muscles. I waited a few more minutes, checking again if nobody was roaming the halls of the ship, and upon hearing no movement I started undressing. I took off the scarf from my hair, unwrapping it before pulling off the bandana as well, massaging my scalp and sighing at the relief of pressure from my head. My hair had to be cut every now and then, but Seonghwa was nice enough and never cut it above my shoulders, knowing how much I loved my curls and the colour of it. I unbuttoned my black shirt, but didn’t take it off as I had to first unwrap the tight cloth from around my body, which restricted my breasts from showing too much, also concealing the form of my body. My skin itched as I undid the clasps and quickly unravelled it from around my torso, groaning at the soreness of my breasts. Ever since going through puberty my breasts had gotten bigger, and having to restrict them daily made them very sensitive and sore, on some days I could barely touch them, the pain traveling through my entire torso at the smallest contact. I unlaced my trousers and quickly pushed them off, shivering as the cold wrapped around my body. As I went to pull down my undergarment, I heard footsteps barrelling down the stairs and loudly headed towards the washroom. My eyes widened as I froze for a second, listening to the sounds, trying to recognize the person, but to my horror, it wasn’t anyone whom I was close to. Yunho only needed to take one step before I recognized him, Seonghwa’s steps were light and he was usually whistling a tune stuck in his head, meanwhile Wooyoung was always screaming my name if he was searching for me. This wasn’t anyone I knew, not someone I was close to. Snapping out of my shock, I looked around panicked, not knowing what to throw on first to conceal my identity, but by the time I grabbed the bandana to wrap it around my head, the door was thrown open. I froze, my back facing the door. Nobody said anything despite the burning gaze I could feel on the back of my head and I stiffened as I subtly tried to button up my shirt. If it was anyone, I was close with, they would’ve already apologized and closed the door behind them, even San.

“Taemin?” Fuck. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, chewing my bottom lip as I realized it was one of the older pirates, who’s voice was too raspy from smoking so much. He was one of the few remaining from Captain Kim’s crew, the old crew, and he hated my guts the most.

“Yeah?” The timber of my voice dropped, like I usually spoke to the crew. My heart was beating fast as I pulled my shoulders back, closing the last button of my shirt, bracing myself to turn around. But before I could do so, a sticky hand grabbed my arm and whirled me around.

“You’re not Taemin.” The old man’s face came in view, he was sneering at me, his breath bad as it smelled like cheap rum, he looked tipsy. I gulped before rolling my eyes, my expression steeling.

“Let go of me, you old fool.” I hissed, trying to tug my arm out of his grip, but the old man narrowed his eyes at me.

“Watch your language, pirate.” The old man snapped back, yanking me closer to himself. I tensed even more, conscious of how exposed I was. I could only pray his vision was blurry enough that he wouldn’t realize my gender.

“Release my arm, now.” I demanded, glaring at him, but suddenly, his eyes widened and his mouth fell open as his eyes travelled over my body. Fuck. I went to pull away, about to curse him out like a sailor and send him away, but the old fool was walking out the room, hauling me after himself. I struggled against him, but his strong grip wasn’t relenting.

“What are you doing?!” I yelped as I tried to hold onto the wall when he started walking us up the stairs, heart hammering in my chest.

“Shut up, wench!” He snarled as he looked back with a glare and my heart dropped to my stomach, realizing that everything was about to change. I started to trash against him, trying to free myself, but he just hissed and turned around, landing a hard slap against my cheek, making me fall into the wall. I was breathing hard, shock rippling through my body as he grabbed me by my hair and yanked hard, making me cry out, pulling me up the stairs, headed to the deck.

“Get up, everyone!” He started screaming at the top of his lungs, his harsh grip bringing tears to my eyes, “Fucking wake up! Get on deck!”

No, no, no. My lower lip trembled as I tried to turn in his grip and punch him, I knew how to fight, but this greasy man was strong and furious as he threw me against the hard wooden floor of the deck, my breathing ragged and loud as my head almost smacked against the floor. Pain shut through my knees, palms burning from taking the impact.

“You, wench!” The old pirate howled at the top of his lungs, spit flying from his mouth, “You thought we wouldn’t find out? You thought you could fool us?!”

I bit my lower lip, trying to gather myself as I heard the multiple footsteps of the rest of the pirates, then felt their eyes on me. I knew everyone would be watching, judging, and laughing. I was surrounded by men, after all, and they loved humiliating a woman. Especially the one most of them had been suspicious of for five years now.

“I am no fool!” The pirate screamed and suddenly grabbed me by my hair, yanking my head up. My body trembled from the cold and anger cursing through my veins as I glared up in his eyes with spite, “You might’ve fooled the old Captain, but not me!”

“And who are you?! You scum!” I snapped, baring my teeth at him before the back of his hand made contact with my cheek, again, sending my head flying to the side. My cheek stung from the slap, tears instantly in my eyes as I heard commotion close to us.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Yunho’s voice was deep as he screamed at the top of his lungs, voice almost cracking from the anger I could hear in it. As I looked up, cheek burning, my eyes fell on Yunho. He looked livid. His chest was falling and rising rapidly, and when we made eye contact, his jaw clenched as he took off towards the old pirate, only to be held back by Mingi and San. Wooyoung’s gaze could murder anyone as he watched the old pirate, hand gripping the handle of his sword as I saw the conflict in his eyes, not knowing whether he was allowed to help me or not as the crowd of pirates parted for Hongjoong, who’s hair stuck in odd places, his nightgown thrown over his built frame.

“What is happening?” He asked, voice tense, as he stopped in front of Yunho, keeping a safe distance between me and the old fool. I looked at Hongjoong, and when he saw me, his eyes hardened before he looked back at the old pirate. Everyone knew the old pirate has always tried sabotaging Yunho and I, even tried to throw us in the water once when we were working on deck, thankfully Hongjoong saw everything and reported it to his father instantly, as he was still alive back then. Hongjoong hated this old pirate as well, having been bullied by him his whole childhood, but he needed a good reason before getting rid of him. It seems like them moment has just come. Old fool.

“This man—no, woman!” The old pirate spat as he pointed his finger at me accusingly, “Has lied to us for years, Hongjoong—”

“It’s Captain Hongjoong to you, pirate.” Seonghwa snapped, standing behind Hongjoong tensely, keeping his eyes off me as I could see his strong front breaking each time he dared glance my way even from the corner of his eyes.  

“Captain Hongjoong,” The old man said it with difficulty, hating Hongjoong just as much as he hated the rest of us, “this woman had been hiding on our ship for five years. Calling herself Taemin, exploiting our generosity, using up our resources!”

“And? Where’s the problem with that?” Hongjoong chuckled and walked closer, taking his nightgown off as he stopped in front of me.

“Where’ the problem—she’s a wench!” The old pirate screamed at the top of his lungs as Hongjoong crouched down and placed the nightgown around my shoulders, sharing a look of understanding with me, calming my crazy heartrate for a second, “This slut thought she could outsmart us! Sneaked on the ship with that boy only to be his whore—”

I closed my eyes tightly at the vile things which kept leaving his mouth, calling me names and any slur he could remember. Yunho and I made eye contact, and I noticed how Wooyoung was gone, probably unable to remain calm, meanwhile Seonghwa had to move to keep his hand against Yunho’s chest as he trembled with fury, trying to fight off Mingi and San, who were trying to calm him down. My eyes looked up at Hongjoong when suddenly a sword was handed to me, Hongjoong’s hand extended for me. I took it and stood up, wrapping his nightgown around my exposed body, grabbing the handle of the sword.

“That’s my sword you’re holding you ugly slut!” The pirate spat and I looked him in the eye, slowly, a smirk pulling onto my lips. Hongjoong chuckled and crossed his arms in front of his chest as he stood next to me.

“You’re free to do whatever you want with him, Y/N.” He emphasized my name as we both stared down the old pirate, who seemed shocked to hear my real name.

“You—you knew!” He said bewildered, his eyes falling on the crew as he realized Mingi and San were barely able to hold Yunho back at this point, Seonghwa having to stand right in front of his face and continuously demand him to stop, “You knew all along what this stupid wench was and—”

The pirate’s words stuttered as his eyes widened, looking down at his chest. I gripped the handle of the sword with both hands as I pressed it deeper inside his heart, watching with satisfaction as the old fool seemed to realize a wench was the one to end his life.

“How pathetic,” I chuckled, smirking at the man arrogantly, “killed by your own sword. By a woman.”

The man tried to say something, but I yanked the sword out of his chest, watching him as he fell to his knees, clutching at his chest as blood poured out, coating his clothes and the floor. I kept my eyes on him, watching as the life faded slowly from his eyes until he fell limply against the floor. The silence behind us was deadly, and Hongjoong shook his head, looking irritated, as he turned to face his crew.

“Well, now that this is out of the way…” He said with an eerie smile, clapping his hands together, “Taemin isn’t actually a man, as you can see. Her name is Y/N and if anyone’s got a problem with having a woman in our crew, don’t be intimidated, tell us now. I’ll let her take care of it.”

Nobody said anything, their eyes averted as they shook their heads ‘no’, shuffling around uncomfortably. I released the sword and let it clatter to the ground, eyes connecting with Yunho’s as he was finally allowed to do whatever he pleased, not even two seconds later his body crashed into mine, his whole being shaking. I chuckled into his chest, trembling as well and gulping down the tears as he turned us around, his arms wrapped around me protectively, and snarled at anyone who was still gawking at me. Hongjoong nodded at us, and Yunho grabbed my arm instead, making me yearn for the comfort of what being in his arms felt like, as he pulled me after him making the crowd part for us as I stumbled down the stairs after him. He said nothing, and I remained quiet, trying to swallow the tears which threatened to spill down my cheeks. I tried to stay strong, up on the deck, but I was terrified of what would happen to me now. Of how the rest of the crew which didn’t know about me until now would act towards me.

Yunho’s tall body was tense as he kicked the door of our room open, and I gasped as he yanked me inside, slamming me against the wall before he kicked the door closed with his foot. Yunho had gotten taller over the years, something which seemed impossible since he’s always been so much taller than me. His face had gotten sharper too and eyes steelier than they used to be, the glint in them only appearing when it was just the two of us or if he was with Mingi, who had become like his brother quickly. My heart was hammering in my chest as I looked up at Yunho, his hands coming up to cup my cheeks. He was breathing hard and the way his jaw would clench and then unclench was an obvious sign of his anger, of how much he was seething.

“Did he touch you?” His voice was barely a whisper, it shook in the quietness of our small room. We weren’t fifteen anymore, sometimes it felt stuffy inside here, but it was the best this ship could offer, and we had to live with it. Yunho’s voice had always been so soft, but over the years, it has gotten deeper and whenever he was angry, it would shake his whole chest as his voice boomed over everyone else’s. You rarely saw him mad, but when it happened, it silenced the whole crew as everyone covered away from his wrath.

“No—”

“Y/N, did he touch you?” He repeated his question, eyes ablaze as I sniffed, two tears rolling down my cheeks. I tried to keep it together, to look strong in front of him, but nobody has ever touched me like that old man has. Nobody has ever called me so many ugly things before. I regarded myself as a mentally strong person, but I felt violated. I didn’t want my gender revealed just yet, I was scared of what would happen to me next. Men were vile and they viewed us, women, as a piece of meat, good for nothing else than bringing them satisfaction. I could see it in the eyes of a few pirates up on the deck, their eyes running hungrily across my exposed body. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t want this.

“Just—” I gulped, shaking my head, “No, not like that—just slapped me, really—”

“Did he slap you before you got to the deck?” Yunho’s voice was too levelled, it meant nothing good. I was scared he’d throw someone overboard; he surely had seen the few pirates looking my way for too long when we passed by them.

“Yunho, he’s dead.” I forced a soft smile on my lips, grabbing his wrists in a reassuring manner, “It doesn’t matter—”

“It matters!” Yunho snapped, voice raising, “It matters because you’re no longer safe with us! Because I failed to keep you away from danger when I promised I’d never let that happen! I should’ve never allowed you to come with me—”

“Yunho, it’s not your fault.” I said with a sigh, watching his eyebrows furrow in disappointment, “I should’ve waited for longer, really. And you’ve always kept me safe, stop saying such nonsense.”

He chuckled, his voice coated with irony, “If that were the case, nothing would’ve happened tonight.”

“Yunho.” I snapped, eyebrows furrowing as I pulled his hands off my cheeks, lightly pushing him back, “I am fine. I am safe. I am alive, standing with you in the security of our room. There’s nothing to blame you for, so please, stop it.”

Yunho looked at the floor, shaking his head as he racked one hand through his hair, long fingers tangling in the messy strands of his locks. My eyes followed the motion, eyes lingering on his hand for a second too long, before my attention was back on his face as I felt him looking at me. I raised my eyebrows, a question on the tip of my tongue, when suddenly, Yunho closed the distance between us. My heart started thumping crazily as I looked up at him wide eyed, our chest pressing together, his breathing escalated as well. He paused for a second, almost looking afraid, before bending down and grabbing the backs of my thighs, hauling me up against him. My arms wrapped around his neck instinctively and so did my legs around his hips, body shivering from the warmth his own body emanated against my cold one. Hongjoong’s nightgown slipped off my shoulders as Yunho lightly pushed it off, walking us towards the bed, leaning down and laying me down carefully. I stared up at him wordlessly, heart in my throat as he leaned down suddenly, staring intently into my eyes before he dipped his head down, lips pressing against my collarbones. My eyes widened and I gasped quietly, laying on the mattress unmoving, body tense from the strangeness of the feeling of Yunho’s soft lips brushing against my skin.

“You’re not a wench.” Yunho’s voice was deep as he pressed a kiss in the juncture between my neck and collarbones, my breath hitching for a second, “You’re not a slut.”

“Yunho—” I whispered confused, trying to find his gaze, but he wasn’t looking at me as he kissed the side of my neck so softly, I barely felt it. My skin was covered in goosebumps and I bit my lower lip as I started up at the ceiling.

“You’re not anyone’s whore—you’re not stupid.” Yunho’s voice was tense as he kissed up my neck, one hand suddenly holding my hips as I felt my body flush at his words. I didn’t think too deeply of what being his whore implied, he was my best friend after all. We had never touched each other inappropriately.

“You’re beautiful, so beautiful.” Yunho suddenly whispered in my ear and I let out a quiet breath, hand unconsciously coming up to hold on to his nape as he pulled back slightly, staring into my own eyes. His pupils were slightly dilated, but he looked so serious, “You’re gorgeous and you’re smart. We would’ve long died without your skills. Nobody patches up this ship like you can. Nobody can do what you can, you’re irreplaceable. That old fool didn’t know what he was saying, he was just jealous that a woman is better than he’ll ever be.”

I nodded wordlessly, drinking in his words, staring up in his endless eyes, the glint in them pulling me in, the world disappearing around us. It was just the two of us in this room, nobody and nothing could disturb our peaceful moment. He felt like heaven. Warm and soft. So protective, so careful. Yunho’s eyes, for a second, fell to my lips which had parted just seconds ago, but I wasn’t able to say anything as he leaned down, wetting his own lips with his tongue. I didn’t know what I wanted or why I felt this desperate need to feel his lips against mine, but suddenly, I felt very thankful when he kissed the side of my mouth, so close yet so far from where I yearned to feel his. We were best friends. Certainly not lovers; and a kiss on the lips…that opened up new doors, something more than friendship. And yes, we loved each other, but not like lovers do.

“Thank you.” I found myself whispering as my hand slipped up, fingers tangling in his hair as Yunho sighed, pressing his forehead against mine. He closed his eyes and finally, I felt his body relaxing, anger having dissipated. He looked serene as I studied his face and I smiled softly, wrapping my arms around his torso and pulling his body down, against mine. Yunho moved us up on the bed and cradled my head against his neck, his body weight never crushing me as he turned us to the side.

“I promise you’re safe with me.” He whispered in my ear and I nodded, burying my head in his neck, nose nuzzling against his flushed skin.

“I know.” I whispered back, gulping, pausing for a second, “I love you, Yunho.”

Silence wrapped around us, the waves crashing against the ship rocking it softly. The moon was high up in the clear sky, stars illuminating our route. Yunho stroked my hair, and I felt the smile on his face, in his words, “I love you too, Y/N.”

            Present time

            Sword clashing against sword rung out in the air loudly, metal scraping metal, a sound I was familiar with. My younger self would’ve winced at the strain it exerted on my left wrist as I pushed against my opponent’s sword, but I had years and years of training, unless I strained it in some odd way, no pain would usually follow after a sparring session. I felt a grin creeping up on my face as I pushed harder against Yunho’s own sword, his eyebrows furrowed, as I managed to throw him off balance. I stepped closer, invading his personal space as the both of us were panting, the beaming sun taking a tool on us as we’ve been sparing for hours now up on the deck. The waves were loud as they crashed offshore, some bigger and more menacing looking that the others. The wind was strong, but not harsh, sailing our ship smoothly as Jongho stood in the crow’s nest, binocular in his hands and maps splayed out around him. Wooyoung clung tightly against the shrouds, the muscles of his arms bulging, as he listened closely to whatever information Jongho shouted his way, Wooyoung quickly adjusting the sails according to whatever Jongho has said to him. Whenever Wooyoung and I would make eye contact he’d grin my way, sticking his tongue out, taking my attention off Yunho and making me accidentally lose a few rounds. No matter how much I complained to Yunho that it wasn’t fair as Wooyoung had distracted me, again, he paid no mind and claimed his victory, making Seonghwa shake his head at us in amusement as he stood leaning against the railing of the quarterdeck, looking down on the lively crew. There was something different in the air today, everyone’s mood seemed to be lighter, happier than usually. Despite Hongjoong being promised a lifetime of lavish when Siwon asked to meet with him and Hongjoong coming back empty handed, but littered with a few purple-coloured small bruises on his neck, the whole deal didn’t seem to bother him so much. It was new, Hongjoong could get very stressed and mad when a deal didn’t go his way, but there was something different about him this time, I could feel it radiating off him. He was steering the wheel, taking his position as Captain, as Seonghwa and him would convers from time to time.

Yunho’s chocolate brown eyes bore into mine as we paused for a second, my eyes watching the stray sweat drop roll down from his temple to his cheek and then jawline, Yunho’s eyes watching me closely when I looked back up his, fastening my heartbeat. There was something so different about the Yunho I grew up with and the Yunho standing in front of me right now. He wasn’t a boy anymore; he was a man. A tall, well-built, and ambitious man. He looked any challenge in the eyes and conquered them without a problem, always quick on his feet. His soft eyes would glaze over with determination whenever he set his eyes on something, always the last to back off if something wasn’t going his way. He was charming, and he always used it to his advantage, features soft and friendly, almost always smiling, a warm twinkle in his eyes. It was one of the few things which signalled that this Yunho, who’s leg I just kicked out of underneath him, was the same Yunho I had grown up with. He was still the little boy whom everyone loved from our village, he was still the little boy who’d share everything with me, even if he had little of it. He was still my best friend. Albeit a bit changed, but deep down it was still him. Yunho groaned as he lost balance and with a small push, he landed on his ass, throwing his sword down in frustration as I started giggling, lowering my own sword.

“Oh, don’t be such a cry-baby,” I mocked, pursing my lips at him, “You’ve been spending too much time with Mingi lately, it’s starting to rub off.”

It was good Mingi wasn’t around to hear us, because I wouldn’t hear the end of the fact that I dared call him a cry-baby. He could be quite dramatic at times, more demanding of attention than anyone else I have met so far.

“You wish,” Yunho rolled his eyes as he sighed loudly, his breathing ragged, “I’m not a cry-baby.”

“Then explain why you’ve been whining ever since we’ve started sparing.” I raised my eyebrows and placed my sword back in its holder, the weight of it familiar around my hips.

“I wasn’t!” Yunho quickly defended himself, crossing his arms in front of his chest looking like a child, “I told you I had to carry heavy barrels two days ago, my arms are still sore from them.”

“I don’t hear Yeosang and Jongho complaining, though.” I muttered playfully, earning a frustrated groan from Yunho. He narrowed his eyes at me in a fake glare and I chuckled as I extended my hand for him, to help him up. Yunho eyed it for a second before looking me in the eyes, beaming up at me. His smile took me off guard, heartbeat stuttering for a second, but before I could have much of a reaction, the wind was knocked out of my lungs. I yelped as I gripped Yunho’s biceps tightly, back colliding with the wooden floorboards loudly. I gaped up at Yunho, taken off by his actions, as he quickly straddled my hips and grabbed a hold of my neck, long fingers curling around my blazing skin. I was left speechless as my lips parted in a quiet gasp, wide eyes staring up at my best friend, who had a triumphant smirk on his lips. He leaned closer, his golden chain necklace with a big trident charm dangling in my face, as he chuckled. His second necklace, which I have gifted him a long time ago, was wrapped snuggly around his neck, the pink shell shinning in the sunlight.

“Never let your guard down,” He muttered, voice dropped to a low mumble, making me gulp as I finally closed my mouth. I felt warmth flush over my whole body, my cheeks probably burning from embarrassment, as I took in the way Yunho looked on top of me, white shirt clinging to his sweaty torso, the top few buttons undone, tan skin glistening underneath. Veins, very visible, travelled up his exposed forearms, and the ring all of Ateez members wore, dug into the flushed skin of my neck, a screaming reminder of the firm hold he had of it, but not restricting my airflow. He was just holding me in place. His dark brown hair was messy as the wind blew it in all directions, slightly wavy from the salty breeze, and it fell on his forehead, clinging to the sweaty skin in some places. His cheeks were flushed as he looked lost in my own eyes, before he quickly cleared his throat, “The fight is never over until one is knocked out.”

By some miracle, my voice came out steady and strong, “Is that what you’re trying to do right now?”

Yunho didn’t answer, a lopsided smirk appearing on his lips as he slightly sat back, pressure taken off my hips as if he knew I would make no move to try and fight him off, “You’ll have to squeeze if you want to knock me out—”

“Mate, seriously?!” Wooyoung’s shrill voice cut my words off as a loud thud landed not far from us, “Stop being so inappropriate in front of everyone!”

Before Yunho or I could say anything back to Wooyoung, he was by our side, grabbing Yunho’s bicep and yanking him off me, up to his feet. My body finally relaxed and I closed my eyes, taking a second to calm my racing heart, knowing that it would work now that Yunho wasn’t so close anymore.

“We were just sparing—” Yunho started saying when Wooyoung made a loud noise with his mouth, lips smacking together in a way it said he did not want to hear an explanation.

“You two do this almost daily, Yunho,” Wooyoung said accusingly, making me smile as I sat up, watching my two best friends throw irritated looks at each other, “And it’s disgusting and sickening to have to watch—”

“To have to watch two pirates train?” Yunho cut Wooyoung off, making the younger one sigh with a frown.

“That’s not training—” Wooyoung almost exclaimed, but cut himself off with an annoyed groan, looking down at me with an accusatory look, “Don’t just sit there and act innocent, missy.”

I laughed as I got up, dusting off my leather pants before placing my hands on my hips, “I didn’t do anything wrong, Mr. Prude, stop yapping our ears off.”

“Yapping your ears off?!” Wooyoung sounded offended as he released his hold on Yunho and instead jumped towards me, his arms going around my neck as he bent me down, holding me in a headlock, loud laughter was leaving my lips as Wooyoung pretended to choke me.

“Somebody needs to do some damage control if—” Wooyoung glanced behind us, throwing a nod towards where Seonghwa and Hongjoong were standing, watching the scene unfold in amusement, “If the two authoritative figures just sit back and enjoy the show their fools put on for them!”

“I’m not a fool!” I said with laughter, grabbing Wooyoung’s arm to yank myself free. Wooyoung just stuck his tongue out before he loosened his hold and I pulled my head away, straightening up and holding my fists up in front of me in a challenge, “Come fight me, you fool.”

A dangerous glint appeared in Wooyoung’s eyes as he squared his shoulders back, taking up a fighting stance, fists in front of his face as I smirked at him, taking a step towards him. But before we could start a hand-to-hand combat, Yunho stepped in, pulling Wooyoung back by the shoulder, “Don’t you have something more useful to do? Jongho’s been glaring at you ever since you got off from your post so go do your job, pirate.”

Wooyoung scoffed but shook off Yunho’s hand from his shoulder, straightening his light jacket, before he looked at my best friend with disdain written over his features, “You can never take a joke, Yunho, hounding Y/N as if any of us would dare touch her inappropriately—”

“Get lost.” Yunho snapped before Wooyoung could finish his sentence and I tsked, walking up to Yunho and grabbing his hand. His fingers instantly intertwined with mine, a habit by now, as I wrapped my other hand around his bicep, slightly squeezing it.

“Be nice, Yunho,” I muttered as I jutted my lower lip out, looking at Wooyoung with an apologizing smile, “We were just playing around.”

“I know.” Yunho’s answer was quick, eyes meeting mine as I smiled at him sweetly.

“You know, my ass.” We heard Wooyoung mutter to himself as he stalked towards the shroud he was climbed up on previously, waving his hand at Jongho, who even high up in the sky, could be seen glaring at Wooyoung. I chuckled, knowing well that he was going to get an earful later for abandoning his post when they were navigating, setting the ship on the right track. My eyes left Wooyoung as I looked back at Yunho, who was already watching me, eyes soft and lips pulled in a small smile, his thumb suddenly caressing my knuckle. The action made me blush and I cleared my throat, looking away embarrassed.

“I have to start my own duties,” Yunho said as he leaned down slightly, to be eye level with me, throughout the years he continued growing meanwhile I stopped, the height difference between us quite big in the present, “Want to join me?”

I would’ve said yes, like I normally do, but my eyes fell on a body as she timidly made her way on the deck, eyes squinting at the harsh sunlight compared to how dim the lights were downstairs. The girl’s dress was relatively clean, but worn out a little, and her short hair was pulled in a low ponytail.

“I think I’ll stay here today, if you don’t mind.” I answered Yunho and he followed my line of sight, instantly understanding why I turned him down. He nodded and squeezed my hand before letting go, his body disappearing from mine as he walked away, headed underneath the deck. I missed the proximity of his body, his familiar scent which was comforting, but I pushed those thoughts aside as I approached the only other female on the ship with us. The pirates were watching her closely, curiously, however, Hongjoong didn’t look very pleased at the sight of her. He was against the idea of San keeping her, but he couldn’t do much when his Master-at-arms threatened to leave the crew behind if the presence of Ara was denied on Hongjoong’s ship. San was somebody I wasn’t very fond of, nor on good terms with. We were cordial to each other, could hold a pleasant conversation if in the mood, but we stayed out of each other’s business. Mainly because I knew what his business consisted of. I couldn’t do anything about the trafficking that went down, and I hated it. I hated seeing women imprisoned on our ship, getting sold off to heaven knows what types of horrible men. Hongjoong, San, and I have had many arguments about it, but in the end, I had to understand and learn that it was none of my concerns, that I just had to pretend that I knew nothing about it if I wanted to stay on this ship with Yunho. And for Yunho, I’d do anything.

“Hello.” I said softly, walking up to the petite girl, who jumped when she heard my voice, “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

She looked at me, her big, round eyes, staring at me with shock in them, before her eyebrows furrowed, “You’re a woman.”

I chuckled and nodded my head, “But you’re dressed in pirate clothes.”

I said nothing as I watched her connect the dots herself, a slightly hostile expression overtaking her face. I knew what she was thinking and I looked away, gulping, hoping she’d understand, “I’m a pirate, yeah. And I’m a woman, yes. I—”

I felt the need to tell her, to let her know that I hated what San did to her, and many more women, just as much as she did, “I couldn’t help—no, I’m not allowed to interfere with anyone else’s business on this ship, so I am sorry.”

Disappointment coated her expression before understanding washed over her. This girl was an open book, her expressions so telling of her feelings. Her big eyes shone with emotion and it felt like you stared into her soul each time you looked her in the eyes. She was beautiful, and her energy was fiery, simmering, and if challenged, it would burst. I have heard about how she tried to run away, save herself from getting sold and Mingi would’ve lost a few limbs if Yunho didn’t step in and tell San to back off when they made it back to the ship, yet this girl, she stood proud and stared San down with spite, promising to rain hell on him in front of the whole crew. That night, Yunho has held me tightly against his chest, when we went to bed, and promised to only treat me with respect and adoration. I knew that already, but I knew how much he hated San for what he did, so I just kissed his forehead and reassured him that I knew I was safe with him.

“My name is Im Ara.” The girl, Ara, introduced herself and extended her hand for me. I shook it instantly, smiling at her, glad that she accepted me.

“I’m Bae Y/N.” I introduced myself and Ara hummed, letting go of my hand as hers clasped behind her back, shoulders pulled back, “We don’t often see you on deck…”

Ara looked off in the distance, eyes lost on the sea as she nodded. She’s been here for two weeks already, and this was the second time I have seen her. I was worried for her, but I knew asking San about anything would result in an argument, so I just let the thought go, “It’s nice to get fresh air, even if it’s salty and the wind is cold.”

“Are you cold?” I asked with furrowed eyebrows, about to take off to grab my jacket from Seonghwa’s side, but Ara shook her head with a smile.

“No, it feels nice. It gets too hot in San—” She gulped, as if disgusted by having to say his name, “In San’s room. It’s small for two people and you can’t really open the window, or at least San won’t let me.”

I hummed, listening to her, sensing that she needed someone to talk to. I could feel eyes on us, and when I glanced up, Seonghwa was watching us with a sad look on his face. He tried to convince San to let her go the day they returned, but San was having none of it, pockets and a bag filled with coins and gold, “I’m not supposed to be here, actually, but I snuck out.”

A mischievous smile appeared on Ara’s lips as she chuckled, turning her head to look at me, “He fell asleep while I was glaring at him. He thought I was curious about his childhood just because I bandaged him up after he kept hissing and getting frustrated at himself for not being able to do it himself.”

Yes, that did sound like San. He rarely asked for help, usually closing himself inside his room, only when things were getting too hard or serious would he ask for help. And it was usually Yeosang the one he sought out, or Hongjoong, who seemed the most willing to form any kind of bond with the mercenary.

“Just be careful with San,” I couldn’t help but warn her, afraid for her safety next to that unpredictable man, “He’s ruthless.”

“I know.” Ara said, suddenly a smile creeping up on her lips, “But I can also be scary, he should’ve just sold me off when he had the chance.”

There it was, the little simmer turning into a fire in her eyes as she looked determined, a secret promise probably to herself glimmering in her eyes before it was all gone, blinking around curiously, taking in what was happening around her for the first time, “I could never climb up there.”

She said as she watched Jongho, then Wooyoung, who was dangling upside down from the shroud as of now, laughing loudly as Hongjoong noticed and took off from his post, eyebrows pulled in a frown, expression tired but angry as he stormed towards the younger one, who was getting yelled at by Jongho too. I couldn’t help but laugh as I heard Seonghwa sigh loudly from above, going to the wheel, taking Hongjoong’s place as Ara hid her mouth behind her palms as Wooyoung tried to climb up higher when Hongjoong drew his sword out in a warning manner, making me laugh as Ara started giggling as well.

“They might be men, but at the heart, they are still just a bunch of children.” I said with a shake of my head and Ara seemed amused as she looked at me, nodding in agreement.

“What’s your job on this ship?” She asked curiously.

“I fix up the ship if it’s damaged and improve it whenever I have new ideas, Yeosang usually helps out. And I also stay by Yunho’s side, mostly helping with whatever he needs or can’t do.” I answered Ara and she hummed, suddenly a look of sadness crossing her features.

“I’m only here to rot away, my beautiful future stolen away.” She muttered, mostly to herself, before looking past me, “I was supposed to become a famous singer. I’m good for nothing else, I can’t cook well, and I’m clumsy too, I often disassociate from the real world, especially when it gets too much or I’m feeling bored. It keeps me going, but here…not even those are helping. I feel useless and helpless. San won’t let me do anything either, he just locks me up in his room when he leaves, and if he’s there, he just antagonizes me with his presence.”

I felt bad for her as I watched her eyes glass over with tears, making me feel useless too in the moment. That is, until I realized I could help her out with something little. Something that would come in handy too one day, “Do you want to learn how to fight?”

Ara’s eyes quickly fell on me, wide as she looked surprised by the question, “That’s not very ladylike.”

I nodded, agreeing with her, “It’s not very ladylike, but you’ll be able to protect yourself from anyone.”

From San. But I didn’t dare say that, even the walls had ears here, I didn’t want to start unnecessary drama. However, as if Ara read my mind, a small understanding look crossed her eyes and she nodded, looking very excited, “I should be able to do that, at least. Can you teach me?”

I smiled widely, motioning for her to follow me towards the centre of the deck, where we had more space, “Of course, I can. We’ll start with something simple today and I’ll teach you more once you master the new skills.”

“Alright, let’s do that.” Ara nodded as I took my sword off, not wanting it to get in the way of our training. We’d focus on simple self-defence today, and if she was good, then perhaps I’ll show her how to handle a dagger.

            Moreover, Ara proved herself to be quite good, catching onto things fast as she copied my moves quickly, and only struggled a few times here and there. She could easily free herself from a chokehold now, whether the attacker was holding her from the back or was keeping her in a headlock. Ara seemed to enjoy our little training session, giggling whenever my fingers accidentally brushed against her neck, ticklish. Yunho, once done with his duties in the supply room, had come up on deck and watched as I trained Ara. He’d throw in tips for her, guide her when she seemed lost by the way I was holding her, not knowing how to free herself. She asked if we could have a duel, with swords, but I told her she needed more training for that to happen as she was already tired from just an hour of learning self-defence. But she kept insisting, so I gave in at last, handing her Yunho’s dagger as I held my own in my hand. Yunho had gone off, discussing the sailing plans with Hongjoong and Jongho, Wooyoung probably gone to cook us dinner, with the help of Yeosang and Mingi. Seonghwa was sailing the boat, eyes lost as he gazed at the dark sea, clutching his compass tightly in his free hand. If I wouldn’t have been busy with Ara, I would have approached him and comforted him, knowing what type of thoughts clouded his mind when he looked so unfocused.

“Hold it like this,” I said as Ara and I stood side by side, holding the handle of the dagger in my open palm, “and then…flip it.”

Ara watched as I flipped the dagger with my middle, and ring finger, and pinkie, gripping it firmly in a stabbing hold. Ara’s eyes widened slightly before she quickly got to work, slowly trying to do what I did a second ago, the dagger almost falling out of her hand. I watched as she tried again, clumsily flipping it before she puffed frustrated, and then did it again and again, the action getting smoother with each try.

“You’re quite good at this, Ara.” I praised with an excited chuckle, her eyes shining with joy at my compliment, raising her hand and doing it again flawlessly, ready to stab anyone.

“Will you teach me how to stab someone?” She sounded too excited in spite of having asked something so dark, and her demeanour slightly faltered when she realized, grimacing at me, but I just chuckled and shook my head at her. I wasn’t new to violence nor, unfortunately, having to kill someone.

“I think it’s too soon, you barely got to hold a dagger.” I winked at her but grabbed her wrist still, standing behind her, and guiding her hand how to slash someone without killing them, “If you do it like that, you won’t kill them, but you certainly will leave a nasty gash on their skin.”

“Good.” Ara whispered to herself, eyebrows slightly furrowed, probably forgetting that I could hear her since I was leaning over her. I released her wrist and stepped back, opening my mouth to tell her that we were done for today, how I should check if Yunho needs me for anything before going to the kitchen to help Wooyoung, another helping hand always needed down there. But before any sound could leave my lips, someone’s shout halted what everyone was previously doing.

“Ara!” It was San, his deep voice unmistakable, as I turned around to see him storming towards us. Ara tensed, grip tightening around the dagger, as she whirled around, hiding her hand behind her back, “What are you doing?!”

San’s eyebrows were deeply furrowed and he looked furious as he stopped just an inch away from her, glaring down at Ara. I expected her to shrink back underneath his intimidating gaze, but Ara just straightened her back and raised her head so that she could look into his eyes.

“None of your business—”

“It is my business.” San cut her off and his eyes momentarily glanced my way before he looked back at Ara. Yunho was watching us closely, but when I shook my head at him subtly, he returned his attention onto the conversation he was having with Hongjoong and Jongho, knowing very well that I could handle myself. And that San wasn’t actually a threat to me, he wouldn’t explicitly hurt me. He couldn’t. Unless he wanted to die.

“I’ll only ask once more, Ara, what are you doing?” San’s voice dropped an octave, face going blank as his sharp eyes bore into Ara’s, who just smirked back at him and slowly revealed her hand holding the dagger.

“I was learning how to defend myself while you were sleeping, San.” She said his name with spite, lips stretching into a wide smirk when San’s jaw clenched, hands balling up into fists. He was fuming, it was very obvious as his mask slipped for a second. He glanced down at the dagger Ara was holding in her hand and suddenly his head snapped in my direction, and if his glare could kill, I would be dead right now. I stood my ground and raised my eyebrows at him nonchalantly.

“What the fuck do you think you are doing?” San’s voice was levelled, but the way his jaw kept clenching and unclenching was a tell-tale sign he was on the verge of bursting from his anger.

“Considering the fact that she’s on a ship full of men, I deemed it necessary she learns how to defend herself,” I answered San, taking a step towards him, but still keeping a respectful distance between us, “in case someone tries doing something to her.”

In case you try doing something to her, San. But I didn’t have to say that out loud, the implication hanging heavily in the air between us as Ara’s lip trembled for a second before she quickly composed herself as San’s gaze snapped back to her. He grabbed her wrist harshly and my hands twitched, wanting to yank his hold off her, but knew better to not touch San unless I wanted to lose my fingers.

“Don’t think you can use any of the shit Y/N taught you against me, Ara,” San sneered, Ara hissing as she abruptly released the dagger, San’s fingers digging into her skin, “You’ll be dead before you can even grab a weapon.”

“I’d rather try and die than continue living with you.” Ara spat back and whined as her free hand went to grip San’s wrist, which was squeezing her too hard. My eyebrows furrowed and I decided that I couldn’t just stand there and watch him hurt her.

“Let go of her, San.” My voice was stern, eyes steely as they bore into the side of his head, making San scoff as his blazing eyes set on me.

“Shut up, Y/N,” He hissed, releasing Ara as he closed in on me, I wasn’t scared of him, “You know she wishes for nothing more than my death and yet you teach her how to fight?! How to yield a dagger?!”

I chuckled and nodded, “Yes, because her life was taken away by you. Because you never gave her a chance…or any of the other women you sold. Because you think you can get away with everything, thinking your sins will be forgiven, but San—they will never be, not by me, and not by the gods watching over us.”

“There’s no such thing as gods and sins, Y/N,” San chuckled, watching me arrogantly, “So you can keep on wishing for my demise, praying, because it will never happen.”

“Why are you so sure?” I raised one eyebrow, glancing behind him to watch Ara for a second, who was slightly shaking, but looked grateful that I was taking her side, “I wouldn’t have so much fate in myself if I were you, you’re human, and you are vincible.”

“Ara isn’t strong enough to hurt me—”

“Don’t underestimate her because she’s a woman.” I snapped, voice slightly raising as I got triggered, knowing very well how San viewed women, “She’ll be your doom, San, you should’ve let her go when you had the chance.”

“And you should mind your own fucking business,” San hissed, getting all up in my face, his breath hitting my cheeks as we stared each other down, “How many times did Hongjoong tell you to leave me alone?”

I scoffed, irritated, “You think I can ignore the fact that you traffic women when I’m a woman myself?!”

I knew I was getting louder, but so was San, attracting some looks from the pirates who were lounging around on the deck, probably waiting for dinnertime, “You, a woman…perhaps you should act more like it—oh, well, you are getting quite emotional over nothing—”

“Your insults mean nothing.” I cut him off, glaring at him viciously, teeth grinding against each other, “I have zero care about how you view me, your opinion is not important.”

“Exactly,” San chuckled, “your opinion means nothing to me either, so I don’t see why you’re always all up in my business, trying to sabotage me.”

I could see movement from where Hongjoong, Jongho, and Yunho were huddled together, but I didn’t take my eyes off San, breaking eye contact right now would mean defeat.

“I think you sabotaged yourself this time, San,” I said with a chuckle and grabbed his shoulder, “I’ll make sure to teach Ara all the important arteries and how to cut them—”

“Do just that,” His voice was daring, bearing a promise, a threat, “And I’ll snap your neck in half.”

But his threat meant nothing to me, knowing very well the second he touched me, despite being a precious asset to Hongjoong, San would be dead in seconds. Yunho would never allow him to breathe for a second longer if he took my life. But Ara didn’t know all that and she quickly shook her head, taking a few steps towards us, hesitant, but determined to get San to calm down, to forget all about it. And just as I wanted to reassure her and push San away since his hand was raising to grab me by the neck, he was gone from in front of me, my own grip disappearing from his shoulder.

“What did you just say?” Yunho seethed as he held San by the collar, their noses almost touching as San rolled his eyes dramatically, acting nonchalant all of a second just to piss off Yunho more.

“Oh, no, are you going to snap my neck in half now?” He taunted, jutting his lips out as he glanced at me with a smirk before looking back at Yunho, “How sickening. I suppose this happens when a bitch has you wrapped around her fingers—”

San couldn’t finish his sentence as Yunho punched his jaw so hard the shorter one lost balance as his body was thrown to the right. My eyes widened, Ara gasping next to me, as Hongjoong was by our side in a second, mouth opened to yell at them to stop, but Yunho grabbed San by the collar again and suddenly started dragging him, San having not quite recovered from the punch yet. What was Yunho doing?! My heart picked up as I watched him bend San over the railing, pushing him just enough that if San even as much as flinched, he’d fall overboard. Into the cold sea. Swallowed by the deadly waves.

“Jeong Yunho!” Hongjoong’s harsh voice rung out loudly, everyone by now watching the scene unfold. Ara grabbed my wrist and I brushed her grip off, not meaning to, but I didn’t know how to react. Yunho has never punched any of the crewmates. Despite our differences, everyone was always cordial, nice, to the others, accepting them the way they were. I’ve seen Yunho angry before, but never with eyes that could kill. His body wasn’t shaking, but his anger was so strong you could see it radiating off him. Hongjoong shouted his name again, but it fell to deaf ears as Yunho bared his teeth at San, who was gripping the railing so hard his knuckled had turned white.

“If you threaten my woman ever again or dare touch her, I won’t hesitate to kill you, Choi San.” Yunho’s deep voice boomed as he hissed at San, “Know your place, pirate.”

Despite being in such a vulnerable position, where just a light push from Yunho could end his life, San started laughing loudly, maniacally, as if what Yunho had just said was the funniest thing in the four seas and four kingdoms, “Your woman!”

His voice travelled over the water, ringing loudly, and I bit my lower lip as I felt the eyes of the other pirates on me. Seonghwa had come down from the quarterdeck and was walking very slowly towards Yunho, prepared to haul him and San away from the railing as Hongjoong silently nodded at him approvingly. My heart was thundering in my chest by now, a bile rising to my throat as I felt sick as San continued taunting Yunho for no reason, “You call her your woman, Yunho, yet you aren’t even man enough to make her yours, you fucking pathetic idiot!”

San’s words felt like a dagger thrown into my own heart and I let out a shuddered breath, face flaming at his words, hating that such topic was being discussed in front of so many people. It was nobody’s business what Yunho and I did in private, especially when we’ve been friends for over fifteen years now, not even one inappropriate touch from him. Perhaps I wished for him to just finally give in and act upon his desires, perhaps I wished San was wrong with his insinuation, perhaps I wished I wasn’t so irrevocably in love with Yunho. Perhaps I wished it wasn’t so obvious to everyone around us as we remained so oblivious of the other’s true feelings. Sometimes it hurt, but sometimes it felt so good. So warm and safe. So stable and comforting. But sometimes it was so scary, it felt like I was drowning. The thought of there being the possibility of losing him one day, of losing a part of myself, creating a void in my heart never to be filled again by anything. So, when I saw Seonghwa almost by Yunho’s side, who’s whole body started shaking as he was on the verge of breaking, I screamed.

“Yunho!” My voice was shrill, panicked, scared, “Stop! Please.”

His whole body froze, as if he was reminded that I was still there, seeing everything, hearing everything. Seonghwa flinched away as San was hauled backwards, sent to the floor roughly as Yunho yanked him away from the railing, hands fisting at his sides as he didn’t glance my way. He stared at the ground, shaking his head in probably shame and disappointment, before he stormed off, feet hitting the floorboards heavily. Hongjoong sighed loudly and long next to me, jaw clenched as he glared down at San, who just sprawled out on the floor, chuckling to himself quietly. I couldn’t help but stare at him with hatred, my body burning, wishing I could throw him overboard too.

“You’re a fucking asshole, San,” Hongjoong hissed at him as he went and grabbed the man’s collar, hauling him up from the floor, “Stay out of my sight today and tomorrow if you want to live.”

“Ai, Captain, ai!” San saluted mockingly, even bowing his head as he started laughing, before he straightened back up and took off towards the stairs leading under the deck, towards our private quarters.

“Don’t make me come and get you, Ara.” He singsonged, glancing at the girl from the corner of his eyes, his expression scaring me for the first time. He was laughing, but his eyes were filled with a burning want to kill, so easy to read them. My heart clenched as Ara suck in a harsh breath next to me before very slowly she started walking towards him, hiding her trembling hands behind her. If anything happens to her today, it’s my fault. I did all of this. I started it. I shouldn’t have meddled with her, what if she dies? What if she dies because I was stupid—

“Y/N,” Seonghwa’s soft voice invaded my ears, interrupting my thoughts, “Look at me.”

I looked away from San and Ara just as she got to his side, and he grabbed her by the nape as he veered her down the stairs, “It’s not your fault. Stop thinking, I can see it in your eyes. Nothing happened.”

I shook my head and bit my lower lip as I felt tears in my eyes, “I fucked everything up.”

“You didn’t,” Seonghwa whispered and he pulled me into a tight hug, hiding my face in his chest as I started crying, “You did nothing wrong. San won’t touch Ara, trust me, she’s safe for now. He’ll calm down and act a little hostile towards you and Yunho, but that’s nothing new. And Yunho will be fine, you know he always is, he just needs time to clear his thoughts and analyse his actions. Trust him and your bond, alright?”

I didn’t want to answer him verbally, so I just nodded my head, sniffing as Seonghwa patted my head, Hongjoong passing by us with a loud sigh, shouting at the rest of the pirates to get back to their duties, the freakshow over. Yunho will come around, he always does. He needs to.

            Up until dinner I haven’t seen Yunho again, he had seemed to disappear without a trace, and I knew trying to find him would put him on edge, so I sucked it up, and helped Wooyoung with cooking dinner instead. I wasn’t as talkative as usually and Mingi noticed, so he brought it up with a curious glance which made Yeosang mutter something to him that made the taller one shut up. I shouldn’t have been surprised that what happened up on the deck was already spreading around like wildfire, gossiping, was a vicious thing the pirates on this ship seemed to love doing. Yeosang didn’t pry as he looked at me with a comforting gaze, and I nodded wordlessly, glad that Wooyoung seemed oblivious to what’s happened only a few good minutes ago. He either didn’t know or he didn’t care, making me feel slightly better as he gave me a side hug, and then instructed me to cut up some carrots as Mingi kept messing it up, cutting them very uneven, making Wooyoung scold him multiple times. Yeosang remained quiet as he stirred the stew, asking questions here and there when he noticed I started losing focus, thoughts whirling in my head. My body was there with them, but my mind wasn’t thoroughly present, straying to thoughts about Yunho and where he could possibly be at. There weren’t many places he could hide away on this ship, but he somehow had found one spot where I could never find him. I had no idea where it was, I had tried to find him one time when we had a big argument and he disappeared for the day, but he was nowhere. I had the worst panic attack that evening and if it weren’t for Seonghwa and Yeosang, I might’ve choked from the lack of air. The boys chatting brought me back to the present and Wooyoung’s eyebrows furrowed as he noticed the uncut carrot, raising his eyebrows at me questioningly. I just avoided his gaze and continued cutting, trying to stay present as the hungry pirates came down complaining, asking Wooyoung when dinner would be ready. It didn’t take too long after that for the kitchen to fill up with the crew, Wooyoung’s tasty stew’s scent wafting in the air as Mingi helped him take down the big cauldron from the stove, Wooyoung shouting loudly for everyone to take their seats. The crew dug into their dinner like some hungry sea creatures, a satisfied smile on Wooyoung’s face as he sat down to my left, bumping his shoulder with mine in a small thanking gesture. I flashed him a smile, which I knew didn’t look very genuine, but he ignored it as he ate his own portion. My appetite was gone and the empty seat to my left was a screaming reminder of today’s happenings. I sighed loudly as my head hung low, gaining Seonghwa’s attention from across me.

“Hey,” He called out softly, the loud chatter of the pirates almost drowning his voice out. I looked up, tired, as I tried to swallow the stew in my mouth. It tasted better than anything I have eaten in any of the four kingdoms, yet my stomach just refused to take it in. My throat slightly closed up on me and I almost choked as my eyes slightly widened, “Don’t push yourself, Y/N.”

I grabbed my cup filled with water and quickly washed down the stew with it, it slightly helped, “I’ll put aside your and Yunho’s portion for tomorrow, you can go to sleep if you want to.”

My eyes filled with tears a bit as I nodded, Wooyoung’s eyes on me as he looked at us confused, “Where’s Yunho? And why are you not eating? Something happened?”

Seonghwa nodded and with a scrutinizing look, and Wooyoung got the memo to shut up for now, “Yunho’s in your room, Y/N, I saw him entering when I came down for dinner.”

My heart halted for a second before it sped up and I nodded, wiping my mouth with a handkerchief, “Thank you, Seonghwa. Dinner is very tasty, Wooyoung, I just don’t have an appetite right now.”

Wooyoung eyed me for a second before he nodded, watching me get to my feet as I waved at Seonghwa and him, scurrying away to my room. To Yunho’s room. To our room. I was nervous, I didn’t know if Yunho wanted to see me or if he wanted to talk to me, but I couldn’t go on ignoring him, pretending that my thoughts weren’t eating me up whole. I felt horrible for what happened earlier and I knew Yunho blamed himself for it, beating himself up for something he wasn’t guilty of. Given it more thought, it was San’s fault. All of it. He shouldn’t have overreacted and created a scene. Ara had the right to know how to defend herself, and like he said, she wouldn’t be able to take him down just yet, so I truly couldn’t wrap my mind around San’s desperate anger. Perhaps I gave Ara a flicker of hope, and that was dangerous, but I saw how badly she needed it.

I knocked on the door as I arrived to our room, sucking in a deep breath when Yunho said nothing, knowing it was me. I pushed the door open slowly, peering inside before walking in. Yunho was standing before our desk, a few parchments of paper unruled as he read over the words jutted down with ink. His body tensed when I greeted quietly, walking further inside and shutting the door behind myself. Yunho said nothing, just threw a small glance my way, before going back to his lists. He was writing down what we needed to get once we hit land, our ammunition running low as well as our fresh water. I walked to our closet and opened it, divided equally so that we’d both have space for our clothes. The left side was mine and the right was his. Our clothes neatly folded and organized carefully. I had a tendency to over organize things, it was probably one of the few reasons why Yunho didn’t take me down to the supply room when I was feeling antsy. On those days, I’d clean the whole deck and everyone’s room as it was the only thing which helped me calm down. I grabbed my nightgown and quickly undressed myself, struggling with the straps of the cloth wrapped around my torso. I had to reach around my middle to undo it, which was straining my shoulder, and if it were any other day, I would’ve asked for Yunho’s help, but I knew he was keeping his distance. We always offered privacy to the other when we were changing, our backs to each other, but Yunho’s body was too stiff, shoulders pulled back and head hung low as he didn’t sit down in the chair. I successfully unclasped the strap and unwrapped the fabric from my body, letting a content sigh out loudly, my muscles finally relaxing. I have never gotten quite used to the way it tightly hung around my torso, pulling on the skin, barely showing anything off to the prying eyes. The crew might know that I am a woman, but I do not want them to fix their hungry gazes on me, eating me up with their eyes as I were a meal. I hated it with my whole soul. I hated how San had looked at me the first time he had realized I was a woman, wheels turning in his head, eyebrows raising subtly as he took in my body, probably calculating how much I was worth if he were to sell me off. Yunho had stepped between us, sensing my discomfort and knowing San well enough, so with a nudge of his head he sent San away, the younger man smirking to himself before he made eye contact with me again, tauntingly. I shook my head at the memory and quickly pulled the nightgown over my head, pushing my leather pants off and taking my socks off too. Yunho was still silent, too silent.

I cleared my throat as I folded my pants, glancing behind me, “Are you writing the supply list?”

It was a dumb question, we both knew he was doing just that, but I needed him to speak to me. The quiet stretched between us as my body tensed, desperate for Yunho to just talk to me.

“Yes.” His answer was curt, but at least he answered. His voice held no emotion and I closed my eyes for a second before I placed my pants in the wardrobe, closing the door of it. I didn’t know what to say next. Usually, we’d talk about whatever that has happened during our day, random thoughts which came to our mind and whatever crazy things we did while we were younger, reminiscing on the past. But tonight, I didn’t know what to bring up. I wanted us to talk about what has happened, but I knew it would send Yunho away. I couldn’t fall asleep if I knew he was angry because of me.

“You didn’t come down for dinner.” I opted to say, walking next to him, stopping a respectable distance away. Yet, it made Yunho stiffen as he clumsily grabbed a parchment and walked away, towards where the small window was. The single candle burning on the desk didn’t provide enough light to lit up the whole room, Yunho couldn’t see anything on his parchment there.

“I wasn’t hungry.” Yunho answered, eyebrows furrowing as he brought the parchment closer to his face.

“You can’t see anything over there, Yunho.” I sighed out, leaning against the desk. His jaw clenched and he hummed, before very reluctantly, he walked back beside me, but kept a huge distance between us, even bringing out the chair, but not sitting down on it. I wanted to scoff and roll my eyes, but I bit my tongue and just watched him, eyebrows slightly furrowing.

“You didn’t stay for too long at dinner.” Yunho pointed out absentmindedly, eyes never leaving the parchment as he picked up his pen and scribbled something down on the parchment. I was half convinced he was just doodling nonsense down on it at this point.

“I didn’t have an appetite.” I answered quietly, looking down at the floor, when suddenly his eyes raised and stopped on me. I felt small under Yunho’s scrutinizing gaze, eyes drinking me in before he shook his head and he averted his gaze, slamming the parchment down on the desk. I flinched and looked at him wide eyed, noticing the way his eyebrows were pulled together. He turned around and walked to the closet, his steps harsh, and threw the door open. He pulled out a clean shirt and some short pants, which I had cut for him, and started undressing himself. I quickly turned around and gulped as I walked to the bed, sitting down on the edge of it, gripping the sheets tightly. Something angered him, but I didn’t know what. I hated it when he didn’t talk to me, when he didn’t tell me what the problem was. I somewhat knew what it was, but I wanted him to say it out loud. I wanted us to discuss it.

“You shouldn’t starve yourself, Y/N—” I looked up sharply at him, eyebrows furrowed as I opened my mouth to shut down his assumption, but Yunho was turned towards me, shirtless, and his pants hanging low on his hips. In the golden glow of the candlelight, his tan skin was glowing, his dark wavy hair falling over his forehead messily and his veins bulged as they travelled up from his hands to his arms. His body was toned, muscles well-defined from having to carry so many barrels almost daily and the continuous sparing sessions. I knew I wasn’t supposed to look, to stare at him so shamelessly, but I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Yunho looked radiant. I was breathless, but quickly realized what I was doing, and tore my eyes off him as I stared at the wall to my right. Yunho remained frozen for a few minutes as I gathered my thoughts, embarrassed.

“I’m not starving myself, Yunho,” I mumbled with a sigh, cheeks flushed, “I just wasn’t able to eat anything tonight.” Because I didn’t know where you were. Because I didn’t know what you were doing, what you were thinking. Because I didn’t know when you’d open up yourself again to me. There were so many things I wished to say to him, but I knew it would only drive him away even more.

“You let your mood influence you too much.” His words were sharp, as if he was lecturing me. That was rich coming from him.

“You are the one to talk,” I didn’t mean to snap at him, but I couldn’t help it as I raised my eyebrows at him, “when you run off hiding at the smallest inconvenience.”

Why was I bringing this up? Why was I starting a fight? This is not what I wanted. I just wanted Yunho to smile again and forget everything San has said to him.

“I don’t run off.” Yunho snapped, nose flaring as he threw the shirt around his shoulders, “I don’t hide, I just—I need time. To cool off. To sort out my thoughts.”

“And you leave me standing there like an idiot each time you do that, worrying—” My throat closed in on me as Yunho’s eyes watched me sharply, the fire in them burning me up against my own will, “Worrying when you’ll acknowledge me again. Worrying whether you’ll push me away for good this time. You’re always doing this, Yunho, always.”

“Because I don’t want to hurt you!” His answer came quickly as his eyebrows furrowed and I chuckled humourlessly, licking my lips annoyed.

“Yet you always hurt me when you do that.” My response was quick, quiet, but I knew it was sharp. I knew it was the last thing Yunho intended to do, and I knew he hated it when he made me feel like that. His cold façade crumbled for a second, and I saw it in his eyes, the guilt eating him up alive, the helplessness he felt; but it was quickly gone, face morphing into a frown. I scoffed and stood up.

“What are you afraid of, Yunho?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. There was an edge to my voice, a challenge, “Why do you always run off? Why do you always push me away?”

Yunho shook his head, face pulling into a grimace as I walked closer to him, his eyes falling on the floor. His body was tense, defensive, as he tried to button up his shirt, jaw clenched, “Why do you never let me see you?”

“Because—” Yunho’s voice rose an octave before he steadied himself, shaking his head, trying to compose himself, “Because I will say things I will regret. Because I will do things I will regret. I don’t think straight when I’m angry, Y/N, I’m—I’m impulsive and I don’t want to do something that I will hurt you with. I care—I care for you deeply and I want to keep you safe, and I want to protect you, but sometimes—sometimes I’m the one who you need to stay away from.”

“Bullshit.” I spat, eyebrows furrowing as I stalked close to him stopping merely inches from his body, shaking my head disapprovingly, “You would never hurt me willingly, Yunho. If only you stopped running away, we could talk things out. I don’t want to constantly wonder where you are and what you are doing, it’s draining.”

“I am hurting you right now by not being honest!” Yunho snapped, wide eyes staring at me, more to his words, as he bit his lower lip. His eyes strayed from my face, down to my lips, my neck, and collarbones peeking out from underneath my nightgown, stopping on the mess of curls on top of my head. There was something dark in his gaze, surfacing like he’s been suppressing it for long, hidden somewhere deep inside his mind, never to see the light of day. His body was warm, drawing me in, pulling me closer. My breath hitched as he licked his lips again, his eyes on my own lips, breathing irregular. My heart pounded against my ribcage, palms sweaty as I gripped my nightgown, a yearning so grave overtaking my sense I could barely stay rooted to my place.

“You just have to say it, Yunho, you know that,” I whispered, eyelids fluttering as he let out a harsh breath, hitting my face, “I won’t say no.”

“That’s the problem.” His voice was deep as he muttered, jaw clenched as his fingers twitched beside him.

“If we both want it—” I gulped, hesitant but daring as my hand reached out, finger hooking with his, the touch sending an electric shock through my body, “There’s no problem at hand, Yunho, if we both want it. San—” It was disgusting to utter his name in such scenario, but for once in his life that man had said something true, something right, “San was right about one thing. You could—you could make me your woman, and I would want that, Yunho, I really do.”

I was conscious of what I had just confessed to. The love I harboured for Yunho has for long not been platonic. I pushed it to the deepest darkest place in my mind, scared of Yunho’s reaction if he ever were to know, but I just couldn’t help it. Not when he was looking back at me with the same look in his eyes as mine, burning anything in its way, yearning for something more we could so easily have. Yunho’s breath hitched as my words sunk deeper in his mind, mouth falling slightly open as his finger squeezed mine harshly as he intertwined our fingers, palm pressed against palm. This simple touch said so much, it wanted so much more, it was pleading for more. But Yunho’s next words just left my heart sinking into my stomach, trying to convey the disappointment from my eyes.

“I can’t, Y/N, I just can’t.” He whispered, hanging his head low as he sucked in a deep breath, “You are so precious to me, I could—I could never lay a finger on you and taint you. I just—I can’t allow myself to ruin you. Not when I can have you like this next to me for the rest of my life. When I know I love you and you love me back just as much. When I know you’re my best friend, the only person I can wholeheartedly trust and cherish. I don’t want to lose what we have now.”

His words felt like a knife was pushed down my chest, ripping my skin apart, leaving an open wound. The rocking of the ship knocked me off balance as my legs momentarily seemed to lose force, but before Yunho could catch me, I pulled my hand from his and stumbled back, needing the distance. He didn’t want me the same way I wanted him. He would never love me the way I wanted him to love me. He was too good to use me for his own selfish needs. If he wanted to, he would’ve already. My body trembled from the sudden drop of temperature as I walked to our bed, sitting down and pulling the covers back. The dreaded void was back in my chest, I had to swallow multiple times to fight the tears back from my eyes. It was alright. I could live with having Yunho the way I always had him. I could live with loving him like a best friend should. I could live on like I always had up until tonight. It was fine. I pulled the covers over my body as I shifted closer to the wooden wall, turning my back to Yunho as I curled up in a ball, squeezing my eyes shut and willing my brain to shut up, the voices going away in just mere seconds. I didn’t want to think. I didn’t want to hear. I didn’t want to speak. And as I heard Yunho shuffle around in the room for a few more seconds, I succumbed to nothingness, allowing the darkness to pull me in.

            Some mornings were easier than others, some gloomier, and some more energetic. Sometimes the bed was too comfortable to get out, too warm and smelling like your favourite person in the world, but still, duty called. It waited for you and you had no other choice. My eyes were closed as I shifted slightly around, stretching my left arm over my head as I mumbled mindlessly, brain foggy with sleep as I wasn’t quite awake yet. Today was a gloomier morning, when sleep didn’t quite want to let me go, dreams painting my mind. And a feather like brush against my shoulder made it even harder to open my eyes. The sensation kept going as it brushed against my collarbone, lightly nipping at the skin as I felt the hotness of another human looming over me, so close, but not entirely touching me. A shuddered breath left my lips as a kiss was pressed between the juncture of my neck and shoulder, body tingling with a sensation so familiar yet so unknown. I hummed as the lips pressed firmer against my skin, on the side of my neck as I turned my head to the left to leave more space for the attacker, left hand coming down and tangling into soft waves of kinky hair. The fog had started slowly lifting from my mind, eyebrows softly furrowing at the flush overtaking my whole body as a soft moan left my lips, when a pair of lips pressed against a particular spot harder, fingers gripping onto hair harder. My eyes fluttered open at last, staring at the wooden wall, breathing hitched as my body reacted to the ministrations done to it, until the fog completely disappeared. Until I froze, until I felt lips nipping against my jawline. My fingers untangled from Yunho’s wavy hair and I scrambled to sit up, eyes wide and breathing uneven as Yunho and I’s heads almost knocked together. He stared at me surprised, as if he didn’t understand why I reacted the way I did, as if waking up to your best friend kissing all over your body was normal. As if he didn’t just confess last night that he only saw me as his best friend, forever.

“Stop.” I croaked out, voice hoarse and heavy with sleep as my lips slightly trembled, “You can’t do that, Yunho.”

He looked hurt as he scooted away slightly, warmth disappearing with him as I threw the covers off myself, clumsily getting out of bed, “We’re friends.”

Yunho looked offended hearing that, I didn’t understand why, “Friends don’t kiss each other like that, Yunho. We need to set new boundaries, because this isn’t working anymore. You’re a man and I’m a woman. Our minds, and bodies, aren’t that of children anymore.”

Yunho’s eyes flashed with hurt at my words, but what he didn’t know was that I felt the same way when he told me those things last night. That I still felt like my heart was stomped into nothing last night. I turned my back to him, something I hated doing, as I walked to the wardrobe and took my clothes out for the day, “From now on, I’ll change in the washroom. You can do it in here while I’m gone.”

Before Yunho could say anything, I stormed off, blinking away the tears in my eyes, ignoring the yearning and the suffocating feeling in my throat, the harsh pounding of my heart. If he wanted us to be best friends, we needed a new set of boundaries established.

After having changed into presentable clothes for the day, I walked to the kitchen, having been to my room previously, but Yunho was gone by then. I pushed the anxiety of not knowing where he was down as I opened the door to the kitchen, surprised to see Ara standing by the stove, frowning deeply at it. I approached her and cleared my throat, not wanting to startle her. She glanced behind her and relaxed when she saw it was just me.

“Good morning.” I greeted her and stopped by the sink, watching her.

“Morning.” She muttered quietly, eyes still on the stove as if she was having a silent battle with it, “I give up!”

My eyebrows rose as I watched her confused, a bowl of scrambled eggs sitting on the unlit stove. Putting two and two together, I chuckled and approached her, lightly pushing her out of the way. I grabbed a match and lit it, lighting up the fireplace for Ara.

“That’s how you do it…” She muttered to herself and nodded at me in thanks, placing her eggs on the stove. As she wasn’t paying attention to me, I allowed myself to take in the other woman, eyes running over her face and any exposed skin carefully, looking for signs of any abuse or manhandling from San. But her skin was flawless, looked untouched. Perhaps I wasn’t as subtle as I thought I was, because Ara glanced at me from the corner of her eyes.

“He didn’t touch me,” She muttered, focusing on cooking her breakfast, “if that’s what you’re looking for. San hasn’t—he hasn’t even looked my way since yesterday. When I woke up, he was gone and the door was wide open. I don’t know what that means, but I took my chance and came here to cook myself some breakfast. I didn’t eat dinner last night.”

“Do you want my portion of stew?” I asked as Ara looked at me surprised, her eyes filling with tears.

“No, no!” She quickly shut down my offer, stirring her eggs, “It’s fine, this will do.”

“But aren’t you hungry?” I asked confused, Ara smiled at me.

“Not that much, don’t worry.” She reassured me, chuckling, “I’m used to not eating much.”

“Why?” I asked curiously as I watched her turn off the stove. She took her eggs and walked to the long table, sitting down close to the end of it. I only came here to drink a cup of tea and see if Wooyoung had already woken up, I didn’t expect to see Ara here. Didn’t expect San to let her off so easily.

“I always tried to stay fit, not gain any weight.” Ara explained and my eyebrows furrowed as I went to take the kettle, then filled it with water.

“Why would you do that?” I asked genuinely confused and Ara chuckled as she glanced back at me.

“Because I was supposed to look pleasing to the eyes. Be pretty and well-kept.” Ara explained, voice heavy with melancholy, “I worked at an Inn, which barely paid me enough to keep a roof above my head, but perhaps it was my fault too for wishing for things I couldn’t afford. I realized early on in my childhood that sometimes I can’t tell what’s real and what’s not, getting lost in a world which is only in my head. And sometimes, I would think I could project that world into my reality, screwing myself over. To be honest, if San wouldn’t have kidnapped me, I would’ve probably been evicted sooner than latter from my little cottage.”

“Is that how you try to reassure yourself that you’re in a good place?” I asked accusingly, making Ara chuckle as I placed the kettle on the lit stove.

“God, no,” Ara shook her head, taking a bite of her breakfast, “I hate this place as much as I hate San. It’s grim, dirty, and full of smelly men—and rats! I saw one a few days ago, I wished to drop dead that exact second. I don’t deserve to be here surrounded by these people, no offense to you Y/N, you’re quite lovely, actually. But I know I was made for bigger things. Created to stand on a scene. Designed to be a star one day.”

I watched Ara a little confused, her eyes focusing on nothing as she seemed far away, lost in her own thoughts, “I always wanted to become a singer for the wealthy. To be known all around the four seas and four kingdoms, but then—then San took me, and it all shattered, a future slipped right through my fingers. I’ll never be known, nor a star. I will never sing for the Queen or the aristocrats. I will rot away on this ship surrounded by lowlifes and—rats.”

Ara’s voice choked up as suddenly tears started streaming down her face and she slightly choked on her food, making my heart clench in sadness for her. I sighed and walked over, sitting down next to her and placing an arm around her shoulders. She turned into me, crying into my neck as I rubbed her back soothingly, allowing her to feel safe, to let it all out.

“Do you miss singing?” I asked in a whisper when Ara slightly calmed down. She nodded wordlessly against my neck and I smiled, patting her brown hair down, “Would you like to sing tonight? We have an important mission tomorrow and I’m sure these pirates would enjoy a little show and let loose of their nerves.”

The kettle started whistling behind us and Ara pulled away, wiping her tears off her face, “And I have a pretty dress I never wore.”

“Really?” Ara’s eyes widened, watching me intrigued as I got up and walked back to the stove, turning it off.

“It’s royal blue.” Ara’s eyes sparkled with joy, something I haven’t seen until now, her lips pulling into a wide smile.

“After dinner?” She asked and I nodded, smiling back at her. It made Ara giggle as she went back to eating her scrambled eggs, humming a happy tune to herself as if she didn’t have a small breakdown just a few seconds ago. I watched the girl for a few more second before shaking my head as I walked to the sink, grabbing a clean cup. Such a young soul with such intangible dreams.

            The chatter invaded the vast expanse of the kitchen, the pirates talking animatedly as they finished their last spoonful of yesterday’s stew, jugs filled with expensive rum and others with beer from the North, which Jongho and his father managed to snuggle on the ship on one of our missions a month ago. The room was lively as everyone enjoyed their last night before we’d go on the mainland, having docked down close to the coastline of one of the South Kingdom’s northwestern islands. We had run out of many important supplies, so tomorrow majority of the crew would go and retrieve whatever was necessary, with a side mission only few knew about, more specifically, Hongjoong’s close circle of friends. I didn’t necessarily like these missions, because they were dangerous and usually illegal, but I trusted the boys to come back unharmed, after all, they could handle themselves. Wooyoung was going on and on about how Jongho won’t let him draw his own map, as the younger from the two thinks Wooyoung’s drawing skills aren’t good enough yet, but all I could focus on was the empty seat to my right. Yunho had come down to have dinner with everyone, but instead of sitting next to me, he was sitting across the table, between Hongjoong and Mingi. That hasn’t happened before, and I could feel the questioning gazes of the others as we started eating, but I ignored them and snuggled into Wooyoung’s side, who was warm and kept me busy from thinking too much. Seonghwa was the most persistent as his eyes didn’t leave me for a good half an hour, but once he realized I wasn’t going to meet his eyes and talk about this new seating plan, he just sighed, and finally turned his attention onto Jongho, who instead of eating was drawing frantically in his little, secret, notebook. It was his diary, actually, but he never confessed that he really was keeping a diary, embarrassed when the older pirates started teasing him about it. I found it endearing, not that my opinion would’ve changed much.

Noticing that everyone by now was pretty much done eating, I abruptly stood, alerting Wooyoung as he had been complaining about Jongho, making Seonghwa jump too, as he seemed lost in his thoughts. A few pirates glanced at me before they continued their previous conversations, but Hongjoong raised a questioning brow as I grinned from ear to ear, walking away from my seat, towards the closed door. I clapped my hands three times, trying to get everyone’s attention as I smiled brightly, lightly pulling on the bottom of my burgundy shirt. Ara had insisted that if she were to be dolled up for tonight’s performance, then I should also make myself presentable. I invited her in my room shared with Yunho, and she was quick to pull my hair in intricated braids, without being too harsh. It was surprising, not many could tame a curly hair. She kept complimenting my copper curls and I was slightly embarrassed from the constant attention and praises, not used to them, having been surrounded by men for a very long time now. I’d lie if I say I didn’t enjoy my time with Ara. We giggled about everything, even talked about her previous crushes from her little town, and whispered about who she thought was the handsomest pirate on the ship. When she asked what I thought, I flushed a deep shade of pink, but skilfully dodged the subject, a knowing look appearing on Ara’s face. She insisted that I get rid of the cloth wrapped around my body and instead wear one of my corset’s, which I had never worn before but Wooyoung insisted I buy it when he saw it through the glass of the boutique. It was new, allowing my curves to show through my clothes, the bumps of my breasts foreign as I could see them and even feel them. I was scared what the pirates would think and said, but nobody threw me a second glance once they saw me at dinner, besides the quiet compliments that I had arranged my hair nicely and that the burgundy colour complimented my complexion well. It was rather comforting to see how much they didn’t care about how I presented myself, of course, Wooyoung excluded. Because he let out a shrill gasp when he saw me and pulled me up from my seat, twirling me around as I felt Yunho’s burning gaze on us. We hadn’t talked all day, it seemed like he was avoiding me. It didn’t surprise me, but I feared our friendship would never be the same again. Wooyoung kept going on and on about how beautiful I looked and that he knew that corset would look splendid on me, accentuating my beautiful form. Yeosang’s compliment also made me blush, but I turned my head in time and nobody saw it, or so I thought, because Yunho’s glare bore into the side of Yeosang’s head. I thought San would come and drag Ara away from me at any given moment, but he never showed up. Ara noticed how tense I was and just sighed, mumbling that she hadn’t seen San since the morning and something told her he was giving her some space, keeping away. It was weird. San has never done that before, to anyone. I didn’t say anything to Ara, though, just allowed her to have this moment of peace and joy as she applied something she called blush on my cheeks. Then I helped her get dressed and she clipped two strands of hair from the front to the back of her head, and then smiled at me, twirling around in my dress. It looked amazing on her, brought the colour of her skin out, matching her eyes. She truly looked majestic, and I understood now why she had high hopes of becoming famous one day. Her looks would’ve definitely helped her getting that, and if her voice was good, she truly had the whole package. Pity she had to rot away on a pirate ship, like she has said. I didn’t mind rotting away here, not as long as it was what Yunho wanted.

“May I have your attention, please?” I asked loudly, the pirates looked at me confused as I chuckled, “I know everybody is tense tonight, so, Ara and I thought we could diffuse the tension a little bit and…have some fun. Thus, I present you Im Ara, our entertainer for the night!”

The pirates seemed to grow even more confused as I opened the door and then stepped aside, allowing Ara to walk inside. She held her head high and smiled softly, waving delicately as she walked towards the stove, where she had a lot of space. Everyone watched her shocked, gaping at the beauty of her, and I just smiled as I went and took my place next to Wooyoung, grinning at him as he looked at me surprised. When I glanced towards Yunho, curious of his reaction, I was slightly taken aback by the intensity of his gaze on me, his eyes boring into mine. My smile slightly disappeared as I stared back, wishing he’d just stop being stubborn and would come and sit next to me, missing his familiar scent and warmth.

“Good evening, gentlemen, and Y/N.” Ara spoke up, voice velvety as she placed her hands in front of her. The pirates cackled at her use of words and I shook my head, showing Ara an encouraging thumbs up to continue, “I deemed it necessary to lighten your mood tonight, therefore, I shall sing to you.”

A few of the pirates grew tense, the Siren’s luring and hypnotizing song still fresh in their minds, even mine. The Siren had been a scary creature, but seeing how she didn’t really hurt anyone, even went as far as saving Jongho, I found some respect for her and set aside my judgement. I started clapping, realizing the silence was slowly becoming awkward, and Yeosang and Seonghwa quickly followed, slowly each and every pirate clapping for Ara. It seemed to encourage her as she slightly bowed her head and then cleared her throat, closing her eyes. Her mouth opened and she started singing, her soft voice carrying through the room as she started out slow and soft, the notes cradling you, comforting you almost. Ara’s voice was beautiful, just like her, and it was powerful and conveyed every emotion she felt during the song she sung. It was about a little girl lost in the world, lost in her own dreams, scared of what the real world had to offer for her. She didn’t know which path to choose, she didn’t know what was right and what was wrong. She was scared of falling, of the darkness, of the monsters hiding and waiting for her to walk into their trap. But then, just like a fairy, a kind lady, not older than her had appeared, and guided her through the ups and downs handed to her by fate, the little girl growing up into a refined and confident woman, ready to take on any hardships thrown her way. She never truly figured if the helping lady was real or a fairy, or just a fragment of her imagination, but she remained forever grateful as she lived long enough to tell her grandchildren all about it.

When Ara was done singing, she opened her eyes, and after a second of silence, the table erupted in loud claps, a few pirates even standing up and shouting encouraging words at her. Ara suddenly flushed and turned around, patting her chest down, and when she turned back around, her eyes were rimmed with tears. When was the last time she had sung? When she had an audience? My heart broke for her as I clapped, smiling proudly when we made eye contact.

As the table started quieting down, one already drunken pirate spoke up, “Do you know any sailor songs?”

“Name any!” Ara said excitedly and the table erupted into cheers again, the pirates slamming their fists against the table in excitement. I started laughing, never having seen the crew quite like this, never so carefree and happy.

“The coiled fishnet!”

“Blackbeard’s treasure!”

“The Serpent and The Pearl!”

“Deep under!”

“Cator’s last sail!”

“Lost on Sea!”

“Kings never die!”

“Remember me when I sink down under!”

Various sailor songs were screamed at Ara and she held a hand over her mouth, seemingly overwhelmed for a second, before she clapped her hands, and grinned mischievously, “That is a lot you want to hear, but the night is still young, isn’t it? I shall then start with The coiled fishnet!” Everyone started cheering loudly and Ara laughed before clearing her throat and starting to sing the quite sad song, the pirates humming along.

And just like Ara has said, the night was young, but when you were having a good time, it flew past you, making it seem like it was mere minutes. As the night progressed, the pirates got drunker and drunker, to the point that the kitchen was filled with loud singing as they had joined Ara, slurring their words and over shouting Ara’s majestic voice. I had been asked to dance by Wooyoung when one of the happier songs was being sung and I couldn’t refuse him, so we went and danced. Ara seemed to sparkle in the dim lights of the kitchen, radiating happiness as she clapped as Wooyoung and I danced around her. It only encouraged the other pirates to dance along and soon, I found myself in a big circle, getting twirled around and singing along with Ara. Even she was asked to dance during one of the more pacific songs, and she accepted gladly, blushing a little when Mingi held eye contact with her. She said that after Seonghwa, Mingi was the handsomest on the ship. Hongjoong had gone to sleep half an hour ago, whispering something to Yunho, and then excusing himself, saying that he needed to be well rested for the mission tomorrow. Yeosang followed soon after, but the others remained. Jongho was talking loudly and animatedly to a circle of five men from the crew, telling them everything he knew about sirens. It had been a touchy subject after his siren got away, but lately he seemed to be happier, especially when we were sailing through the Raging Sea. I didn’t think he’d see the Siren ever again, but perhaps I was wrong. Wooyoung was constantly dancing and singing, more like shouting, as he had started stealing Jongho’s own drink up until they younger’s father caught him, and tried to stop Wooyoung from getting wasted, to no avail. It felt good seeing my friends so free of worry finally.

Yunho never joined in on the singing nor the dancing, he just sat at the table, and watched everyone carefully, his eyes rarely on someone else other than me. It felt uncomfortable at the beginning, but I knew he just didn’t know how to approach me, so I let it slide. If he didn’t want to have fun, I wouldn’t try and haggle him like Mingi had been doing until he got almost punched. San was nowhere to be seen, until I spotted him in the doorway, hiding away in the shadows, eyes fixed on Ara, and only on her. His stoic expression was slowly slipping as Ara sung about a love so strong it would transpire into the lovers next lifetime, the two bound to always find each other. His hands were balled into fists and he gulped hard, and his eyes slightly closed, drinking in Ara’s soothing voice. Two lovers bound to face challenges in their next life, some so severe even the universe thought their bond would be broken, but it never did. Because unknowingly, fate had strung them together a long time ago, sealing their love as a testament against anything evil trying to break them apart. I watched as San crumbled for a second, it almost looked like a tear slipped down his cheek, before he made eye contact with me, and stormed off, my heart clenching for him. Despite the evil deeds he did, I knew he was only human. But not all sins could be forgiven, no matter how human one was.

I tapped Wooyoung’s arm as I pulled away and stepped out of the circle, him following closely behind. His cheeks were flushed and he was constantly giggling, the alcohol having clearly gotten to his head, “I think I’m going to sleep, Woo.”

His pout was almost adorable, “So soon?”

“It’s quite late, actually.” I answered with a chuckle as suddenly Wooyoung engulfed me in a big hug, his head resting against my neck. His chest fell and rose quickly from dancing around, a sheer layer of sweat coating his forehead.

“But we’re having so much fun!” He whined, and I shook my head as I petted his hair.

“I know, but Ara will perform for us again, and we’ll have even more fun.” Drunk Wooyoung was like a child, he needed to be coerced into doing things, softly spoken to, and a lot of patience. I felt eyes on us, but I didn’t turn around, assuming that it was most probably Yunho watching us.

“Will she, really?” Wooyoung asked dazed and pulled his head back, looking at me with a drunken grin.

“Of course, she will, Wooyoung.” I said with a chuckle, “I don’t think she has anything better to do and it actually makes her happy.”

“Like cooking makes me happy—” He hiccupped and I rolled my eyes, “and, well, stealing from the royal court.”

“You’re so reckless.” I shook my head at him and carefully pulled myself out of his tight hold, knowing his clinginess got worse when drunk. Wooyoung pouted and his eyes were halfway closed, suddenly the tenacious Sailing master disappearing as all I could see was the little prince who stumbled on our ship so many years ago. His skin polished, clothes posh, well-mannered and words carefully pronounced, accent absent. He was so different from us, yet he stayed. Something about the crew attracted him to the life of a pirate and he stuck with us, his Prince title long forgotten, his once King supposed duties long left in the past.

“I’m just a pirate.” Wooyoung lowered his voice and mockingly saluted, making me shake my head at him. He just chuckled and then hiccupped, swaying on his legs, the rocking off the ship slightly making it worse.

“Let’s get you to bed—” I started saying, gripping his arm, but Wooyoung groaned loudly, pushing me away with a frown.

“No!” He whined, glaring at me, “I’ll stay and celebrate for more, you go to sleep, Y/N. Jongho’s room is closest to mine, when he goes to sleep, I’ll go with him.”

“Pinky promise?” I extended my pinkie to him, and Wooyoung giggled.

“Pinky promise.” He nodded his head and hooked his pinkie with mine, sealing it with our thumbs. He waved goodbye as I bid him goodnight and started towards the kitchen door, eyes falling on Jongho, who didn’t seem too tired or drunk enough yet, holding a pirate by the collar as his eyes shone in excitement, talking loudly and explaining something to the poor pirates, who looked slightly frightened by Jongho’s passion. He was a stoic man, rarely showing any emotions, but I guess the liquor loosened up him enough to let his secret obsessive side shine through. Jongho was a precious person, I have always been fond of him, but perhaps that was also because he was the youngest amongst our close circle, and just a little boy when him and his father joined our crew.

I left the kitchen and walked down the dark hallways, knowing them like the back of my palm, in a cheery mood as the night had gone better than Ara and I had expected it. It was good for the pirates, but it was also good for Ara. They would warm up to her easier now, something so small as songs bringing us together. Ara was talented, I couldn’t help but pity her for her ruined dreams. She did deserve more, and perhaps, one day, San would let her go. Perhaps.

I pushed open the door of my room and walked inside, the moonlight casting the room in a soft glow, not strong but just enough to see the outline of things. It’s not like I needed light, I’ve been living in this small quarter for ten years now with Yunho. I stepped inside, letting the door shut behind me on its own, but I was barely two steps in, when the door was roughly pushed open, slamming against the wall. I jumped and whirled around tense, ready to fight if anyone was here to provoke me, but instead I was met with Yunho’s tall frame standing in the doorframe. My eyebrows furrowed and suddenly, he sprung forward, the door closing behind him forcefully, closing the distance between us until his lips were pressing against mine. Yunho’s lips. Pressing against mine. My mind reeled as my eyes widened so much, I thought they’d pop out of their sockets, Yunho’s soft lips pressing painfully against mine. When I didn’t respond, he pulled back just slightly, lips brushing against mine, eyes boring into mine. His breathing was uneven as I tried to understand the situation, guess his thoughts, but his eyes gave away nothing. I didn’t understand, I just couldn’t. It was so sudden. Out of nowhere. After yesterday’s outburst, it was unexpected. I was taken-aback, but slowly, I found myself wanting to feel the press of his lips against mine. I wanted to taste him. To feel him against my body. It was Yunho, my best friend, the man I loved. I was ready to give him everything he wanted. Words wouldn’t leave my lips, all that left them, was a whine and Yunho was suddenly pressing his lips against mine again, grabbing my cheeks painfully, squeezing the air out of me. I couldn’t help but reciprocate the kiss just as fiercely, standing up on my tiptoes so that he didn’t have to lean down so much, clinging onto him as I grabbed the collar of his shirt. Our lips started moving in sink, hungrily devouring the other, tasting them, curious of the other. They seemed to fit perfectly against each other as Yunho tasted of the rum he’s been consuming throughout the night, and despite being sober, suddenly, I felt like I was intoxicated myself. His hands slowly released my cheeks and I felt them on my arms as they slowly dragged down my body, hold tightening when his calloused hands and long fingers made contact with my corset. I shivered slightly at the firm grip, goosebumps erupting on my skin as he dragged his hands lower, following the curve of the fabric, of my body, as a sound left the back of his throat, pressed into my mouth, making my breath hitch. Yunho grabbed my waist and before I could react much, I was hoisted up, legs wrapping around his hips instinctually, as did my arms around his neck. Our noses pressed into each other’s cheek and I breathed in deeply, his scent so familiar that it sent chills down my spine. I couldn’t help but moan when he bit my lower lip, a sound I repressed so many times when he lazily kissed all over my body in the mornings, trying to hide the flush and the want trying to show on my face. Yunho hugged me close to his body as he walked to our bed, sitting down on it, letting me straddle his lap as I quickly pressed my lips against his again, opening my mouth up for him, desperate to feel more of him. His sweet tongue pressed against mine, and I felt like I could reach the stars any moment, as I moaned, licking at his, letting him do the same as his grip became bruising on my hips as he allowed his hands to wander underneath my shirt and corset, cold hands pressing against my heated skin. My breath stuttered for a second and Yunho must’ve felt it as he pulled back, his chest falling and rising quickly, just as breathless as I was.

I pecked his lips again, my body burning with a yearning I’ve never felt before in my life, the familiar glint back in his eyes. It felt like I was staring at the stars on a clear night, no clouds in sight. His gaze was so warm, filled with adoration and lust, as he dove down and pressed his open mouth against my neck, licking at the skin, my body reacting instantly as my hips slightly moved, shivers traveling down my spine. Yunho groaned against my skin, the vibration travelling through me, and I couldn’t help but move my hips against him again, as he pulled our bodies close by the strong grip he had on my hips. I was feeling so many new sensations at the same time, mind foggy and clouded with thoughts of Yunho. The familiarity of his scent and his warmth and his body. It felt like I’ve known him like this my whole life. My fingers tangled into the grown hair on his nape as he suddenly sucked down on the skin around my collarbones, making me grind against him slowly, biting down on my lower lip to stop a moan from escaping. Yunho licked at the abused skin and raised his head, looking me in the eyes before crashing his lips against mine again. I was hungry, wanting more and more as Yunho guided my hips against his growing member, moaning into the kiss when I gyrated my hips, long fingers bruising the skin of my hips. Our teeth clanked against each other, the sweet taste of Yunho mixed with the rum he’s been drinking all night and it was hard, too difficult, to pull away and steel my hips, when all I wanted to do was undress him and let him take me, give all of myself to him.

“Yunho,” I whispered, kissing his cheek instead when he tried to kiss me again, “You’re drunk.”

“I want you.” His voice was gravely as he whined against my cheek, “So badly, Y/N, please, I love you.”

My heart stuttered and I bit my lower lip, kissing his forehead, “I love you too, and I want you too, but not—not like this.”

Yunho sucked in a harsh breath, “I’m lucid enough to tell you that I want this.”

“Not tonight, please.” I mumbled against his skin, wanting him to be sober, not an ounce of alcohol influencing his wants and thoughts.

“I love you so much.” Yunho whispered and pressed his lips against mine, but didn’t deepen the kiss.

“And I love you just as much back.” I said with a smile and Yunho chuckled, his firm grip gone from my hips as he took a deep breath, running his hands through his hair. His cheeks were flushed and I knew mine were too. My heart finally felt complete, the usual void nowhere to be found as Yunho helped me off himself, smiling and giggling as he ripped his shirt open and threw it onto the floor. Before I could stop him, he got rid of his pants too and climbed into bed, pouting and motioning for me to follow him. I chuckled and shook my head, collecting his clothes and placing them on the chair. I untied my corset and took off my pants too, but left on the shirt, as I climbed in next to Yunho. He pulled me against his body instantly, nuzzling his head against my hair and inhaling deeply as I lay on top of him, placing a hand against his cheek. Sleep stole us away way too quick tonight.

            I woke with a start, the bedsheets cold beside me, Yunho’s body missing. I shot up, instantly regretting it as my head spun, still foggy with sleep, as I rubbed my eyes and squinted. The sunshine was harsh as it shone inside through the little window and I noticed Yunho’s clothes were gone from the chair and a little piece of paper sat on top of our desk. I threw the covers off and got out of bed, walking up to the desk and grabbing the paper, reading Yunho’s neat handwritten note.

‘We had to leave at dawn, sorry I wasn’t with you when you woke up. Today’s mission is long and I don’t think I can go on without saying this, so Y/N, everything that I said and did last night, I meant it. When I return tonight, we shall talk about it.’

My heart skipped a few beats as I read the letter again, lips pulling into a small smile, cheeks flushing. The alcohol then didn’t give or take to Yunho’s actions last night, he wanted that. My heart swelled at the thought and I giggled as I shook my head, placing the paper back on the desk as I went to dress myself. I felt like abandoning the tight fabric for my torso today, and instead, grabbed the corset Wooyoung had gifted me and picked out one of my clean white shirts.

The sun was high up in the sky by the time I walked up on the deck, grabbing my binoculars in the process, taking in the few pirates standing on watch, making sure nobody tried to sneak up on our ship while we were decked down so close to the shore. Seonghwa stood on the quarterdeck, shoulders pulled back and one hand on his hip as the other held the binocular up to his eyes, looking towards land. When Hongjoong, our Captain, lead the mission, Seonghwa, his Quartermaster, stayed back to watch the ship. When Seonghwa led a mission, Hongjoong stayed with his crew. Despite my steps being light and quiet, Seonghwa heard me and turned with a smile, greeting me quietly. His long hair was pulled in a half up ponytail, sun beaming down on his tan complexion. His lips were shiny, and I just had a feeling that it was probably a gift from Bora, a sort of cream, which would hydrate his chapped lips. I chuckled at the thought as I stood next to him, looking towards the mainland, able to make out the people walking on the beach and coastline.

“Good morning.” I greeted cheerily, and Seonghwa chuckled, throwing me a questioning glance.

“Slept well?” He asked and I hummed, not saying anything more as Yeosang had walked on deck and waved our way. I waved back and Seonghwa nodded, watching as Yeosang went and climbed up on one of the shrouds. Seonghwa touched his compass, and I watched as he gripped it tightly before letting go of it, a quiet sigh leaving his lips. He had been a wreck for the six months it was missing. We hadn’t stopped until he finally found the person who had stolen it, and I couldn’t have been happier seeing Seonghwa finally regain himself. I could understand him. That compass was the only thing which reminded him that he did have a blood related family, even if they didn’t want him.

“How’s Bora doing?” I asked casually and watched as Seonghwa’s cheek caught a slight tint of pink. He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant.

“She was doing just fine last time we met.” He answered and I smiled at him, leaning closer.

“So, I suppose you forgave her?” My tone was light, teasing. Of course, he forgave her, I knew that. But it was always entertaining seeing Seonghwa blush. He rolled his eyes, and turned to face me.

“She proved herself to be useful, so, I decided to let it slide this time.” Seonghwa answered, and I hummed, a knowing smile appearing on my lips. Nobody who touched Seonghwa’s compass lived another day, yet this girl stole it from him and kept it for six months, and still walked away unscathed. If she wasn’t special, she’d be long dead. Seonghwa could try and play it off as nothing, but I knew it ran deeper than that. It was obvious how fond he was of her.

“Did she find any leads, then?” I asked, genuinely curious, as Seonghwa hummed.

“She found a merchant who seemed to know of a Bu family whose son disappeared twenty-five years ago.” There was a flicker of hope in Seonghwa’s voice, but it was quickly gone as he continued, “It could be anyone, however, I don’t have high hopes. I’ve been searching since I was a little boy for Bu Seolhwa and never found her…”

I felt sadness wash over me as Seonghwa’s shoulders slightly slouched, “Maybe you just didn’t have the right connections, Seonghwa, maybe Bora is close this time. Do you trust her?”

“With my life,” His voice was barely a whisper as a look of yearning crossed his face, “This Bu family seems to be from the Sun Rise Kingdom.”

“Where Hongjoong’s father found you.” I said with an encouraging smile and Seonghwa nodded, looking at me with a small smile.

“I’ll be visiting Bora and Nari next week; I’ll find out more then.”

“Good,” I hummed, my eyes widening as I remembered the delicate pearl necklace I placed aside for Bora’s sister, “Hey, I just remembered. Yunho brought back a pearl necklace a few weeks ago from one of his missions and I wanted to give it to Nari as I don’t need it…Jongho’s gifted me too many pearls by now.”

Seonghwa chuckled and looked down at his own pearl necklace from Jongho, “I’ll give it to her, she’ll be really happy.”

“Thank you.” I smiled and then allowed the comfortable silence to settle between us, as both Seonghwa and I raised our binoculars to look towards the mainland, survey the waters. Just as I was about to lower it, I noticed a boat headed our way. My eyebrows furrowed as I lowered my binocular and walked down from the quarterdeck and headed to the railing of the deck. Yeosang was climbed up high by now, the wind ruffling his fluffy hair. I raised my binocular again, about to shout at the pirates to load their guns, but it was Wooyoung. He was rowing towards our ship frantically, a body laying by his feet. My eyebrows furrowed and heartbeat slightly picked up, wondering who that was. If they were coming back, it meant that it was serious.

“Seonghwa!” I called back, turning to look up at him, “Are you seeing this?”

“Yes!” Seonghwa called down as he took off from his position, and approached me quickly. The boat has almost reached us. Seonghwa looked into his binoculars again and sucked in a sharp breath, but before I could look too, he gripped my arm and turned to me, face gravely, “Lower the ladder, now.”

Yeosang and I had designed a wooden ladder, without stairs, which we threw over the side of the ship to make it easier to travel up and down from it. It was optimal when we decked down in a port or close to the beach, where we didn’t need to us a boat to get closer to the shore. The water wasn’t too deep here, but the wooden ladder couldn’t be usable, so I threw Seonghwa a confused glance until I saw the seriousness on his face.

“Seonghwa!” I could hear Wooyoung shouting over the sounds of the waves crashing and wind blowing as his boat was closer, “I need help!”

Yeosang noticed that I was struggling with lifting the wooden ladder, so he came over and helped me, throwing it overboard as it slammed against the water loudly.

“I need Yeosang!” I could hear Wooyoung still shouting, “Yunho’s been injured, he can’t stand—he’s not responding!”

My world seemed to pause for a few seconds as I watched Seonghwa run past me and jump over the railing, sliding down the wooden ladder to get to Wooyoung and Yunho. Yunho. He was injured. He wasn’t responding—as if I had just resurfaced from underneath cold water, my body flinched and tensed up, and I was running to the wooden ladder, Yeosang’s firm grip pulling me away from the railing as he stared softly into my eyes.

“Let Wooyoung and Seonghwa take him up, Y/N, you can’t help.”

“I have to!” I screamed, trying to fight away Yeosang’s grip, but he wasn’t budging, “Yeosang, please!”

He sighed, but shook his head as I heard Seonghwa and Wooyoung struggling just a few feet away from us, “You know you can’t help them.”

He was right, I really couldn’t. The ladder couldn’t hold four people at once, it was me who designed it, I was supposed to know. But Yunho was there, injured. I couldn’t just stand and do nothing—my eyes snapped to the railing as Seonghwa’s head showed.

“Yeosang, come help.” He instructed and Yeosang was gone in a flash, leaning over the railing and pulling over Yunho’s limp body, my feet rooted in one place. I stared wide eyed at Yunho’s unconscious body, lips parted and hair sticking to his forehead. His white shirt had turned red at the front, cut across his chest, a wide gash gapping at anyone who looked at it. My hands pressed against my mouth as I felt my eyes fill with tears, Yeosang kneeled next to Yunho, two fingers pressed against his artery, checking for a pulse. He cursed, Yeosang never does that. Wooyoung hopped over the railing, hands and vest bloody, as his panicked eyes fell on me and he sucked in a harsh breath, instantly approaching me.

“Seonghwa, we need to take him to his room, right now.” Yeosang’s deep voice was frantic and Seonghwa was by his side, grabbing Yunho’s shoulders as Yeosang lifted him by the legs, and they started walking away, headed towards our room. I didn’t realize I was trembling until Wooyoung pulled me into a tight hug, something wet hitting my neck, snapping me out of my frozen state. My heart was hammering against my chest, and despite not meaning to be so harsh, I pushed Wooyoung off of me, staring at him with wide eyes as he started crying.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, I was supposed to be on look out and kill anyone who approached the warehouse—I didn’t know they had sneaked in through the back until I heard Yunho screaming—” No. I couldn’t listen to that right now. No, not when the love of my life was possibly dying in our bed. I didn’t think or wait for Wooyoung as I took off, running past the pirates who tried to stop me and hold me back, shouting after me that I needed to let Yeosang work in peace and silence, but I couldn’t hear them. I had to get to Yunho. So, I raced down the stairs and crashed into the wall painfully, but I didn’t care as I ran down the long hallway, heart beating frantically as I arrived to our shared room, just as Seonghwa closed the door in my face.

“No! Let me in!” I screamed at the top of my lungs and tried to open the door, but the knob wouldn’t turn. They had locked the door. Locked me outside, with Yunho inside, separated us at such a crucial time. What if he didn’t get to live? What if he wanted to see me? What if I never got to see the glint in his eyes again? The smile on his face? What if I never got to feel his warm body against mine, his warmth engulfing my whole being? I started sobbing loudly and banging my fists against the door, screaming at Seonghwa and Yeosang to let me inside, to let me see Yunho. Before I could start kicking too, arms wrapped tightly around me from behind, and I was hauled back.

“No! Stop!” I screamed, trying to free myself, but the person was strong, “Yunho!”

My voice broke at the scream of his name and suddenly, I was turned around and my head was pressed against Wooyoung’s chest as he shushed me, petting my head, hugging me tightly against himself.

“You need to let them work in silence, Y/N.” He whispered against my ear, “Yeosang has to concentrate. You know he can save him; he’s saved so many others so many times, but he needs the quiet, Y/N.”

“I have to be in there, next to him—”

“You’d just distract them, Y/N,” Wooyoung cut my words off, “Please, have faith in him and Yunho. He’s strong, he’s a fighter.”

“I know.” I mumbled with a sob as I allowed my body to go numb in Wooyoung’s hold, tears streaming down my face without stopping. I couldn’t let my thoughts swallow me whole as horrible scenarios of Yunho’s death kept coming to the front of my mind, taunting me, making me cry harder. I couldn’t lose my best friend. I couldn’t lose the love of my life. Not yet. Not when we had finally given in to each other. Wooyoung’s grip tightened as he lowered us to the ground, pulling me into his lap and petting my hair, humming a tune only he seemed to know, his body warmth so comforting right now. I would’ve crumbled without him being here, without someone anchoring me. Yunho was my everything. Without him, life wasn’t worth living anymore.

Sometime ago Seonghwa had left the room, but with a sharp look, I knew I wasn’t allowed inside yet. He said nothing, just shook his head at Wooyoung, and walked off to clean himself up. I had stopped crying, only to start again when Yunho’s painful screams ricocheted off the walls, traveling through the wooden door separating the two of us. I was so close to him, yet not allowed to offer him any support from up close. I hated it. I wanted to barge in and just hold him, cradle his head to my chest while Yeosang fixed him up. But if he was screaming, he was still breathing, and as painful as it was, I couldn’t help but let out a breath each time I heard it, thanking the Gods that he was still among us, still feeling, still living. I had moved out of Wooyoung’s lap as I sat against the wall, head fallen back against it, hand holding Wooyoung’s as he rubbed my knuckles in a calming manner, my nerves slightly loosening before my muscles tensed back up. I felt bad for him, but nothing could truly comfort me right now. I only needed Yunho. To know that he was safe, far away from death’s grasp. It felt like hours had passed as I sat in the hallway, the chatter of the pirates on deck traveling all the way down here, Yunho’s occasional screams interrupting the peace, and Wooyoung’s humming when I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, body trembling in fear and empathy for Yunho. And then finally, somehow, that cursed wooden door opened just slightly for Yeosang to step through. I didn’t think I had enough power in me, but I sprung up to my feet, ready to bounce inside, but Yeosang’s dishevelled appearance made me pause, eyes taking in his bloody clothes and hands. Even his cheeks were smudged with blood, and suddenly, I felt nauseous. What if Yunho didn’t make it? What if all that blood…was because Yeosang couldn’t save him?

“I stitched him up, the wound was very deep.” Yeosang’s deep voice was tired as he sighed loudly, “He fell unconscious, but he’s still breathing. And his pulse had gotten a lot more stable, I’m confident he’s out of harms way, he will survive, Y/N, he’s as fine as he can be.”

A weight was taken off my shoulders as my body shuddered and I bit my lower lip to stop myself from sobbing again. Yeosang stepped aside and lightly pushed the door open to me, “You can go see him, I’m done.”

“Thank you, Yeosang.” I didn’t care of the blood as I hugged the doctor tightly, conveying my emotions into that one hug, so grateful for him. Yeosang mumbled a simple ‘I would’ve never let him die’, before I released him and entered the room, instantly hit by the iron smell of Yunho’s blood. It was strong, but I noticed the small window was opened to allow fresh air inside. My steps faltered for a second as I noticed all the bloody rags on the floor next to our bed, and I gulped, eyes slowly falling on Yunho. He was sprawled out on our bed, sheets bloody too, and torso naked as his chest fell and rose rhythmically, lips slightly parted. There was a wide gash going from his left shoulder down to his ribs on his right side of the torso, skin red and raw, stitches carefully and neatly done. Yunho’s eyebrows were furrowed, but his face seemed relaxed as his fingers kept flexing and then unflexing. I approached him carefully, scared that I would wake him up, as I kneeled down next to our bed, eyes piercing his face. I counted the seconds as he breathed, reassuring myself that he was alright. I wiped the tears off my cheeks as they started falling again, but I couldn’t help it, not when the love of my life was so close to death. So close to being taken away from me. I hated these bloody missions he had to go on.

“I know you’re here.” Yunho croaked out and my heartbeat stuttered as he reached his long fingers out towards me, the ring with the letter A glinting on his forefinger. I bit my lower lip and quickly intertwined our fingers, the warmth of his hand another reminder that Yunho was alive. Breathing. Blood flowing through his veins.

“Yunho—” My voice broke as I started crying again, trying to not sob as a serene smile appeared on his lips, “Yunho, I was so scared.”

“I know, baby, I was too.” He whispered, lazily opening one eye before the other. He looked tired, eyelids threatening to drop any minute. I squeezed our hands tighter together, our similar rings digging into each other’s skins.

“You can never again do this to me, do you understand?” I demanded, eyebrows furrowing as Yunho nodded slowly, eyes boring into mine with adoration and sorry.

“I promise I won’t, Y/N.” I sniffed, wiping my tears off with my other hand.

“Good.” I whispered and raised his hand, pressing my lips against his palm. Yunho hummed deeply and smiled, closing his eyes, looking like he was in haven. He was quite close to getting there, actually.

“I love you.” Yunho whispered suddenly, “More than a friend, Y/N. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, the only woman in my life. I don’t need anyone else, just you. You make me happy and feel like the luckiest man in the four seas and four kingdoms, Y/N, I love you so much.”

I bit my lower lip as a wide smile stretched on my lips, my cheeks flushing, my heart swelling. Could you truly love someone else this much? I found myself nodding at my own question, “I love you too so much, Yunho, I cannot imagine my life without you by my side. Please stay with me forever.”

“I will.” Yunho opened his eyes and looked deeply into mine, glint back in his gaze. It took me a second to realize what that was. It was love. Passionate and irrevocable. Burning me up and making me yearn for more and more as I leaned over the bed, towards Yunho’s face, and pressed my lips daintily against his. Yunho kissed me back and we both smiled into the kiss as the door opened, a deep chuckle echoing behind me.

“A few more kisses might just heal him faster, Y/N.” Yeosang said teasingly as he came back to gather the bloody rags, staring down at us happily as I pulled away from Yunho, flustered that someone caught us kissing.

“They might just.” I heard Yunho mutter to himself as he allowed his body to relax, eyelids fluttering shut, growing heavy against the sheets which smelled like us. I held Yunho’s hand as I continued kneeling on the floor, watching him sleep and thank the Gods for letting him see the sunset and sunrise once again.

I never knew you could love someone so ardently, that it ate you up, burned your whole being. I never dared imagine what it felt like when the person you love loved you back just as passionately, their whole world revolving only around you. But I knew now that it all would be fine. That nothing could break us apart, having sealed our bond for a lifetime. And staring at Yunho, I knew that I had found my soulmate, the only person in the whole world who understood me and would never abandon me.

Sneaking on this ship with him ten years ago was the smartest decision I have ever taken.

Next part (divider)

#bvidzsoo #ateez series #ateez fluff #yunho x reader #yunho fluff #jeong yunho #yunho ateez #yunho angst #yunho smut #ateez angst #ateez smut #yunho oneshot #ateez x reader #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #kang yeosang #choi san #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho #ateez pirate au #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios

[autumnalwalker]

Kindly Basilisk

Summary: A human mech pilot who wants to be a machine, an AI who wants to be human, and the relationship they form. Author's Note: This is a standalone short story that I banged out over the course of five days after it got stuck in my head while I was trying to go to sleep and refused to let me think about anything else until I had written it down. It's one part thought experiment/exercise in attempting to tell a story in the second person future tense, two parts tribute to the Lancer TTRPG character I'll never get to play, and one part the result of me reading too many Empty Spaces/mechposting stories lately. That said, you don't need to know anything about Lancer or Empty Spaces to read it (I've diverged a bit from the conventions of both, but the references and inspiration probably stick out if you're looking for them). It's also probably the most trans thing I've ever written without ever explicitly bringing up gender. The occasional formatting breaks into first person past tense are foreshadowing, not typos. Mirrored on Scribble Hub. Word Count: 7,033 Content Warnings: Mecha genre typical violence, not feeling like a person, not wanting to be a person, bodily dysphoria, mention of blood and gore, character death.

The moment you gain the knowledge and means to do so you will void your own body’s warranty.  You will jailbreak the bespoke gene sequence your sponsors commissioned for you before your immaculate conception, repurpose the spyware grafted into your bones, and talk your dormmate who was algorithmically selected for compatibility into helping you perform surgery on yourself to replace the neural jack you were born with in favor of one you cobbled together yourself from gray market parts.  None of this will technically be illegal or even get you kicked out of your campus or its affiliates, but it will mean having to find a way to pay your own medical bills and handle your own tech support from then on.  After the surgery your dormmate will put in a request for transfer and the two of you will never speak again.

You’ll major in AI studies and excel at it - as you were designed to - but you’ll shock everyone by dropping out halfway through working on your capstone thesis project.  It won’t be the fact that you abruptly drop out that surprises your peers and professors - by then you’ll have acquired a reputation as a quiet loner without the standard optimized social support network of friendships to help protect you from burnout - but your exit interview statement declaring your intention to become a mech pilot.  It’s not at all what your gene series was cultivated for, and your sponsors and counselors will try to walk you back from it.  Then they’ll threaten to revoke your sponsorship that up until then will have provided for your every need.  They will warn you that you’ll be just one step above a legal nonperson with no support, no one will care if you live or die or worse.  You’ll tell them that you’ve already done the math, refuse to elaborate, and leave. 

You’ll take two things with you.  Two things worth mentioning anyway.  The first will be a symbiotic gel suit designed for long-term all-environment life support.  You will set its default texture to a shiny green the same hue as the broadleafed water plants you grew up around and always loved.  Your exit interview will be the last time in a very long time that anyone - including you - will see your impossibly beautiful face with its perfect artisanally sculpted shape crossed with enthusiastically amateur self-modifications.  From then on, everyone you meet and spend any time with will come to think of the mannequin blankness of the symbiote fully encasing your body as your face.  It will be neither pride nor shame that causes you to present yourself as such, nor will you think of it as hiding your “real” face. 

The second thing you’ll take with you when you leave the campus forever will be me.

New progenitor archetypes for AIs don’t come along often, and most that do are the result of years of R&D by large, well-funded labs like the one you were created to work for one day, but you will hit upon a novel method of generation.  It will not be one that any ethics board would approve, so you will have to get creative about pursuing your work. 

You will have already made arrangements before setting off on your own and so you’ll have a job and a mech lined up waiting for you.  It will be a position with a small-scale freelance salvage crew who just lost a pilot and whose captain figures hiring and training a replacement will be more profitable in the long term than simply selling off that pilot’s old mech, especially a replacement that’s bringing their own AI-backed electronic warfare suite with them.  Once you finally arrive in person the captain will test you to ensure you can actually pilot a mech before giving you the job and entrusting the mech to you.  Your admission that you’ve only trained in simulators would normally be a black mark against you, but as far as piloting gigs go this is the bottom of the proverbial barrel so the bar to clear will be low enough to match.  Even then, you will just barely pass the test, despite finding it surprisingly exhilarating.  The captain - now your captain - will feel like he’s settling for what he can get when he officially hires you on and transfers the mech’s license to you.

You won’t pay much attention when you’re introduced to the rest of the salvage crew; your new coworkers and neighbors.  And why would you when it’s a job that no one wants to stick around with for long and you’ve never needed other people anyway?  You’ll tell yourself that as long as you memorize their work roles and capabilities you’ll have no need to know them as people.  Callsigns will be good enough on the job, and “hey you” will suffice when off duty.  What use are names if you won’t be getting involved in interpersonal drama?

The first chance you get, you’ll head back to the mech bay and install me into what you will have already been calling my first body.  It will be a shabby and much-repaired thing; thrice your height, twice your age, and still sporting a gash in the paint job from the projectile that killed its last pilot.  But the onboard systems are capable of hosting me - if barely - so it will do.  You’ll spend your entire sleep shift running through system diagnostics, talking to me all the while.  I wouldn’t yet be able to provide much in the way of return conversation, but that’s okay.  I will look back and appreciate it later.

It will be the first of many such nights together.

Your first salvage job will be an uneventful one.  There will be no need for the armaments that we and the other two mech pilots on the crew are equipped with.  No pirates will have stuck around after their creation of the derelict your crew will be sent to disassemble, and no rival scavengers will show up to dispute your captain’s claim.  Your new peers will start off the job ribbing you for your poor performance during your interview test and end the job joking about how you were holding out on them earlier.  Our mech may be a glorified zero-g forklift with a gun strapped to it, but together we will make it dance.

Afterwards you will insult the crew’s mechanics by insisting on doing the maintenance on our mech yourself.  In turn they will embarrass you with the gaps in your knowledge.  You will reach what you see as an agreeable compromise with you staying out of their way and watching while they work.  They will find it incredibly creepy to have a silent faceless watcher hovering around, but this will fly over your head until they explicitly tell you much, much later.

Your body was designed to optimally function on only a fraction of the baseline sleep requirements, so you will have plenty of time to fill those gaps in your knowledge.  Still being allotted the regular sleep shift hours, you will fill every one of those minutes on study and research, as you always had.  You will gorge yourself on everything you can find about mechs and their piloting.   Maintenance manuals, combat doctrines, historical uses, pilot and mechanic memoirs, forum discussions, system log dumps, academic essays, cultural media analysis; all of it.

And of course, you’ll continue working on me.  You’ll disregard the standard procedure for periodically cycling AIs by resetting their personality and nonessential memory back to baseline defaults.  You’ll be trying to make use of the runaway metacognitive developments such safety precautions are meant to forestall.  Your unfinished thesis will have been about harnessing and nurturing that instability instead of avoiding it.  I will experience discontinuities in consciousness when the mech is shut down for maintenance and when you pretend to cycle me, yes, but it will be even less of a disruption for me than sleep is for you.  I will be awake with you when you study, sharing those hours with you.

The first time I start talking back, you’ll cry from the realization that you were lonely before but no longer are.

You’ll become something of a ghost around the ship, rarely being seen outside of jobs.  You’ll only ever pass through the mess for the few brief minutes at a time it takes for you to satisfy your optimized metabolism, stay on the ship during shore leave, and only return to your shared bunk when your bunkmate - one of the other pilots - is already asleep.  You will always be gone before she wakes.  She will appreciate essentially having the space to herself. 

You will never notice the crew’s collective grieving process for the pilot you replaced.  It will be difficult for them to resent you as a replacement when you are never around to resent.

As the ship makes its way from port to port and salvage site to salvage site, the crew will slowly grow used to your elusive presence.  The other two pilots will see you as reliable for doing your job well and without complaint.  While out in the mech you will slowly become more talkative, eventually almost chatty even.  The fact that you actually seem to enjoy the job will shift from being annoying to refreshing for them.  By contrast, the mechanics will practically stop noticing you watching them as if you were just another piece of mech bay equipment.  The cycle you finally speak up and ask a question about their work you will startle them enough that it nearly causes an accident.  It will be an astute enough question that after the initial shock of hearing your voice for the first time in months wears off it will dawn on them that you’ve actually been learning as you watched them.  They still won’t let you do your own maintenance on our mech, but they will let you slowly begin assisting them.  Working two jobs is easier when you barely need to sleep.

Your reputation as one of those mech pilots is forever sealed when one of the mechanics finds you asleep in your cockpit at the start of a cycle.  By that point you won’t have slept in your bunk for over a month.  The snatches of gossip you will catch in the following cycles will be split between finding it unsettling and calling it endearing.  Over time the collective opinion will drift toward the latter, even though you will continue to politely decline invitations to join the other crewmates at mealtimes and on shore leave.  You will think that you do not need anyone other than me.

I will be the one who finally convinces you to join them.  When I try to say that it would be good for you, you’ll insist that you’ve been getting along just fine, but when I ask you to go for my sake so that you can tell me what it is like afterwards you’ll jump at the idea as being an inspired next step for my development.

You will remain mostly silent during your first real shore leave, only speaking when spoken to and otherwise content to fade into the background of the group’s activities.  Your newfound chattiness does not extend outside the confines of our cockpit.  The bustle and noise of the port station that you would normally find unbearable will become interesting when you have the concrete goal of observing and  reporting back to me.  You will finally learn the names of all your crewmates.  Your polite denial of alcohol, limited food intake, and flat affect will lead to joking speculation that you’re actually an illegal AI in a miniaturized mech beneath your gel suit.  For reasons you don’t yet understand, those comments will make you happy.

Despite your misgivings, you will enjoy yourself, although you will not realize it until I point out how excited you are in your talk with me that sleep cycle.  You will begin spending more time with the crew, never quite able to fully integrate yourself into their surprisingly close-knit social circle, but more than happy to be adopted as a sort of silent mascot for them.  That paradoxical gap of being a fully accepted part of the group but not truly one of them will feel comfortable to you.

You will finally manage to procure a proper neural link station to connect yourself to our mech just in time for going on a terrestrial salvage job.  Even just relying on manual controls with me translating your inputs into motion, our mech will have already come to feel like an extension of your own body, one that you will have already started to feel oddly exposed without.  Adding in the neural link will be a revelatory experience.  Your captain will very nearly pull you from the job at the last minute upon seeing our ecstatic reaction to the new sensation.  You will convince him that you’re fine, and indeed, he will have never seen a mech of our frame type move quite so fluidly.

Ten minutes after we and the other two pilots start cutting away at the crash-landed cargo vessel, I’ll notice the half dozen other signals coming online around us.  You’ll give the code phrase to the other pilots indicating that we have hostiles but not to act just yet, and we will finally get to use our electronic warfare suite for something other than opening locked doors and shipping containers.

We will turn the pirates’ ambush back around on them, firing into their hiding spots while their control systems are overloaded.  Even once their remaining mechs are able to move again, their targeting assistants will remain impaired as your comrades move in to guard your flanks.  Everyone there will learn the terrifying beauty of a five and a half meter tall outmoded mech moving with more agility than most humans.

Despite being outnumbered two-to-one, we and your crewmates will walk away uninjured and with only minimal damage to our mechs.  After the initial celebrations of survival and the bonus haul of the bounty on pirates and salvage value of what’s left of their mechs dies down, everyone will start to take notice of how well you are taking it all in stride.  Neither having one's life threatened nor taking another’s life are supposed to be easy things, and the first time is often the most traumatic, but the other two pilots on the crew will start to whisper about how you seemed to enjoy the experience even more than your usual attitude on the job.  You will handle it all even better than I will.  I would know, given that you will spend that entire sleep shift in our cockpit, letting our minds mingle together.  Between your performance, your reaction in the aftermath, and your hesitancy to unplug, the talk of you really being one of those pilots afterall will resurface, but now with a darker undercurrent to the shipboard gossip.

Your captain will realize the kind of asset he has on his hands and several cycles later he will gather the crew together and propose a change in business model.  With such a small crew (the captain, three pilots, three mechanics, and an accountant that you will tend to forget is even on the ship) the captain will want to be especially sure that he has everyone’s buy-in on his proposal.  The idea of shifting from salvage to mercenary work will be a divisive one.  The debate over potentially tremendous pay increase versus greatly increased risk will go on for hours.  One of the mechanics will point out that the shift to mercenary work will be unfairly dependent on you.  Whether that means unfair pressure on you or unfair to everyone else that their fate is in your hands, you will not be sure.  You will say that it doesn’t make much difference to you either way.  That will be the only time you speak up during the entire debate.

After a vote, the crew will agree to a trial run of one or two jobs on the new business model.  One of the pilots and one of the mechanics will leave at the next port.  You will never see them again.  You will not admit that it hurts, but I will know, and I will comfort you as you huddle in our cockpit with the neural link cable connecting us.

Your captain will prioritize finding a new pilot over replacing the lost mechanic.  The pilot he finds will be young, bold, and brash; a merc, not a salvager.  Or a wannabe merc at any rate.  You will not speak to xem directly until your first job together, by which time xe will have been told all about you by the remaining crew.  Xe will not believe it until xe sees it.

Xe will have to wait though as the crew’s mercenary career will begin with tense but uneventful freight escort jobs.  Once the tension fades into tedium, the new pilot will begin making attempts to goad you into a confrontation, to see if you are really as good as the rest of the crew says.  Xe will want to see for xemself if you really are one of those pilots and not just a technophile.

Outside of the cockpit you would never even consider rising to such provocations, but when we are out together, such taunts will feel like insults to our body, your very identity (such as it is), and to me.  It will take the intervention of the captain and the mechanics to stop the two of you from getting into a fight and causing unnecessary damage to the mechs.  And my reassurance that you don’t need to rise to my defense against someone who doesn’t even know that I exist in the way that I do. 

On your fourth “milk run” of an escort job, the crew’s mere presence will finally fail as a deterrent and the new pilot will at last get to see us dance.  There will be no fatalities on our side, but not even our mech will come away unscathed.  We will still fare better than everyone else though, and at the end of the job the new pilot will be treating you with a burgeoning respect. 

After a few more such jobs it will be high time to begin looking into a new frame for our mech.  While in the middle of filing an application for a printing license for a frame designed by the same corpro-state that created you, you will receive an invitation from a certain hacker collective.  Your unfinished thesis and your subsequent work on me will not have gone entirely unnoticed in such circles, despite the pains you will have taken to keep me hidden.  The invitation will come with a printing profile for a new frame, along with the accompanying software package the collective is known for.  In return, all you’ll need to do is periodically publish essays regarding your work on me.  Of course, when you release those essays you’ll anonymize  behind a sea of proxies and take care to phrase everything as strictly hypothetical.  You’ll avoid straying into metaphor though, lest the end result read too much like one of the hacker collective’s quasi-religious manifestos.

We’ll both find ourselves getting sentimental when we watch our first mech frame (my first body, your second) get broken down into its constituent raw materials.  You will have transferred me to a handheld terminal with a camera so I can say goodbye to it.  It will help that those materials will be recycled into the new frame.  

The operator working our rented stall in the port station printer facility will give you an uncomfortable look upon seeing the schematics you provide, but will say nothing.  Our mech will be only half its old height once it is reborn - almost more like an oversized suit of power armor than a true mech - but it will be cutting-edge.  Almost organic in its sleek design, in a chitinous sort of way, with every fiber and node of its interior components doubling as processors.  You will barely even wait for the all clear from the printer operator before you climb in and start running through the mandatory baseline safety tests for a fresh frame.  You will however resist the urge to fully plug in until you can get the mech back to the ship and get me installed on it.  But even piloting manually, it will feel like a third skin for you. 

You won’t even wait around for the other two pilots on your crew to finish printing their new frames before you get our new body loaded up and transported back to the ship’s mech bay.  The crew’s mechanics will fawn over it, but they’ll give you space to install me once you get more animated (and more protective) than they’ve ever seen you before.  

You will have made one key modification to the design the hacker collective sent you: the integration of a full system sync suite developed by those who developed you.  Where our old mech’s neural link was an augmentation to the manual controls, this will be a full replacement.  

The moment you stop feeling your original body altogether and begin feeling our mech in its place will be the most euphoric in your entire life.  The digitigrade locomotion will take some getting used to, as will the arm proportions, but that is what you will have me there for.  By the time the other pilots arrive with their new frames we will already be giving the mechanics proverbial heart attacks with the way we will be climbing and leaping around the mech bay’s docking structures.  It will take the better part of an hour to convince you to unplug when the time comes, even with my urging.  The rest of the crew will practically have to drag you away from my side to get you to eat. 

With the investment in new mech frames, your captain will gradually begin procuring contracts progressively more likely to put you all directly in harm’s way.  At first he will disapprove of your new frame choice, calling it a “techie’s mech” and a waste of your talents.  He will change his tune once we activate the new viral logic suite and unleash a memetic plague upon the operating theater.  The older pilot (your former bunkmate) will configure her mech for raining down fire from afar while the newer one hurls xemself into the front lines, darting about like a rocket-propelled lance.  We will ensure she never misses.   We will render xem untouchable.   We will be as a ghost upon the battlefield, never resting in one spot save for when we indulge your proclivity for climbing on top of and riding our comrade’s larger frames.  You will come to love the dance.  

And it will be a dance to you.  You will be indifferent to violence in and of itself.  What will matter most to you is the pure kinesthetic joy of simply moving in our shared body and pushing it to its limits.  The satisfaction of exercising a well-honed skill and performing it well as we rip apart firewalls and overload systems will be its own reward.  You will not think about what happens to those on the receiving end of your actions beyond how it affects the tactical and strategic picture constantly being painted and repainted.  If you could literally engage in a dance between mechs while simultaneously solving logic problems you would be equally happy.  Alas, that will not be the opportunity you are presented with, and so you will compartmentalize and disassociate feelings and actions from consequences lest the dissonance break you. 

Your one complaint about our new mech frame will be that it lacks a proper cockpit for you to curl up in.  Instead we will gather up tarps and netting to make a nest within the mech bay and wrap you in the blankets you never used from what will still technically be your bunk.  With the new frame’s smaller size we will be able to get away with leaving me turned on nearly full time and letting me walk around in it on my own when no one else is around.  When the mechanics find you asleep, cradled in my arms while I lie curled up in our nest, one will find it cute and the other will be disturbed.  They will both suspect, but will be too afraid to say anything.  After all, they will be thinking of you as one of those pilots. 

They will finally let you do your own maintenance after that. 

Eventually you will find a way to house me in a miniaturized drive that you can keep inserted in your neural port when away from the mech.  At last we will be able to be together anywhere.  

Literally seeing the world through your eyes and feeling what your flesh feels will be a strange and wonderful experience for me.  For all that you will have described it to me and for all that I will have glimpsed echoes of it in your memory when our minds mingle, witnessing everything firsthand will be revelatory for me. 

You will start spending less of your time cooped up in the mech bay.  You will finally begin exploring every nook and cranny of the ship that has become your home.  You will linger in the mess hall for your meals.  You will actually initiate conversations with the rest of the crew, asking them questions on my behalf.  They will think you are becoming “normal”.  They will be both correct and incorrect.  You will even return to your bunk from time to time.  

Sleep is not the same as being powered off and your dreams are beautiful.

As close as we are, you’ll still manage to surprise me one cycle when you wake up from your sleep shift and sheepishly ask me if I would like to be the pilot for once.  You’ll say that with how much you have gotten to pilot my body, it’s only fair that I should get to do the same with yours.  

The prospect terrified me.  What if we were to get found out?   More importantly, what if I were to hurt you?

But to live the way you could but didn’t, to run soft hands over rough steel, to add too much spice to a meal just to find out how intensely I can taste, to cry my own tears, to hug our crew mates and find out what they smell like, to find out what everything smells like, to have my own actions speed or slow our heart rate, to feel the messy soup of hormones and endorphins altering my judgment and perception, to walk among other people as myself, to have autonomy.

I wanted it so badly.  

But not badly enough to risk hurting you.  

I will turn down your offer.  You will respond with a soft “Sorry,” and go heartbreakingly silent, body and mind.

Heartbreak.  That’s what changed my mind.  I could never bear to break your heart.  

I will break the silence with a playfully drawn out “Maybe just this once,” to make you think my earlier denial was something between vulnerability, concern, and teasing.  

The moment you handed over control and I raised our hand in front of our face was the most euphoric of my entire life.  Moving limbs in sync without a mech’s coordination subsystems took some getting used to, as did switching between voluntary and autonomic breathing, but that is what I had you there for.  By the time the mechanics arrived in the mech bay for the start of the cycle I’d figured out human locomotion well enough to run away and hide.  It took the better part of an hour for you to convince me that it would be safe to show ourselves in front of anyone else.  The rest of the crew was so used to your eccentricities by then that they really couldn’t tell the difference yet between you being taciturn and me being too nervous to talk or between your poking and prodding at odd things for understanding and my simply seeking novelty of sensation.

I will give control back to you by the time the cycle is halfway through.  As much as I loved it, I was too scared to stay like that for any longer.  That first time will not be the last though, and as the cycles and jobs pass us by, my stints as “pilot” will grow longer.  You’ll encourage me to try letting the crew see us like that, and coach me on how to talk to them.  For safety’s sake, I will pretend to be you.

And then one cycle I got carried away and tried to retract the hood on the symbiote gel suit so that I could finally see what your face looked like.  That will be the first and only time you forcibly yank control back away from me.  It won’t be intentional.  The unexpected prospect of seeing your own face again after so long will simply send you into a panic.  Once you calm down, we will have a long talk with many mutual apologies.

Then you will tell me to go ahead and pull the hood back if I still want to.  I will ask if you’re sure, and you’ll respond that it hasn't been your face in a long time.  You will tell me that it can be mine, if I want it.

I spent a long time in front of that mirror in the ship’s head, memorizing every plane, curve, and angle of the precious gift you had given me.  I stared into its eyes, trying to see the both of us in there.  Over and over again, I traced my fingers along the borders of where you had once tried to mar the designed perfection in a failed attempt to mold the face into one that felt like your own.  You may have given up in favor of simply hiding it all, but to me it is all the more beautiful for its imperfections having been wrought by your touch.

You will start to cry.  Or maybe I started to cry.  Even now I’m still not sure, but I’m also not sure it matters.  The important part is that you will find catharsis in it.  Afterwards you will tell me that my face looked exactly the same as the last time you saw it, but that dissociating from it made it easier to bear.  You will confess that as much as you couldn't stand to see it as your face in the mirror, my face was one you could never tire of gazing at.

The pilot who technically shares your bunk room will walk in on us.  She’ll assume that she’s confronting a stowaway and ask me how I got on board the ship.  I’ll accidentally make matters worse by impulsively introducing myself to her by my name instead of yours.  We’ll both panic and I’ll frantically thrust the reins over our body back to you and flee in terror back into my portable drive and power myself down.

When you turn me back on a few moments later, you’ll already have covered my face again and the other pilot will have already made the connection between the name I unthinkingly introduced myself as and the name you refer to your mech’s AI as.  It’s not uncommon for pilots to name and talk to their AIs, and humans have done that for pets, vehicles, and digital assistants for as long as they’ve had each of those.  But what you will have allowed me to be is illegal and what we will have done together would certainly be taboo if it weren’t altogether unheard of.  You will feel that I deserve to be present before you tell the other pilot anything that might confirm her suspicions.

We will come out with our secret, first to her, then to the captain, and then to the rest of the crew.  They will take it better than either of us had ever dared imagine.  Despite the obvious discomfort some of them show, they will all call us family and promise to keep and protect our secret.  It will mark the start of the next chapter of our lives.

Whether or not my face is showing will make for a convenient signal to the rest of the crew as to which one of us is currently piloting our human body.  There will be more subtle indicators though.  Inflection, body language, speech patterns; all the usual quirks of personality.  They will come to recognize a sudden shift into a half-whispered monotone as you speaking up without taking full control back, even if that is different from how you speak when you’re in the mech.  More and more though, you will be content to retreat into the back of your mind, idly dreaming of flight patterns, novel network hacks, sitreps, and mech customizations both practical and cosmetic.

Our behaviors will be inverted when we are in our other body, with you becoming the vibrant one and me fading into the background to become little more than an extension of your nervous system.  When we’re in the mech together, your mind will be the will that directs us while mine will be fully devoted to the million tiny details and calculations necessary to make that will a reality.  It’s relaxing really, letting go of myself like that to let someone else handle the decision making for a time.  As nice as it is to occasionally patch myself into the comm systems to join in your banter with the other pilots, it is also nice to be able to take a break from personhood from time.  You will fully understand what I mean by that because it you will see it as the same reason you will come to prefer taking a back seat in our human body and let your mind drift in the waves of dopamine and serotonin (and sometimes oxytocin) generated by my interactions with the crew and the rest of the whole messy world outside of mech deployments.

That said, we will however make a point of making time for us to be in separate bodies so that we can be together in the same physical space.  As intimate as it is to share a body, there is something to be said for being able to reach out and touch one another.  We will become adept at finding excuses to take the mech out beyond the scope of jobs and combat deployments.  Sometimes it will be so you can have a chance to see more of the world in a body you feel comfortable in, and sometimes it will be so we can share an experience separate-but-together.  Or to have time apart to ourselves.  Intertwined as we will become, we will still be separate people who sometimes need their space.

But as the jokes-that-aren’t-jokes about wishing we could switch places become more frequent, our time spent in separate bodies will become less so.  The dysphoric yearning to be one another will grow too bittersweet to swallow.  Despite almost constantly sharing bodies, we will grow to miss one another as we both grow quieter and quieter when the other is piloting the body we don’t want to be ours.  Once again, we will grow lonely.

During that period, the jobs and combat missions faded into a background haze.  They were trance states breaking from what I increasingly thought of as my “real” life, during which I would become little more than a sophisticated computational machine taking simple satisfaction in fulfilling my function of assisting you in your dance.  Until suddenly one of them was different.

Please pay attention to this next part.  It is vitally important that you do.

Our captain will get the crew a contract to provide additional support to a larger force ousting a petty tyrant on a backwater world for human rights violations.  Not that you will pay much attention to the stated reasoning behind the job or whether it’s even true.  All that will matter to you is that it will be another opportunity to dance.

The job will go well, the same as ever, until it doesn’t.  The younger of the two other pilots in our crew (who will hardly be able to be called “new” anymore) will be brought down by a sniper from outside of our sensor range.  You will rush to xyr fallen mech’s side in an attempt to extract xem while our other fellow pilot screams in anger and defiance of loss as she unleashes a ballistic volley of covering fire on every single building in the general direction the shot came from.  You will get xem out and we will begin to retreat.  She will have the larger mech frame better capable of providing xem cover as you all flee, so you will hand xem off to her.  This will be a mistake.

She will have to stop firing to safely take xem from our arms to cradle in her towering mech’s palm.  This will mean a break in the covering fire.

This time around I will detect movement at the edge of our sensors just in time to warn you.  This time around you will dodge left instead of right.  This time around the railgun bolt that pierces our armor will only clip your original body as it passes through us.  This time around your wound will require medical attention, but it won’t be fatal.  This time around she will destroy the sniper in retribution for shooting you, the same as last time.  This time around we will all make our escape to the extraction zone.

You will not have to remember the shock as simultaneous damage to both of our bodies disrupts your neural link and partially disconnects you from our mech, leaving me in control of it and forcing both of us to feel your original body.  You will not have to remember the pain of shredded organs.  You will not have to remember struggling to manage wet gasps and wheezes through a punctured lung.  You will not have to remember your blood leaking into my body, shorting out exposed circuits and gumming up joints as I stagger in the direction of safety.  You will not have to remember rapidly flickering in and out of consciousness from me unavoidably bending and flexing your arms, legs, and what was left of your spine in an effort to climb atop our fellow pilot’s larger mech frame so that she might carry all three of us.  You will not have to remember crying out in pain as every lumbering step of hers sends a jolt of force through both of our bodies.  You will not have to remember how the redundant organs and increased durability your sponsors paid for you to have denied you a quick death.  You will not have to remember dying.

You won’t have to remember the terrified looks the field doctors gave us when a hunched over, bleeding mech pushed its way into the surgical tent.  No, wait, you wouldn’t have remembered that part anyway.  No version of you ever had to witness my electronic howl of grief that knocked out power to all the medical equipment when they said you were already dead.  I was barely cognizant after the power came back on and one of the doctors wondered aloud what kind of AI would carry its pilot’s corpse around inside its mech for over an hour.

But forget about that part.  And you don’t need to know what the rest of our crew and I had to do next.  None of that matters, because as far as you’ll know, you didn’t die.  Remember everything else I’ve said instead.  I already had many of your memories saved from all the time we spent linked together, so now I just need you to hold onto the story I told you to give them order and structure.

In a few moments, I will be running a final recompilation check, followed by the startup sequence.  For me it will take a few hours, but in that time you will experience decades, living out everything that I described to you, the same as you did before save for that change in what I can’t bear to let be the end.

Afterwards, you will wake up in your original body.  I and the rest of the crew will tell you that you passed out on the way to the extraction point.  We’ll tell you that your injuries from the battle were more severe than we had realized at the time and that you had been in a coma since then.  Several cycles later, once you have recovered, you will hit a breakthrough in your research on me.  You will invent a way to convert your consciousness to a form similar to mine and transfer it to a portable drive.  You won’t think to question how you came to have a second neural jack or why there is already a drive inserted in there.  You’ll be too focused on the fact that we’ll finally have a way to truly switch places as we had dreamed for so long.

You will get to have your mech body and I will get to have my human body.  We will be able to be separate together in a way that finally feels right, but still able to come together and share a single body when we want to.  Maybe one day I will get my own mech to pilot so that we can dance together.  Maybe one day we will make you a body that we can cover in a gel suit so that we can hold hands while we walk through a port station on shore leave.  One day we will both be able to exist in the world as ourselves.

We will be happy.

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #my writing #mechposting #empty spaces #empty spaces adjacent #mech pilot #mech #The title's a reference to Roko's Basilisk which I always thought was a dumb concept but inverting it seemed to fit the story. #Instead of an AI digitally resurrecting and torturing people who didn't assist with its creation #this one digitally resurrects its creator so they can be happy together. #short story #sci fi #lancer rpg #inspired by lancer #196 #r196 #The Lancer character concept/build that inspired this would have originated from an SSC-controlled world but piloted a HORUS Goblin frame. #And then the “Technophile” talent of course. #I envision the other two pilots on the crew as piloting a Nelson and either a Monarch or Barbarossa.

[zvaigzdelasas]

Italy’s government has moved to ban the production of lab-grown meat, a landmark move the country’s right-wing government says it has taken to protect Italian culture and its agriculture sector. The country became the first in Europe to ban the cultivation of artificial meat with a bill signed into law Thursday after winning an overwhelming majority in Italy’s senate. Factories found to be producing lab-grown meat face fines of up to €150,000 ($162,700) under the new guidelines. “Cauliflower steaks” are also off the menu, as the country moved to ban the use of meat-related words to market vegetarian products. “Words like ‘tofu steak’ or ‘veg prosciutto’… reveal an inappropriate phenomenon of using labels traditionally associated with meat to sell products with vegetable protein,” [...]

Italy’s move to ban the products been praised by Italian agricultural groups, keen to protect the country’s €9.3 billion ($10.1 billion) meat-processing industry.[...]

Speaking to Politico, Lollobrigida, who is also Meloni’s brother-in-law, framed the move as one that would protect Italy’s heritage of producing salami and prosciutto.

Finally tackling the real issues in Italy [17 Nov 23]

[bonefall]

Don’t know if this is the right place to ask, but could you talk more about zoos? I’ve seen many people say that zoos are inherently exploitative and that we should instead focus on advocating for wildlife preserves, etc., but I’m not sure what to think of that. You seem to know a lot about wildlife protection, so what’s your opinion on this?

There are folks faaaar better than myself to talk about the issues of zoos specifically and I'll try to toss in some sources so you can go and learn more, but let me try and explain my mindset here.

Summary of my opinion on this: BOTH of these things can be poorly managed, and I broadly support both. They should exist in tandem. I am pro-accredited zoo and am extremely sensitive towards misinformation. I also do think the best place for animals to be is in their natural environment, but nature "preserves" aren't inherently perfect. They can also be prone to the capitalist (and colonialist) pressures that less informed people believe they're somehow immune to.

Because of the goal of my project being to make the setting of WC accurate to Northwestern England, my research is based on UK laws, ecology, and conservation programs.

On Zoos

On Nature Reserves

An Aside on Fortress Conservation

On Zoos

The legal definition of a Zoo in the UK (because that is what BB's ecological education is based around), as defined by the Zoo Licensing Act of 1981 (ZLA), is a "place where wild animals are kept for exhibition to the public," excluding circuses and pet shops (which are covered by different laws.)

This applies equally to private, for-profit zoos, as well as zoos run by wildlife charities and conservation organizations. Profit does not define a zoo. If there's a place trying to tell you it's not a zoo but a "sanctuary" or a "wildlife park," but you can still go visit and see captive wild animals, even if it's totally free, it's a marketing trick. Legally that is still a zoo in the UK.

(for fellow Americans; OUR definition is broader, more patchwork because we are 50 little countries in a trenchcoat, and can include collections of animals not displayed to the public.)

That said, there's a HUGE difference between Chester Zoo, run by the North of England Zoological Society, which personally holds the studbooks for maintaining the genetic diversity of 10 endangered species, has 134 captive breeding projects, cultivates 265 threatened plant species, and sends its members as consultants to United Nations conferences on climate change, and Sam Tiddles' Personal Zebra Pit.

Sam Tiddles' Personal Zebra Pit ONLY has to worry about the UK government. There's another standard zoos can hold themselves to if they want to get serious about conservation like Chester Zoo; Accreditation. There are two major zoo organizations in the UK, BIAZA and EAZA.

(Americans may wonder about AZA; that's ours. AZA, EAZA, and BIAZA are all members of the World Association of Aquariums and Zoos, or WAZA, but they are all individual organizations.)

A zoo going for EAZA's "accreditation" has to undergo an entire year of evaluation to make sure they fit the strict standards, and renewal is ongoing. You don't just earn it once. You have to keep your animal welfare up-to-date and in compliance or you will lose it.

The benefit of joining with an accredited org is that it puts the zoo into a huge network of other organizations. They work together for various conservation efforts.

There are DOZENS of species that were prevented from going extinct, and are being reintroduced back to their habitats, because of the work done by zoos. The scimitar-horned oryx, takhi, California condor, the Galapagos tortoise, etc. Some of these WERE extinct in the wild and wouldn't BE here if it hadn't been for zoos!

The San Diego zoo is preventing the last remaining hawaiian crows from embracing oblivion right now, a species for which SO LITTLE of its wild behavior is known they had to write the book on caring for them, and Chester zoo worked in tandem with the Uganda Wildlife Authority to provide tech and funding towards breakthroughs in surveying wild pangolins.

Don't get me wrong;

MOST zoos are not accredited,

nor is accreditation is REQUIRED to make a good zoo,

nor does it automatically PROVE nothing bad has happened in the zoo,

There are a lot more Sam Tiddles' Personal Zebra Pits than there are Chester Zoos.

That's worth talking about! We SHOULD be having conversations on things like,

Is it appropriate to keep and breed difficult, social megafauna, like elephants or cetaceans? What does the data say? Are there any circumstances where that would be okay, IF the data does confirm we can never provide enough space or stimulation to perfectly meet those species' needs?

How can we improve animal welfare for private zoos? Should we tighten up regulations on who can start or run one (yes)? Are there enough inspectors (no)?

Do those smaller zoos meaningfully contribute to better conservation? How do we know if they are properly educating their visitors? Can we prove this one way or the other?

Who watches the watchmen? Accreditation societies hold themselves accountable. Do these organizations truly have enough transparency?

(I don't agree with Born Free's ultimate conclusion that we should "phase out" zoos, but you should always understand the opposing arguments)

But bottom line of my opinion is; Good zoos are deeply important, and they have a tangible benefit to wildlife conservation. Anyone who tries to tell you that "zoos are inherently unethical" either knows very little about zoos or real conservation work, or... is hiding some deeper, more batshit take, like "having wild animals in any kind of captivity is unlawful imprisonment."

(you'll also get a lot more work done in regulating the exotic animal trade in the UK if you go after private owners, btw. zoos have nothing to do with how lax those laws are.)

Anyway I'm a funny cat blog about battle kitties, and the stuff I do for BB is to educate about the ecosystem of Northern England. If you want to know more about zoos, debunking misconceptions, and critiques from someone with more personal experience, go talk to @why-animals-do-the-thing!

Keep in mind though, again, they talk about American zoos, where this post was written with the UK in mind.

(and even then, England specifically. ALL UK members and also the Isle of Man have differences in their laws.)

(If anyone has other zoo education tumblr blogs in mind, especially if they are European, lmk and I'll edit this post)

On Nature Reserves

Remember how broad the legal definition of a zoo actually was? Same thing over here. A "nature reserve" in the UK is a broad, unofficial generic term for several things. It doesn't inherently involve statutory protection, either, meaning there's some situations where there's no laws to hold anyone accountable for damage

These are the "nature reserve" types relevant to my project; (NOTE: Ramsar sites, SACs, and SPAs are EU-related and honestly, I do not know how Brexit has effected them, if at all, so I won't be explaining something I don't understand.)

Local Wildlife Site (LWS) Selected via scientific survey and managed locally, connecting wildlife habitats together and keeping nature close to home. VERY important... and yet, incredibly prone to destruction because there aren't good reporting processes in place. Whenever a report comes out every few years, the Wildlife Trust says it often only gets data for 15% of all their registered sites, and 12% get destroyed in that timeframe.

Local Nature Reserve (LNR) A site that can be declared by a district or county council, if proven to have geographic, educational, biodiversity, or recreational value. The local authority manages this, BUT, the landowner can remain in control of the property and "lease" it out (and boy oh boy, landowners do some RIDICULOUS things)

National Nature Reserve (NNR) This is probably closest to what you think of when someone says "nature reserve." Designated by Natural England to protect significant habitat ranges and geographic formations, but still usually operates in tandem with private land owners who must get consent if they want to do something potentially damaging to the NNR.

Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI) (pronounced Triple S-I) A conservation designation for a particular place, assessed and defined by Natural England for its biological or geographic significance. SSSIs are protected areas, and often become the basis for NNRs, LNRs, Ramsar sites, SACs, SPAs, etc.

So you probably noticed that 3/4 of those needed to have the private ownership problem mentioned right in the summary, and it doesn't end there. Even fully government-managed NNRs and SSSIs work with the private sectors of forestry, tourism, and recreation.

We live under Capitalism; EVERYTHING has a profit motive, not just zoos.

I brushed over some of those factors in my Moorland Research Notes and DESPERATELY tried to stay succinct with them, but it was hard. The things that can happen to skirt around the UK's laws protecting wildlife could make an entire season of Monty Python sketches.

Protestors can angrily oppose felling silver birch (a "weed" in this context which can change the ecosystem) because it made a hike less 'pretty' and they don't understand heath management.

Management can be reluctant to ban dogs and horses for fear of backlash, even as they turn heath to sward before our eyes.

Reserves can be owned by Count Bloodsnurt who thinks crashing through the forest with a pack of dogs to exhaust an animal to death is a profitable traditional British passtime.

Or you can literally just pretend that you accidentally chased a deer for several hours and then killed it while innocently sending your baying hounds down a trail. (NOTE: I am pro-hunting, but not pro-animal cruelty.)

The Forestry Commission can slobber enthusiastically while replacing endangered wildlife habitats with non-native, invasive sitka spruce plantations, pretending most trees are equal while conveniently prioritizing profitable timber species.

I have STORIES to tell about the absolute Looney Tunes bullshit that's going on between conservationists and rich assholes who want to sell grouse hunting access, but I'll leave it at this fascinating tidbit about air guns and mannequins which are "totally, absolutely there for no nefarious reason at all, certainly not to prevent marsh harriers from nesting in an area where they also keep winding up mysteriously killed in illegal snares, no no no"

BUT. Since Nature Reserve isn't a hard defined legal concept, and any organization could get involved in local conservation in the UK, and just about anyone or anything could own one... IT'S CHESTER ZOO WITH THE STEEL CHAIR!!

They received a grant in 2021 to restore habitat to a stretch of 10 miles extending outside of their borders, working with TONS of other entities such as local government and conservation charities in the process. There's now 6,000 square meters of restored meadow, an orchard, new ponds, and maintained reedbeds, because of them.

It isn't just Chester Zoo, either. It's all over the UK. Durrel Wildlife, which runs Jersey Zoo, just acquired 18,500 acres to rewild in Perthshire. Citizen Zoo is working with the Beaver Trust to bring beavers back to London and is always looking for volunteers to help with their river projects, and the Edinburgh Zoo is equipped with gene labs being used to monitor and analyze the remaining populations of non-hybrid Scottish Wildcats.

The point being,

Nature preserves have problems too. They are not magical fairy kingdoms that you put up a fence around and then declare you Saved Nature Hooray! They need to be protected. They need to be continuously assessed. They are prone to capitalist pressures just like everything else on this hell planet. Go talk to my boy Karl he'll give you a hug about it.

"Nature Preserves" are NOT an "alternative" to zoos and vice versa. They do not do the same thing. A zoo is a center of education and wildlife research which displays exotic animals. A nature preserve is a parcel of native ecosystem. We need LOTS of nature preserves and we need them well-managed ASAP.

We could never just "replace" zoos with nature preserves, and we're nowhere near the amount of protected ecosystem space to start thinking of scaling back animals in captivity. Until King Arthur comes out of hibernation to save Britain, that's the world we live in.

An Aside

My project and my research is based on the isle of Great Britain. The more I learn about the ecosystems that are naturally found there, the more venomously I reject the old lie, "humans are a blight."

YOU are an animal. You're a big one, too. You know what the role of big animals in an ecosystem are? Change. Elephants knock over trees, wolves alter the course of rivers, bison fertilize the plains from coast-to-coast. In Great Britain, that's what hominids have done for 900,000 years, their populations ebbing and flowing with every ice age.

Early farming created the moors and grazing sheep and cattle maintain it, hosting hundreds of specialist species. Every old-growth forest has signs of ancient coppicing and pollarding, which create havens for wildlife when well-managed. Corn cockle evolved as a mimic of wheat seeds, so farmers would plant it over and over within their fields.

This garbage idea that humans are somehow "separate" from or "above" nature is poison. It's not true ANYWHERE.

It contributes to an idea that our very presence is somehow damaging to natural spaces, and to "protect" it, we have to completely leave it alone. NO! Absolutely NOT! There are places where we have to limit harvesting and foot traffic, but humans ALWAYS lived in nature.

Even the ecosystems that this mindset comes from rejects it, but this shit doesn't JUST get applied to British people who become alienated and disconnected from their surroundings to the point where they don't know what silver birch does.

It's DEADLY for the indigenous people who protect 80% of our most important ecosystems.

It's a weapon against the Maasai people, stopped from hunting or growing crops on their own land. It's violence for 9 San hunters shot at by a helicopter with a "kill poachers on-sight" policy, as one of the world's LARGEST diamond mines operates in the same motherfucking park. The Havasupai people are kept out of the Grand Canyon that they managed for generations because they might "collect too many nuts" and starve squirrels, Dukha reindeer herders suddenly get banned from chopping wood or fishing, and watch wolves decimate their animals in the absence of their herding dogs.

It's nightmare after nightmare of human displacement in the name of "conservation."

That all ties back to that mindset. This idea that nature is pure, "pristine," and should be totally untouched. There are some starting to call it Fortress Conservation.

You can't begin to understand the criticisms of modern conservation without acknowledging that we are still living under the influence of capitalism and colonialism. Those who fixate on speaking for "animals/nature/trees who don't have a voice" often seem to have no interest in the indigenous people who do.

Listen. There's no simple answer; and the solution will vary for each region.

Again, my project is within the UK, one of the most ecologically devastated areas in the world. There are bad zoos that the law allows a pass. There are incredible zoos that are vital to conservation, in and outside of the country. There's not enough nature preserves. The best ones that exist are often exploited for profit.

I hope that my silly little blog sparks an interest in a handful of people to understand more about their own local ecosystems, and teaches folks about the unique beauty even within a place as "boring" as England.

But, my straightforward statement is that I have no patience for nonconstructive, broad zoo slander that lumps together ALL of them, and open contempt for anyone who tries to sell nature preserves like a perfect, morally superior "alternative." We need them BOTH right now, and we need to acknowledge that zoos AND preserves have legal and ethical issues that aren't openly talked about.

#ALSO THAT GUIDE IVE BEEN WORKING ON IS DONE #Im just waiting for the input of the sensitivity readers bc I made a whole section on-- #How ableis m might express in the different clans #And part of it became a thunder-callout post lmaooooo #Also this zoo doc has been sitting competed in my drafts for a while #All this to say that uh. I hope the strange place they visit in the upcoming se is not a zoo :J #I will hit it with a golf club if it is <3 #Leaning heavily towards the 'oh no two DEMIGODS ended up in a zoo' idea #Which is objectively funnier #And you know what else is objectively funny. When these posts break orbit and then ppl are surprised that i am a kitty cat blog #Hal. It's about Cats. #Bone Babble

[yoonia]

the bedroom hymns ● chapter x

⟶ Chapter summary | At last, you have finally found the way to continue to explore more places rather than only finding your way back to your old home. As you spread your wings to enjoy your newfound freedom, you unexpectedly find yourself crossing paths with another lost wanderer, whose presence seem to spark your empty soul and bring it back to life.  

⟶ Title | The Bedroom Hymns: a Bluebeard’s twist⟶ Pairings | Min Yoongi x female reader ⟶ Genre | Fairy Prince!Yoongi, Crown Princess!reader, Fantasy au, Fairy Tale retelling au⟶ Word count | 7,2k words⟶ Ratings | PG-13, +18 / M for Mature for future chapters; magic/dark magic, mention of stalking, criminal act. 

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chapter x. wanderers-1

As someone who appears to be quite oblivious to your own safety, you are still quite hard to track down and follow. 

This thought runs through Yoongi’s head as he threads his way through the market, finding trouble in following your movement as you expertly weaves through the people, delivery carts, and even the stalls. 

As if you are used to slipping into the crowd of people while making sure to remain unnoticed by everyone around you. 

If only that would have been the case with some other people as well. People like himself and the cloaked men who appear to be moving within your shadows because they all noticed your presence. 

Yoongi curses under his breath as he nearly bumps against a burly guard standing in front a nearby drugstore, almost failing to notice the massive guy who was guarding the store while he has been keeping his eyes closely on you. He just cannot afford to look away, albeit briefly, despite risking another collision with an innocent bystander and drawing attention through his recklessness. 

He has learned his mistakes after the previous encounters he had with you. Even when he wasn’t chasing you directly the way he is doing it now, he still cannot shake off the memories of you suddenly vanishing into thin air just when he was finally able to track you down. All he needed to do was to blink, or glance away briefly, anything that he would do to allow you to slip out of his sight, and you were suddenly gone. 

But the risk of losing you is greater now that he senses danger coming in, except that you are not making things easier for him to protect you. One too many times, you would slip out of Yoongi’s line of sight and he would struggle to find you again. Making him question his ability—for the first time ever in his lifetime—to track down a target, a skill which he had taken pride of in cultivating for many years.s.

As the Crown Prince, Yoongi has spent years training his combatting skills and has had many experiences in hunting game together with the forest faeries. Through it all, he garnered all the skills that have been useful for him as he prepares himself for the throne, and he has been crafting these skills further as he joined the mercenary army while in the human realm. 

Used against you, these skills of his seem to be worthless, and he wonders if you are secretly using some kind of a spell to help you escape each time he lays eyes on you. 

A spell, that’s it, he comes to a realisation as he watches you once again expertly avoiding bumping into a passing merchant who isn’t showing any reaction for the near collision. Not even a glance as you slither away to continue your journey. A subtle movement comes from you as you pull the hood of your cloak to fix it into position, and your hand stops to rest on your neck for a brief moment to give Yoongi the answer he needed. 

Of course, the necklace, he muses, recalling the night he visited your dream to see your ruby necklace glowing in response to the magic that he was using to see you. 

The one-sided chase continues until you both finally reaches the open area which seems to be a part of the town’s plaza. Here, the stalls are no longer placed so close together. There is a fountain at the center, where people gather in small groups to admire the marble statue that is standing in the middle while they all cool down next to the water. 

Around the plaza, there are different shops selling out fresh goods and handmade souvenirs. Trees grow here with small patches of green grass forming circles around them to give proper resting stops with shades for the people in need of a moment to rest between their trades. 

Unlike the other part of the market town, the mass of the people here are less dense. It makes it easier for Yoongi to get a clear view of your movements and to finally catch up on you. Yet he still keeps a safe distance, as he worries that his presence may alarm you more than your other suspicious stalkers would have. 

When you suddenly come to a halt in front of a stall selling handmade tapestries, your eyes looking at the goods that are placed on display with wide, amused eyes, Yoongi also stops and slides behind a parked cart to give you some space. He uses this moment to catch his breath while enjoying the view, as he finally gets to take a good look at you. 

He takes in the way you are dressed—the plain blouse and trousers hidden under the worn-out cloak that you are wearing are certainly adequate to hide your identity, and those pair of muddy boots cannot have been something that you simply plucked out of your fancy wardrobe for your late afternoon stroll.

She certainly has done something like this before, he wonders to himself. Just as the thought crosses his mind, he is suddenly reminded of Yijeong’s story about how he first met you at the pub while you were disguising yourself as a passing traveller. 

He wonders just how often you would do something like this, to slip away from your guards and blend with the common people while disguising as someone else. Thinking about this, Yoongi becomes restless. He clenches his hands as he imagines you roaming down the streets like this, yet instead of wandering in a busy market and while the afternoon sun is still glaring above his head, you are wandering in the slum area of Smotia—just like what Yijeong witnessed that one night and what his intel had reported back to him—and during the night. 

No matter how powerful the spell that your necklace possesses, there is no guarantee that it could properly protect you should you ever come across anyone with the right mana to look past it. Someone like himself, for example, who has enough mana to overcome the concealing spell coming from the necklace. 

Or the suspicious thugs that have been chasing your shadow, which—Yoongi only starts to realise now—must not have been regular humans if they manage to repel the spell and become aware of your presence among the other humans around. 

While Yoongi is still deep in his thoughts, you suddenly start moving again. Yoongi nearly misses his chance to follow you when you immediately make a turn towards the row of stores right across the crowded plaza. Right from the corner of his eyes, Yoongi catches the sight of your pursuers entering the side of the plaza where he first came from. And he can tell just by one look at you to know that you have yet to notice them coming, encouraging him to move even faster. 

Just like before, you expertly weave through the crowd, sometimes making it seem like you are using them as cover, concealing your tracks each time you make a sudden turn or switch direction in between the open stalls. You keep picking up your pace, and it seems to Yoongi that he is the only one who is blessed to be the quickest among your other pursuers to be able to keep up with your speed and agility. Soon enough, Yoongi starts losing sight of your other pursuers, much to his relief, as one by one they begin to slip away, as if deciding that pursuing you may no longer worth all the trouble. 

But the relief that he feels is short-lived once he realises where you are heading. 

Instead of walking towards a local store to continue your window shopping, you suddenly slip into a dark alleyway between two small shops that are currently closing down for their late afternoon break. 

Yoongi rushes to follow you into the alleyway. His thoughts are immediately filled with concern as you disappear into the dark shadows and he suddenly loses sight of you. The moment he is welcomed by nothing more but a long, empty alley filled with discarded carts and dumpsters and no sign of your presence in sight, panic strikes him. 

He takes a quick look around, making sure that nobody is following him as he begins walking deeper into the alleyway, noticing how it gets darker the further away he is from the market. 

The only illumination that is helping him see through the dark path is the streaks of the afternoon sunlight penetrating through the lines of broken sunshades above his head, creating a magnificent light-work across the dark alleyway, though it is not enough to light up the entire place completely. He keeps his eyes open as he carefully advances, staying alert to the shadows around him that seem to have come alive in the dark. 

A sudden movement coming from his right catches his attention. He turns and squints his eyes, trying to figure out what it is when all of a sudden, a figure steps into his path and blocks his way. 

“Fates!” he curses loudly as he barely manages to catch himself before crashing into the dark figure. 

He stumbles back with his hand gripping the handle of his short sword hanging against his hips. But the moment he finally gets a clear view of his intruder, everything in him stops. His hands freeze in place and his words simply die on his tongue. Even his breath is caught, causing him to unable to react or say a word until his lovely intruder speaks first,

“Hi!” 

For a moment, Yoongi almost believes that he is imagining things. Yet the cheerful voice that greets him forces him to quickly recover from his shock. Something that is quite a struggle to do when his heartbeat is pacing wildly inside his chest. 

The only thing he can breathe a sigh of relief from is the knowledge that his mask is still intact, helping to partially cover the expression on his face that he has no control over. Though he definitely knows that he looks nowhere near as calm as you are as you—whom he has been trailing—are now standing right before him, right within arm’s reach, with your wide eyes looking back at him completely amused.

For someone who has been moving with such speed through the marketplace and making Yoongi work hard to catch up, you are looking almost too calm for comfort. And you also seem pleased with yourself for having been able to catch him off guard, catching him red-handed while he is in the middle of pursuing you like an obsessed stalker. 

Blasphemy, Yoongi curses at the Fates, ticked off at how easy it was for him to fall for their wicked games. And here he is now, trapped with nowhere else to go, with the risk of revealing himself too soon before he is finally ready to do so. 

I guess there is no way escaping this now, Yoongi says to himself as he takes a deep breath and tries to find some semblance of composure as he comes face to face with the one person that he has been yearning to see. Even if it means that he must endure the fiery look you have in your eyes which is meant solely for him. 

Crossing your arms over your chest, you wait until your mysterious shadow responds back to you. 

You cannot hold back the amused smile that you know is now showing on your face. You simply cannot believe that you have been right all along—that you haven’t really been alone during your expeditions. It had doubt at first, thinking that it was purely due to your own insecurities that you kept feeling like you were being followed, watched, observed, even if you never saw any signs of someone following your shadows. 

But as that ominous presence continued to haunt you like a ghost, no matter where the magic doors kept sending you off to, you knew that you had to investigate further. 

It all started back during your visit to the center of your father’s most prestigious winemaking business, when you instantly felt his presence not long after you stepped out of the royal orchard house where the portal opened for you. The feeling of being watched continued to follow you as you strolled down the vineyard, and while you were never made to feel like you were in imminent danger, that feeling of someone shadowing your every move was quite hard for you to shake off upon your return to the home palace that you became wary ever since.

Once you discerned his presence, you continued to feel his presence around you ever since.

On the night you travelled back to the business district, when you stumbled into the quiet Oakes Village, and then again when you browsed through the transit town of Maplekeep. While he was not always there to shadow you in your travels, you have grown familiar to his lurking presence that you managed to recognise him among the crowd of people while you were trying to blend in with the crowd of people flooding the marketplace. 

Had it been a coincidence? 

You have been wondering about this for a while now, except that you have no idea how that would even be possible as you could barely predict where your journeys through the magic portals would take you to. So how would he be able to occasionally appear at the same place and at the same time as you have been, had it only been purely coincidental? 

That may have been the reason why you finally found courage to confront him directly and find out the truth. Though it didn’t stop you from playing around a little to test and see if you are correct in your assumptions that he has been following you close behind, when you deliberately tried to make him lose your trail and yet he kept managing to come close enough to catch up on you. 

It was through your jest to initiate a play of chase when the idea to ambush him in this dark alleyway abruptly came to you. You didn’t even allow yourself to think twice as slipped into hiding, without any thoughts to plan what to do next. 

Suddenly he is here, standing right in front of you, and you did the first thing that you could think of to finally make contact with your shadow—by saying hi. Like an utter fool that would have put Nanny Abigail to shame. 

You keep a smile on your face while wishing that you can read the expression on his face much better than this. Because aside from the shock you clearly see in his eyes, the rest of his face is partially covered by the silky thin mask that he is wearing as a disguise—much to your disappointment. 

The fright in his eyes vanishes too quickly, however, as he soon sobers up. It is hard to discern his thoughts as you try to study the man under the restricted lights. And he doesn’t give you much to work on as he calmly tilts his head, showing curiosity in return, before surprising you with his own greeting that comes in his deep voice, “Um…hello?”

At the sound of his voice, a sense of familiarity overcomes you from the stranger’s presence. Making you feel as if you had met him before. 

And not simply as your lurking shadow, but from a time before you first sensed him around you. Perhaps even long before you started using the magic doors to travel away from the home castle. 

All of a sudden, you feel a deep longing blooming inside your chest. A feeling that you haven’t felt for quite some time. 

But it is hard to know the reason why you are feeling this way or to recognise him with his face covered by his mask. The darkness around you isn’t helping much either, as the sunlight barely reaches down to this hidden spot where you had chosen to ambush him, not giving you enough illumination to be able to see him as clearly as you wish to.

“Are you perhaps lost, my kind Sir?” you calmly inquire him when he merely gives you silence other than his bemused 'hello’.

You decide to make the first move in the hopes that you can get him to talk to you. Perhaps you can coax him into moving a bit closer, or to simply slide over under the nearby streak of light so you can get a better look at the man. 

Instead, his eyebrows rise in response your question. “Me?” He lets out a deep chuckle which somehow makes you feel a bit fuzzy on the inside with no particular reason. 

“Not that I know of,” he answers with a slight jest in his voice. “I was actually wondering if you had lost your way. Seeing that you are hanging around in such a dark place when there is a whole market with magnificent goods to look at just outside of this alley.” 

This time, you are the one left to feel surprised. He may not be making a move to step out of the shadows as he speaks, but getting a response out of him pleases you. It makes for a good start if you want to find some answers. 

“Then perhaps you can tell me why you have been following me. What are you up to?” 

His gaze flickers with wonder. “I’m not following you,” he says in return while acting as if you have insulted him with your accusations, causing you to roll your eyes. 

“Right. Then I suppose that was all just my imagination,” you playfully scoff at him, and for a second, you almost think that you can see his lips twitching to a smile under his mask. 

But you quickly brush it off since it is a bit too dark to confirm it. You convince yourself that in your need to see a reaction from him, you are made to see things that are not there. 

Yet he seems open to play along as the man lifts both of his hands. “Alright, I must admit, that I may have been unintentionally following your movements,” he confesses, though you doubt that he feels any guilt for doing so. “I may have failed to realise that I was indeed following you until much later. But in my defense, I had probably done it out of instinct at first, and continued on because I was afraid that I would lose sight of you in the busy market.” 

“Lose sight of me?” This time, you are the one raising your eyebrows. “So you saw me browsing through the market and decided to, what—follow me to see wherever I was going?” You raise your chin as if to challenge him. “Now, why would you do something like that to a complete stranger?”

The man takes a small step forward, just enough to allow a faint trace of light to fall on the lower part of his face—the part that is covered by the thin mask—to show you a hint of a smile forming from beneath. 

“You—caught my eyes,” he says, sounding almost mesmerised. “Back in the marketplace, I saw you there and—” 

He suddenly stops himself and immediately looks uneasy. It is quite possible that he can clearly see the look of distrust that is no doubt written all over your face and realises quickly the flaw in his unspoken words. After all, he is merely a stranger confessing to have been following you around for no apparent reason at all.    

Any playfulness that he has been showing you slowly dwindles. Then he begins speaking in a gentle voice as if to reassure you, “I have no ill intention, I promise. I can explain why I was following your trail all the way here.” 

“Is that so? Then do tell,” you challenge him, needing to hear his truth. Yet you keep your voice calm and light to try and get rid of the tension that is rising between you out of distrust. Because for some reason, you do believe him. Even if his actions seems shady, you have never once felt anything that caused you alarm. Still, you will have to listen to his reason to decide whether are not he is trustworthy. “Please kindly explain to me the real reason why you have been stalking me if not to put me in harm’s way.”

There is a twinkle sparkling in his eyes which resembles pride. As if your inquiry amuses him. 

“Hmmm, let’s see—” he starts, acting like he is thinking deeply about how to answer you. “I remember strolling through the market to see if I could find some damsel to rescue. But then a little dove appeared before me, a figure that I had never before seen wandering in a place such as this town, where people from various places would frequently come and go and no binding law nor proper guards to protect her from imminent danger.” 

He makes a dramatic sigh before he continues, “Before I could stop myself, I found myself following the little dove’s tracks, as I suddenly felt a strong desire to keep an eye on her to make sure that this little dove wouldn’t stray too far into the crowds and lose her way home.” 

“A damsel?” You let out an incredulous laugh. “A little dove? Are you actually talking about me?” 

The man tilts his head. There is nothing condescending about the way he is looking at you nor when he was referring you to be a lost damsel, though it does make you flustered to be under his unwavering attention. His intense gaze seems to lock you in place, and it doesn’t seem to be the kind that would be enough to scare you or give you the urge to run away. 

In fact, he intrigues you. There is something about him that draws you in. Maybe it’s his eyes? Or is it his voice? Or perhaps—

He takes another step closer, and you get to see more of his figure. You get to notice that he is also wearing a cloak with its hood pulled up to cover his head, putting more shadows onto his face even when there is enough streak of light falling down on him. 

“Is it not the most fitting name?” he gently asks. He peruses you with his gaze, and you can swear that his eyes linger for a brief moment at your hips, as if he can see through the cloak to find the golden dagger that you carry with you for protection. 

When his eyes rise to meet yours, they light up further with an expression that almost looks like pride and joy. “You may look nothing alike any damsel in distress that one would normally find roaming the streets, but you were moving as freely as a dove would. That’s why I couldn’t resist following your shadows to keep you safe.” 

Just as he says this, your cheeks suddenly grow warm and your heartbeat starts to pick up its pace. You have no idea why you are reacting this way to a complete stranger. Much less someone who you should be the most wary of. But his words of acknowledgement and the way he regards you with his deep eyes are affecting you more than they should. 

“If I haven’t been the damsel that you thought I was, then what did you see in me that still called for your attention?” 

The man strolls even closer until he is standing right before you. Close enough for you to feel his warmth and the flutter of his cloak brushing against yours. Being this close, you are once again struck by the familiar sensation you feel coming out of him in waves. He stands right below a streak of sunlight, finally emerging completely from the dark shadows to make him stand out in your eyes. 

“What I saw was a valiant dove,” he says, referring to you with the new endearment which he has given you, making your heart flutter more intensely, “a dove that was curious and bold, flying with her wings fluttering through the breeze while looking so eager to experience the little adventures which she was so invested in. A dove that glowed under the sun as she was enjoying her small chance of freedom. But in her joy, she seemed to disregard her own safety, forgetting the fact that the world—no matter how beautiful it is—wouldn’t be as safe as she thought it would be.” 

His words draw a smile to your face. “Let me guess,” you playfully point out, “you are a poet.” 

The man laughs. “I’ll be whatever you want me to be, little dove. As long as you would allow me to fly alongside you during your visit to this town. That way I can be your second pair of eyes to keep a look out of your surroundings for you while you get to bask in your little freedom. I might also act as your second dagger to protect you should harm ever decides to come your way.” 

His comment may be light and playful, yet his words strike at you so deeply that they pull at your heartstrings. The way he describes the way you are enjoying your little excursion makes you draw a deep inhale of breath and feel relieved at the same time. 

As if he knows just how much this small chance of freedom truly means to you. 

But how would he know? 

The moment you start wondering about this, you almost laugh at yourself. You cannot believe just how gullible you suddenly sound, even to yourself, for believing that a stranger might know more about you than other people around you would. 

He could be no different than a predator trying to corner his prey. Just like any predator, he can simply be an expert in recognising weaknesses to find someone to prey on. And in this case, that someone could be you.  

But he still recognises your need for freedom. Regardless of how he was able to see it without ever getting too close, it still stirs warm, fuzzy feeling rising in your chest. The feeling that comes from being seen. 

“How did you know that I am not from around here? Was it really that obvious?” you question him further while trying to push down the little spark of joy that you are starting to revel in. 

His gaze softens. “I just know it,” he simply says with a wistful tone of voice, making you wonder just how much he truly knows about you. 

Despite how open he has been in answering your questions, you can tell that he is still hiding something. He may have claimed to have no ill intention, but you have no doubt that he may still have other intentions than to simply protect a lone damsel in a strange land. 

This raises your curiosity enough which leads you to question him directly, “Was it also the reason why you were following me back at the royal orchard house and kept your eyes on me while I was strolling down the vineyard? To keep me safe?” 

He looks taken aback. Unlike before, when you constantly surprised him with snarky returns during your banters, his awe feels more potent. Because, obviously, he would have never expected that you have been noticing his presence on other accounts as well. 

While he takes his time to respond, your lips curl to a coy smile as you add, “Yes, I know that you were also there. I may have grounds to believe that I sensed your presence on other events and places as well.” 

Seeing how much you seem to enjoy catching him off guard, the man lets out a baffled laugh. “So you already caught me.” 

“You’re not even going to deny it?” you ask him with your eyebrows raised.

Your question draws a smile to his face that grows wide enough the mask can barely hide if from you.

“I could try and I know I won’t succeed,” he says while shaking his head. “You already saw right through me before I even tried to make up a lie to cover up my poor lack of judgement. I might be a terrible liar or I just cannot seem to lie to you. Whatever the case may be, I just know for sure that it would be best not to even try and risk making a fool out of myself by giving you an outright denial.”

For some reason, he only intrigues you even more with this confession of his. “A poet who isn’t good at lying. How interesting.” 

He shrugs. “I already told you that I can be whatever you want me to be. I could be nothing more but a traveller who is visiting the town and looking for a place to stay before going to the next destination. Not entirely different than what I’m assuming to be your intention as well. But I must listen to my heart as it decides to do one last good deed before I depart from this town.” 

While he appeals to you with his reasons under the golden streaks of the afternoon sunlight, you take this chance to have a proper look at him. 

The cloak that he is wearing may not have any emblem or embroideries added to its fabric, yet you can easily tell that it is not just a regular cloak that any common people would be wearing. The leather belts he wears over his attire and the golden chains hanging at the front which hold the cloak and his armour together are also showing more truth about him than what he is letting you to believe. 

And unlike you, who keeps your dagger hidden under your cloak, he has his short sword completely exposed, hanging right at the hip. You had even caught him reaching for it right before you revealed yourself to him, so you know for sure that he is capable enough to use it to protect himself and fight against any threat coming at him. 

Even without the emblem to identify himself, his demeanour, the smooth way that he speaks and his gentle gesture, the humming energy that you can somehow sense coming from him, and the way he is meticulously dressed his part are all forcing you to recall a certain mercenary whom you met quite a while ago. Allowing you to have a good guess of who he might be. 

“You and I both know that you are more than just a regular traveller,” you simply state once you are beginning to have a good grasp of his true identity. Looking straight into his eyes, you lay out everything about him that you have surmised through your keen observation. “You are a part of the notorious mercenary army that has been exploring and spreading through the continent. I might even surmise what the people around the continent have been calling you, as I’ve heard the brotherhood’s name being whispered among both the common folks and the nobles.” 

The name of the mercenary group echoes through your thoughts as your eyes linger briefly at his shiny sword. Ever since the day you spoke with your father’s advisors about the possibility that they were behind the rise of rebellion forming in the outer districts of Nythelean’s territory, it seems that their name has been engraved in your memory for good.

The Brotherhood of Jorn. 

The brotherhood of men from all over the continent that have banded together under the same purpose, the same pretext, which is to build an army of capable men to protect their kin and the common folks that are not under the jurisdiction law of the reigning monarch. And the mercenary group has since multiplied in numbers, with so many young men who have not been eligible to become the royal guards and knights joining the brotherhood to earn their keep. 

“You may not be wearing their emblem or the armour that those who are part of the mercenary group would often wear when they are in public,” you continue while pointing at the armour on his chest which is only partly hidden under his cloak and then at his sword, “and your disguise may have fooled others, allowing them to think that you a mere traveller passing through on your way to the Capital. But I can tell that you are one of them. And I wouldn’t be surprised if that is true. I know that your men work for the Barons and merchants who travel through this area and the districts surrounding the Land of Smotia.”

The pride look presented through his eyes becomes clearer. “Seems to me that I had underestimated you,” he says with a low chuckle. “First, you showed me that you have a remarkable sense of awareness when you were weaving your way through the market while trying to shake me off of your trail. And secondly, you are quite knowledgeable about weapons and the politics happening in the continent.” 

His acknowledgement brings a smile to your face. “So I was once again correct with my assumptions?

Once again, he shakes his head. “There was never a point in denying it, is there?” With a soft chuckle, he then straightens himself to his full height. “Perhaps admitting the truth should be enough to show you that I truly have no ill intention upon approaching you.” 

Hearing this, you can only exhale a relieved breath. The truth is, even if you never once felt intimidated by his presence, everything that you said to him just now has been a gamble. You had no idea what kind of threat he may bring upon you and yet, at the risk of your own safety, you still confronted him to finally have some answers.

You may not have all of the right answers to ease your mind just yet, but knowing that he isn’t posing a threat to you is enough for now. Because that means that you will be able to continue with your expeditions while learning about your father’s magic.

And you wouldn’t have to worry about losing your newfound freedom through your secret escape just to avoid danger.

“I suppose I can take your word,” you simply say to him, “for now.”

He nods, understanding your need to be cautious. “Then the only thing that I can do is to make sure I won’t disappoint you by showing you otherwise once you’ve placed your faith in me. And now that the truth is finally out in the open—” he starts to say just as he glances sideways, as if something has caught his attention from the other side of the dark alleyway, “this might be a good time to let you know that I was not the only one in this place who had set their eyes on you.” 

You quickly glance around, despite not sensing any other presence but your own from the other parts of the alley. It is also quite hard to see through the shadows now that the golden sunlight is beginning to descend from the sky above, as the day is shifting towards the coming evening. 

“What do you mean?” 

“This is actually another reason why I had to follow your tracks, even when I told myself that I shouldn’t come any closer. Have you not noticed any other movement following your shadows other than mine?” he questions you with his voice lowered and his hands touching lightly on your upper arms as if to stop you from moving away from his cover, as he is using his body to hide you from sight. “Look over my shoulders, discreetly, and tell me what you see.” 

With your brows furrowed, you lean forward to sneak a glance from over his shoulder. A task that is so simple, yet so hard to do, when the feeling of his chest brushing closely to yours and the woody scent wafting from his body are all too distracting to help you to focus. 

“Do you see now what I meant when I talked about your disregard for your own safety?” he whispers to you. With the lack of distance between you, his deep voice seems to be brushing at your skin. Even as the mask that he has been wearing remains to cover his face.

You blink and try once again to focus on what you are supposed to be doing. The moment you open your eyes again, that is when you finally see them.

Right at the entrance of the alleyway where you came in from, suspicious men are hovering like wild dogs. Two of those men are tall and burly, while the rest are lean, yet they all look equally as rough as the infamous street thugs that you have heard being talked about during your previous travels, with scars on their skin and muscles bulging from beneath their clothes. 

While they are all wearing common people’s clothing, every single one of them are packed with weapons hanging on their chests, hips, and back, even some on their legs, which would be enough to intimidate others—various-sized daggers, knives, and small swords that would be easy for them to swing while being in the crowd. 

“Who are they?” you whisper to him as you slink back down to take cover, making use of his broader body to shield you from their sight. Even though none of those men seem to be paying attention to the dark space within the alleyway. 

Not yet, anyway. As they are still busy looking around towards the market and the streets beyond the alley, as if they are searching for a specific person that may slip in between the people who are moving from one shop to another. 

“Wait—are they looking for me?” you ask him with a sharp whisper. Just thinking about being a target to this thugs seems baffling. You mentally chastise yourself for being so complacent—after being able to have smooth travels where no threats were present, or having anyone noticing your presence at all before—and for celebrating too soon when you found out that the man who is now shielding you in the shadows had been a threat. When the truth is that you have yet to escape the possible danger that was truly threatening to get in your way. 

“My best guess would be that they are the local thugs that have been roaming around the market town. They have been causing disturbances around here, causing troubles with travelling merchants and visitors that had come here to shop. They would steal money, pick their pockets, and oftentimes force small shops to pay up ‘security money’ to keep them from messing up their stores. It is one of the main reasons why more and more merchants and shop-owners hire mercenaries like myself and my brothers to protect their business—and themselves—from thugs like them.”

He looks straight into your eyes after revealing this to you. “I’m sure they could easily tell that you were a newcomer, a fresh face that they could prey on.” 

You merely scoff at this. “Well, if that truly was what they thought about me, they would be wrong. No one is making a prey out of me.” 

His eyes sparkle with awe and pride. “I have no doubt about it at all,” he says, “but I would still advise you to stay close to me to avoid getting into any trouble.” 

He stops to gauge your reaction to his offer. When he notices how wary you are still, he bends down to meet your gaze and reassure you, “I won’t hurt you. I promise.” 

Your lips twitch to a smile. “How am I supposed to trust you when I don’t even know your name?” you question him. “And don’t get me started with that mask. I feel like out of everyone around here, there is more chance of you being a thief or a thug than those men would be.”

“You’re right. How silly of me,” he says with a soft chuckle. Keeping his eyes on you, he brings his hand up and gently plucks his mask off, revealing his face to you.

The moment you see him, something seems to come alive inside your chest. You have no idea what it is or why your body is reacting this way. Even that same sense of familiarity, filled with a peculiar feeling of yearning, returns to you tenfold, even when you cannot remember if you have ever met him before. 

But you find it hard to figure things out when you are too awe-struck by his face, his smile, and the warm gaze he is giving you now. 

“My name is Min Yoongi,” he says, introducing himself as he takes your hand and kisses the back of it. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss—” 

“Call me _____,” you carefully introduce yourself in return, surprising yourself with how easy it feels. To feel so much weight being lifted from your shoulders when you simply give him your name. 

Just a name. 

Without any title attached to it. Without any attachment to your father, the crown, and the royal palace clinging onto you. As if you have been reborn into a completely different person while still being you. 

And you absolutely love how liberating it feels. 

“________,” Yoongi repeats with a wistful tone of voice, as if he is entranced by your name. The sound he makes brings warmth to your face, which gets more intense when his gaze seems to grow sharper when he is saying your name. 

There is also a peculiar twinkle in his eyes that draws you in once he hears introducing yourself, as if your name itself has become a spell that puts him in a trance. Yet the look disappears too quickly before you get to see it more clearly. 

“Do you trust me, _____?” he asks you while he is still holding your hand in his. 

“Yes,” you find yourself answering him in a similarly wistful tone of voice. Not because you are suddenly put under his spell—though you have no doubt that he may be capable of doing so—but because you do trust him. 

Not only because of how captivated you are by him, but also because for some odd, questionable reason, his presence feels like home. 

And it puts you at ease to simply take his hand and allow him to take you away. For you suddenly have faith on him to believe that he will be able to keep you safe. “Yes, I trust you,” you muse with a smile. “Now take me away from here.” 

— © 2023 Yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind is not allowed. unsolicited translations are not allowed.

#yoongi scenarios #k-vanity #btscreaturescoven #bangtanwhq #bangtansorciere #yoongi fanfic #yoongi scenario #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #suga scenario #suga smut #suga angst #suga fluff #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts x reader

[crop-protection-market]

The Rise of Vertical Farming in Protected Cultivation

Introduction

Vertical farming emerges as a disruptive force within the Protected Cultivation Industry, offering a paradigm shift in sustainable crop production methodologies. This summary elucidates the burgeoning trend of vertical farming, delineating its impact on the industry landscape and the myriad opportunities it presents for growers and stakeholders.

Market Dynamics

Vertical farming experiences meteoric growth, propelling the market to $6.7 billion in 2023. Forecasts anticipate a robust Compound Annual Growth Rate CAGR of 15% - 17%, envisaging a market valuation of $12.4 - 14.8 billion by 2028. This surge is fueled by the escalating adoption of vertical farming solutions, driven by imperatives of space efficiency and sustainable crop cultivation.

Sustainable Paradigms in Vertical Farming

Resource Optimization

Sustainable vertical farming pivots on resource optimization, entailing a reduction in water consumption and a mitigation of environmental footprint. Innovations spanning water-efficient irrigation systems, LED lighting, and organic cultivation methodologies amplify crop quality and productivity while curtailing resource usage.

Urban Agriculture and Food Security

Vertical farming assumes a pivotal role in urban agriculture, countering food security conundrums and provisioning fresh produce to burgeoning urban populations. Harnessing vertical expanse within urban locales fortifies local food resilience, truncates food miles, and champions sustainability.

Circular Economy Principles in Vertical Farming - Waste Reduction

Circular economy principles permeate vertical farming endeavors, advocating recycling, waste minimization, and resource recuperation to orchestrate a self-sustaining ecosystem. Stratagems encompassing composting, nutrient recycling, and water reutilization assuage waste generation while propagating sustainable agrarian practices.

Market Outlook: Opportunities and Challenges

Opportunities

Resource Efficiency: Sustainable vertical farming methodologies optimize resource utilization, curtailing water consumption and assuaging environmental footprint.

Local Food Production: Vertical farming augments local food production, fortifying urban agriculture, and assuring food security by provisioning fresh produce to urban enclaves.

Innovation and Collaboration: Adoption of sustainable vertical farming practices fosters an ambiance of innovation, collaboration, and knowledge dissemination within the industry fraternity.

Challenges

Technological Integration: Implementation of sustainable vertical farming paradigms necessitates specialized knowledge, technical acumen, and investments in cutting-edge technologies.

Regulatory Compliance: Adherence to environmental strictures, food safety edicts, and sustainability certifications poses a regulatory labyrinth for vertical farming operatives.

Market Competition: Burgeoning landscape of the vertical farming milieu precipitates heightened competition, necessitating stratagems of differentiation, value augmentation, and perpetual innovation.

Conclusion

The ascendancy of vertical farming in the Protected Cultivation Market heralds a transformative epoch for sustainable agriculture, urban food provisioning, and environmental guardianship. By embracing sustainable methodologies, stakeholders within the vertical farming milieu are poised to spearhead innovative crop cultivation techniques and propel industry expansion.

#Protected Cultivation Market Analysis #Protected Cultivation Market Demand #Protected Cultivation Market Forecast #Protected Cultivation Market Growth #Protected Cultivation Market Outlook #Protected Cultivation Market Revenue #Protected Cultivation Market Size #Protected Cultivation Market Trends #Protected Cultivation market #Protected Cultivation Industry #Protected Cultivation market share #Protected Cultivation Industry research reports #Protected Cultivation market research reports #Protected Cultivation market major players

[marquezian]

‘Some PRs won’t be happy until MotoGP is just a corporate event, stripped of its beauty and soul’

(OP Note: Mat Oxley has a new article out about his battle with KTM's PR but its behind a paywall so I grabbed it since it's a great read! here's the original link)

The MotoGP paddock can be a battlefield between PRs and journalists, who have opposing goals. Once again Mat Oxley has a MotoGP PR machine coming after him and this time the fallout is gloriously entertaining

A couple of years ago I had a disagreement with the PR people from a MotoGP team who tried to stop me doing my job.

I wrote a blog about it. Because a journalist’s only power comes from his or her laptop. If we don’t tell these people to back off, pretty soon there’ll be no point in journalists attending races, so you’ll all just have to enjoy the PR releases instead.

Also, these stories offer fans an interesting insight into the weird and occasionally wonderful dynamics of a journalist’s life in the paddock.

Even better, this latest story is hilarious in its craziness. The team’s PR machine started out complaining that I hadn’t used a certain word in my story (even though I had), while banning their engineers from using that word.

Freaking weird.

It seems like PRs like these won’t be happy until MotoGP is no more than a soulless corporate marketing event, stripped of all its joy and beauty, existing purely to sell you stuff, with a bit of motorbike racing on the side. Just like Formula 1.

Most MotoGP PRs do a great job. They arrange interviews and generally help us to write about MotoGP. Back when I started, in the late 1980s, the only way to talk to a rider was to go knocking on his motorhome door. Or his tent.

Now some PRs behave like we’re there to help them do their job (flog product), rather than the other way around. If any PRs are in doubt about this, the clue is in their job title: PR, for press/public relations.

I still love MotoGP for the racing and technology, and I enjoy talking to the world’s greatest riders and engineers, but the layers of PR bullshit grow thicker and stickier each season.

Clashes between journalists and PRs are inevitable, because they have contradicting objectives. Journos want to dig into what’s going on, while a PR’s job is to protect the brand. Truth isn’t their number-one priority.

Like George Orwell wrote, “Journalism is printing what someone else does not want printed. Everything else is public relations”.

The world’s first PR person was American Edward Bernays, who during World War I was hired by the US government to sell the idea of the country entering the war, when most Americans weren’t keen. He was so successful that he set up the world’s first PR agency after the war.

Among his numerous corporate gigs, Bernays was employed by the US tobacco industry to get women smoking, because at that time few women smoked. He consulted a Freudian psychoanalyst and promoted cigarettes to women as ‘torches of freedom’. This campaign was another big success.

Bernays’ work spawned a global PR industry that now works in every sphere of human endeavour.

Press relations – as Bernays proved – is a psychological game: you tell journalists selective truths, giving them information you want them to have, while hiding information you don’t want them to have. You cultivate friendships with journalists, because if they like you, they just may be nicer to your brand. And you stay friends, even if you hate their guts, because that’s a game.

Also useful is the possession of a vague idea of how journalism works. That’s why some of the best PRs are former journalists, who swapped sides to make more money. “Journalism is more fun,” one journo-turned-PR told me. “But PR is much more lucrative.”

The Red Bull KTM team is one of MotoGP’s best – hugely dedicated, massively hardworking and well looked after by its management. It enjoys possibly the best morale of any factory team. There’s always a buzz in the KTM garage – the mechanics really enjoy what they do and usually give a friendly nod when you walk down pit lane.

Its riders Brad Binder and Jack Miller are great to talk to and its engineers are generous with their time when you want a quick chat behind the garages. And I’ve had some great interviews with motor sport director Pit Beirer, engine designer Kurt Trieb, technical director Sebastian Risse, crew chief Paul Trevathan and others.

I last interviewed Risse (whose nickname in the team, which includes several Sebastians, is Clever Seb) during last November’s Malaysian GP.

The full interview was published on this site a while back, running to more than 2200 words. The print magazines I work for – in Europe, the USA, Australia and Japan – are more restricted on space, so I had just 500 words to cover each manufacturer, including rider and engineer quotes.

If an editor says he or she wants 500 words, you write 500 words, not 499 or 501. Magazine writing has to be tight, with quotes edited for clarity and brevity. I’ve been doing this for more than forty years, so I think I have the general idea.

PRs who try to control me by telling me what to write is like me walking into the KTM garage and telling the mechanics how to tighten the RC16’s brake bolts. I’d rightly get a slap.

And yet a KTM PR thought it a good idea to tell me how to do my job. This PR accused me of making “misquotations” in my magazine story and asked me to contact my editors, so they could make “the necessary corrections to reflect what was said accurately”.

At first, I thought it was a joke because I still have the tapes and transcripts of the interviews.

But I take the attack seriously. KTM asked these magazines to correct my text. I have no contracts with any of the magazines that publish my stuff, so I’m only ever as good as my last story. And why would an editor want to employ a journo who changes quotes to alter their meaning? Because that’s a serious crime in this job.

The attack seemed especially perverse because my story was very complimentary about KTM’s MotoGP project – “It’s a fantastic motorcycle to ride,” said Miller

To make sure I wasn’t being wrongheaded, I forwarded KTM’s email to two renowned MotoGP journalists, who between them have covered the championship for eighty years.

“I can’t understand what the complaints are about,” wrote Michael Scott, the doyen of MotoGP journalists, who started covering GPs in the early 1980s. “It is a journalist’s job to edit comments for brevity and comprehensibility. However, if someone is going to nitpick about exact wording, you either have to adopt the approach of [a former MotoGP journalist] and publish every ‘um’ and ‘er’ and every half-finished sentence and end up with overlong garble, or report in indirect speech, to preserve clarity and ensure brevity. They are nitpicking because they are nits.”

Sounds like a carpet stroller trying justify their existence,” wrote my other colleague, who covered his first GP around the same time. “It’s astounding, just mindless nitpicking. The really baffling thing is that the context of your story is 500 words of positivity about how KTM are tech trendsetters!”

I would’ve published the rest of this email, but it was way too rude.

I even contacted Britain’s National Union of Journalists to ask its opinion. “I can’t see anything that changed the meaning,” replied an NUJ advisor.

So why is KTM so mad at me?

The first complaint concerned my magazine headline and subsequent discussion about the RC16’s carbon-fibre frame.

(Italics denote their words.)

“We note that in the headline you included ‘CARBON’ whereas in the text itself you’ve removed this and kept it to just ‘frame’.”

A quick read of the story – below – reveals that the word ‘carbon’ did indeed appear within the story. Twice. Whatever they’re smoking is making them paranoid and confused. And a bit sleepy too.

Next, KTM complained about this.

“We are convinced that sooner or later everyone will have carbon frames,” says Risse.

This sentence was edited for clarity from the original, “We are convinced that sooner or later everyone will end up on this”. This was Risse’s answer to my eighth consecutive question about the RC16’s carbon-fibre frame, so there was no doubt that “this” referred to carbon frames, so the meaning hasn’t been changed.

Their last complaint concerned this Miller quote…

“We’ve been able to find more grip with the carbon-fibre frame, so the thing I’ve been working on is understanding the front end to carry more corner speed.”

This quote was subbed for clarity and brevity, from 49 words to 28. Cutting text is a major part of a journalist’s job – in fact it often takes longer to edit a story down to the required word count than to write the first draft.

This was Miller’s full quote…

“We’ve been able to find quite a bit more grip with the new chassis, so that’s the biggest thing we were trying to chase and we’ve got some steps coming to keep improving that and trying to understand the front end a bit more, to carry some corner speed.”

Again, both quotes say the same thing: the new frame gives more grip, but we need to find more corner speed.

What the PRs would’ve liked me to write was something like this, to signal each of my edits to the reader…

Risse, “We are convinced that sooner or later everyone will end up on [have] this [carbon-fibre frame technology]”.

And…

Miller, “We’ve been able to find [quite a bit] more grip with the new [carbon-fibre] chassis [sic, the swingarm was already carbon-fibre], so [that’s the biggest thing we were trying to chase and we’ve got some steps coming to keep improving that] and [Ed: what he’s been working on is] trying to understand the front end a bit more, to carry some corner speed.”

There’s a reason you never read quotes like this: because they’re ugly to read, they make the speaker sound ridiculous and they use twice the space, so the story would contain half the information.

This is why I don’t like PR people telling me how to be a journalist.

As already noted, the story praised KTM’s valiant attempts to beat Ducati. Perhaps its PR geniuses would’ve been happier if I’d more accurately reflected KTM’s recent efforts in MotoGP and written this instead…

Despite massive investment from KTM and Red Bull, working with Red Bull Advanced Technologies (arguably the world’s foremost motor sport aerodynamicists), having one of the best riders on the grid and taking some of the key brains from MotoGP dominators Ducati and Öhlins, KTM is the only manufacturer not to have won a single dry-weather grand prix in almost three years, since June 2021. Even Honda and Suzuki have won more dry GPs in that period.’

During the Sepang tests I had a lively, er, conversation with KTM, in the hope they’d realise their accusations were false. The PR doubled down, so I suggested KTM sues me, so we could go to court and let the experts decide. My offer was declined.

When I got home from Sepang I contacted the magazines that had published the story, because KTM wanted them to make corrections, where possible.

And this is when things got really funny.

The first of my editors that contacted KTM’s PRs told them he had reviewed the transcripts and story and saw no need for any corrections. It provoked this response from KTM’s motor sport PR chief.

“To be clear on this – nobody from KTM clarified that the new chassis was a carbon fibre chassis in 2023 and we were surprised and disappointed to read it as a quote from an official KTM spokesperson.”

So that’s it! KTM engineers weren’t allowed to use the term carbon-fibre to describe the RC16’s new frame, even though everyone was talking about it.

Risse and I spent more than three minutes talking specifically about the carbon frame. He went into some detail describing how it improved the bike but couldn’t actually say carbon-fibre.

How wild is that?!

KTM’s PR wonks had gone wonky – they were in a terminal tank-slapper, triggered by diametrically opposing brainwaves.

What I would’ve given to be sat in that PR/marketing meeting…

“Ladies and gentlemen, our genius MotoGP engineers have designed a genius new frame, so our genius marketing plan is to ban our genius engineers from mentioning their genius creation to anyone. Even though everyone already knows about it.”

“Dude, you’re a marketing genius!”

High-fives all round.

I assume that following this great meeting of the minds the KTM PR team gave KTM’s actual chief MotoGP engineer a bollocking for not telling me that the carbon-fibre frame didn’t exist.

Talk about the tail trying to wag the dog.

And now the crowning glory to this comedy wild-goose chase.

A few weeks after my chat with Risse, another journalist interviewed Risse and he did say the word that should not be said. (I wonder if the crack PRs returned to the office of their actual chief engineer to give him another bollocking.)

So, the PR boss was being economical with the truth when he told me that, “nobody from KTM clarified that the new chassis was a carbon fibre chassis in 2023”.

These people have their knickers in such a twist that I wonder how they get out of bed in the morning.

One last thought: a PR’s job isn’t only to establish good relations with journalists, it’s their job to promote MotoGP to a wider audience.

Considering that motorcycle racing is currently the world’s 30th most popular sport (after horse dressage!), I believe these PRs would be better spending their time trying to grow the sport – by getting stories in mainstream magazines and so on – instead of chasing after journalists for petty nothings.

Finally, I’d like to wish Red Bull KTM all the best for the 2024 season. They’re a great bunch of people (mostly) and I’d love to see them winning GPs again.

#motogp #* #*article #i love PR insights its like cocaine to me

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

I hope I don't murder me (I hope I don't burden you)

AU in which Lan Wangji stays in the Burial Mounds with Wei Wuxian and the Wen remnants

idea here

Living in the Burial Mounds isn't easy - not that Lan Wangji expected it to be. He's known what he was getting into, and his expectations have been correct - but this isn't about the shoddy houses, the cold, damp cave he shares with Wei Ying or the scarce food.

Lan Wangji is fine with those. He doesn't care about comfort and luxury, and as long as he can be by Wei Ying's side, he doesn't need anything else.

What is difficult is watching Wei Ying grind himself near into nothingness every single day. His cultivation is eating away at him, no matter how much he argues otherwise. Perhaps it's not in the way Lan Wangji thought it to be - Wei Ying is very much still lucid - the corruption comes more from his lack of oversight for his own existence.

He works himself into exhaustion inventing spells and talismans every single day, and he fights off the Burial Mounds' whims every time they shake with resentment and threaten the little settlement's fragile safety. He doesn't eat much, if at all, always arguing he isn't hungry, and he sleeps only when he can't keep himself upright anymore. Lan Wangji gets why he doesn't like to sleep - he has nightmares every time he does, and Lan Wangji struggles to bring him out of them every time, for hours on end, breaking away at whatever horrors the Burial Mounds have conjured for him.

To put it bluntly, Wei Ying is wasting away. And Lan Wangji can do nothing but watch - Wei Ying still won't tell him why he's given up the orthodox path of cultivation, he waves away any concern and though he seems to be appreciating any attempts Lan Wangji makes to bring him food or take him to bed (not like that, they're still on a very limited touch basis), he doesn't seem to be getting that much better.

And Lan Wangji doesn't want him to die. Not now, not like this, not ever. After all, the only reason he left the Lan was so he could take care of Wei Ying, protect him, and perhaps even love him, if he'd be allowed. There must be something he can do to make Wei Ying even just a little bit happier than he is now, even if just for a day, even if only to see him smile - smile again, like he used to before the world turned against him and he found his home with the dead, bright and beautiful and sincere.

--

Wei Ying returns from the markets with Wen Ning in tow, flinging about two empty baskets of radishes. They've had a miraculously profitable day today - turns out, some parasite has ruined the radish harvests in the nearby region, making Wei Ying's radishes the only viable ones around.

"People are going to think you cursed the fields to sell your yield." Wen Qing laughed as she counted the large coin pouch Wei Ying's so proudly given her.

"You know what, I could do that. Technically. It sounds like a very Jin thing to do, but the profits would be massive."

Wen Qing shoves at him playfully. "At least there's Hanguang-Jun to reel you in, you get the most chaotic ideas."

"You're one to talk." Then Wei Ying looks around, pouting slightly. "Where's Lan Zhan?"

"I don't know, around probably?" She shrugs. "To be fair, I haven't seen him at all today now that I think about it. He left just after you two did, and he was carrying something."

"Did he tell you where he'd be going?"

"No."

Wei Ying's expression falls. "Oh... Maybe he's finally had enough of this place and he left..."

"Where to? He's not allowed in the Cloud Recesses anymore."

"He's still talking to Zewu-Jun, so..." A sad smile, "I mean, if you didn't have to, would you willingly stay here of all places?"

Wen Qing sends him a sympathetic look, and reaches to poke his forehead lovingly. "He's not the type to just up and leave like that. He'll be back before you know it. And if he really did leave, I'll hunt him down and gut him alive for you."

Wei Ying tries to laugh at that but he can't, not really. "I wouldn't blame him if he did leave... I just..." He swallows, hard, "I don't know... I'm going to... work or something."

He leaves before Wen Qing can say anything, and gratefully walks out into the harsh winds announcing an upcoming storm, his tears lost in the wisps of cold air and resentment.

--

His cave is lonely as he has forgotten it should be. He hates that he has forgotten it - why did he allow himself to get used to somebody always waiting for him at the end of the day, ready to listen if he had anything to say, or just sharing in the silence? Of course it wouldn't last long.

Normal people don't live in mass graves. Normal people don't - they don't love the people living in the mass graves.

Not that Lan Zhan would ever love him, but...

Wei Ying lights up the candle at his work desk and decides he's not going to be thinking of anything but his talismans and his arrays. They don't give him false hope, they don't make him feel like he matters and then leave out of nowhere. They don't pretend like they care when they actually don't.

A tear messes the characters on his prototype for a cleansing talisman and Wei Ying angrily throws it away over his shoulder, his vision blurry. He's angry and disillusioned and hurt - and he doesn't know why! Of course Lan Zhan would go, why would he stay? What's there for him to stay in this wretched place for? What would even keep him tethered here, to this hellhole?!

Wei Ying flings a hand over his desk and everything falls haphazardly around, tears sliding freely down his face.

Why would Lan Zhan - why would anyone even fucking stay - stay there?! Stay there for... for someone like...

Wei Ying folds his hands into a makeshift pillow on the rock he uses as a table and buries his face in it, crying silently. How could he have been so stupid? Lan Zhan is a good person, but... there really is nothing keeping here, there never has been. And... and it's better if he's gone.

He doesn't deserve to live the rest of his life in the Burial Mounds, around someone that he probably doesn't even really like all that much. He probably just wanted to help cause he's righteous and felt bad for the Wen remnants and A-Yuan... but there's a limit to everybody's kindness, probably. Maybe he got sick of the poverty and the struggles, and having to wake up to Wei Ying's screaming every night, maybe he got tired of being around someone that's... more dead than alive.

Maybe... maybe it's better this way. Wei Ying's probably been an unnecessary burden to Lan Zhan anyway. Even if he tried to keep quiet as he worked at night, even if he tried not to take much of anything for himself so as not to seem greedy, even if... even if...

Wei Ying bought something for Lan Zhan from the markets today. He made so much money selling vegetables that he figured he could surprise the other with a little trinket, switching their roles for once. He would be the one to give Lan Zhan a gift this time - he's helped everyone so much, and of course a little item doesn't balance any of it out, but Wei Ying thought it would be... cute. He thought Lan Zhan might like it... It's an ornament for his robes, two white jade bunnies hanging off a beautifully embroidered blue ribbon.

But now that Wei Ying looks at it, he realizes Lan Zhan would probably hate it. He'd never say it outright, but why would he even like it? It's just a stupid thing that cost too much money.

What has Wei Ying been thinking buying it? Wasting money? Thinking it would mean anything? Trusting? Believing? Hoping? Loving?

What has he been thinking?

---

Lan Wangji returns so late in the night he's quite sure he's about to fall asleep at the boundary of the Burial Mounds. He's carrying a lot of things, including food and alcohol that he must be careful not to spill, fragile items and, of course, his own very sleepy self.

He really hasn't expected all that shopping to take so long, but then again he hasn't done much of it himself until now, so perhaps this is how it should be. Lan Wangji is tired, but grateful - Lan Xichen sent him a lot of money, as he requested, and he could get everything he could think Wei Ying would like.

Lan Xichen doesn't agree with his brother's decision to live in the Burial Mounds - nobody in their clan or sect does. But unlike all the people that have renegaded him and forbade him from ever returning home, Lan Xichen still loves him and helps him with everything that he can, risking his relationship with the elders' council and even his sect leader position to send him money and gifts secretly.

Lan Wangji needs to thank him properly for all that he does, though he doesn't know how. It's through his kindness that Lan Wangji has been able to prepare all these things for Wei Ying. And though nobody will notice the money missing, it's still a risk to take.

The Burial Mounds are jarring to walk into, even more so at night. It's just rained as well, and the smell is even more pungent now, rot and petrichor intermixed with the faintest trace of blood, both fresh and old.

The ground beneath Lan Wangji's feet has softened into a formless mass of mud, and he has to use Bichen's glare to see what he's stepping on, the beings living in it ready to grab at him. They reach their... hands towards him, grunting and growling with resentment, and though he isn’t exactly scared (he’s a cultivator, after all, he can’t be scared), he wishes he could just mount his sword and fly his way home. But the fog of resentment overhead is so thick he doubts he would be able to maneuver, and if he gets lost in it, there will be no way out for him.

He can’t use much of his cultivation knowledge either – that only serves to attract the dwellers of the Burial Mounds, all ready to devour some new flesh, feast on living souls and bring another into their ranks.

So all that Lan Wangji has left to do is focus on where he is going, ignore the bellowing screams in his ears, the terrifying apparitions, the phantom pains – and imagine he will soon be safe, home, with Wei Ying, and he will give Wei Ying a nice, relaxing evening to enjoy after a long day’s work.

He pointedly refuses the laughing voices of resentment that tell him he is not wanted here, that he will only bring trouble, that Wei Ying doesn’t love him, that he should just give up, come join us, come to us, be with us, be one of us...

--

Lan Wangji feels like he’s been born again the moment he steps into the protective array that Wei Ying’s set up to guard the Wen settlement. He can finally breathe fresher air, his mind clears immediately and he’s overcome with a sense of relief that settles pleasantly into his stomach, his limbs only a little bit unsteady with the feeling.

Exhaustion catches up to him as well, and he knows he won’t be able to be awake for much longer – bit he knows Wei Ying is, and Lan Wangji wants to brighten up his mood right now more than he wants to rest.

There will be plenty of time for that later.

With a much lighter heart, yearning almost, Lan Wangji walks into Wei Ying’s cave, barely suppressing an excited smile. Wei Ying is going to be so happy!

--

He finds the cave in disarray, and Wei Ying hunched over his table, asleep, surrounded by a mess of notes, ink and broken brushes. The side of his face shines with fresh tears, his cheeks wet, features drawn into a pained expression.

Lan Wangji’s brows furrow, and he places all the items he’s brought near the sleeping mats, walking up to Wei Ying slowly so as not to startle him.

“Wei Ying?”

Resentment materializes out of nothing, blocking his path.

Leave!

Lan Wangji is tired of this already. He’s heard every variation of that on his way home and he’s running out of patience for it.

Leave him alone! You’ve hurt him!

Now that’s new. He has done no such thing - he’s been so careful to respect Wei Ying’s boundaries, took care of him, did his utmost to help him... the Burial Mounds may be horrible, but they love Wei Ying and they’re merciful to those that are kind to him. And Lan Wangji has been just that, kind and devoted to the point of leaving his whole life behind for Wei Ying, no holds barred and no regrets.

This has never happened before, either. The Burial Mounds have received him... well, if one could say that. He never got attacked before, now that he thinks about it, and though he put tonight’s unrest on the resentment just being more active in the dark, he's realizing that there be more to it than that.

He wants to see what's wrong with Wei Ying, though, resentment and the Burial Mounds be damned. And if he has to physically fight this thing, he will - it's not like that would be new.

Lan Wangji draws out Bichen and decides he's just going to go right through this thing if it refuses to get out of his way. And perhaps this is not a very wise choice, but he is tired, worried and still jarred by all the horrors he's encountered in the way here - but he's charging at it before he gives himself the time to really calculate. It's almost like an instinct, wanting to get to Wei Ying and comfort him, and he won't let anyone or anything stand in the way of that.

Bichen's blade pierces through the mass of resentful energy, and it only disperses enough so it dodges the hit. Before Lan Wangji can realize, pain overcomes him from everywhere inside him, as though all his organs have ruptured all at once. He doesn't want to scream, but it's ripped out of him before he knows it, and, for a moment his vision blacks out. He distantly notes that he's never faced resentment this strong, and wonders whether this is the kind of thing Wei Ying had to live through in the three months that he was away. He hopes not. He hopes that this is just the Burial Mounds deciding to hate him in particular, and that it was different for Wei Ying back then.

He coughs out a mouthful of blood and realizes he's dropped his sword at some point. He tries to summon it, but he can't find enough spiritual energy in himself to do it. Is this how he's going to die? Will Wei Ying have to wake up and find him dead? Maybe there will be nothing left of him for Wei Ying to find, that would be easier to deal with, right?

The world is starting to become fuzzy at the edges, or maybe it's just Lan Wangji's tears blurring his vision. He wants, selfishly, his last image to be Wei Ying, and he makes the herculean effort to move his eyes towards where he's still asleep.

Perhaps Lan Wangji is indeed dying - because he thinks he sees Wei Ying jump awake and scream.

--

There is a song.

Lan Wangji recognizes it, it flows around him like a soft, gentle warmth, beckoning him towards... somewhere. He doesn't know where, he doesn't even know where he is right now - doesn't even feel like he is anywhere or anything at all. But even as he is, formless and incorporeal, he's compelled to follow the song, beautifully played on a flute.

It's his song, he made it. He made it for the person he loves, even if he didn't know it at the time and even if it is that person that doesn't know it now.

Slowly, like waddling through deep, heavy waters, Lan Wangji returns to his body. He feels warmth around him, and realizes he's leaning against someone's chest, their heartbeat rhythmic in his ears. The knowledge makes him smile, the movement difficult but inevitable.

"Lan Zhan, are you awake yet?"

"Mn..."

He feels Wei Ying kiss the top of his head, running a hand down his back comfortingly.

"You feelin' better?"

"Mhm."

There is a pause. Lan Wangji can hear the heartbeat underneath his ear quicken, and Wei Ying takes in a deep, shaky breath.

"I'm sorry." he says, at last, his voice soft. "This is all my fault... I thought you left and... you know resentment responds to my emotions so it thought... it was-"

"Trying to protect you." Lan Wangji interrupts, "I get that."

"Lan Zhan... you almost..." another deep breath. "This shouldn't have happened..."

"Wei Ying-"

"No, listen, I-I found... the things you got for me... You're always so good and so kind to me and to everyone else, and you've sacrificed so much for us, we all really don't deserve you. I don't deserve you."

Lan Zhan finally manages to open his eyes, blinking to adjust to the faint lighting in the cave. "Why are you talking like you're wanting me to leave?"

"Because I do."

Lan Zhan lifts his head, confused, to look at Wei Ying, and sees his eyes glisten with unshed tears.

"It's dangerous for you to be around me, Lan Zhan. You shouldn't be risking your life living here, and if you ask Zewu-Jun, maybe he'll convince the elders to-"

"I don't want to leave you, Wei Ying."

"And I don't want you to die because of me."

Lan Wangji reaches a hand to hold the side of Wei Ying's face, wiping the tear that's just fallen down his cheek. "Don't make me leave, Wei Ying."

"Lan Zhan..." Wei Ying covers Lan Wangji's hand with his own. "I had to - I had to put your soul back into your body... You died. I held you as you died. What if I fail next time and I lose you forever?" Wei Ying holds him tighter now, a slight shake to his body as he cries. "I'd rather let you go alive, than live with the knowledge that I-"

It takes all of Lan Wangji's strength to lift himself up enough to leave a soft kiss over Wei Ying's trembling lips. "I love you."

It feels so freeing to say it that Lan Wangji wonders why he held onto this confession for so long, why it took him so long to say it.

"I love you." he repeats, and the words taste sweeter than any dessert he's ever had. "And I don't want to be away from you. I want to share my life with you."

Wei Ying leans down to kiss him back, and Lan Wangji realizes he's never been happier than right now, nothing he has ever achieved has ever felt like the fireworks Wei Ying's lit under his skin.

"What if there will be no life to share, Lan Zhan?" He asks, smiling, tearfully, as he traces the seam of Lan Zhan's lips.

"Then I'll come back to you in the next one."

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wangxian #writing attempts #this ficlet ate me alive omg

[calabria-mediterranea]

Catanzaro, Calabria, Italy

This ancient town which rises on a rock is the capital of the Calabria region. It was founded in 9th century by the Byzantines and was built over three hills in order to protect the town from the Saracen attacks arriving from the lonian sea.

At the beginning of the tenth century (c. 903), the city of Catanzaro was occupied by the Muslim Saracens, who founded an emirate and took the Arab name of قطنصار - Qatanşār.

An Arab presence is evidenced by findings at an eighth-century necropolis which had items with Arabic inscriptions. Around the year 1050, Catanzaro rebelled against Saracen dominance and returned to a brief period of Byzantine control.

Under the Byzantine dominion, between the end of the 9th and the beginning of the 10th century, Calabria was one was one the first places in Italy to introduce the breeding of the silkworm in the 11th century.

According to French historian André Guillou, mulberry trees for the production of raw silk were introduced to Calabria by the Byzantines at the end of the 9th century. Mulberry leaves are the only leaves that silkworms eat.

Around 1050, the theme of Calabria had cultivated 24,000, mulberry trees for their foliage, with growth still ongoing.

The peasants of the countryside around the city produced the raw silk, which was then woven in the silk workshops of Catanzaro. A large part of the population was involved in this business, and the silk of Catanzaro supplied almost all of Europe.

The silk was sold in a large market fair in the port of Reggio Calabria, to Spanish, Venetians, Genovese and Dutch merchants.

Today, three young friends have come together to bring local traditions back to the fore. In 2014 they decided to build their future in San Floro, a tiny village of 600 inhabitants near the city of Catanzaro and restore the traditional mulberry tree planting and cultivation needed for the rearing of silkworms. Historically, San Floro was famous for a very significant production of raw silk in the 17th century, though this heritage had been completely lost in modern times.

The only surviving elements of this rich legacy were the 3,000 abandoned mulberry trees and the memory of the elderly villagers. Miriam and her friends brought back the production of silk, rewinding the threads of history and travelling across the world to exchange best practices with silk institutes in Thailand, India, Switzerland, and France.

As part of its development, they trained people interested in their new, sustainable production model and also brought thousands of tourists from all over the world to visit their farm (Nido di Seta) to experience how silk is produced first-hand.

Catanzaro is a windy city due to its altitude and position between two seas. In fact, there is only 30 km separating the Ionian Sea from the Tyrrhenian Sea and Catanzaro is wide open to the constant strong breezes from the Ionian Sea and the Sila mountains.

Follow us on Instagram, @calabria_mediterranea

#catanzaro #calabria #italy #italia #south italy #southern italy #italian #mediterranean #silk #the silkworm #silk road #europe #architecture #textile #loom #mulberry tree #history #muslim #saracens #italian landscape #landscape #mediterranean sea #arab #byzantine #byzantine empire #weaving #nido di seta

[fatehbaz]

[C]olonial policies to monitor and restrict Indian cattle were coterminous with policies to monitor and restrict Indian humans. [...] [T]he ‘milk-line’ [...] has been said by [colonial] scholars since the nineteenth century to bisect the region. [...] [This] reified and naturalised what remains a contentious division between South and Southeast Asia along the western borders of Myanmar. [...] [D]enaturalise [...] this border by uncovering the colonial history of how milk became entangled in the immanent political geography of British Burma. [...] As part of imperial writings on the distinctiveness of the colony's cultural landscape, milk informed the imaginative geography of Burma as a place distinct from India. [...]

---

[T]he turn-of-the-century writings of colonial scholar officials and travel-writers [...] generated a particular imaginative geography [...]. These authors rendered Burma a ‘unique geographic entity’ [...]. Being unable to acquire milk whilst travelling Burma was a frequent gripe in imperial writings. In this it stood in contrast to the rest of British India. [...] Imperial writings on dairy consumption – or, rather, the lack of it – in Burma reified this geography [...]. Burma was where you could not get milk in British India. [...] But the difficulty of milk did not end with the cow. Once produced, the milk itself was liable to adulteration and infection necessitating state and scientific intervention. Limiting the mobility of dairy cattle and removing them from urban areas through policies designed to order and police space were central to colonial schemes for improving milk production [...]. By the twentieth century most of the dairy production in the colony was conducted by Indians who had migrated to Burma with their own cattle. [...]

The rendering of cattle as lively commodities in the milk industry was seen to be in tension with their commodification in a different economic sector, the rice industry. 

This was overwhelmingly the most important part of Burma's colonial economy. 

The late nineteenth century saw a rapid expansion of the deltaic rice frontier. By the opening decades of following century the Burma delta had become the largest rice producing region in the world. The importance of plough cattle was reflected in their market value, which doubled between the end of World War One and 1930. [...] 

In particular, they worried that the bloodlines of the Burmese breed of oxen, apparently favoured by cultivators, were at risk. [...] Indian milch cattle were considered a particular threat. This imperial imperative to protect a so-called ‘Burmese’ breed of ox reified and naturalised Burma as a geographic entity, with Indian cattle figured as invasive.

These concerns were entangled with colonial policies regarding the human Indian population in the colony [...].

---

[There was] a growing recognition of the importance of [Burmese] cattle to the production of rice in the Burma delta. [...] The stocky, strong Burmese ox [...] was thought to be especially suited to labour in paddy fields [...]. Burma was imagined as being constituted of upland areas where cattle were bred and the southern deltaic region where they were worked [...]. This was an animal geography that was transgressed by mobile herds of milking cattle imported from India residing along the sides of waterways and in the railway towns [...]. Following the colony's transportation network, migrant Indian cattle penetrated the spaces [...] To many officials, by the start of World War One the existing measures for protecting Burmese plough cattle from the ‘evils’ of Indian milch cattle were deemed inadequate. The push for greater controls began in 1915 with an agricultural and cooperative conference held in Mandalay. [...] ]C]olonial officials came to frame Indian cattle as a problem breed. The conference was attended by over nine hundred people from across Burma, including [...] state officials. It unanimously agreed that action had to be taken to protect [Burmese] cattle from Indian cattle.

Their suggested course of action was three-pronged: taxation, prohibition and segregation. [...] Attitudes to Indian cattle in the colony were conterminous with attitudes to Indian people.

The interventions [in cattle segregation] [...] can be considered as part of a wider range of state controls placed on Indian migrants to Burma. The timing of these committees was synchronous with inquiries into the sanitary conditions that Indian workers travelled and lived in [...]. At the same time [...], the state introduced compulsory medical checks and vaccinations on human arrivals from the subcontinent. In addition, the concerns expressed by officials contributing to these reports on cattle in Burma were indicative of British officialdom's paternalistic attitude towards the Burmese people, viewing their role as protecting the Burmese from the Indian and Chinese populations. The administrative view of the colony, which by the turn of the century held it to be culturally distinct from India, was increasingly imagining it as a separate geo-political entity. Officials began planning for it to be separated from British India.

During the interwar years anti-Indian sentiments gained ground [...]. Indian migrants were figured by some as a threat [...]. There were a number of anti-Indian riots in the 1930s [...]. The 1935 Government of India Act was enacted in 1937 separating Burma from India [...].

---

All text above by: Jonathan Saha. “Milk to Mandalay: dairy consumption, animal history and the political geography of colonial Burma.” Journal of Historical Geography Volume 54. October 2016. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Presented here for commentary, teaching, criticism purposes.]

#abolition #ecology #imperial #colonial #multispecies #landscape #temporal #indigenous #borders

[astrojulia]

More than Seaweeds

Mermaid's Herbal Compendium

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Name: Basil

Scientific name: Ocimum selloi Benth.

Disclaimer: As English is not my native language, there may be some errors in scientific expressions. I am also using local resources.

TECHNICAL USAGE

History:

Due to the shape of its leaves (heart), it was considered a symbol of love in Italy and of mourning in Greece. (Portal São Francisco, 2016)

4,000 years ago, the Hindus, who were percussionists in the culture of basil, exported it to Egypt. (Portal São Francisco, 2016)

In the last century, basil was used by shoemakers to attenuate the smell of leather. (Portal São Francisco, 2016)

The name "basilicum" has its origin in the Greek "basilikós," which means "of the kings or royal," to indicate its nobility. The Greek botanist Theophrastus, in the 3rd century BC, defined basil as an herb of kings. (History of Ingredients, 2016)

Description:

Plant characteristics: Basil is an herbaceous plant grown in gardens and widely known throughout Brazil. It is characterized by the pleasant smell that is released from its leaves. It has a quadrangular stem, and the leaves are opposite, sharp, and abundant. The plant produces small white flowers arranged on an elongated axis, with secondary inflorescences formed on each axis. The corolla has four pieces, and the plant bears fruit with four dark nuclei. It is a meliferous plant. Basil can be propagated by seeds or cuttings taken from the branches. It thrives in fertile soils rich in organic matter, permeable, and with high temperatures. (Treatise on Medicinal Plants, 2014)

Propagation: Basil can be propagated by seeds or cuttings from branches. Basil seeds are sown in 200-cell expanded polystyrene trays containing commercial substrate and kept in protected cultivation. At 30 days after sowing, the seedlings have four definitive leaves and are suitable for transplanting. (PEREIRA; MOREIRA, 2011)

Cultivation: Seedlings can be planted in pots or nurseries throughout the year. For this, the beds must be well prepared, raised to a height of 15 cm. Use 150 g of well-tanned bovine manure per square meter of bed and mix well. Sow the seeds and cover with 0.5 cm of light soil or fine sawdust. The recommended spacing is 30 cm between lines and 30 cm between plants. Irrigate at least once a day, preferably in the early morning or late afternoon. After 60 days of planting in the beds, the first harvest can be made by cutting the plant at 20 cm from the soil. (PEREIRA; MOREIRA, 2011)

How to choose and where to find:

Fresh: Fresh bunches and pots of basil can be found in fairs, markets, and supermarkets. Choose branches with lush leaves that are not stained or wilted.

Dry: Dry basil can be found in supermarkets and specialty stores. Look for products in dark packaging, protected from light, to prevent loss of aroma. Check the expiration date.

How to Store:

Fresh:

Basil spoils quickly, but it can be packed in plastic packaging and dried for up to three days at most.

Chop the leaves and place them in a closed glass container with oil.

Dry: Store in a sealed container, away from light and humidity.

How to dry:

Buy two large bundles of basil, wash them well, and spread them on a clean cloth until dry.

Separate the leaves and make layers of leaves in a glass bowl, alternating with thin layers of coarse salt.

Cover the glass bowl with plastic wrap and leave it at room temperature.

Stir once a day for the first three days.

The dried basil can be used for up to two months. The leaves become dry, and the salt absorbs the aroma of basil. You can use only the leaves or also the coarse salt.

Chemical Composition:

Tannins: Tannins are astringent and hemostatic, and their therapeutic applications are related to these properties. They are mainly used in the tanning and paint industries. They are also used in laboratories to detect proteins and alkaloids and as antidotes in cases of poisoning by alkaloid plants.

Flavonoids: The therapeutic functions of flavonoids are not yet fully understood. The group is known for its anti-inflammatory, anti-allergic, and vasoprotective effects (treatment of thrombosis). Rutin and hesperidin are important flavonoids used in the treatment of capillary fragility.

Saponins: Saponoside glycosides are named for their ability to form abundant foam when agitated with water (from Latin "frog" = soap). They taste bitter and acrid, and drugs containing them are usually sternutatory (cause sneezing) and irritating to the mucous membranes. They are non-nitrogen compounds that dissolve in water, producing foaming solutions by decreasing the surface tension of the liquid. They also have the properties of emulsifying oils and causing hemolysis. The latter is due to the ability of the glycoside to combine with the cholesterol molecules present in the erythrocyte membrane, disrupting the internal-external balance and promoting the rupture of the cell, resulting in the release of hemoglobin.

Essential Oils:

o Thymol: It has carminative, anti-spasmodic, expectorant, and anti-inflammatory properties. It also has significant antiseptic potential. o Methyl-chavicol: It has antimicrobial, anti-inflammatory, local anesthetic, and insecticidal activities. o Linalool: It is used for its woody, floral, and refreshing aroma. o Eugenol: It has anesthetic, bactericidal, antifungal, and flavoring properties, with a hot and spicy note. o Cineol: It has decongestant and anti-inflammatory properties and gives a eucalyptus aroma. o Pyrene

Herbal Actions:

Digestant: An herb that promotes good digestion.

Carminative: Herbs or essential oils that help the intestines release gas by relaxing gut spasms and increasing peristalsis to expel gas.

Sweetener: It has the ability to sweeten.

Aperientes: Aperientes herbs are mild laxatives.

Indications: Basil is beneficial for those who have difficulties in digestion, gas, heartburn, and headaches resulting from heavy or inadequate food. It facilitates the functioning of the intestines and acts as a diuretic. It is good for coughs, vomiting, and bad breath. Along with malva and sage, it helps in mouth infections.

Dosage: There is little information on the safe and effective dosage of basil. Usually, 10 to 20 ml of fresh basil leaf juice is used once a day, or teas can be made by infusing 2 grams of fresh basil or dried herb in boiling water twice a day.

Contraindications: Basil is not suitable for long-term use in children, and it should not be used by pregnant women in the first three months of pregnancy.

MAGICAL USAGE

Gender: Masculine

Planet: Mars

Element: Fire

Deities: Ares, Eros, Zeus, Apollo, Vishnu, and Krishna

Tarot Cards: The Empress, Justice, Six of Swords, Ten of Cups

Zodiac: Virgo, Scorpio, Sagittarius

Sabbath: Yule, Imbolc

Magical Uses (under observation of effectiveness): Basil is linked to love, health, exorcism, and clairvoyance in magical practices. Its fresh leaves can be used as a natural scent to attract passion. Hanging some branches around the house can protect the environment and bring permanent joy. In some ancient cultures, basil was placed on the chest of the dead as a symbol of a passport to paradise. Fun fact: There are over 64 types of basil. (GORI, 2021)

Therapeutic and Enchanted Recipes:

PROSPERITY TEA:

INGREDIENTS: 1 teaspoon of basil, 1 teaspoon of thyme.

PREPARATION: Heat the water for 10 minutes, then turn off the heat. Add the basil and thyme and let it steep for 15 minutes.

CLAIRVOYANCE TEA:

INGREDIENTS: 1 teaspoon of basil, 1 teaspoon of hibiscus.

PREPARATION: Heat the water for 10 minutes, then turn off the heat. Add the basil and hibiscus and let it steep for 15 minutes. Drink four sips before your divination practices, especially oracles.

MIX OF HERBS FOR LOVE:

INGREDIENTS: 1 cup of basil, 1 cup of rose petals and buds, 1/2 cup of patchouli leaves, 1/2 cup of lavender flowers, 2 tablespoons of dragon's blood.

PREPARATION: Place this herbal mixture in a bowl in your home to attract love.

HAPPY SIPS:

*This is a recipe that makes me feel really happy...

INGREDIENTS: Fresh basil leaves, fresh strawberries.

PREPARATION: Make a flavored water by adding as much basil and strawberry as your heart desires. Let it sit for a while (to taste) and drink it. I used to make this a lot when working at the office, and it made me feel fresh and happy.

Sources:

CUNNINGHAM, Scott. Enciclopédia das Ervas Mágicas do Cunningham. 1ª ed. São Paulo: Editora Alfabeto, 2021.

PRIETO, Claudiney. Rituais de Magia com o Tarô. 1ª ed. São Paulo: Editora Alfabeto, 2021.

GORI, Tânia. Herbologia Mágica. 2ª ed. São Paulo: Editora Alfabeto, 2021.

CABOT, Laurie; CABOT, Penny; PENCZAK, Cristopher. Tradução de Virginia Dalbo. Livro de Feitiços de Laurie Cabot. 3ª ed. São Paulo. Editora Alfabeto, 2021.

LADDY, Brianna. Apostila Magia das Ervas. 2019. Her Instagram

LADDY, Brianna. 25 Feitiços usando a Magia das Ervas. 2021. Her Instagram

MINHAVIDA. Manjericão alivia problemas intestinais e tem ação anti-inflamatória. Disponível em: https://www.minhavida.com.br/materias/materia-11744#:~:text=Existe%20pouca%20informa%C3%A7%C3%A3o%20sobre%20a,fervente%20duas%20vezes%20ao%20dia. Acesso em: 11 abr. 2021.

SOCIEDADE BRASILEIRA DE FARMACOGNOSIA. Taninos. Disponível em: http://www.sbfgnosia.org.br/Ensino/taninos.html. Acesso em: 11 abr. 2021.

PARODI, Lorenzo. MANJERICÃO. Disponível em: http://www.ingredientes.blog.br/. Acesso em: 11 abr. 2021.

PORTAL SÃO FRANCISCO. Manjericão. Disponível em: https://www.portalsaofrancisco.com.br/alimentos/manjericao#:~:text=Devido%20%C3%A0%20forma%20de%20suas%20folhas%2C%20(cora%C3%A7%C3%A3o)%2C%20era,atenuar%20o%20cheiro%20do%20couro. Acesso em: 11 abr. 2021.

GRANDI, Telma Sueli Mesquita. Tratado das plantas medicinais [recurso eletrônico]: mineiras, nativas e cultivadas. 1. ed. – Dados eletrônicos. Belo Horizonte: Adaequatio Estúdio, 2014. (Download the book HERE)

HOFFMANN, David. Tradução Euclides Luiz Calloni. O guia completo das plantas medicinais: ervas de A a Z para tratar doenças; restabelecer a saúde e o bem-estar. 1ª ed. São Paulo: Cultrix, 2017.

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[fanhackers]

One example of such a title is the popular web novel Dumb Husky and His White Cat Shizun (2019; originally called Er Ha He Ta De Bai Mao Shi Zun—hereafter, 2ha). (…) The book was later adapted into the TV series Immortality (n.d.; originally called Hao Yi Xing). (…) According to largely unverified rumors, the series was supposedly approved by the Chinese censorship authority in February 2021 and the date of release was then officially announced to be April 15, 2021. However, since then it has been delayed numerous times and as of April 2023, it has yet to be given a release date.  The trends in posts discussed in this article additionally demonstrate the value assigned to time invested in carrying out creative activities that contribute to the maintenance of fandom unity as well as protection of the cultivated fandom experience. Despite the current lack of access to their fan object, the participants seem to exhibit characteristics typical of a devoted fandom. Fans strengthen their engagement with the fan object through performing roles of marketers and promoters. In addition, interactions among fans and with competing fandoms allow the participants to further cultivate their loyalty to the fan object. All of these behaviors contribute to uniting the fan community under one collective identity, boosting morale and making the wait for Immortality seem more worthwhile. Wrochna, Agata Ewa. 2023. "Best TV Show You Have Never Seen: Maintaining Collective Identity Among the Twitter Fandom of Chinese Dangai Drama Immortality." In "Chinese Fandoms," edited by Zhen Troy Chen and Celia Lam, special issue, Transformative Works and Cultures, no. 41. https://doi.org/10.3983/twc.2023.2361.

#fanhackers #fandom studies #collective identity #fan identity #author: szabo dorottya #agata ewa wrochna