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beybaldes · 5 months

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i swam a lake of fire, I’d have walked across the floor of any sea

masterlist

Sejanus plinth x gn!reader

summary: While you don’t enjoy being in the arena, you’d spend the rest of your life there if it meant you were there with him.

warnings: okay I wrote a second part lol but can definitely be read as a stand-alone fic, loosely accurate but not like word for word scene for scene or anything, I typed Coriolanus about 7000 times for this and it doesn’t feel like a real word anymore, slightly angsty once again but fluff I promise! title is hozier unreal/nth

an: dear all my Ted lasso mutuals that may be seeing this, the gods have struck me with inspiration but for this man and this man only, Roy Kent will one day renter my heart and when I do you will get 10 million fics, I love you all dearly

Only hours ago you were sat on the steps of the academy, not an inch of space between you and Sejanus, him alive and breathing and right in front of you. And now, Dr Gaul was on the other end of the phone line, telling you that Mrs Plinth and Coriolanus Snow were on their way to pick you up, and that the three of you were to go to the arena and get Sejanus the hell out of there.

If you knew him any less, you’d say you didn’t know what got into him, but this was exactly who Sejanus was. You had no doubt in your mind that he had snuck his way in there for Marcus, for something that only he could understand; it’s why you hung up the phone without another word and practically ran down to the street, waiting for Mrs Plinths car to come for you.

Within a minute of you getting to the curb, a long, sleek, black car pulled up in front of you, and Coriolanus Snow came out of it, holding the door open for you and gesturing for you to get inside. You’d never seen him so gentlemanly. Sure, he was always polite, especially to others at the academy, but it always held a limit. A condition.

“Thank you, Coryo.” Coriolanus was startled by the three little words. You’d never called him Coryo before. Maybe it was a slip of the tongue, or maybe Sejanus’s use of it over the years was starting to wear you down and warm you up to the blond.

As you entered the car, you moved to sit directly next to Sejanus’s ‘Ma’ reaching and taking her hand in your own. “It’s going to be okay Mrs Plinth. We’ll get him out of there.” Her grip on your hand tightened with each second you got closer to the arena, just like Sejanus’s had hour earlier when the two of you were sat side by side in the safety of the academy. He definitely had his mothers smile and tenderness, and ability to ease your worrying soul just by being in her presence.

The rest of the car ride went in tense silence, no one daring to say a word until you had seen that Sejanus was alive and well, and out of the arena. Gaul and the peacekeepers had no problem all but shoving you and Coriolanus into the arena upon your arrival, the two of you gripping onto each other in mutual fear as you walked yourself into what could be your deaths.

Silence filled the arena, and it seemed as though all of the tributes had gone into hiding for the night. For all you knew Sejanus, kneeled in the middle of the room beside Marcus’s body, was the only living thing here.

As the two of you neared him, Coriolanus’s foot hit a stone, making just enough noise to startle Sejanus, who jumped as he turned around, thinking this might finally be his end. Upon seeing you and Coryo, he turned back to Marcus, letting out a breath of relief. “I thought they’d send in my Ma.”

“She’s outside, waiting for you.” You stepped forward before Coriolanus could say a word, not allowing his nerves of being in the arena to let him speak to Sejanus in a harsh tone. Sure, coming into the arena was stupid, of course it was, but that thought didn’t dare cross your mind right now. All that mattered was him. “Sejanus, what are you doing here?”

“I’m making sure Marcus has enough food to get to the afterlife with.” Sejanus explained softly, his head hung low and eyes unmoving from Marcus’s still body. “It’s a tradition, in district two, to make sure they don’t go hungry. I can’t let him go hungry.”

A clang could be heard in the distance, the children from the districts slowly beginning to stir around the amphitheatre after the noise made by you and Coriolanus emerging through the barricades. You knelt by Sejanus’s side, taking his hands briefly in your own.

“That’s beautiful, you’re beautiful, but we need to leave.” Your hands were once again against Sejanus’s face, cradling his cheek and frantically pushing his curls out of his eyes. His brow creased, confused with the whole situation before him; he thought you knew how important this would be to him, that you’d let him stay, stay with him even.

“But you were right.” Oh God. What had you said to make Sejanus think that this was a good idea, an idea at all? If Sejanus was to die in here you’d never forgive yourself. “I have to go where the cameras are. I have to do this.”

“Sejanus, no.” Tears threatened to pool at your waterline, knowing that what you’d said only hours ago could’ve led Sejanus to his death if he hadn’t been spotted sooner. “Not like this. Please.”

He went to fight against it, knowing that if he wanted to make change his best chance was from here, at the heart of the problem, but he never got the chance, you cutting him off before he could even begin to speak. “Gaul has cut the cameras, if you die in here she will just pretend that you died of the flu. There are better ways to make change, and I know you can and you will.” Closing what distance there was left between the two of you, you rested your forehead against his. Would anything be enough to get him to leave with you now? “You will be the change you want to see in this cruel world, Sejanus, but not in here, not like this.”

Despite the loud clanging of metal against the concrete floors of the arena, you kept your head pressed firmly against his, running your thumb across the apple of his cheek in hopes he’d leave the arena with you now, before things had the chance to get worse. As the clanging of metal got louder, and Lamina, the girl from 7, began to rise from her slumber above you, Coriolanus stepped closer to the two of you, moving away from where he had been keeping watch.

“Sejanus please, we need to go.” No sooner than Coriolanus had got the words out, Bobbin, the boy from 8, came charging at the three of you from the darkness, a large, machete-like blade in hand. Coriolanus reached out for your hand as you reached out for Sejanus’s, the three of you breaking into a sprint in hopes to escape the tribute before he could hurt any of you. The whole run he was hot on your feet, swinging his sword carelessly in hopes he’d land a hit on one of you. And as you jumped over the barriers, ready to rush for the gate, you thought you’d gotten away scrape and scratch free, however, Sejanus’s knee caught against the turnstile, sending him crashing to the floor while you and Coriolanus landed on your feet.

“Sejanus!” Without hesitation you turned back for him, coming to his side and reaching to help him up, but before you could lay a hand on him, Bobbin swung for you, slashing your arm from shoulder to elbow over the barricade. “Fuck.”

Coriolanus had grabbed a plank from the rubbled floor, swinging at Bobbin in an attempt to get him to back away from the three of you. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Your arm, your arm.” Sejanus gasped, his hand flat over the wound as if he could heal it with his touch. “This is my fault, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I’m okay.” You repeated, pulling Sejanus to his feet and slinging his arm over your shoulder while you wrapped your arm around his waist. As you turned to see if Coriolanus was still alive, you were met with the sight of him pummelling the tribute to death, blood coating the concrete floor. You don’t think you’re ever going to forget the sight of Coriolanus snow heaving in breaths as he stared down at the dead child. The child he’d killed. Though right now you didn’t have time to dwell on it, Coral and her gang running directly towards you, weapons in hand and ready to slice. Coriolanus jumped across the barrier in one swift movement, coming to Sejanus’s other side to help practically drag him through the tunnel and out of the gate. “Open the gate! Open the gate!”

“Open the gate!” Coriolanus yelled, the gate opening just enough that the three of you could get out to the other side, and closing immediately after, Coral and her team trapped on the other side of the gate as the three of you fell to the floor.

As Coriolanus stood, staring down Coral as she spat insults and threats at him, you turned to Sejanus, throwing an arm around his neck and crushing him in a tight embrace. “You’re okay, I’m okay, we’re okay.” Taking a second to breathe, you pulled yourself away from his touch, only enough that you could see his face and make sure he actually was okay. Sejanus leaned into the soft touch of your palm to his cheek, pressing a dazed kiss so delicately to the inside of your wrist. A smile curled on your lips. “We’re okay.”

“Your arm.” Sejanus started blubbering apologies, both to you and Coriolanus, not only for having to come into the arena to get him, but for the injuries you’d sustained in doing so. “I’m so sorry.”

Coriolanus just walked away from the scene, nodding at Mr and Mrs Plinth as he went to get his bloodied shoulder attended to and speak with Gaul, but you stayed with Sejanus, paying absolutely no mind to the searing burn that emitted from your shoulder as you helped him up. It could wait. You once again held him up by his waist, allowing him to put his arm around your shoulders despite the pain that seared through them at his touch, and helped him walk over to his Ma, who’s arms he fell into almost immediately.

“I’m sorry, Ma. I had to do it, I had to do it.” Mrs Plinth just ran her hand over his back, soothing his worry with each gentle touch.

“You need to get your arm bandaged up.”

“I’m fine, Coryo.” The blond had appeared beside you, shirt in his hands as he’d just been covered in bandages and gauze. His whole body appeared stiff and you weren’t sure if it was due to the fight he’d just won or the consequence of it.

“You’re not, you’re bleeding.” He stated, poking you at the breach of your wound as if to make a point. “See, that must hurt.”

“I’m fine, Coryo, seriously.” You folded your arms across your chest, stealing the expression on your face and taking in a long deep breath as though it would ease the pain and stop you from showing just how much it hurt. “Sejanus will need his knee looking at, I will get my shoulder looked at after.”

Coriolanus only scoffed, his sympathy for you extremely limited now. If you wanted to bleed to death to make sure Sejanus, who nearly gotten all three of you killed, was okay, then who was he to stop you? “Suit yourself. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Only you and Sejanus made it to the capitals hospital, his father insisting that if he was grown enough to go into the arena by himself, then he was grown enough to go to the hospital by himself. And though his Ma had insisted she come with, Strabo had made it clear she would not. While the damage to his knee hadn’t been terribly bad, it was still likely that Sejanus would feel sore and walk with a limp for a while. You hadn’t thought about the cut along your arm once the whole time, but Sejanus clearly had, distracting himself while the nurse put his knee in some kind of splint by tracing his finger along the jagged edge of your uniform, split open by the curve of Bobbins knife. The second the nurse announced she was done with sorting his knee, he made his move. “Can you look at their shoulder? It’s still bleeding.”

The nurse took one look over you, noticing the torn material of your red blazer and the deeper red of the blood that coated it, then ordered you to take off your clothes except for your undershirt, so she could tend to it. “Oh sweetheart, this looks nasty. Why didn’t you say anything sooner.”

“It’s not that bad.” However, your lie almost immediately fell through as she poured some kind of transparent, white liquid on the wound, you gasping as it made contact with your skin. Sejanus immediately reached for your hand, squeezing it and offering a channel for your pain, his other hand coming to rest against your temple, his fingers brushing back though your hair, much like you had done to him earlier in the day.

“You’re okay.” Sejanus soothed his thumb running across your cheek. “You’re okay.”

You were okay, but not because your shoulder was finally being tended to. Sejanus was safe. Alive and safe. And you didn’t plan on letting him out of your sight for as long as you possibly could. When the nurse had finished cleaning up the wound, she excused herself to go and find some gauze and a big enough roll of bandages, promising to be right back.

“Did you mean what you said?” Sejanus asked, his eyes not quite meeting yours, instead focusing on where his thumb met the skin of your cheek, it running over the slightly grazed skin. You must have scratched it against the floor when you fell. “Before? Outside the academy?” When it was clear to him that you weren’t sure of which thing you’d said that he was talking about, he let out a short laugh, rolling his eyes at you lovingly. “That you’ve… grown fond of me?”

“Sejanus…”

You didn’t get to chance to give your obvious answer - you’d only ever been honest with Sejanus, and you weren’t about to change that now - he started talking again. “Is that the reason you came to get me out of the arena?“

Slowly, as he continued to stream out endless questions in your direction, you leaned over from your seat in front of him, placing your hands either side of where he sat on the cot and placing your lips softly against his. Sejanus froze under your soft touch, entirely unsure of himself; he’d never kissed anyone before, and he’d thought so often about kissing you that it didn’t feel real. At least for a second, anyway, as when you tried to pull away at his unresponsiveness, he pushed his lips against your own, not too rushed and not too firm, one of his hands coming to rest against the small of your back.

“I have grown so much more than just fond of you, Sejanus plinth.” You pulled your lips away, smiling to yourself as he chased after your kiss. Less then an inch separated the two of you from locking lips again, and the only thing seeming to restrain Sejanus from kissing you again and again right then and there was the fact he wanted to hear what you had to say. He always did. “I’d follow you anywhere across Panem, from across the districts to the arena itself. They haven’t invented a word for what it is I feel for you yet.”

Sejanus seemed to be in a daze, his mind not quite up to speed with the rest of his body. One of his hands moved to cup your neck, and his eyes kept scanning over your face and repeatedly landed on your lips no matter how hard he tried to look elsewhere. Now that he’d kissed you, he worried the only thing that would be able to come out of his mouth would be the fact that he’d kissed you, at least until he had the fortune of kissing you again. Almost breathless and with a slightly shaky hold on you, Sejanus knew what he had to do.

“Will you kiss me again?”

an: mwah!!! Thank you for reading guys and for all the love on my other Sejanus fic/part one!! Potential third part set in the districts when Sejanus becomes a peacekeeper what do we think??

part 3: of the goodness, love, that I still carry for you out now!!

#beybaldes wrote a fic!!#sejanus plinth oneshot #sejanus plinth imagine #sejanus plinth x reader #tbosbas x reader

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libertyybellls · 4 months

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silver soul !

pairing; finnick odair x fem reader

summary; you’ve been reaped for the 68th annual games,as you say your goodbyes you realize the ocean is not the only thing you are leaving behind.

contains ; ANGST, sadness, unconfessed loves.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

you’re sitting atop the smoothest rock nearing the shoreline, too close to be dry but too far to be soaked. the air is cool despite the season. something somber lays in the air- as if nature can read the silence between you and finnick.

oh, finnick.

you wait for him to speak, for him to say goodbye and let you go. let you move onto your impending doom. but he doesn’t speak- he doesn’t even move. no noise is emitting from him, you’re not even sure you can hear his breathing- the typically obnoxious huffs and puffs he exudes are gone and he remains next to you in these final moments on district 4- refusing to speak.

he’d prayed to any god that would listen for the 68th hunger games to have mercy on you. he wouldn’t give just an arm and a leg for your safety. he would give anything that belonged to him to ensure that you’d return home, back to him, back to whatever you two were in.

he could’ve crumpled to the floor when he’d heard your name called, when nobody had volunteered. why you? why not anyone else? anyone but her.

“i’ll be okay.”

you couldn’t promise that, you knew it was a lie, you’re only 16, you have nothing to depend on getting you through the games.

“i’ll be your mentor. i’ll find you sponsors. let me help you.” finnick pleads, his eyes lowly looking into yours.

it is only then you want to break into pieces in his arms. you want to sob. you want to retreat back to your family, back to his safe presence. he looks so pure with the sparkle of grace in his eye, deeply at variance to the picture that’s been painted to the capitol. his altruistic belief in you when even now, you are certain you won’t make it far in these games, gives you a rush.

you don’t respond to his desperate offers. you only look down to your lap- at your dress playing with the simple garment. you laugh breathily, “what are the odds.”

‘not in my favor’ he selfishly thinks. he may still have a life whether you win or lose this game- but will he be alive? will he have his anchor?

he shames the world, shames the capitol, shames all of the people who sat back and let you walk onto that stage, shames the game makers who would ever let you step foot in that arena. he needs you to be okay. this world is cruel, cruel to do this to his girl.

“please trust me, i will get you out of these games. you will be a victor and we can live in peace, y/n.”

he sins. he lies. he deceives. straight through his teeth. no matter the outcome you will never live in peace once your out of this. you will never be the same girl.

you think back to his own games. though he has yet to directly say his nightly terrors, his daily horrors, the acts he’s committed that he will never say as he looks into your loving eyes. the capitol has not had lenience on this boy, only a boy, but with troubles of a man.

there is no outcome of this predicament that either of you favor. no scenario in which the world grants you the rest you deserve. you want to scream, cry, pour your heart into him. let him fully consume every fiber that holds you together, all the words you’ve never yet said to him lay heavy on your heart. now it is your turn to stay silent, to lose all oxygen in your lungs, let the blood leave your face. but your voice fails you, “i trust you finnick.”

i trust that i am safe with you. i trust that you won’t let me die. i trust that i will make it back to you. i trust you.

he pulls you into him, his cheeks are wet, there’s a lump in his throat but he does not speak. he simply holds your head onto his chest- his fingers lock into yours as if that’s where they were made to lay.

your words continue to lie dormant in the back of your shared minds- but you let the angry waves speak for you. the greying sky share your sadness, the cold drops of water that reach your legs will bring you back to life- rejuvenate your soul ties. this is the peace you’ve been granted- this is all that is fair in your life.

only in this moment will he have you as you are now, in his arms, still so fragile but he holds you intact.

#finnick odair #finnick oneshot #finnick angst #finnick odair x reader #finnick imagine #finnick fanfic #finnick fluff #finnick smut #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair smut #finnick odair x you

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populationthree · 3 months

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hey chat what if i just put an entire chapter of a book im writing underneath the cut? That would be pretty funny I th

CHAPTER 1: CHRYSANTHEMUM

001 - DREAM

Soft—my grasp around his body felt nothing but. With my fingertips gently grazing against the material of his clothings, I could barely stand to perceive myself as myself. For all I cared, I was nothing but a set of hands.

But he stood right on front of me; I could perceive him. At first I couldn’t stand to stare into his feline eyes. No living man holds natural yellow eyes; everything about him was wrong. Yet, here I was. My yearning body threw itself to siphon whatever warmth exists on him. Seconds pass, I weep into the crook of his shoulder. My arms tightly bend around his body while my hands idly brush against the fur of his tail. I can’t seem to figure out how I got in this situation, but one of his hands softly strokes through my hair. For what it was worth, he made my hair feel like fine silk.

There was something about how stagnant he was—I could explore to my heart’s desire. Any of my burning passions which weakened me from the inside were nothing but paint to his blank state. I can’t tell if he stares at me with apathy, sympathy, or any empathetic qualities. I’m not sure if he can tell how desperate I am as a person.

“What am I?” Words barely escape my mouth as I look up towards him. “Really?”

He doesn’t move—he doesn’t budge. While my hands delicately feel against his bony ribs hidden underneath his skin, I’m barely able to cause a reaction. When was this a game? No matter how hard I try, any attempt at physical touch is muted in response. I’m hopeless, mainly, but I’m greedy.

While my hand gently sifts through his hair, another hand holds up his chin as my tear-stained eyes lock on to his. Never before have I felt so comfortable looking directly at his eyes. I know he can read my thoughts—I see him softly shake his head as a thought comes to my mind, “No.”

I whine, I weep. Why can someone so moldable like him hold limits? Desperately, my hands stick in place as I push my body closer to his. In response, he only steps backwards to push space between us. I’ll never understand him. He waits until I exhaust every last tear from my disheveled body before he brings me in close with one of his hands rubbing against my back in circles.

“I’m sorry” I repeatedly stammer. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He lifts my head up, making sure he has my attention. He waits until I cease my sobbing and truly admire his face. The silence after was hell. Never in my life has the absence of noise been so deafening.

“I am your limit.” He speaks. “I only allow for you todo what you’ll do to yourself. Truly, do you write of the things you think?”

Louder—yet stagnant. Words fail to piece themselves together as a coherent thought departs with each mirage of hope. My hands are greedy, yet his grasp is stronger. After a while, I realize he never anticipated a vocal answer from myself. In all honesty, he waited for the thoughts to align in a way he desired them to.

He was perfect. I look up to him with lust—if anything. His slim body, his long and bushy tail, his soft face, his pointy fox ears. Sometimes, I can only salivate. Sometimes, I can only dream of what I could do to him.

“So, what are we waiting for?”

Me, Myself, and I. Always, and forever will be.

002 - PRELUDE

“Don’t you have your own bed?” he reminds me while twirling his own hair, “You’re paying more than me for all of the bills, I don’t see why you need to share the bed with me here and now.”

As he spoke, I sat on the edge of his mattress with both my hands and feet pressed against his blankets. While considering his words, my expression lightly soured while I kept my attention towards him. With a simple reposition, I fix my limbs to sit in a quadrupedal position.

Danilo softly scoffed at my display as he checked the curtains within the room. All of the windows were blacked out by an opaque curtain, preventing any moonlight from pouring in. After the observation, he would adjust himself underneath the sheets of his bed while speaking, “Are you having one of those nights, Dani? If it helps you sleep tonight, sure. Get in.”

I excitedly burrow within the bed as I hastily draped the bedsheets above me. While Danilo worked on fixing the mess I made with the sheets, I wrapped my arms around his body while resting my head underneath his chin. My legs quickly snake around his while I involuntarily let out soft whimpers and whines.

“Settle down, settle down…” he softly reassures me while sifting his fingers through my hair, “You’re gonna have to talk if you want to sleep with me tonight. I know you don’t want to, but I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Tomorrow…” I pleaded, “let me sleep now…”

“Tonight, tell me what’s up tonight. What happened? Did you have another bout of insecurity.”

“Yeah… I did.”

“Oh, come on. The whole world isn’t out to get you. You know that, right?”

For an extended period, I would look up to him with my undivided attention. I made sure to keep my glance focused with my extraneous motions held still—all for emphasis.

“Okay,” Danilo surrendered, “the town may completely turn on you, but you’re safe here. You always know that.”

After his reassurances, he continued to weave his fingers through my delicate hair as another hand reached over to gently rub against my back in circles. His exhales and inhales slowed with each breath while his eyes closed in concentration.

Meanwhile, I could feel my negative feelings melting from my body. My intense shaking—throughout my whole body—gradually diminishes while I focus on the warm touch of his skin. I couldn’t help myself but to softly rub my cheek against his chest.

“You know I care about you, right?” Danilo continued to sift his hand within my hair, almost as if he was searching for something. “I have my boundaries, you know that. I still go to work—but it’s all to protect you.”

“Are you saying that just to make yourself feel better?” I questioned, “or do you genuinely mean it?”

“What?” For a moment, Danilo halted with his motions while looking down towards me. “No, why would you think that? Do you think I get some type of reward for cultivating you?”

“That’s what I feel everyone does…”

“Come on—everyone? What about Laque? You two hang out together every week or so. You’re always coming back with something fun to say.”

“Well… you’re right. I don’t think he’d do all that to betray me.”

“And Cheese? You’ve know him since you were kids. Granted, he’s known you before you’ve had the curse, but you two are still friends as if nothing ever happened.”

“Yeah, him too. I guess he’s not out for me either.”

“See? It’s your insecurities messing with you. I don’t think anything wrong about you, either. Although, I do find you a little strange at times.”

I furrow my eyebrows as I look back up to Danilo. Without any words, my expression quickly shifts to that of confusion as I try and understand his words. One of my hands lifts from his body as I purposefully pull his own hand from my hair. “What do you mean strange?”

“Well, don’t take it in a bad way,” Danilo continues, “I’ve never met anyone who purposefully acts like an animal and generates a suspicious amount of money through revealing images on the internet.”

“There’s an audience for everything!” I exclaim, “it’s not like anyone in the town can even pinpoint who I am. I’ve never shown anyone the interior of our house, and I conceal my face and any identifying marks. Don’t think you’ve got something to stand on just because you have a nine to five.”

After I spoke, a silence grips against the interior of the room as I watch Danilo’s face shift in contemplation. With his now free hand, he reaches over towards the side of the bed to grab a small, black remote. With his thumb idly combing over the multiple buttons spread across the stick.

“I never said that was bad,” he soon responds, “if anything, I find it interesting you use your curse productively like that. I don’t fully understand it, but I respect it.”

I return the same, puzzled stare back up at him as I did moments prior. “Are you saying the right words just to make me feel happy?”

“That’s never been my intention, and you know that.”

“Right, thanks, Danilo.”

“I’m your roommate for a reason. Do you want to watch a show to cheer yourself up?”

Almost immediately, I would scramble up from under the sheets to sit on top with my focus placed towards the screen in front of the bed. As Danilo repositioned himself to rest his back on the wooden back of the bed, I laid back with my head returning to lay on his chest.

While he repositioned his hand to resume his previous routine, he would simultaneously navigate through the television’s channels. With quick eyes, he read off the title of the shows and movies while flicking through the catalogue.

Against the television’s chaotic noise, I suddenly spoke aloud, “You’re still okay with what happened Saturday night, right? Are you mad or anything?”

“What?” He quickly broke his concentration to reply, “no, of course not. If anything, I enjoyed it.”

Once he finished speaking, I could feel my body sinking deeper into his blanket-covered body as his words echoed around in the front of my mind. The looping thoughts resounded with joy as my mind was put into a great ease.

While I was occupied with Danilo’s response, he would settle down on a rerun of a program we both watched together. Once he placed the remote back on the nightstand, Danilo reached his arm around my chest as he rested his elbow on top of my shoulder. All I could do now was gradually fix my focus to the show as his words floated around with no signs of stopping.

003 - PARTY

The night sky blinked with multicolored sparks, raining down its vibrant lights with a trail of smoke to follow. Chaotic bursts of noise scattered themselves among the plentiful stars—a distant cousin briefly staying in their celestial family’s residence. As these sparks fought for dominance against the dark clouds and chipped moon, they reigned supreme across the night sky.

December 31st, 20XX. The year of the animal was just around the corner. The final grains of sand slid through the top half of the hourglass. Twenty minutes of impending change. All of the houses illuminated their vibrant lights as the asphalts of the neighborhood streets were alight to the festive spirit contained within these houses.

Nested in the suburban sprawls of Normal was a chateau which reigned upon the upper middle class. Gates with a gem resembling a family crest locked the ordinary man from the loudest party in the city. Partygoers from around the Penumbran Strip gathered to celebrate the end of a simple era and to welcome in the joys of new beginnings.

And where was I among all this? Sat in the bustling mansion tucked away in the quietest spot of them all. A maid’s closet—that’s what I assume, anyway. Moments prior I stole a handful of unopened bottles of wine from the never-ending snack table placed in the foyer. What was a hassle for me was nothing more of a margin of error for the host.

Laque, the host. It’s not that I desire him, I cherish him as a friend. Sometimes, however, I don’t know when to say no. Every year, I find myself accepting an invitation to the largest party in the Strip. And for each party, I’m always within the closet kept to my own devices. I understand why he invites me—we’ve known each other for so long. In comparison to even the poorest guests, I reside as a stark outlier.

The taste of alcohol was present with each swig. Before, I would steal an equal amount of soda to held the taste. Now, I simply don’t care to hide the taste. It’s what I deserve—my punishment. Why trap yourself in the grandest social event in the area. Stepping outside was a dangerous game considering how glass windows stripped any and all privacy of the chateau’s interior.

The light in here was good enough. A fluorescent bulb kept overhang with a thin chain as a switch. This is as best as it gets, sometimes. I’ve nestled a blanket and pillow in here, sometimes. Somehow, it remains within the closet even after a full year. I highly doubt people check this closet. It’s just an extra room blind to the experienced workers of the manor.

And then, there was a set of knocks. My heart immediately jumped out of my chest as my hands scrambled to hide the alcohol among the cleaning supplies. Despite this, the door slowly creaks open to reveal a man staring down at me. It wasn’t just any man, no. With his recognizable yellow eyes and shaggy, brown hair; I could recognize his face from across the manor if the circumstances allowed.

“You know,” he starts, “I’m not surprised this is where you hide off to for these parties. I kind of forgot you’re on good terms with Laque.” My hands were shaking. While my fingers tapped away on the edges of the nearby shelves, my mind was racing to find any amount of words to say. Once the sentence formed itself in my mind—a perfect retort—I shoddily released the string of words in a trembling voice, “What are you doing at Laque’s party?!”

“I’m his cousin, remember?” He taps against his temple with his index finger. “Danilo Toru? Laque Toru? I’m nowhere near the fortune, but he still remembers I exist. Unlike his parents.”

After fumbling my own words, I quickly swiped my hands to the pillow stowed away within the closet. As I buried my face within the luxuriously soft material, I contorted the muscles in my face to hold back any tears. I hoped—I prayed—that the noise would quiet down into its muffled state. I awaited the sweet silence to return back to me. To hell with the destructive thoughts, it’s all I know.

A hand firmly grasped against my shoulder beyond my senses. As the noise outside quietened down to its muffled state, the hand would adjust itself upon my tattered shirt. Just in front of my pillow, his voice would pierce through the soft material, “You’re not gonna hide under your pillow all night long, you know.”

I slowly lowered the pillow down toward my legs after giving myself a moment to compose myself. Without another moment, Danilo would reach his other hand to press against my remaining shoulder. Afterwards, I was able to gain a glimpse at how he was standing. Both of his knees were on the ground as the legs down acted as support. With both of his hands grasped against me, he was able to lean forward a considerable amount.

“One step at a time,” he remarked, “Are you planning to hole yourself up in this closet until the sun breaks or do you want me to drive you home?”

For a moment, my mind quickly panicked. My hands left their grasp against the pillow as they wrapped around the wrist of Danilo’s arms. My body desperately conveyed its decision paralysis while my mouth remained silent.

Danilo would softly laugh at my display as he moved each hand off of my shoulder. While my wrists were wrapped around tight, he could still balance with his leaning position. “I’ll take you home. It’s okay. You don’t have to talk. But, I need to do a few things first.”

Immediately, I was confused. As my emotions calmed down, I mustered what words I could out from my mouth to respond, “What do you mean? How can you have errands at a party?”

“Well, I want to see the countdown at least. Laque’s down at the basement with his brother at the mini-bar. I certainly want to talk to him before we leave, but there’s not a lot of people either. If you’re comfortable with it, you can probably speak with him too.”

I slowly nod while I continue to listen.

“There’s no windows down there—you won’t have any contact with the moonlight. After we see the countdown, then we can leave. Sound good?”

Silently, I give a weak thumbs up before I push against the ground to stand back up. With Danilo’s help, we both push ourselves off the ground of the maid’s closet. While we’re both standing, he reaches one arm around my shoulder to keep me close as the remaining hand opens the door out to the rest of the chateau.

“Come on,” he reassures me, “I’ll always be here if you need anything.”

004 - SUMMARY

Work was exhausting. Every weekday starts before the sun rises and ends just as the natural light of the world fades upon the city. Most of my hours bleed away within the confines of a wholesale warehouse where I move boxes and direct customers and retailers alike. Nothing new happens within the scaffold-like walls, and sometimes I like it this way.

Personally, there’s a sort of satisfaction I get from the long hours. While my lineage prides itself on the inheritance of their hardly-working ancestors, I’ve broken that in a plea for satisfaction. Don’t get me wrong—I haven’t shunned myself from their generosity. I’d much rather gather my worth as a man by my own hands than what was provided to me. However, my name, Danilo, remains a part of me granted by my heritage.

Normal—love this town. Everyone here prides themselves on the extraordinary fact that nothing differs in this town. Once, this town was named Celeste—based on the founder of the city. Of course, this recently changed in favor of a surprisingly active tourism scene. Traps and attractions all surrounding the novelty of normality sell themselves as a getaway to the towns around them. I mean, I can’t blame them. Where else would I go to get away from it all when there’s a federal-enforced barricade around the Penumbran Strip.

The roads are packed most of the time. I remember nearly fifteen years ago when the roads were newly paved with asphalt. The procedure was slow and methodical. My father once told me about a time in the town’s history when dirt roads snaked through the town to small grocery stores and underfunded amenities. Now, this place is different. Sometimes I envy my father for living in his time. Yet, it’s hard to place if my envy is on a cause of these roads or for something greater.

I hear an onslaught of chatter among coworkers and customers alike in my hours. Some customers drive all the way to Normal due to the price of the goods. Why spend your money in a grocery store barely surviving against the town’s mandated horror than to spend it in bulk in a town known for its relative paradise? This process of thought feels rational, yet I can’t help but shake the thought of inevitable instability. At what point will this town remain as the only habitable location?

I can relate to the pride the residents share with this town. Imagine waking up one day and learning the rest of the now-called “Strip” was affected with this mysterious affliction—and you weren’t. You would assume you just won the lottery. Fate and divine alike marked an unfathomable amount of men to a newly created Hell in America and here you are—a blindspot in its wrath. At the end of the day, all of this clamoring reduces itself to a game of superiority. “Fate favors the wealthy”; a phrase which many men place upon this town. God bless it.

This town has yet to be hit by the suburban plague. The lack of an infrastructure and a desire has left most of the towns within the strip as immune. Yet, plagues mutate. Idle conversations and local news segments discuss the benefit of suburban neighborhoods. We have the budget—they state—we can support a project like this. I can’t wait to imagine how they pull it off.

In the meantime, I’ll spend the foreseeable future in my small one-story house nestled in the haphazard sprawl of individualized homes. The exterior is nothing to write home about—bland colored walls with windows closed off from the inside. A mailbox awaits at the edge of the concrete driveway, leading to a garage where I park my two-seater car within the protection of the elements. Once I shade my only vehicle within the garage, the bulky, metallic door slides down to hide it away from the sins of the world.

Waiting in the small fridge next to the entrance to my house is a set of carbonated beverages ready to grab from a brightly-colored box. With my canned drink in hand, I snap open the thin cover to release a swarm of bubbles to the top of my drink. I wasn’t expecting much to change with the house—why should it? But, there’s always a nagging feeling that something should change. The same routine of unwinding from a long day at work.

Yet, nothing would change. The house remains in one piece. I can hear the distant noise of the television’s broadcast from the living room all the way from the exit from the garage. If there’s any type of noise in the house, then my roommate, Dani, is asleep. The inverse to this observation is true, as well. With this information, you can infer how unsurprised I was when I found her asleep on the couch.

It’s hard to summarize who Dani is through a brief synopsis. Firstly, she’s my roommate. The summary could end there. However, there’s a lot more to her that provokes some further explanation. The reason she’s my roommate is through the efforts of my cousin, Laque. Those two have been friends ever since elementary school; they’ve been through thick and thin. When he proposed the idea to me, I never really understood where he was getting at. Out of all of the people, why me? Why not let her live in the mansion if you believe it so?

Of course, this was Laque. Sometimes, he has a hunch on certain ideas and insists it’ll work out in the end. I don’t think I’ve seen a premonition of his that hasn’t worked well. That, or he really wanted to see us get along well because of our similar names.

Secondly, Dani has an unusual connection to everything outside of this town. She’s developed a name for herself as a “persona”. Which, subjectively, I don’t particularly care about. If anything, I’m a little envious on how her prospects online pays better than my grueling full-time job. At some points, she’s offered to cover some of my expenses so I can work a part-time job. I’ve declined this, of course. It feels like she’s a projection of my family—some distant relative that’s still influenced by their arcane touch.

Thirdly, she has no sense of fashion or anything beyond basic hygiene. Thankfully, she showers often enough. From what I’ve last checked, her pointed teeth are whiter than my own. Her dirtied brown hair throws itself into a cacophony of shapes, yet it all remains unnaturally curly. All of her clothes are a mixture of white t-shirts, some sweatpants and an occasional jacket or two. From her minimalist wardrobe, there’s this style to her that would allow her to fit in to the slums of a metropolitan city.

Her favorite shirts—above all—are esoteric in-jokes involving unfathomable words. She tells me they’re all designed by her friends. It’s nice—I adore the charm—but it feels too “avant-garde” for me. Most of these shirts are covered by an orange hoodie whenever she goes outside, so I don’t believe most of the town sees the shirt’s displays.

Fourthly—and most distressing—Dani’s very touchy. If there was any indication of heritage, it would be her nonverbal body language. She always reaches over for hugs when she’s happy. She always wants a high-five for something that excites her. It’s strange, really. I’ve hailed from a family where contact between each other was kept for situations where it couldn’t be avoided. With her, it’s a completely different approach.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate how she displays herself. It’s always an aspect of her that catches me off guard. Over the time we’ve spent together as roommates, we’ve kind of bonded together more of friends if anything. She always indulges about her life with me—what she does and the history behind it all. Admittedly, I don’t have much to share back. It’s nice to sit down and listen, though. I’ve grown to enjoy the simple act of mildly caring for her. Not in a familial way, but something that draws compassion from somewhere I never knew was there to begin with.

When she first moved in, I was a little concerned with the adamant usage of blackout curtains. Every window in the house has a set of its own, and she always draws them shut around 4 pm. She told me I could open them whenever I wanted, but she couldn’t be in the same room.

Over the years, these little things compounded on themselves in a noticeable pattern. The next idea that struck me odd was her sharp teeth. Once, we were both in the bathroom cleaning it out and she briefly stopped to check her teeth in the mirror. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. Though this small detail slightly compounded.

Eventually, I realized how much she cared about eating meat. Dani had these specific preferences towards individualized brands, and there’d never be a deficit of any sort no matter the time of day. Alongside this, she always sleeps in her bed in a curled-up position. Obviously, the television inside her room would play a documentary of various subjects to keep her asleep.

It all compounded—the distaste for the night, the limited social gatherings, among others. Personally, I didn’t care. I’d be an ass of a person if I disliked how a functional adult lived their life. Over the months, I’ve debated with myself if I should even confront her about it. Especially now, she was very secretive about her external life. In contrast to her tendency to divulge every last detail of herself, it was the complete opposite when she first moved in.

One night, while we were both situated on the couch in the living room, I found myself unable to keep my eyes open while watching a familiar rerun of one of our favorite cartoons. As I sat myself up from the couch and yawned, I could hear Dani stuttering with her words for a little bit before sitting me down.

She disclosed the fact that she’s been meaning to tell me something for months. Dani planned out all of the reactions to what she was about to say—with her tidied bags, I admittedly thought she was going to move out soon and this was the heads up. But, she would bring up a question which completely blindsided me, “Do you know how each town has its own curse?”

I remember how puzzled I was at the question. Over the next minute, I thought of all of the curses each town had and how our town—Normal—was devoid of it. Within her shaking body and pre-planned words, Dani spoke about how she was the curse and how no one else in the town ever knew about it. The sharp teeth, hatred for the night, the fixation on meat—I was surprised how I didn’t catch on earlier. Fifthly, she was a werewolf.

In the moment, the information was a lot for me to process. While it had certainly replaced my views on this town and its stature, it would slowly dawn on me how significant the concealment of her secret would be. What if the town knew? They’d certainly ostracize her. Or worse, kill her. The damage she could cause on the town’s reputation was a palpable feeling, and it was clearly something on her mind behind her warm tears.

I couldn’t find myself sleeping that night. The next morning, I crammed as many caffeinated beverages within my system as my body could allow. But, throughout the night, I stayed awake to comfort Dani. With a blanket wrapped around her body and a box of tissues nearby, I could only assume this was what Laque meant when he wanted us to live together.

005 - AFTERMATH

It took me a few days. If anything, one part of the process was the ample amount of questions I had. While I was fine with the consequences of protecting the load-bearing resident of this town, I was still left confused and intrigued.

Once Dani calmed down enough, I was able to ask her a few questions regarding the information while I was unwinding from another day of work. “So, did Laque know about this beforehand?”

“Laque?” Dani questioned with intrigue. She would reveal her head from her room with her hands resting on the frame. “You’re the first person I’ve told about this…”

“Curse?”

“Yeah, but don’t call it that. I don’t like thinking this whole werefox thing is a curse.”

“Isn’t it a werewolf?”

“No—completely different. One’s a fox and one’s a wolf.”

“But they’re both canines.”

“Well, yeah. But that’s not really an excuse to lump them both together. Apples and oranges are both fruits, but they’re still different in taste and looks.”

“I guess so.”

Dani slowly rescinds back into her room as she inaudibly mumbles to herself.

“So would it be better to think of you as a pet in this roommate-situation or another resident.”

“What?!”

The question was enough for Dani to return back to her peering position on the door frame. Though, this time, she was a lot more agitated than before. Yet, I continued to speak, “I don’t know—feels like I need to accommodate for the information somewhat.”

“Like how?!”

“I mean, the meat-part’s covered. You’re practically potty-trained. Do I need to get you chipped just in case you run off? Do you still think like us; do I need to dumb things down? Will you suddenly get distracted when you see a chicken?”

“Do you hear yourself?! No! Nothing’s changing! I don’t need to get chipped. I’m just like everyone else. And I’ve never been distracted with a live chicken!”

“Wait, is the reason you get all pouty sometimes is because you’re holed up in the house most of the time? Do you want me to take you on walks?”

“You’re still not thinking of me as a normal person!”

“Right, sorry.”

Eventually, the air of hostility would die down as I returned back to the idle show on the television. Dani retreated back into her room as she shuts and locks the door behind her. I didn’t hear much back from her for a while.

A few minutes later, she would hastily swing her door open while darting directly towards me. Part of me flinched as she reached her hand over, but none of me expected her to grab my hand. With a strong yank, she pulls me off of the couch while grumpily giving me orders, “We’re going on a walk now, and I don’t care if you get tired.”

At first I was taken aback, but eventually I would accept the demand while walking over to my jacket hanging near the front door. “You could’ve just asked for something like this, but sure.”

006 - BRUNCH

An afternoon at the Toru Estate sounds like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to everyone else—but to me, it’s an average Thursday. Every lunch, Laque always invites me and Danilo out to join him and his family for dinner. And after lunch, he indulges us on the amenities stored away in the nooks and crannies of the estate.

Laque always enjoys spending the afternoon with us—even if it’s for a few hours. I’m sure he doesn’t mind the mess that’s left from the weekly get-togethers, but I try and stay as cordial within reason.

The chateau is always as immaculate as an advertisement. With all of the servants working underneath the family’s rule, it’s rare—if not impossible—to find a smidge of dirt or grime left behind for any outside or indoor reason. At the point in his life, I believe Laque’s grown numb to the pristine. If I brought him to my house, he’d faint upon entrance.

“Glad you could come this week!” Laque cheerfully thanked us between each sip of some exotic wine, “The week’s been tough—with all the tourists and all. Honestly, I’m a little surprised you two made it on time! I was expecting some sort of mild delay.”

Danilo—seated on the opposite side of the table—was hardly swayed by the extravagant aesthetic laid out by the mansion. The gold and marble rooted within the various materials and fabrics barely held an effect to his mannerisms. Even in his words, he spoke as if he was home, “We left early. Dani was finishing up with her work for the night, so it was a little bit of a crunch.”

Laque, on the other hand, was interested in the small explanation Danilo gave him. Not that he assumed it was a lie—no. Every facet of any of our lives as something the aristocrat enjoyed hearing about. “Ah! I don’t suppose you two see each other much, no? You always work while the sun’s bright while Dani’s wide awake at midnight! What do you say you do again, Dani?”

“Online content creation,” I recited, “I can work whichever schedule I want, as long as it stays consistent on the other side.”

“I envy her a little bit.” Danilo waited until he finished with his current bite off his plate before continuing with his thoughts. “I had to fight to shift my hours on Thursday—switch from starting in the morning to the afternoon. Her? She just has to make sure whatever she needs to do is prepared.”

While none of what Danilo said was a lie, it was still sugarcoated to a small degree. As easy as his explanation sounds, the work required isn’t simply adhering to a schedule. Right now, I didn’t want to focus on the full logistics with my food still in front of me. I kept myself silent as the two cousins reconnected.

“You know, you’ve never really spoken about why you left your family,” the aristocrat moved on to a new topic, “You don’t have to answer this—of course. I’m just a little curious. Is it all really because you didn’t want their protection?”

Even with the question, Danilo wouldn’t budge in emotion. From his expressions, what was seemingly a touchy subject wasn’t much of an issue with him. He responded with a collected tone, “I just don’t want to live out the rest of my days without some sort of struggle.”

A confused expression overtook Laque as he heard Danilo’s response. “Our ancestors did the hard work for us, you know. I mean, if I bog myself down in needless strain, there’ll be less time to enjoy life in the moment. You know?”

“That’s what my coworkers think. Why am I—a descendant of wealth—working a nine-to-five at a warehouse? It’s like they’re staring directly at a descendant of European royalty.”

Laque didn’t seem to be affected by Danilo’s words. He would still listen on, but he would finish his plate while allowing his cousin to finish.

“I’m just not suited for this type of lifestyle. I mean, sure. We both graduated from the same prestigious private school near the Strip. But that felt like our parents just handed the school money to claim we’re up to standard with the curriculums. Graduating from that school was enough of a credit to where I didn’t need to search far for a job. I didn’t work for anything in life—I don’t like that.”

After his winded spiel, Danilo took a moment to recompose himself. While I silently cleaned what little crumbs remained off my plate, I scanned my head back and forth to look back towards the two. From Danilo’s scathing words, I expected Laque’s demeanor to shift from jovial to grave.

Despite my assumptions, he seemed to be happy with the response Danilo gave. “Well, I can’t really tell you how to live. At least you can live a normal life in this town. I’d hate to juggle a full time job while in fear of some shapeshifting beast, you know?”

“Hm,” Danilo muttered out, “You could say that.”

Once I finished my plate, I would leave all of my used silverware on top as I silently departed from the table. I couldn’t muster any words to announce that I was leaving. While Laque didn’t seem to notice, Danilo slightly turned his attention toward me before returning his gaze to his cousin.

“Well, hey!” Laque continues, “You know of one of my friends—right? Mute, pink tips with thin, round glasses? Last I got in touch with them, they were defending their family from the town’s undead infestation.”

While I snuck off, I continued to eavesdrop on the conversation while putting my attention towards Danilo’s slight movements. I watched as he adjusted his position in his seat at the mention of Laque’s friend. “Yeah, I’ve heard of him.”

“It can’t get worse than that, right? We live in the greatest city in the Strip, and I’m sure you’d do the same to protect your lifestyle if there was some issue with this town. Probably not some loyalty to the town—I could be wrong—but just to keep some normalcy in your life!”

The rest of the conversation devolved beyond a point where I could handle it. With shaky hands, I navigate down the flight of stairs to the basement where I take my residence on an expansive sofa. My emotion melted away at my insides as I confined myself within my own thoughts.

Even through layers of left-around blankets, my skin felt cold to the touch as I failed to focus on any of the details beyond the nearby coffee table. Part of me desperately yearned to reach for my phone—to grant myself some escape from my overwhelming emotions. However, a louder half forced me to remain curled up on the sofa, shivering.

The passage of time slipped away from my thoughts. What was once a laser-focus on each passing second gave way to more pressing priorities. Could I really drive home in this condition? How long do I need to keep this secret from Laque? The logical part of my thoughts knew the frenzy of emotions held no reason to shake me to this level. It was an off-handed mention, he wasn’t talking about me. Nonetheless, the simple realization wasn’t enough to break through the fog.

Suddenly, I felt a warm grasp on both of my hands. As my fingers curled around each hand, I haphazardly looked up to see Danilo standing right in front of me. While my focus would swiftly snap to his yellow eyes, I slowly sat up on the couch with my grasp tightening around his hands.

“That bad?” he questioned, “I know what he said—I didn’t think it was that bad. But, I can’t really dismiss it. Are you okay?”

I barely managed to push out any verbal response to him. Before I could try at a second attempt, Danilo lifted one of his hands off from my grasp. His freed hand pulls the blanket around my head off to my shoulders to reveal my frayed hair. With gently strokes, he softly combs through my hair without breaking his attention.

“I have to go to work, but if you really don’t want to stay any longer, just say you have to leave to grab my missing bag from the house for me. Is there anything you need?”

Danilo’s words were a softer in tone than they were at the dinner table. I’ve already recognized why, yet his quietened voice hadn’t lost its charm. With a tight pull, I wrap both of my arms around his body while pressing my exposed face against his clothes.

“Don’t go,” I squeaked out, “Please.”

“I wish…” Danilo slowly stepped away as his hands returned to his side. “I’ll try and get home as soon as possible, okay? Sorry lunch turned out like this.”

As I accepted Danilo’s departure, I gave a small wave goodbye as he left up the stairs. After he left, I kept my attention to the closed door at the top of the stairs. What good was there but to stare? Eventually, I followed suit to return back to Laque. I felt better, no doubt. Even for a short moment, the brief time I spent with Danilo was enough to revitalize me for just a little bit longer.

007 - EIGHTH GRADE

With a cheerful wave, Laque recognizes my arrival from the basement as I sit back down at my seat at the table. Once I fully settle down, he leans forward with his arms pressing against the table to speak, “So, Danilo’s gone back to work. Can I get you anything? More food? A refill?”

“I’ll take a refill,” I answer, “And a bowl of crackers. I’m not that hungry.”

Without hesitation, the heir of the castle sits up from his seat to fulfill my task. There’s an air of tension—the feeling is unmistakable. From what I recall from the previous times, the both of us usually talked for an hour before one of Laque’s many servants gave me a ride back home. I knew Danilo’s excuse was something thought of on the spot. I’d need to find a backpack in the house and be given a ride to the warehouse he works at. It’s better for me to endure the pain.

Once the plate of crackers and filled cup arrive back at the table, I focus my attention towards the assortment within the bowl. Obviously, I was pulling my focus away from him. Each time I looked up to see his face, he was always looking down at my orange jacket with a solemn expression. I’m not sure if I caught him giving the same glances earlier, it wasn’t something I paid attention to when Danilo was around.

Minutes pass. I spend the time in silence munching away at crackers. Every once in a while, I’ll look up to see the same judgmental glare. I’m not sure how much time will pass until it stops, but I was ever-curious. “What’s on your mind right now?”

The question immediately took Laque out of his glances. If anything, it looked as if he was trying to find something appropriate to say. “Oh, the jacket. I haven’t really seen it on you since eighth grade.”

“It is a large jacket. I’ve kept it clean and tidy for more than five years.”

“I wonder why.”

The way Laque spoke—it was passively aggressive. It was enough to get me to raise an eyebrow.

“Well, it’s the jacket Chase gave you years ago. I didn’t know you still wear it.”

“It’s a good jacket.”

“You don’t really care about what you wear, do you? I guess you’ve thrown it on because it was the first thing you saw in your closet.”

“Are you still mad about what happened in eighth grade.”

Suddenly, Laque scrunched up his eyebrows as he wordlessly took another bite off of his plate.

I knew what he was thinking, he knew what he was thinking. Ever since the mention of eighth grade, I had a large suspicion on where the conversation would lead. I repeat my question, “Laque, are you still mad.”

“No. No I’m not.”

“Then why do you suddenly care about what I’m wearing? Not everything’s your business.”

“What? I don’t care about what jacket you wear. I’m just saying. Do you two still talk?”

“Laque.”

“What? I’m just saying. I still talk to him afterwards—we’re close friends.”

“Why would that matter? I’m not going to tell you if I still talk to Cheese or not.”

“You still call him that?”

“Laque!”

“I’m just saying! I care about my friends. He’s the one that came to me after the breakup.”

At this point, my free hand was pressed down on the edge of the table as I slowly eat crackers to pass the time. I still vividly remember the visceral rage on his face at his birthday party; how silence gripped the room in a tight hold. I spoke through my teeth, “You sure don’t care about what you say to me, though.”

“We all used to be good friends, you know? I don’t think there’s a time afterward where we hung out together. Maybe we can change that?”

“We both know why that doesn’t happen. If you never threw a tantrum because I was ‘ruining the friendship’, then we’d all be having lunch together.”

“We were kids!”

“And you’re still mad about it!”

Another round of silence washes over the dinner table. Laque’s face contorts in a plethora of ways. His eyes darts around the room while he clears his throat often.

I pushed myself up from the dinner table after leaving nothing but crumbs in the bowl. However, the glass of water was left more than half empty. As I adjust my coat, I finish up the conversation, “I’m heading home. I don’t know why you’re still acting like this, but I don’t want to talk to someone who’s this invested in my personal life.”

“Fine,” he replied back. I could’ve mistaken his faint remorse for isolation. “But you’re the one who’s still wearing the jacket.”

As I leave the castle and notify Laque’s chauffeur, I spend a moment of the downtime to take off Chase’s orange jacket. Once I finish wrapping it around my waist, I depart from the château back for my house.

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thelampisaflashlight · 1 year

Text

Tell Me About It

[Set after Sleep. Out here referencing one of the lines from Big Boy because of how Mountain sleeps.]

Below the cut.

It’s another seemingly endless late night, but instead of agonizing in his bed alone, Swiss finds himself tucked under one of the many blankets in Dew’s nest, squished between the aforementioned fire ghoul’s side and Mountain’s broad back.

The sounds of Mountain’s deep snores and Dew’s even breathing provides a soothing white noise that is steadily causing Swiss’ eye lids to grow heavier, but, even still, sleep eludes him.

It’s silly really, but being sandwiched between the two slumbering ghouls has his mind racing... just not in the way one might assume.

No, it’s nothing scandalous, a touch embarrassing perhaps, but...

He feels safe.

The shelter and security that comes with being set in the middle of the nest like this, cradled in the warmth of two sleeping bodies like this...

It reminds Swiss of when he was a kit and he would wiggle his way into bed with his parents, wedging himself into whatever little pocket of space he could find...

So as he finds himself growing drowsier, Swiss continues to stubbornly fight the urge to sleep... because he doesn’t want to miss, well... this.

It’s not long, though, before he can feel familiar eyes on him.

Or one eye, rather, as Dew keeps the one closest to his pillow pinched shut while the other wearily observes the restless multi ghoul beside him.

“...Can’t sleep?” Dew mumbles, cheek smashed against the cushion below, his left hand reaching out to pat Swiss’ chest lazily, “...You need more blankets? I have more...”

Swiss shakes his head, but speaks when he realizes Dew has closed his eyes again.

“I just... I was remembering something from when I was a kit.” he hums, rolling onto his side so his back is up against Mountain’s, stealing his warmth, “...Hey, Dew?”

“Hm?” Dew raises his eyebrows in acknowledgement, though his eyes remain closed, “Yeah?”

“Did you ever climb into bed with your parents as a kit?” Swiss asks, “I used to do it all the time...”

Dew snuggles into his pillow some more and yawns before speaking, “Nah.”

“No?”

“Mn... My father was from the ninth, and my mother was from the second, so take that as you will...” Dew says, opening his eyes at last to look at Swiss’ expression, sighing when he sees a frown flicker across his face, “Is it really that surprising that I didn’t get held much as a kid?”

Swiss opens his mouth to speak, but closes it just as quickly realizing, perhaps, it might not be a good idea to say what he thinks on the matter.

“But that sounds nice though...” Dew hums softly, “And if... if this...”

He gestures at the three of them and his nest.

“If this makes you feel anywhere near as safe as back then, then I’m glad.”

“...You’re surprisingly kind when you’re half awake.” Swiss chuckles and Dew gives a halfhearted hiss in his general direction, worming his way back into his previous sleeping position, “...Thanks.”

“Sure, sure... You’re wel-”

A loud, rumbling cough followed by a loud snore cuts Dew off, causing both ghouls to turn and look at the still slumbering Mountain.

“I’ve been meaning to ask... How do you sleep with him in the same room?” Swiss questions, feeling another rumble vibrate through his body, “...Someone tell Rain he’s being replaced as the bass player because damn.”

Dew snorts.

“If he can put up with me pulling a Blair Witch in the corner when I sleepwalk at night, I can deal with his snoring... besides, he resets after a little while...” He pauses, “It’s when he’s completely silent that I get worried to be honest... Fuckin’ thought he died once, and as soon as I got close enough to check and see if he was breathing, he almost made me deaf by grunting directly in my ear...”

“Noted... Stand clear of mouth.”

#Lamp writes #nameless ghouls #swiss ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #mountain ghoul #ghost band #the band ghost #ghost band fanfic

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taemcin · 1 year

Text

The Only Exception - Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Pairing: Neteyam x Original Character, Lo’ak x Original Character

Rating: PG! (Neteyam, Lo’ak and OC are teenagers)

Warnings: Fluff, Blind character, Disability, Friends to lovers, a little bit of angst, Friendships, Romance, Slowburn

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: Lo’ak watches Nova bite into the fruit with a look on her face that he has seen so many times before. It’s appreciative, it’s gentle, it’s kind – it’s sweet. It makes it all worthwhile knowing that Nova is enjoying something so immensely that he decided to gift her.

A/N: oops my hand slipped and now this is going to be a mini chaptered series and oh! Surprise, Lo’ak is now in it. oops :)

This is posted on my Ao3 account here!

Nova’s life used to be busy, lively, and adventurous. In the past it used to be filled with meaningful tasks that she would tackle throughout the day. Before she could contribute to the people around her – to the people she now calls a family. Before she was able to earn her keep. Nova’s life used to have some sort of purpose. But now, after the incident that left her blinded so many years ago it’s almost as if her life was at a standstill. Slow and yet peaceful – mundane, and safe.

Sometimes she swears the days begin to blur together. It’s hard to distinguish days apart when you can’t function like a normal being.

Some days are filled with mundane tasks that idly passes her by. While other days are filled with excitement when Neteyam and Lo’ak would come back home with stories about their exciting hunt. And then there is Tuk, with her imaginative beautiful mind, telling Nova stories about old tales and new.

Now, Nova often sits amongst the others – her family, she calls them – listening to their mindless chatter around her.

“I don’t think she likes sweet things – or maybe she does,” Nova hears Lo’ak voice in the distance. “Maybe she might like something bitter, like citrus?”

“Brother, I think you got it wrong. When was it the last time you saw her eat something so bitter.” Neteyam’s voice rushes in tow. If Nova had to guess Lo’ak and Neteyam were standing right in front of her.

Nova hears Lo’ak scoffs. She imagines Lo’ak rolling his eyes at Neteyam. “Well, it doesn’t matter, do you know how hard it was to get these?” Lo’ak explained. “I risked my life to get her favorite sweets.”

“I’m pretty sure you risked your life because you’re an idiot brother.” Nova hear Neteyam laugh lowly.

Nova smiles then because of course Neteyam and Lo’ak would argue over something so small and insignificant right in front of her like she didn’t exist.

“At least I didn’t come back empty handed. Nova loves it when I come back with anything.” Lo’ak says proudly. And it is true – even though Nova misses out on a lot, Lo’ak always manages to make sure that she never feels left out and is somehow included in their day.

The bickering went on between the brothers for a few more moments until Nova couldn’t hold it in anymore. Despite the aimless chatter and the stupidity of the topic being talked about – just being included and being in the presence of people who she cares about the most makes Nova happy.

“Uh guys?” Nova interrupts. Neteyam and Lo’ak’s bickering instantly stops. Nova feels a heavy presence directly towards her. Her face begins to heat up, the attention feels intense. “I might be blind but I’m not deaf.” Nova smiles. “Also, I can speak for myself you know. Just tell me what you brought me.” Nova pushes her arms forward, palms cupped and pressed together. She tilts her head, waiting for the item to be placed upon her hands so she could feel it.

“Sorry Nova, you were so quite that I barely even noticed you there – I” Lo’ak was cut off mid-sentence, which is followed by a smacking noise and a low audible groan that followed after. “Why did you do that for?” Lo’ak’s voice is low now and directed towards the other direction.

“You really are an idiot brother.” Nova hear Neteyam whispers. Nova chuckles.

“I can still hear you know.” Nova rolls her eyes and can only imagine what the brothers faces must look like now. Embarrassed, maybe?

“Right, I’m sorry Nova.” Lo’ak says, Nova feels his presence even closer now. “Here, I thought you might like these. I don’t know what it tastes like but it looks pretty.”

Nova feels the heavy press of an item placed in her hands. It feels fuzzy and spikey on top. If Nova had to guess, it’s some sort of fruit. The shape isn’t very defined, but it is large.

“What is it?” Nova asks.

“I think it’s a, um –” Lo’ak sounds a bit unsure. “Shit – I mean I don’t really know?” Lo’ak bites out. Nova laughs.

“You’re telling me you picked some fruit without knowing what it is?” That sounds exactly like something Lo’ak would do.

“I told you –” Neteyam says quickly and Lo’ak bites out a simple, “Shut up!” In return.

“Let me describe it to you then.” Lo’ak continues. “The color is deep red, the tips of the fruit blend together with the colors green and blue. It looks pretty – it looks and smells sweet so I,” Lo’ak pauses for a moment. “I thought of you.”

At that Nova swears there was a deeper meaning to that statement, but she mulls it over and decides not to think too hard on it. Nova hears Neteyam scoffs from above her and gently mutters out, “Nice one baby bro.” To which Lo’ak replies in a groan.

“I like sweet things!” While her sight might hinder most things in this world, her appreciation and love for food still is all the same as before.

Nova brings the fruit closer to her face, she smells the sweet scent – smells like honey and something else she can’t pinpoint at the moment. Nova slowly presses the fruit against her lips to feel the fuzziness of the fruit. Without thinking much of it, she pokes her tongue out to lick a small part of it on the outside – to her surprise without even taking a bite it already tasted sweet.

Lo’ak watches Nova bite into the fruit with a look on her face that he has seen so many times before. It’s appreciative, it’s gentle, it’s kind – it’s sweet. It makes it all worthwhile knowing that Nova is enjoying something so immensely that he decided to gift her. It’s small moments like this that make Lo’ak realize that maybe it is ok to fall.

“Ahh,” If you asked Nova what the best part about her day was – it would be this. Simple and yet mundane but exciting, nonetheless. “It’s so good! Here you must try some now, please?” Nova pushes the fruit towards what she thinks is Lo’ak’s direction. All Lo’ak could do was smile. He took the fruit out of her hand and took a bite. It was juicy, and a little bit tangy but sweet. He likes it.

“I knew you liked sweet things.” Lo’ak says, enjoying the closeness of Nova by his side.

Nova then begins to share the fruit with Neteyam and Lo’ak – Nova enjoying this small feat. Even though she couldn’t join in with Neteyam and Lo’ak on their trips out into the forest, and even though she couldn’t do much of anything at all anymore – at least she could enjoy what the day has brought her today. Nova can relish in the sweet scent and taste of something sweet and enjoy the company of the people she cares for around her.

Yes, her days can be slow and yet peaceful – mundane, and safe. But it is never boring and that is what matters the most.

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nemo-of-house-hamartia · 1 year

Note

Hello Nemo! Headcannon meme; ☾, ■ and ♦ for your Beaumont darlings, please! <3 Thank you! <3

Dearest Susie, welcome welcome into my inbox <3 forgive me for the delay in which I answer you, but I truly had so much to do, I was feeling extremely low on energy in the previous days (allow me to offer you a cup of tea to make up for that <3). But here I am now, most glad to have the opportunity to talk about my favourite Siblings <3 (truly thank you for this, I love those three bebes so much, I am so so happy to be able to speak about them <3).

So, without further ado, let me dive into your questions. and buckle up, because this is going to be a long answer. <3

☾ - sleep headcanon

Mathias is a night creature, so he has a hard time falling asleep at night. He usually doesn’t retire to his chamber before midnight, and even after that, it’s a constant tossing and turning. One of the reasons for this is connected to the fact that the fire that scarred him and almost took his life happened while he was asleep at night, and because of this, he has trouble finding respite. He has intermittent sleep, and only fully manages to fall asleep soundly when the dawn appears on the horizon. When Mathias couldn’t sleep at all, and he knew he is in for a long night, he would often just sit at the piano and just play until his mind finally quiets down. Antoine and Colette would wake up from it, of course, but they didn’t mind at all. If anything, they were sad that their brother was in a tormented state and couldn’t find any respite in sleep.

■ - Bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon

Mathias’ living quarters were rather modest in appearance. Located directly under the roof of the small house he shared with his sisters, if one were to walk into his room, they would find almost nothing of economical value: a small bed with a mattress made of straw and a heavy blanket that Colette had assembled for him; a chair where he would neatly fold his garments each night; a small desk where he would write his journal each night, or where he would take care of his correspondence; a chest filled with old out-of-fashion robes that had belonged to his father, the few that hadn’t burn in the fire that almost took his life; a broken mirror, constantly covered by a cloth so as not having to look at himself by chance while disrobing. But if one were to look underneath his bed, under the false floor, they would find a small box, there is where one would find Mathias’ most prized possessions, the one he valued more than anything else: a small compass decorated with stars that his mother gave to him when he was a child and a small doll that Colette had made out of rags and that had given him after the fire to protect him. What Mathias loved about his room was the small window that let him directly out on the roof and that, on clear nights, allowed him to look up at the starry night sky.

♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon

One of Mathias’ hobbies, aside from playing the piano, was to draw the portraits of the gargoyles that always kept him company whenever he felt like he needs time alone and away from the crowd, and found solace and peace only among the statues that protected Notre-Dame. They are the only ones to know his heart pains and sorrows and yearning because he doesn't want to burden Antoine nor Colette with his suffering.

☾ - sleep headcanon

Antoine was a light sleeper: she could fall asleep easily everywhere, no matter the noise or the place, but due to what happened in her youth, during a mission that brought her away from home for almost a year, she learned to be constantly vigilant and to wake up and be fully functional in a matter of minutes. Even in her sleep, she would still be extremely aware of all her surroundings, which is why she always knew whenever Mathias was up and about or if Colette were to come back home late from the Café-Théâtre. However, Antoine could never fall asleep unless both her siblings were both safe and sound under their roof, which was a reason why whenever Colette would forget to communicate that she would sleep in her quarters at the Café-Théâtre, Antoine was most likely to spend a night awake. Antoine was not entirely happy with the way she slept, because waking up during the night would entail her past coming back to her and literally stab with all the regrets she had, but she tried to find way to cope with it, eventually.

■ - Bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon

Much like Mathias’ living quarters, Antoine’s as well were incredibly spartan. Located on the second floor, just beneath Mathias’ room, all that could be found in her room was a double bed for her and Claude, whenever he visited her and was too tired to walk back to his own dwelling; a wooden chest, where she kept all her robes and garments, children’s clothes and also some of her mother’s old gowns, saved for Colette for whenever she decided to marry; a desk where she kept all her Brotherhood related documents and journal, and in the desk drawer, kept strictly under key, a small silver locket containing a strand of soft auburn hair, the only memento she would never let go, the only memento she would never share its knowledge with anyone, her siblings included, a testament and a warning at the same time.

♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon

One of Antoine's greatest quirks, one that immediately catches the eye, was that she never wore feminine clothes. EVER. Ever since she had memory, she had shared the same type of garments as her twin brother, to the exasperation of her mother, who instead wanted her to dress as a proper lady. But Antoine always refused and rebelled, and eventually, her mother gave up on her, focusing her efforts on Colette, instead.

☾ - sleep headcanon

Colette was a heavy sleeper, meaning that she would fall into such profound sleep the moment she laid her head on her pillow that not even Notre-Dame’s bells could wake her up. The reason for this was mostly connected to the fact that she worked extremely hard at the Café-Théâtre as a cook, so she always had to wake up early to buy fresh produce from the market and start preparing the food for the patrons that would come visiting that day. It was not unusual for her to be so tired in the evenings that she would fall asleep sitting at the table where she usually wrote the list of all she would need the following day. When Arno was the one to find her snoring there, he would just scoop her up with a chuckle and bring her to the quarters he has given her at the Café, not without giving her a small kiss on the brow and probably whispering some of the words he would want to say but doesn’t dare to utter out loud. And rest assured this, he would straight away send a message to inform Antoine that Colette was safe and sound with him in HER OWN bed: he knew all too well what would happen if Antoine(and Mathias too, to an extent) had even the smallest suspicious that he wanted to try something fancy without wanting to properly marry her sister first.

■ - Bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon

Colette’s living quarters, in the house she shared with her siblings, were located on the ground floor, next to their small kitchen. While not fancy in the slightest, her room was, without doubt, the warmest and most comfortable, and that was because Antoine wanted Colette to have all that she felt her baby sister had lost when their family had fallen in disgrace. So, when Antoine managed to secure their current home, nestled within Les Invalides, she and Mathias didn’t hesitate to open the purse and make sure that Colette had everything she wanted. Colette, while appreciating her sister and brother’s generosity and effort, refused to let them go hungry or cold just so that she could be happy with things she didn’t truly need. Antoine was set and stubborn, but Colette was even more so, and in the end, she prevailed over her elder sister. So, in Colette’s room, you would find a small bed with a colorful blanket that Antoine has sewn together from old garments that were too worn out to wear but whose fabric was still very much salvageable; a vanity table that Mathias had found, repaired and painted with daises and sunflowers; a wardrobe where Colette would keep all her garments and a few of Arno’s robes that needed some mending and he couldn’t find the time to actually bring it to the milliner. Something you would always be assured to find in Colette’s room is fresh flowers.

♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon

One of the biggest hobbies Colette has was also her job: cooking. Growing up, she had to learn how to cook with meager ingredients and had to bring all her imagination to create dishes that were palatable and nutritious for both herself and her siblings, knowing that if she were not to be proactive, they would have probably starved, because Antoine would be more than capable to burn a pot of water, and Mathias, while having some rudimentary skills on how to cook, was not always able to provide his family with edible food. Hence, Colette rolled up her sleeves and tailed the old cook at the Café-Théâtre, who took her under her wings and taught her all that she knew.

thank you so much again for these questions. truly.

--Nemo

#Assassin's Creed #Assassin's Creed Unity #Greencoat #Mathias De Beaumont #Antoine De Beaumont #Colette De Beaumont #my ocs #my writings #ask #replies #friends

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emilykat-artblog18 · 7 months

Text

Tillie’s Travels: Far From Port

(Chapter 3)

.:: Meeting the Locals ::.

“Goodbye!” Tillie called out. Tillie would’ve whistled goodbye with her hooter but she didn’t have any coal or water left.

“Those were very nice tugboats. Usually our rival fleet is very rude to me and the others, except for one of the members who I was able to befriend, But that's another story. Also what was that beeping noise?” Tillie asked, still having many more questions on her mind.

“The beeping was only their radios, they tend to beep whenever The Dispatcher or any other vessel wants to communicate with them.” Petra explained. “Don’t you have a radio as well? The Dispatcher can pick up any radio signal in the harbour! It was strange how you couldn’t hear him.”

“No, I’m afraid I don’t have a radio. The only way my fleet and I receive messages is directly from my captain who talks through a megaphone from his office.” Tillie explained.

“A megaphone? Doesn’t that make it a little hard to hear? Is it an electric megaphone?” Petra asked curiously

“Well I'm not really sure if it’s electric but our lights are.” Tillie said rather unsure.

Now Petra knew for sure that Tillie wasn’t from around here, it wouldn’t be safe for a tug to be working in The Big Harbour without a radio or even for that matter any necessary electronics besides working headlights. Before she could ask anymore questions she received a signal on her radio that a tanker was coming in from stormy weather.

“Speaking of radios, there goes mine. I’d best be off now Tillie, farewell.”

“Bye” Tillie called as Petra left.

As Petra left, Tillie looked around her. She soon realized that she wasn’t alone at the pier. Docked beside her was a sailboat, it calmly sat there and just like Tillie, it didn’t look like it was going anywhere in particular.

“Hmm… I wonder.” Tillie thought to herself,

“Umm… Hello? Hello over there.” She said not wanting to sound rude, trying to get the sailboat’s attention.

The sailboat, who’s name was Bluenose, shuttered a bit and slowly opened its eyes, it looked over at Tillie and gave a short yawn.

“Oh um… I'm sorry if I disturbed you, but I’d really like to talk to you if you don’t mind.” Tillie said being polite as she can be. “Not a problem, I don’t mind,” Bluenose replied as she shifted a bit to get comfortable in her spot.

“Oh, well how do you do?” Tillie asked, trying to strike up a conversation.

“I’m doing well! Just sitting here and-” Bluenose paused for a moment,

“I don’t believe I’ve seen you around before”, “That’s because I'm not really from here. I got swept away from a storm and ended up at this harbor.” Tillie explained.

“Oh my… you must’ve had an awful voyage to get here.”

“Yes it was a very unpleasant one but I'm glad that I survived the storm. Although I might be very far from home, I'm not exactly sure- Oh I don’t think I properly introduced myself to you have I?” Tillie then asked,

“I don’t believe you have. What is your name?”

“My name is Tillie Tug-Switcher. but everyone just calls me Tillie and you are?”

“My name is Bluenose. It's a pleasure to meet you Tillie.” The sailboat said.

“Bluenose? Huh. I’ve only ever heard that name from a navy tug.” Tillie said, remembering how Bluenose, the navy tug, would be strict with her and the other tugs that they would find work under Navy jurisdiction boring or annoying.

“A navy tug with my name?” Bluenose replied confused.

“Oh, aren’t those kinds of tugboats pushy types? I’ve heard stories about them and they don’t sound very nice, I’d rather keep things calm and secluded.”

“Yeah, our Bluenose is very strict. He isn’t really fun to be around but I understand why he’s named that since his nose is actually blue!” Tillie chuckled a bit.

“And at least it’s nice to know there is a Bluenose that isn’t so strict and harsh,” Tillie continued, “Also you’re a sailing ship aren’t you?” Bluenose looked up at her large folded sails and then back at Tillie.

“Why yes, so it appears I am. How did you know?” Bluenose said jokingly.

“I've seen many sailing ships before but I've never seen any like you. I should’ve mentioned this but I’m a steam tug.” Tillie explained.

“Ah, well I've never seen a steam tug like you before,” Bluenose chuckled.

Bluenose’s chuckling was soon stopped by the sounds of swishing water. A tanker, being pulled by a pair of large tugboats, was slowly being brought into the harbor, along with little Petra moving beside the tugs and checking every little detail of their towing work.

Bluenose looked on with awe. “Quite strong those tugboats are, there’s probably more than thirty containers on that ship!” She said as Tillie watched the towing operation make its way towards the bridge.

“Oh my” Tillie said, amazed at how the tugboats towed in the cargo ship.

Tillie had seen the Star Fleet tow in Ocean liners and other kinds of large vessels, and she always wanted to help but she never could since switchers normally don’t help with escorting in ships.

Theodore waited on the other side of the harbour with a barge at his side, he was waiting for the tanker to pass by for him to continue.

The tanker progressively made its way under the bridge and towards the crane dock, giving Theodore some space to finally carry on his work. The docking procedure was next, so only one pilot boat was needed, Pearl agreed to stay with the tugboats to help with the docking procedure while Petra casually sped back over to Tillie’s dock.

“Well that’s taken care of for now” Petra said as she came to a rest.

“Looking after the tugboats can be very tiring huh?” Bluenose asked, Petra chuckled.

“Always, especially George, he’s always pulling too hard on his tow rope! Always acting like there’s somewhere else he needs to be.” Bluenose rolled her eyes.

“Who’s George?” Tillie asked. Petra turned to Tillie,

“George is the biggest and strongest tug in the harbour, he’s a bit of a show off.” Petra turned towards the docking operation and squinted a bit.

“If you can see from here, he’s the tug with the backwards purple cap. You be careful around George, you can’t tell from here but he’s a tugboat not to mess with, he takes his opinions with pride and he’s always willing to go over any limit when it comes to getting jobs done.” Petra explained.

“Though, despite his boastful interactions and intimidating self esteem, deep down he means well. He stands up for his fellow tugs and has no intentions of getting violent with others. He doesn’t always know his own strength however, so if he bumps you hard then it probably isn’t intentional.”

“He may be protective of his friends and might have a golden engine somewhere in there, but it’s best to stay out of his way as he can be reckless.” Bluenose added, recalling the times when George had close calls when speeding too close around her.

“Oh, well perhaps if I met him I could try to bring out the best in him, like i have done that with everyone else I’ve met before, it doesn’t hurt to try.'' Tillie suggested.

“I’d like to see you try, it’d be nice to see George using a little manners for once. I’m sure Emily's tired of having to put up with his bossy behavior at this point.” Bluenose joked.

Petra looked at the docking operation, it seemed that the tanker was finally secured and the two large tugboats were heading for the fuel depot. After another unfamiliar name was mentioned by Bluenose, Tillie curiously asked “Who’s Emily?”

“Emily’s the one that was helping with the tanker along with George, she’s the one wearing the floppy fishing hat!” Bluenose replied.

“She’s like a big sister to the fleet in a way. Emily is much more kind-hearted and obedient than George, but she’s still a large tug and she doesn’t hesitate with her strength” Petra softly backed into one of the docks.

“Oh I can definitely see that in her. She seems like a very nice Tug indeed. Yet I've never seen a tugboat wearing a floppy fishing hat till now.” Tillie said.

“You’ll get the chance to meet her, she’s known for meeting with newcomers from different places!” Petra winked.

“Have you met Theodore and Hank, Tillie?” Bluenose asked. “More like they met her, I had to keep them back so Tillie didn’t get anymore scratched up.” Petra spoke.

“Those two were really kind and friendly to be with and they even offered a helping hand.” Tillie exclaimed.

"Well that's good to hear! It can be a lifesaver befriending those two." Bluenose winked.

Petra's engine gave a quick sigh before starting back up. "Well then, let's see you over to dry dock now shall we? The restoration won't start until the afternoon, but it's good to be prepared for when the repairmen arrive" Petra smiled as Tillie was untied from the dock and then tied by a towing rope beside Petra.

"Alright then. How long will I stay in dry dock for?" Tillie said.

"Hmm, depends on your damages. Workers will be filling the scratches in your hull and fixing any small parts when you first get lifted, but a restoration for major parts like your engine could take a while. Don’t worry though, they'll let you out for engine testing from time to time!" Petra said as she slowly began pulling Tillie from out of the dock.

"Bye Tillie, hope your restoration goes well!" Bluenose spoke to Tillie before she left the dock.

"Goodbye Bluenose, it was nice meeting you!" Tillie called as she was towed out of the dock.

Petra gently pulled Tillie underneath a bridge, the bridge silently opened its eyes to look down at the small boats but just yawned and went back to sleep. Tillie looked up at the bridge and saw it having eyes and she couldn't help herself to think how strange it is to see a Bridge with eyes. “Is that bridge alive?” She thought to herself as she'd never seen something as odd as that before.

They softly pulled forward under the bridge into lower harbour territory, Emily and George were busy getting fueled at the depot on the right and the tanker was being unloaded by the crane dock on the left, Petra was busy looking left and right as she headed towards the dry dock, there was always a lot going on down further into the harbour and she didn't want to bump into any passing boats or barges.

Meanwhile Tillie was just looking all around the Big Harbour still amazed by how amazing and beautiful it looks. While looking she had thought of the many differences between the Big Harbour and Bigg City Port.

It wasn't long until Petra and Tillie arrived at the dry dock, Petra quickly situated her tow rope to the side and slowly pushed Tillie in the area of the dock, it had three big concrete walls around her except for the front.

"Here we are! Thankfully I didn't run into anyone, the repairs will begin eventually." Petra replied as she floated in front of Tillie so she didn't drift off from the dock entrance.

"So I just wait, right?" Tillie asked, "That's right." Petra replied as she looked at the dock patiently. Suddenly, a big steel sliding door closes right in front of Tillie. The dock around her began making sounds of turning machinery and twisting cogs, bouncing off of the walls as the water below her started to get shallow.

"Huh? This is something…new" Tillie said, she was attached to some sort of machinery and felt the water beneath her become shallow. Something metallic hit the bottom of Tillie's hull, though it wasn't known if it was intentional or not.

The little tugboat began slowly rising up towards the sky as the water below her seeped away from her propeller, this wasn't some ordinary repair dock like Lucky's Yard, it was much more highly advanced, apparent from all of the heavy sounding noises from it.

A voice was heard on the way up. “A great amount of scratches but nothing too severe, an engine check-up might be needed." Petra spoke as Tillie was lifted all the way up to the main dock. This felt very scary to Tillie

"This is very peculiar, Petra. Is this how they put tugboats into dry dock? I really don't know how I should feel about this."

Petra's radio beeped off as she looked up at Tillie who had stopped at the top of the dock.

"Oh, no worries Tillie! That's how the dock works, tugboats must be lifted from the water if their hulls need repairing, making it much easier to spot hidden damages." Petra called up to Tillie, she couldn't blame her though since the dock was built for big diesel tugs, she was a tugboat but a much smaller one for the dry dock.

"A tugboat out of water is odd but I guess I'll have to be here until I'm fixed. I can try to be patient up here.” Said Tillie.

"That's the spirit, Tillie! I won't be around often for today since more tankers have been scheduled to come into the harbour from the storm and it's my job to see them in, I'm sure the tugboats will come by to check on you though, so you'll still be getting some company!" Petra explained to Tillie just in case she was wondering how long she'll be away for now.

"Oh alrighty then! It's just a little boring when there's nobody to talk to."

"Don't worry Tillie, I'll see if I can go get someone who's available to talk!" Petra slowly backed up but stopped when she felt a metal thunk behind her, she slowly turned around to find George along with Emily had come to visit.

It startled her a bit, revving her small engine backwards in front of the dock.

"You tugboats need to stop sneaking up on me like that!"

The older tugs were huge to Tillie, they had a mighty presence to them just suddenly being there and just hearing their loud machine huffs.

"Hey there, Petra." George spoke in a strong voice before looking up to see Tillie.

"We came over to see what you were doing by the dry dock, I see we have a new visitor!" Emily spoke with a smile.

George looked closely at the small tugboat and raised an eyebrow. “Quick question, what's with the new fishing boat doing in the tugboat dock?" George asked.

"She's not a fishing boat, George." Petra replied sternly.

“Actually, I am a tug just like you. Well actually I’m a steam powered kind of tugboat." Tillie corrected.

"Hm, she seems small for a tugboat..." George replied.

Emily quickly nudged George with her bumper. "George," She groaned.

George gave Emily a confused expression, not really getting what he said was wrong.

"I told you, he doesn't hesitate with his opinions. Are you sure you still want to negotiate with him? I can send them on their way if you want." Petra whispered to Tillie.

“Oh please don’t I think I can handle him Petra.” Tillie whispered back with reassurance. Petra reluctantly let both tugboats stay but kept an eye on them, especially George.

“So how did you end up at the Big Harbour?” Emily asked.

“Well you see a storm was heading to port while I was delivering my last barge, when I accidentally got too far from the port I got caught in a storm. I was then swept away from my home and got my hull stuck on some rocks..." Tillie recounted.

Emily gently nodded. "I can see your hull was damaged by the storm, I've seen waters like that overseas and I agree that they can be very rough. It's a good thing you ended up here though, you'll be repaired in no time, I'm sure of it!" She smiled.

"I could take on a storm like that, I've carried tankers through hurricanes a long time ago and survived without a scratch" George boasted, “If you ever need help pulling ships, then I'm the tug for the job."

Emily rolled her eyes, "I don't think she intends on permanently staying, George. I'm sure she has friends waiting for her out there at her home.”

"Well I was only offering up my services." George replied quietly.

"My home is a place called Bigg City Port and I belong to a fleet. I just hope they're alright from the storm and notice that I'm missing.”

"Bigg City hm, don't believe I've ever traveled there before. Anywho, I'm sure they're out there looking for you dear, just rest and relax and you'll be back on the water again as soon as you know it!" Emily assured the little tugboat,

"They might be worried sick for me but thank you for the reassurance Emily."

Tillie said, giving a hopeful smile,

"No problem Tillie, we try our best to keep our visitors in the most comfortable situation and spot we can!" Emily quietly beamed.

"Yeah!" George added without anything else to say.

"Hehe This place feels much better and nicer than the port I live in. You don't have a Rival Fleet that is very competitive or faced any dangers."

"Well I'm glad that you're enjoying The Big Harbor, Tillie."

George said. Just then, the radios on the tugs went off.

"Oh, it seems we must get going, another ship's arrived for tow. Take care, Tillie!"

Emily honked her low horn goodbye as she and George headed out to greet the large supply ship.

"Oh Goodbye Emily! Goodbye George, it was nice meeting you two!" Tillie called.

Now it was just Tillie on her own on dry dock. Work continued in the harbor. There might've been moments of relaxation and play as each tug worked at their own paces but they all still needed to get their jobs done.

Bigg City's work ethic was much different than Bigg City Port. Anytime a tug is seen resting on the job, they would need to be strictly told to get back to it.

They all worked on a tight schedule with demands needing to be met perfectly on time. What Tillie couldn’t understand was whether or not the strictness of them working to a set timetable was necessary or not.

Tillie pondered a lot about many things she learned about the Big Harbor; She thought about how different it was than Bigg City Port, she thought about how the tugs here worked to a set timetable, she even thought about all of the residents she met.

Another thing Tillie began to think about was her fleet, the Star Tugs: Ten Cents, Sunshine, O.J, Warrior, Big Mac, and Hercules. She wondered if they were still looking for her anywhere, she hoped that none of them had given up on their search, but what if they did?

Many hours had passed in The Big Harbor. The old clock tower rang, giving the workers in the harbor a hint at the time. Restoration on Tillie had been completed, her deck and engine was repaired and her hull was repainted.

"Alright then let's lower the dock!" A repairman called out to one of the dock workers.

The workmen call back and forth to each other as the dock beneath Tillie begins to shutter and lower down, with sounds of water splashing around and filling up echo off the dock walls. The steel door opened for Tillie and right waiting outside was Petra coming to check on her.

"Ah, it feels good to be back in the water again. Oh hello Petra!"

She said greeting the pilot boat with a happy smile.

"Hello again, Tillie! How's your engine feeling, better?" Petra asked cheerfully.

"I'm feeling better now than ever!" Tillie said excitedly

"That's great to hear, come out and give that engine a little test run!" Petra replied as she backed up to give Tillie some space to move around from out of the dock.

Tillie started her engine and she slowly and carefully exited the dock. Her performance so far was perfect.

"Nicely done! I say your restoration was a success." Petra said as she watched Tillie move a bit,

she hadn't seen steam tugs in action so It was quite interesting as well. Tillie gave a wide smile knowing that she's fully repaired and ready to work and all the while she started to pick up more speed as she cheered up.

[End of Chapter 3]

<- Previous chapter —•— Next chapter ->

#this is tugs #theodore tugboat #tillietugswitcher #tugs oc

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sigmadolos · 1 year

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@guiltscorched said: My muse takes a hit to protect your muse from a fatal attack, how does your muse react? / fyodor sees the angel fall as if in slow motion, and staggers. this was not the plan. this was not how he foresaw it; this was not supposed to be. sigma, with all his foolish fits of emotion, was supposed to stay on the chessboard where fyodor had placed him. yet here, he leaps from it, directly into an attack intended to kill.

the demon is cold and methodical as he acts now, plans re-forming and crystallising in the grim chambers of his mind. he draws the gun hidden in his coat and shoots their assailant, disregarding his previous intent to press them for information. instinct now demands that he attend to sigma and so he does, weak arms dragging the prone - but alive! - form into their hold. "foolish," he mutters, as he begins to walk: carrying sigma, slowly and carefully, back where fyodor may tend to him. he is not permitted to die just yet. "things like this will be your undoing, sigma."

MY MUSE TAKES A HIT TO PROTECT YOURS FROM A FATAL ATTACK, SEND YOUR MUSES REACTION

Everything had been going to plan until it wasn’t. It wasn’t a big display, the shift in the man’s body language. It was a CASUAL gesture as a matter of fact, ordinary. Except it immediately set alarms up to Sigma because in all the behavior he’d been observing, the man did not display such body language. Instinctual dread kicked into high gear, an awareness that SOMETHING was wrong. It crawled like a spider down his spine, a gut feeling that Death was looming and Fyodor was in danger. It was an instinct he trusted because it’d helped him survive his own darkest times. He didn’t hesitate to throw himself in front of the russian mere seconds before the first gunshot rang out, loud and clear.

It’s fast and slow at he same time. The millisecond of shock before the pain claws into his chest with razor sharp talons and macabre flowers blossom on his chest as red stains his suit. It must’ve only been a few milliseconds, before Sigma finds himself falling slowly like he’s sinking through heavy water. He doesn’t feel the pain when he hits the ground or hear the second gunshot, everything feels muted and far way. Everything except the pain that tears at his mind nd the garden of red that grows from his chest with each passing second.

A weak, faint noise leaves his wounded chest when he feels arms grab him, and for a moment he struggles between the present and the ghosts of past, but it’s gone in a moment when he feels himself be drawn closer to the warmth of someone else, when he hears the familiar voice in his ear. He blinks, dull eyes lifting to look towards Fyodor at the comment.

“ No. “ It hurts to speak, the words claw at his throat, but still Sigma speaks, shaking his head slowly in disagreement to the assessment. “ Not to me at least. Not when your life was in danger. “ Fyodor’s life has value to it. But Sigma’s . . .

His head weakly tucks itself against Fyodor’s shoulder. He didn’t expect to be LIFTED, but he doesn’t complain. He doesn’t cry or whimper at any step that send jolts of pain through overactive nerves. The angel stays muted in his suffering, speaking only in his thoughts on his acts. He endured his suffering in silence as he always has. The words give him something to focus on, to help with the lightheadedness even as his eyes half-close. “ You’re okay though . . . that’s good . . . “ A absently mumbled comment, though if it was intended for Fyodor or Sigma to himself was an impossible task to tell without the man himself confirming its intended audience.

“ Probably. “ Sigma smiles a sad sort of knowing smile, whispering his agreement as he remains tucked against Fyodor’s body. “ But I should think that I would not regret it, if there is at least meaning in it. ” His eyes squeeze shut for a moment when wave of white hot pain seems as though it will override his sense. “..I- I’m sorry for having to change plans. “ He adds, voice growing softer, lifting his eyes up to catch a glimpse of the other. “ I can...can try to grab the information from the corpse..” He mumbles in offering, one hand clutched over the wound to apply at least some pressure to help slow the blood loss. THAT is perhaps the foolish aspect of this - to offer when he’s certain Fyodor will not accept.

How the angel loathes to be an inconvenience! But he would relive it again a thousand times over and change nothing if it meant to save Fyodor the pain of injury or from Death’s hungry jaws.

#guiltscorched #perHAPS HES A FOOL BUT HE REGRETS NOTHING #only that the plan had to change #he does feel bad abt that #nevermind bleeding out time to apologize #sir your priorities should be elsewhere but alas here we are #ic || the angel of the aerial casino #blood tw

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urdamage · 1 year

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∘₊✧── jupiter bernstein ; a memory before shrike heights

jupiter sat on the floor of his living room , knees pulled up to chest , eyes wide and not daring to move off of the television set for long enough to even blink as much as needed . his father and his mother sat behind him on their old olive coloured couch , his grandfather in his favourite brown recliner chair next to them . jupiter had gone from sitting on the arm of his grandfather’s chair , to the place in between his parents , to finally the floor directly in front of the black and white screen . he couldn’t contain his excitement or his interest enough to sit still for more than a moment .

he silenced any noise his family made , no matter how small . he wasn’t interested in the mere possibility of missing any of this , even if that meant his manners had to be forgotten . thankfully , every time he hurriedly lifted a hand and desperately called “ shhh ! ” , his family only snickered - as quietly as they could . his grandfather thought it was endearing , as he thought everything jupiter did was , and his parents later told him that they couldn’t blame him as they were the reason why he was so enamoured with the news right now .

he listened to neil armstrong speak of his mission , of his duties as the commander , and at the prospect of landing in a whole other world , rather than the moon as planned . there was something in his smile that jupiter found terribly endearing . next , he listened to michael collins speak of the possibilities of space travel moving into the future , of how happy he was with his position of the command module pilot , and his responsibilities throughout the mission . the way he spoke left jupiter’s knuckles white as his grip on his legs tightened with excitement and interest . lastly , edwin aldrin explained their schedule for the visit , along with their plans for photographing their trip and conducting specific experiments . the details that buzz gave made jupiter tingly with envy and thrill ; in his mind , he could picture the events taking place so vividly , and he longed to be in their position , or alongside them .

after the interview had been broadcasted , pictures of the three astronauts continued to be shown as everyone in the world was talking about the endeavour . his parents began to speak about what they had seen and heard finally - without jupiter’s obstruction - but jupiter was too amazed to participate in such conversation just yet . his eyes remained fixed to the screen , to the three men that filled every inch of his mind at the time , and then finally , jupiter spoke up , interrupting the adults’ conversation by turning and standing quickly with his announcement .

“ i’m in love with them . ” he told his family , a large and lopsided lovesick grin on his face . “ i’m actually in love with them all , the three of them , i love them . ” he nodded his head , and then he laughed . he was only twelve years old , he had never expressed to his family that he had an interest in men before - he hadn’t even fully understood that he was interested in men until watching the three americans throughout the entire process leading towards the mission confirmed his suspicions - but he couldn’t contain his enormous feelings in the moment . it was such a wonderful experience , watching them prepare for their journey . “ they’re brilliant , absolutely brilliant ! oh ! they’re going to have the time of their lives - it’s a scary job , but isn’t that all the more wonderful ? especially as it’s obvious that they know what they’re doing - they’re brilliant . ” he began to walk around the living room aimlessly as he spoke to the smiling faces of his amused family .

almost twenty years later , jupiter doesn’t remember everything that he said about the men he professed his undying love for , but what he does remember is that the one-sided conversation went on for a very , very long time after the interview had finished . it was such an exciting time , such a formative time in the young man’s life . raised by astronomers and astronomy professors , the moon landing was an incredibly big deal in his family , but it was also so much more than that for jupiter . at the time , but also still , jupiter was so thankful for his parents , not only for the fact that they exposed him to and educated him on one of his greatest passions - space - but for the fact that they listened to him talk about how much he loved the astronauts’ drive , intelligence , dedication , and american accents for an absurd amount of time that night .

#∘₊✧────── jupiter bernstein ; insight #insight

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hobidreams · 2 years

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february 1872.

you cannot swim for new horizons until you have courage to lose sight of the shore.

pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader words: 3.3k a/n: a million thank yous to @idkijustlovebts for reading an early draft of this for me and just being the most helpful, the most kind and sweet 💜

moonlit throne index. this is drabble 44. start from the beginning?

“I want an audience with jungjeon-mama.” Though your legs are trembling, you stare down the guards posted at the door of the queen’s chambers. The sun has only been in the sky for a few hours, but you could not wait to come here any longer, lest the anticipation consume you whole.

The two guards exchange looks, obviously recognizing you but unsure whether to let you in. Unsure if they want to be responsible for any possible altercations, you think. You cannot fault them for it. But before they can decide, the door opens from the inside to reveal one of the queen’s maids.

“Su-uinyeo-nim,” she says. “Please, come in.”

You follow the maid down long corridors, the dream from last night repeating over and over in your mind. You hadn’t been ready to accept Queen Jeonghui’s words then, too afraid of the consequences of wanting. But now. Now, the reality of living without him is too much to bear without putting voice to your truth at least once.

In front of the sitting room, the maid comes to a stop. “Jungjeon-mama is in here.” Another set of doors are eased apart.

The queen, beautiful and composed, sits on a bench before a low table, with another maid brushing her hair. She slides her cool eyes towards the noise.

You can see no surprise in her expression as she realizes who has come to her. What does that mean? You tense your muscles and walk in, until you are standing directly in front of her.

Perhaps the queen senses your determination, for she says to the maids, “Leave us.” Then, when you are alone, she gestures to a bench. “Uinyeo-nim. Take a seat.”

A direct order from the queen, but you shake your head. “No, thank you.” Afraid you’ll lose your nerve if you do.

“Hm.” The queen doesn’t mention it. Instead, she opens her jewelry box, casually lifting a pair of earrings as if you aren’t present. “So, what brings you here at this early hour to pay me a visit?”

You’ve gone over this conversation so many times in your head, again and again, but none of those careful, diplomatic words feel right in this moment.

For once, you want to cut right down to the core of it. Past the politics. Past the veiled subtleties that make up the royal court.

“Jeonha,” you start, your voice raspy but you continue. “Jeonha and I have an intimate relationship. Though he is the king and I a mere—” You cut yourself off, shaking your head. No more of that word. “And I am an uinyeo, not a palace woman, we have been lovers. We are lovers.”

The queen’s eyebrows raise. But before she can speak, you plow on. It’s your turn now, damn it.

“If that makes you uncomfortable asking me for medical advice, I can arrange for one of my disciples to act in my place if you wish. If not, I assure you I will do my best to aid you in all matters, including conception and delivery. But I…” You scrunch your hand into a fist, forcing yourself to breathe, willing yourself stand up straight. “I’ll no longer pretend as if he and I have no relationship.”

The words are coming on their own, your voice building in shaky volume with each syllable. Everything you’ve wanted to say for so long, tumbling free. “I will not step aside. I won’t acquiesce and let him go. Not even to you, jungjeon-mama. Even if I’m not an official concubine and can never be one, I will stay by his side. I will stand. I will—I will demand my space in this palace, regardless of what you or any of this country’s people may think…!”

Instantly, a thick, pensive silence falls in the room.

It’s a silence that begs you to say more to break it, but the words die on your tongue. You can only wait. Wait for the explosion you’ve just lit to blow. But then—

Jungjeon-mama is laughing.

Laughing.

The sound rings out across the empty hall, filling the blankness with your confusion and her mirth. It takes her a full minute to calm, to distill the sound down to quiet chuckling. You are too frozen to ask what the hell that just was. Instead, you just watch as she, still smiling, sets the earrings down and drapes a hand over her lap.

“I wondered how long it would take you to tell me the truth. I’m impressed, uinyeo-nim.”

Your trimmed nails bite into your palm as your heart thuds louder in your ears.

“You… You already knew?”

“But of course! How could I not?” She presses fingertips to her flawlessly smooth cheek. “It was one of the first things I learned when I set foot on palace grounds. And even if one of the ladies had not told me, it would have been plain to see on jeonha’s face that he is absolutely enamored with you.”

Thoughts collide against each other in your mind. It takes all your strength to gather them, to pick out one coherent question. “Then why?” You ask. “Why did you come to me all those weeks ago as if you had no inkling of such things?!”

Jungjeon-mama shifts, her elaborate chima spilling over the bench. “I won’t ask for your forgiveness. You must understand I had to test you. To see the strength of your relationship for myself, so I could know whether or not it could ever be broken.”

Broken. Your heart pangs with the mere thought.

“You see,” she continues, “I have no interest in a man who cannot return my affections. Life is far too brief for such wastes of time.” She moves her hand to her arm as she leans forward towards you. “I want to live happily. I am already queen. It was a decision made for me by my parents, but one that will ensure my survival in this world. Having the king’s attention means very little to me after that.”

Wait.

You feel your eyes widen. If she has no interest—Could that mean? Could it be?

“How much of it was a lie?” You ask bluntly, already steeling yourself for whatever answer comes. But you now know the truth is far better than endless wondering in your own head.

The queen smiles as if she was expecting that question. “Jeonha and I have never been physically together. You will have to ask him for the details of our wedding night, but nothing of consequence happened. Of course, the people believe otherwise, because they must.”

“Never?” You repeat, numbly.

You could weep from relief. It washes over you, filling, mending every cut on your heart from these past, vicious months. You were prepared to accept anything she said. You understand the importance of conceiving an heir. But this… This truth is beyond anything you’ve ever dared to dream of. Yet, that was for good reason.

“What about an heir? Who will rule the throne if not your son?” You ask.

The queen is chuckling again, as if she finds your simple reasoning extremely amusing. “You may have seen the official lineage records, uinyeo-nim, but I have heard the stories. The older servants in the palace know the rumors from several generations back. Do you think our king the first to fall for someone he shouldn’t have?”

“I… I suppose not,” you reply. She’s right. There must have been others trapped by royal responsibility. Others who have let themselves be happy.

“By now, the royal bloodline has likely been muddied so many times that I’d be surprised if there were continuity at all between any three generations.” Now, you meet jungjeon-mama’s eyes. You find in them an unexpected warmth as she declares, “I certainly don’t plan on being alone for the rest of my life. And there are plenty of eligible men in this palace.”

She speaks with such authority that you can’t help but feel envious. It seems to come so inherently to her, while it has taken all of your courage to even be here. To speak. But still—You are here, standing your ground. You are fighting for yourself.

The queen pushes to her feet and begins to cross the floor to you, but you are no longer scared of such actions. “All I care about is being comfortable. And that my children will be taken care of,” she says. “A royal name will more than secure that, regardless of whether or not they are truly of jeonha’s blood.”

But that’s not enough. You have one last question. Perhaps the most crucial one of all. “And if I become pregnant?”

Yoongi’s story about his father’s former concubine and the assassins haunts your thoughts. You will not allow that to happen again.

“Then all the better.”

She stands right in front of you, her hands held regally in front of her as her silk sleeves drape down. “The court will not bother your children as long as I have my own. And if it comes to it, your sons will be eligible for the throne. Better any heir than none in desperate times.”

“But you. You will not hurt them?” You press, needing confirmation.

“Never.”

Elegantly, Seong-min reaches out her hand, beckoning you to do the same. Though you are bewildered, you offer yours before you can think better of it. She links your fingers together in an uncharacteristically delicate hold.

“Uinyeo-nim.” Her voice remains strong, but for the first time, you think it might be kind. “I want to be happy. And now I know what you have decided happiness is for you. It would all be easier if we cooperated.”

You nod, immediately, still incredulous at what the truth has brought. “I agree.”

She gives your hand a fond squeeze.

As you look at her so closely like this… How very similar to the former queen she is, you think. A comparison that is no longer a dagger through your heart, but a welcome embrace for what is to come. All that is to come, if your king will forgive you for being so utterly foolish for so long.

You want to see him. You need to see him, to tell him all you have uncovered. To share everything that has been lost these past few months.

“Jungjeon-mama… I must go,” you say.

She smiles widely as she releases your hand. “I know. Go. Quickly!”

You are panting when you reach the imposing doors of jeonha’s residence, your legs aching with how quickly you ran here but each second that passes without seeing him feels like a waste.

Jeonghun stands guard today, and he gives you a friendly smile as you approach. “Su-uinyeo-nim, good morning! Thank you again for your medicine.” Then he pauses, noticing your expression. “Ah… Uhh, are you alright?”

Hands on your knees, you nod as you suck in deep breaths. “I-Is jeonha… Is he inside…?”

“Yes, I believe he should be in the middle of his morning readings.”

“Thank you. Thank you.” Somewhat properly breathing now, you straighten. Push back the hair that has come undone from your bun. You must look like an absolute mess, but you don’t care.

To his credit, Jeonghun doesn’t give you the chance to ask for entry. He simply opens the door for you, his grin warm and encouraging.

“Thank you,” you say one last time before you hurry inside.

The residence is enormous, but you know the way as well as the paths of your own hall. None of the servants hurrying about stop you, as if they too believe you belong there as you speed through the corridors towards the study. Towards your heart.

When you open that final door with a shaking hand, you find Yoongi sitting behind his royal desk, papers scattered everywhere on the wide surface. He looks slightly better than when you saw him last night, but fatigue still has its claws in him, drawing wrinkles and shadows on his brow.

“Eunuch Kim,” He starts, without looking up. “I told y—”

“Jeonha.”

Yoongi’s eyes flash up with an almost inhuman speed. There is surprise, then a joy that takes over his entire face. A relief so undeniable that it almost overwhelms you to see it.

“You’re here,” he says, his voice dropping down to a whisper.

There is so much you want to say. You should first explain everything the queen has revealed. You should apologize for the cruel things you’ve said to him, telling him to be with her again and again. But the thing that spills out of your mouth is, “I’m a fool.”

He looks bewildered at this confession. It’s one of the few honest things you have said to him since your argument and it clearly confounds him.

“Jeonha, I have been a coward,” you say.

He seems like he is about to refute your words but just like with the queen, you won’t let him. You’ll say your share, even if your hands are clammy with nerves and sweat.

“All this time, I have waited. Sat there hoping for you to come to me. I’ve answered your summons. But I’ve… never had the courage to reach out for you in turn. Never asked for more because I always thought this had to end someday.” You’d been searching for ways to protect yourself, to pull away before he abandoned you without a thought to how that would hurt him in turn. Foolish.

You take a step towards him but no more. Wanting to be in his arms, but afraid you’ll lose your conviction if he touches you. “I should’ve told you my fears. I shouldn’t have tried to take every burden onto myself.”

He murmurs your name now, not to interrupt, but because he cannot stop the sound. His eyes are so tender, so full of affection and sorrow.

You exhale, letting your fears flow from you to leave only sincerity behind. “Jeonha, I know the truth. You’ve never taken another woman. But even if you had… Despite everything, you’ve thought of me. You’ve made me a priority. And I—I had thought myself powerless all this time.”

He pushes up from his seat. Slides out from behind his desk. You watch him descend from the platform until he stands on the same hard ground as you.

“Powerless, when you have all this power over me?” He asks, almost amused at the absurdity of the thought.

You nod. “I should’ve known that. Should’ve held my head up high no matter what the other palace women or former concubines said about me because… I have no reason to be ashamed in front of them, regardless of my class. Because I’m the one you chose. Out of all of them. Me.”

“And I will always choose you.” He is closer now. A few more steps and he’d be close enough to touch, but instead your hands stay knotted together before you, his at his sides. “But it was not my choosing that gave you strength. You are more accomplished in your own right than any of those women. You have improved the lives of everyone in this palace, whether they will admit it or not.”

Yoongi has the tiniest smile on his lips, but it carries sadness, fear. “I’ve never wanted to force you to stay. Or to pressure you into any decision,” he murmurs, and you know this to be true. It was true when he asked you to the Chuseok festival back when you were both so young, and it was true when you told him to leave all those months ago. “What my mother had to experience was far too cruel. I didn’t want—”

“Jeonha.” You make him pause with one hand on his arm. “I-I know it is impossible for me to officially be your concubine, but… I don’t care about titles. I will determine what worth my life has. And I choose to remain here in this palace as an uinyeo. As… your lover.”

“Is that truly what you want?” He asks, softly, his dark eyes searching your face as if he is still uncertain. “Even though being involved with me has only hurt you, again and again?”

“Don’t you see?” You exhale, moving your hands until you are pressing both palms against his chest. Through his silk, his heartbeat is quick, but so utterly steady. “You are not your father. You will learn from his mistakes, not repeat them. And there is nowhere else I want to go. Not when you are here.”

His hands are trembling when he brings them to your arms, holding you gently. Like this, you can see yourself reflected in his dark eyes. Eyes that are no longer unfathomable, but warm as they focus only on you.

Your voice is a whisper when you confess, “I want to have a family with you.” The secret lifts from your chest, blooming in that precious space between your bodies.

“I do too,” he says, “So much.”

He leans forward until your foreheads touch, his breath brushing against your nose. You inhale his scent, scrunching your fingers in his robes as if you could have him like this for a lifetime. But then, the corners of his lips turn down.

“But I have to tell you… this might be the one thing I cannot give.”

You raise your head. “What? Why?”

“My father… had difficulty conceiving an heir. It is why I have no siblings when a royal family would typically have many. When I asked my father’s physician after his death… The doctor told me he suspected a hereditary condition.” Yoongi eases back, covering your hands with his own. “One that would pass onto me. And make it unlikely that I will father children.”

You shake your head. “Jeonha, unlikely does not mean impossible. You are alive, are you not?” His heartbeat pounds steadily under your grasp. “If we never try, there is never the possibility we might succeed.”

Yoongi gives a surprised bark of laughter, the sound waterlogged with emotion thick in his throat. “My mother. She used to say that.”

“I know. And it’s only now that I understand exactly what she meant.”

Leaning down, Yoongi presses his lips to yours. The first kiss you have shared in months, and it isn’t until his softness is tangible against you that you realize how much you have missed him. How all your reasoning and logic could never compare to the simple touch of the man you love. You let your lips part, wanting more as you feel him smile into your kiss.

No more words. You don’t need them to know how he treasures you. Not when it is evident in the way he cups your cheek with a warm hand, the pad of his thumb brushing your skin. The way he bumps the tip of his nose into you because he needs to be closer.

When you finally pull apart, his lips a little wet, yours still needy, you’re both smiling like it’s your first time. And in a sense, it is. The first time in this new era of your lives. One that promises to last as long as you are both willing to fight for it.

“Eunuch Kim!” Yoongi suddenly yells towards the door. As you stare at him, puzzled, the door slides open. When the man in question appears, looking harried, Yoongi commands: “Cancel the afternoon meeting.”

“But jeonha—”

“Cancel it. And leave us alone.”

Eunuch Kim’s eyes flicker from you to his king, then back to you. His sigh of surrender is far too exaggerated to be anything but ‘finally’ in disguise. “As you wish, jeonha. Su-uinyeo-nim.” He bows as he shuffles out of the room, nearly bumping into the door frame with how he refuses to raise his head again.

“The man is absolutely delighted,” Yoongi mutters when you are alone again, his voice as sarcastic as it is fond.

“I know exactly how he feels,” you say, grinning as you pull your king, your love in for another kiss.

a/n: didn’t i tell you to trust me? 🌸

chat with me | support me on kofi ♡

#btsghostie #networkbangtan #bts fluff #bts angst #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #bts imagines #bts scenarios #moonlit throne #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #historical au #rain writes #synopsis is from faulkner #and is something i think about so often #🌹

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randomshyperson · 3 years

Note

For every request I send, my love, tell me what you want from me in return and I’ll do it 😩😩

But can I request a Nat x Reader where Nat is surprise visiting her family in St. Petersburg only to find her girlfriend already there because they love her more than Nat. I can see Melina being like “she knows how to take care of the pigs”

Hello! Well, I would say i want hugs and kisses but we have an ocean between us haha Hope you like this my friend, it's short but it's sweet.

Gif is not mine, blessed are the gif makers.

Warnings: None.

Words: 1.539 K

Dictionary> Медовый (darling/dear) | мой милый воин (my dear warrior)

All Works Masterlist

//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//

Sweet Petersburg - Oneshot

Natasha parked her car just outside her mother's house, the smell of recent rain in the air as she stepped out of the vehicle, a nostalgic smile on her lips to be back home after a while.

She's visiting for the weekend, St. Petersburg is cold in the autumn, but also really beautiful, and even if she didn't say it out loud, she misses her family everyday.

Nat walked towards the house, she hadn't spotted any family members, but judging by the noise of laughing and talking inside the kitchen, some of them were inside.

She left her bag on the sofa, moving to greet them when the sound of a voice made her frown. Sounded like you.

"Mom?" Nat called out loud and the laughter stopped. The next second two women were coming from the small kitchen to join Natasha in the living room, who was standing with her arms crossed.

"Tasha, darling, you're here!" Melina greeted excited as she moves to hug her daughter. But Natasha's eyes are on you, smiling shyly at her with your hands in your pockets.

"I am." She says. "I'm sorry, am I missing something? Why are you here, babe?"

She asks curiously directly at you. Before you can answer, Melina is touching your shoulder and smiling at her daughter.

"I invited her, of course." She clarifies. "She's great with the pigs, and she's such a lovely companion, Tasha."

Nat let's a short laugh.

"I know, mom. That's why I'm dating her." She says almost dry, and you roll her eyes at her jealousy. Nat is looking at you again next. "I thought you were in Turkey."

"I was." You say as you step forward, resting your hands on Natasha's hips. "I runned into Yelena there. Then she video chatted with your mom and they insisted for me to come for the weekend."

“And you didn't think about asking me to join you? At my family house?" Nat asked with incredulity, but you just smiled at how cute she looked when angry.

"Natasha, don't be like that, it's not like you two need to be together all the time." Melina intruders with a humorous gaze. "Besides, she's been here many times before."

"Wow, what? Natasha exclaim surprised, moving away from your arms as you give her a mixture of a guilty and playful look. "Are you two for real?"

Melina signs impatiently, turning away from this conversation as she walks to the kitchen, Natasha following her while complaining about not being fair that she was spending more time with you than with her own daughter.

You would have followed if Yelena didn't come into the living room with some groceries.

"Just saw Nat's car outside, didn't know she was coming." She remarks as you quickly move to help her with the bags.

"Yeah, you better keep these comments to yourself, Lena. " You say and rush to explain as the woman frowns at you. "Your sister is not pleased to know I’m used to came here without her."

"What? Why?" She asks while you two move to the kitchen, but you don't answer as you two meet Melina and Natasha again, still arguing.

"I just don't think it is fair that none of you called me to let me know that my girlfriend was around!" Natasha accuses grumpy making Yelena laugh.

"It's not our fault your girlfriend is nicer than you, poser." Yelena teases as she puts the groceries on the balcony next to you. Natasha lets go of an annoyed sign turning to her mom again.

"Mom, do something! She's mocking me!"

You want to laugh at the scene but you just stay behind, not wishing to upset Natasha anymore.

Melina sighs as she massages her temples with her fingers.

"Please,girls, don't fight each other." She asks as she ignores Natasha's protest saying that Yelena started the whole thing and moved to grab the groceries you and Yelena brought. "I'm making dinner, everyone out my kitchen!"

That's how you ended up outside, with a grumpy Natasha and a smiley Yelena, walking around the back of the house to join Alexie, who was fixing Melina's truck in the back.

"Hey dad!" Natasha greeted as you reached him, the man was under the car and lifted the vehicle in the air to smile at his daughter.

"Tasha! Hey, kid, good to see you!" He said and put the vehicle back down to roll out and stand up. "Didn't know you're joining us this weekend."

Natasha grumbles insatisfy which makes Yelena laugh and Alexei frowns in confusion.

As his girls moved to sit in the bench nearby, you whispered to him: "She didn't take well knowing you invited me over without her."

"But what's the problem with that?" He asks loudly, attracting the attention of the girls, you sign but he doesn't mind. "It's a good thing that we are having trips with you, you're part of the family now!"

Natasha wides her eyes.

"Having trips? Excuse me?" She asks angrily as she stands up. "How many times have you hung out with my family without me?"

"Well…" You started uncertainty, playing with your fingers. Yelena smirks.

"We had that trip to California last month." She counted while Alexie murmured in agreement. "Also went to Philly. She stayed here for independence day too, and we had tacos night last week. Besides that, whenever she's around my mission place I invite her for a beer." Yelena told and all Natasha did was stare in shock at her and yourself.

"Oh, don't forget China. We had that thing too." Alexie added and Natasha signed.

"You're all unbelievable." She accused as she rushed to pass through you and into the house again.

You were uncertain about following her inside.

"Well, that didn't go well." Alexei comments with an awkward posture. "I will try talk to her."

As he left, you moved to sit with Yelena.

"Sorry about that, maybe I should have left you to tell her about the trips." She said but you just signed softly.

"It's okay." You say. "It's my fault for keeping it for so long. She would have found out anyway."

Yelena murmurs and you two fall silent for a moment.

"California was really fun wasn't it?" She asks amusedly, making you smile.

"Yeah, it was."

You two exchange giggles before deciding to go back inside and you busy yourself with helping Melina with dinner.

//-//

Alexei came back alone from Nat's room with a slight grimace that made you worried.

So you decide you should talk to her yourself.

As you reach her room, you knock before coming in.

Natasha was sitting in her window, next to her bed while looking outside. In that position, you understood that she saw you laughing and talking to Yelena in the yard and by the recents events, that might not be the best.

"Are you mad at me, Nat?" You couldn't hold your words as you reached her, and she turned her head to you immediately, a confused frown in her face.

"Of course not!"

You sign in relief, taking a step forward. "Are you mad at your family?"

"Yes."

You take a deep breath. "Do you want me to stop seeing them?"

She gives a short laugh, shaking her head in denial as she extends her hand for you to grab. As you do, she pulls you towards her gently.

"Of course I don't want you to stop seeing my family, sweetheart." She says as she circles your waist with her arms. "I just got mad at them for not inviting me."

"I'm sorry, Nat." You say. "I should have said something, but they didn't and I was worried about sounding rude or something. You know how much their approval matters to me."

She smiles tenderly, her fingers caressing you gently.

"Yeah, that's why you're so sweet and polite all the time, and they love you more than me." She declares, making you frown. "It's fine of course, how couldn't they not?"

"Don't say that, Nat." You ask as you raise your hands to her cheeks. "Your family loves you very much. They just hang out with me because you're not around as much as I am."

"You think?" She questions, sounding so vulnerable that you wish you could banish all her insecurities away.

"Of course, Nat." You state. "We only talk about you, babe. All the time. And we all love to do it because we all love you. "

She gives you a shy smile before pulling you to her laps, making you giggle as she kisses your face a few times before moving away.

"Give yourself some credit, babe." Nat says with a lovely gaze. "You're a very pleasant company and I think they love to spend time with you as much as I do."

You smile before kissing her in the mouth, gently and sweet like this moment. Scenes like this are definitely your favorites with Nat. Along with late nights with her hands running through your body.

"I love you, Медовый." She whispered against your lips.

"I love you too, мой милый воин." You say and Nat giggles.

"Since when you speak Russian?"

"Your mom is teaching me."

"Okay, out."

//-//-//

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#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff x yn #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x you #avengers imagines #black widow x reader

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peachesandmilktea · 2 years

Text

✨ Match-up commission for @cinnalock ✨

I match you with… Megumi!

It’s not something he saw coming, though love rarely is, he knows. He’d heard about it a thousand times before, that simple, four-letter word. He’d considered it, dreaded it, thought it unfathomable for himself, at least until he met you. The build was slow, gentle enough that he didn’t truly feel it before it was too late, before his heart was ensnared in the sight of your smile, his every thought drowned by the sound of your voice, his mind invaded by the sweet scent of your perfume. It was easy, after all - you were quiet and kind, always supportive in the way only you knew to be. Soon enough, Megumi felt as if pure sunshine filled his chest, dripping in between his ribs and settling beneath his flesh, all of that your doing no matter how much he fought against it. He would stay away, try and bury this feeling in the darkest abysses of his cold, icy mind, but it’s useless, he knows, for you’ve engraved yourself too deep into his soul, and there’s no pushing you away now. And for that, he chooses to give in instead - he’s a gentle lover, caring and kind. Smiles rarely do pull at his lips, but it’s unimportant as long as you’re aware that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him. You make his every organ feel like soft, fluffy cotton - if he doesn’t say it directly too often, he’ll be sure to show his gratitude to you time and time again.

He’ll put a lot of thought into every single date. Before the very first one, he studied you for weeks - paid attention to your every like and dislikes, asked a thousand questions and patiently listened to your answers in order to try and organize a date you’ll enjoy, hopefully just as much as he enjoys your company. He’ll take you to the prettiest spots he knows, parts of the town that are bustling with life, until the city lights sparkle in your gaze like starlight in the night sky. He doesn’t mind the place, doesn’t mind the noise, doesn’t mind the crowds - not when your hand in safely tucked in his, all soft and warm. He enjoys spending time with you in a domestic way outside of dates, though, and if you’ll allow him he’ll offer his help while you bake, just so that he can bite into something the two of you made, together, right when you’re done. No matter the nature of the dish, the taste always feels sweeter than sugar on his tongue.

(NSFW below! ↓)

You know Megumi as quiet and somewhat aloof - if he shows you his feelings clear as day, he doesn’t speak much, finding more impact in actions rather than words. That’s not the case in the bedroom, though, and pure filth falls from his lips as easily as breaths. His touch is intoxicating, his voice deep and low as he whispers gentle orders in your ear making shivers run down your spine. He doesn’t moan often, tries not to let the embarrassing sounds roll on his tongue for he’d rather hide such a part of himself, but he can’t help it whenever your lips wrap around his cock, your mouth gently welcoming him in a too-hot embrace. Soft little whimpers cross his lips then, heavy breaths and groans whenever he can keep himself from falling apart on your tongue. Other times, he’ll enjoy bending you over and simply take you from behind, letting his fingers gently trail the shape of your spine, delighting in the shivers that run through it whenever he leans in to let you take in the scent of manly lust that emanates from his skin. It’s overwhelming, it’s intoxicating, it’s almost too pleasurable for the two of you to bear, but he doesn’t mind it - he’ll come up with a thousand ways to have you come undone in his embrace, because, after all… If he doesn’t tell you often how much you mean to him, then he’ll simply have to show you.

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penguinlop · 2 years

Text

Yandere Xiao x Reader

/// The Captive at Wangshu Inn - Part 2

Summary:

You always fantasized about traveling to Liyue because your mother was from there. But after making your first stop at Wangshu Inn and meeting a certain Yaksha, you start to wonder if Liyue is really as you idealized it to be.

Warnings: Yandere themes, Stalking, Verbal/ Racial Harassment (Xiao calls reader mutt,) Gaslighting, Toxic family relations, Suggestive Content, Mentions of Violence, Vulgar language

Part 1

Guilt devoured your fidgeting brain and heart.

He was right.

You had no place to gawk at an Adeptus like that, let alone the last known surviving Yaksha. How could you, a mere mortal, compare to a robust being that vanished gods alongside Rex Lapis? Euphoria should be overflowing your body! Furthermore, he probably didn’t mean what he said. The demon conqueror has roamed the lands for thousands of years. Who were you to judge his more archaic mindset? To him, you were a puny pebble, ready to be tossed haphazardly into the Bishui river.

Regardless, you made up your mind. You will apologize. You didn’t want your interactions with an illuminated beast to end on a sour note.

Yes, yes! You will prepare a simple, meaningful gift. But what do the Adepti even like? Rushing excitement de-escalated as you pondered for a few moments. They have no need for sleep. Most don’t need to consume anything to keep their bodies fit. They purely don’t have any need to participate in such trivial, human matters. Mortals are fickle. An Adeptus is as lasting as stone.

A sigh erupted. You pinched the bridge of your nose. But you started to recall how a kind laugh and hum soothed your fatigue, and a small warning about a certain gentleman on the rooftop terrace echoed in your mind.

I mean, it doesn’t hurt to ask.

The lobby is always so warm and welcoming, with Verr Goldet as its heart.

You gently pushed the hardcover, teal tome back into place on the mahogany shelf, and took out a cherished classic instead, Rex Incognito: Volume 1. The noise of the books slackening with the novel’s removal was matched with a chuckle.

“I take it you met our resident Yaksha?”

You breathed in and out and replied, albeit with discontent and pursed lips, “I’m not sure if “met” is the right word.” You gazed into almond-shaped eyes just below neatly cut bangs.

Her laugh was saturated with amusement. She leaned forward, rested her head on folded fair hands, and stared directly into your eyes. “Well, I daresay that you broke a record. Xiao is quite the recluse.” The tuxedo cat with golden eyes leapt from the desk. Porcelain vases quivered from the movement. You took steps towards her reassuring air. “He must’ve been in a rather good mood to even think about speaking to others.”

If I “broke a record,” I can’t imagine what he has said and done to others...

“I know that look on your face, dear.” She stood up slightly and crossed her arms playfully. “I’ve seen it quite often between couples here at the Inn, usually after a minor altercation. No matter where they visit from, it’s always the exact same.” The woman with auburn hair then spoke slowly, as if emphasizing every syllable, every letter. “It is the face of guilt. An expression that displays how much you want to atone for your sins.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you sheepishly nodded. “I just—”

Her pointer finger met her lip, hushing you like a mother to a babe. “I will say only a few things, so listen carefully. Xiao isn’t fond of many things, but he has an affinity towards Almond Tofu and Qingxin. Perhaps his spirit resonates with the flower’s solitary nature.” Her chestnut eyes softened when she said that. They then trailed up to the decorative map above the mahogany bookcase. “Qingxin can be found on the peaks and cliffs of Liyue’s stone forests, such as in Jueyun Karst, home to the Adepti.” Her head tilted slightly. Her voice seemed even more melodious. “But that being said... I will suggest going near Mt. Qingce and Wuwang Hill, just above the ruins and village. The climbing isn’t as strenuous or dangerous as it is in Minlin—”

The grandfather clock rang proudly, bellowing to the Marsh that it was already an hour past noon. “I shouldn’t keep you held up. However, do enjoy yourself! If you follow my advice and go near Qingce, the village is quite lovely, a relaxing place for a stroll or snack.”

You bowed your head respectfully and spewed a multitude of thanks before rushing to your room and gathering your backpack, wind glider, and a wicker basket.

You rummaged through your belongings, pulled out a lacquer box painted with dragons and phoenixes, and took out an ornate gilded hairpin. It was encrusted with beads and crystals made out of fine noctilucous jade—a gift from your mother for your birthday.

Now seated at the vanity across from the comfortable bed, you questioned if you should wear it today as you didn’t want to lose it during your travels. However, you fondly remembered how you would prance along the streets of Monstadt as a child wearing a flowing hanfu and displaying your culture. Liyue, however long I have waited to explore you.

You decided.

You would wear the pin and go to Qingce. If you meet your grandparents, you will face them headstrong and with an open heart. If you don’t...Well, everything happens for a reason.

However, pressure mounted on your chest as you remembered your mother’s teary eyes, bitter face, and sorrowful voice as she seethed the name of the quaint village and whispered curses to her parents. But you wouldn’t let that put a damper on your adventure. This whole trip to Liyue is a symbol of fulfilling change for you. Breaking the chains of the past, finally letting go and allowing gentle breezes to take over one’s yearns and faults. As they say in Mondstadt, “Let the wind lead!”

___

You quickly noted how lovely it was to walk through Dihua Marsh during the daytime. After paying respects to the Statue of the Seven, you followed the dirt road and made sure to take in every exciting detail.

The small statues of robed dragons scattered throughout beckoned you into a desolate forest of swaying bamboo. They were your enchanting guides. One after another, they held your hand and whispered words of encouragement. When you abandoned the forgotten stone path, creaky wooden bridges, and reached the coveted village, a scenic sight was merely a few steps away. Lush, vivid terraces presented dignified glaze lilies. They were snuggled amidst flowery ponds of sunny yellows and oranges. Birds could even be heard chirping with happiness; feathers billowed in the air from their takeoff. You breathed in the fresh air, and a mellow smile bloomed. How peaceful. Liyue’s beauty truly is expansive. Everyone has remarked how bustling the Harbor is, how unnerving the peaks of Guyun can be, yet this dainty village in the north offers nothing but slow, restful touches. Heavy grief dissipates from taking in the wondrous sight.

You needed this truly.

As you strolled into the quiet center plaza and took in the blue terracotta roof tiles and the turning mill, you noticed how the few inhabitants were mainly elderly and a handful of children.

You politely waved to a retired couple seated at one of the bamboo tables. Their glazed porcelain tea set and metallic dessert tray reflected the sun. You couldn’t make out their faces, but you mouthed a “hello” to not startle them. Then, just as you were about to pass them, your very bones shook when a throaty voice punctured the air.

“So, you must be our grandchild from Mondstadt.” A frigid, blunt statement struck the scene.

“How do you know?” A bewildered question was articulated by you.

But instead of a concrete answer, a sickly sweet voice pursued after the first. Her voice was utterly cloying. You felt dizzy. As if you had eaten too many confectioneries. “Come, child.” She quickly moved one of the bamboo chairs from under the table that rested beside her. She patted it twice. Your, supposed, grandmother grinned wider. “Oh dear, you mustn't make me repeat myself.” The elderly woman trilled.

You hastily walked to the seat, set down your basket, wind glider, and backpack, and fumbled with the scalding teacup that was pushed into your hands. A nervous chuckle revealed your innermost thoughts; everything seemed to be going so fast, your feet moved on their own; nevertheless, you were excited. Flashbacks to your declarations in the Inn were played. Just take it easy.

The woman with doe eyes framed by creasing wrinkles squished your cheeks. You almost winced. Her strength was frankly surprising. “Oh, oh, look, honey! Doesn’t she have her mother’s features!” She lifted your chin, then sharply moved your head from side to side to examine you thoroughly. “A porcelain doll.” She sighed happily.

With a tilted head, you asked. “Um...Thanks? But may I ask how you know I am your granddaughter? I have a friend in Mondstadt named Amber whose grandfather is from here too, if I remember correctly.” You didn’t know who to keep your eyes on. One was scrutinizing you vigorously, and the other was glaring at your form. You felt like Hansel and Gretel ready to be baked in the oven and then stuffed into your frosted, gingerbread coffin.

The older woman blinked and humorously snickered. “Oh my dear, didn’t I just say it, or were you not paying attention? You look nearly identical to your mother! One look was all it took.” She then snatched the pin from your hair and caressed it tenderly. “Besides, this pin is an heirloom. It was given to my husband when he was younger. He then gifted it to me on the evening of our wedding. I handed it to your mother on her birthday. She continued the tradition, I see."

“Oh, uh, I understand now.” You played with your fingers impatiently, wanting desperately to take back the treasured hairpin.

The sound of tea pouring into the porcelain cup across from you caught your attention. The steaming vapor highlighted antagonistic eyes.

The manner in which he gently placed the cup back onto the saucer contrasted with his blunt persona. “Out of all the things she could’ve cherished, she chose an utterly meaningless one in comparison to her grave deed. Are you aware that your mother disgraced us?” His jaw clenched, years of ire were evident in the way he furrowed his eyebrows. “She angered Rex Lapis.”

More confusion was added to your fogged mind. They were truly feeding you so much information.

Studying you like a freshly baked good, your grandmother leaned more forward and pinched your cheeks harder.

The embittered man continued. “She was contracted since birth to wed her betrothed, the son of a family friend of ours, but the night before the ceremony, she told us she was with child.” His veins became more prominent as he hissed the next remarks. “Our daughter, who we sacrificed everything for, went and eloped with some Monstadter who was in Liyue for vacation. I should've never let her go down to the Harbor that summer.” Your grandfather was breathing heavily. Frail hands became slick with sweat. His enraged face reminded you of the spiteful demons illustrated in that book about Yakshas.

The pinching on your face was alleviated. You massaged your cheeks for relief. The elderly woman hushed her spouse and rubbed his fists. “Now, now, not here, not here.” She sighed and returned to look at you. “He was so full of hatred that day that he suffered from a stroke. Of course, he miraculously survived, which I am grateful for...But he can’t walk normally now.” Her voice wavered as she gazed upon the verdant fields. “As someone who hails from a family of prosperous farmers, he greatly suffered.”

His fixated stare only grew. "I devoted my life to that child, and in one rash decision, she took everything away; because of my stroke's aftermath, no one was able to take up the work. As a result, generations of hard work withered away and vanished. The moment she touched that filthy foreigner and broke her contract, Rex Lapis punished our lineage.

He looked you up and down, took in your appearance, which resembled your mother so greatly, and scoffed. “You’re nothing but proof of her mistake.”

A cold slither brushed your spine. You shivered at the grim comment. “Surely that isn’t the case? From what I’ve heard, Rex Lapis is a benevolent god. Besides, this whole scheme was planned since she was a child. The Geo Archon wouldn’t be so cruel as to force an infant into a contract just because her parents wrote it up.” You bargained in a defensive yet composed manner. You have had many odd first meetings this trip. One more bad ending is definitely something you wouldn’t want.

“As someone who was born in the City of Freedom, I doubt you will understand what it is like to feel the presence of a god.” Your grandfather wouldn’t avert his gaze and muttered indignantly under his breath. “Besides, I’m not surprised you side with your whore of a mother. She has corrupted your mind. So, our grandchild, too, shall follow the path of sin. How shameful.”

The tea was searing as it went down your throat. Your eyes widened even more, you gulped down nerves as sickening as acid. Humiliation grew as you took in the situation. The muggy tension was utterly terrifying. You wanted to flee this village to stop the condescending grins, to stop those eyes that pierce like lit cigars on supple skin. You gripped your shirt tightly as a way to distract yourself from the tears threatening to spill. I thought today would be different. Maybe if you weren't so naïve, you would've had the intuition not to traverse through the sea of bamboo, not to follow those robed dragons, not to be entranced by all the greenery. How can anyone be so cold-hearted?

You vividly recalled the words your mother left you with before your departure.

“Going to Liyue will be a mistake, child.”

Those blistering words were tattooed into your inner mind.

“I-I should leave.” You shakily smiled and collected your items. “Thank you for the tea and for your time, but I must go. I am collecting Qingxin and wouldn’t want to travel back to my hotel too late. The Marsh isn’t the most prime location safety-wise.”

Your grandmother’s eyelashes fluttered again, wrinkles seemed even more prominent, that unbearable saccharine smile swelled. You could taste the honey and sugar being forced down your throat. You nearly gagged. “Qingxin? You’re in search of Qingxin?”

“Yes, which is why I should be going now. Thank you again.” You tried to disguise your anxiety with a laugh.

She looked at you directly before she spoke. You were stunned to realize that her eyes reminded you of Verr Goldet. Mature, soft, yet full of wretched amusement.

“Wuwang Hill has what you are seeking. The finest there is! The desolate area is a haven for such lonesome flowers.”

An alarm rang, disturbing the ambiance. Heads turned to face a modest house nearby. The baked scent of mouth-watering pastries permeated.

“Ah yes! My goodies are done!”

Clink-Clink.

The sound of a demon mask that protects those from evil sounded throughout.

Xiao has watched you ever since you entered Liyue.

He despised your pristine, bright eyes, your velvety face, your swaying hips, your angelic voice.

You reminded him of days from antiquity, times when he did nothing but bathe in crimson blood. His gluttonous soul consumed dream after dream, leaving the victim a hollow shell. What choice did the poor child have? The war left gods desperate for power. The boy with teal hair and golden eyes was forced to become a bloodhound. The faded scars of torture on his body are like suffocating vines on a tree.

Oh! He just wanted to corrupt you so badly. To see you squirm underneath him, weeping for him to not take your delectable aspirations. Every time you blink, your lashes will be covered in radiant tears. You were nothing short of a vixen.

The Adeptus grunted before snapping back to the dying abyss mage in front of him. The disgusting oozing blood from his victim and the stained spear in his hand should be enough to sedate the crawling hunger. But it wasn’t. He frustratedly sighed, ashamed at his carnal appetite.

Yet a singular thought crept into the Yaksha's mind like a moth prancing around a hanging lantern. The image of sending you to a slaughterhouse, with your pure body clothed in satin and bound by silk rope, intoxicated him.

You will be enough to calm his jaded soul, despite all his derogatory words and your tainted blood that has the stench of another land beyond the borders of Liyue. You were always enough.

The first night you arrived, he snuck into your room. You were tempting him too gravely. He skillfully cut a small lock of your hair and devoured it. Each strand tasted like heaven and the crack of dawn.

For once, he felt at ease. His karmic debt that compressed and ravaged his lungs, psyche, and taut skin ebbed away. Being tortured and enslaved by bloodshed from his own hands left him broken, feeling as if he couldn't dream because he took so much from others. However, with you, paradise is within arms reach.

He just needed to grab it.

In his true form, Xiao is a winged creature. But that evening at Wangshu Inn, he was a tomcat with mockingbird feathers between his fangs. He could almost picture how scarlet beads would lay on your face if he bared his talons.

The thought of your bones being crushed and pressed into creamy almond milk sent electrifying jitters through his muscles. He can almost imagine your delicate skin carved into plush pieces of silky tofu. What a luscious texture it will be! Heat flushed his face. Your heart will still be thrumming and beating in his palms.

That voice of yours that sounds like a fiddling dihua flute will be his. Your voice box will be ripped from your body that reeks of goodness.

Perhaps a fate like that would be too cruel for a mere mortal.

His contract with Rex Lapis flashed in his mind. “Protect the people of Liyue and their children. To this do you dedicate your life to, and I will free you, Alatus.” Maybe his former master’s vile handprints still stained his slender form. The taste of sweet dreams still brings him to his knees, still makes his mouth salivate, still clogs his mind.

Xiao’s breathing was getting heavier. His throat was sore and raspy. Limbs ached from slaying monsters since the day before— a mere distraction to the Adeptus. Yet, in some unorthodox way, you reminded him of the Lord of Geo. That same liberating warmth he felt when he first gazed into considerate amber eyes was in you somehow. If he could steal your essence, which is so full of life, so hopeful, maybe, just maybe….. Concentrate. Concentrate. Don’t think of such preposterous notions! How could a moronic human not even from Liyue be my new savior? Rex Lapis has been nothing but understanding. How could thoughts of throwing it all away for a foolish mutt dare to even trespass my mind!

Displeased, Xiao hurried to fight yet another demon.

However, the thought of finally ending this nightmare, making this naïve mortal absolutely his, seeing your face scrunch into such adorable expressions, left him wanting to succumb to such mesmerizing dreams.

A bite is all he demands, after all.

Thanks for reading!! (๑꧆◡꧆๑)

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact xiao #xiao #xiao x reader #yandere xiao #yandere xiao x reader #xiao x y/n #xiao imagines #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #yandere #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

A-Yuan wasn’t the only child among the Wen Remnants, just the youngest.

Children's Day - ao3

Lan Wangji carefully scooped up the boy out of his hiding place, tucked beneath a pile of stones, sick with fever and fast asleep.

It was a good hiding place. If Lan Wangji hadn’t played Inquiry and demanded to know if there were any living beings around in this cursed place of death, he would never have found the small child.

He remembered him – this was little A-Yuan, who Wei Wuxian had taken down into town to play, the one Lan Wangji had bought all those toys for in his confusion, the one who called him rich-gege. Barely more than two years old, having never known anything but war.

He was all that was left, now. There was nothing else left in the battlefield.

No one else left.

Lan Wangji closed his eyes in pain.

I’ll care for him for you, he promised Wei Wuxian’s ghost, wherever it might be now. Now that you cannot.

I’ll take him back to Gusu to raise as my own – wishing you were by my side.

-Earlier-

“Sect Leader!” one of his aides cried out when he staggered back into camp. “What – who’s that?”

Jiang Cheng looked down at the girl in his arms. She was – four, maybe? Five? He had no idea.

She looked a bit like Wen Qing.

“I found her hiding in the corner of the battlefield when she made a noise,” he said hoarsely. “The Wen sect remnants…by the time I got there, they were almost all dead already, all her family. She’s – she’s young. It didn’t seem right.”

Wei Wuxian always liked children, he thought vaguely to himself as he looked down at her. It wasn’t so much of a surprise that he would keep one there…in fact, if he thought back to that horrible meeting they’d had that one time he’d come to the Burial Mounds to try to talk to Wei Wuxian, he thought he remembered there being a small child there. This must be her.

She was bigger than he remembered, but that was what happened with small children, wasn’t it?

“Her surname is Wen?”

“No,” Jiang Cheng snapped automatically, and his aide took a step back from his vehemence. “The Wen sect is dead, you understand? All of them. The cultivation world refused to allow them to live, that much is obvious enough. Her surname…”

He looked down at her.

I failed Wei Wuxian, he thought grimly. I won’t fail his legacy.

“Her surname will be Jiang.”

-Earlier-

“We found this child hiding in the Demon Subduing Cave,” one of the guards reported, looking nervous. “Lianfeng-zun – what do we do with them?”

Jin Guangyao frowned down at the child, judging the child’s age to be about five or six – maybe seven, considering the likelihood of malnutrition at the Burial Mounds. If they were any younger, he would’ve said that the child ought to just execute them as useless; any older, and he would’ve had no choice but to declare them an enemy combatant, and thereby order them executed.

At this age, though…they were still young enough to be taught to forget their current surname, and to learn new loyalties, and yet old enough to perhaps remember a little of what they had learned, living as they had for a few years with the inventor of demonic cultivation.

Jin Guangyao glanced at the papers in his hands, full of barely legible scribbles, laying out powerful new spells and interesting ideas. They would help Xue Yang with his work – but not as much as a helper would, and naturally they’d just brutally executed all the other ‘helpers’ that might have been available.

Not exactly Jin Guangyao’s personal preference, but he wasn’t the one leading the Jin sect army.

Still, his father, who had been the one leading, had retired to his tent, and now Jin Guangyao was the one with the power, left to be in charge of mopping up. That, in turn, gave him a little more leeway, which meant he could implement his own thoughts, rather than badly thought out instructions.

“Put the child in my tent,” he said, and smiled. “The poor thing must have gotten lost and entered the battlefield – after we arrived. You understand?”

The guard saluted deeply. “Lianfeng-zun is kind and beneficent,” he said, and his expression was worshipful. “I will tell the others that the child is from some distant Jin branch.”

Jin Guangyao hadn’t intended for him to do that, but – well, he couldn’t exactly refute it now, could he, and anyway there were worse things to happen. Everyone would know that he had kindly taken in some orphaned child of war, which would be good for his reputation.

He smiled and nodded, and thought of the future.

-Earlier-

“Well, shit,” Nie Mingjue said, staring at the trio of children: nine or ten years old, he thought, maybe a little older, two girls and a boy. They stared back at him, wide-eyed and terrified – they were very clearly trying to sneak off the Burial Mounds down the back way.

Nie Mingjue rubbed his face, glad that he’d insisted on doing the forward scout work before the attack tomorrow morning himself rather than let it go to someone else. He hadn’t wanted to come to this blasted place in the first place, being that he still wasn’t sure exactly what had gone down with Wei Wuxian, who’d been a good man once. But good Nie cultivators had died at Lanling City at Wen Ning’s hands, the Jin sect claiming that that brutal attack was at Wei Wuxian’s instigation, and at the Nightless City at Wei Wuxian’s hands directly, and he didn’t have any evidence to exculpate the man, either; he had no grounds to look the families of those Nie cultivators in the eye and tell them not to pursue vengeance against the man who had slaughtered their brothers and fathers and sons, sisters and mothers and daughters, like they meant nothing.

They deserved vengeance.

Just as he had, for his father.

But at the same time…

“You’re all surnamed Wen, I take it?” he asked, and they slowly nodded. “Dafan Wen?”

Another nod.

“Wrong answer,” he said, making a snap decision. This wasn’t like his father at all, not really; he had wanted to kill Wen Ruohan, who had done the deed himself, while these children clearly hadn’t done anything. “Swear to me here and now that you won’t seek revenge for your sect or family, and you can be surnamed Nie instead.”

They looked at each other.

“Your family didn’t send you to run away because they wanted you to take revenge,” he said. It was a guess, but he could tell from the way their shoulders sagged that he was right. “They wanted you to live. Well?”

They swore.

He took them home.

-Earlier-

She tripped and fell flat on her face.

“Hey, girl!”

She looked up, eyes wide with terror – she hadn’t expected to be caught so soon – but the cultivator in front of her didn’t strike her down. He was a young man, just a few years older than her, and he looked nice, kneeling to help her up.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “Did you get lost?”

Lost? From where would she get lost, exactly?

Despite that, she nodded.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Here isn’t a good place, though – we’re going to have a battle tomorrow…can you tell me where you’re from?” He frowned. “Or – can’t you speak?”

An idea suddenly came to mind, and she shook her head, lifting up her hands to mime signs like the ones she’d seen Lady Wen and her brother use sometimes when they needed to talk without disturbing others.

“Doesn’t talk,” he murmured to himself. “Clothing of white, ripped all to ribbons –”

She’d torn out any trace of the red sun. White was a common color, but she was old enough to know that she couldn’t let anyone know she was surnamed Wen.

“Oh, I’ve read about this before! Are you a bird yao that’s cultivated to humanity?”

What?

She’d been thinking of trying to pass as a traumatized war veteran, but she was only fourteen, after all; it wasn’t very believable. Of course, it was a lot more believable that bird yao – who would leap to that conclusion?

“My surname is Ouyang,” the man said, smiling brightly at her. “You should come back with me – I can teach you to speak, and we can give you a name…how about ‘Luo’ as a surname? That has to do with birds. Or we could surname you Bai, instead, since your clothing is white! Or maybe -”

She smiled helplessly at his nonsense. What a silly, cheerful man! Maybe she’d overestimated his age, he couldn’t be more than two or three years older, at most, and his brain was clearly not in the right place, filled up to the brim with romantic stories and adventure tales instead of facts.

It was a nice change, actually.

She accepted his hand as she stood.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

-Earlier-

Lan Wangji had returned home and submitted to a dreadful punishment. The elders he had injured on Wei Wuxian’s behalf were either in treatment or recovering.

As for the rest that had been at the Nightless City…

Many were dead.

Lan Qiren landed in the Burial Mounds, lips pressed tightly together.

He knew he was taking a risk in coming here to Wei Wuxian’s lair – no matter what Lan Wangji thought, whatever good points he’d had in the past, the man was now little better than a mad dog. He’d caused the death of three thousand people just the day before, three thousand innocents that hadn’t had anything to do with anything; why would he hesitate to attack his old teacher?

There was already talk of a siege – Jiang Cheng himself had promised to lead it, to wipe off the stain on the Jiang sect’s record, and the Jin sect had been right behind him. Even Nie Mingjue had been dragged in against his will, suborned by his sect members’ need for vengeance. As for the Lan Sect…Lan Xichen had looked so stricken by the thought that Lan Qiren had volunteered for the grim duty, despite Lan Qiren having never been much of a fighter and even less of a general. He intended to take only the smallest possible contingent, and to limit their work as much as possible to cleansing the dead rather than killing those who remained there – that much, at least, he could do for his nephew.

Either way, though, no matter his powers, Wei Wuxian would not live out the week.

If Lan Qiren desired vengeance, he need only wait.

And yet, here he was.

Alone, practically unarmed – and here nonetheless.

An old woman came out from the cave and squinted at him.

“It’s over,” she said sadly. “Isn’t it?”

Lan Qiren looked at her. One of the Wen remnants that Wei Wuxian had surrounded himself with, he assumed; the ones he’d given up his comfortable life for, claiming he was only acting as a righteous man ought. Perhaps he even had thought he was, back then.

Perhaps he really had been, back then.

“Yes,” Lan Qiren said, and cleared his throat. “After what he did at the Nightless City – the verdict is unquestionably death. But the rest of you…there are armies coming, and armies are not known for their leniency, especially not on passerby with the wrong surname. But they’re not here yet. There’s still time to flee – if you go now, you could take on a new surname and find some quiet place to live on.”

Lan Wangji had said they were civilians. Civilian life was to be prioritized above all else.

Lan Qiren was only doing what he must.

Despite his well-meant warnings, however, the old lady shook her head.

“There’s nowhere to go, and we won’t give up our surname,” she said, polite but stubborn to the last. “But thank you for taking the time to come here to tell us.”

“Wangji said that there were children here,” Lan Qiren insisted, ignoring her refusal. “If you won’t flee with them, at least send those that are old enough out on their own, and hide the younger ones. Tell them to forget their surnames – most people won’t rampantly murder children, so there’s a chance they’ll make it through, and live. Can you deny them that, just for pride?”

That gave the old woman pause.

“We’ll do what we can,” she said, and then eyed him. “How good are you at medicine?”

Lan Qiren frowned. “I can’t provide care –”

“She’s already dead. Come help anyway.”

The woman in question was not already dead, but dying – she was in her late teens, seventeen or eighteen at most, and she was in labor. From the glassiness of her eyes, the redness of her cheeks, and the threadiness of her pulse, it was clear that infection had long ago set in. It was not an exaggeration to say she was dead, little better than a corpse.

She was little more than a child.

“I don’t want her to die alone,” the old woman said. “But if you stay with her, I can use the time to try to take care of the rest. You’re not wrong, I suppose – the children, at least, deserve a chance to live on, even if it means leaving our surname behind.”

Lan Qiren looked down at the woman, unconscious already and unlikely to ever wake, and yet still whimpering. “And her child?”

The old woman looked surprised. “Can a child born like this still live?”

Lan Qiren had almost no medical training beyond the most superficial basics that were the necessity for any battlefield or night-hunt, with one sole exception: he had supervised the births of both his nephews by himself with little aid – his brother’s wife hadn’t wanted anyone else to be present, possibly in an attempt to prematurely enter her grave, possibly just out of spite. He had studied very hard in the days leading up to those births, and knew far more on the subject than most men did.

“It’s possible,” he said. “Unlikely, but – possible.”

He hesitated for a long moment.

“I can take the baby,” he finally said. “Pass him off as some war-orphan child of distant Lan cousins, sent to me on account of their deaths. I could raise him, or else give him to my cousin to raise; he’s got a large enough family that no one would question it.”

“Why would you do that?”

Lan Qiren looked at the woman who was dying, little more than a child herself. “Because of the children I can’t help.”

The old woman was quiet for a little while.

“Very well,” she said, and leaned forward to whisper the name the young woman had thought about for her child into his ear. “That works with Lan as a surname, wouldn’t it? That’s not bad.”

“Not bad at all,” Lan Qiren agreed, and rolled up his sleeves, settling down beside the girl. “Not bad at all.”

#mdzs #lan wangji #jiang cheng #jin guangyao #nie mingjue #lan qiren #original characters #my fic #my fics #children's day #some untamed elements

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