#village road construction

[townpostin]

Woman's Body Carried 11 km by Villagers Due to Lack of Road in West Singhbhum

Villagers forced to carry deceased woman’s body 11 km on foot due to absence of road, sparking anger in West Singhbhum. In a tragic incident that highlights the dire lack of infrastructure in West Singhbhum, villagers had to carry the body of a 22-year-old woman, Silvanti Nag, on foot for 11 kilometers due to the absence of a motorable road. CHAIBASA – In a tragic incident that highlights the…

[pearlywritings]

Sometimes the name doesn't matter

synopsis: sometimes it matters that you are his wife. PART 3

pairings: Childe, Neuvillette, Pantalone, Wriothesley x fem!reader (separately)

tw: fluff, established relationship (married/engaged/mated), secret relationship, immortal reader in Neuvi's part

word count: 6.1k+ words

a/n: part 1 and part 2 can be read here!

Childe

Spurred by the whistles and a whip of a coachman three fine white horses are trotting along the snow-covered road, dragging a big sleigh. Made of the sturdiest wood and painted in red and gold, the construction is effortlessly sliding on ice crust, almost lulling you under all those warm blankets and furs Ajax has thrown over your half-sitting half-lying bodies. You are glad to have this instead of jolting in a carriage (not like it’ll even be able to ride through all this snow), sure to have an aching arse even under the thick sheepskin coat, and instead of whatever machinery your lover could’ve gotten his hands onto due to his position - otherwise it wouldn’t have been so romantic.

Resting your head onto his shoulder you sigh blissfully, puffing out a small cloud of warm air. The fluffy-looking firs, tall pines and naked larches are flashing past in a magical gleam of snow-covered branches; you think you see two grayish squirrels chasing one another on a tree on your left.

“Oh, little minxes. A couple of seconds later and that snow could’ve ended up on our heads.”

You giggle at the young man’s comment, taking your gloved hand out of the sable muff and reaching to adjust the hat with earflaps (which he once again refused to tie under his chin) on his head. Before you can retrieve, a bigger hand clad in mitten wraps around yours and brings it to the chapped pale lips. As if spellbound you watch him press a tender kiss just where your ring finger joins the palm - right where the engagement ring is hidden under the thick material.

Now it’s hard to tell if your cheeks are rosy from cold or the swirling emotions.

“A little bit more and we will be in Morepesok,” he says softly, deep pools of his blue eyes staring back at you adoringly. “I can’t wait to share the news with ma, pa, sisters and brothers…”

You know he’s written them a letter right after you said ‘yes” to him, too excited to wait. So excited in fact, that he couldn’t sit still in expectation for the response, so he solicited an impromptu week-long vacation with the help of Pulcinella, and here you are, on your merry way to his home village.

“I can’t wait for that too,” you smile, leaning up to peck his nose, eliciting the same smile from him. “But I worry a little - will they be happy for us? I mean, that it’s me who you are going to marry?”

“Absolutely!” He nods enthusiastically and you have to readjust his hat again. “They all love you very much, I promise you. And if I am being completely honest, mom and Tonia did keep asking me when I intended to make you my wife during the last couple of times we visited.”

“Wait, really? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was already planning a proposal at the time - didn’t want to spoil it by accidentally letting my tongue loose.”

It’s hard to believe that this man is one of the Tsaritsa’s Harbingers. Childe is surprisingly good at separating his work and off work behavior, turning into a completely normal, maybe just a tiny bit unhinged, young man as soon as his family is involved. You know he’s built this facade to keep them and you away from harm, but you also know it comes from the heart as well.

“Then I can only hope we can bring the female members of your family to the capital soon - I want them to participate in the wedding dress shopping.”

You are immediately gathered into a tight embrace and your laughter is smothered by the fur on his collar. Yes, he is the Eleventh Harbinger, Tartaglia, Tsaritas’s soldier, Childe… But in moments like this he is just Ajax. Your Ajax.

His parents’ house meets you both with the quiet creak of the gates, the barking of two big fluffy malamutes outside, the clink of the horseshoe against the wood on top of the front door, the warmth of a well-heated inside and a bit taller than the last time you saw him Teucer, who runs full speed at his big brother, practically tackling him.

“Big brother is home, big brother is home!”

Ajax joyously laughs, somehow managing to take off his coat and dropping it to the colorful carpet at the front door before hoisting the exclaiming boy into his arms. Kicking off your felt boots to step from the anteroom, you watch with a smile as he squeals when your lover presses his cold cheek to the warm smaller one, squirming in the strong arms. 

Not a minute later more of his siblings appear, closely followed by their mom - freckled, with her ginger with gray hair tied in a thick braid and an apron thrown over her green dress, the woman smiles brightly and, letting her children surround their brother, walks to you with arms spread, ready to embrace you.

“Mother, my clothes might be cold,” you try to warn her, but she doesn’t listen, hugging you anyway.

“As if it can affect me! Oh, I’m so happy to see you, my dear. How was your trip? Are you tired, hungry? I’m almost done with lunch, and in the meantime I can ask my husband to throw in the firewood and heat the bathhouse for you two.

“It’s very kind of you,” you smile, wrapping your arms to give her a hug in return. “But I think we’ll wash up in the evening - I really doubt Ajax’s sibling will let him go in the following couple of hours.”

Before she can say anything, a tall, wide man appears from the other room. His beard and hair are gingerly brown with gray too, thick brows naturally furrowed. By the rosy cheeks, the remnants of snowflakes melting on his hair and the choice of clothing you guess he’s just returned to the house through the back door - probably after chopping wood.

Upon lowering his gaze to you, his facial features smooth out.

“If it isn’t my son and a dear soon-to-be daughter-in-law!” His gruff voice booms across the house, immediately redirecting everyone’s attention to you and making you blush. “I knew Ajax was too impatient and would rather come to visit and bring his fiance along than wait for a response letter.”

As he moves to greet you properly and help with discarding the outer clothes, you notice your gingerhead whispering something to his siblings, to which they giggle and throw glances at you. Catching the gaze of your lover, you lift an eyebrow, as if asking ‘should I be concerned?’. But he only shakes his head with a smile and ushers everyone to the dining room.

However, the curiosity is getting better of you, as throughout the evening you keep catching the glances, watch Tonia whispering something to her mom, and the woman giving Ajax a ‘really?’ kind of look, but with a fond smile, and then his dad slapping his back with a boisterous laugh, saying something along the lines ‘I was the same way with your mom too’.

So you confront him once you are left alone in the room.

“Hey, foxy, what’s going on?”

“Hm?” He lowers the blanket that he’s just tucked inside the duvet cover and reaches for the sheets. “What do you mean, bunny?”

“Whatever you’ve been doing,” you put one of the pillows down and reach out for the other as well as the pillowcase. 

“And what’s that ‘whatever’ I’ve been doing?” You don’t miss the sly smile finding its way onto his face. You huff.

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

The man hums, tucking the edges of the sheet between the mattress and the bed.

“Nothing you should worry about. I just asked them all to practice a little.”

“Practice?” Cocking your head, you throw both pillows onto the bed. “Wait, did you start planning something for the wedding?”

“Not quite. Rather for after it.”

Confused, but intrigued, you step closer when your lover sits down and beckons you, being dragged into his lap a second later. Blue eyes look at you in an unspoken fascination, as he leans forward to place a kiss to the corner of your mouth, prompting you to loosely wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“Since we are getting married, I deduced that it would be only right for my family to call you my wife. Thus I asked them to get acquaintanced with the term, so they could start doing it as soon as we are pronounced husband and wife.”

You blink at him once, twice. After the third time you exhale, shaking your head, but the lift of your lips doesn’t go unnoticed by your fiance.

“I should’ve known you’d pull something like this, I am not even surprised, let alone mad. But they could just keep addressing me by my name. Plus your siblings already call me ‘big sister’ and your parents made me an honor of acknowledging me as the ‘daughter’. It won’t change much.”

“But it will!” He pouts and you can’t resist the urge to pinch his cheek. “You will be my wife and I want everyone to help me show it! Does it bother you though?”

Looking into those uncharacteristically begging eyes, you really can’t deny him his little antics. Not like you were going to in the first place.

“No, no, I don’t mind, love. Honestly, it's very sweet how excited you are. Makes me look forward to it.”

“Yeah?” Look at him, smiling like a satisfied cat, who's had too much sour cream for its own good. His embrace tightens on you a little.

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence passes as Ajax enjoys the many kisses you pepper to his face, squeezing his eyes shut, grinning, boyishly eager for more.

“Do you think I should ask the whole village to do the same?”

“Ajax, no.”

Nuevillette

“Mother, do you mind helping me a little? I can’t reach over there…

“I’d be delighted, my dear.”

Neuvillette watches with a fond look as you put the tea cup down and stand up to walk closer to Verenata and assist her with whatever the potion maker needs. Your figure is ethereal, clad in the finest fabrics, flowing with every step and gently dropping as you crouch gracefully to hoist the melusine in your arms. From above the rim of his silver goblet the Hydro Dragon can't tear his eyes from the way one of your many “daughters” wraps an arm around your neck and reaches up, while the corner of your lips, which he can see from his position at the table, is turned upwards.

“Mother is so kind and patient,” Laume says just a step away from Neuvillette’s chair. When the man turns his head to look at her, there is Flo standing too.

“Yes, and she is so beautiful,” the other melusine sighs, clasping her hands together. “And she always brings us such nice and comfortable clothes…”

“Monsieur Neuvillette married a wonderful woman,” a couple more melusines nearby agree and there is a warm and fuzzy feeling takes place in the Judex’s chest.

Marriage… Such a beautiful concept humans came up with to validate the union of two. It begins with the wedding - a day full of happy tears and blissful smiles, shared vows to be together in sickness and in health, sweet claims of love and promises of joyful life ahead. Then this very life begins and for beings like you and your husband it’s a long, but welcome trip.

You’ve been claimed by each other for quite some time before the more ‘mortal appropriate’ ritual, and the melusines - the wonderful creatures Neuvillette once took under his wing - were aware and happy for your relationship. And it was actually their idea to hold a wedding too, once Sigewinne naturally asked how the two of you planned to introduce your bond in civil words to humans.

And it was their initiative to start calling you “mother”. With your actions you quickly became one for them anyway, and the girls actively sought your company when it was possible. Thus, such tea parties at the Merusea Village as today are a common occurrence (besides, you always welcome them because it's a great opportunity to dig your husband out of the pile of responsibilities he tends to bury himself under).

However, lately Neuvillette started noticing that when he heard the word leave the girls’ mouths, a strange feeling began rising in his chest. Even though not quite familiar with the concept of jealousy, the Judex was sure it was not the case - he loved when the melusines called you that. So, he could not really put his finger on why the action caused such an indescribable reaction.

He decided to observe. On his walks throughout the city, the man seeked the sights of parents with children to attentively listen and watch while leisurely passing by or stopping at the shopping booths to linger on the scene. He was quick to note that the interactions were hardly different from the ones between you and the girls - kids would call for their mothers in all the same tones: when happy, when asking for help, when seeking comfort and many other typical occurrences he’d seen a handful of times before.

What really caught Neuvillette’s eye was the way the parents behaved. And soon his focus shifted to the married couples instead. As reserved as the nobles seemed to appear, the ones in love still managed to slip a murmured ‘my dear’, or ‘beloved’ or ‘my sweet [Name]’ in their speech. All the things the Hydro Dragon was all too used to call you too, relishing in the image of your loving smile and joyfully crinkling eyes as you responded in kind.

But it is like a waterfall pours on him when a week later, after that tea party where he once again sunk deep in thought, a keen pointy ear makes out a simple word in the crowd.

"Wife"

Male’s heart flutters. The understanding quickly dawns on him, even more so when his eyes find the couple on the other side of the road, - it was no simple term to introduce the partner to the third party. No, the tenderly spoken word was used by that man to address his lover, to softly draw her attention to him, to remind her he is happy she is holding such a position in his life…

At least that’s what kind of puzzle pieces together in Neuvillette’s head. The couple is long gone, yet he is still standing there, hand resting on the handle of his cane and eyes staring into space.

He starts to remember all the sweet names he called you, each and every one stored in his memory with the heart-warming images of your reactions. There are all kinds of those: my love, my pearl, lizzy (affectionate from ‘lizard’; you used to tell him that dragons are just big lizards and it kinda stuck), kisses-stealer, fairy-tail nymph… The man is surprisingly creative with his words when it comes to you.

Sure, he calls you his mate, quite often too, but to his chagrin it has never occurred to him that he could call you ‘his wife’ too! It’s so simple, so absurdly logical, yet it took him weeks to figure out.

Humans are truly fascinating.

When Neuvillette returns to his office in the Palais Mermonia you are already there, lazing on a sofa with a bunch of papers, in which your husband guesses the script of probably another upcoming play of Furina. And judging by the more than a half pages turned you’ve been waiting for him for a while.

When the door closes and the cane disappears in the myriad of sparkling bubbles, you lift your gaze, and a smile immediately lights up your lovely features.

”Neuvi,” You speak softly, getting on your feet and leaving the script behind, “I hoped we’d depart on the afternoon stroll together. So imagine my disappointment when Sedene told me you had left just ten minutes ago! Oh, I knew I’d be late if Lady Furina had kept me for another minute, yet I still hoped I’d be on time…”

As you are approaching him, the Judex remembers the melusine’s words upon arrival: “Mother waits inside”. This makes all his previous thoughts resurface, and when he meets you half-way and reaches for both your hands to place a kiss to the back of each, Neuvillette has half a mind to try out his new discovery.

“Our Archon enjoys your company a lot, and, knowing you, you are not really mad,” you roll your eyes playfully, tiptoeing to peck the tip of his nose, murmuring a quiet ‘hush, let me be a tiny bit indignant’. “And I’d be honored to keep you company for the evening stroll,” and then, after a little pause of hesitation, he adds, “wife.”

He watches as the previously present smile on your face grows even bigger, but after a couple of seconds starts to fade slowly, eyes squinting a little bit to stare at him in hardly-concealed curiosity.

“What was that?”

“What was what, dear wife?”

“This!” As if to emphasize your words you point your finger to his mouth, and it’s Neuvillette’s lips’ turn to curl in a small smile.

“It’s something I hoped to discuss with you,” his gloved fingertips soothingly brush over your knuckles and soon your hand is clasped into his, as the man leads you both back to the sofa. “You see,” he starts when you sit down, “I am fascinated with the notion hidden behind the word ‘mother’ the melusines like to call you. That’s who you are for them both in reality and in terms. I’ve made some observations, and figured that sometimes humans in marriage also use the…familial terms to address one another. It seemed lovely to me and I wanted to try it out with you. What do you think?”

You hum in thought, replaying in your head the way Neuvillette spoke to you twice. It is hard to explain, but you somehow immediately see the appeal and understand why your lover got hooked on it. Seems lovely indeed. You wonder, what if you…

“Will you tell me more about those observations on our evening stroll, husband? Ooh, it does sound wonderful!”

Mark him stunned, but for a moment Judex grows speechless. The violet depths of his eyes swirl with adoration as you clap your hands gleefully, and he knows, that from now on your everyday routine will never be the same

“With pleasure, wife.”

Pantalone

Dancing snowflakes are slowly descending in their tender waltz and are gleaming like the tiniest of gems in the streetlights’, enveloping the already magical winter capital of the Cryo region in a solemn atmosphere. The white cover of the ground is crunching with every step of a passerby and every wheel rotation of the fancy-looking carriages, while the street is a jumble of fur coats and heavy military overcoats, finally breathing life into the afternoon-quiet city.

It’s a wonderful evening, too marvelous to spend it at home, too enchanting to miss the new ballet at the Bolshoy Theater, the true accumulation of the Tsaritsa’ nation’s nobility and intelligentsia. The wonder of Snezhnayan architecture is both the place to rest and enjoy the purest form of art and home to many gossip circulating in society. Some fresh and just hours old, some ancient and undying, like the topic of the Ninth Harbinger’s lovers.

Lord Pantalone is well-known and often-praised for his contribution to the Snezhnaya’s economy, along with extending the Fatui influence all across the Teyvat. But also he is quite famous for the women he appears in public with. It’s always someone new, it’s never the same one as before. Different shapes, different hair, different style - it is impossible to guess the raven-haired man’s tastes. However everybody knew - the Harbinger never entertained the company of the ladies who made attempts to catch his attention. Those ladies themselves say as much.

The Regrator’s companions never open their mouths, never utter a word - at least not when there are people around. There has never been a single name, never a remembered face - all women wear the mask covering the upper half of it, concealing the identity of yet another lucky choice of the rich man. 

Never the same woman - always the same mask.

This evening does not disappoint the gathered crowd - lifting their gazes, directing attention to the Harbinger’s personal box, they once again see the notorious mask. The long fringe of wine-red hair is coquettishly framing the ever-lasting piece of leather, similarly flaming lips are tugged in a haughty smile - as if the young lady doesn’t realize that once the night is over, she’s going to be discarded like many others before her. The dress according to the latest fashion trends and the beautiful garnet necklace do not surprise the audience anymore - even known for his love for replacements, Lord Pantalone dresses his partners royally.

The man himself has chosen yet another black costume, with a dark burgundy shirt hidden underneath and bird-shaped garnet brooch on the left side of his chest. Multiple beautiful rings catch the light when he lifts his gloved hand to adjust diamond-shaped glasses, before turning his head and addressing something to his tonight’s escort. She boisterously laughs, saying something in response, but even if attendants tried to strain their ears, they wouldn’t hear anything so far away. Even harder it gets when the third ring of the bell echoes across the theater chamber and both the Harbinger and the woman are forgotten, until the performance is over.

So no one sees when the ring-decorated hand reaches for a smaller female one, fingers sliding under the chintz-covered palm, thumb immediately reaching to tug on the hem of the glove, so the thin cool lips could press against the small patch of bared skin. A glimpse of a smile is what Pantalone gets when you glance at him with amusement playing on your lips.

Always the same mask, never the same woman, huh? 

Pride has long slithered into your heart, yet it still lifts its snake-like head every time your act of decisiveness succeeds, happily hissing. Every time it’s a test of your skills, a gamble with the eyes of ones around you, and every time you hit the jackpot, leaving the people guessing, staying the only one in possession of the banker despite the speculations.

As long as Her Majesty Tsaritsa is aware of your existence and the place you occupy next to Pantalone, you are free to do anything you want with his reputation relationship-wise. And he allows it, because should you desire the whole world - he’ll throw it to your feet like the cheapest trinket. One would say it’s because he is prideful too - he knows it’s because he loves his wife.

Loves to the point of entertaining the masquerades she stages whenever the two of you need to appear in public. It plays wonderfully into his possessive nature and desire to keep his precious beautiful wife to himself and helps with the enemies - “changing the ladies” minimizes the chances of putting at risk his one and only. Not like many know of you in the first place.

It’s a win-win arrangement for you as well - there is still an opportunity to cling to his arm, to use his expensive cologne, to play with the rings on his fingers and sneakily make out in a dark corner where no one can see. To be tugged into his lap in the carriage on the way back to his mansion, to have his long fingers undo the strings of the mask, and once the piece of leather falls onto the floor, have the palms slide down the sides of your neck, swiftly fiddling with the heavy necklace, only to let it be, the caress the shoulders, pushing the sleeves down… 

…to leave them at the elbows and grab your arms to push your back into his chest as the warm lips press to the juncture between the neck and the shoulder.

And what if you’ve lost your name in the process of this disguising? Having been an actress a long time ago made you used to it. But isn’t it fun to come up with the new ideas for your next performance? Your husband gifts you way too many dresses and jewelry sets - you must find use to all of them! He now has to simply spend a bit more on the wigs and makeup to fit each combination of fabric and gems.

“Did my wife have a pleasant evening?” The velvet voice of the man behind you caresses the ear and you meet his gaze in the full-size mirror in front of you. Amethyst eyes sparkle in the bedroom light and you smile coquettishly, red lips stretching seductively.

“Did she? How could I know?” You tease, reaching to your back to undo the corset, just to be stopped by his hands, fingers digging into the dozens of strings. “And don’t you know, Mr Harbinger, that it’s very offending for the woman, when the man speaks about another lady in her presence?”

“Oh, I wasn’t aware,” he muses, tugging a bit harsher on the ties and making you gasp, “that my dear wife can be jealous of herself.”

“When you know her poorly. Tsk-tsk, what a bad husband you are.”

Pantalone laughs behind you, shaking his head at your untrue words, and you reach to your head to remove the fiery wig. By the time Pantalone is done with your corset, you are done letting your naturally beautiful locks down, sighing in relief from both the released ribcage and hair roots.

The dress, having lost its vital support on your body, falls to the ground next to the wig and quickly becomes forgotten as you two step away from the mirror.

Your husband is still mostly clothed, having only eased out of his coat and unbuttoned the jacket, so you busy your hands with tugging the black article off and then reaching for the gleaming tiny buttons on the shirt. Your figures bask in the warm light of the room as you continue undressing the man - your eyes concentrated on the expensive fabrics, his - on the lovely expression of your face.

“But if you must know,” Pantalone raises his brow, when you look up at him, a much sincere and tender smile lighting up your visage, “your wife loved the evening very much.”

And that’s everything he’s ever wanted to hear. Fingers tangle in your hair, you harshly inhale, and his lips are on yours. Lipstick is smudging, your fingers accidentally catch the silver chain, and his glasses get slightly askew, but it doesn’t matter. His wife loved another thing he’s done for her. The banker’s day has ended in a great profit.

Wriothesley

Fortress of Meropide is a huge metal labyrinth of floors and corridors, where noise is never-ending even in the late hours of the night. The metal box which is the Duke’s office however, is constructed to mute the annoying sounds or else the one inside would have a very hard time concentrating.

Usually, even the ruckus happening outside and the clanking of the heavy machines underneath can’t sway Wriothesley’s attention if he has his mind set on doing the paperwork, even something as boring as bills. Today, however, the man has caught himself multiple times glancing at the clock he’s hung up a couple of years ago - there is no way to tell the time all the way down underwater, true, but it serves him a greater purpose. It helps him count hours and minutes before you arrive.

Tuesdays and Thursdays are the days when you take a half of the day off to come down to the Fortress to meet up with your husband. You both quickly realized that traveling back and forth together in either of the directions (fortress or home in the city) would be way too inconvenient. So, you improvise by visiting him throughout the week a couple of times and then he comes home to properly spend the weekend, having learnt to delegate his responsibilities to the most trustworthy guards. So far you’ve been extremely pleased with the arrangement, and the Fortress’s crew have learnt your face by heart to not cause you any obstacles in reaching your beloved’s office.

Today, nevertheless, something must’ve gone wrong. Pale blue eyes are practically drilling the minute hand of the previously mentioned clock, watching it moving further and further from the tiny 10-minute bar, which should’ve marked your appearance at the top of his stairs. And he gets it, everything could’ve happened, something as trivial as the queue at the pastry shop that might’ve gotten longer today, but when the delay surpasses the half-hour mark, the warden puts his fountain pen down and follows it by the creak of the chair legs on the metal floor.

As he descends down the stairs - each clunking under the heavy soles of his boots - a fleeting thought of you stopping by at the medical bay first is immediately brushed aside - his office is right on the path of entering the Fortress’s main body, and you love your husband too much to let him sulk in his longing. 

When he pushes the colossal doors open, eyes instantly start searching the area ahead of him. However, nothing unusual is spotted - two guards are standing at the front of his abode, not even flinching at the unpleasant scraping noise the metal makes; a couple of inmates are walking past them, bowing their heads right as they see the appearing the figure of their warden - Wriothesley simply nods and sends them off with a flicker of his hand; then there is Monglane’s desk with its irreplaceable owner. And no trace of his beloved wife.

Closing the doors behind him, Wriothesley comes up to the guards, inquiring if they’ve happened to see you. Getting a negative response, he hums and starts walking forward, to the corridor leading to the elevator, not bothering with asking the very same questions to Monglane.

With every passing minute, especially while waiting for the elevator, the man starts realizing how impatient he is growing, if the tapping of his foot and crossed arms are not an indicator enough. Even with just one day apart, he’s missed you so awfully much, your adoring smile, your soft voice and cute little giggles, that he feels rightfully robbed since you are not yet in his embrace, showering his face with kisses and then whining pretentiously because he’s forgotten to shave once again. Sometimes you swear he is not a big bad wolf, but a mean huge hedgehog.

He almost stomps inside the cabin the second its doors slide open and pushes the button to the reddening of his fingertip. It is a long trip up to the next level, and he admits he’s tugged on his leather straps wrapped around his arms a couple of times, but Archons, how little it all matters, when, exiting the elevator, he finally hears such a familiar voice. Your voice.

Your husband’s legs carry him like they obtained a mind of their own, following the full of amusement lilt he knows can belong only to you, just to come to a halt next to the wooden boxes piled up on the side of the path. 

He can see you, quite clearly, adorned in a cute pair of pants and a shirt, shoulders covered in a crocheted shawl - always ready for the cool air of the Fortress, yet looking so comfy, that Wriothesley can't help but desire to tackle you to the sofa in his office and cuddle this instant. And he would've done just that, if the conversation you've been having didn't catch his attention.

“No, it's wrong again. It's not Britney, it's Brytnneigh.

“But you are saying the same thing!"

"No, it is not B-r-i-t-n-e-y. It's B-r-y-t-n-n-e-i-g-h."

"Slower, please."

In the second voice the warden easily guesses a new guard that has just been employed a couple of days ago. He remembers signing the papers his weekend substitute brought him on Monday. Wriothesley also remembers how the man swore that he’d passed on to the newbie all the information and training he needed to know. But, it appears, he forgot to mention the most important thing…

“Did you make sure to write my name with two N’s?” Your voice is laced with hardly concealed mirth, and, though he can’t see the face of the guard talking to you, your husband is sure the poor young man looks quite miserable.

“Yes, mademoiselle, I did.”

“Wonderful, but it’s ‘madame’, I am a married woman after all. But no worries, I am flattered you think I look so young,” Wriothesley shakes his head with a silent chuckle. He adores you so much, but maybe it really is time to stop your little play of a new inmate, or else he’ll surely have to call for Sigewinne to check on the poor guard.

“And your last name, madame?”

“I am Brytnneigh Deirdrophnea de Troistêtesloup. Do you want me to spell it for you, dear?”

Yes, he really should stop you.

Before you can open your mouth again, you see in your peripheral vision a figure moving. Upon turning your head slightly, you are graced with the sight of your beloved husband, walking towards you with a quirked thick brow, and crossed arms. All you can do is sheepishly smile, waving at him.

“O-oh! Duke Wriothesley, Sir!” The guard behind the registration desk immediately jumps to his feet, squaring his shoulders and saluting at the arrival of his superior.

“At ease, young man,” Wriothesley nods, stepping even closer, practically invading your personal space, icy blue eyes looking at you unblinkingly. “What is going on here?”

“Nothing much, Mr Warden,” your eyes crinkle in the corners, a sight so infectious, that the man’s lips turn into a small smile. “Just a cute old me, ending up in the Fortress for Archon knows what time.”

“M-madame!” The guard exclaims rather loudly, that even your husband turns to look at him. “Even if it's not your first stay here, you shouldn’t be taking liberties with the Duke!”

“No, no, it’s alright,” Wriothesley raises his hand. “She is no longer your headache-”

“Hey!” You elbow his side to the bewilderment of the guard. In his shock he doesn’t even reach for his weapon.

“-I will personally escort this troublemaker inside. And cross out that abominable name out, would you? It’s not her name.”

“It’s not..?” Now Wriothesley really sympathizes with the guy, he looks utterly lost.

“It’s not. But,” a big scarred hand gently cups you under the chin and turns your head more properly towards the guard, “be sure to remember this adorable face very well for the next time. You’ll need that to let her in and out.”

“...out?”

“Yes, indeed. This woman is my wife.”

As the elevator doors slide close and the cabin starts moving down, you turn to Wriothesley and throw your arms around his wide frame, face burying into his chest.

“Are you proud of me for coming up with such a long and difficult name in a single thought?”

“Oh, for sure,” strong arms circle your waist and chapped lips press to the top of your head, “I bet you would be hard-to-catch if you were a criminal. But why did you decide to play such a prank on a poor man?”

“Well… I just wanted to see his face when he found out that I am the wife of the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide himself. Another reason is that there was no guard who knew my face and I doubt he would’ve believed my word. I just got creative with the way of making him summon someone else. You simply got here before anything could happen. Plus, it’s good to keep them on their toes with a job like that. Besides, I did apologize and praise him for his patience.”

At that Wriothesley just sighs and then chuckles, raising one of his hands and threading his fingers through your hair, pressing your head even closer to his chest. He is not even feeling iffy about the lost half an hour of your time together anymore. Because you gave him an opportunity to introduce you as his wife once again.

[bits-of-wit]

Half Road Closed by cowyeow Via Flickr: On the road from Kasese to Kampala, Uganda

[meirimerens]

they both scratch the Otacon itch (happens to the best of us) so i've been making them hang out in the game of my mind.

lore deliberations below:

i knowww ts4 is technically an alternate timeline/universe but Riddle me this. what if i want characters to hang out.

in my mind's eye (and some parts of this i'm 90% sure i've yanked from a french sims youtuber i keep an eye on on and off) strangetown & strangerville started as two separate villages, and later on, the project to join them into a bigger area (i started calling it "the Greater Zarbville Area" [from french strangetown name "zarbville", from "zarbi", verlan for "bizarre", you had to be there] and while that makes little sense i can't stop thinking it that way so. the Greater Zarbville Area). between the two villages, plans for massive construction got underway, with materials piling up in the desert. strangetown's roads were widened, the two boroughs got administratively reunited under the GZA name; all of this was in the hopes of making the GZA an attractive and unmissable stop on the way to Del Sol Valley, perhaps shaping the Greater Zarbville Area into an isolated suburbs of DSV. Alas, a high-speed connection was made elsewhere, rendering the GZA project useless, a waste of money. slowly, the construction materials disappeared from the plots of lands — stolen? swallowed by the sands? reused by the military for some... underground base of sorts?

since then, strangetown and strangerville still stand as sisters in the eyes of the administration, feeding each other the Weirdness that comes with their very existences, a stretch of desert between them, strangetown's highway-transformed roads having one of their lanes blocked for the kids to skate on.

as far as these two 🤓☝ go. in the game of my mind they're close in age, give or take one to 2 years. erwin got his braces in quite late, as his family couldn't afford them while he was a teen, and he spent a few years post-college trying to pay off most of his student debt.

in the game of my mind they went to middle and high school together, but to separate universities. they're both very attached to their strange and unusual hometowns, and have moved back in after college. i like to think they sometimes go to the big city to partake in hackathons that's funny to me.

[wachinyeya]

Joel Jackson, the president of the Organized Village of Kake, a tribal community, has lived within the Tongass National Forest in Alaska his entire life. His community relies on the land for hunting deer and fishing salmon that swim in streams kept cold by the old-growth forest.

But the 66-year-old worried about damage to that land - the largest national forest in the US - after former President Donald Trump rescinded a measure blocking logging and road-building on nine million acres of land in the Tongass in 2020.

"The forest is key to our survival as a people, to our way of life … for thousands of years," Mr Jackson said.

Last week marked a long-awaited victory for Mr Jackson and other tribes and environmental groups who petitioned the US Department of Agriculture (USDA) to reinstate the protections for the forest.

The agency announced last Wednesday it would once again ban logging and the construction of roads for cutting timber in over half of the Tongass.

[blueiscoool]

Viking Silver Bracelet Hoard Found in Norway

Archaeologists have unearthed a set of uniquely decorated bracelets on the site of a "large and powerful" Viking Age farm.

Archaeologists in Norway have discovered a Viking Age treasure that had remained "untouched" for more than 1,000 years.

The four silver bracelets had been buried nearly 8 inches (20 centimeters) in the ground on a mountainside in Årdal, a village in southwestern Norway, according to a translated statement from the University of Stavanger.

"This is definitely the biggest thing I have experienced in my career," Volker Demuth, an archaeologist and project manager at the Archaeological Museum at the University of Stavanger, said in the statement.

Archaeologists found the bracelets ahead of construction of a new tractor road.

Further exploration revealed that the location once housed a "large and powerful" Viking Age (A.D. 793 to 1066) farm comprising multiple houses for people and animals, according to the statement. The researchers found the buried bracelets within one of the smaller structures, which likely housed enslaved individuals.

In addition to the jewelry, researchers discovered an array of artifacts, including soapstone pots, rivets, knife blades and whetstones for sharpening tools. There's also evidence that the farm had been burned down, which "coincides with a period of great unrest in the Viking Age," according to the statement.

"If people who lived on this farm had to flee from an attack, it would be natural to hide away the valuables you had before escaping to the mountains," Demuth said. "And perhaps in a place where you would not have thought that a treasure was hidden."

By Jennifer Nalewicki.

[chaoticamelay]

elon "world's most dangerous antisemite" musk spoke at a far-right extremist political rally in germany and said he thinks people need to 'move beyond' the holocaust, so i've shelved my original post planned for international Holocaust Remembrance Day and instead i am going to talk about how european cities are built with jewish gravestones.

during ww2 the Nazis and their allies were in search of places to get good quality stone for building. then they realized they had countless: the cemeteries of once thriving jewish communities they were targeting. An unknown number (we will never know exactly how many, but it is high) of matzevot (jewish gravestones) were removed from our ancestor's graves and used as construction materials. even after 1945 our cemeteries kept being used as quarries. because our communities were never the same afterwards.

all over Europe, you can find roads, sidewalks, buildings, tools, christian gravestones... even a children's sandbox, made of gravestones stolen from our old jewish cemeteries. sometimes the cemetery land was 'repurposed' into something else as well, with no regard for the human remains there.

Poland

There were 1200 jewish cemeteries in Poland alone, and more than four hundred of them did not survive the war times. They were rearranged to provide sites for housing estates, sports fields, garbage dumps, or sand quarries. The sand mined from them to build houses was mixed with human remains. Only a hundred and fifty graveyards still have more than a hundred gravestones, but before the holocaust there were at between a few hundred thousand or a few million.

Between 2008-2011, photographer Łukasz Baksik documented some places in poland where Jewish gravestones were ''repurposed" during and after the war. Here are his photos: Matzevot for Everyday Use

Top left: A cowshed in Starowola by Parysów, a village in east-central Poland, made of cobbled together jewish gravestones. Top right: A children's sandbox in Szczecin, a city in the West Pomerania Province built in the 1960s/70s. Bottom left: School playing courts in Kazimierz Dolny, a town in eastern Poland. The schoolyard was built, in the 1950s, on the grounds of a Jewish cemetery, and there are fragments of matzevot in the walls. Bottom right: In the town of Brok, in eastern Poland, the interior of a workshop contains a mounted grindstone carved from a jewish gravestone.

Czech Republic and Ukraine

In the 1980s, cobblestones made from Jewish gravestones were used to pave a busy part of Prague's Old Town, a main city square called Wenceslas Square on Na Prikope, a popular shopping street. (As of 2019 they are apparently going to be returned to the Old Jewish Cemetery).

In 2018, a road in L’viv, Ukraine was being repaired when city workers found over 100 Jewish gravestones used in paving it. Matzevot have been found here in the past and brought back to the Jewish cemetery by volunteer teams.

Left: Cobblestones used to pave a busy street in Prague, taken from Jewish headstones. The Hebrew letter hey and the numbers 895 are visible. Right: Matzevot used as paving in Lviv, being rescued by volunteers.

Belarus and Lithuania

in Vilnius, Lithuania, jewish tombstones were used all over the city in construction, including for an electric transformer substation, church steps, and the grand stairway in the trade union headquarters. They are being rescued and returned to the cemetery as they are found.

In Belarus, matzevot were used for house foundations, porches, fences, backyard paving, roads, or they were turned into millstones.

Left: A man examines the memorial made from gravestones that had been used to build stairs in Vilnius. Right: 2016 photo of Jewish gravestone used as stairway of church in Vilnius.

Greece

People often forget about Sephardic Jews and the Holocaust, but Greece and especially Salonika (Thessaloniki), the "Jerusalem of the Balkans," were devastated by the Shoah. Salonika's major jewish cemetery contained hundreds of thousands of graves- when it was completely destroyed by the Nazis (with the help of Greeks who wanted the land), the gravestones were used in construction projects around the city. Aristotle University sits on the site today. Fragments of matzevot can still be found around the city in churches, buildings, even sidewalks, although now when they're found they're brought to the new Jewish cemetery.

Broken up Jewish gravestone used for construction In Thessaloniki.

Eighty years is not a long time. We are not moving on. We are seeing rising fascism, scapegoating of minorities, violent nationalism. We said never again, not for anyone, not ever - the history books are right there telling us this is wrong, and we are NOT going to ignore words written with blood.

now that i have written all this out i don't actually know how to end the post so. i guess let's go with this: i'm not naive. ordinary people do terrible, awful things and I see how it is hard to trust anyone to not do terrible things to you when it matters most. but ordinary people also do wonderful, life-affirming things! i am a sephardic jew who is here because ordinary people resisted. stood up and threw themselves into the gears of the genocidal system that tried to kill my ancestors in greece and italy during the Shoah. people hid their neighbours, became resistance fighters. in athens a police chief gave jews false id cards and an archbishop gave jews false baptismal certificates. my family always taught me and my siblings that solidarity saves lives. you can start that right now!

There is a time when the operation of the machine becomes so odious, makes you so sick at heart, that you can’t take part; you can’t even passively take part, and you’ve got to put your bodies upon the gears and upon the wheels, upon the levers, upon all the apparatus, and you’ve got to make it stop. And you’ve got to indicate to the people who run it, to the people who own it, that unless you’re free, the machine will be prevented from working at all! –Mario Savio

[bvidzsoo]

Color of love

The third star of Cosmically divine...

☆ Author: bvidzsoo

☆ Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x female reader

☆ Warning: smut, breeding kink (?), possessiveness, mentions of abuse and enslaving, violence

☆ Word count: 12.3k

☆ Rating: nsfw, mature

☆ Genre: Greek mythology, Hongjoong is Hermes and MC is Iris, fated to be together au

☆ Summary: If there was a God everyone feared, perhaps it was Zeus. After the continuous abuse he's put you through, you never thought you'd get to live your eternal life peacefully. That is, until the messenger God shows up and whisks you away before Zeus can see and stop him.

☆ A/N: Helloo, my lovelies!! ^^ I am back and all fresh to continue my Greek series, memory refreshed of the places that our story takes place at. All villages mentioned in this part are very real places and I decided to use them, since I now know Greek people also read this series, I hope I have done justice with the descriptions and please forgive me if I messed up anything, but I did take some creative liberty (mythology included!) Surprisingly, I don't have much to yap about right now, except that while writing this I derailed a bit from the initial plot I had constructed lmao but it's actually good because it tied everything nicely together. The taglist is still open, so lmk if you want to be added to it. I appreciate all your feedback, so let me know what you thought of Hongjoong's part! ^^ Enjoy, and here's a glossary before you start reading:

★ This is inspired by Greek mythology, but I took creative liberty and adapted it to my likes, so keep that in mind while reading, thank you! ★ Hermes is considered the herald of the gods, but is also a messenger God ★ Iris is the the personification of the rainbow and messenger of the gods, a servant to the Olympians and especially Queen Hera ★ talaria are winged sandals ★ petasos is a wide-brimmed hat with a conical crown worn in ancient Greece ★ Zeus is the god of the sky and is considered the ruler, protector, and father of all gods and humans ★ Hera is the goddess of marriage, family, childbirth, and women, known as the queen of the gods ★ Aphrodite is the Goddess of love, beauty, desire, and all aspects of sexuality ★ Dryad is a tree nymph  ★ Hades is the God of the underworld ★ Selene is the is the goddess and personification of the Moon ★ Helios is the god representing the sun ★ Isis is the goddess of healing and magic ★ Underworld is a distinct realm where an individual goes after death ★ Cerberus often referred to as the hound of Hades, is a multi-headed dog that guards the gates of the Underworld ★ Ano Skotina, Palaioi Poroi, Palaios Panteleimonas are villages in the Olympic Riviera and are situated on the mountain side ★ Dion is a village and municipal unit in the municipality of Dion-Olympos in the Pieria regional unit, Greece; it's known for its sanctuary of Zeus and its ancient city (definitely give it a visit if you're in the area!) ocean divider; greek divider

☆ Taglist: @patchofblue @sthwaaberry @constipatedcorgi @holytidalwavechees3cake @cheolliehugs

@slowitdownmakeitb0uncy @hoeforsungie @skittyneos @mingheol @sebastianswhore13

@astral-trashcan

༄ ҉ Series m.list ༄ ҉ 　★ previous star ★ 

            Alongside the mountain range of Olympus lays more than one beautiful settlement, some so breathtakingly magnificent that one would dare say the Gods themselves have crafted them. It goes without saying that it wasn’t them, but perhaps the humans that have constructed such roads and buildings were momentarily blessed by Hephaestus to wield their instruments the same way he wields his, with the same precision and perfection, building a haven for those who sought a refuge and a place to which they belonged. The lush green mountain range held more than one hidden village from the prying eyes of those wandering through the forest or the inhabitants of the bustling town of Dion, and these small settlements also offered refuge to those who desperately needed one. Right underneath the noses of the Olympian Gods, blessed but also scrutinized and often forgotten about, nobody would’ve thought to look for the two that held so much power in their pale hands, their bodies frail-looking but everlasting. The earthlings of Ano Skotina were unassuming and comprehensive of the two strangers who ran down the cobblestone-covered paths with baited breaths and soaked to the bone by the heavy rain, yet despite the oddness of their appearance and mumbled speeches, the villagers offered the two wandering souls fresh meal, a warm bath, and a house that they could call theirs. It almost felt like a distant memory now, something that happened centuries ago when, in fact, it was merely a few years back, when Zeus’ rage was still fresh and unforgiving as it mercilessly outlashed the mortals that worshipped him so much.

With the disappearance of Iris from Olympus, the Gods felt restless and uncertain, however, no matter how much Zeus scattered them out to search for his beloved seer, no God or Goddess has ever found her. But she was right under their noses, albeit tucked away in a safe place and surrounded by mortals who loved her and worshipped her unknowingly of her real self and status. The tall pinecone trees mixed with those specific to the climate had turned a sharper and more brilliant green compared to their colour before the two strangers decided to settle down in the quiet village, and after every rain, there was a rainbow. The children of the village would giggle and squeal whenever it appeared in the blue sky as they tried to chase its end, leaving a bright smile on my face as I tinkered around my humble abode, waiting for my lover to return.

The villagers of Ano Skotina were pleasant people, and once they warmed up to the newcomers, they included them in every tradition they had, often showering them with goods they didn’t need anymore. Despite looking as human as possible, there was something unearthly about the two newcomers, their auras bright and light, demanding a certain devotion that many in Olympus lacked. It had been hard at first to get used to the kindness and good deeds that seemingly followed every person here, but at last, I learned and realized that not everyone wished ill on their peer, nor did they expect anything in return if they did something for you.

At first, I had felt ungrateful towards their kindness as I found myself unknowing of the customs of the earthlings. Despite being a messenger, I never quite learned their ways and patterns. But they were understanding and chalked it up to me being peculiar, special, and a little different from them and never made me feel excluded when something was new and I didn’t understand the process of it. Hermes was doing better by my side, he accommodated faster, but that was to be expected. He’s been amongst mortals for longer than me, disguising himself as one as it came as second nature to him. Despite the range of our powers, neither Hermes nor I were blessed with the feat of turning ourselves completely human, and thus, I couldn’t help but blame it on a natural wonder and a blessing made by a Goddess when I was just a child that my hair changed its colour every season. During the colder days, it would turn into an ashen brown, slowly turning into a warm caramel colour as the sun returned. When it got so warm that not even the shade of the tall trees could shelter me from the sizzling sunrays, my hair turned a reddish hue, until it faded into a light brown when the leaves started falling once again. The mortals never said anything, never accused me of anything, but it was easy to tell that they knew something was amiss, that it had to do something with the divine. Perhaps that also prompted them to be kinder and gentler towards me, oftentimes noticeable just how squeamish I was around everyone besides my saviour. His name, the one that the mortals so feverishly worshipped, was Hermes, but the one they unassumingly called out as if he were a friend to them was Hongjoong. I, myself, found the later version of his name more comforting, friendlier, and for once not a reminder of everything I had to endure in Olympus at the hands of Zeus.

The night had been serene when we blew out the last candle and made our way to our shared bed, the covers cold until our ghastly bodies warmed them up, hushed whispers and giggles leaving our reddish lips until we became enraptured by the night and the dreams it brought upon once our minds and souls calmed and admitted defeat to the simple feat of exhaustion. Wrapped in the arms of my lover nothing and nobody could hurt me, I knew I was safe and far away from the very God that called himself our father and protector. But there were nights when my dreams were clouded with visions, making my sleep restless and terrifying. Some visions that came to me would be bright and of great news, and some would be foreboding and dark, petrifying.

At first, when the bright moonlight coming through the opened curtains slowly faded into permeating darkness, I thought it must have been the rainclouds covering the beautiful celestial, but with the appearance of the gut-twisting feeling low in my stomach, I knew something was amiss. The house was eerily quiet and I was alone, no longer in the safe and strong arms of my lover. My feet were cold as I carefully left the confines of my bedroom, the floorboards wet and slippery in an uncharacteristic way. Perhaps Hongjoong had visited Poseidon and brought the seawater inside our house, perhaps the rain was so harsh it settled and flooded our house. But the absence of the pitter-patter of the rain against the roof of the cottage was enough to confirm that it wasn’t raining, and with the talaria not in its place, I also knew Hongjoong wasn’t home.

The quiet hiss behind me and the fear spreading through my body warned me that this wasn’t my reality, that I had been sucked into a vision while unconscious. Most of my visions happened when I was asleep, when my mind was at rest and open to receiving whatever the Cosmos wanted to alert me of, but if the situation was dire, I could force myself into a state of consciousness too to see such visions. Rarely, but it’s been happening more often since I have descended into the human realm, I would get snippets of the future if I touched certain objects or even mortals, visions that usually bore good news. And so, without my consciousness stirring me awake to interrupt the vision, I turned to face the hissing animal behind me. A long and dark green snake was slowly slithering towards me, menacing as it opened its mouth and showed its poisonous fangs. A snake couldn’t kill me, I was immortal after all, but it certainly could harm this human body I was forced to inhibit in this realm.

But the ground shook and the sky cleared once again, the scenery different to where my unconscious body lay peacefully in the arms of my lover. The pinecone trees twisted and turned around me, caging me in as the snake came menacingly close, and I raised my head to look at the moon but it was absent. I was deep in the forest, I could hear the hushed whispers of the Dryads, the concern and fear in their voices. The snake rose off the ground and gave one last hiss before it lunged towards me, my legs apparently frozen in place as I couldn’t jump away or even run off. But before it could sink its teeth into my pale and frail skin, an eagle’s scream was loud and warning as it suddenly gripped the snake in its sharp claws and yanked it away from my body, taking it far away as it flew off into the permeating darkness. The Dryads haven’t stopped whispering, and while their mutters remained intangible, they became louder and more urgent. My legs stopped feeling like lead and I took a tentative step in the direction I hoped the cobble path was and would lead me back to the village, but a shadow darker than darkness itself seeped between the trees as if it was mist, encompassing the forest.

There was a scream in the distance and sudden terror gripped at my throat, my body locking up as I stared into the silver orbs that now seemed to be blocking my every-way, watching me almost tauntingly. I couldn’t breathe as my lungs seized, and I clawed at my throat, but the pressure only worsened, my body shaking from fear and the lack of oxygen. My vision became hazy as creepy laughter echoed around me, a terrifyingly familiar voice, a voice that I loathed with my whole being. I was succumbing to the greater force the more seconds ticked by, but before my eyes could roll to the back of my mind and allow my body to crumble to the cold floor of the forest, a face so clear it managed to make me gasp appeared in front of my face.

The man’s face was simply gorgeous, tanned from the sun and defined at the jaw with a nose that few bore around these parts. His eyes were uneven but sharp, and his pretty lips formed a word I couldn’t understand just yet. My ears were ringing louder than the person’s words, but the more my eyes bore into the stranger’s terrified ones, the clearer everything once again became.

“Run!” His shrill voice was raspy as I was forcefully shoved back and I stumbled for a moment until I regained my bearings.

I could move, I could hear, I could feel.

My body trembled as that familiar cackle echoed around me once again, and I realized the gorgeous stranger was one of the Dryads who whispered in the trees. He looked more scared than I had ever felt, and with a hand reaching out for him desperately to pull him with myself, my feet kicked off before the cold darkness could touch my skin.

And then, as quickly as it came, the vision was gone. I was shaken awake by the frantic calls of my name and warm hands that gripped my arms with tremors. “Y/N! My beloved, please, Y/N. Iris, please, wake up!”

My eyes slowly fluttered open and I realized the curtains were still drawn apart to allow the moonlight inside, to honour Selene and perhaps greet her when she passed on the sky with her chariot. Even if one could hide from Zeus, Selene and Helios saw and knew everything. But my vision was soon obscured by two bright eyes, an amber nobody else I knew had as they shook in fright and bore into mine, searching for anything wrong. My body felt tense and my throat a little parched, but other than that, I was alright. I knew I had been dreaming, I knew a vision came to me, but everything felt wrong. There was something just not right about the vision, about the way it occurred, about the man that showed itself to me. It took me a few seconds to register everything I had seen, and soon, my eyes were just as glazed over with fear as Hongjoong’s. I shot up and cradled my knees to my chest as Hongjoong settled down behind me, reluctant to touch me as he exhaled shakily.

“My beloved, what is the matter?” He questioned quietly, his voice pained, “I cannot help if you don’t talk to me. Was it another night terror, Iris?”

I gulped and my arms tightened around my legs a little bit more, “A vision, Hermes, an omen. Something bad is about to happen, he’s coming for me.”

There was rustling behind me and then I felt the press of a firm chest against my back, strong arms wrapping around my middle to pull me back into the warm body of my lover. I sighed, but my muscles remained tense as I tried to shake away the lingering feelings of the vision. Somebody was out there to get me. Somebody sent by Zeus, once again, and they were close, too close for comfort. The snake almost managed to touch me, perhaps it represented the mortal or traitor, even, that Zeus had sent. I wouldn’t put it past him to send the dirtiest of those that he had once cast away to bring me back to him so that he could enslave me once again.

“Nothing bad will happen, Y/N,” Hongjoong whispered as his chin came to rest on my shoulder. He turned his head and his soft brown hair tickled my cheek in the process, “You are with me and I will do everything to keep you safe, I have promised. No, I have sworn on my immortality, I’ll never let him find you, my beloved.”

Hongjoong’s tone was soft and tender as his fingers gripped my sheer nightgown tightly, pressing his front to the back of my body as tightly as he could, his hot lips brushing against my ear almost teasingly. I gulped, remembering the fear in the Dryad’s eyes too vividly, it had felt too real. I couldn’t even tell if he was part of the vision or if he had managed to cause a rift in the Cosmos to consciously warn me of the danger that was now closer than ever before. We’ve managed to stay hidden for so long, the fear of losing my freedom again was all-consuming and terrifying.

“The Dryad was terrified,” I whispered as my eyes coated over with the remnants of the vision, hard to erase such a look from my mind, “I don’t even think he was part of my vision. There was an eagle too in my dream, Hongjoong.”

My lover’s gulp was audible and I turned my face to face his, prompting Hongjoong to lean back just a bit so that we could stare into each other’s eyes. Suddenly, a soft smile graced his lips and my heartbeat picked up just a little bit, my tense muscles finally easing and letting me become putty in Hongjoong’s comforting embrace.

“He won’t touch you.” There was a menace in his tone, warning and promising of pain, his eyes glazed over with fire for a second, memories taking him away from me, but Hongjoong quickly returned as his eyes cleared, tone more passionate than before, “If there’s anyone that can keep you captive, then that’s me because I’ll forever treat you with respect and love, care and tenderness. I’ll be your slave if that’s what you want me to be, I’ll prove to you again and again how devoted I am, I’ll treat you like a Queen if that’s who you want to be, Y/N. But most of all, I’ll run until the end of Earth for you if that means I can keep you safe, I’ll run and never stop. I’ll never step foot into Olympus ever again if that keeps you safe from those tyrants.”

“Don’t say that.” I whispered as Hongjoong’s left arm untangled from around my torso so that he could cup my cheek, “With me gone, it’s already hard for everyone to keep up. I’m making you do all the work by yourself, it’s unfair. If you’ll be gone too, I fear our fates will be dire once we are discovered.”

“I know more than he’ll ever know, Y/N, I carry all secrets and strategies. If he tries to separate us or threatens to turn us into stars, I’ll know how to corner him.” A smirk that would frighten any mortal crossed Hongjoong’s lips, “And I will threaten to throw him off if he doesn’t back off.”

I knew no matter what I said to my lover his resolve wouldn’t break, it was of no use trying to convince Hongjoong that if he went against Zeus he most certainly would perish. No matter how much you knew, not even his own weaknesses could stop the God, he was the father of us all after all, and Hongjoong was merely a deity that had more power and free will than those unlucky like me.

“I love you.” The confession bubbled past my quivering lips, and I watched Hongjoong’s Adam's Apple bob up and down as he swallowed, eyes darkening with want and fire that was perfectly reflected in his amber irises. Our human bodies were more fragile than our godly forms, they felt everything so much deeper, so much more passionately. I couldn’t help but succumb to the fire that licked at my skin as our warm lips pressed together, hungry and never satiated with the other as Hongjoong gently grabbed my hips and manoeuvred me around until I was sat atop him. Our lips smacked together with a languid pace and our teeth clumsily clanked together whenever one of us bit the other’s bottom lip eagerly, my long fingers finding purchase in Hongjoong’s wavy strands as his calloused hands guided my core over his clothed member. The soft fabric of his sleepwear was thin and hid nothing as he grunted at the first drag of my hips forward and back, making me eagerly swallow the sounds he was making. One warm hand settled on my thigh, underneath my nightgown, and slowly bunched up the fabric until it rested just above my hips.

Desire licked at my insides as hotness spread through my body, cheeks flushed as Hongjoong’s hands traced invisible patterns into my skin, his touch leaving a trail of goosebumps as they slowly slithered towards my lower back, digging into my flesh. I sighed against his mouth before pulling back to tilt his head back and press kisses against his well-defined jaw, the moonlight making his appearance godlier than he ever was in his deity form. I moaned against his simmering skin as his nails dug into the flesh of my bottom, heat pooling in my lower stomach as he pressed me down just harder on his clothed member, drawing out a moan from both of us as my bare core ground right on top of it. The wetness between my legs only became more prominent and I bit into the flesh of his neck, making Hongjoong’s head fall back as he breathed through his mouth loudly, a whine falling past them every time I sucked a little harder, every time I let him drag my core over his hard member, hot despite the fabric separating us.

“I love you.” He gasped into the silence as his hands settled on my thighs again, my hips moving on their own as the friction had started feeling too good to stop, leaving a dark patch on his light-coloured trousers, which mixed with his own precum. I pressed a long kiss against his lips as I fiddled with the hem of his trousers and hastily pulled them down, freeing his member as I eagerly aligned myself up with it, our eyes meeting before I sunk on it. Hongjoong’s grip tightened on my thighs and he whimpered as I hugged him close to my body, fingers tangling into his hair once again, offering an anchor as my walls clamped down on his length. Hongjoong was safe, home was where he was, and I never wished to be anywhere else but in his arms. He saw past my gift and looked at my soul, he appreciated me and worshipped me for who I truly was and not for why everyone seemed to want me. Just a seer, a lowly deity that was able to glance into the future and sometimes the present. Hongjoong never demanded of me to look into his future, to spy on a vision for him, he only asked me to love him back. But he didn’t have to ask, I had always known if there was any mortal or deity I could love, it was him.

The muscles of my thighs tensed as I tentatively rose before sinking back down on his dick, making Hongjoong groan as he leaned back to support himself with one hand, bracing my hip with his other as he gently guided me. I let my hands rest on his shoulders as he snapped his hips upwards and ripped a moan out of me, making me meet his thrusts eagerly as our movements synced up, the slapping sounds became louder and louder in the confinement of our bedroom as we both lost each other to the feeling of overwhelming lust and love, the desire to possess and be possessed, to belong to someone, to love and be loved.

            But life had not always been like this. For centuries and centuries, it hadn’t been like this but full of torment, pain, and demands that seemingly never came to an end. Everyone always wanted something from me, they always took and took, but they never gave back anything. I understood my role in the Cosmos, and as the bearer of messages between the mortals and Gods, I knew I had to be flexible and report whenever I was needed. I had to prioritize my purpose and place everyone above myself, it’s just how nature worked. And it had been alright, I felt most fulfilled when I was doing what my calling was, when I was guiding Gods and mortals alike, stringing them onto the right path headed towards a bright future. But I was naïve and careless, I hadn’t realized that once the knowledge of the full extent of my powers fell into the wrong hands it would be exploited, that it would turn against me and hurt me in the process. Glancing into the future, predicting silly things like the weather, and warning mortals of floods or wildfires soon turned into commands and demands of looking into the fate of a disobeying God or Goddess, into spying on those that dared turn against Zeus, of migraine after migraine when I was at my wit's end, begging to be left alone to recharge and step away from the visions.

Zeus was unforgiving and violent, greedy and desperate to control everything and everyone around him. When the word of me being a seer got to him, my freedom was stripped and I never saw the sunlight unless I had orders to deliver a message. My visions became constant because I just had to do what he told me if I didn’t want to turn into a star, and my body and mind were exhausted. I couldn’t sleep, sometimes I would get stuck in a vision for weeks on end, unable to break free, becoming a prisoner of my own mind. It was terrifying and excruciatingly painful; I couldn’t tell whether I was still alive or not. It was silly, a deity never dies as long as it has worshippers, but my soul felt so tired I wished all mortals would drop dead so that my existence would cease too.

Zeus hid me away from everyone, he lied to Hera that I decided to reside on a secluded island down amongst the humans and wished not to be spoken to or reached out to unless the message was time-bound and very important. I had been an important messenger of Hera, and my heart broke when I felt her trust and respect in me vane, but what hurt, even more, was that she never questioned her lover, that she never actually tried to look for me and see if the God was indeed saying the truth. What hurt the most, even in my deity form, was that nobody actually cared enough about me to come and rescue me from the terrorizing clutches of Zeus, that nobody loved and respected me to save me from the torment I had to go through for centuries on end. Everything hurt, even speaking and sleeping, I was nothing but a shell of what I once used to be. Zeus never cared, he just wanted the visions, he threw me around until the physical pain became so unbearable that I just had to scavenge my mind for even a trace of a vision. I became scared of my own power, of what he’d to do me if I didn’t learn how to control it better.

And then one night, or day I couldn’t tell, as I lay exhausted on the cold marble floor of the room Zeus had imprisoned me into, there was a whoosh of a breeze inside and the shatter of a vase. I had no idea what’s happened, I couldn’t see quite right and my head was pounding, covering everything in an unclear haze. But something metallic was hurled underneath my long fingers and when my index finger curiously poked against it a vision so sudden and harsh that it knocked the wind out of my lungs clouded my eyes with flashes of a handsome and somewhat familiar face, smile mischievous yet menacing, his amber eyes ablaze and raging. I had known of him, of course, I have, but we’ve never quite crossed paths, so it was bizarre to get a vision so suddenly of Hermes. It wasn’t even Zeus asking me to look into him, I wasn’t even forcing my mind and soul to connect with it, it just came by itself. Tears flooded my unseeing eyes at the feeling and I tried not to sob upon realizing that my soul was still somewhat aligned with the Cosmos despite how much I’ve forced myself to see and hear everything, having broken the order of the Universe.

And the vision of Hermes persisted for months on end, until, the marble door separating me from freedom was blown into bits and pieces and the God rushed inside with flushed cheeks and a ragged breath. He said nothing as he scooped me up in his arms, lips hot as they pressed against my cold forehead, and for the first time since my existence, my heart started beating in an uneven pattern, fingers digging into the silky fabric of his shirt as I begged him to save me. Hermes looked angry, but not at me, he looked at me with pity in his eyes but said nothing as he broke the glass of the window with the heel of his foot. I couldn’t remember much as I lost consciousness after that, but I felt the wind blow around us harshly as we fell freely, descending into a realm that was familiar yet new, a cocoon of lush green trees and springs that were clearer than the sky and sun hotter than the rays in Olympus, a place that soon became our new home.

The paths leading down the mountain range were soon after our arrival covered in cobblestones, creating an easy and clear passage for the villagers of Ano Skotina, Palaioi Poroi and Palaios Panteleimonas down to Dion, which resided at the foothill of Mount Olympus. The villagers had put in hard work once Hermes brought up his idea, and with his help, it only took the men a few weeks to construct the paths and connect the otherwise strenuous trek for the villagers if they wished to travel between the settlements. But with our arrival it seemed that the fauna and flora flourished more than before, the villagers became livelier and eagerly awaited the appearance of a rainbow which hadn’t been spotted in ages by the mortals.

Having been saved from the clutches of Zeus, I was finally regaining myself. Hongjoong stood by my side every single step of the journey and he offered a helping hand when it all became too much and too exhausting. He hid me away from all the deities and promised to settle down in a village where Zeus would never find us. We couldn’t go far from Olympus as he still had to fulfil his duties, but with me gone, Zeus had no insight into anyone, he wouldn’t know who had stolen his slave away from him.

But even if we were hiding in plain sight, we’d never be safe from him.

            On the days that the Gods and Goddesses were too busy bickering with each other, forgetting all about their worshippers, the sky seemed to be clearer and a lighter blue. On days like that it was safe for me to leave the confines of Ano Skotina and hike down to Dion with Hongjoong. I loved days like this because as much as I was scared of Zeus finding us, I loved the loudness of the bustling town, the liveliness and eagerness on the faces of mortals, and most importantly, I loved the market where we could trade fresh flowers and fruits. If the weather deemed good and the deities remained preoccupied with their selfish deeds, Hongjoong and I would follow the path down to the sea and dip in the warm but refreshing water. Poseidon wasn’t always around, busy with his errands, so, it was safe to explore the beautiful sea in his absence.

Given our origins, it took Hongjoong and me around an hour to descend from the mountainside down into the town, our talaria polished and well-kept. We hid them in Hongjoong’s satchel as soon as we neared the closest settlement to avoid being discovered by the humans. Sneaking around always brought a little sense of excitement, of my blood boiling hotter and my heart pumping faster, only heightened when Hongjoong would playfully chase me down the cobblestone-covered paths inside of Dion, heads turning our way as they watched on curiously. There wasn’t a day where boredom could threaten to kidnap me if Hongjoong was around, he’s had plenty of time to observe the earthlings and find out what would be amusing and help the time pass by faster. Not that I wished for that to happen, I cherished every second I spent next to Hongjoong, clinging to him despite our unlimited time.

Being with him had always felt right, from the very moment he lifted me in his arms to save me from Zeus. There was something about his eyes that assured me that we were right for each other, that it was written in the stars, that my suffering for so long wasn’t fruitless. He had known he had to save me when he accidentally caught a glimpse of me through the barely open door of my cell-like room, Zeus’ voice booming as he demanded a vision from me before he could send Hermes on his way to deliver his message. He had returned just days later and snuck inside my room to assess the situation, accidentally knocked over a vase when he heard someone approach the door, then fled through the open window. He couldn’t return for months; Zeus was suspicious of him and he was scared if he was caught we’d both perish. But he remained vigilant and at last came back for me.

I made sure to remain close to Hongjoong’s side as the market was packed with more people than usual this afternoon, our pinkies reaching out for each other whenever the other strayed closer. He was discussing something I couldn’t hear with a blacksmith, wondering whether he had more metal to trade with him as my attention remained on the flower stall and the lovely old lady who always had the brightest smile on her face. Her grey strands were beautiful and highlighted her age nicely, and despite her late age, her demeanour was just as youthful as a child’s.

When our eyes met, she beckoned me over with a happy look on her face. Casting Hongjoong a quick glance to make sure he hadn’t moved away yet, I made my way over to the vendor and bowed my head in greetings, “My dear! I haven’t seen you in too long, I was worried about you.”

“My apologies for worrying you, kind soul, I haven’t been able to leave my village.” I kept my answer as vague as possible as her eyebrows furrowed in slight worry. Lately, the deities were busy watching over their desperate worshippers so I couldn’t risk my safety and cover.

“That boy of yours isn’t keeping you captive, is he?” Her eyes narrowed as my cheeks flushed and I quickly shook my head, not keen on her choice of words. I hated hearing anything that had a connection to captivity, and just the thought of Hongjoong keeping me as his prisoner was disgusting and infuriating.

“He would never,” My voice was harsher than intended, “He cherishes me more than anyone ever has.”

“Good, good.” The vendor muttered as her features relaxed once again, “Would you like some pomegranates? I traded them just this morning, I hear they’ve been blessed by Aphrodite herself. Perhaps they’ll make me look youthful once again.”

The old lady giggled as she grabbed the fruit and extended her hand towards me, making my muscles tense at the mention of the deity. If it truly had been blessed by the Goddess I didn’t want to touch it, let alone eat it. She hadn’t been the kindest to me in our years of knowing each other, and despite knowing that Zeus held me in a chamber as his slave, she never said anything to anyone.

“Thank you, but I must refuse you. I do not have anything to trade it with.”  The vendor shrugged and put the fruit away, her fingers grazing against the petals of a sunflower. My eyes followed the action and I yearned to do the same, the yellowness of the flower reminded me of my own rainbow’s colour. It had been a while since I had brought upon the earth a rainbow, I missed its beauty and comforting colours.

“Your scarf seems to be made of silk,” The old lady hummed as she eyed me curiously, “I’ll give you a bouquet of sunflowers if you trade it with me, I know they are your favourite flowers.”

I gulped and gripped the scarf, pondering whether it was worth trading something of high value with something that had little value. But the piece of fabric held no sentimental value to me and autumn would be soon approaching, the old lady needed the scarf more than I did for her body was weaker than mine will ever be. And she was right, I did love sunflowers, it’s been too long since I could hold them in my hands, so, I nodded and untied the scarf from around my neck.

“You’ll seriously trade that beautiful piece for sunflowers?” The vendor next to the old lady asked with scepticism, a dark-haired woman with bushy eyebrows and greediness that wasn’t missed by the mortals either. The old lady ignored her as she tied a big bouquet together for me, happy to trade them.

“I can find many more scarves like this one, but summer is soon ending and I’ll have to wait a long time until sunflowers bloom again,” I answered with a soft smile and took the flowers after I handed over my scarf. The old lady took her time to examine it carefully and I glanced behind myself to see where Hongjoong was. He had moved on to another stall and he was surrounded by several men now as they conversed animatedly, his face bright under the sunlight and amber eyes glinting with interest.

“You have such little value for your possessions.” The other vendor grumbled, and the old lady laughed as she shook her head at the younger woman. I said nothing as I cradled the bouquet against my chest, looking down at the flowers to examine them. Its petals were soft between my fingertips and I took note that its hue was much more vibrant than the colour in my own rainbow, perhaps I could make mine more prominent too.

“The only possession I want to have is over my beloved, nothing else matters to me.”

“Oh, to be young and completely enraptured with a man.” The old lady mused with a knowing look on her face once I looked up at her, my cheeks dusted pink as I realized I had spoken my mind too freely, “I haven’t seen a pair as devoted as you two are to each other.”

“There must be some, I cannot imagine not loving with your whole soul and being—”

“Love is just a fairytale the deities made up to wrangle us around by the nose and manipulate us into doing whatever they want.” The other vendor lady snapped as she interrupted me, and my eyebrows furrowed at her harsh words. Certainly, if any deity were to hear her, her place in the Underworld would be assured and arranged to be painful. The old lady hissed and gave the other vendor an irritated look.

“Quit being so pessimistic, especially to such a young soul.” Before the other vendor could say anything else, the old lady faced me with a curious look, “You must be coming tonight to the offering, right? Zeus will bless you and then you will never part from your lover, he’s great like that.”

Zeus was anything but great, but I didn’t want to ruin the lady’s image of the deity. If I were a maiden praying to Zeus to watch over my lover, he’d rather take me as his lover than offer us his protection. Zeus was horrible like that. But the thought of him made me shiver and I tried to ignore my tensing muscles. I had no idea it was already that time of the month, Hongjoong must’ve forgotten too, otherwise, we would’ve never come down to Dion today of all days.

“I’m afraid I won’t be joining you tonight, I haven’t been feeling well these past few days.” A curious look crossed both of the ladies' eyes and I gulped nervously as I started feeling jittery. I realized I had conversed with them for too long and it was time I returned to the safety of Hongjoong, where nobody would bother me anymore or ask questions.

“You must be with child, then.” The younger vendor declared and my eyebrows furrowed as I cast a glance at her. I most certainly wasn’t with child, I would’ve felt it, but if that lie helped stop more curious questions, then I would take it.

“I am not sure, but perhaps I am,” I answered and the old lady gasped, eyes falling to my belly.

“That is great news, indeed! May the child have your peculiar hair colour and his father’s beautiful eyes.” She wished earnestly and I smiled, feeling just a little bit guilty that Hongjoong and I weren’t actually expecting a child anytime soon. But I blinked my eyes faster and looked down abashed, resisting the urge to shuffle my feet. Deciding that I should return to my lover’s side now, I bid the two vendors my sincerest goodbyes and turned around to search the crowd for Hongjoong. He was a couple of steps away, doing the same, and his eyes lit up when they found me. He had a wide grin on his lips and he waved his fingers playfully as he took off towards me, his steps bouncy and giddy. I chuckled and stopped to let him reach me first, but as I did so, a child narrowly avoided colliding with me as his warm skin brushed against my hand.

The sudden change of scenery managed to knock the wind from my lungs as I gasped and looked around, the market was eerily empty and the sun was hidden behind clouds as suddenly it started becoming darker and darker outside. White mist left my lips as I breathed through my mouth loudly, the temperature having severely dropped made me shiver in my summer gown, head whipping around as I searched for another living soul. But there was no one, not even Hongjoong, and I clenched my palms into fists when I heard the hauntingly familiar cackle once again. The Dryads weren’t here whispering again and I wondered if I’d see the young man once again, if he’d come to warn me again. But nothing happened until an eagle screamed in the distance and then a dark shadow appeared just by the entrance to the market. Its features were unrecognizable, but it towered over the gate as its silver orbs vibrated, looking wildly my way. I gasped and tried to take steps backwards, but I was trapped once again. I felt warm hands touching my arms, a muffled voice worriedly calling my name and something wet pressing against my cheek. The darkness persisted, however, and the shadow cackled once again as the eagle screamed and was suddenly plummeting down towards me, sharp claws drawn and beak parting. But before it could touch me, rip me apart, my eyes flew open.

The loudness of the market made my head thump in pain and I realized I was clutching onto Hongjoong’s shirt tightly as I tried to regain my breathing. My eyes searched to crowd frantically for the shadow, but also to make sure nobody saw my episode. Hongjoong’s arms were warm and slightly trembling as they pulled me into a tight embrace, his lips pressing against my temple as he sighed loudly, “You’re alright, I got you. Let’s head back home, my beloved.”

I nodded wordlessly as Hongjoong took my hand in his and manoeuvred us around the crowd, making sure nobody familiar ran into us so that we’d be able to leave faster. I appreciated his attentiveness as I followed after him, my fingers tightening against his as the crowd was slowly vanning out the closer we reached the end of the town. His features softened once he slowed down to let me fall in step with him, and I raised our joined hands to press a kiss against his hand, “Thank you.”

He said nothing but his amber eyes turned warmer as red swirled behind his irises, his wavy brown hair falling into his eyes and making him look boyish. I chuckled and pressed up on my tiptoes to steal a kiss from Hongjoong, making his eyes widen as a man had just passed us on his horse, his lips widening into an amused smile at our display of affection. I knew my lover was blushing red when he turned his head away, but he squeezed my hand once to let me know he appreciated the gesture, “I saw him again, the shadow, the darkness, the eagle. You know it’s Zeu—”

“Do not speak his name.” Hongjoong cut me off roughly, all previous warmth gone from his features as he faced me abruptly, “Don’t say it, Y/N, I hate it when you do. I hate him, and everything he’s done to you. You are safe with me and nothing will happen to you, I have sworn and I will keep swearing.”

“I know,” I muttered, gulping nervously as I averted my eyes, “but the visions never lie, my love, he’s close, I am not safe anymore.”

I tried not to yelp when suddenly two warm palms cradled my cheeks and yanked me close to Hongjoong’s face, his ablaze eyes boring into mine with fury and determination, “You are mine and if anyone, mortal or deity, touches you, I will burn them until nothing���s left of them. You have suffered enough, I will not let anyone take advantage of you ever again, Iris, it’s over.”

My eyes fluttered closed as my heart thumped wildly, and I leaned forward to press a lasting kiss against Hongjoong’s lips, who pressed his body incredibly close to mine, “You wear my petasos, my beloved, everyone knows you’re mine. Everyone knows what will happen to them if they try to claim you, I won’t allow it anymore.”

His voice was deeper as he spoke up once our lips weren’t pressing against each other and I licked my lips as I nodded, smoothing out the creases between his eyebrows. A silly thought came to mind as Hongjoong’s eyes searched my face and I chuckled as I leaned so close my lips brushed against his when I spoke again, “The vendor ladies think I am with child.”

Hongjoong’s breath stuttered and his pupils dilated as one of his hands grabbed my hips, pressing my body painfully so into his, “Perhaps you should be with child, my beloved.”

“Do you want that?” I asked in a whisper, throat feeling dry as I tried to ignore the fire spreading through my body. This greedy little human body could be so lustful.

“Yes, I want you full of my seed and belly round and pretty.” Hongjoong’s voice was deep as he answered and I had to take a second to compose myself, trying to be the bigger person right now. It wouldn’t be the first time things got a little bit out of hand while we were in public, and I didn’t want something as mortifying to happen again. Last time we were lucky the unfortunate soul who saw us in a scandalous predicament had been an older lady and her husband, both understanding and giggling as they rushed away from the scene. Truthfully, we could’ve picked a more secluded spot and the back of a bar that was often frequented.

“We’re being indecent, Hongjoong.”

“Then let me take you home and show you just how much I want you to carry our child.”

“Hongjoong.”

            One of us had to attend the offering, it was inevitable, and since nobody knew of my location but with Hermes still around, it wasn’t a question that it would be him who would descent to Dion tonight and bring a small flower crown made from my sunflowers and the neighbour’s weeds as his own offering. As a deity, we didn’t have to attend such worshipping customs, but since we were disguising ourselves as mortals it would look suspicious if we didn’t tag along from time to time. I never showed my face around when they were bringing offerings to Zeus as he often liked to disguise himself and come down, watch his loyal followers, and even take maidens to bed and spread his bloodline, but when they would show gratitude for Isis, I made sure to tag along. A deity recognized a deity even in disguise, and despite her catching me at her altar more than once, she never said anything. She could feel my pain, she could see past my smile and looked into my battered soul. She was sensitive and kind, instead of bringing me to Zeus, she blessed me and healed my wounds so that nothing could hurt me so horrendously ever again.

Once we had gotten back from Dion, Hongjoong was busy showing me just how much he really wanted me to carry our child, very reluctant to leave the bed to get ready for the night. I knew he didn’t want to go, he knew I didn’t want to be left alone tonight out of all nights, but we also both knew that we did not have a choice. Deities rarely had a choice, the greater good just always seemed to call out to us. But still, I helped him bathe and dress up, I cooked him a warm dinner and braided little strands of his soft hair while he was busy chiselling his talaria, his petasos already pristine, the leather smelling fresh and feeling soft under the skin.

“Are you certain I must go?” Hongjoong asked with a sigh once he was done with his talaria, eyebrows furrowed as he looked up at me. I ran my fingers through his hair and ruffled the strands that fell into his eyes.

“Yes, my love, you must.” I hummed quietly and Hongjoong sighed long, “We hadn’t attended the offerings in a while, the townsfolk will get suspicious of us at this rate and I quite like this place.”

“I like it here too, it’s serene.” He hummed absentmindedly and I stepped back to let him wear his winged sandals, raising to his feet to test out their agility. He was fast, as always, in good shape and ready to tackle the night’s challenges. I smiled at him proudly as he came to stand in front of me, hands settling on my hips as he licked his lips and looked down at my mouth, “If anything feels wrong, go over to Mr. Do, he will keep you company.”

“I don’t think poor old Mr. Do will be able to tackle a god like Zeus if he shows up,” I said with a chuckle as I circled my arms around Hongjoong’s shoulders, standing on my tiptoes to reach his face better. He chuckled as his eyes searched my face, the amber swirling as fear made its way shown, “I will be alright, Hongjoong, don’t you worry.”

“Of course you will be.” He answered with a scoff as if Zeus showing up was such an impossible feat, “And when I return, I will show you once again just how eager I am to have you with child, to spend the rest of my eternity with you and our son or daughter. I want them to have your kindness and faith, and I want them to have my determination and strength.”

“Aren’t you thinking a bit far ahead, my love?” I asked with a snicker as Hongjoong pouted and shook his head.

“Of course I’m not, my beloved, the seed has been planted, we both felt it.” Hongjoong lowered his face and I watched as his lips parted, “The shift in the Universe has happened, the stars aligned for our love once again, Y/N.”

“We’ve been blessed.” I whispered and tangled my fingers in the hair at his nape, pushing Hongjoong’s face closer to mine, “I am fully yours now.”

“You’ve always been fully mine,” Hongjoong’s voice dropped as his fingers dug into my skin through the fabric of my gown, “only mine.”

I hummed and leaned my head back as his warm lips pressed against mine, instantly eager as they pressed together firmly and forcefully, asking me to part my lips for him. Hongjoong moaned when my tongue dragged against his, coaxing him in deeper as our saliva mixed and tongues brushed together, lighting my skin on fire. My heart pumped faster and my skin jittered, hushed voices and hazy orbs fluttering behind my eyes as a vision threatened to kidnap me from this moment. But I stopped it, I wanted to enjoy the touch of my lover, the sounds of my lover, as I knew the darkness would be back if I were to succumb to the greater force.

Our pace was languid as Hongjoong dragged each kiss out, sucking on my bottom lip before he’d dive right back in, sucking on my tongue too and making me whimper as my hand found an anchor in his nape, holding him as if I were afraid he’d pull back too soon. But he didn’t, he soaked up in the sounds and only kissed me more desperately, pulling back for air when it became too much for our human bodies. I was breathing hard and Hongjoong struggled to even out his pants, our foreheads pressing together as he cleared his throat once and then twice. He licked his lips and then pursed them, fingers twitching as he raised his hands to cup my cheeks, “I wish to return earlier tonight, I’m not done with you yet, Y/N. I have figured if I go earlier and stay for a shorter amount of time it should be fine, Zeus will want me to report back to him so I’ll try to make my journey as fast as possible.”

“I’ll be right here so don’t rush yourself, I don’t want anything to happen to you,” I said worriedly as we untangled from each other, I tried to smooth out the knots I created in Hongjoong’s hair. His outfit remained spotless, the black fabric tight and secure around his strong and well-built body, hugging him snuggly in places that wouldn’t restrict his movement.

“I’m too restless to remain until the end of the festivity either way,” Hongjoong shrugged and kissed my cheek before he went to grab his petasos, “Go to Mr. Do if anything feels even a little bit wrong.”

“I will, I promise.” I smiled reassuringly as my lover headed for the front door, pausing to turn back around with a worrisome look on his face. I knew he was reluctant to go, but he had no choice. One of us had to go and it was him, it was always him, he’d have to report back to Olympus either way and he was right, the quicker he got over with everything, the faster he could return to me. But as soon as the door closed behind me and I was left alone in our safe abode, dark visions clouded my eyes and sent me tumbling to the floor.

            The evening had been harsh to me, the visions seemed to turn only darker as the hours passed by, taunting me. It felt as if I wasn’t in control anymore, as if it was someone else controlling what I saw. My heart pumped fast and my head thumped wildly making my ears ring, and I felt boneless as I tried to stand from the chair I managed to drag myself into. My sight was hazy as I felt around the table for the glass of spring water Hongjoong and I had collected earlier this day, but I failed to reach the cool glass and thus gave up as a harsh wave of nausea almost made me gag. I had never reacted to my abilities so harshly, I couldn’t determine whether it was worrisome or not that my body was having such visceral reactions to the darkness that seemed to linger in the corner of my eyes.

I knew that I was alone in the house and that my visions were tricking me into believing someone was watching me from the shadows, candles unlit as I found the task too strenuous to do with my current state. It all felt too real, it made me scared of how easily my body was succumbing to the terror-filled memories that followed my bodily reactions. It wasn’t the first time my body threatened to shut down, but it’s been far too long since I had felt so sick. It made me remember my captivity and everything I had to endure at Zeus’ hands when he pushed my body over the limit and forced me to become nothing but a vessel that relayed the visions of a seer. I was scared because Hongjoong wasn’t here and because I couldn’t figure out just exactly what was triggering this reaction. All of Isis’ blessings seemed futile all of a sudden, and I found myself wondering whether I could ask the Goddess for guidance and help in dire need, a beckon of light to help me survive until Hongjoong returned and figured out a way to stop my suffering.

But I remembered that Mr. Do was a healer of sorts, a little too old and grumpy, but the villagers loved him and trusted him with their lives countless times before, I have seen it firsthand. Hongjoong and he seemed to have a mutual respect and a deeper understanding of the other’s force that I failed to see and sense. And despite every muscle and joint in my body protesting when I finally pushed myself up into a standing position, I found Hongjoong’s deep trust in the old man a reassuring thought that pushed me to take action and bring myself to the old man’s doorstep, perhaps he knew how to fix this. I had barely reached the front door of my house when my muscles locked up as if they sensed danger, my skin tingling in a way only around another deity it did. But I was alone inside the house, it made no sense, perhaps my seer abilities became uncontrollable and started lashing out in peculiar ways.

I swung the door open, finding the task difficult as my body vehemently tried to disobey my mind’s commands, and despite the haze that clouded my sight, Mr. Do’s small frame not even a few steps away was unmistakable. I hadn’t noticed, but the wind was howling as it bent the weaker branches of trees in odd ways and not one candle was lit inside the neighbouring huts. Cold darkness wrapped around us and I shuddered as it bit at my skin mercilessly, “Mr. Do?”

My voice sounded breathless and pained and my eyebrows furrowed as the older man stepped closer so that I could see him clearly, “Oh, you look sickly, my dear. Let’s head inside.”

I couldn’t find it in myself to object and stepped back inside my house as Mr. Do followed, his height shorter than my lover’s. It seemed to be relatively warmer inside the house, but I still shuddered as I brought the shawl tighter around my shoulders, pressing my nose against the fabric as it smelled like Hongjoong. It brought little comfort, but I relished in it as I willed my sight to clear, at least that little if nothing else seemed to be right with me. Mr. Do seemed curious as his eyes searched the place and I watched him with slight confusion, wondering if it’s been too long since he’d stepped inside our house. But it looked as it always did, the interior hadn’t changed since last week when Hongjoong insisted on having the old man over for dinner as a payment for his kindness after he healed Hongjoong’s broken fingers. It was a freak accident; one he couldn’t heal down here unless he wanted to be caught by the mortals.

“What is bothering you, my dear?” The warm smile felt wrong on Mr. Do’s face, he was someone who never smiled nor showed affection, his face a mask of coldness and uninterest. He never used nicknames and he had never once in his life before directly addressed me. Mr. Do seemed to be afraid to say my name for some reason and he always brought pastries whenever there was a rainbow in the sky, that’s the most emotion he had ever shown. That’s how I knew he didn’t completely mistrust me or hate me. This man standing in front of me was not Mr. Do. But it was too late now, I had already welcomed him inside. I quickly realized that despite his disguise, he couldn’t hide his godly aura, the faint glow around his body or the respect it demanded.

“Why are you here?” Despite my voice being faint, it carried conviction, and braveness, “What do you want?”

“My little seer back.” The man disguised as Mr. Do chuckled and walked further inside the house, walking around as he touched vases and ornaments that clearly belonged to Hermes, “You must understand my utter shock when I found out she was gone. My utter anger and annoyance when I searched for her relentlessly and she was just gone as if swallowed by the earth itself. I assumed it was Hades at first, we know how he likes to play me and taunt me, but when I found him gone from his kingdom and meddling with humans from far away times, I realized something more peculiar had happened.”

I didn’t dare speak up as Zeus walked closer, the face of Mr. Do scrunching up as he tsked, “Imagine my utter confusion and rage when I find out Hermes, my precious messenger and guide, decided to settle amongst the mortals. Not only did I lose my seer, but my messenger too.”

“Hermes never stopped serving you.” My voice was harsh as I willed the bile down my throat and blinked my eyes quickly to try and get rid of the haze, which was very possibly induced by Zeus himself. I understood why my body lashed out like this, it sensed danger and it was warning me. But it was too late now, I had walked myself into Zeus’ trap.

“He didn’t, you are right, little seer, but he also started slacking off.” He scoffed and I gulped as I remained put, my feet frozen to the floor, “You must imagine I assumed he was frolicking with the mortals at first, but then certain inaccuracies just stopped making sense, you see. I have other means of looking into my little deities, Iris, I don’t need you—”

“Then why did you keep me for so long?” My voice raised as my sight finally cleared and I was able to glare at Mr. Do’s serene face, fire and anger replacing my fear as I stared the God down, “If you don’t need me, why did you subject me to so much strenuous work and pain? Why did you force me to seek and seek without break, to bend myself and ruin who I once was?”

“The secret to being a deity is so simple, my little seer,” Zeus’ voice was quiet as he walked even closer, eyebrows slightly furrowed, “We are just like these mortals that worship us, we are greedy and selfish and we take without consideration, we possess and we demand, we punish and we slay, so, what sets us apart from them?”

“Immortality, lack of morals and care of those around us,” I whispered, unable to gulp down the lump in my throat anymore as my heart raced faster, ears starting to ring once again.

“Power, abilities that mortals will never have, is what sets us apart, Iris—or should I call you Y/N, now?” Mr. Do chuckled but his voice sounded distorted. My muscles tensed when his short frame suddenly grew taller, towering over me menacingly, “This is why you are such an insignificant deity to most, you are too soft, you love and want to be loved. You wish to belong to someone and to possess someone, it makes you weak. You act more like a mortal than a Goddess.”

“I never felt like I belonged in Olympus,” My face became hard as my eyes narrowed, unafraid to speak my mind for once. A surge of anger pushed me to speak my mind, to stand up for myself and demand the respect I was never given, “I was always pushed away by my kin, made fun of and ostracized. Your own lovely wife made me a slave of hers, and then you. You look down on me and judge me, but you wish to possess just as much as I do, if not more.”

The God remained silent as his jaw ticked and Mr. Do’s face formed into an unfamiliar shape, features mixing with familiar faces, but still unknown. It didn’t stop shifting as Zeus’ eyes bore into mine and it felt like the air was ripped from my lungs as they started squeezing in on itself, choking me as I fell to the side, clutching onto the table tightly.

“I want to punish you direly for thinking you could abandon your ruler, Iris, I really do wish.” His voice was a dark hiss as I tried to breathe, but couldn’t, “But you’re too precious to be turned into foam or a star, Hermes, however, I know just the perfect way to make him suffer for his insubordination.”

My eyes widened at the mention of Hongjoong and I tried to speak, but I couldn’t as dark spots started colouring my vision. I tried to object and scream, but no word left my mouth as I scrapped at my throat in despair while Zeus watched on with an amused expression. He loved seeing his toys fret and beg for mercy, he loved feeling like the King he was, able to rule over everyone and decide everyone’s fate. But before my misery could continue, the door of the house was slammed open and loud panting filled the house.

“I forgot my satchel—” Hongjoong’s breathless words caught in his throat as suddenly the airflow was back in my lungs and I started coughing loudly as my knees gave out and sent me tumbling to the floor. Hongjoong was by my side in an instant, body hot and skin sizzling as he grabbed my cheeks and forced my head up. His amber eyes were almost fully red as he searched for visible injuries and his jaw ticked as he turned his head to face Zeus. He had a vicious look in his eyes and he almost but spat in front of the God as his voice thundered in the confined space, “What are you doing here?!”

“I came for what’s mine—” The laugh that left Hongjoong’s mouth was guttural and it made me shiver as my frantic eyes looked at my lover with despair, begging him to remain level-headed so that he wouldn’t ruin his chances of survival furthermore.

“What’s yours?” Hongjoong spat, eyes falling on me once again to make sure I was alright. He gulped as he cradled my cheeks and I opened my mouth to beg him to stop and walk away, but lips pressed against mine firmly before I was staring back into his wild amber eyes once again. He had made up his mind, and I could do nothing to convince him to stop, to think through whatever action he took next. He was here to protect me and if that meant he’d lose his life in the process, he didn’t care. He had sworn to protect me and I knew he’d do no less than that, “Enlighten me, Zeus, what’s yours again?”

The God seemed appalled by the way Hongjoong spoke to him, face contorting into disgust as he watched my quivering form and Hongjoong’s protective stance as he stood up and shielded me from the God’s furious eyes, “Iris is what’s mine, you fool. I will feed you to Cerberus if you utter one more word—”

But Hongjoong was reckless and he didn’t care as he threw his head back to laugh loudly, hysterically, and I clutched the trousers at his ankle and yanked on them to get him to stop, but he was gone, far gone. He’d go to unimaginable lengths to protect what was his and not even his lover could stop him anymore.

“Cerberus would hack me back up if he were to swallow me, don’t be foolish you old man.” Hongjoong tsked as if he was scrutinizing a child and my heart raced in fear for him, “Besides, Hades likes me too much to let me perish, after all, I make his job a lot easier with all the souls that I carry for him to the gates of the Underworld.”

Zeus hissed and stepped closer, hands balling up into fists. I took notice of the wind picking up frighteningly so outside, to the point it rattled the hinges of the windows, and I could only pray the other villagers wouldn’t be affected by Zeus’ wrath. They haven’t been anything but kind and loving to us, I would never forgive myself if anything were to happen to them.

“Before you destroy this lovely village,” Hongjoong seemed to be thinking the same as he smirked, the look on his face eerie as red swarmed around in his dark irises, overshadowing its beautiful caramel hue, “I must inform you that I have claimed Iris and she has claimed me, so you cannot touch neither one of us, you old fool.”

My cheeks heated despite the predicament and I gulped when deafening silence followed, the wind suddenly disappearing. My heart raced in my chest and it felt like it had ascended into my throat as I felt Hongjoong’s hands around my forearms, helping me up to stand next to him. His smirk remained frightening to any mortal, but the mischievous glint in his eyes told me that he was in control, that the odds were for once in our favour as he smoothed my hair down for me, “And since you are the one that loves to make up foolish rules for your peasants to follow, do I need to remind you what it means when a deity claims someone?”

Zeus just gulped, eyes darting between me and Hongjoong, the veins underneath his skin lightning as they travelled, his eyes turning a misty grey. No one knew Zeus’ real face, but I had come close to seeing it more than once, it was ugly. It reflected the person he was on the inside; he was ugly through and through, no wonder he chose to disguise himself even between his own kin, “I can still use her abilities to my liking, Hermes, that’s not what claiming one enthrals.”

“Oh, does it not now?” Hongjoong chuckled and I felt an arm sneak around my hips until his palm pressed flatly against my belly, his bottom lip between his teeth as raised an eyebrow mockingly, “Even if the seed had been planted to bring forth a new life?”

“She’s pregnant?” Zeus’ voice raised octaves as his eyes widened comically and the fundament of the house shook as I shuddered, clutching onto Hongjoong’s arm for stability. My skin was cold and I was shivering, but Hongjoong remained like a pilar by my side, supporting me and offering me braveness.

“She is pregnant with my child, yes.” Hongjoong’s smirk spread into a wide grin that made him look crazed as his amber eyes simmered in the darkness and the ground shook again. I looked at Zeus reluctantly as I let my hand rest above Hongjoong’s, our fingers tangling together as we held onto my belly. Zeus could feel it too, the shift in the Universe and the change in the alignment of the stars, he knew Hermes and I were fated to be together; he knew if he went against the wishes of the Cosmos, it would be him paying the price and not us. I couldn’t help but huff as I suddenly felt all tension leave my muscles, serenity infusing my brain and body like never before. Hongjoong, too, knew we were safe when his offensive stance relaxed and he stood tall in contentment.

“You are both traitors.” Zeus hissed, but there was no force in his voice, only defeat and despair, “And if I can’t make you pay, the Cosmos will find ways to make you suffer for what you’ve done.”

“Is that what you say to all the mistresses you keep?” My tone was cold and unforgiving, it shocked both Hongjoong and Zeus, “I wish you nothing but an eternity of suffering and misfortune, I wish that all of your children turn on you and bring your demise like you had brought your own father’s, Zeus.”

“Did you just curse me?” His voice boomed as Hongjoong threw his head back and started cackling loudly, bringing a small smile to my lips as I chuckled.

“I am no witch, Zeus, but I believe the Cosmos works in peculiar ways.” I stopped to take a breath, to finally say what I always wished to tell him, “And just because you are supreme to all of us, it doesn’t mean you are invincible. The Cosmos doesn’t differentiate in kind.”

Somewhere in the distance, a bolt of lightning struck and a deafening roar travelled through the forest as Zeus turned into nothing but dust and charged energy, lighting our house in blinding light for a second until everything was covered in darkness and silence. I remained frozen as Hongjoong started giggling, cradling my face as he grinned at me widely, “You are the most breathtaking creature I have ever had the luck to come across, my beloved.”

“I love you too, Hongjoong.” I chuckled and let him kiss me messily before he pulled back and giggled again, unable to contain the giddiness our small victory brought upon the both of us.

“Do you think I still have to report back to him tonight?” The question made me laugh as I threw my arms around his torso and pressed my body against his, revelling in his comforting warmth as I nuzzled my nose against his neck. Hongjoong pressed a chaste kiss against the crown of my head and I melted into his arms, feeling safe and like a weight had been lifted from my chest. We would be alright for the time being, the child would be safe down between the mortals and Zeus would leave us alone for now. I couldn’t tell what the future had in store for us, at least not until a vision came to me, but I didn’t care as long as Hongjoong was by my side.

The Cosmos gifted those deserving and took from those undeserving.

❱❱ Next star

↳Perm. taglist: @orshii @jjoongstar @tinyelfperson @thestarskiller @zuuhaa

@aaa-sia @gong-fourz @a-tinycarat @sooberryworld @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad

@anastasiamin860 @yunhogrippers @vcutparis @tunaasan @blvckarabixnvoid

@yusalterego @arigakittyo @slowee00 @jaerisdiction @hey-syia

@vnessalau @oddracha @chatsgotmytongue @potatos-on-clouds @yunhowooyo

@watermelon2319 @yoongzsmile28 @klllerwaifu @apriecotte @hwasbbyg

@kyeos4ng @samiiy20 @woosanhobros @aswho1estuff @khjoongie98

@ateez-main-yapper @kang-ulzzang @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @ginger-mingi @redzie02

@unholywriters @autieofthevalley @roomsofangel @peachyy-joonie @baeksofty

@tunafishyfishylike @syubseokie @jycas @fandom-freak-geek @intaksfav

@itswaffleberry @e3ellie @skz1-4-3 @hoe4yunho @kyeomooniee

@winklehwa @eyesonlyformingi @khjssss @torieisawesome99 @amrose8

@faeriehwa

❀ complete the forms if you're interested! ^^

[dredgesnails]

thinking about how the magic mountain volcano adds to the lore of some of the surrounding bases:

the cyberpunk city is flat because it was placed on top of a dead city, one covered by ash and pumice. remnants of the lost city can be found in the metro beneath, weaving through what used to be ancient roads, tunnels winding through what what’s left of old buildings and homes and people.

a village is built into the side of the mountain because the soil is rich and fertile from mineral deposits, and the heat within can be harnessed to power buildings. temples are constructed for gods past and present, gods who live amongst the fire and magma and gods who rose from the sea, all seeking worship.

the tiny fishing town below is shadowed by a huge skull carved into the side of the mountain. is it what remains of gods long passed? of a battle between the earth and the sea? or did it form naturally, coincidentally, carved out by erosion and eruptions until it became a symbol worthy of creating religions over? inside the skull rainwater collects and forms a bubbling hot spring, water leaking over the side through one of the eye sockets after particularly heavy storms.

entrances to the inside of the mountain are littered around the base of it. some seem like entrances to underground shrines, perhaps where animals (or people) were sacrificed to whoever lives below. others appear as gateways through the mountain and beyond. the largest ones, having transported huge vehicles, appear to have fallen into disuse, while naturally formed paths lead into the smaller ones. heat emanates from the openings, warning of danger ahead, but those who know the mountain well have learned to traverse the depths within safely.

everyone lives there knowing the volcano barely lies dormant. one day it will erupt again. one day their world will end. but for now, it simmers and waits.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Epilogue: It’s Not Over ‘Til You’re Underground]

A/N: We've finally reached the end of the Oregon Trail, besties!!! Enjoy this one last treat to celebrate the conclusion of Martyrs 🥰

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon™️, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes.

Both the series title and epilogue title are lyrics from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Word count: 4.1k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Autumn is the harvest, ripping up roots, preparing for the starving time of winter, and so you step through the threshold of your new life as the world is ending again.

“I knew the chances,” Sophie says when you tell her what happened; but she can’t look at you, because of course she wishes it was Rio who made it to Odessa instead, and you don’t blame her. She breaks down and leaves the house, and you sit there—silent, sorry, self-loathing—for a long time with Rio’s weeping parents and Aegon’s arm draped across the back of your chair. But then Sophie comes back inside, and through tears she says it’s nice to meet you in person at last, and then she asks if you’d like to hold Rio’s son.

Here it is commonplace to see M16s and AR-15s, marijuana growing in gardens, a myriad of flags flying from homes—Don’t Tread On Me, Trump 2024, American flags, rainbow flags, porcupines of the Libertarian Party—and order is maintained by an elected council of longtime Odessa residents. For anyone to be allowed into the community, somebody already here must take responsibility for them, and so the seven of you—eight, counting Ice—spend the first few months sleeping on Rio’s parents’ living room floor and eating meals out of their cellar, enough self-stable food to last for years. You join the construction crew and help build houses, Cregan cuts down trees and fishes and hunts, Helaena shows Aegon how to garden and Sophie teaches Luke to bake bread. There are no doctors here, but there are several unlicensed midwives and a veterinarian named Ian Whitted. Rhaena studies under him—attending every appointment and taking copious notes in the spider notebook Helaena gifts her, sharing what she learned from Aemond—and before long her sutures are quicker and cleaner than Ian’s. Daeron, considered too young and inexperienced for the most dangerous work, is posted with his compound bow inside the village to serve as a guard. He resents this until he realizes there are far more women to flirt with here than out in the forest where wolves and bears prowl and the dead rove with incurable hunger.

You work from dawn to sunset; you work so you have no time to think. The baby doesn’t feel real, and neither does Aemond being gone, and the future is so unimaginable you’d rather not try to imagine it at all. Because you’re a good shot, they want you for patrols and raids of nearby towns to search for supplies, and you take every shift you’re offered until Rhaena says you have to stop. She tells you that each time you leave, Aegon watches the door until you walk through it again, that it’s not good for him, that it’s not good for you either. She says you can’t keep running from what’s happened.

“I’m not trying to run away,” you tell her where she’s cornered you by one of the wells, lilac twilight sky and glimmers of stars, hoots of owls and children laughing as they roast marshmallows over crackling fires. “I’m trying to find my way through.”

“Fine,” Rhaena replies firmly, no room for argument. “But you’re going to do that in here where it’s safe.”

The new houses have wooden walls and kitchen fireplaces made of stones, beds with feather mattresses, plots for gardens and pens for ducks, chickens, pigs, sheep, goats, turkeys, cattle. Helaena and Cregan move into one cabin, Rhaena and Luke share another, and you have the last to yourself, the first time you’ve ever lived alone. Aegon and Daeron float around between the houses, more often than not ending up in yours as the sun is dipping below the tree line into the west, Daeron carving wooden cutlery with a hunting knife, Aegon cuddling with Ice on the deerskin rug, luring you into disastrous baking attempts and games of Uno and telling stories about Washington D.C., Djibouti, Key West, Corpus Christi, Chinhae, Diego Garcia, Saratoga Springs before the dead began to walk.

Thanksgiving dinner is at Rio’s parents’ house, Sophie’s baby sound asleep in his blue sling, candles flickering and Ice lying beneath the table to gulp down scraps that fall to the floor: roasted turkey, hazelnut stuffing, buttered carrots, mashed potatoes, pickled beets, salad with homemade ranch dressing, pumpkin pie for dessert.

“God, I miss chilidogs,” Aegon mutters beside you, and you laugh—a real laugh, loud and helpless, a lightness flooding into your arteries and the marrow of your bones—for the first time since Aemond died.

“You have to try this,” Sophie says, pouring you a small glass of moonshine distilled with apples and cherries and cinnamon. Everybody else has already had a taste except Aegon. He doesn’t drink anymore, doesn’t smoke the weed people grow here, only keeps a few tobacco plants in your garden to enjoy on rare occasions.

“I can’t,” you tell Sophie, staring at the amber-colored moonshine. You are over three months along and will be showing soon. It materializes all at once, shifts from a hazy apparition to something in full focus: next Thanksgiving you will have a fatherless infant of your own.

Sophie is puzzled. The glass of moonshine waits untouched on the table. “Why not?”

“Because I’m pregnant,” you say.

Aegon chokes on his pumpkin pie. “You’re what?!”

And everyone except Helaena drops their forks and leaps up to engulf you: How long have you known? How far along are you? Why didn’t you tell us? How can we help?

You stop lifting heavy things and stay off of ladders. Helaena brings you kale and mushrooms, Sophie knits you baby clothes, Rio’s mom makes you candles infused with essential oils, lavender, chamomile, ginger, and you lie and say they make a difference. Aegon helps you build a crib; you don’t need his help, but still, he insists. Smiling to himself, he etches two words into the headboard: Mini Chips. Wheat is planted in the fields to the north of the village. Scrap metal is scavenged for the blacksmiths to melt down to make nails and bullets. You learn to sweeten desserts with honey instead of sugar and to hold your hand flat when you feed the baby goats so they won’t nibble your fingers. You wait for winter to thaw and summer to come back around again.

It is what people would call a bad birth: hemorrhaging and lots of stitches, Rhaena squinting in the glow of the flashlights trying to piece you back together, rain outside and no lidocaine. You can’t stop crying. You feel like you’re going to die, and you’re shaking too badly to hold your own child, and you want Aemond. He would know what to do, he would know how to make the world go quiet. And the truth that he will never meet his daughter hits you over and over again like cold lethal waves, like bullets that pierce the heart.

Aegon is here instead, and you want to cling to him but you can’t; if all the others could die, so can he. But even when you look away from him to stare at the wall he stays, his hand clutching yours and never complaining even when you squeeze it hard enough to leave bruises that paint him maroon and indigo, tilting glasses filled with fresh pomegranate juice against your lips, asking Rhaena and Ian what you will need from him as you recover. Slowly the house empties and everyone goes home, but Aegon stays through the night and never leaves again.

Harmony cries a lot, as if she already knows she’s lost someone. She has trouble nursing and only sleeps for a few hours at a time. People are always coming in and out of the house: Sophie with handknit clothes and blankets for the baby, Helaena with flowers and fruit and vegetables, Rhaena with loaves of Luke’s fresh-baked bread, Cregan with firewood. At first Aegon is better with Harmony than you are. You love her, of course, and you mourn for the life you cannot give her; but you can’t shake the feeling that someone left her on your doorstep, this fragile bewildering creature you are so unequipped to soothe. Yet Aegon picks her up and she stops crying. He carries her around the house and murmurs nonsense—rules of golf, sailing knots—and she gazes up at him mesmerized; and in the peace that grows from him like weeds, wild and inevitable, you can heal.

Aegon helps you walk for the first week after the birth. He brings you meals, overflowing plates you can never finish. He respectfully averts his eyes when you nurse the baby and when he passes the bedroom as you’re changing clothes, slowly and inelegantly, every muscle feeling shredded. He falls exhausted into bed beside you with his arms crossed over his chest so he won’t reach for you in his sleep. You keep waiting for him to start craving marijuana and moonshine, to meet someone who makes him wayward again while you are left here alone, morose and unglamorous and bleeding. You care about Aegon—entirely, violently—but you are convinced you’ll never love a man again. Perhaps love is something that is always doomed to be broken, ruinous, poisoned.

When Harmony is about four months old, you begin to see Aegon differently. You can’t stop staring at the way his hair shags over his eyes when he’s bent low in the garden, you hide behind walls and listen each time you catch him singing to himself, you feel a dark desperate sense of loss when other women flirt with him, though Aegon is never more than polite in return. You find excuses to touch him, and he always acquiesces: Let me bandage the cuts on your hands, let me dab honey on your sunburn.

One night you wake to find Aegon with Harmony in the kitchen, humming and rocking her in his arms as he paces back and forth across the wood floor in his bare feet, the full moon radiant through the window, the fireplace crackling. He glances over when he notices you standing in the doorway and says: “I think this is the only thing I’ve ever been good at.”

“Aegon?”

“Yeah, Chips.”

“I’m in love with you.”

At first he is startled, and then he smiles in the firelight, a slow mischievous curve of the lips that puts stars in his eyes and shows his teeth. “Took you long enough.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Nearly ten years ago, you were learning how to be a builder at Class A Technical School in Gulfport, Mississippi, salt and sun and sweet tea and humidity that lies heavy like a second skin you can’t shed. Today you are hammering nails into boards that will be a wall of the new meeting house, twice the square footage of the old one. The community here keeps growing.

“Watch out for your fingers, Zack Attack.”

 Zack looks over at you. He’s a kid, nineteen, and he’s only been here a week. He left Beaumont, Texas with a group of thirty people, one of them the cousin of a council member here. Twelve were left when they arrived. “Huh?”

“You’re holding the nail too close to the bottom,” you say. “If you swing the hammer and miss—and you will miss, everyone does sometimes, even me—you’ll crush your fingers against the wood. But if you hold the nail up near the top, the hammer will kind of knock them out of the way as it comes down, and you won’t have to worry about Rhaena or Ian popping your bones back into place.”

“Oh, cool! Thanks!” Zack readjusts his hands. “Where’d you learn to do all this?”

“The Navy.”

“Right. That makes sense.” He gives you a crooked, conspiratorial grin. “I heard you’re a good shot.”

“I am, I guess.” You don’t do patrols anymore, but you’re on the list of people to call when there’s a security breach, and you go because you have to. If Odessa is ever overrun, that will be the end of the life you’ve made here. The last scare was two months ago, a hoard that wandered up from the south, probably out of Klamath Falls. Someone knocked and you answered, leaving Aegon standing in the doorway with troubled eyes, Noah in his arms asking: Where Mama go? And Aegon had told him She’ll be back soon, buddy, but of course no one had known if that was true.

Now Zack says admiringly: “A real killer.”

You smile and give him a slap on the shoulder as you start climbing down the ladder. “I’d rather be a builder.”

“You heading out?”

“Yeah, my kids probably miss me.”

“See ya tomorrow. Bring more of Aegon’s raspberry crumb muffins.”

You laugh. “If there are any left.”

Down on the ground, bumblebees orbit tufts of wildflowers and cats prowl for mice. Sitting cross-legged on the grass are kids rubbing nails against bars of goat milk soap; it makes them go into the wood easier. They play the same way you did as a child: in the dirt, in the wild, tracking animals and building dams in the creek. They wave as you pass by. Everyone knows each other here. Everyone knows what you can do with the Beretta M9 in your holster.

Beside one of the wells, Daeron is helping a flock of tittering, blushing women pull up their buckets and plucking stray blades of grass and pine needles out of their hair. He is easily the most eligible bachelor in Odessa, and in no hurry to take himself off the market. By the schoolhouse, two teenagers are petting Ice as they listen to Aegon’s pink Sony Walkman and rap along to Gold Digger: “You will see him on tv, any given Sunday, win the Super Bowl and drive off in a Hyundai…”

But at Sophie’s house, the song you hear is Darius Rucker’s Wagon Wheel, drifting from a battery-powered boombox containing one of Rio’s dad’s cassette tapes. Aegon is already here and dusted with earth, your children clamoring around his legs as he chats with Sophie at the edge of the garden: zucchini, snap peas, tomatoes, strawberries, spinach, potatoes, cucumbers, carrots, kale. When Aegon sees you, he lights up and says to the kids: “Look! Look who’s here!” And you crouch down and open your arms so you can catch all three of them as they barrel into you on small, wobbly legs.

The second birth was much easier, the third only lasted an afternoon. Opal, three years old, is named after a gemstone that Sophie told you symbolizes hope and clarity; Noah, two and with unruly blonde hair like Aegon’s, shares a name with the man who started over when the world flooded and all the generations before were lost. You pick him up before he can trip over his own feet.

“Mama, come see!” Harmony shouts, grabbing your free hand and dragging you to a hutch full of fluffy, multicolored rabbits. Aegon is walking over to join you, his hands in his pockets and a soft smile on his lips, long blonde hair and stubbled cheeks.

“Are these the new meat rabbits?” you say without thinking, and Aegon widens his eyes at you.

Harmony peers up with a worried frown. She’s getting too smart to be shielded from such harsh realities. “Why did you call them meat rabbits?”

Aegon swoops Harmony off the ground to distract her. “Because they’re so excited to meet you!” he says as she giggles and kicks through open air.

“What are their names?” you ask to change the subject.

“Arrax,” Opal says in her toddler lisp, pointing to a grey one. And then, indicating a rabbit with long, reddish-tan fur: “Morning.”

“Those are such nice names!” you gush, a bit perplexed. Children have a certain mystery to them, one foot still in the Great Beyond, wherever souls wait to be born and reunited.

“And this one is Sunfyre,” Harmony announces proudly, reaching through the wire to scratch its straw-colored coat.

“Sunfyre?!” Aegon says. “Well now you’re just making shit up.” A pause. “Stuff. You’re making stuff up.”

“And Sunfyre is married to Dreamfyre.”

“Cute,” Aegon says. “Incestuous, but cute.”

“The post-apocalypse dating pool is limited,” you remind him.

“Have you met the Texas people yet?” Sophie asks you as she wanders over to the hutch in a handknit yellow dress, wearing elephant earrings that Rio once mailed home to her from Djibouti.

“Yeah, some of them are working on the meeting house. They seem really nice. And apparently they know how to barbeque, so that’s exciting. New recipes!”

Sophie smirks. “When they dropped by to introduce themselves, I had to have the whole conversation again.”

“Well…you did name your kid Otter.”

“Wait, wait, hold on,” Sophie says, chuckling, showing her palms. “I did not name him Otter.”

“You named him Bryan Otter Osorio. And you call him Otter.”

“Because he’s a little kid and it’s a perfectly fine nickname for now! And then when he’s older…you know…he can decide who he wants to be.”

You smile. “Sure.”

“I think it’s great, personally,” Aegon says. “I’m hoping I’ll get to name my next one Softshell Turtle.”

“Absolutely,” you deadpan. “And what if it’s a girl?”

“Softshell Turtle is obviously unisex.”

Sophie is laughing and shaking her head. “I hate you guys.”

Helaena and Cregan arrive to pick up their children, two sets of twins, all named after species of butterflies: Skipper, Adonis, Tiger, Sara. Rio’s parents bring them outside to the garden to be collected. They and Sophie like to keep the house full of children, especially now that Otter is getting older. And when they need meat or firewood or their roof patched, they know who to ask.

“I’m so sorry,” Sophie tells Helaena and Cregan as they wrangle their brood. “I’m mortified. Adonis ate Harmony’s oatmeal raisin cookie and made her cry, so Otter smacked him in the head with his golf club.” Aegon has carved miniature, lightweight clubs out of pine wood for each of the children; they zip around putting acorns and walnuts. “Adonis was freaked out but I think he’s fine now. I couldn’t find a bruise or anything. Again, I’m so, so, so sorry.”

“You okay, buckaroo?” Cregan asks, and his oldest son—brunette man bun, already pestering his dad to take him hunting—nods adamantly.

“Duh. It didn’t even hurt.”

Cregan guffaws and turns back to Sophie. “See? No harm done.”

Otter trots out of the house, rubbing his eyes like he just woke up from a nap. Harmony immediately runs over to hug him. He’s already six inches taller than her and is always giving her gifts that end up on the fireplace mantle at your house: flecks of quartz, pinecones, bracelets woven from buttercups.

Sophie asks Otter: “Did you think about what you did earlier?”

“Yeah,” he replies cavalierly.

“Would you do it again?”

“Probably.”

“Oh dear,” Sophie exhales, exasperated.

You beam down at Otter. “He’s exactly like Rio.”

“Yeah,” Sophie says wistfully, combing her fingers through his dark curly hair. “He really is.”

Rhaena and Luke happen to be strolling by and stop to say hello. Luke teaches English classes at the schoolhouse, founded the Cultural Preservation Committee, and writes and directs a new play each month. When he is in the lull between original ideas, he draws from pre-zombie pop culture. The June production is Free Britney.

“Hi!” Rhaena says, waving. “Are we still on for dinner tonight?” All the adults offer greetings and confirm they’ll swing by her and Luke’s cabin in a few hours. Then Rhaena shields her eyes from the sun as she sighs incredulously. “Do you realize there are ten women due in the next two weeks? I spend all day rushing around because they’re panicking about Braxton Hicks contractions. If I get one full night’s sleep between now and mid-July, it’ll be a miracle. Am I the only human alive who knows how to use the rhythm method? I explain it! I give lessons!”

You laugh and say: “I think people just really want babies, Rhaena.”

“They’re so sweet,” Helaena coos as she snuggles Sara against her chest.

“Gotta repopulate the planet,” Cregan adds.

Rhaena is disturbed. “I don’t feel ready for that.”

“Totally cool,” you assure her. “Helaena and I are keeping the average up.”

That night, logs pop and hiss in the fireplace and wind howls outside through the forest. On the walls are photographs of Aemond and Helaena and Daeron, drawings that the children have scribbled of you and Aegon. Propped in one corner of the living room is Aegon’s acoustic guitar; Harmony’s current favorite song for him to play is Big Girls Don’t Cry, though a slightly censored version of Fergalicious is a close second. Tomorrow is Aegon’s birthday. You have a cake hidden in one of the kitchen cabinets—cinnamon, honey, buttercream frosting—that you baked this morning before leaving for the construction site, along with 35 small homemade candles dyed green with chamomile. Every year he assumes you’ve forgotten, but you never do. You’re so thankful he was born. You are eternally finding new ways to convince him of this.

All five of you cuddle up in the big bed for story time. You begin as you always do, struggling to capture the kids’ attention as they crawl around giggling and rolling on top of each other: “Hey, hey, everyone look at me. You remember what we say.” Harmony knows this part my heart, Opal has the words mostly right, Noah gives it a solid effort as he mauls on a teddy bear Sophie knitted for him. “You’re beautiful. I love you. You’re doing the right thing.”

“What story should Mama tell tonight, huh?” Aegon asks as you open the book of fairytales borrowed from the makeshift community library, another one of Luke’s projects. “The Little Mermaid, Goldilocks and the Three Bears, Beauty and the Beast…oh wait, I think I might be in that one…”

Harmony says to you: “Tell the story about how Aemond saved us from the tower.”

Children understand death here. People get infections, people succumb to cancer or heart attacks or strokes or diabetes, people go out on raids or patrols and never come back, one man contracted rabies from a bat bite and was—at his request—euthanized via gunshot. Harmony is aware she had a father before Aegon, but that he had to go to heaven early, and so Aegon is her father now and loves her completely. She knows Aemond’s face from the photographs Helaena took from the beach house on the Pacific Ocean. She knows the kind of person he was from the stories she’s been told. Harmony envisions a fantastical castle keep instead of a stark metal transmission tower draped in dead wires, and she’s a bit unclear on the chronology of when she entered the picture, but she has heard about the journey to Odessa. Aegon’s map, annotated with glittery green gel pen ink, hangs on the kitchen wall.

You close the book, looking at Harmony: your hair, Aemond’s eyes. “Okay. I can tell that one.”

“Mama…” Her little forehead crinkles, questions she is at last getting old enough to start asking. “Why do some people have to go to heaven before they’re old?”

You hesitate, trying to decide how to explain; and now embers are glowing hot and scarring in your throat. It’s a fire that cools and rekindles but never burns out. Aegon speaks instead. “Because they’re heroes, Mini Chips,” he says gently. “They go to heaven so other people get to stay here longer. Aemond went to heaven so you and your mom could live here in Odessa with me.”

“So Otter’s daddy was a hero too?”

Aegon leans down to kiss the top of her head, his eyes shining. “Yeah. Exactly.”

Not just a hero, you think. A martyr. Someone who dies for a cause.

Harmony is patting your arm with her tiny outstretched hand. “The tower, Mama. Tell us about the tower.”

Now you are there again with Rio: sixty feet off the ground and clinging to metal beams hot enough to put blisters on your palms, cascading June sunlight and wild emerald fields, blood and madness behind you, the mirage of Oregon ahead, believing without reason that someone out there will save you.

And they will; they will.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Yo! Hello there blusy :3 (is that what i call you? .. sorry .. bad at context)

would u mind writing a tiny lil blurb/oneshot about Reader being like, a saleperson that walked up to Donnas estate, trying to get her to buy fabric or whatever, being totally clueless to who Donna is? Not being from the village/country and all, assuming Donna was just a very tall goth gal?

(Donna just standing there confused like.. what? Huh? Angie, if i remember the dolls name correctly, is just laughing her ass off)

Make it wholesome or i'll eat you. /hj (lighthearted!! Dont take this as a genuine threat .. aha ..)

also ignore the fact i might be writing this in like a really weird way .. this is the first time ive requested something .. so .. i hope i asked this okay?? 😵‍💫

thank you, thank you, much love, from useless internet loser named Jooseboxxe 🧃

Yesss!!!! Was it your first request?? Welcome then!!! Thank you for your love, your support, and your request!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :)))))

A clueless outsider

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Fluff,

Word count: 8,005

Summary: What's going on here...?

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

On your trips through Europe you had visited many places, you had even gotten lost in many of them, but there was nothing that could compare to that journey through the villages of Romania, to the radical change of what you had around: a poorly paved road, sinister trees that seemed to chase you, crows...

You were a merchant, a kind of nomad who traveled through old Europe trying to make it on your own. Without family and friends, traveling, selling and repeating was your routine. Visiting new places, meeting people of all kinds was always the only thing that kept you with a slight sanity. Loneliness was never your enemy, but it wasn't your ally either.

Your old GPS had stopped working a long time ago, but you, who always looked on the bright side of things, didn't give it any importance. You assumed that the thick forest was the guilty.

“What!?” you screamed when your tedious driving made a sharp turn to avoid a strange shadow in the middle of the neglected road. “Damn!” you screamed again, trying to keep control of the vehicle that, due to your sharp turn, went down a slope until it crashed spectacularly into a tree.

Luckily it was nothing serious.

“Oh…” you lamented, trying to stay calm, thinking about what you had seen. It seemed as if someone, or something, was in the middle of the road. You couldn't see it well. It looked like a vermin, perhaps, or some absent-minded peasant.

Of course, what had caused the accident wasn’t the biggest of your worries. The sound of the vehicle's engine dying over and over again was an unpleasant mockery, as was the smoke coming out of the hood.

“No, no, no,” you protested, hitting the steering wheel and giving up, getting out of the vehicle. “That's all I needed…” you sighed, rubbing your eyes and taking out your phone, looking around.

“112,” you repeated while dialing the numbers, hoping that mistake wouldn't lead to a fine, since you had spent a lot of money on the way and you didn't have any cash. “What? It must be a joke…” you sighed when no one answered on the other end of the phone.

There was no signal, not even for emergencies. You had to have an accident in the most isolated place in Romania.

Looking at the vehicle and then around you, you sighed, shaking your head. You took several steps forward to try to make out something among the trees. A small wisp of black smoke rose before you. There seemed to be a village very close, and that, at least, was hopeful.

Taking what you needed, you walked towards that village, looking up when you were close enough, admiring an imposing castle that seemed to watch over the town, a beautiful construction that you hadn't seen in any of your travel guides.

At least in that place, someone could help you, or so you thought.

Snow, old houses... A graveyard in the middle of the square... It was a picturesque place, no doubt, although sightseeing wasn't your main idea. It didn't seem abandoned, but you didn't see anyone in the tiny streets either, maybe in the castle?

“Can I help you with something, miss?” a deep voice made you jump.

You were sure there was no one around you.

From an old carriage, whose doors suddenly opened, a strange, exaggeratedly fat man appeared with a sinister smile. The fright made your mind ignore those disturbing details, and you saw that man as a possible savior.

“Um... Hello,” you said with a more timid smile than usual, trying to bring out a bit of your business friendliness, downplaying that sudden appearance, that disconcerting appearance. “The, the truth is that I do need help.”

“What can I do for you, outsider?” that man asked, looking at you cautiously, without removing from his face a smile that seemed familiar to you. “To see tourists around here isn’t very common.”

“Tourist? Oh, no, no, I...” you said, recognizing the smug air of his words, the blood of a merchant running through his veins. “I, I had an accident with my car and... My phone doesn't work.”

“I see,” the man said, shaking his head. “What a bad luck.”

“Yes…” you sighed, with a more confident smile. “Uh… I need to call a tow truck, or someone who can repair my vehicle. It's nothing serious, or so I think,” you explained with a formal tone.

“It's normal in these cases,” he said, amused, with a tone that made you a bit suspicious.

“Is there a mechanic in this village?” you asked, looking around.

“A mechanic? Well, I think there's someone who's… How to put it… Expert in manipulating vehicles,” the man explained, arching his eyebrows.

You nodded with a sigh of relief.

“Great, could you call him?” you asked in a friendly tone.

“Oh, but I'm afraid his services have a price, outsider,” the man in the carriage commented. “As well as mine.”

“Oh, sure, sure… I have, I have money,” you said, rummaging through your bag and taking out your credit card. “Well, if it's not too expensive…”

“That won't do anything here, miss, keep that piece of plastic,” he said, making an unpleasant gesture with his hand.

“What? But…” you said nervously, shaking your head.

“I've never believed in money as an intangible thing. If I can't touch it, it doesn't exist, understand?” he said.

“Yeah, but… I don't have any lei right now, I…” you whispered, looking for some change, one you couldn't find. “I only have euros in cash.”

“Euros? Oh, please…” the fat man laughed, moving the carriage at the same time. “Your euros are of no use here.”

“But, but I need help, at least let me call emergency services,” you said with a more serious tone, crossing your arms. “Are you going to charge me for that too?”

“If it's something you need… Of course I’m,” he said amused

“It's clear that you're a merchant,” you commented with a furious gasp. “An unscrupulous one…”

“Yes, you've guessed right,” he laughed again. “Is there even one with principles?”

“Me, for example, I’m also a merchant,” you hissed, looking at a dark flock of crows that shrank your spirit. It was a terrifying place.

“Oh, what a coincidence,” the man said, leaning towards you.

“Yes, fabulous,” you said ironically, looking away. “Tell me at least where I am. Is there any other town nearby?”

“I'm afraid there isn’t,” he replied. “It seems that you have run out of options... Or maybe you haven’t.”

“Explain yourself,” you said with a frown, seeing in his smile, an imminent proposal.

“Sometimes something as simple as a bag of coins can be enough to close a deal but... There are days when it’s not enough... I don't know if you get it...” the strange man explained.

“No,” you said, wanting to leave that place.

“I propose something to you, miss… Maybe you don't have money to offer me, but I think that, being a merchant, you could pay me in another way,” he said with a gloomy voice, without removing that smile from his face.

“It's true… I have, I have some products in the car, maybe if I give them to you, you can…” you said, thinking about your possibilities.

“Actually, as tempting as your offer may be, I'm afraid I don't need anything you have to offer me, however…”

“However…” you repeated through clenched teeth.

“Today I woke up a bit lazy, perhaps you would like to do me the favor of saving me the trouble of having to wander around the village doing my job,” the man commented, looking at his nails with disinterest.

“What? Do you want me to work for you?” you asked annoyed, refusing instantly. “Listen, I have to get out of this place and…”

“You want your car repaired, I want this list of orders to disappear. It's a good deal,” he said, taking out a piece of paper and handing it to you. Several names of products followed by each other were written on it.

“If I take this to those people, will someone fix my car?” you asked curiously. “Come on, it's too easy.”

“Trading seems very easy for you,” the man commented. “But if you do me this favor... Well, you'll be closer to being able to get out of here.”

“Okay, fine,” you said defeated, not finding another immediate way out of that situation. “I'll work for you. I hope you keep your word.”

“It's business, I never play with business,” he whispered. “By the way, I'm the Duke...”

“Duke? I can't say I'm glad to meet you,” you said with a mocking smile. “I'm... (Y/N),” you said, shaking the big hand of that man with a strange name.

After telling him where your wrecked car was, you accompanied the man to a warehouse of sorts, where you collected all the things on the list. It looked like an old village, with old customs. There was nothing remotely similar to the 21st century, but you didn't give it much thought. You were born with the ability to overlook things. Perhaps that's why you were that good at business.

The people of the village seemed surprised, even frightened by your presence, but your talents and your sales skills helped you with the task. They were strange people, but kind in their own way, fearful, but... somehow, easy to fool.

In a few hours, you were almost finished with that list and returned to the Duke's warehouse for your last order.

“Is that an empty cart?” the merchant asked, looking at the cart you were dragging. “Have you sold everything?”

“Yes,” you said satisfied, letting yourself fall into a chair. “I have sold the family, I think it was… Djovic, the baby clothes.”

“The clothes? Oh, that's good,” the man said, counting the coins you gave him, satisfied with your services. “Good job.”

“I suppose this won't help to fix my car,” you said distrustful of the look of the Duke, who obviously laughed amused, shaking his head.

“Mm, no, miss, but you’re on the right track,” he commented, gesturing for you to come closer, pointing to a package with what looked like fabrics. “There is one last order for you…”

“Fabrics?” you asked curiously, loading those rolls into the cart. “Okay…”

“You have to sell those fabrics to Lady Beneviento,” the man explained, with a slightly darker voice, narrowing his eyes.

You shrugged, examining the merchandise.

“Lady Beneviento…” you repeated, scratching the back of your neck. “She seems like someone important, is she from the castle?”

“Oh, no, no…” he whispered. “She lives in a house near the village.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding. “Beneviento… Okay, where does that woman live?”

“Mm,” the Duke murmured, with a strange smile. “Go towards that square over there,” he said, leaning out of the carriage and pointing to a path. “There you will see a wooden door decorated with a moon and a sun. Go through the door and follow the path, cross the bridge and it won't take long to you to reach the estate.”

“Okay, great,” you sighed, looking at the road in the distance. “Is she a seamstress or something?”

“Not exactly… She's a complicated woman, but seeing how you dealt with the villagers, I think you won't have any problems,” the man explained, with a slightly disturbing tone you didn't pay attention to.

“Wait, didn't she ask for these fabrics?” you asked curiously, looking at the small cart full again.

“The best merchant is the one who sees the need before it exists, don't you think?” the man asked.

You frowned and shook your head.

“A door with a sun and a moon, a bridge… Fine, I'll do it,” you said murmuring, grabbing the handle of the cart and leaving through the door.

“Oh, Miss (Y/N),” the Duke interrupted, with a voice that was too kind. “It was a pleasure to meet you…”

You opened your eyes at that mysterious phrase, but you didn't give it any importance, you kept walking ignoring that comment from the merchant. It was certainly a strange place, probably the strangest you had ever visited. On top of that, you were trapped there, but you couldn't complain either, at least you could do your job.

Following the Duke's instructions, you entered an even darker forest, on a path that seemed devoured by the passage of time. It didn't take long for you to see the dangerous wooden bridge and, despite your vertigo, you managed to cross it.

Everything around you seemed to be in ruins. You imagined what that place would have been like a few years ago as you walked between two abandoned cabins towards a small clearing, one with a grave in the middle, a grave that you didn't approach out of respect.

“Wow… Whoever lives here must have a lot of money,” you commented, approaching a red door, pulling the cart behind you. “Surely that Beneviento is the typical old lady who can't go to the village. I'm not surprised. It seems as if she doesn't want anyone to come near this place.”

An old elevator was waiting for you to go up. Your danger instincts were deactivated. On your travels you had met very peculiar people. Neither that extravagant merchant, nor that mysterious house seemed anything out of the ordinary.

Maybe that was it, or maybe you were just a girl of simple convictions. You always had a logical explanation for everything.

“Whoa… Incredible,” you said leaving the elevator, walking along a small path towards an old mansion, a spectacular construction next to a waterfall. “This is really curious,” you commented, admiring the subtle and dull beauty of that place, a strange, uncomfortable beauty, but a beauty nonetheless.

“Ahem,” you said, clearing your throat as you crossed the gates of the mansion, which seemed surrounded by strange plants, like an unkempt garden. “If everything goes well, I can leave soon…” you whispered as you climbed the steps and fixed your hair.

It didn't look like the place of residence of any ordinary villager. You would have to use your best skills. Carefully, you knocked softly on the door, looking curiously at your surroundings.

“Hello?” you asked when you didn't get an answer. “Is anyone home?”

“It's an outsider, Donna…” A murmur behind the door made you stand up elegantly. It seemed like a high-pitched voice, as if it were a little girl. “What do we do?”

“H-Hello?” you asked again, sure you had heard that voice. “Sorry, but, but, I came to…”

“No? Why? Oh, yes, it's true, we haven't played for a long time…” the girl's voice said again, approaching the door. “She looks like a silly girl…”

“Hey,” you protested silently, shaking your head. “What manners that girl has…”

The door opened with a creak and before you appeared a strange sight: a woman dressed completely in black, with her face covered by a veil, holding a strange doll in her arms. Her pose was straight, elegant, and her voice seemed not to want to leave her lips.

“Uh… Hello,” you said nervous at that curious sight, at that strange woman in mourning. “Sorry for the inconvenience but… Oh, well, first of all, I give you my deepest condolences.”

You lowered your head slowly and respectfully, looking curiously at the hands of that lady, hands that erased the image you had of an older woman. She looked like a young one.

“What are you talking about?” the same shrill voice from before spoke while the mouth of that doll moved, leaving you pinned to the ground, stunned.

“Oh… what?” you asked confused, frowning and looking closely at the doll. “Oh, it's a ventriloquist doll, how curious,” you said naturally, looking up at the lady's covered face.

You didn't want to ask the reason why that woman spoke through the doll. What you thought was that maybe she was dedicated to giving shows in the town, nothing out of the ordinary for someone as open-minded as you.

“Who are you calling a doll, stupid outsider?” the doll protested in an amused tone, making you laugh curiously.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” you joked, playing along with that doll. “Um... Um... Well, I'm very sorry for your loss, Lady... Beneviento?”

“What loss?” the doll asked, making your gaze separate from the lady's.

“W-Well, you're dressed in mourning and... Well, it's not very common to do it anymore but... Um, I...” you stammered.

“Do my Donna’s clothes annoy you?” the doll asked again, making you blink in confusion.

“Donna? Is that your name?” you asked curiously. “It's, it's a beautiful name...”

“Who are you?” the puppet asked again, pointing at you with its finger.

You focused your eyes well to see the strings that surely guided the doll to move. The woman in black seemed not to move, something even more mind-blowing to you.

“I'm (Y/N), I'm, I'm here for... Well, the truth is that I had an accident and... Well, I don't want to bore you with the details, but the Duke asked me to help him and...”

“The fat guy?” the doll asked, tilting her head comically.

Your eyes returned to the lady, who stood firm, with that black veil hiding her face. You nodded slowly, forcing your face into a typical merchant smile.

“Y-Yes, I… I have come to bring you these fabulous fabrics,” you said, pointing to the cart. “The Duke told me you might need them.”

“Let me get this straight…” the doll commented, with a slightly stranger voice. “You say that the Duke has sent you to sell us fabrics? You?”

“Well, yes,” you said, nodding more confidently, taking one of the small black rolls and holding it out to the woman. “Surely this shade of black will suit you.”

“It's clear that you're not a villager,” the doll joked, laughing softly. “Don't you know who you're talking to, stupid?”

“What? Oh, well, to Lady Beneviento, right?” you said absentmindedly, keeping your smile. “Donna?”

“She is Donna,” the doll said, pointing at the woman, who looked at it briefly, sighing, apparently.

“Oh, okay…” you said a bit confused, frowning. “You are Donna, right? Donna Beneviento?” you asked again.

“Are you stupid? I told you that she is Donna,” the doll insisted. “I’m Angie, Miss Angie to you, outsider.”

“Angie,” you repeated even more confused.

You had seen enough ventriloquist so that this kind of personality dissociation didn’t seem strange to you. Who knows, maybe she was giving you a free show.

“Miss Angie!” the puppet squealed, moving nervously in the arms of its owner, who whispered something you couldn't interpret. “Donna, get this over with, she makes me nervous.”

“Yes, it's true, it will be better if we talk business…” you said, interrupting that strange conversation between woman and puppet, making both of them look at you suddenly. “If you don't like this black fabric… Well, I also have…” you said, rummaging through the cart. “Oh, this grey fabric is also quite fancy.”

“Stop, stop, stop,” Angie doll interrupted, making an impossible gesture with her hands. “Are you serious? Do you intend to sell us fabrics?”

“Of course, I, I'm a merchant, it's, it's what merchants do,” you said in an informal tone, assuming that this woman spoke only through the doll, something that didn't seem strange to you.

On your travels you had met people of all kinds, she was no exception.

Lady and doll looked at each other again, shrugging comically at the same time. You laughed too, thinking, of course, that it was funny.

“It's incredible, I once saw a show of a man who had a similar puppet,” you explained, rummaging through the fabrics. “I think its name was... Billy the Rebel or something like that. The man barely moved his lips, it almost seemed like the puppet was alive.”

“Ohh...” the doll murmured in a sinister tone, with the same high-pitched voice as a child.

“Although well, wearing a veil makes things much easier, doesn't it? It's almost like cheating,” you commented amused, pointing at the lady, who fidgeted nervously, tilting her head. “Oh, I don't mean to say that you're a cheater or anything like that, it's just a comment.”

“Cheating? I can't believe it...” the doll said, shaking its head and resting a wooden hand on its forehead. “Donna, this girl is an idiot.”

“Idiot? Oh, yes, idiot for having such low prices especially for you,” you said, taking the insult easily. All those dolls always had a similar personality. “Like this ruffled fabric. I'm sure it will serve to make a beautiful dress.”

“A dress?” Angie asked, apparently holding back its laughter. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, I'm not saying that your dress is ugly,” you said apologetically, not paying attention to the lady or the doll, focusing on your work. “I also had my gothic phase,” you commented amused, comparing the black fabrics with the lady's dress, getting so close that she took a step back, nervous.

“Gothic? Like a cathedral?” the doll asked, amused.

If it weren't for the fact that that woman was a ventriloquist, you would be thinking that she was starting to make fun of you.

“No,” you said laughing. “W-Well, I used to always wear black, like, like you, wear black lipstick… Everything black, you know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t understand a word, silly,” Angie said, shaking its head, with a sinister laugh. “Besides, my dress is white.”

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about… Your dress,” you said amused but with a kinder tone. “I meant, Donna, right?”

“You have some guts to call my Donna by her name,” the doll commented, drawing your attention again. “Do you really not know who you’re talking to?”

“N-No…” you sighed, trying not to let your smile fade. “Oh, wait…” you whispered, blinking, letting curious thoughts wander freely through your mind. “Ah, okay, I get it now…”

“Do you understand your situation now, stupid?” Angie mocked, laughing again. “Then you can start running and…”

“How did I not notice before?” you murmured, interrupting that strange phrase from the doll. “Forgive me.”

“It's late to apologize, outsider,” Angie growled, while the lady slightly raised her hand towards you, a gesture you overlooked.

“The clothes are not for you, but for Angie, right?” you asked, taking out a piece of cloth similar to the doll's. “Of course, how stupid I am…”

“W-What?” the puppet asked, confused.

The lady in black lowered the hand she had raised and you ignored a shiver that ran down your back, you even thought you heard voices. It had been a hard day, you weren’t surprised by the sudden tiredness your body felt.

“Forgive me, Donna, I already said that I'm not from here and... Well, luckily for you, and for me, the fabrics can be used in the way you prefer, besides, I'm convinced that a gray dress is perfect for Angie,” you said confidently, taking out a gray plaid fabric. “The wedding dress is fine, but you're probably thinking of something simpler, maybe with this Angie can look like a very formal lady.”

“What? What?” the doll repeated. “Hey, but...”

“Well, or you could also buy this black fabric and make her a dress just like yours. Wouldn't that be cool? Black is an interesting color like any other.”

A loud laugh echoed off the rocks of that place, off the walls of that old mansion. The Angie doll laughed non-stop, leaving you confused at first, making you react the same way, laughing softly.

“Don't go on, don't go on, I'm dying,” the doll said, being lowered to the floor by its owner.

You stopped laughing when you saw how that puppet remained standing, how it even seemed to throw itself on the ground to writhe with laughter.

“Wow...” you said, bending down to observe the doll, not finding anything strange in those movements, in the lack of strings or mechanisms. “Wow, I thought this village was a bit old-fashioned, but that robot is really impressive...” you murmured, getting a little closer to the doll.

“Mm?” a confused sound came from the black veil, a tone very different from that of the doll.

The lady looked at the puppet, who continued to laugh tirelessly until the laughter disappeared for a moment.

“A robot...” the doll commented. “A robot!”  Angie shrieked, laughing again in a scandalous way. “This girl is great, Donna.”

“Do you make them? You must have a lot of clients,” you said curiously, looking at the woman in black, who seemed confused, looking at you and the doll repeatedly.

“I make porcelain dolls,” a hoarse voice came out from behind the black veil, a melodic voice, soft but damaged, as if she hadn't used it for a while.

“Oh, wow, it's comforting to talk to you, that doll is quite a naughty girl, isn't she?” you said amused, causing more laughter from the puppet. “Wow, that's also very, interesting... It's not very common.”

“I suppose is not,” she commented, relaxing her shoulders and gesturing towards the doll, who stopped laughing immediately, standing up again. “It's not common to see a stranger around here either.”

“How curious, everyone in this village has said the same thing,” you commented, scratching the back of your neck, no longer feeling that strange heaviness in your head. “I'm surprised it's not a tourist spot, the castle is amazing.”

“The castle? Donna, the castle!” Angie squealed, laughing again. “She likes the castle…”

“Of course, it's wonderful, what century is it from?” you asked curiously. “I'd like to visit it.”

“Oh, yes, I'm sure Alcina would like you to visit it too…” the doll commented, approaching its owner with a walk that was too soft for a robot.

“It's from the 17th century,” the woman said, with a serious, cold tone. “You said you had an accident.”

“Oh, yes, well,” you said nervously. “My car crashed into a tree and… I ran into the Duke and what a surprise, he doesn't accept that I pay a mechanic with my credit card so he offered me to work for him.”

“Credit card?” the lady asked, tilting her head curiously. “I'm afraid I don't know what you mean.”

“Oh, um…” you said, rummaging through your bag in confusion and pulling out your wallet. “My, my credit card… You know,” you said, taking out the card and making a gesture as if you were going to pay with it. “No?”

“No,” she said, with a strange sigh. “Can I take a look?” she asked, extending her pale hand towards you.

You, trusting, handed her the card. It seemed incredible to you, but this woman had no idea what you were talking about.

“Is that money? It's just a piece of plastic,” the doll said, letting Donna show it to the puppet as well, giving it back to you shortly after.

“Um, yeah, well…” you stammered, putting away your wallet. “But let's stop talking about me… So… Do you want some fabric for your dolls?”

“Give me all of them,” she said in a whisper, making the doll gasp in surprise. “I'll go get your money.”

You nodded in relief and looked curiously at the animatronic doll, who was impatiently tugging at her owner's dress.

“But Donna, are you going to let her go? She's an outsider… Hey, Donna, silly Donna, listen to me…”

Luckily, the payment was large and after a friendly farewell you were able to return to the village. Your little encounter with Donna Beneviento wasn’t what you expected, but that woman with an Italian accent seemed curious to you, enough so that you couldn't stop thinking about her during your return. She was a strange woman, but relatively normal.

Despite that black veil, you didn't see anything that made you think you were in danger, nothing at all. In fact, you could say that the doll technology was amazing. Maybe that strange woman was like that because she was some kind of genius.

“Ugh, it’s an useless piece of junk…” a male voice said as you approached the warehouse. “But I guess I’ll find a place for it at the factory…”

“I think so, Lord Heisenberg.” The Duke’s voice made you walk faster, finding yourself in the warehouse with a curious sight: your car was there, without any kind of vehicle that had brought it.

Next to it was the Duke, in his carriage, and next to him was a man with a hat. He seemed like a bit of a strange man, but after meeting the doll lady it wasn’t something too out of place.

“Ahem,” you cleared your throat to get the attention of the men, who turned sharply, staring at you, as if they were surprised.

“Miss, (Y/N), you’re back,” the Duke said with a fake smile, unable to hide his surprise. “I’m impressed.”

“Hey, didn't you say that the girl had gone to Beneviento's estate?” the other man asked, with an equally surprised smile.

“Yes, that's right, Lord Heisenberg,” the merchant said, looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

“I've already sold the fabrics, Donna seems like an interesting woman,” you commented without giving importance to those disturbing comments, leaving the empty cart in a corner.

“Interesting?” they both said at the same time, looking at each other with a strange expression.

“Mm,” you murmured, crossing your arms. “Oh, you must be the mechanic, I'm (Y/N), surely the Duke must have told you about me,” you said with a rehearsed smile, extending your hand towards the man, who shook it with a soft laugh.

“Of course,” he whispered. “Karl Heisenberg,” he introduced himself, bringing your hand to his lips in a gentlemanly manner. “It's a pleasure…”

“Yes, whatever,” you said, removing your hand with an informal gesture and approaching your car. “It would be a pleasure if you told me how much is going to cost that. You can fix it, right?”

“Fix it?” Karl asked, looking at you over his glasses, with an evil smile, one which at least looked evil.

“Ahem, Lord Heisenberg…” the Duke interrupted, with a fake smile. “Miss (Y/N) and I made a deal. She worked for me and you would be so kind as to repair her vehicle.”

“Oh, I see…” the supposed mechanic sighed, frowning. “It seems that you are losing faculties, Duke.”

“It seems that way…” the merchant whispered, making you blink in confusion. “Lady Beneviento has not been a problem for her…”

“Yes, it’s unusual,” the shorter man commented, shaking his head.

“Oh, well,” you interrupted innocently. “She is a strange woman, but the truth is that she seemed kind.”

“Kind…” both men sighed at the same time.

“Yes, and that robot of hers, the Angie doll, is impressive, it almost seems that it’s alive,” you said approaching your car, without giving importance to your words.

“What?” they asked in unison, looking at each other intensely and bursting into a loud laugh.

“I don't see what the joke is,” you said, annoyed by that mocking laugh. “Come on. Tell me how many days of work it's going to cost me.”

“I don't know, Miss…” the Duke said, wiping away the tears that caused his loud laughter, with the other man looking at you with a sardonic smile. “Wait a… “

The phone in the warehouse rang, interrupting.

“Allow me, just in case you get some exercise,” the Heisenberg guy joked, picking up the phone himself. “Hallo? Oh, ciao, dear…” he said in an amused but kind tone. “No, no, Angie… Ugh, stop… Shut the hell up!” he shrieked furiously.

Angie?

“Yes, that's better… I love the sound of your voice, little sister,” Karl said, leaning on the small table. “Yes, the fat guy is here… And his new assistant too, I think you’ve met her… Oh, yes… I don’t think Miranda would be happy with that… Oh, okay, okay… Paint? Well, that’s not my area of ​​expertise but… Oh, yes, well, I know, I’ll tell him… ciao, ciao…”

You barely listened to the conversation. You just stared at the wreckage of your car.

“Donna,” the man said, sighing and approaching the Duke, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “She wants some paint.”

“Paint? I sent her a few cans last week,” the merchant commented.

Heisenberg shrugged.

“Looks like you have more work to do, girl…” the man murmured, walking past you and out the door. “Duke, do me a favor and keep me informed, this is going to be interesting…”

“Of course, Lord Heisenberg,” the Duke said, looking at you moments later. “Well, (Y/N), you can sleep here for a while, until you pay off your debt.”

“Great…” you sighed, shaking your head.

“But now you have to go back to the Beneviento estate, apparently she needs paint…”

Without asking many more questions, you complied with his order, returning shortly after, chatting again with that curious, strange woman but… Whose presence seemed comforting to you.

Your car wasn’t going to be fixed overnight, and you began to accept that job as a new routine. Every day you walked around the village doing that man's job. None of the villagers seemed to want to answer your questions, none seemed… None seemed to believe that you were still there.

Confident and without any fear in the face of all those signs of danger, you continued working, and most importantly, you continued walking towards that dark mansion, having longer and longer conversations with that lady in black. Time passed so quickly that you barely noticed.

One of those days, mysteriously, the lady in black invited you to enter that mansion, you could see the portrait of a beautiful woman on the stairs, her portrait, or so you thought. Questions were constantly stalking your head, but your ignorance was your best protection.

Surely that lonely woman had suffered terribly, channeling part of her personality into that strange robot. Something disturbing, but also mind-blowing.

“So is he your brother?” you asked, sitting on an old sofa, with a cup of hot tea in your hands easing the cold.

“Something like that,” the veiled lady whispered, doing the same in front of you, with that robot roaming freely around the house.

“Oh, well, he seems like a strange man,” you said with a smile. “Do you think he can fix my car?”

“I don't know, I guess he can,” she said, with a somber tone, putting her cup elegantly on the table. “Tell me something about you.”

“About me?” you asked, with your cheeks blushing, something that sweet voice caused on your face. “There's not much to tell. I prefer, I prefer you talk to me about yourself.”

“No,” she said dryly, shaking her head. “I asked first, you're not interested in my life.”

“No? So, why are you interested in mine?” you asked amused with your merchant attitude speaking for you. “I'd like to know something about Angie.”

“What do you want to know?” the lady asked, scratching her knee through her dress, as if she were nervous. “I'm not sure I can answer your questions correctly.”

“Mm, well, to begin with... Is the voice yours or it has some kind of voice box?” you asked, pointing at the puppet, who approached curiously.

“Are you blind, silly? It's incredible that you haven't noticed yet,” the doll said, laughing amused again, like every time you made a comment about her. “Why are you wasting your time with that stupid girl? Miranda is going to get angry...”

“Miranda?” you asked curiously. It wasn't the first time you heard that name in the village, it seemed like someone dangerous... “Hey, come here,” you said, taking the doll by surprise. “Do you run on batteries? Where do you have them?”

“Batteries? Let me go, silly!” the doll protested while you searched for the electrical part of that robot, one that, of course, you didn't find, turning pale and lowering the doll to the floor with trembling hands.

“Um...” you murmured a bit dizzy. There was no mechanism that made the doll move. “My God... It can't be. It's, it's impossible...”

“Mm, it probably is for someone like you,” Donna commented, without making the slightest effort to explain herself, to make you understand why that doll was alive. “Are you starting to understand your situation?”

“N-No, not really,” you said, with a cold sweat running down your neck. “I don't know what kind of joke this is but... I'm, I'm starting to get scared.”

“Okay, be scared then,” the woman said with an amused laugh, standing up. “Angie, call Mother Miranda”

“Right away,” the doll said, running towards a small table with a telephone. “What do I tell her?”

“Tell her that the outsider won't be a problem anymore,” she murmured, walking towards you. “I'm sorry, (Y/N). I've really enjoyed your company, but you being here can cause me problems.”

“What? D-Donna, what are you talking about?” you asked nervously, moving restlessly on the couch, swallowing as the lady approached.

“I'm afraid you've chosen the worst place to have an accident, ragazza…” she whispered, bringing one of her hands to the black cloth that covered her face, removing it with a sigh, revealing you her true appearance, one that you couldn't even imagine.

You blinked several times, with the portrait of the stairs in your head, admiring the beauty of that woman, a special one, a beauty that a hideous scar on her right side tried to hide, but was unsuccessful.

“I hope you can forgive me,” the lady said, with a sad look, with her only eye shining due to a tear that left it as she moved her hand towards you.

“Forgive you, why?” you asked stuttering, shaking your head to get out of the daydream that beautiful woman caused you. “Oh, you have nothing to apologize for… We all, we all have flaws, you know? Besides, you are, you are a beautiful woman… I don’t think covering your face is rude.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, squeezing the veil in her hands. “Doesn’t my appearance scare you?”

“Well… It doesn’t…” you whispered, your mind sending you a thousand danger signals. “You were worried about that, weren’t you? You thought it was rude not to show your face but you were afraid to do so, right, Donna?”

“Cosa? But, but, (Y/N),” she said nervously, frowning, breathing heavily.

“You are beautiful, really,” you said with a sincere smile, getting up and putting yourself at her height, running a hand over her wounded cheek, one that she removed with a slap. “I’m sorry… What happened to you?”

“Um... I...” the lady stammered, turning her face away from your curious hand, running one of hers through her black hair, as if she were going to have an anxiety attack.

“Mother Miranda, I'm Angie, your faithful friend...” the doll's shrill voice interrupted an intense look, a look between you two that awakened something inside you, something that went beyond your intention to trade or seem friendly.

You really wanted to be, you wanted... To be closer to her.

“Cazzo...” the brunette hissed, walking quickly towards the doll and abruptly hanging up the phone, resting her hands on the table.

“Hey! I was talking to...!” the doll protested, jumping on the floor.

“No one has ever told me that I am beautiful,” the lady whispered, looking at you out of the corner of her eye.

“Well, I say what I think,” you sighed with a tender smile, one that she returned to you as she turned slowly. “By the way, who is Mother Miranda?”

“She is nobody, it doesn't matter,” the woman said, walking slowly towards you, playing with her hands. “Have you… have you finished your work?”

“Yes, I always come here last, so I can stay a bit longer. It's very nice to talk to you.”

“That's what Josef said…” the doll commented, amused, walking away when she received a deadly look from her owner.

“(Y/N), I… I, I would like… Well… That you would stay for dinner with me,” Donna said, with an innocent and nervous look. “I'm convinced that the Duke doesn't feed you properly.”

“You got it right,” you said amused. “I'm sick of that damn soup,” you joked again, pretending a grimace of disgust.

“Good, because… Because I would like… Maybe you want…”

“It will be a pleasure, Donna,” you said nodding, making her smile widen.

That dinner marked a different stage in your ostentatious stay in the village. Her gaze was tender, it was almost as if she was looking at you for the first time. As best she could, she explained some details of her life, her childhood, her loneliness…

You knew there was something she wasn't telling you, something she was hiding, but you didn't insist. That comforting feeling next to her grew, turning dinners into a pleasant routine. You couldn't find out anything else about the village, you weren't even interested in the living doll anymore. Donna seemed to be the only thing you had to pay attention to.

As time went by, that closeness went beyond the limits of a pure friendship. Tension began to be present in your encounters. You never believed in love at first sight, but you didn't believe in living dolls either, so... It was never too late to discover something new.

“It was delicious... That tidamisu was the best thing I've ever tasted in my life,” you said, wiping yourself with a napkin.

“Tiramisu,” the lady corrected you, with a pleased smile at your praise. “I'm glad you liked it.”

“Yes, you should sell them, I can help you,” you said amused, pointing at yourself, earning a tender laugh from the lady in black, who shook her head.

That phrase seemed innocent, but, certainly, a strange feeling accompanied the tension of your dinners with Donna. The feeling that maybe you weren't uncomfortable in that place, the feeling of leaving your travels and staying there permanently. You had work, food... A friend, or at least that's what you thought... You couldn't be happier.

“I have enough with the dolls,” Donna commented, smiling.

But there was something else that night, something that made you sad, something you had to tell her.

“The Duke told me this morning that the car is ready,” you said in a whisper, making the lady look at you briefly and then go back to finishing her dessert. “I can leave tomorrow.”

“Oh, well… It's, it's good news,” she said in a strange tone, like sad or disappointed.

“But I don't know, maybe, maybe I'll stay here a little longer. I'm very comfortable in this village,” you said sighing, rocking in the chair.

You almost fell when the lady in black suddenly slammed her fist on the table.

“No,” she said with a dangerous hiss, shaking her head. “You have to go.”

“But, but…” you stammered confused, blinking erratically. “I would like to stay here, with you…”

“No! You can't stay! You can't!” she shouted, furiously throwing the plates off the table, breaking them into a thousand pieces.

“Donna, Donna!” the doll shrieked, trying to calm her owner's fury.

“Donna, hey, calm down…”you said, getting up to put your hands on her shoulders. She seemed out of it, terribly nervous. “I, I've been thinking about it and… Well, maybe, maybe it's okay here…”

“No, no, no… You have to leave this place, it's, it's dangerous,” she murmured, letting you take her sweaty hand. “Please, go, I’m begging you.”

“Dangerous?” you asked curiously, frowning. “Donna, what's going on in this place?”

“You don't want to know and, and it's better this way, okay? You have to go as soon as possible, you have to go before… Cazzo… Please…” she whispered, now squeezing your hands with a pleading look. “I don't expect you to understand but… You have to get out of here. (Y/N)…”

“Okay, I…” you said, feeling the lady's fear, one that seemed impossible for someone like her. Maybe she was serious. “Then, then come with me. Let's go on a trip through Europe, the two of us…”

“I can't…” she whispered, shaking her head. “I can't get out of here…”

“Donna,” you sighed sad, disappointed. The story ended before it started.

“You're the only person I've really talked to in many years… I… I'll always remember you…” she sighed again, searching for something among the broken plates, taking out a kind of medallion hanging from a golden chain. “I wanted to give you this so, so you wouldn't forget me…”

“I could never forget you, Donna,” you whispered, getting a little closer, putting one hand on her cheek while the other played with the medallion. “But, but I don't have anything to give you.”

She laughed, letting a tear slide down her cheek, caressing you with her soft hand.

“But I have something in mind…” you sighed, closing your eyes, slowly approaching her lips, kissing them softly.

It was a short kiss, but one that confirmed the rumors you heard in your heart. Goodbyes were always the worst part of your trips, and even more so, having to leave such a wonderful woman.

“Don't forget about me, okay?” the lady sobbed, kissing you again and resting her forehead on yours. “I will never do, (Y/N)…”

You nodded, deciding it was the best time to leave, to let her hands go and get away from the warmth of her gaze.

The cold of the night cut your skin, tears froze on your cheeks. Why did you have to leave? It seemed like an absurd question because, even though you wanted to stay, you obeyed that woman in black, the woman you were terribly in love with.

The Duke and the Heisenberg guy kept their word and your car was waiting for you. Sobbing, finding a growing danger in that place, you put the key in the ignition, taking a last look at the village.

“Danger... what danger? Damn it...” you protested, hitting the steering wheel.

It was time to go back, to go back to your old life. You had no family, no friends, no one waiting for you, no promising future. All you had was Donna, and you were going to leave her behind because of an absurd fear that you didn't understand.

You put your hand on the keys, but you didn't turn them.

“What am I doing? Fuck it, throw me all the living dolls you want, I'm staying with you…” you hissed, leaving the vehicle with a bang and throwing the keys into the darkness, returning to the warm lights of the village.

It didn't take long for you to arrive back at the estate to hear some pitiful sobs coming from inside the house.

“You're stupid, Donna, why did you let her go?” the doll's shrill voice asked, which seemed to comfort a broken lady, who was crying uncontrollably.

“It's the best, Angie, if Miranda finds her…” she murmured.

“You're stupid, aren't you a Lord? Miranda won't do anything to her, she's always let you do whatever you want,” Angie said.

 You listened carefully behind the door.

“But, but she is an outsider, and she doesn't like outsiders... She will kill her...”

“No, she won't, besides, the girl is stupid, she doesn't even know what's going on here,” the doll whispered.

“Gods… Angie, you're right… Cazzo, cazzo, cazzo!” Donna shouted, seeming to be running. “I have to stop her from leaving! Angie, the veil, quick! Angie!”

The door suddenly opened, making the lady freeze when she saw you.

“(Y/N)…” she murmured nervously. “You haven't left…”

“No, I haven’t” you said amused, moving the veil away from her face and kissing her slowly. “I don't know what's going on here but… I don't care, Donna, I want, I want to stay with you…”

[townpostin]

Highway Damage Disrupts Bus Services to Odisha Border

20 km detour affects 60 daily buses, causing passenger frustration A critical 3.8 km stretch of highway near Chakradharpur has deteriorated, halting direct bus routes to Odisha. JAMSHEDPUR – Bus operations between Chakradharpur and the Odisha border have been disrupted due to severe damage on a 3.8 km stretch of highway, forcing vehicles to take a 20 km detour. The affected road segment,…

[f-15-h]

This only time I will tried to write a AU out because my friend and I wanna see horrible stuff happen to D16 in a shrine maiden story that’s kinda fatal frame inspired

Warning for some blood and gore

Also I’m not really good at this

I’m going to base cybertron’s official religion on worship Primus and the 13 Primes

Orion come from a village far from Iacon that only worship primus and in their tales primus is quite malevolent and all transformers life it’s an exchange. Because of that village have a tradition of live sacrifice of every 50 cycles they will sacrifice a cogless shrine maiden by using the impalement ritual to Primus. D16 comes online without a cog and was taken away and raised to be the next shrine maiden. The cogless shrine maiden are free of earthly attachments and when they are out in the public during celebrations they masked their faces so people wouldn’t know what they look like.

Orion was the village troublemaker before his family moved to Iacon for better opportunities prior to this decade’s ritual, accidentally broken into the temple’s back yard in fall on top of the shrine maiden. Those two became friends somehow. And occasionally Orion will try to sneak D out of the shrine at night. Orion got beaten up few times for seeing D’s face, almost every time they get caught (which is only 2time ) D would cover for him “I got loss while wondering around in backyard and didn’t realize I’m in the forest.” Is a common excuse d used.

The priests and guardians would subject D16 to painful and humiliating punishments when she step out of the line, D16 followed a strict schedule everyday and the Priests and guardians are very strict and almost psychologically abusive to the cogless Shrine maiden. Even she is out at the courtyard she wear her mask and don’t talk to anyone.

Then their final meeting up before Orion moved D gives her bell bracelet to Orion as a reminder of her, Orion went to Iacon with his family . Few months later it’s the day of the ritual which D was deemed as corrupted by the earthly attachments because her longing to see her lover(very one sided just coming from D) Orion once more and was punished by the a 2rd ritual of gutting her body while she was still conscious. Her body parts were stored in different jars in boxes around the shrine, after 7 days her ghost returned and brutally killed the inhabitants of the temple in same way she was then cursed the mountain the village was located.

D in her ritual outfit

Over the years the village population dropped, younger generations either moved away or dead from strange causes, only the few older people around. The government tried to boost the economy by opening a tunnel which for some reason a horrible accident occurred during it’s construction the workers bodies was somehow either impaled or gutted empty and amputated unlike the usual tunnel collapsing. There was a vacation villa opened once and it was a sight of a mess shooting, the shooter in their confession said “the pale lady , Megatron, made me do it”. (Due to allegedly the pale bot looks like Megatronus Prime, in urban legends she was dub as Megatron).

Megatron aka the pale lady(D16’s ghost)

In Iacon city, Orion was on his last year of his master program, his best friends Bee and Elita 1 were planning a summer trip. Bee who comes from a sheltered religious family who just found freedom from his family during his university years is crazy about everything supernatural suggested to go to that mountain because he heard there was a temple that had live sacrifices which Orion try to brush it off as “Oh it’s just a fairy tale to scare sparklings”

The mountain now is more or less a common suicide forest and the road that leads to the village is the road has the most freak accidents. Bee wants do some ghost hunting and a road trip with the gang for the summer. Orion who has some distance memories from his childhood which his family don’t like to talk about agreed to go.

Before they depart, Orion receives a letter from his childhood village and it was from D-16, his childhood friend. Which he thought Dee is still alive when he got the letter, he just thought because her job as the shine maiden she don’t really have time to reconnect with him.

Notes

The sacrifice of the last 50 cycle before D was Starscream, a daughter from a high guard family. Her family seen one of their 4 daughters was a candidate as a great honor.Even as a somewhat willing sacrifice her ghost still haunts the shrine with the strong desire to see the night sky again.

D-16 was the only daughter and family of Terminus, a miner, Who committed suicide in the forest after d was taken from him. D’s spider lily head dress was given by him.

Bonus:

Ghost Starscream the grinning maiden

[thepastisalreadywritten]

Hadrian's Wall

Hadrian's Wall is an impressive masterpiece of military engineering built along steep ups and downs that cross space and history between England and Scotland.

The old wall, sculpted for almost 2000 years by wind and rain, climbs over hills, immerses itself in a moor to suddenly resurface among the blades of light of a wood, a karst presence that seems to absorb the energy of landscape to challenge its gravity and logic in a rollercoaster of harsh ups and downs that cross space and history.

Hadrian's Wall is no longer England but it is not yet Scotland, even if the land to the north seems wilder.

But perhaps it is just a state of mind of those who look at it, subtly altered by the emotion of treading the same stones on which the Roman legionaries walked.

In reality, unlike what many believe, the Wall is within English territory, even if it has helped define the borders of the two countries since the emperor from whom it takes its name ordered its construction in 122 AD to "separate the Romans from the barbarians," the hostile tribes of the Picts who populated today's Scotland, a tough nut to crack even for the Roman legions.

To build it in just six years, about fifteen thousand men were employed, three legions that faced the challenges of a terrain carefully chosen to exploit its advantages.

The result is an impressive masterpiece of military engineering, a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1987, stretching from one coast of England to the other for eighty Roman miles, about one hundred and seventeen kilometers from Solway Firth to the west and Wallsend to the east.

It is one of the many place names linked to its existence and then extending southwards with ports and coastal fortifications.

For nearly three centuries, Hadrian's Wall was northernmost and most fortified boundary of the Roman limes, a gigantic defensive system that stretched for over five thousand kilometres — from the Atlantic coast of Great Britain to the Black Sea across Europe — then continuing through present-day Middle East to Red Sea and from there cutting across North Africa to the Atlantic.

The 117km long (80 Roman miles) Hadrian's Wall was punctuated by 14 main forts, 80 minor ones and 2 watchtowers every third of a mile.

In addition to the actual wall, mainly made of stone, about 5m high and up to 3m thick, becoming six metres thick in the earthen sections, the Wall was reinforced by a ditch bristling with pointed stakes, a military road that connected the forts and allowed any point to be reached quickly and by a deep embankment, the Vallum.

The forts, rectangular in plan, varied in size according to the importance of the garrison, a pattern repeated with slight differences along the entire limes that protected the borders of the empire.

A moat and a wall punctuated by towers protected the perimeter and each side had a gate protected by two massive towers.

Inside were the headquarters — the praetorium where the praefectus castrorum reside; barracks; a hospital; warehouses and latrines, generally under the walls, while the bathrooms were outside the fortifications.

In granary, food supplies were stored to face the harsh winters or possible sieges.

In the Vicus, the civilian settlement, lived the families of the soldiers, often auxiliaries who officially could not marry.

In these villages that grew spontaneously around the forts, merchants, artisans and prostitutes also lived, attracted by the soldiers' wages.

There were also temples dedicated to Roman, local and even oriental deities that reflected the different religions of soldiers from all over the empire because Romans were very tolerant as long as the social order and the emperor were not questioned.

🎥: © pindropandhop via IG

[alpaca-clouds]

Walkable Cities vs Americans

Let me talk about this in more details, after I already brought it up on Monday.

I am very aware that most users of this wonderful hellsite are very much living on some stolen land in North America. And hence are used to urban sprawl and to not getting anywhere without using a car, because it is not really feasible.

I know this. I am from Germany, but I have spent about 3,5 months in the USA between 2013 and 2014.

Now, while living in Germany the longest distance I have ever lived away from a proper supermarket was about 12 minutes on foot. At the time we had moved into a newly constructed area and for the first two years the supermarket that was supposed to be build there was just delayed. Hence the next supermarket was a bit away. After that supermarket was build, though, we had one in just 5 minutes walking distance.

This is of course connected to the fact that I always have lived in towns and cities - and that the few years of my childhood where I lived in a village... That village still had a supermarket just at the end of my street. Yes, I do have a friend who lives in a very rural part of Eastern Germany, who has to drive 40 minutes by car to reach a supermarket, as she is basically living in the German equivalent of a food desert.

Technically I was lucky, too, when I lived in the USA. Because the dorm I was being housed in was right across the street of a supermarket. I learned how ever that said supermarket was a) expensive as hell, and b) did not have good food. So, after trying it three times, I opted to once a week take a handcart and make my way over to the next Amish market about three miles away.

But something I generally learned while there was: People look at you as if you are insane for walking. I still very much remember when I was walking through the city looking for the harbor and I asked some old ladies for directions. "Oh, yeah, that is just in this direction. But it is more than a mile. Are you sure you wanna walk that?" And I just stood there: *confused German stare*

In fact, when i arrived at the dorm, someone was like: "Oh, great. We should celebrate and get to the coldstone! Let's take the car." And then we took the car to drive like 300 meters. And again I was standing there like: *confused German stare*

But... It is a bit of a two-sided issue, right? Because yeah, American cities are build around cars. If there are sidewalks they are often not easy to walk on. And if you are disabled, then tough luck. Chances are the side walks are not accessible for you. Especially if you need mobility aids of some sort.

And suburbia is not really accessible without a car either way. Especially not safely, given there are often only few street lights for crossing the roads and such.

Sure, the city centers are a bit easier to get around in. But even there you often have to walk a good way. Of course, given that the zoning laws often keep housing from anything commercial. While over here in Germany we just have a supermarket in the middle of a housing district, or have shops on the ground floor of a building that is otherwise used for housing that is often not possible in the US. And I get that.

And still... I do feel that there also is a bit of an issue a lot of folks have with even trying to just not use the car. Again: Who the flying fuck uses a car for 300 meters? (Unless they are disabled.) And that is stuff I saw several times in the USA. And in that case there was a proper and even fairly wide sidewalk. So... WHY?! Just WHY?!

[dailyadventureprompts]

Villain: The Gleebringer Battalions

Gallard Gleebringer only ever wanted to make people happy. By using his skills as a toymaker and inventor he sought to fill the world with devices that would bring wonder, and save people from the drudgery of labour to give them more time for play.

Seeking to save his neighbours from the horrors of war, and under the patronage of the battlehungry local margrave, Gallard has a constructed an autonomous army of toy soldiers that in some weeks time will go berserk and begin rampaging across the land, playing out an inexplicable war-game that will leave villages sacked and the entire region destabilized.

It’s up to the party to notice the looming crisis and do something about it before the toys begin their march, As the powers that be are not only blind to any fault in their shiny new war machines but actively willing to imprison the party for jeopardizing "the defence of the realm" .

Adventure Hooks:

Scraping together enough coin to fund a construct army has left the margrave’s treasury more than a little tight pursed, leading them to skimp on things like repairing infrastructure, public festivals, and resupplying their garrisons. There’s plenty of opportunities for adventurers as bandits and monsters propagate through the wilderness, and the lesser nobles rely on mercenaries to guard their holdings. Its only so long before the cracks begin to show however, as roads wash out and the realms defenders turn to brigandry. 

The party end up in a tavern drinking with an old military officer previously employed by the margrave. She’s iresome and illtempered, but she’ll crawl out of her cups long enough to tell the tale of how after twenty years of loyal service she was let go for protesting when some of the troops under her command were killed in a training exercise.  If the party press a little she might just let it slip that it wasn’t training so much as a field test of Gleebringer’s machines, which her boss insisted be against real troops. Later on, they’ll find an official bounty posted for the woman, who’s rallied some of her fellow discontented soldiers and started on a campaign of sabotage. 

For his part Gleebringer is quite blind to the looming threat, having been carried by his ever shifting attention to yet another new project once the design and manufacture of the armies were complete. The party might get a chance to talk to him however if they manage to sneak into the excursive exposition he's hosting in the province's capital, either by riding in on the coattails of a wealthy patron, or by sneaking in among the serving staff. Actually getting an audience with the toymaker will be even more difficult as the margrave has set his agents to watch and protect Gleebringer, and it's only so long before they notice the uninvited guest have crashed the private function.

Setup: While many gnomes dabble in artifice, it was early in his apprenticeship with the village toymaker that a young Gallard discovered both his love and prodigious talent for the technical arts. It wasn't just a magical knack, it was an eye for detail that had people saying that the gnome's creations seemed to be alive long before he figured out how to make them move on their own.

Soon Gleebringer toys were in demand across kingdoms, and Gallard found himself not only patronized by innumerable wealthy merchants and nobles but sought out by engineers and craftsfolk of all kinds who realized the genius packed away in his creations.

Gallard didn't let the fame or the fortune go to his head, instead using his growing connections and commission budget to experiment with even more complex designs. For example: scaling up from music boxes to clockwork bands, and eventually an automated opera house.

As a man who dreamed all his life of building a flying town, it was safe to assume that Gallard had his head in the clouds. He hated to see people suffer but seldom thought through the implications of his inventions, Such as when an automated lumber mill intended to supply materials for his projects put an entire town of foresters out of work. This penchant for distraction was only encouraged by the margrave, who saw the military applications of Gleebringer's gifts from the moment a clockwork dragon bought for one of his children ended up badly maiming one of the servants who saught to tidy up the toyblock castle it had been charged with guarding.

Over the past ten years, the Margrave has become Gallard's most generous patron, supplying him with workshops ( staffed by apprentaces who's loyalty can be counted on) and an endless series of new projects ( which always end up increasing the margrave's power and standing at the cost of the common good).

Art 1

Art 2