#its not all the way down south with the rest of my family so its technically closer but if im travelling there i need to know | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dycefic · 1 year

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The Hearthstone God

[The sequel to the God of Prophecy, and the Serpent God of Protection]

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Fire is out of fashion, in this new age.

Some of my kind have found new homes, new names, in factories or forges, in the hearts of wildfires or crystals or volcanoes.

Most of us are simply forgotten.

I was a fire god, once. A god of gathering, a god of communion, a god of song and story. But there are no hearthstones now. No fires around which families gather to eat and talk and tell stories.

I am lucky. I am tied to a great flat stone near a lake. A lake that has survived all the wild exuberance of men, when they learned to change the world around them. Once, this was a place where travellers stopped to rest. At first they travelled on their feet, or on half-wild horses. Then there were carts, and a road. Much later, cars drove down the road. The road was paved.

But some things do not change. People need clean water to drink, and the spring here is good. They need to rest, when they are weary. And even now, when they come to camp in nylon tents, to fish in the lake, or to hunt the ducks, or drive camper-vans to the flat place, their ancient instincts wake, and they turn to fire once more. They light new fires atop my stone, so flat and safe, from which no log will roll to set the woods afire.

Not so many come now. Camping is less popular these days. But some still come. Some still light their fires, and settle around my stone, and talk, or listen to music, or tell stories. So I survive, just barely, on the edges of belief.

I feel it, when things begin to change. Something is happening. Something is drawing old gods back. Not the great ones, risen beyond mortal understanding, but the oldest gods, the small gods, those who rose when humankind were still learning what they were.

Far to the west of me, a god even more ancient than I wakes, and begins to hunt again. I remember the stories that were once told of that old serpent, and tell them over to myself in the long fireless nights.

A god of prophecy, not of this land, settles south and west, and I remember tales of ancient ravens, their wisdom and their guile and their sharp, sharp eyes. There was a raven clan once, who passed this way in the days of skin garments and stone tools, but I have forgotten their name. I only remember the symbol they wore, the black bird with its spread wings, marked in charcoal or charring on wooden talismans or leather garments.

I wait, to see who will awaken next.

To my great surprise, it is me.

The people who come this time aren’t like the campers. They come at night, a ragged family group with few blood ties between them, with a single tent and few possessions carried on devices I haven’t seen before. Bicycles, they’re called, slung over with bags the way ponies used to be. They come at night, and hide when cars pass on the road.

They light a fire on my stone, with wood scavenged from the forest, and huddle around its warmth. They don’t speak much, not at first, but they say enough. They have no home, I learn. They are travellers of a kind I have not known before, who are allowed to stop nowhere, but have no goal but a place to rest. They are thin, and worn, and so tired. So very tired.

They need a hearth.

I am only a weak shadow of a god, now, who once recorded the songs and stories of a thousand generations in my ancient stone, but I am still a god of fire. Their fire burns slow, their little fuel lasting well. The food they heat over it sustains them better. The water of that spring, my spring, puts a little life back in them. This stone has lain in this place since great monsters walked this world, since before humans spoke words to one another, and I came into being with the first fire that burned on it. I am old, old, and though weak, I am not powerless.

They stay.

I cannot speak to them. I am old, and weak, and they do not believe. But slowly, with the power of the fires they build every night, with the tiny offerings of scraps of food spilled into the flames, with their growing confidence in the safety of this place, I am able to do more. I give them dreams and they find the cave not far away, where they can hide. They dream of fish, and begin to try to catch some. A woman remembers that some of the local plants are safe to eat, when I slowly wake a long-forgotten memory of a camping trip from her childhood.

And then a child, a strange, quiet child who rarely speaks, a child without mother or father, in the care of an older brother who is exhausted to the very edge of death but cannot give up while she needs him… that child begins to hear.

She sits on my stone, sometimes for hours, not moving or speaking. It worries the others, but at least she is quiet, at least she is no trouble, and they are beginning to associate their hearth with safety. So they let her sit.

She is *listening*. She is listening to the sound of the water, to the sounds of the forest, to the wind blowing. And because she is listening, where no-one else has listened for so long, I sing to her. I sing to her the songs of thousands of years. From the wordless music of the earliest people, who sang what was in their hearts without words, to the songs I have learned from the fishermen with their radios and bluetooth speakers.

I do not know if she hears me, for some time. But then, one night, while they sit around their fire and eat food the oldest have almost certainly stolen, she sings one of my songs. “In a cavern… on a canyon… excavating for a mine…” she sings in a small voice. The others are startled, confused, for she has not spoken aloud since some bad thing they do not name happened, but one of the older ones knows the song and sings with her.

I have always liked ‘Clementine’. It’s been popular with campers for a long time.

The next day, while she sits on my stone, she sings along to one of the wordless songs the Raven People whose name I no longer remember once sang. It is a lullaby, a soft croon to soothe an infant, passed from mother to mother, and she seems to take pleasure in it.

She can hear me. She can even answer me, as the voice driven away by pain and fear begins to return. And so I grow stronger still. Strong enough to make the raven sign on the stone, one day, in the ashes of the fire of the night before.

She takes a half burned stick, and draws the sign on the stone. Pleased, I show her another sign, a leaping fish. She draws that too.

Soon, I need not shift the ashes. I can show her the pictures in her mind, and she draws them. She draws the wheel of a cart, and into her heart I whisper the stories the travellers in covered wagons once told over my stone. She draws a fish, and I make her laugh silently with the jests of fishermen who boast of fish who escaped them. She draws a horse, and I tell her about the wild horses who once drank at this lake, about the men and women who captured and tamed them and rode them through the forest when it was far greater than it is now. She draws a long-toothed cat, and I show her the great cat that once slept on my stone, and denned in the cave where her new found family sleep.

One night, when all the others are asleep and my fire has burned down to coals, she creeps back to the stone and looks into the coals. “Who are you?” she asks. “Are you real?”

She is afraid that the voice in her mind is the voice of madness, a lie created by a mind that does not work like other minds, that has endured great hardship. I do not want this child to be afraid. To instill fear runs counter to my very nature, save in whoever might threaten those my hearth protects.

I am a god of the hearth. I am a god of food, and communication, and peace, and safety. I am all the things that fire used to mean, before humans learned again to fear the thing they had tamed. I do not often take a form, for fire is my form, but for her I must try.

There was a wise woman once, who knew me, whose clan visited this lake several times every year. I watched her grow up, and grow old. I watched her learn of the god of the fire stone, and I watched her teach others. She slept beside me as a child, and as a woman. She sang her children to sleep beside me, and her grandchildren, and dozed beside me as an old, old woman. To her, I was represented by a sign of a flame in an oval, a fire and a stone.

I build a likeness of her out of the light of the coals and the shadows of smoke, a child with straight dark hair and a simple tunic, and in lines of light I draw the sign of the fire and the stone on the outlined chest. “I am the fire,” I tell her, “and the stone. I am all the fires that have ever burned here, all the stories told, all the songs sung, all the meals eaten. I am the traveler’s hearth, and the rest for the weary, and this is my place.”

“Piedra de fuego,” she says, tracing the symbol with her finger in the air. “The fire stone.”

“Yes. I am the god of this place.”

She frowns at this. “My brother says that God is in the sky.”

“Many gods are in the sky.” I cannot continue to hold the form of the girl, but the coals shift to make my sign. “I am not. I am here. I have always been here, since the first people built a fire on my stone, and warmed themselves.”

She nods slowly. “You are… a small god,” she says thoughtfully. “A place god. Like in movies.”

“Yes.” I’ve heard of movies, which are a new way of telling old, old stories. “Old places, important places, often have gods. And gods who are forgotten return to their old places and wait, until someone believes again.”

“Will you protect us?” she asks. “When the police come, to tell us to move on?”

“I am not strong,” I tell her sadly. “I cannot make men go away from here, if they are dangerous, or even call game here for you as I once did. But what I can do, I will do.”

She sits watching the coals for a long time, thinking. “Can we make you stronger?”

I think too, and she waits patiently. “You have already made me stronger. You listened. You believed. If you can convince the others to believe, that will make me stronger still.”

She sighed. “They don’t believe in anything, anymore. Not good things.”

It is a sad thing, that she knows that. They’ve been trying to hide it from her. “Then,” I tell her, “that means there is a place in their hearts that is ready for me. I am not hope. I am not a happy ending. I am not a god in the sky. I am a stone, and a fire, and a song. I am *real*. They can believe in what is real.”

The next night, she asks for a story, and one of the adults tells her an old fairy-tale from a country far away.

The next night, again, she asks for a story, and another adult tells a funny story about his childhood.

On the third night, she asks her brother to tell her a story. He tries, but he is so tired - not physically, but emotionally - that he runs out of words. So she lays her hand on his arm and offers to tell him a story, instead.

And she tells them all a story about a stone near a lake, flat and strong, that people wearing uncured skins and carrying flint weapons built a fire on. She tells of centuries passing, of people coming to the lake on their feet, on horses, in carts and wagons, in cars and motor-homes. Of thousands of years of fires, of people gathered around them, of the great continuity of humanity, and the Piedra De Fuego that has lain in this place since time began, listening to the stories and the songs and the voices of people long gone. Somewhere in the stone, she says, laying her hand on it, all those stories are remembered. All those songs are still sung. And it will remember us too.

I don’t know if it will work. But I was right. People need to believe in something. They need something to hold onto, when times are hard, when the ties of community and family are broken and they feel alone. And a stone thousands of years old, and a fire endlessly renewed on that stone, always new… that is real. They touch me, and think of those who came before, of thousands of years of history meeting them in this place, and they feel less alone.

It’s not much, not yet. But it is something. My nature, my existence, as explained to them by my small, strange priestess, is a slender lifeline flung to those who are adrift, a tiny certainty in a world they do not trust. And the more they believe in that lifeline, that certainty, then the more they believe in me. I *am* growing stronger.

When the police come, I will not be able to make them leave… but I think I am strong enough now to hide my people from unkind eyes. And if I can do that, then their faith will grow.

Tonight, three more people come. A mother and two children, weary and beaten down with hardship. My people welcome them, give them fish and greens grown by the lake, speak kindly to them. And when they have eaten, my little priestess sits between the two children and tells them a story of a stone, and a fire, and thousands of years of stories and songs, and she sings a wordless lullaby six thousand years forgotten, but living again in a child who draws the sign of the Raven in the dirt while she sings, and the sign of the fire on the stone.

And I grow a little stronger.

#short fiction #original story #i aten't dead #the old gods #small gods #household gods #forgotten gods who do not forget

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astra-kamari · 1 month

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Anything Aang or Sokka related!!

I need my fix I just want some Aang or Sokka fluff please and thank you(there is not enough💀)🙏🙏!

So real for that-there really is not enough.

Im going to make this place your home

Summary- After the war you have no where to go so Sokka takes you to the southern water tribe and tries to help you find your nee home

A/n-Was listening to home by philip philips and got inspired, kind of all over the place but here ya go.

The war was over. That was it-you had won. You still couldn’t believe it, Aang took away Ozai’s bending-Zuko was fire lord, all was right.

Except that it wasn’t. You had no where to go, nobody to go home to. All of your family was dead, and you didn’t have friends outside of the Gaang.

They were all so exited to go home, why wouldnt they be? They had something to go home to. You were happy for them, you really were. It just hurt that they wouldn’t need you anymore. You would all go your separate ways and you’d be alone again.

You were on a balcony at the fire nation palace, full, and with clean cloths for the first time in who knows how long. You looked out at the sky and sighed. It hurt knowing they would all leave, everyone had their own lives.

Aang was the literal avatar, leaving to help where he could.

Suki had gone back to the Kioshi warriors.

Zuko was a very busy fire lord, trying to rebuild in Ozais wake.

Katara and Sokka were going to rebuild the southern water tribe.

Thats what hurt the most, Sokka was going to leave you. You had seen it coming, nothing lasts forever. He had a life to get back to and he would leave you behind. You let a tear fall down your face, looking down at the ground.

“Y/n?” You hear from the room behind you. “Y/n!”

You turn to greet an ecstatic Sokka, quickly wiping away your tears.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere! We are all going to go-“ he stoped as soon as he saw your face.

“Whats wrong?” He asks calmly grabbing your hand.

“Its nothing don’t worry about it” you say smiling up at him.

“Hey, no. No, dont you do that.”

“Do what” you ask innocently.

“That, pretending your feelings dont’t matter, pushing them aside. I’ll ask again. Whats wrong.”

You just look up at him, you weren’t ready to break, not yet. You rushed forward and hugged him, burying your face into his neck. Tears threatening to fall once more. You two stayed like that for what seemed like forever. You didn’t want to let go, you were scared he was going to leave you for good.

“You know the Gaang is waiting for us?” He says as you look up at him.

“Really? Why?”

“We are all going to take one last ride on Appa, before we separate for a few months.”

“Thats great! Lets go” you say putting your smile back on. At least you could pretend that your world wasn’t crashing down on you.

He pulls you back, “i know that theres something wrong, but we can talk later, when your ready.” He gives you a kiss then pulls you down stairs to the rest of the group.

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

This was it, the day you were dreading. Evryone was going to leave today. And you still weren’t sure where you would go. You didn’t want to go back to roaming the earth kingdom, but thats all you’d ever done. Town to town, what else were you supposed to do?

You were standing in the balcony once again, looking at the ships waiting on the beaches to take your friends away. You hear a door behind you. You turn and see Sokka, all his bags packed, either an unreadable expression on his face. You weren’t ready, you had been mentally preparing yourself for this moment, and you still weren’t ready.

“Y/n? Um, we need to talk” he said nervously. “Everyone leaves today, im going back to the south pole…”

“You dont need to say it”

“I dont?” He looks surprised.

“No, ive seen this coming. I knew you would have to break up with me and go back to your tribe.”

Now he just looked confused. “Break up? Wait you want to break up?”

“No! But i thought thats what you were going to do? Dont you have to go back to your people?”

“No! Well yes, but no! Thats not what I was doing.”

“Oh”

“Yeah…”

It was quiet for a minute.

“So” you pushed.

“Right, so um.” He took a deep breath. “You know how you dont have anywhere to go?”

“Yep, thanks for the reminder.”

“Thats nit what i ment- i just. Doyouwanttocometothesouthernwatertribeandstaywithme?” He rushed out in one sentence.

“What?” You laughed.

“Do you want to come and live in the southern water tribe with me?” He looked up nervously at you.

You were shocked. Was this really happening? You didn’t have to be alone! You must have been stuck in your head because he cleared his throat.

“You dont have to of course. I was just thinking-“

“Sokka-“

“That it would be fun and-“

“Sokka”

“And you didnt have anywhere else to go-“

“I-“

“And I’ve already checked with katara and my dad and they’d love to have you-“

Sokka!”

“There and it would be awesome so-“ you kissed him-the only way to get him to shut up.

You pulled back and looked up at him. “I love to”you smiled before pulling him in again.

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

After a week or two of sailing, you had finally reached the southern water tribe. To say you were exited would be an understatement, with all of the stories Sokka told you, you couldn’t wait.

Sokka walked up and hugged you from behind. “You exited?”

You turn your head and kiss him on the cheek. “Of course! What are we gonna do first!”

“Well first we need to unpack” he says laughing as you pout.

“Where am i gonna stay?” You asked, you’d thought about it a lot and didn’t want to overthink anymore.

“My hut..if thats alright? Of course we could have another one made for you, if you’d prefer?”

“Your hut sounds perfect.” You smiled, you were happy to finally have a home.

You and Sokka got all unpacked and went out for a walk. The ice was beautiful like you’d never seen.

“I was thinking, maybe we would go see the-.”You looked up to him. “Actually it’s going to be a surprise.”

“Sokkaaaaa.” You whined “you know i hate surprises!”

“This will be a good one i promise.”

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

You and Sokka left when it was dark and no one was around. You quietly tip toed out of the village towards huge glaciers.

It had been a while of hiking and you were starting to get tired. “Sokka how much farther?”

“Not far just trust me.”

You hiked in silence until he stopped looking up at the sky. “This should be good enough”

You looked at him puzzled. He laid down and pulled you down with him. You rested your head on his chest, happy with the surprise.

“Look up.” He whispered. You looked up and saw thousands of lights dancing through the sky. So many colors, alls different shapes and sizes. There were colors you had never dreamed of, it was breathtaking.

“Sokka it’s beautiful.” You whispered, captivated by the beauty. You both lay there for a while in a peaceful silence.

Until Sokka sat up, pulling you with him. You were so close your foreheads were touching. “I know you never felt like you’ve had a home.” He says as he gives you a kiss. “But im gonna make this place your home.”

And you never felt alone again.

#atla #avatar the last airbender #sokka #sokka x reader #toph #aang #katara #zuko #avatar aang #sokkax yn

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skyloftian-nutcase · 19 days

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It was supposed to have been a relaxing family trip. Zelda had promised a place for them to stay in Castle Town, and they would have had the opportunity to just see the city and not worry about selling anything or doing knightly duties.

Malon should have known better. As much as Link preferred his domestic life, adventure always seemed to find him… and he was all too eager to answer the call.

She didn’t mind going on an adventure with him, honestly. She’d kind of always wanted to. What she hadn’t wanted, though, was to drag their daughter into it as well.

Their journey to Castle Town had been interrupted by beasts, rerouting them towards the forest to the south, near Lake Hylia. It was adjacent to the Lost Woods, and Link claimed it was mostly safe - at the very least it was safer than being exposed in Hyrule Field. He hadn’t wanted to engage out in the open with Malon and Navi so vulnerable, so this had been the next best thing.

The only issue was that Link was injured. And ill on top of it - he’d been coming down with something but had insisted on the family still going to Castle Town, outwitting Malon’s arguments by saying Well this is a vacation, darling, it’ll be restful!

Sighing, Malon leaned against a tree, her daughter nestled safely in her arms. Restful was not the word she’d use for this.

“We outran them,” Link noted as he watched behind them, pacing. With each step he took he faltered, steadily developing a limp.

“Honey, you can’t fight like this,” Malon said worriedly. “We should just stay here until they go away.”

“They might try to look for us,” Link argued. “Besides, the woods aren’t the safest either. It’s just that nothing’s going to go out of its way to attack us. But we can’t stay here.”

“You’re hurt,” Malon reiterated, pointing to the blood on his leg. She’d already wrapped the wound, insisting on taking care of it as soon as possible, but that didn’t mean it was all better now. She really wished they’d packed some milk - of all the times for them to be lacking their own product!

Link sighed heavily, sitting on the forest floor. His brow was furrowed deeply, holding that scowl he used to when worries plagued his mind. Malon reached over to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but to be honest she wasn’t much less anxious. This entire situation was a disaster, and she was frankly starting to get scared.

Link watched her a moment and then looked down. He was definitely deliberating something specific now, based on the way his eyes moved back and forth, one argument clashing with another in some kind of internal debate.

“What is it?” Malon asked.

“Nothing,” Link answered, shaking his head. “Can you do me a favor?”

Malon perked up in an instant, eager to help. “Of course, darling.”

“Can you help me get this boot off?”

Malon glanced at his injured leg and nodded. First, she looped a sling around her to let Navi rest while freeing her arms up. As she bent down to gingerly assist Link, suspicion tickled at the back of her brain. Link rarely asked for help - the man triaged himself by situation, not injury. Out in the field he would write off a broken bone as an inconvenience, but in the safety of their home a cold was the deadliest disease on earth.

But this situation wasn’t safe. Why was he suddenly so compliant? What was he up to?

Malon was about to ask as she reached for the boot, when a bright light flashed, warmth filled the air, and Link jerked with a muffled yell. Malon gasped, rising to her feet and grabbing the nearest stick as a weapon, eyes wide as she looked for whatever had hurt her husband, when—

When two glowing eyes looked back at her.

Malon stared. And then it clicked. “What are you doing out here?! Why, that idiotic husband of mine, take that off right now and I’ll punch him myself—“

The Fierce Deity hastily stood, taking three steps back as Malon charged at him. “This wasn’t of my volition.”

“You both know that mask hurts him, why is he putting it on when he’s sick and injured already—“

Navi burst into tears, upset by the racket. Malon paused from her tirade only due to such desperate circumstances, shushing her daughter and rocking her gently while glaring daggers at the deity.

“Perhaps he didn’t think he could protect you in his current state,” Fierce offered.

“That’s ridiculous!” Malon denied even as her mind screamed in agreement with Fierce. She herself had just been saying it.

But—but—oh, that husband of hers! He was getting the lecture of his life when he took that mask off!

A twig nearby snapped, and the deity had his blade out in an instant. Malon tried to calm Navi, who was still greatly perturbed, and she let the mythical being take the lead. He quickly rooted out the source of the noise. Malon had to admit she certainly felt safe watching the demigod dispatch the beasts with so much ease it might as well have been a joke.

When the danger had passed, she quietly asked, “Can you even feel the injury he had?”

The Fierce Deity glanced at her, and he tested the affected extremity. “A little, yes. I know he hurt it.”

“Things just… don’t hurt you, do they?” Malon huffed, marveling a little at it. Perhaps that was why Link had chosen to let him take over - nothing could slow him down.

The deity blinked, head tilting down as if he were considering it. “They do.”

He didn’t elaborate, and somehow that made the words all the heavier. Malon watched him a moment in silence, Navi finally calm in her arms. Then she sighed, finding a fallen tree to sit on, and she pat the space beside her invitingly. As she waited for the deity to approach, she started humming Epona’s song while rocking Navi back and forth.

Fierce slowly made his way over to her, sitting with such care it was as if he was approaching a frightened animal. Malon didn’t think too much into it - she knew his focus was on her daughter. She continued to sway gently, beaming down at her baby girl. Navi was calm, resting once more. Not for the first time, Malon had to marvel at the little one. She was perfect and beautiful.

And now she was safe.

Sighing, Malon said quietly. “Thank you.”

Fierce smiled softly. “Protection is my sworn duty. But more than duty, it is always a pleasure to protect Link’s family.”

Malon mirrored his smile, resuming her humming for a little while. Eventually, the deity commented, “She’s gotten bigger since you showed her to me.”

“That was six months ago,” Malon giggled. “Of course she’s gotten bigger.”

“I… do not know how quickly mortals grow,” Fierce noted a little uncertainly. “I've ascertained that the little Hero's journey wasn't exactly traditional. How long will she be this helpless?”

“Don’t you worry about her,” Malon chided gently with a chuckle. She knew that concerned tone and expression anywhere - it was still her husband’s face, even if the mask’s magic distorted it to share the deity's spirit. The two worried all the same. It was honestly kind of cute. “Link and I can take care of her.”

The deity continued to watch her daughter, face softening.

“Now don’t you tell me you don’t think we’re up to the task,” Malon teased, elbowing him.

He straightened a little, a smile pulling at his lips. “I remember little of my time before this mask, but I do recall that a mother’s love and protection is far fiercer than I could ever be.”

Malon felt a swell of pride in her chest, and she giggled. “Aw honey, look at you buttering me up. That won’t save you.”

Fierce blinked. “From what?”

“From eating,” Malon insisted, pulling out some biscuits that had been wrapped up for the journey. “Link needs it, and you don’t get to eat that much. My daddy always said my cookin’ was fit for a god, so I guess it’s time to test that.”

She actually managed to pull a laugh out of Fierce with that one, and it filled the air with mirth and magic. Malon felt like she'd just accomplished some grand quest like Link did on his journeys, and she laughed with him. Fierce eventually took the biscuits, sniffing them hesitantly.

Malon raised an eyebrow at him, but the gesture was lost upon the mysterious being. He took a laughably small bite, testing it, and then sighed, closing his eyes.

"You alright?" Malon asked quietly, trying to parse out the gesture. In most it would be a sign of appreciation, but Fierce's mannerisms didn't always match the norm.

"Six months," the deity said quietly before taking another bite. "It's such a short time."

"It certainly has flown by," Malon muttered, looking down at her baby. Navi had grown so much. She wanted nothing more than for time to stop. It was pretty ironic considering who she was married to. But his magic over time, as fantastical as it was, would be a curse in this situation. No, Malon didn't want to live the same days over and over as she herself grew old. She just wanted to cherish the time she had as much as possible.

Some days she did wish she could slow it down, though.

She kissed her daughter's soft head, taking in the scent of her skin, so new and unblemished, naïve to the worries lines her parents bore. Navi was her entire world, and she couldn't imagine it any other way.

"I suppose mortals do grow up quite quickly."

Malon nuzzled her baby girl a little more before looking up at the deity. He seemed very sad and alone all of a sudden, biscuit forgotten in his hand as it rested on his lap.

"Oh honey," she cooed gently, shifting closer to him. "All that means is we treasure what we do have."

Fierce watched her, his brow heavy over his eyes, a weight pushing on his shoulders. Malon tried reading into it, trying to figure out what was leaving the sweet mysterious man so perturbed. She supposed it was fairly obvious, though.

He would outlive them all. They both knew it. But that didn't mean—

Oh.

He didn't think he would have a chance to treasure such moments. How could he? He was locked away in a mask, only touching reality when worn. And Link had no reason to wear it.

Well, that just wouldn't do. They had to figure something out. Malon didn't wish the pain of that mask on her husband, but she didn't wish the loneliness of its imprisonment on Fierce.

"We have right now," she reasoned, trying to give him the most sincere smile she could. "Come on, love. Take your armor off and relax. As long as you're eating and resting, I reckon it'll be okay for a little bit, at least."

"You three were going somewhere," Fierce noted. "I should clear the road and escort you there safely."

"Maybe so," Malon replied. "But you're going to finish eating first."

He complied, finishing the biscuit before being handed another. After having several snacks from the provisions the family had packed, Malon and Fierce rose together. His gaze seemed to settle on Navi, and Malon held her out carefully, nodding in encouragement to the tall being.

Gently, oh so gently, Fierce took the baby in his arms. Instinctively, he swayed on his feet, eyes never leaving her face. Malon's heart warmed at the sight of it.

“Sometimes, I just wonder,” Malon remarked as she watched him. “You’re so… compassionate, and kind. They claim you're a war god, but you're really not. You love children so much. Surely… I think you might’ve had some, you know? Back then and all.”

Fierce watched her in silence before he tilted his head to the side with a smile, returning Navi to her mother. “I do have children.”

Malon jumped, surprised. “You do?”

“Yes,” the deity hummed quietly, a deep, rumbling sound that was nearly akin to purring. “And I’m very proud of both you.”

The words settled over her a moment before sinking in, and she knew she had to look like a deer caught in lantern light. The deity’s smile grew, almost as if teasing, but she knew he was being genuine. And she… felt almost at a loss for words by it. Her throat tightened a hair before she laughed, stepping towards him and pulling him into a hug. “Oh, you. You’re just as bad as Link.”

The Fierce Deity stood there stiffly a moment, clearly caught off guard by the contact, but slowly, he settled into the embrace. His hands were warm on Malon’s back as he pulled her closer, careful not to hurt Navi between them. His breath warmed her hair at the top of her head, and Malon nuzzled against his chest a little.

Silence hung amicably in the air, a pleasant comfort and warmth like a hearth ablaze with a cheery fire. Slowly, fairies came out of hiding, dancing and twinkling in the shadows and bringing a glow to the forest like the pink hues of a sunrise.

The supposed god of war knew peace, and Malon held this moment in her heart forevermore.

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leonstoenailunderhisbed · 13 days

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Insurgency: The Uprising

Summary: A totalitarian regime reigns over a South American country in which the virus is being distributed to its citizens at the pretense of a “cure.” Leon was sent to retrieve a sample of the virus mutation when he stumbled upon a group of anti-government activists whose main goal is to overthrow their government. Will Leon help the cause or will he fall down with the government as well?

Warning: Mentions of mature themes. Read at your own discretion. Slow burn. Age gap (Leon is 38 and reader is 21+). Reader is female.

Word count: 4,750

A/N: this is an idea I had for a book I wanted to write. I love dystopian books and movies so I really wanted to write something like this. This will be a series lol.

[part one][part two][part three][part four][part five][part six][part seven][part eight][bonus]

“The relief of giving in to destruction.” - Franz Kafka, Diaries.

“This is an urgent message from the president. This is an urgent message from the president. This is an ur-“

“Hello citizens of Pruye,” the TV warning got interrupted by the screening of a middle aged woman sitting down on a desk. Her suit was black as a flag stood behind her. The colors blue and green with a crest on the far left corner- a serpent. The woman had a brown bob with a few grey hairs. Her eyes were deep brown as her lips remained a bright pink. Her rosy cheeks puffed out the look of exhaustion as she embodied the feeling of a confident and strong leader,

“Today is an important day that all must remember. Tonight, we will launch the cure of all illnesses. The immunity to life. We shall bring peace and harmony all throughout the globe. A change never seen in history… until now.”

“Membario will become the new pharmaceutical phenomena. Our people worked hard for this cure and we shall be the first ones to prove to the world that we, too, can make history. Tonight, you all will be receiving a sample of this cure. Tonight, we will boast in the celebrations of what it feels to be victors! We are proud Pruyanians!”

The TV got turned off by someone, your coworker, “What a bunch of mierda,” Your coworker was an old man, a veteran who served in the war and now worked at where you worked. A canteen right in the middle of downtown Pruye. The streets were made of cement but had plot holes from previous battles.

The Pruyanian government, right before the current president won the election, was peaceful and harmonious in which it allowed citizens to have a voice. After President Mendez took charge, she changed everything.

Streets were patrolled by the Pruyanian soldiers who proved their loyalty to the country. Laws were changed and made to accommodate the president’s demands.

“I just don’t understand why it’s such a big deal, it’s just a drug like opium or morphine,” he continued with a grumpy voice.

“C’mon, Franco. Don’t be a buzzkill. Imagine how rich we can be if we were to sell it to other countries?” Another coworker said, a young woman in her early twenties with dyed hair. Red fiery hair covering what was a previous black raven shade.

Franco snorted as he stared at the TV and then back at the young woman, “Don’t tell me you actually believe her words? She’s manipulating us!”

You sighed and went to clean up a few tables, “You two fight like politicians.”

“Look- I’m just saying is that there are better ways to make a living. I don’t want to work here for the rest of my life,” the young woman replied as she too helped you clean around the canteen.

“Too bad, Esme,” Franco replied as he opened a newspaper and began to read, “Life’s a bitch and you can’t do anything about it.”

Esme raised her brow and looked at you for a brief moment, “He gets old but not his spirit, eh?” She nudged you with her elbow gently.

You stifled a chuckle and shook your head as you went back to the kitchen to clean the used dishes.

It’s always been you three working here. Esme, Franco and you were like family. After President Mendez delivered the order to kill all those who opposed her, your family became a target.

Your brother, around 16 years old, died right before a ceasefire was called. He was with his friends when a group of Pruyanian soldiers appeared and shot him. The cause for the shooting? He defied a soldier and showed insubordination.

Since then you’ve grown resentment to the government- specifically President Mendez.

The ground shook as you were cleaning the dishes. You slowly approached the open door entry along with Franco and Esme, watching as battle tanks drove through the city.

“Coño… what are they doing over here?” Esme asked faintly as she watched the tanks and army pass by. Their uniform blue with the serpent crest embedded on their arm. The red serpent you’ve seen all throughout the city.

“Must be presidential orders,” Franco pointed to a big screen on a tall tower. The tower stood right in the center of the city layout. Its purpose was to guide those who are lost- or maybe it was to show who the powerful ones really were.

You and Esme turned your attention to the big screen, watching as a countdown took place. They were about to distribute the cure to the citizens in 6 hours.

Esme huffed in annoyance and went back to stare at the soldiers pass by. Their boots echoing through the humid streets of Pruye as they held their weapons with a firm grip.

“They’re securing the area…” you whispered as you furrowed your brows. You turned back to look at the screen and listen to what the president had to say, “We will be patrolling the following areas- Pucalara, Miguén, San Jolonia, and San Bandero. Do not be alarmed, this is standard protocol.”

Currently, you were in San Bandero. The heart of Pruye. The soldiers all surrounded the city and held their rifles close to themselves. You watched as the tanks all moved inward, closer to the tower.

“They’re locking us in…” you spoke faintly as you quickly walked back inside the canteen. Esme and Franco exchanged a look as they followed behind you, seemingly confused.

“This isn’t protection like she claims- no. She’s locking us inside the city-“ you frantically said as you got your bag and jacket.

“Y/n, slow down. How do you even know that?” Franco put a hand on your shoulder to calm you down.

You shook your head as you swung your jacket around your shoulders, “I don’t. But knowing her… she’s hiding something and I don’t want to be here for that.”

You walked out of the canteen and walked down the sidewalk towards where the soldiers were blocking an exit. As you neared them, a soldier held out his rifle and aimed at you as he spoke through his helmet, “Turn back around. You cannot leave the area.”

You raised your hands in the air and took a step forward, resulting in the other soldiers pointing their guns at you, “I said- turn back around! Now!”

With a glare you slowly took steps back as you walked away from them. They weren’t letting people out which meant that they were also not letting people in.

As you walked back to the canteen, you noticed how people began to get out of their houses and grow confused at the soldiers. Why were they blocking the exits and entries of the city?

Right as you were about to walk inside the canteen, shots were fired. You crouched down to the floor and covered your head with your arms as you looked over your shoulder and saw soldiers shooting the civilians with weapons launching at them.

Your eyes widened at the sight of the people with machetes and guns fight each other. The sound of bodies falling down to the floor as well as the blood seeping through their lifeless bodies, staining the cement under them.

Rain began to pour down, making it hard for the soldiers to see through their helmets. You watched as a person stabbed a soldier from behind with their knife but then fall to the ground dead as the soldier behind them shot them in the head.

This was war.

Leon was called to the main office of the organization he was currently working at. Which was for the government. He found himself inside the White House again for some reason.

As he waited inside a room, he couldn’t help but notice how bright and sunny the weather had been lately. Which was a contrast to what he felt. Drained and exhausted.

The door opened gently and two men dressed in expensive suits stepped inside with a file in their hands. They approached where Leon had been sitting and sat on the couch across from him.

“Good news, your request for a getaway vacation has been approved,” one of the men, balding and tired, said as he laid the file on the coffee table between them. Leon leaned forward to pick it up and go through it.

“And the bad news?” Leon asked without glancing at them.

The other cleared his throat before speaking, “You’re being sent to another virus mission.”

Leon looked up from the file to stare at the two men. Another mission about the virus, when will it ever end?

He sighed as he closed the file and leaned back against the couch, “So another zombie apocalypse. Great, just what I fucking needed…” he whispered as he put the file back on the coffee table, “No.”

“No? What do you mean no? This is important, people’s lives are at risk and we can’t-“ Leon quickly interrupted the balding man.

“You can’t save everyone when it comes to this. I’ve seen it many times, why don’t you all just do what you did back in Raccoon City, huh? Bomb them until there’s no trace of the virus,” Leon got up and began to walk towards the door.

“This is different,” the other man said, causing Leon to stop in his tracks. “This isn’t like the virus you’ve seen before… this is much more dangerous.”

Leon turned around to look at the two of them before walking back to sit on the couch. “Go on.”

“Ahem-“ the man continued, “South America. The branch wants you to go over there and retrieve a sample of the virus. That’s all you have to do. Once you give us the sample, we’ll proceed from there and you’ll get your vacation.”

Leon narrowed his eyes at him, growing suspicious of how easy the mission sounds, “You aren’t telling me everything, are you?”

The balding man laughed nervously and readjusted his black tie, “Not per se-“

“There’s a revolution going on in the country of Pruye where you’re being sent to. They mutated the virus’s genetic code into something more dangerous and they’re using it as medicine- I believe you know where this is going,” the other man said.

Leon nodded and kept quiet as the man talked, “The government is planning on distributing this ‘medicine’ to other countries but we cannot let them. Your mission is not only to retrieve a sample but to also stop the spread and destroy the evidence of the virus ever existing. You will be given a team- both air and land to help you complete your mission. Your task is not let others know the real reason why you’re there. You are acting as a soldier proving aid to the government. Once you have retrieved the virus sample, we will pull you out of the country and bring you back.”

“This time I’m actually getting help. Nice,” Leon replied sarcastically. It was obvious that Leon wasn’t all too excited about this. He’s been used as a killing machine ever since Raccoon City. He’s been tossed around the globe with expectations of solving everyone’s issues. And he’s tired. He’s 38, he should be worrying about other things other than war and death.

His hands rested on his thighs as he began to stand up from the couch, “When do I leave?”

“First thing in the morning, you’ll be on a private plane provided by the government,” the balding man answered.

Leon nodded before finally walking towards the door and exiting the room. As he walked down the halls of the White House, he wondered what life would be like for him. Is this all he’s ever going to do? Was his life purpose about fighting and killing? He couldn’t wait to retire.

Smoke covered the entire block. Rain poured down harshly against your skin, causing your hair to stick to you like glue. The smell was of gunpowder and metallic blood infiltrated your nose. A vision full of haze as you stood up from being crouched down on the floor.

Blood.

A lot of blood.

They brought tanks and a helicopter. “¡Al suelo!” Someone yelled.

You got down on the floor as an incoming tank shot a building, causing it to crumble down just a few feet away from the canteen. Your eyes widened in horror at the sight.

People screamed- from pain and from the fight. You got up and ran to try and find Franco and Esme. You needed to get them out of here now.

You staggered as you ran towards the canteen. The debris that had fallen over from the building covering the road. You jumped and ducked as soldiers hid behind them and shot at anyone who they deemed a threat.

Panting through the bloodied streets, you had reached the canteen. You heard groaning and some yelling more up ahead.

You didn’t know what took over you but you found yourself running towards that sound. As you approached the yelling, you saw that Esme had been hit by a piece of debris from the collapsed building. Her leg had been squished and she desperately tried to pry the piece off of her. You kneeled down beside her and pushed the debris aside, watching in horror what had happened to her leg.

Her bone broke and penetrated her skin. Snapped in half like a twig. There was blood pooling down her leg. You froze, you didn’t know what to do. You weren’t a medic but you also weren’t heartless enough to leave her.

You took off your jacket and applied it to her wound, hoping you could at least stop the bleeding. She gripped your arm as she let out a bloody scream in pain.

“Estoy aquí- respira. Todo va estar bien-“ you tried to calm her down but she let out another yell, “y/n it hurts- grragh”

Of course it hurt, her bone was poking out of her skin.

“Where’s Franco?” You asked as you tried to get her distracted from the pain.

She didn’t respond and instead pointed to a mountain of rubble. Metal rods and pieces of cement fell down on top of people. You could see limb pieces- arm, legs. But you couldn’t recognize all of them.

Your eyes followed her finger as she pointed to the gore display.

“He’s under there…” she replied weakly and let out another pained scream.

You felt your breath catch in your throat as your heart rate quickened. Slowly standing up, you walked over to the mountain of rubble. “Franco?” You called out in a panicked tone.

Silence.

You hurriedly kneeled in front of the mountain and hastily moved the rubble away. Taking piece by piece as you denied the thoughts scurrying through your head.

Almost immediately, your heart dropped down to your stomach as you recognize the veteran necklace. With shaky hands, you reached for the necklace and took it.

Franco was dead.

Your vision blurred as you held the necklace on your chest. You let out a blood curdling scream as you trembled in horror.

The ground shook as more bombs blew off. Troops stampeded through the streets, their weapons aimed at the citizens of San Bandero.

You went back to Esme and tried to pick her up, “Come on,” you grunted as she leaned her weight on you.

Dragging her alongside you, you managed to walk further away from the city and towards the exit. The soldiers bordering the entry/exit road had been killed and now laid there lifeless. Their uniforms stained with the red tint of what could be assumed was their blood. Maybe it was also someone else’s.

As you managed to get her out of the city, you walked through the dense forest and laid her down on the ground as she leaned against a tree.

“I’m going to get help- stay here and don’t make a single sound-“

“Leave me,” Esme interrupted you. Her gaze defeated and weak as she looked up at you. “I’m only going to slow you down. You need to get out here…”

Your eyes softened at her, “I can’t leave you, Esme. You’re coming with me-“

“For fuck’s sake y/n! Just go!” She cut you off again. She sighed and closed her eyes. “Just go…”

You stared at her in silence, your feet frozen in place.

“Esme…”

“Just go. I’m not going to live, you saw what they were doing to us… please, Y/n… just go…” she rolled her head back against the tree and grunted softly in pain.

You stared at her in silence as you contemplated your next actions.

“Y/n, go to La Séten mountain…” she heaved as she tried to breathe, “There’s- there’s a group of people who can help you, give them this.”

She weakly handed you a piece of paper with writing on it. You took it and put it in your pocket as you nodded shortly.

“I will…” you whispered as you looked into her amber eyes, “I’m sorry, Esme…”

Esme gave you a weak and faint smile, “Don’t be sorry… promise you’ll live… for me…”

You nodded and held her hand as your eyes welled up in tears, “I will.”

You leaned closer to her and gave her forehead a gentle kiss. She closed her eyes and exhaled for the last time in her life.

You stifled a sob as you let go of her hand. You’ve lost Franco and now Esme too.

You walked through the forest, making your way to the mountain Esme mentioned.

“Madam President, the city states have been seized and are under troop surveillance.”

“Wonderful, let the Chief in Command proceed with the plan. We mustn’t delay the delivery.”

“Yes, Madam President,” the female assistant walked out of the President’s office, the same one when the announcement was first made. President Mendez let out a soft hum and stared down at the files in her hands.

“Tonight, we will change lives Doctor Ramirez,” she spoke as Doctor Ramirez walked closer to her desk.

“Yes, we will Madam President and it’s all thanks to your help. Without your sponsorship, we couldn’t have progressed so quickly with our research,” Doctor Ramirez was a tall and lanky man with glasses. His hair was neatly parted at the side and his white coat shielded the suit he was wearing underneath. He exuded wealth and power, much like the President herself.

President Mendez laughed and clapped her hands slowly, “Oh.. Doctor Ramirez, you are too humble.”

“Not all Madam President… not at all,” he replied with a quiet tone. His eyes unreadable.

The path to La Sénte Mountain was a rough one. It’s one of the biggest mountains in San Bandero that has been classified as unreachable. There was an abandoned trail that originally was used for horse riding but ever since the country got ruled over by President Mendez, everything turned industrial.

Trees aligned the rail as the tall grass reached up your shins. It had gotten dark by the time the bombs and the shootings all faded in the background. As you took a step up, you turned back to look at the city that was once your home become occupied by soldiers. The helicopter flashed its light in search for citizens. There was smoke and fire coming out of the city from where you stood.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. With a sigh, you continued your trail up the mountain. Unknown to you that you were being watched by eyes hidden in the grass, trees, and bushes.

Hours passed and it was now some time past midnight. You took a break to catch your breath. Sitting down on a rock, you took out the piece of paper Esme gave you.

It was a small map with the word ‘Insurgents’ on it. The map was a layout of Pruye, it contained information about where each government and army building was located around the coast as well as the center of the country.

You tucked it back into your pocket not before hearing a twig snap. Anxiety quickly coursed through your veins and you got up to leave. Whatever was out there was probably not friendly given the current uprising in the country.

With a force against your feet, you kept climbing up the mountain. Climbing for what felt hours until you saw an orange light emitting from a cave.

Fire. Someone had lit up a camp inside a cave in the mountain.

You gripped the edge of the cave and pulled your body up. As you entered, you were immediately met with guns pointed at you. There were about four men pointing their rifles at you as you climbed up. A woman came up to you and dragged you up by your arm, helping you stand on your feet.

There was a table right in the center of the cave with a lantern. And behind that table stood a woman with a scar across her face. Her eye a different color as the scar ran right through it.

“Hold your weapons,” she raised her hand to stop the men from shooting you. The men took two steps back and slowly lowered their weapons. The woman who helped you up left your side and walked back to where the other woman was standing.

“I assume you were told about us,” she began as she went around the table and walked to stand in front of you. She was taller than you by at least two inches. Her hair was short and black. Her skin tanned and full of freckles.

You nodded and took out the note Esme gave you, “A friend of mine told me to come here.”

The woman took the note and inspected it before giving it to the woman who helped you up.

“Another recruit, Esme was really good at recruiting more people,” she said casually. Your eyes widened, she knew Esme?

“I don’t suppose you know what we do or who we are?” She walked back to the table and motioned for you to follow behind her.

As you neared the table, there were papers scattered around messily. Maps and files with important information. The woman turned to you and took out her hand for a handshake, “Name’s Yanira. Welcome to Insurgents.”

You took her hand and shook it with a firm grip, “Insurgents? What are you guys?”

She let go of your hand and focused back down on the table, “We are an organization looking to overthrow President Mendez from her position. She and her minions have been controlling our land far too long. It’s time we claim back what’s ours.”

An anti-government group. And they’re fighting the Pruyanian government for freedom. You furrowed your brows and stared down at the table as well as Yarina kept speaking, “We need as many people as possible if we want to make this happen. You’ve seen how they treat people back in the city states. Why don’t you join us?”

You looked at her with wide eyes, “What? Why would you want me to join? I don’t even know how to shoot a gun.”

Yarina chuckled softly, “You’ll learn. We’ve got plenty of people who can teach you different things,” she leaned closer to you, “We’ve been preparing for this moment. All we need is more help. And you- I have a feeling you can help us big time,” she whispered and then leaned away.

She focused back on the table and continued discussing whatever it was that she was talking to the other people.

Join them? You can help them? Up until now you were just a girl working in a canteen living paycheck to paycheck. And now everything turned upside down. The army has taken control of four city states and you’ve lost more people.

It was no lie that a war was coming but to actually partake in it was terrifying, at least to you. But witnessing how everyone seemed to have the spirit and the faith that everything will work out in their favor is beginning to persuade you.

What more do you have to lose? You’ve lost your family and now your friends. It’s time to fight back for what was once yours.

“Okay,” you nodded slowly and looked at Yarina.

“I’ll join you.”

Yarina smiled brightly and hung an arm around your shoulders, celebrating with the other insurgents.

It all felt so overwhelming yet so real. This was happening and there was no turning back.

“Okay, here’s everything you need to know so far,” Yarina pointed to the map.

“The coast has been guarded up by the navy army of Pruye. President Mendez sent out an order to not let anyone in or out of the country. The ports have been closed and the soldiers are patrolling the beach.”

She then pointed to the center of Pruye, right on San Bandero, “San Bandero has become the military center of the country and is where most of the soldiers have been patrolling. This is where their control comes from. If we can target and destroy their center from this point then we have a chance at liberating the other city states.”

You furrowed your brows, “It’s not easy. I’ve seen what they brought. Tanks and helicopters. Are you sure you want to target them first? What about the civilians?”

Yarina let out a soft exhale, “We can perform an underground evacuation- some of our soldiers will go in the sewers and take people out of the city towards the forest. Once the people have been evacuated, we will proceed and attack the main tower.” She then pointed to a tall building colored in red right in the middle of the map.

“This is where most of the military controls the country. If we can hijack and steal their data, then we can convince the rest of the country to join us. And we can also delay the soldiers from terrorizing other city states.”

She already had a plan for everything. No wonder Esme knew about this. If this group was this good then that means that there’s hope for liberation.

“Okay…” you began slowly, “What do you need me to do?”

“You, my friend, have a special mission,” she slid a piece of paper your way.

“The United States will send some troops over here to aid President Mendez. I want you to go back to San Bandero with a few of my people and infiltrate their meeting location,” her finger pointed to another building on the map, “This place is called La Fundación de Membario. It is heavily guarded by soldiers. The place is where President Mendez is currently staying at. She’s going to personally welcome the Americans and give them a run down of what Pruye has been up to. She’ll most likely tell them about us and knowing her-“ her tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth as she stared at you.

“She’ll want the Americans to target us.”

You pinched your brows together and looked back down at the files of the American soldiers that were expected to come, “But why is the U.S. sending their military over here?”

“Because President Mendez sent an emergency alert to their President. She declared her country was threatened by us and needed backup. So, the U.S. playing God in all wars- decided to send their people over here to control us.”

You looked up at her from the files as she spoke again, “But you know what I think? I think they don’t stand a chance against us. We know the country better than anyone. They’ll die right before they can touch land,” she replied quietly.

She sounded like she wasn’t lying. It was a promise to herself and to the people of Pruye.

“When do I start?” You asked after putting the files back down on the table.

“Tomorrow morning. You can stay at our camp and we’ll teach you the basics. For now, you should rest. We’ve a long day tomorrow,” she patted your shoulder and walked deeper into the cave. The other insurgents gave you a look and some gave you a firm nod as they followed their leader.

You exhaled shakily as you looked out the cave. From now on, you were a soldier. No longer the girl working in a canteen. That life was long gone.

You were now part of the Revolution.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #resident evil #id leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon #di leon

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warrioreowynofrohan · 6 months

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Summary - Who Is and Isn’t Allowed Into Doriath

I wanted to make this post because I’ve had some things drawn to my atttention that I hadn’t noticed before, and I see a lot of misconceptions around this. Doriath is not nearly as closed off from the rest of Beleriand as is often assumed.

Who Is Not Allowed In

The starting point for this is Thingol’s statement to the Noldor:

“Into Doriath none shall come to abide but only such as I call as guests, or who seek me in great need.”

This is often taken as meaning that no Noldor except Finarfin’s children are ever permitted into Doriath, but the latter part specifically does allow for the possibility of war refugees ‘in great need’ entering Doriath, and as we will see, this is followed up on later.

Men are also forbidden from entering Doriath, and this is a blanket statement. However, Finrod does later convince Thingol to let the Haladin settle in Brethil, which is considered part of Doariaty but is outside the Girdle of Melian, and Doriath provides military support to the Haladin during the Dagor Bragollach.

We have, that I am aware of, only one specific described instance of an elf seeking entrance to Doriath and being refused: Aredhel.

Aredhel seeks to travel through Doriath to reach the lands of the sons of Fëanor so she can visit them. She is not allowed in, as being used as a cut-through for people to visit people who, the Doraithrim already dislike is really not considered sufficient reason. Now, Aredhel has other options - either go the long way around to the south of Doriath, or go north and cross Ard-Galen or northern Dorthonion. The latter is how the Men of what will later be the house of Hador get into western Beleriand:

Most of these took the long road northward, until the ways became well known to them…some came to Hithlum, but Magor son of Aradan and many of the people passed down Sirion into Beleriand and dwelt a while in the vales of the southern slopes of the Ered Wethrin.

Aredhel instead chooses the most direct but much more dangerous route through Nan Dungortheb. But that isn’t a decision Doriath is forcing on her, and they in fact warn her of its dangers.

Likewise, Haleth leads her people through Nan Dungortheb “without help or guidance of the Eldar,” and thus may not have known that there were safer routes available.

Who Is Allowed In

Doriath is open to all of the Sindar (Círdan’s people come and go freely, and it’s from them that Thingol first hears the rumours about the Kinslaying); to Dwarves, who trade with the Sindar; to the refugees of Nargothrond; as well as to the children of Finarfin and to the family of Húrin and any househokd retainers who come with them. Additionally, there is no mention, anywhere that I am aware of in The Silmarillion, of elven refugees of war, Noldor or Sindar, being refused admittance to Doriath, and the examples from both the Bragollach and the Fall of Nargothrond indicate that refugees who came there were admitted.

Dwarves continue trading with Doriath throughout the bulk of the First Age. In the years after the Nirnaeth:

In those days the Dwarves came still on their journeys into Beleriand from their mansions in Ered Lindon, and passing over Gelion at Sarn Athrad, the Ford of Stones, they travellee the ancient road to Doriath; for their skill in the working of metal and stone was very great, and there was much need of their craft in the halls of Menegroth. But they came no longer in small parties as aforetime, but in great companies well armed for their protection in the perilous lands between Aros and Gelion…

So the Dwarves have been coming to Doriath over a long period of time, in small companies during the Long Peace and in larger groups after it ended.

Refugees specifically come to Doriath after the Dagor Bragollach. I know there’s material in HoME about Thingol mistrusting the Northern Sindar, but irrespective of that, it is very clear that they were allowed in:

The most part of the Grey-elves fled south and forsook the northern war; many were recieved into Doriath, and the kindom and strength of Thingol grew greater in that time.

There is no mention, anywhere, of the Fëanoreans seeking entry to Doriath after the Bragollach, and given their pride and their open contempt for it, it would be rather uncharacteristic of them to do so. Instead we are told Celegorm and Curufin went south and west, suggesting first south, and then west, around the south borders of Doriath. They could have joined up with Caranthir and the twins on Amon Ereb, but for whatever reason chose to go to Nargothrond instead.

There don’t appear to have been many in the way of elves of Dorthonion, Angrod and Aegnor’s people, left to seek refuge anywhere; it was sparsely populated (their people were few, “Of Beleriand and its Realms”) bore the brunt of the attack, and few survived.

After the Nirnaeth, Elves who participated in the battle (apart from Mablung and Beleg) seem to fall into three groups: those who died on the battlefield (the vast majority), those who retreated to Gondolin (Turgon’s forces, and any remnants of Fingon’s forces they could gather), and the Fëanorean forces who fled south to Ossiriand. There’s not really any Elves who would be seeking admittance to Doriath; certainly not the Fëanoreans, who have openly threatened to murder them all!

And after the Fall of Nargothrond, refugees from there come to Doriath and are admitted - it’s how Thingol (and Morwen) learn of the kingdom’s fall in the first place:

Now new tidings came to Doriath concerning Nargothrond, for some that had escaped the defeat and the sack and had survived the Fell Winter in the wild, came at last to Thingol seeking refuge, and the march-wardens brought them to the King.

This is even more significant given, well, Nargothrond’s complicity in the whole kidnapping-and-attempted-forced-marriage-of-Thingol’s-daughter thing.

So in sum, the idea of Doriath turning away Elven refugees of the wars is pure fanon, and all the canon evidence that we have points to the direct opposite. The cases where Doriath did turn people away who directly sought entry involve people in peacetime who wanted to travel throught it but had the option of other, and relatively safe (if less direct) routes, even if they did not take them.

#tolkien #the silmarillion #doriath #thingol #aredhel #sindar #northern sindar #iathrim #doriathrim #nargothrond

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hotheadedhero · 13 days

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All That's Left

There's routine and there's getting used to change. Some are quickly adaptable but, depending on the circumstance, it isn't always that easy.

Leonardo x Reader

Warning: angst

Being a ninja has its perks: one can evade the eyes of man whilst making way to their destination. However, even with such skill, moving through the night is more optimum, especially for Leonardo. Shifting over buildings and hiding around dumpsters is one thing but more open areas are difficult to navigate whilst adhering to the element of stealth. Luckily, the elements are in his favour: the downpour of rain shielding him by both sound and sight. He isn’t typically one to go to such lengths to get to one place unless it’s in the name of a mission but this has become a routine as of late. He does it as frequently as he can given his circumstances but it never feels as though it makes up for all of that lost time. By now, he knows this path like the back of his hand: sneak past ground watch, jump over the gate, and take the fifth walkway from the left. A few more paces and he’s made it. His observance is dim but his lips pull as best as they can at her sleeping form.

"Hey," he greets quietly. "Sorry, it’s been a few days since my last visit."

Despite the blank, paling face that stares back at him, his smile remains. He lays the flowers down and kneels before her.

"I would have brought everyone else with me but I decided to be a bit selfish today. Just the two of us. I hope that’s okay.”

Again, silence follows and he readjusts his sitting position to get comfortable.

"Things have been quiet lately," he continues, his eyes absentmindedly gazing over her bed. "I'd say it's a nice change but I wouldn’t mind the distraction."

He huffs a laugh and his head cranes towards his shoulder before straightening again. The gentle pierce of his brown stare wanders over the rest of the cold space that surrounds them. Despite having come here for the last two months, there’s still something new to look at. He remembers when he first heard of this being her new residence and how long it took to adjust. Often, he still finds himself heading towards her old apartment out of muscle memory.

"I know it probably sounds like a broken record at this point but everyone misses you. I… miss you.”

There’s a grasp on his throat, a squeeze that only tightens the more he tries to fight it. He swallows past the restriction, mouth dry, tongue suddenly alien to him. Just keep a level head. This isn’t anything new by now. His cheeks cave in against the deep intake of air.

"There's a lot I should have said when I had the chance," he whispers hoarsely, though no words follow in this empty promise of rectification.

He can’t do it. His eyes clamp shut with his lips, firmly pressed to hold back the internal incursion. He can't even bring himself to say it: what he wants to say; what he's wanted to say for so many years. There's no point knowing that he'll never get an answer. His fingers dig into the sodden ground, pulling away the strands of grass that have only just begun to grow above her. It breaks beneath his palms and sullies the very hands that tremble under his hunched body. He should remain composed. He shouldn’t fall apart like this. Is it not he who should be able to think straight during dire circumstances such as this? Be the voice of reason? For his family but not himself it seems. Not right now.

With a heavy, laboured breath, his head pries upward to meet her grey face once more. The carved letters of her name stare back at him, dowsed in rain and he can only hope, wherever her spirit may be, that she isn’t crying for him. He doesn’t deserve her tears. He was in South America saving all of those people when he should have been here to save her. If he had come home when he was supposed to, this never would have happened. Leonardo and his brothers would have been back doing patrol before any of this could become a reality. She would still be alive. She would still be with him. He took her for granted and now he’s paying the ultimate price.

“I thought I might find you here,” a voice calls out to him.

A familiar voice. Not the one he’d be wishing for but a welcome one nonetheless. He tears his gaze away from the gravestone to be met by his friend April, who kneels beside him. She tilts her umbrella so that he may be sheltered too and together they sit quietly. Rain is their only comfort with this mutual understanding of unrest in the air. There isn’t anything that can be said to make better of this; nothing that hasn’t already been repeated countless times.

With the clouds readying their part for day’s oncoming dawn, April takes her stand and outstretches a hand to her friend. He waves his muddied fingers with a pathetic attempt at a laugh and rises lethargically.

“Come on. You can’t hold onto this guilt forever, Leo,” she reminds him, just as everyone has been since his return. “She’d want you to let go.”

He's not sure he'll ever be able to rest on that idea. Not until he learns how to say goodbye, at least - the last word he had said to her so carelessly, not realising it would indeed be goodbye.

This is something shorter and a bit different but an idea that would not leave for the life of me. Hope you enjoyed!

#angst #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt x reader #tmnt 2007 #2007 leo #leonardo #leo #leonardo x reader #x reader #fem reader #3rd pov #sad #fanfiction #no use of y/n

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hannahssimblr · 2 months

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Jen rests her chin upon her hands as she gazes out over the rooftops of south Dublin's red brick terraces. She sits with her back to the engine, watching as the world rushes away from her through the window of a train, quaint city houses becoming beaches becoming a harbour with its white sailboats and flocks of shrieking seagulls. Not me, I sit facing forward, always, waiting for the world to come to me instead, never ever looking back at it, not really. It is better to focus your attention on what is ahead, plus I don’t get nauseated this way.

The sky is flat, clear blue over the ridiculous mansions of the Dalkey Commons. Only from this vantage point, on this train track that slices through this particular suburban haven would anyone ordinary ever get to see these palatial Victorian houses with their tennis courts and their private boat docks and their sunrooms that they won’t ever call ‘the sunroom’, they probably call it the orangery, or something.

I like to sit facing this way mostly, because I like to be the first one to see Bray head as we launch out of a dark tunnel through the cliffs and all of a sudden it is though we are flying through the air, the tracks so close to the sheer drop to the sea that it seems the ground has been pulled out from under us. It does something to the inside of me, this view, the same thing that happens when I get to the part of a song that I really love and can’t help but stop and savour every time it comes around on my iPod, as though I need to give it the intentness it deserves. I’ll just stop what I’m doing and listen, or look, as in the case of this particular segment of the train journey, to where the sea glitters under the sun and the foam from the waves bubbles up around the rocks at the base of the cliffs.

Often I think of Ivy when I’m on this train. Of when she was three and insisted on wedging her little body between me and the window, and pressing her nose and fat little hands against it to stare out at the view. I told her that the train had flown off the tracks and we were about to crash into the sea and she let out a terrified scream and squirmed and clawed for my irritated mother, who never told her frightening lies for the sake of a reaction. I didn’t mean to ruin the journey for my family and all other passengers in the carriage. I was just trying to be funny.

As we climb off the DART at Bray station Jen links arms with me and we amble down toward the seaside. Here, a million rounded and weathered rocks tumble and roar as the waves wash over them and it is loud enough that we don’t even try to shout over it. The thing about hanging out with Jen is that we never feel obligated to fill any silences that we have no words to fill them with. She’s not in a talkative mood anymore, and that’s fine, so we simply walk the beach then wander through the town and look at all of the pretty houses where famous writers lived and nobody ordinary will ever own again, until she squints at a sign for the aquarium ahead and asks me if I want to go.

Of course I do.

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy 2009 #just a bit of Dublin and Wicklow love today #I used to take this train journey every week #and it'd never ever stop being stunningly beautiful

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soufcakmistress · 1 year

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In the Heat of the Night

A/N: Babies what is good!!!! I am so rusty but I’m so happy that I got this out for yall. Yall know I love me some Jonathan Majors, but I don’t write for real life folks. That’s just MY preference, no shade to those who do. Please comment and like and reblog to let me know how yall feel. Let’s get into it!

The south side felt different duting the summer. Kids were out of school, frolicking in the streets and turning on the fire hydrants. The ice cream man made several stops throughout the neighborhood, the old heads played their card games and dominoes until the wee hours of the morning, and the bars stayed packed with ladies and gents to take a load off. Summertime Chi felt larger than life.

Delphine Freeman sat up in her bed and stretched her arms to the sky. Looking behind her, she saw an empty bed with nothing but a small note on her husband’s pillow. “Picking up some things for breakfast. Be back soon, my love.” She picked it up and held it to her heart. That man of hers.

Delphine remembers the first time she encountered Atticus. Her family had just moved from Virginia, and she was totally new to the Midwest. At first, it was hard making friends at a new high school in a new place. Her accent and bumpkin ways attracted the wrong kind of attention among these city folks, so she kept to herself. Until one day when Atticus was helping his club attract new members, and he passed a flyer to her in the hallway. “You should come. Who knows, you might find a friend here.” He had her, hook line and sinker with his gentle way and sweet smile.

Atticus looked like 6 days of beautiful creation from God above AND the seventh day of rest to her - she missed seeing his face this morning. Delphine laid back against the pillow that smelled like him and reminisced on their roller coaster ride of a relationship. Fighting entitled white people over magic and who it really belonged to and his birthright, his trauma from Korea and monsters straight out of a pulp book— nobody with sense would ever believe it. The storm was over now, and her and Tic lived in peace, as well as holy matrimony.

The memory of her betrothed looking so debonair in his suit on their wedding day made her heart palpitate. Her legs squeezed together, recalling those shoulders filling out that blazer and kissing those lips as they said ‘I do’. She especially loved the surprise on his face when the ceremony was over and she slipped her hand in his pants right outside their wedding suite and him allowing her to take what was hers. “Oooh, I love that man.”

She was feeling frisky now. The window was cracked with a moderate breeze flowing into the room but Delphine’s heat couldnt be contained. Flashes of him saving his entire family from catastrophe, him shirtless and bespectacled reading aloud one of his favorite pulp books while he laid in her lap, the look of adoration and love when they bought their home on the South Shore. Tic was all man….and all hers.

Sweat dripped between her large breasts, her coochie ached in the best way and she couldn’t take it anymore. Delphine took Tic’s pillow and put it in between her legs. The reflection of her in the vanity bureau with her slinky nightgown raised up on her hips made her feel like she was a bit unhinged. If she didn’t cum now, she would lose it. So she rode that pillow like its name was Atticus Freeman and he was the only thing that could satiate her.

Her clit hit the seam of the pillow so precisely, it almost took her over before she was ready. “Shit, shit….oooh Tic baby…damn..” She pushed the straps down from her nightgown to expose her breasts and she really got to moving.

The key in the front door lock clicked with Tic lumbering in with a couple brown paper bags of breakfast stuff. He went to the kitchen to put everything away, but could have sworn that he heard something from the shared master bedroom. He got the baseball bat they kept in the coat closet and inched toward the room. Tic pushed the door in slightly and what he was met with could have knocked him on his back.

His sexy ass wife rubbing her pussy in figure 8’s on his pillow. Tic made sure to be quiet putting the bat along the wall, and rubbing his crotch slowly to take Delphine in. He knew when she showed signs of her incoming orgasm— shaking her head back and forth, fingers tangled in her hair, stomach fluttering…..she was almost there. When she finally shouted in delight, he couldn’t take it anymore.

The sound of a zipper coming down and broke her out of her trance. Delphine gasped when she saw her fine ass husband staring with bedroom eyes and pouty lips that made her wanna howl to the moon. “Looking for this?” He pulled his dick out of his pants and a deluge of fresh slick coated the meeting place between her legs.

Delphine almost started up again on the pillow but when the object of her deepest affections was just as hungry for her, it would be criminal to not take advantage. “Damn straight. Bring yo ass over here, four eyes.”

BB King played on the kitchen radio, and the lovely couple made breakfast together. Tic already put on a hot pot of coffee, and he sipped on a mug as he fried up some bacon. Delphine stood next to him in one of his shirts and panties, making her famous blueberry pancakes. Both hummed along and caught cute ass glances at each other, floating on their sensual high. It felt so good. Not having to worry about what the next day held and being allowed to just live.

The phone rang while Tic started cracking eggs, and he wiped his hands on the tea towel. “Freeman Residence. Lester, my man! What’s shaking? Nothing much brother, just me and the Mrs. making some breakfast. She’s doing VERY well, I’ll let her know you asked about her.” Delphine turned around with feigned shock when he said that, knowing his subtext and that he blew her back out for the ages just twenty minutes ago. She walked over with a huge smile and popped a blueberry in his mouth and kissed his lips.

He pinched her butt when she went back to the stove and finished chatting it up with Lester. “Sunday? We’ll be there brother. See ya then.” Tic looked at the calendar on the wall next to the phone, to see if there was any extra obligations needed for the guidebook and his aunt Hippolyta. He also did some math and tried to remember his wife’s last cycle. “That’s why she’s so frisky…”

Lester had a block party over where he stayed in Bronzeville, and it was jumping! All kinds of rhythm and blues and guitar singers filled the south side with a plethora of food to choose from. Little girls playing jacks and double Dutch, little boys doing bike races, the teenagers making googly eyes at each others and the elders trading recipes for lemonade and greens. Everybody would pitch in and bring something for the community to enjoy. Delphine took all of Friday to make 5 sweet potato pies from scratch and Tic grilled so many slabs of ribs, it was insane. Irene, Lester’s wife was tight with Delphine; her and the other young women gossiped while sipping beers on their stoop.

“Uh oh, ‘Phine. Tic is over there getting rowdy at that card table.” Irene loved to tease—he was putting them back and with each hand he won, the louder his voice carried. “Oh hell. Lemme go feed my baby.”

Delphine made Tic’s plate with everything he loves — ribs, chicken, potato salad, cornbread, sausage dog with relish and an ice cold Budweiser. “Hey baby, you been doing a whole lot of drinkin but not a lot of eating. Come on now.” Tic acquiesced and moved with her away from all the men. She sat on his lap at an empty table and fed him some of the food before he took over, and started feeding her too.

Tic’s skin was all tan and his arms and pecs were bulging in his shirt. He didn’t even have to try to get her riled up. Delphine rubbed his back, and absentmindedly played with his ear. “All right now. You know that’s my spot.” They both had their fair share of alcohol that evening, and Delphine usually would have to beat Tic off with a stick. The shoe was on the other foot now. “Tic……I don’t have any panties on..”

He almost choked on his beer when his minx of a wife started talking so salacious like in his ear. “I like this Delphine. She takes what she wants. What you trying to do? Only if you say it, will you be able to get what you want.” Delphine’s skin pimpled because he meant every word. All the ruckus and commotion around them meant nothing in that instance. Just her and her husband. “I want you to take me in that alley…..and do whatever you want to me..”

That sinful jawline clenched, and she knew he would do just that. Wasn’t any more talking. He drained his beer, and dragged her down a few streets to a secluded alley. Delphine stood at the brick wall, flushed with the strap of her linen dress down her arm. Tic cradled her face and they kissed each other so deeply that they breathed for each other. She undid his pants letting them fall to his knees, and he picked her up.

Delphine was so wet, the slick was almost to the inside of her knees. Tic’s thrust was so strong, they both gasped aloud. “Yes Tic, fuck me hard!” His face lived in the crevice of her neck, licking and kissing. Just like every muscle on his sculpted body, Tic was rock hard and filled her up so deliciously. The same BB king song from the other morning played and they were able to hear it still. Everything swirled around the both of them and yet nothing at all mattered. His low grunts were so sexy and she could tell he was about to cum.

“Oooh I love this pussy baby, I love this pussy….I fuckin love you!” Atticus filled his wife up all the way that it spilled down her legs and the heat of it all triggered her to orgasm. She pulled him in even more and he expelled more of his love inside her. Tic brought her down to her feet, and she stumbled immediately. Tic steadied her and stuck his tongue down her throat yet again. “Atticus Freeman….the man of my dreams..”

The guidebook was doing so well.

Atticus and Hippolyta had been able to come to an agreement on operations; Atticus would be able to make final edits and handle submissions to the publisher and Hippolyta would be able to do most of the trips to update the stops. She acquiesced to Tic’s request that he would join her to assuage his nerves if she went more than 3 states away.

The book was flying off the shelves and Hippolyta had been able to meet some publishers in Kansas City and Detroit to put in some local Negro owned shops and apothecaries. It was the second Saturday in August, and the entire South Side would be at Washington Park for the Bud Billiken parade and festival. Delphine and Tic packed up their station wagon with fold up chairs, a cooler full of beer and pop, and more food to last a winter. Dee was finally feeling better and she rode with you guys to the Bud as she was Delphine’s favorite little cousin.

Everybody was rocking and rolling to the marching bands and majorettes. Delphine and Dee looked at all the floats and picked their favorite one. “Oooh Dee, you see the grand marshal? That’s a good lookin man!” She made sure to say it in earshot of Atticus; she loved him a bit jealous and possessive. He cut his eyes at her, smirking behind his beer. “All right now, don’t get in trouble.”

“Baby, there is nothing more that I would love to do than be punished by you.” Delphine stuck her tongue down her husband’s mouth, and Dee gagged at the public display of affection. “Y’all are so gross I swear!”

The grand marshal announced who had the best float and the best marching band in Chicago, and the party went on until late in the night. “Come on, dancing queens, let’s get y’all home.” Atticus loaded the car up and Delphine and Dee fell asleep in the backseat holding each other. Atticus looked in the rear view full of gratitude and unbridled joy at his two girls. He stopped at Hippolyta’s house and carried Dee inside.

Delphine moved to the front seat after and waited for her husband to drive them home. The angles of his face illuminated by the streetlights made him even more handsome in the low light. She couldn’t help but to stare. That same feeling from that other morning came back with a fierceness. He felt her eyes on him and winked at her. “You looking like you still hungry for something…..”

“That mouth on my body…that’s what I need.” Delphine sat with her back to the door and lifted her dress, pulled her panties off, and put them in his lap. Tic took them and sniffed them and was instantly engorged. That station wagon moved a little quicker then.

Fireworks were being shot near the lake and Tic and Delphine had a clear view from their balcony. “Ooooh let’s see baby! Her ass clapped in her dress and Tic had to grip his meat walking after her. “Lemme make sure the shoggoth is okay first. Keep it tight for me baby.”Tic went to the basement and fed the shoggoth and calmed him down since they were gone all day. He had it down to a science now. Feed him a racist white man a day, and he would cooperate.

Delphine was out on the balcony totally enthralled. She jumped like a little kid when several popped at once, entrancing her with the bright colors. Standing at the window, he just gazed upon her. How did he get so lucky? Tic joined her on the balcony, wrapping those muscles around her waist. All the kisses behind her ear made her giggle just like how he intended. While she was off guard, he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, and lifted her dress in one motion. “Now what you doing back th—OH!”

He slipped right into her pussy with the most earth shattering intrusion Delphine could ever experience. “Shhhh shhh. We have to be quiet. Now Mrs. Freeman…..I think I know what’s gotten into you cuz I did the math. It’s that other time of the month, ain’t it?”

A breathy yes fell from her lips and it clicked for her. She was always incredibly horny and with shiny hair and skin at this particular point of the month. “You tryna have my baby?” Tic whispered in her ear, and pinched her nipple as his hips stroked back and forth. “Delphine, are you tryna make me a father?”

She loved when he got rough with her, especially when they were at risk of being seen in the act. “Yes, Atticus give me your baby.” His hands gripped hers on the railing and he let her have it. Delphine had already came twice but Tic was always generous; he wanted his wife to be satisfied. “Here it come..” Atticus held her right to his chest and gave her devastating thrusts and came deep inside her. Her head rolled back on his shoulder and they stood together still united as one as the fireworks show gave the finale. “I love you so much” they both said in unison and gazed at the sky.

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#soufcakmistress #atticus freeman #lovecraft country #black fanfic writer #black fanfiction #jonathan majors #atticus x oc

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slothgiirl · 1 year

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in the air (xiao x reader)

7.3k words. mentions of rock climbing and chinese traditional medicine. pining. fluff. first time writing in genshin impact for xiao so idk how in character this is. probs errors bc this is unedited like my lyfe lol. also xiao takes 1k words to show up hehe

“Delivery for Bubu Pharmacy,” you dump all your packages on the counter, finally able to see in front of you once again. The walk from Qingce Village to Liyue Harbor was long, made longer by the various dried herbs and distilled oils you had to carry.

“Ah, our lovely botanist,” Herbalist Gui grabs a letter opener, already sorting through the parcels. Silk flowers, glaze lilies, fresh lotus root, ginseng root, and the rest of the raw ingredients a pharmacy needed. “No violetgrass? Or qingxin flowers?”

You slip behind the counter, taking a seat on the stool Qiqi used to reach. You’d need the stool too in order to get the very top shelf ingredients. Maybe you weren’t a pharmacists, you think as you read the labels for ingredients as rare as sakura blooms imported from abroad to condensed ginger, but you could probably fix a cold.

Botany wasn’t your dream growing up, but your family’s business. The house you’d grown up in was tiny compared to the greenhouse full of silk flowers, to the pear trees and lotus growing in flooded terraces. You liked the job. You liked getting to see all of Liyue. You loved the smell of drying cinnamon and seeing a plant perk up once you gave it some compost.

“Not yet,” you admit, “with the rains last week I couldn’t exactly get to Huaguang Stone Forest.” Your favorite part of this job was getting to climb up the towering peaks. You loved rock climbing. You loved the cool wind on your skin after ascending, looking down and knowing you’d done this. You loved the solitude, the quiet and peace. You fell in love with the alien perspective of being up so high.

“Be careful out there,” Herbalist Gui says, a crease forming between his brows, “isn’t full of hilichurls and demons?”

“I am careful,” you massage your calves, “pretty sure a lawachurl could break me in half.” It ate at your time, having to go around treasure hoarders and hilichurls, unsure if they’d let you pass freely or not. There was no way you’d risk a run-in with fatui skirmishers that far from the Millelith’s sight.

So you hid behind bushes and trees, going around and losing hours.

“And the demons? You ever actually seen one?”

You laugh. “No, thank the Archons.” You didn’t want to test how effective exorcist charms were against demons. Chongyun had carved one out of wood for you to keep you from being possessed, while Hu Tao’s last present had been a jade sigil to tells ghosts you were a friend. You were concerned about its effects but Hu Tao always had good intentions despite her questionable methods.

You trusted her.

And there was no way you were going to disparage one of your childhood friends to her face. Some people had no tack.

You couldn’t imagine calling someone a weirdo even if it was true. Especially in a mean spirited way.

“That’s good.”

“Tell Baizhu I’ll be back in two days ,” you tell the pharmacist.

“That fast?”

You smile, “yeah. I’ll come back here then head home.” It’d mean only having one day to lazy about at home before hitting the road again, but like Hu Tao you valued the reputation of your business too much to delay the order of violetgrass and qingxi flowers to next week.

“Okay, I’ll be sure to let Baizhu know.”

“You’re the best.”

“Do you want some tea before you go,” Herbalist Bui asks, “it’s got jueyun chilis, good for all that running around you do.”

“Of course you don’t have regular jasmine tea?” This was a pharmacy. You accept it all the same, grateful for the warmth of the tea quenching your thirst. Maybe you wouldn’t be dead on your feet when you ascend tomorrow.

___

You camp at the south of Caijue Slope.

Travelling at night wasn’t a bright idea if you didn’t have a vision. Something you most definitely didn’t.

You’d always dreamed of a geo vision, though without Rex Lapis who knows if there would be any new geo visions. When you’d started bouldering around Mingyun Village, learning to identify fungi and flowers with your father, you could only ever imagine a geo vision.

It would be mad useful.

You wouldn’t need to carry ropes and anchors if you could just form your own anchors and climbing forms out of the very rock you ascended.

Passing through Jueyun Karst let you know waiting had been the right choice.

The mud clumps to the soles of your boots. When you step on the road, your feet sink. There’s little to no treasure hoarders or fatui to be seen. It must’ve been awful the day after the rains and near impassable with the rain. The towering mountains made the roads down below prone to flash flooding.

You have to stop and scrape the mud off your boots on rocks every few steps until finally you start the road up to Qingyun Peak. You barely even need to check your worn map.

Your family has been in the botany business for generations. You know where the clusters of Violetgrass and Qingxin spring up. Between here and Mingyun Village, you gather enough of both to fulfil Verr Goldet and Baizhu’s orders.

It takes the entire morning to ascend up the northernmost pillar of Huaguang Stone Forest, sitting on the edge as you Mint Salad and mora meat. It’s not as good when the food’s cold, but there’s nothing better than the food you eat after a long climb. Sweat runs down your spine as you look over Liyue. You can make out the Jade Chamber in the sky over Liyue Harbor. This must be what the adepti, what Rex Lapis, saw every day.

After Bubu Pharmacy you’d deliver to Wangshu Inn, then home. Then you’d collapse in bed before starting all over again.

You run your fingers over the petals of the qingxin flower. This one could stay. It was too small, the majority of the buds still closed.

The zenith of the sun has passed when you finally start to descend.

You hook your safety rope into the anchors you’d placed on the way up.

One of these days you’d buy yourself a Monstadt glider.

As you go, you remove the anchors, releasing the expansion clamps and slipping it into your bag, before descending the next metre.

You hook your safety rope into the next anchor. Then descend another metre. Carefully. Taking your time.

Pebbles fall past you.

It feels like the entire world rumbles.

You look out into the landscape, into the fog you can barely make out the other stone pillars, but even the fog cannot obscure the flashes of green anemo bursts in the skies.

Shit.

You glance up. It was a good twenty metres to the peak. You look down. It wasn’t any better.

It was worse.

A good thousand metres up. 800 from where you’d started climbing from the top of the road.

The flashes of anemo grew closer.

More pebbles fell, clinking against your shoulder. Dirt dislodged and fell in your hair.

You were stuck.

Your hands grew sweaty.

If it had been raining you could make it up free handed. Waited it out. Rain usually built up. This stone forest had no ledges to seek shelter on.

Fuck.

Flashes of green interspersed with flashes of red and blue.

Dread.

You look around, trying to find anything to perch on.

Okay, okay. Let yourself fall onto the ledge 30 metres below. No-

Not survivable.

Your hands grow slick with sweat as figures emerge out of the fog.

Dark figures. Demons. Monsters.

Your grip slips.

You flail, trying to catch yourself.

Fuck.

You slam into the side of the cliff, dangling by your safety rope over a thousand metres in the air. Pain explodes across your thigh.

Your fingers are bleeding where you’d tried to grab a rock.

The figures are closer now. Across from you fighting in the air, floating. Abyss mages and a fighter. You couldn’t tell.

And you couldn’t waste time watching.

You clip into the next anchor, attaching your safety rope. There was no time to climb up for the other rope and anchor.

You cut your loses.

Okay, move.

You scramble down, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire.

There’s an extra safety rope in your bag, you climb another metre down. And another one.

The sound of fighting is still too close, approaching, you hear the laughter of the abyss mages, the clash of steel against abyssal magic. You don’t look, chest heaving as you try to climb down in minutes what would normally take hours.

You inhale sharply, the dirt from the rocks mixing with the blood on your fingers. You slice your fingers on the ledges but keep going.

It doesn’t matter.

You have to keep going.

And then nothing matters.

Ice explodes against your back.

A chill spreads from the spot, your muscles tense and freeze and you can’t move. You can’t move your fingers. You can’t-

You look up.

The abyss mage is looking at you, laughing behind it’s terrible mask, a mockery of Opera makeup, as you fall.

It’s why the spear that jut out of it’s chest catches it off guard.

But what does that matter?

You’re falling, falling…

The figures disappear from your vision.

—-

You scream.

You’re so cold.

You can’t even flail as you plunge to your death.

You’ve never been so cold.

The fog dissipates as you approach the ground.

Your vision explodes in emerald and black. “Hgh,” a hand grips your wrist.

Thunk.

You smash onto the ground.

Only you’re still alive.

“Hold still,” a gruff voice says near your ear.

What!

You kick, blinking the tears, blinking away the terror from your eyes, “let me go!” You were alive. YOU WERE ALIVE!

And tangled on the ground with a strange masked man.

Vexation is clear in his tone as he repeats, “hold still.”

You roll off him, wincing. Everything hurt. You side ached. Nothing was broken. You could tell you’d be bruised black and blue for the next week. “Thank you,” you huff, connecting the dots even as your vision grew white with pain. Your fingers were still cramped from the cold. You could use jueyun chilis right now.

Thank the Archons you still had your bag. Crushed flowers were better than no flowers.

“Mortals should not be in Jueyun Karst.” The man still wears a mask carved of blackened wood. It matches the black of his gloves. A vision is strapped to his wrist.

Not a man at all.

You breathe, forcing down the pain.

You couldn’t do anything about it until you were safe. Not out here. Not out in the open.

You look around.

You weren’t in Jueyun Karst anymore. This was the road east to Guili Plains.

“I have permission,” you tell the adepti, “I can show you the sigil of permission.”

He says nothing, crouching in front of you like an overgrown bird. The mask is still on.

Despite that you’re not scared.

The sigil feels strange. It feels akin to resting your back against the statues of Morax.

“See,” you tell him. You weren’t lying. It was the same sigil your family had used for generations. Your grandmother said Moon Carver had gifted it when the Qixing closed passage into Jueyun Karst. “Master Adepti? Sir?…” You weren’t sure of the proper way of addressing an Adepti.

His eyes travel from your sigil to you. There’s mirth in his cor lapis eyes.

The mask.

The fighting.

He wasn’t just any adepti.

You lean forward, “you’re the vigilant yaksha,” you raise your hand, forgetting yourself for a moment as you move to touch his mask only that might get you struck down for disrespecting an adepti’s pride. All the adepti had strange rules about what was permissible. “I don’t know about you adepti, but it’s kinda rude for you to keep your mask on for so long.” It felt like he had something to hide.

“You presume to order an adepti?”

You crack a grin, “I couldn’t make you do anything.” You shift, trying to get up. You need to get to Wangshu Inn before night.

“Fuck,” you hiss. Right. You were all banged up.

The yaksha moves swiftly, steadying her. “You’re hurt.”

“I am,” you wince. “Just bruises.”

“Why were you in Jueyun Karst.” His tone drips with disapproval.

“For qingxi flowers. Violetgrass. Pharmacists need it.” You laugh. “Ironic right?”

He’s still holding you up, his hands on your arms, gentle despite the destruction he just caused in the stone forest. You want to see his face. You want to thank him without any barriers.

He must be handsome, you think to yourself. You know he is.

“Can you not grow them in Liyue Harbor?”

You shake your head, “they only grow at high altitudes. They prefer rocks to soil. I think there’s something in the rocks, some mineral. We’ve tried to grow them in Qingce Village but they didn’t take.”

His eyes study you once more, “your hands are bleeding.”

“It’ll be fine,” you tell him, “some balm. Baizhu deals with worse all the time.” At least the cold wore off.

“Where should I leave you?”

The words are unexpected. He’d saved you, but he wasn’t exactly friendly and warm. The Yaksha was quiet and reserved.

He’d stayed to make sure you were okay.

“Liyue Harbor,” you say tentatively, “though if that’s too far…”

“Heh,” the Yaksha rolls his eyes, scoffing.

“If it’s out of your way,” you amend, smiling, “I’m sure that it’s an easy distance for the Vigilant Yaksha to cover.”

He tilts his head.

You wonder what he thinks of you.

“I’m only joking,” you add when the silence streches out in case he missed your teasing. “But Liyue Harbor would be great if it’s not a bother.”

The Yaksha nods. “I offered.”

“You did.” He didn’t have to.

You try not to read into it too much. The adepti were all about protecting Liyue. You weren’t special.

Quite the opposite.

You’d been in Huaguang Stone Forest at the wrong time.

He finally lets go of your arms, only to pick you up bridal style.

“Ah!” You’re caught off guard, barely processing what is happening before the world disappears in black smoke.

You squeeze your eyes shut, as wind streaks through your hair, chilling your skin all over again.

In seconds, he’s already placing you back down, overlooking the Harbor.

“Wow, that was amazing!” What took you two days to travel, the Yaksha had done in seconds. You look over the Harbor, it’s lights slowly turning on as the sun sets over the water. It was a short walk to the Pharmacy. You’d be imposing on Hu Tao tonight.

She’d probably love the impromptu sleepover.

“Thanks again-,” you turn back to thank the Yaksha once more.

But you’re alone.

—-

“Jueyn chilis, qingxi flowers, and a boatload of mint and ginger,” you list off to Verr Goldet. “Hey, do you sell incense sticks?”

Verr’s eyes widened, “what happened to you my dear?”

Your hands were still all bandaged up, but as you suspected, it was pretty much all bruising. Still, you’d be sticking to Mingyun Village and Wuwang Hill until you were given the all clear by Baizhu. It was good to let the usual spots grow wild in the meantime.

You didn’t want to overpick any one spot.

“Nasty fall,” you also didn’t want to worry the Innkeeper unnecessarily. “I’m mostly bummed out. I have to go back for most of my anchors.” Stupid abyss mage.

“Well,” Verr Goldet hands you an incense stick, “this one’s on the house. Since you’re always on time. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Are you sure,” you ask, already reaching for your mora bag.

“Listen to your elders and take the incense stick.”

“Thank you.” You bow respectfully to the woman, “this is so kind of you.”

“I know you would show me the same kindness.” She bows back. “Make sure you rest and rest before heading off.”

“Of course,” you grin, “you’re the only place that sells mushroom pizza in Liyue.” You could get honey roast and radish veggie soup at a street vendor in the Harbor but not pizza.

—

With your own mora you purchase healing balm. The Yaksha would appreciate this. You think. It made sense. He probably fought demons and monsters all the time.

He could use this when he got hurt.

You think.

You don’t know much about adepti.

“I think that’s a marvellous idea!” Hu Tao practically dances in delight when you tell her your plan.

“As a thanks,” you further explain. “It doesn’t feel right to just pray at a shrine.” You don’t even know his name.

“Ah,” she twirls in the street, running into a merchant

“Hey! Watch where you’re going weirdo!”

Hu Tao pays him no mind. “Obviously my charm worked.”

“What? No it didn’t,” you frown. The spirits had not been the problem. The abyss mages had nearly killed you.

But your friend is too busy with ideas to pay you any mind, “perhaps you need a noctilucous jade sigil to repel evil spirits?”

“That was an option,” you raise a brow. That seemed more useful.

“Most spirits aren’t bad silly,” she tells you, “very few become demons.”

“Can it at least be Cor Lapis,” you think about the Yaksha’s eyes again. You’d thought about the Yaksha a lot.

“No. That wouldn’t work for the carving. Hey, let’s get a drink before you go!”

—

You sit at the shrine in Mingyun Village. And it really was a village. Just two stores and a few houses. Most of the people here were fishermen, but you knew some lived off the shells and pearls that could be gathered on Yaoguang Shore.

The largest was inscribed to Rex Lapis. There were steles for Moon Carver, Mountain Shaper and the other adepti of legends. And a small one for the Yakshas, but there were no names for them.

You frown.

You set the jar of balm in front of you. Then you light the incense stick, unsure of what the proper prayers for a Yaksha were.

“Oh mighty vigilant Yaksha,” you cringe, closing your eyes, “scratch that. Um,” could adepti even hear your prayers? Could Rex Lapis answer prayers from the heavens? “Thanks again for saving me. Sorry if I got in the way or anything. I’m glad you keep those monsters aways from the Harbor and villages. And thank you for dropping me off in Liyue Harbor. That was incredibly kind of you. This balm is for you.”

There. That didn’t sound half bad.

Maybe you could still be a ritualist.

Change careers last minute.

You hear a snort.

You open your eyes.

In your peripheral, the Yaksha stands facing the shrines. His mask rests on his belt.

You were right, he is handsome.

Teal streaks through his dark hair. There’s a violet mark on his forehead and he’s handsome. His expression is inscrutable though his eyes remain kind despite what his demeanour would suggest.

He sits down next to you, watching the incense stick burn. The smoke wisps off in spirals.

“Thank you.”

“I heard.” His voice is not unkind.

You nod, “all the same.”

You breathe the rich aroma of the incense.

“You should always burn 3 sticks, or 5.”

“Sorry?” He doesn’t seem angry or upset. But you still feel the need to apologise. He was an adepti after all. The Yaksha did so much for Liyue already.

His eyes fall close. The last vestiges of wariness dissipate. “I do not need the balm.”

“Oh.” Your face falls. Stupid. You’d done nothing right. It would have been better to just leave things be.

You watch the smoke, biting your lip. He’d come all this way and you’d done everything wrong. You were embarrassed.

He probably had better things to do.

The Yaksha opens his eyes, turning towards you. He frowns.

He had such lovely eyes: black tea steeped perfectly. There was a warmth in them that had you dismissing all your negative thoughts. He wasn’t irritated with you at all. He’d chosen to come all this way for you even when you had things all wrong.

The Yaksha was strange, but kind.

Even as he held your gaze for an inhumane amount of time, unblinking, you felt comfortable the way you might with Chongyun.

You were right. He was handsome. The stories never mentioned that.

He parts his lips, brows furrowed, before looking away. He fixes his gaze on the steles again.

“Well, is there anything that you might like as thanks,” you finally settle on uttering, looking very pointedly at the bas relief of Morax. Heat rises to your cheeks. It was so silly. This was such a normal thing to do, thank someone and yet you grew flustered.

“Ah?” The Yaksha’s cheeks grow pink. “There is no need-I do not act in exchange for material gain.”

“I just want to thank you. If not for saving me then for taking me to the Harbor.” You bite your lip. “You can think of it as friends exchanging gifts.”

It’s the wrong thing to say.

The Yaksha stands suddenly, a swirl of anemo blowing your hair about. “I have duties to attend to.” And he’s gone.

Clearly, you and Hu Tao both failed at making friends.

—

A month passes, and you’ve made every effort to take your mind off the Yaksha. He was an adeptus. Two times you’d met him. That was more than most people ever interacted with adepti.

You weren’t part of the Qixing.

You were a simple botanist running around liyue.

You run your fingers over the new jade amulet from Hu Tao. You’d be okay.

Last time was a freak accident.

In two decades of life, last time had been the sole time you’d seen an abyss mage. Nothing would happen this time. You’d collect the herbs in Jueyun Karst as usual and be on your merry way.

Ascending is made easy by the anchors you left behind. You’re the one who takes baby steps, pausing with every push up to look around in case there’s some hilicurls aiming for you. You close your eyes, leaning your forehead against the rock. It was fine. You were fine.

Your hands had scarred over.

You refused to be afraid of going out in Liyue for the rest of your life.

You push onwards.

You check your safety line. You check each anchor.

You look around.

So far so good.

It’s only when you break past the fog that you realise how uneventful the entire ascension has been. You’re worried sick about nothing.

You pull yourself onto the cliff top and collapse on your back, panting.

You laugh, at yourself, at the situation. At being so high up. You close your eyes and soak in the warmth of the sun, the heat of your body against the cool stone. Had Rex Lapis created this stone forest too? You’d have to ask Baizhu. He knew all the stories since he told them to Qiqi endlessly, not that the little girl ever remembered.

She’s been a child for as long as you could remember.

Lunch is cold jade parcels and leftover fried radish balls which are never as good cold. Nothing fried was ever as good cold.

You pluck the qingxi flowers first, bunching them up in your bag. The violetgrass was easier since you collected those on your way up.

You take another drink of water from your flask, looking over the landscape. Jueyun Karst was so beautiful. You forgot how dangerous the area was.

The plan was to head north and swim across the waters to Qingce Village, swim home. You’d have to camp out on the isles, but it was safer than staying in the stone forest overnight or trying to swim in the frigid night.

You take a nap, waiting for midday to pass before you start your descent.

You pull the last anchor free when a voice startles you.

“What are you doing here?”

“Ah,” you weld the anchor like a knife in the air before you recognize the Yaksha’s distinctive purple pants and green tattoo. “Fuck,” you place a hnd on your chest, “you scared me.”

“I did not mean-,” he frowns, “why are you here?”

You point up, “have a job to do. Qingxi, violetgrass. I’m just happy everything else can be cultivated.”

The Yaksha’s frown deepens.

“I have a job to do. It has its risks but medicine must be supplied.”

He nods, but remains sullen.

“Anyways I’m all done here.” You wipe your hands on your robes, “and relax. I waited until I was done healing, see,” you hold up your palms. With coconut oil the scarring would fade.

The Yaksha steps close to you, taking your hands in his and looking them over. He runs a finger over your darkest scar. There were specks of gold in his eyes. The mark on his forehead glowed.

He looked up through long teal lashes at you when he was done accessing your hands.

Your mouth is dry. It’s hard to meet his heavy gaze. It feels like falling all over again.

There’s no way he misses the flush on your cheeks that has nothing to do with climbing and everything to do with the way his touch renders you breathless.

“I will escort you through Jueyun Karst.”

“Oh,” your eyes widened in surprise. “You don’t have to,” you brush your hair behind your ears. No matter what you did climbing made your hair a rat’s nest. “I’m sure your very busy with your adeptus duties.”

“Tt.” He releases your hands. “It is not up for discussion.”

“Vigilant Yaksha,” you have to insist, “I have an amulet to keep the monsters away. And I’ll just be back next week…I don’t want to be a bother. Really. I’ll be okay.”

He tilts his head, “what amulet?”

You lift the necklace up, “it’s from my friend. She knows more about ghosts but I-”

The Yaksha closes the distance between you. He scrutinises the sigil, his breath ghosting over your cheek. “There is a limit to the accumulation of evil spirits and demons an amulet can repel.”

“But it does work?”

He nods.

You can’t stand being this close to him while he is seemingly unaffected. Your heart is lodged in your throat but his expression remains as guarded as ever.

It was silly to even think about an adeptus like this.

A smaller, crazier voice that sounded a lot like Hu Tao points out that half adepti like Ganyu exist for a reason.

You avert your gaze, stepping back. “So you see, you don’t have to-”

He cuts you off. “It is not up for discussion.”

You nod, accepting he would do why he thought was right even if it did make you feel like you were bothering him. (He wasn’t even angry or bothered.)

The Yaksha was kind in his stilted way.

“I’m headed north to Qingce Village.” You pocket the last anchor and drink more water before embarking on the road home.

“Xiao.”

“Hm?”

“My name is Xiao.”

—

You fall into a pattern. Buy 3 incense sticks from Verr Goldet, burn them for the Yakshas. Deliver to Wangshu Inn and Bubu Pharmacy once a week. Collect Herbs from Mingyun Village and Jueyen Karst once a week. See Xiao in Jueyun Karst.

A rough pattern because Xiao came and went without notice. Sometimes he’d be waiting for you at Cuijue Slope until he began to climb up a mountain. At times he wouldn’t appear until you’d finished descending.

You made the lion’s share of conversation, complaining that Chongyun was in Mondstat to deal with some apparition and therefore was getting to eat all the tea pancakes in the world. You told Xiao about flu season and how much ginger Baizhu went through. You complained about having to dilute soap in water to keep pests away from your family’s crops.

“-I’ll need new boots when the caravan from Sumeru stops by,” you take a break on a rock to catch your breath. You’d never seen Xiao tire.

The soles of your boots were worn down. You could feel the rocks poke at your heels through the leather.

You let the silence reign in the picturesque valley.

Xiao doesn’t sit, but he closes his eyes as the sun chases away the clouds. You soaked up the warmth. The sun’s rays made the chilly breeze bearable.

He leans his head back, basking in the sun like a lizard.

You wonder what his animal form looks like. You’d only seen Rex Lapis on the Rite of Descension. But everyone knew Mountain Carver was a magnificent stag.

With his eyes closed, you find yourself staring at his visage shamelessly. He was striking, the graphic cut of his hair only accentuating his bone structure.

You wanted him to hold you again. You wanted him to run his hands over yours, to-

You quash the thoughts down.

Xiao opens his eyes, polearm already in hand as he spots something in the distance. “Wait here.”

You nod, used to this by now.

It was never a long wait, but Xiao would step away for minutes to deal with threats to Liyue.

You are glad to rest for a while longer.

—

“Why don’t you just tell him,” Chongyun splits a milk tea shaved ice with you, “how you feel,” he scoops up a brown sugar boba with his spoonful of shaved ice.

“Are you crazy? What if I make things awkward? Then he’ll never speak to me again! That would be so much worse.” You didn’t want to lose Xiao’s friendship.

You eat another spoonful of shaved ice, making sure to get some of the mochi, managing to look incredibly dejected while eating dessert.

Chongyun sighs. “You can’t complain and not do anything about it.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “I’m not taking advice from someone who can’t even order.”

“So? I’m proactive about it,” his voice cracks. “I ask you, or someone I’m with to order.”

You pat his hand, knowing it wasn’t fair to take your crush out on him. It wasn’t his fault Xiao made you want to kiss him everytime he tilted his head to indicate he was listening to you, or confused. It wasn’t Chongyun’s fault Xiao went still, buff arms flexing right before he took off to fight.

Archons, you were down bad for the Yaksha.

You couldn’t even enjoy your shaved ice.

—

“What’s your adeptal animal form,” you asks Xiao, breaking the serene silence atop Qingyun Peak. “You don’t have to answer that if it’s rude.”

He wouldn’t answer if he didn’t want to either way.

You no longer found it rude when he stayed silent. Xiao meant what he said, and therefore took more time to speak, and didn’t answer at all when he didn’t think his words added to the conversation. The more time you spent with him, the easier you were able to read him.

It wasn’t so much that he was an unfeeling adeptus, but rather he was usually occupied with hunting demons. He falters when he knows you’re joking but cannot understand the joke. His eyes widen when you hand him dried chrysanthemums for protection. It was a peasant superstition, but the idea of Xiao fighting alone weighed you down if you contemplated it for too long.

He sits down next to you, feet dangling over the edge. “A Peng.”

“Huh.” You vaguely recalled a giant bird story, but Adepti were usually giant animals that saved Liyue at some point.

“Similar to this,” Xiao points at his tattoo. The bright colour shines against his pale skin. He never sunburns unlike you.

You study the depiction closely. You brush your fingers against his skin, tracing the lines of the tattoo.

Xiao shivers under your touch, his eyes flutter closed.

“Are there more?”

“Yes.” His voice is distant, in the world of the adepti you couldn never understand. “They do not immerse themselves in mortal affairs.” Xiao turns his gaze towards you, the naked emotion in his eyes draws you in. You cup his cheek with your hand before you think better of it.

He leans into your touch. “Seldomly do they take a mortal appearance.”

“Would you ever show me?” You knew he’d be beautiful. It was Xiao, you’d love him in every shape and form.

He pulls away, jerking away from you.

You let him, drawing back, giving him space.

Xiao clenches his gaze, cor lapis eyes on you. His mouth parts, but he thinks better of it, wavering between thoughts. He finally looks away.

“Xiao? You don’t have to.” You remind him. You think he might disappear like smoke in the air. “Xiao?”

“It is not safe for you.”

“Huh?” You don’t follow. “There’s no hilichurls up here.”

“My karmic debt…I could not forgive myself if I tainted you as well.”

You don’t understand. “I’m always safe with you.”

His shoulders tense, the Yaksha grows taunt as a bow string.

You reach out. “Xiao,” you utter softly, caressing his cheek with the back of your hand, “you would never hurt me.” Your belief in that is absolute. You had more than enough belief for the both of you.

He meets your searching gaze, eyes wide in surprise. There’s a glassy quality to their soft brown shade.

Tears.

You know he’ll leave seconds before Xiao disappears in flashes of green and black.

–

You burn three incense sticks at your makeshift camp. The delivery at Wangshu in had taken longer than you should’ve. Verr Goldet was dealing with a broken door or something to do with a guest, you weren’t sure of the details. There were travellers from Monstadt so your food order had taken an hour. Nothing that was anyone’s fault, but now you had to camp out in Guili Plains. It was too late to try and make it to the Millelith Outpost in Liyue Pass. It was by far your favourite place to purchase artisan presents for Lantern Rite and birthdays, before they got marked up in Liyue Harbor.

So now you’re stuck here until daybreak.

You go back and forth between lighting a fire. It’s warm this far inland, without the ocean breeze or mountain winds, but a fire might attract hilicurls or treasure hoarders.

But if you were lighting incense sticks, you might as well have a hot dinner.

You kneel, praying to Rex Lapis and all the adepti. You pray that Xiao is safe, wherever he is, whatever he’s fighting.

You pray that Xiao is safe from monsters and the weight of his karmic debt.

—

You manage to deliver to Liyue Harbor and gather herbs in Qingxu Pool before heading back through Liyue Pass. Qingxu pool had more violetgrass than qingxu flowers but it was allergy season. Violetgrass was needed.

It wasn’t your favourite place to gather in, but these two herbs were the trickiest to find, loving spots out of the way, clumping in fours at best. You didn’t want to overpick and then lose a harvesting spot.

It’s sunset when you reach the Statue of Morax.

Your new boots were a mistake. You know there’s blisters on your ankles and soles. Breaking in leather sucked.

Your old boots left you with stinging pain whenever you stepped on any rock so there really wasn’t any winning.

Bowing your head at the statue, you say a little prayer to the geo archon. Morax. Rex Lapis. You’d made another successful trek. The god of contracts had built his nation in the most beautiful part of Teyvat. You could only hope to add to Liyue’s prosperity.

It’s hard to get back up, your muscles sore. Exhaustion always hit you in the last moments when rest is at hand. You were so close.

The people of Liyue pass were kind. They were always willing to host you for a night, forming a contract in exchange for something simple and silly like telling children a bedtime story or sweetflowers which were always abundant throughout Liyue. Uncle Liu generally wanted thunder god vine which was something you always carried.

You were happy to know you’d be fed and well rested tonight.

You hear the music, firecrackers going off in the dusk. The entire village was decorated in lanterns and colourful banners. A wedding!

Uncle Liu had many granddaughters of an age with you. Could one of them be getting married?

There would be roasted duck and lots of desserts like tofu pudding with red beans and almonds. Your mouth watered at the idea of fried fish and shrimp balls.

The folk music was carried by the wind.

It made the night take a magical quality to it. With the decorations and sky full of stars, it was a perfect backdrop to a celebration.

You smile, thinking of the silk flowers you could give the happy couple.

You look around. There’s pots of bamboo on the rock wall leading into the village proper.

The people are in reds and yellows, dancing and singing.

You grin, taking in the sight. You loved Liyue, you loved being from here and getting so many moments like this one. It wasn’t just Lantern Rite when the country was at its most beautiful.

You wonder if Xiao would go into Liyue Harbor with you for Lantern Rite. Hu Tao would talk his ear off but your heart fluttered at the idea of spending the festivities with him.

You’re so caught in your thoughts, they featured Xiao so often, that you nearly dismissed the Yaksha standing in the moonlight as a figment of your imagination.

You blink.

Xiao is still there, perched on a rock. It’s dark enough that no one would see him from the village, but his gaze is on the celebration.

You wonder why he doesn’t join in.

The Liu family was incredibly welcoming.

You make your way towards him instead, “Xiao?”

He jolts, standing up at once. “What is the matter?” There’s dried blood on his white shirt and dirt on his pants.

“Nothing,” you laugh lightly, “I’m always glad to see you.”

“Mm.” His gaze returns to the celebration.

You sit down next to him, sighing at the relief of being off your feet.

It’s nice: to listen to music with Xiao. While it’s not as energetic as Xinyan’s songs, there’s a beauty in the traditional wind and wood instruments. They were songs you’d known all your life.

“Are you alright?” You venture to ask. You’d never seen anything draw blood from Xiao.

“Mhm.” He nods. “The fight was long, but I persevered as I must to fulfil my sworn duty.”

You rest a hand on his shoulder, “so I don’t have to go get Baizhu then?” It was half a joke, half sincere worry.

“No.” Xiao shakes his head, “the statue of the Seven is all the healing I require.”

You nod, deciding to lay back against the rock. You were greedy for every minute you could spend with Xiao. Food, a warm bed, you could put those off for a while longer.

There was a tranquillity to just being besides Xiao.

Maybe Chongyun had been right. But the surge of panic that Xiao might vanish from your life kept you from saying anything about your feelings towards him.

Instead you reclined on the rock.

You release the hold on his shoulder, moving your hands to fiddle with the amulets around your neck. They were small fragile things, nothing compared to the adepti amulets Xiao wore.

He looks down at you, his expression tender in the starlight. You never tired of gazing at him, at the cut of his jaw and the light in his honeyed eyes. Unabashedly, you drink him in.

If he could look at you in such a way that had your heart palpitating despite not even touching you, then you could look at Xiao. You loved him.

He’d never so much as made a move to kiss you yet your heart was his. Every beat of your mortal heart belonged to the Vigilant Yaksha.

The music changes as a drumbeat joins the fray.

You close your eyes, stretching out like a cat. It felt nice. It was nice.

There was no pressure to make conversation.

Xiao brushes your hair out of your face. His hand lingers against your jawbone for a moment, too long to be a mistake.

You blink.

His mouth is parted in surprise at his own actions, he hunches in on himself, glancing back down at the party. He hugs his knees to his chest.

“You like music,” you ask.

“I do.”

Softly you offer, “we should go down there. Uncle Liu has always been kind to me and I always love an excuse to dance.”

Your words hang in the air.

You sit up, wrapping an arm around Xiao’s back lightly, unsure if he’d be okay with the action. You’re prepared for him to pull away immediately.

Instead, he replies, “I cannot endanger them for my own enjoyment.”

Your heart aches for him.

“I can listen from here.”

You squeeze his shoulders, “this is a great view,” you reply earnestly. There was no place else you’d rather be.

“I agree.” Xiao meets your gaze, brows drawn in thought.

He was so close you could see each individual eyelash of his. They were teal. Almost dark enough to be black at first glance.

You smile tenderly.

“I-,” he frowns at himself.

“What is it?”

Xiao cups your cheek with his hand. It’s the closest you’ve been since he saved your life and carried you to safety.

You swallow thickly, realising the love you felt for the man was mirrored in his eyes.

“Can I kiss you,” he asks in a hush whisper.

You don’t trust your voice. You nod, still not believing this was real, this was truly happening. Though you’d daydreamed that Xiao reciprocated your feelings, it had been more fantasy than a reality. You never believed it was possible.

But it was real.

The press of his lips against yours, Xiao’s breath warm on your skin, his thumb rubs your cheek. It was real. He kissed you with a softness you’d come to expect from the Yaksha.

He was a warrior; he moved through the world like a gentle breeze. His love for Liyue went further than a simple contract made long ago.

Xiao loved you.

Xiao kisses you softly and the moment is far too short.

He pulls back, tilting his head. Red dusts his cheeks, “I cannot say when I grew fond of you, but I have.” He lets out a sigh. “I wish to kiss you again?”

“I would very much like that,” you reply giddily, “I look forward to seeing you each week, and feel guilty when I don’t pass through Jueyun Karst.” You had to be mindful of how much you collected from any one spot.

“I would prefer that you did not go to Jueyun Karst,” Xiao admits, “but I selfishly enjoy your foolish ventures into Jueyun Karst.”

You laugh, full of love. You laugh knowing you are loved by the one you love.

You lean into him, kissing his cheek, “thank you for spending time with me.” You treasured every moment with him.

He nods, incredibly flustered.

So you kiss him again, granting his wish yourself.

His lips were slightly chapped. You hardly cared. He kisses you back clumsily. His hold on your cheek tightens, checking that you were solid, that you were kissing him.

You forget all about food and how tired you are. Your thoughts are full of Xiao.

Xiao caresses your cheek as you catch your breath.

You feel his heartbeat race from your hand on his back.

“Would you like to dance,” his voice was small.

You nod, beaming from delight. He liked you. He’d kissed you. Now he was asking to dance with you. Xiao, your Xiao.

“Yes.” Anywhere with Xiao was perfect.

#genshin impact #xiao x reader #xiao x you #adeptus xiao #in the air #when will this show up in the tags ?#3rd times the charm

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ukulelegodparent · 4 months

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hey i just wanted to send an ask as someone who has been like really struggling with this for a while. it was your tag on post about white south africans that went something like people acting like having ancestors in europe gives them some magical tie to that place. i see a lot of posts telling people like me to reclaim their european roots rather than appropriate stuff that doesn't belong to me. is that really the answer? i just feel like i don't l have another option. seeing people with cultural ties that they can draw pride, inspiration, wisdom from and then looking at my own lack of any of that just kind of opened like a deep pit of dread in me as i thought about it more and more. idk even know if you have the answers necessarily its just been eating away at me and that tag kinda just kinda made me really wanna ask on the off chance you had any sort of answer.

Hey, I mean I'm no expert on the topic and can only really speak from my own experience which is mostly as a European interacting with Americans. This won't necessarily match your situation, but I just know more about the situation in the US bc of well. The everything of it.

I mean embrace your roots all you want and look at the culture of your ancestors and keep what you want and leave the rest. It's yours. But let's take someone who is German-American. Their ancestors came there in the mid 19th century and that is their latest direct cultural tie to Germany. Or German lands or whatever. It's the middle of the 19th century. It's complicated. Point is those ancestors left a society where their specific culture (whatever region they were living in) was the majority and went into a culture where it was the minority. So either they assimilate or they form a smaller community with other Germans. Either way at that point they are cut off from the main bulk of what they consider their culture. They themselves will have strong cultural influences from the culture that surrounds them and even without that the culture on it's own will slowly warp and change. So too will their language. Maybe they stop speaking German in the first generation, maybe during one of the world wars, maybe there are still parts of the adult population of that community that speak a form of German. What that German-American person would consider the traditions and culture that were passed down to them from the German side of the family might have very little to do with anything that was part of the culture of those initial immigrants to the US. Now while all that was happening German culture in Germany also changed a lot. Between Unification, a world war, the establishment of a democratic system, the absolute turmoil of the 20s, female emancipation, fascism, another world war, a refugee crisis, another dictatorship, a lot of immigration from Turkey and Italy, the establishment of the EU, reunification etc etc. German culture in Germany is also drastically different from what it was in the mid 19th century when those ancestors left.

So that is the one slightly odd thing that like. People talk about their what they consider their own culture and they call it eg "German" or "Polish" or whatever, but the culture they have has just been through a lot of washes. Which is fine, but it is a bit silly when people post pictures of two old women on a cemetery and they want to call them 'sweet ladies' but end up calling them 'old hags'. But also by calling it like a culture that has a whole country attached to it it's a bit like they're declaring themselves experts which. I mean it leads to miscommunication is all I'm saying. And also there's the point that ethnicity just doesn't work like that in Europe. It's just not carried down that far through the family. I might have had Polish or Dutch or Danish ancestors in the early 19th century but I literally would never know. So it's odd to us here for people to build their identity around something that lies so far in their past. Again. This is the part that is just a little odd, will get people made fun of etc. Maybe a little annoying at times but whatever. 'you have yours over there and we have ours over here' is the name of the game.

The frustrating thing is when people with this history act like they have any sort authority on these things. And especially the frequent (Especially American) 'Bull in a China shop' moments you get where people then base their entire personality around stereotypes and come here and act like they belong. And just. There is sometimes this deep unawareness with especially Americans that they are foreigners here. Of course with Americans the cultural imperialism plays into the frustration here but I see it even with my cousin who grew up in Aotearoa and who also just. I mean both of her parents are German, a lot of their friends are and they've visited almost every year she's been alive and yet, when she says she wants to study here all I can think is 'Girl you will have the biggest culture shock of your life' and her parents literally barely have Kiwi citizenship.

And it might also be from the European side an attempt to remove oneself from colonialism, though I don't think that's the case. There is a huge cultural divide, especially between continental Europe and the Anglosphere. But mostly I mean culture is a living breathing thing that people have to actively participate in to be a part of it. And wherever in Europe your roots may lie, by nature of living on the other side of the world you cannot participate in those traditions and you will be part of a different culture. Like my culture to me is Easter Fires just as much as getting a Döner after a long night out and getting fresh bread rolls from a bakery on a Sunday morning and not being able to go shopping on a Sunday and terrible terrible Apres-Ski music (that I must admit I indulge in sometimes) and the stellar parody dubs of 2010 German Youtube and hearing church bells, and the architecture and the language omg the language, the beautiful poems, having to suffer through Faust in school, the supermarkets, the way towns work here, the way winter smells, the way my grandfather talks and the way my great-grand aunt talks, the forests, the mountains, the fields, not going to the Oktoberfest, not because I don't have the means to but because growing up I was taught to despise it and all things Munich with it, good Brezen, amazing lentil stew (from the can of course), the list goes on and on and on. And some of these are really specific to me and some are more general. And like if you want to connect with your roots, I'm genuinely happy for you, have fun! But for our hypothetical German American, whatever sits at the heart of German and European culture (bread and a certain grumpiness seem to be a big component of both) it will probably never be truly hers. Even if she were to move here. And that's fine. I mean. Idk which post you saw bc there actually were two where I left comments like that in the tags, but one of them listed a lot of examples of what culture can be and of why the 'haha white people have no culture' thing is inaccurate. Maybe it's just that it's hard to see sometimes when your culture is so squarely the majority you never ever have to think about it. Idk. I look around me and even between the regions I've lived in there are such stark cultural differences. Culture can be the songs you sing for children to fall asleep, what the most prominent mode of transport is, where you go to eat, what you eat, what you cook, whether you cook at all, whether you go to church, whether there are crosses hanging everywhere despite rarely anyone ever going to church, what you wear, especially outside of traditional clothing. Maybe at the core of this discomfort I expressed in those tags is also the big question of 'why are you looking here for guidance? You are so different.'

#this is chaotic but I hope it was at least a little helpful?#it's also very long #feel free to add to it or whatever #I will go get groceries now #ask #anon

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writingsofwesteros · 2 years

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I would love something with Tywin!!! Maybe the first time after she’s given birth to a son?

AN: Hi, I hope you like it

NSFW

The long pregnancy had finally passed and you were given a son for all your struggles. You wouldn’t admit but there was relief that flooded you when your child was a son. Not that it bought you any favours within Tywin’s family but it solidified your place by his side. And that was all that mattered.

And he was so beautiful, you thought as you stared down at your sleeping boy. He is a month old now. “Want me to take him, my lady?” The wet nurse softly offered as you only stared at him for a moment before nodding. “Thank you.” You whispered and pressed a soft kiss to his head before you were left alone.

Sleep soon came for you as you rested your head onto the mountain of pillows. Your body slowly relaxes as you dreamed. The long summer was at its peak and with your privacy; you had stripped of the silk under dress Tywin had gifted to you. It was the sight your husband was greeted with as he silently moved into the room. His eyes adjusted to the darker room as he heard your softer breathing. In the privacy of being alone; Tywin allowed himself to smile. You really had been the perfect choice, he thought to himself as he began to strip. His eyes never moved from you as you softly moved in your sleep; the covers falling from your body.

God, you were such a temptress, he thought. Your body had changed so beautifully with new dresses having to be made as your breasts swelled. And so sensitive; you really had been fun to play with. He could feel himself growing harder at the sight of you as he moved to take his pants off. You really did make him feel years longer. After removing the rest of his clothes; Tywin slowly moved into the bed. His hand moved down your soft arm as he settled behind you. A soft hum escaped you. You moved back into him as you slept soundly. His favourite scent you had bathed in and had Tywin humming.

His hand moved further down your soft body and gently stroked your leg as he tried to calm himself. Being close to you only made it worse, especially as you moved against his hard cock once more. “Tywin…” You softly whispered out as your eyes fluttered; you slowly moved from sleep. “Shh, I’m here.” He hummed; his hand snaking around your body and keeping you close. You softly smiled to yourself. His hand rested on your stomach now if only for a moment before he moved to palm at one of your breasts. You whined and moved back against him some more as soft pleasure began to make its way through you.

Tywin chuckled into your ear and moved to softly mouth at your neck. “Aren’t you tired?” You softly whispered. “No…are you?” He asked gently; worry in his tone even as his hand travelled south. “Not now…” You softly whispered out as your body began to hum in desire. The last month you had hardly been intimate from the maester’s orders. His hand still gently palmed at your breast; teasing your nipple. His leg slowly moved between your own so he could move in. You moaned out as his cock moved through your already soaked folds. “Dreaming about me?” Tywin couldn’t help but tease as his slow movements had him touching your clit again and again.

“Tywin…” You moaned out, your head falling back as your wetness coated his cock. He teased you some more. You reached around to bring his head forward and your soft lips captured his own. You melted against him and slowly rocked. Your soaked folds parted for him before Tywin moved and slipped inside. “Oh..gods.” You whimpered out; you were so sensitive and tight from not being played with. Even Tywin had to slow his movements until he bottomed out. Your soaked walls fluttered around him, hugging him. He slowly moved as his fingers returned to your sensitive pussy and played.

His free hand moved to pinch your nipples and had you nearly spasming around him from the intense pleasure. Your moans echoed around the chamber as your body shivered. “Please..” You whimpered; hardly knowing what you were begging for as Tywin only smirked. “Shh..such a greedy girl.” Tywin whispered his teasing. Your legs shook as the pleasure had your mind softening. The sounds of your wetness soon filled the room too. You burrowed into the pillow to hide from the moans. Your face was so cutely flushed. You tried to meet his thrusts as he moved deeper; hitting your soft spot and you could only cry out his name.

Your legs shook as you felt your stomach tighten some more. Tywin finally began to quicken his thrusts. “So good to me.” He whispered his praises that he hardly did in public, which only made it more intense now. The closeness only had you purring as the sounds of skin slapping against each other moved through the room. “Gods, I’ve missed this.” Tywin grabbed at your arse now as he looked down and watched his cock move in and out of you. Your cream had made a ring around his cock and he slowly moved you on your hands and knees. You grabbed at the sheets as your legs continued to shake at his powerful thrusts.

You moved back against him as his hand moved into your long locks and pulled. “Tywin..” You gasped out; your eyes rolling as your orgasm ripped through you. You squirted around his cock as he continued to fuck you through it. He grabbed at your arse once more as he quickened his pace. “Fuck..you are too good.” Tywin groaned as he finally released inside you. His hand snaked around to harshly rub on your soaked, sensitive pussy some more. “No..Tywin..” You cried out and tried to push his hand away as you fell onto the sheets. He only darkly chuckled and watched you fall to pieces once more.

The sheets were a complete mess now as you released all over his fingers. “Good girl.” He purred and brought you against his chest. You softly fell back into him as your heart pounded into your ears. Soon, your lips were smashed together in passion and your eyes fluttered shut for him. You moaned as his hands gently moved over your body now. “Going to give me another?” Tywin purred into your ear as his hand moved to palm your breast once more. You could only moan and burrow into his neck. “Haven’t you got enough?” You whispered out; softly mouthing at his neck as he shook his head.

TAGLIST

@writerslove2403 - I wasn’t sure if you just wanted Daemon or not x

#tywin lannister x reader #request

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kokofromwattpad · 1 year

Text

WHAT DID YOU SAY?!

Featuring: The First Years Plot: You speak your(my)home language in front of them Cw: Reader speaks Afrikaans because it's the only language I can actually understand without a translator, Gn! reader, cursing, translations/explanations after every scenario A/N: Holy crap, the French translated version of La Seine is so *mmmmmmmmmmhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh* Also reader does say some South African slang as well.

Ace Trappola

You were busy in the library, stressing over a test that Crewel had set for the very next day, when Ace walked in, trying to find you so that you could help him with studying.

"Hey prefect! I was wondering if you would help me with studying with that test thats comin' up." he quires with his usual large smile plastered on his face.

You shoot your head up at him, your eyes staring at him with blood lust.

"Het jy regtig net my studie vir jou idiotiese gat onderbreek?!" you scream.

Ace stares stunned for a while, his arms hang stupidly by his sides.

" Nou het jy niks om te sê nie!" you yell angrily.

You gathered all of your books and your sling on bag and marched out of the library to retreat back into Ramshackle.

Much later at night, Ace messages you a fat apology, saying how he didn't know that you were stressed and wanted to make up to you. (He also says its cool that you know a different language)

Translation:

->Het jy regtig net my studie vir jou idiotiese gat onderbreek?! = Did you really just interrupt my studying for your idiot ass?!

->Nou het jy niks om te sê nie! = Now you have nothing to say!

DEUCE SPADE

Deuce was busy helping you out in Ramshackle with some cooking in the kitchen. You were on one end of the room, humming a song a song that Deuce was not paying attention too, until he hears a soft,

"Eendjies, eendjies, staan in 'n ry. Een, twee, drie, vier, stap hul' verby"

He turns his head curiously at you with a questioning face.

"Prefect, what are you singing?" he asks gently.

You stop your singing and turn to look at him. You did not realize that he had been listening to you.

"Oh it's an old lullaby my mother used to sing to me when I was little. I kinda just remembered it just now. Sorry for surprising you!" you explain.

The boy just smiles happily and continues on with the rest of day, but he just happier knowing that you relived a little bit more about yourself to him than you do to others.

Translation= Ducklings, ducklings, all in a row One, two, three, four, see how they go. {Fun fact: Most South African children learn this lullaby when they are in preschool/Grade RR}

JACK HOWL

The track and field team was going against RSA in a race today and you in the stands cheering him on.

As Jack is running, he suddenly hears form the crowd,

"SLAAN HULLE MY SEUN!"

It was you screaming your lungs out for him. Even though he had zero idea what you had just said, he still appreciates it continues to do his absolute best.

Translation: SLAAN HULLE MY SEUN! = BEAT/HIT THEM MY BOY (I personally like to assign my friends a family title, and because I said so, I assigned Jack as the son)

EPEL FELMEIR:

Epel was stomping down the hallway, anger painted beautifully on his face. He was absolutely pissed at Vil for booking a hair and makeup appointment for him even though he did not need it.

Once he saw you walk out of your final class for the day, he immediately runs up to you and starts to vent about the 'bullshit that Vil puts him in' and so on.

"Awww, shamepies" you teased.

Epel turns his head at you with a mix of anger and confused on. "What the hell did you just say?" he breathed out.

You stood surprised and then it hits you like a damn train. He doesn't understand your slang.

Quickly you explained that 'shames' means a lot of different things and it is not always bad.

Epel now uses it against Vil.

(Shames is usually not used to degrade or reprimand someone, rather it is usually used in a sarcastic or comforting way, like what reader did, they faked pity while teasing Epel for having to deal with Vil.)

SEBEK ZIGVOLT:

Sebek opened the door to Ramshackle to give you a message that was sent from Malleus. Something on the lines of meeting the prince in a different location for their nightly walk.

But when Sebek walked deeper into the dorm, he heard loud screaming coming from the lounge.

"Julle het regtig gedink dit is 'n goeie idee om soos 'n klomp apies op te tree!" you lectured.

The troublesome trio looked shamefully down at the floor, trying to ignore your harsh, blade like stare. Your hands were on your hips and thee were shattered pieces of a blue vase scattered all over the floor.

Sebek then decided that it would be better to wait in the foyer until you calmed down and decided the trio's punishment.

Translation: "Julle het regtig gedink dit is 'n goeie idee om soos 'n klomp apies op te tree!" = "You guys really thought it was a good idea to act like a bunch of monkeys!"

-------------------------------------------------------

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onemeangreenbean · 5 months

Text

Anything Ch 1

SUMMARY: On the precipice of death Wynter does the only thing she can think to do to save herself. Something that is forbidden in her practice….to summon a demon and make a deal. The demon that answers her call ask what Wynter is offering and in her delirious state she answers with the only thing she can think of “Anything”.

PAIRING: Demon!Yoongi x BlackWitch OC

GENRE: Demon AU, Mystery, Strangers to Lovers, Soulmates, Smut, Fluff, Angst, slowburn

WARNINGS: violence, gore, murder (maybe), eventual smut, panic attacks, honestly my brain has stopped but promise each chapter with have individual warnings!

WORDCOUNT: 2,826 words

Previous | Next

Anything Masterlist | Masterlist

Wynter knew that she shouldn’t do it, but as she laid there in her tiny apartment she saw no other option. The poison from that bitch, Jiyeon, was fast acting and no one was coming to save her. Her own family on the other side of the world, why did she have to be so fucking stubborn. Something had felt off the whole day, from the time she woke up, through her shift at the bookstore. It was so off that she called her mommy and asked her what to do. “Baby, you know what to do,” her mommy sighed. “Do an egg cleansing when you get home and tell me what it says.”

Wynter never made it that far cause as soon as she walked in the door, her body all but collapsed on the floor. It was late at night and her apartment was pitch black, not even the moon shone through the heavy storm clouds. Water dripped off her curly hair and onto the floor as she tried to get her body to move.

She tried to breathe through the liquid fire running through her veins, making its way towards her brain. Gathering enough strength she started clawing her way across the floor, Wynter, reached up on her altar and grabbed the athame. “Fuck,” Wynter mummered more to herself than anyone. Tightening her trembling hold on the dagger she dug the blade into her wrist. It stung but it hurt considerably less then what was going on in the rest of her body.

How she had gotten herself into this predicament was beyond her, but she knew that if she got out of it she was going to make Jiyeon’s life a living hell. She hadn’t been in South Korea long and thought she had made a friend, which for Wynter was an accomplishment. Apparently, she had not made a friend. All she could picture was Jiyeon’s smiling face as she spoke to Wynter earlier that day about a spell she was excited about.

Rain pittered against the window as the monsoon progressively got worse outside. Wynter’s summoning circle was rudimentary, but with the way her body was beginning to give out it was the best she was going to get. As she chanted the invocation all she could do was hope that whatever demon came through was one of the good ones, or at the very least neutral. The air began to feel heavier as Wynter continued her chanting, stumbling over the Korean words as she tried to remain conscious. Rolling over onto her back she made sure to keep one hand in the circle, in order to maintain the connection.

The poison had made its way up to her chest constricting it to the point where all Wynter could do was gasp out the words. Her throat constricting; closing in on itself, her head pounding. She could feel the blood being pushed out of her orifices. Tears of red running down her face, as the taste of iron coated her mouth. It isn’t going to work. The heaviness in the air remained and wind began circling her, but no one appeared. If they were going to come they would’ve been here already. Wynter’s vision began to flicker in and out, blackness closing in around her.

“What do you want?” a deep voice growled above her. Her flickering gaze met a figure peering down at her.

“Please. Save. Me.” Wynter gasped out each word.

Yoongi crouched down in front of her. His black eyes drinking in her form on the brink of death. Very rarely was he called upon; never was it to save someone; never was it by a foreigner. Her brown skin was ashen and her eyes unfocused as her cloths clung to her sweat covered body. “What’s in it for me if I do save you?” He moved a curl out of her face so he could see her better.

Wynter’s brain tried in vain to form a coherent sentence, but all she could manage to squeak out was, “Anything.” Though the man was merely a pale blob in front of her now she tried to convey what she meant through her eyes. That she would give this demon anything, within reason, he wanted if he would just save her.

Normally, Yoongi, would leave her to die and go back home, though home was a loose interpretation, but as he threw a quick glance around her tiny home he could tell that she was powerful– it had took him longer than he liked to break through her protection wards and he was invited– and with the shit he got himself into he could use her later on. So with that in mind smirking down at her passed out form, Yoongi decided to save this strange witch.

Wynter’s body ached as she tried to get more comfortable in the softness of her bed. Her limbs felt as though someone had tried to rip them off of her body. A strange dream played in her head of her dying, and a demon saving her. She would have to ask her Nana about it when she got a chance. A demon! It would be a cold day in hell before her black ass called on a demon for help. “You’re awfully ungrateful for someone who was basically dead less than 5 hours ago,” a calm voice said from beside her.

Her eyes flew open and landed on the face of a man directly in front of her. An attractive man, but a strange man nonetheless. Dressed in all black his cat like eyes watched her with an expressionless face; black hair falling perfectly just under his brows. He looked like he could use a day out in the sun but that was the least of Wynter’s problems at the moment.

The man was sitting beside her bed like he had been watching her sleep. She tried not to let her mind linger on the fact that she was in her sleep shorts and a t-shirt, when she had been in her work cloths when she got home, which only meant one thing…Wynter’s stomach rolled and she rushed out of bed and into the bathroom slamming the door behind her. As she emptied her stomach contents out she tried to understand what was happening. Once she was done she looked down at the black liquid that filled the toilet, a death curse, and a nasty one at that. What the fuck. She rinsed her mouth out and splashed cold water on her face and neck trying to calm down. No no no no, she would never summon a demon. Not only was it forbidden to use dark magic, but also her mommy was going to kill her.

“Sorry to break the news to you but you did, in fact, summon a demon.” The deep voice had the nerve to sound amused that Wynter was going through a moral crisis. A crisis that was shaking the very foundation of her practice! She stared at her reflection trying to come up with a game plan. It seemed as though her bronze skin had regained some of its color, but her hair was a mess. She tugged and manipulated her curls until they sat in a puff on top of her head. Wynter couldn’t have summoned a demon, for all intents and purposes a demon shouldn’t have even been able to get past her protection wards, unless…..FUCK! She did summon it but she literally had nothing to offer the thing.

Yoongi was waiting as patiently as he could on the other side of the bathroom door, trying his best to keep up with the flurry of unfamiliar words racing through her head. He was beginning to get highly annoyed– not only at himself for not being able to understand her thoughts, but also at her for making him wait– when the door ripped open and she was standing in front of him. Her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. “What did I offer you?” Her large brown eyes looked up at him as she tried to read his expression, which much to her dismay was cold and distant.

“Anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

They stared at each other silently as Wynter tried to process what he had just said, why would she offer something so stupid. “Would you like some coffee?” The question shocked Yoongi as much as it did Wynter, but she needed caffeine if she was going to figure out this pile of shit she, no correction, Jiyeon, had gotten her into.

Wynter walked off before Yoongi could answer, leaving him to question if he had heard her correctly or not. When he saw her preparing the coffee and taking down two mugs from the cabinet, he made his way over to the counter. For the most part she prepared the coffee in silence before handing him a mug with some cartoon character on it. Yoongi stared down into the steaming coffee, trying to remember the last time he had an actual drink. He studied her profile as she looked out the kitchen window and at the city while she sipped her coffee. The dull pink hues of the sunrise painted her skin a pretty shade of brown, a shade that Yoongi was having a hard time pinning down. Her hair up in a bun with her dark curls spilling out every which way; her full lips perched on the rim of the mug in contemplation.

Wynter turned towards the demon in her studio apartment and took in a deep breath as she tried to steady her thoughts. She wasn’t expecting to be met with his feline-like eyes intensely staring at her. His black hair falling into his face as he cocked his head to the side, unabashedly, studying her. Wynter’s gaze flickered slightly over to the vertical scar going across his eye. His black t-shirt and pants contrasting nicely on his pale skin. Wynter cleared her throat and looked away as she tried to remember what she was going to say. “Since I was stupid enough to offer you anything, what do you want?”

It was the question that had been swirling around in her head since he had first told Wynter what she offered him. He could probably ask for the most ridiculous thing and Wynter would be beholden to give it to him. Yoongi took a sip of his coffee as he pondered his answer. He hummed in appreciation at the taste. He needed her for the power she could give him and while he could very easily ask for that, it was a power he had absolutely no knowledge of and therefore was useless in his hands. So, he asked for the only thing he could, “Your soul.”

The tension in a tiny kitchen weighed heavy on Wynter as she tried to process what he had just asked. Her soul? A laugh escaped from her lips before she could stop it. To be quite honest she didn’t even know why she was laughing beside it being some sort of fucked up trauma response. Yoongi just stared at her, his eyes widened slightly in disbelief. “I’m sorry. Did I say something funny?”

Wynter’s laugh died down to a chuckle as she tried to hold it in seeing Yoongi’s face start to contort at her sheer audacity. “I’m sorry for laughing. I just don’t know how to respond to that. I mean a demon asking for my soul, while wildly disconcerting, is also very cliche don’t you think?” The fact that this was even happening at all was one for the books to Wynter, but at this point all she could do was accept it and go with the flow. She had no doubt that she could probably find a loophole somewhere but now wasn’t the time for it.

“Cliche? You think my request for payment for saving your little life is cliche?” Yoongi slammed the mug down on the counter causing a small crack to appear. At that she stopped laughing, a sound that Yoongi instantly missed but pushed to the back of his mind. “The only reason I asked for you pitiful soul is because it’s more beneficial to enslave you for all entirety instead of snuffing out your pathetic life for your power.” Yoongi stalked towards her until her back hit the counter. Her eyes wide as she stared back up at him, the smallest flicker of fear dancing in them.

“When would you like payment?” Her voice wobbled a bit as she tried to check her own fear. Wynter honestly didn’t mean to laugh but with the absurdity of the whole situation it was her body's only response. Here she was after being cursed in the middle of her small studio apartment kitchen with a demon telling her he wanted her soul. Absurd!

“5 years.” Yoongi’s voice had leveled back out to a tone of calm indifference. His face as apathetic as before.

“That’s an oddly specific time to wait,” Wynter scoffed, crossing her arms. “Why not just collect now?”

“Would you rather me collect it now?”

“No. I’d rather you collect it never, but I’m just wondering why the time frame?” Wynter knew that demons only took long term contracts when something big was in it for them, and they never turned down an easy payday, such as a one time request.

Yoongi closed his eyes and sighed deeply. Her questions were as aggravating as her small attitude, but he could see that she wasn’t going to move on from the topic. “Who the fuck complains that they’re given more time to keep their soul?”

“I’m not–”

“You are. Quite honestly you have a spiritual gift I have never seen before and I want it, but it’s not fully developed yet. I need time to cultivate it; to bring it, and in turn you, up to its full potential.” Yoongi waited for a response but she kind of just stood there with a dumbfounded look on her pretty face.

“So,” she took a deep breath and quirked an eyebrow. “You want to mentor me for 5 years and then basically make me work for you for all eternity?” Wynter spoke slowly in order to make sure she was getting all the facts of the situation correct. How did he even know what her gift was, let alone that she was trying to perfect it? On top of that, what the hell could he even want it for?

“Basically. Now are we done playing 20 questions?” He scratched the side of his face as he averted his gaze. Yoongi didn’t realize how close he had gotten to her, barely a finger width apart. She looked up at him with an unreadable look in her doe eyes, her breathing deep and slow like she was trying to calm down.

Which for the most part Wynter was cause she could feel the demonic energy rolling off of him in waves and she was having problems deflecting it since he was so close. Normally, she would just tell him to back up, but he had pushed her into the corner of her L-shape counter and he frankly terrified her. He wasn’t even looking at her and he terrified her. He had such a calmness about him that it was eerie, like he was actively maintaining control over himself at all times, and her Granny always told her to be wary of those types of folks. Wynter opted to clear her throat to continue, “So, I’ll see you in 5 years then?”

Yoongi whipped his head back to lock eyes with her once again. Smirking, he placed his hand on either side of her body on the counter and leaned in. His face merely inches from hers, “Gongjunim, do you think I’m really going to leave you alone after someone just tried to kill you. You’re stuck with me for the next 5 years so I can protect my investment.” Her pulse point beating erratically on her neck was Yoongi’s only indication that she was nervous.

“O-okay. Um, last question then.” Wynter’s mind raced as she tried to gather her wits about her. Her mind had made the executive decision to stop working when he called her gongjunim and leaned in. She didn’t know what gongjunim meant but whatever it sounded like it meant made her heart flutter and quite honestly, fuck that. So she wetted her dry lips, sucked in a shaky breath and let out a stable one, not missing the way that his dark gaze drifted to her lips before coming back up. “Since you are staying, do you mind telling me your name? It seems stupid to have to refer to you a “the demon” or “you” for 5 years.”

Yoongi chuckled and pulled away from her, finally giving her some breathing room. “Yoongi. Yours?”

“Wynter.”

#bts x reader #min yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi x oc #yoongi x you #yoongi x black reader #bts smut #bts x black reader #bts x black girl #bts x oc

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scolop98 · 1 year

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VOTE JAKAPIL FOR DINOSAUR MARCH MADNESS

@a-dinosaur-a-day

No other contestant in the final four is such A Creature™️ the way that Jakapil is. Jakapil is simultaneously the ultimate being to exist from the perspective of a dinosaur-obsessed child and a fascinating, paradigm-shifting paleontological enigma. Literally the perfect dinosaur, what more could you want

Why vote for Jakapil?

the most likely scenario here is that this guy represents a hundred million year old ghost lineage of basal thyreophorans that we’ve never discovered before. The less likely scenarios are bipedal armored ceratopsian or a completely new kind of ornithsician, both of which have been genuinely considered by some paleontologists! Whatever the case, Jakapil represents a brand new, never-before seen lineage of dinosaurs unlike anything we’ve ever known before, and that’s SO COOL

Aesthetically, this is a bipedal armored dinosaur with tiny abelisaur-grade arms, estimated to be less than 5 ft long and 15 lb (or 1.5 m and 7 kg max). Literally perfect. I’m really bad at visualizing measurements but I’m pretty sure you could pick it up and hold it in your arms if you tried. Sure you could do that with Heracles or Caihong, but you don’t need a Time Machine to pick up parrots and shiny bird things - there’s nothing like Jakapil for you to hold and snuggle today

They’re so friggin weird. It’s got jaws like a ceratopsian or a heterodontosaur, a jaw bone that no other basal thyreophorans have, arm anatomy shockingly similar to abelisaurs, and THEY CAN CHEW. I know that chewing seems really normal to us humans but it’s so weird to see outside of mammals. Practically the only other dinosaurs that chew are ornithopods. Jakapil seems like it’s trying to be as many kinds of dinosaur as possible, which further supports my statement that it is the Ultimate Dinosaur

It’s armored and covered in spikes. ‘Nuff said

Also a friendly reminder that the only other known bipedal thyreophoran is Scutellosaurus, which was from Early Jurassic Europe. Jakapil is from late Cretaceous South America, so this guy just popped up across the world a hundred million years later with practically no trace of its ancestors. How did this happen? What the fuck were its ancestors doing in that time? Heracles may have given us neat answers to New Zealand-y questions, but Jakapil gave us questions we didn’t even know needed to be asked

I’ve said it once and I’ve said it again, South America’s fauna has been friggin' amazing since the Cretaceous and never stopped. Automatic points for being a South American dinosaur. This guy lived alongside Giganotosaurus and Buitreraptor!!

What about the other contestants, you may ask? Kholumolumo is only here for the meme. Outside of the funny name and it’s absurdly convoluted history to getting formally named, what do you actually know about it? How much does it contribute to our understanding of dinosaurs compared to the other contestants?

Caihong is basic. I’m sorry but I won’t back down from this (for another few months at least). I love dromaeosaurs as much as the next person, but literally all that Caihong has going for it is it’s ultra-inridescence. Any other Chinese dromaeosaur could provide the rest. Look past your instinctual love of shiny things and vote for something that breaks away from everything we thought we knew to become something truly unique!

As for Heracles... I actually have nothing bad to say about Heracles, I love New Zealand's fauna and giant flightless birds (especially on islands). But while I love Heracles for everything it stands for, I feel like Jakapil stands for so much more. Heracles is a wonderful addition to our knowledge of it's lineage and environment, but also... is it really that surprising to find a giant flightless bird in New Zealand that belongs to that a family endemic to New Zealand? Jakapil is just such a bizarre, fascinating, unexpected discovery from so many perspectives. It is truly the ultimate dinosaur, and we should honor it as such

As of the time of writing there's still four days left at the polls and Jakapil is a steady second place in all three of them. We still have time to win this for Jakapil and dethrone Caihong!

#dinosaur march madness #dmm rising stars #dmm final four #dmm finals #jakapil #dmm #a-dinosaur-a-day #JAKAPIL SWEEP #long post #hmm i should probably be tagging these as long posts shouldnt i

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leslie-lyman · 1 year

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All Hallow’s Eve (A Stranger At My Gate Drabble)

summary: A little look at what is, technically, Tessa and Pero’s second Halloween together.

rating: G (though my entire blog and its contents are only for those 18+)

word count: 1.5k (I’m still counting it as a drabble, fight me)

a/n: I started having some Tessa and Pero thoughts on my walk home from work this afternoon, then cranked this out after dinner. It occurred to me that it might be fun to spend just a moment or two with these two today, given the importance of All Hallow’s Eve to their story. Happy Halloween, everyone!

Masterlist. | Series Masterlist.

———

Pero will never admit this out loud, but he secretly loves when Tessa fusses over him. Little touches that show that she cares, like she’s doing now, adjusting the collar of the white shirt that lays under the light blue vest she’d picked out for him.

“Alright, Flynn Rider, gimme your best smolder.”

“I will do no such thing,” he replies evenly, scowling at her.

“Perfect.”

“Hey now,” Pero grumbles, reaching down to tickle her side, “it worked on you, didn’t it?”

Tessa lets out a small shriek and twists away from him.

“Pero, behave. I promised Amie we’d hand out candy at her place while she and Thom take the kids trick-or-treating and we cannot be late.”

“With you in that dress, mi amor?” He cocks an eyebrow at the frilly purple garment that is turning his love into Rapunzel for the evening. “I make no promises.”

___

“Moira make it to Florida okay, Tess?” Henry says as she and Pero fill bowls of candy in her sister’s kitchen.

“She texted me when she landed earlier,” Tessa confirms.

“Tessa said she goes on this trip with her witch friends every All Hallow’s Eve?” Pero asks.

Amie nods.

“And Moira never misses a year when it’s Nancy’s turn to host. The woman takes to South Beach like a spring break co-ed.”

Henry barks out a laugh.

“Remind us, Pero, to tell you one day about the time we had to bail the whole lot of them out of the Miami-Dade County jail when they got booked on disorderly conduct.”

As with every nugget of information Tessa’s family shares with him about Moira, Pero is equally impressed and terrified.

Thom wrangles the kids into the kitchen, their whole family outfitted this year as Toy Story characters. Molly, Toby, and Finn — done up as Bo Peep, Rex, and Woody — rush to give their aunt and uncles hugs before racing out the door, eager to start collecting candy. Thom places a big red cowboy hat onto his wife’s head, completing her Jessie ensemble, and she helps him shuffle out the door sideways so as not to damage his Buzz Lightyear wings.

“Be good until we get back, you crazy kids!” Henry shouts at Tessa and Pero, one hand on Walter’s leash and the other around Martin’s waist. The two of them had decided to go out with the kids this year, wanting the chance to show off their costumes as Blue and Josh after the rain had thwarted everyone’s trick-or-treating plans last year.

Tessa and Pero settle themselves on Amie and Thom’s front stoop. The whole month of October has served as the last round of modern holiday education for Pero, Tessa and the rest of the Walsh family including him in their Halloween traditions as they had those of Thanksgiving, Christmas, Valentine’s Day, St. Patrick’s Day, Easter, and the Fourth of July over the past year. Pumpkins Pero had picked and helped to carve now stood guard on either side of Tessa’s front door. He’s gone on a hayride and wandered his way through a corn maze. He’s watched spooky movies and been the eager beneficiary of Tessa’s return to fall cooking, their house always smelling of pumpkin, cinnamon, apples…

And now, he’s let her dress him up to partake in the tradition of costumes and trick-or-treating, happy to spend a few hours dressed up like that Flynn character from that movie with the long-haired girl with the pretty voice if it means he gets to see Tessa all done up in her lace-edged dress, an innocent pink bow sewn to the neckline between her breasts that makes him think anything but innocent thoughts.

Paper bags with battery-powered tea lights line the driveway and front walk, a collection of carved pumpkins are clustered on either side of the door. The air is cool and crisp, the sky cloudless, the faint smell of fallen leaves on the breeze. The yellow glow of the porch light lets folks know there’s candy to be had at this house, and turns Tessa’s hair appropriately golden.

Slowly, children and families start wandering up. There are a few costumes he recognizes, classics like vampires and ghosts, a number of tiny witches to whom Tessa gives a little extra candy, characters from that movie The Wizard of Oz that Tessa loves so much. There are plenty of others he doesn’t — a lot of young girls are going as Ms. Marvel this year, and many teenagers and grown women are the Scarlet Witch. Tessa coos over a young boy dressed as the Mandalorian (who, she insists, Pero is a dead ringer for, even if he doesn’t see it), who comes up to get candy along with his Jack Russell terrier dressed as Grogu.

Some of the children eye Pero with trepidation, the inherent spookiness of the holiday and the shadows cast by the porch light making him look even more intimidating than usual. But then a girl of about five dressed in an absolutely precious Rapunzel gown of her own approaches them, and Tessa and Pero can see the look on her face change when she realizes who they’re dressed as.

“You’re Flynn Rider!” she squeals, then marches straight up to Pero to loudly whisper in his ear, “You’re my favorite Disney prince.”

Pero has had enough practice at playing pretend with Tessa’s niece and nephews that he’s able to get over his surprise and muster up a suitable reaction.

“Thank you, princesa,” he says, giving the girl a courtly little bow from where he sits. He drops an extra large handful of candy into her bag with a wink, and she practically sprints back down the drive to her waiting parents, loudly telling them how Flynn Rider and Rapunzel live at that house.

Tessa giggles next to him and leans her head on his shoulder, murmuring something about how she knew Flynn would be a great costume for him. But Pero is lost in thought, the mirror image of this scenario playing out in his head, in which he and Tessa are the ones standing at the end of the drive, and the little girl in the princess dress running excitedly to meet them is theirs.

———

Once they’re home, Tessa plops their doggy bag of leftover candy down on the counter and goes to get herself a glass of water. Pero unlaces his boots, tugging them off and placing them on the mat. There are so many places for his things now in the house, so many reminders in every room that this place is theirs, not just Tessa’s alone.

When he straightens again and looks to her she’s gazing out the window over the sink, the one that in the daylight offers a view of the woods that conceal the Gate in their depths. Pero makes his way over to her and wraps his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on top of her head.

“You are thinking very loudly, angel.”

Tessa sighs, but it’s a contented sound.

“I was just remembering…it was a year ago tonight.”

Pero hums.

“I’ve been thinking about it, too.”

Tessa turns in his arms, resting her hands on his chest.

“You left quite a first impression that evening.”

Pero grimaces, imagining the way he must have looked, wet, injured, unkempt, unconscious, Tessa and Henry literally dragging him into the house that first night to take care of him.

“You were quite a surprise too, you know,” he tells her.

“Oh yes? What was it exactly?” She teases him gently. “My house full of magical gadgets? My inability to understand any of your languages? My absolutely incredible grilled cheese sandwich-making skills?”

Pero shakes his head, brushing the tip of his nose against Tessa’s.

“You were so kind to me,” he murmurs. “So kind when you had no reason to be. And you weren’t afraid.” He says it like he still can’t quite believe it.

“Of you? Never.” Tessa curls her fingers into his shirt. “You were mine, right from the start, even if it took me a while to realize it. And I was yours.”

A year. A whole year she’s been his, a whole year they’ve belonged to each other. It’s not enough. Pero wonders if any amount of time ever will be.

He slots his lips over hers and kisses her, loving the way she responds, always meeting him kiss for kiss. Tessa never leaves any room for doubt that she wants him.

She pulls away for a moment, a suggestive glint of mischief in her eye.

“Trick or treat, Pero?”

His answering grin is her only warning before he scoops her up and tosses her over his shoulder, pulling an indignant squawk out of her.

“I think, mi amor,” he says, heading for their bedroom with his prize, “I won’t be satisfied until I’ve tried both.”

———

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pero tovar x ofc #Pero Tovar #pero tovar fanfic

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