#never even knew they existed until this one landed at a hide we were visiting!!

[chinquix]

Racquet-Tailed Treepie, Kaeng Krachan National Park, Thailand

[azullumi]

”know it’s for the better” ; aventurine

summary — memories come in waves and tonight, he’s drowning; the grief of his past haunts him and visits him in his dreams; alternatively, you comfort and assure him after his nightmare.

pairing — aventurine (w/gender-neutral reader)

warning — 2.1 QUEST SPOILERS (about his past)

tags — established relationship, angst with comfort, soft and kind of insecure aventurine, mentions of alcohol (he just drinks a glass that’s all), there’s some fluff if you squint, lots of metaphors, mentions of death, mentions of depressing and negative thoughts, all told and narrated in aventurine’s POV, i never proofread, 2.1k words ; one-shot

tagging — @toorurs !! dedicating this to you

note — this is what reading his character analysis, character essays, scene and dialogue interpretations, and his whole ass lore and dissecting each one of it does to you. day 3 of writing for him.

“kakavasha.”

he opens his eyes to the sight of his planet: seemingly empty, barren, as nothingness continues to stretch towards the horizon. there was nothing on this land but  the stench of death and cruelty that lingers in the air—it was heavy, thick, as if the clouds were binding him down to the ground and forcing him to look at what once was. he could feel the ache in his chest, the feeling of familiarity starting to seep into gaps between his fingers, and the the lump starting to form in his throat.

he knew this place, the stones that surrounded him and the mountain that leered over him. he knew of this, was all too familiar with it—the sunken ground and disturbed dirt from when his sister knelt before him with tears in her eyes as she uttered her promise of reunion before she bid him her farewell (he’ll always carry her last words as if it was part of his existence). the memory plays in his mind all over again, the voice of his sister echoing:

“this is where we go our own way, kakavasha…”

“...this is a gift from gaiathra, and you are kakavasha, whose good fortune will bless your sister with success.”

“as long as you are alive, the blood of the avgin will never run dry. so run, kakavasha, do not be afraid, and do not look back…”

he could feel the rain starting to pour down on his form but he doesn’t run, he doesn’t move, he doesn’t seek for something that will shelter him from the cold. instead, he stands under the pouring rain with heavy shoulders and thoughts that seem to claw and scratch at him. no matter how much he tries to cover up and escape from his past, to run and run until his feet hurt, until he falls and crumbles to nothing, it will still haunt him. it chases after him; it hides in the corners of his room, behind the wallpapers, and amidst the settling dust and cobwebs, and it creeps up on tuesday mornings as he tries to revere the sun that once never shined on him. he’s always painfully reminded of the things that he has to carry—the weight of his sister who carries her parents, and who carries their parents.

“...the rain will accompany you, and the rain will bless you.”

the distant cries, screams, and roars all ring inside his ears but the sound of the rain breaking into smaller pieces as it falls to the ground that he walks on masks it all.

he feels so pathetic. the hatred that he has for himself continues to gather and manifest into his likeness to sing choruses of condemnation in the guise of shattered and broken praises that are shaped like knives, stabbing his guts and making blood spill from his lips (he doesn’t know what his mother looked like anymore yet he could remember the distinct smell and taste of iron as blood stains his skin).

“why are you all doing this…” he remembers what he answers to her sister before she walks off to her death. he remembers asking her as he covers his ears with his small hands—too weak and frail to even carry stones, much less move boulders. he remembers the pain, the confusion, the guilt of it all. he was just a small child who had too much to hold.

what even is the worth of his life? it was just merely 60 tanbas. even if he dresses himself in luxurious and expensive clothing his past self could never dream of having, it doesn’t rid of the grasp the ipc has over him; his shackles. the cold and harsh metal is not there anymore but he could still feel it tugging on his neck, he could still feel the letters burn as it engraves itself—death would have been a more merciful fate for him than being held by such cruel and dirty hands.

“kakavasha.”

aventurine opens his eyes to the sight of his ceiling. there was no empty land that is of semblance of his planet before him but instead there were the patterns, the walls, and the chandelier that hangs in the middle of it. he was in his room; the silence accompanied with the ticking sound of the clock strikes a balance between quietude and noise.

1:56, he looks at the time. it was still deep into the night—the stars cast its light into his room as it poured itself on the cold floor. there was a rustle by his side and he turned his head to look at you, peacefully sleeping in the comfort of his blankets and you mumbled something underneath your breath though he couldn’t hear it. your face scrunches for a moment before it relaxes into a soft one and he watches all of it happen; he wonders what you’re dreaming of.

unable to sleep—a heavy feeling resides in his chest ever since he woke up—, he slides himself out of the bed. slowly and silently, dare he might disturb your sleep. he slips into his slippers before walking off to the direction of his kitchen. he doesn’t even know what he’s going to do there; he’s not even thirsty nor hungry, he just follows where his feet brings him (that’s how it usually was for him, often aimless and wandering with no direction in mind, he just doesn’t where to go, where he belongs).

he’s not an alcoholic but sometimes he just seeks for the bitterness of the liquid—to replace the taste of blood on his tongue and momentarily feel what it’s like to have nothing on your shoulders; his hands are empty yet it holds so much. he pours himself a small glass, honey-coloured liquid spills into it and a few drops gets into the surface counter. he picks the glass up, swirls the liquid for a few moments and watches its motion, before he brings it to his lips and drinks it all.

the scent is harsh against his nose and the liquid burns at his throat. the taste was too bitter and he felt like spitting it all out but he didn't, he continued to swallow it until there was nothing left in his fill. he tried to think of something else, to avoid those thoughts from entering his mind: the plant there needs to be watered, that reminds me of the light bulb has to be changed, do i even have a future ahead of me?, the painting there is slightly out of place, am i even supposed to survive?, are you still in his room?

he wonders if you’re still tucked in his sheets, if you’re still sleeping in his bed, he wonders what you were dreaming of that got you mumbling and knitting your eyebrows, he wonders when you’ll walk away from him after you realize how ugly and utterly worthless he actually is.

“‘rine?” a voice calls out to him along with the light sound of approaching footsteps. as soon as you enter the kitchen, you are greeted by the sight of him: an empty glass in his hand with a newly-opened bottle of alcohol in front of him. it was currently 2 in the morning, your lover was missing from your side when you woke up but you found him drinking alone in the kitchen.

“what’s wrong, my love? are you okay?” you ask, worry following your tone as you spoke. but aventurine remains silent. he can’t tell you his thoughts, of the overwhelming despair that drags him back down to his misery, and it’s not because he doesn't want to but he can’t—it would break your heart.

(and you know his silence too well. you didn’t carve yourself inside his heart just for nothing, you didn’t consume his flesh to not know the humming of his thoughts inside his chest.)

“you know you can tell me anything, right?” you didn’t care that he’ll break your heart. you wanted all of him and that includes his hatred and anger. if it makes him feel better, break it, shatter it into pieces and you’ll keep on picking yourself up for him. even if you don’t have the ability to stop the downpour, you’ll walk with him through the rain.

after what seems to be moments of hesitation coming from him, he shuffles from his seat and approaches where you stood. and he lets himself fall and crumble for you to catch him in your embrace—he feels safe, he feels okay but the grief, misery, and guilt still tugs at his heart ever so often as it beats.

(“where do i put all of this grief?” he asked you once while you admired the stars with him. “you hold them until it turns to love.”)

you caress his back softly, a small act of comfort as you cradled him in your arms. he doesn’t put all of his weight on you but he pulls you close and buries his face on the crook of your neck, heaving out a sigh as he did; you let him, let him whisper his worries and write his thoughts on your skin.

“did you have a nightmare again?”

“…not really.” the faint smell of alcohol wafts to your nose as he speaks. “i just…”

“it’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it.”

“i’m sorry.” he says and you didn’t fail to notice the crack in his voice and the feeling of something warm and wet on your skin. you hold him closer, tighter, and you brush your hand against his hair, tangling your fingers in his soft locks.

“you have nothing to apologize for. it’s not your fault, kakavasha. nothing is ever going to be your fault.”

“it feels like it does.”

“no, no, my love… you were just a child. you did all that you can to survive and fulfill your promise.”

you start to gently sway him into the melody of your hum and he follows your form like the wind would on your hair. this continues for long until he’ll let go—you’ll hold him for as long as he wants to if it would lessen his burdens.

“i wouldn’t love you any less nor will i think of you as worthless.”

he has days likes this, days where he contemplates and thinks of everything, days where he doesn’t know what to do or what to say, days where he feels like he never changed and he’s still the same weak child who walked away from his sister instead of begging and asking her to go with him (the survivor’s guilt goes hard), days where it feels like everything is falling apart and he’s left on his own again, days where all he wants to do is to just cry in your shoulder—

“are you feeling better?” you ask him as he lifts his head from your shoulder; dry tears are left like trails of stars on his features. you cup both of his cheeks and wipe away the remnants of his misery and ache.

“mhm, a little bit.” he nods and you beckon him closer to your lips just so you could kiss his forehead before peppering his whole face.

—but there are days of warmth and sunlight. days where it all feels a little bit bearable and he can breath, days where every step he takes isn’t heavy, days where he could taste the kindness of the sun on his lips, days where he wakes up with you by his side and thinks he could have this forever, days where he could hear his mother’s lullaby that would comfort him, days where he could hear his sister’s voice telling him that she’s proud of how far he have come, days where everything feels okay and worth it.

years of these little bits of happiness—in silence, in chaos, in tranquility, in destruction—he wants a lifetime of it with you. and though kakavasha was never a greedy man, the ache, the yearning, and craving for those moments with you fills the empty spaces of his thoughts; you looked like what peaceful dreams are made of.

“i love you.” he knows that you know that already, he just thought he’d say it again.

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[surelynotaspider]

Teyvat's God

Creator!Reader x Genshin Impact

Summary: The creator descends down to Teyvat once again. Will there be chaos or peace?

-> Sagau AU -> Wordcount: 0.76k~

Masterlist

A long, long time ago, there was a god. The creator, to be exact. Oldest being to ever exist. Much older than even Celestia.

Said creator did what they did best. Create. And so originated Teyvat and everything within. Not many have had the honor of seeing the creator since they were very, very tired after using so much power and energy, they fell asleep and left Celestia in their power.

And time went on and on and on. Creations were still intact. Celestia made sure the world knew about you, their creator. Statues were built, as well as temples. Offerings were given to you each day and people prayed to you each passing second.

At first, humans only prayed to you and only you. They saw you as their saviour, their hero. But faith can crumble, and it did.

You were gone for more than 5 thousand years, not even leaving a message every now and then to ensure you are still there, listening to their prayers and their problems.

Now they pray to other gods. Mostly Archons. They were here, they listened and protected their own people, unlike you.

Where were you?

No one knew, not even Celestia.

But oh dear, when you showed up, chaos was brought upon Teyvat.

You crunched your eyebrows. The light was blending you too much for your comfort.

Wait.

The light was blinding you! Is that the sun?

You suddenly opened your eyes. Not believing what you saw. You were finally here! After so many years you got your well-deserved rest and created a body to descend down to Teyvat once again.

How you have missed feeling the soft grass under your feet, the wind breezing towards you, the cold water leaving shivers on your body and the sun warming you up.

You sigh, close your eyes and relax. It's been so, so long. Sure no one's gonna miss you for a few additional hours.

Walking around Teyvat has been so much fun! So many new things to explore, new animal species you were sure you didn't create. Such as... cats...? You couldn't remember the name, but it didn't matter to you! You were finally happy. They made you happy!

And wait until you find civilization!

It was fun, really fun. You were astonished by the structures these so-called humans build. Back in the old days, they were called mortals. Blinded by the beauty of Mondstadt, as they called it, you didn't seem to notice the person in front of you.

So you walked right into them. Not fully used to your new body, you fell. You squeezed your eyes shut, preparing for the pain... that never came? Could you even experience pain?

You felt soft, cold hands around your wrist. Your eyes slowly opened. Right in front of you was quite a handsome man. Short blue hair covering his black eyepatch. A blue top with white sleeves covering his arms. You can't help but notice a blue glowing ball hanging at his hips. What's that? Before you could even apologize for your clumsiness, he spoke first.

"My, my. What do we have here?" His voice was deep, yet soft. His accent wasn't something you were used to.

Do people still speak the original language? Or do they only know English?

"I'm sorry, sir. I must have been blended by the beauty of this city." You smiled at him. Your voice traced with grace. It wouldn't surprise him if you were hidden royalty.

For a moment he couldn't process what you said. You radiated grace, importance and power. Not even speaking of your breathtaking beauty. Those eyes, sparkling at every new thing you encountered (which was like everything). Your lips form a smile at each passing citizen.

"No worries, I take it you're new to Mondstadt?" He smoothly responded, hiding the fact he was flustered.

Your eyes lit up. He swore it was the most beautiful he'd ever seen.

"Yes, I certainly am! The architecture is so different compared to the other cities I've visited." Others might say you lied, never seeing other lands such as Liyue. Others might deny it saying you saw cities from 5 thousand years ago and others just don't give a fuck.

"You don't mind me giving you a tour, right? And I'm Kaeya by the way." Kaeya. What a fascinating name. One you've never heard of.

"Kaeya. What a beautiful name. Of course, I don't mind a tour! I'm [Name]. It's a pleasure to meet you!"

Part 2 (coming soon)

[lemariee]

Chapter 8

A consistent swooshing sound of gliding wings was all she heard during her flight. It almost put her frantic mind in a sort of tranquil state. She knew a part of her was astray or perhaps even mad from isolation for taking refuge in such a sound.

After some time she felt the sudden jolt of her cage landing. The thorny door then opened and for a second Gerda was panic-stricken about stepping out. She couldn't scrape off her unusual skittish emotions. It had been months since she endured the presence of others.

She was put at ease when she noticed Celtra patiently waiting outside for her with two guards. Gerda nervously walked out and was taken aback by her surroundings. There were creatures of all kinds in what appeared to be a village. The buildings and homes varied depending on the creature. Some lived in trees while others preferred cottages. It reminded her of what Ulstead was except this was much more mystical and fey-like.

"Shortly after your imprisonment, my people reclaimed what was once theirs before humans forced them into hiding. We now have markets, homes, and means of travel. Trade between the humans has been a peaceful transition and both kingdoms have benefited largely from it." Celtra explained with a smile on her face.

Gerda was in awe at what she was seeing before her. Never had she thought such notions would be possible or could exist. She assumed the fey creatures would forever be primitive beings. However, they managed to catch up with the humans under a short period of time. Of course, she would never admit such a thought out loud. She was far too prideful to acknowledge their impossible fast advancements.

"Come. I will show you around until we reach our destination." Celtra said, gesturing for Gerda to follow.

Gerda silently followed next to Celtra with her hands tightly clasped together at her waist. She was still trapped in a state of astonishment and shock as they walked into the village. She noticed many fairies trying to sell products and food at market stands while others strolled about minding their business. Not a single one seemed to notice her, which made her wonder if it was common for humans to visit.

"Do humans come here often? They all seem so at ease with my presence." Gerda asked as she walked through the streets next to Celtra.

"Actually quite often. After trade began many humans would come here for business while others frequently visited because they love the culture and beauty we have to offer." Celtra proudly said as they headed towards a large building made of stone and vines.

Gerda noticed many horned children with small wings flying around or sitting in the grass playing. She assumed this was the destination they were heading to judging by the children's appearance. She felt somewhat nervous when some of the children began whispering and staring at her.

"Does my presence bother them?" Gerda asked in a small voice.

"No, they actually find you beautiful. I believe the color of your hair captivates them." Celtra said as she smiled at the curious children.

"Is red hair rare? I don't understand what's so beautiful about my hair when it's such a undesirable trait for humans. My hair goes against our beauty standards." Gerda mumbled recalling how unattractive her vivid hair color was to the men in Ulstead.

"Such a color doesn't exist with my people, at least not your specific shade. It resembles fire when in the sun." Celtra informed as they now stood in front of a large, wide wooden door.

With a single push the wooden doors opened revealing a massive hall that appeared large enough to fit hundreds of fey. Gerda followed behind Celtra and was a bit puzzled when there were stairs that led down onto the main floor. She imagined perhaps it was there for creatures who were unable to fly and depended on walking just like her. Unless humans had frequently visited the hall too.

She went up to the balustrade and looked down at all the fey who gathered below either conversing or lounging around waiting for whatever news was to be announced today. The hall consisted a range of different creatures that populated the Moors. She took notice of the winged dark fey whom she had grown accustomed to seeing due to her time spent around their kind.

"This special announcement must be important for so many fairies to be gathered in one setting. Let's find a spot while we wait for the arrival of our leader." Celtra announced, causing Gerda to suddenly pale.

It had been many months since she seen Borra and their last interaction was a disaster. She remembered how repulsed he was with her and was not looking forward to facing him again. Gerda had also managed to anger him during the last gathering which resulted with her being humiliated and nearly killed in front of his people. Perhaps she could completely avoid him and hide somewhere within the crowd.

Gerda silently followed behind Celtra trying to keep her head down as they maneuvered through the medley of fairies. Despite her attempt of keeping a low profile, she noticed several of Celtra's people turning to study her and whisper which in turn fueled her anxiety.

She wasn't sure what their whispers were about but so far she didn't catch any hostility. After several long minutes of walking through the crowd they decided it would be best to wait standing against a wall that wasn't so crowded.

Gerda analyzed her surroundings and noticed a raised platform that looked somewhat like a stage where she assumed Borra and whoever else the fey were expecting would stand. Her eyes were captivated by the ethereal beauty the hall held as they roamed over the arched crystal ceiling and large illuminated windows that allowed light from outside to seep through.

The crystal ceiling was covered with thick intricate vines that had bizarre yellow glowing orbs attached to them. She wondered what type of magic was capable of creating such a glow. The windows themselves also looked like they were made of glass but the bluish glowing hue gave away that it was something much stronger than glass. So much change must've happened over the time span she spent locked away.

"It's all very beautiful isn't it? You'll be surprised at what our kind is capable of creating when given the freedom to gain access and knowledge of science and modern tools. Our previous leader lived and dreamed of such accomplishments." Celtra whispered when she noticed Gerda inspecting the hall.

"I would never know nor be a part of such innovations due to my current circumstances." Gerda blankly muttered, feeling a tug at her heart.

"I disagree. Weren't you an engineer of some sorts back when you were in service of the queen in Ulstead? Perhaps Borra may find some use of you if necessary." Celtra informed almost as if she was trying to comfort Gerda.

"I'm his prisoner. It's unlikely that he would even consider me for such tasks...he can't tolerate being around me. My presence alone sickens him." Gerda hissed with her eyes now fixated on her hands feeling troubled by the thought of returning to isolation.

"Sometimes fate has other plans even for those undeserving of fondness." Celtra commented, causing Gerda to glance up at her with confusion when she noticed the small smirk on Celtra's lips.

Gerda didn't respond but pondered over why Celtra at times made such statements. Why did she put effort into Gerda's appearance? What was the point of her wearing this dress and having her hair fixed in a way that brought out her features? Perhaps she had a hidden motive of her own and Gerda was simply a pawn in her plan.

Gerda was about to search for answers but the sudden change in the crowd stopped her. The chatter turned into voices of excitement when the sound of the large doors opening grabbed Gerda's attention. She quickly became wary almost sensing the ominous presence behind them.

She squinted her eyes in an attempt to make out the two shadowed figures at the entrance of the doors. Both figures had horns and a set of wings on them which meant they were dark fey. One specific figure looked familiar with its massive wings and long pointy horns that twisted upwards. The doors closed behind them revealing Borra and a ravishing woman who was most certainly Maleficent. They both stood proud next to each other at the top of the stairs overlooking the hall.

Gerda felt her heart speed up as she gazed up at the two unyielding creatures that both hated her equally. The sight of Borra brought back horrific memories of the times he snapped her bones and held her by the throat midair with the intent of dropping her to her death.

He now looked very much like a notable, confident ruler as he stared down at the crowd with a look of superiority. He undeniably grew into the role of being a leader. She paled at the thought of what he will do once he laid eyes on her.

Gerda found herself terrified at the possibility of being in his presence once again. The whole hall appeared swooned over the pair; especially over Maleficent who resembled a goddess with her unearthly beauty and hypnotizing smile. Her long black hair was almost like fine silk as it traveled down her perfect thin form. Despite her sharp features, she was capable of bringing any man to their knees both fey and human.

They then interlocked their arms and walked down the stairs creating more voices of excitement from the crowd. Gerda couldn't pull her eyes away from them as they both made their way through the now clear path before them. Her attention was drawn onto Borra as he proudly walked beside Maleficent.

As odd as it sounds, Gerda didn't find his appearance as repulsive like she once did when she first met him. She had grown use to his kind and their looks. Despite her newfound perspective on his appearance she was absolutely terrified of him.

"They look very fitting together, I'm surprised they're not yet a mated pair." Celtra lightly whispered to Gerda.

Gerda then turned to Celtra with a baffled expression as several questions ran through her mind. They certainly did look ideal together so it was a surprise that they weren't properly mated yet. Their ways were so different in contrast to humans. Usually those of high born status were arranged to be married.

"They aren't a mated pair? I was under the impression for some time that he had taken a mate since he is a leader." Gerda said feeling surprised that Borra had no mate despite his position of being a leader to his people.

"Maleficent is a woman who can't be tamed. Rumor has it that Borra offered to have her as his mate to help lead his people beside him but she denied such an offer. She is a true queen of her own. Though it is said she had been spotted on several occasions visiting his castle and spending the night in his chambers." Celtra informed as her eyes followed them.

Gerda felt her cheeks blush, comprehending what Celtra meant when she said Maleficent stood many nights in Borra's chambers. Such a thought was something she felt uncomfortable knowing, especially since she was not experienced in that particular subject.

She quickly shifted her repugnant thoughts towards the news of his castle. Gerda always thought his kind were not advanced enough to build large structures. Evidently she was wrong judging by the construction and features of this place.

Her thoughts were paused when she noticed the menacing pair now standing on the raised platform with several other winged fey behind them. Gerda supposed they all held a position of power within Borra's circle. The room soon grew silent when Borra raised his hand and stared at the crowd with hard eyes.

"We are all here today to celebrate a new brighter future for our people. Our union between the humans grows stronger and we have been making progress with trade and developments in our kingdom. As you can clearly see around you, we are slowly but surely thriving as we find new methods to build and protect our lands." Borra said, gesturing to the windows and ceiling, earning a round of proud chants from the crowd.

"Despite it all I believe it's time we show our appreciation to the one who was behind it all. Without her help our people would still be living in fear and hiding in the shadows. We would be hunted down and perhaps driven into extinction by those who hated our very existence." Borra continued causing Gerda to feel somewhat self-conscious knowing she was part of those who hunted his kind down.

"With the help of Maleficent, this entire kingdom has prospered and our people thrive in freedom." Borra said nodding his head towards Maleficent.

The whole room was then filled with roars of cheers making Gerda feel misplaced. She glanced around her, noticing how much his people actually admired and glorified him. While the rest of the room was standing and praising him on, Gerda decided it would be best if she remained nonexistent and attempt to avoid catching attention. The room once again calmed down when Borra proceeded to speak again.

"Not only are we here to show our appreciation but we are also here to celebrate the birth of Queen Aurora's son. We will gladly welcome her son as one of our own and look forward to the bright future he will have." Borra said finishing off his speech as the crowds chants grew.

The platform then lowered itself onto the ground before disappearing beneath them into the marble floor. A large table formed in front of them supported with vines and pastel flowers caressing it. Small fairies brought out chairs for them to sit while others brought forth an abundance of food and drinks.

Music soon filled the room while fairies fluttered around carrying trays with drinks and appetizers. Gerda had no idea what to do with herself other than stand with her hands clasped tightly in front of her. She felt uncomfortable wondering if it would be best to to avoid any type of contact.

"I suppose now would be a good time for me to congratulate Maleficent on her wonderful news. This opens an opportunity for Borra to strengthen our kingdom now that Aurora successfully produced an heir with the prince." Celtra said with a bright smile on her face.

"I-I assume it would be but is it possible for me to wait here? I doubt my presence will be welcoming to...them." Gerda explained with her body already unsteady at the thought.

"I don't think that would be a good idea. Many of my people recognize you and I wouldn't want a repeat of what happened the last time you were left alone. Borra would surely be furious if I were to leave you unattended again." Celtra said with a frown.

"I understand." Gerda replied in a tight voice.

"Come, before the crowd grows thicker, there's already a line forming to greet them." Celtra insisted as she grabbed Gerda's wrist and maneuvered through the crowd of celebrating fey.

Gerda's body felt like ice as they made their way to the main section of the hall. It had been a while since she been around others and she was at her peak. She felt as if the room was closing in around her and breathing soon became impossible. Just as they reached the very end of the table she tried to focus on calming her rattled nerves. She lightly inhaled and exhaled while they patiently waited their turn greeting each member of Borra's circle.

[incorrectjane-andthedragon]

The Reunion: A fic. The sequel to Undertaker.

Now that Gunther’s mother’s family has arrived in Kippernia, the knights and king go to welcome them and escort them to the castle. 

“How do I look?” Gunther asked Pepper as he cornered her and Jester in the courtyard, trying not to sound too demanding. 

“You look very handsome.” She said reassuringly. 

Jane had to admit that he did. After receiving her news that his mother’s family had arrived, he’d sprinted off. He’d returned after a shockingly short span of time dressed to the nines, muttering something between gasps about the importance of first impressions. 

“Do I stink of sweat? How about my eyebrows, do they look all right? Speaking of my eyes, are the bags under my eyes pronounced? Can you tell I only had time to apply the solution of ground fish bones instead of the fish bones and the snake skin?”

“No, yes, yes, what?”

“I don’t know, it was something a friend of my father’s suggested, I’m thirty percent certain it was a scam, but I do not care. When are they getting here, do you know?” 

“Gunther. Breathe.”  Jane said, trying to hide how nervous she was as well. 

“How about you breathe?” He snapped back. 

“He has a point.” Pepper added. “It’s not every day that long-lost relatives make a surprise visit.” She shifted nervously a little. “Do you think they’re picky eaters? I do not know how much time I have to put something together.” 

That broke the ice. 

“I’ve never been one for stage fright, but the idea of possibly performing for Gunther’s long-lost family does make me a little queasy.” Jester piped up. 

“I feel like I should be doing more.” Rake said as he walked by. “But there’s not much more I can do than hope for the best. This is all happening so quickly, if I’d had more warning I could’ve planted more flowers.” 

“Should we start putting up decorations?” Pepper suggested. 

“Yes. No. Maybe?” Jester said. “Is this a happy occasion?” 

All eyes turned to Gunther. 

“I have no clue! I hardly even knew these people existed until-what was it, yesterday? I have no clue what kind of people they are!” 

He was about to say something more, but was cut off by the reverberating rumble of the castle gates opening. The king and the knights had returned with their guests in tow. 

Gunther swallowed hard. “It seems we’re about to find out.” 

I had expected our relative to meet us at the docks, but we quickly realized this would not be the case. His Majesty the king of Kippernia had deemed this affair too private to be witnessed by the public. I respect him for that.  

“Are you nervous?” my eldest daughter whispered to me as we approached the castle where we were told our lost boy lived. 

“Yes.” I admitted. “I am nervous to learn what happened to her all those years ago, nervous to meet the boy.” 

“Me too.” She whispered back. 

“He’s about your age.” I whispered to her. “You may become friends.” 

“That’s what I’m scared of.” 

The castle doors opened for us. 

The castle is very small, so small I lock eyes with him and know it is him almost immediately. 

I nudge my daughter’s shoulder and jerk my chin a little. She too makes eye contact with him. It must be unnerving for her, to see a face so like and yet unlike her own in this foreign land. 

I hope they befriend each other, genuinely. Because- 

“Look.” she whispers to me, then jerks her chin a little towards a girl her age standing close by, at attention, wearing the facial expression and armor of a soldier.  

“Do you think the girl soldier is handsome?” 

“That’s not important, look at her sword!” 

I can hardly stifle my gasp. 

The boy may be of our blood, but it is the girl who has connections to dragons.

Oh, this- this may change things. 

Gunther wasn’t sure what to make of his new family. There were not many of them. He guessed there were only a handful of aunts, uncles and cousins present, flanking an older man he assumed to be the patriarch of the family. My grandfather? 

He searched the older man’s face for traces of his own, but it was difficult. He found he held a greater resemblance to one of his aunts (?!) and cousin (?). He was having trouble believing it. For over a decade his only knowledge of blood family was his father, and now…

He could hear a couple of them whisper amongst themselves. He couldn’t make the words out. Not only were they quiet, but they may have been in another language entirely. 

The language of the runes? It was a far stretch, but it was possible. Anything could be possible today. 

The entourage stopped. 

Before anyone could do anything, King Caradoc cleared his throat and gently gestured to Gunther. 

“Here he is. Sir Gunther.” 

The entire family looked to him. One of the women put a hand to her mouth, appearing to be holding back tears. The old man’s face was unreadable but Gunther thought he sensed some warmth as he searched his face with piercing eyes. 

“It really is you.” The crying woman finally choked out. She ran to him, crushed him in her embrace. 

Gunther felt a little guilty for not crying right away too. This all felt like a dream. But the hug felt very nice, so he tightly squeezed her back. Soon someone else was hugging him too, hugging him like they never wanted to let go. 

“So, this is my room here in the castle.” He felt both like a child and immensely proud as he took them to his room so they could talk about everything. 

A handful of them ooohed and aaahed, despite the fact that it was fairly unimpressive as far as castle rooms went. They probably found it so fascinating because it was where their long-lost relative had lived for all the years he’d been away from them. 

“You can sit wherever you want, it’s fine.” He said. “So. Hello. My name is Gunther, as you already know, and I- I was raised by Magnus Breech here in Kippernia. I am a knight here.” 

His palms were starting to sweat. What was he supposed to say? The rest of the castle had (correctly) deemed this a private affair, but he was starting to wish Jester or Jane or even Smithy or Rake were here. 

Maybe I should get them to talk. The unusual silence of their arrival had struck him. 

“How did you find me?” He burst out. “I had no idea any of you existed until- the day before yesterday. Even then I had not translated the letter one of you had written to my mother. It has still not been translated. A lot has happened since I found that letter.” 

“We knew Magnus lived in Kippernia.” A tall, pale, woman started. He still wasn’t sure of her relation to him. This had all happened very fast. “So when I- received word that implied that you may have existed, we came over here again.” 

He wasn’t sure where to start. “Again?” 

“We visited this place over a decade ago, when your mother first disappeared.” 

The old man had spoken. His eyes managed to seem both lost in thought and intensely focused at the same time. He was staring directly at Gunther. “As her father, I was desperate beyond belief. And yet, we found nothing.” He scowled a little bit. “Magnus was of no help. I was inclined to believe he did something to her, but there wasn’t enough proof. No matter what we tried, there was never enough proof.” 

“He did try to kill her.” Gunther said slowly and painfully. All the air seemed to leave the room. “He told me recently, after he’d been thrown into the dungeon for attacking a knight. He was unsure if she was dead when he…” 

“Go on. Please.” 

“ ‘Put her in the ocean,’ as he said.” 

A heavy silence fell. Gunther wished more than ever someone he knew was here, but he knew this had to be done privately. 

“He’s a liar,” Gunther started. “He will lie to anyone around him, so there’s a chance…” 

“And what would that change? She is still lost to us.” The woman who had begun said. She was starting to choke up again. 

“No, he was telling the truth.” the old man said softly. “I kept seeing waves in the clouds. It was a message. At the time I thought it meant I had to sail to Kippernia to find her.” 

This was officially the worst family reunion in history. 

Gunther thought about what his grandfather had said about clouds. 

“I saw the shape of a dragon in the clouds before you arrived.” He said quietly. 

His grandfather made a faint noise in his throat. The tall woman shifted. 

“Is it hereditary?” He asked, not knowing how else to say it. 

“Yes.” The tall woman said. “Some say that our dragon-riding ancestors could divine bits of the future in the shapes of clouds as they flew. Even fewer still think that ability survived our transition to living purely on land and sea.” 

“I’m sorry, did you say dragon-riding?” 

Of course she said dragon-riding, they can write in dragon runes!

“Yes, yes I did.”

He nodded numbly. 

“Magnus did not tell me anything.” 

All eyes turned to his grandfather. 

“Sadly, the name of the first woman in our family to bond with a dragon has been lost to time. But her legacy lives on even now. Riding on her companion dragon, she could deliver goods far and wide, and taught her children to do the same. It is these ancestors that began our trading wealth, and the knowledge of the runes, some of which we share with dragons.” 

“But we use the runes for our own needs now, seeing as any dragons we could use them to communicate with have been gone for a long time. It is said that when the dragons began to disappear and die off, they wished to live in peace away from humankind. Our ancestors honored that wish.” 

“But perhaps someone, some lucky soul, will bond with a dragon again.” 

There was lengthy silence as his grandfather finished. Gunther saw his cousin-a girl his age- shift a little on her feet. 

Gunther wanted to run and get Sir Theodore. He would know if he should tell them or not. There was no telling how they’d react to- 

“What is that sound?” The tall woman asked. 

Gunther opened his mouth to say something, but then just sighed and closed it. 

“Jane? Jane? I have your little paper! JANE!” 

“Who in the world can yell that loudly?” His cousin asked. 

“A dragon.” Gunther said as calmly as he could. 

“Whoa, whoa, settle down, I’m not going anywhere.” Dragon said as the people he were told were Gunther’s family clamored around him. Dragon loved attention, but this was a little overwhelming even for him. They were not reacting to him with the awe and fear he usually saw, but with a fervor that bordered on religious. One older man was openly sobbing, caressing his scales like it was the blessed skin of a prophet. 

“I DIDN’T THINK THE STORIES WERE TRUE.” One woman sobbed. 

“I ALWAYS TOLD YOU THEY WERE.” someone shot back. 

“DON’T LET THIS GET TO YOUR HEAD, IT’S BIG ENOUGH AS IT IS.” Jane’s familiar voice called from nearby. 

“Jane!” His wings flared out with excitement, causing the people to cry out more. “I was looking for you! I have your paper thingy! And rune translations!” 

“Did you say runes?” The older man asked. 

“Can I touch your snout?” A girl with tears in her eyes asked, hands clasped together almost like she was praying. 

“Hold on Jane,” He lowered his head, letting her rub his snout. She laughed in awe. 

“I cannot wait to tell everybody I touched a dragon’s snout! A DRAGON’S SNOUT. THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE.” 

“She’s almost as good at rubbing my scales as you are, Jane.” He murmured offhandedly. 

“How do I get as good as Jane?” The girl asked. 

“You can’t, but if you really want to try, use your fingernails. Oh yeah, that’s the spot. Ooh yes.” 

“Jane?” The older man asked. Before she could even think to do anything else, he had come up to her with  surprising speed. His eyes bored into hers. “You are the one who has bonded with the dragon?” 

“Yes.” 

“I told you!” The girl still rubbing Dragon’s snout cried. “I noticed her sword-” 

“You must tell me everything at once.” The man said, grinning through his tears. 

“Um, would you be interested in talking over a nice meal?” a familiar voice suggested timidly. Pepper and Rake stood a good distance away, both visibly intimidated by the fervent strangers. Pepper appeared to be holding Rake’s hand for emotional support. 

“Oh yes, yes.” The old man- Gunther’s grandfather or other similar relative, probably-nodded vigorously. “They’re serving food, everyone!” he shouted. His relatives cheered, and even the girl released Dragon’s snout at the mention of a meal.

Somehow, everyone-everyone, including Jane’s parents and the royal family all ended up eating together, probably due to the novelty of the event. Jane had realized that her father appeared to be slowly trying to inch his way closer to her without actually sitting next to her, probably out of anxiety. A lot of people at the table seemed anxious. Pepper and Rake were silent, and Smithy was having a hard time looking the newcomers in the eyes for long. Even the jokes Jester cracked had a bit of a tremble to them. Only a couple people laughed at them, the rest were intensely focused on Gunther and Jane. 

“So, you two are knights? Do you fight together?” The old man asked. He had hardly touched his food. 

“Yes, we spar all the time.” 

“But do you fight?” 

“We have fought some skirmishes alongside each other, if that is what you are asking, sir.” Jane said. 

“Do you fight?” 

“I am not sure what you mean-” 

“We did not get along for a long time,” Gunther said. “We were rivals.” 

“Are you rivals still?” 

Gunther and Jane looked at each other. 

With their shared knighthood, they had reached an understanding. Their sparring sessions were still electric, but the taunts and jibes that were once commonplace came more and more rarely these days. 

Are we still rivals?

Jester, seeming to sense increasing discomfort, tried to do his job and started playing a relaxing song. It didn’t help. 

“Why do you ask, sir?” Gunther asked. 

One of his relatives whispered something. 

The old man smiled. “You,” he said, looking at Jane as if he saw no one else but her. “Have done what no known human has done for centuries. You have bonded with a dragon. You have done what once made our family great, despite having no known relation to us. It would be in our best interest to-” 

Someone whispered something again. Gunther’s cousin and her mother appeared to be trying to shoot the old man looks, but he wasn’t seeing them. He saw no one but Jane. 

“It would be in our best interest to have you marry Gunther.” 

Jester stopped playing his song. 

“You know, I think that’s enough.” The woman said through a pained smile. 

“Enough? My dear, we have just learned of the existence of a dragon. I have waited my whole life for this! If just one member of our family can bond with a dragon again-” 

“Enough!” The woman stood and scowled at him. “Are you honestly so quick to forget what happened last time one of our own married a Kippernian for monetary gain?”

The old man’s face fell with realization. 

“I am sorry. I cannot believe myself.” He fumbled helplessly over his words, clearly heartbroken. 

Jester awkwardly resumed his song. 

“See, this is what happens when greed blinds you.” The man was saying now. “It makes you forget even your own children.” 

“I am very much aware of that.” Gunther said fervently. “Magnus is an excellent example.”

“Magnus was not the husband and father we hoped he would be, was he?” 

“Absolutely not. I was not a son to him, I was a pawn and loyal servant. He told me in the dungeon he didn’t even believe I was his son, he believed I was the result of an affair.” 

At some point Gunther had realized he should stop talking, but he didn’t want to. He wanted everyone to hear what he had endured under the thumb of Magnus Breech.

“He always gave me a funny feeling,” An aunt piped up. “He reminded me of a pirate I once saw being arrested.” 

“I’m fairly certain pirates are more honest about their goods and quantities than he is.” Gunther said. 

“Thank you,” Jane’s father whispered. Jane almost spit out her drink. 

“Pirates are better people all around. If I had to choose between being stuck on a ship with a pirate or Magnus, I would choose the pirate. All the pirates. Every pirate.”

“Is Gunther drunk?” Jane’s father whispered. 

“Drunk on catharsis, most likely.”

“Speaking of pirates,” Sir Ivon piped up, having been too horrified and entertained by this whole exchange to speak until now. “I heard rumors this morning that the fierce pirate captain known as Fang is once again active in the area. You should all watch out.” 

That sent a few murmurs across the table. 

Gunther’s aunt nodded. “We have heard many rumors of Fang and his crew in our seas as well. He travels often, rarely staying in the same place for long. He attacks swiftly and fiercely, and seemingly at random. Although, there are people who claim that he is a calculating man, implying that the attacks may not be as random as many believe. He is an enigma, and we’d all best keep our guard up.”

More murmurs, nods of assent. 

“Good thing Magnus is in the dungeon and doesn’t have to worry.” Gunther said, still riding the high of his rant. “Although I do wish Fang and his crew would give him what he deserves. I’m certain my father is hated by quite a few pirates.”

“We don’t need pirates to give him what he deserves, my boy.” Gunther’s grandfather said, looking him in the eyes. “In fact, I could go down there right this instant and torture him in ways you can’t even think of.” 

“I understand your anger,” Sir Theodore interjected. “But I cannot in good conscience allow you to do that-” 

“Listen, sir-” his grandfather said. 

“Alone.” Sir Theodore finished. 

“I’ll go with him.” 

“I will as well.” 

“Me too.” 

“No. You’re too young. Stay up here with your cousin Gunther.” 

“Thank you for the wonderful food. We’ll be back soon.” 

The family departed from the room almost as swiftly and as silently as they’d arrived in the castle. 

No one seemed to know what to say for a bit. Gunther awkwardly cleared his throat and shifted his feet. 

“Thank you all for being so polite and courteous with them. I know this is strange and overwhelming for all of us.” 

Jester shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Everyone’s family reunions have an element of madness. It wouldn’t be a family reunion without one.” 

Everyone chuckled. 

“Hear, hear.” Sir Ivon said. 

“Wise as ever, Jester.” The king added.

“Yes, and at least you don’t have to worry about going home with them afterwards.” Sir Ivon added, then immediately appeared to regret it. 

Gunther could have sworn he heard Magnus scream from the dungeon in the ensuing silence. 

As soon as the words had left Ivon’s mouth, everyone had wondered the same question, including Gunther himself. 

Will he go home with them?

What is there for him here? A father who hates him? Tentative friendships and a possibly fizzling out rivalry? 

As awkward and wild as this reunion has been, it would not be unreasonable for him to want to be with them. 

“I…” Gunther started. “I am a knight of Kippernia, first and foremost. My loyalty lies here.” 

That earned some nods. 

“I-it has been a very long day. I would like to get some fresh air. May I be excused, Your Highness?” 

“Of course, Sir Gunther. Take all the time you need.” 

Gunther wasn’t sure how he ended up by the docks. Perhaps it was the familiarity from all the years he’d spent toiling away here for Magnus. Maybe it was the soothing sound of the waves. He wondered why no one stopped him from leaving the castle. He wondered if anyone would stop him from going to live with his mother’s family. It could be a good basis for future alliances, without anyone needing to marry each other. The way his grandfather had suggested he marry Jane made him blush and squirm uncomfortably, even all the way out here. 

He wondered what Jane and Dragon were doing now. If his family was done torturing (and possibly killing?) Magnus, they were probably talking all about runes. Good for them.  

It was very dark now. He had better get back to the castle before- 

There was a shuffling noise up ahead, audible whispering. Rapid footsteps, more whispering. 

Nobody whispered while working on a dock, it was always too loud for anyone to even bother. 

Something scraped against the ground. He could make out silhouettes of people moving objects. 

There was only one reason someone would be whispering and moving cargo under the cover of darkness. 

Pirates. 

His sweating hand moved for his sword. No, that was a bad idea. He was utterly alone, he could never win against a team of pirates. He needed to get reinforcements now.

Backing away very slowly, he didn’t take his eyes off the silhouettes of the pirates lest they- 

“Who’s that?” 

He swore under his breath. 

“Who are you?” An unfamiliar voice asked. The silhouettes had stopped moving, he could tell they were staring at him now. 

His years of knight training told him to run. 

His years of being Magnus’s son told him otherwise. 

His mouth moved before he could stop it. 

“I am just scouting the area on the captain’s orders,” He said, deepening his voice to a low rasp. 

“I thought Mulby was supposed to do that.” 

“Mulby asked me for help.” 

“Mulby doesn’t ask anybody for help.” 

There were more footsteps, a new silhouette joined the others. 

“Mulby, did you ask this lad for help scouting?” 

“What lad?” 

For the second time this week, Gunther found himself struggling to fight someone twice his size. That had to be a new record. 

Unlike last time, he now had his sword with him, which he drew menacingly as the pirates approached like a pack of dogs. 

“Oh!” They cried. 

“I am a knight of Kippernia. And if you rob any more of our vessels or docks, I will-” 

“Mulby, do it.” 

Something went flying at his face. He almost dropped his sword in his haste to shield himself. His sudden movement caused the sword to slice open whatever had been thrown at him. It appeared to be a bag full of powder that got everywhere, in his eyes, his hair, his nose. 

He coughed and coughed until dark spots formed in his vision and the world began to swim. 

No! 

“The Captain’s going to want to see this one,” someone rasped. 

It was the last thing Gunther heard before he blacked out.

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: I love your long posts which make for great reading and I wish you could do more because you’ve got such a range of astonishing interests. I’m hoping because you’ve served in the military you would have studied military thinkers. Do you think the Art of War by Sun Tzu is way overrated by everyone? I studied him a bit for my masters but I still couldn’t get my head around him. Interested to know your thoughts. Thanks!

“To lift an autumn hair is no sign of great strength; to see the sun and moon is no sign of sharp sight; to hear the noise of thunder is no sign of a quick ear." - Sun Tzu's Art of War, Chapter IV - Tactical Disposition, Clause 10.

Sounds cool, doesn’t it?

But what the hell does this quote really mean? Do you know what it means? Can anyone else tell me?

Look, I enjoy a good Sun Tzu quote as the next person. Only recently I was exchanging thoughts with a fellow blogger whose studying Thucydides, Clausewitz, and Kissinger for an advanced course at the US Naval War College. Even he prefers Sun Tzu over Clausewitz. I can see why too. If you can make sense of chapter one of Clausewitz’s tome On War you deserve a Nobel Prize.

Unlike my very learned fellow blogger, there are lot of folk who don’t know Sun Tzu at all. They can quote him, but almost certainly out of context. As someone who partly grew up in the Far East and even learned Chinese and Japanese (a pitiful but functional degree of fluency) I’m embarrassed (not hard since I’m English) when I hear other Western compatriots romanticise and elevate Eastern icons to mythic status that the Chinese themselves have never done.

I am even more bemused than embarrassed after having hung up my military uniform for ‘civvy’ corporate clothing at how badly abused Sun Tzu’s book is in the corporate world. In my workplace I grit my teeth at corporate high flyers who mistake a balance sheet for a real battlefield by quoting Sun Tzu out of their arse, and then as self-styled ‘corporate warriors’ work themselves up in a lather of testosterone induced self-importance to crush their corporate enemies into the dust.

This is why the The Art of War by Sun Tzu has invited a jaundiced eye roll. And rightly so. I can see why many view Sun Tzu as over-rated because many easily impressed people go all woo woo over anything ancient and Eastern.

It’s become a familiar trope to say the art of ‘strategy’ as a science began 2,500 years ago with the writing of The Art of War. I would dispute this. Not that the writing of Art of War was the earliest written but whether I would call it a manual of strategy per se - more on this below in my answer.  However you rate or overrate the Art of War it’s important to have perspective and remember this book is written in 512 BC. Other than the bible and some religious books, there are not many books that can survived thousands of years and still remains a steady bestseller and enjoys a wide influence in military academies and army staff colleges today and even as far into board rooms.

The question behind your question is just as interesting to me: why did Sun Tzu and his Art of War gain such traction in the West?

Sun Tzu (544-496 BC) wrote the original text of The Art of War shortly before 510 BC. During most of the past two thousand years, the common people in China were forbidden to read Sun Tzu's text. However, the text was preserved by China's nobility for over 2,500 years. The Chinese nobility preserved the text of The Art of War, known in Chinese as Bing-fa, even despite the famous book-burning by the first Emperor of Chi around 200 BC. The text was treasured and passed down by the Empire’s various rulers. Unfortunately, it was preserved in a variety of forms. A "complete" Chinese language version of the text wasn't available until the 1970s. Before that, there were a number of conflicting, fragmentary versions in different parts of China, passed down through 125 generations of duplication.

Indeed at the beginning of the twentieth century, there were two main textual traditions in circulation, known as the (Complete Specialist Focus) and (Military Bible) versions. There were also perhaps a dozen minor versions and both derived and unrelated works also entitled Bing-fa. Of course, every group considered (and still considers) its version the only accurate one.

When I last visited China before the Covid pandemic for work reason, I had time off to go to a couple of museums that housed the fruits of a number of archeological digs uncovering the tombs of the ancient rulers of China in which sections of Sun Tzu’s works were found. These finds have verified the historical existence of the text and the historical accuracy of various sections. I understand new finds are still being made.

The first complete, consistent Chinese version was created in Taipei in the 1970s. It was titled The Complete Version of Sun Tzu’s Art of War." It was created by the National Defence Research Investigation Office, which was a branch of Taiwan's defence department. This version compared the main textual traditions to each other and to archeological finds and compiled the most complete version possible.

This work was completed in Taiwan rather than mainland China for a number of reasons. Mainland China was still in the throws of the Maoist Cultural Revolution, which actively suppressed the study of traditional works such as Sun Tzu. The mainland had also moved to a reformed character set, while Taiwan still used the traditional character set in which the text was written. Only today is the study of Sun Tzu in mainland China growing, interestingly enough, through the translation of Sun Tzu into contemporary Mandarin. Based on the archeological sources we have today, we are reasonably certain of the historical accuracy of this compiled version that is the basis of what most people use today.

Surprisingly, the Art of War only came to light in the West around the 18th Century.  

Historians believe it was first formally introduced in Europe in 1772 by the French Jesuit Joseph-Marie Amiot. It was translated at the time by the title “The thirteen articles of Sun-Tse”. Joseph-Marie Amiot (1718-1793) was not just a Jesuit priest but also an astronomer and French historian, as well as fervent missionary in China. He was one of the last survivors of the Jesuit Mission in China (he died in Beijing).

Many of the historical problems with understanding Sun Tzu's work can be trace back to its first Western translation in French. A Jesuit missionary, Father Amiot, first brought The Art of War to the West, translating it into French in 1782. Unfortunately, this translation started the tradition of mistranslating Sun Tzu's work, starting with the title, The Art of War (Art de la guerre).

This title, copied the title of a popular work by Machiavelli (a criminally underrated writer on military strategy), but it didn't reflect Sun Tzu's Bing-fa, which would be better translated as "competitive methods."

We cannot say what effect being translated by a Jesuit priest had upon the text. It was unavoidable that the work's translation reflected the military prejudices of the time era when war was both popular and Christian. It was also unavoidable that most future translations would reflect some of the first translation's prejudices. However, war was on the verge of becoming much less Christian in the West since this time was the era of the French Revolution (1789).

The work might well of slipped into obscurity after its initial publication, but it was discovered by a minor French military officer. After studying it, this officer rose to the head of the revolutionary French army in a surprising series of victories. The legend is that Napoleon used the work as the key to his victories in conquering all of Europe. It is said that he carried the little work with him everywhere but kept its contents secret (which would be very much in keeping with Sun Tzu's theories).

However, Napoleon must have started believing his own reviews instead of sticking with his study of Sun Tzu. His defeat at Waterloo was clearly a case of fighting on a battleground that the enemy, Wellington, knew best. Wellington’s trick at Waterloo was hiding his forces by having them lie down in the slight hollows of this hilly land. This is exactly the type of tactic Sun Tzu warns against in his discussion of terrain tactics.

After Napolean, Sun Tzu's theories made their way into western military philosophy. Many of his ideas are reflected in the ideas of work of Carl von Clausewitz. who defined military strategy as "the employment of battles to gain the end of war."

The first English translation of The Art of War is less than a hundred years old. Captain E. F. Calthrop published the first English translation in 1905. Lionel Giles, an assistant curator at the British Museum and a well-known sinologist and translator, attacked this early translation, and he published his own version in 1910. It soon began to be read alongside Clausewitz’s 8 volumes of turgid German military prose.

It wasn’t long before military thinkers were ditching Clausewitz for Sun Tzu because no one could get past Chapter One of Clausewitz’s On War. The “Clausewitz is dead, long live Sun Tzu” school was first championed by the influential British military theorist B.H. Liddell Hart in the 1920s.  Basil Henry Liddell Hart (1895-1970) was a captain in the British Army. He was a very influential military theorist and historian, and author of several books such as The Future of War (1925) and Strategy (1954). Having witnessed first-hand the mechanised onslaught of the Great War, Liddell Hart sought a philosophy of warfare based in the prudent use of technology, psychology and deception - and the avoidance of the 'total war' catastrophes of preceding decades.

The main idea of Liddell Hart is to bring the set of principles of warfare in a so-called ‘indirect approach’ to the enemy. His advocacy in his scholarly work of an ‘indirect strategy’ over direct, frontal operations, was a reaction to the high casualties of the Western Front in the First World War. But his ideas were not simply about physically outmanoeuvring an opponent. Instead he pushed for a psychological scheme: to strike from unexpected directions, to generate strategic dissonance, and to induce paralysis. Hart’s well-known thoughts are “Only short-sighted soldiers underestimate the importance of psychological factors in time of war”, “Originality is the most important from all military virtues”, and “The principles of war could shortly be condensed in a single word: concentration”. 

Liddell Hart believed that distilling historical insights of strategy and operations would offer the chance to avoid the costly disasters of modern war and ensure a more cost-effective route to success. He imagined technological solutions in the form of air power and mechanised land forces outflanking and shocking an enemy at the tactical level. This would be complemented by taking indirect strategic ‘ways’. Like his contemporary J.F.C. Fuller, Liddell Hart considered concentrations of air and armoured forces driving deep into enemy territory to destroy their ‘nervous system’. The psychological aspects of this were central, since acquiring an advantage demanded moves that were unexpected, with precise attacks at the most vulnerable points. As the most influential military writer of the modern age, revered and reviled by three generations of strategists, armchair and armipotent, his controversial theories of armed attack laid the foundation of the famed German Blitzkrieg.

Hart’s championing of Sun Tzu’s work as articulated through his own works got a new lease of life as the world gingerly settled into the ice bath of the Cold War. The rise of Communist China, against all the odds having defeated the well disciplined nationalist armies of Chian kai-Shek, was a wake up call for the West. There was a general befuddlement among western military analysts to explain the secret of Maoist success. There was an intellectual inquest in the 1950s and 1960s for some way to explain (and, it was hoped, learn to counter) Maoist military doctrine. Sun Tzu was seen as one of the historical and cultural sources of some particularly Chinese or Asian way of war, and his work made its way into Western discussions of counterinsurgency and asymmetric warfare.

Into the breach - and with fortuitous timing - appeared a new translation of The Art of War that was to become the defining translation right down to our day. Liddel Hart provided the foreword to Samuel Griffth’s 1963 translated copy of the Art of War. It was to quickly become a key text in US war colleges and this version is still to this day favoured by most of these institutions. We also studied Griffith’s translation at Sandhurst alongside Liddell Hart’s ideas.

There is no question that Griffith’s translation has become the standard go to translation to this day in military circles - that is until James Clavell’s more populist and looser translation came along in the 1980s. One can see why. Griffith’s translation provided a number of historical Chinese commentaries on the text. It should also be noted that Griffith’s strengths was his immense experience in the military and knowledge of military history as a brigadier general in the U.S. Marine Corps.

However, this was also his version's greatest flaw. Like many other critics I have the impression that Griffith did not really believe or understand all of Sun Tzu. Indeed he would often explain away Sun Tzu's direct statements without making it clear that this was his commentary and not what Sun Tzu wrote. The other main criticism and this one is stylistic and therefore just my opinion, Griffith was also not much of a writer. By our standards today, much of Griffith’s language can seem awkward and dated.

Looking back it feels ironic of the US military were wrapping their heads around Sun Tzu as way to get inside the Chinese communist mind (of Mao the military strategist especially). Unknown to them Mao had desperately tried everything to get hold of a copy of the Art of War from the Chinese Nationalists. Cambridge historian and doyenne of intelligence history, Christopher Andrew in his book The Secret World: A History of Intelligence, wrote that the theory that Sun Tzu’s The Art of War was critical to mastering contemporary warfare is propagated through the use of a tantalising anecdote: “During the civil war between Communists and the Kuomintang regime [Mao Zedong] sent aides into enemy territory to find a copy of it.” The ancient text, ostensibly, was of such vital importance that Mao was willing to risk men’s lives to obtain it, while Chiang Kai-shek vowed to protect it all costs. It’s a questionable anecdote at best as there are no historical evidence of it.

We can say that the notion that Sun Tzu’s slim treatise is considered both potent and slightly dangerous - providing the master key to unlocking victory in war through the ages - is a compelling myth that refuses to die. Mao most likely never ordered a clandestine operation to pilfer the text, nor did Chiang Kai-shek give any thought to shielding its contents from prying eyes. Both men certainly read it long before the start of their civil war, both most likely had ready access to it during the conflict, and neither man won or lost based on adherence or divergence from its teachings. But undoubtedly it set the hearts of Western military theorists aflutter in trying to unlock the secrets of Eastern military thought.

Sun Tzu and his ideas in a reincarnated form took hold of the wider public imagination in the 1980s. The 1980s was synonymous with Japan. With the perceived rise of Japan as a global economic power and the changes in post-Mao China, there was a Western (meaning American) search for more explanations. What was the secret of Asia’s rise? How were Japan and China ‘doing’ this?

In Western business circles it was for a time trendy to read it because of the perception that it was part of what made Japanese businesses so successful during the 70s and 80s. Management gurus and other corporate consultants certainly latched on to it and touted it as a way for Western businesses to re-orient their entire management and business philosophy. I don’t know if that ever actually was the case in Japan - my father who worked in both China and Japan in the corporate world at a very senior level said it wasn’t - but what is true is that in the West as the Japanese economy languished into the lost decade of the 90s so too did interest in Japanese business practices, and thus Sun Tzu.

The idea that The Art of War was a kind of how-to guide to ‘strategy’  was made especially popular by Hollywood in the 1980s. Oliver Stone’s iconic film ‘Wall Street’ seemed to typify the ‘greed is good’ New York capitalist scene of the 80s and 90s. Hollywood mirror imaged the rise of the corporate raiders and junk bond kings like Ivan Boesky and Michael Milken. Hollywood sent thousands of American businessmen off to read Sun Tzu to look for ‘leadership secrets’. This is part of a general Western fascination with ‘timeless Asian wisdom’, the American idea that ‘the mysterious East’ is possessed of secret knowledge. American and European businessmen were enamoured of the idea that “a battle is won or lost before it ever begins”, a saying that reinforced traditional American business attitudes about a winning mentality and a ‘can-do’ spirit being two keys to success.

Because Japan and China were trendy in the 1980s and 1990s it also influenced Western popular culture, not just fashion (think Kenzo) but also comic books (manga) and anime. In this Eastern friendly climate it led a number of popular fiction authors to release their ‘own’ versions of the work to capitalise on its newfound popularity. These versions were more about the pop culture of the era than Sun Tzu. Unfortunately, though popular, none of these versions took advantage of the work completed in Taiwan creating a definitive version of Sun Tzu's text by this time. These versions were based either on old English translations (the Calthorp and Giles versions) or incomplete Chinese sources. However, all of these versions remain popular today, despite their questionable sources and poor quality of translation.

In 1983, James Clavell updated The Art of War translation of Lionel Giles and published it in a very popular version. This started a very common practice in English translation: creating a ‘new’ version from other English translations instead of going back to the original source. Authors today continue to follow this practice, which only perpetuates and exaggerates the problems with early translations.

Thomas Cleary, another well-known author, did his own The Art of War translation with historical commentary in 1988. Again, his name recognition did much to increase awareness of Sun Tzu, even if his work did nothing to improve the general quality of the translation.

Looking back the whole Sun Tzu as a business model fetish in the 1980-90s was really pretty silly, rather like 80s shoulder pads. Of course, there are some similarities in leadership regardless of profession, but the basic goals and working environments of war and of business are so wildly different that applying Sun Tzu to business is superficial at best.

So to me the problem is not that Sun Tzu is ‘overrated’ per se, the problem is that every half baked author out there try to apply its principles to every problems that mankind have. The Art of War, as the title suggest, is not The Art of Managing your Business, the Art of Winning in Competition against your classmates, The Art of picking up Women, The Art of Living Life to the fullest. It is, and only is, The Art of War. It is ‘overrated’ only if you expect it to answer every problems in your life.

The Art of War is not the word of God. It is a war manual advocating common sense with pithy aphorisms - and a very good one.

It’s not that I think the Art of War is over-rated it’s that the more common problem is that many people vastly under-rate Sun Tzu. By misreading Sun Tzu thoughts and ideas, I believe many are in effect under-rating the problems which Sun Tzu is addressing, namely war, or the continuum of conflict resolution where divergence in interests of multiple parties extends to the possible use of lethal force on a massive scale. A lot of people trivialise this problem with idiocies like “what if someone threw a war and nobody came” (clue, they would win, then hunt down and enslave or kill everyone too foolish to contest the issue, as has happened countless times in human history) or “ban war” (said ban apparently enforced by throwing flowers at soldiers).

Understanding that war is a very real and intractable problem is necessary to fully appreciate the genius of Sun Tzu’s work, especially where it avoids fixed and easily definable tactics specific to the Warring States period and instead illustrates timeless concepts of out-thinking the enemy at every level of conflict. That the text is still mostly readily applicable or at least reasonably insightful after thousands of years is a testament to the inability of humans to push warfare beyond the fundamental aspects of conflicting interests and continuum of forcible resolution Sun Tzu addresses.

Still, the particular translation matters far less than having an appreciation that, in war, you have an active opponent who is trying to out-think and counter any moves you make, and having an appreciation of non-dualistic philosophical reasoning more characteristic of Chinese classics generally. The classic symbol of Yin-Yang (and a number of derivative versions) illustrates apparent dualism as being a part of a deeper structural unity which does not permit a fixed division into separate parts.

Hence the difficulty of applying the principles of the Art of War to artificial ideas of “winning/losing” (or war/peace, right/wrong, us/them) as categorical absolutes rather than negotiated possibilities in a continuum of desirability/costs. And it is very difficult, no one should sugar coat that. Humans sort and construct their perceptions of reality by appeal to such gross simplifications. Binary logic is an immensely powerful tool in many areas because it leverages the ability to simplify complexity and then build valid inferences based on fixed premises. But at some point you have to go beyond that to have a more fluid response to reality as it is. Which Sun Tzu does for the reality of war.

I would recommend anyone to read it. At the end of the day it’s a book of highly general aphorisms that effectively synopsise the essential insights that apply to all kinds of human conflicts. Turning an enemy's flank has the exact same effect in 2500 B.C. and in 2000 C.E. and it has the same effect in the boardroom, or public market as it does on the battlefield. Deception and intelligence are still used in exactly the same way, whether conquering foreign lands, or stealing market share from a competitor. It's a book about common sense; but common sense must seem profound to those who have none.

Overall, I think Sun Tzu’s Art of War is a worthy read and not overrated because in our society of over educated achievers, common sense is in as short of supply as it has ever been; if this book can provide the meaningful framework for educating very bright people in down to earth common sense, that can only be a good thing.

The value of the book then is to drive home the fact that, in human conflict, there really is Nothing New Under the Sun (Tzu).

Pardon the pun and thanks for your question.

[blisschi]

Hi, can i request a zhongli x male reader angst to fluff hanahaki au where male reader was a God a long time ago who died to hanahaki because of zhongli and guizhong, but male reader is resurrected as a mortal and zhongli sees them again

Hey! I'm not completely sure if that is what you meant nonnie, but this idea was stuck in my head for a while now and I just had to write it! It's certainly not one of my best pieces but.. I hope you like it.. 💕

🌸In another life🌸

Pairing: Zhongli x Hanahaki! M! Reader

Warnings: Major Character Death, Angst to Fluff..? I think.. It's really bittersweet.

Notes: u_u ... I can't english

Zhongli turned his head towards the storyteller, who clearly caught his attention with the words that just left his mouth. Although for most people it was unknown, forgotten, Zhongli never forgot a single event in the story he started.

"Once upon a time, there was a young god who loved every creature in Tayvat."

He lowered the cup that he was holding, focusing his attention on the words of the story.

They always started out the same.

"The god that loved every creature in Tayvat, the same god that would offer everything to everyone by his love, lost life."

They always ended the same way.

Zhongli closed his eyes and took a deep breath, remembering the moment he met the young man with a smile on his face.

The man told him that he was visiting Liyue out of sheer curiosity, and that he was coming back to it out of curiosity as well.

"Do you think I could be any kind of a threat to you?" You laughed softly, turning your head towards your friend. Although you were a weak god and you were far from strong, somehow the Geo Archon decided to devote a moment of his attention to you. The moment that sprouted into feeling.

Morax smiled slightly and walked closer to you, gazing out at the sea of ​​clouds.

"Things that are dangerous, not often have to look like a threat."

Just like love.

Love can be beautiful, but won't it turn into poison in the blink of an eye as soon as you lose control of it?

Like flowers, can delight with their amazing charm, when their roots must dig into the very center of the heart, almost breaking it.

"He taught him to understand."

"The young god introduced himself by the name [Y / N]. He befriended Rex Lapis, despite different views and observations." The storyteller continued.

Zhongli looked down at his cup, half full of tea. His mind was full of the thoughts he always chose to leave to himself. He thought that from the mortals, he probably would never hear this name again.

Morax sighed softly, smiling as you pulled his hand along the fields of flowers. He never really understood why you loved them so much, but he could accept that the time you spent with them made you feel relaxed.

"You have some really beautiful plants here, you know?" You laughed as you let go of his hand and ran to one of the trees, immediately sitting under it. The other male calmly approached you and watched as one of the butterflies sat on your finger.

Maybe it was your charm that all creatures loved so much? Until then, he was unable to answer this question. Why did he choose to protect you? Is it because he really thought you were a dear friend to him? Maybe it was because you seemed so vulnerable and weak, just making him feel pity.

You lifted your hand up, showing the creature to your friend. It's wings were golden that gleamed like the light of the setting sun.

"It's so small. but it was not afraid to sit on my finger.. just like I was not afraid to make contact with you, Morax." Glistening pupils looked at you now, taking their attention away from the butterfly. "If you wanted to, I would have been lying underground a long time ago. If you only thought that I was a threat.. ha.."

You laughed softly as you watched the butterfly fly away from your sight.

"You wouldn't hesitate to attack me, would you?"

"He taught him to look up to the future."

Sometimes being weak has its advantages. Not everyone sees you as their enemy, the stronger will usually ignore you, or offer help caused by feelings of pity. Pity over your existence and weakness.

Where do you see this land in a few hundred years, Morax? It was one of your first questions to him that he had to think seriously about. Of course, he cared about Liyue, but admittedly he never thought about what everything would look like in the future.

Will he still dominate these beautiful landscapes? Will he still be able to be called their Archon?

"He taught him to take care."

Zhongli smiled, closing his eyes. He would never have thought it would end this way. True, his life was not over, but the divine era certainly came to an end. People, although weak - will cope.

A soft laugh broke the silence in the room as you ran one hand through the god's hair. This was one of those days where you spent time together, without any worries. You gently braided Morax's hair, smiling to yourself.

"Maybe you should wear this hairstyle more often?" You asked, gently tangling some pieces of flowers into his hair. He just closed his eyes and relaxed in the feeling of your touch. Your hands always seemed extremely delicate. "No? The great god who rules over all Liyue doesn't have time to spend a few minutes making a hairstyle?"

"I didn't say anything." The man sighed and turned to face you. "Why should I worry about a trivial thing like my hair?"

You raised your eyebrows and tilted your head slightly, apparently surprised by his answer.

"Isn't it nicer to look at Liyue when everything is in its place?" You asked, getting up from the ground and placing both of your hands on his shoulders. "If you take care of every smallest element.. eventually these elements will fit together and create perfection.. No matter if it is the perfect weapon.. power.. or hairstyle.."

You were happy watching your friend become attached to more people. At first you enjoyed it, you thought you helped him open up to the world. On your journey together, you met a large number of amazing beings, but suddenly one goddess appeared that seemed to take the person dearest to you away.

"The young god taught him feelings that Rex Lapis did not understand before. He helped him open up to new things, to new people."

Zhongli gritted his teeth as he remembered the rest of the story. Even though you taught him so much, he still understood so little back then.

"[Y / N] had feelings for Morax stronger than to any other being. But it was not his will that made the love strong." The storyteller continued, drawing the attention of more people. "For one-sided love is the strongest. For one-sided love hurts the most."

Goddess of dust, beautiful and gentle, good-hearted and wise. She was a weak god, just like you, maybe that was why Morax had paid more attention to her back then? Maybe he forgot that in fact your strenght was nothing, but his presence near you. He spent every free moment with the goddess. You dreamt that he could give you more attention, but apparently it was not given to you.

You taught him so much and all he offered you was jealousy. Jealousy was eating you from the inside as you saw the goddess slowly pull Morax towards her. It hurt your heart when you had the opportunity to meet a man less and less. But you yourself didn't have the heart to stop it all, because you knew that this goddess meant well for him.

You understood that it was easy to fall in love with someone like him.

"The years passed, the gods drifted apart. The young god was helping Rex Lapis to understand the newer and newer feelings that the goddess had helped him to experience this time."

You understood that you are not the only one who deserves this feeling to be returned.

Zhongli shook his head and opened his eyes, staring at his reflection in the already cold tea. If he knew you thought so.. If he knew he was slowly breaking your heart while spending time with the goddess, it would have all ended differently.

Anyway, it never came out of his mouth that they were 'just friends', it never came out of his mouth that they were something more..

Zhongli clenched his fist, remembering your last moments with him. He remembered your tears, your painful, but smiling face.

"Over time, his feelings did not diminish, but bloomed like the flower buds that he admired so much on his first visit to Liyue. The feeling became unbearable, breaking his heart, hurting him, making him even weaker. The young god then wanted the feeling of love to become something alien to him. "

He remembered you asking him to tell you one of the old stories that he once told you at the beginning of your friendship.

"Why do you suddenly want to hear it? I must say, it's not one of the most interesting ones.."

You laughed quietly, but apart from the laughter, a choked cough escaped your mouth, which you tried to hide with all your might.

"It just.. this story really brings me good memories.. remember? You told it to me when we were sitting under the same tree.. years ago.."

Morax closed his eyes and leaned against the tree, staring up at the sky.

"Well then.."

Zhongli stared at his hands placed on the table in front of him. If he himself lost his life, would he be able to meet you again?

"It was their last meeting. The young god left after him nothing but flowers, which slowly choked him from the inside. Rex Lapis never lost the abilities he had received from his friend. Rex Lapis never forgot, he carried his feelings to the end. One can only hope that after the death of the God of Geo, the two met again."

"Master Zhongli, right?" A soft voice snapped him out of his thoughts, making him look up at the person that called his name. "Can I sit here?"

A joyful smile on the face of a stranger, unusually similar to the smile of a young god who left this world many years ago. The same gaze, that looked at his face with love and affection.

Zhongli nodded slightly, not taking his eyes away from the face of the newly met person.

"I see you here a lot, so I figured I'd introduce myself!" The male laughed, painting a smile on Zhongli's face as he reached towards the consultant. "[Y/N]."

"Maybe in another life, they'll be happy together'."

[aspiringauthorintraining]

First Loves

*(A/N): Rex Lapis isn’t dead to the public in this. He’s very much alive and thriving. Also the reader, you, is very oblivious. Just keep that in mind.

The previous Geo Archon wasn’t one to pry into another person’s secrets. But when the person in question was his wife, he couldn’t help but be curious. And so, his thoughts kept returning to the events two nights ago, during dinner with you.

Somehow the topic of conversation at the dinner table had landed on both of your past loves. When he had revealed that you were his first and final love, you had found it hard to believe that a man like him hadn’t dated anyone before marrying you. But it wasn’t like him to lie, and when he swore on the life of Rex Lapis that he was, indeed, telling the truth, you had no reason to question the validity of his statement any further.

However, it was when he had asked you about your first love, that you had acted suspiciously, keeping a tight lip. You suggested the two of you go out for dessert to avoid answering his question, and changed the topic whenever he tried to bring it up again later that night.

Was it someone in Mondstadt? Maybe he could enlist the help of Venti to find out.

But before he could dwell on the topic any longer, Childe walked into the parlor, breaking away his concentration.

Childe, noting Zhongli’s unconscious frown, asked him, “Are you still trying to figure out who (Y/N)’s first love is?”

“Yes.” The Geo Archon replied, having no reason to lie to his friend.

“You know, I could tell you.” Childe grinned, making Zhongli confused. “I know who it is.”

“How do you know?”

“You know that time she got really drunk with Venti?”

Zhongli nodded, remembering the last time his fellow archon and friend had visited Liyue. Venti had brought multiple bottles of dandelion wine, after hearing from Zhongli that you had never tried it before. He didn’t think that it would have ended with you and Venti passed out on the living room floor.

“Well, they made a bet that whoever got drunk first would have to tell the other a secret. And since they both got drunk around the same time, they just blurted it out on the spot.” Childe, having the luck of being in the right place at the right time, and not being drunk, clearly heard both their secrets that night.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier that you knew, then?”

“Oh, (Y/N) found out I knew and threatened me not to tell anyone else. Especially you.”

Zhongli couldn’t help but narrow his eyes at the man. “Then what was the point of telling me all of this?”

Childe just smirked. “Just that I could tell you. But I know how important promises are to you.”

_____

After kicking Childe out of his office, Zhongli headed home to you.

“Hope you’re hungry, I made your favorite!” You exclaimed seeing him enter through the door. You were about to head back into the kitchen to grab some drinks when you stopped, seeing a small frown adorning his face.

“Zhongli, what’s wrong?”

Your husband walks closer to you, grabbing your hands in his. “Could you tell me who your first love is?”

Your eyes widened, giving him an amused look. “Is this what’s got you all down?” When he nodded, you let out a small laugh. “If this was that serious to you, I would’ve told you sooner. Alright, I’ll tell you. But you have to promise not to laugh okay?”

“I assure you, I won’t.” If anything, Zhongli was going to have a “nice chat” with the person, after all the stress they had caused him.

You sighed, before opening your mouth. “My first love is...” You trailed off, mumbling the rest of your sentence.

Zhongli unconsciously leaned in closer to hear clearly. “Come again?”

“I said...” you murmured the rest again.

He gave you a look, knowing you were doing it on purpose.

“Fine! It’s the Geo Archon statue!”

Zhongli blinked his eyes at your words, while you hid your blushing face in your hands.

“Don’t look at me like that. I know it’s embarrassing. You can’t even see his face and I fell in love with the guy. But I was young and he looked so cool just sitting there, and his body...” Your face burnt up, remembering the thoughts you had whenever you visited the Geo Archon statue.

Zhongli was now smiling blindingly, void of any hint of the frown he was sporting earlier. Many years back his Anemo friend, Venti, had convinced him to turn into his human form for his statue, saying that his dragon form was too intimidating. And so, he had reluctantly posed in his human form, choosing to cover his face with his hood to conceal his identity. After the final statue had come out and he unexpectedly saw that half of his body was exposed for the entirety of Liyue, not to mention Teyvat, to see, he had been silently cursing the Anemo archon’s persuasive skills ever since.

But now, upon seeing your flustered state, he decided that maybe it hadn’t been a bad decision after all.

“So you fell in love his physical attributes?” Zhongli pursed his lips, trying not to laugh.

“No! I mean, yeah he’s beautiful physically, of course. But I also liked him because of how he protected Liyue for so long, and continues to do so.”

Zhongli tried not to smile at your embarrassment. Quickly hiding his laugh with a cough, he composed his face. “Well, I’m flattered tha- I mean, I’m sure Rex Lapis would be flattered to know that he’s the first love of a beautiful maiden.”

“Yeah right. He probably doesn’t even know I exist. Probably has some gorgeous goddess. But, that’s how my first love ended. And then there wasn’t anyone else until I met you.” You shrugged nonchalantly, your feelings for the Geo Archon being in the past. “It’s like they say, first loves never work out anyways.”

He grinned, hearing your words. “I think that there some exceptions to the rule.”

“I guess?” You said, continuing to set the table. “But not me, you know? Or else, we wouldn’t be married.”

Zhongli seemed to be in a significantly better mood afterwards, smiling at you and watching you with soft eyes all throughout dinner. And when he suggested taking a walk around town and grab some dessert along the way, he held onto you tighter and closer than he normally did out in public.

“You know, I have been told that I remind people of Rex Lapis.” Zhongli mentioned, as the two of you walked across the bridge.

You examined him, your eyes roaming around his stature. You then shook your head, giving him a small shrug.

“I don’t see it.”

____

*(A/N): lolololol. I had so much fun writing this one! I like to think no one knows about Zhongli’s true identity yet, other than Venti of course, in this fic. But he’ll tell you once he decided to fake die. Idk if you’d let him tho lol. ^^

[knullanon]

how the symbiotes stole you from one another #3

this took 5 hours in total yay

words: 4627

warnings: manipulation, kidnapping, dads being assholes, lmk if I missed any!

Routines in the area where Knull had dropped you off were almost nonexistent. The only reason why you woke up at all was because of the fact that it was already something you did before you got here.

Here, as in this place where Knull seemingly… owned? It was weird. He didn’t just own the land, either, he owned the symbiotes, and by that, Knull, whenever he wanted to talk to you, would just go inside one of their minds, take over, and talk to you. He had done this one multiple occasions, with him always being an asshole about everything. From trying to stop you from going outside, to bitching about your old life, and how you must be enjoying this one. It was really annoying to have to deal with him every damn day, and it was starting to become borderline creepy.

He wouldn’t care about your privacy, only how you were holding up. Literally nothing could stop him from entering your room. He removed the lock when you first got there, and then just left you. Nothing to do besides clean, fuck around, and be bored to death. The only thing you could really do otherwise bsides talk to that asshole, is just try and find something to look at.

So far, you’ve been able to tell that the previous owners of the land were evicted: probably by force by the numerous blood stains all over the place, hiding under whatever Knull didn’t want to clean. Another thing you noticed was that the area you were in used to be covered with trees, but they seemed to be all cut down recently. They smelt fresh and didn’t have any dirt or grime on the stumps. You had to assume it was a safety precaution. For him, at least.

It didn’t take long for you to start snooping around and finding different things, like a hidden diary, all written in russian, an old art kit, and a calendar dated to that year. These items, and their good conditions they were found in, only solidifies your theory that Knull just found a random property and killed the people living there. It also solidified the fact that Knull really didn’t know you existed until that night. Or, morning. Whatever time you were at the gas station. You were able to tell how long you had been taken. 2 weeks just tonight.

It was annoying the hell out of you how long staying with these assholes would seem. Two months with Eddie and venom, and then 3 months with carnage and cletus.

And now 2 weeks with this asshole, probably more. You really wanted out of this damn place. Actually, you wanted out of this weird game they had. Whoever got you first got to keep you until someone else came along. And tried to do the same thing.

As you grabbed some random clothes, and walked into the bathroom, you tried to remember before everything had happened. Before you decided to walk back home alone, like an idiot. That's what you were, wasn’t it? A fucking idiot for thinking it was a good idea. You really thought that nothing would happen, would it? And now this.

Shoving open the bathroom door, you almost didn’t see the 7 foot tall symbiote sitting in the chair across from the bed. This one was known for having a more emo look to them. With being dark blue and with little streaks of even darker red, they were always quiet and silent when you saw them. They were usually the ones to bring you food, guard the house you were in. They were also the one that Knull preferred to get into when he decided to speak to you.

The symbiote themselves were rumble, and he was… actually quite pleasant. It seemed Knull had let this batch keep their personalities, maybe at the price of kneeling before him. You didn’t know.

What you did know was that Knull was now controlling Rumble through whatever bullshit he did to be this powerful. Rumble, or, Knull technically, was reading an old newspaper dated a few months ago. It was from somewhere in Idaho, where you would assume you were located. Yes, Eddie lived in San Francisco, but when carnage took you wherever the hell he took you, and then Knull, well, it was confusing to say the least.

Anyways, the one good thing about Knull was that he really didn’t care what you thought of the place, as he said it, “a temporary arrangement on both our parties''. Pretentious bitch.

Knull put down the newspaper, and gave a smile, before gesturing with his arm to the bed you had just made. “Ah, _____, sit. Let's talk shall we?”

You didn’t want to talk to him, or even look at him, but you followed his command anyway. You tossed your clothes into an old bucket that you had placed in the corner of the room and walked towards the bed, before sitting on it. Knull smiled again with that weird mouth. Rumble never smiled, so of course it would look weird when he did. Of course, not of his own will, but still.

“So, how have you been liking your new enclosure?” Did- Did he just-

You brushed it off, not wanting to anger him. “It’s… fine. Every home comes with its ups and downs.” you hoped he would get the message about calling a home an enclosure. It makes you feel like a pet rather than a person. If Knull noticed your wording, then he ignored it. Instead, he picked up the newspaper again, saying, “Good, good. I’m glad you could understand the circumstances of your predicament.”

You tried hard not to roll your eyes, remembering what Carnage or Venom would say- even now, if you had no idea where they were, their words and opinions still sat with you months later. Instead, you nodded your head to his words, and sat in silence waiting for him to say anything else. Knull did not say anything for a few minutes. Long, agonizing minutes. It reminded you of being with Eddie and Venom, those two assholes. When they were working, they required the utmost silence otherwise they couldn’t focus. They never got mad at you, but they would always try to put you up to something, like reading. Which is why you would read all their books on crime rates, detectives, natural disasters, anything to pass the time while they were working.

It got you entertained for the most part. Sitting in a room with nothing to do, for 2 months was more difficult than you ever thought it would be.

“Are you thinking of your previous hosts and their accommodations?”

Knull pulled you from your thoughts, and even though he was reading the newspaper, you were able to tell he wanted an answer. You shifted from your spot at the edge of the bed, before answering with, “U-Uh, yeah, I am.”

“Hmm.”

He continued to read for a moment, before he pulled the newspaper down a little to view you. “Are you not tired of them?”

“What do you mean?”

This time, he put the newspaper in his lap. “Venom and Eddie. Carnage and Cletus. How have they treated you in the few months you’ve known them?”

You had to sit there and think for a moment, wondering where this conversation was going. What was he trying to do this time?

“Well, venom and Eddie were… constricting. I never had anything to do. Besides reading the books on the shelf, but even then I had to do that discreetly. They didn’t like me doing those things. Or, rather, reading those things. They said it was too… graphic.”

“Ah, I see.” he acknowledged, picking up the newspaper again. “And Carnage and Cletus? How was their company?”

You really wanted to hide in a hole now. “They were… fine.”

“Were they, though?”

You wondered if it would just be worth it to tell everything: how you felt about Eddie, how you felt about Cletus, and how you felt about this asshole doing the same thing the rest of them had done.

“...No, they weren’t.”

He gave a small smile, before he asked, “Oh? Please do tell me more.”

You knew what he was doing, what he was playing at, and yet, you fell right for it. “They would tell me… they would say that no one was going to come for me. No one cared. Not my family, not Eddie, no one. Only them.”

He nodded along, and when he realized you were done venting, he said, “well, aren’t you glad that you’re with me now?”

Turning to face him, you gave him a glare. “Excuse me?”

“Think about it. With one of them, they gave you limited resources to entertain yourself, and the other made you feel like nothing. With me, I give you free reign to do whatever you please. You may ask for whatever you wish, visit whoever you choose, as long as you plead your loyalty to me.”

You stared at him, before you turned your back towards him, mumbling, “Liar.”

He chuckled, and you heard the newspaper crinkle. “I’m not making any jokes. Pledge our loyalty, and you will receive anything you would ever want.”

“Would that include being let go to see my family again?”

“Yes, actually. You would just have to come back when you were done with your visits.”

That caught your attention. He would let you go back? Really? He did say you would go back to him when you were done with your “visits”... but still, better than what the other two were offering.

You thought for a moment before the doubts started to kick in. How do we know he won’t betray you when you do pledge your loyalty to him? How do we know he won’t just keep you here forever? What ounce of trust should we put in him when everyone has kicked us when we were already down?

Almost as if he heard your thoughts, Knull said, “I will give you time for your answer. After all, I have years and years to spare.”

With that he folded the newspaper, setting it down gently, before you saw something spark in his eyes and Rumble returned to his own mind. He sat there unmoving for a few moments, before he sat up and looked at you. “I assume he just wanted to talk?”

You sighed, feeling tired only at 7 in the morning already. “Yes, Rumble, that’s all he came here for.”

He gave a hum of acknowledgment before he got up and walked to the exit to the room. Before he left, however, he said, “Do not be surprised if the water runs out: this was called a temporary enclosure for a reason.”

Before you could say anything, he left you to watch the door again, just before you could ask him to stop calling the home an enclosure, he shut the door softly. You were about to say something, but decided it was not worth it, so instead, you opted to just continue on with what you had to do throughout the day.

~~~~~~~~~

As Rumble looked on as you would clean and dry out clothes on line and leave them for the hot summer day to dry, hopefully by the end of the day, you had mumbled out when first getting out the big hamper. Next to it, you had a couple pieces of clothing sitting in another basket covered by water and soap. Currently, you were wringing out all of the water from a white top, trying to not stretch it out.

Rumble grumble out something, before he heard him in his head:

“Rumble, I would assume you would have the decency to not talk badly about my daughter behind her back.”

Rumble froze up before he quickly set his posture more straightened as he watched you put the shirt on the line, before going to grab another piece of clothing. “No, Lord Knull, I was just noting the… strange enclosure you had chosen for her.”

He heard Knull chuckle, before responding with, “Oh, Rumble, you should know my plan by now.”

Rumble sent a wave of confusion to Knull, indicating that no, he had no idea what his plan was.

Knull simply sighed, before he continued. “I have had plans to bring her to Klyntar, our homeworld, and yet, I have a feeling she will not be able to live there. For a while, I thought I would only be able to visit her through the symbiotes already on earth, or just get there myself, with obvious consequences. However, I’ve found a third option. There is a way to bring her here without having to worry for her safety.”

Suddenly, Rumble received a vision, or more specifically, a live feed of what Knull was looking at. It looked like a symbiote, and yet, it was… odd. It did not have a mind of its own, it's like it was waiting to be filled by something. And this one did not need a host, either. From Knull’s own memories, it seemed he created this one to rely solely on its own, however, for the need to do normal things, it needed someone to fill its mind. Rumble suddenly realized where this was going.

“Lord Knull, you aren’t saying-”

“Yes, I’m saying exactly what you are thinking of.”

Rumble saw Knull walk up to the symbiote, and stroke it with his claw. It did not respond. “This symbiote that I have created will need a mind, someone who has already been born, only their mind. I am planning on giving it to ______ and then letting her rest there, before taking away her body and giving her mind to.... Well, I have not named this one. Maybe I will name it… _______. After her.”

~~~~~~~

You laid the last shirt in the bucket, and when you tried to grab another and felt that there were no more, you sighed and grabbed the dirty water, and poured it out on the grass, not caring if the soap would kill the already dead plants. Then you put the hamper and the bucket on top of each other and carried it back into the house. When you reached the sink, you put the buckets in the sink and turned the tap: only for nothing to come out.

“Do not be surprised if the water runs out: this was called a temporary enclosure for a reason.”

Fucking hell. You got the hamper out and when you saw that it was relatively clean, you let it go, but the dirty water one…

Yeah, you had to clean this before the next laundry day.

It did not help that there were dishes that needed to be washed. You sighed and left the bucket on the counter, and you were about to walk back up to your room, when you had an idea. You walked outside and saw Rumble standing near a cut down tree, waiting for something. Walking up to him, you said, “Hey, Rumble, is there another water source around here?”

He gave you a look, before he said, “Yes, there is one, why must you use it? We will be moving next week to a new location.”

“Well, if it's gonna take a week, I hope you have some form of water to bring up here for the dishes, or showers, or clothes, or-”

“Alright, alright I get it.” he stalked over to you and looked towards another symbiote, probably trying to talk to them before the other symbiote simply nodded and walked to another part of the property.

“I will take you to a river, but after that, the others will gather the water for you, am I clear?”

You nodded. “Good, lets go.”

~~~~~~

Anti-venom stood at the clearing, looking at the decomposing bodies, just two women and two men. He could tell they had been there for more than a week, but not enough for them to completely decompose.

Anti-venom looked around before he tried to smell where they were from. Unfortunately, whoever dumped their bodies was smart in how they covered up the scent. There was almost nothing out here, and with the fact that someone covered up their scent made it more unnerving.

He didn’t try to think of how they died, only giving them his wishes before he started to walk away. Just a couple meters away was a little river that he knew expanded as you went up the stream. He walked over and saw nothing of old blood on the rocks, so they must’ve died somewhere else-

What was that?

He whirled his head towards the start of the river, upwards maybe by a few miles. Even out here, the stench of Knull and his underdogs were there. He growled, remembering how Knull used them for his own gain. He quickly theorized that for some reason, Knull was here and he had killed these people- but why? What would make him do this?

Anti-venom decided to find out on his own, as he started to sprint his way up the river.

~~~~~~

“Why did Lord Knull choose you, anyway?”

“Choose me as what?”

You were currently at the river, cleaning out the dishes in the bucket, and then rinsing them off. Rumble was nearby, sitting in his own little area, and he was also bored. He wanted to know things that Knull would not tell him: would not tell anyone, to be more precise.

You looked back at him, before you turned back to the dishes. “I don’t question it anymore. I never had a choice, I was just… chosen. It’s something I’ve had to get used to for the past months, and even now I don’t have anything to do, anything to say.”

Rumble quirked an eye. “But Lord Knull gave you a choice, did he not?”

“Oh, yeah, please tell me, what did he give me a choice on?”

“On being free to do as you please.”

You stopped washing the little plate you had, and you turned back to face him. “What?”

“He gave you a choice. You could swear loyalty to him, or-”

“Ok, enough with the loyalty bullshit, I’m tired of hearing it.” You had gone back to the dishes, scrubbing furiously at the plate. “I get it, it's a better option than Carnage or Venom, but could I at least have the option of never seeing you fucks ever again?”

Rumble did not say anything more, letting you get out your anger by scrubbing the dishes that were left, and tossing them into the bucket.

When you were finally done, you tried to pick up the bucket, but all of that scrubbing and cleaning made your arms sore. Rumble decided to restore his reputation with you by getting the bucket for you. You didn’t complain, as your arms were extremely sore from your anger washing.

The walk back to the property was peaceful. You weren’t angry at Rumble: to be honest, he was a sweetheart. He would help you out with so many things it was almost unbelievable. He was much more pleasant to be around than Knull, that was for sure.

Even if he had to call Knull “Lord Knull” each time you met, it was fine. The little trail that you two took was getting more smoother as you got closer and closer to the property. When you reached the clearing, you saw the normal sight:

5 symbiotes around the area stalking, waiting. They were most likely on guard, and even then, they had their eyes on you, making sure there was no funny business between you and Rumble.

Walking up to the one story house, you felt… wrong. Of course, this had always felt wrong, but this time it was like someone was watching you from afar. Before you got onto the porch, you turned to look at all the symbiotes watching you. Nothing unusual, the normal amount that would stand guard in this area. Maybe one of them is looking too long, you thought, as Rumble opened the door for you and you both went inside.

Unfortunately, no one noticed the speck of white in the bushes, hiding. Waiting.

~~~~~~~

It was almost time for you to start getting ready for bed. You already had dinner, and now all you needed was just a nice warm bed. You sighed as you made sure everything was in its place, before you walked back in the hallway and into your room. You got out your favorite pair of pajamas, and started to change. You already had a shower last night, it wouldn’t matter if you had one today.

As you changed, your mind went back to the conversation with Knull earlier that day. Would he really let you do whatever you wanted if you just… spared your loyalty, as he called it? Could you see your family and friends again? Could you tell them you were ok and not harmed?

But, he did say that you couldn’t stay there… you would have to go back with him… where did he live, anyway? He was an alien god, so… space? But… where?

Maybe he lived on some random planet and acquired a bunch of power, you had no idea-

“YOU WOULD ALL DARE TO HELP KNULL AND HIS PLANS?!”

That didn’t sound good. You rushed out of your room, pajamas halfway on, and peeked outside of the kitchen window, where you saw everything.

In the middle of the clearing, stood tall and bloody, was another symbiote. He was white with some black accents here and there, and most importantly, he was holding fire.

You already knew that symbiotes didn’t like heat, or fire. Especially not fire.

You remember one time when you tried to escape Eddie with fire. It did not work out well. You were locked in a closet, and fortunately for you, that was where you stored your books.

Anyways, you had no time to think of those times, when you were running from whatever the fuck is going on outside the house. You ran back to your room to put on a shirt, and when you were finished putting on your socks, running was heard from the hallway.

Rumble came through the door and dragged you by your forearm down towards a specific spot in the floor. He then lifted a larger floorboard that revealed a crawl space. He shoved you in, gently as possible, before he said, “Stay. Here. I’ll come for you when I beat him.”

“Who?” You were about to ask, but he slammed the door shut, leaving you to fear for the next few minutes.

You sat there for a few more minutes, before you heard crackling. Crackling of fire. You were desperately trying to open the door, but it seemed to be glued shut: there was nothing that could open it.

At this point, you were starting to cry. The symbiotes couldn’t stand fire, how would they stand this? You were desperate to leave, to escape: you never wanted to be here, with these people who thought they could help you. You wanted to go home, to see your family, friends, the people who loved and cherished you, and actually respected your boundaries.

The door was broken inwards and you felt every muscle in your body stop. You crouched a little from the trap door, hoping they didn’t hear you. From they're desperate steps and quick feet, it was obviously not Rumble or any other symbiote you knew.

You were pulled from your thoughts as the steps went into the hallway. As they walked by, slower, you held your breath. If they found you… well, you knew what happened when new symbiotes would find you.

You let out a silent sigh when they passed the door… only for them to come rushing back. Without even knowing it, they ripped open the trap door, revealing you, tired, scared, and cold.

The symbiote you saw was the exact one that was outside, who was attacking all the other symbiotes.

He looked shocked, as if he didn’t know you were there. “Child…” he asked, as he reached down to try and grab you, “what are you doing in a place like this?”

He picked you up with the utmost gentleness and care, like you would shatter if he just yanked you out. He cradled you within his arms, like you were a baby. He was a giant compared to you, being almost 7 or 8 feet tall.

“Where are your parents?” he asked, taking you with him, walking out of the house. You tried to crawl out of his palm, but he stopped you each time. “I-I don't know.”

He tried to give you a sympathetic look. “Oh, my sweet dear, don’t be afraid. I will k-”

He suddenly jumped into the fire, and you screamed expecting to be burnt along with all the weeds.

However, you didn’t feel anything. Turns out this was because the symbiote had taken you up into the air, so while he was holding you by your waist, he was also holding you out of the reach of the fire. He held his hand up high, not only to make sure that you wouldn’t be hurt, but as you saw Rumble on the ground, close to the fire, you realized it was to get you out of his grip.

“Rumble. You used to be such an open minded symbiote. Now look at you. You are just leeching off of Lord Knull, the one who enslaves you and the rest of our kind!”

The white symbiotes seemingly noticed you again, and said, “and you have the audacity to bring an innocent child into this mess! How dare you!”

With that, he started to walk into the fire, which surprisingly was not burning him. He still held you up high so you wouldn’t be burnt by the flames, which was nice. You looked back at Rumble, who was trying to get up, but the injuries on his legs seemed severe. The fire was closing in on him as well.

You felt bad for him. You reached out, but before you could do anything, Anti venom started to sprint away from the house. The last thing you saw of Rumble was him collapsing onto the ground, broken and beaten.

When you were out of the fire, the symbiote lowered you to his eye level. “My name is Anti-Venom, tiny child. What is yours?”

BONUS:

Rumble sat on the remains of the house: nothing was left of it when Lord Knull appeared. It was a miracle he had even gotten the distress alert, a bigger one he had arrived in time to save rumble himself. Every other symbiote was gone, either from the fire or the white symbiote. Anti-Venom was his name.

“So, you failed at getting back _____ for me?”

“... Lord Knull, I am deeply sorry, but-”

“I don’t want to hear excuses, Rumble, I want to see my daughter! I want to seeher before the other two get her, or worse she falls for that idiotic Anti-Venom, do you hear me?!”

Rumble sat there waiting for Lord Knull to be done with his rant, before he said, “Yes, Lord Knull. I understand.”

Lord Knull stood up and started to walk away. “Good. I will try to locate her myself. In the meantime, find out everything you can about this Anti-Venom. I want his secrets, every dirty little thing about him, do you understand?”

“Yes, Lord Knull, it will be done.”

And with that, Lord Knull was gone, leaving Rumble to dwell in his own failures.

--------

almost forgot, @anxiousnerdwritings this was for u

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

Wish I were Heather

Dialogue prompt 21 - “Don’t ask her out again, please... you’re killing me every single time you ask that.”

TW- Hurt/comfort ||Post breakup  

I heard from you late night in the middle of the June, that was the last I heard your voice or saw your face before you came back to the city. News had started flowing here and around about you, flashlines saying "The Golden boy returning after disappearance?" much before your arrival, much before I had even saw the headlines but I thought they were fake until I saw the headlines again "The boy who lived back in action". I don't know whether I was upset that day when I saw the news because you didn't choose to call me like you used to or whether I was angry that I found out that way or if I felt indifferent because you weren't a part of my life, I didn't quite know. But whatever it was, I knew you coming back was a change I wasn't ready for.

When I was a kid of 4 year's old, I used to think that the world ended where there wasn't my house or my school, I didn't used to think of the towns in the periphery of the country or the outskirts, I thought they didn't exist at all but then I also thought that love didn't exist either until you happened and you changed everything there was in me. You became my shine, my armour, my shield, my breath,my heart beat, my world, everything. I thought you were my world, just like I used to think of my world as a 4 year kid. There were no outskirts, or towns in periphery, in that world it was only you and me but now, the periphery is all we have. I see you, from the outskirts of my world.

I would walk down my supermarkets, see the newspaper's, newsletters, magazines with your face on front, everyone rejoicing as if a lost King had returned to the kingdom but I walked past them because I didn't need to know of your life, the life you knit for yourself somewhere across the globe or what your future held for you anymore, I don't think I wanted to know either but then it was like a flap of a moth that everything changed and suddenly there was you, with everything you still had of mine, my heart, my soul, my love and you asked me if we could talk. I couldn't say no and we talked for hours, our past, our present, our unknown unraveling future, our apartments, our friend's, our families, my job, your job, my cat and your dog, the new fences in my garden, the new polished surface of your flat, your visits to different part of the worlds, the taste of coffee and tea in other countries, the humongous libraries you visited and artisans you met and the international friends you made. We talked about everything and yet it wasn't enough because talking to you was like staring at the moon, I never want to stop.

And I knew I was right, you were a change in my life, yet again, I wasn't ready for.

It was so easy for you to pick off with people right where you left off, or start a new charity, or meet new people everyday, or to get into new business, or engage with muggles, or do interviews, or go on runs. It seemed effortless when I saw you, like you were a natural but then I think you were always a natural, maybe it was one of the reason why I loved you. And so effortlessly you were there wanting to be my friend again, how could I had denied, you had my oxygen. 

But then I forgot that maybe you didn’t want anything more than a couple of Hi’s, awkward conversations in the isle of the departmental store or a couple of phone calls that’d only last for 10 minutes. I wasn’t ready for what was coming. It wasn’t like the calm before a storm, It was much rather like the autumn sunsets before the winter nights. You were there and I was there and so was everyone, right there back at the diner, having a dinner late night after work before the weekend when things spurred on the table and we landed talking about relationships. 

“Come on, there has to be someone, we’re your friends, Harry. Don’t hide it from us.” Ron had teased gulping right after a huge sip of his beer. 

The echos of laughter, the savage sounds, the enthused smiles came over everyone’s face but me and then you gave your shy smile, confirming to everyone that there was someone. I felt my heart plunge. 

“Well there is this girl. She’s a volunteer at the charity house and we’ve been getting along pretty well and we definitely hit on each other a lot but when I asked her out, she said we should wait for a while. It’s going good but I don’t know yet.” You had shrugged with a calm blush on your face. You were thinking of her and it made you smile, it made you happy and that somewhere made me want to die. 

And everything after that was about you and that girl. I was happy for you, I really was but for just once I was hoping that there would be someone who noticed that I was staring out of the window towards the bridge at the couple hugging before they departed separate ways. And I thought I needed someone to acknowledge that but no, when I felt Hermione’s hand brush against my closed fist as a sign to ask if I were okay, I realized, It was your acknowledgement I needed. It was your gaze I yearned for, It was your affirmations I needed but you were there, and yet you weren’t there for me. 

When I used to be with you before this happened, I always wished that time would slow down, if only for a couple minutes, a few seconds, just so I could hold your hand a little longer but now every passing second, I wished it’d end sooner because I don’t think I could’ve taken you talking about that girl or you pretending that we never existed, maybe it didn’t to you, it did for me. 

I thought your feeble crush on that girl would last a few weeks because she repeatedly kept turning you down, I thought that maybe you would give up but now I think maybe her turning you down was nothing but a fuel for your engine to run. I looked at you more often than not, I stared at you for insane amount of duration while you would be there talking to that girl, your hands brushing, a curious yet soft and lovable eye contact between the two of you and the endless smiles you both had, and I hated to say this to myself, you looked happy. 

There were even days you were in my dreams and we’d do nothing but talk because instead of that girl, it was me, it was me your hands would brush against, it was me you kept looking for reasons to touch my arm, it was me you kept fondly smiling at, it was me instead of her but then my dreams would crash the moment i’d wake up and pretending that you were here with me, i’d say “Don’t ask her out again... You’re killing every single time you ask that.” 

But you weren’t there to listen, you couldn’t listen to the shatter of my heart. 

And then one day when I was walking by a coffee shop near your charity center and I saw you from the opposite side of the road. I had almost taken my step to greet you from the window but then I saw her. She walked with a croissant in her hand and gave one to you and one for her and I only looked at the two of you, the hands brushing again until you had interlocked the fingers together and the crimson blush on both of your faces, a soft yet big smile on both of your faces, even your legs were intertwined beneath the table.

 And I couldn’t look away. 

She was Heather, she was everything I wanted to be, she was everything I couldn’t be and that’s why you wanted her and not me, and because I know you wanted her, I couldn’t hate her, not even a for a minute, not even for a second, not even for a single moment, not even a little bit, not even at all. You looked happier, more than you ever were with me because that means I was never what you needed or ever wanted but you said I was. She bought those things out in you I never could, I had never seen you smile so much and I knew it wasn’t the smile you have when you start seeing someone, it was a smile that said you were really happy, happier than you had ever been in your entire life, it was a smile of when you’re in love. You made promises to me that I was everything you ever needed, that I was the one who bought out the life in you, that I made you the happiest you have ever been, you said I made you want to live and not just exist in mortality but now seeing you entangled into her, I knew I wasn’t what you thought I was for because If I were it, if I really were everything you ever wanted, you ever needed, then there would’ve never been a Her. Then it would have only been you and me and our world with no outskirts. 

But now, I didn’t even want the periphery to live, I didn’t want the outskirts because you were kissing her and I was watching you and I heard my heart drop down from a high building and remain into nothing but scatterer fragments over the ground. It was broken, more than it already had been.

She made you happy and I have to live with it. And maybe I’ll live, if only a little, I think I will. 

But I will always live wishing that I were her, wishing I were Heather.

MASTERLIST / REQUESTS OPEN

Tagging people for reaches, kindly ignore if you want <3

@drarrywords @silver-de-vonne @phoebe-delia @chinike @wheezykat @elenaxoxo22 @thecornerofbelu @nv-md @upon-poppyhills @littlebodybigheartttt @lilthislilthat @cissa-bee @cluelesspigeons @nin0tchka @draco-and-harry-malfoy-pottah @harryandginnydeservesbetter @draco-lucious-potter @ravena-wrote @textrovert-01

Ps. please don't hesitate to tell me if you are bothered by the tag.

[writing-in-april]

Postmarked In The Past

Spencer Reid x Female Single Mom Reader

Summary: After sixteen years of no contact Reader reconnects with Spencer because she has to reveal the secret she’s been keeping since she stopped sending letters to him.

A/N: Hey heyyy! This is my sixteenth fic (it’s actually was totally unintentional to choose the 16th for this fic even though the daughter is 16 in this fic lol 😂) for my 30 fics in 30 days for April!! This one is based off of this request and is part of my unlinked Spencer Reid & Letters series! Thanks for all the love and support lately- I was going to put out my plan for my 1500 follower celebration yesterday or today but if you saw my post I’ve been struggling so it’ll probably come on the 19th or the 20th. Submit an ask here- I love hearing from everyone 🥰Thanks for reading and hope y’all enjoy 🥰

Warnings: Reader keeps a huge secret she definitely shouldn’t have, Reader is a single mother-the daughter doesn’t have a specified name but she is specified to be 16, Reader is very defensive when her daughter finds the letters, mentions of a one night stand

Main Masterlist Word Count: 2.5k

Spencer had been a bright spot in my life, one that had been snuffed out all because of me. When I had found myself pregnant with his child, after I had visited him once, I bolted. For a long time I justified my actions, saying to myself that it was better that Spencer was unburdened while his career was just starting out. But, deep down I knew how wonderful Spencer would have been as a father, how he would have moved heaven and earth to make everything work. And, that guilt haunted me.

The memories I had of him were so far in between, every moment with him had been so fleeting at the end. I struggled to sometimes even remember how he looked as it had been sixteen years since I last laid eyes on him.

I had to strain my memory to remember the way his gelled hair curled around his ears and how sometimes I saw him let the curls free only around me. His eyes had been brown, I could remember that. But, pinpointing what shade they were when they glinted in the light or were drenched in the shadows was lost to me. I knew he had been tall and lanky, his hands reflecting that with how spindly they were. To remember how those fingers had felt on my skin, or how his lips had marked me, or how he would gently stroke my hair was too difficult. Whether it was because I couldn’t remember or that I didn’t want to, it was just too hard for me to want to try to strain my memory anymore.

The labor had been the most difficult thing I had gone through, no one had been there to hold my hand. And, I didn’t really want anybody else except Spencer holding it. I had gritted my teeth and accepted it, pushing through the physical and emotional pain, especially since the pain of losing Spencer had been entirely because of me. I had been given a beautiful baby daughter that day and it was then that I started to force myself to forget Spencer, she looked too much like him to be able to bear.

The only things that remained in my life that involved him were the letters I sent to him in the last year of our relationship while we were long distance and my daughter. The letters were able to be shoved in a box at the bottom of a closet, but my daughter confronted me with my actions everyday by existing. I loved my daughter very much, I just tried to avoid the topic of her father by concocting a lie and making myself forget all of Spencer’s features so I wouldn’t see them as much in her. My nightmare would be the two things converging to confront me with my guilt, I don’t think I could handle that.

—-

At the kitchen table I saw my daughter, holding a letter. Her holding a letter wasn’t at its core a bad thing of course, but I could tell by the slight yellowing of the paper that it was getting old. Immediately panic spread through me; there were no other old letters she’d be looking at besides mine, the ones I sent to Spencer.

“Those are private.” I snapped defensively, definitely too hostile to be reasonable. It was obvious by my tone of voice that I was hiding something.

“Private?!” She yelled, giving away that she had already read at least a few of them. I clenched my eyes shut to prepare for her question, “Are these from my father?! Who you said was a one night stand?!” I vividly remember explaining the lie I had concocted for her, her being confused why I would only be with her father once. It was a hard subject to dance around, a difficult lie for me and her to swallow. But, the alternative was too painful for me to be honest with her, or honest with Spencer. And, I knew it made me selfish, at the time it had been so Spencer wouldn’t stop his blossoming career. With time I realized that I really had done it because I had been scared. The guilt had started to sting worse when I realized that.

I had been caught, there was no weaseling out of this. I hanged my head in defeat, finally admitting to the large lie I had even roped the rest of my family in, “Yes.”

If she had been a dragon she’d be breathing fire on me while she spoke, “And why would you keep this from me! Did he do something bad or something?! Is that why you didn’t tell me?!”

“No-I-“ I stammered a few times until I found the words, “I- I did it because I didn’t want to hold him back… We were so young, and I knew he’d quit his new job across the country to come back to me.” Keeping the details still vague was my only armor right now. I kept to myself how those letters were the way we communicated for months when he started in the academy. We were only able to meet up once a month, and one month I unexpectedly fell pregnant. I never sent another letter or came to visit him again once I found out.

She clenched her jaw at me, looking back down at the scores of letters that we had written, and I had hidden. Her next question now made me clench my jaw, “C-can I see him? Or call him? Or send him a letter?” If you don’t know how to contact him anymore I’m sure we can-“

I was nervous as to where this was going. There was no way I could contact Spencer again after all these years, the guilt already ate at me everyday. Seeing and remembering his face would only make it worse. Fear was fueling me and I cut her off because of it, “No- I- I don’t think it’s a good idea...I just need more time- until I’m ready.” I started to shrink away from her, my authority slipping through my fingers as I became more and more vulnerable.

“You’ve waited sixteen years, you’ll never be ready.” The spite in her voice was stinging, she wasn’t completely wrong in her statement.. And when I didn’t answer she then stormed away, slamming the door to her room.

——

Our relationship in the few weeks following was strained at best, estranged at worse. She barely spoke to me since then, the biggest conversation we had was about what was for dinner- and that had been about two sentences long.

I was slowly coming around to the idea of perhaps finding a way for her and Spencer to reconnect. The guilt that I had been so afraid of becoming worse if I confronted it head on, only grew worse by avoiding it. I was actually going to talk to her after I got home from work, until I realized what she did.

She left her own letter on the table titled Dear Mom, detailing where she was going without giving any specifics. There was one part that gave her reasoning for writing her plan down, she didn’t want me to have a heart attack even if she was mad at me. Plus there were a few sentences about how she had used her own money that she had been saving up, which was supposed to be for college only serving to make you even more frustrated. At the bottom she wrote- I’m going to find my Dad, please don’t follow me or call the police.

I scoffed to myself, wondering if she expected her warning to not to follow her to be followed. Of course I was going to follow her, there was no way I was going to just let her go off on her own like that.

It wouldn’t be too hard to find her. Spencer may have changed apartments since then, but one quick google search of news articles he was mentioned in showed me that he still worked at the BAU in Quantico. It was probably a safe bet that my daughter did the same thing and was planning on visiting him at his office.

The plane ride there had been tumultuous, not in the sense that there was any chaotic occurrence or severe turbulence on the plan, more like in my mind. My hands shook, my foot tapped, and my mind raced while I took the long flight from Las Vegas all the way to Quantico. My mind went round in circles whether or not I viewed Spencer meeting my daughter- our daughter as a good thing. It was difficult to accept that even though they’d both most likely be mad at me, they deserved to meet. Especially since I knew how good of a father Spencer could potentially be. Once I had landed I didn’t stop, getting a cab straight from the airport to where the BAU offices were located.

The building looked daunting in front of me. It wasn’t a skyscraper by any means, but the task that I was here to do was so big it felt like one as I stared at it while trying to work up the courage to go in. The guilt however, was too hard to ignore.

My mind was on autopilot as I told the secretary at one of the front desks. It was too stressful to focus on worrying, so exhausted from the emotional roller coaster I was riding. An agent had assured me that she was safe which made some of the stress melt from my shoulders luckily.

“Here she is.” The agent gestured to the office, empty of any other person except my daughter. I felt even more relieved now that I saw her with my own eyes.

When I entered she waited a second before speaking timidly with disappointment, “He’s not here, he's on a case.” Her demeanor had deflated almost immediately as she saw me escorted up.

“Who told you that?” My arms crossed around my chest, nervous and furious all at once. I didn’t need to tell my daughter how in trouble she was, by the pout on her face she knew she’d be getting grounded for a long time even if I did let her talk to him.

“This nice lady named Garcia, she works with him. But, she did tell me I had to wait for you until she called him” For the first time since I had read her letter to me I cracked a smile. When we had still been communicating, Spencer often wrote and spoke about his teammates. Besides a fleeting photo of the team shown to me by him while I had been over here visiting, all my perceptions of the team and how they might look were all based on my imagination.

Despite that, when a vibrantly dressed woman clicked her heels into the room, I knew it was her. Spencer had perfectly described her, shining bright compared to the dull colors of the bureau’s office.

“So your Spencer’s baby mama.” Yep, she was definitely as blunt and beautiful as Spencer had described. I blanched at her comment, though I didn’t deny it, which was all she needed to know to confirm.

“Can you give me his number?” I skittered past the question, not wanting to confirm it out loud.

She beamed brightly at me, already starting to punch in the numbers with the phone on the desk in front of me. “You can call him now if you want on this phone, they just stopped working for the day.”

When she handed me the phone, it had already started ringing. I couldn’t help but panic, almost refusing the phone until my daughter nudged me forward to grab it. My finger trembled severely as I wrapped my hands around the phone, but I still managed to hold on to bring it up to my ear just as someone picked up the phone.

“Hello?” It was him, he sounded so similar to the boy you knew, that boy was a man now. He sounded more haggard compared to sixteen years ago; I wondered what all had happened since then.

“Hey- Spencer it’s me.” By the hitch in his voice that came through the speaker, he knew who it was.

At first I heard nothing from him, only some rustled feedback in the speaker. My shoulders were practically at my ears now afraid he might hang up. He did eventually stumble out a greeting, “H-hi? Why are you calling me after all these years- aaand on a phone at my work?”

“I’ve got to be honest with you,” I cryptically answered with an evident shake in my voice. I was biting my nails now, not caring if I chipped the polish on them. My daughter grabbed my hand to comfort me even though she was probably still furious at me which helped coax out my next statement, “cause I haven’t told you why I stopped talking to you…” I breathed in deeply once before I finally admitted the secret I had held for so many years, “Spencer, you have a daughter, she just turned sixteen.”

Dead silence was all I got, that was until I heard a choked out sob from him, “Why?”

He didn’t need to elaborate any further, it was quite clear what he was asking. Again another meek shaky reply came from me, “There were a lot of reasons- the main one was I didn’t want to hold you back.”

My daughter was now crying as was I, I hadn’t given her my reasoning until now. Maybe one day I’d give Spencer all the reasons why I had hidden it from him for so many years even though it was painful. I had held a lot of guilt about not ever contacting him again or even sending another letter. Spencer deserved to know everything, especially about his daughter who was the spitting image of him in almost every way.

“Can I talk to her?” I agreed, which seemed to surprise my daughter. I think she thought I’d be furious enough with her to not let her speak to him. She would still be getting many privileges taken away from her, just not this one as it was my fault she never knew her father in the first place. My fingers shook even more as I moved to click the speaker button so he could hear her speak.

“Hi- dad.” They spoke for a while, while I took the back seat, barely interjecting. They both deserved every ounce of father and daughter time that I had deprived them from throughout the years. My chest did feel lighter now that I had told him, now that my daughter was getting the chance to know him. Hearing them laugh and giggle with each other almost immediately only cemented how much she was her father’s daughter.

When the phone was handed back to me, after seemingly hours of talking (Garcia had even popped in a few times to get me more coffee) Spencer asked,“Can you stay in Quantico till I get back?”

I smiled, happy that I’d finally be able to see and remember his face again after all this time, “We’ll be here waiting, it’s time you meet your daughter in person.”

Ask Me Anything

—

Tag lists (fill out this form to join): If your url has a strike through it means tumblr won’t let me tag you- check in your settings if you allow yourself to be searchable

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @oreogutz @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @boxofsparklingmuses @multixfandomwriter @takeyourleap-of-faith

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99 @princesssmooshie @peterpanouat @anaagraceeberr @ashcakes1918 @reid-me-a-story @cosmic-psychickitty

Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes @onlyhereforthefanfics @jareauswifey @princesssmooshie @peterpanouat

Letters Series: (Group of Unlinked fluff fics about Spencer and letters): @whoreforthebau @sierraraeck @90spumkin

[fabricated-misslieness]

Daniel Le Domas x gender neutral reader

Yo I hate Alex that motherfucker but also I think it’d be easier if Daniel killed Tony in the forest and then ran away with Grace, but I guess it’d be safe to bet that others left for the forest when the car got flipped.

Also for some reason my gifs aren’t workin

Requested: No

Word Count: 2847

Warnings: suggested use of drugs because Emilie exists, mentions of hypothetical violence, some angst i think, mentions of a gun in a world war themed board game

Normal AU where Le Domas are a ‘normal’ rich family, still weird, but no deal with the devil.

Servants, lavish parties, gourmet food, expensive alcohol, this was the life you might be inheriting. You say ‘might’ because you’re not married, nor are you getting married. 

Your partner, Daniel Le Domas, was born to a rich family, so he was entitled to all these privileges, not that he seemed quite fond of them. Deep down you knew he was, but he for sure didn’t make it clear.

“Don’t worry,” Speak of the devil. He reassures you, squeezing your hand as you walk down the halls to the music room. A music room, for god’s sake! Not speakers, not a radio, but their butler playing the piano. At least they didn’t have a ballroom, that would just be way extra. “We’re a normal family, I promise.”

“Normal?” You raise an eyebrow, gesturing to a nearby seemingly ancient, though you exaggerated that, portrait of a newlywed couple. “All the portraits I’ve seen so far are newlywed couples.” 

“That’s normal for rich families.”

“Haha.” You say sarcastically. “But seriously, you can’t even paint them in normal clothes? Not even family pictures of one of your many vacations?”

“First of all, who said we even had vacations?” You assumed they did, seeing as they were wealthy. Doesn’t the average rich person go on vacation twice a year? Whatever, who were you to assume? Though the thought of it is still a little peculiar, so you decide to question it.

“You don’t? No little tour over Europe? No visiting the seven wonders in the span of a week?” You go on and on, suggesting outlandish places.

Daniel nudges your side playfully to get you to stop. “No, haven’t even toured the US.”

You laugh, nudging him back. “You’re no fun, for a board game family.” You pluck a nearby board game from it’s shelf, Yankee Bayonet. Initially, you’d been attracted because of the gun on the box. It's world war one or two themed. “Well, can’t blame you. Don’t know how this would seem fun. What’s it even about?” You put the box back on display before Daniel can scold you for touching it.

“Honestly, I don’t know. There’s so many games, and I’ve barely played a quarter of them. That one, however,” he points at a box further down the hallway, “that one I play-tested as a kid. It’s somewhat fun.”

“Somewhat.”

As you near the end of the hallway, your eyes land on a portrait of Charity. You stop, which makes Daniel stop too. For a second, he’s confused, until he looks up at the portrait. Immediately, he turns to survey you. Among every emotion dancing in your eyes, he catches disturbance, nervousness, and most importantly, a splash of disgust. “Charity.” You say a little bitterly.

“Charity.” He repeats. “That’s where our painting used to be.” He cups your cheek and pulls you to look at him, putting his other hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

You shake your head, putting one hand on his hip and the other on the hand resting on your cheek. “It’s nothing. If I’m going to be with you, I’m going to have to face your family.” Daniel smiles, giving you a quick peck on the nose. He’s glad you’re so willing to get to know them, especially with how much he’s down-talked them, to put it lightly. “The only thing that confuses me is why this is still here. She’s your ex-wife.”

“They took a liking to her.” The both of you grimace. “She was just as crazy as them. Honestly, I don’t see what they see in her. But,” He takes your hand and presses a kiss on it. “I won’t let her bother you. If you want, I’ll even flaunt our relationship more than I would’ve.”

You shake your head, turning towards the next corridor. “No need. I’ll be fine.”

Famous last words, “I’ll be fine.”

You were not fine, in fact, you were a fish out of water. Standing next to the family, you felt severely underdressed, even when you’d gone out your way to wear something fancy. Though that wasn’t the biggest problem. They were all very distinct, but they fit into the family. Of course, they were family, but it made you feel like an outcast.

“(y/n),” Becky greets you with a smile. You offer her a hand, but she gives you a hug instead. You barely manage to reciprocate it. “I’m delighted that you came for a visit."

You give her the best smile you can, hoping she doesn’t notice it’s fake. “I’m glad I’m here with you.” You’d really thought that meeting the family would go smooth, honestly though, how could you? These were rich people, your lifestyle, mannerisms, nothing was even remotely similar to theirs.

“Oh, thank you.” She hands you a glass of champagne which you gingerly take, just to be polite. “I hope you can bring my son back to his old self. He’s never been the same since the divorce!” Before she can take you off towards a couch somewhere, Daniel stops her. He’d excused himself for some whiskey when you made it to the entrance and promised he’d make it quick.

“Mom.” He scolds lightly. He takes the drink from your hands and leaves it on a servant’s tray, knowing you’re not one for fancy champagne.

“Daniel.” Her face lights up. She gives him a quick hug, which you notice Daniel is a bit uncomfortable in. “Haven’t seen you in a while.” She teases.

Daniel nods rather stiffly, moving to your side and taking your hand almost immediately. “Been busy.” The whole family knows that ‘busy’ meant being with you, yet he covers up for it anyway.

“I know, I know. They’re a nice catch, by the way.” Becky pats you on the shoulder, a gesture both you and Daniel seem to dislike. “Well, I better not keep you for any longer. I’m sure the rest of the family is eager to meet you.” For some reason, you highly doubt that. 

Becky leaves you for another glass of champagne. Daniel turns to you once she’s gone. “You okay?” He holds your hands in his in the hopes it’ll comfort you.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He can tell you’re lying, you’re not hiding it very well. He gives you a knowing look, pushing you to tell the truth. “Alright, I’m not okay. Charity and your aunt have been eyeing me up since we arrived, your dad looks way older than your mom, Emily and Finch seem too happy to be real, your nephews are creepy, and Alex and Grace both look like they want to leave. That’s not reassuring, now is it?” Your ever rising tone makes Daniel squeeze your hands to stop you.

“Honey, they’re harmless.” He knows that’s an awful way of reassuring someone, but he knows that no matter what he says, you’ll still be doubtful.

You frown, letting out a sigh through your nose. “I know they’re harmless, but..” You bite your lip, trying to find a way to sugar coat your words. “Charity looks like she wants to kill me and your aunt looks like she could skin me alive without even blinking.”

“Look,” He brings his hands to cup your cheeks. “there’s nothing to worry about. From now on, I won’t leave your side. And if I need a refill, I’ll bring you with me. I love you.”

You sigh again, closing your eyes. In the end, you nod, opening them back up to look at him. “I love you too.”

“Good,” He brings you in for a chaste kiss. “Let’s go fuck them, like mom says.”

"She really says that?"

Daniel was right, they were harmless. Well, you hadn’t talked to Charity, but at least you’d talked to the second person giving you a serial killer look, aunt Helene.

Turns out the stink eye was her resting face and that her husband had died tragically. It was the main reason she looked so miserable. She was most likely merely reminiscing about her husband while looking at you two, the newest couple in love. If anything, it made you feel bad for her.

"I'm pretty sure I saw her take a pill like a shot in the hallway." You side glance Emilie as Daniel pulls you off to the side. You were just done talking to her, and somehow, even with all that parental stress, her smile was genuine. She was happy and extremely friendly. Well, so was her husband, but even he had a bit of awkwardness in him. "She's not suffering from anything, is she?"

Daniel shrugs, "Not that I know of."

He sits the both of you down on a loveseat out of earshot from the rest. "Now, we only have to wait until dinner." You nod. "But I have something to tell you. When somebody marries into the family, they have to play a game. It's just tradition. Play the game and you're part of the family, but win it, and you'll gain respect. Might as well get some practice in, right?"

"Did you just propose to me?" You mean it as a joke, but Daniel shrugs and reaches into his pocket. It's a wonder how people aren't looking over right now, well, apart from Charity.

"This is a claddagh ring. It's been sitting in my pocket for ages." He says as he pulls it out of the box. The majority of the ring is normal, but in the middle is a heart with a crown on it. "But, it's up to you how you want to wear it."

"So is this a proposal or..?"

He gives you a quick rundown on the meanings. On the right hand crown pointing towards the fingerprints is single and looking, towards the wrist is taken, on the left ring finger crown pointing towards the fingertips is engaged, and pointing to the wrist is married. Obviously, you're not married or single, so that leaves taken or engaged; and he's giving you that decision.

"You want me to choose?"

Daniel looks like he's regretting his spontaneous and presumably drunken decision. But with a swig of his drink, he smiles again. "Yes. I mean, we've talked about marriage and all but I wasn't sure if you'd be ready. I'm still not sure, but now that you know about it, you might as well wear it."

You admire the ring as you weigh your options. Daniel takes your free hand, absentmindedly playing with your fingers, especially your ring finger.

Engagement is the brightest thing in your heart and mind, despite that, it still finds doubts. Your in-laws, they were weird. But they didn't have anything to hide, they were harmless. On the plus side, you loved Daniel.

That was the final push. You grab Daniel's left hand, sliding the ring down his ring finger with the crown pointing to the fingertips.

Daniel's left hand curls around your right, the metal feels cold against your skin, despite all your fiddling. You look up at him, seeing his brows furrowed with confusion. You speak up before he can, "I might as well be proposing to you, if you're giving me the decision."

Daniel laughs, giving you a kiss followed by an eskimo kiss. He isn't usually one for eskimo kisses, but you figure it's happiness. "Okay, but I'll buy you one."

"Deal." You give him a final kiss before pulling him off the seat. "What should we play?"

"Well, first we have to go to the game room."

"The game room?"

You were hoping the game room was the room with the double doors painted with the name 'Le Domas', seeing as they were a board game family, but apparently not. "It's reserved for family, so technically you're not allowed in. But, we have a game room for parties." Daniel explains on the way. Rich people and their special rooms…

Once inside, Becky plucks a family board game from the shelf, no doubt a Le Baile product. Before you can join them at the couch, however, Charity pulls you off to the side.

Daniel follows, putting his arm around your shoulder protectively. Charity glares at him for a second before turning back to you, it was clear she wanted you alone. "Care for a game of chess?"

"Usually, we play more traditional games, stuff that would be here during my great-great-grandfather's time. He founded the company but the family tradition comes from before most of the games they've created." He whispers quickly into your ear. Due to the quickness, you almost fail to comprehend his words, but luckily you understand them.

"Alright." You agree to the game. Charity leads you over to the chess table, where conveniently, the chess board is already set out.

Daniel pulls a chair from seemingly out of nowhere, setting it down to your side, much to Charity's distaste.

"I got chess when I married in." Somehow she manages to avoid bitterness in her tone. "You should go first."

God, you barely knew the basics.

"So tell me about yourself." Charity speaks up.

You give her a quick rundown, which hopefully doesn't reveal any information that she could use to her advantage. "Interesting." She takes your bishop. "From what I've heard Daniel say, I expected the worst." 

Daniel narrows his eyes at her as a warning, though Charity doesn't see. Her eyes are glued to the board.

"I don't know why he'd leave me for you."

"Charity." Daniel warns her.

Charity holds her hands up in mock surrender. "I'm only speaking my mind. But I'll stop now."

She does stop for the remainder of the game, nevertheless there's no doubt in your mind that she has a lot more to say. She beats you quite easily, though she seemed disappointed when the reward was not getting to remarry your new fiancé. It's either that or you'd read her wrong.

"You have much to practice." Becky remarks, taking a sip of her champagne before continuing. "But, you'll get there." She smiles.

You smile back, standing up from your chair. Daniel does so too, almost protectively. He stares ahead towards Charity. The two seem to be having a glaring contest. You decide to ignore them, "I don't know about that."

"Oh, sure you will." Her eyes trail towards your hands when you intertwine them.

"I didn't see that there before. Claddagh ring, left ring finger pointing up." She continues to stare, a little disrespectfully. She notices this before it becomes moderately disrespectful. "You're engaged." Her smile widens.

Her words catch everyone's attention. Almost immediately, Emilie runs over with the brightest smile you'd ever seen.

"Congrats!" She exclaims, reaching out to hold your hand but stopping when she sees it connected to Daniel's. "I can't wait to have you in the family!"

"Thanks."

"They're not normal." You remark as you sit next to Daniel on the bed. The family had insisted that you stay the night, and while that was quite sweet of them, you really wanted to get out of there. They were no longer creepy or ominous, but you want a break. You weren't feeling as social as you did when you came in.

"Can't judge what normal is when they're the only family I've met." Daniel brings the blanket over your legs. "Sorry, anyway."

You shrug, planting a kiss on his forehead. "It's alright. Though that proposal was a little spontaneous."

At the mention of the proposal, Daniel shifts his ring around on his finger. "I was drunk, still am. At least I got it out of my chest. Who knows how long I'd keep it in my pocket otherwise."

"Knowing you, it'd be months, maybe a year."

"Hey!" Daniel whines, nonetheless, it's followed up by a laugh.

You can't help but give him a kiss again, this time on his temple. Daniel moves closer afterwards, pulling you into a proper kiss on the lips.

"Did you like them?" He asks when you pull apart.

You shake your head side to side in a more or less motion. "Mostly. Charity is Charity, you know. Your dad seemed to only focus on the engagement, I think I saw Emilie snort something, I don't know what to feel. Well, your mom is nice, maybe a little too nice. She hopes that I make you behave like you, but I wouldn't know how that is."

"So that's what she was talking to you about." He bites his lip for a second. "Well, don't worry. I believe I behave the way 'I used to' around anybody that isn't them, apart from Alex and Grace."

"Reassuring." You say sarcastically, laying down.

"Seriously? Can't tell the difference?" He lays down, cupping your cheek and allowing you to wrap your arms around him.

"Honestly, yeah. It's a little concerning." You nuzzle into his hand.

"Well, don't be. We'll be back home in no time. After breakfast, though, they're going to insist on that." You groan at the thought. Daniel simply laughs in reply, turning off the lamp.

"Goodnight, sweet dreams. Love ya."

"Love you too."

[buckybarnesthehotshot]

I Like You (Alexandra Trese x Diwata!Reader)

gif not mine    |main masterlist|

summary: In the middle of a case, confessions arise 

word count: 2046

warnings: mentions of illness, filipino traffic, i don’t proofread stuff

a/n: i’m only now writing again haha puta nakakagago yung writer’s block

        Team Trese was at it again with maintaining the balance between the Underworld and the world of humans. It wasn’t too difficult of a job to keep up with when your team—some would use that term loosely—consisted of Alexandra Trese, Hank Sparrow, The Kambal, and y/n. She was one of the newer recruits to the team.

        To outsiders, y/n was an enigma; she was a Diwata and yet nothing about her behavior would even suggest that she was one. The way she would often act was unbecoming of one’s expectations for a Diwata. There was no way one could instantly come to the conclusion that she was one especially with the glamour she wore to disguise her own appearance.

         Diwatas existed to preserve nature; one would expect them to keep a calm-headed demeanor, glimmering with an aura of positivity and radiance, all coming from the beauty of the environment that they shroud themselves in. If a monarchy were to take place in the Underworld, the Diwatas would be the epitome of regality, carrying themselves with grace and compassion.

        But y/n? She was a different story. At first glance, one may believe her to be a “corrupted” Diwata as she didn’t seem to uphold the same values her sisters did. Alexandra, though, held different impressions and thoughts on the h/c-haired deity.

        To Alexandra, the “darker” side to y/n wasn’t an irreversible defect coming from when she came to be. Alexandra knew there was so much more to the girl besides her impartiality to the way other Diwatas lived their lives and how she chose to live hers differently, hiding herself amongst the humans. There was so much more to her than meets the eye.

         Alexandra was sure y/n was a product to the environment she was born into. As one of the younger—well, if you could call nearly a century on the planet young—Diwatas, she didn’t get to experience nature at its peak, not the way the elders did, at least. She was not birthed to the beautiful colors of nature, nor the peace nature could provide one with.

        No. Alexandra understood that the girl was born to the destruction of what it was she was meant to be protecting. She didn’t get the opportunity to witness what it was she had to protect. She didn’t get to see the place she was meant to call home as the forest she was supposed to inhabit had been turned into a city before she could understand how to use her abilities.

        If anything, the human world poisoned y/n’s outlook on what it meant to be a Diwata. All the pointless destruction brought her both anguish and confusion. However, birthed from that confusion was y/n’s innocent need to help nature become one with the city life. Her goal was to at least bring small bits and pieces of what the world used to be into the city.

          “What’s the next case for today, Bossing?” Crispin questioned as soon as Alexandra set her phone down next to her in her seat.

           “There have been reports of illness among a group of Lumberjacks in the province. Some people are convinced it has something to do with supernatural beings who may have inhabited the forest. I was hoping y/n would know something about it,” Alexandra explained, sending y/n an eager glace, as though to ask what could have caused the fatigue to spread amongst the lumberjacks.  

         “Well, they’re lumberjacks, there are plenty of beings they could’ve pissed off,” y/n explained, earning a nod from both Crispin and Basilio, “I mean, there are plenty of creatures who live up in trees. It’s either that or the trees were in another creature’s domain. Either way, all this may have something to do with the chopping of trees.”

         “Could a Diwata have done this?” Hank questioned, earning a small glare from Alexandra before he backed up his statement to defend himself, “It’s just that the Encantados and Encantadas have been known for their power. y/n over here’s pretty powerful too, so we may never know if a Diwata could be responsible for this too or not.”

         “Hank’s right, but if there’s a Diwata taking domain over that land, I would have known already. Diwatas are mostly peaceful beings, and if there’s one of us out there riddling the human world with disease, there would have been some talk of it amongst the other Diwatas,” y/n explained, a small smirk making its way to her face as she added, “The older generation of Diwatas; they can be such gossips at times.”

       “So, it’s not a Diwata? Could it be a nuno or duwende living in the tree when it was cut down? Maybe they’re the ones spreading disease in the form of a curse,” Basilio suggested, earning a small nod of encouragement from his twin brother.

         “Well, the only way to know is to actually go to where the lumberjacks were working and investigate,” Alexandra stated firmly, before everybody else returned to whatever it was they’d been doing in the car; Hank driving, the Twins conversing over whatever topics it was that came to mind for them, y/n looking through social media in an attempt to keep up with everything happening in the human world, and Alexandra already thinking of possible solutions to whatever the problems they might have ended up encountering.

         The ride to the province took longer than expected. Despite the fact that they all left the house pretty early, it was already well into the afternoon—Philippine traffic was a pain in the ass when it came to travelling to the province from the city—when they finally parked the car in front of one of the houses in the Barangay.

         “This is the house of Danilo Corpuz, he’s one of the lumberjacks who fell ill after a day from work,” Alexandra explained, earning a nod from everybody else as they all got out the car and into the house.

         Alexandra made quick work of questioning the man, asking him about what he’d been doing, where they were cutting down trees, and if there’d been any signs of anything supernatural going on.

         “There were burnt up cigars and emptied out bottles of Red Horse at the trunks of the trees,” the man explained to them, as everyone present came to the realization of what it was they were all going to be facing.

       “How are we supposed to deal with the Kapres? They’ve been known to be vengeful and difficult to talk down whenever their trees are chopped,” Basilio huffed as the others slowly nodded in agreement. The Kapres were stubborn; there was no way to talk them out of seeking revenge however it was they saw fit considering it was the humans who’d made the first “attack” on their homes.

         “Trust me, I’ll find a way through it. Now, come on, let’s go. We don’t have time to waste, there could be lethal effects of the illness—or curse—if we don’t hurry,” Alexandra ushered them all back into the car. She sat at the front seat, studying the conditions of the treaty to see whether or not the Kapres laying their curses on the humans was against it and what punishments she could serve them.

         y/n smiled to herself, witnessing the determination on Alexandra’s face. She watched silently as the woman began to look through the items she kept in her coat for something that could be useful for them.

         “Hank, can we stop at a sari-sari store first?” y/n questioned, watching Hank’s eyebrow arch from the rearview mirror as though to question her on what could be so important for her to buy that it would delay the trip to the woods, “I need to buy a few bottles of Red Horse and some Marlboro. I figured it would help get the Kapres to loosen up and talk to us.”

         “That’s a great idea, Ate y/n!” Crispin exclaimed, high-fiving y/n upon hearing her suggestion, “Besides, I’m getting tired of all the fighting and having to regenerate.”

         “Does it consume your energy whenever you have to regenerate?” y/n questioned, raising a brow at the twins as Crispin chuckled.

          “No,” the twins chimed in unanimously. y/n found herself chuckling at their remark before getting off the car to where Hank stopped. Alexandra watched intently as the enchanting woman spoke with the tindera at the store before walking back in the car, plastic bag filled with vices swinging in her hand.

         Turns out, the woods where the lumberjacks had been working wasn’t too far from Danilo’s home. From the sari-sarii store, the trip there must have lasted them ten minutes. Everyone hopped out the car and ventured into the shadowy woods, knowing damn well what they were about to encounter.

        “I know you’re here,” Alexandra called out to the thick branches of the tallest trees in the forest. It was silent for a moment until the leaves on the branches began shuffling until at least four kapres made their presence known, no longer cloaking themselves with invisibility.

        “Little Trese, what’s this visit about?” one of the Kapres questioned, his dark eyes beaming into Alexandra’s. It was clear they weren’t exactly welcome there. Still, y/n wanted to try her best to avoid confrontation, so she slowly made her way towards the Kapre’s tree, then motioning for him to come down.

          As a Diwata, she and the other creatures of the forest naturally held mutual understandings between each other; after all, to some degree their interests and beliefs intersected where it mattered the most—preserving their homes. Hesitantly, the Kapre made his way off the tree as the team could only watch the interaction unfold.

        “You know what I am, don’t you?” y/n questioned slowly, tucking her hair between her pointed ears, giving a small smile as she dropped her glamour to reveal her true divine form, the Kapre nodded as y/n continued, “Right, well, these are my friends. Alexandra wishes to have a word with you and you will hear her out. In return, you get this.”

         The Kapre eyed the contents of the bag before nodding, taking the bag from y/n’s grasp and motioning for the others to get off the tree. y/n watched intently as the Tribe communicated with Alexandra, voicing their reasons, and listening as Alexandra tried her best to come up with a compromise to make sure no humans would get hurt and the Kapres would not be bothered.

        In the end, everyone agreed that the Kapres should be moved somewhere less open, somewhere where humans wouldn’t dare venture in pursuit for just lumber. They made a deal where y/n would guide them to safety while they take back whatever curse or disease they put on the human men.

         To y/n, watching Alexandra negotiate with the Kapres was almost like watching an artist create art; it was a satisfying process to watch from beginning to end. y/n had been so mesmerized that she forgot to put her façade back up when the negotiation ended. For a brief moment, Alexandra’s eyes met hers before y/n tore hers away quickly, already leading the Kapres deeper into the forest somewhere she knew would be safer for them.

       Alexandra began to quicken her pace, rushing over to y/n’s side.

       “What?”

       “What do you mean what?” y/n’s brows furrowed at Alexandra’s question.

       “What was that look about? The one you sent me when I was talking with the Kapres,” Alexandra questioned again, brows furrowed with confusion before y/n’s eyes widened, before the Diwata let out a chuckle.

      “Nothing, I just like you,” y/n shrugged as Alexandra found herself staring at the Diwata in disbelief.

      “You like me?”

      “Yeah? Why is that so hard to believe?”

       “Because you never talk about anything to anyone,” Crispin cut in, only to get a flick to the ear from Hank, telling him not to interrupt the pair’s conversation.

        “Right. That. Believe it or not, I admire you a lot, Alexadra. I find it admirable how you’re doing so much for both the human world and the underworld,” y/n, for what seemed like the first time to most, let out a soft smile in Alexandra’s direction, “Now, come on, we have a Kapre tribe to relocate!”

TRESE TAGLIST: @thatmultifandomloser​​ / @sitherin-mxschief​​ / @thegodswereneveronourside​ 

[nightwishesworld]

A Better Way

Because I am unhappy with our beloved wife’s death I decided to write my own.

That being said...SPOILERS!!!!!!!! I wrote this based on and referenced canon events in the game. If you wanna skip this and wait for the game’s official release in a few days I completely understand.

Alcina’s form trembles atop the pile of rubble she created during their fall. Somehow that lowlife Ethan survived the fall as well. Fuck, what does it take to kill that man? Even in her monstrous form, she failed to stop a flimsy little mortal man. Is he really that powerful? Or is she simply the weak little rat Mother Miranda always said she was? The answer is obvious now.

Alcina knows this is it for her. There is no winning or even recovering from this. She’s lost way too much blood and is in no state to replenish herself. She hears him stumble to his feet somewhere beside her and grab his gun. It doesn’t bother her anymore. Even now as she turns to stare down the barrel of a shotgun she knows she deserves what’s to come. She failed in her task.

Everyone that depends on her is now in grave danger and it’s all her fault. Because she wasn’t good enough to protect her family from a single human man.

Her family....

Images of her beautiful daughters' lifeless piles of ash lying abandoned on the floor like yesterday’s garbage hurt her more than any weapons could hope to. What kind of mother let her daughters, her own flesh and blood, get slaughtered because she was too incompetent to take care of a little pest? A failure of a mother. Their blood is on her hands, not Ethan’s.

Mother Miranda will have to make the call to Heisenberg to let him know why Ethan is on his way to the factory. And about them. After everything that this woman has done for her and her family and this is how Alcina repays her? How pathetic of her. And her little brother as well. She’s failed everyone she cared about on this god-forsaken earth.

Alcina sighs as Ethan cocks his gun and inches closer and closer to her. After letting out a long exhale she opens her eyes and stared down at him. He’s in shit-shape but he’ll survive. Suddenly that doesn’t sound so bad. If he can finish the job, at least.

“Do it,” she whispers, and her voice cracks. Alcina will not cry in front of this vile creature; she refuses. “I am nothing without the love of my daughters. I’d rather die than live a day without their presence.”

She could have sworn she saw a hint of remorse flash across his bloodied features before he grounded himself once more. He probably didn’t even believe her. Why would he? All he sees is a hideous beast that needs to slain. Not a broken-hearted mother mourning the loss of her darling children. No one has ever seen them for who they really are. Pity.

Her head hangs and she catches a glimpse of his shadow, his arms raising.

“I deserve this,” Alcina thinks to herself.

BANG!

Karl Heisenberg was sitting in his office, legs stretched atop his desk glazing over files. Pretending to work so no one would bother him. He was so lost in his own little fantasy land that the phone ringing next to him nearly started him out of his chair.

He let out a dramatic groan, knowing full well it was Alcina calling to continue their petty argument from earlier. A chuckle escaped his mouth remembering how he told her to drop dead before hanging up.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and begrudgingly brought the phone to his ear.

“Didn’t I tell you earlier to-“

“Heisenberg!” Mother Miranda’s voice spoke. The man nearly choked on air when he heard her voice.

“Miranda! Apologies, I thought it was Alcina calling me.”

Mother Miranda paused, but only for a moment. Her tone was as it always was; calm with a hint of disappointment. “That is what I am calling about, actually. Alcina failed to keep Mr. Winters under control and he escaped. I can only assume he is making his way over to you now.”

“Alcina and the girls, are they-“

“No longer assets we need to be concerned about. The Ceremony will continue on schedule with or without them, is that understood?”

He was completely floored. His beloved, pain in the ass, older sister is dead. And what of his adorable little gremlin nieces? They’re gone too? How can Miranda possibly expect him to just-“

“Is that understood, Heisenberg?”

He cleared his throat and nodded as if she could see him. “Of course, Miranda. The preparation will continue as-“

She hung up.

Heisenberg put the phone down and buried his head in his hands. He didn’t feel anything. Only numbness. The longer he sat there thinking about them the harder to became to think about the stupid ceremony. Or that human parasite on its way to him.

His anger got the best of him and he slammed his fists down on the desk. “To hell with Mother Miranda.”

He called one of his lackeys in and filled them in on the basics of the situation, warning him about Ethan mostly. Heisenberg was to depart for Castle Dimitrescu as soon as possible. Let the lycans have fun with their new incoming chew toy until his return.

The ride up to the castle was ghostly. He expected to hear the girls’ laughter as he entered the main doors as they always do when he visits. They were always happy to see their dear Uncle Heisenberg.

Cassandra’s ash pile was the first to be found. Simply because it was out in the open by the entrance leading down to the basement. It was obviously her because the smell of her lilac perfume was still infused in her ashes. He kneeled beside it and stroked it gently between his fingers, whispering apologies and words of comfort. Both for him and Cassandra. Then he took an old pendant necklace from his pocket and ever so gently, scooped some of her ashes into it.

“There you are, Cass. Safe and sound with me.”

On a hunch he decided to look around the basement before searching the rest of the castle for Bela and Daniela. He already knew where Alcina was resting. Bela was indeed laid in one of the extraction rooms of the basement. She collapsed behind a pillar as if she were trying to hide or shield herself. Heisenberg did the same thing and scooped up her ashes in his necklace, this time kissing the pads of his fingers and laying them on the ash pile.

Daniela was next. She was in the library, literally on the other side of the door. Heisenberg cursed himself for unintentionally spreading her ashes as he opened the door and nearly stepping on the poor girl. He stayed with her longer because of this, whispering a thousand apologies to her. The way she was laid down made Heisenberg think Daniela tried to escape and came really close to doing so.

A few tears streamed down his cheeks as she gathered her ashes in his pendant. That man will pay for what he’s done. For taking such innocent souls from the world that had so much more in store for them.

His beloved sister was last. She wasn’t where he thought she would be, which he found odd, but taking a closer look around it all made sense. The damn burst behind his eyes and he openly cried for the first time in decades.

“Fuck,” he sobbed, soothing his sister’s large heap of ashes. “I didn’t mean literally, Alcina.”

He grabbed a fist full of ash and clutched it to his chest. “I’m so sorry, sister. I should have helped you trapped that rat when he escaped me the first time. But I won’t let that happen again.”

Just like with the girls, he scooped up some of her ashes in the pendant. But this time instead of putting it back around his neck he gave it a few delicate shakes, mixing the four of them together as one.

“There. Now you’ll always be together; in this eternity and the next.”

He stayed there next to her for the rest of the night. They talked for hours (though it was a one-sided conversation) and watched the stars flicker into existence as the sunset. When there were enough of them out he pointed out the various constellations to her. The entire night went on like this; acting as if nothing had changed since they were children.

The sun was just starting to rise over the grassy green hills. Radiant shades of pink and gold colored the sky like never before. It was almost like looking at heaven itself. Early birds sang their song of the morning as they flew swiftly across the sky to wake the rest of the woodland creatures and the residents of the village.

Heisenberg exhaled a shaky breath. “I better be off, Sissy. Miranda will have my head if I don’t deal with that rat before the ceremony. But don’t you worry, I’ll take care of all four of you once this shitstorm has passed. You’ll be given proper burials and everyone will have a chance to say goodbye.”

He could feel the tears starting to build up again. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to protect you or the girls. You’re a royal pain in my ass, but you’re still my big sister and I love you.”

The ride back to the factory was comforting. There was still a heavy weight on his shoulders, but he never expected it to go away. It will only go away after exacting his revenge. When he finds that man, oh boy is he in for a treat. The lycans should have done some damage to him already or at least exhausted him. Ethan is weak now. It’s time to strike back.

No one harms Karl Heisenberg’s family and gets away with it.

[zodiyack]

Voice

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Female!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, PTSD mention, I think that’s it

Words: 1,797

Summary: Tommy wants to spend the rest of his life with Y/n. A peculiar little thing about life is that you never stop learning, and Tommy learns a thing or two, letting Y/n learn more about him in return...or is it him who learns from her?

Note: I suck at words, Tommy Shelby edition. And I couldn’t come up with a summary or title for this so know that if they don’t make sense together (or the story at all)...I know.

Taglist: @matth1w​, @redspaceace-writes​, @fandom-puff​, @darling-i-read-it​, @simonsbluee​, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow​, @captivatedbycillianmurphy​, @jenepleurepasbaby​, @stydia-4-ever​, @stuckysslag​, @marquelapage​, @i-love-superhero​, @psychkunox​, @tommyxshelby​

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist | Cillian Murphy Masterlist

The morning he met her was the first morning of many that his genuinely eyes opened since the war. Trauma had changed his life for what he thought was a permanent turn for the worst, but upon meeting her, it seemed that heaven was within his grasp once more. Impossible, he thought at first. Yet, later, when he put more thought into it, perhaps his redemption was actually there.

So the next time he saw her, he took a deep breath, reminded himself that he was no longer a boy, and went for it. Alas, his confidence joined him under the definition of cowardice in the very least second; she titled her head, innocent eyes sparkling with curiosity as she awaited whatever he had to say. But no words left his lips. She snatched them away with something even Thomas didn’t know of.

“Are you alright?” She asked, the concern in her voice lifting his spirits high as a warm feeling entered his body. It was the first time in what felt like centuries that a feeling as happy as that coursed through him.

It was also the first time that he was left without words. He tried, opening his mouth as if it were as easy as that to get the things he needed to say out, but he was still without anything but air.

“Sir?” Her brows furrowed. He couldn’t tell whether she was getting annoyed, scared, or just overly frightened for him, but he closed his mouth and reminded himself to breathe. Do not forget to breathe.

Was he sure he was a man? Or was he a boy once again? The same boy before the war who would blush and flirt teasingly, who held so much joy that his cheeks hurt.

And then it happened.

A smile grew upon his lips and he nodded.

A chuckle of relief left her mouth and she lifted her hand to her chest, resting it over her heart. “Oh thank fucking god- I admit, I was rather worried there. For both you and I!” She averted her eyes for a split second before redirecting them to his. “If you aren’t in any trouble... Is there anything I can help you with?”

The words were still lodged in his throat. So he did the only thing he could think of and sheepishly shook his head, turned, and left.

More interactions occurred between the two until one day, when she showed up at his office in search of a job. Lizzie knocked at his door, announcing that he had an appointment.

“Send ‘em in.” He replied lightly, not even lifting his eyes from the paper in front of him. Lizzie took a second, waiting for the moment that would never come- the one where he took a second away from work to actually look people in the face, but gave in with a sigh and closed the door.

“Go on in, hon.” She nodded her head to the door, returning to the typewriter and resuming her work.

It was silent aside from Lizzie’s typing. The click clacking of the keys, letters stamping the ink onto the paper, the quickness of her fingers at work. Y/n got lost in it momentarily before the noise suddenly ceased. Lizzie lifted her head, a brow quirked as she stared and waited for Y/n to enter Thomas’ office.

“Finally. Ahem, I suppose you’re here for...” Tommy started when the door squeaked open again but trailed off when he finally lifted his head. He couldn’t blink away the surprise, not this time. She truly caught him off guard.

And, apparently, him her.

“So he speaks? ...Ah- my apologies! Yes, Mr. Shelby, I’m here for a job...and, not on the topic of occupation, I would like to mention that you have a lovely voice. I think I’d enjoy hearing it more often.”

She definitely heard more of it.

Tommy gave her the job, and with it, a relationship. At first they were strictly boss and employee, but soon, it sparked into something more. Friendship. Good friendship. Close Friendship. 

Then ...Romance.

The day came where Tommy learned a lesson or two about love from someone he deeply admired and respected. Someone close, someone he loved but not in the way he did Y/n. Polly Gray payed her nephew a visit and taught him the thing he dreaded but knew he’d have to face eventually.

“If you want her to some day be your wife, then you have to let her in!” She’d taken a liking to Y/n as well. After all, she was technically Y/n’s boss as well, so she met the woman and didn’t hesitate in accepting their relationship. “She knows what you let her about this business, but one day she’ll either want to know more or find out on her own accord.”

Pol wasn’t just talking about business. She meant honesty in every way he could describe it. The depressive sides he hid from even his family, his brothers whom suffered the same aside, and so much more the world had yet to see. He could either hide it or show her, but one day it would come into the light.

It was true, and unpleasantly so. The downside to being part of the Peaky Blinders was one that came with life in general; Love wasn’t easy. If he wanted, he could just force Y/n out of the country, forget about her, and move on. She’d be safe and he’d be happy knowing she was, but deep down, he was too much of a coward to do something like that. Too afraid of what could happen to her, to her feelings, to his own...

So Tommy listened and grew a metaphorical pair. The night he planned on opening up to her, an uneasy feeling nagged at his gut. This was his one shot. His shot at being with the love of his life, creating a family and knowing what it feels like to be loved by someone, and not in a platonic way. He held onto the feeling she gave him and used it to power his courage.

“Are you alright, Tommy?” Her gentle hand that previously combed through his hair came into contact with his jaw. Not harsh, but gentle. Softly guiding his head, she forced his bright blue orbs to meet hers. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Her hand moved up slightly to caress his cheek. Thomas leaned into her touch, closing his eyes and reveling in the moment. He truly felt youth envelope him whenever he was with her. His demons faded as if they never existed in the first place every time her presence was with his.

Then, he lifted his hand to meet her wrist. He took the other with the same grip and opened his eyes, looking into her with the same admiration she had only mere minutes ago. “I know.”

“Then tell me...what’s bothering you?”

Tommy thought for a second, but just as the first time he tried to form words, his cowardliness came a ’nocking on his door. “It’s nothing, love. How ‘bout we sleep, yeah?”

Y/n hesitated but nodded, curling into his side and drifting off slowly. It took him a bit longer, but by midnight, the two were out cold. Of course, he never stayed asleep long. She didn’t know that, however. Tommy never let her stay the night until tonight, afraid of what she would think of his softer, more fearful side when he was too overwhelmed to hide it.

He awoke with a start, chest heaving heavily and breath so terribly uneven, one would think he were on the brink of death. That’s what he felt like. As though he were on the smallest ledge, seconds away from cracking down the part of which connected him too the land full of life and dropping him into the deepest pits of hell itself. Tommy’s nightmare woke Y/n too.

She was drowning in concern the second her eyes snapped open.��“Tommy- Tommy!” He couldn’t help but panic, the PTSD too much for him, “Hey- hey, I’m here. Okay? It’s me.” she didn’t blame him. Instead, she gripped his wrists like he did hers and softly ushered him back into his calm state. Her whispers were reassuring and brought him back to reality, soothing his mind with powers similar to a siren’s.

“Y/n- I’m sorry-” He spoke hurriedly after she lit a candle- it provided them with enough light to see one another, not that the moon didn’t already do that enough.

“Don’t be. From the looks of it, this isn’t the first time this has happened.” She didn’t sound tired, not even a blink of sleep left in her eyes nor voice. “Tommy... Why didn’t you tell me?”

Tommy was a little taken aback by her lack of fear or other emotions like disgust, although he couldn’t quite think of a single reason as to why she’d feel that of all things, but answered her as honestly as he could. Just like Polly told him too. “I’m not sure... I was...cowardly. Though you’d be ashamed or something.”

She squinted at him, “Why on earth would I feel ashamed?”

A few seconds went by of his eyes darting around as he mentally searched for a possible answer and he came up blank. Thomas shrugged, “Fuck... I don’t even fucking know.”

They shared a chuckle, hushed but still very much real. Y/n caressed his cheeks again, tracing his beautifully sculpted features with gentle fingers.

“I love,” her eyes scanned his face lovingly, “every part of you. Whether you like a detail about you or not, I will love it with every fiber of my being. The good, the bad...the mildly confusing,” he chuckled with her, “I love it.”

Y/n pulled away from him and leaned him. She blew out the candle then readjusted her position under the sheets, squirming into Tommy’s side and resting her head atop his chest. It rose and fell with each breath he took, his torso lifting her head and dropping it as carefully as one would rock a baby.

“I’m here now, and I’m here to stay. We can either stay awake or, you can lie down with me and get through this shit together. Either way, I’m not letting you face anything else alone.”

“Y/n-” He was going to tell her that it was fine, shove another lie to hide his worries despite inevitable discovery.

“I mean it, Thomas. For as long as I live, you will never have to carry your struggles by your lonesome. So, in the morning, you can tell me what I’m gonna be helping you with.” She paused before cracking a smile. “After all, you know how much I love your voice.”

[hanii-rose]

hiii...ok so your headcanons are amazing and ily. could i request headcanons on garou with a s/o with thick thighs. i'm super insecure of my thighs because i don't have a thigh gap and it's super embarrassing

My headcanons are amazing? You love me? I-

Here you go baby( ˘ ³˘)♥

Also, no need to be embarrassed. I also don't have thigh gaps which really helps when I feel like crushing the heads of my enemies between my thighs...

We strong ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ

And so is the sexual tension in dis fic lol

____________________________________

Garou With An S/O Who Has Thick Thighs

If you think having thick thighs in this relationship is a drawback then you are absolutely correct.

When I say it's a drawback, I don't mean it's ugly or unwanted, no no no.

I mean Garou will drive you mad for a chance to put his head on your lap, all day, everyday!

And when I say he wants to put his head on your lap, I mean he wants to bury his face in the soft, supple flesh of your thighs.

Just let him live there, c'mon!

You can bet your non-existant thigh gaps that he's kissing and biting you there, very harshly might I add.

He's always telling you, "Gah, it's so soft!" or "Fuck, I want this here!"

If you're just sitting on the couch and he's stealing meat from your fridge, he'll notice what you're wearing and if it's even slightly exposed above the knee, he's there. Like, HE. IS. THERE.

Meat long forgotten, your thighs are his new meal lol.

Let's say you're just coming out of the shower, towel wrapped securely around your gorgeous frame. He's pouncing on you, specifically getting handsy with your thighs and calves.

He likes natural looks so cellulite doesn't bother him. In fact, he's poking and caressing them fairly often.

If you're talking bad about yourself then he's slamming that shit down and showing you how much he loves you. Like really showing you...

If you wear something like thigh-highs, gurl- He'll be taking them off with his teeth, thank you.

★★★

You sit curled up on your window seat, the soft light of the sun shimmering in through the transparent glass of your window. Your hair fell daintily around your shoulders, arms resting on folded knees, novel in hand, dressed in nothing but a loose shirt and a pair of sheer white, lace-wrapped thigh high socks. Oh, the serenity that's surrounding you right now, indescribable.

Your boyfriend concentrated on doing push-ups outside in your backyard. You could see him from the corner of your eye behind you, pushing himself up and down, an extraordinary array of large rocks or maybe...boulders on his back....?

You tore your eyes away from the worn, coffee stained pages of your vintage fantasy novel, intrigued in the way he worked on himself. Taut muscles contracting and loosening, glistening beads of sweat slowly gliding down his bare, shaped biceps. Hair tussled and messier than usual, a few rebel strands falling onto his forehead from his otherwise proud-spiky style. His face, dark, focused and handsome... oh my

Whenever Garou worked out, he really worked out.

Nothing could distract him from his daily routine of exercising, flexing and unintentional teasing. He was hell bent on being fit and able. He used to be the infamous Hero Hunter ya'know! He has to be sharp and ready at all times.

Can't be caught off guard like that one time while delivering boxes. That dude had no chill, throwing darts at him like that...

You bit your lip in admiration of his movements, your thighs coming together, unable to contain your excitement for a touch from him. He noticed you shyly peeking from the other side of your bay window and he silently beckoned you over, tilting his head to gesture for you to come around.

You gave a little nod to his beckoning, placing your book neatly on the tall bookshelf next to you and dusting yourself off, readying yourself to see him.

When Garou had come to visit you this morning you had been wearing one of his trousers, knowing him, if he saw even a tiny section of your thighs, the man would go absolutely feral. But since he had went outside for a 3 hour work out earlier, you decided pants were too overrated for you and you easily discarded them, got comfortable and started reading.

Garou was very serious about his workouts. He would never stop, not for anything...

Except maybe you. And thats when you had a stroke of genius. He was teasing you all this time, flexing and sweating. Time for a little payback.

>>

You peeked around the doorframe that led to your backyard where Garou stayed, exercising.

"Well, aren't you working hard?"

You slyly spoke, smile coy.

Garou grunted in response and you sighed, slowly walking around to him, hips deliciously swaying, shirt hiked up above your thighs and socks visibly tight around your ample flesh.

You stood bold in front of his head as he pushed himself up. His eyes widening at your apparel. What are you doing?

You licked your lips teasingly, and lowered yourself down onto the grass, knees folded, sitting upright.

Garou stopped momentarily, craning his neck for a kiss and you gladly obliged, leaning in and leaving a chaste kiss on his lips.

"Finally took...my advice, huh...?"

He said in between breaths.

"Who... needs pants...right? Heh..."

He lowered down slowly and you copied, your head resting on your arms on the ground, fingers playing with the little blades of grass, butt in the air

"Mmm, it just feels so good outside."

He grunted, agreeing.

Your eyes trailed up to his face and you cast him an innocent smile.

You slowly raised yourself up in front of him, pushing up your hair and sitting straight, knees folded in a 'W' position.

"What...are you...tryna' do?'

He breathed out.

"Hm? Nothing, I just wanted to come outside and spend time with you..."

You responded in the sweetest tone.

Oh please. He knows what game you're playin'.

Comin' out in nothin' but a shirt and socks? Sweetie, ya' can't take him for a fool...

He ain't stoppin' for you.

"Funny... you've never been... into fitness that...much..."

He slowly spoke.

"Oh, well I just wanted to be closer to you. Is that such a crime?"

He snorted. You wanted to be closer to him? Why not just lay down under him and wrap your gorgeous legs around him then? Let him feel the plumpness.

"Don't you want to be with me too? Why don't you stop what you're doing and come here."

Your innocent voice matched with your sultry expression did a number on him. He bit his lip, trying to resist the temptation.

You outstretched your arms, fingers opening and closing, waiting for a hug.

"Nice try, I ain't stoppin' love."

You chuckled and got into position.

"Not even for this?"

You unfolded your knees, sitting so close in front of his face, that every time he'd go down for a push, his cheek or chin would brush against your thigh.

Tantalising,tempting...

You leaned back on your elbows, your hair now spilling onto the grassy mat under you.

Garou licked his lips, golden eyes flicking up to look into your innocently coy ones.

He lowered himself down once, his chin lightly coming into contact with the lace of your frilly socks.

Raising himself up, he looked at you with irritation, behind that expression lingered want.

Going back down again, your knee bent slightly inwards and gently touched his cheek. He took a whiff.

C I T R U S

Delicious.

Coming back up, he balanced his whole body weight on one arm, an impressive feat with all of those massive rocks on his back.

"𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕀 𝕔𝕒𝕟'𝕥 𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕝𝕖 𝕞𝕪𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕤𝕠𝕗𝕥 𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝕝𝕖𝕘𝕤 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕞𝕖."

You slyly laughed, his statement so shamelessly flattering.

"Yes, I do know that, Garou..."

His movements stopped momentarily as his free hand softly caressed the exposed part of your thigh, between the hem of your shirt and the frills of your socks.

"𝕊𝕠 𝕤𝕠𝕗𝕥..."

"Hmm, do you like it like this?"

He chuckled, raspy and short of breath.

"𝕀 𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕥."

He was struggling, it was obvious. He wasn't trying to hide it anyway. He couldn't if he wanted to.

Dammit, yer' too good!

And in 3 2 1...

The rocks start slipping off of his back, landing on the ground with hard, muffled thuds. Oh, you've really done it now...

Garou sits up, stretching. He grips both of your calves hard and pulls, bringing you onto his thighs, holding you in place.

No squirmin', just sit still...

"Do you have any idea what you've done...?"

You wrap your arms around his neck, holding his face close to yours.

"What if I do?"

His lips came mere centimetres from yours and he whispered roguishly.

"You've made me drop my rocks..."

Silence overtook you until you burst out laughing. What does that even mean?!?!

"Wha... Garou haha, what are you even saying?"

He growled menacingly. How dare you? First you tease him into being distracted and now you make fun of him?

Ohhh, yer' in for a good one...

"Listen here sweetie, we're gonna head on inside, and I'm goin' to finish you, do ya' hear me?"

You nodded, obligingly.

"Yes, sweetie ♡"

He stood up tall, carrying you by the strong grip he had on your plump thighs.

"So beautiful. I'm gonna bite em'..."

You giggled softly, and held onto him tightly.

You knew what was coming next, craving it. And you'll give it to him too.

Ah, there we go...

Garou's setting you down onto your window seat again and looking softly into your eyes.

"Are ya' ready? We're gonna go for a long time today."

You shyly nodded, confirming.

He sat himself down on the ground near your legs, getting into the correct position. His head coming down to rest upon your thighs, your frilly socks tickling his face, breathing calm.

And then, he's baring his teeth, biting and sucking on your ample skin. He's pulling your thigh-highs down inch by inch, kissing.

"Oh, Garou!"

He's smirking victoriously.

"Let's begin, shall we?"

It's safe to assume he got a different kind of workout that day. The one where he's goin' up and down on you nonstop, if you know what I mean (ಠ ͜ʖ ಠ)