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serephinastardust · 5 months

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The Book I'm writing: Requiem of the Rising Flames-Elixir's Pursuit: A Kitsune's Journey Rewrite #3 Book 1 Chapter 6

In the heart of Umbral Haven, the bustling activities of the Twilight Tavern momentarily halted as the attention of onlookers was drawn upward to the expansive canvas of the sky. Odessa, her gaze instinctively drawn to the heavens, witnessed a celestial spectacle unfolding amidst the azure expanse.

High above, a Tempest Roc, its wings spanning like storm clouds, clashed with another figure in a dance of elemental fury. Lightning arced through the sky as the colossal wings of the Roc beat against the currents. The clash of forces created a symphony of thunder, a celestial battle that seemed to defy the boundaries between earth and sky.

As Odessa's amber eyes absorbed the celestial turmoil, the murmurs of the onlookers surrounded her, a chorus of speculation and awe.

"By the stars, what in Celestria is happening up there?"

"It's a Tempest Roc! Haven't seen one this close in ages!"

"I heard there have been attacks in the neighboring areas. Those wings can summon storms!"

The gathered crowd, a mix of locals and travelers, exchanged snippets of information and rumors as they marveled at the aerial combat. The tales of the Tempest Roc's recent attacks on neighboring territories fueled the conversations, adding an air of trepidation to the spectacle.

"The storms it conjures can level entire settlements. They say it's hunting something or someone."

"Are we safe here? What if it decides to dive down?"

Odessa, amid the cluster of onlookers, absorbed the hushed dialogues like an unassuming specter. The Tempest Roc's battle had become a focal point, a transient interruption in the daily affairs of Umbral Haven. The mid-day sky served as a backdrop to the celestial drama, casting shadows and highlights that danced across the faces of those below.

The celestial battle reached a climactic moment as Odessa, her eyes reflecting a mix of fascination and concern, observed the figure in the sky gaining the upper hand against the majestic Tempest Roc. A swirl of wind and lightning surrounded them, creating an ethereal spectacle against the canvas of the mid-day sky.

However, the intrigue in Odessa's gaze transformed into a squint of realization. The figure, seemingly indifferent to the consequences, seemingly directed the Roc's descent toward the heart of Umbral Haven. The oncoming collision with the city became evident, and a sense of urgency tinged the air.

The colossal wings of the Tempest Roc, now battered and tattered, cast a looming shadow as it hurtled toward the city below. The figure, still entangled in the celestial dance, exhibited an uncaring demeanor, as if the impending chaos held no consequence to them.

A collective gasp rippled through the onlookers, and panic seized the crowd around Odessa. The previously captivated spectators became a chaotic swarm, each individual driven by a primal instinct to flee the impending danger.

"The Roc! It's heading for the city!"

"Run! Everyone, run!"

The once-static atmosphere of the Twilight Tavern's surroundings erupted into a frenzy of motion. Tables were overturned, glasses shattered, and the sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the cobblestone streets as people desperately sought refuge from the impending disaster.

Amidst the chaos, Seraphina remained composed, a calm figure in the tempest of panic. Her eyes, like Odessa's, followed the Roc's descent with a measured awareness. The two women, surrounded by the tumult of fleeing onlookers, stood firm as the impending collision approached.

The once azure sky turned chaotic as the Tempest Roc, battered and broken, plummeted towards Umbral Haven. Its descent was a maelstrom of wind and dust, a tempestuous collision of celestial and earthly forces. The figure that had engaged in the celestial battle showed no concern for the Roc's trajectory, guiding it with an indifferent hand towards the heart of the city.

The impact was a thunderous cacophony that reverberated through the cobblestone streets. Dust billowed into the air, obscuring the crash site and shrouding Umbral Haven in a veil of debris. The crowd, having fled moments earlier, now looked back with a mix of awe and trepidation.

Seraphina, standing beside Odessa, glanced at her companion with a subtle curiosity. Amidst the chaos and panic that gripped the onlookers, Odessa remained an island of calm. There was a stoicism in her demeanor, a detachment that Seraphina found both intriguing and perplexing.

Internally, Seraphina observed Odessa, noting the absence of panic or urgency in her expression. "Is she immune to fear, or does she simply wear it well?" Seraphina wondered, her hazel eyes narrowing as she processed the apparent emotional detachment of the Nightshade Lady.

Odessa, her eyes squinting against the swirling dust, watched the crash site with an air of composed fascination. She made a futile attempt to shield herself from the dust, coughing slightly as it invaded her lungs. Her focus, however, remained fixated on the aftermath of the celestial collision.

As the dust began to settle, revealing the transformed landscape, Odessa's keen eyes caught the glint of metal amidst the debris. A sword, its blade gleaming with an otherworldly sheen, lay embedded in the ground like an artifact of celestial power.

The sword was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, its hilt adorned with intricate dragon and kitsune motifs that seemed to dance with ethereal grace. The blade itself captured the essence of the celestial heavens, with a lustrous sheen that hinted at a power beyond mortal comprehension. The fusion of dragon and kitsune elements in the sword's design created a captivating tapestry of mythical symbols.

Odessa, her eyes narrowing with focused scrutiny, felt a faint flicker of familiarity tugging at the edges of her consciousness. As the dust continued to settle, the contours of the sword became clearer, and a realization dawned upon her.

"Eclipsbane," she whispered, the name escaping her lips like a long-forgotten melody. The familiarity of the sword resonated deep within her, stirring memories that had long been obscured by the passage of time.

The connection clicked in Odessa's mind, and the revelation brought with it a mix of emotions. The sword embedded in the ground, with its celestial aura and the weight of its history, belonged to none other than Crown Prince Xander.

Her eyes widened in realization as the puzzle pieces fell into place. The figure that had engaged in the celestial battle, the one who had guided the Tempest Roc's descent with an air of indifference—it was Xander himself. The Crown Prince had descended from the heavens, a celestial force in mortal form, to confront the tempestuous guardian that had encroached upon Umbral Haven.

Her eyes widened in realization as the puzzle pieces fell into place. The figure that had engaged in the battle, the one who had guided the Tempest Roc's descent with an air of indifference—it was Xander himself. The Crown Prince had descended from the heavens, a force in mortal form, to confront the tempestuous guardian that had encroached upon Umbral Haven.

As Odessa stood amidst the aftermath, her attention turned to the fallen Tempest Roc. The once-majestic creature, now battered and defeated, struggled in vain to rise from the ground. Its form, once a tempest of power, now lay subdued in the wake of Xander's intervention.

The dust began to settle, revealing the transformed landscape and the consequences of the clash. Odessa's eyes, however, shifted back to the man who stood amid the remnants, a silhouette against the settling dust.

Her gaze traced the profile of Crown Prince Xander—his molten gold hair cascading like a river of sunlight, and his deep sapphire eyes, pools of depth, focused on the Roc. His posture held a regal strength, a demeanor befitting his station as a Crown Prince who had just emerged from a battle.

The air around Xander seemed charged with a lingering energy, a testament to the forces he had wielded moments ago. His countenance bore traces of the encounter—dust and remnants of magic clinging to his form, a mark of the conflict.

Odessa observed him with a mix of curiosity and a subtle acknowledgment of the gravity that surrounded his presence.

The Tempest Roc, battered and defeated, eventually ceased its futile attempts to rise from the ground. Instead, it fixed a glare of frustration upon Xander, a primal defiance in its gaze as it acknowledged its predicament.

Seraphina, standing beside Odessa, couldn't contain her excitement. "Xander! He did it! The battle is over!" Her voice carried a fervent joy as she realized the celestial figure before them was none other than the Crown Prince.

The onlookers, who had initially fled from the crashing Tempest Roc, cautiously returned as the dust settled. With Seraphina's proclamation, a collective sigh of relief echoed through the air. The people gathered, their fear replaced by a sense of awe and gratitude at Xander's presence.

As the crowd reassembled, Odessa overheard the hushed voices of women commenting on Xander. The whispers carried a mix of admiration and gratitude, and among them, a recurring theme emerged. The women, inspired by the Crown Prince's bravery, expressed a desire to repay him for saving their lives.

"I heard he's the Crown Prince," one woman murmured to her companion. "If only we had something valuable to offer him in return."

Another group of women, overhearing the conversation, joined in the speculation. "Maybe we could... repay him in a different way," one suggested, her tone suggestive and laden with innuendo.

Odessa, catching wind of the discussions, couldn't help but feel a mixture of amusement and exasperation at the women's boldness. The gratitude they harbored for Xander had taken an unexpected turn, and the air was tinged with a blend of admiration and playful flirtation.

As the women continued their animated chatter about the handsome Crown Prince Xander, Odessa found herself caught in a sea of enthusiastic voices. Random snippets of dialogue floated around her, each comment praising the Crown Prince's looks, bravery, and overall charisma.

"He's like a living sculpture, isn't he?"

"I've never seen eyes so captivating!"

"He handled that celestial battle with such grace."

Odessa, feeling a subtle discomfort in the air, turned to leave. The ambiguous feelings stirred by the women's admiration for Xander left her unsure of her own sentiments. As she stepped away from the gathering, she mulled over the conversations she overheard.

Internally, Odessa grappled with a strange mixture of emotions. The talk about Crown Prince Xander and his captivating qualities seemed to touch a chord within her, evoking thoughts she wasn't entirely ready to confront.

The memory of her annulled engagement lingered in the recesses of her mind; a painful reminder of a connection severed. Odessa struggled to comprehend the complexity of her own feelings. She brushed off the discomfort as something unrelated, concocting a flimsy excuse to explain away the twinge in her heart.

"I must be feeling uneasy because of the residual energy from the celestial clash," she reasoned with herself. The thought served as a convenient distraction, allowing her to evade the deeper introspection of emotions she was not equipped to decipher.

As Odessa moved away, her departure did not go unnoticed. The Tempest Roc, its gaze fixed upon her, registered the subtle shift in her movements.

As Odessa walked away, a sudden commotion erupted behind her. Out of nowhere, a young woman, fueled by a surge of courage or perhaps infatuation, attempted to throw herself at Crown Prince Xander. The unexpected display of boldness drew gasps and whispers from the onlookers, creating a momentary spectacle in the wake of the celestial clash.

The Crown Prince, caught off guard by the impulsive gesture, gently sidestepped the woman's advance with a courteous yet firm demeanor. The odd event left the crowd in a state of mild astonishment, and the would-be suitor retreated with a flush of embarrassment.

The Tempest Roc, observing the unfolding scene, seized the opportunity presented by Xander's distraction. Determination filled the Roc's thoughts as it recognized the chance to escape while its adversary was momentarily preoccupied.

In a sudden and chaotic turn of events, the Tempest Roc seized the opportunity created by the distracted crowd and the young woman's failed attempt to approach Crown Prince Xander. With a precision born of predatory instinct, the Roc honed in on Odessa, who had unwittingly found herself at the center of the unfolding maelstrom.

In a swift and unexpected motion, the Roc's massive talons closed around Odessa, lifting her from the ground with a force that belied the creature's earlier defeat. The crowd, frozen in a stunned tableau, watched in collective disbelief as the Tempest Roc, far from vanquished, took to the sky with its newfound captive. Odessa, caught in the Roc's talons, felt the rush of wind and the disorienting ascent. The world below became a blur as the Roc ascended with a power that seemed to defy the laws of nature. Gasps of horror and disbelief emanated from the onlookers as they struggled to comprehend the audacity of the Tempest Roc's actions.

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nataliesilverman · 10 months

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Infernum

The current affairs of Infernum’s social climate remains a bit of a mystery to governmental services. A steep rise in mental health crises and sporadic and uncharacteristic patterns of violence after the nation’s vicious civil war and subsequent collapse led its fledgling government to undertake a study into its social climate, economic factors, etc.

For reasons unclear, the Metro Order PMC has not released their findings to the public, likely to avoid damaging their public image. External study and surveillance is near impossible due to crushing sanctions and a unilateral international travel ban into the nation. Only limited shipments of cargo of raw minerals are allowed out of the nation, and valuable cargo space on board these ships is the only way for any information of the secretive nation.

Therefore, news organizations often buy space onboard for remotely controlled surveillance drones to gather information. Interviews can be conducted via holographic calls. However, few government officials accept interview requests, and those on the streets often do not have the perspective of those higher up in governmental institutions, so a complete picture of the current sociopolitical and economics of the nation are not possible to paint.

In that stead we have opted to summarize a history of social relations from the formation of the country to its collapse. The founding of Infernum happened roughly in the year 2205 after the Great Awakening, when humanity awoke in the 27 megacities spread on the planet we now call Second Earth. The founders and colonists of Infernum and the rest of the world had no understanding of the technology driving these cities and could only rely on what limited machinery, resources, and supplies had been transported from Old Earth. Therefore, the records of what happened early on are of dubious reliability. However, what is known is that Infernum opted for a Social anarchist structure for its society, viewing a government’s role as a limiter on social and economic power. No body, political, economic or otherwise was allowed to rise to a national level in power, instead concentrating on local community instead of a growth, or even an imperial model as capitalism and communism had done on Old Earth. This was viewed as a solution to imperialism and the driving forces of conflict. At the local level this fostered healthy social relations and tight-knit communities. Law enforcement and society was focused on finding harmonic solutions to problems. The culture rising from this unique environment was one of the most vibrant on Second Earth, celebrated for its scientific and artistic development. The nation’s location at the southern hemisphere of the planet and on a continent almost entirely volcanic meant that it was shrouded in choking clouds of acidic fumes, iron oxide dust, and radioactive ash at all hours of the day. The cities are somewhat protected by a barrier that blocks out the majority of harmful radiation, though baseline humans are still recommended to take daily doses of a mixture of medications to purge their bodies of radioactive isotopes. This was an ideal place for vampire cultures to thrive, who were much maligned for their role in World War III. The majority of humans and posthumans who had arrived at the island were native to the American southwest and primarily lower income than those who left in the first wave of Earth’s evacuation. Therefore, these vampires, who were mostly of Eastern European and Asian descent from across a wide range of regions mingled with Latino populations that had migrated up from South and Central America, as well as African Americans from California.

This colorful mixture of cultures led to a collective aesthetic in clothing and architecture that was termed “Infernum Retrogothic”. In clothing, this was emphasized with looser, bell-bottomed pants and exaggerated high fashions mixed with cowboy aesthetic and accented with neon accents. In architecture, this led to repetitive geometric patterns emphasizing crosses and spikes. Though as more was learned about the technology making up the infrastructure of society, such figures as Ivor Dunroth experimented in interior space designs thought long impossible, making cavernous spaces and winding labyrinths as their own interactive art exhibits.

However, with this cultural revolution also came along the scars and contaminants of the old society left behind on Earth. The racial tensions between vampires, humans, and posthumans was not resolved, and though they lived together, they often did not live so peacefully. Those who often bore the worst of this violence were the Repro society, a demographic that had been eugenically bred into existence during the 1800s by the vampire tyrant Maria Dracula-Bathory. The intent at the time was to breed a race of lesser vampire as a servant class, marked by exaggerated secondary sexual characteristics and a shorter stature. Though immortal, this subspecies of human does not possess the heightened strength, speed, and combat abilities of their forebears and the remnants of this eugenic culture has always defined their treatment at the hands of vampires, humans and posthumans. In fact, the term “repro” is shortened from “reprobate” or “Reproductive” as a reclamation of one of many slurs dedicated to their torment. That being said, the lack of an aggressive ruling or dominant social class on Infernum led to a more equal voice and representation in Infernum’s media. Racial tensions and gang violence was always an issue in Infernum, now accredited to its unique politics at the time.

As idyllic as this society might have seemed, it is in retrospect that we know what led to its downfall. Its decentralized nature meant that there was no real representative federal government and certainly no formal military. As it would happen, Infernum’s several cities included DownTown, termed the High Energy Engineering Module by the more science-minded agencies of our society. The HEEM has been identified as Second Earth’s sole source of power for all of human society. Once this was identified, certain fledging societies around the world saw Infernum as a threat. Coupled with this was a realization that Infernum’s unusual capitol city, Eve, possesses a 50-mile tall structure known colloquially as the Spire. It was identified as some sort of high energy machine that could house office space and living space, rather than just a generic building. A large amount of manufacturing facilities are concentrated in this city, much more than any other place on Second Earth. Although Infernum was just learning how to utilize this alien technology, they were already seen as a great threat by the more imperial-minded society of New America.

It cannot be overstated how much the ICBM attacks of 2477 influenced Infernum. Infernum, without a central government, and without a military, could not defend itself. And although the thermonuclear missiles themselves incredibly could not even char the miles-tall towers of the cities, the attacks still killed thousands who were in the streets and flying in the air. It became clear that an organized military response was needed and Infernum’s central government began a revision of its Constitution to allow the formation of a command structure and military-industrial complex. Fear drove this culture to form this central infrastructure. Under different circumstances this may have been a positive change that would have allowed Infernum to bring its gang violence under control. As it stands, this was the perfect opportunity for a capitalist who had worked under Maria Bathory to seize his opportunity.

Victor Zodiac is the first tyrant of Infernum, a Repro vampire centuries old. His experience in the corporate business world led him to rapidly organize a corporate base to feed a new war machine, and under his advisement he recruited Uther G. Hyperion into the newly created Overlord General position. Victor Zodiac aggressively bought out manufacturing facilities, fueled by the unique geology of Infernum and its many rare metals. Under his guide, he attracted the most brilliant scientific minds of the time to research the technology and machinery of the cities. Mixing what he knew with schematics, technology, and science that was already known, he was able to rapidly test and deploy new platforms of war. Organic resources were poured into rapidly cloned armies.

It should be noted that Victor Zodiac is often cited as the most wasteful and epitomous example of manufactured humans for war, Every wartime superpower had bred its own cloned armies. Infernum, however, is noted as treating its veterans particularly harshly. Cloned soldiers are born directly into adult bodies and all knowledge they need to live and survive on the battlefield is forcibly uploaded into their brains. Victor Zodiac never had any plans to integrate them into society, as he was still of the capitalist mindset dominant on Old Earth at the time. His philosophy of warfare was one of cost and human capital. Cloned soldiers have a “service life”, i.e. a span of time where they are useful to their commanders. It’s known that a cloned soldier of any sort of competent design cannot be too smart or too intellectually limited. Too smart and they will think too slow to make snap decisions. Too intellectually limited and they will not be able to adapt to adverse conditions they were not trained for. This means that these soldiers can think for themselves. As they are essentially infants they do start to rapidly question everything and it has been proved that even in the most brutally religious or authoritarian armies, a competent, battle-ready clone soldier will inevitably question their commanders. It is at this point that many choose to desert instead of serve a cause, as they can transparently see they were born to die. This is the reason behind the criminalization and international ban of clone warfare.

As these soldiers expired from service and were brought home from the war they found themselves struggling to integrate into Infernum’s society. Though they were fully capable of learning it was and remains a stereotype that cloned soldiers are universally developmentally delayed, incompetent, and steal jobs from naturally born humans. While it is completely possible to integrate cloned soldiers into human society, governments have historically not funded integration and recovery programs. Infernum had no formal integration programs at all which led to a very steep rise in crime and substance abuse from veterans with no formal educations, no place to work or live, and more than half suffering from war-related conditions such as PTSD and injuries that never healed.

Simultaneously, the research Victor Zodiac had been conducting into the alien technology of the cities had led to greater and greater automation of the facilities he owned. This meant he no longer needed human workforces and he laid off the majority of the population. As society had been restructured into a more economically-minded structure where Zodiac owned everything, he charged a tax for every service he owned. And as he owned nearly every aspect of Infernum’s infrastructure, no one could afford to survive. This naturally led to an explosion in homelessness and suffering. To combat the rising tide of crime Victor poured more and more funding into Infernum’s national police department. The INPD aggressively recruited clone soldiers and its reputation for brutality only exacerbated its issues. The perceived power and aggression, and lack of oversight led to the INPD becoming enormously corrupt, dealing drugs, racketeering, and most egregiously running human trafficking rings.

In 2485, Infernum was a sociopolitical bomb on top of a campfire. Although World War IV had been won, it was at the cost of Infernum’s society. With its social services and economy thoroughly gutted and its police becoming the new military, its population was primed for an uprising. At the time it seemed like a hopeless situation. Victor Zodiac was a ruthless tyrant possessing the world’s premiere military-industrial complex and the most heavily armed police force in human history.

The Zodiac Foundation was a charitable organization dedicated mostly to the appearance of supporting human rights to the international community. Zodiac publicly boasted about the thousands of orphanages he had funded around the country. However, like his police forces, these were left with little oversight and unlike those police forces, woefully underfunded. Treatment of the children in these systems was often substandard and often downright cruel. Records of the horrific conditions and abuses inside of these facilities is cited on the international criminal charges against Zodiac, filed by both the United National Convention and the Office of International Crime Prevention. It is also known that the administrators and caretakers in these orphanages paid rackets to the INPD and even sold them children on the international market. Due to the lack of documentation of these crimes it is impossible to say how many children were sold and killed to these crimes, but the most conservative estimates put the number around 150,000, with the highest estimates being around 500,000.

In a favela formed outside of Zodiac’s magma mines and refineries known for its particularly brutal conditions, located near the east coast of Infernum, the Saint Sebastien orphanage was bombed. The national outrage of this incident ignited a protest that led to other protests. Initially weak at first due to brutal police responses, these protests turned into riots with the Bloodworth Police Killings in Magnum City that very much weakened public perception of the strength and authority of the INPD.

More orphanage bombings on east end of Infernum were classified as terrorist attacks and this fueled animosity against police and more importantly, the Zodiac Mining Corporation.

At the time, the world looked at the rising chaos in this nation and saw a massacre. What was underestimated by even Victor Zodiac was the ferocity and sheer strength of a posthuman uprising. The massive leaps and bounds in scientific knowledge had led to huge advancements in not only mechanical technology but medical sciences. For a short period after the outbreak of WWIV there was a huge rush for regular humans to modify themselves into immortal posthumans, or modify their bodies in general. Independent doctors working with the “programming language” of genetics were able to sell custom-tailored genomes to clients for cheap prices. And with an expanded understanding of bioaetheric energy and the unique physics governing it, many of these clients had purchased telepathic, telekinetic, or even energokinetic abilities. These abilities are independent of human metabolic processes. Victor Zodiac had essentially tormented a population of demigods. While the INPD and military possessed huge amounts of firepower that were deployed against Infernum’s populace, they found themselves evenly matched with the supposedly unarmed populace. Victor’s lack of oversight into his own industries had come back to haunt him.

As these battles and riots edged ever closer to Eve and DownTown, the respective capitols of the country, the wealthier, more educated and more peaceful inhabitants of Infernum fled en masse from the rising violence. Victor’s own engineers, programmers, and scientists fled, depleting Infernum’s stock of educated talent. After highly publicized but highly isolated incidents of Infernum immigrants committing violent crimes, Infernum came to bear the stereotype of warmongering brutes and in the weeks after these crimes, nations came together at the United National Convention to vote on an international travel ban to and from Infernum, and massive sanctions that crippled the nation.

These stereotypes were reinforced by the brutal rise of Infernum’s current political leader, Victoria Bloodworth. A newly turned posthuman and a teen at the time, Victoria’s full physical capabilities and the extend of her modifications are unknown. Though it is suspected that she does not possess any bioaetheric capabilities. Nevertheless, her brutality was highly televised. She rose to prominence and power through fear and intimidation, often consuming her victims alive and screaming.

She became the unofficial leader of Infernum’s political resistance and even led the infiltration and occupation of Zodiac Tower, where she forcibly took over Victor’s position and filled his staff positions with her own people.

Whether to prevent the totality of infrastructure and scientific knowledge from falling into the hands of a madwoman or sheer malice, Victor gave the order to delete or encrypt all corporate files and reports regarding the operation of Infernum’s facilities and Zodiac’s products, effectively setting Infernum back to its colonization days. Without its educated talent and without any functional infrastructure, the country has remained in its collapsed state and is largely unable to rebuild itself.

What is known about the nation is that the Zodiac Mining Company was rebranded as the Metro order Private Military Company, primarily funding police and aide efforts. Though, like the INPD, Metro Order relies heavily on recruits with little or no training or oversight, which has perpetuated the conditions that led to the first revolution. However, in the last 5 years, despite the violence, there has been no regime change. This is mostly attributed to Infernum’s population estimated to be dropping by around 500,000 a year as the violence claims more lives than Infernum’s birthrate can keep up with.

Given the large number of posthumans and vampires with augmented consciousness, who are innately “smarter” than a base level human, this should foster peace and healing in society. It is not known what exactly perpetuates the violence.

We can theorize, however. Collective surveillance and interviews done through news drones has revealed a tribalist structure to Infernum’s society, many of them living isolated inside of the 10-mile tall towers dominating every city. These isolated communities do not act as gangs, however, and seem highly isolationist. None interviewed have ever specified why their society is structured the way it is, though behavioral scientists, sociologists and disease experts have noticed that these behavioral patterns are consistent with self-quarantine efforts leading to the theory that disease or a bioweapon is running loose in the society. It isn’t out of the realm of possibility that disease is a common problem, as Infernum’s streets are still covered in the corpses from a revolution a decade ago, without adequate manpower to even clean up the bodies of the dead.

In spite of the presence of doctors in the country, the majority are in hiding and provide services illegally. After WWIV it was agreed that bioaetheric modification to match military-grade genomes, and the private development of more ever-powerful strains of posthuman was deemed illegal mostly to keep crime and conflict from becoming ever more destructive. The majority of doctors left on Infernum were such developers, private doctors who designed and sold their own genomes to military and private sectors. Although the United National Convention has dropped charges against these individuals and granted exceptions to those in Infernum, they are unable to come out of hiding due to national law imposed by the Bloodworth administration and charges brought on by the OICP, which operates as an NGO with the capacity to enforce international law.

Another working theory is that this society is rebuilding on an augmented norm. Posthumans and vampires have always existed on human social infrastructure, but this society is unique as only 5% of its population can be described as baseline human. This has been compounded by the Human Resurgence, a human supremacist movement that appeared early in Infernum’s colonization and only gained more traction after Zodiac automated his factories and stores. Individuals in this movement believe humans to be “pure” and “true humans” and only reproduce with other humans. Shrinking human populations have meant that a significant portion of humans belong in this movement and multiple generations have suffered the effects of inbreeding, leading to ever higher mortality rates among human populations in Infernum and even less of this “human default” of sociology and social structuring.

Whatever the case may be, a slow conflict between Metro Order and regular civilians has been raging for the last 5 years, fueled by illegal weapons shipments from certain political rivals of Infernum, notably City 17 and New America. Old racial lines have been redrawn between humans, posthumans, and vampires. However, the brunt of this tension has fallen on the Repro class, who has fallen back into their antiquated role of servitude within society, making a living as servants, prostitutes, and low level office workers.

In its current state, Infernum cannot recover and is in fact collapsing again due to a lack of usable infrastructure, medical services, and economic development. If Infernum cannot recover, control over the world’s only power source cannot be guaranteed. Multiple superpowers and economic bodies have advocated to invade the nation, though a lack of intel about the conditions within the country have prevented such an operation. It is suspected that some sort of epidemic threat is present. Though the urging of many, notable former Zodiac executives exiled from Infernum, is still present.

#Infernum #World-building #Ghosts of the Old World

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realbooksonline · 1 year

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Why Embrace the Concept of Audit Trail in Bookkeeping?

A less travelled path also has footprints somewhere or the other which leads the traveller to its destination sooner or later. But what if the path is heavily travelled?

The destination might seem easy but counting and analysing each and every step might not be easy to fetch from those numerous feet. The advanced tech helps us edit anything and everything and the records of each and every edit can be fetched but need technical expertise.

Similarly, the world of bookkeeping, through accounting software, goes through several changes and edits on daily basis even after being strongly controlled through the developed technology.

But then what about the records of those changes?

According to The Indian Ministry of Company Affairs (MCA) notification dated March 24, 2021 (Companies (Accounts) Amendment Rules, 2021), for the financial year beginning on or after April 1, 2021, every company that uses accounting software to maintain its books of account shall use only Accounting Software that has a feature of recording an –

Audit Trail of each and every transaction,

Creating an edit log of each change made in books of account along with the date when such changes were made.

Ensuring that the audit trail cannot be disabled.

Current Update: The MCA has later announced that the above amendments will take effect on April 1, 2023, as per the amended provisions vide Companies (Accounts) Second Amendment Rules, 2022.

How do you as a business get benefitted from the concept of Audit Trail?

1.Compliant Books: An audit trail can help by providing evidence that your business has followed established procedures and that the books are demonstrating its compliance with regulations, laws, and industry standards further avoiding penalties and fines.

2.Transparency makes accountability easier: Trust is what every stakeholder expects the business to radiate and without crystal clear records of each and every transaction in books, the trust factor might never get room. An audit trail helps the business gain and maintain trust.

3.Fraud caught at the thought: Corrective actions come into the frame when a company can identify irregularities, anomalies, and suspicious behaviours. An audit trail can help detect and prevent fraud by providing a record of all transactions and activities.

4.Risks get managed well: Identification of potential issues is always a better option than solving it after it becomes the bone in the throat kind of problem. An audit trail helps in the identification of such risks and can also provide evidence to support insurance claims or legal disputes.

RealBooks, your compliant cloud accounting partner has always tried its best to keep the books appropriate at all times. We followed the MCA notification even before 2021 and have helped YOU keep the records of all when, what, whom and where of all transactions.

Are you yet not in the category of YOU till date??? Get RealBooks now, be the King or Queen and relax since we are the ones who will shield you from such issues.

Switch to RealBooks, the cloud accounting software, and take your visionary organization towards a smarter and greener tomorrow.

#accounting #accounting software #cloudacounting #cloud accounting software

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vindingsantiago37 · 1 year

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sap hana admin training uk 8

12 Best Sap Training And Certification Courses In Uk, London, Birmingham, Glasgow SAP HANA is amongst the hottest trend in the current market as SAP HANA with in-memory structure and efficiency has already drawn attention of fortune 500 companies who're coping with large amount of knowledge on daily basis. No, the information of ABAP will help in understanding the business logic implementation but it isn't necessary to be taught SAP ABAP. SAP HANA is among the hottest tendencies within the present market as SAP HANA with in-memory structure and effectivity has already drawn the attention of Fortune 500 firms who're dealing with big amount of knowledge every day.

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This training helps companies to streamline processes, present real-time info, and help increase total enterprise performance. Holding the required knowledge and skills to use SAP Business One to handle enterprise actions effectively will permit people to realize higher job roles with higher pay. SAP HANA is a game altering product from SAP that provides in-memory database for performing real-time information evaluation and improvement of applications on prime of knowledge. HANA helps companies solve information, reporting, latency challenges and unleash their potential with a real time platform. sap hana admin online course uk deals with managing SAP HANA system in a single and distributed system setting. SAP HANA is an on-premise utility that gathers real-time insights which comprises of recent hardware capabilities and memory-centric database which yield high-performance engine to course of and store information.

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SAP HANA Studio is an Eclipse-based improvement and administration device for working with HANA. The SAP HANA Administratordraws a mean wage of $141,567 per 12 months relying on the knowledge and hands-on experience. The SAP HANA Administrator job roles are in high demand and make a rewarding career. This video will present you the whole work means of how to configure SAP HANA Traces. You will study every step of it in the course of the session. In this tutorial, you will learn to replace SAP HANA with a new help package deal along with installing the SAP HANA Interactive Education content material.

Lesson 24 - Sap Hana Platform

We assist in Resume Assistance, mock interviews/Interview preparation and so forth. Once you get through Interview faqs, then we market your resume. If you cooperate with our vendor and flexible concerning location and charges, then there are high possibilities to get placed most in 2-3 months. We will deal with your H1B charge If you get placed through our sister consulting companies. Post their BA Training, while re-drafting the resume, we advise the candidates to emphasize on BA abilities learnt out of their earlier work expertise as a QA. This will help focus on the BA expertise to secure a BA job extra easily.It is a challenge for us place a fresher.

We will ensure you will face interviews as experienced advisor with confidence by providing greatest role-based coaching.

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The coach used actual life cases, and the reason offered was very useful to know.

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This SAP Analytics Cloud Training is designed for anybody who wants to realize primary data about SAP Analytics Cloud. Throughout this course, delegates may even learn about the method to obtain ASE Software and set up on Linux, with perceive the interface of Adaptive Server. Delegates ought to have a basic understanding of role-based authorisation concepts, DBA, LDAP and SMTP. Before attending the SAP Event Ticketing coaching course, delegates should have knowledge concerning the common workflows in promoting tickets. By attending this course, delegates will have the power to handle key features of the project, enforce finest practices, and set up operations for ongoing success.

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spacetimewithstuartgary · 2 months

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New SpaceTime out Wednesday....

SpaceTime 20240221 Series 27 Episode 23

Planet Earth’s Pacific plate is pulling apart

A new study has found that the Pacific plate is scored by large undersea faults that are pulling it apart.

The Odysseus lander on its way to the Moon

Intuitive Machines mission to the lunar south pole has launched into space carrying seven NASA experimental payloads designed to prepare the way for the ultimate return of humans to the Moon – this time to stay there.

NASA’s new PACE satellite reaches orbit

The Plankton, Aerosol, Cloud, ocean Ecosystem – or PACE spacecraft will study the impact of tiny, often invisible things from space including microscopic life in the water and microscopic particles in the air.

Russian Progress cargo ship reaches space station

A Russian Progress cargo ship carrying two and a half tonnes for supplies has successfully docked with the International Space Station.

The Science Report

New study demands a more concerted effort to prepare for climate extremes in South Australia.

The new one minute test that provides early detection of autism spectrum disorder.

People who obsess over political beliefs more likely to engage in online cancel culture.

Alex on Tech: the battle of the A.I.s

SpaceTime covers the latest news in astronomy & space sciences.

The show is available every Monday, Wednesday and Friday through Apple Podcasts (itunes), Stitcher, Google Podcast, Pocketcasts, SoundCloud, Bitez.com, YouTube, your favourite podcast download provider, and from www.spacetimewithstuartgary.com

SpaceTime is also broadcast through the National Science Foundation on Science Zone Radio and on both i-heart Radio and Tune-In Radio.

SpaceTime daily news blog: http://spacetimewithstuartgary.tumblr.com/

SpaceTime facebook: www.facebook.com/spacetimewithstuartgary

SpaceTime Instagram @spacetimewithstuartgary

SpaceTime twitter feed @stuartgary

SpaceTime YouTube: @SpaceTimewithStuartGary

SpaceTime -- A brief history

SpaceTime is Australia’s most popular and respected astronomy and space science news program – averaging over two million downloads every year. We’re also number five in the United States. The show reports on the latest stories and discoveries making news in astronomy, space flight, and science. SpaceTime features weekly interviews with leading Australian scientists about their research. The show began life in 1995 as ‘StarStuff’ on the Australian Broadcasting Corporation’s (ABC) NewsRadio network. Award winning investigative reporter Stuart Gary created the program during more than fifteen years as NewsRadio’s evening anchor and Science Editor. Gary’s always loved science. He studied astronomy at university and was invited to undertake a PHD in astrophysics, but instead focused on his career in journalism and radio broadcasting. He worked as an announcer and music DJ in commercial radio, before becoming a journalist and eventually joining ABC News and Current Affairs. Later, Gary became part of the team that set up ABC NewsRadio and was one of its first presenters. When asked to put his science background to use, Gary developed StarStuff which he wrote, produced and hosted, consistently achieving 9 per cent of the national Australian radio audience based on the ABC’s Nielsen ratings survey figures for the five major Australian metro markets: Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, Adelaide, and Perth. The StarStuff podcast was published on line by ABC Science -- achieving over 1.3 million downloads annually. However, after some 20 years, the show finally wrapped up in December 2015 following ABC funding cuts, and a redirection of available finances to increase sports and horse racing coverage. Rather than continue with the ABC, Gary resigned so that he could keep the show going independently. StarStuff was rebranded as “SpaceTime”, with the first episode being broadcast in February 2016. Over the years, SpaceTime has grown, more than doubling its former ABC audience numbers and expanding to include new segments such as the Science Report -- which provides a wrap of general science news, weekly skeptical science features, special reports looking at the latest computer and technology news, and Skywatch – which provides a monthly guide to the night skies. The show is published three times weekly (every Monday, Wednesday and Friday) and available from the United States National Science Foundation on Science Zone Radio, and through both i-heart Radio and Tune-In Radio.

#science #space #astronomy #physics #news #nasa #esa #astrophysics #spacetimewithstuartgary #starstuff #spacetime

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yogenderthakur · 3 years

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Daily Current Affairs: 17 June 2021

Daily Current Affairs GK, General Knowledge One Liner Current Affairs GK in Hindi | Hindi Current Affairs 17 June 2021 vision ias current affairs, insights daily current affairs, affairs cloud current affairs, All India Competitive Exam GK Quizzes in Hindi All Exam Solutions प्रतियोगी परीक्षाओं की तयारी कर रहे छात्रो एवं पाठकों के लिए देश (भारत) विदेश में हाल ही में घटी घटनाओ से संबंधित…

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banglaquiz · 2 years

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19th November Current Affairs Quiz 2021 – Bengali – কারেন্ট অ্যাফেয়ার্স

19th November Current Affairs Quiz 2021 – Bengali – কারেন্ট অ্যাফেয়ার্স দেওয়া রইলো ১৯শে নভেম্বর – ২০২১ এর গুরুত্বপূর্ণ কারেন্ট অ্যাফেয়ার্সগুলি ( 19th November Current Affairs Quiz 2021 – Bengali – কারেন্ট অ্যাফেয়ার্স ) । MCQ আকারে এবং বর্ণনা সহ । ডিটেলস-এ পড়লে এই সাম্প্রতিকী MCQ গুলি মনে রাখা সহজ হয়ে যায় । সমস্ত ডেইলি কারেন্ট অ্যাফেয়ার্স গুলি একসাথে দেখে নাও – Click Here Daily Current Affairs…

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stephspurs · 3 years

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A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

Life is beautiful and life is cruel. This is a window into the souls of the victorious and the vanquished. In a way, football did come home during the summer of 2021. Follow along Amelia’s journey, navigating the football world as a tactical analyst for the Italian football team, with a brother and father part of the three lions. Will Amelia leave Italy and come back to England? Will she leave the Serie A for the Prem? Will she set aside the bianconeri stripes for new colours, leaving behind friendship for love? Maybe she can have both...

hey girlypops! here is part 5!!! thanks for the feedback on the last part - i've gone back through and edited slight bits to make it more straightforward who her brother is and who it isn't. Nothing has been changed to the story line so no need to go back and re-read (unless you want to lol love yas). Part 5 is a whole lot of fun! As the warning suggests, you can expect a few too many drinks, some heavy flirty & a very smug italian.

Love always, Steph xx

Part 5. | parte quinta

warnings; a few too many drinks, heavy flirting and a smug italian.

word count; 1704

writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter.

next update; Wed 04/08 5pm AEST. Updates are three times/week (Monday, Wednesday & Friday)!

Tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven

link to fic masterlist here

Day rolls into night, which rolls into the next day and before she knew it Amelia had been under the Mykonos sun for 5 days. Her brother and his teammates, who she should now probably refer to as her friends as well, did nothing but welcome her into their group with open arms and tried to include her in every activity they were doing. Most times she declined their invitation, opting to just relax on her own. She was very comfortable with her own company, she never felt like she needed another person to be able to exist. It was something she was proud of.

No doubt there were times she often missed companionship. She had her fair share of flings that gave her what kind of satisfaction she needed at the time, but she never felt like she needed someone else’s air to be able to breathe. This Mykonos trip, however, reminded her of how much she was beginning to miss her players. They had a group chat, La Cosa Nostra, which was probably a pretty poor group chat name but she was inducted into the already established group when she became close with some of the players & besides it was just Our Thing.

She missed the gentle bullying that she received on the daily from the serie a superstars, and also missed dishing it out to them so that they could keep their feet on the ground and their heads out of the clouds. Laying on her bed in a towel, after a nice shower, she contemplated taking up her brother’s offer from earlier in the evening. Does she go out and meet him and their mates at the club? Why not?

Getting up off her bed, she put on some makeup for the first time in a few days, making her feel somewhat human again, blow dried her freshly washed hair and put on her favourite Camilla bikini, covered up by a white slightly-sheer and flowy mini dress. Putting on her white sneakers and grabbing her cross body bag, comfort was the theme of tonight, and also because she wasn't in the mood to break her ankle on the grecian cobblestones.

Walking to the club that her brother had messaged her the name of, she noticed a ridiculously long line to get in which was honestly long enough for her to consider just going home, but she had committed to the plans & her brother was already expecting her - plus she had already put on her mascara and she was not wasting it. Approaching the line she went to join the back when her arm caught that of someone else walking past her.

_____________________________________________________________

“Sembra che tu non riesca a starmi lontano, vero?” (you can't seem to stay away from me, can you?) Looking up, I had linked arms with my midfield maestro, Jorginho. Who was smiling down at me with the cheeky grin that told me he saw me coming and couldn't help himself.

“Ciao! Come sei stato? Che sorpresa incontrati qui!” (Hi! How have you been? What a surprise running into you here!) I begin to say to him as I kiss both his cheeks in greeting.

“I’ve been good, enjoying time off as a double champion” He joked with me. He was right, he was a double champion and no one could take that away from him.

“Bella Amelia, this is Thiago. I play with him at Chelsea, which I'm sure you already knew. Thiago, this is the brains behind the organisation, Amelia” Jorginho introduced me to his Chelsea counterpart, which he was correct about - i did already know exactly who he was.

“Are you guys coming into Tropicana? I’m meeting up with my brother and his mates - some of them play with you guys at Chelsea. You should join us!” It took very little convincing for the two footballers, who looked like they were a couple hours into their long night, to join me in the club.

Unsurprisingly, we got let into Tropicana quite quickly. I’m sure it had nothing to do with the two mega famous and ridiculously good looking footballers I had looped around each of my arms. Walking through the club, the smell of cigarette smoke and vodka wafting around me, I managed to find the british players.

“Now now boys, no bad blood here! I know you all managed to get over my Italian affiliation so don’t hold it against my boy Jorgi here!” I address the group jokingly, as I wrap my right arm around his neck and he wraps his left around my waist.

Of course the Chelsea boys welcome him with open arms, they’ve known both Thiago and Jorgi longer than they’ve known me. The other boys offer their hellos before continuing to dance and drink with their mates. I say hi to everyone, give a big hug to my brother and Kyle (my chosen brother) before I'm wrapped into another hug I wasn't expecting.

“I’ve got to admit, you give a good hug” I say as I whisper into his ear.

“You’re a pretty easy person to hug, Mils”

“Always a smooth talker you are, Jack”

We parted and I grabbed myself a drink before spending the night dancing on top of the table with the girlfriends of the boys that I had only just been introduced to. Bonding over the fact that I was desperate for some female companionship, and also that I was the only single girl in the group, leading to the conclusion that they needed to be my wingwoman...all of them.

The night thereafter was spent finding suitable prospects for my whirlwind night of fun and romance, which I insisted wasn't necessary but also couldn't help but admit that it excited me just a little. It had been a while since I was close with a guy in that sense, and to be honest, the tequila shots that the girls had me doing was loosening me up in more ways than one.

Feeling the need for a break and some fresh air, I grabbed my purse and walked outside to sit along the retaining wall. We had reached that part of the evening where there was no chance I wasn't going to be allowed back into the club - the bouncers and security guards becoming more relaxed and carefree as it neared the time that the sun would reappear. Without thinking twice, I asked for a cigarette from some guys standing outside and a quick light, before returning to my little spot on the wall.

“They’re right bad for you, ya know” A voice to my right startled me.

“Jesus! You need to stop scaring me like that!” I shrieked.

“Nah not Jesus, just Chilly. However the beard has me thinking I do look a little bit God-like these days..no?” He says as he runs his fingers through the barely-there beard. Sure I could agree with stubble, maybe even a little bit more than stubble, but a beard? Not yet. However, I wasn't about to dim his sparkle.

“I like the beard, Chilly.” I confirmed.

“I like you, Mils” Wow ok. Straight to the point then.

“Well thanks, you’re not so bad yourself.” I tried to play it off, it was obvious we had both consumed far too much alcohol this evening and the cigarette was currently working wonders in its purpose of sobering me up.

“Ya know, the girls were out there tonight looking for your Greek Adonis to come and sweep you off your feet. They were looking a bit too hard though, if you know what i mean” he sweet talks me, and its working.

“Wow Ben, you’re really out here laying it on thick tonight - factor 50 i would say. I’m sure you’re just looking through rose coloured glasses right now” I joked back with him. I can’t say I didn't notice all of his longing looks, extra attention to me, constant protection when we would be out in public, but I knew at the end of the week that I would be going back to Turin, so there wasn’t any point.

Finishing up our little chat (read: heavy flirting session), we headed back inside together to join the group. Before long, Jorgi comes up to me with a drink and a smug smile on his face.

“Che cosa?” (what?) I questioned him in Italian, trying to limit as many people understanding our conversation as possible.

“Cosa succede a mykonos, rimane a mykonos, no?” (what happens in mykonos, stays in mykonos, no?) He says as he leans into my ear. To anyone else it would just look like two friends trying to have a conversation in a loud club, but I understood his message loud and clear.

“non sto facendo niente di male, né l'ho mai fatto. non voleva etichette, quindi è quello che ha ottenuto” (i'm not doing anything wrong, nor have i ever. he wanted no labels so that’s what he got.) I say back firmly. Jorgi let go of my shoulders and moved to stand in front of me.

“It’s ok tesoro (darling), I’m sure Federico would agree with you” He said back to me in English, it was obvious that he wanted someone around to understand the premise of our conversation. He smiled cheekily at me, before taking a swig of his drink and dancing backwards into the crowd as I shook my head at him.

Jorgi and I developed the kind of friendship that would last through time. We were equals. We listened to each other's problems, offered the advice that we needed to hear & not necessarily wanted to hear. We promoted each other's happiness and tried to get each other to not take life too seriously. This was his way of bringing me back down to earth, reminding me of what I have waiting for me back in Turin, but also making sure I knew what was right in front of me. He left the decision up to me to make, but he played his part to make sure I knew all of my options. He really was a good friend, which would make my next career decision a little bit more challenging than anticipated.

Part 6. | parte sesta

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vminity21 · 3 years

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Beyond the Facade | knj

Pairing: handyman!namjoon X preacherskid!reader, bestfriend!taehyung X pregnant!reader, f2l!au

Word Count: 10,958

Genre: mysterious/angst/fluff/smut

Warning(s): strong language use, semi-detailed childbirth, mention of infidelity, alluding of a love triangle, evidence of a sheltered background, angst involving family matters, smut, losing virginity, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), nipple play, hand groping, lots of flashbacks but that is the point of the story i sorry; Rated: 18+

Summary: A sheltered life leads to harbored secrets that are buried in order to protect someone you are falling in love with. As the time is nearing for the life growing inside you to be welcomed into the world, the reminiscences of all the moments unfold to reveal a beautiful story that needed to be told.

Credits to: @suhdays for making such a phenomenal header! The talent she has never ceases to amaze me!

The graying of the clouds is all you can see beyond your window other than the panging rain droplets now trickling upon the glass. Arm resting against your forehead, your lips press into a straight line in response to the series of thoughts circling your mind. Carefully, you slide your palms upon the mattress in an attempt to sit up, wanting to see more of the view besides the crying sky. Knuckles curling to rub your tired eyes, you furrow your brows, the comforting warmth of the bed covers remain tangled between your shins. Leafless trees border the side of the building save for a small swing set; a paved section decorated with a basketball hoop where a large shed stands many feet across from it. If one is to step outside the front of the structure, there sits a church surrounded by a gravel parking lot where the neighboring land hosts a barbed wire fence with an abandoned house and field.

It's been four months since you deemed the fellowship hall your home, and appreciatively, the area has been vacant since the falling of the church which saves even more stress than what you've been in since moving here. Achingly, your legs stretch to move off the bed before your feet land onto the grainy carpet. Your right-hand slips to steady your back, maneuvering your body to scoot to the bed frame, which has become a daily routine, weak fingers gripping the wood until your digits become pale white. Letting out a steady sigh, with all your strength you lift yourself to where you can stand, "Oomf," a small whimper escapes past your lips, tensing at the cringe plaguing your shoulders.

Being seven months pregnant sometimes has its perks, but this isn't one of them. Bending your body forward slightly, you step sluggishly toward your dresser, pulling out maternity clothes lent to you before the move.

"So, when are you going to tell us?" The soft murmur belonging to your mother echoes from the driver's side. Her expression submits an evident mixture of exhaustion and exasperation; though it's been a month since the announcement of your pregnancy, your mother is currently driving you to a doctor's appointment for a checkup on the baby to make sure everything is okay, "we have a right to know."

Arms crossed over your chest in mild annoyance, you bite the corner of your mouth until the side of your head meets the window, getting lost in the line of trees zipping by.

Waddling into the bathroom, the vague memory fades, your hand reaching to turn the knob of the shower. The squeaky sound along with rushing water splatters against the shower curtain sending a soothing jolt of excitement. Chilly air springs goosebumps over your limbs once you're freed of your clothes, waiting patiently for the water to warm before inching into the tub. When steaming liquid soon dribbles among your frame, a grin of satisfaction sparks brief happiness you needed an escape to. The heat of the downpour eases your aching bones, fingers clasping behind your neck to lean your head back, "Oh!" You gasp in surprise when the instant feel of a kick happens within your tummy. Eyes flutter down in the direction of your swollen belly, palms moving to caress it, "Look at you, what are you trying to do? Escape?" Cooing with a light giggle, when the baby kicks again, you can't help the giddy smile tugging at the corner of your lips. Now, this- this is what you love about being pregnant. Finishing up, you dry your hair before swiftly dressing along with brushing your teeth.

Thoughts still pertaining to the small life growing inside you, you've decided since your first doctor's visit that you do not want to know your baby's gender until the day that you give birth. When you presented the idea to your mother, she was all on board, proclaiming how she had done that with your younger sibling. Running a brush through your hair, you skim one final look into the mirror formerly then head to exit the bathroom.

Gradually sauntering through the mini hallway, you're more zoned on the way your hand pats upon the wall in some form of maintaining stableness to the point you hardly notice almost slamming into a tall figure.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry!" A deep voice panics, raising his arms in a way to catch you though your arms mirror the same. Heart ramming, a breath of relief winds past your parted lips- your eyes scanning the slim legs that follow to the handsome face of Kim Namjoon. His eyes enlarged apologetically.

"Oh Namjoon, you scared me," a tender chuckle sets the feel of calm for he sees the amnesty etched in your eyes.

"I'm so sorry, [Y/N], I was about to head out to mow the lawn, but just wanted to check and make sure you're okay," he timidly scopes the view of your huge abdomen, gulping once his hands rest loosely at his sides, returning his eyes to search yours before a sweet grin spreads upon your face.

"It's no biggie. Thank you for checking on me,"

His dimples show from the way his lips press in a tight smile, nodding in reply, timorously turning to waltz to the outdoors in preparation of the day ahead. You watch until he disappears from your line of vision; the creep of a blush burning from your chest to your cheeks. Raking your hands through your hair, you force yourself once again to deny the attraction seeping through your soul thankful your blush attacked after he left.

Kim Namjoon works for your father, making sure the church grounds continuously stay clean and cut creating a pretty environment to the eye. Protecting the land is another part of the job description- protecting it from any loiterers, wild animals, protesters, etcetera- maintaining flower bushes encircling the area as well as mini projects your father will want Namjoon to build. The swing set, including the shed, happen to be plans that Namjoon successfully constructed due to your father's wishes. In return, Namjoon is provided a place to live- the room that once held your father's office, is now changed into a bedroom.

It's strange for you to think about it now- how so much has changed in just seven months, when a year ago the church was thriving, unaware of the secrets that clouded within the audience. Squeezing your eyes shut, a reminiscent from the beginning of your pregnancy rears its head causing a tiny brink of nausea to form.

Taehyung's arms drape around you tightly, embracing you in all entirety that your eyes shut against the crook of his neck. Your fingers squeeze his shoulder, legs bent across his thighs while tepid tears spill onto your cheeks.

"Shhh," he tries to comfort, his breath tickling your exposed ear- your face still buried beneath his chin, "It's going to be okay," he whispers just as soft as the flicking fire burning amongst numerous candle wicks. Scents of vanilla blends with birch fitting the dimly lit bedroom that you're thankful exists other than the man refusing to let you go until you feel better.

"How?" You choke back another sob, "How am I going to tell my parents? How am I supposed to confront the church if that's what it comes down to? Shit... My dad is going to fucking kill me," Taehyung's shirt is soaked, but he could care less, tangling his long fingers into your hair to stroke the back of your head.

"Okay, now, you're being dramatic,"

"So, maybe I am? But you know very well that my parents aren't going to take this lightly,"

"Yeah, but I think it's safe to say that telling your parents you're pregnant is far better than if you were to tell them how you truly feel about religion,"

"Okay? Perhaps, you're right," a snippet of a frustrated huff leaves your trembling lips, "especially not with what's been going on with the church, I don't know how much more they can take,"

"Well, your dad should have thought of that before he had an affair with my mom," Taehyung's icy tone brings chills to your frame before he loudly swallows, lips firm from the anger boiling behind his almond eyes. Tendrils of his bright, red hair glow regardless of how dark the atmosphere is, and you hardly hold back the sheer pain stabbing your heart from the guilt you can't help but endure.

"Tae, I'm so so sorry,"

"Hey," he peers down at you, realizing he may have taken his comment too far, even though you're just as angry towards your father as your best friend is, "you didn't know," sniffling back the remaining mucus clogging your nostrils, you desire to face Taehyung no matter how foolish you think you may look, scooting your body to where your palm indents in his mattress next to his legs, his arm now rests around your waist, and for a split second, you're close enough to where the tempting appearance of his striking face beckons the strange glimmer of longing. A longing of curing whatever loneliness you're going through, but you're not the only one experiencing this moment for Taehyung's lips part just enough to plead your attention.

You can't stop yourself, and you don't, because before either of you comprehend, you close the gap letting the delicate wave of his kiss caress yours. "Tae," you breathe against his lips, reuniting with his kiss almost immediately while a dizzy spell of want travels through your chest. You know this isn't right. He knows this isn't right, but too many pent-up emotions between your hearts have gotten out of hand, and for now, all the two of you have is each other. His fingertips move to tenderly trail your jaw, gasping into his mouth when the tip of his tongue circles yours before you move to trap him in a perfect straddle. You need something, anything to feel whole again- something to forget about the people you lost and the people you will lose. And, if there's anyone in this world you do not want to lose it's him.

There's no refraining, there's no hesitation, just the growing pace of the kisses, and the way you're so enthralled with how beautiful he feels squeezing you tighter to him. "[Y/N]," he moans, hating himself for how far he wants to go with you, yet he craves your touch, nearly supplicates for it. You want to feel his skin, and the aching throb below you seems to deafen any other screams of stopping, and yet, your fingers move to the end of his shirt, peeling it just enough to expose the solid wall of his abdomen. "[Y/N]," he stops you, breaking the final kiss, his hand covering your wrist, while your eyes frantically search the side of his face, "We- we can't,"

You haven't seen him since, because of the boundaries that were crossed and would have been farther crossed if Taehyung had not had the strength to stop. The pair of you have been best friends since childhood, and neither of you wants to take anything beyond for the sake of feeling empty, but he assured you that night, even after your panic of apologies pouring from your mouth, after the humiliation that shackled your system, even after the daunting assumption that your friendship was over- he cupped your cheek, promising that he was still here and that he would never end your attachment over something, you both will never regret.

It's a secret you've suppressed for some time. Taehyung calls every so often when he can; dealing with his broken-hearted father on top of two jobs consumes every bit of his time. Yet, you can't help but miss him, the one person who loyally stayed by your side even when you came forward to your friends about your pregnancy. And, the one friend who still loves you all the same, even after discovering his mother's affair with your father.

Rage isn't enough to describe the resentment against your father, and ever since you told your parents that you were expecting, and ever since your move, you haven't spoken to him. You'll never forget how torn your mother was- depression weighing heavy on her, and that's something that's hard to forgive.

Your mother looks frail as she twiddles the crumpled tissue in her hands. Tears brim her eyes through the silence in the car, sparse sniffles breaking your heart into a million pieces. The two of you had just come back from the grocery store to restock the kitchen in your recently new home and are now parked at the church's back door to drop you off. You hesitated upon leaving because the thought of your mother having to return home to a place of remorse is the last thing you want for her. The promise of a car was granted to you, but you turned it down, refusing to accept anything from the man who caused so much pain to your family. To Taehyung's family.

Running the tissue underneath her eyes, she speaks, "[Y/N]?"

"Yeah?" Your voice is barely a whisper, but the guilt from how stressed your mother has been is something you wish you could carry instead of her. After the betrayal of your father as well as him resigning from the church to send people away from the place they once sought refuge in- on top of her oldest daughter being pregnant with her first child is already a lot to handle. The other frustration you bite your tongue from expressing is the fact of your parents refusing to let you get a job until the time after you give birth. You want to make the money to provide for yourself and your son or daughter without the dependence upon your parents- your mother especially, yet you're grateful for her adamancy on keeping you from any risks outside of the walls of your home.

It takes a moment before your mother gathers her words, "Do you- do you think you could ask Namjoon to help take you to the hospital? Whenever it's time... for you to have the baby?"

It was easier for your mother to ask that of you because he lived in the same building, and if any emergency of your water breaking happened earlier than expected, at least you would have someone available to take you to the hospital. Your gaze clears from the zone out you've had the whole time standing in the entrance of the hallway before Namjoon left. Turning on a heel, you decide to return to your bed, slipping under the covers- you're too wide awake to sleep as of now, yet the foam of the mattress eases the soreness of your back once you lean against the pillows.

-Four months earlier-

Queasiness envelops your abdomen to where you recognize the cue, rushing to the porcelain throne to heave whatever yellow liquid is left- spurting it into the toilet while you grimace through the pain. The door swings open behind you mixed with heavy footsteps quickening to you. When large hands swoop to hold your hair back, you don't have the strength to look at the intruder due to the continuous retching that deems you defenseless.

"It's okay, it's okay," the deep voice is soft, and relief brings tears to your eyes when you recognize it to be Kim Namjoon. You're embarrassed once your stomach gives you a break, your palms pressing to your forehead while you slump against the wall.

"I'm so sorry," you whisper, swiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Namjoon scatters to find a tissue, patting the corners of your lips.

"You don't have to be sorry,"

"That... wasn't what I was apologizing for,"

A knowing glance is all he must give for you to share whatever thoughts you can't bring yourself to voice. He was your friend before all of this, yet you failed to mention to him about the pregnancy, and with him being the worker of the Church- he didn't discover your budding stomach until the day you moved in. His eyes flicker away from your stare toward the slight protrusion of your baby bump due to your ruffled t-shirt. He settles on the floor across from you, silence being the only conversation held. He isn't one to hold anger, and though you kept him unaware until your third month of pregnancy, he refuses to leave your side, making a pact to himself he will do whatever it takes to provide the care that you will need. As well as the little one.

Despite the emotional roller coaster, you remain amazed with how he keeps his patience with you. A day of depression to a random bout of laughter- memories turning of the betrayals of close friends who judged you immediately the day you put your trust in them- the freedom you craved away from the sheltered life your father forced upon you- even days where you can't seem to put your tears on pause, yet Namjoon holds you through every grieve.

"What if... what if I'm not good enough?" Your voice shakes between sobs- you had been dreaming restlessly yet another night, tossing within your bed to the point Namjoon came to check on you- rushing to pull you into his arms the moment your eyes fluttered to reveal pained tears. Your words nearly shatter him- pulling away just enough to where his eyes lock with yours.

"How can you say that, [Y/N]?" The faint light of your lampshade causes his face to glisten- angelically, you decide, yet the shadowing doubt of motherhood plagues you still, because what if you genuinely can't care for the child that you're six months away from holding? Fears encompass you like an ocean, smashing along your mind in harsh waves. "Look at me," are the words that snap you from whatever sea you were suffocating in to realize you had unintentionally switched your gaze from him. It's the calming effect the warmth of Namjoon's eyes bring when he exposes whatever faith he has in the woman you are and will become. "You're going to do just fine, believe me, I know it,"

Sniffling, you run the back of your hand along your chin where an escapee of a tear dangled, "How can you be so sure?"

"Because when have you ever given up on anyone that you care about," it's not a question, he's stating what he knows to be a fact. Something he learned of you when he first was hired to tend to the property. "You're stubborn when it comes to winning someone over. I was determined not to befriend anyone here. But you changed that for me, remember?"

A knowing tug of a smile trembles into a stretch upon your lips, "I do,"

"Same with the baby. I know you will love that little one more than life itself. It doesn't have a choice, and you'll let him or her know the second they're born,"

When a hearty snicker leaves your mouth, you notice the sticky feel of your drying face- you are no longer crying.

"You don't have to do this alone, [Y/N]. You showed me that even when I didn't know what else to do. Now, get some rest, okay? You have a doctor's appointment bright and early," the bed creaks from the gradual movement of Namjoon standing,

"Wait!" You speak before you can stop yourself, Namjoon immediately pausing- the heat of his arms is felt beneath your palms from your pounce of panic, and with evident chagrin, you shyly stare at his chest, "Can you uh, ... Can you stay in here with me tonight?" You've refrained from asking sooner due to the shame of not telling him the news that's become apparent, and even now, you haven't been able to comprehend how he's not the slightest bit angry with you. When his arms encircle you closer to his frame, no words need to be said because he's already answered by just this gesture. Nuzzling into his embrace, the side of his chin pressed to your forehead, "Whoever it is, I hope they grow up to be half the person that you are," you whisper, squeezing him tighter, infinite smiles now ending the night that cures any ounce of uncertainty.

By the fifth month of pregnancy, you finally come to the realization of how selfish you have been- it's no longer about you and your needs; it is now about the needs of your son or daughter growing within you. Namjoon catered to every grocery store trip, stocking the kitchen and in return, you choose to cook for him every meal, hoping to show as much appreciation to him that you can.

"Have you thought about any names?" Taehyung's voice muses on the other line of the phone, the sound of him bringing a small smirk upon your face. You've missed him terribly so, yet the acceptance of surprise phone calls is all you can settle with for now. At his question though, you pause with the tilt of your head, taking a quick sip of the broth that you're currently heating on the stove.

"No?" It's a brief question of guilt, something you haven't been ready to ponder, "Honestly... haven't thought that far ahead yet," you add in the vegetables to boil within the broth.

The familiar, deep chuckle is all you hear to gain an idea of what your best friend is about to say next, "I should have known,"

"Alright, Birkenstocks. What do you mean by that?"

"Breezing past that mistake. You named your Parakeet, Bird,"

"Well, in my defense, I was seven years of age,"

"And in my defense, playing basketball in Birkenstocks was supposed to start a trend,"

"Since how? I-"

"Ask Hoseok,"

"You lost a bet didn't you-"

"And, I will pay for it for the rest of my life, now won't I?"

"With me around, you will,"

Hoseok is the deacon's son who's dream of fashion has been shunned by his family, yet he designs in a sketchbook Taehyung hides for whenever Hoseok and he share the same work shifts. He's not one you have had the opportunity to communicate much with, but you're thankful Taehyung has someone to maintain a friendship with while you two have been apart. A short response of silence settles while your cheek and shoulder squeeze the phone for a moment as you stir the steaming vegetables.

"You could have named the bird, Tweety at least-"

"Oh!" You playfully growl, "Back with that again, huh?"

"Do I need to send you a link of baby names-"

"I promise you, Tae, I do not plan on naming my child, Kid, okay?"

"You'd be surprised-"

Taehyung's excitement for his future Godchild brings a simmering joy to the surface of your pattering heart. Almost as equal to the eagerness, your mother has shown with this being her first grandchild. Graciously, your mother has never been as strict as your father, hence why the past five months have gone much smoother then they would have if your father had never had an affair with Mrs. Kim.

The phone call ends whenever dinner is finished, and by that time, Namjoon scuffles through the door- the outdoorsy scent drifts to your nose while you place the sweltering bowls of soup on the table. Namjoon shimmers his feet from his work boots before hanging his coat, timidly glimpsing in your direction to confirm you're okay.

Small talk ensues with the typical questions of how each of your days has gone once the pair of you take your seats. One secret, yet another you and Taehyung have harbored, is the awareness of Namjoon's atheism- something your father must never learn of his worker. Namjoon, who will not admit it, works on the church grounds in order to provide for his family who lives a few miles up the road. Ultimately, there are many secrets not worth sharing to your parents, not only for the sake of sanity but for the protection of the ones who you've kept close, especially Namjoon. With your father being the tyrant of a priest, he used to be, there is still the potential distress of him firing Namjoon over the mere difference of beliefs. Something you refuse to let happen while you're around.

Clinking spoons replace conversation, for how long, you're uncertain; the fog of your thoughts seem to consume upon one in particular- something that has remained festering long enough, yet you have never said it aloud- figuring this moment may be the time that you do. Namjoon confided in you and Taehyung once he found comfort in trusting the pair of you- even subjects that one would have never expected him to open about. Guilt presents itself to the point your eyes squeeze shut, opening them to move your spoon to play at a piece of broccoli swimming in the potage.

"They don't know," your words are careful- slow even- continuing your vision on the dinner before you. You can feel Namjoon's soft eyes on you, his expression confused. "They don't know who the father is," that's when your gaze trails to meet his eyes just for more guilt to manifest behind them. By they, you're referring to your parents, as well as every other soul excluding Taehyung, "I won't tell them." Namjoon slowly nods with the sense of understanding, knowing the cost that will be taken if your father were to know who you're trying to bury beneath this web of fear. "Besides," you sigh heavily, "I'm surprised my father was lenient enough to let me live here," you confess, "if he wasn't so guilty over the affair, I would be homeless-"

"I wouldn't let that happen," Namjoon says suddenly, destroying whatever anger you were dwelling upon. Your mouth falls open in shock at his words and the frilly flutter of your heartbeat is hard to ignore. After living here for two months, he's proven time and time again that he means what he says; what he just said. Speechless, the rest of dinner continues in fond silence, your heart refusing to steady for the man slowly captivating your heart.

The sixth month of pregnancy gifts swollen feet and aching bones on top of your belly growing heavier by the week. Namjoon has stayed loyal- tending to your pregnancy cravings in the dead of night, aiding to your discomfort whether it involves a heating pack or a cup of ice, slipping under the covers on nights you want him to hold you, driving you to every doctor's appointment without any hesitation; with all that he's been doing for you, it's like your feelings have blossomed deeper which you know shouldn't be happening with the peril of your father finding out. The unexpected visits from your father are few, yet you usher the reminder to yourself of protecting Namjoon, though he carries the weight of facing your father instead of you who avoids the confrontation.

Night comes quickly after a day spent cleaning up the nursery that seems to be coming together, other than the crib Namjoon's been building- something you accidentally discovered when strolling close to the shed one sunny day. He's so dedicated to the unborn infant, it nearly brings you to tears, glancing around the elegant hues of multiple pastel colors painted across the room with stuffed animals, blankets, and furniture he continues to gift you amongst different items your mother has added to the collection. You always enjoy the sporadic visits from your mother, because she's free to celebrate the life that she refuses to consider as a sin.

"Are you thinking boy or girl?" Your mother elbowed your side earlier today after moving around the furniture.

"Hm," you hummed happily, thankful for the relationship that's being redeemed with her, "you know? I'm not very sure,"

"I can tell from all the colors you've chosen," she teased, "it looks beautiful," she cooed, pulling you into an accomplished side hug. You didn't want to stick to just pink or blue, so you chose every other shade in between, colliding the space with colors that could go for either or. "You're going to be a wonderful mother,"

The sound of the front door opens distracting you from the former memory, staring down at the table that now rests heaping plates of chicken and rice. The fellowship hall used to be filled with numerous rows of horizontal tables mingled with circular ones where the crowd would come to camaraderie to joyful hymnals, delicious food, reflected testimonies without any warning of the secrecies soon floating to the surface. Now a solo table, the one planted before you, pairs with a few sparse chairs just enough to seat at least four people.

"Hiya," you greet, trying to ignore the subtle increase of your heartbeat. Namjoon flashes a kid-like smile once he shutters out of his jacket, "How was your day?"

"It was good, thank you," he replies, taking long strides until he makes it to you, "How was yours with your mom?" His right-hand steadies the small of your back while his left one clutches yours to help settle you into your seat. It's hard to focus on the question he just asked when the scent from outside seems to heighten the attraction you already feel towards him, "It was good," you manage to say, reaching for the silverware to begin digging into your food, "Thank you... For helping me," the distance between your stomach and the table now is something you've been trying to get used to as well as the turmoil of trying to stand and sit.

"Anytime."

A blush floods your cheeks when he holds your timorous stare, so you avert your eyes to your dinner, letting the obvious feeling of Namjoon watching deepen the red shade on your skin. A few minutes disappear into time before you feel a shove against your abdomen from the inside. Your hand instinctively flies to press upon the baby bump, Namjoon jumping at the motion, stopping mid-chew, while his eyes enlarge in surprise.

"It's okay," you chortle at his reaction, "it's just the baby kicking," his response reminds you of the moment you felt the baby kick for the very first time- similar to a weird flutter that's hard to describe, and it had taken you a second to realize what it was exactly- just your baby making its presence known to you. Namjoon swallows the bite of food in a nervous gulp, the pang of his silverware mutes from where he lays it on the napkin.

"Here," you murmur affectionately preparing to stand to your feet. Namjoon immediately jolts from his chair, rounding the table to gather your hand in his. Instead of relying on his strength to help you position yourself, you plop back onto the seat, sliding his hand to the area where the baby kicked a few minutes prior. Namjoon kneels to level with you, his plump lips ajar mirroring the widen stance of his eyes while he patiently waits, his nervous heart pounding in his temples. It's the exuberant joy in his smile that meets his eyes in a dazzling glow the pure second the baby kicks again, and the bliss of delight smothers your heart in so many ways imaginable at this moment the pair of you are capturing together. Your hand remains resting upon his while your eyes lock repudiating from breaking contact.

"I told you that you don't have to do this alone," he whispers, and it's then you come to the awareness of how near his face is from yours, his dimples visible from his smile to the point you press your lips to each one, shocked at your act of boldness, but you can't refrain. He's too handsome and too wonderful to stay away from any longer. That's all the invitation needed, for Namjoon's lips brush yours igniting the sparks of what you've been trying to suppress for way too long. Your fingers find his hair when he leans to deepen the kiss, moving his hands to rest on the chair, fingers pressing into the wood until pale white.

At this moment, you don't care what anyone thinks.

You are in love with Kim Namjoon, and there is nothing in this world that's going to scare you away from that.

-Present day-

The pitch black outside the window brings frustration when you awaken to scold yourself for how long you've slept. Gathering yourself once the fatigue rolls off, you cautiously sit up, scooting to the bedpost until you're on your feet. Taking a trip to the restroom, you notice upon exiting the clock on the wall reads seven pm, and you wonder if Namjoon has made it inside for the evening. It's eerily quiet save for the air conditioning, but you pause when you see the lights are on in the main area of the building. Shrugging, you waddle around the corner until the sudden shouts of, "SURPRISE!", nearly knocks you to the ground.

Gasping, your eyes widen while your hand flies to your chest. A prolonged second interferes before your brain deciphers the two individuals cheering before you. Numerous pink and blue balloons hover to the top of the ceiling matching the colors of a cloth decorating the one table now adorned with a cake and wrapped gifts. "What?" You can barely speak from the light headiness taking over, but the tears that well in your eyes when you see the boxy smile of your best friend sends you in an attempt to run just to crash into his arms. He meets you halfway, surrounding you within his embrace as he rocks you back and forth muffling your wails of joy into his checkered sweater. Your soaked cheeks are wiped away from the material as been done countless times before, and his tepid palms squish your cheeks when he steps back to gesture toward your belly.

"Wow look at you! Your belly is huge!"

"I'm still in denial of how fast this pregnancy is going!" You say breathlessly, you're so happy to see Taehyung, you can hardly contain your composure. Namjoon steps forward with his hand reaching to squeeze your best friend's shoulder. Taehyung's fiery strands are curled upon his forehead, lustrous beneath the lights as it always has before, "Your father let you come?" There's a seriousness behind your voice at the question because you are cognizant of the fury Tae's father has against the church from the events that occurred what, in some ways feels like a lifetime ago.

"Well, no," Taehyung winces mischievously, "I told him that Namjoon and I were going to a basketball game,"

"Of course, you did, you sly fox,"

"You know you love me," Tae pecks your forehead before leading you to the table where the sweet whiff of cake flatters your nostrils.

"You guys didn't have to do this," you're still wiping tears off your face, though it's evident that your crying is from untainted gratitude, "What did I do to deserve the two of you?"

Namjoon kneels, intertwining his long fingers with yours, using the tip of his thumb to tickle circles upon your skin, "Taehyung mentioned how when you were kids that you loved surprises, especially if it involved a small party of some sort so," he tilts his head toward Taehyung, "And I knew how much you missed him, too. I just wanted to do something to celebrate you. And, the baby,"

It doesn't take much to smother this man in kisses nowadays, and once you express your thankfulness to the men before you, Namjoon reads your mind, snatching a small kiss in return.

"You two are on kissing terms, again?" Taehyung teases while you poke your tongue at him in mild embarrassment. Namjoon does not know of the moment you and Tae shared, and that's something you're not ready to talk about, and with the cutesy scrunch of Namjoon's face, the memory escapes to the back of your mind for now.

By the end of the night, the frosting had met all three of your faces- some smushed into Taehyung's hair while some swiped across Namjoon's neck, and your eyebrows are smeared along with the possible suspicion of some getting up your nose. Cleaning the mess takes a while, but nobody in the room would trade it for anything, and it's good stalling to prevent the night from completely ending.

Walking Taehyung to his car is the only dread overwhelming your system because you're not sure of when you will get to see him next. Tears flood your eyes, breaking Taehyung's heart as an awe of shame gusts past his lips, "I'm sorry, [Y/N]. My dad's expecting me home soon,"

"I don't want you to go," you choke, on the brink of bursting at the seams- Tae fumbles to tighten his arms behind your back- him trying to be mindful of your abdomen being pressed too firmly against his frame.

"Please don't cry," he whispers near your ear, "Please, please don't cry," His lips curl from the tears burning within his own eyes wishing with all his strength he could rid of the aching hurt that has kept your friendship separated. Tae swiftly pulls away when he remembers another present, he meant to give you earlier, whirling around to unlock his car, bending into the vehicle while his hands shuffle around the floorboard in a desperate search for whatever he wants to show you. When he turns to face you, a sharp inhale of glee echoes into the night- the lopsided plush of a heart is attached to a blue body ornamented with yellow polka dots that match its mouth. "Oh my gosh!" You squeal, "Tae, it's adorable! Where did you find this?"

Wiggling his eyebrows in pride, he hands it to you, "I made it myself. And," he pauses for effect, "since you have trouble naming things, I did the honors and named it for you. I introduce, Ta Ta."

"Ta Ta?"

"Yeah, like 'Ta Ta... for now,'"

"Just when I thought I couldn't love your dork of a self even more," you exhale, slamming your eyes shut just to bury your face further into his chest, not able to breathe in his scent from the clog of mucus stuffing your nose.

"I love you, too." His voice thickens with emotion, "Now, quit saying it like you're never going to see me again, because you know I'm not going anywhere."

"You promise?" Your cold nose moves to press into the corner of his jaw where steady breaths move between your parting mouth. It's a serene moment where he turns just enough to glimpse at you, engaging in the beauty he's always found within your heart. Taehyung's agape lips now rest centimeters from yours when his large hands raise to rest his fingertips along your flushed cheeks- the curls of his frizzy hair pressing to your forehead, prickling your closing eyes. You discover your free hand enfolding around his wrist from the daunting desire looming from what's been left unspoken, and the shiver in his breathing brushes your chin once the light touch of his nose cuddles to yours. You both stand there for a seeming reel of eternity, battling the inward mayhem of choice that's displayed itself on the invisible line tempting to be traversed.

"I promise."

He hadn't kissed you, but there was no denial that he wanted to, especially with the way your face has haunted his dreams since the night your lips met in emotional patterns of sorrow. But, deep down, he knows it's too obvious of a choice if the one for him is to be you, but the love that has been kept for you will never go away. The same as a tether of your heart will forever be his no matter how deep your love goes for someone else. Kim Taehyung will always be your poise- your muse- the soulmate of a friendship that you will always need.

Toddling to the nursery upon Tae's departure still presents the boiling tears from your tired eyes dripping off your cheeks as you set Ta Ta beside the koala plushie Namjoon gifted you; the humor involving the struggle of both Taehyung and Namjoon carrying the crib Namjoon built for the baby taunts a smirk at the corner of your lips. It's dark besides the faint light of the hallway behind you, giving you just enough to admire the scenery around you- sniffling back what you can before reaching to cover your quivering chin with your hand. You've missed Taehyung. You miss him. And, how beautiful of Namjoon to surprise you with your best friend's presence? Reuniting the three musketeers from once upon a time?

Little do they know, from the unearthing of your pregnancy to now, the two men have mended your broken heart and stitched it back together again piece by piece. You're highly uncertain of where you would be without them, and just the thought alone is one you refuse to dwell on. While memories turn like a spindle of loosened thread, a revelation halts you in your tracks. The thought rings loud and clear gracing a wide smile on your face while one more set of tears dampen the corner of your eyes.

After scolding yourself for so long for not thinking hard enough on the subject,

right here, hands grasping the handlebar of your future child's cradle,

you finally have a name picked out for your little one.

2 months later....

"Namjoon, I'll be fine," the pointed look you flash him prompts a nervous chuckle once his hands rest to rub gently along your sides. He's concerned as he's been almost the entire pregnancy, but of course, now his worries are heightened to an extreme, "I'm not due until next week. Don't worry,"

"I know," he groans, tugging you closer just enough to plant a warm to kiss to your neck, "But, I can't help it."

"I'll be fine," you drag the word with a teasing sound of a whine. Namjoon shaking his head at you with a smile you're now feeling upon your lips. "Mm," you hum into his kiss, your hands sliding to squeeze his shoulders in reaction to how impeccable it feels. You end the moment simply to gaze at him, "You'll be back before you know it," you assure him- his trip to the grocery store being the plan for the afternoon.

"Okay," he says tenderly, eyes flickering to your lips once more before leaning to brush them to his own, "I love you,"

There's a small pause, one that entails warmth smothering your chest in giddy sensations when his eyes steal yours after pulling away, "I love you, too, Joon," watching him head out the door until the truck disappears along the road.

Of course, the day doesn't go accordingly the way you expect, because on carefully prodding to the kitchen in preparation to cook breakfast, a slight ache ensues within your abdomen. "Oh," you groan, stroking the area with your fingertips before deciding to lay down for a bit instead. When reaching your room, the sharp pain of a cramp returns causing a harsh cringe as you lean against your bedpost, hardly able to concentrate on the attempt of climbing onto the mattress. You remain hunched over for five minutes, forcing slow breaths to prevent from panicking, and when you find the coast to be clear, you straighten yourself out.

Suddenly, before you can comprehend what's happening, a gush of water splatters onto the carpet soaking your feet in the process.

"No," you whisper, eyes frantically scanning your room for your cell phone. Namjoon shouldn't be far with the grocery store only being a few miles away, but in order to get a hold of him, you must find your only way of contacting him. Hands pat your bed, thrusting off the bed covers and shaking them roughly, yet no 'thump' is heard before you cast the covers in a pile onto the ground. The next destination leads to the restroom, with no luck of your phone being in your bedroom- when another wave of pain shoots within your stomach, you gasp, trying to endure through the discomfort with all your might.

Leaving a water trail behind with every step you take, you desperately search the countertops before stepping into the area that holds the kitchen, wondering if there is any possibility it may have been left behind there. Your feet meet the cool surface of the tile floor, your gape scanning the entirety of the space before a pant of relief escapes past your dry lips the second your shaking hands gather the device. "Agh!" A contraction surges, hands squeezing your phone unintentionally, yet you grimace just enough to maintain your focus on the task at hand. Managing to get the phone ringing, it doesn't take long until you hear the man of your dreams at the other end of the line.

"Hello?"

"Joon, it's time," you choke, voice thick with pain.

"Oh, shit! Hold on tight, I'm on my way, just hold tight, I'm coming-"

You just happen to be running by the church in favor of dropping off the work truck keys to your father when he unintentionally introduces you to the new employee you assume he plans to hire, "[Y/N], this is Kim Namjoon. He's going to be taking care of the church grounds for us, isn't that wonderful?"

"Hello, it's nice to meet you," you greet, underlyingly suffering from the attraction swarming to your reddening cheeks. When your father mentioned of hiring, you never anticipated the person to be this overwhelmingly breathtaking.

"It's nice to meet you too, Ma'am," Namjoon's polite nod mirrors the dimples evident from a soft grin, his hand reaching for yours to shake before your father continues the tour of the place you've grown up memorizing. But something initiates you to stay, eyes lingering on the back of the tall figure decked in a turtleneck covered by a green jacket complementing a pair of jeans along with brown shoes. There's a spark of intuition that day, one that ignited the prominent determination that you want to get to know this person even if your father ends up finding out.

Namjoon busts through the door with pure alarm etched in his voice, "[Y/N], I'm here! Baby, I'm right here," he immediately jumps to where you are, keeled over on the floor, throwing his arm around you until he lifts you out of the fellowship hall and into the work truck. Words you attempt to form are muted by whimpers, tears brimming your eyes from the pain that doesn't end, "I'm going to grab the suitcase, I'll be right back," time must be faster than you can measure for Namjoon arrives, slinging the suitcase into the backseat before slamming into the driver's side.

It takes a while for the newly found employee to warm up to every opportunity you take in order to get to know him. One thing he's slowly but surely learning is that you're not one to give up so easily- something you've noticed him picking up on, especially on days, you annoy him when he's on call to build a project. You make it clear to talk to him nonstop until he acknowledges your existence, and the times he doesn't breathe a word results in a call to Taehyung.

"Come help me," you plea hearing Taehyung's exasperated sigh on the other line.

"You are so annoying,"

"You know you love me, fool," you gloat because with defeat, your best friend reluctantly joins you, even accompanying a basketball just in case if Namjoon happens to fancy sports. Your girlfriends, Luna and Jo, were informed of your undying crush on the mysterious worker, crossing their arms in jealousy that you half-heartedly ignored.

"He doesn't even come to the services," Jo droned, "Don't you think it'd be best to get to know someone that's more... active in the church? Like the pianist's son, Min Yoongi. You two had such a cute relationship when you were three-"

You can't get past why no one seems to understand that you must win Namjoon over, and though Luna and Jo have seen the world along with you since childhood, you roll your eyes, turning on a heel, "I'll catch you later,"

Tires screech along the road while Namjoon swerves past cars on the highway, hands ghost white from the tight grasp he has upon the steering wheel. Meanwhile, your hand grips the bar above you while your other rests upon your belly- the keenness of getting to hold your baby in your arms is all you're thinking about other than Namjoon who's keeping you sane.

"Just a few more miles and we will be there. Just breathe," his voice is unsteady from the fright of this situation, but he upholds his enlarged gaze upon the road. He fumbles for his phone- trying to contact anyone from your family in order to tell them the news.

"GAH!" Leaning forward, a wail echoes within the vehicle as another contraction attacks.

"You guys aren't going to stop until I'm your friend, am I right?" Namjoon's elbows are folded from the hold he has on the basketball meeting his chest. Tae jumps sporadically in front of him with outspread arms preparing to prevent the ball from flying into the hoop.

"Damn straight," you shrug your shoulders in observation of Namjoon's tilting head.

"I thought church girls didn't cuss,"

"And I thought you'd have more game than the basketball," You retort.Tae halts, straightening his frame, eyes flickering between you and a quiet Namjoon, "Now hurry up. If you win, I will leave you alone for good. If Tae wins then we treat you to dinner and a movie. How does that sound?"

With an incredulous shake of his head, Namjoon smirks, "Okay," the scuffle of his converse is heard on the pavement when he briefly turns to toss the ball toward the hoop. The basketball pangs the ring, twirling ferociously to the point, your heart begins to sink, but to your pleasure, the ball tips off the rim, landing in a rejoicing Taehyung's arms.

"HAH!" You sprint, colliding into Taehyung's embrace while Namjoon tries to stifle the smile overtaking his lips, "Looks like it's going to be a burger and fries' kind of night," you wink, unaware of the hope that Namjoon has of wanting to gain your friendship just as much.

The hospital entrance appears after the rush of Namjoon turning into the parking lot soon helping you out of the truck. The suitcase will have to wait being he can retrieve it later, his ultimate goal is getting you within the building to where you're safe. "It's okay, it's okay," he tries to appear relaxed, but everything becomes a blur until a nurse with fluffy, black hair approaches with a wheelchair to help settle you in. His nametag reads 'JIMIN' – him rolling you quickly down the hall when the presence of a female nurse whose nametag reads 'MONNIE' helps you change into the nightgown upon arrival of the hospital room. Voices are mingling together from the pounding in your temples, but Monnie keeps her hands gentle on your back to lead you to the bed where she hooks you up to what seems like a million machines whilst providing as much comfort to you as possible.

Namjoon's calloused hand covers yours when one other nurse, Jungkook, floods the room, bringing a chair for him to sit in. You're not sure of all the commotion that's overwhelming the room, but you steady your breathing as Namjoon directs, squeezing his hand through each contraction. You recognize the doctor, Kim Seokjin, a tall man already dawned in a scrub hat, mouth mask and gloves, scurrying to where you are, "Alright, I am going to check your dilation Ms. [Y/N], just breathe in and out." Slamming your eyes shut, you whimper from the discomfort, "Alright, she is dilated three centimeters. Once you are at ten centimeters [Y/N], you will begin pushing. No worries, I will alert you as soon as I need you to begin. Keep breathing. Everything will be okay,"

"Taehyung... My mom... Dad-" you murmur deliriously between breaths, the foggy sense of your conscious outweighing how to speak properly.

"No worries baby, they're on their way. They're on their way right now," he sweetly kisses your perspired forehead, running his free hand through your tangled hair.

The three musketeers were official after the day at the basketball hoop, eventually learning of Namjoon's atheism as well as him providing for his family.

"My dad couldn't find a job that pays enough, so I promised him that I will do whatever it takes," it had been six months since Namjoon had been hired, and currently is finishing his final paint to the shed while you and Taehyung sit Indian style in the grass. "Thanks to the job here, I can afford the rent for my parents as well as give them my car since here, I just use the work truck..." Namjoon sharing more in-depth with his life story- you finally get what you've been determined to gain since meeting him.

It's weeks later that you'll never forget, leaning against a mini, red monkey bar after sharing your feelings toward the man you've grown so fond of. There's no denying the feelings he's had for you, and once he inches closer, the crave to hold his hand has never been stronger. Boldly, your fingers trail to intertwine with his, your nerves close to getting the best of you despite the persistent smile that hasn't left him. When you find the bravery to look up at him, he swallows calmly before leaning in, you stand on your tiptoes to meet halfway until your lips touch. The slide of his arms encompassing your frame feels so inviting when he presses his body to yours. The world is put on pause to you and nothing else matters other than the way his lips move so elegantly- your arms wrapping around his shoulders while he sways you from side to side.

Time doesn't seem to speed up through all this pain, but the adrenaline swimming in your veins peaks when Dr. Seokjin prepares to check your dilation again. "Ten centimeters-" He confirms, "Alright, [Y/N], the baby's coming. When I say push, you push. Okay," he positions himself though you can't see anything past your gown and raised knees, "One, two, three! Push!"

"AGH!" You grunt, a small scream vibrating at the back of your throat once you push with every fiber of strength, you can muster.

"Breathe, breathe," Namjoon's hand hasn't once left yours- sweat pouring from your scalp while the burning agony overpowers your body.

"Is she here!?" The click of darting heels enters the room and are loud enough for it to catch your attention. "Oh, honey, I'm here!" It's your mother- scampering to your side with the undeniable blur of Taehyung's red hair following suit. You want to ask where your father is, but before a chance is given, the doctor shouts, "Push!"

"AAAAAAAGH!" You manage, body straining in all its entireness. Taehyung jolts to let you squeeze his hand along with Namjoon's. His features show nothing but fear at the sight of you being in so much strife, yet he holds it together enough to cheer you on.

"I'm- I'm so glad you both are here," you cry- another sixty seconds drifting before the shout of, "Push!" erupts.

"I'm scared," you murmur in the dimness of the room. On your knees, Namjoon's soothing hands glide along the tops of your thighs motivating you to run your hands along his forearms. You don't know where your parents are, and you're too angry to care. You're bushed of the fighting so, you sought comfort in being here, with Namjoon. Taehyung dropped you off at the fellowship hall with the promise of not breathing a word- because if your parents were to find out remotely of your whereabouts, you'd hate to discover what the consequences will be.

"Me too," his nervous eyes investigate every inch of your face. You've never been with anyone this way before- secretly hidden away from the world outside trying to suppress the revealing crave of what you're curious about. Scooting forward, you drape either leg around him, propping yourself enough to where your arms lace around his neck.

His breath hitches from the gesture- your lips erotically aligning with his in slow movements, heat rising below you when you feel the hardening of his being beneath your sense, "I want you," you whisper. He knows that you're a virgin, and with care, he lays you on the bed, hovering above your frame where your bodies align perfectly. "Are you sure this is what you want," concern consumes his countenance, but you desperately bring your hands to cup his cheeks.

"I don't think I've wanted anyone so much in my life,"

You gasp into his kiss where he slips his tongue along yours- the sensation one you've grown used to from the slovenly kisses leading up to this very night. You give Namjoon permission to sneak his large hands underneath your shirt, trailing up your ribcage before swallowing your breasts whole in his heated palms. Nipples so sensitive, your heat drenches the moment he realizes the effect it has on you just by merely brushing the rising buds, lipping at your neck while he basks in the beauty of your moans. "More," you beg, "Please, Joon, more." When clothes start to be thrown off, you're determined to pleasure him, but have not an idea on how to do so. "Show me," you breathlessly demand, Namjoon's palm leading yours to encircle his twitching being. You stroke his erection as shown, biting your lower lip from the throbbing feeling of your core- him instantly finding your entrance to fill it with his fingers as carefully as he can- both of you pleasuring each other, yet still getting lost in kissing so deeply, the two of you forget to gasp for air. The sensation of heated pressed bare skin can be the most beautiful thing, especially with the way your legs entangle with his. You're surprised the feel of his prodding fingers didn't bring as much discomfort as you would have originally anticipated, but when he brings a hand to his penis, he rubs his tip along your slit letting the sloppy sound of you leak onto it. "Holy shit," he moans from how soaked you are for him- his fingertips finding your clit while yours dig into the backs of his shoulders.

Smoldering kisses move from your lips to your breasts, down your abdomen to your inner thighs where you tense underneath his touch that slides to hold your bottom half where he can scan your heat. The tip of his tongue swipes upon your slit excruciatingly slow to the point your fingers tangle with the material of the bedsheets. The smacking sound of his lips savor your taste while his tongue circles your core- you're hyperventilating from how deliciously he flicks his tongue upon your slit, screaming his name relentlessly- the speed of his skilled mouth driving you wild from the growing climax beckoning your stiffening thighs, "Oh, Namjoon, oh- Joon- I- Oh!"

He's not ready for you to finish because there's more he wants to show you. Hovering above you once again to see you coming down from your high, your heaving chest longs for his touch, and he nearly comes undone from the smile embellishing your face. His tracing fingertips parade along the outline of your body in featherlike tickles while the sounds of panting breaths mingle with shifting sheets bring subtle music to your ears for the rest of the night. The gentle parting of his lips grasps your own in smooth movements persuading arousal streaming from your core. Your fingers now link with frilly tufts of his hair, gripping the strands in reaction to the pressing of his bare chest to yours, dreaming of nothing more than to be entwined with him for what you hope will be forever. Hips grinding into yours prompts the light moan teasing his ears for more before his mouth trails to pause above your pounding heart. His hair brushing your chin, your arms glide to wrap around him holding the hope that he will never let you go. Not even for a second.

"Alright, one more! Almost done! Push!"

Sucking in one long breath, with a compulsory scream, you push with all you have left in you. Exhaustion weakens your limbs, yet a rush of relief floods your body when the cries of an infant reverberate within the room. With heavy eyes, you turn to see your mother with tears cascading down her face and onto the back of her hand covering her agape mouth- eyes remaining locked in front of her. Taehyung's gaze doesn't drop though his fingers loosen from yours at the small bundle immediately apprehending the eyes of every individual. Right then, you move your head to your other side where Namjoon gradually rises in awe- his hand still has yours. Gathering any ounce of strength, you're ready to see the child you've been waiting to hold for nine months, so cautiously you sit up until your stare meets Dr. Seokjin's. You can see the smile in his eyes despite the mouth mask, and what he says next brings you to tears, "It's a girl,"

"Oh!" You thrill, anxious to meet her while the nurses scurry to clean her up.

"Sir, would you like to do the honors?" The doctor gestures a pair of scissors towards a stiffened Namjoon whose eyes are welled with hushed tears. He can't even speak, yet he nods from the happiness exploding beneath his chest.

"Wait," Your mom says, "Is- is?"

It's a moment that seems to fit the setting for your father walks in, as if on cue, shoulders slumped from the anticipating tension now darkening the room. Taehyung's shoulders tensed at the sight of the man he despises, but for the sake of you, Namjoon and his Godchild, he keeps his composure enough to ignore the elephant now standing in the room. The fear that used to consume you upon your dad unraveling the truth about your secret vacates you when you know that you and the two men present can conquer anything.

"Yes," the answer is to your mother, but your stern glower of warning is only connected with your dad's although your mother's stare remains on you, "Namjoon is the father."

Namjoon stands with pride while he accepts the pair of scissors from Dr. Seokjin- your father, with a shocked expression, watches as the man he hired happens to be the same man who stole his daughter's heart without his knowledge. Yet, he refrains from anger, because who is he to ruin such a precious moment about to unfold here?

Pictures are taken of Namjoon cutting the umbilical cord, his fingers gently rubbing his daughter's cheek while he wipes at the tears dripping from his eyes. Jungkook takes her into his arms to weigh her before wrapping her in a plush pink blanket, "She is seven pounds and five ounces,"

Endless joy envelops your heart from the scene playing out before you; especially, when the vision of your father's quivering chin, admiring his granddaughter leaves you speechless along with the hope of redemption entering your beating heart.

"Are you ready to hold her?" Monnie's kind eyes match her smile when she touches your arm.

"Yes," you stifle a sob, "I want to hold her,"

Monnie poses her arms to where Jungkook places your daughter, Monnie guardedly turns to rest your baby into your arms. Her small face chortles, her eyes closing while she puckers her tiny lips. "She's so perfect," you cry, love in all its beauty falling from your eyes while you watch your daughter's fingers fold individually upon her chest.

"Just like you," Namjoon whispers, locking eyes with you before inching forward to give you a loving kiss.

"I love you, Joon," you whisper, pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth.

"I love you, too."

"Uh," the deep serenade of your best friend interrupts, all attention abruptly turning to see him raise an index finger in the air, "So, as the Godfather, I must ask a very serious question," the room chuckles along with him as they patiently wait for his request, "What's her name?"

"Ah," you nod, realizing that hasn't been made known to anyone other than to yourself. Your mother steps forward to place her hand upon your shoulder while your father keeps his distance enough to not cause any trouble- though the two of you share a small smile to let him know all is well. Namjoon watches you in admiration- the woman of his dreams holding his child in her arms while facing her deepest fear yet holds her head with pride about the man she will spend the rest of her life with along with her daughter swaddled to her chest. You are everything he's ever longed for and more, and he's ready to defeat any storm in life if it's with you and his daughter.

To answer Tae's question though, you return to face him, tears gathering in exhilarating bliss.

"Taejun." Her eyes slightly open at the hearing of her name as a tiny smile adorns her lips,

"Her name is Kim Taejun."

158 notes · View notes

ibijau · 4 years

Text

Jin Rusong Lives / On AO3

Lan Xichen breaks

The first few weeks, Lan Xichen tried to hold strong and pretend nothing had changed. His sect needed him. There was so much to do. Juniors to teach. Night Hunts to organise. Disciples to supervise.

He lived, then, with the constant feeling that it wouldn't take much to break him.

The conviction he wouldn't break. Not if he tried hard enough.

Gusu Lan deserved better than another sect leader too weak to live with the consequences of his choices. His uncle deserved better than to be forced again into a role that wasn't his. Lan Wangji deserved…

Lan Wangji deserved what he finally had.

Lan Xichen tried not to think too much about that. The memory of Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian in that temple always added a crack or two to the armour on which he relied, and he couldn't afford to shatter.

He wouldn't shatter.

He refused to shatter.

He shattered anyway.

Sect leader Yao had come to discuss the possibility of sending some guest disciples to the Cloud Recesses for the year to come.

Sect Leader Yao had come to get in the good graces of the man who killed Jin Guangyao.

As they sat in his office, Lan Xichen tried to pay attention. He found it harder and harder lately. That days, his eyes fell on shelves of books containing rules to live by, or commentaries on those rules. Commentaries of those commentaries. A whole library to tell him how to live, most of which he knew by heart, and still he had made every mistake.

There were too many things in his office.

Calligraphies and paintings, gifts to a man he had never managed to be.

Gifts from men he had never managed to know.

When sect leader Yao left, he would take everything down. Bare walls for a bare mind.

His uncle, who hardly left his side lately, threw him a concerned look. Lan Xichen forced himself to return to the present. This could wait. Everything could wait.

"It's what I said to a friend the other day," sect leader Yao said, never noticing how little attention the other two men paid him. "We are lucky that Zewu-Jun was there to do the right thing. Who else would have stopped Lianfang-Zun? Nie Huaisang?"

He laughed.

Lan Xichen felt a new crack appear on the surface of his soul, deeper and larger than any of the previous ones.

Sect leader Yao didn't know. Nobody knew. By the time they had arrived, it was over. Nothing had remained but that sealed coffin, and blood on Shuoyue. Lan Xichen had refused to explain. So had Jiang Wanyin and Jin Ling. Nie Huaisang had left already. Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji long gone as well. And so, others were free to imagine their own stories.

It had not yet occurred to Lan Xichen that in those stories, they might mistake him for a hero.

"I wonder how Nie Huaisang will even have the face to show himself in public," sect leader Yao continued. "To have been so dependent on his brother's murderer… even that night at the discussion conference, he was still begging for Jin Guangyao’s help. I wouldn't be surprised if he stepped down from power. It's the least he should do, and who'd miss him?"

Another crack.

Lan Xichen felt some fragment of himself crumble and fall. He focused on breathing and smiling.

He had to smile.

If he smiled, if he stayed calm, everything would be fine.

He had to smile.

"Perhaps Lan zongzhu should consider offering himself as the next chief cultivator," sect leader Yao suggested. "I'm sure we could all stand behind the man who pursued the fleeing tyrant and rid us of him!"

Lan Xichen took one breath.

He took another.

He choked on the third one, and shattered.

His uncle, who had been watching him closely, gave some excuse to sect leader Yao (a lie, he lied, and this too was Lan Xichen’s fault) before grabbing Lan Xichen by the arm to pull him away.

Lan Xichen followed, powerless to resist. He let his uncle push him in bed, but found himself unable to understand the words said to him. The tone seemed soothing. He did not deserve that, but accepted it anyway.

He had always been selfish like that.

The months that followed were a blur.

Lan Xichen tried, the first day after, to rise up and do his duty.

He had to.

He should have.

He couldn't.

His body was lead, his mind heavier still.

He only moved when his uncle came and made him, forcing him to swallow some food and put on less restricting clothes.

Lan Xichen wanted to apologise.

His tongue too was lead, and he couldn't utter the words.

For a long while, days passed the same. His uncle would visit twice a day to check on him and take care of him. Lan Qiren rarely spoke. Lan Xichen wouldn't have managed to listen. He thought, vaguely, that something must have been put in his tea to keep him calm, so he wouldn’t crumble any more than he already had that day. It was the only ways he could explain the constant fog in his mind, the way he could barely form any thoughts.

He didn’t mind.

It didn’t matter.

In that state he was in, nothing could matter anymore.

After some time, Lan Wangji returned to the Cloud Recesses.

This, too, did not matter.

It couldn’t matter.

It shouldn’t have mattered.

But Lan Wangji was not a man to forget what kindness and cruelty had been done onto him. His brother, once, had forced him to live and go on when he had reached his own breaking point. Whether that had been kindness or cruelty, neither of them had known at the time. Now again, Lan Xichen couldn’t have said which sentiment pushed his brother to take care of him.

Cruelty seemed a more likely candidate.

Because the first thing Lan Wangji did, upon returning, was forbid that any more drugs be given to his brother to keep him calm. And so Lan Xichen was forced to do what he had avoided so long, and face what he had done.

Like his father before him, he had let himself be seduced by honeyed words, and protected a murderer. A weakness that ran in their family, it seemed. A weakness that ran in Lan Xichen’s blood certainly, since he had allowed himself to be so thoroughly fooled not only by Jin Guangyao, but also by Nie Huaisang. He should have known better. On both matters, he should have known better. Nie Mingjue had warned him time and time again about Jin Guangyao. Nie Mingjue who had trusted him with his life, and Lan Xichen had given his murderer everything he needed.

As for Nie Huaisang…

Lan Xichen should have known better. Should have seen the deception.

He should have.

He hadn’t.

There had to have been signs.

There couldn’t have been signs.

Lan Xichen had done his best, and he had done his worst. He had believed in those around him, and he had closed his eyes to their true nature. He had fought for peace, and he had settled for hidden chaos.

Lan Wangji, who visited him nearly daily, listened to his ramblings in silence, giving neither judgment nor absolution. Lan Xichen would have rejected both, but he appreciated the patient ear offered to him. And so, he confided in his brother as he had never done before, just as Lan Wangji had once confided in him when he was delirious and broken from the pain of the disciple whips.

Every time he was done speaking for the day, Lan Wangji would offer to play a song of healing for him.

Lan Xichen refused for weeks on end.

It was unreasonable. He knew that much.

Lan Wangji must have known it as well, offering day after day, without any pressure, without relenting either.

Revenge for the way Lan Xichen too had been at his side day after day when Wei Wuxian had died.

They had patience, both of them. Lan Xichen knew his brother and him could have reached immortality, and in a thousand years Lan Wangji would still visit him and offer to play with him, because he wasn’t a man to give up on those he loved.

That Lan Wangji still loved him after all this was a terrifying realisation.

Soon after understanding this, Lan Xichen finally agreed to having music played to him.

Like this, things started to improve at last. The guilt didn’t go away, but it became manageable in a way that it hadn’t been before. Lan Xichen, slowly, started asking for news of their sect. He managed to find sparks of joy in hearing about the progress of certain juniors he’d had an eye on, and dared to give advice on some small problems that Lan Wangji ran by him. There was a sense of peace to be found in the fact that he still knew how to help with these things, that this much at least had been real skill on his part.

It took many more weeks before Lan Xichen finally dared to ask about the affairs of the world, and for the first time Lan Wangji showed hesitation. He had always been a poor liar, and worse still at hiding from his brother. This too brought Lan Xichen a sense of peace. This too was still a skill he had.

Lan Wangji gave him some sparse news, clumsily trying to hide details he did not wish to share, leaving Lan Xichen to guess for himself what was happening. It seemed smaller sects were trying to use the current political situation to grab a little more power, a little more territories. They were particularly aggressive in their dealings with Lanling Jin. At least, so Lan Xichen understood. Lan Wangji had let it slip that Wei Wuxian had spent a great amount of time with his nephew recently. But with the terrifying Yiling Patriarch and the far scarier Sandu Shengshou on his side, Jin Ling would do just fine in the end. As for the smaller sects, they would settle down. The same thing happened every time something rocked the big sects, but in the end everything always calmed down. Lan Xichen was not worried.

It would be fine.

The sects would be fine.

And Lan Xichen, pointedly, did not ask about the last great sect when his brother did not volunteer any information.

This he was not ready to face yet.

Slowly, over time, Lan Xichen started tiring of his house. He was not ready yet to face the world at large, not when he could still feel the cracks in his soul threatening to rip open once more when he allowed himself to think of certain events, certain people. But he had always been an active man, and staying cooped up inside this way could only be tolerated for so long.

The strict curfew of the Cloud Recesses played in his favour. He was free to walk around at night, as long as he was careful to avoid the usual path used by disciples patrolling.

He avoided, as well, any area bearing too many memories. Gardens he had walked in with Jin Guangyao as they discussed politics, halls in which Nie Huaisang’s laughter or tears still rang. Lan Xichen had never realised how good his memory was, until he was forced to run from it.

The safest place, the one where he encountered the least ghosts, what the space around the junior’s quarters. He had never had any reasons to meet Jin Guangyao or Nie Huaisang there, but he had many pleasant memories with the children he had taught over the years. However much he had failed in other matters, at least this Lan Xichen had done well. He was not quite as beloved a teacher as Lan Wangji, but he had still helped those young ones grow into skilled cultivators. It was something to cling to, when everything else felt unsure.

It was there that, one night, long after the bell for curfew, Lan Xichen discovered two boys having a chat in front of the dorms. Not just any boys, either, but one of Lan Wangji’s personal protégés, Lan Jingyi, and none other than young Jin Ling in person, who Lan Wangji had mentioned was visiting. For some reason, it amused Lan Xichen to have stumbled upon this bit of innocent mischief, two friends having a secret meeting in the night, arguing quietly about some thing or other.

Curiosity for the private affairs of others went against the rules of Gusu Lan, because it so often led to gossip.

Still, Lan Xichen couldn’t help himself. It had been too long since he had heard that sort of easy chatter. Missing it for himself, he thought there would be no harm in spying in on others enjoying that sort of companionship. He hid in the darkness near where the two boys were chatting, and listened.

“I wish I could go see him,” Lan Jingyi grumbled. “He must be so bored all the way up there in Qinghe!”

“He didn’t say anything about missing you,” Jin Ling sniffed, earning a shove. “He didn’t! And also, this is a secret mission, so of course you can’t go there. With how much you shout, you’d blow their cover in a second!”

“I can be quiet!” Lan Jingyi shouted, making both of them wince and fall silent as they waited to see if they’d be discovered. Lan Xichen had to refrain a chuckle. “I really can be quiet,” Lan Jingyi grumbled after a moment, much lower now. “And I wish they’d let me go with them. It's boring here on my own."

Them, Lan Xichen guessed, had to mean Lan Sizhui and Wen Ning. Lan Wangji had told him that the boy he now openly called his son left some months prior on a special mission, the details of which he declined to share. Lan Xichen did not ask. If his brother did not volunteer details, he had to have his reasons.

"So, how is he, anyway?" Lan Jingyi asked.

"I just told you he's fine."

"Not Sizhui, you idiot. Your cousin, how is he?"

Jin Ling shrugged.

"A-Song is doing okay. Better than I remembered him, honestly."

Hidden in the darkness, Lan Xichen forgot how to breathe.

A-Song?

"It must be so weird," Lan Jingyi remarked. "Especially for him. You go to sleep and when you wake up everyone is older, that's messed up. Your whole family is messed up, little mistress."

"Shut up," Jin Ling snapped. "And anyway, at least he seems happy. He's got all these friends and he's running all the time… It's so weird, I never realised back then that he wasn't allowed to run."

Lan Xichen felt his knees buckle under him, and had to lean against the side of the building.

A Jin child forbidden from running, and that name…

He shook his head. A foolish thought, and one that risked shattering him again if he thought about it for too long. It couldn't be. He had seen his body, taken his pulse.

Unaware of his distress, the two boys continued chatting.

"I can't believe your uncle took him to Qinghe," Lan Jingyi commented, in that judgmental tone they had never managed to train him out of. "What if Nie zongzhu kills him?"

"Then I'll kill him too!" Jin Ling retorted. "But I guess uncle knew what he was doing. He always does. And A-Song does look very happy over there. And he has Nie Huaisang completely wrapped around his finger, it's embarrassing. A-Song just needs to look at him, and he'll pick him up immediately like he isn't big enough to walk! And also…"

Unable to stand it one moment more, Lan Xichen walked up to the boys, staggering as badly as if he'd drunk wine.

Seeing him come closer, Jin Ling paled, while Lan Jingyi hurried to meet him with open arms, as if fearful he might fall otherwise.

"Zewu-Jun, are you unwell?" he cried out. "Do you want us to go get Hanguang-Jun?"

Lan Xichen ignored him, his eyes on Jin Ling only. The boy looked worried, with a particular expression that Lan Xichen had seen often enough on his face to recognise it.

Jin Ling sweated guilt.

"What was that about A-Song?" Lan Xichen asked.

Lan Jingyi, still trying to help his sect leader stand upright, tensed violently. As for Jin Ling, the usually bold boy grew paler still, as if he were confronted by a ghost or a demon rather than a man.

"Zewu-Jun, you shouldn't be here," Lan Jingyi insisted, trying to pull him away. "I'll take you back to the Hanshi, and then I'll go warn Hanguang-Jun that you're not well."

"I'm perfectly fine," Lan Xichen retorted, which even he knew to be a lie, but after everything else he had done, what was a lie? "Jin zongzhu. What was that about your cousin?"

Jin Ling did not answer right away, appearing torn in a way that already felt like an answer, though one Lan Xichen wasn't sure he understood.

The boy hesitated so long that Lan Xichen almost repeated his question. Before he could, Jin Ling looked up at him, proud and challenging as only a Jin would dare to be.

"Jin Rusong is alive," he announced, his voice ringing too loud in the silence of the Cloud Recesses. "And at the moment, he's living in Qinghe."

"Jin Ling, no !" Lan Jingyi exploded, but it was already too late.

Without thinking, Lan Xichen tore himself from the boy's grasp and, for the first time in his life, ran inside the Cloud Recesses.

He ran until he reached his home, where he grabbed Shuoyue for the first time since that day he shattered. Even after so long, it was easy to jump on it, just as easy as breathing in fact, and requiring as little thought.

It was a long way from the Cloud Recesses to the Unclean Realm. Lan Xichen had rarely done the trip without breaks, and on those rare occasions he had been at the height of his health, not weakened from months of isolation. And yet every time he thought of stopping, his mind rebelled against the idea.

If he stopped, he would realise how stupid this was. A tasteless prank from a boy who had every reason to hate him.

If he stopped, he would remember that he had been there when Jin Rusong was found, that Jin Guangyao himself had confessed to murdering his son, just as he had murdered so many others.

If he stopped…

He did not stop.

Not until he reached the gates of the Unclean Realm, exhausted and aching but ready to fight his way in.

He didn't have to, though. When the guards recognised him, they lowered their sabres, whispering something among themselves, about permissions and exceptions and whether they should get Nie Funyu or directly warn their sect leader.

If he had been in a normal state of mind, Lan Xichen would have explained the reason for his presence and patiently waited for their decision.

If he had been in a normal state of mind, Lan Xichen wouldn't have been there.

While the Nie disciples were still arguing over how to handle the situation, Lan Xichen simply ran inside. He knew exactly where Nie Huaisang lived, having been there so many times in the past. He knew also about the trinkets that the man he once called his friend kept around the entrance, knew from Nie Huaisang’s own confidence that they were there to alert him against unwanted visitors. Lan Xichen, even half delirious from lack of sleep, knew that he was very much unwanted there, so he walked carefully about the flower pots. He still failed to see a windchime which rang when his head hit it, startling him enough that he tripped and made some of the pots fall.

Figuring there would be no surprise on his side, Lan Xichen gave up and went straight to the door, opening it without bothering to knock.

From inside Nie Huaisang stared at him, and just like Jin Ling some days prior, he looked as if he were seeing a ghost.

He looked, also, tired in a way that Lan Xichen understood too well. In spite of everything that had come to pass between them, Lan Xichen felt an old pity surge again inside him. Acting on sheer instinct he took a step forward, only for Nie Huaisang to move away, eyes widening in fear as he tightened his grip on the sabre he was holding, his body tensing for a fight.

It answered a number of questions that Lan Xichen wouldn't have dared to ask.

It did not matter.

Nothing mattered, except…

"I want to see him."

“It’s the middle of the night, he’s sleeping,” Nie Huaisang immediately retorted.

Hearing those words, Lan Xichen almost collapsed.

What Nie Huaisang should have done was asking who Lan Xichen was talking about, or worse yet mocking him for falling into this obvious trap. This would have made sense. But if Nie Huaisang knew who he meant, then it was real somehow.

“So it’s true?” he gasped. “But he… I saw it. I saw him. A-Yao confessed!”

Something shifted in Nie Huaisang’s expression, his fear giving way to something much worse, something that might have been disdain or pity. He put away his sabre, and took a step toward Lan Xichen.

“So they didn’t tell you, uh?” Nie Huaisang sighed. “It’s… complicated. But he’s alive. He’s really alive, and he’s doing very well. He… he’s been asking for you, actually. Nearly daily.”

“I need to see him.”

Nie Huaisang pinched his lips, a calculating expression on his face. It was one that he had often enough as a boy when deciding what fights with his brother were worth the hassle, one that Lan Xichen hadn’t seen in years, not until that split second after he asked him if Jin Guangyao had really moved to threaten them.

“It’s very late, Er-ge,” Nie Huaisang pointed out, which was true of course, and Lan Xichen knew his request would be denied, but he needed, he needed… “You’ll have to be quiet,” Nie Huaisang ordered. “If you wake him… well, don’t.”

And just that easily, Nie Huaisang motioned for Lan Xichen to follow him into a side room. It used to be one where Nie Huaisang displayed his collection of fans, Lan Xichen vaguely recalled as he walked through the door. But there were no more fans on the walls, and instead plenty of toys on the floor, as well as a bed large enough for an adult, into which a small shape was bundled into covers, nothing but a little face peeking out.

At the sight of that face, Lan Xichen broke into silent tears.

Last time he had seen Jin Rusong, the child’s face had been dark, making it almost beyond recognition save to those who knew him best. Yet there he was, relaxed and warm and breathing.

Alive.

Jin Rusong was alive.

Overwhelmed by this realisation, Lan Xichen did not resist when Nie Huaisang pulled first on his sleeve, then on his hand to lead him out of the child’s bedroom. His fatigue, which he had held off for so long, started catching up with him. He thought Nie Huaisang was telling him something, perhaps plans for the morning, but none of it registered. Lan Xichen did vaguely realise he was being pushed into a bed though, for which he would have been grateful if he’d had the strength.

He fell asleep quickly, almost the instant he laid down, with only one last thought on his mind.

Jin Rusong was alive, and perhaps there was still hope left in this world.

#lan xichen #nie huaisang #jin rusong #mdzs #xisang #the only reason there's a chapter with lxc's pov is because I wanted to have that moment of realisation that others completly misunderstood #what happened in the temple and think lxc orchestrated it :)#not sure that chapter bring anything else to the table but also I do enjoy torturing lxc ok?#jau writes #jin rusong lives

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thekidultlife · 4 years

Text

The Most Convenient Escape | Jihoon Soulmate!AU (6)

⍟ Pairing: Jihoon x fem!reader

⍟ AU: Fantasy/ Soulmate AU

⍟ Genre: ANGST, SLOW BURN, fluff

⍟ Warnings: mentions of abuse, drinking, and sex

⍟ Word Count: 6.7k

⍟ Synopsis: For all your life, you have a deep disdain towards Soulmate Bonds, so much so that you are able to write opinions about it in a local newspaper. However, as life would have it, you wake up one day bonded to a person you hardly knew. Throwing in an investigation, annoying roommates, and a revolution looming just beneath the surface, you had to seek for the most convenient escape.

⍟ A/N: It’s been a while since I updated TMCE skskks sorry;;; i missed my drawing tablet so much, I just drew this whole time lmaooo but here you go~ something like a transition chapter!! hope you enjoy? :DD

⍟ Taglist: To those who commented on the previous chapter ;;w;; thank you so much!!! @minkwans, @ialamityo-o, @oprandomfeels, @haotheheckk, and @svt13roses!!! I always say this, but your comments and reactions really keep me going on;;;

HALF A MILLION MURMURS by Alex Fireflower

The Porta Persa Edition, November 2nd

To those divinely ordained by the people and the coin with Power and Authority:

Surely, in some way or another, it had not escaped any person of good conscience and fair moral character the plight which has befallen our fellow men—the Cilvekans—despite differences in and not limited to nationality and/or race; more so and I surely hope so, that it had not escaped the attentions of persons with great abundance in wealth and power such as yourselves.

Surely, in some way or another, you are not deaf to their pleas—gagged and maimed by a bill, now law, which was carefully crafted to entrap more than half a million people for whatever reason the Parliament has in its defense. These people who had a hand in making our trades grow, making our lives a little bit easier, making this nation prosper to its opulent glory of today—how easy, how convenient it is to leave them to the dust, to fend off on their own all the evils of Porta Persa. Certainly, it had touched your benevolent hearts that the very same people who sweep your marble floors, who wash your dirty ball gowns, who polish your diamond rings, are in need of your help—the very same people who had helped you in your daily lives. Yet even if they had not become a part of your lives in some way or another, surely, maybe, that the fact that Cilvekans are fellow human beings who move and act just like us would convince you that what had been brought unto them was a violation of their rights as human beings, rights which are rightfully bestowed to everyone on this Earth—Cilvekan, Porta Persan or whatnot.

Surely, in some way or another, you have come to an understanding that the creators of this bill had intentions way beyond the national security of this nation. Surely, it is indisputable, with all the abuse of power and discriminate arrests which happened in the course of a few days, that there is no way Porta Persa would attain national security in this manner; but rather, had only caused chaos and anger among the population. How can one, who had held himself with high regard in the face of god and the heavens, be so blissfully ignorant to these people who had been abused and indiscriminately arrested in the middle of the night for various reasons the Royal Guard had come up with as they spin their wee little roulette of crimes and violations? How can we, as human beings, rationalize our inaction and ignorance of this issue with a mentality that “if this does not happen to us in front of our very eyes, therefore, it does not exist”? Of course there is no reason for it to happen on your graciously manicured courtyard because the gold coin had given you the privilege to grab the laws of this land by the neck and turn it to your favor.

Surely, surely, and I do hope so that beyond the loud voices in your head screaming at you that there is no need to help, that the problem is simply perceived by the victims, that this issue does not affect you in any way possible—I hope that you are able to hear the half million murmurs of Cilvekan voices stranded in our ports and stations, banished from their jobs and separated from their families. I hope that you are all able to hear whispers calling out to the warm compassion that is hopefully still inside of your hearts.

As more than half a million Cilvekans congest our ports and stations—sent back to an ironically unfamiliar country with almost no possessions; inside our jails and police stations, tortured to admit a sin they had never committed—let us not ignore their cries of help. Whether or not they had aided us in our lives before, they are still human beings just like us, who need the same rights as we do. Let’s listen to the murmurs of half a million…

◇

“Your girlfriend sure is livid.”

Yoon Jeonghan, in his platinum blond hair and rather sleepy eyes, said as he tossed the newspaper on the marble garden table. The Minister for the Culture and the Arts was finally present in the meeting, though still in Joshua Hong’s grey pavilion in the middle of his rose garden and still drinking freshly brewed coffee.

“She’s not my girlfriend, and I am very much assured that she is unaware of our soulmate bond,” Jihoon groaned as he massaged his temples, the hangover gradually diminishing with the help of a hangover potion you had forced him to bring along. “How many times do I have to reiterate this?”

“Someone sure is a rainy cloud today, what do you reckon, Minister of Foreign Affairs?” Jeonghan remarked as he received a cup of coffee from Joshua, who had only laughed at his friend’s comment.

“It’s your fault for not coming by lately. You missed out a lot.”

“Did I?” The other smirked, and then looked around, “Oh? It seems our adorable general isn’t here yet?”

“Seungcheol told me he wouldn’t be joining us today,” Joshua informed him primly as he finally sat on his own seat with a cup on his hands. “And for reasons you all already know, unfortunately.”

“What about you though? Aren’t you having a terribly marvelous time trying to deport all these people?” Jihoon asked, his eyes cold and a tad bit exhausted.

“That’s the immigration’s responsibility, not ours. Though drafting an explanation to the Cilvekan government as to why there are half a million people to be deported back to their country isn’t a walk in the park either.”

Jihoon grunted, to which Jeonghan only smiled.

“I’m having trouble with this as well. Several valuable artists living in Porta Persa are in danger of being deported which isn’t in any way favorable in my position. I wouldn’t want to lose Wen Junhui and Xu Minghao in the middle of their own respective careers,” Jeonghan added in a playful tone despite the severity of his situation.

“And just when I was finally able to acquire some tickets to Wen Junhui’s play!” Joshua remarked with a slight scowl, annoyed that his tickets would probably become mere pieces of worthless colored paper.

“Tough luck for all of us, huh?” Jihoon remarked as he pressed down the bridge of his nose, the smell of the decaying rose petals around him was making him nauseous.

As the wind blew across the wide rose garden, a companionable silence enveloped the three of them. While they seemed to be so lighthearted, they all knew the situation was a lot worse than they had feared.

“Is there any way we could reverse this decision?” Jeonghan finally asked.

“If there was, I would’ve done it already. Not to mention how much political power I’ve lost because of this,” Jihoon replied, thumbing on the cork of the potion he was holding. "If not for the laws of this land, I would've wrung Kang's neck by now."

“Seems like your plans on running for Prime Minister is thrown out of the window,” Jeonghan continued to which Jihoon only gave him a cynical look.

“I would continue if I was crazy enough,” he answered with a snort. “Look, there’s really not much I could do as of the moment. The Conservatives are probably holding the biggest victory party of their lives at the seaports, herding off Cilvekans inside cargo ships like cattle, and it’s so frustrating how I could only watch them do what they want.”

“What about going to your grandfather then?” Joshua suggested and Jihoon stilled for a moment before aggressively shaking his head.

“No, no, no. Absolutely not,” he replied with a hint of panic in his eyes. “Not in a million years.”

“Why not?” Jeonghan asked. “He’s still a powerful man after retiring as Prime Minister years ago. Who knows, maybe he has some useful connections.”

“You guys already know why not,” Jihoon responded with a snarl. “There is certainly no way I would return to Santaragossa considering the state of my soulmate bond.”

“Ah, that,” the two men eventually nodded in understanding as they remembered why Jihoon was hesitant to go.

“But maybe this is the right time to tell Y/N that your soulmates,” Joshua was the first one who remarked. “You could bring her along and tell her the truth.”

To that comment, Jihoon only gave an incredulous look. “Please don’t give me any more of these suicidal suggestions, Joshua. You already know that’s not going to work.”

“But you could at least try?” Jeonghan offered. “I mean, Porta Persa is only an inch short of imploding, and we could be headless in a month's time if this escalates rapidly, so what does a lover's quarrel mean in the face of a civil war?”

As soon as he had heard Jeonghan’s words, the dark haired male simply sighed and leaned against the chair he was sitting on. He just can’t believe he was considering this. Returning to Santaragossa could be another mess he wished he had never signed up for, much like the current situation with the Cilvekans. But he knew that if he really wanted to act on the benefit of the greater good, a worthy sacrifice is already a given. What even is a falling out with his soulmate to a half a million people who are more or less starving and afraid?

Jihoon sighed again. Things are spiraling out of control.

“I’ll think about it.”

◇

A few weeks later. November 25th

“Oh god, I almost strangled the bastard if you guys weren’t there!”

It was already late in the morning when the three of you entered Wonwoo’s dorm room in a weirdly tense mood; a mood that was emphasized by the fact that the political atmosphere in Porta Persa was rigidly discordant all throughout the past few weeks. As active journalists, it had of course affected you three.

“I might have bitten his head off twice too,” you were fuming as much as Soonyoung was, tossing your heavy leather bag on the bed which you sat on as well with an exhausted huff.

The only calming force in the room was Jeon Wonwoo, who simply sighed and dropped most of his things on a wooden desk carpeted with heavy tomes of Magical Law. Yet despite is fair countenance, it doesn’t mean he wasn’t exasperated by everything that was happening.

Today, the three of you were scheduled to interview a staunch advocate of the recently passed travel restrictions and border control measures, and to say the least, it did go well, yet at the expense of everyone’s tempers.

“Just—how can someone be so ignorant of this situation?!” you exclaimed as you let yourself fall on the bed, your arms held high in the air. “I-I mean, the ports where Cilvekans had been crowding for days now is just a five-minute walk from his stupidly large mansion! Can’t they see anything?!”

“Not only that! Not only that, goddamn it!” Soonyoung added, furiously pacing around the room. “He even has the gall to question why Y/N was there! Y/N! One of Porta Persa’s best editors! What kind of question is that? Are girls not allowed to do anything anymore? I just wanted to punch that guy’s beer belly!”

“That was really insulting,” you remarked, your voice much quieter now.

Soonyoung groaned-screamed, pushing Wonwoo’s wooden chair before stalking towards the wall and punching it hard. The wall was of course rock solid but Soonyoung’s knuckles were now red and in pain, yet it didn’t really matter. If he hasn’t done anything, chances are he might explode in his place then and there.

Wonwoo only watched, leaning against his desk, as the two of you blew off steam by ranting and just being generally loud, yet in his mind, wheels were turning.

“You know what else is concerning?” Wonwoo spoke, his voice as soft as a mutter yet it was enough to get the attention of everyone. “It’s not only the wealthy who are fine with this as what we might’ve expected, but also some of the upper and lower middle class people.”

You and Soonyoung immediately exchange glances, their eyes glinting with curiosity. So Wonwoo continued on.

“I’ve checked all the interviews we conducted since last week and though they differ in motives, they generally have no problem with this law. The rich are basically ignorant and indifferent. To them, this law is just like all the other laws of Porta Persa. For the middle class citizens however, they saw Cilvekans as an adversary—someone who would steal their jobs and opportunities.”

“Like, ‘why are these people getting rich while I, a true blooded Porta Persan is struggling to get a job?’” you asked, to which Wonwoo nodded.

“So a ‘good riddance’ thing, huh?” Soonyoung bobbed his head up and down in realization, his anger already half abated.

“Precisely. This is why this whole situation is largely divisive. There are people who care about it, but there are also a lot of people who are more than happy that this happened,” the bespectacled boy replied, adjusting his glasses.

“Ain’t that depressing,” Soonyoung grumbled, finally plopping on the plush armchair by the fireplace. “Has anybody started a petition yet?”

“Lee Jihoon already beat you to the chase,” you commented casually. “He’s been busy gathering signatures from prominent people to junk the law, but so far I think he hasn’t really filled his quota yet, right Wonwoo?”

“Yes, I reckon he needs even more powerful people, like someone closely connected to the monarchy or someone with a really huge reputation,” Wonwoo replied, folding his arms over his chest.

“Who else is even more powerful than Lee Jihoon? Even he can’t stop that bill from becoming law,” Soonyoung inserted, now much more cynical because of all the frustration that had built up.

You only shrugged. “We don’t know. At any case, we must continue this responsibility we imposed upon ourselves. Let justice be done though the heavens fall.”

“Indeed,” Wonwoo replied before straightening himself up. “In that case, I suppose it’s time we inspect those documents we found a few weeks ago.”

“Oh, yeah! I almost forgot about them!” Soonyoung remarked, turning as he watched Wonwoo walk pass him and to a hidden safe behind the bookcase where he kept it secure. “We were so preoccupied with all the interviews that we didn’t have time to look at them.”

“I do hope we get something out of those,” you said, standing up from your place on the bed and walked to the round wooden table where Wonwoo had placed the documents.

Gathering round and seated comfortably, the three of you began to carefully examine the documents like an efficient production line.

Wonwoo was assigned to the actual semantics of the documents, inspecting everything word per word and whether or not they mean something else other than what was thought at first glance. Soonyoung on the other hand was in charge of looking into those which contained shipping and trading information—he may not be the brightest of you three but he has trading experience all throughout his life which was more than what you and Wonwoo could do. Finally, you had the task of doing the final inspection, to see if the Soonyoung and Wonwoo had missed anything.

Yet despite all these efforts, even after five hours of perusing the said documents, in the end they all turned out to be rather boring pieces of yellowed paper.

“And here I thought we were going to find something phenomenal…”

Soonyoung was pouting, now more than exhausted as he slumped sulkily on his chair. You and Wonwoo were no different, as you sat silently on your places around the table with long faces.

“I guess we effectively wasted most of our afternoon,” you remarked, standing up to stretch your stiff muscles.

“I couldn’t agree enough,” Wonwoo snorted, “That novelty shop was phony from the beginning.”

“Well, what’s done is done,” Soonyoung exclaimed, also standing up to walk around the room. “And oh, speaking of that shop, the fortune teller asked us to give something to you, Y/N. Wait here for a moment while I run to my room!”

Without waiting for you to reply, Soonyoung already dashed out of the door and to the hallway, leaving both you and Wonwoo to exchange curious glances.

“You know something about that?” You asked him.

Your friend shrugged, “You left so suddenly that day and then everything was so hectic right after that we forgot to tell you about it.”

Understanding the situation, you simply sighed and waited for Soonyoung to return, which wasn’t that long since he was already back before you could even form any thoughts on what Madam Adora had left for you.

“I’m back!” he exclaimed, on his hands a small black box that seemed to resemble a box for a ring. “Here you go, Y/N!”

With that said, Soonyoung placed it on top of the table which you walked towards to see what it was inside. You turned it over and heard a small dull thud, giving the impression that there was a small object inside.

“Did you peek?” You asked him, seating back on your chair and taking a closer inspection at the object.

“What? Of course not!” He denied, which you deemed was true, considering that the seal on the opening was still intact. You smirked at him, revealing the fact that you were only kidding around.

“Well, let’s see what this is.”

Breaking the seal, you opened the box while the two onlookers peered curiously behind you. The climactic tension in the air rose dramatically as the three of you became increasingly intrigued by the contents of the box.

“It’s…” Soonyoung narrated, his eyes glistening at first but then faltered after realizing what it was, “It’s just a coin.”

Inside the box, nestled on maroon red velvet was a mere gold coin—one which Porta Persa uses as currency—the Dossimer.

You held it up between your fingers, studying it as closely as you could with eyes filled with bewilderment. Eventually, you made a nod.

“Yes, it’s just dossimer.”

Wonwoo sighed. “This day seems to be filled with anticlimaxes.”

“I guess that’s life for you,” you replied, shrugging. “Though I’m not that sure why she would give this to me. It’s not like I lack money or anything.”

“I’m as bewildered as you,” Wonwoo remarked, again adjusting his slipping glasses.

Huffing, you placed the coin on the table harshly, cluttering loudly across Wonwoo’s room. “Fate sure is playing tricks with us, and I’m not liking it.”

“Yet what else can we do?” Soonyoung asked. “We’re at a stalemate now. The investigation is going nowhere, the Cilvekan situation is worsening, and we might be persecuted by the monarchy at any time.”

Wonwoo simply sighed. “Indeed, nothing seems to be moving right now, but we still have to do something, no matter how little they are. It will have a rippling effect all over Porta Persa.”

While the two were bickering, you had unintentionally blocked them out, focusing only on the gold coin on the table, atop the documents you had inspected, wondering over and over again why it was on your hands.

“Are you suggesting we run away then? Run to the mountains of god knows where—“

Wonwoo had raised his voice already, further proof that the argument was getting heated, yet despite that, you paid no heed. Instead, you continued to stare at the coin, still tossing and turning ideas in your head.

The more you gazed at it, the more you felt like you were beginning to imagine things. The coin was glowing with a golden light around it, and while magic isn’t something odd, the fact that the coin was shimmering was definitely out of the ordinary.

Blinking several times, you tried to shook the hallucinations away yet the glowing continued and had now spread over the papers underneath it. You were sure you hadn’t drunk anything weird that day, or maybe it was the fatigue—but fatigue doesn’t really make things glow in front of your very eyes.

Funnily enough, it took you a moment to realize that none of what you had thought of was the truth, and strangely enough, the coin was actually and most definitely glowing.

“Um…guys…” you muttered, pulling on their sleeves as they were already about to pounce on each other. “I’m not imagining that the coin is glowing, right?”

Your words immediately stopped the two of them from their tracks and immediately turn their attentions to the coin on the table. Astonished as you were, they only gazed at it in confusion.

“It’s really…glowing,” Soonyoung remarked, his hands about to touch it.

“Wait—! Don’t go near, Soonyoung,” Wonwoo warned as he fetched a fountain pen on his desk to poke the coin with.

“Isn’t that as dangerous as well?” you asked him, wanting him to reconsider his course of action.

“It’s fine, I’m not directly touching it.”

With a sigh of forfeit, you only watched as Wonwoo moved the coin with nothing much of a reaction other than the bright white glowing.

“It seems to be making the papers glow as well,” he observed, moving his body around it to see all sides.

“Not all the papers. Just that one,” you corrected him since you were seated next to it on the table and had a better viewpoint. “Could you guys get that?”

Without anyone prompting him, Soonyoung snatched the paper from the table and looked at it with a rather confused look on his face.

“What is it?” you asked, turning to him with an expectant look.

“Not to add on our several disappointments today but these are just some shipping routes. I checked this earlier, you checked it again after, and we found nothing. And oh, it stopped glowing.”

“Wait! Why don’t we place the coin over it and see if it glows again?” Wonwoo this time suggested, pocketing his fountain pen, and then continued speaking after seeing the look of hesitance on your expressions. “And the coin is clearly safe, other than the fact that it’s, you know…glowing.”

“You pick it up then,” you instructed as Sonyoung returned the map of the shipping routes on table and laid it there flat.

“Fine,” he conceded sulkily and took the coin from where it sat and placed it over the parchment.

Amazingly, the paper did start glowing again, making the map invisible and then forming scribbles of white glow on the paper. The three of you crowded in front of it, trying to assess what you had discovered.

Soonyoung sighed. “I still don’t know what it is.”

“I’m as clueless too,” you added before stepping away.

“That’s a geass.”

The both of you turned to Wonwoo who was still scrutinizing it with meticulousness.

“I hope you’d care to explain?” you asked, walking to the place beside him.

Wonwoo closed his eyes and adjusted his glasses.

“It’s actually pretty rare. But basically, a geass is an agreement. However, it’s a thousand times more powerful than your ordinary paper and ink contract. It binds parties through magic which makes it unbreakable. If anyone attempts to do so, they will be met by a horrific death.”

“That’s nasty,” Soonyoung remarked with a scrunch on the nose.

“Indeed it is. Which is why nobody really attempts to seal agreements using geasses anymore because it binds for life. You only reserve it for incredibly important things. You could consider the soulmate bond as a form of geass made between two people.”

“Two unconsenting people, you mean?” You added, making a terse glanced at Wonwoo.

“Yes, right. So in this case,” Wonwoo continued, picking up the paper but making sure the coin is still in contact with it. “What we have here is a geass made between the Gestalts and…one Gustav Lemaire.”

“Hey, isn’t that the same judge?” Soonyoung called out, his brows knitting with intrigue. “You know, the one who dismissed the tax evasion case of Luce Trading? His name really fits the corrupt judge image so it stuck with me.”

“That’s novel,” you remarked with playful snide. “But anyway, if it’s between the Gestalts and the judge, then is this some kind of settlement?”

“It kind of is,” Wonwoo replied, as he read the script with narrowed eyes. “It says here…”

“It says what?” you asked, impatient.

“Give me a moment. It’s written in archaic script and I haven’t really mastered it yet,” Wonwoo said, still hunched over the document. “So, it says here that in exchange for the dismissal of the case as well as increased support for Luce Trading, the Gestalts agreed to…to illegally smuggle in Cilvekans into Porta Persa…”

Wonwoo turned his gaze back at you and Soonyoung as if he had realized something. His eyes were blank and his lips ajar as he uttered the same last words he had said like a whispered chant—clearly, it was a huge epiphany.

“I think we might’ve ran into something much bigger than we had expected.”

◇

Dusk was already settling on the horizon when you were able to return to your gaudy dorm room; painting the marble white walls in a gradient of pink skies and sunset orange. You hesitated before turning the doorknob which usually led to the common room—wondering if Lee Jihoon went back earlier than usual, and what you were going to do about it considering what had happened a few weeks ago.

There was really nothing left to say.

You shook those thoughts away and just braced yourself for the unforeseen. It made no sense to overthink situations which happened weeks ago. Lee Jihoon’s presence in the dorm was pretty much lacking ever since the whole Cilvekan issue had blown up. He might’ve forgotten it already and it made you look ridiculous being so hung up over it.

Unsurprisingly, the common room was empty and you only sighed at your dramatics. You thought something had changed between you and Jihoon that night, but it seemed like it was only your imagination. The dorm was as empty as when you had first arrived a few months ago.

With an innocuous shrug, you stepped away from the doorway and went for the dinner table. The suppressant you had drank from last night was wearing off and you needed another dose before that invasive voice in your head starts speaking again. You were glad that your body had finally developed a tolerance to the painful side effects of the suppressants, or else, people would’ve easily noticed how much pain you were trying to conceal.

Opening your pack of alchemical compounds and ingredients, you took a transparent olive green bottle and swirled it around to agitate the particles that had settled to the bottom. Removing the cork, you took a whiff of the godawful scent and simply prepared yourself for the equally rancid taste. Before you could though, you…hesitated.

Hm?

You looked down on the bottle you were holding, the solution inside swirling as much as your mind was. Why were you hesitating? What was stopping you from taking another dose from the same suppressant you had been drinking for the past month? It was strange. Truly strange that you were making a decision over such a simple task that you had done over and over again for the past few months.

Didn’t you want to block that voice? Didn’t you want to prevent yourself from hurting that’s why you’re doing this? Then why are you hesitating? What’s stopping you from drinking?

“I feel heavy…”

You muttered softly as if any more weight in your voice could make it more unbearable. It was indeed strange—every time you decided to drink it, the heavier your heart becomes as if some parts of it were slowly turning into ice. You felt guilty for something; felt sorry for something you had no idea of. Could it be that you were actually feeling remorseful for the things you’ve done to your soulmate?

Gazing at the bottle one more time, you only felt more sick and grossed out; your stomach belching. It was like the dark liquid inside was a direct representation of all the hate and cold heartedness brewing inside your heart, and you didn’t like how it looked. It felt like some kind of cruel karma finally hitting you back.

Please don’t leave me…

A voice echoed in your head. You instantly panicked, afraid that it was really your soulmate, but it wasn’t. It was Jihoon’s voice. Jihoon wasn’t your soulmate.

Please don’t reject me. I’m sorry…

You didn’t know how to describe the pressure, the pain wringing your heart. It was excruciating. You felt sick. The look on Jihoon’s face that night was all your mind’s eye could see; the way he pleaded for you to stay by his side; the way he held you tightly between his arms as if you were going to slip away at any second. It was like you had caused him direct pain even if you didn’t know how or why.

“Jihoon…”

Your eyes wandered to the bottle in your hands again, but this time you stuck the cork back in, sealing it away for now. Whether or not you’ll stop taking them was a decision you weren’t ready to make. For now, it was best not to tempt karma.

Before you could utter another word however, you heard the main door open and you hurriedly cleaned up your mess on the table. You placed the green bottle in its usual place, glancing at it with thoughts in your head, before dismissing them altogether.

“Y/N? I didn’t know you’d be here,” a familiar voice echoed across the room, making you turn in an instant.

Jihoon was still clad in his formal attire—an all-black suit that made him look like he was going to a funeral. He had been busy running around gathering support for the petition he was championing and it had truly been an exhausting day. He had just finished hanging his coat over the sofa when you averted your attention to him.

“I—well, this is also my dorm so…” you awkwardly replied, your hands gesturing wildly.

“Ah, right, right. Sorry,” Jihoon replied, now a bit embarrassed of his rather obvious observation before he decided to walk away from you.

Considering his usual attitude, you assumed that he would immediately march his way towards his room and lock himself away from the outside world. However, the fact that he was still in the common room, pacing back and forth like some anxious teenager, debating internally if he wanted this or that remain, hinting that he was not done yet.

“Jihoon…?” You asked, slightly worried about him.

“I—“ he began, then wavered, his mouth opening and closing like a gaping fish. It was embarrassing, but he just couldn’t find the courage to say what he wanted to say. Not after the fact that he had cried in front of you that night.

“Are…are you ok?” Your brows were furrowed, now wondering what was the matter with him. “I can make some basic potions—“

“No! No, I’m fine. I’m fine,” Jihoon interrupted and then pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “It’s just, well…you remember a few weeks ago when I got drunk? I realized I haven’t thanked you yet and I just wanted to make it up to you and well…”

Upon hearing his words, you immediately raised your brows in surprise. This was definitely not what you had expected.

“No, it’s ok! You don’t have to thank me!” you replied, now a tad bit embarrassed as well, as you gave him a small smile.

“But I want to,” he said with the usual firmness in his voice, glad that it was back. “And despite being roommates, we never had the chance to get to know each other better.”

“Oh,” was the only thing you could say at that time. He had a point though—you both were partners back in that stupid ball, plus he had seen your breakdown before and you had already seen him crying. You both should just call it quits and end the not-so ‘indifferent’ relationship you had between the two of you.

“Maybe we could have dinner together…?” Jihoon asked tentatively as he checked his pocket watch. “I know a place you might like.”

“Out-outside?” You asked, wholly astonished by how fast things had turned out. “I-uh…”

Honestly, there was no harm in having dinner with your roommate. You already live virtually together, so what’s a small dinner to the both of you anyway? And for some deeper reason, you wanted to indulge him. Maybe because you felt sorry for him that night, maybe you had grown fond of him over time, you don’t know. You weren’t sure. Maybe something did change that night.

“Only if you want to, of course. We can eat here as well—“

“It’s fine, Jihoon,” you interrupted, fiddling with your fingers because you couldn’t bear to look at him, especially with how fast your heart was racing. “Let’s have dinner together.”

◇

It was a rather lovely night outside.

The skies were dark and the moon and stars were twinkling brightly underneath you. Yet what caught your attention the most was where Jihoon had taken you for dinner.

Lanterns of various colors lit up above you, hanging on string and bathing the whole area in a warm and vibrant glow. There was live music as bands strum their mandolins and played their fiddles, creating an ambiance of celebration and vivid colors.

A lot of people had gathered in the area, raucous laughter and loud chatting could be heard from everywhere. All of these placed next to a cliff side which had the best view of Porta Persa at night; the lights from houses and street lamps shimmering against the dark backdrop of the port city like distant stars high above the night sky. It was truly a sight to behold, especially when things had gotten tense and gloomy lately.

“It’s a night market,” Jihoon explained, still clad in his all black attire though he had removed his tie and unbuttoned the first two on his shirt. “Since the ports are where most tourists enter Porta Persa, we coordinated with all the local governments in the country and established a night market to boast the different cuisines found in Porta Persa.”

Your eyes were still filled by the sights while Jihoon began talking, yet despite that, you were listening to him intently, and his explanation just made you explode with amazement.

“Oh wow! Really? That’s actually quite ingenious!” You exclaimed with a bright smile, turning to him as you both walked around to check the stalls. “We should definitely feature this in the Edition! Look at what most people are missing out!”

Jihoon made a small smile at your comment, watching as you checked every single food stall for something you haven’t seen yet. He liked it when you were just having fun, unbothered by the problems of the world—just genuinely at the moment, smiling and laughing in front of him. If you could stay like that, he felt like he was at peace.

“Look Jihoon!” you called out to him excitedly, on your hands was a grilled fish on a stick. “This is a delicacy from the Oihe region! They would soak the fish for a month in Rejhu juice, which is a fruit only found there that has impressive preservation properties, and then grill it! It could go on for several months which is perfect for the region’s harsh cold climate. That’s what the lady told me though.”

“I haven’t tried that yet,” he remarked, and then smirked, “Maybe I’ll take some from your share.”

“Eh…but this is mine,” you pursed your lips and turned your head. “You go buy your own.”

Acting like a petulant child, Jihoon couldn’t help but chuckle at your antics, much to your chagrin. With an irate expression, you looked at him, who was covering half of his face with his hand as he laughed—you didn’t really appreciate being laughed at.

“What’s the matter?” you asked with your eyebrows knitting, your hands on your waist.

“No, no, I’m sorry,” he replied, still in his laughing fit which eventually subsided into a smirk in a few moments. “I just—I never expected you to act like this at all.”

“Act?” you leaned your head to the side in bewilderment. “But I’m always like this.”

“I always thought you were the serious type, you know,” Jihoon explained, his lips curving; his eyes glistening against the vivid golden lights up above you. “I just never anticipated you could be so adorably childish as well.”

“Adorably childish?!” you repeated, now a bit flustered that you had been acting that way the whole time. “That—that was never my intention!”

Jihoon only smiled at you and patted your head gently. “It’s okay. I like it.”

You couldn’t muster a reply to that comment because of how heated your face had become. No one really complimented you like that, and above all, it was Lee Jihoon who did it—the same person you were rather indifferent four months ago.

“Come on, let’s go have some dinner,” he simply said without further ado. Taking in your silence, Jihoon decided to move on and walk around the market, leaving you in your thoughts.

In the end, both you found yourselves sitting on a table with a clear view of the Porta Persa skyline, giving the situation a rather romantic ambiance which you never really had planned on. Before you, warm food of various origins were placed neatly on the table, waiting to be eaten and fill your hungry stomachs.

“You have…. rather interesting choices,” you remarked upon seeing Jihoon’s meal of choice while you carefully dissected your fish from before.

“Hm?” Jihoon looked up to you with a questioning look, a fork and a knife on his hands. “Oh, these are from Santaragossa. They might be a bit spicy, but I do miss them from time to time.”

“Ah, you were from Santaragossa? I always thought you were born and raised in the capital,” you replied, taking a sip from a citrus fruit blend you found rather interesting.

“Why so?” he asked, downing a piece of braised meat. “I assumed I gave an impression of someone from the provinces.”

“Not at all,” you gave him an austere look. “You seem like you run the place.”

“Do I now?” Jihoon asked, his lips again curving into a tiny smirk. “I never realized you thought of me that way. I appreciate your sentiments though.”

“But what is it like?” you suddenly asked. “I mean, living in Santaragossa?”

Jihoon leaned his head to the side, wondering why you were asking him this so suddenly.

“That place was my childhood. The summers were cool and the winters were not too cold. Most of the land are large vineyards and olive groves so I would run around a lot and play with the animals and so on. There is also a large lake near the house which is a great place to swim in during summer months. I do have private tutors, so please don’t get the wrong idea that I wasn’t in school.”

As you watched him talk about his hometown, you noticed how Jihoon had brightened up, rekindling fond memories from his childhood. He seemed to be at peace and less troubled than he was a few hours before, and it gave you a sense of serenity as well, gazing at him like what you were doing at that moment.

“Just by looking at you, I could already tell that it’s such a great place,” you remarked, grinning. “I’ve never really left the capital before, that’s why I always wanted to go to one of the provinces. Since you definitely sold me the idea, I might want to go to Santaragossa someday, given the opportunity.”

A thought struck Jihoon in an instant.

“Hypothetically speaking, if I’d invite you to come with me to Santaragossa next week, would you go?”

At that very moment, in the middle of a night market, you were stunned to silence.

#seventeen #caratwritersclub #svtcreations #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfics #seventeen woozi #lee jihoon #the most convenient escape #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff

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