#high desert low tide

[celestemona]

DEEP WATERS

pairing: alhaitham x mermaid! reader

in the stillness of tides, alhaitham unearths a mystery long believed to be legend—a mermaid ensnared, with eyes as deep as the ocean and secrets buried in every wave. drawn by fate and enchanted by her silent song, he finds himself caught between myth and reality. in his quest to understand her world, he risks losing his own heart to the uncharted depths.

cw: part i of ii. fem reader, pronouns s/her are mentioned tho it was written in 2nd person. fluff, fluff. female body specifications; long hair! reader, nudity, slight language barrier’ struggles, characters may seem ooc. shoutout to alhaitham for name you. 15.5k words sue me. not proof-read.

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

Alhaitham’s day began like any other, filled with the structured predictability he deemed essential.

As Akademiya’s scribe, he was used to working methodically on his tasks, knowing exactly what was needed and never exceeding those limits. Efficiency was a virtue he held in high regard, after all.

But today, at the request of Lesser Lord Kusanali herself, he was dispatched to Port Ormos to investigate some potential concerns involving certain texts arriving from the neighboring nation. A diplomatic matter with Chenyu Vale, she had suggested, that required someone well-versed in logic and languages—a task he could accomplish quickly and with minimal interruption to his personal duties.

Now, as he stood on the outskirts of Port Ormos with his task nearly complete, Alhaitham surveyed the bustling dock.

While Port Ormos often seemed chaotic to him, he couldn’t deny the appeal of watching the ebb and flow of commerce, of lives interwoven in casual exchanges and swift negotiations. But just as he prepared to leave, his attention was drawn to a quieter stretch of the coast, an isolated, rarely visited area far from the main docks. This was usually his kind of place: quiet and solitary.

However, today, the silence was broken by something… peculiar. It wasn’t the rhythmic murmur of the waves or the occasional seagulls that caught his attention, but an odd, strained sound. It was faint but persistent—a low occasional growl mixed with something he couldn’t immediately identify.

Curiosity piqued, Alhaitham allowed his gaze to scan the sandy stretch. There was no one else in sight; no sailors, no matras. This area seemed entirely deserted, only adding to the mystery. 

He approached cautiously, his trained eyes alert with every movement. Then, amidst the scattered shells and seaweed, he saw it: a glimpse of something familiar yet entirely strange.

A tail. Long, dark, and unmistakably fish-like, though far more mesmerizing in its iridescent palette and certainly larger than any common marine animal. Its dark blue with a touch of gray caught the light and shimmered with shifting hues as the waves lapped gently over it.

Alhaitham’s breath hitched as his gaze traveled from the fish tail to its source, finally landing on the figure trapped in a tangled mess of fishing net.

This was no ordinary sea creature. No. It was a mermaid.

For a man who prided himself on his calm and logical demeanor, Alhaitham felt an undeniable wave of disbelief and fascination wash over him.

Mermaids were, at best, myths—Fontaine tales told in taverns and old children’s books. In his days as a student, he had skimmed the sparse historical mentions of mermaids, intrigued by their academic mystery, though ultimately dismissing them as baseless stories. Historians had little to offer about them—no language to decipher, no artifacts to study. It was all speculative, fantasy stories wrapped in the very mystique of the sea. And now, here you were, a very real mermaid right before him.

Your form was incredibly otherworldly, almost surreal in its beauty. Long hair clung to your shoulders and breasts, darkened by the water and tangled with delicate, glistening pearls, while the scales on your arms and ribs caught the faint light. But it was your face, contorted with a mixture of fear and frustration, that held him in place. Your sharp eyes, almost snake-like, blinked warily as you noticed his approach, and a low growl escaped your throat, an instinctive warning.

Alhaitham took a deep breath, grounding himself in reality. This creature—no, this mermaid—wasn’t just a legend he could dismiss. You were tangible, vulnerable, and caught in a trap you clearly couldn’t escape from.

Kneeling out of your reach, he chose his movements with calculated care. “Easy there,” he murmured, his tone neutral yet soft, more for his own benefit than yours. He doubted you’d understand, but it was instinctive to try and soothe you. He slowly extended a hand, palm open, hoping you could see he meant no harm.

Your sharp gaze tracked his every movement, a soft, cautious hiss slipping from your lips. You moved your tail against the net, trying once again to free yourself, but the more you struggled, the tighter the net seemed to trap you. Alhaitham’s gaze dropped to your bare torso, noticing the faint shimmer of scales marred by bruises, likely from your attempts to break free.

He looked back at you, meeting your wary, defiant gaze. Your intelligence was unmistakable—in your eyes, he could see a spark of recognition and caution. You knew he was a threat, but also, perhaps, your only chance.

“Alright,” he said, as if reasoning with a wild creature, and began to move carefully toward the edge of the net. You tensed, the sharp gleam of your canines visible as you bared your teeth in warning. Alhaitham paused, feeling a mix of danger and a strange empathy.

“Relax,” he said softly, ensuring his gestures were as non-threatening as possible. You continued to watch him, your expression still wary but curious. Up close, he could see your long, sharp nails, the delicate, translucent membranes between your fingers and the subtle rise and fall of your gills as you breathed shallowly and anxiously. Your beauty was undeniable but in a way that felt unreal, beyond anything he had ever encountered.

Alhaitham slowly reached for the knife at his belt, the blade glinting in the faint light. Your eyes narrowed, a low, almost inaudible growl escaping as you observed him. “I’m here to help,” he assured, keeping his tone calm, as if you could understand his intent through his voice alone.

As he brought the blade closer to the tangled net, your body went rigid, muscles tensing as if ready to spring—or strike. Your gaze locked onto his, every line of your body taut, your breathing shallow and rapid. For a brief moment, he paused, meeting your gaze with a nod of understanding, as if to say: Trust me, just for now.

With practiced ease, he cut a few threads, loosening the net just enough to give you some room. You flinched, your tail contracting involuntarily, but you didn’t pull away, allowing him to continue his work. He cut it carefully, each movement deliberate, keeping his own breathing steady as he watched your response.

He couldn’t help but wonder at the absurdity of it all. Here he was, the notorious and logical Scribe of the Akademiya, performing a rescue for something—or someone—he once dismissed as pure fantasy. The tales he had brushed aside as stories seemed to dissolve before this living being. Yet his mind continued to spin with questions he couldn’t suppress: How did you end up here, trapped in this net? And what would become of you now?

As he cut the last thread, he noticed your injured tail more clearly, a long red line seeping through the translucent scales. A frown crossed his face as he sheathed the knife, feeling the faintest pang of concern.

“You’re hurt,” he said quietly, not knowing if you would understand him. You shifted slightly, flexing your tail as if testing your freedom, your expression cautious but no longer as frantic. Your eyes met his again, and for a moment, something like gratitude flashed in your gaze—fleeting, almost imperceptible, but there.

He couldn’t help but smile slightly, feeling a pull of fascination, his mind instinctively cataloging every feature, every movement. 

Yet Alhaitham’s thoughts clicked into the details of the situation with calculated precision.

He observed the desolate stretch of beach where he found you, far removed from the main port and any regular fishing route. This area was more of a neglected backwater than a place frequented by locals, let alone fishermen. He was certain you hadn’t been captured here intentionally; instead, you must have ventured here alone, in danger or by mistake, only to be caught by the tangled mess of nets, possibly abandoned by a passing fishing boat.

He looked back at you, his analytical gaze softening slightly. Faced with this new reality, you bore little resemblance to the wild, monstrous figures folklore sometimes suggested. You were undeniably alive, aware, and your beauty, strange and striking, had an almost hypnotic quality.

But despite his attempts at rational analysis, concern rooted itself as he examined your injuries.

The wound on your tail continued bleeding slowly, deep crimson droplets blending into the sea water. He didn’t know how long you had been trapped, but the blood loss, however gradual, could spell trouble if left untreated. There was also the issue of eremites and mercenaries who roamed the outskirts of Port Ormos, not to mention treasure hunters and opportunists. You’d be a prize beyond imagination for many of them if they found you in this weakened state…

The weight of your expectant gaze held him in the moment, your snake-like eyes gleaming with suspicion and interest. You watched him closely, trying to understand him as he studied you. He could see in the slight press of your lips, as if bracing to hiss or growl, ready to flee if needed. But he also noticed that, even in your obvious wariness, there was a glimmer of something more—a reluctant trust, perhaps, that he wasn’t here to harm you.

He took a careful step forward, his voice calm. “Can you understand me?” he asked, each word slow and deliberate. 

Silence, save for the rhythmic lap of waves against the shore.

Opting to approach you through another means, Alhaitham raised a hand to his chest, fingertips gently pressing over his heart. He met your eyes, holding your gaze firmly, and said, “Alhaitham,” keeping his voice low, repeating the name once more, “Al-Haitham,” drawing each syllable with deliberate clarity.

You head tilted cutely, eyes blinking expressively. You watched his gesture, your gaze lingering on the hand over his heart, as if trying to decipher the meaning in his movements and tone. He could see your intrigue, the silent intelligence behind your eyes suggesting that, though there was no response, his words had not entirely gone unnoticed.

Satisfied to have given you something to hold onto, Alhaitham took a deep breath to calm himself.

Internally, the scribe wrestled with a series of difficult choices. Returning you to the sea seemed the most logical path, but there was no certainty that you’d survive the injuries. And considering the bystanders lingering in the area, leaving you there could be even more risky. On the other hand, bringing you to his own home was… complicated. The logistics alone were challenging. He lived a fair distance from Port Ormos—nearly half an hour by walking—and carrying you the entire way risked exposure for both you and himself.

As he turned these options over in his mind, you shifted slightly, a barely audible groan revealing you discomfort. The sight stirred an unexpected protectiveness within him. Practicality aside, leaving you in that state wasn’t an option he could consider.

He crouched beside you once again, his expression softening when he met your gaze. “It seems you’ve left me with little choice,” he murmured, half to himself. “I’ll have to find a way to take you with me.”

You blinked, your gaze never leaving him.

When he extended his hand toward you, you immediately stiffened and hissed aggressively, your body tensing as if bracing for what might come next. Alhaitham kept his movements slow and deliberate, waiting until the tension in your shoulders eased enough. When he placed a careful hand beneath you, your damp skin was smooth, cool to the touch, and your scales gleamed slightly even in the last traces of sunlight. Your breathing steadied, though he could still feel your persistent nerves.

He thought for a moment, gauging your weight, and realized it’d be challenging to carry you all the way to his home without attracting attention. He glanced back at the main harbor, then at you, pondering an alternative solution.

Then his eyes landed on an old wooden cart leaning against the weathered side of a nearby storage shed. The cart was small, probably used to transport boxes of fish or bags of supplies from the coast, with thick wheels designed to handle rough paths. Judging by the nets and equipment scattered around it, it likely belonged to a fisherman or trader who had left it unattended for the day.

With a hint of reluctance, Alhaitham assessed the cart and the possible risks of borrowing it. But practicality won out; the cart was discreet and functional, a solution he couldn’t ignore.

Carefully, he carried you toward the cart, moving at a steady, unhurried pace to keep your calm. You were clearly frightened, your body tensing slightly as he approached the cart, but your eyes remained focused on him, not on the unfamiliar contraption.

“It’s the best I can do for now,” he murmured, his tone gentler, as he placed a soft cloth he had found along the cart’s surface, creating a makeshift cushion over the rough wood.

Slowly, he guided you to sit, your injured tail carefully positioned on the padding. Your eyes darted between him and the cart, a flicker of nervousness visible in the way your fingers clenched and relaxed, but you stayed still, watching him intently as he adjusted the cloth around you.

Once he was certain you were settled, he grasped the iron handle of the cart and began to pull, setting a careful yet steady rhythm. The journey ahead was longer than he had anticipated, and he kept his attention on the road, his mind flooded with questions he couldn’t yet answer.

As you both traced the more secluded paths back to his home, Alhaitham found himself glancing over his shoulder at you, curiosity mingling with a cautious sense of awe. The sound of the cart’s wheels rolling over the uneven path filled the silence between you two, a strangely rhythmic backdrop for his swirling thoughts.

This encounter was unlike anything he had ever experienced. He had encountered beings as mythical as they were magical during his studies, but mermaids—real mermaids—had always been a subject wrapped in mystery and skepticism. And now here he was, with a living, breathing mystery being carried by him in an old, borrowed cart, with questions he could hardly begin to ask.

As he neared home, Alhaitham’s thoughts began to drift toward Kaveh, his housemate. The scribe knew he had the right to bring anyone he wanted into his own home, yet he couldn’t entirely ignore the small tug of doubt about what the architect might think of this stranger among them—especially given the undeniable peculiarity of the situation.

When they finally arrived, Alhaitham noticed an unusual stillness in the cart.

Looking back, he was startled to find you breathing heavily, your chest rising and falling with visible effort. Your eyelids fluttered, your gaze unfocused and barely registering your surroundings. He had assumed you were silent due to simple exhaustion, but now he could see your strength waning; the wound on your tail was no longer bleeding heavily, but your skin had lost its previous luster, becoming dull and slightly pale.

He realized, with a start, that you had likely been out of the water for too long, your injuries worsening your condition. Without a second thought, he lifted you into his arms, your weight shifting in his hold as he carefully cradled you against his chest. Your skin was colder than he had expected, and you barely reacted, your head drooping slightly to one side as he carried you through the entrance.

The house was quiet, he noticed. Kaveh was probably finishing a project or relaxing at the local tavern. In a way, it was a relief; Alhaitham didn’t want to face questions yet, not when every minute counted. Quickly, he headed to his suite, knowing the bathroom there would be the best place to stabilize you.

Reaching the bathroom, the scribe laid you on the floor, leaning you against the wall while he turned on the bathtub’s faucet. The water splashed and rose in the tub, filling the room with a soft, familiar sound, and he carefully tested the temperature, ensuring it was comfortable for you.

Once the tub was full, he returned to your side, sliding his arms around you to lift you again, and gently submerged you in the water.

The effect was almost immediate. The tension in your shoulders began to ease, your body relaxing as you adjusted to the gentle embrace of the water. Your tail submerged partially, the scales faintly shimmering as your breathing began to steady. You blinked slowly, your eyes finally regaining some clarity, and your gaze turned to him once more.

Alhaitham found himself watching you, captivated. The way you moved in the water was like observing a creature in its natural element; you were graceful, serene, each of your movements fluid and instinctive, even in such a small space. For a moment, you seemed almost at peace, adjusting to your new environment with a slight sense of wonder.

After a while, Alhaitham sat on a stool nearby, examining the wound on your tail with a more clinical gaze. The cut looked deeper up close, irregular and red along the edges, likely worsened by your struggle against the net.

Carefully, he extended his hand toward it, intending to assess the damage — but at the first touch, you recoiled, a soft yet distinct growl rumbling in your throat. Your eyes locked onto his hand, narrowing in a sharp warning.

“Easy,” he said softly, his voice measured and calm. “I just want to help.”

You held his gaze, still defensive, your eyes distrustful and unyielding.

Alhaitham considered his options, realizing he needed to show you his intentions. Slowly, he rolled up his sleeve, exposing a small area of his forearm. Using a small, sterilized knife from the medical kit he kept nearby, he made a small cut. Without breaking eye contact, he took a roll of bandages and tended to the wound, pressing a small cloth to it to stop the bleeding, then securing it with careful precision.

You watched intently, your sharp eyes following every movement as he applied the bandage and finished his demonstration. He extended his hand, showing you the process was harmless, then gestured toward your injured tail with a look of gentle insistence.

Your gaze shifted from the bandaged arm to his face, and then, slowly, you relented, your tail moving toward him in a tentative gesture of trust.

Alhaitham excused and his fingers moved over the surface of your tail, the scales cool and smooth under his touch, a strange blend of softness and strength. He found himself fascinated by the texture, each scale catching faint glimmers of color as he carefully cleaned the wound and applied a thin layer of antiseptic balm.

Your reaction was hesitant, but you didn’t resist, your gaze fixed on him with a mix of attentiveness and intrigue. Alhaitham was silent, focusing on his task, though he couldn’t shake the strange sensation of examining something so mythical, so utterly otherworldly.

When he finished, he moved back a bit, giving you space to adjust and settle into the bathtub.

For a moment, the room fell silent, and Alhaitham realized you were likely hungry. Recalling his pantry, he remembered there were some canned fish—a simple, if humble, option. He rose, nodding apologetically before heading to the kitchen.

There, he grabbed the can and opened it, the salty, familiar scent wafting into the air. When he returned, you watched him with expectant eyes, your curiosity rekindled. He sat beside the tub again and offered the food, waiting to see how you would react. At first, you wrinkled your nose, suspicion shining in your gaze, but after a moment, you carefully took a piece, chewing it timidly.

It was as if a switch had been flipped. You devoured the rest with surprising intensity, your hunger evident as you finished the fish with quick, eager bites. When you looked back at him, pupils dilated and gleaming, your expression softened into something almost sweet. The unguarded look, the silent request in your face, caught him off guard—you wanted more.

A slight smile played on his lips, amused by your sudden change. Without saying a word, he grabbed another can, opened it, and offered it to you. You accepted it with the same voracious energy, and he found himself even more captivated, watching you eat with a fascination that was part analytical, part genuine curiosity, a faint hint of acceptance surfacing.

“So that’s all it takes to earn your trust, huh? Just a bit of food,” he remarked, his voice carrying a tone of entertainment as he straightened on the stool, arms crossed. His eyes gleamed with rare humor, the softened edge that few had ever seen. When he chuckled, you looked up, momentarily intrigued by the sound.

But that lightness faded as his mind returned to the current situation, his brow furrowing in quiet thought.

Alhaitham couldn’t help but feel unsettled by the scene of this creature from myth, an enigma he could barely believe was real, now looking at him from his bathtub. And he, a man usually content with the solitude of his own space, was now bound to share it with you, a mystery he found himself inevitably drawn to.

He took a deep breath and leaned toward you, his fingers interlacing.

“Where did you come from, huh?” he asked, his voice softer this time, as if coaxing an answer. “How did you end up here in Sumeru of all places?”

Each question felt like a whisper, a thread he was following in search of answers he wasn’t sure you even had.

His gaze lingered on your face, his eyes softened as he searched for some hint of recognition, something that would give him insight into the untold story you carried. But you only tilted your head, watching him with those beautiful, sharp, and intrigued eyes, and he sighed, recognizing that these questions might not yield anything for now.

With a contemplative look, he continued, more to himself now, “I don’t know how long you’ll be staying here, but…” His gaze drifted to the edge of the tub. “We’ll need to get past this language barrier,” he said, watching you carefully, noticing how you seemed to respond, if not to his words, then at least to his tone. You might not have spoken yet, but he had a strong suspicion you understood more than he initially thought.

He straightened up again, arms crossed over his chest, already planning his next steps. “Teaching you some basics should be manageable,” he mused. “You seem smart. I’ll start with simple words. Maybe that’ll give us some common ground.”

His thoughts briefly wandered to the Akademiya’s library. The House of Daena held numerous books and journals, fragments of knowledge, notes from scholars who had studied all sorts of myths. Perhaps there was something in those pages that could hold the answers he needed. He’d make a point to return there tomorrow.

Lost in thought, he murmured, “I can’t keep you in the tub forever, either. We’ll have to address that eventually.” His voice trailed off as he considered the situation more practically. For now, the tub would suffice, but it was far from a long-term solution.

You followed his every movement, though it was clear your interest was more in your surroundings than in him.

Occasionally, your gaze would drift from the dim candlelight to the strange objects decorating the bathroom, absorbing each detail of this world that was foreign to you. Alhaitham found himself staring at you, surprised at how naturally you seemed to fit into the space—a strange contrast considering you were a creature of the water, yet here you were, curious and present in the heart of his world.

Moments passed in silence, both lost in separate thoughts—Alhaitham weighing his options.

Some time later, he noticed the way your eyes began to close, your body finally giving in to the day’s exhaustion. You leaned against the edge of the tub, breathing softly, eyelids heavy. A faint, almost affectionate smile crossed his lips as he murmured, “A long day, no doubt.”

With a low chuckle, he straightened, adjusting the dim lighting to give you peace. “Goodnight,” he said softly, letting the silence of the bathroom settle over you as he returned to his suite.

Once in his room, he shed the day’s fatigue along with his usual attire, slipping into more comfortable clothing. Yet even as he tried to shift his focus, his thoughts returned to you. The mystery of who you were, what you were, haunted him in the most unexpected ways. Every answer led to another question, but that wasn’t the unsettling part. No—it was the quiet fascination you stirred within him, a desire to unravel that he never had felt before.

Heading to the kitchen, he prepared a quick meal for himself. He served a simple broth, letting it simmer as he went over the potential tasks for tomorrow.

Pay a visit to the Akademiya’ library was a must, he concluded. Perhaps he could find some records that might offer insights into mermaid lore.

But there was more to consider—how would he navigate the practicalities of living alongside you? How’d Kaveh react to your existence? The solution to the language barrier seemed a smart move, but could you communicate in the same way humans did? The thoughts accumulated, persisting as he carried his food back to his chair.

Settling in with a book about the different cultures of the desert tribes, Alhaitham tried to immerse himself in its pages, though his eyes drifted now and then toward his suite door. There was a strange sense of responsibility he couldn’t ignore.

When he had read as much as his mind would allow for the night, he got up, walking quietly to the bathroom to check on you one last time.

You were there. You were real.

The faintest trace of a smile crossed his face as he saw you sleeping, your body half-submerged in the water, your tail draped over the side of the tub. The room fell into a gentle silence, the soft rhythm of your breathing the only sound.

He lingered there for a moment longer than necessary, his mind reluctantly calming as he absorbed the peace of the moment. Finally, he closed the door and turned, heading back to his room.

After finishing his nightly routines somewhere else, Alhaitham lay in bed, his thoughts wavering between the strange events of the day and the mysteries tomorrow would bring. But tonight, he allowed himself a rare luxury: to set aside the unknown, choosing instead to let the calm of the moment settle over him.

With one last lingering thought of you, he let sleep claim him, already aware that his life had changed, subtly but irrevocably, the moment he found you.

When the first rays of dawn slipped into the room, Alhaitham woke, his mind returning to the surreal events of the previous day. 

For a brief moment, he wondered if it had all been a trick of his tired mind, but the memory of your cautious yet inquisitive gaze quickly dismissed the notion. Getting up, he adjusted his clothes and headed to the bathroom, his mind already reflecting on the day’s responsibilities—and the unique situation of having a mermaid as an unexpected guest.

Opening the bathroom door, he was greeted by the sight of you already awake, fingers trailing through the water with a kind of childlike curiosity. As soon as you sensed his presence, you lifted your head, and he was met with what could only be described as a warm, welcoming look. Your sharp, reflective eyes held a glimmer of trust, hesitant but undeniably there, as if his arrival was something to be anticipated rather than feared. 

Alhaitham felt a small smile tug at his lips as he observed your response, taking it as a sign that you were becoming accustomed to him.

“Good morning,” he greeted, his voice softened by the quietness of the early hour.

The words seemed to capture your attention even more closely, though he knew the meaning might be lost on you. Still, he kept his tone gentle, observing the way you seemed to listen, almost as if searching for something familiar in his voice. “I see you’re feeling at home,” there was a hint of amusement in his tone, his eyes flicking to the water you were swirling with your fingers.

Turning to the sink, he splashed water on his face and grabbed his toothbrush, methodically following the movements of his morning routine. He was aware of your gaze, fixed on each motion, following the toothbrush in his hand as he brought it to his mouth. Pausing, he looked at you, the faintest smile curving his lips as he leaned back against the sink.

“Curious now, aren’t we? It’s a toothbrush. We use it to… well, keep our teeth clean,” he explained, though he had no real expectation that you’d understand. Nevertheless, there was something strangely satisfying about sharing these little details with you, as if guiding you through the peculiarities of human life.

You watched him closely, your eyes darting between the toothbrush, the sink, and the running water. The slight confusion on your face was so genuine, so openly curious, that he found himself chuckling quietly. “I suppose none of this makes sense to you. But we humans have our habits.”

When he finished, Alhaitham straightened, casting one last look in your direction before heading to the door. “I’ll bring you some breakfast,” he said, as much out of habit as anything else, already noting the slight inquisitive tilt of your head. He lingered a moment longer than necessary, almost reluctant to leave the room, before finally heading to the kitchen to prepare for the day.

Entering the kitchen, he found Kaveh already there, hunched over a cup of coffee with a look that bordered on pure misery. The dark circles under his eyes and his slow, almost agonizing sips of coffee told Alhaitham everything he needed to know.

“Rough night?” Alhaitham’s tone was clearly teasing, though he made little effort to hide his mild disapproval. Kaveh didn’t even bother looking up, merely muttering something unintelligible as he stared at his mug.

“Don’t start,” the other man grumbled, his voice thick with exhaustion. “It’s too early for your lectures.”

Alhaitham’s lips twitched in mockery, barely hiding an ironic smile. “Lectures? Hardly. Just an observation. Maybe a bit of moderation would do you good.”

Kaveh scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. “Moderation isn’t exactly your strong suit either, judging by the amount of research papers scattered around.” He drained his coffee, muttering something about Alhaitham’s inability to keep the house organized and stumbled toward his room, the door closing with a weary thud behind him.

Shaking his head, Alhaitham turned his attention to the fridge, rummaging through its contents with a quiet purpose. He picked a selection of food he hoped might appeal to you—some leftover shrimp, dried fish, and a few other options he thought might please a creature of the sea.

Returning to you, he noticed how your gaze instantly brightened at the sight of the food he held. A barely concealed smile crossed his face as he watched your eager expression, the way you leaned forward slightly, anticipation evident in your wide eyes.

“I see I’ve already discovered the key to earning your trust,” he commented with a soft chuckle, placing the food beside the tub. “A little food, and suddenly I’m not so intimidating.”

Sitting on the stool near the tub, he watched you as you picked up the shrimp, a glimmer of wonder followed by the same fervor with which you had devoured last night’s meal. The moment you tasted it, your expression shifted to one of contentment, and he couldn’t help but be amused by how expressive you were.

“Listen,” he began in a conversational tone, though he knew the full implications were likely lost on you, “I’ll need to be away for a while,” he paused, as if weighing his words. “However, in the meantime, I’ll also check if there’s anything that might be useful for understanding your situation.”

You looked up briefly, eyes attentive, and Alhaitham felt a spark of satisfaction at your apparent focus. It was as if, despite the language barrier, some part of you had grasped the importance of his words.

He continued, a thoughtful tone in his voice, “Besides, I can’t leave you in the bathtub indefinitely, so I’ll work on a more appropriate solution. I’d like to have it back, after all,” he paused, almost speaking to himself, “Then, there’s Kaveh too who I should approach the current subject but I can deal with him later. The most important now is figure out how we’re gonna work on building your vocabulary. Just enough so we can understand each other.”

The statement lingered in the air, half a plan and half a promise.

Alhaitham realized he was already thinking about putting his plans in action, wondering if he might start teaching you simple words and phrases as soon as possible. His fingers tapped absently on his knee as he considered the logistics, the potential challenges—and rewards—of bridging that language gap.

From time to time, your gaze fell on him, as if assessing his intentions, though it didn’t take long before your focus shifted again, captivated by something else now that sunlight bright your surroundings. He marveled at your ability to find fascination in the simplest things, and for a brief moment, he felt a strange pang of something he couldn’t quite identify—a bubbling discomfort in his stomach, almost unsettling.

The silence became comfortable, broken only by the occasional soft sound of the water and  you eating.

Alhaitham’s gaze drifted to the soft morning light stretching across the bathroom floor, and he suddenly realized he’d lost track of time.

A sigh escaped him as he finally rose from his seat. “Looks like that’s my cue.”

Your gaze followed him, an imperceptible questioning look in your eyes that made him chuckle softly. “What?” he said, his voice gentler. “I may not understand where you came from, but I’ll make sure you’re comfortable here.”

With one last look, he left the room to gather his things and prepare for work.

As he adjusted his attire, his thoughts returned to the moments you’d spent observing him—a feeling that lingered, even as he headed to the kitchen for a quick cup of coffee.

Before leaving, he returned to check on you one last time and considered whether or not to lock the bedroom door. He doubted you’d drag yourself around the house and was sure Kaveh wouldn’t intrude on his privacy. So, he only closed the door and make his way to the exit.

He cast one last look behind him before leaving his home and heading toward the Akademiya.

At his work, Alhaitham went through the day with practiced ease. 

The tasks before him were routine; his hands swiftly leafed through documents, marking necessary corrections and assessing reports without losing pace. Occasionally, a colleague would pass by with a nod or a brief greeting, which he returned in his usual, calm manner, though his thoughts kept drifting back to you. He found himself wondering how you were doing, alone and adjusting to the strange, new world of his home.

During lunch, he took a detour to the House of Daena.

The familiar shelves surrounded him, but he was focused, his eyes scanning the spines of books and journals, all marked with references to the ancient legends and myths of Teyvat. Thanks to his access to restricted areas, he pored over some of the oldest and rarest manuscripts, hoping to glean at least a trace of knowledge about mermaids.

Most entries were vague at best—poetic reflections, scattered notes from long-dead historians, and tales from Fontaine that seemed like fables. However, he gathered hints that mermaids, if they existed, were mysterious beings known for their enchantments and charm over men, with powers beyond human understanding. Intriguing, though frustratingly incomplete.

As the sun began to set, Alhaitham finally left the office. 

On his way home, he stopped by a nearby fishmonger’s stall. Fresh seafood was piled high—crabs, shrimp, mussels. Selecting a variety, he figured you would enjoy the options. Just as he was reaching for his mora pouch, he spotted Kaveh rushing toward him from across the plaza, his usually composed friend looking distinctly out of sorts.

“Alhaitham!” Kaveh’s voice was breathless, incredulous, as he skidded to a halt beside him. “You—you need to go home. Right now!”

The scribe raised an eyebrow. “Good to see you too. But if you notice, I’m a bit busy at the moment.”

“No, no, you don’t understand,” Kaveh said, nervously running a hand through his hair. “There’s—there’s a naked woman in our kitchen!”

Both Alhaitham and the vendor froze, the scribe’s mind, thouggh, racing a mile a minute. Kaveh looked genuinely shaken, his cheeks flushed, eyes wide with a mix of panic and disbelief.

“A woman…?” Alhaitham repeated, the words slipping out as he tried to process what his friend had said.

“Yes! A very naked woman! In our kitchen!” Kaveh’s voice dropped to a hiss. “She’s just—she’s in there, rummaging through the food like she owns the place!”

The realization hit Alhaitham like a shock, his pulse quickening. He barely acknowledged the merchant’s chocked stare as he turned, leaving his purchases behind as he quickly made his way home. Kaveh struggled to keep up, throwing his hands in the air.

“Alhaitham, what’s going on? Do you know something? I should’ve known I wasn’t imagining things when I heard voices coming from your room this morning. Since when do you bring women home without even giving me a heads-up? And—she’s stunning! But who—what—?”

Alhaitham didn’t respond. His mind was a whirlwind of questions, scenarios, and a strange, unexpected excitement tinged with worry. He’d hoped you’d stay in the bathtub—not creating legs and wandering around defenseless.

Kaveh was still talking, ranting in exasperation, but Alhaitham only caught fragments.

“Just… be quiet for a moment,” he muttered, eyes fixed on the path as his pace quickened.

Upon arriving home, he opened the door cautiously, Kaveh practically breathing down his neck. Heading toward the kitchen, he felt a palpable tension. And then he saw you.

You were in the center of it, bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun streaming through the windows. Your human form was… breathtaking. The long, now-dry locks of your hair cascaded over your shoulders, reaching your waist, framing your face with an ethereal quality that somehow amplified your beauty tenfold. Your features—sharp yet soft, and your eyes, still carrying that same hint of mystery and allure—caught the light, leaving him speechless.

Your skin seemed to glow, luminous in a way that appeared almost otherworldly. And you were indeed very, very naked.

His gaze remained, caught between awe and sheer disbelief. You were in his kitchen, the same creature he had found tangled in the fishing net, and yet, looking at you now, he couldn’t help but feel utterly captivated.

Kaveh stammered beside him, his face bright red as he averted his gaze. “Alhaitham, seriously! Are you going to explain this or just keep staring?”

Snapping out of his trance, Alhaitham cleared his throat, masking his surprise with a carefully neutral expression. He stepped forward, catching your attention. “You… You’re human now,” he murmured, almost to himself, the amazement still lingering in his voice.

You looked up, meeting his gaze with a glint of recognition and curiosity. In that moment, Alhaitham felt a faint trace of familiarity in your eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that had formed between you.

Then, to his surprise, you opened your mouth, and a single soft word escaped.

“‘Haitham.”

Alhaitham’s eyes widened. His name—or a version of it—spoken in your voice for the first time.

A strange warmth spread through him as he heard it, his own name seeming to carry an unexpected weight, as if imbued with the raw honesty of a first word. He barely had time to process it before you stepped closer and gently pulled his face toward yours, brushing the tip of your nose against his.

Kaveh let out an audible gasp beside him, his face flooding with color as he stumbled back, practically tripping over his own feet. “Archons above! What is happening to the world?” His voice was nearly a squeak as he pressed himself against the far wall, looking like he might faint from the shock.

Alhaitham, though not someone easily perturbed, found himself momentarily frozen, his pulse quickening as he processed your action. He had read about mermaid customs, albeit only briefly in fragmented records, but it occurred to him that this gesture might mean something— perhaps a greeting, a way of recognizing trust and acceptance.

With that realization, his surprise softened into something closer to warmth. The gesture felt innocent, sincere. Alhaitham’s lips curved upward, and his eyes softened as he met yours. “So, that’s how you say ‘hello,’” he murmured, his voice low, as if not wanting to break the moment.

You tilted your head, amusement gleaming in your gaze for the first time, as if you could somehow sense his thoughts. Meanwhile, Kaveh, still pressed against the wall, looked on with equal parts horror and disbelief.

“Oh, I’m going to lose my mind,” he muttered, covering his eyes as if to give the two of you some privacy. “Alhaitham, please tell me you have some kind of explanation for this—this whole situation.”

Ignoring the other man’s confused state, Alhaitham took a step back. “You surprised me,” he said, his voice softened, warmth in his tone. “I wasn’t expecting this. I wasn’t even sure if you could take on a human form, let alone speak so quickly.” He managed a small smile, the corners of his lips curling as he realized he had far more to learn about you than he initially thought.

Kaveh, still covering his eyes with one hand, muttered, “Unbelievable! You're still talking? Only you'd find yourself in this situation and still stay calm.”

Alhaitham shot him a brief look, though he couldn’t entirely blame him. Turning to you, he gently gestured for you to follow. “Come. Let’s find something for you to wear.”

As you followed him, Alhaitham tried to ignore Kaveh’s incredulous expression. He knew he’d be bombarded with questions later, but for now, all that mattered was getting you settled, dressed, and perhaps—if possible—beginning to understand the mystery you had brought into his life.

Alhaitham’s clothes hung loosely on you, but he found a way to tie them securely, adjusting the sleeves and waistband as comfortably as possible. 

While he dressed you, his eyes always averting when they fell on your exposed intimates, you looked down at yourself, wide-eyed and fascinated, tilting your head as if entranced by the strange, soft fabric now covering your skin. He noticed how you examined each new sensation—the way the sleeves brushed against your arms, how the fabric rested on your shoulders, and the feeling of something covering your legs. A small smile tugged at his lips as he watched you try to make sense of it all.

Once he ensured you were clothed, your wound tended, and provided with food that seemed to delight you, Alhaitham guided you back to the main room, where Kaveh awaited.

The architect’s mouth fell open as he observed your every movement, absorbing how you moved with a blend of grace and wonder, entirely captivated by each new detail around you. Blissfully unaware of their gazes, you seemed utterly fascinated by how your own feet flexed and moved, watching them with open curiosity as if they were little, curious creatures.

Kaveh broke the silence, his eyes still wide with disbelief. “Alright… start explaining, or I might think I’m hallucinating. Or still drunk.”

Ever practical, Alhaitham recounted the events precisely, detailing how he found you entangled in fishing nets, the injury you’d suffered, and his decision to bring you home to heal.

“I didn’t know if she would survive in the wild with her injuries,” he added, his tone practical, though he couldn’t help glancing at you to make sure you were still comfortable. “It seemed the most reasonable option.”

Kaveh nodded slowly, his expression blank as he pieced together the story. “So, you’re saying she’s not just some random woman, but actually a mermaid—a living legend—and you decided to bring her here.” He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a low whistle. “I can’t say I blame you. But… what do you plan to do next?”

Alhaitham crossed his arms, his gaze steady. “She’s free to leave whenever she wants. But with her injury”—he gestured subtly to your bandaged leg—“I doubt she’ll go far. Until she heals, she’ll stay here, and I’ll try to learn as much as I can. We still know so little about her species.”

Kaveh raised an eyebrow. “You realize what you’re saying, right? We’re talking about a mermaid, not just some stray animal you can study. People would pay a fortune just to catch a glimpse of her. She could be in real danger if someone else, or even the Akademiya, finds out.”

Alhaitham didn’t waver. “I’m well aware. That’s why, for now, she stays here. I’ll be careful.”

Kaveh, even relunctantly, nodded, his concern gradually shifting to fascination as he watched you stretch your legs, then flex your feet experimentally, giggling with delight.

“Does she understand us? I mean, can she speak our language since she had said your name a while ago?”

A faint smile played at the corner of Alhaitham’s lips. “She’s getting the hang of it.”

Kaveh brightened, leaning forward with a smile. “Ah, well, in that case…” He pointed to himself, speaking slowly and clearly, “Kaveh!”

Your gaze quickly lifted from your feet to study Kaveh, and you seemed to pay considerable attention to his name. With your brows slightly furrowed, you tilted your head, then murmured softly, “Haitham.”

Kaveh’s smile faltered, his face contorting in confusion as he shot Alhaitham an incredulous look, who was suppressing an amused look.

Determined, Kaveh repeated his name, louder this time. “Kaveh,” he insisted, as if pure repetition would yield better results.

You watched him with a mixture of curiosity and slight confusion, though a barely perceptible glimmer of pure mischief crossed your eyes. Confident, you repeated again: “Haitham.”

Alhaitham couldn’t hold back. A low chuckle escaped him, and he shook his head, watching Kaveh’s patience fray as he let out a dramatic sigh.

“Oh, I get it,” Kaveh muttered, crossing his arms and pouting. “I’m just the ‘other guy,’ huh?”

“She’s learning,” Alhaitham reassured, a faint but warm smile touching his lips. “It’ll take time, and she seems to have chosen a starting point.” He looked at you, his gaze softened. This didn’t escape the architect’s sharp eyes, who raised an eyebrow subtly.

In the end, Kaveh rolled his eyes but couldn’t fully hide a smile. “Well, I suppose I’m honored to be in her presence anyway,” his gaze lingered on you, his voice softening with a kind of reverence. “It’s still hard to believe. This—this is actually real.”

Alhaitham’s gaze shifted from Kaveh back to you, his eyes calm but observant. “Yes,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else, “it is.” The smile in his eyes remained, becoming a bit more serious. “And I think our lives just got a lot more interesting.”

The conversation continued, flowing naturally between Alhaitham and Kaveh, though their attention rarely drifted from you.

Kaveh’s eyes shone with unmistakable fascination every time he looked in your direction, still grappling with the fact that he was in the presence of a mermaid. Alhaitham, meanwhile, was studying you with a different intent, as if weighing the potential for you not only adapt further, or learn and communicate, but perhaps even bridge the gap between your worlds entirely.

And yet, both men couldn’t ignore your beauty—a graceful, ethereal presence that captivated them even in this simple, domestic setting.

After a lull in the conversation, Kaveh cleared his throat, shifting his gaze between Alhaitham and you. “You know, I was thinking… does she have a name?” He looked at Alhaitham expectantly, as if the answer was obvious.

Alhaitham blinked, his expression unreadable for a moment. He hadn’t even considered it until now; you’d only just learned to say his name, so the thought of you having one of your own hadn’t crossed his mind.

Seeing his hesitation, Kaveh continued, “We can’t just keep calling her ‘she,’ ‘mermaid’, ‘woman’ or something vague all the time. She deserves a name.”

Alhaitham nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right. She should have a name… something that suits her.” He looked at you, his gaze contemplative, as if searching for some hidden part of your essence to capture in a single word.

Kaveh, always the creative, leaned forward eagerly. “Alright, how about… ‘Sapphire’? She has that ethereal, oceanic vibe, right?”

Alhaitham frowned slightly. “Too obvious.”

Undeterred, Kaveh tried again. “Alright, then… ‘Pearl’? She has this… luminous quality.”

Alhaitham tilted his head. “A bit too delicate. It doesn’t match her strength.”

Kaveh leaned back on the sofa, rolling his eyes in annoyance. “Alright, Mr. Critic. What do you suggest?”

A faint spark of memory lit up Alhaitham’s eyes, and he looked at you, seemingly lost in thought.

“There was an ancient text I read some time ago about the mythology of a lost kingdom. In it, there was a name that stood out to me… (Y/N).” The name slipped from his lips with a gentle reverence, as if resurrected from some ancient memory.

You looked up, tilting your head at the sound. Something about the name resonated, as if it called to a part of you that you hadn’t realized was waiting for it. A faint glimmer of recognition seemed to flicker in your gaze, and the smallest, almost imperceptible smile curved your lips. Alhaitham noticed, his eyes widening as he observed your reaction.

Kaveh, noticing your response as well, let out a low whistle. “Well, that settles it. (Y/N). It has a mystique aura, something that feels… timeless.”

Alhaitham nodded, his gaze locked on yours with a hint of satisfaction. “(Y/N),” he repeated softly, as if affirming the choice. You responded by smiling at him, your expression open and serene, as if accepting the name as your own.

In that moment, Alhaitham felt a quiet sense of accomplishment, as if he had bridged another small yet meaningful gap between you and the human world. Kaveh, adjusting himself with a smile, looked at you both in reverence. “Well, it seems we’ve officially welcomed (Y/N) into our lives.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

The days passed quickly, and Alhaitham found himself studying you almost as closely as you seemed to study the world around you. 

Teaching you turned out to be a surprisingly smooth process—‘hello’, ‘yes’ and ‘no’ being the words you’ve learned easily and used the most along with his name. You absorbed new words with a quiet curiosity, and even when your attention drifted to things like sunlight gleaming on a glass or the smell of incense from somewhere nearby, you still seemed to remember his words as if you’d stored them in a special place in your mind.

Your palette was another revelation for him. While seafood seemed to be a favorite, you showed great interest in trying every dish he introduced to you, from savory curries to exotic native fruits from Sumeru. Alhaitham watched as your eyes widened in surprise at the first taste of a ripe Zaytun Peach, the juice trickling down your chin as you savored each bite. He found himself smiling at how you looked at the fruit as if it were a gift, a piece of magic in the form of sweetness.

One afternoon, Alhaitham arrived home to the sound of aggressive hisses and faint, curious purrs. Concerned, he quickly entered the house to find you pressed against the wall, wide-eyed as a gray tabby cat—likely a neighbor’s runaway—rubbed itself against your legs. At first, you recoiled, showing claws and sharp canines in an instinctive defense. But as soon as the creature began to purr, you softened. Alhaitham watched, amused, as you knelt down, carefully petting the animal with an almost reverent gentleness, murmuring the word “yes” repeatedly as if you were in mutual agreement with the feline’s own rumbling approving.

Then, there was Kaveh. 

The architect’s affection grew towards you—although every time he was determined to make you remember his name, he was met with your unique mischievous smile and the same answer each time: “Haitham.” 

You said it with a bit of cadence, as if relishing how it made him frown in exaggerated frustration. Alhaitham, leaning back in his chair one evening, smirked at the interaction, watching Kaveh’s latest attempt dissolve into another sigh of defeat.

“All right, I see what it’s going on” Kaveh grumbled one day, crossing his arms as you observed him with a playful glint in your eyes. “You’ll acknowledge me properly, eventually.” 

Once, however, you found Kaveh hunched over his workspace, focused on a miniature architectural model. You approached quietly, observing the delicate structures he had assembled with fascination. Noticing your presence, he looked up and saw the appreciative smile on your face, understanding it as a compliment. “At least someone here likes my work,” he murmured with a chuckle. “If only all my clients were this easy to please…” He paused, ironically melancholic, earning an empathetic hum from you.

Both men had fallen into a rhythm around you, somehow more accommodating than they had expected. They adjusted to your needs perfectly, sharing the responsibility of ensuring your comfort, and found themselves both challenged and charmed by your presence.

For you, on the other hand, their world had become a comfortable place, one where you settled into a rhythm of small delights and quiet discoveries.

One day, as Alhaitham prepared tea for the three of you, he found himself reflecting aloud, speaking as if to himself. “I never imagined a mythical creature would be so adaptable,” he glanced at you sitting on the floor of the living room, distractedly munching half an apple and reading the newspaper, marveling at the images and texts with the adorable little sounds of awe you let out. Alhaitham couldn’t hold back the affectionate smile.

Kaveh, sitting cross-legged as he studied his latest designs, looked up and nodded, laughing. “She’s adapted better than I did when I moved here,” he commented. “It’s nice to finally have a roommate who doesn’t critique my design choices every five minutes.”

Alhaitham shot him a look, but he wasn’t offended. “Maybe she knows that beauty is best observed without unnecessary comments,” he replied coolly, his eyes lingering on you as you immersed yourself in your things.

In your own way, you had made your home with them. And, day by day, both Alhaitham and Kaveh were discovering that perhaps they had made their home with you too.

Alhaitham had also been keeping his promise, carefully ensuring your safety and privacy within the walls of his home. 

However, as the days passed, he began to notice that your curiosity was growing restless. Though your injuries were healing well, you seemed all too aware of the world outside, especially whenever you sat by the living room window.

Hours would slip by as you watched the passing crowds, children playing, merchants bartering. He and Kaveh had tried to explain the dangers of going out, cautioning you that it wasn't the best idea until you were fully recovered, but your eagerness to explore was unmistakable.

So, after weighing the pros and cons and discussing the arrangement with Kaveh, Alhaitham made a decision: a small outing, just enough to satisfy your curiosity without risking too much exposure. You needed clothes anyway, something more suitable than his shirts or Kaveh’s oversized tunics. And thus, one sunny afternoon, after a few of your lessons and some necessary safety ensures, Alhaitham guided you through the bustling streets of Sumeru City and towards the Grand Bazaar.

The moment your bare feet touched the warm, sun-dappled street stones, your eyes lit up with childlike wonder. Every detail enchanted you—the intricate architecture, the intoxicating scent of spices in the air, the hum of life around you. Alhaitham noticed the way your gaze darted to every vibrant stall and passing stranger, taking in the chaos with delight.

However, he also noticed something else: the way nearly every man you passed seemed to pause, transfixed, their gazes lingering on you. 

It wasn’t just that they were admiring your beauty—they were captivated, their expressions turning almost dreamlike, as if spellbound. Alhaitham’s brows furrowed as he watched one guy receive a swift smack from his wife when she caught him staring a bit too long. He took a step closer to you, shielding you slightly from the attention, and you, caught up in everything around you, hardly noticed.

You gasped softly as you entered the Grand Bazaar, eyes wide with excitement. The stalls were filled with handmade crafts, woven fabrics, jars of colorful spices, and foods you’d never seen before. Alhaitham, trailing just behind you, couldn't help but feel a flicker of warmth as he watched you light up at each new discovery, as if the world itself had become a treasure chest, and you were here to explore its wonders.

Before long, something shiny caught your attention—a stall laden with intricate jewelry. Without thinking, you wandered away from his side, drawn to the display like a moth to flame. Alhaitham followed, watching as you reached out to touch a delicate hairpin encrusted with tiny, shimmering green stones. 

The vendor, an older woman with a warm smile, caught your fascination and chuckled softly. “A beautiful accessory for a beautiful lady,” she said, her gaze shifting to Alhaitham with a knowing smile.

“Do you like that one?” Alhaitham asked gently. His tone was softened by an affection he didn’t quite manage to conceal.

“Yes,” you replied, your voice almost reverent as you ran your fingers over the hairpin, tracing each glimmering stone as though it held secrets of the ocean within.

He didn’t hesitate, reaching for his pouch and handing the vendor the necessary payment. The woman winked, her smile widening. “Lucky man, I’d say,” she murmured in a voice barely above a whisper, but Alhaitham caught it. He didn’t answer.

With a delighted smile, you thanked the vendor in your own way—a beaming, enchanted expression that lit up the old woman’s face as much as it did Alhaitham’s. You carefully cradled the accessory as if it were the most precious thing you’d ever owned, gazing at it as you walked away. But soon enough, your attention shifted to the scent of roasting fish at a nearby food stall. The vendor there, turning a skewer of freshly spiced fish over an open flame, waved you over with a friendly grin.

As you darted toward the stall, Alhaitham noticed something else in the jewelry display—a pendant with a smooth, iridescent stone that bore a striking resemblance to your tail. Silently, he purchased it, tucking the necklace into his pocket. The vendor gave him a sly look, but he ignored it, focusing instead on you, already entranced by the food stand.

“Oh, to be young again,” the vendor mused as she watched he leaving.

When he caught up with you at the food stall, you were leaning over the counter, staring in awe at the array of delicacies. The stall owner chuckled as you tilted your head curiously, taking in the fish skewers and assorted seafood. “She’s like a little fox in a new den,” he said to Alhaitham, amused by your wide-eyed fascination.

Alhaitham gave a small, knowing smile as he nodded. “You have no idea.”

The scribe exchanged a few coins for one of the skewers, then handed it to you with a small smile. Your fingers barely wrapped around it before you eagerly took a bite—too eager, it turned out, as you winced, the hot fish burning your tongue. Alhaitham sighed softly, his gaze both amused and indulgent.

“Careful,” he murmured, taking the skewer back for a moment and blowing gently on it, cooling it with a practiced patience. Watching him, you imitated his action, blowing on the skewer with the same careful attentiveness, which made his lips tug upward slightly. As he handed it back, you took another bite, this time savoring the flavors more slowly.

As the two of you continued to weave through the market, you marveled at every passing sight—the colors, the sounds of bartering, and the occasional street performer. You paused to watch a dancer swaying gracefully, her movements captivating as her bright clothing fluttered with each spin. Passersby occasionally nodded and greeted Alhaitham, who gave polite nods in return—their eyes going wide open when they saw you standing by his side. His attention, though, often shifted to you, keeping you close as you wandered, enchanted by your enthusiastic wonder.

Eventually, you stopped before a more discreet storefront draped with curtains of deep blue and gold. The sign above bore intricate lettering, and inside, racks and shelves brimmed with garments of all kinds. 

Alhaitham led you in, and you finished the skewer just as he did a quick sweep of the store. Taking the skewer stick, he tossed it into a nearby waste bin and approached the owner, an older gentleman with warm, thoughtful eyes.

The store was a treasure trove of fabrics in every shade, from vibrant hues to rich jewel tones, each piece imbued with a hint of Sumeru’s distinct, earthy style. Alhaitham and the owner spoke in low tones, exchanging opinions on a few pieces he was considering for you. But your eyes soon caught on a different rack—dresses and skirts crafted with delicate fabrics and intricate patterns.

Just then, a younger woman stepped out from behind one of the store’s curtain partitions. She looked you over with a friendly smile, her gaze lingering in admiration. “You have an eye for the finest pieces,” she said, her voice warm. “These are all my father’s designs. Here, let’s find one for you to try.”

She sorted through the rack with a discerning eye before settling on a dress. It was a pearly white, form-fitting but flowing at the hem, with soft layers and gentle ruffles. She led you to the dressing room, helping you into it as you fumbled with the ties and delicate fabric.

When you emerged from behind the dressing room curtain, the woman sighed audibly, her expression caught between pride and awe. Her reaction caught Alhaitham’s attention, and as he turned, his eyes settled on you—and stayed.

The dress fit you in a way that was both modest and striking. The neckline formed a gentle "V" between your collarbones, dipping gracefully but tastefully. The silhouette hugged your curves, enhancing your natural beauty, while the flowing fabric below the waist gave the dress an ethereal elegance, rising just above your heels.

Alhaitham was quiet, his gaze intent, his usual unreadable expression amazed, revealing a glimmer of something deeper—an admiration that ran silently but profoundly through him. He couldn’t look away, as though you’d become the center of his world in that moment.

For a brief moment, you met his eyes, and a silent understanding passed between you. You felt his unspoken thoughts, his breath subtly drawn in awe, and his gaze, filled with softness, lingering as though he was seeing you in a new light.

The shop owner’s voice cut through the moment. “I’d say we’ve found the perfect model for this design,” he said with a chuckle, nodding approvingly at you. “It looks as though it was made for her.”

Alhaitham’s lips curved into a faint smile, and he nodded. “Yeah. Indeed,” he agreed, his tone subdued but genuine. The shop owner offered a discount for future purchases, which Alhaitham accepted gratefully.

After purchasing a few more clothes, Alhaitham approached you and, with a hint of a smile, told you, “You look beautiful.” Though the words were simple, the sincerity in his gaze made them feel more profound. You understood his compliment, your expression softening as you smiled back at him with a shyness that made you glance away, if only for a second.

The shop owner mentioned shoes, but Alhaitham shook his head gently. He knew you’d be more comfortable as you were, free of any restricting footwear.

With your new clothes in hand, you left the place, your eyes still brimming with curiosity. Alhaitham stayed close to you as you continued exploring the bazaar, his mood lightened by the unexpected happiness you seemed to bring him. There was a new excitement in your steps, and he watched with subtle amusement, unable to deny the warmth growing within him as he saw the joy in your expression.

Returning home, you felt content, each step still buzzing with excitement from your discoveries, and the dress Alhaitham bought you flowing like water around you. 

Entering the house, the warm scent of food drifted from the kitchen. Kaveh was already there, busy at the stove, humming softly to himself as he prepared lunch. When he turned around and caught sight of you, his eyes widened, a slow, dazzled-like smile spreading across his face. 

“Well, look at you,” he said warmly, clearly charmed by the sight. “You look wonderful! For the first time, Alhaitham did a good job by buying you this dress,” his tone had a hint of teasing, and you saw Alhaitham’s brow twitch slightly, but he stayed silent, watching the two of you.

Kaveh’s admiration had a certain ease to it, a natural warmth that made you feel instantly welcome. He turned back to the stove, but not without another approving nod at your attire. Alhaitham’s silence prompted him to ask, “So… how was the city?” He threw a teasing glance Alhaitham’s way then at you. “Did our scribe here give you the grand tour all by himself?”

Alhaitham sighed, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “She wasn’t exactly difficult to entertain,” he replied dryly. “Everything was new, so it didn’t take much.”

Kaveh chuckled. 

“Of course it didn’t,” he set the food down, his gaze filled with an amused understanding. Alhaitham merely looked away, feigning indifference, though you sensed a certain pride beneath his casual tone.

During lunch, the two of them recounted little moments from the day—Kaveh enjoying the story of you burning your tongue on the fish skewer, and Alhaitham quietly reliving the way your eyes had sparkled at the Grand Bazaar’s colorful sights. But despite their words, their gazes often turned back to you, captivated by your delight in all the new things you’d encountered.

At one point, Kaveh leaned back, shooting Alhaitham a knowing look.

“So, a personal shopping trip, huh? Just the two of you,” he teased, clearly amused by the idea of Alhaitham guiding someone around. “How sweet.”

Alhaitham narrowed his gaze, giving Kaveh a warning look that said more than words could. But there was a subtle softness in his eyes as they drifted back to you, a sense of quiet caring that you caught, even if he tried to hide it.

After lunch, you noticed Alhaitham start to gathering the dishes, starting to cleaning them as Kaveh made his way to the living room. Walking over him, you lingered, staring at him until Kaveh looked back, caught off guard by your gaze, feeling a bit embarrassed. When you pulled out the hairpin Alhaitham had bought you earlier, he seemed to understand, a faint blush of realization coloring his cheeks.

“Oh, you want me to do your hair?” He chuckled, gesturing for you to sit. “Alright, alright, I’ll help.”

You settled in the chair, feeling his gentle hands working through your hair. He gathered it halfway, securing the rest with the pin and letting loose strands fall around your face. When he was done, he guided you to a mirror, smiling proudly as you took in the sight. The style was simple but lovely, suiting you perfectly.

“Beautiful,” he murmured softly, watching your expression over your shoulders as you took in the effect. For a moment, the two of you were lost in the quietness of that shared moment.

From behind you, a soft sound drew your attention. Alhaitham was standing in the doorway, watching, a fond look on his face. He must have finished cleaning the kitchen but had stayed, observing without saying a word.

You turned back to Kaveh, your gaze warm and filled with gratitude. 

“Kaveh,” you said softly, the name unfamiliar on your tongue but carrying genuine meaning.

His eyes widened, surprise flickering across his face before he grinned, laughing as he leaned back, crossing his arms.

“Finally saying my name, huh?” He teased, though his voice was warm, “I guess even a mermaid knows when to appreciate the finer things.” Despite his playful words, there was an unmistakable happiness in his gaze, as if your small act of gratitude had touched him.

With the meal finished and the midday light softening, the three of you spread out around the house. You curiously inspected the clothes Alhaitham had bought, marveling at the soft fabrics, while the two men chatted in the adjacent room. Kaveh’s voice floated over, calling to his housemate.

“Hey, listen. Cyno passed by earlier inviting us out to the tavern tonight. Tighnari is also coming. I didn’t give him an immediate answer given our… adorable guest,” his gaze flicked meaningfully to you, a question lingering unspoken between the two men.

They both turned, glancing at you thoughtfully. For a moment, you saw them exchange a silent conversation, considering whether the outing might be risky. But then Alhaitham gave a slight nod, resolute.

“We’ll take her with us,” he said confidently. “With the right precautions, it should be fine.” He glanced at you, his eyes filled with the assurance that they’d watch over you. “Besides,” he added with a hint of a smile, “I feel she’d be upset if we don’t take her to explore a little bit more now that she has seen the outside world.”

Kaveh chuckled, nodding. “Then it’s settled. Tonight, we’ll go to the tavern—all three of us.”

As the sky slowly darkened, anticipation hung in the air, the promise of the evening drawing closer. 

The afternoon had drifted by with Alhaitham trying to teach you new words and phrases, but your attention kept slipping back to the new clothes he’d bought. You ran your fingers over the fabrics, turning them this way and that to catch the light, dazzled with the colors and the softness. Alhaitham eventually gave up, sighing in quiet amusement as he noted just how material and delightfully vain you could be—a discovery he should’ve expected.

Later, you wandered into his suite room to bathe, instinctively drawn to the water. The moment you slipped into the warm tub, your legs transformed back into your shimmering tail, scales glinting under the water’s surface. 

It had left Kaveh speechless the first time he’d seen it—his penny dropping at your truly identity. You were truly a mermaid. Nonetheless, he wasn't less captivated by the change and your graceful form. Alhaitham, however, while more composed, could hardly hide his fascination, watching with a quiet intensity every time he witnessed the transition.

After bathing, you found yourself in a familiar routine: sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting as Alhaitham approached with your clothes. This time, though, he brought one of the recent purchase pieces; a beautiful dress in his hand—its fabric being of a rich, jade green; a vibrant hue that reminds of his own eyes-color but that seemed to intensify the shine and warmth of yours only. 

As he helped you ease into it, his fingers lingered as he adjusted the zipper, his gaze studying you, perhaps more than he realized. And though you found yourself shivering at the intensity of his eyes, there you were too—looking up at him, meeting his gaze firmly and sensing an admiration that he only allowed you to see.

“It suits you,” he murmured, his voice low, a hint of awe slipping through his usually neutral tone. In that dress, you seemed otherworldly, like a goddess who had emerged from the depths of the sea, carrying its beauty onto dry land with impossible grace.

He knelt down then to inspect your injury, noting the lingering redness. Alhaitham carefully applied an ointment, his touch gentle but focused, and you watched his expressions shift with a subtle concern. Then, with a slight nod of satisfaction, he helped you to your feet.

After that, you made your way to Kaveh, showing him the hairpin again, calling his name with a soft voice.

His smile grew, a touch of pride in his gaze as he admired the way his name sounded from your lips, and he took great care in doing your hair once more, letting strands fall loose to frame your face as he did before.

Finally ready, you three left for Lambad’s Tavern. 

The streets were alive with the buzz of evening activity, laughter and music drifting through the air as Alhaitham and Kaveh walked beside you. The city was lit by soft lantern light, and you felt a thrill at being part of it all, the world so different from anything you’d known.

At the tavern, the warm atmosphere enveloped you, the scent of spices and roasted meats filling the air.

Alhaitham spotted Cyno and Tighnari across the room almost immediately as the two of them also turned as you approached. Their greeting smiles fainted when their gazes fell on you, a moment of pure awe passing over their faces afterwards. Cyno blinked, visibly stunned, while Tighnari’s foxy-ears twitched, his sharp eyes widening in surprise.

The General Mahamatra, usually so composed, couldn’t seem to look away, his thoughts racing. He was accustomed to beauty in the world around him, yet something about your presence felt almost magical, like an ethereal vision he couldn’t quite understand.

As for Tighnari, his keen senses took in every detail—the way the green dress brought out the otherworldly depth in your eyes, or the elegance of your form. You were unlike anyone he’d ever encountered, and he was captivated, even if he tried to hide it.

Before any questions could arise, Kaveh, ever the quick-thinker, stepped in with an explanation. “She’s an exchange student. From Fontaine,” he said, shrugging nonchalantly. “She’s staying with us while she studies…uh, the culture of Sumeru.”

Alhaitham sighed at the obviousness of Kaveh’s excuse, but he didn’t counter it. Cyno and Tighnari shared a skeptical glance, clearly doubting the story, yet they chose not to press further. Instead, Alhaitham formally introduced you, mentioning your name, which you responded to with a slight, graceful nod and a cute ‘hello’ following.

But feeling the need to greet them in the way of your kind, you leaned closer, gently rubbing your nose against theirs. 

Kaveh gasped out loud.

Cyno’s eyes widened, a slight flush crept up his cheeks as he froze, uncharacteristically at a loss. Tighnari, caught off guard, felt his ears tensing, the action both charming and bewildering him. Your giggles bubbled up as you noticed their flustered expressions, a soft, musical sound that filled the space between you all.

Kaveh let out a nervous chuckle. “Ah…yeah, that’s—uh, her way of saying hello. Strange, right? These Fontaine’ people…”

Alhaitham, on the other hand, observed it all with a hint of entertainment, his gaze lingering on you fondly. Watching your interactions, he noted how naturally you’d adapted to his world, your curiosity and unique charm drawing everyone in, effortlessly weaving you into their circle. There was warmth in his eyes, a feeling that spoke of his growing fondness, and you caught his gaze, offering him a small, contented smile.

As the group settled in, you sat across from Cyno and Tighnari, studying them both with unabashed curiosity. 

Still recovering from your unexpected greeting, the two men seemed unsure of where to look, awkwardly averting their eyes when you met their gaze. Alhaitham leaned back in his chair, a hint of amusement in his expression as he explained, “She’s not much for words, as you can see. Rather, she’s more the observant type.”

Cyno and Tighnari nodded, seeming to understand, though their curiosity was hardly quelled. 

The tavern around you started to fill with more patrons, the hum of voices rising, mingling with the occasional laugh, the sounds coming from different instruments and the clinking of glasses. It created a cozy warmth in the dimly lit space, and you felt it settle over you as if you were part of something larger, an integral piece in the lively tapestry of Sumeru’s life.

Kaveh wasted no time flagging down the bartender. “Bring your best wine,” he said with a grand, somewhat theatrical gesture, earning a sigh from Alhaitham.

Meanwhile, Tighnari leaned in toward you, his ears twitching with interest as he tried to engage you in conversation.

“So, do you like Sumeru so far?” he asked, a gentle curiosity in his tone.

You nodded with an enthusiastic “Yes”—the single word clear and confident, though it was accompanied by a slight tilt of your head.

Encouraged, he asked, “Do you enjoy learning about plants and animals?” Tighnari’s eyes sparkled, and you could tell he was ready to launch into an explanation if given the chance.

You paused, then shook your head, “No,” you answered, earning a quiet chuckled from Alhaitham.

“Ah, I see,” Tighnari replied, trying to hide his mild disappointment. “What about... Alhaitham and Kaveh?” His eyes glanced toward Alhaitham, who pretend to ignore his friend’s question.

You didn’t thought twice when you answered “Yes” with an affectionate smile, which made Tighnari smirk.

While you answered, you noticed Cyno observing you intently, his gaze unwavering and sharp. It wasn’t suspicious—it was more as if he were studying a puzzle, his curiosity piqued by your every move. His face softened whenever he noticed the subtle gestures that replaced your lack of words, as though trying to understand this new, unfamiliar way of communicating.

When the food and wine finally arrived, you noticed each man taking their mugs and raising them in a silent toast, exchanging knowing glances.

Intrigued, you pointed at Alhaitham’s drink, brows raised with interest. He looked at you hesitantly. “I’m not sure you’ll like it,” he warned, his tone gentle but unsure. Still, he handed you a mug.

The moment you tasted the wine, your expression twisted as the bitter taste hit your tongue. The others burst out laughing as you grimaced, clearly displeased.

Kaveh, grinning widely, leaned over with an exaggerated shrug. “Not everyone appreciates a fine vintage on the first try,” he teased, eyes sparkling with the warmth of the wine already.

But then, determined, you lifted the mug to your lips and downed the rest in a single go. As you set the mug down, you pointed to it, your eyes sparkling with challenge. The table fell silent for a beat, and then Kaveh broke into a delighted laugh. “Oh, now that’s spirit!” he cheered, filling your mug again with exaggerated enthusiasm.

Alhaitham, a touch surprised but clearly amused, leaned closer and murmured, “Take easy, ok?” His tone was warm, carrying that familiar attentiveness, the kind of care he often tried to mask with practicality. You met his gaze and gave a small nod, though your mischievous smile was enough to tell him you weren’t exactly planning on slowing down.

As the evening went on, the wine kept flowing, and so did the laughter. Kaveh quickly grew tipsy, his cheeks flushed as he leaned into his chair with a self-satisfied grin, occasionally throwing his arm around you, Cyno or Tighnari as he launched into some anecdote about his “architectural genius,” much to Alhaitham’s thinly veiled eye-rolls.

“Oh, and then,” Kaveh slurred, nudging Cyno with a huff, “there was that time Alhaitham here tried to negotiate a ‘reasonable’ discount on my work. Can you believe that?” He snorted, casting a playful, slightly glazed look in Alhaitham’s direction. “I swear, he’d argue the wind into changing direction if it suited him.”

Alhaitham only raised a brow, looking at him with an expression that silently asked for patience. “Kaveh, if I hadn’t ‘negotiated,’ you’d still be working to pay off last month’s tab.”

Tighnari chuckled, watching the exchange. “You two really are quite the pair,” he commented, taking a sip of his drink, his gaze shifting between the two of them with an amused glint.

Cyno, turning his attention to you, said, “Do you always put up with them like this?” His tone was deadpan, yet you sensed a glimmer of humor beneath his serious gaze.

Understanding his question, you nodded, a soft laugh escaping you. They all seemed to lighten up, relaxing in the warmth of your quiet amusement.

As the night deepened, Cyno set his drink down with a look of pure focus. “How about a round of TCG?” he suggested, eyes gleaming with anticipation. Tighnari let out a groan, tilting his head back dramatically.

“Oh no, not this again,” he sighed, but even he knew there was no escape.

Kaveh laughed, rolling his eyes in good-natured defeat.

“Fine, fine. But we’re keeping it short, or we’ll never hear the end of it from you,” he reached for his glass and gave you a playful wink. “Prepare yourself for the most intense game you’ve ever seen,” he said, clearly intending to make a spectacle of Cyno’s enthusiasm.

Curious, you leaned closer, watching as Cyno arranged the cards and dice with meticulous precision. His fingers moved quickly, each card laid down like a sacred ritual. Noticing your interest, he paused to offer a brief explanation of the game’s mechanics. 

“It’s all about strategy,” he explained, his tone almost reverent. “You play a character card, use skills, and roll dice to see how much power you have.” His eyes narrowed, smiling as he continued, “And don’t think it’s as simple as it sounds.”

You blinked, absorbing his words, but you barely had time to form a plan before the game was underway. 

Somehow, against all odds, you won the first round. The table fell into a mix of laughter and shock, each of them offering half-joking explanations.

“Beginner’s luck,” Tighnari insisted, though there was a glint of amusement in his eye.

Alhaitham chuckled softly. “Maybe (Y/N) is just a natural.”

But as the rounds continued, it became clear that “luck” wasn’t the only thing helping you.

One match after another, you swept the table, your fingers moving with a natural, effortless grace as you outplayed each of them. Cyno’s brow furrowed in concentration, and you could practically see the gears turning in his mind as he tried, unsuccessfully, to decode your moves.

Finally, with a mixture of disbelief and exasperation, Cyno looked at his cards in silence. “How…?” he muttered, half to himself.

Kaveh snorted, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. “Face it, man, she’s just unbeatable tonight. You, my friend, have been dethroned.”

Tighnari grinned, amused by Cyno’s frustration. “It’s impressive, honestly. Even the Champion of TCG is no match for her.”

You laughed, lifting your glass in a playful toast to your victory, which earned a round of mock cheers from the others. 

Alhaitham’s gaze was soft as he watched you—your enthusiasm, the brightness in your eyes as you revel in the thrill of each win. He’d seen you embracing new experiences and adventures of his ordinary day with open arms.

From the quiet enthusiasm when you learned a new word to the happiness back in the bazaar, and now, this lively night at the tavern—he felt an undeniable warmth, a subtle pull that went beyond simple admiration.

Just as another round was about to start, a group of local men, drunk and brimming with energy, pulled Kaveh from his chair and into a circle. “Come on, architect! Show us your moves!” they cheered, clapping their hands and forming a semi-circle for him to lead. With a laugh, Kaveh obliged, seamlessly joining them in the traditional dabke.

You watched in fascination, your attention captivated by the rhythmic stomping and spirited clapping. 

Kaveh’s movements were fluid, each step and stomp precise yet brimming with exuberance. His grin was infectious, and you found yourself clapping along, enchanted by the lively beat that seemed to pulse through the entire tavern.

Noticing your joy, Kaveh reached out and took your hand, pulling you into the half-circle. “Come on! You’ll love it!” he encouraged, and you laughed, letting yourself be drawn into the dance. 

Standing beside him, you mirrored his movements as best as you could, and although your steps were hesitant at first, his laughter and the others’ encouragement quickly dissolved any nervousness.

You found yourself swept up in the joy of the moment, your laughter ringing out as you stomped and clapped in sync with Kaveh. The tavern patrons cheered, a few even joining in to expand the circle. Each beat of the music seemed to echo in your heart, a vibrant, untamed rhythm that made you feel alive. Your hair swayed with each movement, your dress flowed around you as if it had a life of its own. For a brief moment, you forgot everything else, lost in the pure exhilaration of dance and laughter.

Watching from the sidelines, Alhaitham’s gaze lingered on you. 

He didn’t need to say a word; his expression spoke volumes. In his eyes, you were radiant—a vision of grace, strength, and unrestrained joy. He couldn’t help but marvel at how easily you fit into this place, how naturally you became part of it despite its strangeness. His chest tightened, a burning ache settling there, unfamiliar and yet… welcome. He remembered the first time he’d seen you, not too long ago, feeling vulnerable and cautious. Yet here you were, laughter filling the air, eyes alight with joy.

He hadn’t expected this—a mermaid, of all things, to stir something so profoundly human within him. But watching you, he couldn’t deny the feeling. It wasn’t simply admiration or intrigue anymore. It was something real, deeper, something that made his pulse quicken whenever he locked your gazes whenever you shared a fleeting smile or a touch of silent understanding.

A sudden chuckle from Tighnari pulled him from his thoughts, and he glanced over to see his friend smirking knowingly. “Not joining them?” He teased, his voice pitched just low enough for Alhaitham to hear.

Alhaitham glanced back at you, his lips curving in a slight smile. “I’m enjoying the view.”

Tighnari hummed, raising a brow. “Seems like you’re enjoying more than just the view.”

Ignoring Tighnari’s comment once again, Alhaitham focused his attention on you once more. 

When your eyes met, he felt that sensation again—a quiet acknowledgment of something unspoken but deeply felt. He gave you a subtle nod, his gaze lingering, as if committing this moment to memory.

When the dance ended, you were breathless, your cheeks flushed with happiness as you returned to the table. Kaveh, very tipsy and clearly pleased, clinked his glass against yours. “You were fantastic!” he cheered, his eyes bright with genuine pride.

Laughing, you took a sip of your drink, catching Alhaitham’s eye as you did. 

Ever since you started to live with him, sharing his culture, entering in the lonely empty of his heart and connecting with every detail that made of Alhaitham who he is, his intense gaze was something you couldn���t escape from—although neither did you want it when you were so mesmerized by him as he seemed to be with you. 

But tonight, something was different—something indescribable, unknown but pleasant, sent a soft thrill through you. This was more than a shared moment—it was a promise, a silent connection that seemed to anchor you both, even amidst the noise surrounding you.

The night had fully settled by the time the three of you left the tavern. 

The streets were nearly empty, bathed in the soft silver glow of a full moon overhead. A gentle breeze moved through the quiet city, carrying the faint, earthy scent of Sumeru’s flora. Stars scattered like distant lanterns in the sky, each one casting a pinprick of light over the tranquil world below. You looked up, awestruck by the vastness of the sky here. It was as if the city itself was cradled in the arms of the heavens, each corner brushed with stardust.

Alhaitham glanced at you, noticing the quiet wonder in your eyes as you took in the night’s beauty.

In the soft moonlight, your face was illuminated with an almost ethereal glow, your expression open and unguarded. Something about the way you stood there, gazing upwards as if communing with the stars, pulled invisible strings in his chest. Alhaitham found himself watching you in silence, the affection in his gaze hidden in the shadows, an unspoken tenderness that he wasn’t yet ready to voice.

Beside you, Kaveh swayed unsteadily, mumbling to himself in an incomprehensible mixture of words. You giggled, finding his drunken ramblings endlessly amusing, while Alhaitham sighed, shaking his head in disapproval but unable to suppress a small smile. He’d been prepared to carry Kaveh’s weight on his own, but you easily supported your share, surprising him with your hidden strength as you steadied the unsteady architect. You felt Alhaitham’s curious gaze settle on you, but you kept your eyes on Kaveh, helping guide him as he slurred out half-formed songs and laughter.

When you finally arrived at home, the quiet settled around you like a warm embrace. 

Together, you and Alhaitham gently placed Kaveh onto his bed, his face sinking blissfully into the pillows as he drifted into a heavy, blissful sleep. You both lingered for a moment, watching to make sure he was comfortable, before retreating to the living room, leaving Kaveh to his dreams.

Once there, the two of you stood alone, the silence wrapping around you like silk. The dim lamplight cast soft shadows across the room, pooling in the spaces between you. You faced each other, yet no words came—none were needed. 

Your eyes met his, and in that moment, something unspoken passed between you, a silent understanding woven with the night’s intimacy. It was a conversation of looks alone, a language more ancient than words. Your heart felt full, as if it were holding a secret too precious to release.

Alhaitham’s gaze held yours, steady and unwavering, as he reached into his pocket and drew out the small chain he’d bought back at the bazaar. The gemstone's shiny and iridescent hues caught the light, reflecting shades that soon reminded you of your tail’s colors—a perfect echo of your hidden self. 

He held it out to you, his lips curving into a wise smile that reached his eyes.

Without a word, he gestured for you to turn around. You did so, your heart pounding with anticipation as he draped the chain around your neck, his fingers brushing the nape of your neck as he fastened the clasp. The warmth of his touch lingered even after his hands moved away, and you lifted a hand to the pendant, feeling its weight settle over your heart.

Looking down, you felt a surge of emotions, a mixture of joy and affection as you admired the gift. But it wasn’t just happiness—it was something deeper, something far beyond simple gratitude. 

When you lifted your gaze back to him, your expression was serene, eyes glimmering with unspoken emotions.

Slowly, you reached up, placing a hand on his neck and gently pulling his face closer. Without hesitation, you leaned in, touching your forehead against his—a significant and intimate gesture but full of affection.

“Thank you,” you murmured, the words carrying layers of meaning, a depth that went beyond the simple gesture. It was gratitude for more than just the necklace—it was for his kindness, his patience, his caring, for seeing you in a way no one else could. For being a safe harbor in this unfamiliar world.

He was taken aback for a moment, the soft touch of your skin against his both surprising and disarming him. But then, a quiet smile forming as he held your gaze, his hand coming up to gently cradle your cheek. 

“You’re welcome,” he replied, his voice a gentle murmur, his thumb tracing a light path along your cheekbone.

Your hands lingered on his neck, feeling the softness of its skin and his hair, his own expression melting into something almost vulnerable. 

For a long, endless moment, you stayed there, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath, to catch the quiet tenderness in his jade eyes.

Neither of you spoke, letting the silence stretch, filling the room with the weight of implicity emotions. His gaze held yours, steady, and yet within it was a flicker of that deeper, unguarded feeling—a quiet, burgeoning affection that made your heart race.

Time seemed to stand still as you looked into each other’s eyes, a shared warmth weaving between you, a silent promise that neither of you had the words to speak.

And maybe, you didn’t even need it. 

[continue...]

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

omg i really really love your blog<3 you are such a sweet person and so kind to all your followers and others on here and your writing is absolutely amazing!

i saw ur requests were open and i was wondering if you could write something for poe dameron? a hurt comfort because in your rules you said you wouldn't accept full angst which honestly is so real of you and i completely agree :D its just, ive read so many fics where poe's best friend or squadron member is either in love with him or fwb with him and he starts dating someone and they look rlly in love but then he leaves the person for the best friend and i cant help but always wonder how the person he left is feeling! and i was wondering if you could write something along the lines of this but he doesnt leave the reader and hes not really in love with his best friend or anything im so sorry this became really long but you can totally ignore this or say you cant do it its absolutely alright!<33

thank you sm though and i hope you have a good day!

Anon, thank you so much for such lovely and kind words! You are AMAZING! (Seriously, they have absolutely made my day/week/year!)

This ask has killed me (positive), my subconsciousness had a lot to say, it seems.

Tangerine, Tangerine

Poe Dameron x GN!Reader Rating: M Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Warnings: angst (but with a happy ending), thoughts that a partner is cheating, blood, x-wing fight, swearing (not star wars swearing, because even though Kriff is great, I need to say fuck), Moonbeam as a nickname, typos, rail road sentences, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!

Word Count: 4494

_______________________________________

It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. 

You’d misunderstood, you’d read the situation wrong, you’d seen incorrectly. It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. 

Your radio crackled, “Green Leader, checking in. We’re manoeuvring in 5. Call out.”

“Green Two check.”

“Green Three check.” 

 It was just a kiss. 

“Green Four check.” 

 It was just a-

“Green Five check.” 

Just a-

“Green Six check.” 

Just-

“Green Seven,” you swallow. “Check.” 

It wasn’t just a kiss. 

You patted your helmet twice and rolled your neck, breathing deeply as you settled in. On your left, you could see some of Blue Squadron. 

This mission was straightforward - on a holopad. 

Two teams to escort The Harbringer, the resistance supply ship. It had been damaged by a rogue blast from a tie fighter just as it jumped to hyperspace and had had to make an emergency landing on one of Tre’Ral’s desert moons. 

The crew on board had managed to fix all they could. But without proper materials, there was little chance of the ship making it out of the moon’s thick atmosphere and entering hyperspace. So Blue and Green Squadrons had been dispatched. Blue 1-4 had already made contact, jump-starting The Harbringer enough to get it airborne. 

Due to Tre’Ral’s sun and planet density, the gravity on the moons was a little stronger than most world’s atmospheric pressure. 

Green Leader, Sena, had repeated through briefing at how this would affect flying. How to be ready for it. And she hadn’t been wrong, it was different flying here. Tougher. And you loved it.

You’d grown up on Para, a planet with a high gravity density. You’d learnt to fly there well before you’d flown in space. Being here on this desolate moon almost felt like home. Your movements seemed smoother, precise. No longer needing to overcorrect for your naturally ingrained harsh movements. No longer spinning out and fighting low gravity, finally working with the tide. 

The manoeuvre would see the ships escort The Harbringer out of the moon’s atmosphere and then the rest of Blue squadron would form a sort of 3D star formation around the cargo ship. All jumping to hyperspace at the same time to carry it along with them. 

Simple. 

In theory. 

Everyone had spoken about how practically textbook it was, how easy. 

But then, of course, why was Green Squadron going? 

No one at the briefing had asked, why would they when the answer was so obvious. This part of the quadrant was teething with First Order. With a slow, busted supply ship you were all practically screaming for them to come and play target practice. 

You swallow. 

You should be focusing on that, on the mission. Instead of the utter nonsense that was ricocheting around your head and piercing your heart. 

I hadn’t just been a kiss. 

You and Poe had gotten together clumsily, three months ago, your normal awkwardness drowned out by so much Polanis Red that you almost couldn’t see straight. It had been after the battle of Hurthwen, a nasty dogfight that had everyone hyped up on adrenaline. 

He had been drunk when he kissed you, you remembered that. 

Maybe he had thought… maybe he had believed he was kissing her instead. 

It made a lot more sense. 

Sena was the Green Leader, she was a great pilot. One to be reckoned with. She was kind, she was fun, she was beautiful. She and Poe had joined the resistance together, risen the ranks together. Basically inseparable. Always laughing and joking. She had been in the same squad as Poe, under his command before she was promoted to leading one of her own. 

They had always been close. Always. Best friends. 

Sickness bubbled in your throat. 

You remembered Frizz and Hank talking offhandedly, well before you and Poe were a thing. Both of them sure that Sana and Poe were dating or ‘knocking boots’ as Frizz had so elegantly put it. 

“Two people can just be friends, you know.” You’d said, trying to hide your little crush on the commander. 

“Yeah,” Frizz laughed, “But not them. You seen them together?” 

Hank chortled. 

Nonsense. You’d brushed it off then. Allowed it to creep into your thoughts when it was dark and the base was quiet. When Poe’s breathing was soft and light behind you, his arm around your waist. 

Him and Sana just made a lot more sense than him and you. 

“Yeah, but not them. You seen them together?” 

Yeah. Now you had. 

The Harbringer came into view over the horizon. The seemingly endless stretch of desert was cut through in the distance by a fearsome outcrop of crocks, leading up into a field of formidable mountains. 

Blue 1-4 were already hooked up to the cargo ship, all five hoovering moving together as they flew towards you to meet. 

You wouldn’t have said things were difficult with you and Poe. Well, you wouldn’t have said that before. It was complicated for everyone on the base, most staff were on different call schedules, off-world or on a mission at all times. Having a relationship wasn’t straightforward. There were stretches where you wouldn’t even be on the same planet for days, but…

But you had thought it was…

It didn’t matter. 

You’d gone back to the briefing room, just before take off. You’d wanted to tap the main holoscreen twice, for luck. A little ritual you’d adopted early on. Most pilots were a superstitious bunch. 

That’s when you’d seen them. Sana and Poe. Locked in a tight embrace, their lips pressed together in a deep kiss. 

Your heartbeat had thundered so loud you’d been surprised they hadn’t heard it. But they’d been too preoccupied to notice your presence. 

It was cliche but time had almost slowed, calmed and stretched like the moment you take aim, the second before you fired your ship's canons. 

A flash of the control panel had flickered into your mind when you saw them, your fingers twitching as if you had the trigger in your hands. 

You’d turned and left without a sound. Without a word. Without letting them know you saw. Leaving them to… whatever they did next. 

Was it their first kiss? One of many? Had this been going on well before Poe had taken your hand and led you outside so he could clumsily name all the constellations, making up new ones and backstories to make you smile?

“That one here, you see it?” 

“Yeah?” 

“That one’s the best one, best in the sky. It’s orange and it’s right next to that other orange one, like they’re holding hands.”

You’d laughed. 

“That’s me and you Moonbeam.” 

Moonbeam. That stupid nickname. 

You’d gone to your room quickly, the one that you and Poe shared, and taken off the necklace he’d given you. 

“I want you to wear it for luck, Moonbeam.” 

That stupid smile he’d given you as he’d slipped it from his own neck and onto yours. That stupid kiss he’d given you after. You’d thought that expression was cute when you’d seen it, pure. Now it just seemed like he’d been laughing at you, playing some sick joke. ‘How long can I string someone along?’, ‘how far can I go before they realise it’s all pretend?’ 

You’d left the necklace with the ring slipped through on the small set of shelves in the corner, the one Poe normally kept his holopad on. 

It was idiotic, but your neck felt… empty without it. Cold. Every now and then you touched at where the chain normally lay.A subconscious action only brought to the forefront of your mind by the sensation of your own skin instead of metal. 

Something caught your eye in the distance, a flash of sunlight glinting off the horizon. Dread twisted in your stomach as realisation dawned a second earlier than your scanners. The extra gravitational pressure and high quantity of magnetic metals in the sand affected everyone’s ship computers, causing a brief information delay. 

Your alarm sounded out inside your ship, the radar blinking into life as tie fighters approached from the rock outcrop. They’d used the high mineral concentration to hide their energy signatures. 

“Fuck.” 

The radio screamed into life, orders out pouring over orders. Blue squadron rushed into position while Green scrambled. 

“Blue in place now!”

“It’s gonna be rushed, but we haven’t got a choice!”

“No time!” “Incoming!” “Green half split! Evens left, odds right, let’s keep those fighter’s off The Harbringer and Blue squadron! Gamma pattern!” 

“How far away is the Delta?” 

“Calling in attack pattern!” 

You swing to the right, falling in with Hank and Petal and bank hard, it takes less than a second for you to notice that your squad's movements aren’t as precise and well-timed as usual. The stronger gravity throwing everyone, except you, off their game. 

That didn’t bode well. 

You climb for a second, punching hard on the acceleration to get some height and a clear view of the oncoming and flick on your targeting system. The image glitches, doesn’t hold steady even as you focus. Off by half a fraction. 

Shots fire out from both sides, most missing.

“Targeting not working!”

“It’s out!”

“I can’t get a clear shot!” “The read is malfunctioning!”

“Half a click 4/8!” You shout, as you take your shot, hitting two tie fighters head-on. 

“Good shot Green 7!” You can hear the joy and relief in Sana’s voice. “Half a click 4/8, you’ll all have to manually adjust!” 

You dive, swirling around two fighters before skimming close to the ground, trying to draw their attention away from the cargo ship. You spin, slamming your control harder than you would need to in any other situation as you turn and spike past another fighter, taking out one in the process. 

“Wooooo!” Hank yells over the intercom.

You laugh. “Bet you never thought you wished you grew up on Para right?” 

“Every day new things surprise me.” He banks left, you right, Petal dives down. 

It’s too much of a rush, everything all at once, patterns and shots flying, your ship’s systems screaming as you push the engines a little too hard. 

The tie fighters aren’t moving as fast as they normally do, bogged down even more than the x wings by the gravity. They can’t make their normal quick turns and it’s affecting their strike patterns. 

Good. 

But there’s so, so many of them. 

Explosions fly debris out, and you climb higher. Needing a clear view and unable to rely on your targeting systems. 

More shots fly out, The Harbringer is taking a battering but so far its shielding is holding the hull together. 

The radio keeps screaming, overlapping voices that blur into background noise. You’re trained to only hear your call signal, direct messages. You vear off, narrowingly missing a blast to your wing. 

“-On my tail.” Frizz’s voice cuts through the noise, a sharp stab of dread slicing you open as you turn, automatically looking to the reader, it’s still not clear. 

You climb, twist, fall, see a Green ship, followed tightly by two fighters. Accelsorate, bank. You fire. You’re aiming in a panic now, not adjusting right, not breathing through. 

The shot hits one, before you have to swerve to avoid being struck head-on. 

“Thanks 7!” Cril yells over the speaker, managing to shake the other fighter. 

There’s a scream, a crackle of sound over the system. A sound you know too well. You see the ship crash into the desert, exploding before it even hits the ground as the a tie fighter’s shots hit home. 

Frizz.

“No…” 

“Check!” Sana yells, unable to tell who went down with the system glitching. “Green Leader!”

You swerve around another fighter, everything moving so fast, too fast.

“Green Two check!” Cril.

“Green Three check!” Petal. 

Nothing. 

“Green Four!” Sana yells. No call replies. Balna. Not Frizz. 

The momentary rush of relief at Frizz being alive is cut horribly short by the image of Balna’s kind face that bursts behind your eyes. 

You bank left, right, swerve, take aim, twist. 

There’s a chance, a good chance that you’ll win. All of Blue is in place, The Harbringer is moving up with them. The tie fighters are taking more hits than the resistance, their less aerodynamic design hampering them more than usual with this gravity. 

All you need is…

Another alarm. 

“Oh… fuck.” You slam on your intercom. “Z-Fighter!” 

A chorus of yells answer you. 

A Z-fighter, a quick moving ship a fraction bigger than The Harbringer, with two powerful front guns. A few shots would take the cargo ship out completely. 

And with how slow the supply ship was moving, that wouldn’t be hard. 

The Z-fighter storms in, moving fast but not firing, they were obviously having problems with their targeting too, needing a close clear shot. 

“Take out the main cannons!” Sana yells, the panic in her voice cutting through the chaos. You turn, aim, take out a tie fighter but have to veer up at the last second. Twist. 

Someone comes in after you, aiming for the cannons, a fighter clips their side and they can’t correct quick enough. They spiral off, their ship crashing into the Z-fighter. Obliterated on impact. The Z-fighter seemingly unaffected. 

You loop back, adrenaline blinding you to everything, anything that’s not the goal. Take out the canons. Take out the canons. People are counting on you. Take out the canons. 

You fire, a clear shot before you bank to the side to avoid a direct hit to your hull. 

It’s not enough.

You need to pass again, and again. Other x wings flying in, taking shots, the gravity making them slow, imprecise. Only one blast hits and it’s not full on.You’re the only one hitting directly and it’s not enough. 

It’s not enough. It’s not enough. It’s not enough.

There’s shouting and screaming, the zipping of the fighters as they cut through the sky. Someone yells your name and you don’t hear it. 

Another hit lands. One canon out. Only one left. You can do this. The Harbringer is nearly in the upper atmosphere, they can jump from there. Just a few more seconds. You can do this.

“Black Leader!” Poe’s call sign cuts over the dim, followed by the call signs of half of the Red Squadron.

They must have scrambled after first contact. 

The canon’s powering up, a quick glance to your panel tells you that The Harbringer’s shield is barely functioning. They won’t survive a direct hit. With how close they are and the Blue Squadron ships that are attached there’s no way they wouldn’t be pulled down too if The Harbringer fell. 

The canon needs more than one hit to take it down, more than five. No way you can shoot five times before they fire. 

You twist, full force. Pumping the acceleration. Fire. Fire. Fire. Three hit. You don’t slow down. Fire. Fire. Fire. They hit. The canon is still operational. 

Sana is screaming orders, so many shots fire at the canon, none of them hit right, hit full on. 

Two chances left. 

One to fire. If it takes out the canon you just have enough time to serve up, to avoid getting smashed to bits. 

Poe shouts for you over the intercom. 

You don’t answer.

One to fire. If it doesn’t take out the canon then… then you crashing into it head on will. 

Poe yells again, this time cutting over everyone else, sending you a direct call. 

You don’t answer.

You fire. Hit. 

Poe screams for you, his voice painful and panicked. He’s already worked out your plan before you had even thought of it. 

The canon doesn’t go down. 

You cut the call to him. Blocking out his signal. You don’t want Poe to think you did this for him. 

You don’t want him to think you did this because of him.

“Green Seven!” Sana yells, seemingly knowing what you’re going to do. 

Hank screams your name over the radio. It hurts. You think it’s the worst sound you’ve ever heard. 

“Moonbeam!” Poe’s voice is ripped raw from yells, Sana has patched him through over her signal. You were wrong. That was the worst sound you’ve ever heard. 

You dip at the last second, not hitting the canon straight on but smashing your right wing into it. The force surprises you, even though you braced for it. The impact sending you spiralling. You try to regain control, try to turn into the spin. Training taking over even though you're a wing and half a ship down. 

Shouts over the radio, you barely make out- 

“-cannon’s down-”

“-Jump!-”

A spark hits, your console explodes into flame, shards hit your side and you yell. Sky and sand tumbling over each other over and over, and you manage to hit the eject button.

The force rips you upwards, free briefly from your burning ship. But you’re too close to the floor, not enough time to slow down your velocity. There’s-

.

The impact of the ground hurts. Pain explodes along every nerve despite the ejection seat dampening. You scream. 

Agony is everywhere, everything. You can’t feel anything else, can’t comprehend anything except floods of pain. 

You hit your belt, falling out and to the desert floor. Looking up just enough to gauge where you are, where your ship fell. It’s an exploded, fireball mess far off. At least it’s not an immediate threat. You crawl to the side and sob. 

There’s blood falling into the sand from your head, the right side of your face. You can’t see properly out of your eye and your left leg is definitely broken. Shattered. Still, you drag yourself forward, digging your hands in and pulling as something ribs and tears in your side, warm liquid soaking into your fight suit. 

The resistance will jump to hyperspace, they’ll get out. They’ll make it. 

You just needed to get away from your ejection seat, when the First Order doubles back they’ll see it, they’ll see you. You just needed to get to an outcrop. Hide. 

Make it look like you had a weapon. 

Make them shoot you first instead of taking you for questioning. 

Can’t let them take you alive. 

There's the faint sound of a ship somewhere above, landing gear coming down. 

For a second you freeze, panic gripping your heart, you dig into the sand hard, pull, pull, pull  yourself closer towards the outcrop of rocks. The air seems to be leaving your lungs, your breathing ragged and hot. 

You cough, red hitting the dirt, iron hitting your tongue. 

You crawl, pull. The pain is making you light-headed. You gasp, trying to get in a full lung full of air. It's not enough. It's not enough. It's not enou…

.

When you open your eyes your first thoughts are simple. Clear. 

I'm dead.

You were either shot in the head in the sand or simply succumbed to your wounds. 

But then things begin to feel… fuzzy. Not painful, but not right either.

And that's when you smell the Bacta. And then the light starts to change to distorted shapes, and finally, you recognise Hank sitting next to you.

“You better not be dead too,” you whisper your voice dry from lack of use. 

Hank jumps up, goes to grab your hand and then stops himself. There are tears in his eyes. He softly places his fingers on yours and you squeeze back. 

“You're a fucking idiot you know that?” He grins and you laugh. Which hurts a little, but feels good. 

“One sec,” he moves away just to speak to someone outside before he comes back. “I'm the one that picked you up, you know?” 

“Now who's the fucking idiot?” You smile but your chest aches, heavy with the weight of his words. “You shouldn't have done that.” You whisper. 

“What?”

“You were under fire, you should have just jumped-” 

“I saw you eject. Saw you moving. You think I was just gonna leave you there?” He sits. “Besides, I was closest. The commander would have blown up the whole planet to get to you.” 

You swallow, turning away slightly. Going cold at the mention of Poe. 

Hank mistakes the look for guilt, and squeezes your hand again. “Hey, look,” he smiles, “you took out the canons, you're a fucking idiot but you know how to fly in heavy gravity.” 

You snort. 

He smiles. 

“Who did we lose?” 

Hank sighs, “three…”

You nod, closing your eyes for a moment. 

“There-”

There was shouting from outside, a crash and then Poe stormed into the room, med staff close behind him.

You swallow, sickness building in your throat.

He looked awful, drawn out and worn thin like he hadn't slept or eaten in days. His eyes red. 

He rushes forward, Hank moves out of the way, so Poe can take your hand in his. He leans forward and kisses you softly, carefully stroking your cheek, being gentle with your bandages. 

“Moonbeam…” he mutters and you flinch back from him. He looks at you with sad, confused eyes. 

“Look, I can only allow one visitor in here.” The med staff member says.

Hank stands, and speaks when you frown. “I'll see you later, Poe’s the one that hasn't left your side. The only reason he wasn't here when you woke was because I made him go take a shower.” Hank smiled, “you can thank me for that later.” 

Both you and Poe are quiet as the others leave. Poe searching your face for something, while you look away. 

“Moonbeam,” he says again softly, but there's an edge to his words that you're not used to. “What the fuck happened on that mission? What the fuck is this?” He holds up his hand, his necklace and ring wrapped around his palm. His eyes are shiny as he speaks. “Were you trying to kill yourself? What the fu-”

“Poe,” you breathe. Best to get it over quickly. “I saw.”

He frowns. “Saw? Saw what?” 

“You and Sana, in the briefing room… before take off.” 

The small frown on his forehead relaxes slightly for a moment as his eyebrows raise. “You… saw?” 

You nod. 

“You, but, I didn’t see you when I pushed her away?” His voice cracks at the end, a splinter running into the muscle of your heart. 

“You pushed her away?” 

“You didn’t see that?” He frowns again, blinking hard, “you just, just saw and walked away and what? Took this off?” He holds up the necklace again. A tear falls from his eye and he rubs it away furiously as if it had scorched his skin. “Just, just left it and… and…” 

“I didn’t know you didn’t want it…” You say quietly, emotion is making your chest tight and constricted. “I didn’t know you didn’t want her…”

“What?” He breathes, moving closer and squeezing your hand. There’s disbelief in his voice, confusion. Anger, it’s deep down and controlled but it’s there. “No, look, she kissed me. I pushed her away, I, I even logged a report, I’ll pull up the god damned camera feed to show you.” 

He’s not lying. His gaze is unwavering and he’s got that painfully earnest look in his eyes. 

“You thought…” he shakes his head slightly, his voice pained, “you thought I’d-”

“You both make sense together.” You blurt out. “She’s… and you’re…” you shrug and sigh, on the verge of tears yourself. “You’re both the best of us.”

“No,” he shakes his head fiercely, “Moonbeam, no.” He wipes roughly at his eyes again, glancing down for a moment and you lightly touch his head. 

He looks up instantly as you stroke his curls, still lightly damp. 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper.

Poe shakes his head again, grabbing your hand and kissing your wrist. “I’m sorry.” He kicks off his shoes and clambers into bed next to you a little awkwardly. He’s trying to be careful, trying not to hurt you but needing closeness so badly it’s suffocating. 

You scooch to the side as quickly as you can in your current state and lean into him as he wraps his body around you softly and kisses you sweetly. 

“Love you, love you, love you,” he repeats after every kiss, pressing his lips to every part of your skin that he can reach.

“Why are you sorry?” You mutter as he holds you, “I’m the one that messed up.”

He shakes his head, “I’m sorry that I don’t make you realise how special you are, how perfect.” He kisses your cheek, “you’re the best of us Moonbeam.” 

You tut but his grip tightens and he holds you tight. 

“And one hell of a pilot.” He grins. 

You scoff. 

“You are.” He kisses you again. 

You nuzzle against him, settling into his touch. Knots have formed in your chest, pain that’s loosening. His warmth is comforting. Home. 

“Sana said she didn’t know I was in a relationship,” he says softly, resting his chin on the top of your head. “I don’t know if that’s true, but… I do believe her.” 

You nod. “She’s a good person.”

He moves so he can look you in the eyes. “Please, Moonbeam, I… don’t,” he bites his tongue, closing his eyes for a long second. “I want to tell you, I want to say, don’t ever do something like that again… don’t… don’t put yourself at risk.” 

You touch his cheek lightly. 

“But it’s not fair is it?” He smiles sadly. “We both do that every day… You know you were gonna be in my squadron at first?” 

You shake your head in surprise and he nods.

“You were, but… well,” he blushes ever so slightly. “I was so embarrassingly head over heels in love with you,” he laughs lightly. “For months I could hardly talk to you, you know I had to down five Polanis Red’s in a row after Hurthwen just so I could ask you out? I knew I wouldn’t be able to function right if you were in my squad. I knew that I’d put everyone else at risk because if it came down to it… if there was a choice between everyone in the squad dying, everyone on the base, or you… I’d let the resistance burn instead of lose you. Every single time.” 

You close your eyes, fighting the emotion that needs to break through and squeeze his hand like a lifeline. “I love you.” You whisper. 

Your fingertips brush against the necklace, the ring hooking around the first knuckle of your index finger by chance. 

Poe slowly moves his hand from yours and unwinds the necklace from his palm before carefully placing it over your head, giving you plenty of time to move away if you wanted. 

“I love you Moonbeam,” he mutters, his voice low, reverent. Then leans in to kiss you. You kiss him back with all your heart. 

____________________________________

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[sleep-drunk-kitten]

"𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫" 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 "𝐍𝐨𝐰"𝐬

pairing: Barista! Kang Yeosang x fem!reader

genre: sickly sweet fluff, soft angst with a happy ending, coffee shop au?

content warnings: none

summary: After losing the one person who you believed would be your forever, finding love again seems nearly impossible... but the sweet barista who hands you your morning coffee might just changce your mind...

notes: Hey ya'll! I'm finally back and clawing my way out of that writing slump~ This fic was purely self indulgent and the past/present tense is a little all over the place, but oh well, I hope you guys enjoy it anyway!

Please support your authors, likes are sweet and all but it's reblogs, comments, and asks that give us the will and confidence to keep writing and sharing our work <3

Everything below the cut is NOT proofread

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

“Forever” 

In hindsight, it was a fickle promise. 

Though born into existence to encompass eternity, the word had lost its meaning somewhere along the line. 

“Oh it’s been forever! How are you?”

“Traffic was so bad, it took forever to get here”

“Oh that? It happened forever ago, I wouldn’t remember”

Its meaning changed and shifted as surely as the ripple of dunes in a desert. 

A minute.

An hour. 

Months.

Days. 

In the case of you and the person you’d called your soulmate, forever had been all of eight years. 

Eight years spent holding their hand. Kneeling down to tie the shoelace they never secured quite right. Sharing whispered conversations in the dim lights of orange streetlamps bleeding through frosted glass panes. Building futures where you moved in together, your smiles greeting each other after every long day, your arms always open and waiting for them to fall into. 

You’d never planned for a life without them in it.

Not once had you truly believed it possible for them to leave. 

So it was only natural that when they did, they took a part of you with them. The part of you that once believed in promises like “I’ll be by your side, always.”

Promises of “forever” or plans for the future had become intolerable. Feeling like a lie. A scam. Insincerity on your lips even when you wanted more than anything to believe it. Something that had once seemed so beautiful and bright in your eyes now filling your chest with grief. The weight of it pressing down on your heart, churning and swirling in waves so high and tumultuous they lapped against the sides of your throat so painfully there were days when something as simple as breathing burned. 

You were sure you’d never be able to build a connection that strong with another human soul. 

That was of course until you met him.

“Here’s your order”

Kang Yeosang was a quiet man. Offering you no more than a smile and your order every morning when you dropped by the cafe on campus.

You’d smile back, thank him, and get on with your day. 

It became routine, the familiar smell of coffee beans and chocolate chip cookies embracing you for a few moments as you steadied yourself, mentally preparing for the day ahead. The sound of the vintage bell above the shop door almost hypnotic in the way it caused your whole body to relax. The weight lodged in your chest and throat ebbing. Leaving behind the barren, still peace of low tide. 

Your commitment to this ritual and your usual order was so resolute that the pretty barista no longer asked what you wanted, realising early on that you deliberately came to the cafe early because you enjoyed the quiet.

As long as you never asked for anything different, which you never did, he would acknowledge you with a nod when you walked in before wordlessly moving round behind the counter to prepare your drink. Allowing you to bask in blissful silence for a few extra minutes. 

It was nice. 

”It’s on the house”

Your careful monotony was broken for the first time on a rainy Wednesday morning. You’d missed your first class of the day by sleeping through your alarm, woken up late, and neglected to bring an umbrella in your rush to leave your dorm. 

Voices prickle over your skin in the already crowded cafe, clusters of people looking to escape the damp and cold surrounding you on all sides despite the fact that you’d wedged yourself into a small table by the large glass windows, knee bouncing in agitation as you stared out at the steely grey sky. The rain on the way to the cafe had been mild, barely more than a drizzle, but whatever was brewing promised to be much, much worse, enough to force you to seriously consider making a trip back to your room to get an umbrella. 

But that would mean more time lost, more walking, potentially arriving to class much later than you’d intended, which really wouldn’t be so bad but it was still so frustrating and-

“y/n?”

The soft call of your name catches you off guard, the deep, velvety voice cutting cleanly through the chatter despite the caution laced through his tone. You look up, familiar, dark brown eyes blinking back at you, as though he was the one who should have been startled. “Your order,” he explains, setting down a to-go cup and a small paper bag. 

It takes you a moment to notice the addition, peering inside the bag and finding four small chocolate chip cookies nestled inside. “I didn’t order this,” you say, holding out the bag to him, confusion and irritation creasing your brow at yet another unexpected change. 

“Oh! I know…” he says, pushing the cookies back towards you, “it’s… it’s on the house.” 

His ears flush red as he says it, a lisp you hadn’t noticed before creeping into his voice when he hesitates, his words coming out a bit like a question. An offer. A hand reaching out and asking ’is this okay?’

You pause, frozen in place for a moment, a blush creeping up your neck to match his own. “Ah… well… thank you, yeosang.”

He smiles, pushing back against the flurry of butterflies coming to life in his chest. 

You remembered his name.

He wants to hear you say it again, his mind already replaying how sweet it sounded coming off your lips on loop, echoing through his skull so that when he goes over the scene again in his head he can’t be sure whether or not his next words came out quite right.

“Of course, what are friends for.”

From then on, there was always a bag with a different sweet treat tucked in beside your order, and for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate the surprise. 

”I’m happy to be spending time with you right now”

Is what yeosang says on all your dates. 

You’re not sure how exactly it happened. When small talk turned to sitting and sharing your morning beverages. When study dates became actual dates spread out over picnic blankets on the beach. When trips art exhibitions and bazaars shifted into walking hand in hand under the light of bright shop signs and flickering lampposts, a large reusable grocery bag filled with the ingredients needed to make pasta hanging off his shoulder.

It’s barely a date. But he insists that the impulsive decision to leave his house at 8:30pm to join you at the grocery store may as well be. 

Because he was with you. 

And that was all he needed.

Free hand wrapped loosely around your own, watching fondly as you tiptoe to avoid the cracks in the tiles. 

He’d asked you to be his that night. Perched on a swing set that hung far too low for his legs. Lips parting slightly when you leaned over to swipe at them, chocolate ice cream smeared across his skin. You were fussing, telling him that he shouldn’t be such a messy eater at the grown age of twenty one, when his expression made your words come up short. An open, searching fondness in his gaze that made your heart swell painfully against your ribcage. 

You knew that look. 

That was exactly how you used to look at them.

Yeosang seemed to sense your hesitation, placing his hand over yours on his cheek before you could back away. There was no force in his grip. No pressure holding your hand in place. You could have retracted it easily if you wished to. But you didn’t. The confusing ache in your chest craving more of his skin against yours. 

“Is this okay?” he’d asked, allowing your joined hands to drop, hanging in the space between you. 

You could only nod. Wanting to highlight the fact that he’d been holding your hand for the better part of an hour just before you’d sat down to enjoy your ice cream, but opted not to when you found you couldn’t quite trust your ability to speak without your voice shaking. 

Yeosang wasn't always the best at reading people. He'd discovered very early on in life that smiles and bright voices didn't necessarily come with good intentions, and it left him wondering if he'd simply been foolish. Unsure of whether or not it was his own fault that he'd misunderstood and gotten hurt in the process. 

He often felt lost when it came to navigating the emotions of those around him. Confusion swirling in the undercurrent of nearly all his relationships… but not with you. He was never unsure about you. 

Admittedly, he couldn't really say he'd fallen in love with you at first sight or anything (though he wished he could've). When you'd walked into that cafe and fumbled through your tote for your wallet he hadn't thought much about it at all, smiling patiently and going about business as usual. He doubted he'd even remember your name. But you were there again the next day, and the day after that (you brought a backpack instead of the tote with a cat on it), twice on Thursday (your hair was an absolute mess on your second visit), and on Friday you stayed till late, body folded over scattered notes and highlighters (it seemed like you had a habit of tugging your own hair when you were stressed). 

With each visit, he began noticing you more and more, till he found himself wondering what had happened to upset you, or what made your smile seem brighter that morning.

It took some time (and a lot of teasing from Wooyoung and Jongho) for him to realise that he liked you. That no, he did not pay that much attention to all his regulars. And then it took a little longer (and a little encouragement from Seonghwa) for him to muster up the courage to actually approach you. A part of him expected that maybe, once you both became closer, you'd start to close yourself off. That the same confusion he'd come to expect from everyone but Wooyoung and San would come creeping into his mind when you found reason to hide how you felt. 

But that day never came to pass. Yeosang was pleasantly surprised to find that the more he knew about you, the easier you were to decipher. Even if you refused to say anything, your lips pressed into a thin line when you were upset. No matter how many times you smoothed your expression over, your brow always creased with worry when you felt anxious. You crossed your legs when you were comfortable, and sat up straight and folded your hands in your lap when you weren't. None of these things changed as he got closer to you, and the closer his heart moved to yours the more he understood. 

More often than not, he knew almost instinctively what you needed. And on the few occasions where he was unsure, he knew he could ask, because you could never find it in you to lie to a person you loved. 

So he sat with you in silence for a while. 

Tracing abstract patterns over your knuckles. 

Allowing the steady trill of crickets and buzz of cicadas to fill the silence.

Knowing the negative space was something you needed, even if he wasn’t always sure why. 

He waited patiently for the sound of your breathing to deepen, your hand relaxing in his own, your body unconsciously leaning closer to him before he spoke. “Thank you for letting me join you tonight.”

You chuckled slightly in response, dragging the heel of your shoe over the cracked rubber floor of the playground. “I should be the one thanking you, how would I ever make it home with such a heavy burden in my hands,” you'd joked, gesturing to the plastic bag settled on his lap.

“Oh but of course, you're just a girl after all,” he said with a serious little pout. 

“I really am, I shouldn't have to cook my own dinner or carry big heavy things like parsley and blocks of cheese,” you tried your best to mimic his sombre expression back at him, but failed miserably, the two of you breaking into childish giggles as soon as your eyes met. 

You took a few breaths to calm down, looking up to find that Yeosang was already smiling at you. His eyes shining with unshed tears from laughing too hard, that same fondness glittering under the warm streetlights. 

He brought your joined hands up to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to your knuckles before turning your hand over and placing another on your wrist. 

“My girl…” he whispered, though it sounded almost like a question. 

You didn't immediately respond, mind stuttering as the painful swell of your heart faded into something much different, something more gentle and fragile. 

Unfortunately for you both, Yeosang mistook your surprise for hesitation, backtracking quickly. “Sorry, I just mean… I'm… only if you want to be, we don't-” 

“Can you say it again?” 

“Huh?” he'd blinked in confusion, and you were smiling. A slow, giddy sort of smile that made him thankful for the low light of the park. 

It was your turn to bring his hand up to your lips, pressing a soft kiss against his racing pulse. “I want my boy to call me his again.” 

Yeosang was sure he might implode. 

”But you’re here all the time, we might as well move in together at this rate”

Panic sets in when he says it. 

You wish it wouldn’t. 

The fear that had been digging its way into your thoughts since you’d agreed to be his crawling over your skin, curling into an uncomfortable knot in your throat. 

You try to smile when he turns back round, try to remember what the two of you had been discussing when he placed the popcorn in the microwave, but your mind is moving too fast, pulling you further and further into yourself before you can fight it. 

“My love? You with me baby?” 

His voice calls you back. Just like that time in the cafe, it reaches you easily through the overlapping voices in your head, a hand coming to rest on your cheek. “Yeah… Yeah I’m okay… just tired,” you dismiss easily, placing a hand over his and offering him a strained smile that leaves him thoroughly unconvinced. 

He purses his lips, looking thoughtful for a moment before deciding on an answer. “What… what kind of tired?” 

“Uhm… regular? Tired?” you try.

“Nono, not that, I mean… body tired? Brain tired? People tired?”

Oh.

You realise what he’s trying to ask, and the answer that immediately comes to mind, clear even in your muddled state almost makes you giggle despite yourself. Wrapping your arms over his shoulders and clasping them behind his neck, pulling him a little closer to you. “I’m a little people tired, it’s been a long week, but I’m not you tired, sangie, I want you to stay.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, hands coming to rest where they’d made a home for themselves on your hips, “we can always raincheck movie night if you’re not feeling up for it you know…”

“I know, my love, thank you,” you say, resting your forehead on his chest, timing your breathing to his heartbeat, the knot in your throat slowly unwinding with each exhale, “I’m really alright though… just happy to be with you right now.”

Yeosang breathes a sigh of relief, pressing his lips to the crown of your head. “That’s my line you know…”

“Oh I’m sorry,” you huff playfully, “I didn’t realise that saying it back was copyright infringement.”

“Hmnnn, that doesn’t make you any less guilty though, now does it?” he hums, wrapping his arms more securely round your waist and slowly swaying your bodies from side to side. “There’s a penalty for this sort of thing you know.”

You snort, tipping your head up to look at him incredulously. “And what might that be, good sir?” 

“For a cutie like you? Mmmmmnnn… a dance?”

You gasp, batting your eyelashes in mock horror. “And what if I say it again? What awful sum would I have to pay then?” 

He pretends to think for a moment, the two of you now shuffling and swaying in time to music no one else could hear. “Perhaps… a kiss?” he says, head tipping to the side in a way he knows you can't resist. 

You tut, shaking your head and sighing defeatedly. “I suppose you leave me no choice then, I’m afraid I must confess that I am immeasurably happy in this moment, I’m so very desperately happy to be with you.”

You both manage to keep up a serious facade for all of two seconds before bursting into fits of giggles, clinging onto each other for dear life. 

Once you both calm down, yeosang presses another kiss to your hairline, holding your body close to his, wishing he could somehow be even closer so his heart could rest beside yours even when heaven took his soul. 

”You are my small but definite happiness too.”

[thevelaryons]

Hi! Any predictions for Season 3? I’m expecting only the worst after George’s blogpost.

P.S. I think the show should get cancelled too.

HOTD is basically glorified fanfic so who knows what direction the writers will take.

But I’m sure Corlys won’t be getting any part of his cunning and diplomatic personality from the book. The writers seem determined to keep him on the sidelines as much as possible.

Most of the changes to Corlys (and house Velaryon in general) have been made around the Driftmark succession. So I think the resolution of the Driftmark succession issue will happen in season three. There’s a part in season two, where Alyn talks about Corlys never acknowledging his bastards until High Tide is destroyed. So after the Battle of the Gullet in season three, either Jace or Joffrey will die, then the remaining one will be left as Rhaenyra’s heir to the Iron Throne. At this point, since Corlys will be in need of an heir, he can just name one of his bastards. This helps avoid portraying Corlys acting against Rhaenyra as he was doing in the book.

I actually think it’s possible that Joffrey will be the one dying at the Gullet. The writers might be extending Jace’s role. Also, since there are parts of Jace’s personality on the show that are taken from book!Joffrey, it lends credence to the idea that their deaths will be switched. With how Jace’s relationship to the dragonseeds has been written so far, it’s possible that his classism/bastardphobia might be framed as the reason for their desertion.

Alyn shouldn’t even be part of the war at this stage. In the book, he only joined later when his family was threatened. Meanwhile, the show has him running random errands now. He’ll probably continue doing that and also managing the fleet with Corlys.

I’m less sure of what Addam’s story will be like in the show. Rhaenyra condemning innocents under false accusations was one of her most villainous acts in the book. While the writers did solve half of that problem by erasing Nettles’ existence, they still need a way to deal with Addam. He might be portrayed as an actual traitor so the accusations against him look more justified. Though it could be that Jace’s time in the show will be extended so that he is the one who makes the accusations against the dragonseeds instead. The show has already depicted Jace as kind of a hateful bigot (which was more book!Rhaenyra’s personality). ‘Mongrel’ and ‘common lout’ aren’t too far off from ‘low creature’ and ‘common thing’, so I can also see the show playing up the antagonism between Jace and Addam next season.

[mothertaeraesa]

zb1 maknae line as studio ghibli characters

pairing: maknae line × gender neutral reader

genre: bulletpoint format, studio ghibli au, fluff, slight angst

warnings: none

word count: 1.7k

author's note: these scenarios are loosely inspired by each of the characters and their respective movies, as well as all of these can be read as platonic or romantic

maknae line | hyung line

shen ricky | haku, "spirited away"

Your chest heaves in slight panic, as you bring your knees towards you for at least some kind of protection

One moment, you're traveling with your parents to your new home and everything is going fine

And then the next, you're stopping and heading towards a tunnel that popped you out at an alley filled with lanterns and food stalls

Now, your parents are pigs and you feel hopelessly alone

It causes tears to prick the edges of your eyes, and you bury your face into your lap with a shaking head

This has to be a dream, this cannot be real

Maybe if you tried hard enough, you'd wake up in the car with your parents talking to one another while this was all just from a midday nap due to the exhaustion of moving

But you try to concentrate on waking up and nothing happens

You had already tried to cross back through the tunnel, but the high tide had blocked off the path

Just as you're about to allow them to stream down your face, the snap of a twig and the heavy rustle of bushes has you freezing and on high alert

Turning your head towards the intruder, you're about to let out a scream, but the young boy is two steps ahead of you and covers your mouth with his hand, effectively silencing you without a peep

He squats beside you and presses his side into yours, bringing his own finger to his mouth to signal for you to keep quiet

You're too paralyzed with fear to disobey and can only nod, as he seemingly pauses and waits for something to pass

After a moment, the stranger removes himself from you and digs around in his clothes before holding out a bun for you

When you turn away silently, not wanting to take food from a stranger like your parents had, the boy insists and places it into your hand

"Here, eat this. It'll keep you safe." He speaks for the first time, voice low before he pulls out his own and takes a bite

You hesitate, tears finally falling once more at how overwhelming everything is, and the bun is too warm and smells too comforting not to eat any

"Do you know your name?" The boy asks once he notices you slowly taking bites from the bread

"My, my name is Y/N," you manage to whisper with a sniffle

"I'm Ricky."

kim gyuvin | pazu, "laputa: castle in the sky"

Clutching onto Gyuvin's waist, you keep your eyes screwed shut as you try not to think about how high up you are

While heights usually wouldn't be an issue for you, the turbulent lightening storm had really tested your limits

Burying your face into his back, you murmur for him to let you know when things have calmed and it's safe to look again

The boy just hums in acknowledged agreement, as he tries to fly you both to the agreed-upon location

He hoped that things would go smoother from now on, and the two of you would have no more issues on your way to Laputa

Some time passes by as Gyuvin navigates and you hold onto his back for dear life

"Y/N, I think we've arrived." He finally says, landing cautiously and tapping your shoulder lightly

Pulling away, you take in the sight of the lush fauna around you both with a hitched breath

Laputa was more beautiful than you could imagine despite how deserted it was, but then again, the place had been viewed as a myth and almost secret utopia

Gyuvin glances over at you with a grin, admiring how awestruck you were by everything

"C'mon, let's go check it out," the boy suggests while getting out of the plane, helping you as well

The green grass feels plush beneath his feet, and he can't help but be in disbelief himself

Taking his hand, you drag Gyuvin after you with a laugh that he immediately reciprocates

Neither of you could finally believe that you had made it and were finally here

All of the cat-and-mouse chasing with Goliath had finally been rewarded with the final destination of Laputa

You both hurry over to the edge, gazing down at the clouds and paths below

A friendly robot passes by, and both you and Gyuvin give it a tiny wave before glancing at one another and giggling quietly

Intertwining his hands with yours, the boy tugs you along the field, pulling you into him and his chest

You hit it with a tiny thud, but Gyuvin catches you and wraps his arms around your waist, protecting you while you two hit the ground with a laugh

He keeps his arm out for you to rest on, as you lay on your backs for a much needed break and watch the clouds role by

park gunwook | sho, “arrietty”

Park Gunwook was completely and utterly bored

Sure, he enjoyed spending time at his mother's house and visiting with his great aunt and housemaid, but there were only so many cheek pinches and wide smiles he could take before his face ached

He had nearly read every single book in the house, and it was getting to be just a bit too hot to stay in the meadow all-day

So here the boy was, dragging his feet and wandering aimlessly in search of something to pique his interest

It happens in a flash, but out of the corner of his eye, Gunwook thinks he's spotted something moving across the floorboard and near the vents

The boy pauses in his tracks, head tilting as he attempts to make out what he had seen without disturbing it

Creeping over slowly with light steps, Gunwook crouches down and gets to his hands and knees

He pokes his head around before he spots it; a small person holding a sugar cube and struggling to get the item back through the vent's grates

Out of all his years of living Park Gunwook has yet to see such a sight, but it seemed his boredom had disappeared in an instant as a wide grin spreads across his face

You try and use all your might to get both you and the sugar cube back to your home, but you feel as if you're being watched

Turning around quickly, the sight of the human boy has you scrambling and forgetting the cube in an instant

You don't have it in you to scream, but you're scurrying along towards the vent faster in order to not be caught

Clearly, you don't do too good of a job because the boy continues to get closer

"W-Wait, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you!" Gunwook says suddenly once he notices how terrified you seemed to be by your frantic movements

You manage to slip through just in time to avoid the huge hand coming your way, and hide in the shadows of the vent so he can't see you

Everything tells you to run back to your family, tell them what happened, and start packing your things to find another neighborhood house, but you're too tired and the adrenaline has made you fatigued

"I'm, I'm sorry, please come back..." Gunwook attempts with a frown, saddened at how quickly you ran away

Maybe his eagerness had gotten the best of him, but he truly just wanted a friend

You don't make it known that you're still around, but the sight of the sugar cube being slipped back in through the grates as you still

Waiting for footsteps, they don't come until about a minute has passed

Gunwook dejectedly begins to stand up and walk away before he sees you hesitantly peek through the grates with a small wave

han yujin | sosuke, “ponyo”

“Yujinnie!” You draw on, calling for the boy as you attempt to finish packing up the boat. "Hurry up or I'll leave without you!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming. Please don't leave without me!"

You glance up from securely fastening the picnic basket into place to see Yujin hurrying towards you; backpack flapping around, captain's hat on his head, and bangs falling into his eyes

"You know I was just joking," you say with a giggle, hoping in the boat and taking a seat

"I know... I just don't like making you wait." Yujin admits with slightly red-tipped ears, handing his things for you to take as he prepares the boat for departure

Once everything is all set, you and Yujin set off, the town flooded from the massive storm from the night before

Things are relatively peaceful though, as other people float around on their own boats while you wave and pass by

You allow Yujin to steer and take charge, opting to point out where to go instead, and the boy eagerly listens

"Yujin, look!" You point out, swaying the boat a bit in excitement

Jellyfish, turtles, and other various sea creatures swim below the surface and through the crystal-clear water

The both of you go on like that for a while, Yujin captaining and you just enjoying the sunny day

After a while, you two stop for the simple lunch of sandwiches and tea that you had prepared before chugging along once more

The chirp of the birds and woosh of the water eventually lulls you to sleep, as you fold your arms on the edge of the boat and rest your head silently

"Isn't it beautiful out, Y/N?" Yujin asks a few moments later, eyes round at the scenery around him. "Y/N?"

At the lack of response, the young boy turns his attention to your sleeping figure with a tiny tug at the corner of his lips

Suddenly, the boat slowly comes to a stop in the middle of the water

Yujin looks around puzzled before realizing the boat had run out of fuel

Throwing another glance at your unmoving figure, the boy takes off his captain's cap and gets into the water without hesitation

He begins swimming and pushing the light boat along to where you both had been planning on meeting his mother at the senior center

Although it may seem like a lot of work to do alone, he didn't want to wake you, he wanted to prove to you that he was reliable

And that he would do anything for you

[stephensmithuk]

The Sign of Four: The Strange Story of Jonathan Small (Part One of Two)

I will split this in two parts as I've got a lot to cover here.

CW for discussions of nasty prison conditions.

The depth of the Thames is about 6.5 metres at low tide in Woolwich, near to the Plumstead Marshes as they were then. However, the river has strong currents and very little visibility, so it would be a risky operation even with 2024 diving technology for some rather small objects.

The rupee originally was a silver coin dating back to ancient times in India, becoming something of a standard currency during the Mughal period. The East India Company introduced paper rupees and while there was an attempt by the British to move their territory to the pound sterling, they soon gave up, minting their own rupees with the British monarch's head on. The currency was also non-decimal. India retained the currency post-independence and went decimal as well.

Mangrove trees are very common in equatorial coastline regions - they can remove salt from the water, which would kill many other trees.

Prisoners set to the Andaman Islands penal colony were forced to work nine to ten hours a day to construct the new settlement, while in chains. Cuts from poisonous plants and friction ulcers from the chains would often get infected, resulting in death.

The convict huts on Ross Island were two-storey affairs, with the bottom as a kitchen and took area, the prisoners sleeping on the upper floor. Designed this way as an anti-malaria measure, they however leaked and the prisoners themselves were constantly damp from the rainfall, offering them little protection from the mosquitoes in any event.

Ague is an obsolete term for malaria; adults experience chills and fever in cycles.

The British would conduct experiments with quinine as a malaria treatment by force-feeding it to the prisoners. This caused severe side effects.

The British would make use of locals as warders, who wore sashes and carried canes. I'd imagine they could probably be quite brutal.

Pershoe is a small town on the River Avon near Worcester. It has a railway station with an hourly service to London, taking just under two hours today.

"Chapel-going" in this context means that the people attended a non-conformist church i.e. not one part of the Church of England.

"Taking the Queen's/King's shilling" was a historical term for joining the armed forces - for the army this was officially voluntary, but sailors could be forcibly recruited, being known as "press-ganged" until 1815. You would be given the shilling upon initial enlistment or tricked into taking it via it being slipped into your opaque beer. You would return the shilling on your formal attestation and then receive a bounty which could be pretty substantial in terms of the average wage, although a good amount of that would then be spent on your uniform. Some enlisted, deserted and then reenlisted multiple times to get multiple payments. The practice officially stopped in 1879, but the slang term remains.

The 3rd Buffs refers to the latter 3rd Battalion, Buffs (East Kent Regiment), a militia battalion that existed from 1760 to 1953, although it effectively was finished in 1919. However, in reality, they did not go to India to deal with the rebellion, instead staying in Great Britain to cover for the regular regiments who did.

The British never formally adopted the Prussian "goose step" instead going for the similar, but less high-kicking, slow march.

The musket would possibly have been the muzzle-loaded Enfield P53, a mass-produced weapon developed at the Royal Small Arms Factory in Enfield. It was itself was the trigger of the Indian Rebellion in 1857 due to the grease used in the cartridges. They would also be heavily used in the American Civil War on both sides, especially the Confederate one as they smuggled a lot of them, with only the Springfield Model 1861 being more widely used. As a result, they are highly sought after by re-enactors. The British used them until 1867, when they switched to the breech-loading Snider-Enfield, many of the P53s being converted.

The crocodile would likely have been a gharial, which mainly eat fish. Hunting and loss of habitat has reduced their numbers massively, with the species considered "Critically Endangered" by the IUCN.

"Coolie" is a term today considered offensive that was used to describe low-wage Indian or Chinese labourers who were sent around the world, basically to replace emancipated slaves. Indentured labourers, basically - something the US banned (except as a riminal punishment) along with slavery in 1865. In theory they were volunteers on a contract with rights and wages, however abuses were rife. Indentured labour would finally be banned in British colonies in 1917.

Indigo is a natural dark blue dye extracted from plants of the Indigofera genus; India produced a lot of it. Today, the dye (which makes blue jeans blue) is mostly produced synthetically.

I have covered the "Indian Mutiny" as the British called it here in my post on "The Crooked Man".

The Agra Fort dates back to 1530 and at 94 acres, it was pretty huge by any standards. Today, much of it is open to tourists (foreigners pay 650 rupees, Indians 50), although there are parts that remain in use by the Indian Army and are not for public access.

"Rajah" meaning king, referred to the many local Hindu monarchs in the Indian subcontinent; there were also Maharajahs or "great kings", who the British promoted loyal rajahs to the rank of. The Muslim equivalent was Nawab. However, a variety of other terms existed. The East India Company and the Raj that succeeded them used these local rulers to rule about a half their territory and a third of the population indirectly, albeit under quite a bit of influence from colonial officials. These rulers were vassals to the British monarch; they would collect taxes and enforce justice locally, although many of the states were pretty small (a handful of towns in some cases) and so they contracted this out to the British. As long as they remained loyal, they could get away with nearly anything.

562 of these rulers were present at the time of Indian independence in 1947. Effectively abandoned by the British (Louis Mountbatten, the last Viceroy, sending out contradictory messages), nearly all of them were persuaded to accede to the new India, where the nationalists were not keen on them, with promises they could keep their autonomy if they joined, but if not, India would not help them with any rebellions. Hyderabad, the wealthiest of the states, resisted and was annexed by force. The ruler of Jammu and Kashmir joined India in exchange for support against invading Pakistani forces, resulting in a war. A ceasefire agreement was reached at the beginning of 1949, with India controlling about two-thirds of the territory; the ceasefire line, with minor adjustments after two further wars in 1965 and 1971, would become known as the Line of Control, a dotted line on the map that is the de facto border and one of the tensest disputed frontiers on the planet.

India and Pakistan initially allowed the princely rulers to retain their autonomy, but this ended in 1956. In 1971 and 1972 respectively, their remaining powers and government funding were abolished.

Many of the former rulers ended up in a much humbler position, others retained strong local influence and a lot of wealth. The Nizam of Hyderbad, Mir Osman Ali Khan was allowed to keep his personal wealth and title after the annexation in 1948 - he had been the richest man in the world during his rule and used a 184-carat diamond as a paperweight, at least until he realised its actual value. The current "pretender", Azhmet Jah, has worked as a cameraman and filmmaker in Hollywood, including with Steven Spielberg.

[yourmumsc0ck]

NER KAR'TA (4)

"My heart"

'THE RECONCILE'

Summary: A time after the Purge, Bo-Katan runs into an old 'acquaintance' as she roams the galaxy alone

Bo-Katan Kryze x fem!ClanVizslaR

(Can be read individually)

Word count: 1.8k

"Imperial security checks ahead, have identichips ready. Imperial security checks ahead..." the monotonous drone of the announcement resonates from the speakers across the cramped street in a slightly unsynchronised echo. Being pulled along with the turbulent tide of city night goers, even Bo couldn't navigate her way out of the crowd that she had found herself so suddenly immersed in.

Despite the cloudless night sky far above, the overwhelming darkness of the atmosphere meant the permanent streams of starship underbelly lights replaced the static stars. The only sources of light at ground level came from boldly lit storefronts advertising all manners of exotic items. However, the cramped, high-walled street meant almost all of these lights were permanently obscured by curtains of passers by or sheets of stiffly vertical rain.

"Understood," a stormtrooper states firmly to member of the crowd, whose figure was covered by a low-hanging, dark robe. The torrential rain pommels off every sky-facing surface, which includes Bo's exposed head. As dripping auburn hair falls into her face and obscures her view, the former Mand'alor only catches a glimpse of the dark figure merging back into the sea of people.

Helmet firmly under her arm and cloak, Bo focuses on finding her way out of this situation: she has no identification, and any facial scan would send her straight to the ISB for definite execution. She hadn't battled this long through her life to lose at surprise ID checkpoint.

Slowly inching her way to the right side of the street, she finds herself uncomfortably close to the row of stormtroopers attentively monitoring the process. Bo knew she had to make a break for it soon.

Looking up a little, she hopes her semi-clear view of the galaxy above would not be her last. It was too soon to say goodbye.

Inhaling deeply and grasping the hilt of her holstered hand blaster, Bo steps out of the crowd and tries to slip away between two groups. Despite her efforts, it was almost inevitable that she would be spotted.

"Hey! You there!" the slight augmented voice of a trooper calls out sharply as he lifts his blaster, "Stop where you are!"

Revealing her fire arm, Bo shoots before he can, the pinpoint shot sending him into a crumpled heap.

"Stop!-"

Another falls to her blaster shot, but she hadn't expected the reinforcements to surround her with such quick coordination.

"Hands up! Drop your weapon!" the stormtrooper ahead of her yells.

Bo refuses: she won't go down so easily.

"I said: hands up-" the man continues, taking two steps forward. Bo raises her blaster quickly, ready to fire, "Drop it-"

"Stop!" a strangely familiar voice cuts through the already turbulent situation. To her left, Bo watches with confusion as the hooded figure from earlier emerges. In the fractured darkness of the street, their face is still obscured, "I am ISB Lieutenant Paxton, and this rebel is under my custody."

'Oh, kriff," Bo thinks with a sense of almost humorous dread, "Maybe I should've got myself shot."

"Sir, may I see some identification?" the nearest one asks with a deep, clipped tone.

There's a moment's pause, before the figure responds, "Yes... if you must."

Holding out the indentichip for examination, the trooper quickly stiffens and holds his blaster to his side, "Sorry, sir. Would you like an accompanying guard, sir?"

"No, that won't be necessary, trooper," the voice dismisses him, before approaching Bo in two measured steps, "This rebel will not attempt to fight me, if she knows what's best for."

"Very well, sir."

"You are dismissed," the others all hurry away. Arm suddenly twisted behind her back, Bo finds herself being pushed forcefully down a deserted alley way, winding through a maze of identically depressive streets.

"Get off me, you-" surprisingly, the supposed ISB agent lets go before even having to complete her demand. Bo watches the still-concealed figure, before asking with indigent confusion, "Who are you?"

"You are a very different woman to find, Kryze," you respond slowly, watching as her eyes search desperately under your hood for any glimpse of your appearance.

"Who are you?" she asks again, slowing and emphasising each word. You can see why she was such an intimidating Mand'alor.

"I got word from various contacts of a 'lone Mandalorian female with blue and white armour'. It had to be you," you continue, "didn't make the journey to track you any shorter. Like really, Canto Bight? Daiyu?"

Bo pauses, as if realising that this person is no ordinary bounty hunter or recruiter. However, they also couldn't be from the Empire. This time, with caution and deep thought to her words, she asks again, "...Who are you?"

You let out a slight huff: you thought she might have worked it out herself. With the rain still pouring between you like a thick, translucent pane of scratched glass, you tug down your hood and immediately feel the pummelling droplets cascading over every inch of your exposed head.

Despite being able to see her for the past few minutes, it's different to see her when she can see you as well. It had been so long, yet she and her gaze had changed so little. Both her gaze for people, and her gaze for you.

"...Mesh'la?" she takes a tentative step forwards, watching you as intently as she always did. However, this time you can see into her eyes as well (something which her heavily guarded persona used to conceal so steadfastly). She appears almost... nervous. But how could that be?

"Bo- I-" your words catch. Despite practicing a whole range of ways this could go, all memory of that preparation was lost down the gutter along with the tidal curtains of sweeping rain. As she takes another step, it's apparent that she is becoming even clearer; every curve and ridge of her face was so familiar.

"You died..." she mumbles, her face falling to a concernedly disappointed one as she almost appears to be trying to wake herself from a vision of sorts. That wasn't quite how you saw this going. You had had your fair share of near-lethal run ins with the Empire, but none that- oh...

Tenad 3 Major: a run of the mill, mid-rim trade port which had an unusually lucrative cargo going through it a few years ago. Now, to all of your sources - including your initial informant and semi-boss at the time - it was barely guarded with anything more than a couple of TIEs. Easy work. Except... it really wasn't. A few mistimed proton bombs and another volatile cargo shipment (doing what volatile shipments do) later, and the Empire had declared you dead. Or, 'perished with indistinguishable incineration' was there exact phrasing.

"Tenad was a mess, but I'm fine..." the vast burn marks from the proton blast and general anarchy said differently. However, with some backstreet modshop appointments and a few too many of those bacta viles later, and you looked significantly less like fried Bantha fodder than before. Didn't mean you felt less like it though.

"Your ear..." of course she noticed so quickly. With a face of pure concern, her exposed fingertips reach up to brush the freezing, rain-covered metal surface.

Despite keeping it exposed because you thought it looked pretty badass, you begin feel slightly insecure. What if she doesn't like it? It's not very Mandalorian, is it?, "I've been meaning to, uh, cover it up, but- but I-"

"I like it, cyar'ika," she smiles lightly, the slight tense in her jaw and static nature of her eyes telling you she hadn't done that in a while. But you loved the sight. Tracing around the shape, her finger follows down to where the metal binds back with the skin by your jaw. As she crosses the boundary, you shiver at the contact, "It's been so long... I feel like I know nothing about you anymore."

"You know everything important, cyare," you lean slightly into her touch. There's a clear Rancor in the room however, so you decide to get it over with, "I'm so sorry... about the Purge, that is... I- you..."

She notices how you get lost again, choking up at the thought of losing your home so permanently beyond your reach. For you, Mandalore was not a place; it was foremost a people. And those people were so brutally gone.

"It wasn't the planet... it was my clan; my people beyond that. I was lost, but I still slept. That was, until I hear you were dead, and I never even got the chance to protect you..." you step forward as her eyes glaze, knowing this moment of such vivid vulnerability was something she wasn't used to. You grab her free hand, pulling away layers of the rain between you until it is only a thin veil, "All I could see was your burning armour, and smoke, and a wreckage, and you just being gone, and-"

"Shh, cyare..." you reach your hand up to her rain-soaked cheek and hold it with tantalising delicacy as you ghost your finger over the edge of her cheek bone. The dim night - interrupted intermittently by dashing streaks of transport lights above - condenses and confines itself into the high-walled, cramped alley like a compressed blanket, pushing you even further together. You breath, "One day, you will balance those nights lost with ones of pure nothingness. And I will be here... if you want me, that is."

She lets out a huffed laugh, a playfully sad smile toying on her lips, "Of course I want you, mesh'la."

Your tracing stops as you fix your position. A silent conversation passes between you, just as you imagine the mystical force to allow the Jedi to do the same. It's paralysingly small between you, however the tumbling torrents of rain still find gaps to trickle through. That and half a breath of air are all that is between you.

"You still have it," you sort of blurt out as you notice the fragment of rugged, red stone you had given her as a parting gift now hanging around her neck on a black chain.

She smiles softly, though a sad tinge creeps up and down-turns her eyes a fraction, "I couldn't hope to close my eyes for a minute without it."

There's no dramatic crash, nor are jumping sparks between you. Instead, it feels homely. The familiar feeling of your closeness had been in everything but the physical nature. The lack of rain between you had left a warm silence to enclose around you like a swaddling blanket. Neither of you deepen the tantalising connection, allowing the light brushes and urge for air to bring you back to reality.

Bo finally tilts her chin down, her forehead resting on yours, "All this time..."

"I didn't live..." you breath deeply, "because I can't live without ner kar'ta (my heart)."

Aww, wasn't that cute. Anyway, that's the end so check out the rest of the series if you haven't already!!

[thewingedbaron]

Owlcatober Day Seven: Lamplight

A bit of a late entry tonight. I love to use these prompts as an excuse to establish little lore tidbits. Who could have sent this late night visitor? What does our Knight Commander have to hide?

This one might have some errors, its very late, but I told myself I was going to do my best to do these every day, so here we are. I hope you enjoy the results of diving way too deep into Pathfinder's lore to creatre character backstory :)

A Knife In the Dark (1,052 words)

Fandom: Pathfinder Wrath of the Righteous

Warnings: Violence

Read here under the cut, or on Ao3 :)

Camp was always quiet this time of night. Some crusaders still moved between tens, swapping stories, sharing unapproved bottles of booze, or gambling away the hours with decks and dice. Out on the perimeter, the sentries walked their rounds until their feet kicked up the grass and left a bare path in the earth somewhere between their fiftieth and hundredth pass.

Light spilled across the grass from the Knight Commander’s tent. It seemed like the lamps were always lit, no matter the time of night. The general staff and their aids came and went, dropping off reports, checking the large map of the World Wound that lay perpetually pinned to the grand table in the center of the space. Vysk rubbed her weary eyes, holding off sleep for just a little longer as she poured over the day’s reports. Supplies were down, tensions were high. The crusaders were apprehensive about the final run to Drezen, but for now, their faith in the Gods and their Commander held. There were no desertions to be reported tonight. Small blessings, she supposed. 

“How did we end up here?” Vysk wondered aloud, shuffling the same stack of reports around the table. “From pirates to demons huh?” 

In the corner of the tent, a mass of feathers and fur shifted in acknowledgement of her words. A single eye reflected the low lamplight as Jester fixed her with a concerned glance, cooing softly. 

“I’ll sleep soon.” Vysk smiled, suppressing a yawn. “Just one more stack of scouting reports to get through and I swear…” her voice trailing as the yawn won her over. 

Across the tent, Jester stood, ruffling his feathers out like a cat. He slowly unfurled his wings, nearly touching the sides of the tent as he stretched. Vysk grinned at her hippogriff, her oldest friend. 

“Go back to sleep buds.” She whispered. “Just because I have to be subjected to a tide of paperwork doesn’t mean you need to suffer with me.” 

Jester cooed softly, cocking his head as he took in the sounds of the night. Vysk watched him for a long moment, an amused smile on her lips. Exhaustion tugged at her eyelids. Perhaps that was the reason she nearly missed Jester’s alert. 

The hippogriff stiffened, hooked talons gripping the earth beneath him as if ready to launch himself forward as his head snapped to the back of the tent. A long tear had appeared in the cloth, silently ripping its way down the wall just behind the Knight Commander. Following Jester’s gaze, Vysk threw herself forward, hands automatically reaching for the axes on her waist. She could feel the air on her back as a dagger flashed, mere inches from her flesh. 

Stepping through the rip was a spindly figure. Their body was wrapped in tight leather armor, stained as dark as shadow with a single red sash braided into the gauntlets. Their head and face were concealed behind a black mask that covered all but their eyes, which gleamed with anger. Vysk didn’t stop to consider the implications of the assassin’s presence as she launched into action, unclipping and hurdling an ax at her attacker with one smooth movement. To her surprise, the assassin simply ducked under the projectile and launched themselves at her with reckless abandon. The blow might have landed, were it not for the fully grown hippogriff that shoulder checked the stranger mid air, sending them flying across the tent. 

The ax reappeared on Vysk’s belt in the same moment that the assassin rolled, smoothly regaining their feet. For a moment, they both stood frozen, each sizing the other up, waiting for the next move in the dance. A blur of feathers shot past Vysk as Jester flashed past, beak open in a scream of rage. The assassin dipped under the hippogriff’s gnashing beak, slamming their dagger home into the creature’s shoulder. Jester took the blow without comment, instead using his momentum to carry him into his opponent, knocking them clear of their feet. As they fell, they tried to roll again, coming up right into the path of Vysk’s ax.

There was nowhere to go. With a sickening crunch, the ax buried itself into the assassin’s neck, dropping them on the spot. The entire encounter had lasted little more than six seconds from the first blow to the last. Even then, Vysk collapsed into a nearby chair, hand pressed against her chest as adrenaline surged through her body. Her backside had hardly hit the chair before she was buried in a mound of feathers and fur.

“I’m okay buds,” She rasped. “I’m okay. Let me see that shoulder alright?”

“Knight Commander!” The half armored form of Irabeth surged into her tent, sword drawn. “We heard a commotion. Is everything alright?” 

Vysk waved her off. “There was an attack. I’m okay.” She said, forcing her voice to remain steady. “My attacker however.” 

Irabeth’s eyes landed on the body, slowly seeping blood onto the ground. She nodded. “I am glad you are unharmed. Anviea is performing a sweep of the camp, I will remain here until we are certain there are no more.”

“Thank you.” 

Irabeth nodded, stalking over to the body, sword still drawn. The frown on her face only grew deeper as she leaned over it. 

“This is no cultist. I do not recognize these markings, unless it is a sect we have not seen before.” 

“I doubt it.” Vysk replied, forcing herself to stand. She carefully picked her way over to the body, grimacing at the odd angle of the broken neck and scattered limbs. Irabeth pulled back the assassin’s mask, revealing the face of a young human woman with short cropped hair. Vysk leaned closer, slowly unthreading the red sash from one of the woman’s gauntlets. As she suspected, it held a small icon of a crown and anchor, etched in gold. 

“It seems even here, at the end of the world, I cannot escape the Red Queen’s assassins.” She muttered. Irabeth gave her a concerned glance. 

“Commander?” 

Vysk waved her off. “I’m sorry, Captain. I have not been the most forthcoming with you, I hope that you can forgive me for that. Would you be so kind as to summon your darling wife and my advisors? It’s time I told you about my home.”

[cb-writes-stuff]

Other worldbuilding question!

What are the landmarks of Kem lon-Dalan, like what’s the structures that kids say to meet up at cause people know where they are

I’m glad you asked! Again!

Gates are very common meeting places. There’s the North Gate, which is exactly what it sounds like: the gate leading north out of the city. Likewise, there’s the East Gate. The so-called “East District” is the part of Kem lon-Dalan atop the Brother (the eastern cliff of the Twins). It’s kind of a pain to get there, though. Your options are go around the cliff, or climb stairs. In contrast, the Sister (the western cliff) just has fortifications for defensive purposes.

The Market District runs along the western edge of the city and has three gates, namely the High Market Gate in the north, the Low Market Gate in the south, and just the plain Market Gate in between those two. (There used to be a high wall around the Market District, like there is around the Living District. Since the wall was torn down centuries ago, all that’s left are arches with gates that just always stay open, hardly more than ornamental.) There’s also the docks, of course.

The Living District is a big bulk of a district in the southeast of the city, pressing against the cliff and coast. It has three gates as well, the Pearl Gate in the northeast, the Iron Gate in the northwest, and the Dirt Gate in the west. Different parts of the Living District are nicer and more expensive to live in, and the name of the gate generally corresponds to how nice or not nice it is.

I am tired of talking about gates. If I have to say gate one more time, I’m going to scream.

The Red Beach is, as the name implies, a walled-off beach with red sand. According to the stories, a king from a far off land came ashore on that beach, riding a tide of his enemies’ blood. Natives know that it’s really an execution ground. Old traditions saw that those on death row had their blood drained onto the beach after death. That hasn’t been done for a long time, though, and the smell of iron is gone. It’s still entirely red, which is both disgusting and terrifying. Great for dumb kids to test their courage. It’s smack dab in the center of the coast, quite possibly the least welcoming sight for visitors.

The Veika ta-Lilasen is the grand square below the steps of the Veika ir-Jai, the palace of the tyrant king who supposedly ruled the entire Vandeth Desert some 1500 years ago. The stories go that a star fell to the teph*, where the Veika ta-Lilasen would be built, hence the name: “The Star with Us”**. Apparently, the tyrant king used the star to create not only the Veika ir-Jai—Wisdom’s Star—but the whole of Kem lon-Dalan, all on his own. But that’s preposterous. A story is all it is.

*The planet’s name is Teph (/tef/). If there’s a word with “earth” in it, it’s replaced with “teph”.

**The Vandeth language has no articles; rather, they are inferred from context.

And yeah! Those are some of the major landmarks in Kem lon-Dalan. There’s probably others, but to be totally honest, I haven’t thought of those yet.

[stanislawkowalski]

LUKA & LOVE

Luka’s relationship with love is akin to a traveler who had been lost in a desert for years, only to stumble upon an oasis and find it a mirage. Love, in its raw and unfiltered form, is a treacherous beast he could neither tame nor understand. For him, love was, is and will be a landscape of shifting sands—one moment a comforting balm, the next a scalding desert sun. It torments him, licks his wounds one day and pours salt into them the next.

His early experiences with love had been nothing but a series of broken promises and hollow words, etched into the fabric of his reality. The world Luka inhabited was painted in shades of violence, death, and deception. Each day was a precarious balance, navigating through lies and shadows. In this world, he learned that affection was a currency too costly, too dangerous.

Luka’s cold demeanour was not born out of natural inclination but rather forged in the crucible of relentless suffering. His approach to love was a calculated defense, a shield he raised against the maelstrom of human emotion. To him, warmth and vulnerability were signs of weakness, a stark contrast to the unyielding strength required to survive in his world. He cultivated an air of indifference, masking the searing fear that lay beneath—a fear that love, with all its promises and perils, would strip him of his carefully constructed armour.

Nastka had been a revelation, an unsettling storm that swept through Luka's meticulously ordered life. Their love had been a new territory, unfamiliar and daunting. It was a paradox of passion and pain, of exhilarating highs and crushing lows. Luka felt exposed in Nastka's presence, like a raw nerve laid bare, and it terrified him. The genuine affection he felt was a vulnerability he had never allowed himself to experience before, and it was precisely this rawness that drove him to destroy it. The very thing that had the power to heal him was also the one that could destroy him.

His departure from Nastka was not merely an act of ending a relationship but a desperate attempt to obliterate the dangerous allure of unrestrained love. Luka sought to protect himself from the torment of unfulfilled promises and the sting of betrayal, even if it meant severing the tender threads of connection that had briefly intertwined their lives. To Luka, this was a necessary destruction—a means to reclaim his control, to escape from the unpredictable tides of affection that he felt he could not navigate.

Now, as Luka moves through life with his walls intact, the echoes of his past linger like ghosts. He walks among the vibrant and the joyful with a façade of detachment, aware that beneath it all lies a broken man. The raw love he once knew with Nastka has left its mark, a bittersweet reminder of what he lost and why he must remain guarded. Luka's world is one of calculated distance and controlled interactions, a painful testament to his struggle with a force that both fascinates and terrifies him.

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

10th December >> Mass Readings (USA)

Second Sunday of Advent, Year B

(Liturgical Colour: Violet: B (2))

First Reading Isaiah 40:1–5, 9–11 Prepare the way of the Lord.

Comfort, give comfort to my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and proclaim to her that her service is at an end, her guilt is expiated; indeed, she has received from the hand of the LORD double for all her sins.

A voice cries out: In the desert prepare the way of the LORD! Make straight in the wasteland a highway for our God! Every valley shall be filled in, every mountain and hill shall be made low; the rugged land shall be made a plain, the rough country, a broad valley. Then the glory of the LORD shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together; for the mouth of the LORD has spoken.

Go up onto a high mountain, Zion, herald of glad tidings; cry out at the top of your voice, Jerusalem, herald of good news! Fear not to cry out and say to the cities of Judah: Here is your God! Here comes with power the Lord GOD, who rules by his strong arm; here is his reward with him, his recompense before him. Like a shepherd he feeds his flock; in his arms he gathers the lambs, carrying them in his bosom, and leading the ewes with care.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 85:9–10, 11–12, 13–14

R/ Lord, let us see your kindness, and grant us your salvation.

I will hear what God proclaims; the LORD—for he proclaims peace to his people. Near indeed is his salvation to those who fear him, glory dwelling in our land.

R/ Lord, let us see your kindness, and grant us your salvation.

Kindness and truth shall meet; justice and peace shall kiss. Truth shall spring out of the earth, and justice shall look down from heaven.

R/ Lord, let us see your kindness, and grant us your salvation.

The LORD himself will give his benefits; our land shall yield its increase. Justice shall walk before him, and prepare the way of his steps.

R/ Lord, let us see your kindness, and grant us your salvation.

Second Reading 2 Peter 3:8–14 We await new heavens and a new earth.

Do not ignore this one fact, beloved, that with the Lord one day is like a thousand years and a thousand years like one day. The Lord does not delay his promise, as some regard “delay,” but he is patient with you, not wishing that any should perish but that all should come to repentance. But the day of the Lord will come like a thief, and then the heavens will pass away with a mighty roar and the elements will be dissolved by fire, and the earth and everything done on it will be found out.

Since everything is to be dissolved in this way, what sort of persons ought you to be, conducting yourselves in holiness and devotion, waiting for and hastening the coming of the day of God, because of which the heavens will be dissolved in flames and the elements melted by fire. But according to his promise we await new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells. Therefore, beloved, since you await these things, be eager to be found without spot or blemish before him, at peace.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Gospel Acclamation Luke 3:4, 6

Alleluia, alleluia. Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths: all flesh shall see the salvation of God. Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel Mark 1:1–8 Make straight the paths of the Lord.

The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ the Son of God. As it is written in Isaiah the prophet:

Behold, I am sending my messenger ahead of you; he will prepare your way. A voice of one crying out in the desert: “Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths.”

John the Baptist appeared in the desert proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. People of the whole Judean countryside and all the inhabitants of Jerusalem were going out to him and were being baptized by him in the Jordan River as they acknowledged their sins. John was clothed in camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist. He fed on locusts and wild honey. And this is what he proclaimed: “One mightier than I is coming after me. I am not worthy to stoop and loosen the thongs of his sandals. I have baptized you with water; he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

[yeehanfrf]

Week 16 Recs: You Don't Want Sand There

For Week 16, we're celebrating the start of summer in one hemisphere and maybe providing some warmth for anyone missing it in the other hemisphere!

I asked for "summer vibes" and y'all didn't disappoint. Behind the cut, you'll find the fics gathered from the Yeehan community, organized by rating and then alphabetically by title.

General Audiences

A Summer's Promise by Rikkichi [9,254 words]

Hanzo was there, kneeling down by the water, and he had some kind of bread with him. Hanzo was tearing off small pieces of the bread and tossing it to the water, letting the fish swallow the bites whole. During all of this, Hanzo had a smile on his face. A smile that Jesse had never seen before, but that he definitely liked. It looked way better than the scowls Hanzo had been wearing a few days prior when they had met for the first time. "Hey there," Jesse said, grinning as he waved to Hanzo. Upon hearing a voice, Hanzo looked up very quickly, acting like a child that had been caught in the cookie jar. As soon as he saw Jesse, though, the other boy scowled and moved to stand up. That was when Jesse realized he had disturbed some sort of private moment, and he felt a pang of guilt. Hanzo had been enjoying himself, so why was having someone else here a problem?

Teen and Up

Mid-Mission Summer Break by wyntera [4,609 words]

With an afternoon to kill, McCree encourages Hanzo to have a little fun.

Seas the Day by PersonalSpin [3,198 words]

Overwatch beach episode, written for the Summer Gift Exchange on the McHanzo Discord!

the turning of the tides by fishpoets [5,431 words]

The end of summer doesn't have to mean the end of summer love. (Or, Hanzo goes for a swim, has a haircut, and feels a lot of feelings.)

Explicit

a cold breeze, a warm sea by extra kanin (gracon_bacon) [4,458 words] Reccer comment: "only got one this time but it's about a sweet, sweet vacation on a private island"

When you have only two days off in a month, you make the most of it. For lack of anything better to do during his rare vacation, Hanzo decides to go to a remote island with McCree. It's a day he will never forget.

Away by Vimeddiee [29,154 words] Reccer comment: "Viv's 'Away' is a masterpiece so pls go read it"

Hanzo awakens to the feel of grit in his eyes and the crunch of sand between his teeth. This in itself doesn’t rudely force him into consciousness, but the insistent flicking against his nose that he groggily attempts to bat away, does. “High tide’s coming, you better nap someplace else.” AKA I wanted to write Cassidy as a slappy boy so I DID.

Binary by mataglap [4,380 words] Reccer comment: "when I thought 'what's a summer vibe?' I thought 'Cassidy pulling the ~popsicle maneuver'"

Hanzo is arrogant and Cassidy is stubborn, which results in the world's strangest game of chicken.

Catch and Release by robocryptid [19,481 words] Reccer comment: "Catch and Release, of course. Lifeguard Cassidy as a damsel in distress and cyberninja Hanzo as his swoon-inducing savior!"

Lifeguard Cassidy works at a beach currently being terrorized by an octopus-obsessed omnic. Cyberninja is on the scene!

Coyote Lovely by t_pock [WIP; 38,969 words] Reccer comment: "Coyote Lovely (t_pock) always gave me summer-in-the-desert vibes, even though I don't know if it's set in that season specifically. Either way, it's one of my favorites even though it's not completed."

After a mission gone wrong, Hanzo and McCree must lie low in New Mexico for a week. Together.

In the Summertime by ChillieBean [41,644 words]

Halfway around the world, Cole starts a new lifeguard gig at Bondi Beach, Australia. A destination on his bucket list, he was expecting rescues, keeping people safe, laughing and joking with the locals. He was not expecting Hanzo Shimada.

on a day like this (it feels like summer) by motorghost [WIP; 4,504 words] Reccer comment: "this one by motorghost breaks my heart bc it has the loveliest liminal vibes, but it was never finished :( it's still great as a one shot though!"

Cole enjoys cushy undercover work as a lifeguard on a small, calm beach with a handsome local fisherman, but summer can't last forever. Or can it?

Today is a fine day for... by hunahuna_un [4,058 words]

After getting away from people, he takes another – closer – look of the picture he received. It is from Hanzo. And it is a picture. Hanzo is still home, laying lazily at bed, fresh out of shower, hair still dripping wet – and the bastard knows how Jesse is weak for that – naked in all his glory, holding only a small towel over his crotch, hiding his goods. Bridge piercing between his dark eyes, that promise naughty things. The nipple rings shine from morning light and his skin is still wet with droplets. Jesse lets out contented sigh and feels his cheeks becoming even more red. He curses and grits his teeth. He can feel his swimwear becoming tighter as his front gets interested in the picture he just saw. That goddamn son of a bitch.

---

That's it for Week 16! I hope you're feeling the summer vibes! Thanks so much to everyone who submitted a recommendation.

If you find a fic you love using this rec list, be sure to leave the author kudos and a comment! Even "I found this fic because someone recced it" is a lovely thing to say.

Coming up for Week 17: "Better Get Comfy." This one is another word count rec week, where the only criterion is that the fic be between 25,000 and 50,000 words.

In the meantime, you can also check out the Week 15 recs here, or check the full list of past and future themes here.

---

Curious about the icon and some of the fic titles? This rec blog supports #EndOTWRacism, a fan campaign asking the AO3 to make good on its 2020 promises to address racist harassment on the site. Fans of color deserve to feel safe and welcome in fan spaces. To learn more, please visit @end-otw-racism and read their Call to Action.

[amandasgeekblog]

Don't Nod's Jusant Demo Review

Don't Nod recently announced its newest game Jusant by revealing its trailer during XBox Games Showcase 2023. Showing off impressively tall environments and highlighting somewhat otherworldly nature, it feels like a fresh setting for the studio. It was a beautiful and intriguing look into the surprise climbing video game due out this year. Lucky for us, Steam has a demo. Here are my thoughts.

Jusant's demo starts with the definition of the title. Jusant, a noun, is French for low tide. While cliche in an essay, I don’t mind this at all. I do not know French, and the demo likely doesn’t start at the very beginning of the game. It's low tide, and in this game, it’s implied a big unusual ebb.  One might miss that the desolate, incredibly tall, vertical climb is not your average desert. But beside the definition, there is the call of seagulls and areas of barnacles found on the climb. It’s a quiet game, in its isolation and sound. You can hear your breath, your hand as it grasps a ledge, the wind as it blows past your body. Jusant is almost devoid of music for the majority of the game, with subtle musical cues, and high impact when the music full of awe does come through. 

Besides the sounds, right off the bat, the visuals are great. The protagonist’s design has a brightness to it. The high saturation colors stand out from an arid landscape. The stylistic choice of no whites of the eyes makes the character design stand out. The interior environments seem to be an eclectic style of construction site, oceanic, and alien. These ad hoc scaffolding areas were built for all to climb because the low tide seemingly upheaved the locals' lives. No one outside of the player character is seen in the demo (save for glimpses of your little water-blob friend), but there are a few notes and text-based messages to be found. Those familiar with Don’t Nod’s massive hit Life is Strange or the lesser known Tell Me Why (available for free every Pride month) might wish for more interactivity of props. There is one “moment of reflection” as I like to call it, that is common in that genre, and it was peaceful. But if exploring via thoughts or item examination is lacking, that could be very intentional, Jusant’s genre is described as an action-puzzle climbing game on their website. However, Jusant is also tagged as an action-adventure game on Steam. So, it will have to be examined in the full game if the adventure elements are lighter.

I know, I know. Let’s get to the gameplay: climbing! Apologies in advance to those who boulder or rock climb that might suffer through my lack of knowledge and clunky wording. Another note: I used a controller, and it is highly recommended that you do. Climbing feels pretty good. The left hand is the left trigger, and the right hand is the right trigger. I wouldn’t say the controls are floaty, but I do feel like the experience is a little smoothed. The protagonist feels like a strong climber. It is easy to get a good flow in the beginning of the demo with an abundance of available handholds. The player can “look” with one of the joysticks to direct where they reach. Stamina is no worry at all in the start of the demo. Once embarking on some longer climbs or when jumping is needed, you’ll have to watch your gauge. The protagonist will also breathe a little heavier for a diegetic reminder to rest. While on a climb, simply clicking your left joystick down lets you rest just about anywhere. The character is shown shaking out the hands, which is fun and a thing I have seen real climbers do. I did not see what an actual fail state looked like, but when stamina was dire, there was heart racing and red blinking on the stamina meter. 

There’s more depth to the aspects of the gameplay, like with the length of your rope, and adding pitons along the way so you don’t fall too far and lose too much progress if you lose grip. There’s elements of rappelling and ascending that are not realistic to physics, but fun for a game. Sometimes you need to descend or do a sort of wallrunning move to reach the next set of handholds. The demo explored mostly straightforward navigational routes except for a couple trickier spots closer to the end. From the trailer it seems more puzzle elements will be introduced. For example, growing, flowering stalks can take you higher, and seemingly magically-appearing vegetation can sprout into handholds.

Don’t Nod bills this game as a meditative climbing game in nature. I do think they will deliver that. The scenes and landscapes are really vast while on the climb. There doesn’t seem to be anything to rush you on your climb, and the visuals and music are calming. You explore a desert-like landscape in the demo, but there seems to be more biomes that will be explored throughout the game.

Any negatives or issues? 

Handholds are not always the clearest, I do not have an issue with this myself but people with low vision may have trouble. A highlighted or more contrasted color scheme setting could be good for others

There was some graphical stuttering on my PC a few times (for reference I have RTX 2070, Ryzen 7 2700x). But to be honest, I don’t know much about PCs or running games.

I feel like once the panting audio to indicate lower stamina got stuck even after I rested. 

Hints were repetitive, but this is a demo, and there was a setting to turn it off, so this is all good

You might wish more in the interiors were interactive

The pros: 

Fun to climb, intuitive. Which is good, that’s the main mechanic!

Lovely style, saturated hues contrasted with expansive and more realistic landscapes.

Quiet game, relaxing. An hour passed without me noticing!

Potential to have unique lore, something different

Jusant is planned to release Fall 2023 on XBox Series X|S, Playstation 5, and Steam. Get the demo on Steam now.

[heriugena]

"Ruin seize thee, ruthless King!

Confusion on thy banners wait,

Tho' fann'd by Conquest's crimson wing

They mock the air with idle state.

Helm, nor hauberk's twisted mail,

Nor even thy virtues, tyrant, shall avail

To save thy secret soul from nightly fears,

From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears!"

Such were the sounds, that o'er the crested pride

Of the first Edward scatter'd wild dismay,

As down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side

He wound with toilsome march his long array.

Stout Glo'ster stood aghast in speechless trance;

To arms! cried Mortimer, and couch'd his quiv'ring lance.

On a rock, whose haughty brow

Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood,

Rob'd in the sable garb of woe,

With haggard eyes the poet stood;

(Loose his beard, and hoary hair

Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air)

And with a master's hand, and prophet's fire,

Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre;

"Hark, how each giant-oak, and desert cave,

Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath!

O'er thee, O King! their hundred arms they wave,

Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe;

Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day,

To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.

"Cold is Cadwallo's tongue,

That hush'd the stormy main;

Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed:

Mountains, ye mourn in vain

Modred, whose magic song

Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-topp'd head.

On dreary Arvon's shore they lie,

Smear'd with gore, and ghastly pale:

Far, far aloof th' affrighted ravens sail;

The famish'd eagle screams, and passes by.

Dear lost companions of my tuneful art,

Dear, as the light that visits these sad eyes,

Dear, as the ruddy drops that warm my heart,

Ye died amidst your dying country's cries—

No more I weep. They do not sleep.

On yonder cliffs, a griesly band,

I see them sit, they linger yet,

Avengers of their native land:

With me in dreadful harmony they join,

And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line:—

"'Weave the warp, and weave the woof,

The winding sheet of Edward's race.

Give ample room, and verge enough

The characters of hell to trace.

Mark the year, and mark the night,

When Severn shall re-echo with affright

The shrieks of death, thro' Berkley's roofs that ring,

Shrieks of an agonising King!

She-Wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs,

That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled mate,

From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs

The scourge of Heav'n. What terrors round him wait!

Amazement in his van, with Flight combin'd,

And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind.

"'Mighty victor, mighty lord,

Low on his funeral couch he lies!

No pitying heart, no eye, afford

A tear to grace his obsequies.

Is the Sable Warrior fled?

Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead.

The swarm, that in thy noon-tide beam were born?

Gone to salute the rising Morn.

Fair laughs the Morn, and soft the Zephyr blows,

While proudly riding o'er the azure realm

In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes;

Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm;

Regardless of the sweeping Whirlwind's sway,

That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening prey.

"'Fill high the sparkling bowl,

The rich repast prepare;

Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast.

Close by the regal chair

Fell Thirst and Famine scowl

A baleful smile upon their baffled guest.

Heard ye the din of battle bray,

Lance to lance, and horse to horse?

Long years of havoc urge their destin'd course

And thro' the kindred squadrons mow their way.

Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame,

With many a foul and midnight murther fed,

Revere his consort's faith, his father's fame,

And spare the meek usurper's holy head.

Above, below, the rose of snow,

Twined with her blushing foe, we spread:

The bristled Boar in infant-gore

Wallows beneath the thorny shade.

Now, brothers, bending o'er th' accursed loom

Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom.

"'Edward, lo! to sudden fate

(Weave we the woof. The thread is spun)

Half of thy heart we consecrate.

(The web is wove. The work is done.)'

Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlorn

Leave me unbless'd, unpitied, here to mourn!

In yon bright track, that fires the western skies!

They melt, they vanish from my eyes.

But oh! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height

Descending slow their glitt'ring skirts unroll?

Visions of glory, spare my aching sight,

Ye unborn Ages, crowd not on my soul!

No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail.

All-hail, ye genuine kings, Britannia's issue, hail!

"Girt with many a baron bold

Sublime their starry fronts they rear;

And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old

In bearded majesty appear.

In the midst a form divine!

Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-line;

Her lion-port, her awe-commanding face,

Attemper'd sweet to virgin-grace.

What strings symphonious tremble in the air,

What strings of vocal transport round her play!

Hear from the grave, great Taliessin, hear;

They breathe a soul to animate thy clay.

Bright Rapture calls, and soaring, as she sings,

Waves in the eye of Heav'n her many-colour'd wings.

"The verse adorn again

Fierce War, and faithful Love,

And Truth severe, by fairy Fiction drest.

In buskin'd measures move

Pale Grief, and pleasing Pain,

With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast.

A voice, as of the cherub-choir,

Gales from blooming Eden bear;

And distant warblings lessen on my ear,

That lost in long futurity expire.

Fond impious man, think'st thou, yon sanguine cloud,

Rais'd by thy breath, has quench'd the orb of day?

To-morrow he repairs the golden flood,

And warms the nations with redoubled ray.

Enough for me: with joy I see

The different doom our Fates assign.

Be thine Despair, and scept'red Care,

To triumph, and to die, are mine."

He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height

Deep in the roaring tide he plung'd to endless night.

[a-mad-scientists-writing]

A Bygone Era (4)

Chapter 4: Blood

1 2 3 4 5 6

AO3 P1 P2 P3 P4

The eclipse passes virtually unnoticed. By nightfall, the Earth Kingdom forces are severely rattled. Most of their high command is dead.

Bliss survived his attack, but he was one of the only ones who did. Voids have been created, and the promotion of less experienced, less qualified men is necessary to fill them.

Ghastly, Hopeless, and Ravel all push to be sent on a rescue mission for Skulduggery. They get word to Larrikin, and he joins them without further prompting. High command faces the choice of whether or not to send them in pursuit of a very effective leader, precious few of whom they have left. The argument in favour is tempered by the blow to the Earth Kingdom’s confidence, and their unsurety of what they can achieve. In a single day, the turning tide of the war has been completely reversed.

The choice is made for them when Ravel, the best with words and the default for dealing with superiors, flatly states that they aren’t asking for permission. The operation is going to go ahead with or without the generals’ consent; this is just a courtesy notification.

The bluster dies down and the high command, not wishing to have to deal with deserters only days after this disaster (especially from soldiers as highly commended as these four), hastily approve the mission. The only question now is, why was Skulduggery taken prisoner when everyone else was killed?

The answer, Ghastly suspects, once signs start pointing to Serpine having been the one to take Skulduggery, is that Serpine is a sadistic monster who needs entertainment to keep from getting bored. A whole new urgency is lent to the mission.

ʘ

Infiltrating the Fire Nation colonies, where Serpine has made his stronghold, is relatively easy. Getting close to the stronghold itself is a different matter.

It is, obviously, heavily fortified. Several days of recon yield no viable entry points. The only way in or out is the main gate, but when it opens it can be seen that a wide court with firebenders and archers lining the battlements, ready to fire at the first sign of something wrong, stands in the way. No doubt the interior of the place itself is just as heavily guarded.

There is one idea they have: the supply carts that run in and out of the place. One of the four soldiers could sneak in and break Skulduggery out by themselves.

‘And then do a masterful impression of a blazing hedgehog, what with being on fire and shot full of arrows,’ Larrikin muses.

No, they have no idea what’s waiting for them inside, or what condition Skulduggery will be in when they find him, so it’s all of them or none of them. They could hijack a cart, but then how would they prove their status as Fire Nation citizens to be allowed in? Getting fake documents will take more time, and Skulduggery has already been held for weeks; who knows how much time he has left.

Momentarily defeated, they journey back to the nearest colony village to lie low and plan.

ʘ

One day, Ghastly is recognised by a soldier. His scars make him very memorable, and this particular soldier has fought him before. He raises the alarm and the group scatters, rendezvousing at the old abandoned hut by the river.

Except the hut isn’t abandoned.

After a lot of shouting, panic, some insults, and excellent observational skills on the part of Hopeless, it emerges that the firebender inhabiting the hut isn’t a soldier anymore. He’s wearing civvies over his de-armoured uniform, and the insignia has been torn off. He’s a deserter- the first to ever make it out alive, and his name is Dexter Vex.

He agrees to help them. He’s been finding ways to sabotage the Fire Nation for years, ever since he steered his ship away from the fleet and abandoned it before his crew knew what was happening. Ghastly, Ravel, and Hopeless think back to the captain-less vessel they boarded one fateful night several years ago.

Dexter still has the armour for his uniform, which will cover his missing insignia, so he can masquerade as the ‘suppliers’’ military escort. The mission goes ahead, and the five of them are inside the stronghold by nightfall.

ʘ

Even when he’s not weak from the torture, Skulduggery finds it difficult to move. The grief and despair took him over when he first woke up in the stronghold, and for the first few weeks he was sure he would die in there, and didn’t care much.

The lightning missed his heart, and Serpine decided to roll with it rather than re-aim and try for a second killing blow. There were some waterbenders also being held prisoner, and they were made to heal him. The jagged star of a scar still burns on his chest, but again, for the first few weeks, he didn’t care.

Then, very slowly, he started to get angry. Fury filled him more with each of Serpine’s visits. Now, he summons enough energy to let it out.

The iron shackles drop from his wrists, twisted into uselessness, and reshape into wickedly sharp darts. Skulduggery forces himself up, and rips apart the cell door with them. Then he goes looking for Serpine. He wants destruction, so he’ll destroy, and he’ll start with Serpine’s stronghold.

ʘ

The infiltrators are understandably concerned when the stronghold suddenly goes into high alert, but it quickly becomes clear that it’s not because of them.

They follow the shouting back outside and find dozens of firebenders struggling to defend against a towering inferno of flame. The entire west wing of the facility is already ablaze, and the battlements have been scorched bare of soldiers and archers. Lightning flashes out from the centre of the maelstrom, exploding a section of wall, and that’s when they realise there’s a person in the middle, and who that person is.

‘You never told me your friend was a firebender!’ Dexter shouts over the roar. They shake their heads. They didn’t know.

Reinforcements flood in, and lightning or swathes of fire meet them. Serpine isn’t among them, and Ghastly can guess that’s who Skulduggery really wants. He yells to Skulduggery that it’s time to go, that Serpine’s long gone by now. The fire begins to die down, and Dexter clears a path through it so that they can reach him.

Skulduggery is unconscious when they get there. Ravel and Larrikin drag him out through the exploded wall while Dexter, Ghastly, and Hopeless cover their escape.

ʘ

Once again, the squad is on the run, in little shape to fight, while Fire Nation soldiers hunt them.

Skulduggery was not careful when he set that firestorm going, and he’s covered in burns, never mind all his other injuries and starvation. They do what they can for him, following the river north, heading out of colony territory.

When Skulduggery wakes up again, he’s different to the man they followed back to his village weeks ago. He’s grimmer, and quicker to anger. The grimness will, in time, gradually fade, but while the anger will be kept under control, it won’t disappear. At the moment, he’s angry at many things: the patrols, the hiding, his weakness, Serpine, himself. More than once, the tree he’s supporting himself on at a rest stop begins to smoulder.

Dexter sees this, and after the second time asks questions, starting with who trained him. Skulduggery tells the truth. No one. Everyone takes this to mean he didn’t know he was a firebender before being captured. As such, Dexter offers to train him, show him some techniques to stop him from firebending accidentally (and giving away their position).

He’s not expecting the immediacy of Skulduggery’s affirmative response. Everyone else is surprised too. For days, Skulduggery has only spoken when spoken to, and hasn’t expressed anything close to enthusiasm or interest. 

The squad travels by night, but at dawn Dexter and Skulduggery are always found sitting opposite each other in meditative stances, eyes closed and breathing as they focus on the sun.

ʘ

Near the border between the colonies and the Earth Kingdom they almost walk right into a Fire Nation camp. In fact, the only reason the soldiers don’t notice the squad is because of a startled squawk from the top of a hill, and the presence of a water tribe warrior rolling into their midst.

The man’s momentum flings him to his feet. Everyone is startled- the soldiers, the group covertly trying to sneak away, and especially the man. No one knows how to react.

Then a Fire Nation soldier stands up, the man yells and conks him out with a metal boomerang, and all hell is unleashed. Skulduggery and the others are jumping into the fray before they know it, and another water tribe man is cursing and sliding down the hill after his friend.

Somehow, they all escape, running after the water tribesmen towards their boat, and making sail quick enough to break records. They each jump aboard, Dexter at the rear, and as soon as his feet touch the deck the larger water tribe man turns and punches him out cold. He’s still wearing his Fire Navy uniform.

The others are quick to straighten things out. Dexter is grumpy.

The big man is Anton Shudder, prince of the Northern Water Tribe. He’s even grimmer than Skulduggery and a powerful waterbender, not born one but granted the ability when his life was saved as a child by the Ocean Spirit. The other man is Saracen Rue, a non-bender representing the Southern Water Tribe who alternates between being very knowledgeable and just a plain know-it-all. He has an answer to everything, even if that answer is a clueless shrug. When he does answer though, he is usually right (due to an extraordinary reservoir of luck).

ʘ

Shudder and Saracen meet up with the rest of their fleet, and they ferry the squad the rest of the way to base camp. The water tribe contingents are planning to meet with the Earth Kingdom leaders to work out how to move forward after the crushing defeat on the Day of Black Sun. The general air of both armies is that of recovery, of getting up and moving on, of keeping it together. Caution is abundant but the feel of the war has changed: strikes are more vicious.

Skulduggery volunteers for what is essentially a suicide mission. Ghastly follows. Saracen stretches at the wrong time and can’t take it back. The others all pile onboard, except Larrikin, who is back with his original squadron.

It turns out Skulduggery doesn’t have a plan to survive. They all prepare for whatever will come after. And then… they come back. And come back again. And again. Skulduggery doesn’t lead a battalion into battle any more, and doesn’t need to, not with the things the Dead Men can achieve.

ʘ

High Command is astonished to find they suddenly have a powerful firebender in their midst. They deploy him without reservation. Mission after mission is a success, and the Dead Men become the most effective unit in the field.

Skulduggery and Dexter continue firebending, and Skulduggery’s regained enough rationality to remember that announcing he’s the Avatar would not be a good move. Dexter teaches him to be more refined, and now that Anton is a close friend, Skulduggery has much more opportunity to observe offensive styles of waterbending, so he picks up some new techniques for that, too.

The thing is, while he recognises that announcing he’s the Avatar would not be a good move, his suppression instinct is weighed up by a depression mindset. What does it matter? What could they do to him? His family’s been killed, he’s been tortured, and he failed to dispense his revenge on the man who did it all to him. The friendship, trust, and grounding that comes from having the others near him helps, so much more than they realise, but it’s not always enough. So, sometimes, if he’s on his own for a part of the mission, he’ll go into the Avatar State and make everything easy for a while. No one can touch him when he’s like that, and no one ever lives to blab about it. Until one day…

A woman sees him in the Avatar State. He only notices when he comes out of it.

Abyssinia doesn’t say anything, just smiles, plans burgeoning in the back of her mind. She dresses all in Fire Nation red and bends flames so hot they burn blue. She tells him and the rest of the Dead Men that she is neutral in the war. She lies. She doesn’t tell them about what she saw Skulduggery do. She lies. With someone who is in as much pain as Skulduggery, who is reaching for any scrap of connection to stop from drowning utterly in the darkness, it is easy to worm her way into his heart. She tells him she loves him. She lies. At first anyway. Whatever it becomes, her intentions don’t change.

Skulduggery falls deeper into darkness, always fighting, hate growing and focusing onto a much bigger target than Serpine- try the whole world. He trains. He gets better and better at firebending, at waterbending, earthbending, and even airbending. He doesn’t use the Avatar State as much anymore when unleashing vast amounts of destruction and violence. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t need it, not because going into the state is getting more and more difficult. Sometimes just a sword will do. Sometimes just his hands.

And then, when he’s on the cusp of his potential, he goes off with Abyssinia, without a word to his friends. He never sees Hopeless again.

Abyssinia gifts him a suit of armour. It’s all in black. She tells him to meet her in the Fire Nation, and she’ll make sure he can destroy everything he wants.

ʘ

The revelation that she’s a double agent doesn’t matter to him. What does is the rumours of a new technique for inflicting pain coming out of a freed region of colonies. A strange group, waterbenders who wear midnight blue, and have learnt how to bend the blood in a body. He seeks them out.

Introducing himself as the Avatar, they are eager to teach him, especially when he promises to annihilate the Fire Nation. A young man by the name of Solomon Wreath wins the honour of teaching him, and he perfects his arsenal of violence. The bloodbenders tell him stories of the Grotesquery, the sleeping spirit that inhabits their nearby forest, and what it can do. When one day he returns to awaken it, they show him the way.

Once he has learned all he can, Avatar Vile reveals himself to the world, showing an appetite for destruction that cannot be matched.

He meets Mevolent. The first time Vile goes into the Avatar State, as a demonstration to Mevolent, it causes him physical pain, it breaks something inside him. After burying Raava under so much violence and wrath, he finally snaps his connection to her. He knows he’ll never go into the Avatar State again- but that doesn’t matter, to him or to the Fire Lord. Avatar Vile doesn’t need the Avatar State to bring cities to their knees, as he proves on his first assignment to Ba Sing Se.

The impenetrable city has held out against Fire Nation incursion for a century. After two days of Avatar Vile’s siege it crumbles. The rest of the world is hardly far behind. 

Eachan Meritorious is imprisoned in his own cells. The Dai Li, who have long worked behind their king’s war-occupied back to control the population of Ba Sing Se through fear, hypnotism and censorship, betray their monarch and employ the same tactics under the governance of Nefarian Serpine.

ʘ

Her goal of finding and manipulating the Avatar to her advantage accomplished, Abyssinia reclaims her high-ranking position within Mevolent’s war council. She plans to use Vile against Mevolent and usurp him, however something unprecedented shakes her to her core and throws off her plans: Mevolent finds out that her son is his illegitimate heir, and that she herself is the last living child of the Unnamed. She has become embroiled in so many plans that they have finally caved in on her.

Caisson, still a boy at this point, now has a target painted on his back as Mevolent correctly assumes that Abyssinia will attempt to reclaim the throne taken by force from their family. The situation is exacerbated by the fact that Mevolent and Serafina themselves do not have an heir, and have not adequately cemented themselves as the rightful rulers of the Fire Nation. This threat to their power cannot be abided.

In order to save her son’s life, Abyssinia bargains with Mevolent that if her son is allowed to leave, she will stay. Abyssinia is a fearsome warrior and strategist, possessing a gift for violence that rivals the darkest hearts of the Fire Nation; her loss would most definitely be felt. Mevolent accepts her deal, and she re-swears her loyalty to him while Caisson is exiled.

China Sorrows feels her cracking loyalties finally disintegrate, and takes her chance to escape with the son of two enemies. She finds Caisson, takes her own daughter Solace, and the three of them steal away into the Earth Kingdom to seek out China’s brother.

Meanwhile, Abyssinia is closely monitored, her treacherous plans in shambles. She has no choice but to commit herself fully to Mevolent’s cause, and the shock of failure combined with perpetual fear for her son begins to unbalance her mind.

ʘ

Mevolent’s goal of creating a Dark Avatar becomes Vile’s own. Vaatu would suit him more than Raava, and would alleviate the pain his shutting out of Raava brings. He returns to the bloodbenders, awakens the Grotesquery by spilling his own blood, travels to the South Pole, and opens a portal to the spirit world so the Grotesquery may release Vaatu to fuse with him.

Nothing happens.

Vaatu never fuses with Vile, never even appears. Vile shuts the portal and sends the Grotesquery away, where it eventually finds a new home in the northern mountains and slumbers there once more.

In the Fire Nation, Mevolent remains unmoved at the news even if many of his followers are shocked. The Dark Avatar was a means to an end, and there is more than one way of achieving his goal- a goal which he is already on the precipice of accomplishing. Besides, he already has the Avatar on his side. There is no need to transform him.

With this simple refutation of the power Vile never considered he wouldn’t be able to possess, he begins to feel weary. He sinks and sinks until he can’t sink any further, and then he looks up, and begins the long climb.

He discards the armour. He relinquishes his white-knuckle grip on rage and pain and suffering. After two years of drowning in death and darkness, he lets Raava creep back into his soul- but there is a rift between them. He cannot access the Avatar State, and accepts that he never will again. It is the least he deserves.

If he wants to help, he’ll have to do it with his own two hands.

A world away, the Dead Men are accumulating injuries and trauma faster than they can shout for help.

ʘ

From here, we know most of the story.

Skulduggery Pleasant resurfaces, and Avatar Vile is presumed dead a few months later. He rejoins the Dead Men, of which Larrikin is now a permanent member. He stepped in when Ravel was captured and tortured, and came back again when Hopeless died.

Along with a few stragglers, the remnants of the Water Tribe fleets, and a certain exiled prince, the Dead Men are all the resistance against the Fire Nation that remain. Skulduggery knows Mevolent is planning to use the returning comet to raze the rest of the world, and so he corrals them all into an attack.

The Dead Men invade Ba Sing Se. They break out Meritorious and all the captured Earth Kingdom soldiers, and get word to the small number of Dai Li agents whose true loyalties had never lain with the Fire Nation. Geoffrey Scrutinous and Philomena Random begin an insurrection of their own and take the Dai Li down, ironically, from the inside. Larrikin sacrifices his life, and Bliss subdues Serpine. Ba Sing Se is freed.

Skulduggery, China, and Caisson lead a separate force directly into the Fire Nation. Skulduggery defeats Baron Vengeous on the battlefield, and then a dangerously unbalanced Abyssinia at the palace in a truly spectacular Agni Kai duel, but he doesn’t kill either of them. China, alone, takes out Mevolent’s airship fleet. Caisson confronts the Fire Lord, defeating and killing him in Wulong, a forest of rock pillars and muddy water.

The war is won.

ʘ

Despite wanting to free her, Caisson’s time among refugees, the Earth Kingdom, and China and Skulduggery’s unique perspectives on forgiveness, conscience, and redemption have shown Caisson things that his mother never did. He loves her, but for the sake of peace, he cannot allow her to walk free; she will most likely continue the war if she is able. Abyssinia is therefore locked in the Fire Nation’s highest security prison, while Vengeous and the other members of the war council are sentenced to be held in the Northern Water Tribe.

With these uncompromising but just actions, Caisson impresses on the other nations how much he truly desires peace, and his heritage as both the Unnamed and Mevolent’s heir is made public so that the Fire Nation accepts him as their rightful ruler. He is crowned Fire Lord without objection. It is seven years before he and Solace marry and have children, but when they do the Fire Nation is prosperous and at peace, and they only bring more security to an already stable reign.

Reinstated as Earth King, Meritorious works to rebuild. Rewards for the actions of many are distributed: Bliss is granted kingship of Omashu, China amnesty and a library, Ghastly the comfortable tailor’s shop that he emphatically maintains is all he wants. The rest of the Dead Men received similar commendations from their respective nations; Shudder abdicates chiefdom of the Northern Water Tribe to someone who actually wants it, and takes the helm of a mobile peace summit barge, quickly developing a reputation for being able to get anyone anywhere by midnight. Dexter and Saracen go travelling and actually enjoy the sights this time instead of worrying about being killed. Ravel recovers from his own bout of torture and takes up diplomacy while schemes grow in his mind.

Skulduggery wants to move into law enforcement, but the general consensus is that he can’t be wasted as a small-time detective or policeman. The nations all agree that he has jurisdiction and authority all over the world: not only was he born in the Southern Water Tribe, raised in the Earth Kingdom, and has made his new home in the Fire Nation capital, but the world leaders all trust him. They know him as a capable warrior who served under them all at some point, and who commanded their forces well in the absence of more immediate leadership. They proclaim him the first Arbiter of All Nations, which Skulduggery admittedly likes the sound of.

In the meantime, he works to put things as right as they can be made, and looks out for any opportunity to fling Serpine through a wall. He has a long road of redemption ahead of him, and still has to combat thinking that the Dark Avatar will help him, that the spirit of Vaatu will bring him the relief he seeks.

The funny thing is, he’s right.

(Even if he doesn’t see so for another fifteen years. The irony hits him one night on the deck of the Midnight as he stares up at the stars. Despite the stress and fear brought on by recent revelations, he can’t help but grin a bit, and feel grateful that it turned out this way, with the sleepy head of the girl who fought so hard to help him nodding onto his shoulder, and him knowing for certain- more than she hopefully ever will- that he is more than qualified to help her in return.)

In a little town outside Omashu, the Last Airbender’s youngest descendent is born. She is welcomed into a world at peace. Something inside her waits, and watches.

[crypticoctoberdays]

Day: 11 Friends.

When everyone goes away they are the ones that are there. Though one may wish to be alone, they will never be. They are always there. Watching, following, they speak words to sooth you. Listening for a moment there is calm. Then the flames lash out with a fire filled fury. Insanity drags claws down your spine till there is nothing but bone. Blood rains from the sky yet they stand. They stand watching you, following you, speaking words to sooth you. When you turn to see them they look back. Though you want nothing more than to cry they somehow know just what to say. No one in the world knew you felt this way. Yet in that moment it seems that they know exactly what to say. No mind to lose, no heart beating, no soul. Empty eyes, empty pages, broken phones. Never alone they stand with you. Even if dead and in a grave they stay. They never leave, just simply follow. Low lows and high highs they never dip on high tide. They stand in the rain. They stand in the sand. When your mind is a desert with no storms they can help cover you from the burning sun. Some of them feel like family. Some of them feel just like you. They speak words to sooth you. They say things that make you laugh. They sit and wait when you are angry. They yell at the people that make you mad. They can be the ones that drive you mad. They stick to you like glue. Though you may be a monster in the night they never leave. Instead of calling the cops on the phone they join you. Carrying bats and knives they paint the town red but never would they leave you for dead. They are a voice of reason, they are a voice of fun, without them your world would come undone. On days where you feel dead they chase the crows away from your grave. They drop gifts at your coffin and help you rest. They pull you out of the ground when you are no where to be found. They come in all shapes and all sizes but they all have one thing in common. When you meet someone true, life can be old or new, but in the end you will always have a friend.