#((And i've certainly appreciated the more thoughtful questions

[theobjectofmyobsession055]

Boothill x SingleParent!Reader: Lassos and Lullabies Chpt. 3

So sorry for the lack of updates! I've been working on a few projects lately and this one had to take the backburner for a bit. Enjoy!

Previous part

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Boothill had been on and off babysitting Charlotte ever since Y/N had her work conference. He wasn’t available very often, with his bounty hunting taking him all across the galaxy, but he made a point to go help out whenever he was in town. An he just might have been making a point to be in town more often too. He just couldn’t refuse when Y/N looked at him with those soft, apologetic eyes, like she was sorry for even asking him. And it certainly didn’t help when she mentioned that he was the only babysitter Charlotte liked—almost made him feel special.

He'd come to look forward to his time watchin the little tyke. It was a nice break from bounty hunting and tracking down the IPC, and he didn’t typically get many of those. So when Y/N texted him to cancel, he felt his stomach drop in disappointment.

‘Why? Did something happen?’ he texted back.

‘No, I’ve just come down with a bad cold, so I’ll be staying home today and can look after Lottie. Thanks for the concern though :)’

He frowned. ‘If you’re not feeling well you should be resting. I can still come over and watch her so you can focus on getting better.’

‘Oh you don’t have to go through all that trouble, I’ll manage. It’s what being a mom is all about yk?’

He let out a sigh. That woman could be more stubborn than he was at times. Knowing her, she’d just try to push through it and end up wearing herself into the ground. He couldn’t have that, not if he could do something about it. And he was always of the school of thought that it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission.

So he marched his way on over to Y/N’s apartment, shopping bag in tow. He knocked on the door, and after a few minutes of rustling from inside, it opened to reveal a red-nosed Y/N, still in her pajamas and with dark circles under her eyes. Even in that state, he had to fight the flush that threatened to creep onto his face at the sight of her. Her tired eyes widened. “Boothill?” she questioned, her voice scratchy and nasal. “I thought I told you you didn’t have to come over today?”

He grinned. “Yeah, you did say I didn’t have to. Good thing I wanted to.” He gently pushed her out of the doorway and strode inside, setting his shopping bag down on the table. “Here, I got something’ for ya.”

She blinked like she’d been stunned, her movements groggy. “Wait… what?”

“It’s been a while since I’ve had to deal with bein’ sick, considerin’—” He gestured to his metal body. “Y’know. So I just grabbed a buncha different stuff hopin’ somethin’ll stick. So here, pick yer poison.” He dumped out the bag onto the table, revealing bottles upon bottles of medicine. Cough syrup, allergy relief, painkillers, if it could’ve been even somewhat useful for a cold, he’d grabbed it.

Y/N stared at the pile of medicine like it held to secrets to the universe, dumbfounded. Then, she looked back up at him, a confused crease in her brow. “You… got all this for me?”

He shrugged, trying his best to convince her that it was the most natural thing in the world to do all this for an acquaintance, and that it most definitely was not because he had a big fat crush on her. “Eh, I was headin’ there anyway. Figured I’d puck up a few things for ya.”

She must have been really out of it, because she didn’t even comment on why the heck a cyborg would need to go to the pharmacy, especially when he just said he didn’t get sick. Instead, she just nodded slowly and approached the table, picking through the bottles. She settled on some nyquil and ibuprofen and downed them like she was taking a shot. The tired, appreciative smile she gave him made his chest flutter. “Thank you, Boothill. You really didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”

“Like I said, good thing I wanted to, then. Now you head off to bed, you look exhausted.” He gently ushered her through the apartment towards her bedroom.

As if to confirm his point, she let out a loud yawn. “I feel exhausted…” She looked back up at him with concern, but she made no move to resist his corralling. “But what about Lottie? She still needs lunch and a bath and…”

He shushed her. “Now you don’t worry your pretty little head, sugar. I’m an old pro at this by now, you just get some rest.”

She didn’t protest any more, just silently following his steering into her bedroom. He gently guided her to lay down in bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. He realized that some of the lesser-used functions of his cyborg body might be useful here, so he pressed the back of his hand to her forehead and activated his temperature sensors. He immediately snatched his hand away. “Yeowch, you’re burnin’ up, darlin’. Lemme get ya some water.”

As he went to go get a glass of water from the faucet, he spotted Charlotte toddling out form her room donning a duck-patterned onesie and rubbing her eyes. Sweet thing, she must’ve just woken up from her nap. But the second she caught sight of him, her sleepy eyes lit up in excitement. “Hat man!” She ran up to him and tackle-hugged his leg.

He laughed and ruffled her hair with his free hand. “Hey there, sweetheart! Lemme take this to yer momma real quick, and then we can play together, okay?”

“Play! Play!” She jumped up and down excitedly.

“Just one second, Lottie, then we can play.” He finished filling up the glass and turned off the faucet. “Wait right here, I’ll be back.”

He returned to Y/N’s side, kneeling down next to her bed as he handed her the glass of water. His voice was surprisingly gentle even to himself as he said, “Drink this, doll. It’ll make ya feel better.”

She took the glass from him and downed the whole thing in a few gulps. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and set the glass down on the nightstand before flopping back down in bed. Her eyes pinched closed, and she brought her hand up to rub her temple. “God, this headache is killing me…”

At the mention of a headache, he remembered an old remedy Nick and Gray used to make for him and his siblings when they were feeling unwell. “Gimme just a second, I’ll be right back.”

Charlotte was still waiting for him in the kitchen, bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet. “Play now?”

“Not quite yet, sweetheart. Yer momma’s not feelin’ too good, so I’m gonna make her somethin’ to help her feel better,” he explained as he started to whip up a concoction of honey, ginger, lemon juice, and various other spices.

Charlotte tilted her head to the side curiously. “Mama… not feel good? Me help?”

His heart could’ve melted from her innocent request. “Sure, Lottie. Why doncha help me bring this to her? That’d be a lotta help.” He handed the mug he’d mixed up the herbal remedy in to her. “Careful now, don’t spill it.”

The look of concentration on her little face was just too precious as she waddled off towards her mom’s bedroom. He followed her, making sure she didn’t drop the mug. Y/N smiled weakly when she saw the two of them in the doorway. “Hi baby,” she cooed in her raspy voice. “What’ve you got there?”

Charlotte toddled up to her mom’s bedside and held up the mug to her. “Feel more better!”

“’S an old herbal remedy my folks used to make,” Boothill explained. “Should help clear ya out and make that headache go away some.”

She took a sip, her face scrunching up at the bitter taste. “Yup, certainly tastes medicinal.” She took another couple sips despite its off-putting flavor. She looked up at him, gratitude shining in her tired eyes. “Thank you. For everything.”

He tsked. “Think nothin’ of it, sweetheart. You just get some sleep and focus on getting better.” He couldn’t resist the urge to reach out and brush away some of the hair that had fallen in her face. Her skin was still hot to the touch, but it’d cooled down slightly from when he’d taken her temperature before.

She hummed, closing her eyes. “That feels nice…” she mumbled, already half-asleep.

He chuckled. “I bet it does, Sleep well.” He ushered Charlotte out of the room, turned the lights off, and shut the door behind them.

Charlotte seemed unusually quiet as they entered the living room. “You still wanna play, darlin’?” he asked.

She shook her head, a frown on her face. “No. Wanna help mama.”

Now if that wasn’t just the sweetest thing he’d ever heard. He kneeled down to her height and looked her in the eyes. “You’re a good kid, Lottie. Yer momma’s lucky to have ya. But right now, the best thing we can do for her is to stay quiet an’ let her sleep. But ya could always make her somethin’ to let her know you’re think’ ‘bout her.. She loves all those little drawings you make her. You wanna do that?”

Her eyes lit up at his suggestion. “Yeah! Draw-ring!”

“Sounds like a plan, then.” He dug through the closet for their craft supplies, grabbing crayons, stickers, construction paper, and anything else he thought she might enjoy messing with (he was careful to avoid the glitter, though—he really didn’t feel like cleaning up that mess). He dumped them all into a pile on the kitchen table and sat down, placing Charlotte on his lap. “Alright, kiddo, go nuts.”

They spent the next half-hour or so making get-well cards, filled with little doodles of the three of them holding hands. Boothill didn’t know whether to feel touched or out of place that Charlotte insisted on drawing him too—it wasn’t like he was a part of their family, he wasn’t even sure if he’d call himself Y/N’s friend. He just helped babysat for her occasionally. But Charlotte’s urging that he belonged there too stirred something within him. Protectiveness, longing… and something else he couldn’t quite name. So if she said she wanted him in the picture, then he’d count his blessings and let it slide.

After a while of drawing, Charlotte’s tummy started to rumble, so Boothill got up to go make them all some lunch. Y/N usually set out the ingredients for what she wanted him to make beforehand, so this was his first time actually looking through her kitchen. Even a quick glance showed that she was quite the cook, heck he didn’t even know how to use half of the utensils and equipment she had in there. He needed to make something easy on the stomach, in case she was feeling nauseous, so his mind immediately went to chicken noodle soup. It’d been a while since he’d made it, but he remembered the basics at least. Luckily, they had all the ingredients he’d need in stock.

Once Charlotte had eaten, with only minimal spillage, he went to go take a bowl to Y/N. He knocked on the door before entering, so as not to startle her. He peeked his head in, a smile on his face as he saw how she rubbed at her eyes blearily. “Wakey, wakey. I’ve got somethin’ for ya.” He pulled up a chair and sat down by her bedside, handing her the bowl of soup. “Careful, it’s hot.”

She took it gratefully and blew on it before looking up at him with astonishment. “You made this for me?”

“Well, technically I made it for all of us, but yeah, I had you in mind, sugar.” He gave her a soft smile. “Now see if y’can keep it down, an’ lemme know if ya start feeling nauseous—I’ll run and grab ya a bucket.”

She let out a quiet “Thank you,” before taking a few slow sips of soup. She hummed in approval. “This is really nice, Boothill. Wish I could taste more of it.” She chuckled.

“Aw, don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of more chances to try my cookin’ in the future, when yer not all stuffed up.” He reached into his pocket, unfolding the get-well card Charlotte had made. “Oh, and, uh… Lottie made this for ya. I helped with the spellin’, though.”

She set the bowl of soup down on the nightstand and took the card. Plastered in big letters in pink crayon was ‘Get well soon Mama!’ with a picture of three stick figures holding hands underneath. It was obvious which one was supposed to be Boothill, with his signature black cowboy hat on top. He hipped his hat over his face a little, trying to hide the pink flush on his cheeks. “…I told her she didn’t haveta put me in it, but she really wanted to. Sorry ‘bout that.”

If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought those were tears shining in Y/N’s eyes. She blinked rapidly, her lips drawn in to her teeth. “No, no, no need to apologize! It’s… perfect. I love it.” She reached out and took his metal hand in hers, and he nearly jolted at the sudden contact. She looked up at him, staring into his eyes as if she could see his whole dirty, rotten soul. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. Her voice was whisper-soft as she said, “Thank you again. This is… more than I could have ever asked you to do for me. You’re a good friend, Boothill.”

If he had a heart it would’ve leapt into his throat, but somehow he still felt a lump there. He swallowed it down and squeezed her hand. “’Course, sugar. That’s what friends do.”

[subdued-moderation]

Using, merging, and twisting different way of speaking is how I speak- Yo, howdy, ey’ there, how’s it going- you get the gist, I’m sure. People enjoy having someone that’s able to match what they say, of course, since I rather add at least a bit of personality to myself, I do have a habit of adding a little saucy spice to my words when I wish. Usually something that’ll make them stop for a second to jog up their noggin to figure out what I just uttered out.

You likely won’t die anytime soon, even with the chips in that suit of armor ya’ got. Clearly well-made, even to my completely untrained eyes. Heh, well, I guess it have to be well-made if it wishes to keep you alive. No telling what sort of hijinks your behind would get into.

Mhm, got ‘nother pop question for you… well, when I think of on- ah, wait, one just… popped in right now, Heh.

You ever learnt anything else beside fighting? Tracking? Maybe sculpting? Cooking? Anything really- perhaps even a bit about that fancy-dancy water manipulation you got?

(I’m just a newcomer trying to get a grasp of the site. Trying to figure out how rps work here, get some icons for a character I got in mind, and see the people that write these characters… also still struggling to get a grasp on the site’s mechanics-)

"...I see."

...Yeah, no, thats literally all he can respond with to that whole first bit.

"'Hijinks' is an odd word to choose. I am given assignments from my...Father, and I complete them. Any other trouble finds me."

"For other skills...Cooking is something i'm competent at. I've been told that my meals are perfectly seasoned and cooked evenly.

"Swimming is something i'm naturally good at. It's part of being Temperance. So is singing...I don't take requests. I know a few things about sailing a galleon...

"Tracking and hunting...Some various minor competencies that i've happened to pick up..."

He pauses a moment, clearing his throat and looking away, speaking a little quietly.

"...Miniatures. Or, rather, scale models. Of landscapes. Buildings. Sometimes ships in bottles...That kind of thing."

[dixonsbrat]

𖥔 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𖥔

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 ; you make coriolanus feel like he's losing control.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ; peacekeeper!coriolanus snow x district!reader, whole bunch of fluff honestly.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ; 1.3k .ᐟ

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ; not going to lie... i loved writing this one. i don't think i've written anything as fast as i wrote this bc it truly just flew out of me. this man really has me acting up and i am so here for it.

coriolanus snow was never one to let himself be vulnerable in the eyes of another, and for as long as you had known him there was one thing you were always certain of, he had to be in control. he depended on it. craved it. the thought alone, of everything slipping from his grasp and not going to plan, made his head swirl and his skin crawl. 

so when he met you, he began to question himself. question everything he had been working for, everything he had been fighting for, as you slowly wiggled your way into his heart. he was taken by you, and that scared him. 

you were a breath of fresh air in his carefully curated world, a burst of colour amidst the struggles of his life. your spontaneity and liveliness enchanted him, capturing his attention and leaving him craving more. he had never felt this way about anything before. 

as you sat there in the beauty of the meadow, a gentle breeze brushed against your skin, carrying the scent of the wildflowers. the sunlight streamed through the canopy of leaves above, painting a warm hue across everything it touched. the tranquillity of it all enveloped you, filling your heart with a sense of contentment.

you and coriolanus were close together on an old picnic blanket you had found, not needing any words to communicate as you took in the peacefulness. his presence alone was enough to make you feel safe and at ease.

you watch on as his fingers trail through the grass, stopping when he comes across a dandelion, and plucks it from its root, “it certainly doesn’t compare to the roses grandma’am grows.”

“some people think of them as weeds, but not me. i think they’re beautiful all the same,” you add, bringing a smile to each of your faces, and take the flower from his hands. “in some ways, i feel just like them; a weed in a world where i should be seen as more.”

coriolanus observes you as you take a closer look at the small flower, appreciating its simple beauty. the yellow, though not as vibrant as a rose, held its own charm. you don’t hold it for long before he takes it back, twirling it with his thumb and forefinger. 

he stares at the flower for a moment before reaching to brush the stem behind your ear, his fingers then lingering as he trails them along the line of your jaw, sending a surge of emotions down your spine. you smile at him, it’s all you could do. if you spoke you weren’t sure what jumbled mess was sure to spew out. 

you bring your hand up to meet his, intertwining your fingers as you lean into his touch. his eyes bore into you, taking you in, appreciating your features under the sunlight. 

“look what you’ve done to me,” he whispers, as if it were some unspoken secret. which, in your case, it was. 

intrigued by his statement, you perk up, “and what exactly is it that i’ve done to you, coriolanus snow?” 

you watch him intently as he opens his mouth to speak, a thought lingering in his mind before he stops and lets his head fall between his shoulders instead. his silence is heavy, lingering in the air between you. you can almost feel the weight of the unspoken words pressing against your skin. 

you reach out tentatively, your hand hovering just inches from his, wanting desperately to bridge the distance but afraid of intruding. the two of you have always shared a deep connection, but something feels different today. something is weighing him down, and you yearn to understand. 

as he continues to fiddle absentmindedly with a blade of grass, you can see that his mind is working overtime. thoughts and feelings swirl like a whirlwind, causing his brow to furrow and his grip on the grass to tighten. 

eventually, he looks up, his eyes filled with a mixture of vulnerability and uncertainty. two things coriolanus liked to keep to himself. 

it’s then that you decide to break the silence. “what’s wrong, my love?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “whatever it is, you don’t have to face it alone, you know.”

he looks at you, gratitude mingling with a wisp of fear in his eyes. whatever it was bothering him, you could see that it was taking its toll, and you simply wanted to take him in your arms and kiss it all away, but you knew that that wouldn’t help. 

“i don’t know what i’m doing anymore,” he finally answers. “i feel like i’m losing track of who i am and what i want, what i’ve always wanted, the longer i’m out here.”

“things can change, coriolanus, and you don’t always have to live up to others' expectations of you. especially, your own. so long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.” his gaze falls from yours once again, but you refuse to let him suffer in silence anymore. so you reach for him, gathering his face between your fingers and pull him back towards you. “is it really such a bad thing? you get to be here with me.”

“that’s exactly the problem,” he admits, and your breath hitches momentarily as you wait for him to elaborate. “you make me feel like i’m losing control.”

for so long coriolanus had been bound by societal expectations and concerned with maintaining a pristine reputation. he had become so accustomed to a life ruled by rigid schedules and strict rules, never allowing himself to deviate from the norm. 

but with you, everything changed. 

you were afraid to ask, but you knew you had to, for your own piece of mind. “is that a good thing, or a bad thing?”

he reaches to touch your face this time, your hands falling from his, and he pulls you closer towards him until your faces were merely a couple inches apart. “i have never felt so free, and yet, so scared in my life.”

“is that a good thing, or a bad thing?” you ask the question a second time, this time with more hesitancy as your voice shakes slightly. 

“it’s the best thing.” tears well up in your eyes as his words sink in. you never imagined that you could have such a profound impact on someone’s life, let alone someone as lost and conflicted as he was. “you’re my wildflower, and while i might not have been looking for you, i certainly found you where i least expected it.”

he smiles, his hands caressing your cheeks, as your heart thrums loudly in your chest, overjoyed and so full of love. leaning forward, you close the space between you, pressing a tender kiss to his lips, so full of passion that it almost envelopes you completely. 

you had brought coriolanus a sense of newfound freedom, showing him the beauty of embracing life’s uncertainties and every unpredictable moment. your spirit was infectious, and he couldn’t help but be drawn to your untamed soul. 

as he fell deeper in love with you, he realised that his heart yearned for the wildness and unpredictability you offered. he saw the vibrant world through your eyes, letting go of his inhibitions and stepping out of his comfort zone. 

you became his wildflower, a symbol of untamed beauty and unapologetic love. 

as you hold each other close, only pulling away to catch your breath, but not daring to pull away too far, coriolanus runs his thumb across your bottom lip. then, with his voice filled with tenderness and newfound appreciation, he whispers, “my wildflower.”

[neil-gaiman]

Hiya Mr Gaiman!

It's probably unlikely that you'll see this, since ofc you're probably busy rn, but incase you do see this in your inbox but don't have time to answer due to other stuff, i just wanna let you know that i still appreciate you somehow having time to read this lil ask I've sent you! Again, thank you Mr Gaiman!

Anyway, so this would probably sound *kinda* weird in terms of the ask i'm writing to you, but do bear with me!

Ok, so uhh Mr Gaiman, if you were to have the ability to time travel to alternative dimensions/universes, would you go to an alternative universe where Monty Python member Graham Chapman never got throat cancer and was still alive and well and happy in his 80s and living his best life in said alternative universe? If so, why? If not, why?

Again, sorry if it sounds a bit out of league and sorta philosophical in terms of the question for you to answer, Mr Gaiman, but I've been thinking about this for quite a while now and it does make me both happy and emotional to think about if Graham Chapman was still alive today, and if he was still alive today, what kinda projects he would've been in, both in terms of writing and acting? Would Graham still be in contact with the other Pythons? Would Graham probably also have a Tumblr account? (ok that's a bit of a stretch but it's a bit funny to imagine imo).

I certainly think that, if Graham was still alive today, he would've been absolutely happy that same-sex marriage was finally made legal plus many other achievements for LGBTQ+ rights, and that he would've probably gotten legally married to his partner David Sherlock, with the other Pythons being the guests of honour for the wedding ceremony!

I also wonder that, if Graham's adopted son John Tomiczek (who unfortunately died from a heart attack in 1992) were to also live, would've Graham finally become a grandpa/great-grandpa?

Idk, it's just some thoughts that I've been thinking about. Thoughts about the many upon many possibilities of Graham doing lots of stuff today if he were still alive. Things he *would've* and *could've* have had the opportunity to do......that is.....if the universe didn't decide to be a dickhead one day and give Graham throat cancer for no absolute reason, and to make it hurt even more, have him pass away on the eve before the 20th Anniversary of "Monty Python's Flying Circus" airing on the 5th October, 1989.....

Again, I understand if you can't be able to answer rn due to other stuff, but I thought I'd ask you this rather hypothetical (rather philosophical of sorts) question cuz I have been thinking about it for quite a while now, and I wanted to hear your personal thoughts on this hypothetical AU situation!

Thanks Mr Neil Gaiman ❤️

It's a lovely idea. I never knew Graham (although I've met most of the other Pythons, and am friends with Terry Gilliam). I like thinking of worlds in which wonderful people didn't die.

[xamag-draws]

BBR thoughts 2024

Since I mentioned that I finally dusted off an old project of mine and was ruminating on how I'd remake it, I thought I'd elaborate a little, now that I've solidified some concepts. For funsies

This is gonna be a bit of a long and unfocused one, but I don't share my personal thoughts here often, especially the stuff about my projects I always marinate in. And for once it's something that people have existing context for, so hey why not

So for anyone who hasn't been following me for a gajillion years, The Black Brick Road of OZ was a webcomic that I posted around 2013-2015, back when I was in highschool going on college (which is kinda crazy to think about). It was sort of a darker twist on The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, although I definitely leaned a lot more into dark humor more than anything in those first few chapters

I don't think it's available to read anywhere anymore, and I know people have been asking me about it. So here's the full proper archive of BBR, as full as it can be with deceased Flash

I totally used it as an excuse to shamelessly and self-indulgently experiment. It had interactive pages and GIFs and was wayyy too overproduced for what I could handle or what was necessary, but I did have great fun making it while it lasted

Unfortunately, that excess and the fact that I've changed too much as a person by the time I was in college is what ultimately killed it. The direction I wanted to go in was practically unrecognizable from the original idea started back in 2011, so there were many old hold-ups that I felt ruined it

At the time I kinda wished I could start/rewrite it all over, but considering that I pretty much had the entire script done at that point, it felt like a pointless sisyphean task. So I just put it on a shelf and didn't look back for about 8 years, because I didn't know what else to do

Now to be fair, the nature of my art has always been iterative and cyclical; when I feel like my creative juices have run dry I prefer to leave a project to marinate and move on to something else; cycle through other old things and bring in new skills and perspectives into the mix when I'm ready again. Not very productive, but it is what makes me happy to work on my OCs; I'm doomed to hit a wall with them eventually and I need some time to be able to find a new direction

So that said, I'm glad that BBR was left to marinate for that long. I don't think I was prepared, emotionally or intellectually, to tackle it again until now. The Wizard of Oz book (and the entire series of them, really) has always been near and dear to my heart, but there's a lot of context around it that I'm only unpacking now that I'm older

I think I always inherently feel negatively about the stuff I've made in the past, like its faults always jump out to me more than the positives, especially the more time passes. I've never liked that, and I do really appreciate the kind things people have to say about BBR to this day. The fact that it still can be recognized and remembered is very sweet

When I left it, I already found it "kinda cringe", and that feeling only deepened with years. When I took my first look back at it, asking the question "how would I rewrite it now?", at first I took a very cynical approach, as in "everything would have to be torn down"

But the more I sat on it, the more I found that I still see some merit and charm in the ideas I was putting out; I just didn't know how to execute them at the time (not to pretend that I know what I'm doing now, but I certainly know more at least). Turns out a lot of my old concepts could be changed substantially with just a few small tweaks. So I'd say that's a nicer way to think about my previous work

If you haven't seen yet, I posted a first draft of my new designs for some of the characters (the main group, the Goods and the Wickeds). Definitely subject to change, but more or less how I see them now

I'm just playing with these concepts; by no means would I attempt to remake BBR right this moment. Call it a pipe dream among my other ones. But just for fun, this is the direction I'd like to take:

Nowadays I'd probably make it a visual novel, with more emphasis on the visual part than the novel because I'm no English prose writer by any means. It'd still let me play a little with the interactivity while helping cut some corners on the drawing part (only some, I imagine I'd go hog wild anyway)

I've always intended for some events inspired by the sequel books to take place in BBR's past. Stuff like Jinjur's revolt or Ozma's rule preceeds the main events here. So I think it would be fun to follow the past of a few key characters alongside the main story. One chapter focusing on the present quest to see the Wizard, then one focusing on the past events (that are maybe reflective thematically); rinse and repeat

I'm also sticking a little closer to the original text in some regards. Not everything that I enjoy from the books would be translated here, it's still just a very loose fantasy on the material; but I'd like to be closer in spirit at least

I like mature, wise and powerful Glinda, I like kind and vulnerable Tin Man, I like the Wizard being a pathetic yet loveable liar, so I'm sprinkling in more of that for example

I'd like to keep some whimsy, but make it more grounded and a bit more serious to be coherent in tone. I think the original TWWOOZ book was a more realistic fantasy in some ways, even for the standards of the time; I like its simple but vivid tactile descriptions and details like bringing attention that Dorothy needed to eat and sleep

I find it funny that Baum specifically was averse to making his books scary or unpleasant, finding that unnecessary for telling a compelling kids story, but they still can get pretty dark and disturbing, at least for our modern sensibilities. Let's just say that I intend to use the Evoldo and Chopfyt storylines for my purposes. In that way, I feel like a "darker" Wizard of Oz retelling can still mostly be tonally in line with the original and balance it with enough heart and occasional humor

I slowly grew to appreciate the quaint old-timey quality of the original series, as well. The first book is both timeless and very much a product of the 1900s. Originally I tried to give it a little modern or at least anachronistic spin, but it was moreso because it's what I knew best, so these days I'd rather intentionally lean into the time period. Still not fully historically accurate by any means, but at least directly acknowledging the influence

The events of the story span across 40 years of these characters' lives, so I'm drawing inspiration from the entire so-called La Belle Epoque: the time period around 1880s-1920s. Basically I'm cooking, and my soup is old Victorian fashion morphing into Edwardian fashion and slowly inching towards flappers

Some new Dolly outfits

Lots of crazy things, political changes and innovations were happening at the turn of the century, which I think is noted and reflected by Baum in the books as well; the character of Tik-Tok might not blow any minds now, but he was one of the first robot characters in literature at that point; and don't even get me started on Jinjur, etc. Plenty of really interesting stuff one could lightly ponder in an Oz adaptation these days

Aesthetically, art nouveau has always been a big artistic influence for me, and it'd definitely be its time to shine here. John R. Neill's illustrations of the Oz books often keep me company as well. Nouveau architecture in particular fits that fairytale whimsy extremely well imo

I'd allow myself a little bit of art deco here and there, but ultimately its intimidating geometrical splendor is an antithetical to the flowery nature of nouveau and I associate it with a completely different era. Definitely fitting some characters like my Wicked Witch of the West, but shouldn't be overused

One of my main problems with the original BBR was that eventually I lost track of what it was even about; and the original ending felt too mean and unfulfilling to be worth it. Now I'd like to stick to the theme of home and family as my main theme, but in a different, more bittersweet way than in the book

An interesting connection I made is that a lot of my aforementioned older key characters (the Witches, Jinjur, the Nome King, etc) all came from the same reformatory as kids, that's how they know each other. In my recent research I learned that in those reformatories it was usually frowned upon to release the children back to the families, which were seen as the original corrupting influence regardless of the circumstance. The reformatory did everything in its power to cut that connection and make itself the only family those wayward kids were supposed to know and love. That's an unexpected tie into the theme of home that I'd like to explore as well

So yeah that's the current state of it. I have a bunch of outfit concepts I'm slowly cooking, although I'm now sure whether I'd post them... But I do miss these funny guys, and I'm glad some people still do as well :)

[space-mango-company]

Stranger | Chapter 5

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut, POV Second Person, No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon What Canon

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Not proofread!! Holy moly. Here it is, folks. The scene that inspired this whole fic. I had fun writing this so I really hope you enjoy it. Once again, I appreciate everyone who likes, comments, and/or leaves kudos so much. I really started this fic for myself but good golly, that dopamine rush whenever I get a notif might be more addicting than spice. I'm glad to be part of the bald man brigade.

Also, I can't believe I'm only now questioning why I decided to write this in the second person? I guess maybe I thought this fic would be a lot shorter and not that deep, lol. At this point 'y/n' probably has enough personality to just be a straight-up OC. It's funnier because I don't even find second-person or y/n fics any more engaging either. I always detach myself by giving 'y/n' her own name and only seeing her as a character in the fic.

ANYWAY, sorry to ramble. Stay safe and have a good one, ya weirdos.

You step out into the dark cul-de-sac of the guest hall, illuminated only by the large suspensor lamp in the middle. Feyd-Rautha looks you up and down, seemingly entranced by how the dim light casts his shadow on your modest dress. Atreides green, he recognized.

"Trying to sneak into my rooms again?" you say arms crossed, leaning on your door. "I didn't appreciate the last time, by the way."

"It's my house," he says cooly, "and I did knock this time."

You stare at him indifferently.

"Quite the display from you yesterday morning, using The Voice on me." His voice low and raspy, "I should have you drawn and quartered."

You scoff in his face. "You almost choked me to death. Are you trying to start a war?"

He takes a step closer and his face is inches from yours, you can feel his breath on your cheek, "I didn't think I'd like you this much, little hawk."

"What do you want, Feyd-Rautha?" you had no patience for him right now.

"Ah," he steps back, a dark smile on his face, "I've been waiting to hear my name from your tongue." His hand reaches for your lips. "I've grown quite tired of 'na-Baron'."

You grab his wrist before he can touch you. "If you're only here to toy with me, I would rather be left alone to prepare for bed." You release his hand and turn to open your door.

Feyd-Rautha props an arm against the doorway to block you. "We're to be married in three days," he says, "and I just can't seem to bring myself to let go of my 'harpies', as you called them." He meets your gaze. "You said you'd kill them. Did you mean that?"

You look up at him with steely eyes. He towered over you but your heart felt no fear, "Yes."

His coy smile returns. "Good. Come to my training hall tomorrow," he says, walking away.

"What?" you call after him.

"Dress to fight," he says over his shoulder. "I want to see what you can do, Atreides."

You needed no help from Zora in putting on a loose shirt and long pants. The plain beige outfit certainly wasn't as elegant as the dresses you had been wearing so far. But it was comfortable and you could fight in it, which was all that mattered. Still, you look yourself in the mirror. The soft, airy fabrics draped over your figure well but perhaps you were not in the best shape as you once were. Your muscle mass is much less than your brother's and he wasn't particularly built himself. You admit you did wane off your training sessions with Gurney and Paul leading up to your departure from Caladan. Nevertheless, you were still a skilled warrior. Another secret you've been keeping from the Harkonnens.

You were 14 when you started learning the blade. Watching Paul, 2 years your senior, practice with the Atreides Warmaster lit a fire in you. You didn't hesitate to pester your father to let you train with them and of course, there was nothing he could deny his darling daughter. You were a fierce and determined student. Gurney Halleck was a man you genuinely believed to be one of the best fighters in the Imperium, along with Duncan Idaho. Gurney would train you and Paul on even days. On odd days, your mother would teach you the Weirding Way. These lessons, much like the rest of your mother's teachings, your father wanted to know nothing about. After becoming decently adept at Prana-Bindu and gaining almost complete physical control of your body, Lady Jessica insisted that you also be skilled in the Bene Gesserit style of combat.

You were far from mastery in either but the combination of both trainings made you a formidable fighter. Despite this, you could never seem to beat your brother in a sparring match. A fact that frustrated you to no end, though you appreciated that Paul never went easy on you. You'd always blame it on him having trained for longer than you have. But in truth, you knew there had just always been something special about him.

"Are you ready, my lady?" Zora's soft voice wakes you from your thoughts.

"Hm? Right. Yes, let's go." You quickly tie your hair out of the way and grab your father's dagger from atop your dresser.

There was no fanfare when you entered the hall. On one end, the na-Baron's concubines sat chained on the steps of the shallow recessed pit in their leathers, their glares piercing through you. Your eyes linger on them as Feyd-Rautha and his Warmaster greet you.

"I was starting to think my lady bride was bluffing," Feyd-Rautha says as you approach him. The older man beside him offers you a polite bow.

"Perhaps she wasn't so keen on your brutish games," you bite back. "Your lord uncle won't be joining us?"

"No," Feyd-Rautha crosses his arms, "but he'll be hearing about your victory. Or your demise."

"Right. Well, I assume you'll be releasing them from those chains," you nod towards his pets "Not sure why they're necessary."

"Oh, trust me, little hawk. They're necessary." Feyd-Rautha motions to a servant.

"Your blade and shield, my lady," they bow, presenting you with a knife and a small device you recognize as a Holtzman shield.

"I've brought my own," you unsheath your father's dagger. You contemplate taking the shield but remembering that the na-Baron forwent it during his gladiator fight, you decide to do so as well. "They've no weapons anyway, the shield seems pointless."

Feyd-Rautha shrugs, "If you insist."

You take a deep breath, "Let's get this over with."

You lightly stretch as you walk down the steps of the shallow pit to stand opposite the na-Baron's concubines. You had come into this on the pretense of righteousness. For Iassa, you told yourself. But you've known her a mere two days. A part of you wanted to show off. You were good and you knew it. You could probably kill anyone in this room, even Feyd-Rautha. You craved the respect of the people here: the Harkonnens, the people of Geidi Prime. You figured this was one way to get it.

Feyd-Rautha walks around the pit to one of his concubines and kneels to whisper something in her ear. You assume a fighting stance when he moves to release her from the chains. When you meet her eyes, they are filled with feral bloodlust.

Suddenly, you weren't so bold. The veil of courage you have maintained since you arrived, even when Feyd-Rautha had your neck in his grip, is torn apart when you face this woman. You could tell no part of her would hesitate to rip your throat out with her bare teeth. You were almost relieved they were unarmed, but you weren't sure if that would make them any less lethal.

Fear grew in your chest and you had less than a moment to recite the Litany in your head before the concubine lunged at you.

You crouch down in time and slash at her abdomen as she approaches you. You turn to face her on the other side of the pit and she wastes no time in attacking you again. She attempts to grab your armed hand but you take hold of her wrist first and move to pin it behind her back. Quickly, your blade drags across her throat and she falls to your feet.

The kill has not yet registered in your mind but your heart is racing. You can almost hear your blood coursing through your veins. You held your arms outstretched, your eyes focused ahead, ready for the next one.

Across the pit, Feyd-Rautha licks his lips, smiling as he releases his second concubine. This time, you walk toward her while she moves to attack you. You clock her head with the pommel of your dagger and knock her a few steps back. She reaches a hand to wipe the blood beginning to drip out of her nose. After examining it, she snarls and bares her sharp teeth at you. Your mind is blank now. She dodges your first slash then manages to land a blow to your jaw. You seethe from the pain. You spit out the mixture of blood and saliva filling your mouth. The anger at the hit drives you to rush at her. Seeing an opening, you duck down to her waist and stab her twice. As she falls to her knees, the look of determination doesn't leave her eyes until the very last moment.

When you turn around, Feyd-Rautha has already released the last concubine. The ruthless scream she lets out disorients you. She pounces and knocks you over. She straddles you and pins your arms to the ground, your blade sliding inches away. She screams again in your face at the death of her sisters. You wedge your right knee between you and her abdomen, the only thing keeping her teeth from reaching your throat. You grunt as you struggle to free your hands. In your periphery, you see Feyd-Rautha, wielding his own blade, take a step into the pit.

"GET BACK," you roar, and he is powerless to refuse.

You turn back to your opponent still on top of you and you butt her head with your own. She loosens her grip and you kick her off to hastily crawl to your weapon. When she reorients herself and attempts to grab you again, you hook a knee under her arm and flip the both of you over. With your weight on her chest and both your knees pinning her arms down, she thrashes underneath you, claws digging into your right ankle. You take your blade in both hands and her screaming is silenced when you sink your knife deep into her heart.

When you rise, the room is quiet. Your chest heaves. The stark white ceiling lights don't help the lightheadedness that begins to wash over you in the post-adrenaline rush. Feyd-Rautha says something from behind you but his speech is garbled as you reel from the thrill of what just transpired. You were electrified. You almost... wanted more.

Then, the realization of the revolting scene you are in settles upon you and you are knocked off your high. You look at the leather-clad bodies scattered around you, the grotesque way they lay on the floor, the red blood pooling around them made brighter by the sterile grayness of the room. You did this.

A hand on your shoulder snaps you out of it. In reflex, you turn and raise your blade at the offender.

Feyd-Rautha holds his hands up, "Whoa, easy, Atreides. Trying to kill me? Don't want to start a war, do you?"

You yield your weapon. Your eyes dodge his as you look to your feet and try to steady your breathing.

"Enjoy your first taste of blood?" Feyd-Rautha says, the look in his eyes indecipherable to you. He raises a hand and swipes his thumb on your cheek. It comes away covered in crimson.

You gasp and reach for your face with your own hand. You don't even know if it's your blood or theirs, or when it got on you. Your heart pounded, unable to decide whether you were repulsed or proud.

"Look at you," he says licking the red off his finger. You could not help but stare at him through the strands of your hair that had come undone in the fighting. "You're beautiful like this," his hand reaches for your face again.

"No," you say low and quiet when you swat his hand away, "you're sick." You didn't know if you meant him or yourself. You calmly turn to leave. No one stops you when you make your way up the shallow steps of the pit. As you pass Iassa—no, Zora—by the doorway, you tell her flatly, "Prepare a bath."

You had never taken a life before. Today, you took three. You were glad you didn't know their names. You decided you'd never find out.

After Zora pours a final pitcher of hot water into the bath, you tell her, "You may go. I'll dress myself later, thank you."

She bows and makes her way out of your rooms.

In your solitude, you bring your knees to your chest. You had been quick to wipe the blood off your cheek before you even reached your quarters. Now, you cup the water into your hands and rub it into your face, the slight sting of the heat comforting you.

He was a cruel man, your betrothed. This is what you've decided. Having you kill the concubines he claimed to want to keep so much. But wasn't it you who threatened to kill them? He started it, you argue with yourself, when he had Iassa killed. You felt like a child.

When you used to hear of Feyd-Rautha's exploits, you had to mask your disgust. And yet now, you had killed so easily in that pit as he had in the arena. What was this place doing to you?

When you left Caladan, Paul had never killed anyone either. You wonder if he ever does, would he feel the same exhilaration you did when you slit that first concubine's throat. No. Your brother was fierce but, like your father, he had a good heart. You beat him by three. You hoped it would stay that way.

You think about your future here, marrying Feyd-Rautha. Producing heir after heir under the Baron's watchful eye. You were a broodmare. Despite all your fancy training and education. Despite your little demonstration earlier. It was the bitter truth.

You missed home. You missed walking along the beach at night with your father. You missed your mother's gentle hands brushing your hair. You missed the banter and teasing with your brother. You missed Gurney, and Duncan, and the cold breeze on your balcony, and getting to roam free and going anywhere you pleased. When the tears come, you sink deep into the bath so they might fade away in the water.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore @bornslippys @vexis-world @aoi-targaryen @alexandrainlove @mamawiggers1980 @sstardussty @aboutthenabaron

[loudclan-clangen]

in light of fiercestripe potentially dying in the next update, I just wanted to say how much I adore how you write her. After running away from a group who seems to only value women as mothers, I really appreciate that you still kept motherhood as a key part of her character. Like, she learns how to be independent and becomes an AMAZING warrior (she has fierce in her name for a reason!) but she's still a great mom. Not only that, she still loves BEING a mom! Her love for fighting and her love for her kits are never seen as contradictory and I really enjoy that about her character. Motherhood itself is never framed as a bad thing and the cats who want to be moms are never framed as lesser for wanting that, and I just find that really cool :)

Thank you! I tried very hard to make sure that Fiercestripe's storyline came across this way. I think it's very poetic that she had daughters who she gets to watch grow into competent warriors of their own accord.

They searched for Fiercestripe for a couple of days, but not to the extent that they're pursuing these current she-cats. They might have caught up to them the first night or two but two healthy adult cats would have easily been able to out maneuver and outpace them. The culture of the farm-cats has gotten much more extreme following Fiercestripe's and later Thorn and Frost's departures. Loudclan territory is more than two weeks travel from the farm, chasing someone that far means that they're either pretty desperate or incredibly angry.

You're certainly right about that! Here's a sneak peak sketch:

Yep!

It was the rogue attack patrol event, as many of you have figured out, but it could have killed anywhere from 1 to all 5 of them, so you'll just have to wait and see!

If you made it this far, hi, thank you! I've got a question:

Warrior's stated policy says that they allow selling of fanart that doesn't include official art or symbols, and clangen has stated that they don't mind so long as you do not use game assets so

No pressure, I know Loudclan's just a tumblr blog and I have no ideas of grandure, I just thought it might be fun!

[kaiser-author-san-iii]

Star Light, Star Bright | Fatui Harbingers x (Fem) Creator!Reader

A/N: okay okay. I'm very sorry for this overdue chapter. I've been busy farming for primogems and playing Stardew Valley. I have joined many other fandoms, especially with the release of the Spider-Man Across the Spiderverse movie, and have been collecting the comics. Sue me /j. I have a lot of stories that need updating haha. But anyway, thank you so much for the support you guys have given me. It's fantastic! I'll be sure to continue with the updates whenever possible! Any questions, please DM. Any suggestions, DM me!

Summary: Caring for children is hard, but it's especially harder when around the Fatui. Getting isekaied was the last thing on your mind after landing in the icy tundra of Snezhnaya all while your nephew is with you. What will happen when you encounter not only the Fatui Skirmishers but the Fatui Harbingers?

Tags/Warnings: female reader, Creator!reader, Cult Au, contains spoilers of the Archon Quests and World Quests (read at your own risk)

Not edited or beta read, we die like Signora

Chapter 3 | To Be Aware and Be Prepared

<<<First <<<Last Next>>>

MASTERLIST

OPERA EPICLESE, FONTAINE

It had started as a normal day. As normal as it could possibly get with the centrism of Lady Furina and the citizens of Fontaine. There was a pause before it then burst. At first, it was seemingly unnoticeable, but then the forests and the landscape became livelier. It seemed brighter and adventurers saw a decrease in Hilichurls, and slimes, and even the Abyss Order stopped whatever they were doing to... dance? It was certainly a strange sight, but at least there was less activity where civilians were being harmed. In fact, this was being seen all around Teyvat thanks to the Adventure's Guild insight and informing each nation's current ruling governments and Archons.

The archons themselves felt a different presence. A presence they have felt once upon a time ago. The same could be said with a certain Court Judge of Fontaine, a certain fellow dressed in blue, his long platinum blond hair and stoic expressions, he definitely felt a power he thought wouldn't be seen again in all of Fontaine.

A being almost as old as Teyvat themselves, but nowhere as powerful as the one that gave them life.

Before he could even make a decision as tremendous as the one all nations must follow, he needed more information.

He needed to send out anyone to locate their Beloved Creator.

Neuvilette felt to go himself and search for Them, but he had his duties. He simply couldn't abandon them. He is a powerful figure in Fontaine and everyone would be suspicious of his actions if he were to leave his office. They would be asking questions.

No.

This needed to be done in an orderly fashion.

If they were indeed in Teyvat, they would appreciate a calm and happy welcome instead of chaotic and frantic for their faithful followers.

Himself included as he needed to prove he, and Fontaine, would welcome Them with open hearts.

The Divine Creator... has finally descended onto Teyvat once again.

---

LIYUE HARBOR, LIYUE

The trembling of the mountains. The color in front of him wherever he faced. The weather the past few days was beautiful and the people, especially merchants who traveled through treacherous waters to make it to Liyue were grateful for calm waters.

But he knew of the reason why everything seemed so... calm, so perfect as if Teyvat themselves was behaving its absolute best. Especially with word from other nations that the monsters and even the Abyss Order had ceased their attacks on villages and cities. They had seen these beings celebrate nonstop and were quite stumped about what was happening. But the former Geo Archon knew all too well...

Zhongli, better known as Morax or Rex Lapis, had felt it within the very rocks around him. As a devout believer and follower of the Divine Creator, he was quite familiar with the power and aura They possessed.

It's said that the Sovereign Dragons were the very first to proclaim their loyalty to the Divine Creator and when their time of rule ended, the Archons and Gods followed in their footsteps. As an Adepti in the form of a great Dragon, or Exuvia, he would be loyal to his beloved Creator, a form he greatly prided in thanks to the words of the Divine Creator many centuries ago.

But now they were here.

They have descended at long last like they promised.

His many years of patience and loyalty were finally being rewarded with the very presence of They themselves.

Zhongli, the devout follower he is, must find them. Were they alright? Yes, they were an all-powerful being, but recalling correctly, even the mighty have weaknesses and with the importance of the Divine Creator, there's always a danger no matter how beloved you are. He had to go himself to find him.

No.

He could ask the other Adepti to relentlessly search through all of Liyue, to leave no rock unturned and locate where their Grace may be.

---

ZAPOLYARNY PALACE, SNEZHNAYA

The days have gotten warmer and brighter in Snezhnaya.

What with the presence of the Divine Creator that is. It was all that the Fatui and even the citizens of Snezhnaya were talking about. There was nonstop activity in the palace as everyone scrambled to perfect it all for the Divine Creator.

You.

Though it wasn't as overwhelming since your nephew was right beside you, who happily took everything with stride and awe.

He even became attached to the very people that he spoke with on the first day here. And there was no way to separate them or to even have the heart to tell him not to speak with them since he took after his parents and family. Stubborn little nugget.

He especially favored Childe and Scaramouche. He was quite heartbroken when he left and never came back. But, he has been receiving gifts 'anonymously' once in a while.

Meanwhile, you spoke more with the rest to know more about this world. They all unanimously agreed that the mortal body you and your nephew both have currently is due to the fact of the long absence from Teyvat you had. Since your nephew hasn't set foot in Teyvat until now, it might take him longer to adjust to his birthright powers and titles. But he was nonetheless Heir of Teyvat.

The Little Prince.

"They're working really hard, aren't they?" His voice echoed in the halls as you and him were on their way to play outside yet again. He was still a child and with no video games around, it was good for him to be active. Childe once made comment about how strong he was and what a potential warrior your nephew could be with proper training. However, you had the last say and it was not yet time to think about that.

Snezhnaya is still a cold nation so even with Teyvat making it slightly less cold, you and your nephew had to bundle up. This is where Pantalone's gifts came in handy. While you were still bedridden due to your injuries, he called in all the tailors of Teyvat to create a wardrobe fit for you and your nephew: The Divine Creator and the Heir of Teyvat.

It was a sight to behold all the boxes and bags that arrived at the palace - clothing made from rare beasts and cloth. All for you and your nephew.

"If there's one thing you don't question about other people, Nugget. It's their beliefs. It has a certain power that a lot of people have yet to understand." You commented, stopping to adjust his personal Harbinger Coat. It was one of the few items Pantalone commissioned - with the Heir of Teyvat present, might as well commission a child-sized Harbinger Coat.

"I think Mister Pierro and Mister Pulcinella said something about that. I don't know... it's not our birthdays though. We're just people, aren't we?"

"I'm not certain either. We're a long way from home and it might be a while before we can go back. But don't worry, we're together and that's all that matters. All we have to do is-"

"Go with the flow?"

"Ah. I taught you so well." You laughed, quickly moving to playfully pinch his cheeks before resuming your brief walk outside. Everyone else had their duties and you didn't want to disturb them. They all seemed to be important in the political and military worlds.

That was something that kinda threw you off. Something like this world seemed like in the past. Like maybe 1800's innovative past since there were snipers and even giant mechanical machines that can move on their own or by being piloted. It was definitely fantasy - like a dream.

But even in a fantasy world, with aspects aimed at child entertainment, there is danger. Arlecchino and Columbina were telling you all about it with a brief history lesson and a bit of current information about Teyvat today. It was definitely something to think about if you plan to travel Teyvat with or without the Harbingers, especially with your nephew.

"Your Grace. What a pleasant surprise." The voice was ahead and looking up, you could see the masked man, the Doctor. Dottore was the one who ended up healing you from your injuries from the accident. They never did find the person responsible for your accident. Though they never will.

The healing process went smoothly and tended to you alongside your nephew.

"My nephew wanted to play outside again. He saw everyone was occupied and didn't wish to intrude so we thought we could walk for a bit."

"The Heir has no worries. If he or your Grace has a request, we're bound to stop and fulfill your wishes."

Your nephew didn't need to be told twice and quickly marched his way over to the blue-haired man, took his hand, and started walking to the exit to face another cold day.

"Doctor, please play with Auntie and I."

Dottore was quite the character. The others filled you in on what they have done and their opinions of each other. Dottore was the one with the most negative background but no one could deny the intelligence or genius in his mind. But to think this wasn't even his true form. The man was quite the genius that he made a number of clones of himself of each stage of his life. As a scientist, as a pursuer of knowledge, even the kind that's better left alone, he thirsted for it.

"Of course, Your Highness. Your Grace, would it be troubling to accompany you two?"

He also performed...some experiments that in this world were unethical, from what you heard. But...they weren't the worst. No, there was definitely worse. You weren't justifying what he had done, you weren't one to stand on a higher moral ground than anyone else, you at least attempted to understand why. That is exactly what you concluded when you decided to speak and interact with Dottore.

"Not at all. My nephew has grown attached to you and the others."

The walk outside didn't take long. It was short and slow to appreciate the snowfall and the area around. Various Cryo Crystalflies quickly flew their way to your nephew and he gave chase all while a variety of animals appeared and decided to play with the Heir. Teyvat knew the little Prince's love for animals. You made sure he didn't stray too far, your eyes never leaving his form while Dottore kept the same pace as you, taking a few glimpses at you every now and then. There was a small silence - but it was comfortable.

"Why?" You broke the silence and Dottore turned his head, his mask hiding any expression he could have made.

"Pardon?"

"The Fatui. Why was it formed? I want the truth." Your eyes still focused on your nephew who danced along with the Crystalflies, laughing and happily throwing snow in the air before then falling and making snow angels.

Your reason for asking is with who you two have been identified as, and with a seemingly unknown way of going back home, you two will probably be dragged into this world's politics. Before you get involved, you have to see what it is all about. Would it be worth it? Are you currently with evil people? Misunderstood people? What is their goal?

Would it be dangerous to involve your nephew?

"There is quite a lot that a mere moment is not enough to disclose the Tsaristas and our organization's goal."

"Then I shall listen. I hear talk and before I pass 'judgment', I want to understand. I hear talk of other gods, but the mere mention of them besides the Tsarista, it's with contempt."

Dottore, like many of his colleagues and subordinates, has heard the stories, the creation of Teyvat that was retold by the very dragons they created and had them oversee Teyvat. And then Celestia arrived. They had become power-hungry, drunk from the love and attention the Divine Creator gave to them before. When the creator left, Celestia took over and everything changed. Teyvat became different, peace wasn't an option.

Wars started, innocents perished...

Nations demolished.

"The Tsarista fell in love with the idea of how Teyvat was before you left. A Teyvat where all lived in peace. Then Celestia came. Thousands of years ago, they proclaimed that seven gods would be chosen to rule over one of the seven nations. From the thousands of Gods that fought, along with mortals who fought to survive another day, Seven were indeed chosen to represent their following element. But even for Celestia that was not enough. Your Grace was fond of a nation, Khan'ri'ah. Khan'ri'ah was a nation that ruled without the intervention of a God, an Archon. So.. one day, Celestia proclaimed Khan'ri'ah to be sinners, a nation that went against the Divine Creator and was thus destroyed. The Tsarista understood, her eyes opened to what was being done, and isolated herself, to find people who shared her opinions on Celestia and the Divine besides you, Your Grace."

That was just a brief summary that you recreated after your talk with Dottore. He was quite honest and with a few words, you were able to piece together everything. And to think he was kicked out of the Akademiya because of his practices and the murder of a fellow scholar.

This was clearly a case of the black-white-gray morality.

Things aren't always what they seem.

"Several weeks ago, I thought I was human. A mortal who lived a mundane life who loves her nephew like her own. I'm here and I'm told I'm the God that created your world, but I somehow have no recollection of it."

The walk continued as your nephew seemed to head further away from you and Dottore. Dottore was listening. He knew you weren't done talking and he couldn't wait to hear. Would he hear criticism of the divine from the very being who created it in the first place? What kind of wisdom would she bestow that may rival the God of Wisdom herself.

"Pierro and the Tsarista mentioned that my memories of such events and my divinity would come back to me slowly. Especially for my nephew. He's still young, curious but young."

"Your Grace, you need not fear. The Fatui, us, the Harbingers, will be by your side for we and The Tsarista are loyal to no other than you and the Heir."

"But what if I am not who you think I am?" You asked, looking down at your arms, remembering the injuries and the blood that oozed. You remembered the color and thought it wasn't proof enough, but the gold blood was there. You even requested to see the bloodied gauze that had a clear gold color. The sparkle it held, the amount of power that it had.

"Highly unlikely. Every man, woman, and child knows firsthand that the Divine Creator's blood is unlike any living being in Teyvat. Eyewitnesses from your first time here have written quite a bit of information of you. There is no mistake. The Tsarista would have been the first to know."

"Auntie! Doctor! Look!" Your nephew shouted and quickly ran to you, the heavy atmosphere dissipating as your nephew smiled, his hands cupped to hide what it was that he was bound to show you two. Slowly, he opened his hands and a small light blue glow appeared and in the blink of an eye, a small Cryo Crystalfly appeared and took flight, joining the other Cryo crystalflies that surrounded the three.

Creation of new life.

A power only found in the Divine.

What kind of world did she find herself in?

TAGLIST:

@lizzhearthz, @yoshikuno, @anonclyde, @khalhaimdad, @ellenoir

@yunsblog030, @lsleepysimpl, @potol0ver, @kitty-chan33, @nasidibakar, @yoriichi-second-wife, @lilybythevalley, @esthelily, @liansh3ng, @bubbles-lounge, @chidouna, @okecaiditmemay, @angelofdarkness2, @emmbny, @vxsire, @mmeatt, @fybfjn, @nickey-diano, @reende-29,

If I missed anyone, let me know! I tried tagging some people, but tumblr must be weird. I probably will be posting this on Ao3 too. Thank you so much for your kind words, everyone! I hope to write more!

[babacontainsmultitudes]

🤔 Admittedly I was a little disappointed by the reveal (but certainly not surprised the foreshadowing was heavy in this episode lol), but not actually against how Beth (and Will) seem to be playing with it thus far- which is to say that I do think it has a lot of potential, and I suspect there's more to what we're seeing).

;) Big ol' ramble below

Mostly the theory has turned me off until now (at least insofar as I've witnessed it transpire in the fandom at large) because it struck me as so painfully ironic to see Trudy, a 1950s housewife, struggle to exist under the system that she's in, fail to fit the mold assigned to her, and be denied her personhood very literally for it (this being ironic insofar as how it mimics how she would have been treated back then). This and because frankly I just think she's a lot less interesting if she's fully a robot LOL, but I'll hopefully get to that in a bit.

Not that the hints at her mechanical nature and the relevance of Tucker's background were lost on me; I can appreciate why those would contribute to a plausible, fun and I think still mostly harmless theory (now fact). However, minus one or two specific posts I've seen on the matter (namely a recent one suggesting that if Trudy is a robot Beth is probably taking inspiration from The Stepford Wives, :( sorry person who made that post I couldn't find it I wanted to credit yoouuu), I've seen the theory just about exclusively presented in a manner that, rather than explore the metaphorical and political significance of Trudy being partially or fully mechanical, at best disregards the parts of her narrative that are at their core about sexism (among other related things), and at worst negates them entirely (i.e. Trudy only thinking and acting how she does because she's a robot malfunctioning and not because the world itself is causing harm and she rightfully wants something more than the role she was forced into, Trudy not even having any real thoughts and feelings of her own, etc.). I just think it kind of sucks to shove all those important things about her aside and say "actually, there's no person suffering here, she's just a robot" and perhaps worse yet to imply that she does have thoughts and feelings but because they result in Weird™ behavior it must be a problem with her code and not at all relate to what women were subjugated to during this point in American history.

CONVERSELY I don't think Trudy being a robot (or at least partially one) at least from what Beth and Will have presented us thus far, inherently suffers from any of these issues? First and foremost because Trudy definitely appears to possess sentience, thoughts, and emotions of her own, matters which immediately complicate her degree of personhood and don't inherently box her behavior in as a bug in her programming rather than an issue with the world she's been put in, quite the opposite in fact! I think they have a very solid groundwork laid out here to make a strong statement with Trudy's narrative (and perhaps ask the question of what is really malfunctioning here), all the more so since [I pull out a Rebecca Swallows-style conspiracy board] I don't think she's entirely robotic in nature? Actually you should just read Mack's tags in this post cause he has great thoughts on the matter (of which those are just some of them), but if I can direct your attention to one thing in particular, it would be Beth's fact (I *believe* from episode 2) about Trudy never graduating high school because of her essay where she suggested that "perhaps women could one day domesticate themselves", a statement that could of course be interpreted a number of ways but ultimately threatened the patriarchal status quo enough (in suggesting women's independence) to cost Trudy her diploma. Taken on its own this fact appears to contradict the theory that Trudy has always been robotic in nature, because it doesn't really make sense that Trudy would have been set up to go through high school (or school at all really) when Tucker's intention was/is for her to be the perfect housewife. You may then suggest that Trudy's memories of this are fabricated and not actually her lived experiences, in which case firstly perhaps you should reread my earlier point on the robot theory being used to actively negate and otherwise disregard the portions of Trudy's narrative that pertain to sexism and feminism, and secondly it really doesn't make any sense to me that Tucker would implant those kind of memories into Trudy's brain? To be completely honest if she's been a robot from the very beginning (rather than someone who became a cyborg, which is what I'm trying to suggest here), then I don't see why Tucker would program her with actual sentience in the first place (suspending my disbelief here with regards to the possibility of programming sentience to begin with). It seems much more likely to me then that Trudy was not always a robot, and instead altered by Tucker to force her into a role of subordination and remedy her """imperfections""". This option is significantly more interesting to me one, because it implies that Trudy has actually lived a life up until the present, full of its own complexities and strife (and dreams, and real actual memories worth exploring, etc.), and hence is not by any means "just a robot", and second because it amplifies the hypothetical statement being made on the lives of the real living women of the era and how they were treated and seen as being "in need of fixing" for not conforming to gender roles or otherwise acting "out of line" with what was expected of them.

OKAY THIS GOT OUT OF HAND SO I'M CUTTING MYSELF OFF HERE but I wanted to my share my current thoughts what with this ending and where I'm at so hopefully that was at least interesting to whoever has chosen to read through this one okay thank you byyyyyyyyye~

[hispg]

Between royalty and vows

Pairings: Prince! Leon x Fem! Reader

Summary: A forced marriage, a fate set in stone, nothing could change that.

In the world of royalty, there were no choices, only obligations to fulfill. What you didn't expect was to become engaged to a renowned prince, ready to succeed the lineage.

Until that moment, you still had some hope that everything would work out, maybe it wasn't so bad. But it would be a shame if your future husband had a mistress.

Wouldn't it?

Wc:2.6k

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt/ comfort, cheating, arranged marriage, eventual smut, one-sided love, affairs, (I'll put more once things start to progress).

Prologue | 1 |

An:It took me a little longer to post, sorry! I'm in my week of college exams, the finals are approaching. I'm studying a lot, feeling very tired. Thanks for the sweet messages! I didn't expect to receive so much support! I appreciate it!💕💕💕

Chapter 1: Sunset

As soon as the sun rose, Leon was already awake, it's not as if he'd managed to sleep through the night in any case, he was too anxious for that. That morning you would arrive at the castle, and consequently start living here. It was a big step, certainly, but it was more than necessary, especially as the wedding approached.

He himself couldn't believe that he was getting married in the next few days, it had all happened so quickly that he hadn't even had time to think about it properly. Just like that, his life was turned upside down, a pang in his heart every time he thought about it. Every time he thought that he was being forced to marry a stranger, someone he didn't have a shred of affection for.

All these thoughts disappeared once there was a knock on his door, causing him to push down his sheets and start getting ready for the day.

"Your Highness, your father wants to speak to you." The familiar voice of his butler, Ausdret.

Leon lets out a tired sigh, only muttering a small, "I'll be there."

He knows what his father wants to talk to him about, to reinforce his duty once again, to remind him about the dynasty.

There was no escape, and that was all that was on his mind as he got ready. He took longer than necessary, on purpose, just not to leave his bedroom now.

After he'd finally finished, he went to look in the mirror, just to make sure he was properly dressed and polished, after all it was supposed to be a big day. But his eyes stopped wandering over his face, and hovered on a lipstick mark on the collar of his shirt, enough to bring a small smile to his face, eyes sparkling with the memory of his beloved, his only one.

Knowing he would have to hide it, he took one last look before tucking the collar back into place. Making sure no one else could see.

As soon as he left his room, his butler was waiting for him outside, making several attempts at small talk, which Leon wasn't interested in, though. His mind was far away, as if he had never been here in the first place.

Once he arrived in his father's chamber, he was greeted with a big smile, which was not reciprocated by Leon. Only a small nod came from him.

"So everything's settled?" A small whisper, a question that Leon already knew the answer to.

His father proudly replied, "Yes, I've already arranged everything with Vladimir. You and she are getting married in the next few days." His father speaks, looking at the other man in the room, Duke Vladimir, his father's best friend.

However, Leon didn't seem at all excited about the situation, in fact, he seemed rather upset.

"This will be great, we'll finally be able to expand our business." This sentence came from Leon's father, who was more than happy with the pact.

It was a long-standing interest of the king, of course, who wouldn't want to expand their business with one of the richest royal families?

But on the other hand, Leon had other plans. Plans that were not accepted by his father.

"Cheer up, the girl is a beautiful princess, very kind from what I've seen. I'm sure you'll get on well." Vladimir says, trying to console Leon, but frankly, it only seems to have gotten worse.

"How long do we have to stay in this marriage?" Perhaps he was still hoping it would only be for a short time.

"Indefinitely. They will be the source of our success, especially the princess. We need to collaborate with them, just as they collaborate with us." The king says, somewhat obviously, that he won't be breaking the contract any time soon.

"If you'll excuse me, I'll talk to the other servants. We need to organize the wedding invitations." Vladimir says as he leaves, just after bowing to the two members of royalty in the room.

Silence followed, Leon too upset with his father to speak a single word, while the king was daydreaming.

An ambitious king who would slowly make his reign the most prosperous in history, he couldn't ask for more. This would make everything perfect for Leon to take the throne and make the nation of Italy even prouder.

"I don't know how far your greed will go." A plausible complaint coming from Leon, directly confronting his father.

"I only want what's best for you and, consequently, for my nation." They both knew where this conversation was going, but since they were both hard-headed, they would continue anyway.

"What's best for me? You've arranged a marriage with a stranger and you think that's what's best for me?" By now, Leon's voice had changed considerably.

King Leonardo didn't like arguing, least of all with his own son. However, he would never tolerate his disobedience, never.

"And what would be better for you? Marry a paltry lady? Honestly, you need to think bigger." And the king hit the nail on the head, because that's exactly what Leon was getting at.

Ashley did come from an affluent family, but she wasn't as rich as the British family. Which in this case was yours.

"Don't you dare talk about her like that." Leon was once again affronting his father, which would certainly have serious consequences.

"Listen, if you want to continue your affair with this so-called Ashley, go ahead, I won't stop you. Now don't expect me to let you ruin your own future, too."

The two of them looked at each other not very kindly, especially Leon.

It seemed like he was being generous. What's the point? Living a life on the sly with the woman he loved? It didn't seem fair. It wasn't fair.

"You still have a lot to learn, my son." The king spoke with a certain heavy heart, and at the same time a jaw-dropping arrogance.

But how could Leon calm down? He didn't even know the woman he was going to marry and, even worse, he couldn't commit to the person he loved, Ashley.

But what irritated him even more was the fact that he knew it was all his father's whim.

But even this marriage wouldn't stop the prince from having a relationship with this woman, even if it meant an extramarital affair. And Leon didn't care if that had consequences, not even for his future wife.

"All I ask is that you don't complicate things. I'm still being kind enough to allow you to have these affairs, whether with Ashley or any other woman." That would even sound gentle if he wasn't talking about extramarital affairs.

"... Alright, Father." Once again, Leon swallowed his pride and let it happen. But then again, it's not as if he could do anything against his father's wishes.

Leon stormed out of his father's chamber, strong, heavy footsteps echoing down the so far empty corridor, and he didn't even look back. His mind was in the purest of shambles, fists clenched and an expression that wasn't the friendliest.

As he walked quickly through the corridors, he couldn't help but notice the commotion outside, expensive carriages arriving in the castle courtyard, making room for butlers to work and remove whatever was inside.

He imagined it was the arrangements for the marriage, since it would take place in the next few weeks. So it wasn't anything that caught his attention for long.

However, as soon as he looked up from the mezzanine, he saw the familiar figure, it was you. Wearing a simple blue dress, delicate gloves that covered up to your forearms, and of course, he couldn't forget your soft features.

As soon as you saw him from the hall, you gave him a discreet smile, making him let out the breath he didn't even know he was holding. Even for a brief second, his expression softened, but that didn't make him any less upset by the whole situation.

Queen Sarah spoke to you politely, saying how grateful she was for the courteous company of the princess, who was in fact being awaited by the other residents of the castle, at least most of them.

In fact, the queen felt lonely, since apart from the governesses, she had no other female companion to talk to during the day.

Slowly, Leon descended the grand staircase, stepping onto the red carpet, his steps light and slow, as if he were analyzing what he would do next.

Your eyes met his, and you smiled gently, bowing to him as you should. And he reciprocated, of course.

"Princess." He said, giving a nod to his mother, who politely curtsied to you.

"I'll get your bedroom ready." She says, her voice sweet and calm, as she moves gracefully through the castle.

You felt a shiver run up your spine at the thought that you were about to share a room with him. Since you weren't married yet, you were just going to sleep next to each other, a door that could be opened to connect one room to the other, since couples who hadn't made a commitment weren't supposed to sleep together until they were married.

"You have a beautiful home, prince." You murmur, the sweet smile always on your lips.

He chuckles a little, offering you his arm to hold, "Let me introduce you to the castle itself."

You smile, taking his arm and letting him lead you, obviously he was only doing it out of politeness, but you'd love to spend a little more time with him.

When your covered fingers curled around his arm, you couldn't help but feel the muscles that flexed with every slight movement, without any effort. Just as you couldn't help but notice his eyes every time he looked at you and explained something, the way his voice echoed through the empty corridors.

You walked side by side, your footsteps echoing through the unoccupied hallways, giving off a calm and intimate atmosphere somehow. You noticed the paintings, the properly placed decorations.

Even the curtains matched the carpets, as much as you were used to this sort of thing, it was still breathtaking to see such a sophisticated place.

You felt that despite your enchantment with the prince, you could see his lack of enthusiasm for you, you could see that it sounded more like a duty than anything else.

What did you expect? That it would be a fairy tale? In this life you were leading, the heart didn't always follow the rules of fairy tales.

"Let me take you to the courtyard, it's a nice day." You notice the sigh at the end of the sentence, as well as the distance he kept.

Even with all his explanations, all the talk about royal life, homework, the explanations for every painting in the corridor, you didn't pay much attention. Your attention was focused completely on him, perhaps because you were hoping for a hint of feeling, whatever that was.

Too bad you wouldn't find it even if you looked hard enough.

As soon as you left the large building, you were presented with a landscape that looked more like a hand-painted picture.

The courtyard was perfect, full of roses and other types of flowers, a wooded area, the grass all at the same length, without a single flaw. Meticulously cut bushes, flowers that adorned the greenery and gave it extra life, it seemed magical.

The afternoon sun shone down on the whole place, bringing everything to life. The birds humming and bathing in the water fountain, nature stretching as far as the eye could see.

"I hope you are pleased, princess." Leon says, his calm, velvety voice immediately making you look at him.

"Certainly, it's very well appreciated." With a sweet, polite smile you answered him, approaching the fountain and sitting down on one of the edges.

And he repeated the gesture, sitting down next to you.

Just as you were about to engage him in conversation, a strong wind whipped against you, causing your hair to tangle, the softly combed strands to fall into your face, undoing a good few minutes' work in an instant.

Then you felt a warm, robust hand on your cheek, brushing the strands behind your ear.

A gesture that was intimate, no doubt about it, and that was able to make you blush slightly as soon as you felt his hand graze your cheek, but which he pulled away.

"Thank you." You say with a gentle, shy smile, tidying up a few more of the strands that were still getting messy.

Despite his smile, you could see the piercing blue gaze, without much emotion. His gaze, which seemed to be as cold as ice, was still so attractive.

"My pleasure, princess." The warm tone didn't change his placid expression, not even if he tried very hard.

As the two of you stood in silence, all you could hear was the gentle breeze and the birds singing, everything seemed so peaceful.

Except for the restlessness of your heart, which stubbornly pounded every time he looked at you. And you mentally plagued yourself every time this happened.

Why was he doing that? Out of courtesy? Politeness? Decorum? Or were you thinking too much? Creating too many expectations?

And so you remained, gazing at the horizon and watching the sun slowly set, watching the magic of nature while your minds were in a whirl.

Your hand on the edge of the fountain, as well as his, fingers almost grazing each other, and you were tempted to make a move.

However, it would have been inappropriate for a lady, to say the least. Especially knowing that the chances of him taking your hand away were high.

So you'd better make the most of what you had.

As the garden began to darken a little and the sunlight slowly faded, Leon stood and looked around, seeing that it was already getting dark.

You've spent the whole day walking around the castle, so time has passed too quickly. At least for you.

"We should go, dinner should be ready by now." He was the first to break the silence, once again offering his arm and his company to take you to the dining area.

And there you went again, walking slowly through the courtyard back into the castle.

However, halfway there Leon stopped, picking up a red rose that had fallen to the ground. As soon as he knelt down to pick it up, he turned to you and planted a soft kiss on the back of your hand, his warm lips brushing against your gloved hand. It sent shivers through your body.

"Red looks good on you." He murmurs, placing the flower in your hair, very gently so as not to mess it up.

You made a little chuckle, the blush clear on your cheeks. Was he doing it out of politeness? Or just to keep up appearances?

It would have been a beautiful, subtle, gentle and even romantic gesture. That's if you hadn't noticed the lipstick staining the collar of his shirt.

Oh oh, poor you.

[a-little-revolution]

heya, this might be too much for a single post, but i would delight in a ramble about the overlap between dwarfism and disability (whether or not you/the community as a whole generally consider it a capital-D Disability or if theres more nuance like with the autism or HOH/Deaf communities where it just Is and folks feel the the struggles with outgroup folks are like, culture clashes, or perhaps a secret third thing?)

similarly, id love for a ramble on the overlap between dwarfism and queerness, especially The Genders. i have ehlers-danlos syndrome and theres a huge number of us who are trans or nonbinary, to the point where masculinizing hrt is (anecdotally) understood to be a bit of a treatment for some symptoms. i know theres a lot of overlap between queerness and disability as a whole, but so far the couple of artists with dwarfism ive found and followed are all some flavor of trans or nonbinary, so id love to know if thats as common of a thing in your community as it is in mine

dwarfism is for sure underrepresented in discussion about both disability and queerness, and as a disabled queer person they are so intertwined in my head, and im forever curious about other folks experiences so your thoughts are appreciated!

Hello!! I love these questions!!

Firstly, yes, I do identify as being both a little person and disabled, but that isn't the case for everyone with dwarfism. Though dwarfism falls under the classification of a physical disability, not all little people find it physically debilitating. For me, my Achondroplasia dwarfism has resulted in sleep apnea, arthritis, chronic pain, hearing loss, limited mobility and dexterity. I cannot walk long distances and I use multiple moblility aids (wheelchair for long distance, rollator most of the time, and cane for short distances or around the house). My disability is dynamic, meaning that my ability changes day to day depending on pain levels, spoons (unit of measure for disabled energy), and activity.

Being that I am both a little person AND noticeably disabled, I have experienced ableism within both the abled community and the LP community, which is something I don't often talk about. I've been in situations where I feel alienated from my own community - additionally for my queerness. When you exist at the intersection of as many things as I do, you experience many flavours of ignorance and discrimination from the very people who should accept you.

That being said, I have also had the privilege of meeting other little people who are trans, queer, and nonbinary like I am. Our community is incredibly diverse, but spread along the globe. It is easy to feel a profound isolation, but the internet has provided me with a means of connection which I greatly appreciate.

Disability and queerness is something I discuss in depth in my public speaking roles, as I deeply value intersectionality in education and activism (I hope to share some of my talks as I record them in the future!).

I am forever painful aware that ableism is alive and will within the queer community - even when "all are welcome", we are still an after thought. I really urge my fellow queers to think beyond our own community to bipoc and disabled folks, otherwise you're really just dipping your toes into radicalism. Read more books by black disabled trans women of colour, and expand your thinking. (Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk lol)

I can't really speak to hate from the other direction, as all of the disabled folks I know on a personal level are also queer. Though I will say that I certainly receive queer-phobia from older (white) disabled folks - in my experience, when white folks become disabled with age and have not faced any other injustice in their life, they can be very hateful.

This has been quite a post, so I hope I've answered your questions in full! I would be happy to discuss it more if not/answer other related questions! Thank you so much!

Elliot (they/them)

[sordidmusings]

WIP TUESDAY - Sugar Daddy Headcanons with Shanks and Garp

Saw Schoute's wonderful art WIP and writing and wanted to join the fun! Have some ridiculous Blorbos as Sugar Daddies headcanons that have been on my backburner LOL I've got Shanks and Garp ready for y'all 🫡 They're pretty much done, I moreso have to fill out everyone else on the list 🤡 No warnings really! Just some allusions to spice but nothing explicit. Lots of silliness. I believe they're gender neutral but I'm going to tag as afab just in case because I fear it may be in the subtext since that's the perspective I wrote it from and the one people generally expect for sugar babies. Might be fun to subvert sometime by writing them with explicitly amab sugar babies. I will Ponder lol I'd also love to see what everyone is working on so please take this as a sign to post something of your own!!

The song I blame for everything (I love u Thot Squad):

“This fine old man, he played three

He can knickknack this coochie

With an Amex black card, get a girl a Benz

Reset and do it again”

Word Count: Shanks ~750, Garp ~400 (sorry about the favoritism Vice Admiral 😬)

Shanks

shanks absolutely pursued this type of relationship with you

Your pretty face and open smile snagged his attention but the way you easily met and fed his energy had him at you like a dog with a bone

He’s no stranger to helping people laugh their way into his bed, but the journey with you felt different. He took extra time simply because each moment with you was too good to keep from savoring

You didn’t hide your attraction at any point but he did appreciate that you would try and prod back at him in good humor to test his will and want

You found he had both in excessive abundance

It felt nice to have someone so attractive, established, feared, and adored seek your company and watch him become more interested with each minute he got of you. It also felt nice to see that while he certainly had an abundance of confidence he held no arrogance with you - he played no games in making you question his interest or to assert his importance to you. He treated you as a person (one he mainly wanted to turn to his bedroom tenant but still-) and it made him feel more like a man than a myth for you both too

And holy hell did you like that man - he made you laugh even if at his own expense, he impressed you when he’d let some of his cunning slip through the jovial pirate shtick, he kept your interest with how he could entertain any topic you brought forward, he made you feel beautiful with the way his eyes and hands soaked you in, and he made you feel wanted with the way he treated everything about you with genuine interest. 

The only thing that made it better is how he made sure you wanted for nothing. The first night it was making sure you didn’t pay a cent for anything, you always had food and drink right before you realized you wanted it, his coat found your shoulders the moment you felt a chill, you found yourself in fresh air right when the heat and the noise of the bar became too much. 

After that it was an endless stream of trinkets, from priceless to silly but sentimental, all coming with letters that had you laughing, blushing, and swooning.

Every time he’d visit you (and it was at first as often as he thought he could manage but that managed to get even sooner and sooner because of his need for you) you’d indulge in each other like it was the first and last time

He stopped wanting anyone else - there were enough people across the seas he had to apologize to after explaining why he’d gasped the wrong name and they were never right to scratch the new insatiable itch he had anyway

When it dawned on him how much you had him wrapped around your finger, not just physically and financially but also mentally, emotionally, and he’s pretty sure even spiritually, he may have had a crisis (the crew was very torn between amusement and true wory watching it unfold, especially when the usual rum and patented Beckman Shoulder Pat with Nod didn't ease his turmoil)

It wasn't because he didn’t want to love you, but he truly never thought he’d ever find someone he wanted and needed the way he does you. It was such a foreign concept to him that he felt like the world had tilted and left everything slightly unfamiliar. Especially coming from a relationship he stapled together with riches. Sure, there was also joy, camaraderie, and intimacy holding it together, but he found it harder to trust that someone such as you wouldn't find someone younger and more present to belong to than to trust that you could need him to sustain a lifestyle of ease and abundance.

If he couldn't be sure you'd want him, he'd try and find solace in you needing him, even if it was only for what he could afford you

When he finally told Beckman of his plight, he was slightly offended by the “it took you this long to figure it out?”

He’s currently trying to figure out how to convince you to live on his ship with him. He needed to let you know you’d be safe regardless of your experience level with the seas or battle. 

He’d bring the world to its knees if anything touched a hair on your head

Luckily for him, you knew. Anyone with eyes would from the way he smiles at you.

Garp

Garp was decidedly not in your plans. Yes, you wanted someone older, someone with wealth, someone with influence, someone who would take care of you, but you thought Gilfs were an urban legend told to see what face it would get out of freshies

You’re not complaining tho

He has certainly convinced you that the rarity of his kind just pointed to what a prized role it was to shack up with one

He was rough around the edges to be sure - brash and loud and stubborn - but he used all those traits to get you both exactly what you wanted

All your needs were met without you having to even think of them anymore (you were surprised that needs in the bedroom were included in that, but you supposed you shouldn’t have underestimated a man who could still punch apart battle ships, nor one with such a lust for eating)

Neither of you had any illusions of sweeping romance

You were more than happy with the care and respect that built between the two of you in your roles, growing with each act of service to each other, each piece of comfort, each unintended moment of vulnerability

Don’t get me wrong, the vulnerability ain’t common; most of your time is this man having fun watching you light up when he took you out and tossed his money around for you before taking you home to have multiple courses of dessert

You’ll never get over his gruff voice and curling accent - they helped your brain turn to mush while he coaxed and praised you through happily giving him everything he wants as a thank you for all his care

That voice along with all that burliness and age, which you thought would’ve been a turn off not on, ended up making you feel small yet so protected

Garp didn’t think he’d enter a relationship like this that went on so long and so easily but any reservation or second guessing was lost the moment he saw you and everything just felt natural

Tho he’d still make jokes that always make you groan about how you keep him young better than his troublesome recruits (that he is stuck between wanting to parade you around to see their jaws drop and wanting to keep you hidden away from any young bucks who may try to get your attention before he’s ready to let you go)

Thank you for reading 😘🤍🤍

Masterlist

[swannieluv]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖꩜ Wasted youth.

✦⸼࣪⸳ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Platonic!Ajax x GN!Reader

✦⸼࣪⸳ 𝐖𝐜: 11k

✦⸼࣪⸳ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆!!: violence, blood, death.

✦⸼࣪⸳ 𝐀/𝐍: IT'S FINALLY HERE! I hope everyone can enjoy this <3

✦⸼࣪⸳ 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐩. 𝐛𝐲 Tempo Perdido - Legião Urbana

✦⸼࣪⸳ likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated!! <3

Snezhnaya is not exactly a friendly nation. The cold that seems to run from the veins to the depths of people's innermost being brings with it a certain hostility towards those who don't know the heart of the land. But within Ajax's distorted childhood perception, Snezhnaya was like a gentle mother, protecting its children under icy embrace.

But then, why did such a loving land allow its own child to fall into the deepest depths of the Abyss? Like drowning in freezing water, a child who survived Teyvat's darkest and loneliest place would certainly not come out of it the same as he went in.

"Ajax" was still Ajax, wasn't he? The same child, named after a hero from ancient tales, full of compassion and empathy, now carried with him a gaze that was deader than the fish he caught on ice.

Joining the Fatui wasn't in his plans for the future; being one of them wasn't so bad, although he wasn't expecting much for the future. But what he didn't like was being the youngest in the unit, it was a complete humiliation.

Not that the seniors were a challenge for him, but being constantly underestimated was... infuriating, to say the least. While his strength was admirable — thanks to Skirk, he would thank her someday — Ajax felt constantly bored, with no meaningful challenge ahead of him.

"Redhead!" The call was accompanied by a snowball, which hit him square in the face; his moment of peace was interrupted, though it didn't really matter.

Ajax could only sigh before letting out a soundless laugh, knowing exactly who had hit him: [Name], a recruit not much older than him, maybe a year or so. Being under the same division, it wasn't unusual to bump into them. "Here it comes..."

They weren't exactly friends, more like acquaintances. However, they also kept in touch enough to be just "acquaintances". Never friends, perhaps not at all.

As if he had some kind of radar, [Name] always appeared whenever Ajax had his rare moment of philosophical thought of questionable quality. Usually to disrupt the whole process.

" Damn, looks like you really found me," he laughed, turning to look at them.

"That's the third time I've had to look for you this week," they complained, carefully preparing another snowball to throw at him. "I always get scolded because of you, you know that?"

They weren't exactly wrong. Whenever Ajax wandered off the map, it was [Name] who had to look for him in the frozen woods. Not that they really bothered to do it, but it was tiring going around in circles until they found him.

"Look at it as part of your job."

"Babysitting...?"

"No, looking after your companions."

"... How idiotic."

"How heroic. It's very noble to look after your friends, you know?" Ajax corrected. His eyes returned to scanning the surrounding trees in a relaxed manner.

"Not when said 'friends' get into trouble all the time," they retorted.

"I always come back, it's not like you need to hunt me down like I'm some criminal on the loose." He shook his head briskly, brushing the snow off the top of his hair. However, he was greeted with another sharp shot right to the scalp.

"Look... So, all due respect, but you're not far off being one, you know?" they shyly replied. Not in a rude way, but still a little offensive to whoever it was directed at.

He didn't know whether to laugh or feel offended by what they said. Maybe both? Well, they weren't exactly wrong... Ajax was already considered a marginal project, or at least it seemed that way.

"Why did you do that?"

"What? You have to specify or I won't know,” his smile fell, replaced by a neutral expression. He tried to feign ignorance, but it didn't work very well.

"Don't be cynical. You beat up an older soldier. Aren't you a little ashamed?”

Which soldier were they talking about? It didn't matter to him anyway, as he'd lost count of how many he'd challenged and won — it wasn't a difficult task, they were never a match for him.

All too often they were weak, and [Name] was the worst of them all. That's why Ajax didn't even bother trying when inviting them to a duel, because the result was obvious from the start. The last time they sparred, it was be boring, easy and not worth the effort.

"Should I be? If a soldier almost two meters tall can't beat up a 14—year—old, then that means he's a weakling, doesn't it?" Ajax crossed his arms. "Besides, he called me names before, so we're even."

"Seriously..." they sighed, "Seriously, try not to make such a fuss. The Fifth can get you out of most trouble, only until you do something, let's say, really catastrophic."

"Something catastrophic like...?" he asked curiously, his gaze fixed on them.

"Like... burning down the Zapolyarny palace?"

His jaw dropped in shock, and a touch of offense showed on his cold—pink face. That was the most absurd thing he had heard in recent times. "What?! Why do you think I would do something like that?"

"Because it's you we're talking about, redhead."

"What's with the nickname?"

"I think it's funny, don't you?"

"You know... whatever." Ajax put his hands on his waist, shaking his head slightly. "I'll take that as an excuse to put a nickname on you too."

"So you're going to stop with the ' comrade' thing and come up with something even worse? Really?"

"Maybe so... maybe not. Who knows?"

The boy gave a relaxed smile, patting them on the shoulder before moving on. His heavy footsteps in the snow served as a background noise to the uneasy silence around them.

"I found it."

"Hm? Found what?" Ajax raised an eyebrow in suspicion.

[Name] pulled out a red scarf, so familiar to Ajax, from inside their backpack, carefully tying it around his neck. The fabric was warm, or perhaps it was the feeling of zeal, or also the nostalgia it brought.

Ajax hadn't realized he had left it behind. And when he realized it, the difference between the cold air and the protection of the scarf was remarkable — was he so distracted that he didn't notice?

The boy's gloved hands touched the soft fabric of the scarf, bringing it closer to his face and snuggling into the warmth. "Where did you find it, comrade?"

" Somewhere, it doesn't matter." They put their hands in the pockets, looking around at the landscape around them. "Aren't you afraid of getting lost in the forest?"

Ajax let out a genuine laugh when he heard their question, as if it were something ridiculous. "Getting lost? I know my way around pretty well."

[Name] narrowed their eyes, firmly disbelieving Ajax's words. For them, the scenery remained the same, no matter how far they went — well, they didn't go very far at all.

"What? It's all the same, like... just trees and snow everywhere."

Ajax held back a laugh, as if what they'd said was completely dumb. "You're not from Snezhnaya, right?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Were you trying to hide it at all?" He couldn't help but laugh at the redness that appeared on [Name]'s face.

They were almost the scarlet color of their vision, which they proudly carried on a chain attached to their jacket. Pyro and Hydro, it was yet another thing that made them so opposite from each other.

"You know what, never mind! Just follow me." They extended a hand towards him, an almost forced offer.

Ajax hesitated, staring at the hand in front of him for a few long seconds before accepting it. He held it with some hesitation, not wanting to apply more force than he should have. He didn't mean to hurt, but he also had moments when he couldn't control his own strength.

They walked together through the snow, their steps in perfect sync. He noticed these small details as he looked down at the ground, thinking over and over again about an endless cycle. Sometimes, he just let that little silence take over his head, alone without direction, lost in the image of his own breath coming in the form of fog.

[Name] mumbled something, Ajax nodded, but forgot all about it soon after. They knew he wasn't paying attention, but didn't care, increasing the strength with which they held his hand.

"You don't like it here? Is that why you keep running away?"

"It's not running away if you come back.”

[Name] genuinely felt like punching Ajax in the face every time he opened his mouth and let out some stupid reason like this, but they would obviously leave it to imagination. The willingness wasn't lacking, but the courage was.

Perhaps if they were stronger, braver, they could say what they really wanted. But they weren't, and that kept them behind a fine line between the two, where Ajax always seemed to be in the front.

Everything in Snezhnaya, absolutely everything, filled them with an internal revolt. The cold that seemed to freeze them inside, the infinitely same path that seemed to lead nowhere, not being taken seriously — but for now, they would do anything to please those on top, especially since they were the ones in control of everything anyway.

"Don't ignore my question, go on. I know you heard me."

As soon as they arrived at the camp, they were greeted by an angry soldier with a large purple eye. That was the man Ajax had hit, and clearly he didn't look happy.

"Look, the bastard's really back," he said sarcastically, snapping his fingers. "Are you going to come at me for no reason like a savage again, like you did earlier?"

"Liar," they retorted, shaking their heads in denial and pointing a finger at the soldier, "you previously morally attacked Ajax, an exemplary boy..."

Ajax nodded, crossing his arms. Exemplary was by far what he was, but he had to agree with those who defended him. What he didn't expect was that they would retract their words soon after.

"...sort of."

"A... gentle boy?" They gave him a sideways glance, as if for confirmation; all he got back was a slight shake of the head.

"sort of..."

There was a lack of good adjectives to describe what he was — what he had become.

It would be less work if they just called him strong, but they didn't. They didn't want to reduce him to something. They didn't seem to want to reduce him to something the soldier in front of them already knew. Or rather, they didn't want to reduce Ajax to a simple strong boy.

They cleared their throats with a smile, grabbing Ajax by the collar, "Give us a second!"

Honestly, he was expecting a beating, not a strategy meeting behind a bush — not that he was going to complain, but at least he was hoping for a fight or something. His clenched fists contained the real desire to punch that soldier right in the face, but unfortunately he couldn't do that.

"'Sort of', really?" Ajax mimicked with a playful tone.

They rolled their eyes, fidgeting. "One of two ways: either I lie by calling you dumb, or I lie by calling you stupid!"

His jaw dropped for a moment. Was Ajax that stupid in their eyes? Not that he was the most self—controlled or straightforward person, but that dumb was an insult. "Oh, but I'm not dumb!"

"Perfect! Then you're stupid!"

The two of them stared at each other for what seemed like hours. Just as they didn't understand him, Ajax didn't understand them one bit.

"Seriously, I'm trying to help you... but then you have to help me help you."

"I think you've got it wrong. I appreciate the attempt, not to be rude... but I don't think I asked you to help me in the first place." He tried to smooth it over somehow, with that annoying little smile of his.

They felt their eyes ticking just hearing him, but soon pulled themselves together and returned the smile with a sarcastic tone intertwined with the words, "Really?”

"Mhm!" Ajax smiled. "Then I'm going for it, you said!"

Ajax ran off, abandoning them behind the bush to do whatever he wanted. Training, fighting, getting into another fight... it was all very unpredictable when it came to someone as peculiar as Ajax.

[Name] stood there, letting out a sigh as he thought about how weird this boy was. But there was no denying that Ajax was truly exceptional at getting out of trouble, and that made them more and more curious about him.

Sometimes, before going to sleep, Ajax would close his eyes and think about the day he'd had. He would ponder how small details were so easily erased — he couldn't remember who accompanied him on the march, or the name of the guy he had hit. But it was okay, it was fine not to remember.

The important thing was to keep going, without wasting time, and to move on. Ajax didn't need anything else, or anyone else, just himself to become very strong.

"Here you go, redhead." He was called by [Name], who threw a pillow right in his face.

" Man, you really like throwing things at me, don't you?" complained, pulling the pillow away from his face, "Have I become a punching bag now?"

"You forgot your pillow. If you wake up with a stiff neck, you'll be complaining in my ear all day tomorrow."

"I don't complain—"

"You think you don't, but you nag like an old man!"

Ajax threw himself backwards, lying on the mattress hugging the pillow close to his face. He muttered irritably to himself something almost inaudible, something that [Name] could only wish weren't curses in their direction.

"Look, I don't know what kind of problem you have," Ajax began, rolling his eyes in frustration, but soon changed his tone to something more playful, "if you want to settle something with me, come fight. Unless you're too much of a chicken not to fight someone younger and stronger than you."

"Whatever" [name] grumbled as they adjusted the flame of the lamp with their vision, "I already know I have zero percent chance against someone like... you."

"Why, comrade? It's not like I'm going to kill anyone in sight or anything like that." He smiled, giving a slight chuckle.

"Yes, of course, and I'm a slime" [name] sarcastically answered.

"Honestly, I don't mean to offend you or anything..." Ajax sat up, running a light hand through his hair to remove it from his face. "But I really wonder how someone so coward got into Fatui. I mean, you're afraid to even hold your own bow."

[Name] listened attentively to his words, but kept their gaze fixed on the lamp in her hands. It was the only source of warmth between them at the moment, and they couldn't let it go out so soon.

"The reason I'm in Fatui..." Their eyes did not leave the flame in hand, carefully observing the orange color that reflected on everything around him. [Name] avoided this question whenever it was asked, because they knew they weren't strong, and didn't force themselves to be, but the truth was too shameful.

"I believe I am indebted to Her Royal Highness the Tsaritsa. I must render my services for her generosity, and also... for this little thing here, which has guaranteed me everything I have now."

They picked it up and swung it around, the vibrant red gemstone seeming to emanate heat in a veritable mirage. Even though the temperature was almost below zero, it still retained its tiny hints of flame.

"Well, I guess that's it. I was born like anyone else, subject to mistakes and defects. But I don't think I'm worthless, after all..." they paused for a single second, letting out a sigh before continuing, "even doormats have their uses."

Ajax's face softened as he listened to them. He was speechless, sincerely mute without an answer to their words. No silly comment came to mind, just nothing. He waited a while in silence before finally asking: "Wow, that was something..."

"I think we've talked enough about me, what about you?" They asked with a little smile, and Ajax relaxed a little.

"About me? Hm... I think I have several stories! Like today when I punched that guy!" he cheered, throwing a fake punch in the air to represent his fight.

[Name] let out a simple laugh, amused by his actions. They thought the boy was a piece of work, silly but very funny; also very intriguing in every respect. At fourteen, joining the Fatui and doing well was something out of this world from everyone else's perspective.

"No, silly! I don't care about that sort of thing." They shook their heads in denial.

Ajax blinked twice, confusion clear on his face. "What...? So what do you want to know, anyway?"

They patted his head lightly, making Ajax turn as red as a tomato. It was unexpected, and he didn't know how to react to it, he wasn't prepared, but it wasn't that bad either. For the first time in a long time, Ajax allowed himself to receive a bit of care.

"Tell me, redhead," they called him by that silly nickname again, getting a funny look from him, "do you miss home at all?"

"Homesick? Hm... I don't know, I don't think so."

"Lying to yourself is always the worst kind of lie, so don't do this."

"If I really miss home..."

Home. Did Ajax really miss home? It was very hard for them to guess what was going through his head when all he did was fight and cause trouble. Although he had his ridiculous faults, there was still a gentle child inside, deep down.

Ajax was about to answer when it finally hit. It was the kind of question that nobody really asked in the Fatui. Everyone usually acted in accordance with their situation, there was no room in the Camp for whining.

The only tears were those that were left on the pillow, turned upside down as soon as the first rays of sun appeared in the morning. Hidden, sealed away from the gaze of others, while everything continued in the shadows.

He remembered perfectly the day he left home, beginning his career as a soldier.

Ajax checked his appearance one last time in the mirror. He didn't mind the state he was in, with a few scars on his hands and small scratches on his face from the mess that had occurred before he was enlisted — but he couldn't look relaxed either, Ajax needed to look presentable for some reason.

He could hear some whispering, not so quiet, of children behind him. He could see their reflections, curious as ever, but pretended not to have noticed, not wanting to end their failed attempt at spying.

When the clock finally struck a certain time, he knew it was time to go. Ajax had been preparing since the day before, when he received the news. It hadn't been easy to accept, but Ajax had no voice after everything he had done.

It was easy to feel the blood on his hands, even though he had washed them over and over again. While his combat skills were fascinating, it was frightening to see how easy it was to seriously hurt someone.

But at the same time, he felt the adrenaline of fighting pulsing through his veins, bringing with it an insatiable desire for battle. He didn't have a strong enemy, he didn't have anyone who could challenge his skills in this little corner of the world he lived in. Being the strongest shouldn't be so boring, at least not for him.

When he stepped out of his room, the first thing he saw were his little siblings. Their faces were full of questions, asking for an answer as to where he was going, why he was leaving and other questions that Ajax wasn't allowed to answer, nor was he in the mood to answer them.

This was what he really dreaded, the farewell.

He hugged each sibling as if it was the last time seeing them, his eyes filled with anguish disguised as emotion and tears that weren't exactly shed. He felt a knot down his throat — how hard it was to try and keep a smile, with such a conflicted feeling in his chest.

Perhaps that was the hardest part, because the younger ones had no idea where their older brother would end up. They didn't know that he was going where no other child should go. The only excuse he could come up with was something about a fantastic toy factory, and they bought it.

He swallowed it all, keeping his typical charisma in a comforting smile. Blindly lying to himself that all that was to come was just a distraction where he could meet stronger people, bigger obstacles and climb them without hesitation.

He ran down the stairs as if it was the last time, and it would be, because long gone was the boy who once smiled here. Hearing the children's voices saying casual goodbyes, as if it were just another ordinary day and that he would be back soon. Touching the banister, sliding along and feeling the texture of the wood, brought a little sadness. It was full of scratches and loose splinters, just the way he would remember it.

Taking a deep breath, he let the smell of wax invade his lungs for one last time. Little did he know, but this would become another moment for nostalgia in just a few days.

He hesitated to leave that warm place, so precious and cozy that it was the only thing capable of bringing a tear to his eyes after leaving the abyss. Not all things in life work out the way we want them to, and he needed to learn that, if only in the harshest way possible.

"Discipline" was what it was supposed to be, a form of punishment for all the trouble he had made. Like a staircase, Ajax climbed step by step in his acts of violence until he reached the irreversible point of his insatiable hunger for battle

But life always takes its toll. And for Ajax, life decided to give, demand and take away almost instantly.

Saying goodbye to his mother, who wrapped a red wool scarf around his neck, Ajax could only keep smiling. If it hadn't been for the hesitation and worry in her eyes, distressed that her young son would end up in a place like the Fatui, everything would have been so much easier.

"My little warrior," she called him, a cheesy nickname that suited the wild boy perfectly. While it was ironic in the past, given that Ajax was a big scaredy—cat, today it was just dumb, "Don't cause too much trouble... please."

The last sentence came in the form of a very faint whisper, which went almost unnoticed by Ajax. A real plea, almost desperate because of the lack of credibility he had at that moment. She didn't believe in him, evident in the exacerbated concern she showed in her mannerisms.

And if to comfort her, then Ajax was willing to put on his best and most convincing cheerful mask. He had always been a boy who loved his family, and that was something that not even the claws of the Abyss could take away from him.

"Yes, Mom."

Ajax did his best not to sound the least bit false when lying to his mother — He was, he couldn't deny that — But at least Ajax did it convincingly until he could gently slip away from her gentle touch.

"I'll take care of myself. Brush my teeth, comb my hair..."

"And eat well," she added, brushing the dirt off his clothes, making him more presentable.

"...And eat well, leave it to me!"

The woman sighed, letting go of the boy. With her watery eyes turned to the side, she shook her head as if to pretend that everything was fine — an attempt to make it clear that everything was all right, that Ajax shouldn't worry. But in the end, it was to comfort herself.

"Go..." she murmured with a sad smile, shaking her face slightly to let the tears go where they shouldn't, "go with your father before you're late, and don't stir up trouble, see? Your poor mother's heart wouldn't be able to handle it."

"I'll do my best, stay super strong and—"

He was interrupted by a small smack on the head from his father; it wasn't painful, not in the slightest... but it hurt for some reason, somewhere deep inside. All he did was look up, shrug and smile as usual.

"Let's go." That was the call Ajax had been waiting for to.

This was a moment of farewell, but he remembered that it wasn't eternal. Someday, he would return home with his chest puffed out and a huge, proud smile on his face — well, that's what he hoped for.

And so, the troublemaker set foot outside his home to become what no one, not even he, expected him to be one day. Looking back at his past, his younger self, fearful and innocent, disappointed but admiring, came to mind.

An icy breeze was the first thing that greeted Ajax when he opened the door and encountered the standard whiteness of the outside scenery. It was sudden, as if to extract any remnants of warmth he felt. People would say it was a good omen coming from the Tsaritsa, a sign of good fortune on his new path.

And it's what Ajax would like to believe.

"Ajax?"

Their voice woke him from his memories, bringing him back to reality. And then suddenly, he was back in that tiny tent, the one he had never left.

"Sorry. I spaced out, didn't I?" He covered his eyes with his forearm, tiredness was starting to set in.

"Just a little bit." [Name] decided to lie down too, covering themselves with their own blanket. Their hands then went to the lamp, offering it to him, "Can you use your vision to put it out?"

"Can't we just... not put out the fire?" Ajax asked weakly.

[Name] blinked twice in surprise, then cracked a smile to tease him. "What's the matter, are you afraid—"

"No, I'm not afraid of the dark..." he cut them off in mid—sentence, turning around so that he wasn't facing them. With his face covered by the pillow, Ajax lowered his voice. "But leave the fire burning, just for now... please."

It was the first time [Name] had seen him so vulnerable, with his guard down. With such a sincere request, they were at a loss for words — even though they really wanted to understand.

"Right..." They hesitated slightly as they released the lamp. "Sweet dreams, Ajax."

Without replying, they sighed. [Name] then put their head on the pillow, looking at him with a certain empathy. But then again, it was none of their business; he would tell them when he felt comfortable.

That night would be a long one, with the two of them lying awake without exchanging a single word.

Sometimes [Name] questioned their own common sense, especially when they followed Ajax's foolish ideas. Normally, the two of them would get into trouble and be forced to do the daily tasks because of it.

But after days of insistence on his part, they had finally agreed to go ice fishing in the middle of the night because it was the only free time the both had. Did they know how to fish? No, and certainly not on ice, but there's a first time for everything.

"Hm... I don't see anyone," Ajax whispered as he looked through a gap in the tent, making sure no one was awake at this hour.

"Hang on, I can't put these on!" [Name] tried to put their boots on, but couldn't make a decent knot. They were already frustrated, tying them any way and untying them when they realized it didn't lead anywhere.

Ajax let out a chuckle, their desperation to put on simple boots was utterly comical, "Let me help you."

"I can do it myself!" [Name] stared at the tangled shoelace with a certain determination, trying to undo what they had tied.

"You said that last week, yet you couldn't do it and we lost the training—"

[Name]'s face heated up in embarrassment. What he said was true, the two of them had missed it, all because they didn't know how to put on the boots offered with the new uniform, and had to clean the weapons as punishment — not that Ajax cared, it seemed he had only focused on admiring the swords and guns rather than cleaning them.

"Shh! That's in the past!" they tried to shut him up.

Ajax shook his head slightly. He knelt down and stared at the blind knot they had tied, taking his hands to the shoelaces to straighten out the mess. "I'll teach you, check it out."

He carefully tied their shoes, making a firm loop. It was just like at home, when he helped his younger siblings put on their boots to play outside. When recalling this, an unconscious smile appeared on Ajax's lips, followed by a giggle.

"Are you laughing at me?" [name] asked, offended.

"No—" Ajax looked up, and then laughed, seeing the funny look they were making. "Yes, I am now!"

[Name] grabbed him by the cheek, hurrying him out of the tent with them. "Stop laughing, they'll wake up and it'll be our doom!"

"All right, all right!" Ajax exclaimed, removing their hand from his sore cheek. "You talk just like my mother when she scolds me..."

[Name] looked at him, smiling before teasing him. "No way, I mean, I pity your mother for having to put up with a son like you."

Ajax's frowned, he really did look offended by what they had said. "I have no idea what you're talking about, I've always been a very well—behaved child!"

"Oh, sure... if you say so, who am I to doubt it?" they agreed sarcastically. There wasn't a shred of confidence in his word.

There were endless minutes of walking and exchanging small insults. Under the moonlight, the two made their way calmly, getting further and further away from the camp. If they were lucky, no one would find out that they had run away.

They would be fishing in a frozen lake, a large mirror that reflected the light of an aurora. It was a breathtaking sight, as if they could touch the sky, and they took a cautious first step onto the it.

"Damn!" They slipped, having only the instinct to hold on to something.

"Whoa! Watch it there, comrade!" Ajax helped them regain their balance, holding them up by the arms. He took slow steps backwards so that [Name] wouldn't slip again.

[Name] smiled a little awkwardly, embarrassed. "Thanks but... This ice won't break with us on it, right?"

Ajax shook his head and firmly tapped his foot on the frozen surface, which remained intact. "It's pretty sturdy, see?"

"I see." [Name] turned their attention upwards and admired the greenish glow again. " Snezhnaya's night sky is a fascinating sight, isn't it? Even though I've seen it several times, I'm always amazed by its beauty..."

Ajax had already seen the real starry sky, the true and uncovered light of the celestial bodies. To refer to this gloomy canvas as a "fascinating sight" is an absurd statement, for it is only an empty imitation of what lies beneath the veil of the Abyss.

"You're really satisfied with anything, huh?" Ajax scoffed, with a hint of a smile on his face, "It's just floating lights, it gets boring after a while."

"Is there anything that doesn't get boring for you?" [Name] watched as Ajax started to cut the ice in a circular pattern, which appeared to be a not too difficult job for him. "Are you sure this works? I mean, it's just ice... I don't know if there's anything alive down there."

Ajax sat, eyes fixed on the hole in front of them. He hugged his knees and remained there, staring at the immensity and waiting for what would happen next. "Don't worry, we'll catch one in... a few minutes, I think."

"In about how many minutes, exactly?"

Ajax looked up thoughtfully. "A few."

"I swear to the archons, if you made us come here for nothing..." [Name] grumbled, watching the boy next to them. The way he insisted on his ideas impressed them, at the same time as it irritates; but seeing that serene face made them let out a little laugh, "Never mind, I'm the idiot one for following you."

[Name] sat down next to him, resting their face in one hand as Ajax and them waited patiently. Those moments of serenity were the complete opposite from the battles that took place everyday.

They had already seen several "comrades" fall, their lives taken while protecting the Fatui's interests. Interests that were unknown and hidden from the vast majority, concealed by individuals whose faces were unknown to many.

The Harbingers themselves were a kind of urban legends who, while everyone knew of their existence, were enigmatic and symbolic figures within the organization.

"What exactly are we fighting for?" [name] asked. There wasn't exactly a reason, because no one ever said the real purpose of the blood shed on the snowy battlefield.

Everyone's admiration and fear of the Harbingers was obvious. But just as they were feared, the kind of people whose presence is everywhere, there were more questions than answers as to their real motivation.

The closest they had seen was the Fifth, Pulcinella. [Name] didn't understand why they had been placed in his division, being a complete fool who couldn't hold a weapon without getting nervous. Even more so when, in the same division, there was Ajax.

A confused expression appeared on Ajax's face when he heard the question. Wasn't the answer obvious? At least, it was logical. "For Her Royal Highness, the Tsaritsa—"

"No, I know that. I'm talking about why we need to fight, the purpose of it all... We have a mission in a few days, and we don't even know what they want from us."

"I fight because I'm strong, isn't that enough?" Ajax seemed genuine in his response, with no hidden ambitions behind the battles he fought against his opponents. At the end of the day, it seemed to be all about the will to get stronger and better.

"No, it's not." [Name]'s gaze was serious, demanding an answer that would satisfy their curiosity. For them, Ajax was an extremely difficult puzzle to solve — a young boy who possessed the strength of a monster. But at the same time, had a heart as pure as gold. "Your name... was inspired by a hero, right? Do you want to be like them, the hero of the story?"

Ajax nodded, giving them a smirk. He remembered the old days, when he wasn't the least bit brave or powerful, just a fearful boy with a sword and a dream. "I think I'd rather be myself. It's much more fun when you do things your own way, don't you agree?"

"Well... it is, it really is." [Name]'s firm gaze softened. "Ajax, what do you want to be when you grow up?"

The boy froze in place. His mouth opened to speak, but the words he wanted to say didn't come out. He had no answer, even if he thought about it — Ajax simply didn't know.

"When I grow up..." he repeated to himself, looking for an answer, any answer. "I honestly don't know... I think I'll end up having to stay in Fatui."

"Idiot..." [name] grumbled, "I'm not saying you can't do what you want, but let's be honest with ourselves for a moment. Who would willingly stay in this hellhole?"

"Me," Ajax answered immediately, without a hint of hesitation in his speech, "If I go back home, I'll only make more trouble. Just the fact that I'm here makes life easier for everyone, and I can improve my skills."

"Of course you'd say that." They shook their heads, completely disapproving of his choice. They got up from where they sat, offering him a glance. "I envy you, you know that?"

"Hm? You..." Ajax looked up and pointed at them, then at himself. "...envy someone like me?"

"How can I not? You're strong, hopeful, stubborn and very proud," [name] listed, raising a finger for each adjective they found to describe him. "How can I not envy someone like you? You're like..."

"Everything I've always dreamed of being like."

They both uttered the same sentence at the same time, their voices becoming a unison sound that gave way to an awkward silence between them. Their eyes seemed to pierce each other, staring into the depths of the souls in search of some understanding.

"Trust me, I know what it's like," Ajax sighed, "to want to be braver, but at the same time to be too afraid of doing so."

Ajax turned his gaze back to the freezing water. Its darkness brought back vague memories of the abyss. The simple act of fishing was enough to push Ajax's mind back to the past, when he listened to his father's stories — maybe, just maybe, he really wanted to be as great as the heroes in them.

Ajax had once been a poor, fearful boy, terrified of the world outside, but with a spirit hungry for adventure. He had only a shortsword and a bag of bread — anyone could say that it was at that moment, before his fall into the confines of Teyvat, that Ajax began his transformation into what he's now.

"It's not a story I tell anyone, but I used to be a real coward," he admitted, letting out a sigh. "If one day you get stronger... like I did, would you duel with me?"

"Of course..." they smiled, making an x with their arms. "Not!"

Ajax's expression fell, replaced by that of an abandoned puppy. "But why?"

[Name] laughed at his face, crossing their arms. "Don't you remember when we first met?"

For them, the events that led to their current situation were clear as day. From before their enlistment, to the first day in the division.

They were born into a humble family, without any kind of comfort or privilege. [Name] grew up hearing all the stories about the archons and their extraordinary feats, about how lucky those who gained visions were. However, they never understood why their family admired such deities when all they received was misery.

Their parents, in a desperate act, borrowed a large amount of money, which they couldn't pay back. Disaster would be the appropriate word to describe what happened when the deadline for repaying these debts passed. As they were unable to pay, the two were killed by the debt collectors.

But [Name] always had somewhat of a way with their words, and that was the weapon they used to survive in a world like this. Somehow, they managed to negotiate their lives, in exchange for serving in the Fatui army instead of paying off an endless quantity of mora.

And shortly afterwards, [Name] were taken to the Cryo nation, landing in the middle of a terrible blizzard. If it hadn't been for the pyro vision they carried in their hands, [Name] wouldn't be alive to tell the tale, having become an ice statue.

And it was in an old and spacious office where [Name] took their first step towards their new reality. Quite nervously, their hands firmly held a document with all the information about their new career, leaving crumpled marks on its edges. [Name] had never thought they'd be offered to properly work, especially when the job was with none other than Fatui.

They were facing a short, stoic Fatui agent with a big nose and glasses. He seemed like a friendly fellow, but [Name] knew better than to trust someone who worked for those who had killed their family.

"What's your name, child?" asked the man in front of them, as he typed on a typewriter.

They had never seen anything like this, a machine that wrote for people? Unthinkable, it seemed magical, even. [Name] was so glued to it that, for a second, they forgot to answer.

"It's... [Name], that's all. I don't have a last name..."

The agent stopped his notes, giving [Name] a skeptical look. It was enough to make them nervous, unconsciously taking a small step backwards, lowering their head.

"Answer me..." The man went back to typing. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"No, sir. I'm from far away..." they sighed, murmuring, "very, very far...."

"Are you sure you'd like to join Fatui? You're still too young, don't you think it's a big responsibility?"

The agent gave them a gentle smile, different from the look he had given them before. It was as if he was truly giving [Name] a choice — but the truth was, if they didn't accept it, they would probably end up in the same shallow grave as their parents.

"Forgive me, sir, but it's not a question of wanting, it's a question of needing," they replied calmly, "someone has to pay these debts, right? Mora doesn't grow on trees."

[Name] wondered if they had said something wrong, since their tone hadn't exactly been friendly, mentally scolding themselves. But to their surprise, instead of getting scolded, [Name] heard a faint but present chuckle coming from the other person.

"You should thank Her Majesty the Tsaritsa for your kindness," he said, handing them the piece of paper he had been typing on, "how many people do you think have had an opportunity like this, to have their debts absolved and a job guaranteed?"

"Absolved?"

"Exactly, absolved. All we need from you, child, is your loyalty. I can see the potential, but it all depends solely on you." He pointed at their vision, hanging from their waist with a faint shine. "Surely, you're lucky enough to possess one of these."

For anyone else, receiving a vision is a blessing. However, being in possession of one is like having an eternal debt to the world. To be chosen is to be special, and to be special enough to receive a vision is to be distinct from the rest.

Sometimes it became a curse. One can no longer live like a normal person, because there will always be something that sets them apart from the rest. All those who are given one struggle in some way — Has there ever been a vision holder who truly lived an entire life peacefully, without any conflict whatsoever? At least in Snezhnaya, it seemed not.

"I... I accept..." Their eyes filled with hope, looking at their own name perfectly typed on the document. There was the real identity of the gentleman in front of them, revealed in a fancy signature, the Fifth of the Fatui Harbingers, Pulcinella.

[Name] signed their names in the blank space, sealing their fate within the organization. From that moment on, they would be part of the Fatui, just one more in the crowd — But if that was what it took to ensure their survival, [Name] would do it without hesitation.

The real issue, however, was on the first day of duty, and it had a name: Ajax.

[Name] had just put on their uniform, which was a little big for their size. But then again, there were none designed for a fifteen-year-old to wear, so they'd have to be content with what they had on hand.

At least the jacket they were given was comfortable, warm enough to block out some of the bitter cold that surrounded them each second. [Name] even looked like a proper person in it, which made them let out a little laugh.

However, it wasn't until they were standing in line in a meaningful formation that [Name] noticed a boy of a similar age to them. Red curls that stood out against the white backdrop, with a red scarf that was too long for his neck — perhaps they weren't completely alone in that place.

[Name] waited patiently until the time came for them to start training, watching him with eagle eyes, following Ajax wherever he went. When they finally mustered up the courage, they approached him and extended a hand towards him.

"Hello, I'm [Name],"

"Hey!" The boy grinned and shook their hands firmly. "I'm Ajax!"

"Well... looks like we're the same age, huh? How about we train together?" they suggested, thinking it was the best option.

"Sure!" Ajax nodded, putting the sword he was holding aside. "That would be, like... an invitation to battle, right?"

Technically, it was, so they just followed the his reasoning and confirmed it. "Mhm!"

"Then get ready!" he announced, preparing to throw a full punch.

[Name] didn't react immediately, surprised at the speed of the boy who had already set up his punch. "W-WAIT—"

Thud.

Complete darkness was how the first and last friendly match between the two ended, with Ajax knocking them out with a single punch. That's how [Name] would learn that fighting Ajax was a trap. However, [Name] wouldn't lie that at least it had been the best sleep they'd had in months — and the worst black eye they'd ever gotten, too.

"Teyvat to [Name]?" They awoke from their thoughts to see Ajax's hand moving in front of their face. He then tapped them on the forehead. "Is anyone there?"

"Oh, sorry, I got distracted. I was just remembering the punch you gave me." They laughed. "Speaking of which, you also punched that guy the other day too... what's with punching people, redhead?"

"I've already apologized!" His face heated up with embarrassment. "And punching is way more practical. You'd be shocked if you knew how strong a punch from me can really be, when I throw one for real!"

"Hm, sure, no doubt about it—"

"I got one!" Ajax exclaimed, trying to pull the line back on the rod with great difficulty. "A little help would be nice, you know!"

[Name] hurried, wrapping their arms around him and pulling back to bring the fish to the surface. But the animal wouldn't cooperate, even with the effort they made take it out of the water.

Ajax took a step back. "That was fast!"

"Fast? We've been waiting for almost an hour—" They slipped on the ice, pulling him and the fish along with them. In the end, Ajax and [Name] both fell flat, like two idiots.

[Name] looked at him, who was holding the fish in his hands while the animal struggled in them. It was a funny sight, which was enough to get a genuine laugh out of them.

"Haha..." they laughed weakly, then raised their tone, "Hahaha!"

Ajax, hearing the sound of their giggles, bursted into laughter. He laughed so hard that small tears formed in his eyes, "Hahaha... What are we laughing at?"

[Name] pointed at him, "At you, you fool!"

"Oh, really?!" Ajax stood up, bringing the fish in his hands near them. "Let's see who gets the last laugh!"

[Name] got up and ran across the ice, running away from him. They slipped and balanced, with an infectious smile on their faces accompanied by the sweet sound of their laughter, while Ajax chased after them with the animal.

It was moments like this that reminded them that they weren't adults, but two true children at heart.

At least once a week, Ajax and [Name] were sent on missions. They weren't often in charge of the more complicated ones, as they were still too young. However, for the first time, the two of them were allowed to take part in a more risky operation.

The two were supposed to stay with the older ones, but [Name] found themselves alone, having gotten separated from the rest by accident. In the middle of such a large forest, they could only hope that a blizzard wouldn't strike right away.

[Name] analyzed their surroundings, trying to retrace the steps that led them to nowhere and return to where the division had planned to reunite. However, they seemed to go round in circles, never reaching their destination.

That's when they noticed a coat lying in the snow. It was brown, very different from the Fatui soldiers' uniform, with a shabby finishing and a gross smell of blood.

Pow.

That's what they heard, a loud, familiar sound that sent shivers down their spines. Looking up, they saw a bullet hole in the tree, well above their heads — by perhaps two centimeters, they would no longer be alive.

"...!" [Name] instinctively looked for the source of the sound, quickly finding it.

Their desperate eyes met another's, which held no pity. Yet another soldier, wounded, carrying a gun and a tremendous amount of hatred — not everyone liked the Fatui, and not everyone had sympathy just because they were a child.

Frightened, [Name] ran desperately, followed by fierce gunfire that almost hit them. [Name] hid behind a tree and drew out their bow, but couldn't hold it properly no matter how much they tried, since it always slipped from their hands.

The enemy was indeed wounded, but armed and apparently experienced. The look in his face had been enough to send shivers down their spine, because when compared to them, who couldn't even use their vision properly, it was like facing a real monster.

"It'll be all right..." they whispered to themselves. "I just need to—"

[Name] heard more gunshots, too close to where they were. Something told them to run, but also to stay, accept the invitation and have a proper fight. If it was to survive, then [Name] would fight, they needed to.

[Name] couldn't hide forever, it wouldn't be right.

"Come on, you bastard!" [name] shouted, their voice echoing through the woods, as they aimed their bows in the direction of the enemy.

They used their vision and set the arrow ablaze, burning their own fingertips in the process. They didn't know how to control the force with which the arrow burned, but they knew it would hurt anyone who was struck.

[Name] clumsily launched the first arrow, dodging a shower of bullets headed their way. They hoped it was enough, that they had been able to send it flying at his face. But instead, the projectile pierced through his shoulder.

"Damn!" the soldier shouted, trying to reload his weapon while wincing in pain, but his ammunition had run out.

He came up and pistol—whipped them, causing [Name] to cry out in pain for a few seconds. The impact was so intense that they dropped their weapon and fell into the snow.

[Name] then felt the real despair of being weak. They could hear their hearts pounding in their ears and their eyes watering from the pain of the blows they received to the head, while blood trickled down their faces.

They grabbed his foot, applying pyro to their hands to make his boot burn along with it. When he fell, it was then that they saw their chance to stay alive handed to them on a platter.

They reached for the bow that lay on the ground next to them, firmly holding it anyway. Nothing mattered, only survival and that was all — they only needed to survive, to live long enough to prove that they were capable.

It didn't take much for one person to kill another, just despair. That feeling of helplessness and genuine dread, which would move mountains if necessary, was all it took to pull the trigger.

They violently hit the enemy in the face with their own bow, as if it were a bat. It was only when the return attacks stopped that they realized what they had done. The body below had an expression of terror, eyes wide as blood dripped onto the white snow, staining its purity with a crimson shade.

"I—I didn't... I did this...?" They stared at their bloodied hands, feeling their heart beating wildly against their chest. That's when, suddenly, an incessant urge to cough overtook them, but only blood came from their mouth.

[Name] looked down and realized that they had been shot in the chest. The bullet had gone through what seemed to be their lung, they didn't know, the adrenaline was hiding the pain for as long as it took. However, the spot hit was clearly a lethal wound.

They took two clumsy steps backwards, shaking their heads in denial. [Name] was too afraid to do anything like that, taking a life itself was too cruel an act for them, but it was done.

However, they didn't want to die as murderers, not really. So, with determination, [Name] decided they wouldn't die there.

They turned around and ran that time like there was no tomorrow, using every drop of adrenaline they still had in their bodies. [Name] couldn't see the sun shining, only the same gray clouds that covered the sky, which seemed to mock the fact that there was no light at the end.

Their only way out was to get to the camp, where there should be healers waiting for the wounded. However, it was difficult for [Name] to distinguish the landscape around them, especially in such a nervous state.

[Name] tripped over their own foot, losing their balance and rolling painfully down the mountain. They watched life pass before their eyes, each moment painful with the intention of just surviving, not living. Then they closed their eyes tightly, already bracing themselves for a more abrupt impact and accepting certain death.

They hit a tree, before rolling one last time to the bottom of the hill. Fortunately, or not, it was low enough for them not to die on impact — they did wish it had been stronger, ending it all quickly.

[Name] felt like a bird, floating in the sky with their eyes closed. They thought they had died because of the serenity felt for a few seconds, only to be crushed by the cruel reality. Their fall had been gently cushioned by the snow, but even with all this effort, they couldn't see the camp — which meant it had all been in vain.

Finally, the pain returned to their body as if it had never left. Breathing was difficult, with each breath being painful in the extreme, as if their organs were punishing them for still being alive.

"N—No," they sobbed through words, hot tears contrasting with the coldness that cruelly coursed through their veins. "I—I hate it... I wanted to die in peace, not like this... Not like this..."

Their trembling hands squeezed the wound in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. [Name] didn't know how much time they had left, they didn't want to know either, all left to do was pray to Tsaritsa and beg for a little mercy, for a quick death if possible.

[Name] still hadn't paid their debt to Her Majesty, for the life they had been offered. For the bread to eat every day, for the tent they had over their heads, for letting them breathe, for letting them remain in existence, they had to do their utmost to repay all the favors with whatever they could.

For the gratuitously heavy insults that they had to swallow in silence because they were weak; for the mountains and snowstorms that brought them down along the way; for the disgraceful defective vision of theirs — or rather, they were the defective ones.

"P—Please..." [Name] begged the nothing, while holding their vision close to their chest, "if miracles really do exist…”

How many things had [Name] thrown away, when what they wanted most was to prove to everyone that, even if they were weak, they didn't need to prove anything to anyone? [Name] didn't know, only the bitterness of a wasted time remained in their hearts.

They let their tears fall over the flaming orb, whose glow no longer seemed the same. With one last kiss to the gem, a silent thank you, they began to weep for a life they were about to lose.

There would be no one to mourn their death, to lament the defeat of someone who had never once won. They probably wouldn't even have a funeral, but would just be buried somewhere like an animal. How terrible would it be to be completely forgotten, with no soul to remember their existence?

And Ajax, their only friend... finally acknowledged this fact. Would the boy be desolate? Grieve? Or would he carry on as he always seemed to do?

They regretted not having told him things in life that only they could say. They could only hope for the best, that he wouldn't take the news that badly — but at the same time, there was a small, selfish desire for him to feel their death. Not because [Name] wanted him to suffer, but because that way they would know that they mattered to someone.

[Name] recalled the memories they had made with him, like when they first met, when they went ice fishing a few days ago. The image of how they ran and laughed with him that night, as if they weren't the next ones to die, was fresh.

At last, their body felt light, receiving a moment of tranquillity reserved for the end of endings, when [Name] felt nothing but the slow rhythm of their heartbeats, fighting for a lost cause, as if they didn't have two holes in their chests.

"I was truly... useless until the end, wasn't I...?" [Name] murmured what they knew would be their last words, a vent to themselves and to the world. With the last beat of their hearts and the cessation of their breathing, snowflakes touched the now freezing skin. "I hope I have served you well... Your Majesty..."

They died in silence, without disturbing anyone.

Meanwhile, with the mission over, Ajax found himself extremely bored. Contemplating the pure white snow stained with blood as he returned to camp had already become a habit of his.

He could not care less that his face had a few small scratches on it. Though, he had to admit, that any kind of mission made him tired. But before he could rest, he found a place to rest. So Ajax began to look for them throughout the camp, without any success in his search.

'They must be receiving medical care...' He thought, as he made his way towards the tent where the doctors were staying.

It was a small space that was often crowded with the number of people wounded during missions. Finding any specific person was difficult, even more so when he was being pestered to be treated right away because he was younger.

"Are you sure you don't want to go first?" one of the doctors asked, placing a hand on his bruised face.

"No, I'm fine!" Ajax smiled. "I'm just looking for..."

For some reason, his eyes fixed on a particular corner of the tent. Away from the rest, it was where they put the bodies of those who had perished in combat; but Ajax had never taken much notice of it, so why now?

He approached slowly, in silence. Ajax felt an uncharacteristic nervousness come over him, running through his veins. The chills he felt seemed to swallow him up from the inside out, it had been a long time since Ajax had felt like this, as if something was screaming "don't go there, stay here" and attempting to keep him from discovering the truth, as he approached a particular cloth.

He stopped in front of the covered figure, noticing something sticking out of the cloth. An object, a... vision. But the only ones in the entire division who possessed one were him and... [Name].

Terror was too little to describe what overtook Ajax, who hesitated to lift the cloth covering the individual's face. He wished he wouldn't hear his head and believe that they weren't the dead man in front of him.

With trembling hands, which he tried to stop, Ajax lifted the fabric slightly. And that's when the ground really seemed to crumble beneath him — they were dead, [Name] was truly dead.

Their skin was so pale and cold that it scared him a bit. But what particularly caught Ajax's eye was the sheer amount of blood they had lost, as their face and hair were completely stained a deep crimson red; and no one had bothered to close their eyes, devoid of life and its particular glow. Now, they were just a pit of darkness that matched his own.

"..." Ajax just stared, unable to say anything. Everything was trapped inside, without him being able to express it.

Ajax tried to tell himself that he didn't care, that they weren't really friends, just work colleagues. But the sadness in his heart betrayed the stoicism he tried so hard to maintain.

Ajax closed their eyes gently and kissed [Name]'s forehead gently before covering their face with the cloth again. It was an action that any mother would take on seeing her child dead, but they didn't have one to weep over their death — and if there wasn't one, then Ajax would play his part in showing respect for them.

Ajax may even have changed when he fell into the abyss, becoming a maniac for fighting and confusion. But at the end of the day, he was human just like everyone else.

Two days later, the tent they shared was cold, without the heat of the lamp to warm Ajax up, as it had already gone out with the icy wind coming through the gap in the entrance.

It was [Name] who kept them warm in the middle of the night, using their vision to keep the fire burning. And that was just a bitter reminder that they were no longer there.

The others had taken away everything that was theirs, accommodating what would be the belongings of a new tentmate, who would be arriving in a few days. It was as if they had ceased to exist altogether.

Ajax wouldn't mind being hit in the face with a pillow if they were the ones to hit him, with that smile, with that irritating tone of voice of theirs that Ajax recognized from afar. He wouldn't mind being called "redhead" again, if it was them calling him that.

"Ajax?" The voice that called him from outside was familiar to Ajax. It was the Fifth.

Ajax promptly got to his feet, walking outside the tent and greeting him politely, a treatment he reserved only for The Rooster. "I'm here, sir."

"I heard that one of your companions fell in battle... a shame," the Harbinger said, as he searched for something in his pocket. "Well, here it is..."

The man handed him a gray envelope, a letter. In the corner was written in almost illegible handwriting the names of the sender and recipient, respectively: [Name] and Ajax.

"Thank you, sir," he nodded, holding the envelope tightly in his hands.

"You were both very similar ages, you and..." the Rooster paused, having forgotten their name.

"[Name]." It was the first time Ajax had said their names, having called them "comrade" all the time since they'd met. Honestly, it hurt a little, how difficult it was to utter a simple phoneme.

A few minutes later, Ajax said goodbye to the Harbinger and entered the darkness of the tent again. He left out a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever was written inside that envelope.

Ajax could no longer remember what The Rooster had talked about, only that the exchange of words had been short, like all the others before. He didn't even have the mind to think about it now, he could apologize later if he forgot some important information.

But right now, the only thing that mattered to Ajax was [Name]'s letter. He opened the envelope, trying to be careful not to tear it, but in the end he did. Ajax strained his eyes to read what was written there, in a handwriting as bad as theirs.

Dear Ajax,

Should I start a letter with "dear"? I don't know, honestly, I have never written one. Well, if this letter found you, then that means I must be dead by now. I'm sure you're glad I did, as you'll now have the whole tent to yourself.

I've written this because I know that, in life, I might not be able to say what I think. I believe we're already friends, don't you too? That's how I feel about you, I think you're my only friend, and I've been very happy about that. Thank you, thank you very much, for the joyful and humorous moments you've provided me with in this little end of the world that is Snezhnaya.

I asked you the other day if you felt homesick; you may deny it, but I can understand how you feel, away from everyone you love in a place like this. Know that whatever may happen, I believe that the same people you miss feel the same way you do.

Don't listen to that little voice in your head that whispers "you're nothing but trouble", it's stupid. When I look at you, I don't see a troubled boy, but a boy with the heart of another. That day we were late for training, you could just as well have walked away and let me be punished for being late, but you didn't. We cleaned all the weapons by ourselves. We polished all the weapons alone, for hours, and you never complained. Why was that?

I don't know, but I'd like it to stay that way, so keep going! I'll be cheering you on from wherever I am, because you're the best warrior I've ever had the honor of meeting.

I end this letter with my admiration and gratitude to you; and never forget: we have our own time!

With much care,

[Name].

A single tear fell onto the paper, right below their name, accompanied by others that would soon form a hot waterfall in his eyes. Ajax didn't know how to respond to this, covering his face with the paper, as if he was embarrassed to end up being seen like this

Perhaps it was for the better, a reminder that life really wasn't fair, and that Ajax had strayed from the path he was on. He didn't want to care so much, but at the same time he did.

Ajax wanted someone to comfort him, to tell and reassure him that it was all right, that this sort of thing did happen, but at the same time, it didn't. It was hard, very hard, to face it. It was difficult, very difficult, to face the loneliness that he tried so hard to hide behind brute strength.

Anyone who saw him like that would doubt that he was the same person who ravaged the battlefield with his bloodlust, the boy who seemed like an uncontrollable monster with an indomitable spirit, causing trouble wherever he went.

But for one last time, in the darkness of that tent, he allowed himself to be... Vulnerable.

[itsa-me-lily]

Okay, it's here, holy shit I did it. Here is the Simon x Thimble Christmas Fic that I dragged out kicking and screaming.

Here is the MPS AU master playlist

Here is Simon & Thimble playlist

Content warnings;

Not really any I can think of? I make a joke involving ham. If anyone finds an issue let me know.

Christmas, a time of year where everything sparkled a little brighter, the world a little kinder, and the perfect way to show someone you cared was with a gift. At least that's what all the commercials said. You could admit it was little pessimistic to view the holiday but well, capitalism did that to a person.

As a kid it was certainly a more magical time, though your mom had more to do with it than anything else. You could appreciate the amount of effort she put into making sure you started the day excited for the possibilities and ended it content with the spoils of a year of good behavior.

Even as adults your mom tried to make sure that the day was good. What was probably the best part was that you could make sure the day was just as good for her as it was for you. Plus there was an extra adult to rope into being your helpful elf. Well there was supposed to be.

You knew Simon didn't have a choice for when he was sent out on missions, but he did seem to draw the universal short straw for being sent out a week before Christmas with no return date in sight. Not that he had been complaining at the time. You were almost convinced he was happy to go given the conversation you had had days prior to him leaving.

"So what do you do for Christmas?"

You'd of thought that you'd asked the man this in a dead language the way he had stared at you as he held greens for the boys to nibble and pull at during floor time. It was a reasonable question and you knew it.

"Don't look at me like that. My mom wants to know if we're going over to hers for Christmas or Christmas Eve. We want to make sure that we're not stepping on toes."

The look on his face either meant he was confused or constipated, and the weekly meals you brought to base was suppose to be helping with the second thing.

When it was clear that you weren't going to retract your question, Simon huffed, looking down at Baker who had gladly made himself comfortable in Simon's lap, and was trying to wriggle into his sweatshirt.

"I don't."

"You don't..."

"Do Christmas."

There were many times where your statements had left your husband to blink at you in response, this was one that had the tables turned.

"You don't do Christmas?"

"Yup."

"Any particular reason as to why?"

It really wasn't an issue if Simon did or didn't celebrate Christmas, you just didn't want to do something that'd insult his family heritage or something.

"Just don't."

Well that answered so much.

"So you've never celebrated Christmas?"

Simon Riley could be Jewish for all you knew, though that would make the times you a gave him a ham sandwich awkward.

Simon was silent for a few minutes, as if he was weighing his words as he idly scratching under Baker's chin.

"It's been a long time since I've celebrated it."

You had wanted to ask what he had meant by that, had wanted to ask so badly, but something had stopped you. He hadn't sounded sad exactly when he had said it, but more like he was remembering something sad.

You restacked the boys cups in silence, letting Jiji and Tombo go to town on them as they searched for the treats you hid in random levels. You didn't want to push too hard but you also didn't just want to leave the guy alone when you went to your mothers.

"So...would you be willing to go to my mom's with me? For Christmas."

The moment seemed to only have room for the sound of tossed plastic cups and weighted silence. You hadn't realized you were holding your breath until Simon had spoken, almost hesitantly.

"Your mum do a good roast?"

"Only the best."

"...Guess I'd be willing to go for that."

You couldn't help but grin then, the breath you were holding coming out in a rush of blooming contentment. Little steps.

Yet here you were, Christmas Eve, standing outside your mother's house as you dialed your husband's cell phone number, knowing he probably wouldn't pick up. You were right, he didn't.

You couldn't help but chuckle at hearing the voicemail set up he had, something that said to state what you wanted and hang up. It was short, curt, and completely him.

"Simon Riley you're missing all the fun. We got a turkey with all the sides and fixings that'll feed us for weeks. Plus there's matching sweaters-"

Beep

Wow this man really did expect people to keep it short. With a sigh you redialed his number, leaning against the side of the house even as a chill seeped into your sweater.

"Simon. Leave your message and hang up."

"Like I was saying, there's matching sweaters. Had to search a little for one in your size but don't worry we weren't going to have you miss out it. Even got-"

Beep

"Even got you a stocking. It's a paper one for now, but I decorated it myself. Put Si-si up on top in sparkly black glitter glue. Figured you'd appreciate the-"

Beep

"The color choice."

You thought about what you wanted to say next, long enough that the voice mail timer ended, hanging up the call. With a deep sigh you looked up at the sky, admiring the few stars you could see as you hit the redial button.

"Simon. Leave your message and hang up."

"Would have been nice to have you here. But maybe next year...Merry Christmas Simon."

You let the call end for the final time, just as snow was starting to fall. You admired it in the glow of your mother's door light, wondering when Simon would be back to get your series of messages.

January. Simon wasn't back until the tail end of January and he didn't know how he felt about it. Sure Price had apologized for pulling them all so close to the holidays, but honestly, at the time Simon hadn't minded.

No you hadn't forced him to agree to go to your mums, but he could still tell that you hadn't wanted to just leave him behind during Christmas. Not that he would have minded.

For years Christmas had been this black hole of things he didn't think about. Didn't think about the few decent ones from his childhood. Didn't think about the first Christmas that Tommy had been clean and sober for. Especially didn't think about the last Christmas with any of them, or the present for Joseph he had held onto for years after being unable to give it to him.

So no, he hadn't been disappointed when the call came in for deployment. But listening to your voicemails now...he could say that it probably wouldn't have been awful to go. He was going to burn the supposed Si-Si stocking, and there was no way in hell he'd ever wear a Christmas sweater.

What he was now though, was worried. The team had managed to come in early enough that he had been ready to get home for a late morning nap. Or would have been. If you hadn't had objected otherwise.

Simon: Back. ETA Soon. Thimble: Don't come home yet.

Simon: Why?

Thimble: Because.

Simon: Because why?

Thimble: Because I said so.

Simon: What did you do?

Thimble: What's with all the questions? Just fucking wait till I tell you to come back.

Simon was half convinced that you had murdered a man and was trying to get rid of the body. Given his occupation he would have assumed that you'd be eager for his assistance. He had history of getting bloodstains out.

Still what was the saying? Happy wife happy life? If you wanted Simon to stay away until you called him back he could do that. The breakroom couch wasn't as comfortable as the one you had picked out for the house, but Simon was used to sleeping anywhere. After managing to get a few fitful hours of sleep and several productive hours of paperwork he finally got his text to come home. Time to see what it was you had been up to.

Simon...hadn't been prepared for it to be this. He had been expecting a range from you having bought out an entire craft store, to having suddenly adopted fifteen more pigs, to straight up illegal activity. But there was no sudden influx of crafts, pigs, or bloodstains. Instead when he walked into your home it was...Christmas. Or as close to Christmas as one could get four weeks after the fact.

There was a tiny plastic tree standing proudly on the coffee table, and five stockings hanging up under the TV. He half expected to see the infamous paper stocking, a sore thumb in the crowd. But instead there were five identical ones, save for the names embroidered onto each one. Yours, Jiji, Tombo, Baker, and his.

A kitchen timer was the only thing that drew his gaze away from the family of stockings. He turned his head in time to see you pull a turkey from the oven, the heat making your face flush. The kitchen told quite the story. The sink was full of dishes, even with the dishwasher chugging away, but the counter space was full of dishes.

Besides the turkey Simon could see stuffing and roasted potatoes, Yorkshire puddings and brussels sprouts. Hell it looked like you even made a little dish of mushy peas, even though he knew you didn't like them. At least Simon waited for you to set the turkey on the stove top before questioning everything.

"What's all this about?

You shrugged, stuffing your hands into the back pocket of your jeans.

"Dinner?"

"It's Christmas dinner."

"I know."

"Why?"

Simon hadn't meant to put you on the spot but he was just so confused as to why you'd go through the effort of cooking a Christmas dinner now.

"You missed the one at my mom's."

"So this is for me?"

"Yeah, it is."

That...threw Simon for a loop. It hadn't been that big of a deal to him. It wasn't the first Christmas dinner he'd miss. He didn't doubt that it wouldn't be the last. But you still went through the effort to give him something. He wanted to question further but the words wouldn't come to him. Instead he just stood there in a vortex of feelings that were caught in his chest at realizing you went through all the effort to give Simon a Christmas that he missed.

While Simon was caught in his inner turmoil, you bustled around, setting a plate in his hands and telling him to have as much as he wanted, that you had even made the peas for him incase he didn't like the other veg. He could only follow the orders given to him, taking his time to look at every dish. It wasn't all pretty. He was pretty sure you fucked up the Yorkshires, and some brussels seemed crispier than the others, but sitting down and tasting it all? It was good. Better than he deserved. But he didn't argue, he sat and ate his fill, ate more than that actually, while you told him about everything he had missed.

He insisted on cleaning up afterwards, saying that if you made everything he could at least put away the left overs. He should have been suspicious at how willing you were to let him because by the time he was done you were standing there wearing the tackiest red and white Christmas sweater that could have ever been made. And you were holding an identical one in what appeared to be his size.

"No."

"Come on."

"No."

"But it's Christmas."

"Actually it's January."

"We gotta match for the Christmas photo!"

"We are not having a Christmas photo."

"But I found little sweaters for the kids! We were all going to match!"

Simon looked past you to the couch and could indeed see your three boys on the couch in what looked like little red and white Christmas shrugs. You were completely serious about this. There was no way he was going to wear an ugly Christmas sweater for some ridiculous Christmas photo. Damnit, Simon had his pride and his dignity!

And yet pride and dignity stood no chance to your pleading face because Simon found himself sitting on the couch, wearing the tacky ugly Christmas sweater, and trying to wrangle two furry potatoes who had realized that they did in fact have sentience. At least Tombo was being a good boy. Couldn't say the same for Jiji and Baker. The first was trying to jump to freedom to continue to presumably sample the coffee table, while the later was trying to burrow under the hem of his sweater to presumably get into it. And you? You were giggling as you were setting up the tripod and your phone to get the damn photo.

After the third time of turning Baker around while keeping Jiji contained, it seemed you finally got it right because you were rushing from the coffee table to the couch as the timer counted down.

You hadn't selected the right timer because honestly the photo was a mess. You had your head thrown back in a laugh, leaning into Simon from the force of you jumping onto the couch. Simon wasn't looking at the camera, but instead was focused solely on you. Jiji was a blur that was landing in your lap. Baker was showing his whole ass because he apparently was determined to get into the damn sweater. Tombo was the only one who seemed to actually be looking at the camera like a good boy.

It had to be one of the most chaotic Christmas photos Simon had ever seen.

He chose a simple black frame for the copy of it that sat on his desk.

Edit;

IT'S DONE! Felt like it took every ounce of try and two days to get this decent. Everyone say thank you to @nightunite because talking about this with her gave birth to the Christmas photo. If you have any ideas or asks feel free to let me know!

I hope everyone has a safe and good holiday season regardless of what you celebrate or don't.

Also this is the boy's sweaters

[thepenguinweeb]

I don't know but, I really like your writing about mashle 👀

If you don't mind can I request for part 2 about my request that meeting their child from the future?

Maybe about them try to court fem reader 🤭

Thank you 🙏

[ Various Mashle boys x fem!reader ]

[ ♡ Includes: Orter, Kaldo, Rayne, Mash, Lance ]

[ ♡ After a very strange meeting with their child from the future, they find out you're the mother, and immediately want to court you.. the only question is, how? ]

[ ♡ Requested by: @fianur <3 ]

[ ♡ Previous part here, though you don't have to read it to understand this one! ]

[ ♡ A/N: Ahh my first returning requester! I'm glad you enjoyed the first part, and I'm happy to make another one for you! <3 This turned out a lot longer than expected but.. oh well! Please enjoy! ]

I feel like Orter is a very subtle guy. He's never cared about romance before, and you cannot tell that he has his eyes set on you.

Don't expect much from him. Perhaps a few unexpected words of praise, or a rare compliment about your looks, and that's it.

He doesn't let his cold expression go, not even in front of you. Thus, genuinely nobody has any idea that he likes you. He also performs just as well as usual, so the time he spends with you goes mostly unnoticed.

That being said, I think his love language is quality time. If you're up for it, he's more than willing to spend time with you - go on walks, study together, whatever you want, really.

─ The bustle of the town hadn't died down, even though it was starting to get darker. People went on about their business, but you weren't paying attention to that. Your attention instead was on the man walking next to you, with the same stern expression as always.

Orter, the Desert Cane, had recently been starting to grow closer to you. You didn't know what brought this on, but his presence in your life was appreciated.

"So.." you began, hoping to start a conversation. "Where exactly are we going?"

He was quiet, and for a second you thought he wasn't even gonna respond. "Where would you like to go?" He asked suddenly.

You had to think about that, caught a little off-guard by the question. Seeing the manner he walked, carrying himself with so much purpose, you thought he knew exactly where the two of you were going.

"Umm.. well, I've been hoping to get a new wand," you said, a bit sheepish. "You think we could stop by the shop?"

"Of course." He turned immediately in the direction where the shop was located. You smiled and gave a thankful nod, then followed after him.

Now, Kaldo is interesting. He's definitely a confident man, and he doesn't doubt that he can earn your love sooner or later.

He doesn't waste time at all. He immediately starts getting to know you, memorizing your favorite color, scent, food.. it goes on.

He's a gentleman with you. Or, well, he tries to be. Sure, he's a dangerous man when he needs to be, but with you, his less ruthless side comes out. He makes a point to sound softer when talking to you, make contact in gentle ways, that kind of thing.

He takes you out to his favorite restaurants frequently. He insists to be the one to pay every time. Whenever anyone asks him if it's a date, he just smiles and shrugs.

─ The sushi restaurant had been oddly quiet since the two of you entered. At first, you were confused by it.. but then, remembering the man with you was a Divine Visionary, it made a bit more sense.

To your surprise, Kaldo was a great listener. Every time you told a story, he listened with that signature smile of his, nodding and occasionally chiming in with a comment or two.

That was the case right now. You sat in front of him, telling him about an annoying encounter from the day before as he dripped some honey onto his sashimi. He certainly had a sweet tooth, that much you knew about him.

You'd already finished your share of the food by the time the story ended, yet your hunger remained as it was. You didn't want to tell him, though. It would only bother him, surely.

It didn't take long for him to notice. However much you tried to talk over your growling stomach, in a matter of minutes, he took notice.

"Are you still hungry?" He asked, his voice gentle. You reluctantly nodded. "Why didn't you say so? I'll order more for you."

"Are you sure?"

He gave you a look as if you'd just asked something entirely stupid. "Of course. I've got the money."

You couldn't help but smile. He was so generous with you.

"Thank you, Kaldo."

Rayne was caught totally off-guard by his love for you. It's like you came out of nowhere and he was attracted to you, like gravity pulled him in.. and, in a sense, that was kinda what happened.

He finds out you're in the same house as him - even better, you're good friends with Finn. So, what's the logical thing to do?

Ask him about you instead of talking directly to you.

...Yeah, he's not great at this, but he's trying.

As confident as he tries to seem, he can barely make eye contact with you, he's a mess when he's around you.. because, why do you make him feel this way?

He resorts to give you gifts in secret. He always asks his brother about what your favorite things are, what you currently need, or just what you like in general. He doesn't care how much money he spends, as long as you're happy. And, for now, he's content with watching from a distance. Atleast, until he's worked up the courage to ask you out.

─ White snow crunched under him as Rayne walked trough campus. He didn't have any work to complete - a rare occurance, admittedly - so he was lost in what he should be doing.

The sound of laughter caught his attention. Not just anyone's laughter, but yours.

He spotted you sitting under a tree, surrounded by you and Finn's friends. He stopped in his tracks to observe you. The way your lips curved upward every time Dot told a joke. Your amused chuckle as he threw snowballs at Lance and Mash. How you rolled your eyes at yet another one of Lance's rambles about his sister.

He was an observant man. He found all your little quirks and subtle habits fascinating.

The thing that caught his attention most, though, was the scarf wrapped around your neck.

The scarf he sewed for you.

He quickly looked away and put a hand on his cheek as soon as he noticed that they heated up. He would never admit it to anyone, of course, but seeing you with the gifts he secretly delivered you was one of the things he loved most.

He sighed. Oh, how deeply he'd fallen.

Okay, let's be honest. Mash has no experience with romance (aside from Lemon's pining, but that doesn't really count), he grew up in the middle of the forest with his dad. He has no idea how he's supposed to ask out a girl, or how to even show you that he likes you.

But because of his very obvious liking toward you, his friends notice quickly. And, luckily for him, Dot was more than willing to help, claiming he was "great with ladies".

His plans never work. Mash always freezes up before he could even say a single word to you, and ends up stuttering for a good five minutes before you gently help him out.

Instead, he opts to bring you gifts. He doesn't need to speak for that, after all. Though, he's a little out of touch and just assumes the average person likes the same things as him. But if he catches you talking about a specific thing you want, he'll try to get it for you.

He's not good at picking up hints at all. Unless you straight up tell him that you like him too, he will assume you only think of him as a friend at most.

─ You were lounging in your room, not having anything in particular to do. Bored out of your mind, you laid sprawled out on your bed and stared at the ceiling in complete silence.

In your daze, you hadn't noticed the door was left open, or that someone had come inside minutes ago.

"...Hey," Mash finally found the courage to speak up, making you notice his presence.

"Ah, Mash!" Your face lit up at the sight. You were just about to ask him what he was doing here, but before you could speak, a basket was shoved into your hands.

You looked back at the boy in confusion, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he looked at you with the same blank expression. The only thing which revealed how he was feeling was the slight blush on his cheeks, and the fact that he avoided your gaze at all cost.

You looked inside the basket, and you finally recognized what was inside. Cream puffs. Perhaps an unhealthy amount of them.

"Oh, Mash.. thank you, this is so kind of you-"

By the time you looked up again, he was gone.

You smiled to yourself and placed the basket down next to your bed. From the smell, you could tell they were freshly baked.

Fortunately for Mash, you couldn't see the way he panicked outside your dorm, or the obvious anxiety in his gaze after he left. Did you like it? What if you didn't?

The day after, he found a note sent to him. Two simple words written in your handwriting.

"Thank you."

Being the top student in the academy doesn't grant you a lot of time to think about getting a girlfriend. That's the excuse he told himself, until he met you.

I feel like he'd be into the more traditional kind of romance and courting. He buys you the occasional flower and helps you with tasks you can't do.

If you agree, he will definitely tutor you in whatever subject you're struggling in. He's surprisingly patient with you, too. If anyone asked him, he'd deny that his lingering touches were on purpose.

Dot always insults him over his way of courting - he thinks he should be more straightforward and bold, but Lance just ignores him.

─ "Did I do it right?"

You watched with slight anxiety as Lance scanned over your Magic Zoology homework. His eyes gave nothing away and he sat in such silence that you really couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"You did," he finally replied as he handed the paper back to you. "You got everything right. You've improved a lot."

You shot a sheepish smile at him. "Thank you.. it's all thanks to you, really. If you hadn't helped me out so much, I wouldn't have understood anything."

"Nonsense," he said. "You did just fine without me. I simply helped you realize your talent."

"I wouldn't say it's a talent.." you muttered, your gaze drifting away from him. Lance shook his head, but he clearly saw no point in arguing with you.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment longer. The silence, surprisingly, wasn't awkward at all. It felt.. oddly comforting.

"Well, I don't have anything else I need help with, so.." you started, eyeing the exit. "I can go now, if you want-"

"No." he cut you off. "There's no need. Please, stay for as long as you want."

You blinked at him in surprise, but quickly regained your composure and nodded with a big smile on your face.

You spent the rest of the afternoon together. It likely would have been more, if Lance wasn't called away.. oh well. Maybe next time.

[aestheticpearl]

— 𝐩𝐨𝐯

✧·˚ elias shows you his tattoos

your fingers are gentle as you trace over the healed ink on elias’ warm bare skin, it’s enough to make his heart skip a beat or two. elias watches as your focused eyes are glued to his chest, scanning over his large chest piece.

“did it hurt?” you ask softly, eyes still glued to the intricate details of the piece.

“definitely one of my more painful tattoos, when they did my sternum it felt like my whole body was vibrating.” he says, his hands playing with the hem of your shirt and soon finding their place on your hips.

elias loved when you sat on his lap, you always seemed so comfortable there, like it was where you belonged.

“did you use numbing cream?”

“nah i powered through it like a champ.”

“something tells me you most certainly did not take it like a champ.” you laugh and elias pinches your sides playfully.

“hey tattoos are painful!”

"right right i'm sorry, you're very brave for enduring the pain." a silence falls on both of you as you continue tracing the healed ink on his chest. "you know i've thought of getting a tattoo before all this happened and i have to say, i'm definitely getting one after this is all over."

elias smiles and thinks your words over for a moment, 'after all this is over.'

"i don't know if i ever apologized properly to you," your hand stills on his chest as you lock eyes with him. "i'm sorry i dragged you into all this and that you have to live your life from inside this safe house."

"i appreciate the apology, but i don't think its necessary. you saved my life elias, if you didn't 'drag me into all this' i would be dead. so i think i'll be okay living in this house with you for a little longer." your hand brushes a stray hair from his face and you place a small kiss on his cheek.

elias turns to meet your eyes and he can’t help be notice how lovingly you look at him, like he’s hung every star in the sky. he’s only seen this kind of look once; with his parents, but then he remembers how that ended. he quickly looks down at his hands and tries to redirect the conversation again to a different tattoo.

“i think this one was the least painful.” he clears his throat and holds his forearm up a bit to show you the ink he is speaking of and you once again trace over the lines of it gently to really take in the artistry of the fine lines.

“i like the thin lines of this one, it makes it look like a finished sketch.”

“yeah i like the thin lines too.” he looks at you again unintentionally. he can’t help how naturally he’s drawn to you.

“would you come with me to get my first tattoo?” a soft smile paints your features after you ask elias the question.

“yeah i would love that.” he matches your happy expression. “i can hold your hand if it gets to be too much, i mean only if you want me to—”

“i would love that.” you take his hand in yours and give him that look again and elias can feel his face grow hot at the close proximity.

your free hand trails over elias’ chest tattoo once more and elias feels himself leaning back on instinct as you lean in closer. your eyes flicker to his parted lips only for a moment before they return to his eyes. you feel his heart rate speed up at your action and you can’t help but let out a soft chuckle.

“do you want me to kiss you elias?”

his heart beat is now thundering in his ears and he nods faster than he means to.

your lips connect as soon as his head stills and he’s eyes flutter shut. he feels like a teenage boy who just got his first kiss even though he knows this isn’t his first kiss with you nor the last. something about the whole scene felt so intimate, the tattoo tracing, close proximity, everything.

elias’ hand finds its way to your cheek and traces your jawline down to your neck all while he deepens the kiss.

“you know” elias says in between kisses. “i was thinking maybe we could…” you pull away to let him finish talking, a string of saliva connects the both of you before you quickly wipe it away with a giggle, elias smiles and clears his throat before sitting up.

“maybe we could get matching tattoos together, only if you’d want to of course! i just though cause we’re gonna be bonded for life no matter what so why not have something physical that ties us to each other.”

“i would love that, let’s get little stars on a the side of our wrists!”

“you been thinking about this?” elias asks as you snuggle into his side on the couch.

“maybe. i’ve always liked that idea of small simple matching tattoos.”

.love always <3 pearl

.masterlist