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polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup · 10 months ago

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First off, the way you write Tsumiki is so beautiful and makes so much sense and I would die for her. Also, Tsumiki/Maki is fucking inspired. It fits so perfectly within the story and fleshes out both of their characters and I have so many feelings about it.

What you wrote about the cause of the no-contact fits so well with the Zenin how do you even come up with this!! And it also reframes so many scenes in sea glass gardens (specifically, I went to double check bc I just realized that Tsumiki still refers to Megumi’s dogs by their names and they still reapond to them. I am going to cry Megumi deserved so much better). Nanami is absolutely insane in the best way for demanding half custody like he seems like he’d be willing to throw hands over it regardless of the cost to himself and it’s so perfect with how much he (like Gojo) believes so much in protecting children. I have more words to say but not the brainspace to say them bc it is late at night for me. But! I would die for you and your writing thank you so much for getting into jjk

I’m soo glad that y’all liked Tsumiki/Maki too. The versions of them that live in my head just fit together like puzzle pieces. They were each other’s foil and they understood the other all the more for being what the other had chose not to be. Tsumiki had chosen her sibling and Maki had chosen herself, and both of them know what it means to have those be mutually exclusive.

Also the version of Tsumiki that lived in my head violently hates the Zenin and I could not imagine anything more attractive to Maki. Tsumiki would firebomb their compound without hesitation or regret. Maki wants to kiss her on the mouth.

Tsumiki very purposefully was designated as the character who would keep calling the dogs by their names, because she’s the one who most aggressively tries to insulate Megumi from the effects of the jujutsu world on him.

Tsumiki knew Kuro and Shiro longer than anyone. She remembers when Megumi first summoned his puppies. She knows exactly how much he loves them and she knows exactly how badly he must have been hurt to push him to never call them by their names again. Those dogs mean the world to him, and she knows it.

In her mind, what Megumi lost wasn’t his love for his dogs. If he lost that, she thinks he’d be more willing to call them by their names—names are just easy ways of distinguishing them, after all. They’re already named. He’s only inconveniencing himself by never saying their names aloud.

She thinks Megumi stopped calling them by name as a way of protecting them from the Zenin clan.

He never saw his family again, is the thing, but the Zenin have always existed on their periphery. They know that the Zenin haven’t lost interest in him. Gojo tries to shield them (but mostly Megumi) from as much of the Zenin as possible, but they know that the Zenin have been prodding them for more contact and information on Megumi ever since Gojo cut them off. And they know that the Zenin have a lot of contact with the jujutsu world. They both assumed that, over the years, plenty of people have reported back to the Zenin on Megumi.

They trust Gojo, Nanami, Shoko, and Ijichi to not leak information to the Zenin. No one else.

She’s always suspected that Megumi stopped calling his dogs by their names because he didn’t want it to get back to the Zenin that he loved them like pets still. They’d be safer if the Zenin didn’t realize how much he still loved them. Maybe if he hid it, they’d assume they scared him off, and they wouldn’t hire someone to kill a dog when he’s on a mission or something. And that’s what she’ll never forgive the Zenin for taking from him.

They took away Megumi’s safety in his love. It became something he didn’t feel comfortable showing, ever, because it was something he would be hurt over. They made him hide it. And it kills Tsumiki to see, because her brother loves more fiercely than anyone she’s ever met. He loves in a way that terrifies her, sometimes, because she thinks it will kill him one day, she really does.

He loved those dogs enough to be beat within an inch of his life to keep them safe. He wouldn’t just suddenly start treating them like they’re impersonal weapons. They’re still Kuro and Shiro to him, she knows it. They’re still his puppies. And she doesn’t want the Zenin to get to take that from him.

She doesn’t want Megumi to just… succumb to what the jujutsu world did to him. She doesn’t want him to just take the beating the way he took it for his dogs. And she doesn’t want him to just sacrifice himself for her and call it a day. She wants him to fight for himself and for his right to live on his own terms. And she’s not sure if he’ll do that.

So she’ll fill in the gaps where she can. His dogs’ names are Shiro and Kuro, and they’re her brother’s puppies. They’re her best boys and she’ll treat them like pets all day long if she pleases, because the Zenin had no fucking right to take that from her brother. She’ll spit in Zenin Naobito’s face if she ever gets half a chance.

#sea glass gardens #tsumiki throughout the fic is meant to be the one dragging Megumi to fight for himself #he has no problem fighting for other people in the fic #fuck his intro was fighting for tsumiki—his first action is to send shiro to attack maki #but megumi has to consistently be catalyzed into summoning the same effort for himself and tsumikis the only one who can get him to do it #that was the theme I tried to keep consistent throughout his scene with the car and treatment—tsumiki had to be the one to spur him to act #with her he wanted her safe but with himself he just wanted to be /done/#tsumiki is stubborn and angry and her brother is the one thing she can’t let go of. it’s the core of her character. she only has the energy #to have one nonnegotiable and it’s megumi. everything else can be sacrificed.#one other thing I like about tsumiki being the one to keep calling the dogs by their names is that it inadvertently had a domino effect #yuuta and the others (sans maki who only has a few concrete details and a lot of suspicions about what happened all those years ago) have no #idea about any of this. they were introduced to the dogs as shiro and Kuro because that’s what tsumiki called them. they don’t know any of #the drama. but megumi doesn’t speak of them by name. he just calls them the dogs. tsumiki is the one who kept their name alive #she is just constantly radiating ‘the Zenin can fuck themselves’ energy

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buckyownsmylife · 3 years ago

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You and I - Henry Cavill smut

The one where Henry comes over to fix your computer

Warnings: reader is a henry fan, pandemic theme, lockdown and quarentine-ing, little bit of second-hand embarrassment?, heatwave, henry is feeling deprived in this one, oral sex (f), masturbation (f), dirty talk, brief hairpulling, the name of God in vain, Henry’s monster dick, laughing and teasing while fucking, hand over throat but no actual choking, orgasm control, p in v, unprotected sex

Word count: over 3k, ‘cause I got no chill

A/N: this was inspired by a tik tok someone requested me to write a fic about it. Obviously I took it in a different direction because can I ever follow guidelines? No. I do love this fic, though. Thank you to @lokiscollar for giving this a read for me!

Y/N’s P.O.V

Driving to a secluded location to spend lockdown in felt like a wonderful idea. There was a working wi-fi connection, so I could work remotely from the seashore cabin without any problem whatsoever, and the view was obviously to die for.

I did not expect someone else to have the same idea as me. The cabin next door had been occupied on the same day that I arrived, and much to my surprise, I recognized my new neighbor as someone I never expected I’d come to meet in my entire life: an actor. An actor I actually had a crush on.

Thankfully, the situation didn’t exactly call for mingling. I ran off to hide inside my cottage as soon as I realized who he was, occupying myself with fixing everything for the next day instead of daydreaming about the man next-door.

There would be time for that later, once I got in bed. But weirdly enough, that was the only time I really thought about him during those first weeks of quarantine. Every once in a while I’d get the random wave of curiosity about what he was doing - what did Henry Cavill get up to while spending lockdown by himself? But that was pretty much it.

I woke up every day, had breakfast, worked and then went to bed. Sometimes I’d sit by the balcony and watch the birds fly, taking in the scenery and breathing in the salty water. Even as a kid, I’d always loved the sea. It was comforting, so it made sense for me to turn to it in such a stressful time.

Sometimes I’d hear a bark or two, reminding me of the man who was staying in the other cabin, and it made me smile. I always did like his dog, whenever I saw pictures of him.

I hoped they were alright and that the absence of any human contact wasn’t getting to them, even though it was getting to me. I could feel my own social abilities - which weren’t exactly stellar before - slowly becoming decrepit, and I was scared to think of what my first human interaction would be like once lockdown was over.

I just hadn’t anticipated it would be come so soon.

The morning began as it usually would. I took my shower, I had my breakfast, and I sat in front of the computer with my coffee in hands, ready to start working for the day.

Only the computer wasn’t ready for it, too.

“What?” I talked to myself - something that had become more usual the longer lockdown went on. “Oh, no, no, no…” The situation was looking drearier the longer I stared at my lifeless screen.

Looking up at the clock, I considered my options. Even supposing I could get someone to come to this middle of nowhere to fix it, there was no way I’d be able to get it done before work started.

Sighing, I pushed away from my designated desk to call my boss. Thankfully, he understood and I was left to repair the damn thing and come up with a solution for the next day.

My heart ached at the prospect of having to abandon my refuge because of an electronic malfunction. And that is, if there even was anyone willing to fix the damn thing, considering the pandemic and the rules of social distancing. That’s when suddenly, an idea popped up.

I remembered all the fuss a few months back over a video of Henry assembling a computer all by himself. There was no way someone with that much hardware prowess couldn’t at least know enough to fix this simple laptop.

With that thought in mind, I gathered all of my courage to leave my little shack and make my way to the neighboring cabin. I took a deep breath before knocking on the door, and after a few seconds of silence - he was probably surprised and certainly not expecting anyone - a voice sounded from within.

“Who is it?” Now, I had thought this through. If this man came as far as I had come to this damn forgotten town, it was because 1) he wanted peace and quiet and 2) he was as terrified of the virus as I was. So I knew what I needed to say - what I would like to hear if the roles were reversed.

“It’s your neighbor. My name’s Y/N. I’m so sorry to disturb, but my computer broke and I need it to work and you’re the only person I’m 100% sure has been socially distancing for long enough not to put my life in risk.” After all, I would have seen if someone had come to visit him. I didn’t need to say this because both of us knew it. “Would you pretty pretty please come and check it out?”

Silence followed my question and I sighed, rubbing my sweaty forehead as I knew this was a long-shot. “I understand if you’re unable or uncomfortable doing so, I just figured I’d ask. Thanks anyway!”

I had already turned my back to his front door when I heard it swinging open, the pitter patter of paws following close behind. My eyes took in the man in front of me for only a second before looking down at the dog at his feet, head tilted in interest as he analyzed me.

Immediately, my eyes lit up. “Kal!” I exclaimed, kneeling down to let the animal sniff me so I could pet it. My heart stopped working for a second when I realized what I’d done, though.

“Sorry!” I looked up at him from my kneeling position, trying to ignore how awkward it was, considering what I was close to. “I-I do know who you are, I’m not gonna lie about that.”

I straightened up as he kept looking at me in a way I couldn’t quite define. Neither could I determine how it made me feel, just that it made me avert my gaze so I’d stare at my feet.

“So… Are you gonna help me?” He chuckled at my question, closing the door behind him and taking a step in my direction, making me fumble as I instinctively stepped back.

“Sure.” It was the first thing he spoke to me, but we walked back to my own place in silence. He had his hands in his pockets as Kal followed us closely, his tongue hanging outside his mouth as he happily explored the outside for this little while. “Come on in.”

The way the cottage was set up left little space for him to wonder where he should be helping me. The desk in which I had prepared my set-up stood right by the wall to our left, and there he went without me having to point it out.

I watched a drop of sweat roll down the nape of his neck and fall under his tank top, distracting me as I licked my lips at the sight of it. Then his head turned to look at me and I realized that he was waiting for an answer to a question I hadn’t heard.

“Yeah, huh?” He chuckled again, making my face feel warm - an not (only) because of the overwhelming heat.

“Is it okay if I disconnect the wi-fi?” I wave my hand dismissively, shrugging.

“As long as you’re able to fix this, you can do whatever the hell you want.” I got the impression that I amused him, but he didn’t say anything else as he got to work on my (seemingly) dead computer.

Minutes went by of complete silence, safe from the sounds of typing and metal as Henry worked on the machine and I tried not to bite my nails. Finally, he pulled away from the screen and put his hands on his hips as if assuming some sort of decided stance - but if it was a good or bad thing, I couldn’t tell.

“Tell me, doctor.” I asked, pushing myself away from the sofa to approach him. The smell of a man’s sweat really had no right to be this arousing. “Is it life or death?” Henry turned to stare at me with a quirked eyebrow, and in the seconds it took for him to answer, I was once again distracted by just how hot he was.

“Sorry, what?” I asked when he became silent and I realized he’d asked me something I hadn’t heard once more. His smile said he was annoyed and entertained at the same time. “Sorry, you’re hot, it’s hot, and I can’t think straight,” I sighed, brushing the hair away from my eyes as I pressed my palms against them, trying to pull myself together.

“I swear to God, I’m not crazy.” I tried to look him directly as I said that, but was surprised at what I saw when our gazes met. There was a peculiar sense of yearning that he exuded, something I couldn’t quite place but that took my breath away all the same, especially when he took my silence as an invitation to invade my personal space.

“If you want me so badly, all you have to do is ask.” Silence fell heavily and I was out of breath just from his words - not a good sign. My throat felt dry, too dry, so I swiped my tongue over my bottom lip as I struggled to say something.

“W-why, though?” He tilted his head to the side, eyes inscrutable while he judged my question, trying to understand where it came from just like I was trying to understand his interest in me, when he suddenly smiled.

“I figured it’s a nice way for you to pay me back.” It took me a second to understand what he was referring to, and then my eyes darted from the computer to him, my mouth falling open in offense until he started chuckling. “I’m joking!” But even so, the question remained…

“Sweetheart…” He spoke, voice low and velvety as two strong hands suddenly enveloped my hips. “You’re seriously underestimating how hot you are.” I didn’t know what to say, so I had to make sure I’d hear him right.

“M-me?” A predatory smirk took over his face, slowly. I gulped under its intensity, feeling much like prey as he started to back me against the couch. I fell on top of it with a gasp, and another one escaped me when he used my ankles to pull me closer.

“I wanna eat you out.” It was all I got as an answer, but I can’t say that I minded it. As he dropped to his knees before me, pulling down my underwear before spreading my legs for his eyes to take in, it felt like I got a response from the gesture in itself.

“Do you know how long it’s been since I ate pussy?” The unexpected question made me choke on my own saliva, as he chuckled darkly in amusement at my bashfulness. I could only breathe through my mouth when he leaned down to run his tongue on the edge of my lips, slowly acquainting himself with my taste, making me moan softly.

“I-I definitely and decidedly don’t.” He seemed to like this answer, understand that it delimited exactly the type of fan that I was: the kind that knew what he was and what he liked - his dog, his computer - but not someone who was obsessed with his entire dating history, eager to know his every secret.

The longer Henry ate me out, the clearer it became just how long it’d been since he’d done this. It was obviously something he liked - the way he buried his face against my cunt and engulfed it entirely with his open mouth showed so. And the fact that he licked me and sucked me like he was a starved man? This was a man denied of a pleasure he genuinely enjoyed, that much I was certain of.

“Do you like this?” He asked once he inserted one of his thick fingers inside of me, already stretching me beyond what I could do with my own hand.

“How could I not?” I managed to moan a response, making him chuckle.

“Show me how to find it,” he instructed, eyes sparkling with determination. “I want to find your sweet spot.” I’d never had someone I was with so interested in giving me pleasure before.

Hypnotized, my fingers circled his wrist as best as I could, slowly moving him to run his digits over the top of my channel. He knew when he found it because I cried out for him, closing my eyes momentarily.

“Cum for me,” he ordered, and how could I deny him that, especially when he was looking at me with those darkened eyes? He milked my orgasm until my pussy had stopped clenching around him, but the second that it was done, he growled, getting up to his knees. “Gonna fuck you now.”

He pulled me by my hair, making me moan out loud as he slowly inserted his monster cock inside of me. “Oh, God!” His groan had me panting, cunt clenching around his thickness. I couldn’t understand how I was able to take it, but I was glad that was the case. “So… tight…”

Through his grip on my hair, he pulled me to deposit quick kisses down my jaw. “You take me so well, darling.” It was a compliment I was proud to receive, even though I wasn’t too sure how I managed to earn it in the first place.

“I honestly don’t know how,” I admitted, gasping when he slowly dragged his cock out to slam it in me, but I instinctively pulled my hips away, earning an amused chuckle from him.

“Come back here,” he ordered, already pulling me back to spear me with his painfully hard length. I’d have to be inhuman not to cry out at the feeling of his bulbous head bumping against my cervix. “Are you scared?” He joked as I bit on my bottom lip not to give in and laugh. “You think I’m too big?”

“You’re more than enough, I’ll tell you that.” Now, that had his own laugh escaping his chest, making my body tremble underneath his, inadvertently getting some friction between the both of us. It earned me a moaned out, “Yes…” that got his attention back to where I hoped it would be, and as his eyes settled on me, I briefly wondered if I was prepared for what was to come.

“But now that you got all of me inside of you, do you really want to go?” The whispered question made me shiver. I never expected him to be the type to talk dirty, but then again, I never expected I’d be fucked by him, either.

“No.” It was all the permission he needed.

“Then let me fuck you hard.” And hard he did fuck me. He was hard inside of me, it probably would have been painful for him if he wasn’t so desperately trying to alleviate it by frantically fucking me against the couch.

It was the most deliciously torturous experience I’d ever gone through. I had to bite my lip while I held onto his shoulders for dear life, trying to stop my moans from escaping because I was sure that for once, I’d become a screamer.

Unfortunately, it seemed like Henry didn’t appreciate my efforts to keep his ears from deafening. “What’s wrong?” He questioned, fingers tightening on my hips. “I thought you wanted this.”

Confused, all I could think to say was, “I-I do.”

“Then let me hear you,” he insisted. “You know you can scream all you want. We’re all alone up here on the coast.” Well, he wasn’t wrong. And with that reassurance, I allowed my head to fall back and my mouth to fall open, my moans flowing freely from my body as Henry kept fucking me.

“This is so much better than touching myself in search of a release,” he mumbled at some point, like he was talking to himself. “I was so damn lonely and you have such a tight little pussy.”

Being fucked by him felt like a religious experience. Henry somehow knew the map to my pleasure, easily bringing me to the brink of bliss before I had even managed to wrap my head around this turn of events.

My moans grew louder as I climbed higher and higher, but before I could fully tip over his hand curled around my throat, not constricting any air, just calling my attention.

“Ask for permission, baby.” Just the order had me clenching around him, prompting him to release a moan of his own. All the while, I was groaning in frustration, trying to control myself or say what he wanted me to say, but all that came out of me was, “Goddamn! You can’t say stuff like that.” Henry’s laughter flowed freely once more, making my heart skip a beat. “Why not?”

“Because you’re a fucking movie star and I am not up to fall in love with you.” That had his eyebrows raising in surprise, the smile disappearing from his face before it came back as a teasing smirk.

“Oh, so this is a one-time thing.” The taunting manner in which he said it surprised me in turn, so I hesitated before nodding. I mean, of course it was, right? He didn’t even know me. This was strictly sexual and physical, I would not be fooled by my own hormones. “My cock is not enough for you to want to get to know me some is that it?” … Was he testing me?

“Yes.” His smirk only grew at the word. “This is a one-time thing.”

“We’ll see about that.” His fingers ran down my body to graze over my clit. I sucked in a breath, trying to keep it in, knowing I was going to lose. Eventually, as my thighs began to tremble, I gave in altogether.

“Please, let me cum, please.” His eyes softened at my broken and desperate plea, hand gripping my cheeks as he finally nodded.

“Keep staring at me as you cum,” he commanded, still just as bossy. “Show me how pretty you look when you cream all over my dick.” That was all I needed to succumb to the pleasure he was subjecting me to.

I felt his cock, still hard as it pumped rope after rope of cum inside of me, and by the time I was able to open my eyes again, he was panting over me, sweat dripping from his forehead onto my face.

I didn’t have the time to think about what I should do - push him away, try to pretend this didn’t happen - because the second I began to adjust on the couch, he pulled me to rest against his chest.

“Let’s stay here for a little while,” he quietly asked me. “Then we’ll figure out if there’s enough room for me to take you in your bed.”

#my fics #henry cavill smut #henry cavill #smut #henry cavill request #henry cavill requests #my requests #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill reader #henry cavill reader insert #henry cavill reader inserts #rpf #fanfiction #henry cavill oneshot

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thefanficmonster · 3 years ago

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The Five Scares (and one revenge)

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having a tendency to scare people, Corpse has gotten used to his friends being jumpy whenever he appears from the void into a Discord call with them. However, the one who has it the roughest with the spooks has to be his partner Y/N. Basically: The five times Corpse scared Y/N and the one time they scared him

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your lovely request it was a real joy to write and I had a ton of fun doing so! Hope you have equally as wonderful of a time if you happen to come across it and give it a read despite the long wait you’ve had to endure which I apologize for. Love, Vy ❤

Having had to go home for the night to keep an eye on their roommate’s dog, Y/N and Corpse agreed to have a video call before they fell asleep. They didn’t want to appear like that typical clingy and cheesy couple but after spending almost a whole week curled up in Corpse’s apartment, the two would feel each other’s absence to a very saddening degree to the point where they’d even forget the other isn’t around and would call out to them.

Letting the call ring, Y/N’s hand comes up to smooth out their hair. However, the touch reveals to them that their hair needs a bit more than a simple tap or a pat to be tamed so while they wait for Corpse to answer the call, they quickly head to their bathroom. Flicking the light on, their reflection greets them with the underwhelming news of the actual state of their hair at the moment: an absolute mess. They proceed to do their best with the single hair-tie they have handy. A bobby pin or two would be neat but they have no time to go and grab one right now, seeing as how they can’t recall if they even brought them back from Corpse’s apartment. If they didn’t, they would have to search their roommate’s room for some which would take an even longer amount of time.

Eventually, they manage to tame it in something closely resembling a presentable ponytail and exit the bathroom feeling more exhausted than before. With a loud sigh, they crash onto their bed, face-first into the sea of pillows, groaning at the slight sting of their muscles relaxing at last.

“Y/N?“ The decently loud mention of their name by a deep, familiar yet sudden and unexpected voice startles them to the point of squealing and jumping an entire inch away from where they were positioned.

They look around their room in a frenzy, wondering where on Earth that voice came from and how it could be here with them right now.

“Y/N, you there?”, before they could locate it, it emerges once again, helping Y/N get an ide of where it’s coming from - somewhere in the messed up bed sheets.

“Corpse?“ They finally find their voice, “Y-yeah I’m here. Question is: how are you...“ and then it all clicks, causing them to twist their face in an expression of utter disappointment and bury it in the palms of their hands, groaning.

“You forgot about the video chat, didn’t you?“ Corpse asks, amusement not even attempted to be hidden in his voice.

“Yup.“

It’s been one hell of a day. Y/N’s college lectures exhausted them to a max and their six hour job following their classes did nothing to help them AT ALL. Quite the opposite actually. Makes sense why they look, move and talk the way they’re doing right now: like a ghost, zombie and an elder combined in one. To add to their misfortunes for the day, they were met with the mocking ‘OUT OF ORDER’ sign taped to the doors of the elevator, laughing in their face with the information that their hellish experience for the day is far from over.

Just the thought of having to climb to the fifth floor made their stomach turn in the most unpleasant way possible, but the though of how long that would take made matters even worse. Arriving at their designated apartment, they have every right to be pissed, cussing their heart out.

However, then comes a new problem: the inability to pinpoint the correct key. They proceed to curse themselves, the keys, the door handle and the door itself before punching the poor wood that did no wrong and just stands here, serving its purpose of keeping unwanted people out of the apartment it’s guarding.

Following their anger outburst and front-door-abuse, they proceed to try finding the correct key once again, this time slightly more calmly as to not accidentally miss it in their frantic rifling.

Right as they’re about to try the third key, however, the door opens. Well, it’s opened by someone on the other side, that someone being none other than their boyfriend Corpse who’s currently staring at them wide-eyed, one eyebrow raised, the word ‘confused’ basically written across his face.

While he’s processing the sight in front of him, Y/N lets out a little scream, jumping back and away from the door, a hand placed over their chest as their wide eyes scan their boyfriend who now seems equally terrified as a result of their reaction.

“Corpse?!“ They manage to gasp, barely hearing their own voice over the loud thumping of their heart and the rush of blood in their ears, “What the hell are you doing here?!“

The confusion on Corpse’s face deepens, reaching whole new levels as his eyes gaze deeper into theirs, searching for the meaning behind their bizarre question. “You mean...at my own apartment? What am I doing, at home?“

For a few seconds, the two just stare blankly at one another, processing everything that’s just happened. Suddenly, it all just kinda caves for Y/N and they burst out laughing, doubling over, their arms clutching at their stomach as they do so. Their laughter is contagious, so Corpse can’t help but let out a few chuckles himself.

“Alright, you’ve been driven to insanity, I can tell.“ He mumbles at his reckless partner, coming up behind them and wraps his arms around them, lifting them up and carrying their laughing ass inside.

III

Finally deciding to sit down and get this damn project started, Y/N already feels like they’ve had enough of it, burnout already creeping in and threatening to ruin their work and trip them up every step of the way. It wouldn’t have been so bad had the subject not been one they absolutely despise and wish they could get out of studying but alas they’re stuck with it.

They equip their headphones as soon as they plant their butt on the desk chair in their tiny room in their tiny roommate-shared apartment, putting their Spotify playlist on shuffle as they open a blank Power Point document. They work better with music blasting in their ears since the silence tends to be too loud and distracting when they’re trying to focus. So, that way they can also sing their heart out in peace and not get disturbed by the sound of their own off-key singing. Win-win, basically.

Singing ‘Never Forget You’ by Zara Larsson and MNEK, they get a little carried away, ditching the project to enter a full-blown music video they can imagine down to the detail in their mind.

However, there’s a surprise awaiting them.

As soon as MNEK’s part of the song begins, another voice apart from his echoes through their headphones, singing along to the song. Freaking the fuck out, they let out a loud scream, smacking the headset off them, sending the object falling and landing on their laptop keyboard with a crash that only serves to further startle their roommate’s dog which comes to check if they are being attacked or something only to be disappointed by the lack of action.

When pushing the headphones off, they did so with a force strong enough to snap the cable out of the laptop entirely so now the room is filled with the sound of that same foreign voice laughing his ass off.

A voice that belongs to no other than Corpse Husband himself.

“You gotta learn to disconnect from Discord calls, Y/N.“ The fucker says, still cackling wholeheartedly at his partner’s misery.

Pissed off or not, Y/N would have to admit he’s got a point. But they’d also rather never speak again than admit it so...

“Fuck you!“ is what they say instead, seconds before disconnecting.

Making breakfast is not something either Corpse or Y/N are used to, mostly cause they both either wake up late or skip the meal entirely. Regardless, having been given a day off from work and having no classes since it’s Saturday, Y/N saw no better way to start their day off than to prepare a nice breakfast for them and their boyfriend to enjoy. Problem is: they aren’t the most skilled in the kitchen. Sure they can scramble an egg or make mac and cheese, but in order to do it correctly they are not allowed to have distractions of any kind. Not even music, that’s how you know it’s serious.

Seeing as how Corpse has never seen them cook, he’s obviously unaware of theirs. The dummy straight up waltzes into the kitchen, unintentionally remaining unspotted and unheard by Y/N because he’s barefoot and because they have their back turned to him.

“Whatya cooking over there babe?“

Y/N’s focus bubble, being as thin as it is and considering they initially thought Corpse was still asleep, they have every right to let out the yelp they just did, dropping the egg they were gonna crack over the pan in said pan in its entirety - yes, shell and all.

A moment of silence commences: regretful on Corpse’s end and frustrated on theirs. Neither of them dares to say anything to avoid triggering the other. Well, that’s the case until Y/N decides enough’s enough and they turn to look at him, a wide, obviously fake smile plastered onto their face.

“Scrambled eggs, following a secret recipe, property of the L/N family.“

Seems like your pre-breakfast snack is an extra large dose of sarcasm, huh?

“So, how was your day? You sound pretty chipper so I take it wasn’t a nightmare like a few days ago.“ Corpse comments over the phone, listening to shuffling and shifting as Y/N moves around the apartment, getting ready to head out.

“It was great actually. Got some important results back and, not to brag or anything, but they were higher than I expected.“ They reply, a genuine wide grin refusing to leave their face as they silently count the amount of money they’ve got in their wallet. “I’m gonna go buy a cake so we can celebrate it. It’s no small deal, trust me, especially not when I initially thought I’d fail both these exams to the point of being pitied.“

“Wait...-“ Corpse attempts, his voice suddenly sounding strained and urgent but that’s the very reason he cannot seem to find or get the right words out of his system. Not that Y/N gives him any time to figure it out.

“No Corpse, you cannot change my mind. Cake and beers, we’re celebrating toni- SHIT!“ They scream as they throw open the front door, bumping square into someone standing on the other side, almost dropping their phone.

Taken aback by embarrassment and fear, they leap back, their eyes searching for the ones of the person whose personal space they just invaded. Well, to be fair, he was the one invading their personal space by standing right outside the door to their - well, to Corpse’s apartment.

The fear and irritation die down almost instantly when Y/N recognizes the person standing opposite them.

“Mind telling me why we’re talking on the phone when you could’ve come in and we could’ve had a normal person conversation?!“ They snap, ironically enough - they’re still holding the phone to their ear.

So is Corpse whos is smiling guiltily, “That’s why I called, I forgot my keys, but I got...carried...sorry.”

Well, at least this serves as proof Y/N’s not the only forgetful one.

~ ~ ~

Corpse has been stuck in his recording room for four hours now, never stopping his stream to take care of his basic human needs such as eating or going to the bathroom. This behavior of his has Y/N worried sick and unable to focus on the task at hand - an assignment they’ve been trying to finish for two hours now, sitting with their computer on their lap and looking hopelessly at the blank Word document waiting for them to fill it up while they are waiting for it to start writing itself.

Seeing as how neither are gonna happen, not until Y/N puts their mind at ease, they slowly put the laptop aside, standing up to carefully skip on over to Corpse’s recording room to check on him, stopping by the kitchen to grab him a snack and a bottle of water along the way.

The door to the darkened room is open a crack, as usual, suggesting they can enter without knocking - this also means he’ll probably not hear them even if they knock so the whole gesture would be pointless. Not that Y/N has a tendency to knock or anything... Waltzing in, they find that the only light in the room is the very faint and dark glow of the computer screen which is displaying a dark and dingy room from a first-person view of the protagonist of whatever game Corpse’s currently playing.

“Corpse?!“ They whisper-yell/hiss at him, trying their best to grasp his attention without startling him - they don’t need to be told that the game is of the horror genre and the last thing they need is for their boyfriend to flip backwards and fall out of his chair because they scared the shit out of him. “Hey?!“

Neither attempts prove futile so, despite their best instincts telling them differently, they walk over to him and tap him on the shoulder. The reaction, while within the realm of expectancy, is a lot more startled than they expected, accompanied by a scream on top of all. They’d never heard him scream in fear before, it’s quite amusing if they’re being honest.

They suppress a snicker as Corpse’s wide open eyes meet their squinting ones in the darkness, “Y/N...babe...what is it? Is everything ok?”

Y/N rolls their eyes, “No, everything isn’t ok. Your unhealthy habit of forgetting to take care of yourself, for example.” They put the snack and the bottle on the his desk, giving him their best disappointed-parent look before turning on their heel to strut their way out of the room. However, just as they are about to make their exit, they stop right at the doorframe, giving their stunned one final glance over their shoulder with a smug smirk playing across their face, “Oh and by the way, that’s what I like to call revenge.” Just like that, they leave, pushing the door back into its previous position.

And boy, is it some sweet, sweet revenge.

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hpalways · 4 years ago

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Conquer || Childe

Disclaimer: This is a Yandere! Childe x Reader Oneshot. There will be obsession, light gore, and death. If you are not comfortable with such topics, you do not have to read it. I would also like to put a reminder that I do not condone such behavior either, nor should toxic relationships ever be romanticized. Thank you for reading if you choose to do so!

BLADES coated of water skewered the enemy, pummeling them down mercilessly with every motion. The quick fight was soon over, so the male brushed his gloved hands together and left the vicinity, plastering a smile on his face yet again. Tartaglia had just gone on a quick errand for the Fatui, to analyze an area for their future plans. However, he ran into a little trouble there and ended up fighting monsters and whatnot.

It frustrated him, having to deal with such lowlifes. He was better than this! If it didn't provide him the thrill he was so desperate to lay hands upon, then what was the damn point? They shouldn't even be spared any time, for they forced him to dally along, which kept him away from you longer.

He combed his fingers through his red locks, sighing in the process. It was about time he began the trek back to Liyue Harbor. Lands spreading far and wide, he stayed obediently on the path and watched the peaceful birds soar through the skies. It was a very nice day today, but he felt restless anyway. The hands at the sides were twitching, nails digging sharply into the palms until blood seeped out. The pain of it did not bother him at all -- in fact, he merely enjoyed it, lips curving up into an actual smile. It made everything less pleasant, but more real.

The greenery grasslands of the wilderness faded into pavement, marked by the craft of humans. The huge structures of the city brimmed of familiarity of what he called 'home' for the past few months now. It would never truly be home of course, and it would never satisfy his wants, but it would have to do. At least you were apart of it.

His dark boots echoed upon the planked docks as he dodged the bodies milling about. The waves lapping below were as clear as the sky, reflecting against the warm sun. He knew exactly where to find you, and had sucked in a breath when he indeed saw the person he wished to see the most. [h/c] hair blowing with the wind behind, your figure was hunched down, a pair of chopsticks in your hand. You were on a lunchbreak from your job at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, so you were currently shoving down food at your favorite spot of Liyue. It was a simple place -- the edge of the dock with a good view of the sea, but it was also where you and Childe marked the first letter of your names on the rail.

"If it isn't my favorite comrade." The voice nearly sent you jumping in fright, so you whirled your head around to meet deep, blue hues. The tall male was leaning on the ledge, capturing you wholly with an unwavering gaze.

"Childe! You've returned," you said, grinning at the sight of him.

He leaned closer in, immediately causing your heart to race. Without a second to waste, he kissed you chastely, tasting you softly, in addition, the salt coming from the chicken you just ate. You instantly kissed back, cheeks warmed and lids closed, the food forgotten entirely. Body heat stemmed from him, wrapping you in a comfortable embrace. It was enough to ease your current worries, because Childe was here. The man you loved since the time of beginning... was safe and sound. It wasn't that you doubted his skills -- because he was strong -- very strong, considering he helped train you previously -- but the world out there was still terrifying. Not just that, but he could sometimes get ahead of himself; that was a call for trouble.

His kiss suddenly deepened, lips and tongue burning you until it began to eat you away. Your heart pounded ever so faster, but not in excitement -- rather in alarm. Pulling your head back from him and hungrily gulping fists of air, you averted your eyes to the waters. Despite not looking back at the Snezhayan man, you could feel his gaze digging into the side of your face. He appeared confused as to why the act of affection ceased so soon.

You decided to answer his unvoiced question, knowing it'd be a bigger hassle if you didn't. "I'm eating and we're in public." No response came from him. "Would you like a piece?"

Snatching a piece of chicken from your bowl, you turned to look at him. That was when you noticed how tired he looked. Dark circles adorned beneath his eyes, his hair was messy, and his outfit was slightly rumpled. What had exactly happened out there? Even the offer for food didn't appeal to him, his body stoic without the charm he usually exuded.

Then it happened like a light switch. He nodded eagerly, opening his mouth for the chicken. Despite your unease, you pretended not to see it and did as asked. Plopping it into his mouth, his expression brightened and he nodded while chewing. "Very delicious. Isn't life beautiful, [Y/N]? It's always beautiful with you here."

"Oh... stop being a flirt," you laughed, shaking your head to hide your flustered state.

"Why should I ever?" he asked, tilting his head. A finger twirled around your hair strand, twisting it -- deeper and deeper like a snake burrowing within. He grinned wide, teeth baring and too bright it nearly blinded you. "You're fun to tease."

"Whatever." You rolled your eyes, turning your attention back onto the food. "How did your day go today?"

"It was annoying," he murmured, features growing dim for a second. "I had only hilichurls to fight. I need something stronger."

"Isn't that a good a thing? You won't get hurt that way."

He blinked at you, brows raised for a few seconds. "You're right," he agreed, shocking you. He wasn't the type of person to stray from the idea of danger. "Patience is key. My opportunity will arrive when it comes."

Oh. So that was what he meant. "That's not the point," you mumbled under your breath, repressing the sigh threatening to spill out. He wouldn't listen to your warnings anyway, so you decided not to press on it. "You look exhausted, Childe. Are you taking care of yourself?"

"I'm not tired at all," he smoothly denied, expanding his smile even more, as if to try and convince you. "Besides, it's our date night, isn't it? I'm not missing out on something so special just for a nap."

That was right. With how busy both your schedules were, the last time you went out on a date with him was a month ago. It was a miracle when the two of you found an evening where both parties were free. Even so, it was a little worrying. You would rather reschedule than force him to go somewhere when he was in that state. Before you could say anything, he beat the punch, as if he read your mind just then.

"We're going. You can't say no."

"Fine," you sighed, shaking your head with a small smile on the lips. "Ah, shoot. I should get back to the Parlor. Break is already over. It went by too fast." Shoving the rest of the food into your mouth, you swallowed it in one go. There was one last thing to do. On the tip of your toes, you pressed your lips on the side of his face, feeling his smooth skin under. Soft as a baby's. How unfair. "See you tonight?"

He nodded, shooting a quick wink your way. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, comrade."

Chuckling under your breath, you whirled around and left the docks, oblivious to the eyes glued on to your form.

The moment you arrived to the building of your workplace, a certain director was waiting. She had long, brown hair put into two ponytails, with a dark hat sitting on top. Amber eyes showed from beneath her bangs, darting back and forth in wonder. Her fingers continued to tug the sleeves of her dark, traditional coat. It was none other than Hu Tao -- the person you called a boss.

"[Y/N]! You were a minute late!" she said, huffing as she placed her hands on her hips.

"Oh... sorry," you said, scratching your head.

She picked something up beside her. It was a stack of papers, showcasing calligraphy, which advertised the company. Same old Hu Tao. She never gave a break about it, considering clients were hard to keep. More-so, the woman was the one who typically scared them away, talking about death and whatnot. It sometimes unnerved you too, but it kept things interesting. Hmm... now that you thought about it, you attracted quite the strange bunch of people in life. Strange people often led to strange situations. Strange situations often led to death. Death?! Did your boss somehow brainwash your brain into thinking like her?

Hu Tao dropped the heavy pile upon your arms. "Let's go and find more clients! While we're at it, we'll tape these on some buildings too!" she declared, pumping a fist into the air.

Forced to follow her like a lowly dog, you drooped your head and did as ordered. It was a nightmare having to approach these people, witnessing the terrifying lines Hu Tao would sometimes spit out to them and the horror apparent in these innocent citizens' eyes. Then they'd threaten to call the guards on her, so the two of you would be forced to flee, and the cycle would continue. If not obvious by now, this was your least favorite task of this job, but it wasn't like you could argue with her. If she ended up firing you, you wouldn't know what to do.

Traveling through the city of the Geo Archon, you prepared yourself for the long day ahead.

The sun was setting by the time the two of you began to return to the Parlor. Skies streamed of pink and orange, looking magnificently beautiful. Lights began to illuminate the buildings, coloring the streets with its warm glow. It was growing silent too; the merchants and travelers were beginning to retire to their abodes. This made it much more peaceful and a definite welcoming sight to see. The embarrassment you gone through today made you wish to never see another human being again.

Ah. It was getting near the designated time for the date with Childe. Just as you were about to ask to be dismissed by your boss, the female beside you had let out a groan.

Turning your head to the left, you found Hu Tao sagging to the ground, grasping her head in pain. "Are you okay?" you questioned in panic, shaky hands unsure of what to do.

It was over quickly. She stood up and brushed herself off, clearing her throat. "I have a bad feeling," she said, placing her hand onto your shoulder. You glanced down in bewilderment, confused by her line of actions. "Someone is going to die. Is it you?"

"What--" you blubbered. "That's not funny at all, Hu Tao."

She hummed, placing a finger on her chin in deep thought. "Perhaps it's me."

"Don't say that!" you gasped, shoulders trembling in shock. What the hell was she spewing out?! Maybe you should be used to her tactics at this point, but never had she said something so... so drastic! Why would say she such a thing? How could she say it so casually? She was lying, wasn't she? This couldn't possibly be real!

Her expression was entirely serious. Trailing from your shoulder to your wrist, her tight grip weaved around it. "Come with me. We're going to Wuwang Hill."

You decided to go with her. This was an emergency. The original thought of your date with Childe had been pushed to the back of your mind, entirely forgotten.

The trip to the this place she talked about was longer than expected. Night had fallen across the lands, dim stars twinkling in the distance. It was dark out -- it didn't help that you found yourself in some abandoned woods, where gnarly trees stemmed from the ground. Where did she just take you? Her prophecy about someone's death was beginning to look a bit more convincing. The woods were the perfect spot for a murder scene. You flinched at the sound of a stray owl hooting from somewhere.

The woman finally halted at a mound of dirt, to which she nodded in approval at. She spun around to face you, giving you a thumbs up. "Alright. Just wait here for me. I'll be back in a bit."

"What?! You can't just bring me to this creepy place and ditch me like that! Let me go with you-"

She shook her head, looking stern. "I can't do that. Nothing will happen to you, I promise." Her words were a little hard to believe and did not help to assure you at all.

Despite your futile protests, she ignored them and entered a magical veil. In less than a second, she was gone, leaving you alone in a dark... dark place. Curses ran through your mind and you hugged yourself in paranoia. All was silent, saved for the rustle of leaves blowing against the wind. The moon casted trickles of light past the gaps of trees, the color of it more ghastly than helpful. Broken wood littered the ground, which you assumed were past homes. What happened here? If people used to live here, what happened?

The nape of your neck prickled, the feeling of it slithering down the spine of your back. It sank its fangs into you, ready to spill your blood to fill the soil. Whirling around, you found an empty clearing, with no one there.

Taking a step back, you tripped over a log. Shit! Shutting your eyes, you prepared for the fall. The wind knocked out of you, but before the impact arrived, time had froze to a stand still.

Cold, searing hands were placed on you, burning into your back through the fabrics of your shirt. Eyes opened to see the familiar outline of a person. You yanked away and shoulders lowered. Relief seeped into you, knowing that it wasn't somebody dangerous. He was here to protect you, for he was untouchable, unmatched in skills and strength. Suddenly, you did a double take. "What are you doing here, Childe?"

"I followed you here," he said, a grin never leaving his face. Pearls gleamed, reflecting the moon's glow. His gaze didn't match the smile he had on though; they were overflowing with something. Turmoil. Anger. Desire. "I was going to pick you up from the Parlor as a surprise, but then I saw you leave the city."

"The... date," you mumbled, knitting your brows together. "I'm so sorry...! I can explain."

"Hush," he said, grin stretching ever wider. He snatched a strand of your [h/c] hair, breathing it in deeply, while licking his lips in the process. "There's nothing to explain. You decided your job was more important than me."

"That's not it!"

He ignored your remark, scanning the surroundings with great interest. "This place is pretty dead. There's nothing to kill." Bending down, he picked up a wilting flower, analyzing it with those haunting hues of his. The next second, the flower was crushed in his hand, squeezed so hard it had turned into dust. He blew on it and the specks disappeared into the breeze. "Where's Hu Tao?"

Hu Tao... He had never paid attention to her before. As far as you knew, they had not spoken to each other once. What did he want with her? Your lips parted, but your throat dried. No words came out. You couldn't seem to find your voice.

"Cat caught your tongue?" he sneered, taking a step forward. His question was repeated, a little harsher on the edge. "Where's Hu Tao?"

"I'm back!"

Speak of the devil. The brunette had appeared out from the burrow yet again. Childe whipped around at the voice, a crazed excitement flashing past him. You wanted to scream at the girl to get out of here immediately, but your mouth would not move. Although, why? Childe was your boyfriend, was he not? What was this fear that threatened to suffocate your every being?

The tall man went over to the director, who had stopped in her tracks. "So this is it," she breathed out, her gaze locking in with the red head. "Balance has been shaken because of you, Harbringer."

"Does it look like I give a damn about your words?" he said, barking out a chilling laugh. "Please do at least give a nice challenge for a fight. I've been bored all day."

"I have no choice, do I?" she said, slowly unsheathing her polearm.

"No! Stop it! Leave her alone." you yelled out, running out to the battlefield.

He pushed you back, sending you sprawling to the ground. "Stay there." You tried to get up, but by then, it was too late.

Blue and red visions gleamed in the dark and in a biting realization, you knew who was instantly at a disadvantage. Childe had taken out his blades as well, water forming from them. The two figures ran at each other in great speed, weapons clashing and clanging. Every time Hu Tao tried to hit him, it was easily met by the other, the fire dissolving at the taste of water. Steam arose in the air, fogging the air around. "At this point, I won't even need to go into the other form. You're weak," Childe taunted.

"And you're hurting [Y/N] with your selfish deeds," his opponent quipped. Fury blossomed in the depths of his heart at the sound of this. He was going to go easy before, to keep the fight going for longer, but it was running out. Hitting her polearm with his entire strength, he knocked the long stick from her hands.

He grabbed her by her neck, squeezing it. Her legs were lifted from the ground, eyes bulging and her hands desperately trying to scratch the iron grip of his. She wheezed out in pain, the sound of it raw and scratchy. "Stop! Stop it, dammit!" you cried, crawling over to the scene. He ignored you, dropping the ragged body of the woman down. She was still alive, but barely.

Just as you were about to reach her, Childe had kneeled down and plunged the recently dropped polearm straight down into her chest. Then he did it again. And again. And again. Blood splattered upon his face, where a sick smile took place. Sticky substance landed on yours, the intense iron smell making your stomach turn. The woman's eyes which used to gleam of life had faded, though they were still wide in horror for the upending doom.

You couldn't even process it or grieve.

His bloodlust eyes turned on you, crimson splatters oozing down like drying paint. Wiping a spot from his cheek, he sucked his thumb and smiled, looking too happy -- looking too normal for someone with blood on their face. You reeled back, uneven breaths breaking the uncanny silence.

"[Y/N]."

You couldn't answer. You didn't have an answer. This wasn't your boyfriend anymore. He was a stranger. A murderer.

"[Y/N]."

Nails dug into the dirt and you dared scooted yourself back.

"Why do you look scared?"

Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. He was pouting, jutting his bottom lip out childishly. How could he say that with his hand still on the polearm used to kill someone? Stop it.

"I won't hurt you. I will never hurt you."

"Leave... me... alone..." Your voice cracked and it shook with every syllable. With the last bit of your strength, you heaved yourself up and began to run like your life depended on it. And it did.

You barely last a few seconds. Yanked back roughly by your shoulder, he held you, claws digging into the side of your torso. His head lowered and hot breath tickled your ear lobes as he whispered.

"I will never leave you. One day, I will conquer the world. So I need you by my side. Forever."

His blue eyes were no longer blue. They were purple, the color of poison.

A/N: PLEASE the way childes banner is coming very very soon but i be writing this-

If youre pulling for him, good luck! We're getting our bastard man babes :D

#genshin #genshin impact #childe #tartagila #childe x y/n #childe x reader #childe x you #tartaglia x reader #reader insert #x reader #genshin x reader #yandere #oneshot #love #romance #angst #obsession

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glassessence · 3 years ago

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PGR - OC

I got so inspired by everyone’s creativity that I created my own OC ^^” Even though she’s a member of the Purifying Force, I hope she’ll still be received warmly. Special thanks to @punishing-gray-raven-ocs for their detailed posts about character creation that really made me think about Lydias!

Warning: I may have gone a bit overboard with the detail. It’s a long read! Also, I threw in a not-so-subtle reference to the most traumatic Memory Rescue mission lmao. So proceed with caution, I guess HAHA

Name Lydias: Umbral

Type Offensive Support-type Construct

Service time 1 year

Psychological age 24

Activation date 15 March

Height 167 cm

Weight 59 kg

Vital fluid type O

Faction Purifying Force

Rank A

Weapon Chakrams (preferred) / Gun

Damage type 70% Dark, 30% Physical

Lydias is a support-type Construct modelled after Watanabe’s Astral frame. She has extreme stealth capabilities and excels at tracking, making her ideal for the execution of rogue and infected Constructs.

Her missions mostly involve infiltration and spying, although she’s also been deployed on assassination missions. Those orders come straight from Nikola and their records are kept top-secret, inaccessible even to Bianca.

Her frame is designed for long-range sniping and comes equipped with visual accuracy enhancements and superb calculative powers. However, Lydias prefers to engage her targets in close combat. Killing Constructs from afar feels cruel and cold, like they really are meaningless machines instead of former comrades.

She truly believes in the good of the Purifying Force, but hates the things she has to do. She doesn’t feel like she belongs, but also can’t see a future for herself anywhere else.

Her fighting style is very graceful, featuring a lot of spins and flips that are reminiscent of a dance. Her signature move is called “Blade Dance.”

B A C K G R O U N D

Lydias was born to a wealthy family in Babylonia. Her mother joined the war effort as a Commandant shortly after she was born and is known as the leader of the elite task force, Cybele. Since then, Lydias has always wanted to follow in her mother’s famous footsteps.

Originally a Commandant of the Black Wolves, a certain incident caused her to give up the position and apply for reconstruction. Despite having low compatibility for Tantalum-193, her application was approved after negotiations with Nikola. Following her surgery, she was transferred to the Purifying Force.

P E R S O N A L I T Y

Shows affection through actions rather than words. Bakes cakes for the humans of Babylonia in her free time

Philosophical, often ponders on the nature of humans and of the war

Likes to make dirty jokes and tease others

Obedient to a fault because she doesn’t trust her own judgement

Comes across as cold, but is just awkward with introductions

Doesn't think very highly of herself. Ignores it when other Constructs call her "traitorous hunting dog" but secretly thinks they're right

Loves the sea and the fathomless depths yet to be explored. Likes to go swimming at every opportunity

Prefers to work alone, but overprotective of her comrades when in a team. Frequently throws herself in harm’s way to shield her teammates. Knows it’s not good, but is too haunted by her past

Trusts easily, but is very guarded with her heart

Knows how to dance a lot of old-school styles like ballroom and ballet, but is too shy to ask anyone to practice with her

S E C R E T S

Has memorised a lot of poetry from before the Punishing Virus outbreak

Gets intensely lonely and jealous when seeing close squad camaraderie like Gray Raven’s

Avoids Kamui because he reminds her of someone she’s lost

Has spied on Watanabe extensively under Babylonian orders and is deeply fascinated by him

Doesn’t trust Nikola, but is unable to disobey his commands

Secretly harbours doubts about Babylonia’s mission to reclaim Earth

Has obtained special permission to download the data of the Black Wolves and often reads the records to keep them alive in her heart

V O I C E L I N E S

“Team leader? No, I refuse. You’re making a grave mistake.”

“I’m not suited for protecting people.”

“My opinion on the Forsaken? They’re hardworking, loyal, and--Nevermind. We seem to share a similar goal.”

“The Black Wolves? Where did you hear of that name?! Don’t mention it again!”

“I baked a cake today. Would you like some?”

“Yes, I can dance. But I’d prefer it if you didn’t tell the others…”

“I can teach you to dance. Privately, if you’d like. Haha, just kidding.”

“Becoming a Construct was a decision I made rashly. I don’t necessarily regret it, but…”

“Are we really doing the right thing? This endless war… All these years… What have we really achieved?”

INTERLUDE

D U S K F A L L

A voice cracked over the intercom. “...dant…Com...ant...Commandant, do you hear me?!”

Lydias blinked. The urgency in his voice caught her off guard. Ferdinand kept his cool even in the most dire of situations. Something was very wrong. “Tell me, Ferdie.” Static. “Ferds? Come through!” Nothing. Communications had been poor ever since they’d entered this area, but they’d managed until now. For it to suddenly fail like that… it couldn’t be a coincidence.

“Shit,” she said, turning to the other two Constructs with her. “On guard, guys. Something’s coming and comms are down.”

Ilya grimaced. “Sure it’s not one of Ferdinand’s pranks again?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Flora offered, even as she tightened her grip on her lance. “Pesky little bastard would find it hilarious.” Lydias said nothing. She was too tense. There was a taste in the air, a metallic tang that churned in her belly. Sweat dripped into her eye. Suddenly, a hand slapped her on the back. “Relax, Commandant,” Ilya chuckled. “We’ll protect you like always. No need to be so scared all the time.”

Something in her loosened, just a bit. “Shouldn’t I be the one protecting you?” she retorted, trying to project confidence. “You guys with your fragile little M.I.N.Ds?” Flora laughed, a deep-belly rumble that Lydias loved. The knot in her stomach unravelled some more. “You do that, Commandant,” Flora said. “We’ll just twirl our pointy sticks at the bad guys.”

Lydias was just about to say something snarky when she caught movement in the corner of her eye. She swirled, gun at the ready. There was still no word from Ferdinand. “I’m sensing a large Corrupted force in our perimeter,” Ilya reported. His voice had lost its casual lilt. “They’ve got us surrounded.”

Lydias cursed. “How’s that Memory retrieval coming along?”

“Slowly,” Ilya replied unhappily. Flora clicked her tongue. The Corrupted were visible now. They weren’t like anything Lydias had seen before. They carried advanced weapons - chainsaws and spears and bows - and seemed to be organised into phalanxes. Dread coiled in her belly. “We’ve been ambushed,” she breathed in horror. “Ferdinand tried to warn us. They must have blocked off comms.”

“Well, shit,” Flora grunted. The Corrupted army was within gunshot range now. “When the fuck did they get so smart?”

“Someone must be leading them,” Ilya said. “How did the information leak?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Lydias said. “We need to retreat. Now.” A bullet flew by her head, burning the shell of her ear as it passed. Her heart hammered. ��Back off,” Flora growled. She twirled her spear, eyes flashing as she impaled the Corrupted soldier. Beside her, Ilya stepped forward, fast as a flash, and stabbed one through the neck. Lydias fired off three shots, watching in grim satisfaction as two buried themselves in the heads of two infected Constructs.

The scene descended into chaos just as Ferdinand’s broken voice sounded in her ear. “...n...way! Comm...ant!”

-----------

Flora stumbled back. She was breathing heavily. Vital fluid leaked steadily from several places, staining her coat a rich purple. Ilya was behind her, grimacing. His left arm was gone, torn away at the shoulder. Sparks flew from the exposed wires within. Beside them, Lydias swayed unsteadily. She clutched at her stomach. Red blood seeped through her fingers. All their attempts to break through had failed. Things were looking more hopeless by the minute.

“Commandant,” Ilya said, voice strained. “Turn off my pain receptors.” Flora nodded. “Same here.” Lydias coughed wetly. Her vision was growing dim. “It’s dangerous,” she admitted, wishing she could shut off her own terrible pain. “But there’s no other choice.” She authorised the command. Her team’s face relaxed immediately. She met their determined gazes and nodded. “We’re all gonna go home. Together.”

Ilya smiled. Flora grinned. But there was a sadness in their faces Lydias didn’t want to acknowledge. Her connection with Ferdinand was still blocked. He could be dead for all she knew. She turned away from the thought. Just survive, Lydias. And take the Wolves home.

Together, the Black Wolves rose. Ilya with his dagger and Flora with her spear. Unseen by Lydias, they nodded to each other. An agreement, a pact. A promise. Renewed, they threw themselves at the Corrupted like cornered animals. Slowly, inch by painful inch, an exit was being forced open. Corrupted weapons dug into their bodies, but they pushed on.

Lydias fought beside them, swinging her chakrams haphazardly. Her gun had run out of ammo long ago. She stumbled, half-blind, and almost skewered herself on the end of a Corrupted sword. She could hardly think straight; blood loss was making her weak. Suddenly, a voice crackled in her mind. “Commandant!” Ferdinand’s voice tumbled through her hazy thoughts. “The signal jammer is gone. What’s your status?!”

Her heart soared, bringing with it a brief burst of clarity. “Ferdie! It’s an ambush. We need support!”

“I’ve already informed Babylonia,” he said urgently. “Reinforcement is on the way. I’m coming to you, Commandant. Just hold on!” His signal blinked to life, moving rapidly towards their location. Lydias smiled grimly. Ferdinand was on his way. Support was coming. Surely, they would be okay. They would make it out of this. She just had to hold on for a little longer.

Flora’s signal pulsed unsteadily and Ilya’s grew fainter with every breath. Lydias clung with desperation to the unstable M.I.N.Ds of her Wolves. I will protect you.

-----------

“Coming through!” A ray of energy tore through the Corrupted wave. Lydias spied Ferdinand’s face through the sea of blades. She almost wept with relief. “Retreat,” she said hoarsely, struggling to stay conscious. “Black Wolves, retreat!”

On cue, Ilya and Flora rushed through the tunnel, half-carrying Lydias with them. Between one ferocious breath and the next, they’d broken through the Corrupted circle. She tumbled bonelessly into Ferdinand’s open arms. He took a brief moment to survey her and paled. “The meeting point isn’t far,” he said. “Support will be there.” He picked up Lydias and turned to run, but Ilya and Flora didn’t follow.

“Sorry, but this is the end of the road for me,” Flora said wryly. “Didn’t think it’d end like this.” She spat out a wad of purple fluid. “At least these fuckers will go down with me.”

“And you get the privilege of dying by my side,” Ilya said primly, readjusting his grip on his dagger. Flora laughed, an edge of sadness in her voice. “Yeah, old man, I guess I do.”

Lydias stirred in Ferdinand’s arms. “No,” she said, forcing herself to meet their gazes. “I won’t allow it.”

“Unfortunately, Commandant,” Ilya said. “This time it’s not up to you.” He raised his remaining hand in a salute. “It’s been a pleasure working with you.”

“Go on,” Flora growled. “We’ll make sure nobody pursues you.”

Ferdinand pursed his lips, but nodded tightly. Lydias fought in his grip. She hardly even felt the pain. “No!” she screamed, or tried to. It was hard to tell where her voice was. “Don’t! I forbid it! That’s an order!” He started running. She watched helplessly as the distance grew. “Stop! Go back, we have to help them! Stop!”

In the fading light, Ilya fell and was immediately consumed by a horde of Corrupted hands. His signal weakened then blinked out. A scream tore itself from her throat. She thrashed in Ferdinand’s grip and felt his hold on her loosen. White-hot pain shot through her body as she tumbled to the ground. Mad with grief, she crawled forward desperately, mind blank except for the desire to be with her Wolves.

Strong arms lifted her up. Ferdinand’s lively voice was dull. “Please don’t do this, Lydias.”

“Let go, Ferdie,” she said angrily. “We have to--” Flora’s signal flickered out. Lydias felt her spirit break. “No,” she cried. “Please, no.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. Words abandoned her. The world seemed to shrink, compacting to a single thought: she had failed.

-----------

She woke to white light. Something beeped steadily beside her. Tubes ran from her body to several machines like the tentacles of some deep sea creature. Her entire body hurt. Immediately, she reached for the Black Wolves, but their signals were absent, leaving her mind uncomfortably empty. Panic settled like ice in her veins. It couldn’t be. It was impossible.

Surely, they had recalled their consciousnesses. Surely, she’d simply woken up early. And where was Ferdie? Gasping, Lydias stood, dragging her broken body to the wall of windows. She brought a fist to the cool glass. Nikola watched her from the other side. “Where are they,” she croaked. “What happened?”

He shook his head sympathetically. “They didn’t recall their consciousness. According to our records, Ilya and Flora died protecting you from pursuit. Ferdinand was infected.” His eyes were grave. “He guarded you until reinforcements arrived.”

She didn’t know if she could bear the answer, but she asked anyway. “And then?”

Nikola studied her for a long moment before giving in. “And then the Punishing Virus took over his M.I.N.D. He escaped because we prioritised your survival.” A desperate hope sparked to life within her. “So he’s still alive? Then there’s still a chance! Please, let me find him!”

“You know it doesn’t work like that.”

“Please,” she begged. “Please.”

He turned away from her. “The Purifying Force has already been sent after him. I’m sorry, Lydias.”

-----------

Three weeks later

“Are you sure?” Nikola asked, studying her with intensity. “Your chances of success are only 47%.”

Lydias stared at him blankly. “I’m sure.”

“I’m afraid I can’t allow it. Commandants are valuable to Babylonia. Perhaps even more than Constructs. Few possess the will and compatibility to stabilize M.I.N.Ds. Someone as experienced as you is not expendable.”

“Then I quit being a Commandant. I refuse to lead another squad.” She looked away. “I couldn’t protect any of them. Not a single one.” Her voice broke. “I’m not… I don’t think I can--I just can’t.”

Nikola considered her with some pity. “What do you want then, Lydias?”

“You know what I want. I’m not afraid of dying.”

“I know you’re not afraid, but it seems to me like you seek it.”

She said nothing. Nikola sighed. “I’d rather not lose you completely. You have experience and ability. The Black Wolves were specifically chosen for that mission for your competence. Aife will increase our combat power significantly against the Corrupted.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s unfortunate, but these things happen at war.”

“Say whatever you want,” Lydias said stubbornly. “But this is my final decision.”

“Fine,” Nikola said. “Your attempt at redemption is admirable. I’ll grant your request, but if you survive, you’ll work directly under me. Is that acceptable?”

“Perfectly.”

INTERLUDE HIDDEN CHAPTER

F A D I N G L I G H T

Flora: Fairfrost - Voice Log

*sounds of fighting* I hope this reaches you, Commandant. I don’t think I’m gonna last much longer and… *grunting* I just wanna say goodbye. The old man’s already gone. I felt his signal die out a while ago. He went down taking a blade for me, can you believe it? Even though I’m the Attacker Construct. *panting* You know what his last words to me were? “It hurts.” As if our pain receptors weren’t turned off. I know what he means though. *blades clashing* After all, we all wanna go back home with you. But life’s a bit unfair, eh? For once, I don’t mind. Protecting your back… it almost makes me feel like a hero. That ain’t something you experience every day, y’know? *metal tearing* I guess what I’m trying to say is thank you. For being someone worthy of love. *crash, wet coughing* It’s been my honour and privilege to have been one of your Wolves, Commandant. You’ll remember me, won’t you?

-----------

Ferdinand: Aegis - Voice Log

Lydias… This will probably be my last communication with you. I never would have thought this would be how it ends, but… Well, I’m just glad that I get to spend my final moments with you. I can feel my M.I.N.D. slipping, but Babylonia will be here any second now. They’ll take care of you, the way I wish I could. *sigh* Ah, there are so many things I want to say. I have nothing to lose anymore, so I hope you’re ready to listen. *deep breath* I love you. The way you laugh at my jokes and tease me. The way you can talk about anything. Your smile, your lips. I love the way you kiss me. And of course, I love our late night activities… Such as you trying to teach me to dance. *short laughter* Were you expecting me to say something else, Commandant? You--*grunt, glitching* Looks like my time is running out. I should go, but promise me one thing, Lydias. Promise me you’ll keep your heart open, so that someone else can love you as you deserve. I--You--*glitches*

DATA CORRUPTED.

#pgr #punishing gray raven #pgr oc

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toraashi · 4 years ago

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princess au ft. chuuya nakahara

Title: Untitled Princess AU

Pairing: Chuuya Nakahara x Fem!Reader

Warnings/Genre: Fluff and light angst. One of the awful aristocrats makes a comment about you eating too much, forbidden love *gasp*

Word Count: 1,754

Author’s Note: Hiii! Here it is, the princess au I keep hyping up. It’s actually decent, I won’t lie to you, so I hope you enjoy it! 16 year old me was the biggest weeb (I still am rip), so there is a Kamisama Kiss reference in here I’m cringing but I promise it’s not bad!! Please hmu with your bodyguard!chuuya brainrot to feed my lonlieness when you’re finished reading :)

She reached across the table to select a raspberry pastry, her fingers brushing against the red-head’s as they left her side. He visibly tensed, but she ignored it, along with the minute pang she felt in her chest. The dessert was flaky and crumbly in her fingers, it’s deep, striking red jelly oozing through the cracks in the glazed surface.

“My oh my, are you stuffing your face with delights again? How unsavory.” The person in question twisted her head, hiding her scarlet stained gloves behind her back.

“Lady Nikolina!” She elicited a wry smile from the woman, whose cold eyes disapprovingly darted to her out of view fingers.

“You really ought to think about that figure of yours more. Before you know it, you could be a cream puff! Suitors want slim ladies, dear, not large ones.” A strike of crimson striped her smooth cheeks and she nodded.

“Of course, My Lady.” The princess could practically see her devoted bodyguard’s seething gaze, he always had disliked Lady Nikolina, after all. The protectiveness radiating off of him was comforting, and soon the blush she beheld wasn’t being caused by the snobbish Marquiess before her.

“Speaking of suitors-”

“Actually, my apologies, Nikolina, but I’m afraid I’ve got a dance coming up, and I can’t possibly wait. We shall have to continue this lovely little talk at a later date.” Casting the woman a charming smile, she scurried off, pulling Chuuya along with her. He immediately split their hands.

“Princess.” Their gazes met, his swirling pools of cerulean reprimanding her without a single spoken word, but she got the message, and it burned another hole into her soul.

He couldn’t be with her.

He didn’t want to be with her.

Tears prickled her lashes like raindrops, but she pushed them back, refusing to show vulnerability amongst a crowd of powerful politicians and kings. She could see his hues soften, and then harden merely seconds later, his hand habitually reaching to adjust his hat. His familiar mouth looked so inviting, his orbs safe and comforting, but they were not hers.

When she had admitted her flaming affection to him, she had been sure that he had reciprocated those passionate emotions winding around her heart, but he had swiftly shut her down, all of the fleeting touches and lingering bouts of eye contact dissipating like boiling water, vanishing like a ship at sea, breaking like her fragile heart.

Sweeping her scarlet skirts up into her hands, she traversed the expanse of the ballroom, waving politely to trading partners and their stunning wives, nearly tripping over her golden heels if it weren’t for her companion’s lightning reflexes. A murmured ‘thank you’ kissed her lips, but she was quick to continue walking, her dance card heavy in her pocket.

“Princess! It’s almost time for our dance! Wherever have you been?”

“Lord Mizuki. I was conversing with the lovely Lady Nikolina, I’m afraid.”

“Ah. And what positively thrilling topic did you discuss this time?” A laugh escaped her lips as she gazed up at the snow-headed boy.

“My less than attractive addiction to the cook’s tarts, per usual.” Mizuki's emerald colored eyes followed her every moment as she chuckled at her previous encounter; he held his ivory hand out to her.

“Let’s dance, shall we?” The only person she wanted to dance with was Chuuya, but she obliged, letting her dainty palm rest against his. To say she was shocked when he reached forward and urgently grabbed her forearm was an understatement.

“Chuu...ya?” He immediately released her.

“You better come back right after.” She huffed, swiveling her gaze away from his alluring eyes and letting her suitor tug her away.

He swept her out to the dance floor with grace and agility, weaving through the herds of human beings like a serpent, one hand resting on her corseted waist. Once the waltz had begun, he twirled her and moved her with ease, his grace and royal privilege shining through like the golden sun. His firm grip on the curve of her body was relaxing and coaxing, as if catching her hesitance and disliking for the ordeal.

“My lady, what was that all about with your… bodyguard, is it? I’ve heard he is quite extraordinary.” She let her eyes flutter up to meet his, mind breezing towards Chuuya’s form, his strong arms and beautiful hues.

“You are correct, Lord Mizuki, Chuuya is quite effective. He has his faults, for example, his extreme impatience and impossibly short tempered, but I’ve known him since I was a child.” She looked fondly over at his tense form, narrowed eyes and locked jaw. “He is awfully protective.”

“As I can see.” She averted her eyes back to her dance partner, whose own were sharp and limpid, staring directly at the opposing man.

“Mizuki… you’ve stopped dancing.”

“Ah! Yes, my bad, pardon me, Princess.” He quickly got back into the flow, keeping in sync with the plethora of other couples.

Once the music had faded out, she curtsied slightly towards her companion, immediately leaving the marble beneath her feet and heading towards the sidelines. Rather than immediately treading back towards her designated “lap dog”, a plan formulated in her brilliant mind, one she wouldn’t have been able to pull off with the ability user around.

Hues flicking to Chuuya’s position (he was clearly searching for her), she scurried towards the back stairway, grabbing Lady Nikolina’s garish hat directly off of her head as a disguise. Swinging her hips in the Marquiess’ fashion, she easily traversed the velvet carpeted steps, gloved hand delicately running up the glass railing, tracing each intricate design and emblem. Lady Nikolina’s rooms were just down the hall, so she presumed that if she headed left she could discreetly loop around without causing a commotion. Chuuya wouldn’t risk a confrontation with Nikolina even if he suspected it was the princess. She flicked her hands towards the guard discriminatingly, as a sort of greeting so he knew where she was headed off to, which she hoped he assumed was her chambers. Refraining from viewing the astounding paintings of her heritage lining the towering walls and sky-breaking ceiling, she stepped forward with urgency, gold slippers clicking on the obsidian beneath her feet. She could practically feel freedom in her hands, the balcony merely meters away, she could feel the cool autumn air piercing her lungs, the comforting hum of crickets and light gabber of guests still entering her father’s party.

The shining glass french doors were open in moments, and she spun in euphoria; no more pining suitors, no more reprimanding love interests, no more chastising Marquesses; her plan had been utterly foolproof. Except for one little detail.

Just as she had gotten used to her balcony experience, the entryway slammed open again, a deep, familiar voice slicing through the silence like a bomb, loud and uncontrollable.

“Oi! What the hell do you think you’re doing out here?! Running away like that? Did you really think I wouldn’t be able to recognize you with someone else’s hat on?!” She gulped bracing herself for the lecture to come. “You’re such a stubborn little shit. First you insist on wearing that absurdly fancy dress, then you decide to waltz with that sly snake Mizuki, and for some reason you still have the nerve to sneak away from the ball- from me!” His glare could kill the fluffiest of bunny rabbits, but it didn’t faze her.

“Well, maybe you should stop being a prick about your actions! I could care less whether you held my hand, you idiot!” She thrust her arms down to her sides. “And what does my dress or Lord Mizuki have anything to do with this?! Are you just jealous or something?!” A low growl rose from his throat like the impending rumble of distant thunder, but she was unperturbed. “I’m not stupid, Chuu! I know you feel just the same way I do! I’ve known you for years, you dumbass!” A wisp of hair tumbled in front of her eyes, shielding the building tears from the man. They rebelliously streaked down her rosy cheeks moments later anyway, like rain pouring from (e/c) clouds. She swore she heard a relenting sigh puff out into the silence, but her own quiet whimpers made her unsure of his intentions. Abruptly, one lithe arm looped around her waist tugging her in, his head balancing on top her hers and consequently sending her glittering tiara tumbling to the floor.

“Listen up, [Name].” She felt a bout of dizziness waft over her as she breathed in his addictive scent of cologne and wine, her corset suddenly felt wound too tightly, and she couldn’t breathe.

“Chuuya…”

“You’re a princess. I’m your bodyguard. You are supposed to be married off to a wealthy prince, not your me.”

“I don’t care.”

“See? That’s the problem. I care because my job is on the line.” Craning her head up, she met her eyes with his shockingly blue ones, pleading from the depths of her heart.

“You’d choose your job over me?” He grumbled, fixing his hat.

“You are my job, dumbass.” Continuing to look up at him through her lashes, she tossed the bait.

“Are you saying you don’t want to lose me?” Hook. Line. Sinker. He peered back at her, a light flush across his cheeks. His gaze never left her, and they sat in a forcefield of quiet for five minutes before she made a move, leaning forward into his space. Allowing her lids to flitter closed, she met his lips boldly, the warmth from him enveloping her entire being, drawing her in, and he managed to kiss back, soon becoming more passionate than her. Hands flying to her waist, he tugged her flush against him, her arms winding around his neck and plunging into the forest of orange that topped his head.

“[Name]...” He murmured, his voice low and husky with desire. His longing was simple to spot in his deep, flaming smooches against her lips, and she was feeling the same emotions course through her. He loved her. She loved him. They had known since they had both realized it within themselves.

She was the first to draw away, and he immediately tried to capture her lips again, but she held him back, smiling slightly. The snarky remark lingering on her tongue melted away when she met his eyes, her heart swelling at his adoring expression.

“You’re right,” He murmured gruffly, keeping her close. “I do love you.”

MASTERLIST

Request Here!

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd chuuya #chuuya #chuuya nakahara #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x reader #bsd x reader #chuuya fluff #chuuya princess au #chuuya bodyguard au #chuuya angst #chuuya scenarios #chuuya imagines #chuuya x you

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revengerevisited · 3 years ago

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So I’ve been kinda dancing around my original story idea for a little while, and I got this idea in my head of ‘what if I release chapter 1 and then get feedback without telling anyone what the story is about first so it’s more of a surprise?’ But honestly? I’m realizing since I already released a preview-of-a-preview for chapter 1, and it might be a little while until I finish chapter 1, plus I honestly kinda feel like I’d rather work on sketches of my character designs than write at the moment, I might as well go ahead and tell you guys. X’3

So! I watched a couple anime recently both centered around the premise of... monster girls! These being Monster Musume and Monster Girl Doctor, but then I noticed there’s also Interviews with Monster Girls, A Centaur’s Life, and the infamous Interspecies Reviewers, and I asked myself... Monster girls are pretty popular right now, yeah? But where’s all the monster boys?! And that’s how I got the idea! I re-watched some of my favorite anime based on Otome Games, Kamigami no Asobi and Uta no Prince Sama for inspiration as well, and a few ones I hadn’t seen before like Dance with Devils and Magic-kyun Renaissance for inspiration as well.

So now I’ve got my premise that I shared earlier: This is the story of Millie, a young woman down on her luck who happens to live in a world where monsters aren’t just real, but commonplace. She started working as a maid in a mansion-turned-art-school whose students are a group of very attractive monster boys. The twist is that these aren’t just any monster boys; they belong to various rare and exotic species with deadly reputations...

Note that character and place names are technically place-holders for now and may change if I come up with better ones. Now, I don’t wanna spoil anything story-wise, but I think I can introduce my setting and some of the characters that you’re gonna meet. The story is set in a modern setting, though it’s vague if it’s actually Earth or just some generic world similar to it, as I try to avoid referencing real-world places or events. This is a world where humans and monsters live together after a Great Interspecies War happened in the past, but tensions have mostly relaxed by the time the story takes place. The war could be thought of as the equivalent of our own World War One, one in which there was a truce decided after many years of stalemate fighting.

The city everything takes place in is tentatively named Dullahan, and was built directly after the war to commemorate peace between human and monster kind. It’s considered an artistic cultural center, and it’s got a lot of interesting entertainment places to go to, arcades, theaters, aquariums, etc, that the characters can have a lot of different shenanigans in. The other main setting is the Beaufort Academy of the Arts, which was actually a mansion that was converted into a small private school. This is where all the characters live, and our main character Millie works as a maid there.

Before I go into the characters, I should start with the various monster species. There are 12 species, divided into 2 groups: common monsters and exotic monsters. The common monsters are centaurs, harpies, lamias (snake people), kobolds (dog people), ogres, and merrows (mermaids). These species are all pretty standard, and will be mostly background characters and npcs. The main characters, and love interests for Millie, will be of the exotic variety: arachnes (spider people), sirens (deep-sea mermaids), mandrakes (plant people), dragons, manticores (with a liontaur body-type), and scyllas (octopus people).

So what differentiates a common monster from an exotic one? Well, while the Interspecies War was between humans and monsters in general, some monsters were already at least partially integrated into human society, and the rest followed soon after the war ended. These monsters were almost as common as humans, and either herbivorous or omnivorous, with the exception of the carnivorous lamias who prefer to eat eggs over anything else. On the other hand, the so-called ‘exotic’ species were not only much more rare, but they had a very different food preference... one which earned them the now derogatory nickname... man-eaters.

Naturally, most ‘man-eaters’ weren’t exactly welcomed into human --nor common monster-- society with open arms, not that most of them wanted to. For the most part, species as powerful and dangerous as them didn’t want to play nice with those they had once --and in some cases still do-- regard as prey, and so hid away into the furthest reaches of the world. Which of course makes them perfect material for all our leading men and Millie’s various love-interests!! Oh yes, while all of these monster boys are perfectly civilized --well, for the most part-- they still belong to species that many both human and monster alike continue to fear to this day. While they aren’t exactly fish out of water (well, except for the siren) there’s still plenty of awkward misunderstandings and interesting scenarios that can be played out.

So! Let’s have a quick run-down of the characters, keep in mind that none of these names are final and could change later on. First there’s Millie, a hardworking young woman who’s had a recent streak of bad luck. Through a misunderstanding she gets hired as a maid in a mansion-turned-art-school. She’s very sweet and tries her best to help others, but she’s not as innocent as she appears; she’ll understand your innuendos just fine, even if she doesn’t really say any herself! Next is Richard and Lara Beaufort, a husband and wife who run the school. Richard is rather laid-back, yet he’s also a master of all kinds of art, painting, sculpture, photography, dancing, singing, you name it! Lara is his arachne wife, a rather boisterous woman who owns a high-class fashion company. The secret to her clothing’s success?? Arachne silk, of course! The school was her idea, a way to help better integrate exotic species into society. Will her mission succeed? Only time can tell.

Richard and Lara have a son named Simon, our first love interest and a human-arachne hybrid who takes almost entirely after his mother in the looks-department (hybrids tend to look like one species or the other, rather than a mix of both). He’s a bit withdrawn due to dealing with bullying as a kid; most people --human and monster alike-- are afraid of his spider-like appearance, so he doesn’t get out much-- to the point his parents worry about him being a shut-in for life! He’s also a gamer boy, and has a secret soft side for gothic poetry, although he doesn’t want to join his parents’ art classes. He actually disapproves of his mother’s exotic species integration plan, as from what he’s experienced he feels it’s a waste of time.

Simon’s best friend and Millie’s second love interest is Louis, a mandrake who lives in the woods behind the manor. Louis is extremely shy and more than a bit lonely, even more so than Simon, and he doesn’t speak very often out of fear that the sound of his voice will hurt others around him. Mandrake screams can induce insanity or even kill those that hear them, hence his fear. Being part plant, Louis has mild shape-shifting abilities and is able to transform between child and young adult forms at will, although he’s actually the oldest of the group. He also isn’t a student at the art school, although he has an interest in floristry.

Now for our actual students! Forrest is a manticore, which in this world means he has a body similar to that of a centaur, but with the lower half of a lion instead of a horse, and a scorpion-like tail tipped with a deadly venomous stinger. Despite his species’s name literally meaning ‘man-eater’, Forrest is extremely friendly and cheerful, and is very sporty too. His passion is photography, and he also loves eating food-- any sort of meat dish is fine by him! He’s also a fan of fantasy tabletop roleplaying games, and will often make references comparing them to everyday life; he always plays the knight who saves the princess!

Anthony is a childhood ‘friend’ of Forrest’s, though he’s loathe to admit it. Highly intelligent and highly snobbish, Anthony fancies himself an intellectual-- and he’s not exactly wrong. Being a dragon, he likes to hoard things-- in his case, knowledge. Anthony loves to read, and is most often found in the library. His skill is in drawing and painting, and all his paintings’ invariably morose subject matter worry Millie. Still, this haughty dragon could definitely learn to loosen up a little, and be a little more kind; perhaps his stay at the academy --and his interactions with Millie-- will open his mind to appreciating the feelings of others. He does, at the very least, greatly respect Master Beaufort as a master of the arts.

The other two students are denizens of the sea, and have been friends for a very long time. Emil is a scylla, and like all scyllas he’s a little eccentric, and just can’t seem to keep his tentacles to himself! While Forrest is obsessed with eating, Emil’s true calling is cooking, and he loves making all kinds of dishes, especially anything seafood and/or foreign. Emil also is highly appreciative of women’s fashion, and absolutely adores everything to come from Madam Beaufort’s clothing brand-- so much so that he actually wears them himself! His pretty-boy looks and penchant for wearing women’s clothing actually has Millie mistake him for a girl at first, though he’s very much unafraid to show her his romantic side, or at least what he interprets as romantic...

Keeping Emil’s pervy antics in check is our sixth and final monster boy, Oswald! As a siren, Oswald spent most of his life in the sea, and still has a lot to learn about humanity. He’s a pretty cool guy but gets a bit embarrassed about his species’s troublesome past as the cause of many shipwrecks at sea, and would prefer to not discuss it. His passion is rock music, and his main instrument is the guitar. He also loves to sing, but refrains from doing so due to the hypnotic effect it has on other species. His lack of legs, tentacles, or a snake-like tail means that like other merrows and sirens he requires a wheelchair to move around on land, and often feels frustrated that he can’t show off how adept he is at traversing water. He’s also easy to embarrass and obsessed with not allowing anything to ‘ruin’ his manly image, including allowing Millie (a girl!) to help carry him around.

So there you have it, all my monster boys! I left out a few things, as those would be major spoilers, but those are my ideas for the characters for now! I’ll try to draw and post some sketches of their designs later. Hopefully I haven’t forgotten anything, but this won’t be the last time I talk about monster boys. Any questions or comments would be very much appreciated! Nsfw questions are allowed (all the boys wear pants for a reason, after all), though I’m currently not sure if this series will be 16+ or 18+, if you catch my meaning. Lemme know how interested you are in this story, or if you’re not interested please let me know that too!

#writing #monster boys #maddie's monster boys #if you ever wanted to see a merman wear pants... here's your chance XD

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tu-mint · 4 years ago

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Amendment

A/N: Sooo I’ve been meaning to share my Mortal Kombat stuff on here for a while, I wanted to wait for the movie to come out first 😅🤣

TW: mentions of torture & sexual assault

In which Shang Tsung and the Black Dragon are officially put down and Earthrealm's defenders are able to return home, but Raelynn is stuck in her thoughts, but one of the young Kombatants is able to help her reconsider the negativity in her mind. (Based around MK11 & Aftermath but w/ a twist?)

Raelynn knew this all too well. With her entity as a half god, a change in time would do nothing to erase the horrifying memory in her mind back in the Black Dragon's dungeon -- at least, that's what it felt like. Hours upon hours of nothing but brutal beatings, each kick, punch, and swing as harsh as the last. While it wouldn't have hurt too much being that she was stronger than the average mortal, the bindings fused with the dark power of Shinnok's amulet extracted much of her godlike strength and left her as a helpless bait to be shredded and mauled at by the jaws of vicious and starved predators, desperate to take a leap at the prey before them. It still seemed unbelievable how she was alive even after all the bruises and cuts and blood...but she managed. After all, those shallow wounds were all but nothing comapred to--

The demigoddess shivered involuntarily and inhaled sharply. Thankfully, everyone aboard was too immersed in their own activities to notice her sudden actions, but she knew she wasn't stable enough with where her thoughts were treading. Her eyes searched for her son who was currently speaking in a group of the younger Kombatants. A yellow strip of cloth with an intricate design she couldn't make out was fastened around his bicep, and she wondered where it had come from until her eyes peered at the young male he stood beside. Takeda, son to Kenshi and pupil under Grandmaster Hasashi, was missing the usual yellow band that adorned his head as a reminder to those that he was a member of the Shirai Ryu clan. His short onyx locks blew freely but he didn't seem to mind all that much, instead grinning down at Haru who wore the cloth proudly. Cassie and Jacqui mirrored the telepath's reaction, the blonde pulling out her phone and snapping a picture. The sight warmed her heart and she was thankful the young fighters didn't look upon her son with irritation, but rather genuine care and happiness. When Haru had told her of the adventures and stories spent with them, a pang of guilt struck her for the early misjudgement on her part, believing they were just frivolous juveniles that only gained their high positions due to the status of their families.

Wishing not to allow her brooding to draw unwanted attention, Raelynn slipped silently to the back of the ship. Her efforts did not go unnoticed by Raiden who stood near the hull of the ship, but he decided against speaking with her in that moment.

He recalled the time he had found her, bound like a dog and covered in welts and lacerations big and small. She was curled into a ball, shaking and burying her face into her knees. It was then Raiden became aware of the state of her clothing, torn and barely covering her form as if someone intentionally ripped and pulled at it to expose more of her. Immediately he slipped out of his own robe and pulled it across her trembling form, respectfully averting his eyes. As he helped Raelynn stand to her feet, his eyes widened as countless more bruises and marks made themselves visible, tiny splotches of smooth brown skin barely surviving. These people had clearly put her through a very long, thorough beating, and it was evident that they were in no means hoping to show mercy. No, they wanted her dead. Raiden had teleported into the SF ship and rushed her to the infirmary room. People cleared the way immediately and knew better than to question his sudden appearance as he brushed past them while carrying the barely conscious woman to a bed near the back. He knew the Kombatants would be able to handle themselves well, so he stayed and began the healing process.

It was during this time he realized that Raelynn was no mere mortal, but a half god created by the hands of Cetrion. While it was difficult at first for him to fully trust her said intentions due to her creator's betrayal upon the Elder Gods, he had seen her heart's purity during the mission. The thunder god knew that she was making the best of efforts to redeem herself of past mistakes, and Liu Kang recognized this as well. A twinge of concern fell upon him just then as he knew that she still had much she needed to recover from. Whether she would eventually open up to him or not didn't matter, he would be patient and assist her as best as he could.

Raelynn took a seat upon the thick wooden rail and swung her legs over to face the bloody depths of Netherrealm's ocean. She wasn't afraid of falling nor coming across any odd sea creatures knowing that she had flying abilities, but of course she also wasn't dumb enough to try and test her strength or reflexes. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she looked on at the overlapping waves, allowing her mind to space out and roam. Her fingers tapped on the rail in a rhythmic pattern, and she suddenly was reminded of something. Her hands came together and moved in a circular motion, stretching further until the form of her solar powers had become a guitar. She clutched the neck and hugged the body of the instrument under her other arm smiling to herself.

Upon visiting the islands of the Pacific in the past, she had learned about the aspect of music through vocals and tools that produced a pleasant audio. The demigoddess found that these brought her a sense of peace and tranquility, and immediately she wanted to learn the ways of this fascinating revelation. What came as an interest to her in the beauty of music was the endless techniques for a new sound, new sensations, new reactions, and day by day, there was always the creation or discovery of another. She allowed her fingers to delicately pluck and strum a mix of chords, a tingle settling in her chest at the euphoria beginning to wash over her. Her hands moved on their own accord, finding a steady tempo and following a pattern with an occasional switch. The nerves that built up in the pit of her stomach had eventually disappeared into wisps of nothingness. Her eyes began to slowly close and she hummed quietly wanting no attention to be drawn to the back of the ship. It seemed to work decently, until-

"Wow, you're part god and a singer? Gotta say I'm definitely jealous."

The woman’s fingers froze in place already in position to strum a new chord. She craned her neck just enough to glance over her shoulder at the intruder, already knowing it who it was. “My life is nothing to be envious of, Specialist Briggs.”

Raelynn heard footsteps tread closer and tapped on her guitar. The younger woman climbed onto the rail and threw a leg over the other. They sat for a moment in silence, staring off at the deep scarlet waters swishing and rolling about. “I owe you an apology, Specialist.”

Jacqui’s eyebrow quirked and her eyes fell upon the half god. Raelynn took her silence as a sign to continue. “I apologize for my behavior towards you and your friends throughout most of the mission. Even after I had caused harm upon your lives and nearly killed your fiancé, you still ensured trust in me. That I could never understand, but-"

"It wasn't easy." The half goddess shifted her attention to the soldier. Her face was impassive as she watched the waves. Raelynn couldn't tell if her expression was a good or bad thing, but she decided against trying to get her hopes up. A great deal (if not all) of her acts under Cetrion were cruel and groundless, and she held no anguish up until the time she had to come face to face with the truth of her doings. It tore her day and night, and meeting Hajoon had her convinced that she would be able to leave the life of corruption far behind and start fresh. Of course, the facts couldn't be hidden forever, and the half goddess found herself back in the deep hole of falsehood, surrounded with nothing but fabricated offers to a better life. She scoffed mentally. That opportunity was officially closed off to her. It seemed as though disaster was always a few steps away, eager to ruin her chances at something sound, and risking it a third time was nowhere near appealing.

"There were many instances where I questioned why the Chosen One defended you to such an extent, especially after it was SF that provided for your recovery." Jacqui's voice had brought her out of her thoughts. "Trust me, I was beyond ready to blast a hole or two through your head a hell lot of times." She paused. "But spending time with Haru and hearing your whole deal...I understood you." Raelynn's brows raised slightly, not expecting such a considerate response.

"I couldn't imagine a life finding out that the one who was supposed to be my caretaker, my protector, my safe haven, was actually the one who robbed me of all that. My mother..." Her words trailed off and she peered down into her lap. She tightened her jaw and bit her lip to keep from releasing the tears awaiting just behind her eyes. Raelynn almost reached her hand out in an effort of comfort but stopped, not wanting to ruin the intimacy in the moment. Jacqui lifted her head and continued. "Man, it would kill me if she'd ever done something like that...growing up believing that everything was all good and sweet, and everyone just hated her for doing what I thought was the right thing, thinkin' it was my own folks who were the crooks trynna steal me away and take my power from me..." She scoffed. "Seein' my dad as a revenant then manipulated by Kronika was betrayal enough, and it hurt like hell. Point is, I realized that you truly had no malice in you. You were just takin' orders and tryin' to keep your mother—uh, Cetrion, happy."

And it was true. Raelynn trusted completely in the virtue goddess as any child would their guardian. She worked vigorously in carrying out the Elder Goddess' wishes, longing to eventually gain any sort of praise or affection, but it was rare that those occurrences came to past. Most of her upbringing revolved around unanswered questions and the constant urge to do better, trying at all costs to win approval. But like a fool, she allowed her heart to get the best of her, put her through the worst of hells just to seek out a foolish desire that would never be anything close to genuine. That's what messed her up in the first place, and she couldn't—no, would not dare to do something as stupid as that again. It was only her and Haru. Nobody else.

"I am...appreciative of your understanding, Ms. Briggs," Raelynn spoke after a long moment of silence. "You and your comrades are owed a huge debt on my behalf."

Jacqui chuckled and shook her head, then turned to look at the demigoddess. "You're damn right we are!" The two women shared a laugh on the rail. "Actually, I believe there is a way to pay back this debt."

"How so?"

"Well, Takeda and I's wedding was put on pause due to this whole mission, and it cost a lot to find decent live music. Cassie offered, but we're trying to have a simple proper wedding, not a drunk karaoke session. And you have the voice of an angel—well, a god in your case. If you can strum a few chords and sing a few notes for a few hours, I'll consider you free of deficit."

Raelynn cocked her head and raised a brow. "That's...that's all?" She figured the woman would request of something more extravagant, like a prolonged lifespan or giving her supernatural abilities. Jaqui nodded and crossed her arms awaiting an answer.

"I...very well, Ms. Br-"

"Jacqui. That formality stuff is weird if it's not comin' from General Blade." The demigoddess was taken by surprise again. She gave a single nod and looked on at the waves which now fell into to a more mellow and calm pattern.

Perhaps it wasn't just Haru and her against the world. Every person aboard had their story, their differences, their fall outs, but they were able to cast it all aside at an effort for peace upon a world that did almost nothing for them in return. Some aspects of the Earthrealm were odd, she thought. It was going to take a lot of time to get used to these people, but maybe, just maybe...

There was a sense of hope.

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gaylorlyrics · 4 years ago

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the last great american dynasty

Rebekah rode up on the afternoon train, it was sunny

Her saltbox house on the coast took her mind off St. Louis

Rebekah is Rebekah “Betty” Semple West Pierce a sculptor, and philanthropist born on April 17, 1915 in St. Louis. She also composed music, one of many similarities between her and Taylor.

Bill was the heir to the Standard Oil name, and money

Bill refers to William Hale "Bill" Harkness, the grandson of David Harkness who invested with John Rockefeller in Standard Oil. When David died he left what would today be over a billion dollars to Bill’s father, who was also named William Harkness. Eventually Bill inherited what would today be approximately $185M dollars from his father (approx 70% of this wealth was from Standard Oil shares).

And the town said "How did a middle class divorcée do it?"

In 1939 Rebekah married Dickson Pierce, descendent of President Franklin Pierce. However they divorced in 1946, and then in 1947 she married Bill. Her father was a stockbroker, and her grandfather started a trust company - so she wasn’t exactly middle class, but her wealth was significantly less than the wealth of the Harkness family.

The wedding was charming, if a little gauche There's only so far new money goes They picked out a home and called it "Holiday House"

Holiday House was built on Watch Hill in Rhode Island by Mrs. George Grant Snowden who, contrary to the song, named it Holiday House. Seems like this house has been having raucous 4th of July parties for a long time - at least according to this NYTimes article from July 6, 1941:

Their parties were tasteful, if a little loud

The language here mirrors that of the first verse - “the wedding was charming, if a little gauche”.

The doctor had told him to settle down

Bill died in August (interesting!!!!) 1954 of a heart attack - he had also had a heart attack the year prior, but that one was obviously not fatal. He and Rebekah had one child together named Edith who eventually committed suicide at the age of 34.

It must have been her fault his heart gave out

This line calls attention to how women are frequently blamed for, well, everything. Something that is explored more in mad woman.

And they said "There goes the last great American dynasty" Who knows, if she never showed up what could've been There goes the maddest woman this town has ever seen She had a marvelous time ruining everything

The chorus and the title of this song seems to come from the title of a book about Rebekah called “Blue Blood: How Rebekah Harkness, One of the Richest Women in the World, Destroyed a Great American Family” written by Craig Unger. The from cover of the book reads “The story of Rebekah Harkness and how one of the richest families in the world descended into drugs, madness, suicide, and violence”. [Also, interesting that the background of the cover I found looks a lot like the blue/pink in the Lover cover!]

The chorus also references “mad woman”, another track on folklore. This song subverts the idea of a mad woman. The title and subtitle of Blue Blood use Rebekah as a scapegoat for everything that went wrong, blaming her solely for violence, drugs, mental illness, and loss. It uses several classic, sexist tropes of a gold-digger, a “crazy” woman, and the whore. However, in this song Rebekah is not taking the blame or feeling guilt about what is happening - she is having a marvelous time.

Another interesting thing is changing “great American family” - family is defined as “a group consisting of parents and children living together in a household” - to the word “great American dynasty” - dynasty is defined as “a line of hereditary rulers of a country.” I find this specifically interesting because dynasty, unlike family, acknowledges a long lineage of people and decisions that lead to this outcome, as opposed to placing all the responsibility and blame on Rebekah, who only entered the picture at the tail end of this story. The title of Blue Blood has no accountability for the people who were involved with the dynasty before - framing it as if David Harkness didn’t choose to leave his wealth to his lineage, as if Bill Harkness did not choose to marry Rebekah, and as if the wealth Bill inherited wasn’t already diminished by 81.5% from what the family’s original wealth was (as passed down from David Harkness to Bill’s father).

However, Taylor is changing the narrative here to give Rebekah a more joyful way to be remembered.

Rebekah gave up on the Rhode Island set forever Flew in all the Bitch Pack friends from the city

Rebekah and her fellow debutantes formed a group called the Bitch Pack and were known for causing a scene at parties, doing strip teases on the tables or putting mineral oil in the punch, which acts as a laxative.

Taylor is drawing a parallel here to her famous squad days, when her and her group of girl friends were constantly under fire from the internet/press.

Filled the pool with champagne and swam with the big names

Rumor has it that Rebekah cleaned her pool with Dom Perignon. Being a socialite and one of the richest women in America, she frequently kept high profile/famous/successful company - hence the “big names”. Stories of her involve J.D. Salinger, Alvin Ailey, and Andy Warhol, to name a few. However, swimming in champaign is also a metaphor or the carefree life of the rich and famous - something that she used in This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things, from Reputation, where Taylor describes a similar scene:

It was so nice throwing big parties

Jumping to the pool from the balcony

Everyone swimming in a champagne sea

And there are no rules when you show up here

Bass beat rattling the chandelier

Feeling so Gatsby for that whole year

Another interesting tidbit is that the house where The Great Gatsby (1974) was filmed is the Rosecliff Mansion in Rhode Island, about 1 hour away from Holiday House.

And blew through the money on the boys and the ballet

Rebekah married twice more after Bill’s death, once in 1961 and once in 1974. As a life long dancer, she spent the majority of her time and energy founding (in 1964) and developing The Harkness Ballet Foundation, which still exists today as The Harkness Foundation for Dance. As part of this endeavor she also established a ballet training school and the Harkness Theater. She paid for everything for the company, from teachers to housing to plastic surgery. The company went on tour and performed at the White House, although it had a generally negative critical reception. At the peak of the company’s success Rebekah abandoned the project and started a different company

And losing on card game bets with Dalí

Although I couldn’t find anything specifically referencing a card game, Rebekah was good friends with Salvadore Dali. Here they are pictured holding a press conference together.

A portion of Rebekah’s ashes are in a $250,000 urn created by Dali called “The Chalice of Life”. The urn was designed to spin, so that Rebekah could always be dancing.

And they said "There goes the last great American dynasty" Who knows, if she never showed up, what could've been There goes the most shameless woman this town has ever seen She had a marvelous time ruining everything They say she was seen on occasion Pacing the rocks staring out at the midnight sea And in a feud with her neighbor She stole his dog and dyed it key lime green

According to the NYTimes, Rebekah dyed her neighbors cat green

Fifty years is a long time Holiday House sat quietly on that beach Free of women with madness Their men and bad habits, and then it was bought by me

Weeee the classic Taylor Swift storytelling twist! This is a great flex by Taylor to just casually drop in a reminder that she is a rich woman who has made her own money and can buy whatever she wants. The phrasing of this also let’s us know that the house is no longer free of women (plural, more than one woman) with madness (we’ll hear more about being a mad woman later in the album), their (possessive, something owned or bought) men, and their bad habits (bearding?). Taylor is admitting to having all of these things. Who knows, if I never showed up what could've been There goes the loudest woman this town has ever seen I had a marvelous time ruining everything I had a marvelous time Ruining everything A marvelous time Ruining everything A marvelous time I had a marvelous time

This makes me think of the line at the end of Miss Americana - “Sorry I was loud in my house. That I bought. With the songs that I wrote about my life.”

Taylor, like Rebekah, is used to being blamed for everything and causing a scene. Even her purchase of Holiday House caused considerable backlash and commotion - with the governor creating a tax in 2015 (two years after Taylor purchased the house) called the “Taylor Swift tax” on homes worth over $1M dollars - something that affected many people in Rhode Island, especially those with large houses and vacation homes. All Taylor did was buy a house to live in (with her money, that she got from writing songs about her life), and she was immediately brought under fire.

However, like she did with Rebekah’s story, Taylor is flipping that narrative and focusing on how much fun she is having instead.

#last great american dynasty #the last great american dynasty #folklore #taylor swift #rebekah harkness

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p-artsypants · 4 years ago

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I Do...I Guess (2)

Mushroom Rock

Ao3 | FF.net

The chocobo eater was a great team building exercise, though Yuna’s new Aeon did a lot of the leg work.

What was the name again? Ifeert? Oh well, Hot Dog it would be to Tidus.

Zanarkand was really missing out on those Chocobos though. They were fun to ride, and pretty easy to handle...though they were a little smelly.

Of course, Tidus tried to imagine riding one around back home, among the motorcycles and the cars...and thought that maybe the chocobos were fine here in Spira.

The birds allowed for much quicker travel of the High Road, and they made it to the crusaders blockade before lunch.

“A blockade?” Wakka wondered aloud. “But how else are we supposed to get to Djose?”

“I’m sorry folks,” one of the nearby crusaders explained. “The road will be closed off during our operation. We’re very sorry for the inconvenience.”

“We have to get through,” argued Lulu. “This is Summoner Yuna, and you are hindering her pilgrimage.”

“I’m sorry. Summoner or not, I have strict orders not to let anyone pass.”

It was then that Wakka made the startling discovery. “Hey, there’s Al Bhed here.”

“The Al Bhed and the Crusaders are teaming up?” Asked Yuna.

Wakka frowned. “What kind of operation needs the Al Bhed a part of it?”

“I find myself asking the same question.” A wispy voice interrupted.

The party turned to see Maester Seymour joining the fray. He seemed none too bothered by the presence of those so-called heathens.

He almost looked excited.

“Lady Yuna? Is there something the matter?”

Tidus felt an uncomfortable crawling sensation in his veins. This blue haired clown really made his skin crawl. Jealousy, the others might say. But no, he could read those sleazy bedroom eyes from a mile away.

How old was this dude anyway? Should he be allowed to look at Yuna like that?

Why did he care? He wondered. He was a guardian now, so obviously he was watching out for her.

And a pending marriage proposal, his subconscious reminded him politely. He had managed to forget about that all morning.

“We need to get through to continue my pilgrimage,” Yuna said simply.

Tidus really admired that she didn’t try any persuasion at that moment. No beating her enchanting mismatched eyes, or pitching her voice up like so many girls had done to him.

She didn’t even say please.

“I’ll take care of it.” Seymour smiled.

Tidus mimed a gagging motion at Kimahri, but the joke was wasted on the stoic ronso.

Miraculously, Seymour did take care of it. They were waved on almost immediately, much to the chagrin of Dona, who was asked to stay back.

They were prompted forward, down the Mushroom Rock trail, to the beach and the command post, where everything was going down.

The Mi’ihen Highroad was lush with greens. A perfect day with ideal blue skies, with happy chocobos fluttering around.

But the closer they got to the operation, the grayer the sky, the drier the ground, and the more fierce the fiends.

Yuna shivered slightly as they entered a valley.

“You okay, Yuna?” Tidus asked.

“Oh, yes. Just got a chill up my spine.” She came a little closer to him and admitted. “I don’t know why, but I got a sense of dread all of a sudden.”

“What’s the operation all about, anyway?”

“I’m not sure. But I suppose we’ll find out more when we reach the command post.”

They found out plenty when they crested the hill and found a half a dozen machina canons all lined up and pointed out to sea.

The horror on his teammates faces proved that whatever was going on was likely very heretical.

“What are all these Machina doing here?” Asked Wakka.

A crusader answered. “We Crusaders and Al Bhed share the same dream. To be rid of Sin forever! And if we can take the burden away from the summoners, we’re going to try!”

It was a noble cause, Tidus thought. He had seen the devastation that Sin was capable of. Were these little canons good enough?”

They were explained the situation. A huge canon sat on the cliff side, easily big enough to wipe out a city if they weren’t careful. And there was an army on the beach, ready to fight and distract with swords.

He hoped this would all work, maybe then Yuna could stop her journey.

Maybe Sin would come to shore and he would go home, and then he wouldn’t have to come up with an answer for Yuna’s marriage proposal.

He felt like maybe all these things were unlikely, and that only the worst was to come.

The army was still preparing, and there was no sign of Sin, though the bait was set and waiting.

Tidus spotted a familiar merchant standing back, behind the cliff wall.

“O’aka, right?”

“Ah, so my name is catching on, eh?”

“Well...maybe. We rode in the boat over from Kilika, remember?”

“Oh yes. I never forget a face! You lent me a pretty penny, and for that, I’m grateful. Are you after anything? I have a special rate because of the operation.”

“Do you...have any rings?”

“Rings? Ah yes, all sorts of magic wards. And they’re pretty too!”

Tidus had been given an allowance for such an occasion.

O’aka displayed his tray of jewelry, with about a dozen different choices on it. Golds and silvers, with all sorts of jewels.

“What about this one?” He pointed to a silver and blue one, with a very intricate design.

“Excellent choice! A real heavy hitter! Stone, water, fire, and lightning proof, and it's blessed!”

“How much?”

“For you my friend, only 9999!”

Tidus opened and closed his mouth in shock. “Uhhh...”

“What are you doing?” Auron asked, coming up behind him.

He yelped in surprise, and then tried to school his expression into something that didn’t look like he got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Uhh...just looking at rings.”

“For Yuna?”

O’aka’s eyes widened. “For Lady Summoner Yuna? My my, how interesting!”

“Mind your own business!” Tidus scolded with a blush.

“So you decided to say yes?” Auron asked.

“Not...completely. I’m still thinking things through...I just want to be prepared. You know? I thought, maybe having it would help me think.”

“A wise decision.” Auron took out a sack of Gil and handed it to O’aka, then took the ring, and a thicker, plainer band. “You get one too.”

“Oh. Right.” For now, Tidus just pocketed them, and decided to concentrate on the mission.

A mission that was doomed to fail, according to Maester Seymour and Kinoc.

“Let them keep dreaming.” They said. It was almost an admission to a genocide.

Everybody here, crusaders, Al Bhed, and a few Yevonites, they were all fighting for peace. For calm.

And yet, these ‘Holy Men’ had laughed behind their backs.

Tidus had nothing against the temples. Faith and prayer were vital in keeping hope in such a dismal world. But these Maesters smelled heavily of nepotism and flagrant thirst for power.

In Zanarkand, such men would find places of power. In government, in business, on boards and councils. But of the religions back home, he thought of them as pious and self sacrificing.

Not whatever these two men were.

How many others were like this? How many others were willing to sacrifice people?

Why wasn’t anyone speaking up?

They shouldn’t have come. They should have stayed at the blockade, or gone back to stay another night at the Travel Agency.

But no. Now Tidus was in the water, rapidly chasing down his old man. The beach was littered with bodies and shrapnel of destroyed Machina. The operation had failed catastrophically, and yet, all he could do was swim on, chasing.

He wouldn’t let this opportunity pass him by.

But Sin was gone. Just as Jecht had vanished from his life, so had the beast once again. Giving no answers, leaving more questions, and leaving oblivion it's wake.

How long had he been passed out for? Minutes? Hours? He wasn’t sure. The wet sand pressed against his back as he washed ashore. All his chasing and he was back.

“There you are! You good, brudda?” Wakka hurried to him and pulled him to his feet.

“Yeah. Just...I just fell.”

And he had. He had been up top fighting that Sinspawn before he fell below. So it wasn’t a complete lie. He just didn’t want to explain to Wakka that he had tried to chase down the biggest menace on Spira because of a childhood grudge.

“Where’s Yuna?” He asked instead.

“Talking to Maester Seymour.” He pointed up towards the ridge. Yuna stood there, head bowed as Maester Seymour stood too close, speaking to her.

“I gotta go.”

“I don’t know man, seems like a private conversation.”

“Like I care!” Tidus staggered to his feet and hurried over to her. He stood below the ridge, just out of sight, but not out of earshot.

“…so you mustn’t cry.” Seymour preached. “You must be a beacon of light to Spira, you must be strong for these survivors.”

“I know,” Yuna said, in a tender voice. “But some of these people were my friends, and I want to grieve their loss.”

“Yuna, being a summoner means removing your emotions from those around you. You can care, but not too much. You know that, right?”

Tidus wanted to grab that cretin by the robes and push him into the sea. Maybe Sin would come back and swallow him. Was that too much to ask?

“I understand. Thank you, Maester Seymour.”

The man patted her head, like she was a dog, and moved on.

Yuna stood there for a moment, just staring at the ground.

“Yuna?” Tidus spoke behind her.

She turned, and saw him just below her on the ridge. She nodded with resolve and sat down on the edge. “Will you help me down?”

He held his arms up for her, and she took hold of his shoulders. She slid down, to stand with him, keeping her eyes locked with his. “Thank you.”

“Anytime. You okay?”

She just nodded. Then added, “I have a sending to do.”

So he let her go, and watched as she began her dance.

A dance devoid of joy, of fun, of merriment. It was still graceful, and haunting, but the tightness in her face contrasted with the fluid movement in her body.

Sobs and wailing filled the air, as survivors of the massacre witnessed their friends and family rise as Pyreflies into the air.

If it was up to him, she’d stop dancing. So she could stop hiding her sorrows.

Her strength did amaze him, though. He watched as she danced up and down that beach, long after the sun had set. She wouldn’t allow one soul to not be sent. They already suffered, they didn’t need to remain as fiends.

Long after Seymour and Kinoc left, long after the other guardians set up camp, Tidus still followed Yuna down the beach. All the way to the other end, before she collapsed in exhaustion.

“Yuna?” He asked softly.

“I just need a moment,” she breathed.

She sprawled out on the sand, and Tidus wondered if she cared about it getting in her hair.

She looked exhausted. Her lips pulled into a tight line, and her eyes were shut hard.

“Why did this have to happen?” She asked aloud, mostly hypothetical, but loud enough for him to hear.

“Because people were sick of Sin. And death was a better alternative to sitting and twiddling their thumbs.”

She sighed. “My mind knows that, but my heart...”

He sat in the sand beside her, just a hands length away. “You know, it’s okay to cry.”

She shook her head.

“Even I let out a few tears back there, and most of these people were complete strangers. You knew some of them.”

“I have to be strong. Summoners are a pillar of strength to the people of Spira.”

“So I heard,” he shrugged. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t ever cry.”

“I don’t want to.” She protested. “I want my journey to be full of laughter, and you’ve been so good about helping with that. Don’t tell me to cry.”

“Fine. I’m not going to make you cry. Just...sometimes, being happy isn’t possible. Then it’s the best to just be less sad.”

Yuna turned to look at him, but didn’t say anything.

“Maybe I don’t know anything about Yevon, or hardly anything about life. But I think grief is when you love too much, and you can’t give it. I think if I saw a summoner cry from loss, I would feel better. My future, my world, is in the hands of someone who loves.”

Yuna hummed softly, garnering his attention. She had streaks on her cheeks, but he politely chose not to mention it. “What happened here was a tragedy, but for a moment, everyone was United and working together, and I thought it was really beautiful. So maybe it was bad...but not all bad.”

“Feel better?”

“Yeah...not happy, but less sad.” She sat up, dusting the sand from her clothes. She admired the stars above and the crashing of waves before pushing to stand. “We should get back soon, before they worry.”

“We will,” Tidus assured. “But I want to ask you something first.”

“Alright?”

With resolve he hadn’t felt in a while, he took the ring out of his pocket, and got down on one knee. “You know, it might feel like weird timing, but I want to help.”

“Tidus?”

He held the ring up to her. “Yuna, will you marry me?”

She just stared at him for a long time.

“I know you asked me, but back home, it’s kind of tradition for the guy to ask. Hope you don’t mind?”

“So...you’re accepting my proposal?”

“Only if you accept mine.”

She laughed, a genuine smile breaking out on her face. “Alright. I accept!”

He smiled too, and pushed to his feet. Then he held out for her hand and slipped the ring on for her.

“I never thought I’d propose to a girl I wasn’t dating.” He joked.

“Already getting cold feet?”

He shook his head, before gathering her into a hug.

Yuna was startled for only a moment, before snuggling into his arms.

“Whatever you need, you come to me, okay?” He asked. “If you need to laugh, or cry, or a hug. I’m your man.”

Yuna smiled into the embrace. “Yes, you are my man.”

#Final Fantasy #Final Fantasy X #FFX #tidus x yuna #tidus #final fantasy tidus #yuna #I Do...I guess?#Fanfiction

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huilian · 3 years ago

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It snowed yesterday. Don’t worry, I’m safe and warm. Well, as safe as I can be, I suppose. We all are. Stephanie wouldn’t even let me go here without wearing a scarf.

I saw two children having a snowball fight on my way here. They were laughing.

I’d forgotten that such sounds existed.

Three people. I wasn’t fast enough when I gave instructions to Cassandra, and I lost three people today.

Lucas Franklyn. Vivian Sanderson. Aditya Mandel.

Three more people on my list.

Why did you have to make me do that? Why couldn’t you have let me die with you?

Jason’s last helmet was cracked beyond repair today. He said it was time for a costume change anyway, but I can tell that he is heartbroken over it.

You would have known what to say to him.

Do you know you could die from a broken heart? It’s called takotsubo cardiomyopathy. Your cells release hormones that cause your heart to stop beating, and if it stopped long enough, it’s fatal.

Sometimes I wished my heart had done that when I was in that arena with you.

There are enough people coming back to Gotham and living here that we’re considering taking back the Manor. The Bunker’s just enough anymore to be both the base of operations and our med bay. I guess that’s a good thing, that people are coming back. That people are living.

Oh, I haven’t told you this yet, but Cassandra took up the cowl last week. We had to modify one of your old suits to fit her.

She asked me whether I want to be Robin again. I said no. I don’t think I can do it yet. I mean, Timothy is only now starting to allow me to help his cases. Me being on the field would only distract him.

More than that, I… You gave me the uniform. You gave me the title. I know how much it means to you.

I don’t want to sully that.

Mother came today. She asked me to come back with her.

I told her no. Once was enough.

I wish you’re here.

I found a dog. I know, I know, you’re laughing at me. But she was shivering and starving and she’s missing a leg. What was I supposed to do, leave her there?

It’s a good thing we’re back at the Manor. I mean, the Bunker is nice, but a dog needs open space. And she doesn’t mind all the ruins we haven’t gotten around to cleaning yet.

I think I’ll name her Haley. It’s a good name.

Also, do you know that there are still circuses? One stopped a couple of weeks ago in Gotham. They didn’t stay long, but you should have seen the smiles on the children when they saw them.

You would have loved it.

Tim let me plan his mission today. He even only checked once.

I miss you.

***

Damian brushes away the leaves on the stone and cleans the ground around it. Then, he wipes away the dirt that had collected on the engraved markings. Finally, he pats down the earth right in front of the stone and sits on top of it, facing the headstone with the name Richard John Grayson written on it.

It’s an empty grave. There was no body to retrieve. Every single prisoner who died in that compound was thrown to the sea, so when the situation in Gotham was calm enough to have funerals, they laid an empty coffin with Dick’s name on it in the mass cemetery of all that had died in the past several years.

There were many empty coffins that day.

Now that they had retaken the Manor, and that Gotham, along with the rest of the world, seemed to be getting better with every day that passes, they can technically afford the time and effort to move Dick’s grave to the Wayne Manor’s cemetery. They didn’t, though. Damian thinks that Dick would have liked this, being laid down to rest among the people he dedicated his life to save.

He pulls his legs up, crosses his arms around them, and starts talking.

“I helped Stephanie deliver a baby today. There are fewer life-threatening injuries and more doctors in Gotham now, so she could have gone to a real doctor, but the mother had been going to Stephanie for health checks since the beginning of her pregnancy and didn’t want anyone else to deliver her baby. I got to bathe him while Stephanie helped the mother deliver the placenta. He was so small.

“But that’s not what I came here to tell you. I… I’m thinking about going back to the field. And I think… I think I’m going to take up Nightwing.

“I know that I’m the least worthy person to do that, but… Jon told me. About the myth. Nightwing, the great rebuilder. I think… I wish… I hope that I can be that. That I can do that. And I think that you would have liked that for me. You were always too good to me.”

Damian closes his eyes, and tries to prevent the tears from falling down. He promised himself that he wouldn’t cry today. Not until he finishes what he needs to say to Dick, anyway.

He uncrosses his arms, places his right hand on the headstone, and continues. “I will do my best to make you proud, and I hope… I hope that you can be proud of me.

“I’m designing the costume tomorrow. I wanted to come here first, to tell you that. I’ll show you how it looks like when it’s finished, but I doubt you have any leg to stand. I’ve seen the pictures of your old costume, and wings, Richard? Really?” Damian asks, smiling at the memory of that particular costume of Dick’s.

He stands up, one hand still on the headstone. Tears are running down his cheeks now, him having lost the battle of not crying until he has said what needs to be said.

“One more thing I have to tell you,” Damian says, between gasps of breath. “I haven’t told you this before, but… Thank you.” He breathes out, and says again, “Thank you for saving me. Thank you for letting me live. Thank you for sacrificing yourself for me.

“Thank you, for everything you have done for me. Including that.

“I love you.”

#dc #dick grayson #damian wayne #lian writes #fic #and that's all she wrote folks!#thank you for reading!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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percqbeths · 4 years ago

Text

someone please help me figure out what this is because it came to me in a dream yet has no reason or theme to it

Almost one week after the morning they woke up to drilling, Annabeth had long forgotten she had new neighbors. It’s not that she kept up with any news in her apartment complex in the first place, but they’d also grown silent, blending into the lull of their floor.

Most days, Annabeth doesn’t mind waiting forever for the elevator of her apartment to arrive. Their apartment is all the way on the twelfth floor, meaning the thought of taking the stairs is one she heavily ignores. What she doesn’t expect when waiting for the elevator at 9 in the morning is a small dog jumping onto her legs.

She yelps at the contact, causing the dog, a small, blonde Maltipoo, to bark, jumping up and touching her knees. She kneels down, cupping the dog’s face between her hands, “Oh my god, where did you come from?”

“Fuck, Appa, where the– Oh, there he is.” Annabeth looks up at the first syllable, raising one eyebrow at the stranger standing in front of her. Her first thought is that she hates the fact that she’s currently on the ground, because he’s tall and she hates the fact that she’s tilting her head so much to look at him. “Did you really name this dog Appa?”

He bends down, and the dog, Appa, turns away from Annabeth as his owner clips his leash onto his collar before standing once again, “I did, yeah.”

Annabeth stands, one eyebrow still raised as she studies the stranger. Now that she can properly look at him, she mentally curses the fact that she put in the bare minimum of effort this morning. Instead of her usual tennis skirts and decent blouses, she’d opted for leggings and a hoodie that was two sizes too big, and now she looks like a bum meanwhile he looks like a guy you’d see in a Hollister magazine; Broad shoulders, sea-green eyes that Annabeth already feels attached to, black, curly hair, and a navy blue shirt that only accentuates his biceps.

Annabeth looks between the stranger and Appa, an incredulous tone to her voice that she doesn’t bother masking, “You named a tiny blonde dog after a massive flying bison from Avatar?”

The stranger bends down, picking the dog up before locking eyes with Annabeth. “He’s massive and can fly in spirit.”

He says the words with as much seriousness as a person could, and it only makes Annabeth laugh. “You just– Wow, okay. I believe you.”

He grins, and Annabeth instantly notices the dimple on his left cheek, and she can feel her stomach flip. “Appa appreciates it.”

He shifts his hold on Appa, extending out a hand, “I’m Percy. We just moved in.”

The realization crosses her mind before she can stop it, and she straightens, “Wait– You were the one drilling at 7 in the fucking morning?”

His cheeks flush, and he releases Appa onto the ground before looking at her with a sheepish grin, “Uh, yeah– Sorry about that. We didn’t have any furniture and needed something to sit on, and my roommates and me all had late classes that day so we figured we’d do a little bit of building in the morning.”

“Did it have to be 7?” She grumbles, and Percy’s blush only deepens, “In my defense, I wanted to sleep too. Take that up with my roommate Leo.”

“Maybe I will.”

He gives her a smile, pointing his thumb behind him, “Apartment 1203. Be my guest.”

Annabeth furrows her brows for a moment, “You’re in the Halloween apartment.”

A look of confusion passes over Percy’s face, “The what?”

“The old people that used to live in that apartment used to deck out the front of it every Halloween. Christmas too, but Halloween’s were always really cool.” Annabeth explains, a small smile on her face, “I always wondered how the inside of the place looked, since they had good exterior design.”

“Well, I can’t promise we’ll have cool holiday decorations, but you’re welcome to come over.” He gives her a grin, just as the elevator beeps and opens up. Annabeth has a slight blush on her cheeks as she returns the smile, stepping into the elevator. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that.”

Annabeth almost misses the way his smile grows and the small wave he gives her while the doors are closing.

Help

#percabeth #percy jackson #annabeth chase #pjo #aya.txt #aya writes #i have no clue what i'm doing #i'm not joking this stemmed from a dream #percabeth au #yes he names his dog appa <3

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1derspark · 4 years ago

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Ok last one I promise,,, Sun!Joe and Moon!Nicky honeymoon in Malta post events in TCOD 👀👀👀

Kellin I love u, you have sprung Hala from my mind. I’ve already gifted this to you on ao3 but I'm doing it AGAIN cause you deserve it. Here is a post-TCOD ficlet, piled on with much fluff. The smut can come later...possibly...

Here is the link for anyone who wants to read on ao3!

Hala’s morning chores in the house consisted of thus. She was woken up by her older brother, Bilal, who often thumped her on the forehead to bring her out of sleep. Hala did not enjoy waking up at dawn, but he needed her to help feed their chickens now that he took frequent trips with their father on their boat in the harbor.

He could not do everything himself he would say to her, as she blinked and yawned while the sky blushed pink above them. She was old enough now to take care of his chores.

“Why are they your chores then?” was her usual response. He’d swipe for her head but Hala was fast, and Bilal didn’t really mean it, she’d giggle as he chased her through the coop-yard in the morning, chicken seed falling between her fingers while they played.

Afterward, she’d go into the kitchens where her mother would hand her some warm bread made before dawn. If Hala was lucky there would be honey to go with it, worth the lingering grubbiness on her fingers she would retain for the rest of the day.

With her bread scarfed down, her mother would lead Hala out of the house to the small cart in front of the orchard. Their mule was hitched to it, the back laden with crates of oranges and limes and lemons and grapefruit, that the workers had picked from the orchard yesterday. Hala could see the now bare trees behind her.

With Hala settled, and Bilal sprawled out in the cart with a blade of grass poking out between his teeth, their mother would urge the mule along for the ride down the hill into the city where they’d sell their wares.

The market square for the island of Malta was lively even before it officially opened, flush with scurrying merchants and cooking fires. The smell of flower oil, cured meat, alcohol from the open seated bars all battling for dominance in the air.

Her father has their fruit stall prepared long before his wife and children arrived, greeting them with open-arms and tired eyes but a smile and often a spare orange, one that had fallen from their display now too bruised to sell, for Hala to snack on for lunch.

He’d kiss his wife, hug his daughter, and lead Bilal down to the shipyard where they were to meet the ships coming in to export their crop.

Her mother said it was time that Bilal learned the trade if he was to take over for her father when he was older.

When Hala asked what she would be doing when she was Bilal’s age, her mother said she could choose herself. Bilal did well in his numbers, he had a memory for those kinds of things like their father did.

Hala was more interested in the groves. The carts of fruit piled board to board with oranges bright as suns, limes green like the water in the sea caves. Her favorite days were weekends because then they headed out to the orchards themselves to check on the crop. She could spend days in the tangled roots of the trees, her hands black from the soil, the farm dogs nipping at her heels, jaws snapping for chunks of fruit.

Hala would like to do that maybe.

But at nine years old she could not yet choose, and instead sat on a wooden stool behind their fruit stall double counting the coins for her mother as the market came alive, and their customers came looking for fruit.

It was about lunchtime when the strange man came by again. Hala, who was usually content to spend her lunch break winding through the other market stalls buying a toy or sweet treat, kept herself planted in her seat as the man came by.

“Good afternoon, Nicky,” her mother said to the strange man, hauling over a small basket of dark blood oranges, their skins a bright burnt orange.

“Good afternoon, Isra,” Nicky said with an incline of the head. He was paler-skinned than most of the people on the island, but their city was full of all kinds. This was not why he was strange.

Nicky came to visit them every week for his oranges, just like every other customer with a schedule for the market. Hala’s mother liked him, he was polite, and paid promptly, often staying to chat for a few minutes about new recipes he was making. He seemed fond of desserts, or his husband was, whom they had yet to see in person.

Hala followed after him once a few weeks ago, after he’d left his coin pouch sitting on the market counter and her mother had told her to return it to him before he disappeared.

Nicky was grateful to take it and gave her a spare copper coin for her trouble, but that was after she’d found him in an alleyway with a cat.

Light had been shining from his fingertips and reflecting on the wall for the cat to bat at.

He didn’t seem bothered by her seeing it, maybe if she’d said something, but she was too busy being slack-jawed, the coin pouch extended out from her body in an awkward offering.

He’d left soon after, and Hala returned to the stall trying to figure out if the man who bought their oranges was some kind of witch.

Hala had heard of such strange creatures before. On the island, they had their own thoughts on gods and monsters, but Hala’s family thought little of them only in that they hoped the trees were healthy and the rains good and whatever was out there that might help in such things was happy.

Bilal had a storybook he liked to read some nights to her, one from the mainlands. He’d read it for fun, as Bilal liked reading just as much as he liked doing his numbers, but he’d also read them to scare her sometimes.

Tucked into his side Bilal would tell her the tales of the sea and earth goddesses, how the mountains shook when they were angry, the seas swallowing ships and spitting them out as wooden skeletons on a deserted beach.

He told her stories of how the sun and the moon gods warred in the forests, leaving ice and fire in their footsteps when they were angry. How they could walk among us as men, but there would be things about them that were not.

A flick of the light on a wall, a hand extended that was too warm to the touch, the sound of the sea in your ears when the beach was far away.

Nicky, their buyer of oranges, played light-games with the alleycats on the wall. Hala tried to forget it, but after his next few visits, she would follow him and watch… for whatever he was doing.

Luckily Nicky came by late enough into her lunch hour that her mother didn’t mind Hala wandering off after the man into the thick crowd. He was easy to spot if Hala kept her eye on him, with his long nose and his even longer sword that he kept hanging down at his side. It was of a more foreign design, people on the island preferred shorter one-handed weapons. Hala did not think she could lift it with two.

But if Hala wandered from following the tall brown-haired head of Nicky, tempted instead by the smell of roasted nuts or a pretty turquoise necklace she might like for her birthday, Nicky would be gone. She’d spend what was left of her lunch hour searching for him, only to return to the stall stomping, grumpy, and empty-handed of more evidence.

Hala strengthened her resolve. She demanded Bilal read her more of his god-books at night, and though he seemed confused by her demands he did not protest.

She settled in beside her brother to absorb as much information as possible. She would catch Nicky tomorrow.

It happened entirely by accident. Hala was lucky she didn’t kill herself, but the tenacity of a nine-year-old could not be forestalled, and especially not Hala’s.

It was approaching summertime on the island, and the weather was picking up in its heat, though it was damp and humid most days. It was hard not to feel like she was covered constantly in water, but that did not stop her mission.

Nicky came by one morning for his fruit, looking rather composed compared to everyone else in the market who was sweating and stained in the heat. There wasn’t a wet spot on him, he was practically glowing, happy as can be.

He conversed with her mother for a while as he usually did, before heading off. Hala followed soon after.

The other day Hala had found a small stairway to the rooftops on the edge of the baker’s store just opposite their stall in the market. She could see best from up there, and on the hot days, the rooftop caught the best breeze. She eyed this staired entrance-way now with a wide smile, an idea forming.

She made her way up to the rooftops before anyone could see her or scold her and ran to the side when she bent over to look for a mop of brown hair and a pale face in the crowd. She was fast, and lucky because Nicky had not gone far.

He had stopped at the jeweler’s where he held a pendant in his hand, some kind of smooth golden stone with silver metal warped around it in the shape of the sun. He haggled with the jeweler for a moment before handing over a few coins, pocketing the pendant and moving north out of the thickest part of the crowd.

Hala followed him over the rooftops.

It wasn’t easy but it was more efficient than trying to squeeze her way through the squished group of people packed in wall to wall buying and selling their goods. Hala was not very tall and people tended to shove and push her out of the way to get where they were going.

Hala could feel a creeping burn in her lungs as she jumped and darted from rooftop to rooftop, not knowing how long she could keep it up, following Nicky from above, and eventually the rooftops would run out. There would be some gaps she could not breach, and with the direction that Nicky was going, north out of the city to the neighborhood built into the sea cliffs, there would be no more buildings for her soon.

She didn’t have to worry about that problem because her next jump timed perfectly to where Nicky had slipped into an alleyway to cross one of the busier streets. She paid more attention to what Nicky was doing than where her feet were going and she fell.

But she did not hit the ground.

She landed in Nicky’s arms, and he was actually glowing.

Having caught her or not he looked just as surprised to see her there as she was to not be splattered across the alleyway. And when he realized that she could see his skin, which was, she realized, not just white but a medley of so many light colors coming in sparkles of rainbow that looked like a gemstone in the sunlight, he dropped her clumsily to the ground and backed up to give her space.

“You’re a witch,” was the first thing Hala said to him, dripping with a child-like tone of accusation.

“Ah, not quite. That is not the word I would use,” Nicky said apologetically. He’d dimmed himself down, looking almost normal again. A few alley cats had come out of hiding and were rubbing themselves along his legs looking for more light. Nicky must frequent this alleyway often to play with them.

“What word would you use then?”

Nicky hummed, an uncomfortable sound in his throat. He was not used to being asked these questions, which Hala thought was funny. She thought he was pretty obvious in his… otherness.

“I do not like being called a god,” he finally said, “but at home that is what people refer to me as.”

Hala considered this. She believed him. And Bilal’s books confirmed it. Her brother would not read her books full of lies. He was smarter than that. And she’d hit him if he did.

Nicky eyed the end of the alleyway like a salvation. Hala felt a little bad. Nicky was always nice to her, and her mother too. They had to deal with lots of rude customers, so it was always nice to have one who paid in full and spoke in full, welcoming sentences. Hala did not want to scare him away from their stall, her mother would wonder about it, and they would lose money.

Besides, Nicky did sometimes bring them the things he made with their fruit, and she’d dreamt for days about the last orange tart.

“I’m not going to call you that,” she said to him, “but I did see you, with the cats. That was weird.”

Nicky shrugged, sheepish. “They follow me around, and I have no food to offer them. The game seemed like a good alternative.”

“Can you do other things?”

Nicky nodded. He seemed less tense now he stepped closer to her.

“May I pull out my sword to show you?”

Hala nodded, more than intrigued. He unsheathed his sword, one-handed, but soon gripped it in two. It was as magnificent as she imagined. Clean, smooth, shining steel almost black in the shadows of the alley, but when he held it out in a fighter’s stance it started to glow with his body.

The sword became living light.

Hala jumped on the balls of her feet and clapped her hands at the display. Nicky moved through a few more battle stances at her request before putting the sword back.

“Thank you, Hala,” Nicky said. “It has been a while since I have shown someone this and they have appreciated it as you do.”

“You’re very good,” Hala said. She knew when to give a compliment, and Nicky might be strange or a god or whatever but he was better than Bilal when he practiced his swordplay, which wasn’t saying much. “Is that all you can do? Put your light in a sword? I thought you might do more.”

Nicky smiled and patted her on the shoulder. “The other things I think we might save for another day. I cannot show you all my tricks. But look at the sky and the weather some days, you might recognize them.”

Nicky bowed for her, chivalrous, and left the cats scurrying after him. Hala returned to the fruit stall satisfied, but curious for more.

It had not rained for three weeks and the island was drying up. The fruit trees could go a week without water, but with the soil bone dry and the sun above them burning and blistering, their livelihood was withering away. Hala spent most of her time in the shade of her room with the dogs panting open-mouthed at her feet.

Bilal was grumpier than usual. It was too hot outside to play with his friends, their mother wanted him still. She would not have her children succumb to heatstroke, and would not have them dragging red dry dirt into the house even more so.

Hala still went to market with her mother most days. They were selling whatever fruit had not shriveled up yet, but their baskets were filling less and less. Most days when they cut open an orange the insides were shriveled and wrinkled, when eaten there was little sweetness. None of that firm plumpness that her father’s oranges were known for.

Nicky came to them on Wednesday like he always did, only he looked different, tired. His eyes looked dim, his face more sickly than his normal lovely paleness.

Still, he greeted her mother with his usual small smile, if a bit more reserved. “Hello, Isra.”

“Ah, Nicky—” Her mother seemed surprised to see him, her face drawn tight. “I’m sorry, I didn’t expect you. I don’t have your oranges today, the harvest has been—well, with the rains gone—”

“They’re all dried up,” Hala interrupted, unable to keep the pout of her face. In her hands was one of the few oranges they’d brought to market. It was smaller than usual, and had lost that ripe, pungent scent.

She looked up at Nicky, and could not hide the tears in her eyes. She remembered what he said before about the sky and the weather. Was this his fault? Her lower lip trembled. “The rains haven’t come and all the fruit is dried up. Can’t you fix it, Nicky?”

“Hala!” her mother hissed, before turning back to Nicky. “I’m sorry Nicky, I don’t know what she's talking about. I have some other options for you if you’d like, not as many as usual but—”

“No, no, please,” Nicky said, raising his hand to cut her off. “Save them. I am sorry to hear of your troubles. And about the rain. I would help if I could.” He looked upwards to the sky where the sunburned as it had been for the last few weeks. He wasn’t squinting at it, which Hala thought only more strange.

“My husband is sick,” Nicky said, apropos of nothing. “We have only been here a couple months but he has not adjusted well to the weather. The oranges cheer him up. They are his favorite fruit. I must thank you Isra, and you too Hala for bringing them to me every week.”

Her mother looked taken back by Nicky’s compliment. “It is of no consequence. I am happy to have a loyal visitor like yourself. I only wish I had something to offer you today.”

Nicky hummed, eyeing the orange in Hala’s hand. She stared at him for a long while, but he would not look away, the tease of a smile at the corner of his lips, his tired face brightened somewhat.

Hala sighed and thrust the orange out to him. “Take it,” she grumbled. What one of their dry dusty oranges would do for him she didn’t know, but he seemed intrigued by it. It wasn’t like the thing tasted good anyway.

“Thank you, Hala. I think this is a special one,” he said, mysteriously.

Her mother looked confused by the exchange, but Nicky left before she could question him. They were left alone with the dry heat again. Hala reached for one of the hand-held fans some of the merchants had been using and fanned herself. It didn’t help much.

That night Hala woke from her bed to the sound of a thunderclap rolling across the hills.

She ran out of bed, forgoing even her slippers, and with the dogs behind her as she emerged into the orchard in the dead of night with the moon clouded by heavy, thick clouds.

Bilal was already out there with her father who was standing at the beginning of the tree rows.

“Father?” Bilal asked. He was huddled behind him, while their father eyed the sky.

“The rain is coming,” was all that he said. And the sky rumbled in answer. Hala held out her hand and a raindrop fell on it. Then another. One more. A hundred more. A million. She was drenched to the bone and she could not hear her joyful squealing over the rain. She twirled in the mud with her arms outstretched for as long as her father let her.

Bilal took her hands and together they danced in the puddles.

The next morning it was still raining and it took longer for them to get to town with the streets muddied and atrophied with holes pounded in by the storm. But Isra was no idle woman and she would bring her daughter and son to market every day no matter the weather.

Nicky was waiting outside the stall for them with a man Hala did not recognize.

He was handsome, some of the girls in the neighborhood might giggle over his warm eyes, his kind face, his white teeth. Why they obsessed she could not say, but he was not a bad face to look at.

He was blowing his nose into a handkerchief as they pulled up. And when he greeted her mother by name, his voice sounded congested.

“You must be Hala,” the man said to her. He handed the handkerchief to Nicky who pocketed it without a word.

“Are you Nicky’s husband?” she asked.

“I am. My name is Joe,” he said beaming, like just the act of saying it brightened him. He did look rather shiny. Nicky was blushing at his side, their fingers were tangled together now.

“He brought me the orange you gave him yesterday. I have to thank you for it. I’ve been feeling under the weather, and the orange made me feel better.”

Hala could not resist this man’s warmth. He radiated kindness, even in the shadow of the rain. She could imagine what he would be on a sunny day, though she would not mind forgoing that for a long while.

“He said they were your favorite,” Hala mumbled, scuffing her shoes in the mud. “They’re very good, even when they’re dry.” Which was a lie but Joe didn’t seem to notice or care.

“I would expect nothing less, your orchards do you credit,” Nicky said to both her and her mother. Isra was smiling at their exchange, seemingly happier with a satisfied customer and a basket full of new, bursting fruit.

“I’m going to run them when I’m older,” Hala said, puffed up, her back straight and her head high.

Nicky nodded and his face turned mock-serious though his voice remained playful, “And I will be coming for fruit from you then as well Hala. I expect their quality to stand.”

Hala wrinkled her nose. “They’ll be better.”

Joe laughed, loud and boisterous, before breaking off into a cough. Nicky put a hand on his back, rubbing soft circles until he stopped, his face written in concern.

“It seems I am not healed yet,” Joe said chuckling, his hand over his mouth. He raised his eyes to the sky, where the clouds covered them still, the downpour from last night turned to a drizzle.

“But the worst is behind us, yes?” he said.

“Yes, I think so.” Nicky wasn’t looking at him, but smiling at her.

Isra handed Nicky his basket of oranges, happily settled back into the routine. Hala planted herself on her stool as well and set about peeling her lunch open.

Stuffing slices of oranges into her mouth she watched Nicky and Joe walk back through the market streets, and the occasional burst of white light along the building walls that no one else seemed to see.

#TCOD #d's fics #joenicky #kaysanova #the old guard #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova

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