#approaches people out of curiosity no ill intent but that’s not appreciated

[artsybookworms]

Percabeth royalty AU where Annabeth is the Princess of Olympia, a thriving kingdom along the coast of the Aegean Sea. She’s heir to the throne and has been preparing for this role her entire life. Annabeth loves her people and firmly believes that a good ruler needs to talk with them personally in order truly understand what is and isn’t in the kingdom’s best interest. This is something she argues about frequently with her mother, as Athena thinks reports from the castle staff are reliable enough, and a Princess shouldn’t be seen mingling with peasants. After years of making little progress with her mother, Annabeth decides enough is enough. She tells Athena she’s visiting a nearby kingdom for diplomacy reasons, packs her plainest clothes, and departs on a week-long trip to live among Olympia’s townsfolk.

Percy is the Prince of Sirenius, the largest underwater kingdom of the Mediterranean. As the youngest son of King Poseidon, he’s lived in his brother’s shadow his whole life. But he doesn’t mind, for the most part. While Prince Triton has to learn lineages and history and royal etiquette, Percy has the freedom to explore the castle and surrounding villages. In fact, he’s beloved by his people since he makes regular visits to town. Still, he can’t shake his curiosity about life outside the water. Although merpeople take human form when on land, they’re forbidden to go beyond the sea’s borders. There’s no telling what would happen if they revealed their presence to the unsuspecting landfolk above. But when Queen Sally contracts an illness that no doctor can identify or heal, Percy wonders if the humans might have a cure. It’s a long shot, but it’s the only shot he has. Desperate for a miracle, he sneaks out of the castle in the middle of the night and makes his way towards Olympia.

Annabeth is wandering through an open-air market when a man approaches her to ask for directions to the nearest apothecary shop. His accent is unfamiliar, and when he steps into the light, his green eyes seem impossibly bright.

“This is actually my first time here,” she admits, “So I’m not really sure.”

He beams at her, and it’s so infectious she can’t help but smile back.

“That’s a relief; I thought I was the only newcomer here. Um… where is here, exactly?”

Annabeth tries to suppress a laugh.

“You’re really lost, huh? We’re in Olympia, the kingdom northeast of Piraneus. Where did you say you’re from?”

The man looks a bit flustered, although she doesn’t know why.

“You, uh, probably haven’t heard of it. It’s really small.”

“Try me,” Annabeth says with a smirk. She didn’t spend hours memorizing every surrounding kingdom, city, and town for nothing, after all.

“Siloneon,” he says, to her surprise. She’s never heard the name, so he’s either very far from home (and very lost)… or he’s lying. But she prides herself on her judge of character, and her gut is telling her he has no ill intentions. Still, it might be a good idea to keep an eye on him.

“Hmm, must be in the East. I haven’t heard of it. We could stick together, find directions—if you want? I’d appreciate the company.”

“That would be great,” he exclaims, relieved not only to not have been pressed further, but also to have found a companion.

“I’m Percy.”

For a second, she considers giving a false name, but hers is common enough. Besides, for as confused as he is, she doubts he’ll draw the connection between her and the Princess. She takes his hand and gives it a small shake, amused by his puzzled expression. It must not be a common custom for him.

“Annabeth. Pleased to meet you.”

#percy jackson #annabeth chase #percabeth #pjo #leo valdez #nico di angelo #hoo #percy jackson headcanon #piper mclean #hazel levesque

[m-iswriting]

Mariposa

Bruno Madrigal x OC (Jimena Montoya)

Synopsis: One summer day, while chasing butterflies, Jimena comes across a lonely looking boy.

The story of how Bruno and Jimena first met.

A/N: Hi! This story takes place before the movie, when both Bruno and Jimena are 8. This is my first story for Encanto, and feedback is highly appreciated.

gif by @lovewillthaw-j

Jimena had always loved the river. 

She relished the feel of the cool water flowing between her fingers, playing in the mud despite knowing how angry her mother would get if she ruined her dress, picking the wild flowers that grew just about the riverbank and wearing them in her hair.

Most of all, Jimena loved the butterflies. It seemed as if there were a thousand of them that lived there, fluttering and flying as she watched. 

This one day, after Jimena had finished helping her parents at the bakery, she ran off to the river, her eyes wide with wonder as she saw a pair of beautiful long wings, blue with pink spots, resting on top of a flower. She inched closer, looking at the butterfly intently, when a loud thumping sound made it fly away.

Angrily, she turned around, ready to scold whoever scared the butterfly away, when she heard little sniffing sounds from behind the bush. With the same care she had employed with the butterfly, Jimena approached the bush, taking a peek.

A boy, the same age as her, was sitting on the ground, his knees against his chest. Jimena tilted her head, trying to remember where she had seen him before. 

"Bruno Madrigal?" she asked, her face lighting up in recognition. "What are you doing here?"

Bruno looked up at her, green eyes wide with fear. Frantically, he beckoned Jimena, pointing to the spot next to him. Curiosity getting the better of her, Jimena jumped over the bush and sat down beside him.

“I am Jimena, by the way. Jimena Montoya. Now, why are we behind a bush?”

"I am hiding," Bruno said in a hushed voice, looking around to check if anybody else was around, "from Carlos Hernández." Jimena gagged on hearing his name. 

"I hate Carlos Hernández." Her mamá always said that hate is a strong word, one she should not use so easily, but it was true. She hated him. "Why are you hiding from him?" Jimena asked. 

Bruno shrugged. "He didn't like the vision I showed him, so he is going to beat me up"

Jimena cocked her head to the side. Everyone knew about the Madrigals and their gifts, but Jimena wasn't sure about the exact derails. Could Julieta's food cure any illness? Did Pepa's cloud follow her around all the time? There was another one, one she found herself asking Bruno.

"Can you control what you see in the vision?"

"No!" Bruno said quickly, sounding almost desperate. “No, your future is set. Nothing can change it. I only tell them what's bound to happen,”

“Well then,” Jimena began decidedly, as if announcing some divine judgement, “Carlos Hernández is stupid.” Bruno let out a surprised laugh. “He can’t just beat you for something that’s not your fault,” she continued, before pausing for a moment, considering thoughtfully. “I think we should flour him,” she finally declared.

“Huh?” Bruno asked blankly.

“Oh, Carlos always bothers my sister, even when she tells him to stop. So, one day I took a bag of flour and hung it from his door. When he opened it, poof!” she gestured with her hands. “It fell all over him. He looked hilarious.” The imagery of the tall, domineering Carlos Hernández  covered head to toe with flour was indeed hilarious, and Bruno giggled despite himself.

“Mamá was furious when she found out,” Jimena cautioned warily. “But if we are really, very careful, we might get away with it.”

“Oh, no,” Bruno said, “We can’t flour him. Mamá and Julieta will be so very disappointed if they find out.”

“Not Pepa?” Jimena asked curiously.

“No, Pepa might help if we tell her,” Bruno smiled as Jimena laughed. “But it's not just Carlos,” he continued, more soberly .”I usually see bad things in my visions, you see, so most people get angry with me.” 

“Oh,” Jimena said, sighing regrettably. “I don’t suppose we can flour the entire town, can we?”

“We will run out of flour halfway through,” Bruno said with a sad smile.

Jimena nodded, and lifted herself, dusting off her skirt. “Well then, I suppose you’ll need to come to a friend to cheer you up whenever someone is being a jerk to you again.”

Bruno looked down, crestfallen. “I don’t have any friends,” he said miserably. No one wants to play with me, except for my sisters, but they are busy with their gifts most of the time.”

“I can be your friend!” Jimena said enthusiastically. 

Bruno shook his head nervously. “Oh, you don’t want to be friends with me. I am a handful.”

“I have two hands!” she said excitedly. As if to prove her point, Jimena stretched out  her arms and helped Bruno up on his feet. 

“Bruno Madrigal, will you be my friend?”

“Jimena Montoya,” Bruno said giddily, “I will be your friend.”

A butterfly flew over, landing on the bush. Vaguely, Jimena realised it was the same one she had been looking at moments before, before she met the little boy behind the bush.

#encanto #bruno madrigal #bruno madrigal x reader #bruno madrigal x oc #bruno x reader #bruno x oc #la familia madrigal #encanto oc #encanto fanfic #we don't talk about bruno #we talk about bruno #bruno madrigal fluff #bruno madrigal fanfic

[wallwriterstuff]

All The Colours Of The Rainbow ||Alec Volturi x Reader||

Warnings: A very brief mention of low self-esteem, otherwise it is pure sweet fluff! 

Words: 1461 (short but sweet) 

Summary:  A request for @harleyjackfrost  Dying your hair is fun! The vibrancy of its colour in the drab old halls of Volterra just adds a splash of something bright to your day. For Alec...it’s a little more serious than just something fun to do.

Your hair attracted a lot of looks.

Some people looked at you in awe; you didn’t always dye your hair natural colours and the bright ones were popular with kids. Many a little finger had pointed your way, eyes wide and bright because you looked so cool and they wanted to be as cool as you when they were older. Some people looked at you with jealousy, because you had the courage to do what they felt they couldn’t - and looked damn good doing it. Some people looked at you with sympathy, thinking you were a bad egg maybe, the kind that had trouble at school and little in the way of prospects because of it. Occasionally, some people looked at you with disgust, though this was usually older folks who couldn’t understand why you were ruining your hair and trying so hard to be “cool” when you could be a respectable young person.

Only Alec ever looked at you like he did.

It was a bit of an indescribable look really. It was equal parts reverent and confused, disbelieving yet nonplussed, adoring and exasperated. Everything about his expression was completely at odds and yet it never failed to warm you from the inside when he looked at you like that. It was a look only Alec could ever pull off. He was used to your colourful hair, used to the smell of bleach in his room, and he was the first to ward off anyone with ill-intentions when they commented on the smell of the dye or looked like they were about to approach you and ask you to repent your sins and find Jesus. Yes, that did happen once.

“It smells again, Alec.”

“And it isn’t in your room, Felix.” Alec replied coolly. You glanced at the open bathroom door, grinning a bit as you turned back to the running water and stuck your head under the spray. You’d bleached it a few weeks back and had since added the colour, deciding to surprise Alec with something entirely new, something he would never have seen on you before. After moving to Volterra he had been thoroughly bemused by the sheer amount of hair products you had brought with you until you had explained how bleach could damage hair. Since you had turned your shelves in his bathroom were a lot less full, but your favourite conditioners and hair masks remained. Venom did wonders to protect your hair from bleach, but a little hair care was something you loved to indulge in every now and then, and even if he wouldn’t admit it you knew Alec enjoyed the nights you spent together in the bath, massaging his scalp with your little gizmos and rinsing through the brunette strands with your favourite conditioners and shampoos.

“It’s no longer in just your room either, it’s escaping into the hall, have some consideration for others Alec.” Felix huffed.

“I’m almost done Felix, I’ll spray something nice, promise!” you called out. The lumbering footsteps almost masked the light tap of Alec’s shoes heading your way, and you quickly zipped from the shower to the door to shut it in his face.

“Really?” Alec protested. You giggled a little as you continued to wash the dye out of your hair. It took a lot more than you were used to to get colours to stick given the venom had a tendency to try push it out, but sooner or the water was running clear once more, and the dye had absorbed into the strands for the limited time it would be allowed to remain there. Then it was go time. It didn’t take a genius to know Alec was outside of the door, his endless curiosity not allowing him to move from the wooden frame till he saw the results of your recent makeover.

It was bold…not something you had done before. Alec would be surprised you were sure but would he hate it? Like it? With a deep breath, you opened the door, finding him just the other side as predicted. Night had fallen while you washed away the dye and the stars were glittering outside your window, the lamps casting a soft amber glow about the room. His eyes widened slightly as he took in the sight of you, clad in nothing more than one of his shirts and some fuzzy socks with your new, rainbow hair. You did a little twirl for him, hands reaching beneath your locks to fan them and splay them so he could see the different layers and sections shine in the low light.

“Well?” you asked, nervous that he had yet to say anything. Alec stepped forward to carefully lift a coloured strand from your head, looking at you in a way you weren’t used to. This wasn’t how Alec normally looked at you at all, no, it was almost like having one of the others look at you, the ones who never seemed to understand your choices or appreciate your creativity. Your face fell.

“It’s…it’s different.” He said finally.

“You don’t like it, do you?” you asked quietly, voice filled with disappointment. You had been excited about this! Alec leaned in to sniff lightly.

“It doesn’t smell like it usually does.” He continued his critique, seemingly unaware he was shattering your self-confidence with every word.

“I used a different dye.” You mumbled, casting your eyes towards the floor. Alec hummed, still picking up different coloured strands of hair.

“This red piece here, it reminds me of the first time you opened your eyes as a vampire,” he said, making your brow furrow, “And this…I see the yellow roses you were so enamoured with in the Garden’s when you first came to Volterra.” He continued. You couldn’t help but smile slightly.

“You got me a bouquet of those every fortnight till the vendor went out of business.” You recalled, lifting your eyes from the floor. Alec was smiling now to, his arm winding around your waist as he continued on.

“Pink…hmmm, pink was the colour of your hair when we first met. Pastel pink, something muted and soft, like the kind of pink you see when the sun begins to rise,” he remembered, “Green is your favourite colour as it reminds you of spring, the new beginnings it brings with it, but this particular shade is almost like lime, that awful drink you made me try perhaps? The fizzy one?” he wrinkled his nose as you giggled.

“Limeade.” You supplied, standing on your tiptoes to brush your nose against his. Alec smiled, replying to the sweet eskimo kiss and nodding in agreement.

“Orange was the only fruit I ever saw you eat, since you have an aversion to all things healthy.” He teased, squeezing your hips and slowly starting to make you sway with him to an invisible rhythm. You bit your lip, struggling to fight a full-blown grin now.

“Who needs health when you have vampire venom to cure your high cholesterol?” you questioned. His eyes rolled a bit but he never lost his smile, twirling you out and away before pulling you back to his chest and holding you close.

“Purple was the colour of the dress you wore the night of our first date,” he reminded you, “And we danced to that sweet melody the busker on the edge of the park played just for us.” You melted into his embrace, completely smitten with him like you had just fallen for the boy all over again. Alec dropped his cheek against the top of your head as your dancing came to a slow halt. With a happy sigh, you simply stood in his embrace, safe and secure, content.

“What about blue?” you wondered. It was the only colour left, the only one he hadn’t mentioned. Alec gently lifted your chin with his finger.

“I never want to see you blue.” He said simply, kissing you softly. For a moment you lost yourself in the feel of him, your heart overflowing with warmth and adoration. Every part of your being reached out for his, found its perfect other half and settled over and over, like waves ebbing and flowing at the shoreline. All was right in the world right then, all was calm and serene.

“I love you.” You murmured as you pulled apart. Alec smiled, a rare, genuine little smile he saved only for you.

“I love you to, and every colour of the rainbow that reminds me of all the little reasons why I fell in love with you.” He promised. It was perfect. It was sweet. It was a moment absolutely nothing could ruin.

Till he ruffled your hair with a smirk and darted off, knowing your retribution would be swift.

#twilight #tiwlight fanfiction #alec volturi #volturi #x reader #alec volturi x reader #I really liked this one

[rein4r1]

Portrait

Wc: 1.9k

Warning/s: Homophobia, Signs of Mental Illness, Mentions of Mental and Physical Abuse, Mentions of sexual activity, Dark Content

Pairing: [Modern AU] Mikasa x F!Reader (They/Them)

Genre: Fluff if you squint, Angst

Synopsis: On which Mikasa offers them a solution to their problems

or

They couldn't help but create a different reality

MINORS READ WITH DISCRETION

“So tell us Y/n L/n”

“Tell you what? I have nothing to tell you!”

“Tell us why you killed your parents.”

They pulled her knees to their chests, tightening their hold. The air from the AC doing nothing but worsen the already dreadful atmosphere. With shaking hands, they touched the side of their face, feeling the sting from where their father slapped them from hours ago. It wasn’t his aggressiveness that hurt them nor was it the shattered frame of a portrait that stood proudly on top of the island table, but it was their mother’s words; “I can’t believe we have a homosexual under our roof!”

Their parents were always conservative, believing that people who like the same sex are nothing but sinful. In all honesty, they believed every word they fed growing up. At least until they met her. Maybe deep down, they were already different from what their parents fear, just hiding in the closet. The first time they saw her was in the middle of the hallway, junior year in high school. To be honest, they didn’t have friends, them having friends is far-fetched anyway.

Not only did they hate their situation at home, but they also hate their situation at school. It’s not like they’re physically troubled by other kids, but they can always hear their murmurings, clearly them being the subject of their gossip.

“For someone with a pretty appearance, they sure are crazy.”

“Shut up! They might hear.”

School was already hell for them; just in the middle of the hallway stood a girl with short black hair, there she stood in the sea of despondence. They always had a downcast look, when was the last time they stared at anything but their feet. They can’t help but be drawn to her dark orbs, something about her enigmatic look draws them to her. The felt their body move automatically towards her, but in the heap of the crowd, she was gone. Their eyes searched any nook and cranny for her, hoping that there’s something she left by. And they felt it, the erratic beating of their hearts, as if nothing will help to calm it.

The next time they saw her was at the school’s courtyard, sitting at one of the benches looking like she’s lost in her own thoughts. They slowly approached her, sitting just at the other end of the bench. As if sensing their presence, her head turns towards them. Her face shows aloofness, but their eyes bore in theirs with curiosity. She turned her head back to the horizon, clearly not minding their presence.

“You look sad.” ‘What?’

“You look like… you’ve been failed by the people around you…” she continues as they look at her with sadness in their eyes.

“Wha- What are you talking about?...” And out of the blue, she pulled them towards her, letting their head rest on her shoulder. She brought her hand to caress their hair, and all they could do is cry. It’s been so long since they became vulnerable, looking no different than a walking corpse. “Don’t worry Y/n, I’m here now.” ‘Huh but how does she know my name?’

“Wait how did you-“

“I’ve always been watching you Y/n, I’m sorry it took me a long time.” They look at her face and saw genuine repentance. “But I haven’t- I don’t know who you are.” As if sensing their growing confusion, she smiled; “Mikasa, my name’s Mikasa.”

Mikasa is their first friend and the first person they talked outside of their family. They didn’t feel alone anymore with the girl beside them. The once suffocating halls didn’t feel smothering anymore. Their eyes didn’t look downcast, it slowly began to look less dull and look more with vigor. But that didn’t do anything to lessen the outlandish look their schoolmates gave them, their mumblings only continue to worsen. It didn’t matter anymore, since Mikasa is by their side, and she didn’t feel alone anymore.

Mikasa slept over at their house, this was something they’ve been looking forward the whole weekends. Lying together in their bed as they faced each other, Mikasa brought her nimble finger to draw in their features as she reached stay strand of their hair and placed it behind their eye. As if there was an unknown force that compels them to each other, they felt her lips brush against theirs in a gently manner. Feeling the way their lips moved in sync with each other, Mikasa’s kisses were steady, gentle, and slow

She looks at them as if she revers them with her whole entirety. They felt her hands drag across their skin like an adagio. Mikasa looked at their eyes for any signs of discomfort, but they only brought themselves closer as an answer. And that night, they made love under the light emanating from the moon.

A few days later, Y/n sat at the dining area with their parents for dinner. Their mother was babbling about how charming their neighbor’s son is. It fell into deaf ears of course, only having Mikasa in their thoughts.

“Y/n you should meet Mr. Grice’s son, I heard he’s about your age.” They snapped their head towards their father, they could not believe the words that came out of his mouth. Never in her life did he appreciate them having any malefriends. “You ought to have friends at your age, create a network with people.”

“I already have a friend ‘pa” he could only dismiss their reply. Their mother clearly being insistent on bringing the Grice boy and them together. “I know both of you are taking your exams for university, it doesn’t hurt having room for more people in your life.”

“I thought you never wanted me to have any guy friends.”

“But it’s the Grices we’re talking about.” They came to understand their mother’s intentions. The Grice family were considered wealthy and influential, who doesn’t want to marry into a rich family anyway? Obviously, Y/n L/n who only has Mikasa in their heart. Plus, the Grice boy already had an army of girls (and boys) willing to be his significant other. It was supposed to be a normal dinner, with them minding their business, leaving their parents to whatever chit chat they’re engrossed in. That is until, their father said something that triggered more on her already displeased mood.

“God, those sinners, parading around for some rights when they clearly don’t deserve any.” Her father muttered in disgust. The television was on, displaying news about a protest done by the LGBTQ+ community in accordance with the rights of their transgender brothers and sisters, considering that there is a rise of crimes towards the group. “If only they weren’t that then people wouldn’t-“

“I’m gay.” Their parents snapped their heads towards her, their expressions full of vexation.

“Y/n come again? What did you-“

“I’m fucking gay ‘ma, and I appreciate that the both of you stop asking those people for liability for something they clearly didn’t do, especially that they- we, are discriminated by people like –“ SLAP

They looked at their horrific faces, hand on their cheek. They expected this, they knew they were like this, but they couldn’t stand them any longer. They couldn’t help but think of Mikasa, the fact that they have this kind of mindset already means that after learning Mikasa’s existence, they’ll get in between them.

“I can’t believe we have a homosexual under our roof!” Their mother cried and their father’s face full of furry. “Go inside your room! We’ll deal with you later. FuckI can’t look at you right now without having the urge to murder you! And I don’t want to commit a sin like you!” Their father’s voice echoes around the room, as they quickly left her unfinished dinner, seeking solace inside their room. Sitting at the innermost corner of their bed, they leaned against the wall and brought their knees towards their chest. They expected them to be like this, but deep down they were hoping that they’d understand, that they’d accept them for who they are.

They felt their phone ring as they moved towards the bedside table and saw a text from Mikasa.

They immediately dashed towards their mini balcony, and there she is, Mikasa in all her glory. Seeing her made them break down, they found solace with this woman. To them, Mikasa is their sanctuary. Mikasa held them tight under the dark sky and the cold wind of the early hours of morning. She listened to them as they bawl their eyes out, pressing kisses on their face in hopes that this will make them feel better.

“I have something for you.” Mikasa reached something in her pocket to reveal a necklace with a vial as its pendant. They looked at the necklace with an astonished look, Mikasa then proceeds to wear the necklace on their neck. “You know you can do this Y/n” Mikasa smiled at them as she pressed another kiss on her shoulder, wrapping her arms around them. “I know you can”

Their parents woke up at the delightful smell of breakfast. They were bemused at the food that is already prepared on the table.

“Oh, both of you are awake, I prepared breakfast.” Their father looked at them suspiciously, but she only smiled cheerfully.

“What is this? Didn’t we tell you to-“

“I would like to apologize for yesterday, I was clearly stressed because of my exams. I was probably just confused… Yeah just stressed” they chuckled, they felt a bit unsure of their words, but they only brushed it off, content that their child finally came into their senses. They took a sip of their tea, as they began to converse with their parents. “You know about Grice, maybe I’ll approach him later at school.”

“Really? That’s great Y/n!” Her mother chimes.

“Yes ‘ma” They continue to look at their parents. Minutes pass as something went eerie that they could not explain. ‘Something’s weird’ their father glanced at their grinning face. They suddenly lack the ability to speak. As they slowly grow limp from their chairs. They could only stare at their child’s retreating form as the light in their gets swallowed by darkness.

“Tell us why you killed your parents.” Are they out of their mind? Kill? Why would Y/n kill their parents? They may have hurt them too many times, but they could never hurt their parents.

“Kill? I did not kill them!”

“The autopsy showed signs of poisoning, and the investigating team found its connection with the tea they drank. In addition, you were the last person they were last seen with.” They were confused, the tea?... The tea!

“It wasn’t me… It was… It was Mikasa!” Their eyes widen in confusion. “She gave me a vial. It was her!” They wrote their claim down on a piece of paper.

“Mikasa?... I need her last name.” He probes. ‘Wait, she never did give me her last name.’ The officer slid a small envelope. The opened it to reveal a portrait that looks oh so familiar. It’s one of the portraits her father flounced in the heat of anger. A portrait of a young woman with a baby in her hands. ‘No this can’t be… this is just a coincidence. This woman-‘

“-is Mikasa Ackerman, the one who gave birth to your mother.”

That night, they never received a text from her. It was only their alarm setting off.

An: I feel like this is badly written so bsoibhaoibh

I apologize for any grammatical errors and improper use of punctuation marks.

#mikasa ackerman #mikasa x reader #mikasa ackerman x reader #aot #snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan x reader #shingeki kyojin x reader #aot imagines #snk imagines

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

hi I'm back again. Anyways; as always you don't have to answer if you don't wish! How do you think the residents would react to a young Pureblood MC? (I'm talking about young like a minor.) With that Gen Z in a nutshell personality. Obviously no romantic feelings, just in your opinion how do you think they'd react? all of my questions are just "coincidentally" oddly specific aren't they, totally

Oh shit whaddup I love the idea of Gen Z MC!!! Young pureblood it is, here we go! I’m going to be moving from the assumption that they’re like Comte/Leo; very sympathetic to humanity and sometimes have existential crises (trauma babeyyyyyyyyy). As such, I’ll also be assuming she’s not super close to her family given she rejects the larger vampiric hierarchy/superiority paradigm, memes and modernity, all that jazz

I hope this fits the bill! c:

Under a cut bc is a lonnnnnnng boi~ Click after Napo to see everyone else’s! No explicit triggers that I’m aware of, but if anybody sees anything I missed feel free to let me know

Comte’s reaction:

Absolute baby, he has decided this is his grandchild--no he will not change his mind or take constructive criticism. Get’s ESPECIALLY concerned when he starts to see signs of that “nothing in life matters 😎” nihilism, but doesn’t pester them about it or becomes naggy. Growing up he had similar issues with the prospect of eternal life surrounded by creatures with a mortal lifespan, so he doesn’t judge. He’s more like nah we all hit that vibe, let’s see if we can get their mind off it c: I feel like Gen Z really understand and appreciate the importance of culture and art, so I feel like they would bond a ton over trips to museums/plays/concerts! Invites them to tea time if he ever sees them particularly silent (ah yes, repression) or particularly tired, and does his best to ensure their safety without being intrusive (has briefed the men to escort/accompany her as needed, though Sebas usually does it).

If he sees fangs out around baby he will thrash the shit out of the perpetrator--unless it’s an accident. No excuses. That’s a child. Doesn’t give a FUCK if they’re another pureblood even with all the arranged marriage bullshit. He said what he said. (Remember that biting between vampires or vampire + human relations is considered something that’s only done between intimate partners, so he is having none of that for a minor)

Leonardo’s reaction:

Also certified granddad, but he’s the one that enables shenanigans and is just like “oh worm” when it comes to the existential dread (it’s a Tuesday). At first though Leo is basically that meme like: (Stupidman = Leo, Maddie = MC)

Not all purebloods are necessarily dangerous, but most are either incredibly indifferent to the plight of others (especially humans) or actively range from like playing social mind games to being sociopathic murderers/etc. the list goes on. As such, Leonardo is suspicious to no end until he sees that the kid really doesn’t have any ill will in her. She jokes with Sebas (they quote vines on the daily) and works with him normally; even when Leo asks Sebas he’s just “????? bro she’s just my kouhai, thanks for worrying tho”. One day he’s tasked with escorting her to grab groceries and assorted things for the mansion, and she freezes in place before bolting across the street. Turns out she saw a kid trip in the road and fall, and a carriage was moving fast from the other side--it likely wasn’t going to be able to stop. She scoops up the kid and holds them close, and when the parents try to thank her profusely she just seems more uncomfortable with the praise than triumphant. She didn’t want the kid to get hurt. If she could do something about it, it was as simple as that.

From that point on they’re hella chill and hang out together, usually just bonding in silence. If they’re an artist, he’ll offer them pointers and technique manuals--will help however he can. If not, they’ll just be reading together in the library now and again. If she falls asleep, he’ll tuck her in and watch over her (cue red eye meme when the door opens, but then it’s just Vincent so he c:). He’ll often pay close attention to her eating habits to make sure nothing’s amiss with her health since she’s still a growing pureblood. If she struggles with what she is a lot (given she’s sympathetic to human beings) he’ll synchronize his Rouge drinking with hers to make sure she doesn’t starve herself ;-;. Even if she’s just forgetful about drinking/eating, he’ll do what he can to make her life easier (that’s how he shows his affection uwu)

He will, of course, also tease her about being a baby until she kicks him in the shin while Comte sighs and tells him to knock it off with a smack upside the head

Napoleon’s reaction:

Not granddad energy, but you better believe he’s in a weird territory between sheer admiration and “I am your older brother now, eat your vegetables” “But I don’t even need vegetables” “Eat your vegetables and I’ll take you to a crepe shop” “............deal” 

Basically it’s unlikely MC is super close to her siblings or even has any (pureblood children are a rare feat) so she’s like......wary, but then she just ???? this is.....kinda nice? Just having somebody that cares in a chill way, but still fully encourages her to throw men across the street if they’re hurting women/children (high fives her every time). He’ll often invite her to the swordplay lessons with the kids alongside Isaac’s teaching; she’s free to join in the learning, or honestly just hang out with people closer to her age (he’s v concerned about her having friends that she can relate to and talk to freely). 

Protective in a subtle way, like Leonardo. Escorts her places and helps her carry groceries without fail when Sebas is running other errands. She becomes his crepe shop cover buddy whenever he has an intense hankering for sweets: “wanna go to that crepe shop around the corner” “you’re just too chicken to go alone, fool” “do you want crepes or not nunuche” “............BOKBOKBOK” “aight that’s it **gives her a noogie**” (they go anyway and have a marvelous time rating the crepes from best to worst, they got a whole list goin’) 

Glares Arthur down if he so much as LOOKS in her direction

Mozart’s reaction:

Mozart is just the “what is with this sassy, lost child?” meme. Doesn’t dislike them, but they are just not remotely threatened by his haughty disdain by any extension. And he HATES IT. The MC is always just “Okay, boomer” and he just ?????? He doesn’t know what it means but it’s openly dismissive, so he mad.

Like idk if y’all know this meme, but it’s the same energy as:

It’s only when he notices she’s always punctual and careful with his requests that he starts to warm up. For example, she makes him a mocha by combining the way he likes his coffee and hot cocoa to perfection when he falls asleep at his piano. (She feels bad for him after Comte explains because--though he’s got a stick up his butt--he’s clearly distressed in his new surroundings ;-; Plus, the kind of perfectionism Mozart exudes is an extension of internalized shame, and when she begins to see that she really shifts her approach.) As such, he begins to soften to her presence. He begins to see that she isn’t indifferent to his existence, it’s more that she sees no need for intimidation and believes admiration is earned (basic respect isn’t a privilege, it’s a right). When he figures that out, he stops being so barbed and terse--starts to relax. Offers to let her stay and listen to his pieces if she wants, and she’s honestly touched given his clear struggle with vulnerability. Cuddles with Schelm at the window as he plays, and they become good friends. 

As a result, Mozart becomes fiercely protective despite her sturdier nature as a pureblood and has hissed venom at Arthur about the fact that she is off fucking limits. Doesn’t leave her alone in the same room as the other men unless it’s with Jeanne or Comte; he don’t trust like that.

Arthur’s reaction:

Sweating a lot at the sudden collection of baleful eyes sticking to his back everywhere he goes, but figures he brought it on himself to an extent. That being said, he can’t really get a word in edgewise given she just walks away when he tries to engage in conversation or compliment her.

Tough nut to crack this one, but he doesn’t let it discourage him. The only way she’ll give him the time of day is to play chess--and she kicks his ass soundly every single time. He’s fascinated by her extensive analytic ability, but she keeps silent about her strategies and thinking. Dazai and Theo always love to watch him get his ass handed to him, but he considers it a really interesting experience; it gives him insight into her mind, no matter how much she tries to hide. Patient, efficient, brutal--this kid has seen some shit, probably.

It’s after that point he just concedes she probably won’t let him in, though it doesn’t diminish his curiosity about the future; and perhaps traces of dread. What does the future look like for both her and Sebastian to be that stoic and aloof? It worries him...

Vincent’s reaction:

Vincent is v v impressed by her sense of self, and honestly sees a lot of Theo in her. She’s a little more reticent than Theo, but she has this same commitment to protecting the vulnerable and penetrating through the lies/shitty convictions of others. She is not a person who bends easily, but even so there’s a quiet kind of gentleness to her: she always chats to him v calmly, asks if he needs anything and is doing okay, doesn’t get impatient when he drops things or forgets his apron for the laundry. I think he would respond very positively to her presence, even if it wasn’t intentional. He just brightens up like a little sun and asks her out to picnics for fun; he has no greater intention than enjoying her smile and silly antics (he doesn’t always understand the references, but the way she executes it with so much dry wit--like Theo--makes him laugh). He just feels the warmth of family/familiarity around her ;~;

Ironically, they’re both exceedingly concerned for the other because they’re too self-sacrificing jkashlgdks like this is 100% a case of “I can’t let a young lady risk getting hurt” “Vincent I’m literally indestructible please just let me do this” “But it still hurts” “But I don’t want you to scar--” (This conversation extends so long that the author felt it would be more beneficial to add an etc. here). 

He admires her and trusts in her abilities more due to the nature of her maturity, treats her like a cherished friend and sometimes younger sibling (not condescending but very indulgent; gives her the last of his sweets for example, or pats her on the head when she’s feeling gloomy--more of a wholesome puts her first). But make no mistake, he will throw hands in milliseconds if she gets ganged up on or can’t handle a threat--he just lets her handle most things bc she’s capable~

Isaac’s reaction:

Torn. Because on the one hand, she’s very serious and conscientious about her work--doesn’t want to inconvenience or trouble anyone--and he relates to that heavy.

HOWEVER.

She’s also got insanely chaotic energy when the mood strikes, so when Dazai starts doing his random shitfuckery you better believe MC is upping the ante. (I’m talking AH. ENSLAVED MOISTURE. levels). So Isaac essentially oscillates between thankful for her fortitude to bashing his head against a table for every second he knows her.

In all seriousness though, I would see Isaac as being pretty concerned. Like Vincent, they’re both self-sacrificing to a fault--and he doesn’t want that for her, especially given how young she is. Often tells her not to overdo it or to ask for help if she looks overwhelmed, though it’s not condemning; he says it softly with a neutral look on his face. (He considers it a Certified Mood^TM). He just wants to give back all the care she puts into helping around the house. He doesn’t feel right watching a kid work so hard without reminding her that she should find time to have fun and live for herself too. There will be plenty of time when she’s older to get serious.

He has a fairly easy time interacting with her because of his experience with kids; he takes her seriously (when she’s not clowning) and treats her autonomy with respect. If anything, she’s probably the protective one. She knows he’s an aberrant so she pays laser attention to when he’s suffering and brings him Rouge (not scared because she’s stronger than him and not human lmao, and she sees no need to put Sebastian at risk). When that uni pres pesters him, she goes cold and angry and asks the man to step off when she sees him start to downspiral. They’re essentially on equal footing (he has more life experience, she has more bodily strength/confidence). They're just chill and kind with each other (babies of the mansion, beloved by all).

Theodorus' reaction:

Because he is a manchild, he will be chill/generally indifferent until Vincent starts being indulgent with her (bro-con). He won't be violent or anything like that, but he will pout a storm and try to verbally shoo her away. Because she's a woman, intelligent, and likely a feminist--this will become hilarious because she will not remotely take him seriously. She will just ignore him or roast him in seconds before moving on with her day. Otherwise he doesn't care much because he doesn't have time to play babysitter (unless there's no one else to help).

At the most, he'll make sure she's safe and use the excuse that Vincent would be upset if he did anything less. If she likes/loves dogs and plays with King while she's there, he'll soften up and thank her for taking care of him. If she makes hella pancakes, he'll be the proudest about it--ruffling her hair. If she protects Vincent in any capacity, he'll be torn between jealous, grateful and impressed; he likes a kid that can hold their own and take responsibility within their abilities.

So their relationship is v much like a chill uncle with their niece; fond, but not necessarily super close or spend a ton of time together. He has his priorities, but he won't be an asshat (mostly).

Jeanne's reaction:

Jeanne is confused on so many levels. He doesn't dislike her spunk he's just staggered by her level of sheer reckless, righteous rage. (And he's a bit wary in the face of another pureblood as a potential enemy) but after a bit more time around her he relaxes. She's fairly simple to understand when you get to know her; cares about others to a fault, existential dread, overworks herself. Stays watchful, but he just treats her like the younger kids that Napoleon brings by the weapons shop when they need armor for practice. It can get a little funny because he’ll just be like “uhhhh uh kids like sweet stuff right? Here have some of the macaroons somebody brought by earlier, I don’t like ‘em that much anyway.” And she just “??? Thanks???” He doesn’t mind being around her, just doesn’t really know what to say so they often fall into comfortable silence after exchanging small talk. She likes that he isn’t complicated; what you see is what you get with Jeanne. It’s nice not to have to keep her guard up every second of the day,

When he sees her feeling particularly down, he’ll take her to that little field of white lilies behind the mansion during a full moon night. The silver light seems to make the petals emit an ethereal glow, and she makes him a flower crown in thanks. He listens kindly if she wants to talk, and if she doesn’t--that’s okay too; he’ll just give her a head pat.

Honestly he finds a lot of relief in the fact that she's a pureblood, because he feels less nervous about her being fragile or her getting fatally hurt when he’s not around. Will still be very gentle with her and protect her when she’s in proximity

Mission Status: Fucking Wholesome

Dazai’s reaction:

Big brother time? It’s big brother time!!!! He instantly makes it his subtle mission to look after her, though he’s v lowkey abt it. She takes one look at this depressed mofo climbing in through the window and just goes “aw yeah, this guy FUCKS” and they become besties at a glance. They basically make a game out of who can be the most absurd whenever they’re in the same room. Comte and Leo find it utterly hilarious, Napoleon is digging a grave for Isaac in the backyard (we all know his heart won’t be able to take it. Mozart is probably next. A moment of silence for our fallen.)

I just imagine them like that one post (@/acoolguy):

Dazai: You ever have to shake your leg because there’s a rock in it? MC: That’s your bones Dazai: Every day I learn some more

He’ll always share treats with her and brings her along for walks if she’s feeling wanderlust; he knows how hard it can be, how restless the heart becomes so far from home. He does his best to distract her with their ongoing jokes, but one day it starts raining very suddenly while they’re out. He rushes her under the nearest tree with broad, broad leaves and settles his haori/overcoat over her head. He looks incredibly serious as he looks to the sky--almost glowering at the dark clouds gathering, He doesn’t look at all like his usual fun-loving self in that split second, even though he’s back to his good-natured chirping “Guess we’ll just have to wait out the downpour. MC, are you cold? I should have been more careful.” She shakes her head and shares the coat with him, holding it out insistently until he relents. Their hands brush and she notices they’re freezing, but she doesn’t say anything. She seems to sense he has a lot on his mind, and leans her shoulder against his. The silence feels fragile; she doesn’t want to risk shattering it--shattering him. It is often said that it is an act of great courage to wipe away someone’s tears. But it can also be an act of great gentleness to turn away, to pretend one cannot see them fall (whether visible or not).

One day, after MC returns to her own time, Dazai returns to his room to find two shadows hanging from his window. Though a little crude--they’ve obviously been made by a beginner--it’s clear what they are. Rain ghosts. (Sebastian later explains it was MC’s wish that he have them, and Dazai only smiles very, very gently in response.)

Shakespeare’s reaction:

MC gets one look at him and knows something’s off. She can’t quite tell what it is, but he doesn’t feel like the rest of the family. She can sense something behind him, something lurking; but she can’t quite place it. (Comte has mentioned before that purebloods can sense each other, so I imagine MC knows right off the bat he isn’t a normal sired vampire--she just doesn’t know enough to identify exactly what it is.)

That being said, she is sus. He keeps talking like some kind of weird ass court jester/fae, and she hated his work when she had to do it for school (only enjoyed the Hamlet memes because, let’s be real, that shit is uproarious). When he tries to coax her to see Vlad with him, she says “'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, yet you cannot play upon me.” And he just freezes in place before he starts laughing. Considers their battle of wills well-played, and warns her not to go out alone--doesn’t bother her again. Though sometimes enjoys listening to her conversations with others for good roast material. (No he is not taking notes, no this new chara is just fire and feral for no good reason--nothing to do with MC)

Sebastian’s reaction:

The l o r e, MC. Give him the forbidden pureblood lore. Will be incredibly curious and ask about what vampires are like outside of the mansion, for science of course. If he senses discomfort though his questions will die down completely--it’s not his intention to make her uncomfortable. He’s just curious! 

Despite his stoicism he’s actually a very, very understanding and warm person.  Will listen to any teenage jadedness or hopelessness with fond patience, recalling the days he was similar. He’ll offer what advice he can. He’s not one to be preachy, but if he sees someone at a loss, he’ll offer what he thinks might be a productive direction for them. Given her removal from her home and parents--even though she’s already well into high school--he’ll sympathize deeply with her position. Will be a firm but gentle guardian (hello Mansion Mom #2), offers her candy every time she does a chore exceptionally well or offers assistance without prompting. She’s sus and takes it reluctantly at first, but after she tries one in private secretly loves them. Sebas is just silently “you like krabby patties don’t you, squidward”. If she’s honest, she’s comforted by the sense of normalcy and care he gives, the harmless joking and easy respect for others (unless otherwise provoked).

When she finds out about his hobby considers him to be a Fucking Nerd^TM and wants to shove him into a locker, but in reality is endeared by how much he genuinely cares about the men. She thinks it’s a harmless fascination, and she senses the oddest...ephemerality about him. Because of this, she becomes pretty protective; he’s a human and he’s too nice for his own good. While she identifies in one sense, she worries in another. Pureblood are sturdy, but humans can’t necessarily sustain that kind of constant self-giving for long...

Also bc my tag game too strong adding it here: #i love the prospect of pureblood MC trying to bring Sebas and Napo together #MC: bruh i got this #Sebas, full of gay panic: wait, MC nO--

Meme tl;dr in the tags also for your enjoyment! I’m sorry this one took a little longer than most to finish!

#asks #ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp headcanons #ikevamp napoleon #ikevamp mozart #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp leo #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp isaac #ikevamp theo #ikevamp jeanne #ikevamp jean #ikevamp dazai #ikevamp comte #ikevamp saint germain #ikevamp shakespeare #ikevamp sebastian #gen z pureblood mc #i had a lot of fun writing this! I hope this met your expectations friend! c: #comte and leo: uwu grandparents #mozart: okay BOOMER #napo: HAHAHA shithead siblings i love it #arthur and shakes: wouldn't you like to know weather boy. 'where are your parents??' (parts one and two) #vincent and isaac: BRUH S A M E S I E S #theo: **meme voice** 'is there anything worse than a rapist?' BOOM 'a child.' 'N O!' #jeanne: endearing but out of touch uncle while dazai is WOOOOO LET'S DRINK BLEACH uncle #sebastian: ah yes ty for the modicum of brain cells and competence that also shatters gender norms my good bi bitch #**Gilligan's cut to MC and Dazai wearing sunglasses and matching hats that read 'i put the (me) in disappointment'**

[loominggaia]

NOTABLE MINERVAE

(Gold stars around their names signifies that they were part of Karenza’s “Chosen Ones”--aka: her most trusted confidants. In other words...the ones who know about her child.)

OVERVIEW

Minervae are a type of titan nymph. All minervae were once maenads, nymphs of spirit, but were transformed into their titan forms by Karenza, the Divine of Love. As titans, these nymphs grow in size, they become stronger and more intelligent, and the glowing crescent on their forehead opens into a full circle called an “eyespot” or “third eye”.

Through this third eye they can see things that most other peoples cannot, such as ghosts, auras, or even the future. Becoming a minervae grants these nymphs extraordinary powers, and it’s not a gift Karenza gives away frivolously. However, with great power comes great responsibility, and sometimes the burden is too much for even the strongest of minervae.

Though all minervae once served Karenza in exchange for her blessing, not all of them continue to serve her forever. Many go out into the world and use their new powers as they see fit, and not all of them continue to obey Karenza’s teachings.

There are only a few hundred minervae upon Looming Gaia. Some particularly notable ones are…

Destiny – As a maenad, she was known as Jubilee. Destiny was the first maenad Karenza ever transformed into a minervae. With her eyespot she can see into the future, and the future she witnesses is what shall be no matter what action is taken. She was one of the few Karenza chose to build the Trial of Titans. She later left Karenza’s company to become a researcher at the World Athenaeum, specializing in divinity and celestials.

Patience – As a maenad, she was known as Sweet Cheeks. Patience sought Karenza’s gift so that she could help the poor and unfortunate. Today she operates in one of Karenza’s many Houses of Love and Light, where she grows food for the hungry. She specializes in botanical magic.

Hope – As a maenad, she was known as Allura. Hope is a High Priestess of Love and Light. She oversees one of Karenza’s temples in the crime-riddled city of Taybiya, where she preaches Karenza’s teachings to all who will listen. While she preaches peace and love, she specializes in hazard magic—particularly pyromancy. She uses her fearsome fire spells to ward off hooligans.

Austerity – As a maenad, he was known as Dizzy. Austerity is the only male minervae on Looming Gaia. He was once a feminine maenad like any other, but asked Karenza to transform him into a masculine form as a minervae. His wish was granted, and along with his new form he gained a third eye that could see many possible futures. Today he spends half the year travelling between Houses of Love and Light all over the world, where he counsels the troubled. They can peer into his eyespot and see what their future holds if they continue on their current path, or learn what will happen if they take a different one. Austerity is also a master of transmutation magic, able to change others into any form they wish. When he is not traveling, he’s at home with his wife Prudence, another notable minervae.

Prudence – As a maenad, she was known as Melancholy. With her third eye, Prudence can see ghosts and other metaphysical beings that others cannot. She specializes in the art of necromancy and is believed to be the most masterful exorcist alive on Looming Gaia. If Prudence can’t dispel a spirit, then no one can. She is currently married to another notable minervae named Austerity. She spends half the year at home with her husband and the other half travelling around the world to clear haunted areas and dispel rogue undead.

Courage – As a maenad, she was known as Skipper. Courage can see into different dimensions with her third eye. She is a skilled teleportationist who can not only teleport across Looming Gaia, but into other these dimensions as well. She has an insatiable wanderlust and no fear of the unknown. She is credited for discovering many celestial dimensions, which have been recorded by the World Athenaeum’s research division.

Gratitude – As a maenad, she was known as Misery. Gratitude suffered much abuse and tragedy during her life as a maenad, so she wishes to use her powers as a minervae to make the world a gentler place. She is a talented witch who knows countless blessings and curses, and she bestows them upon anyone she feels is deserving of it. She may bless the meek or curse the malicious, but her intention is always to teach a lesson.

Honesty – As a maenad, she was known as Loud Mouth. As her name suggests, Honesty has no patience for lies and deceit. With her third eye she can see the truth, whether that means exposing someone’s lies or seeing their true form behind a disguise. She has made it her life’s mission to expose corrupt priests, politicians, and other powerful leaders. However, her efforts are not appreciated by everyone. The rich and powerful have launched many slanderous campaigns against her and have even tried to have her assassinated, yet Honesty still prevails. She specializes in telepathy, able to read the thoughts and emotions of others.

Justice – As a maenad, she was known as Vicious. Justice was among Karenza’s closest friends, and even served as her finest knight for centuries. She has since been promoted to Soldier of Love, and she has been sent out into the world to hunt down the wicked. Justice has removed her own eyes to blind herself, forcing herself to perceive the world with only her third eye. She cannot see what a person looks like, and so she cannot judge them based on her own prejudices. With her third eye, she can only see the quality of their hearts, and if she senses irredeemable wickedness, she swiftly disposes of them with one of many hazard spells in her arsenal. Fire, frost, wind, and electricity—Justice masterfully wields all of these elements and more. She’s a sworn enemy of Mercy, another notable minervae.

Charity “Asha” – As a maenad, she was known as Asha, which translates to “Beautiful Music” in Galsungi. Asha sought Karenza’s blessing because she wanted to use her great power to help the sick. With her third eye, she can see a body’s aura and identify problem areas, where there may be hidden wounds or lurking illness. She once healed plague victims and wounded soldiers, but after so many centuries of this thankless work she became depressed and burned out. She decided to abandon her lofty dreams and instead live a quiet, simple life as a private physician for Uekoro’s royal family, who she is still serving today. She decided to abandon her minervae name “Charity” and go back to “Asha” at this time. Asha can heal almost any ailment with her talents in curative magic.

Curiosity “Curie” – As a maenad, she was known as Joy. Joy was the last maenad Karenza ever transformed, and so she remains the youngest minervae on Looming Gaia. Shortly after becoming a minervae, Curie saw something with her third eye that struck dread into her heart. To this day no one knows exactly what she saw, for she immediately drove an iron spike into her eyespot to stop the vision, causing herself massive brain trauma in the process. Curie survived the incident and is still alive today, though she refuses to remove the spike from her head and becomes violent when others try to remove it for her. She has since fled Karenza’s company and is occasionally seen wandering the world in a wretched state, twitching and muttering gibberish to herself. Karenza is deeply ashamed of this tragedy and has since refused to create any more minervae, fearing another may meet the same fate. Some theorize that Curie had seen her own death or perhaps the end of the world, but no one really knows for sure.

Mercy – As a maenad, she was known as Cadence. Mercy has served Karenza for a very long time, but at some point the two had a falling out and Mercy left her company to serve Looming Gaia her own way. Unlike Karenza who believes the wicked are best destroyed, Mercy believes no one is beyond redemption and refuses to kill or harm anyone, no matter how evil they may be. With her third eye, she can see the good in even the most despicable of people. She takes a pacifist approach and tries to conquer hate with love and understanding rather than violence. While she does not succeed 100% of the time, she has still disbanded many hate groups, turned terrorists towards peace, and has even stopped wars with her gift of diplomacy. She constantly butts heads with Justice, another notable minervae.

 *

Questions?

Masterpost

*

#looming gaia

[allosaurid]

@bloominghands​ asked: Appears behind the man in a swirl of petals, ghosting her touch languidly along his shoulders and back. “My Captains. . . . /disgusting/ curiosity aside— I’d certainly be interested in learning all about your anatomy ❤️🌸” [ unprompted ]

She managed to catch him off-guard, startling him, though not to the point of any regrettable instinctive reaction from his side. If there was one thing Drake could not stand - and there were quite a few of these, let’s face it - being ambushed like this, out of nowhere, would be, most likely, on top of the list.

Of course, he was aware the woman had not harboured any ill intention towards him; for the time being anyway. Indeed, for now... the Strawhat pirates were his allies. This, of course, did not mean he would be any more willing to let his guard down around them. 

And with her statement being paired with the sudden approach... well. It really seemed as though this particular group of people held an affinity for pushing their luck with him in their presence. Almost like it was a contest... who would be the one to break him first?

He had to admit, Nico Robin’s approach had been... one of the most unsettling, up until now.

Drake might be able to control his temper, as to not react in a violent manner upon the touch ghosting on his back - but he could not keep the pale blush adorning his features now under control quite to his satisfaction.

She was... close. Too close. And yet, he could not find it in himself to do anything about her presence; perhaps it would be an admission of weakness, should he immediately seek to bring some distance between the two of them. He wasn’t quite certain what prompted his actions.

Next thing he knew, however, he was standing there, facing the other, a firm grasp of his gloved hand on her wrist - he did not mean to hurt her, of course. Once more, there was no reason to do so. But still... it served to keep her at a distance. 

Some lessons had to be learned the hard way, after all.

A flash of memory - a familiar face, and then- No. No, not like that. Drake might have been a harsh man, yes, cold and distant, but he wasn’t cruel. He wasn’t angry and authoritative, not like-

The grasp on Robin’s wrist weakened somewhat, the touch almost gentle, careful now, as the man realised his mistake. A gaze filled with regret upon his action. A silent apology.

And yet, he remained firm in his demand.

“I will have to disappoint you, then.“ he spoke, strictness in his voice, though his tone remained calm and soft as always; soothing, almost, if not for the situation at hand.

“I’d prefer you keep your distance.“ It was a warning, yes, one he seemed quite serious about, even though it seemed weak now, not nearly as hostile as it usually might.

“You, your captain... the whole bunch of you, really.“ he offered, finally letting go of Robin’s hand. “I’d appreciate that. Genuinely.“

At the very least... he was able to be somewhat polite about it.

#bloominghands #captain speaking (ic.) #you have been connected (ic replies.) #tfw you try to be flirty and annoy the dino and you accidentally unlock hidden trauma(tm)

[jimlingss]

A Voyage to Liberation

➜ Words: 11k

➜ Genres: 90% Fluff, 5% Angst, 5% Smut, Historical!AU

➜ Summary: The year is 1790. The overcrowding of prisons causes Britain to send their convicts to Australian Penal Colonies. On the ship are political prisoners, pirates, and those who have committed petty crimes. Most importantly, there's you and also a man by the name of Kim Namjoon.

➜ Warnings: Sexual harassment, attempted sexual assault, dick-harming, misogyny, depiction of slaves/servants, blood, and violence.

The ship rocks back and forth.   Your world is tilted on an axis and a frightening bout of nausea threatens to soil your already dirtied dress. It’s a sad little thing, drawstring neckline with few frills and a high-waisted narrow skirt, and the once pristine white stained with mud and dirt. You would’ve worn something more pleasant had they not stripped you of all your belongings.    A bunch of scoundrels they are.   “Ey, take a gander of this whore.”   “Bend over, will you?”   The ship is cramped and terribly diseased. You cover your mouth with your hand, disgusted at the sights that behold you. In the little space that you occupy, you gather your knees together and turn away. Many have already succumbed to disease with the first signs of death being that their teeth fall out, that their mouths start to bleed, that their hair begins to fall. While you have not yet been affected, it is still downright awful.   You wish you could at least come above deck and take in some fresh air.   “Damned wretch is ignoring us!”   “Aye! Madam, we’re talking to you.”   One of the diseased men grabs a hold of your arm, pulling you upright onto your feet. A gasp pulls from your lips and onlookers scramble back. At once, your nose scrunch and your hand whips back to smack his cheek as hard as you can muster.   There’s a loud noise and your palm stings. It’s enough that his entire head knocks to the side, eyes big.   “Unhand me, beast.”   His jaw clenches, grip on you tightening. “You damned hedge whore.”   The other ruffian steps forward and the fear you’ll be held down overwhelms you.    But then suddenly, a stranger intercepts. His shadow towers over you, height overcoming the two misfits. He’s a strapping, young fellow with dark hair and eyes. His chin is jutted out.   “You should heed the lady’s wishes, good sirs.”   They’re taken aback by his sturdy build, intimidating. The clearing of their throats are heard and the one grabbing you releases you from his bindings. You step back, right behind the stranger you’re grateful for.    “Is this your lady?”   He turns around for a moment and your eyes meet his. The stranger has sculpted features, a cleanly shaved man with tangled hair. Both sides of his cheeks deepen into small dots when he smiles tenderly — it is a curious sight.   He looks back at the ruffians.   “She is, so I’d gladly appreciate it if you wouldn’t lay a finger on her, good sirs. She is with child.”   They grumble, looking at one another before they retreat to the scummy place they emerged from. You watch them move to the other end of the ship, onlookers also relieved nothing atrocious occurred.   You scoff, unladylike when you mutter, “They’ve gone absolutely mad.”   You sit yourself back down, gathering your knees together, paying absolutely no mind to the stranger that rescued you from those terrible circumstances. Instead, you shut your eyes in an attempt to halt the spinning of your head and lean your head against the damp ship walls.   The man has gone the next time you open your eyes.   //   The food is given few and far in between. It is worse than when you were on the streets picking at rubbish. There are bugs in the soup, bread gone too hard, and today, the biscuits are molded.   You sigh, picking the green bits off before taking a bite. But your eyes stray to an old woman who is finishing her own biscuit with hands that tremble.   Her eyes widen when you hand yours to her. She is undoubtedly shocked. “For me?”   You hum, uncurling her bandaged fingers to place your biscuit in her palm. “They ought to feed us more.”   “T-Thank you, good miss.” The elder nearly cries.   You say nothing, returning to your spot as your stomach makes unseemly noises. You are ignorant to the strange man who had his eyes set on you. And you do not pay any mind to him until he suddenly moves to sit beside you, knees brushing against yours.   You whip your head up. Instead of a ruffian or no-good-doer, it is the man who had saved you a good day or two ago.   He regards you with a smile as if you are familiar to him.   “Can I assist you, sir?” you inquire, brows furrowing.   “Wouldn’t some words of gratitude be the appropriate gesture to someone who assisted you?”   “Your assistance wasn’t necessary.” You look away. “But I suppose it is indeed the proper thing to do considering your assistance did aid me, so thank you.”   The corners of his lips pull into a smile. He gathers his knees to his chest just like you. “My name is Kim Namjoon. I suppose it wouldn’t be too much if I asked for your name, madam?”   “I am L/N Y/N, if you must know, Mr. Kim. Is there a reason for your approach? I must tell you I have no arrangements to be your lady nor carry your child, good sir.” You make your suspicions of his intentions clear, yet his smile simply widens.   “Then I am relieved as I had no arrangements in mind either. I only seek friendship.”   “Friendship?” On a ship of convicts, ruffian and misfits? These men were becoming more mad by the day.   Namjoon watches you scoff and he laughs.   “Is it so hard to fathom?”   “I believe your efforts should be spent elsewhere, perhaps on trying to get off here alive.”   “Maybe so, but I’d like to make my time on here memorable.”   “Well, I have no plans on helping you make it more memorable, Mr. Kim.”   The man stops you before you can find another spot on this cramped ship. “The folks here are….undesirable to make acquaintances with. It is difficult to discover someone without ill-intentions. And I believe that you are not such a person, therefore I believe it is in our best interest to be friendly with one another. It would prevent such a situation from happening again.” He is suggesting the early incidents of those ruffians trying to get their hands on you.   You eye him up and down. His shirt, breech, shoes and coat is worn. The man’s face is dirtied, but he has a warm demeanour and he is rather good-mannered with strong reasoning.   The people on here are frightening, that much is true. And it would help the soundness of your mind if you had someone you could trust. Furthermore, the man’s towering height and lean muscles could deter attackers. It could be fairly advantageous to accept his friendship.   You tear your eyes away from him for fear of staring too long and being impolite. You lean your head against the wall, shutting your lids. You can still feel his gaze on you.   “Mr. Kim.”   “Yes?”   “Do you happen to know how to stop this nausea I have? The ship is awfully unsteady.”   You open your eyes once more when you feel pressure just below your wrist. The man is delicately pressing against a point in your flesh. But when he notices your stare, he withdraws his hand. “My apologies. It’s just that...when you press a certain point just below the wrist, it may help with nausea. I learnt it from a medic back at home.”   There is a tantalizing pause before you extend your arm to him. “Show me.”   Namjoon smiles, and you begin to feel like your world becomes straight again.   //   “What will happen to us?”   “I hear they will send us to work at a factory?”   “A factory?”   “Sewing clothing. I heard from a sailor above. They will be docking at a place called Sydney Cove. It is the new colony, New South Wales. But I am still unsure if those rumours are true.”   She solemnly nods. “We shall know in two days time.”   The conversation you were eavesdropping in is interrupted when Namjoon finds you, taking his seat beside you once more on the floor. You turn to the dapper fellow. “What are you here for?”   “Me?” He has a broad smile, already knowing the meaning of your question. Each person on this ship was here for a reason — whether they had stolen, assaulted another, or committed a political offence. And you cannot help but become curious as to the reason why your new friend has found himself in such a dire place. “Well, I would like you to know that I was framed.”   In spite of the horrible circumstances, the man always knows how to lighten the atmosphere and make you smile. “Framed?”   “Undoubtedly framed,” he leans closer to say, “False charges that soiled my name completely.”   “What for then?” He’s piqued your curiosity even more.   “I was framed for stealing a handkerchief. It was less than five shillings at that, but enough to get me sent away.”   “And why were you framed?”   “Well, the man’s wife gave it to me.”   You laugh. “Why would she give it to you?”   Namjoon clears his throat. It makes you press him for a reply and he relents, “I may or may not have been engaged in an adulterous relationship with the madam.”   You gasp, scandalized, and you hit at his arm. “Bastard!”   He winces, but matches your laugh and smile. “He was jealous and though he had no proof of such an affair, he set me up and soiled my name.”   “You should be fortunate he did not beat you to death,” you tell through snickers.   “I am aware. And what were you sent here for?”   “Me?” Your half-lidded eyes flicker in all directions. With no one watching, you pull a plump, red fruit from the sleeve of your dress.   Namjoon’s mouth humourly draws open. “How did you get an apple?”   “Shush now.” You frown. “I took it from the sailor. He didn’t even notice.”   He scoffs, whispering, “You’re a pickpocketer. Are you not afraid of being caught?”   “If I am then so be it. I think it would be hard for things to be worse than they already are. Plus, I am almost certain that the sailor I stole from is attempting to court me.”   The man chuckles, curious as to the reasoning behind your apprehension. “Why do you not agree to him then? Being wedded to a man like him would make your life easier.”   “He simply doesn’t appeal to me,” you say and split the apple with your hand. You pass him the other half. “Here.”   “Thank you.”   In spite of being clouded in a damp sort of darkness, your side is warm. You’re glad to have established a friendship with Mr. Kim. His company, contrary to your feelings or lack thereof for the sailor, is not unpleasant.

The moment the ship docks at harbour, you are overwhelmingly relieved. You are shoved out by the sailors from below deck, but once you make it out, you are finally able to breathe in the fresh air. Even when the light of the sun stings your eyes, you look upon the new yet unruly land.   “What’re you doing standing there? Get off!”   “Get your assess off the ship!”   “Quickly!”   The weather is hot, trees unfamiliar, grass more yellow than it is green. The land is barren, soil seemingly dry. There is moaning and groaning around you, criminals pushed forward and staggering on weakened knees. Amidst the crowd, you catch the towering fellow with dark hair.   His eyes meet yours but you’re unable to get to one another. The two of you are forced into a line. The guards pacing back and forth and shoving folks who stumble out of place.   The Governor ahead is seated at a table, sorting the horde. “Name?”   “Kim Seokjin, Mr. Governor.”   He hums and holds a card with the name, age, and a short description of each convict. Yet, he still asks, “And do you have any usable skills? What was your occupation in his majesty’s kingdom?”   “I was a former blacksmith, sir.”   “Alright.” He writes and the officer beside him motions to the left. “Next! Name?”   “Good morning, sir. How do you do? My name is Kim Namjoon.”   “I am fine, thank you, sir.” His throat clears. “Do you have any usable skills?”   “I was a carpenter in his majesty’s kingdom.”   “Very well. To the left, good sir.”   “Thank you.” Namjoon is handed a yellow and black uniform.   The officer tells him to get into line. Another asks where they’ll be going and he says, “You’re assigned to help build roads and buildings. Considers yourselves fortunate. There’s more brutal work to be done on this land.”   You try to look ahead to see where Namjoon is, but you are unable.   The women are gathered together with some other men around. The free settlers sweep their indecent gazes on you, eyeing you from head to toe.   A middle-aged man in particular approaches. He has blonde hair, gruff hair around his dirty mouth and protruding eyes. A sharp gasp slips from your lips when he grabs your chin and tilts your head up for his inspection.   “You are rather easy on the eyes, aren’t you, girl?”   Your jaw clenches. He must notice the way your teeth grits for he barks out in noisy laughter and unhands you. “You’re an entertaining one.” The man’s eyes linger on the swell of your chest, outright vulgar and shameless.   “How do you do, Officer Kwon? I thought today was your unoccupied day, yet you have shown at work! What does that make the rest of us?” A man strides to him in a uniform, exchanging hearity chuckles.   “I am well, Officer Jeon. My wife is in need of a new domestic servant to help with the kitchen and the household. I was considering selecting this girl.” He gestures towards you, much like choosing a cow for purchase.   “Well, I am sure her absence will not be missed. She is perfectly at our disposal.”   “Marvelous.”   You know better than to look at him with disdain, but you cannot help it seep through. “If I may, good sirs, I am afraid I must tell that I am quite rubbish at household work,” you tell. “I neither know how to cook, sew or wash clothing. I may not be any use to you.”   Officer Kwon scoffs. “I am not in need of your opinion, servant. You will learn what is required of you.”   You are shoved forward, feet stumbling. “You should be fortunate you were handpicked by Officer Kwon, otherwise you would work in the factory.” Officer Jeon shouts angrily, “Go on now!”   You’re led away from the crowds, sights lost from Namjoon. Moving past the barren land, you wonder about the prospects of your future. Unfortunately, your thoughts are halted when you feel your ass being squeezed by the man’s rough hand. You resist the urge to beat him to death.   //   The estate you are brought to is not as formidable as the manors from home. Although, you still get lost on your way to the kitchen, even when the land is lacking and seemingly barren. It’s a two level house with plenty of rooms and several servants like you.   “My name is Rose,” the younger girl greets you. “It’s very nice to be acquainted with another g—”   “Rose!” An older woman in the kitchen shouts, running by while wiping her hands on her apron. “Watch the fire, will you?! You will burn the food!”   “I already checked it, Jane!”   “I smell it burning!” she shrieks at him.   Rose winces and looks at you with brows furrowed. She quickly rushes off. “Sorry.”   The older woman halts for a moment to regard you. “Do you know how to chop vegetables?”   You slowly shake your head. “I...I am unsure.”   She sighs and spins around, only to come back with a wooden tray that she hands to you. It is heavy weight with teacups, straining your wrists. “Bring the tea to her Lady. She is upstairs, first left door down the hall. She will be waiting.”   You hold your sigh in your nose.   The next seven years of your punishment will be spent here. It will become better the faster you become accustomed to your duties here.   You meet the Lady. Kwon Miyeon. She has an oval face, sharp features, blonde hair forming into perfect spiral curls. Her dresses are made from the prettiest cloth and silks, pouter-pigeon fronts with full skirts. But contrary to her pleasant appearance, her interior is less than pleasing.   “Of course my husband would choose someone like you. He could never stand a foul-looking wrench. What are you looking at me for?! Fetch me my biscuits, servant girl!”   Day and night, there are shrill howls at you, tasks upon tasks, duties upon duties. From helping her bathe — “Are you planning to skin me alive?! I said gentle!” — to washing clothing — “Took you long enough!” — and even getting her tea — “It’s gone cold!”   Fortunately you are not the only one receiving such treatment. The lady of the house seems to be ruthless to anyone with a handsome face which is abundant in her household. There are countless girls with swelled chests, plump asses, long hair pinned back. You can muster sympathy for the woman for her husband being such a hound and choosing such girls to bring into the home. But it is difficult to keep your compassion when she is such an evil wrench.   “Who is it?!”   “Your most obedient servant, Madam.” You speak through the door, and a moment later, you open.    Lord Kwon seated in his chair, pulls himself away from his wife at the sight of you. His eyes linger on your hips and Lady Kwon must take notice as her teeth grit.   You clear your throat. “You called for tea.”   “Then get a move on!” she barks at you like you are her dog.   You set the teacups down onto the table, pouring an appropriate amount. You fail to perceive how Lord Kwon’s eyes set on your plump bottom as you bend.   “Did you get me my sugar yet?”   “I can only head to the town center by your leave, Madam.”   “Hmph. I have allowed you to go, girl. Why have you not gotten it done?” She huffs, “Lazy. All of you.”   Your mouth twitches into a reverent smile. “It is difficult when you have assigned so many tasks to me, Madam. I can hardly find time to breathe.”   “Are you speaking back to me? I will not tolerate such rudeness,” she sputters, perhaps preparing to threaten lashings. But you stand straight, having enough of this. Your hands were cracked, bleeding, body ached. The meek are blessed by God but it has never been in you to be meek.   “I am merely speaking what is true,” you say. “Perhaps I would have more time in my day if I did not have to assist you in bathing. I find that even children these days do not need such help.”   She stands to her feet, and you’re whipped in the face by her palm. You are struck across the cheek, head knocked back, noise ringing your ears. You are baffled.   Her chest rises and falls. “I will not allow such disrespect in my home, whore. Know your place!”   “Darling.” Lord Kwon stands upright, taking his wife back. “Do not pay the servant girl any mind. Do not let her ruin such a beautiful afternoon. She is clearly ignorant of what is appropriate.”   The lady looks at him and huffs again. She regards you with absolute disdain. “Do not come back until you have sugar! I can’t drink my tea without it!”   You stagger out the room, shutting the door behind you. With no one in the hall, you gasp for air.    Once you regain the soundness of your mind, you drop your tray at a table in the corridor meant for display and march down the stairs, out the door. There is nowhere for you to run to on this barren, hot land. The wilderness would have you dead by the third hour. The cold sea would have you drowning. And people everywhere know your name and status. You’d be shaved head clean if you attempted to escape. It was prison after all.   Thus with no other way to go, you head straight to the town’s center with absolutely no plans to get her damned sugar. You barrel down the street with your steps stomping against the path, hurting your feet and wearing down your thin shoes. But you are enraged—   That is until you hear the call of your name by a familiar friend.   “Lady Y/N?”   Uncertainty rises in his voice. You turn yourself, eyes widening. It’s a tall fellow with dark hair and eyes, a smile that creases dots into both sides of his cheeks. “Mr. Kim?”   He’s dressed in a yellow and black uniform, features worn the last time you remember. He’s thinner as well. It must be from the back breaking labour that you pity. Yet behind the fatigue is still a well-mannered man.   “How do you do, Lady. Y/N? I'm very heartily glad to see you.”   “I am well, thank you, Mr. Kim. Though I am sure only you are the only person who calls me a lady around here.”   “Rightfully so. No matter your status, you are still a lady to me.”   “And now I begin to understand why you were such a charmer back in his majesty’s land, Mr. Kim. Enough to tempt a married woman.”   “Make no mistake, Lady Y/N. It was her who lured me into such an adulterous sin.”   Namjoon laughs, sound glorious in its own way. You had not ever in your life felt such a relief to see a friend. It is now that you realize just how much you have yearned for this man in the past endless days.    A smile draws upon your features. “And how do you do, Mr. Kim? What business finds you here on this warm afternoon?”    It must be an amusing sight to see two criminals speak to each other so respectfully as if you are from the nobility. But as strange as the man may be, there has been no one who has treated you better.   Simply by standing with him here, suddenly all your troubles have up and vanished.   “Well, I am as well as someone like me could be. I am part of a building task.”   “Is that so?”   “Yes. It will perhaps house books. A library of sorts.”   “It sounds like much taxing work.”   “It is much taxing work.”   You take note of how hungry he appears and wonder if he has enough to eat. You are fortunate enough to be able to sneak objects out the kitchen when there are no wandering eyes.    As you ponder, Namjoon notices the mark on your cheek, much like a handprint still embedded into your skin. “What happened here?” He indicates, concerned.   “Oh nothing really. It was my fault for being disobedient.”   He’s not eased from your words, expression troubled. “I heard you were being employed as a domestic servant by the Kwon Household. Do they strike you often?”   “No, not at all. Only when I...defy their wishes…”   “Do you have ointment?”   “I am perfectly well, Mr. Kim. There is really no need for you to fret,” you reassure. “I am sure there are more important matters for you to take care of.”   Namjoon opens his mouth, perhaps to chide you for belittling yourself in his view — at least you hope so. But you’re never quite sure what he wants to tell because he’s interrupted by a shouting Superintendent. “You there! What are you waiting around for?! Get a move on! Quickly!”   He looks at you in distress. “I...must go.”   You nod. “I will see you soon, Mr. Kim.”   “I will hold onto that promise and find strength in it, Lady Y/N.” Namjoon smiles, on his way carrying bricks. You watch his backside with a longing sigh, off to buy sugar.   //   You’ve never lived a life of much comfort. You were born and became an orphan before your mind could contain any memory. You were raised on the streets until you were taken by a group of misfits and taught to pickpocket with other children. Thus for the entirety of your life, you have stolen food and clothing to get by.   So it’s quite absurd for you when you get a peek of how those in luxury reside.   “—goodness me! It was absolutely unbelievable!” Lady Kwon chuckles behind a gloved hand. “How could she have thought cotton was silk? You jest me.”   “I would not,” Lady Bae Suzy tells, a free settler, much like the Kwon Household. “I could never fathom such a thought.”   “Well, Miss Williams has always been a bit empty in the head.”   “I pity you who has to continue to entertain her for the coming months. I wish there was a way she would understand that we do not enjoy her company.”   She hums and holds her teacup up. You scatter from the corner to refill her drink as well as Lady Bae’s. “When are you leaving again?”   “Four weeks from now. It will be twenty five days. It is coming sooner than expected, Miyeon.”   “Are you looking forward to the trip? The voyage will be rather tiresome.”   “It will be, but with my husband’s company, I am sure it will not be too difficult.” She reaches over to grab her hand with a polite smile. “I promise to bring back the best sugars and cotton from the United States of America.”   She releases a small laugh, ladylike and never too loud. “You worry about your health, Suzy. I have an abundance of things I could ever desire.”   “Then I will come back soon so you will not have to deal with that old hag by your lonesome.”   “I will look forward to your return. Are you famished? Servant, get Lady Bae the cooked lamb from the kitchen.”   “Right away, Madam.” You dip yourself down, nodding.   As you stride away, you overhear their voices. “That is your new servant girl?”   “My husband selected her,” Lady Kwon replies in disdain.   And the devil appears as they speak about him. With the door closed, the stout man in his short breeches and tight waistcoat comes from down the hall. “Sir, your humble servant. Good day.”   “Very good. I assume you have been well, girl?”   “Very well, thank you.”   You pass by, moving out of the way. But then suddenly, the sweaty man grabs onto you. He spins you and hits you against the wall, trapping you in place against his hold. His lips curl when he hears the gasp that tears from your throat.   “Where do you think you are leaving to, whore? I still have not had my fun with you yet,” Lord Kwon mutters into your ear, his spit hitting against your skin. It’s absolutely abhorrent and disgusting. He squeezes your ass with the palm of his hand, pressing his tiny groin to you. “Skirting around me is useless. It only entices me more.”   You can imagine it now, elbow jutting out into his ribs. You would smack his face until he falls, dig your heels into his awfully pathetic crotch until he is shrieking like a pig being skewered.    But right as you are about to move, the door suddenly opens and he is off of you.   “Husband?”   “Wife, good day. Is Lady Bae here? I thought I would come to say hello.”   She peers at you in suspicion. “What are you still lingering for, servant?! Did I not give you orders?!”   “My apologies, madam. I was...stopped.” Your stare is pointed at the man, and you turn away before she can inquire what you mean or the man can accuse you of lies and threaten lashings.   It is despicable. Utterly despicable.   You hope God is watching and will reign down his punishment on judgment day. The both of them enter the realm of hell, back to where they belong.    It is shameful being in this household. You ought to kill them, by God’s name he would know why.   You angrily enter the kitchen in distress. “Lady Kwon requires the rack of lamb.”   “Already?!” Rose huffs. “We are not finished! It still needs to cook till half past three.”   “Then you can tell her ladyship of the delay.”   She groans and whips her cleaning cloth onto the bench. “Lord knows how spiteful she is. She might strike me across the face for all I know.”   “What are you moaning about now?” Jane, head of the house duties, approaches from the other door.   “Why must we permit Lady Kwon’s malice? We are not at fault for her son’s passing.”   “Her son passed?” you pipe up, curious.   “He succumbed to disease in the previous year. Fever. Vomiting. These horrible spots all over his body.” The young servant childishly shivers. “And ever since, Lady Kwon has been more insufferable. She threw the servant before you out the door because she forgot to wash her dress.”   “Enough with the gossip,” Jane chides harshly. “You must permit her anger because you are a servant of this household. Because you are a criminal. If you work hard enough, you will receive a ticket of pardon.”   “Three years from now.” Rose sighs longingly and looks at you. “Four for you since you just arrived.”   You don’t have to work a full seven if you can tolerate the foolish antics of this house. And with that thought in mind, you release your fury and start to chop the carrots, quicker, less clumsily.   //   Notwithstanding your newfound efforts, it is still difficult for you to be as obedient as they wish.    You begin to learn what is expected of you, how to complete your duties and tasks, but it is not enough if they do not see a sort of suffering from you. Yet you remain uninjured from their demands, insults, their treatment that would be suitable towards a cow than a maid.   “Did you get the fish?”   “Fresh for sale.” Rose brings it in and Jane immediately gets to work, tending to the dinner that will be served in five hours time. “I picked up apples too and some herbs.”   “Marvelous.”   She sets them down. “On my way back, I saw one of the men being flogged. Apparently he was being disrespectful to the Superintendent and now they’re lashing him fifty times. It was horrid really.”   Your blood runs cold.   “Maybe he shouldn’t have been disrespectful,” Jane mutters as she swirls the broth in the pot over the fire.   “Do you know his name? The man who is being flogged,” you ask in a hurry, grabbing Rose by her shoulders. The girl is taken back.   “I don’t know.”   “What was he wearing?”   “Yellow and black— Hey! Where are you going?! You can’t just leave! You need permission!” the young servant girl screams out to you. But by that time, you’ve darted out the door, across the estate and out of view. The two women are utterly stunned. Jane’s eyes are rounded and then she shakes her head, muttering how ridiculous you are.   “Did I say something wrong?” Rose asks Jane who remains silent, ignoring what occurred in favour of chopping the herbs. “Don’t all the prisoners wear yellow and black?”   You run across the land, chest heaving, sweat dripping down your face underneath the stifling heat. You move past people, shoes digging into dirt, and when you see the crowd in the town’s center, you can hear wails and cries. What precedes another cry is the crack of a whip.   The onlookers grimace while some find ill enjoyment in it.   “Excuse me! Pardon me!”   You split the horde, bringing yourself past them until you make it to the front of the crowd.   The man tied to a pole, whip meeting his back that is splitting at the seams. Blood pours down his skin. It is awful, but a sense of relief overwhelms you when you discover it is not Namjoon.   You walk away, not wanting to watch the man being beat. Slowly, you return to where you came from, feeling foolish for being impetuous. But before you can carry yourself to the estate, you are stopped on your way.   “Lady Y/N?”   The man you were entirely troubled for appears, although his smile falls as he regards you and how your hair sticks to your skin in sweat. “Are you alright?”    “I am...fine.”    “Then why do you look so uneasy? Did you run here?”   “I thought—I thought that was you being whipped.” Your hand is placed over your chest, trying to breathe once more. Your voice trembles against your will. “I had to come to see.”   Namjoon reaches out.   Hesitantly.    His arm extends. The man coddles your face with a single hand, holding you still. His skin is rough from the tiring labour, but he is gentle, thumb running over your cheek. Unlike the way Lord Kwon makes you disgusted when he lays a hand on you, Namjoon’s touch calms you considerably.   You search each other’s eyes, even if it is just for one mere moment. The two of you relish in one another’s company.   “I am glad you were not harmed,” you murmur.   “And I am honoured that I still have part of your mind, Lady Y/N. That you still choose to concern yourself with someone of my lowly status.”   “I...should go,” you say and he releases you with a nod. “I will come to see you soon when I can make the time, Mr. Kim.”   “I will wait patiently.” He smiles.   You brush against the man, body pressed to his for a moment.   Namjoon watches you disappear over the horizon. With you gone, he comes to his senses and finds his pocket heavier than before. He looks down and smiles when he discerns you have secretly passed him bread.   “I am utterly astounded that you still find the time of day to romance others.” Seokjin, his friend, lays down the brick when Namjoon returns to his post. He is as terrified as he is impressed. “Are you courting the lady?”   “Well, if she was to become my wife, it would not be such an unpleasant affair.” Namjoon smiles widely, discovering more strength to lay bricks on the road quicker.

When the sun rises, Namjoon is called like the others are. They are all howled at by the officers and the Superintendent, forced to rise from the barracks for another ten hours of work without a moment’s rest. He puts his mind to brick-making alongside a few others in the heat of the sun, sweat dousing his clothing, stomach turning in on itself from starvation. The eyes of the Superintendent Min are always behind him.   “Quickly now, men! Do not dawdle! You there! Hurry your hands!”   There is barely any food — perhaps enough to continue moving his body, but not enough to stop the onset of sickness he is beginning to feel as his breaths heave slower.   “You! Where do you think you are leaving to?!”   “Good sir, please, I must relieve myself,” another prisoner pleads.   “Not until you complete more work! Don’t try to fool me! I know you have done little work since morning!”   “Mr. Superintendent, I beg of you. I must relieve myself soon or I fear I will soil my trousers.”   “You dare to talk back to me?!” The prisoner is dragged away, as he cries, to be flogged for disrespect.   Seokjin shakes his head, murmuring underneath his breath, “Park should have held it in or relieved himself in secret.”   Namjoon does not speak for fear of being overheard. He hopes Park Jimin makes through it considering he is a kind fellow and a good friend.   Eventually the day ends with Namjoon’s body sore, his bones and muscles aching. Superintendent Min approaches him. “I have not failed to notice your hard efforts, boy.”   “I merely do what I am asked, Mr. Superintendent.”   “Well you are doing a wondrous job,” Superintendent Yoongi slaps his back with a smile. “Here, some tobacco for a job well done.”   Namjoon receives the tobacco with words of gratitude. But as the Superintendent leaves, it stays within his hand and he wonders what he should do with it. While Namjoon appreciates the gesture, some simple bread or biscuits would have been sufficient.   “What did he want from you?” Seokjin comes with him, walking towards the barracks under the close eye of other officers. Namjoon shows him. “Tobacco?! Lord almighty.”   “Do you want it?”   Seokjin’s eyes flutter to him. “You would give me your reward?”   “I am not very fond of it.”   “Then you do not know how to enjoy the simplicities of life. By all means I will not let it go to waste.” Seokjin receives it with a hearty chuckle. Namjoon enjoys his company. Much like himself, the man is cheerful no matter the circumstance. “Thank you.”   “There is no need to be grateful,” he reassures. “I would have preferred an apple, perhaps. Even some bread and biscuits.”   “There is not much food here for such luxuries, friend. But I hear there will be a shipment vessel from his majesty’s kingdom in a few weeks time. We can only hope there will be more food then.”   “A….shipment vessel?” His voice trails as his thoughts begin to wander.   //   The night arrives with the moon high above the horizon. The officers have fallen asleep at their stations and the quietness throughout the barracks has Namjoon slipping from his thin cover. His feet find his shoes, but once the place beside him turns, he halts his movement at once.    But then Seokjin opens his eyes.   “Fear not,” he whispers with a sleepy voice. “I will keep watch for you.”   “Thank you.”   Namjoon disappears in the middle of the night. Arguably it is the most important part of his day. The most fond part. It is certainly the part he looks forward to the most and what gets him through the difficult labour.   The man rounds the building of the barracks outside to the shadow waiting for him. The high waisted, narrow skirt of their shabby dress billowing in the slightest of breezes. The hair let loose after being pinned up all day long. Namjoon regards you with the biggest and truest of smiles.    “You are early.”   “As are you.”   “I do not mind waiting a little while. The quiet is good for the soundness of my mind. I simply worry that you will find yourself in trouble one of these days for meeting me here.”   “And I worry that you will find yourself in trouble for leaving the estate.”   You are ignorant to how happy he is to find you. It is worth the risk and trouble he would find himself in.   You meet his eye. Through the dim moonlight, you can only see part of his fatigued features. But it is more than enough to make you sorrowful. “Here, quickly, eat.” You uncurl his fingers, placing bread into his palm. He does not hesitate to devour the stale food. And you hastily reach into your pockets for the other things you stole under their noses through the entire day. “I also have a biscuits and a crumpet, two slices of apple, a slice of pear.”   “Do you not worry you will be caught and punished?”   You scoff at the man. “I have been pickpocketing all my life, Mr. Kim. And I have not once been caught.”   “But you’re here,” he points out.   “I’ve been caught only once,” you correct yourself and smile when he laughs. “Do not fret yourself with me. The lord and lady of the house are much too foolish and would not notice if their brooches and gowns were on backwards.”   It is not an unfamiliar arrangement. For the past week or so, the both of you have been sneaking off to see one another in the dead of the night with no other soul awake. You sit together on the ground and speak about your day and grievances as he feeds himself. It’s a friendship that helps the soundness of your mind. You are able to laugh at the remarks he makes without worry. It is good to know you are not driving yourself mad with the lunacy of the household and your plaguing concern lessens to know he is eating.   “—rubbish at sewing. It is not my fault I cannot see where the pin is or the thread. She ought to go to a seamstress as would anybody of her status would.”   “Y/N.” Namjoon calls you by your name without a title and you are taken aback by the intimacy his voice gives. He finishes the last slice of sweet apple. “We should escape.”   There is held silence in the air.   “You are out of your mind,” you say, stiffening. “Do not speak of such a thing again. I do not wish to see you sent away.”   “I am not out of my mind, Lady Y/N, and I wish you would not suggest such thing. Is it too absurd to think of escaping this?”   “There is no food out there. We would be caught by the natives, get eaten by dingos, snakes, or ravenous beasts. Who knows what is lurking out there. It is hot during the day and much too cold during the night. We would die without food or water. Mr. Kim.” You turn to him in urgency, and seek that this nonsensical idea be expelled from his mind. It is much too dangerous.   “There is a ship,” he tells. “A vessel coming from his majesty’s land in a few weeks time. It is bringing food. We can board it in secret.”   “And then what shall we do?” you inquire. “Escape under the law forevermore? Or perhaps be caught and sent back here for worse punishment?”   “We would never have to hide in order to see each other.” The two of you would not have to sneak around, to creep in the shadows at night to be together for only a few moments.    The suggestion is much too tempting.   You look away from him, too unsure. It is clear he has thought of it, that his intentions are not made recklessly. But you do not want to endanger his livelihood.   “If we behave well enough, we can get a ticket of pardon after four years.”   “Is stealing food for me behaving well?” he asks without expecting an answer. “Sooner or later, we will die. We cannot survive here, Lady Y/N.”   “If we are caught….I would only be placed alone in a cell, perhaps with my head shaved. But for you. I do not wish for you to be caught and sent to Norfolk Island. I hear it is...awful.” Your voice breaks and you shake your head. You gather your knees together and lean your head against the wall, much like you used to on the ship that brought you here. “The men that go there never return. We will never see one another again, Mr. Kim. Not even like this.”   “Hear me, Lady Y/N.” Your eyes meet each other’s, and he holds your gaze with great passion and thought. “My greatest wish is that you would not be harmed. That you would not suffer under the whims of Lady Kwon. That Lord Kwon would not lay his hand on you.”   Such things are inevitable. You have come to accept them long ago. But Namjoon makes it so that you don’t want to accept it.   “I fear this inability to protect you would drive me to true madness,” he says. “I fear I may not last.”   Namjoon persists with his speech that sways you excessively, “If you do not wish to come with me, then I will never hold it against you. I would not be so rude as to do such a thing. We shall never speak of this matter again if you desire so. But do not be fearful for me. I am willing to face danger — but only if you are willing to come. To be by my side.”   You are able to infer the meaning of his words. He is a gentleman and is asking you to be with him.   You have never had such a proposal before and from someone who you long to be with, who you long to see constantly. You are moved by his sincerity and by his offer.   “You speak well, Mr. Kim.” Your hand moves over his and he smiles. “I will come with you.”   Namjoon turns his hand to clasps yours. Your fingers lace into one another’s. It is a promise that invigorates you.   //   The preparations are beginning.   One. Two. Three.   At eight thirty, the lady of the household requires her bath. But at nine, she retires to her bedroom for the night. Twenty before ten, Jane finishes eating with you and Rose, and her duties in the kitchen are complete for the night. She retreats to her own quarters while Rose tends to wander around more, perhaps sneaking out treats from the pantry or lingering in the bath longer than she should. Whatever the case, you are used to keeping your ear against the surface of the door and counting her retreating steps down the hall until her door shuts.    That only leaves Lord Kwon. His movements are undoubtedly incalculable. Often he returns to his chambers at eleven. Other times, he returns at twelve, drunken and noisy with women’s perfume stained to his clothing as his steps thump against the stairs. Tonight, you are not sure where he is.   It is midnight when you peek from your curtains, candle long blown out. You scope the surroundings with your eyes. The land is dark, blanked in blackness save for the dim moonlight that allows shadows to cast. Other than the silence, the sound of cicadas chirp in the night.   When you feel the time is right, you creep from your quarters, footsteps light against the flooring. But before you can turn to the kitchen and escape from the back door, there’s thumping feet behind you, becoming louder and louder.   A gasp falls from your lips and you whirl yourself around. Nearly bumping into whoever it is.   “What are you doing here?”   “I could ask you the same!”   They are sharp, hushed whispers, and you halt your movements. The both of you peek up the stairs, but luckily neither Lady Kwon nor Jane comes down.   From the moonlight coming through the window, you see the way Rose pouts.   “I was just heading to the family basin. I am on the rag.”   “Is that so? Because I see jam on your mouth.” You lift your hand, wiping the side of the young girl’s lip. It is the strawberry jam made from the afternoon.   Her doe eyes tremble. “Do not tell Lady Kwon or Jane, please, I beg of you.”   “I will not do such a thing,” you reassure her. “I do not find pleasure in people’s misery. Just go to bed. Stop sneaking treats before you get into trouble.”   The girl nods obediently and retreats down the hall. She turns and never once questions where you are headed at this time of night. “Good bye, Y/N.”   “Good bye, Rose.”   Luckily, you are able to ward her off without arousing suspicion.    Unfortunately, you are unable to make it to the back entrance with the sack of food you stashed underneath the table. You are stopped when you enter through the kitchen doorway, grabbed by your waist. There is stiff heat against your back, something pressed to your ass. You are trapped on spot, a gasp catching your throat.   “Where are you headed off to, little girl?”   There is a mutter against your ear, hot breath that makes you want to bathe. You quickly turn around before his hand can drag any lower on your body. “My lord…”   “Such a shame you dismissed the other servant girl.” Lord Kwon holds your chin, tilting your head up for his viewing. “She is more frightened of me than you are, but the three of us could indulge together. I guess you will suffice for tonight.”   You step back quickly, able to mask your disgust in the darkness. “I am but your most obedient and humble servant, sir. I am undeserving of your attention and would never satisfy any desire you may have beyond housework. I apologize, my lord.”   “On the contrary, I believe you would be able to satisfy me quite well.”   It does not work. Playing coy only excites the beast. Being modest and bashful rouses him further, so you hastily change your scheme.    You laugh quietly, and the lewd man is taken aback when you push yourself forward against the man’s body. His back hits against the wall and you shamelessly palm his groin, squeeze his tiny prize.   “Shall we indulge then?”   Lord Kwon’s lips curl. “You’re more of a whore than I thought. Bend over.”   You tilt your head, bringing forth a pretty smile he can see before you remove yourself. “My lord, the lady of the house has been asking about you for the entire day.”   “Why should that concern me?”   “If you do not return to your chambers soon to see her, I fear she will go looking for you and our time together will be cut short. I want to...take my time. I am a delicate woman after all and I will not be able to stay if Lady Kwon becomes suspicious of us.”   He chuckles. “So you do have actual thoughts in that pretty head of yours, servant.”   “I must think of the long period of time, my lord. Not just enjoyment for the short term.”   “Then when can I see you again?”   “Some night soon,” you tell. “Fruit is sweeter the longer you wait for it to ripen.”   “Ah, but I am afraid I lack patience. Nevertheless, tonight I will wait.” He leans himself against you and your breath halts when he suddenly yanks your dress up and palms your ass. He gives a tight squeeze. “I cannot wait to make you mine.”   //   “Disgusting! It was absolutely revolting!” You are retching out loud. It’s unladylike, but you could not care less in front of him. He does not pay mind or have ill thoughts. “He is downright awful, I wanted to kill him.”   The man sitting beside you on the ground laughs. “If you kill him, we will be unable to escape.”   “I am well aware. But there are times the thought is irresistible.”   “He did not hurt you?”   “He would be dead if he did. Do not fret. I can take care of myself.”   Yet in spite of your reassurance, Namjoon still appears troubled.   He suddenly drops his bread to the ground and reaches out. He takes hold of your waist and moves you onto his lap as you draw a surprised breath. Namjoon’s gaze on you is fond.   You look away from it onto the discarded food. “What a waste.”   “I hunger for something else.” His eyes are half-lidded and your hands grasp his shoulders. It is comfortable on his body, a kind of warmth that spreads from the top of your head to the tips of your toes that you didn’t know was possible to have. “Where did he touch you?”   “Here.” You bring his hand to your chin then trail downwards to your waist, letting his fingers brush a path on the rest of your body on the way there. “And here.”   “Anywhere else?” he breathes, forehead pressed on yours.   You are ridding of that old man’s touch in exchange for Namjoon’s course but gentle hands. “Here.”   You tug your dress up, curling his grasp to your behind. He squeezes tenderly underneath the cloth of your nightgown and overcoat. It is a ticklish feeling that excites you.   The tip of his tongue comes to lick the seam of his lips. “M-May I-I k...kiss you?”   You nod forthrightly. “You may.”   The man presses his mouth with caution to yours. A simple graze. There is hesitancy in his gesture, as if scared he will frighten you away. But his lips are soft, delicious to the taste.   Namjoon pulls away, gazing with endearment into your eyes. After a moment, he leans in to kiss you once more as if entranced. It lasts longer this time and you are able to move your mouth against his.   You do not need long-winded poetry or noisy declarations to know that he adores you very much so. His actions are attentive enough to show his affections. You are aware of how he dotes on you. Namjoon thinks of you as you think of him.   Thus, it is not vulgar to you when his tongue protrudes into your wet mouth. When his kisses deepen and would make strangers watching blush. Namjoon takes your breath like he’s already taken your heart and mind.    But when he pushes you closer to his hardening groin, and squeezes your ass in a way that makes you whimper, you pull yourself away from him with the decency you have left.   “I will not be bedded out here on the dirty ground,” you say, catching your breath. You try to lessen the heat on your face. If anyone caught you sitting on the lap of Kim Namjoon, allowing him to have his way with you in the middle of the night alone, even if you are prisoners, it is still scandalous. “And—And I refuse to have a child out of wedlock. I will not risk such thing.”   “Nor will I,” he easily agrees and smiles. “I will not rush. I am a very patient man.”   You ponder if Mr. Kim is aware of his own charms.    In spite of your conviction, he makes it hard to resist.    “Someday,” he tells. “I will wed to you. When we can. Then our children will have proper families. I will work hard to provide. It is my promise.”   “Then I will hold onto that promise.” You smile and kiss him one last time.

You are humming to yourself as you work. It never occurred to you how bright the days were, how beautiful it was when flowers bloomed. While it was hot and the land was barren, there are still plants and life around you.   In the morrow, you will be free with the love of your life, and you cannot wait. The anticipation is overwhelming.   And so, you are pouring the tea with a gladden smile, unaware of Lady Kwon glaring. She is vexed over your good mood, but does not say anything to you in the company of a friend.   “How fast time flies. I cannot believe I am headed to harbour in the morrow.”   “Will you be gone at first blush?” Lady Kwon sips her tea.   “A few hours after, I believe,” Lady Bae replies. “My husband has never been fond of dawn.”   “Keep yourself well, friend. A twenty five day voyage on the sea is rather tedious. I wish you well.”   “Thank you. I will be back sooner than you will know and I will come with treasures again. I hear the weather there will be more pleasant than it is here. Certainly, less hot.”   “Where are you headed to?”   “I believe it’s a place called North Carolina. We may even head to the colony of Louisiana. My husband has friends there. It seems that tobacco and cotton are well known there.”   “But are you sure the land is safe? It has been seven years after the war, but it is always good to be cautious.”   “It should be fine. I heard that ever since the war, there has been more opportunities in the United States of America. Many people have come there to settle. It might even be a place to come to in the future.”   “Hmm….” Lady Kwon’s eyes stray and she sees you. A frown forms on her features. “Servant, what are you doing standing there? Fill my cup!”   Your thoughts travel. “My apologies, madam.”   //   One. Two. Three.   You count the steps that move up the stairs and listen to the creeks of the flooring.   At eight thirty, the lady of the household had her bath. At nine, she retired to her bedroom for the night. Jane, you, and Rose finished your dinner twenty before ten and the kitchen is spic and span. The older domestic servant even retired to her room earlier than expected and Rose yawned before telling you of how she was to sleep early tonight.   You wish to bid a final farewell to both Jane and Rose, but you cannot. Not without arousing their suspicion which would foil your plans.   And things were as perfect as they could be. Even Lord Kwon arrived home early in the evening, ate with the lady and retreated to his chambers an hour ago.   Tonight, you were escaping with Namjoon. Tomorrow, you would have found freedom with him.   “You are still awake. Lovely.”   A sudden voice interrupts your thoughts and you turn away from the curtains of your room. Quickly, you light your candle again and the dim glow casts its light onto Lord Kwon’s face.   He shuts the door behind him.   “L-Lord Kwon. I—I thought you were asleep.”   “And leave you waiting for me? I would not be so cruel as to leave a maiden on her lonesome.”   “I am not lonely, please, sir. Will Lady Kwon not wonder where you are?”   “She is but fast asleep.” He approaches in three strides, driving you into a corner. “Tonight, we can finally indulge in one another.”   “I...really am not prepared, sir. Perhaps another night.”   “No!” He shouts, enough to startle you cold. The man points a finger at your face. “I will not wait any longer, whore.”   You consider screaming to gather the attention of the household. Rose would most certainly come running with Jane. But that would foil the plans of your escape. You do not know when another opportunity would arise, when another vessel or ship would reach the harbour and leave again.   “I—I am on the rag,” you say. “I am bleeding.”   “Then you still have a mouth to satisfy me with.”   He is as stubborn as a mule, foolish like one too. So with your teeth gritted and having no choice, you step aside. “Then take a seat, sir. I will try my hardest to please you.”   Lord Kwon smiles, content with your willingness. He pulls his breeches down to his ankles, and sits on your bed. You stop yourself from gagging aloud when you come face to face with the smallest, ugliest meat sausage. “Well, do not just stare, peasant. Get a move on.”   You comply with his wishes, dropping to your knees. You look at him for a moment before you grab hold of his meat stick with your hand and you pump once. The poor man almost finishes right then and there. He releases a throaty moan and his fist takes your hair and tugs harshly.   “Do you like this, sir?”   “Shut your trap, whore, before I stuff it for you.”   You doubt he could do it with his skinny little thing.   You give a few more pumps until he has lost his mind in pleasure. But before he can insist you put your mouth on it and at the moment he least expects, with his eyes shut tight, your left hand raises. You grab for the candlestick beside your bed. You swing as hard as you can.   The metal collides with the strike of his skull.   He yelps in shock, hand raising to where you have hit him, where crimson blood stains his fingertips.   “Why you little—”   You beat him with the candlestick once more. This time, he falls to the ground, out of consciousness. His body sags off your bed, a mere thump on your flooring.    For good measure, you beat him once more with the candlestick, dropping on his head. You kick him in his stomach for all the things he has ever done to you. And you dig the heel of your shoe and twist into his tiny groin to make sure he could never raise it again.   You ensure he is still breathing, so he may wake up to his manhood gone.   You step over him, going underneath your bedding. You grab for the sack of the lady and lord’s clothing you stole in the afternoon, filled with food, and gold and jewelry that you swiped to exchange for shillings.    Quickly, you change into your dress. You abandon your servant clothing for a pouter-pigeon front dress, a white high-waisted narrow skirt, with a colored striped jacket.    You are beginning to look like a free settler.   //   The night is still. You creep to the back of the barracks, the designated spot you have met for the past weeks, waiting patiently. Finally, you hear steps behind you, and you twirl around.   But your smile falls. It is not the man you were expecting — the man you are to be wedded to — that you are running off with.   “Who are you?” There is a deep voice approaching closer. It is the Superintendent and he can see you in the moonlight. Your feet are rooted with his stare, unable to move. “Madam, what are you doing at this time of night?”   “I, uh, I was walking.”   “At this time of night?”   His eyes sweep your body and your fancy attire, suspicion arousing. But you clear your throat, lifting your chin in an attempt to act pompous. “I do not believe I need to be questioned by you. Now if you will excuse me.”   Superintendent Min grabs your arm before you can stride away. His eyes are narrowed into a glare. “Excuse my rudeness, madam. But I believe I do believe I have not seen you before. Did you come inland? What is your name?”   “Unhand me instantly!”   “Answer my question!”   Fear courses through you. Unlike Lord Kwon who you have come to understand and know his desires, you know nothing about this stranger whose hold on you is tight enough to injure. “Or perhaps you are someone who should not be here,” he perceives and asks, “What household do you belong to?”   “I—”   You are rudely interrupted or rather thankfully saved by a sharp noise. A clang.    The man questioning you falls forward onto the ground and you step back with a wince.   Namjoon stands looming over him. He drops the brick in his hands and takes your hand immediately.   “Did he harm you?”   “N—No. He just frightened me. So did you.”   “I apologize. There were people asking me questions and I had to say farewell to my good friend.”   You nod and bring your sack forward. “Hurry and change. We must leave soon.”   Namjoon rids his prisoner uniform in exchange for an expensive coat, waistcoat and breeches. The clothes you now wear are objects that you have both longed to adorn that only riches could buy. But finally it is on you. And hand-in-hand, you grasp tightly onto one another to lurk in the darkness.   “The vessel should be on the harbour. I saw it unloading goods today into the market.”   “Wait, Namjoon.” You hold him back behind a stable. “I wanted to tell you. There is a ship going to the United States, I—I heard it from one of the ladies who often drank tea with Lady Kwon.”   You search his eyes in the darkness. “There is no place for us in the Kingdom of Great Britain. They sent us away. His majesty’s kingdom abandoned us. But this new land, the United States, it sounds promising. I hear there are opportunities there. We—we could have a new life.”   You hold him close. “Will you come with me?”   His features draw into a soft smile. “You had not needed to ask twice. I will go wherever you go.”   With the promise made, the pair of you move onwards onto a smaller ship but one just as hopeful.   The sailors are long asleep, the night quiet as the water spills onto the harbour and land, receding and rising once again with the swell of the waves. There are boxes on the shore, filled with food and goods. Namjoon finds a large crate filled with hay and meant to house fragile antiques, and he grabs you. The both of you sneak into it and move the cover over you.   You lay there in discomfort, but with your future husband’s body heat warming your skin.   At the blush of dawn, you hear voices and hitch your breaths. The crate you occupy lifts with complaints of it being heavy and you hear the lady’s shrill voice telling them to get a move on, distracting them from taking a look at what is inside.   Before the sirens of escaped convicts can ring and news can spread across the town to halt all movements, you are brought to the lower deck. The anchors are pulled. There are yells of sailors. The boat is pushed out to sea.   The light pierces through the cracks of the crate, and you are able to see Namjoon’s face and his brightened smile.   “I hope you are ready, Mr. Kim.”   You met each other on a ship and you are now leaving together on another. This time, the both of you sailing to freedom.    And for the free settlers left in the new colony, the whereabouts of the two escaped convicts would forever remain a mystery, records incompleted for centuries, never to be found again.    What is only left are rumours of a married couple in the new land who suddenly appeared one afternoon but lived the rest of their lives happily and enamoured with one another.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #Namjoon fluff #namjoon fanfic #namjoon scenario #WOO I hope this is an interesting concept #I tried to be as historically accurate as possible #but obviously there's gonna be some inaccuracies that I missed #for one escape isn't easy #anyways hope you enjoyed!!!

[taleswindy]

Vanitas x OC : The Moon's Curse

This is a fanfiction about the manga Vanitas no Carte with my oc in it. I started writing in 2017-2018 so I apologize if you find typos since I am mostly writing on my phone.

Airship : La Baleine

I was in La Baleine, heading to Paris, this airship is really amazing. People were chatting about rumors that vampires appeared, and I could hear people wondering about vampires' existence.

In the crowd, I noticed a lady looking rather ill and she looked on the verge of fainting if it wasn't for a gentleman with dark skin, short silvery white hair and purple eyes catching her, the curiosity got the best of me as I approached them at their table.

"...You're too kind. Thank you." The lady said towards the man.

"Not at all. Are you sure I can't take you to the infirmary ?" The man asked, maybe worried for her.

"Yes... I think I'll be all right if I rest a little bit." She explained but then the man got his face close to her own, making her flustered.

'I think he should know what "personnal space" is...'

"...You do look pale though. I'm worried..." He expressed in concern, showing no ill intentions.

I crouched down to be at the lady's level. "I think he is right, you do look kind of sick..." I softly expressed in my turn.

The both of them turned their gazes at me with a surprised expression showing on their face as I bowed my head. "Pardon the intrusion."

"I-It's only anemia. Please don't trouble yourselves !" The pale lady exclaimed at us. "I'm... on my way to see a doctor now. There are... special circumstances... I don't intend to let any other doctor examine me." She explained. "So, um... Thank you very much." She said it but I didn't know if it was also meant for me or only for the tanned man.

He distanced himself hearing her words and from the corner of my eye I could see a shadow for a brief instant before it jumped, making the lady beside me shrieked in fear but then I realized that it was only a cat with white fur and heterochromical eyes, one was blue while the other was pink, the cat landed on the lady's laps.

"Ah ! Hey, Murr !" The man exclaimed looking at what I assumed to be the cage of the cat now known as Murr before getting his eyes back on him.

"Oh my. My, my, my ! How sweet !" The girl didn't really seem to be bothered by Murr's presence in fact and I decided to stand back straight since my back was beginning to hurt me because of the crouched position.

This lady embraced the cat, seeming visibly happy. "...Fufu ! He's so warm..." She commented. "Um... I'm Amelia." She presented herself. "If you don't mind, might I ask your name ?" She adressed to the man and myself.

He looked kind of surprised to me before answering. "Of course ! His name is Murr ! Please ! Do call him by it !" He answered, gesturing to the white cat.

"Oh ! No... I didn't mean the cat..." she explained, seeming taken aback by his answer before turning to me.

I looked at her as I introduced myself, putting a hand on my chest as I spoke softly. "My name is Cyndelle."

"This is an announcement for all passengers." We heard a voice coming from the speakers. "As per its original schedule, La Baleine... ...will be arriving in Paris in approximately one hour." It explained as Murr's owner suddenly stood up from his seat. "Although it has nearly reached its end... ...Please enjoy the remainder... ...of your journey through the skies." The speakers finished on that sentence as the white haired man went to a window of La Baleine to see outside.

"PARIS !!!" The man exclaimed in excitement. "Paris ! Where is Paris, Mademoiselle Amelia and Mademoiselle Cyndelle !?" He wondered as he couldn't keep moving.

"Um... I don't think we can see it from here yet..." She explained to him, looking astonished by his sudden behavior.

"Is that right !? ............ What a pity." He said, now dissapointed. "Still, it's amazing, isn't it !?" He asked, his excitement coming back. "Once you board an airship, it's really no time at all before you're in Paris !" He looked through the glass with an appreciative look.

"... Is this your first time aboard an airship, then ?" Amelia asked him.

"Whatever gave it away !?" He asked, still not getting his face of the window.

"Were you trying to hide it !?" We both wondered but not in the same tone, mine was as soft as ever while Amelia spoke in bewilderment.

"...I lived shut away in the forests of Averoigne for ages. I've never seen an airship this large before, let alone traveled on one." He explained to us.

"I've never been on an airship before too." I hummed in understanding for him.

"Aver... ?" Amelia wondered about where he lived.

"It's terribly deep in the country. I doubt you'd know it." He told us. "To think they're able to set this much weight floating in the sky... The power of astermite is tremendous, isn't it ?" He wondered aloud, not waiting for an answer. "I hear Paris is a steam-powered city to rival even London. I'm already looking forward to landing there." He said, keeping his gaze outside.

Amelia stared at him before tilting her head to the side as I, myself too, fixed my gaze outside the window. "...Are you visiting Paris for sightseeing ?" She asked.

"No. I'm looking for something." He answered.

""Something"...?" Amelia repeated, wanting to know what the something was and I have to admit that I wanted to know too.

"The Book of Vanitas." I now fixed my gaze on him at his words. "Have you heard of it ? It appears in a bed time story, "The Vampire of the Blue Moon." It's the name of a cursed book." He explained.

"Once upon a time, in a certain place... ...There lived a hated vampire known as "Vanitas."" He began to tell. "Vampires are ordinarily born on the night of a crimson full moon. However, for some reason, Vanitas was born on the night of a blue full moon, a symbol of misfortune. Everyone was afraid of Vanitas, and they ran him out of the village. Vanitas was all alone in the forest. Frightened of the darkness, freezing in the snow, he wandered and wandered. And in his heart of hearts, he swore...

...Vengeance on vampires born on the night of a crimson moon.

Foolish vampires who persecuted me ! When this book is opened, a curse more terrible than death will befall you !!

A blue leather cover and jet-black pages... A clockwork grimoire linked to a silver chain... It was a special book created by Vanitas, imbued with the power to interfere with vampires' true names."

The clock that we could see resoned 9.00 as the man tried to take back his cat who didn't look very pleased.

"That time already ?" He wondered. "We'll need to prepare to disembark soon. I'll escort you both to your room, Mlle Amelia and Mlle Cyndelle." The gentleman told us.

We began to follow him and I walked in order to be beside him.

"Is there something wrong ?" He asked me politely with a raised eyebrow.

I gently shook my head. "If you don't mind... Could I stay with you when we'll land ?" I requested.

He seemed surprised by my request. "Why that ?"

"Because..." I paused in my words, looking upwards. "You and I are looking for the same thing." I mumbled softly.

He glanced at me with a bewildered expression and looked like he was about to say something but got cut off by the speakers.

"---From this point on, passengers will be unable to use the onboard facilities. Those who are not yet prepared to disembark should---"

"That story..." Amelia's voice was heard from behin in a whisper. "The book of Vanitas... Do you think a thing like that... truly exist ?" She asked.

"... I don't know." The polite man answered honestly. "However... ...I received a letter that said... ..."Its existence has been confirmed in Paris." Does the book of Vanitas really exist... ...or not ? I'm going to Paris to see for myself." He explained with a determined look on his face.

When we turned around, Amelia was on the floor. "! Mlle. Amelia !?" The man exclaimed in worry before reaching a hand towards her as I did the same. "Are you all right...?"

"Don't touch me !!" She screamed and the street lamp behind us shattered as our eyes widened in shock.

Murr hissed as Amelia went to grab the fence behind her to stand up. "Mademoiselle Amelia, you're..."The man beside me began in a breathless way. "...a vampire..." We both finished as we could see her eyes being red and shining.

Her canines showed up and we looked up as we heard a sound of glass shattering to see a man entering the airship to our surprise.

"What...?" Amelia wondered, obviously lost just like us.

"Found... ...yooou !!"The man screamed, charging toward Amelia.

"...Hm." The man looked at his left to see the tanned gentleman with Amelia in his arms and me by his side.

"I thought I had you there. What're you ?" He asked.

This was a young man with bluish dark wavy hair and light blue eyes. One side of his hair was cut shorter than the other in an asymmetrical fashion, with one level on the left side, and two levels on the right. His left ear was embedded with two ear buds and a dangling hourglass earring. His outfit consisted of a baggy coat with hanging sleeves and a tail that bells out and floats. One side of the coat often slips off his shoulder. Underneath, he wears a striped vest and a belt. He was also wearing spats and short boots on his feet and pointed gloves on his hands and a large light blue bow is wrapped around his waist.

And I didn't know why but I felt something when I saw him...

#vanitas no carte #vanitas x oc #the case study of vanitas #fanfiction #les memoires de vanitas #vanitas #noé archiviste

[loveafterthefact]

Love After the Fact Chapter 3: First Meeting

Lance confronts an Emperor about a funny little thing called MORALS. Meanwhile, a certain Galra waits for him in a corner.

First  Previous  Next

Lance tremulously descends the steps and offers Lord Yorak his arm. The young lord accepts with equal caution. Lance hears coos and disgruntled murmurs in equal measure. He leans over ever so slightly. “They’re going to be like that all day. It’s best if you pay them no mind.” The hand on his arm tightens. Lance wonders if it’s anger or fear. He assumes both. He’d reach out and see, but he doesn’t want to intrude. The kit’s thoughts, at least, belong to him alone. Speaking of which… “If you feel any of these people try to touch your mind, let me know. I shall make them regret it.”

“Thank you,” the lord whispers, barely audible. Lance simply nods. He doesn’t trust himself to speak after hearing the tremble in that voice. This kit is not ready to carry the burden of a crown. Then again, neither is he. And he was born with one, for quiznak's sake!

A few turns later, at the end of a hall, the double doors to the drawing room open. A hand falls on Lance’s shoulder, in between him and the “man” he’ll be “courting” for the next merciless varga or two.

“Crown Prince Lancel,” Emperor Zarkon murmurs. “If it’s alright, I’d like to speak with you alone for a few minutes.” Lance nods, pretends he has a choice. He turns to the lord.

“Forgive me. Be careful.” The Galra nods, and Lance carefully slips away from Lord Yorak, who immediately falls in beside Captain Shirogane without a word, tail twisting around the captain's ankle.

Everyone else enters the drawing room, the doors close, and Lance is alone with the Emperor.

“This won’t be so bad,” Zarkon promises. “He’s a good man-”

“Kit. Lord Yorak is still a kit. He’s not even full-grown! With all due respect, did you think I wouldn’t be able to tell? Do you know what I am expected to do to him tonight? What he is expected to endure?” Lance struggles not to raise his voice. He and Zarkon are acquainted, but this man is an Emperor. “I admit I know little more of your people than how to kill them, but I know enough to know that he is too young for this!”

“You’re right. Lord Yorak has not yet had his first season.” Zarkon sighs, looks tired. “But he is of Altean age. He’s older than you, in fact. By almost a decaphoeb.”

“And you believe that makes it acceptable?” Lance folds his arms, shimmering cloak wrapping around his form. “It’s not. Not in the slightest.”

“It makes it a grey area, which is where your people and mine are residing until further notice. As you said yourself when we presented this arrangement, ‘Whatever it takes.’ I want us to achieve actual peace, and we need this to do it.” Zarkon sighs. “Listen. I’m not throwing him at you. I’m entrusting him to you. My nephew has not had an easy life since my littermate passed. He is surprised by even the smallest act of kindness. That’s why I chose him. I trust you to nurture him and be kind to him. Give him the life that I cannot provide.”

Lance already planned to do these things, to the best of his ability. He’d planned to do them since he was a little boy dreaming of falling in love with a beautiful Altean girl. Things have changed since then, more than once, but Lance still plans to be a good spouse. A good man. The idea that he might be able to make a difference, even if only a little, makes it better. Just a bit.

He's aware the emperor is trying to manipulate him. It hardly matters.

“I never had any intention of doing otherwise. You’ve done well by my sister, and I will of course do the same for your nephew.” Zarkon smiles, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

“Thank you, Lance. Now, go hug your sister.” Lance grins, not needing anything more in the way of encouragement.

Allura meets him halfway, cheeks shimmering in her happiness, the soft scales glittering pink. She throws her slender arms around him, holding him close. “Oh, I’ve missed you!” she cries. “It’s been so long!”

“I know,” Lance mumbles into her soft hair. “By the stars I missed you.” Lance draws away after a few ticks, smiling to Prince Lotor.

“It’s been a long time, your Majesty.” Lotor offers his arm, and Lance grips it tight, an old, formal Galra greeting. Lance is untroubled by their cultural differences. He'd actually like to learn better.

“Too long, your Majesty. How's Romelle?"

She's doing better. I had just convinced my father to allow her to accompany us when she had an episode." Lotor's ears wilt as he pulls his wife closer. The former Altean alchemist's frailty is well-known. The prince manages a smile. "I'll pass along your well wishes. Perhaps it will help her. Overall, she is improving. Allura and I are taking good care of her, we promise."

"I should hope so. You've stolen both my sister and one of my dearest friends. You'd best make sure they're well taken care of. Did you receive my last correspondence about water conservation?”

“I did. However, Daibazaal has no need to conserve water in this matter. On our planet, it falls from the sky. I am of course grateful to you in any case.”

“Water falls from the-”

“Lancel.” Lance jumps, surprised to find his father just behind. “Please perform your princely duties.”

Lance’s lips curls. “Don’t say it like that. It’s disgusting.”

“Lancel-”

“Yes. I’m going.” Lance doesn’t bother to argue ethics with his father, even if he bothers to be angry. Lord Yorak is ‘of age by Altean standards.’ There is nothing to be done.

Anything for his people.

Lance cautiously approaches Lord Yorak, who’s leaning up against a wall looking unhappy and uncomfortable. “Lord Yorak.”

The Galra’s ears twitch nervously, but he says nothing. He gives a tiny bow of his head. Lance can feel Captain Shirogane’s eyes boring into him, daring him, practically begging him to do something objectionable. Lance bites his lip, deciding to try again.

“I... trust you find the Castle of Lions agreeable?”

“It’s very... bright.” Lord Yorak doesn’t seem thrilled. “There are no shadows anywhere... Nowhere to hide.”

“Yes. You won’t be assassinated.” The lord sighs. Lance has the sinking feeling that the lord himself wishes there were a shadow for him to hide in. “Listen... I know we’re strangers and... stuff... but-” Lance hesitates, grimacing at his stilted words. It's so much easier to be charming when there aren't any stakes. “I’ll do what I can to make your life comfortable here.”

“Yeah... here. Where my home is like another star in the sky.” Lance falters at the quiet sadness that overtakes the small Galra’s form. Silence stretches on and on for some time. Then, “Thank you, Crown Prince Lancel. I appreciate your kindness.”

The lord gives a small, cautious smile. He actually isn’t hard to look at. Lord Yorak has soft eyes when he wants.

“You don’t have to be so formal with me. Name’s Lance.” Lance offers his arm. The Galra looks at it in surprise before accepting his offer, gripping him just beneath the elbow. He seems pleased by the familiar greeting, ears perking a little. His tail twitches, almost curious as it brushes against Lance's ankle. It’s endearing.

“You can- You can call me Keith. It’s... what my family calls me.”

“Keith?” Lance cocks his head.

“Yeah. It’s the name my father gave me. He found it on his travels and liked it. When I gained my status, I was given a native name.”

“Gained your status?”

“My mother was appointed to be Emperor Zarkon’s advisor only a phoeb ago. Before that I was a soldier for two decaphoebs. I’m not much of a lord.” Lance narrows his eyes. So Emperor Zarkon has given him a stunted, newly appointed royal? Wasn't this kit meant to be his nephew? Why was he newly appointed? “Yes, I believe the emperor planned it too.”

"Nevermind. This entire arrangement is shady. You and I have more pressing concerns. The courtiers. Tonight, they will say many things. You will not like any of them."

"That I'm cuter and not as savage as they expected me to be?" Keith raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Among other things, yes. Ignore it. It won't be pleasant, but you won't have to endure it for long."

"'Among other things'?" Keith's eyes grow shadows.

"Ignore those too. We can discuss those things later, when we're alone..." Lance reaches out, gently taking the Galra's soft hand. The pads are cool and leathery, like cats' paws. The Galra tenses, not afraid, but ready to fight if he needs to. "You don't have to worry, Keith. I swear to you, I don't have any ill intentions toward you. I want to make sure your life here is as comfortable and pleasant as possible."

Lance takes a tiny step closer, so close that if he lowers his voice, no one but Keith and the ever-listening captain can hear. “Listen to me. We are pawns, you and I. Our marriage does not secure your safety. Fools or not, Alteans are quite skilled at combat, and you are not a friend in their eyes.”

“I know. Shiro will remain close for a few quintants, before he must return. And I am never unarmed, though I may not carry a weapon.” That feels as much like a threat as it does reassurance, but Lance hardly minds. He’d do the same, were their positions reversed. He meets those burning eyes as he draws back. They're beautiful.

“And now is when I introduce myself,” Captain Shirogane cuts in, extending an arm. “Shiro. Captain of the guard.” Behind Lance, Adam’s hurrying footsteps falter.

“Oh by the Ancients! Adam, they’re not going to eat you!” Lance gestures to the timid Altean. “My attendant, Adam.”

“Yes, we prefer to eat something with a little more meat on its bones,” Keith murmurs, inspecting his sharp black nails. “Well, I do. Shiro on the other hand…”

Keith smirks (an interesting development), and Lance follows his gaze. Shiro’s ears are perked in Adam’s direction, eyes lit with curiosity. Before Lance’s eyes, Adam shifts uncomfortably, seeming unsure if to blush or run before the curious mountain of a Galra. Ultimately, the dutiful Altean takes a deep breath and approaches, letting a bit of pink fade in beneath his green scales. Interesting.

Lance turns to Adam, addressing him in Altean. "Did you check the guards? I'm almost certain-"

"Yes. One of them is a Listener... Regardless, your Majesty, I don't think even you could-"

"I could. But I absolutely will not. Listener or no Listener. Can you take care of it?" Lance watches the Altean think, green scales flashing with the intensity of his thoughts.

"I think this particular Listener has an elderly mother in need of care. Perhaps he and I can come to an understanding. I'm sure he wouldn't want anything to happen to her."

Lance grits his teeth. He nods. He doesn't enjoy the shadier aspects of his status. But sometimes, unsavory things must be done. "Do it. It is the lesser evil. Ensure, if you can, that he benefits should he comply. positive reinforcement is best."

Adam nods, opening his datapad and making a note.“I'll take care of it during the banquet." Adam switches to Common, addressing Lance and his guests. "We’re beginning in just a few doboshes. As Prince Lancel may have mentioned, you will be subjected to... comments... for the rest of the night. I advise you not to throttle anyone. I already have enough to worry about without having to clean that up.”

“They know... We’ll see what happens,” Lance murmured. "It depends on the courtiers."

“Prince Lancel, please. I’m begging you. If King Alfor-”

“Father knows where the blame lies when I misbehave, and it is never with you.” Lance chuckles, placing a hand on the Altean’s shoulder. “I promise I will endure.”

Adam relaxes, but only slightly. The poor man doesn’t have it easy.

“Prince Lancel.” Lance stiffens, turning to face his father. “It is time to take our places.” Behind him, Adam mutters something about indecency and rushing. Thank the stars Lance can always count on him. Lance takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders.

“Right. Adam, please ensure my-” Lance grimaces. “-our room is ready. And speak to Hunk about providing our guests with food that won’t make them want to kill us all.” Adam smiles, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

“Both of those things were done this morning, your Majesty.” Adam looks disgustingly pleased with himself.

“I never get to give any useful orders around here,” Lance grumbles, falling into line behind his fathers, then his sister.

“Of course you do, your Majesty. Just not to me.” Adam smirks, not noticing Shiro’s intrigue, the way his gray eyes follow his every move. Lance scoffs and sticks his tongue out at his advisor-

“Prince Lancel, behave.”

“Sorry, Father.” Lance quietly folds his hands behind him at the base of his spine, not returning his sister’s sympathetic smile.

He does, however, notice that his clowning brings a smile to his soon-to-be-spouse's face. That's something, at least.

#LoveAftertheFact #LAtF #klance #galtean au #altean lance #galra keith #adashi #altean adam #galra shiro #voltron legendary defender #vld

[alexandermanes]

ghost whisperer - rnm fic

hey so here’s the ghost malex au/human au fic  wrote but didn’t post on halloween week bc i was unmotivated

hope you like it :)

ao3

Chapter One - Ghosts

“First, you need a location”, declared the man, Tom, also known as MythCatcher on Youtube

Michael nodded then furiously scribbled down in his scrawny handwriting “Location”

“Then, you need to do research- Research is a very important part of paranormal investigation. You need to fact-check myths, learn about history of the place you’re looking for poltergeists”, he informs Michael via the small screen of his phone, “Learn about the deceased’s, their name, their story”

He stops the video to write “Research” on the notebook, underneath “Location”, obviously.

“After that: planning. What kind of gear are you planning on taking? Camera? Infrared night vision goggles? An Ouija board to facilitate communication? What kind of questions will you ask, with or without the board? What time are you going? What time are you going to visiting the haunting site? What are the alleged time of the apparition’s sighting?”

Those are too many points, Michael observes and writes “Planning” as a third bullet point in his “How to ghost hunt” list. Tom (MythCatcher) doesn’t appreciate the term “ghost hunter”, he thinks it’s demeaning since people don’t take ghosts seriously. The paranormal, though, that they fear and believe in. Idiot, he muttered as he pressed play on the video again. He does not care about Tom’s sensitivities.

Michael isn’t delusional, he knows most paranormal investigators are as genuine as his will to admit when Max’s right, which is non-existent. But, amongst the sea of “myth catchers”, Tom is the one that makes the most sensible points, despite the fact that he earns money by making Youtube videos in his 40s and advertises for “high-end ghost hunting gear”. Needless to say, he takes Tom’s points with a grain of salt.

         “Once you have a list of equipment to take with you and a scripted way to approach the site, the hows and when, then you’re ready for the next step: Communication”, Tom states, “Now, this is a crucial step. To communicate with the paranormal, you must be respectful”

Michael isn’t sure what constitutes as being respectful amongst investigators of the paranormal but invading their space, often the site where they died in, and demanding their participation in whatever nonsensical conversation they have planned doesn’t seem like very cordial behavior.

“No mocking, no inviting dangerous entities to that space, address them by name and be polite. Also you must be protected, always be straightforward about the kind of entity you allow to be in your vicinity. If there’s any funny business going on, send it away immediately. Bring your salt with you. ParanormalActivityStore has a ten percent discount if you use my code for a personalized-“, he is interrupted by Michael closing the app

“That’s enough dead brain cells for a single afternoon”, he reminds himself., after that he scribbles “Communication” as a final bullet point in his list.

Michael Sanders isn’t sure when his obsession with ghosts started, although he doesn’t appreciate his interest and curiosity being labeled and an obsession, thank you very much, despite what everyone else has voiced in the past; that’s why he keeps it to himself these days. No, in fact, he actually knows when this journey began, he can pinpoint it.

See, Michael is a man of rational thinking and little faith, a man of science and not religion which is why he believes in ghosts. Every night for a year he sees his mom, not in dreams, and with no previous history of mental illness, not in delusions. Every night religiously for a year his mom has visited him. When it started he believed himself to be dreaming but that wasn’t the case. She never says much, kneels by his bedside, cradles his face with one hand, caresses his cheek and smiles at him, teary-eyed and whispers. “Manes Residence”, those words haunt him but with a foreign intent. Though it’s a balm to his soul seeing his mother smile at him even when her eyes are so woeful, even proffering such ominous words.

It is a mystery to him as to why, ten years after her death, a brain aneurysm that took her unexpectedly from his arms, she began to visit him during the night and why she whispers those words. He has exhausted every method he’s ever heard of: Ouija boards, calling out to her, lucid dreaming, leaving candles and objects for her to communicate through, he even considered hiring a psychic but that somehow seemed too extreme. He tried praying and still prays at any given time during the day but that doesn’t seem to have been successful. At first he assumed he wasn’t doing it correctly, but then again, at the ripe age of eleven years old, in one of the foster homes he inhabited lived a family of religious fanatics, so he doubts he’s doing prayers incorrectly. Especially when hesitating or stuttering during prayers resulted in punishment. This situation is a big enigma to him and it pesters him on a daily basis. He needs answers. If this was any ordinary mystery he wouldn’t have bothered this much but he has bone-deep certainty that this, whatever it is, is very important.  So keeps trying to contact his mom. He tries unrelentingly.

-

Until one day. He makes his way to the Crashdown, Isobel and Max by his side. After a long day of school (he was thankful it was his senior year), they all decided they needed a well-deserved milkshake with a side portion of french-fries. As they entered the diner and the small bell rang overhead, they noticed an unusual amount of patrons for a Thursday afternoon. Oh, well, he thought. They sauntered towards the counter and waited in line, a single person in front of them, a truly serendipitous event. In the indistinct chatter he picks up two words: Manes Residence.

“Sorry?”, he says loudly, turning towards the person who emitted them

Rosa Ortecho asses him with an unimpressed, and frankly disgusted, expression and continues talking to Liz, disregarding him as if he were a vexing fly.

“So anyways. Lydia told me that now the house is haunted. Sargent Psycho took off with hs ten kids or whatever to nowhere land during the nightly hours. Not a soul saw them ever again”, she points out, “dude murdered his wife after she tried to leave him, buried her than grabbed his five sons and fucked off”

“It’s just a rumor, Rosa!”, Liz replied, laughing purely out of amusement and disbelief

“So this Manes House”, Michael chimed in, “where is it?”

“Michael, stop barging in in people’s conversation”, Max reprehended him, an honest to God blush creeping in

“I’m sorry”, Michael looked from Liz to Rosa, “He isn’t usually this rude”

Michael gave him an eye-roll that screamed Fuck off, Max. Rosa just mimicked him while Liz smiled, a bright and toothy smile.

“It used to be Master-Sargent’s Jesse Manes residence, he lived there with his wife and four sons. Then one day they disappeared off of the map and the house was put up for sale. No one ever saw them since, I think, the fourth of July fair last year”, she informed him, “The house was never sold, probably because of rumors that it is haunted. I can give you the address, me and Rosa used to be best friends with one of his kids, Alex”

“Yeah, right up until the moment the left and just like poof, never called or texted”, Rosa supplied

“He probably just didn’t find the time or-“, Liz tried to explain

“For a year, Liz?”, she replied with a very irritated tone, “Either he is ignoring us, completely forgot us or is dead”

Liz gave her a good-natured eye-roll and simply told her she was being dramatic.

“Can you give me an address?”, Michael asked suddenly feeling anxious

Liz acquiesced then ripped a sheet of paper from her notepad and wrote the address.

“You’re one weird little dude”, Rosa told him, though Michael completely disregarded her

He thanked Liz and almost forgot about the shake and fries, the original reason for his appearance at the Crashdown. As they waited, Max and Isobel engaged in conversation but Michael was far too distracted to hear any of their words, instead, his mind raced, making plans about when to visit the residence. Something akin to energy traveled through his veins, similar to electricity, his heart sped-up, he felt restless and suddenly very aware of his surroundings. The movement of brown paper bags being set on the counter snapped him out of his gaze. He immediately took one, knowing they order essentially the same dish, and strode to the door.

“Michael!”, Isobel called out, drawing heads to her, “where are you going?”

“Sorry. Forgot I had something to do at- um, the junkyard. Talk later”, he immediately turned his back on his friends and exited the diner.

He scrambled for his keys inside his pocket, growing more frustrated by the second, until the skin-warm metal found his finger tips and at last, picked up his keys. He unlocked his baby blue beat-up truck and tossed his food on the passenger seat, subsequently starting the engine. He felt possessed, moving by this ominous force, an urgent feeling, but regardless of his feelings amongst other things, he was hell-bent on finding the Manes residence at that very instant.    

#roswell new mexico #rnm fic #malex #michael guerin #alex manes #liz ortecho #rosa ortecho #max evans #isobel evans #tw death #ghost fic

[fandom-smut-shots]

Quarantine Chapter 3

Chapter Two

Chapter Four

A/N: I don’t know if any of Oikawa’s fangirls have names, so for now they don’t.

           A few days later, calls and messages between you and the volleyball hottie had become a regular thing. His flirting hadn’t ceased at all during your conversations, and though it made your heart flutter and your brain tingle, you tried to convince yourself that it didn’t mean anything. You knew about his fan club and how he was a notorious flirt, especially if he got something out of it in return. The rational part of your brain told you that he didn’t mean anything when he complimented your hair or commented on a photo; he was just being nice, passing the time while he couldn’t leave his house. Once the quarantine ended and volleyball was back in session, he’d drop you like you’d never spoken before.

         But the emotional part of your brain hoped desperately that there was some truth to his words, even just a sliver. You’d had half a mind to ask one of his friends- you’d watched enough of his Instagram stories to be able to pinpoint who knew him the best- for a second opinion, but that seemed too clingy and annoying for you to ever follow through. You didn’t want to scare him away. Insincere flirting was nicer than zero contact.

           It was early afternoon, a few hours after your call with Oikawa ended. He’d been his usual charming self, and it left you smiling dreamily while you scrolled your Instagram feed.

         A message notification popped up, and your heart leapt to your throat in the hopes that it was Oikawa. Clicking on your inbox, you frowned upon discovering that the message request was from an account you didn’t recognize. After clicking on it, curiosity whirling in your brain, dread began to pool in your abdomen upon reading its contents.

           future_mrs_oikawa

       I dont know who u think u are, but u need to leave oikawa alone. Hes not interested in u so back off.

           Who the hell was this? Did Oikawa have a girlfriend? He’d never mentioned one… but you supposed that wasn’t particularly your business, was it?

           (y/username)

         Uh… I don’t know who you are at all, but Oikawa and I are just friends. Acquaintances, really. We just talk on Instagram sometimes.

           future_mrs_oikawa

       ud be lucky to be his friend. Im the president of his fan club and we dont have any room for creepy fags like u.

           Uhm, rude. You weren’t creepy. And who even used the word “fag” anymore?

           (y/username)

       I don’t know what your deal is but you need to settle down. Oikawa can talk to whoever he likes. Sorry that person isn’t you.

           Her next reply was a string of poorly spelled expletives, threatening your life should you ever set foot in Oikawa’s presence in person. You promptly blocked the account, sighing softly as you set your phone on your bedside table. You hadn’t meant to cause any trouble… though you weren’t sure the person harassing you had any closer of a relationship to Oikawa than you did. She’d called herself the president of his fan club, not his friend or his girlfriend. Still, it left an empty feeling in your gut, and you weren’t very fond of it.

           Later that evening, your phone chimed again, and like the lovesick puppy you were, you prayed for it to be Oikawa. Instead, it was another username you didn’t recognize. Biting your lip in fear that it would be a repeat of your last spontaneous conversation, you opened the message request.

           Iwahaji

       Is this the guy oikawas been calling every other day?

           You felt a blush settling across your face. Was this a friend of the volleyball hottie? Had he told his friends or teammates about you?

           (y/username)

       Uh yeah… Who is this?

           Iwahaji

       My name is iwaizumi. Im oikawa’s friend and teammate.

           (y/username)

       Nice to meet you…?

           Iwahaji

       Hes been talking about you a lot.

           (y/username)

       He has??

           Iwahaji

       Yeah. You seem to be important. I just wanted to warn you.

           That old feeling of dread and emptiness returned, twisting your insides hard enough to make you want to curl in on yourself.

           (y/username)

       Warn me?

           Iwahaji

       Oikawa… hes a good guy deep down but hes a flirt. A womanizer. I know that doesnt apply to you but he told me hes been flirting and I cant tell how serious he about it.

           (y/username)

       So I’m just one of the many?

           Iwahaji

       I… didnt quite mean it like that, but kind of. He usually only tells me about the people hes talking to or flirting with when he is genuinely interested, so thats a good sign if youre interested in him.

But youre the first guy hes been interested in in a long time, so theres that.

 Well… that had to be a good sign, right?

 (y/username)

Well… thanks, I think? Look I know I don’t know him very well, I mean we’ve never even met in person that I can recall. But I do like him, and I very much like flirting with him. So I appreciate your warning, though I am scared that he’s just passing time talking to me.

 Iwahaji

At first I didnt listen to him when he talked about you cuz I thought exactly that. But when hes not serious he moves on pretty quickly. Hes been talking about “cute Instagram guy” for weeks now.

 He’d been talking about you… for weeks? To his best friend? You’d only been calling and messaging for about three, and on a regular basis for even less time.

 (y/username)

That’s… as long as we’ve been talking. Does he really talk about me that much?

 Iwahaji

Yeah. Every day. Its annoying.

 (y/username)

Oh… sorry?

 Iwahaji

I just wanted you to know. Hes a good flirt so people always think hes serious about his intentions and with you he might be. But I thought you deserved a warning in case he isnt.

 With a sigh, you prepared yourself to make the request you’d been talking yourself out of making. His friend had approached you first, reached out to you on his own… Your request wasn’t so unprecedented now, was it?

 (y/username)

Hey… uh… since you’re his friend… do you think you could ask him about me? Find out how serious he actually is?

 There was a pause between replies, and you worried that you’d offended the guy somehow.

 Iwahaji

Ill see what I can do. he gets flustered pretty easily and he closes up when he really doesnt want to talk about something.

 (y/username)

Is that good or bad?

 Iwahaji

I guess well find out.

 Success!

 (y/username)

Thank you.

 He didn’t reply after that, so you set your phone back down and flopped backwards onto your bed. Staring up at your ceiling, you couldn’t help the grin that stretched across your face. You didn’t get confirmation that Oikawa wanted a relationship with you, but you had been informed that he talked about you. A lot. To his best friend.

That had to mean something, right?

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #toru oikawa #oikawa x reader #toru oikawa x reader #reader insert #male reader #oikawa x male reader #quarantine

[zigtheeortega]

“’cause we're collectin' moments; tattoos on my mind”

pairing: raleigh x mc

@choicesmarchchallenge

word count: 2,071

song inspiration: sometimes - ariana grande 

tag list: @violinet​ ; @bloodxbound​ ; @dadrianraines​ ; @mentallych-ill-desi​ ; @adrixnrxines​ ; @roguemal​

author’s note: the lyric (that’s the title) from sometimes inspired this fic! i love raleigh sm. also sorry for the double post it just lined up that way lmfao. also sorry if this is an unpopular opinion, but i dont care for the platinum mc so i decided to make her more of what i thought raleigh’s type of girl would be (lmao). anyways, hope u enjoy!!!

She tripped over a large crack in the sidewalk, almost wiping out completely, but Raleigh’s strong grip managed to keep her going.

“C’mon, Dom, they’re gaining on us!” he laughed, whisking her through the street, cutting through an alleyway.

He stopped abruptly and pulled her close, a mischievous grin on his face. He held a finger to her mouth, and cocked his head in the direction of the street.

The paparazzi sprinted by, not even glancing in the direction of the dimly lit alley. The shuffling of their feet faded into distant patters.

Raleigh tiptoed to the opening of the alley and peeked his head around the damp brick wall, before jogging back to the shadows, the smile from before still lingering on his lips. “Coast is clear.”

“So what now, genius?”

He chuckled, hugging her close with one arm draped lazily around her shoulder. She could smell the cheap tequila on his breath, a reminder of their rendezvous at the sketchy bar.

She leaned into his touch, the buzz not quite wearing off yet. The alcohol weighed her head down, and before she knew it, she rested it on his shoulder.

“Well, I haven’t done anything truly reckless in a while. Gotta keep the bad boy image up,” he said, sliding his arm down to her waist.

“Are you gonna explain what that means exactly?” she laughed.

“You might not think it now, but I used to be a goodie-goodie,” he started, guiding her towards the opening in the alley. “When I first started in Sunset Skatepark, I was supposed to be absolutely perfect, and tattoos were a huge part of that, believe it or not.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re lying.”

“Honest to God, I’m not lying. I wanted them so bad that I got any old stick and poke that was offered to me, which I don’t recommend at all,” he shook his head. “Obviously they’ve been covered up since then by these beauties,” he gestured to the arm wrapped snugly around her. “But I miss the spontaneity.”

“You, Raleigh Carrera, miss spontaneity? Mr. Publicity Stunt? Mr. Dating to Get the Tabloids On His Side?”

“I know it sounds crazy, Dom, but I miss being kind of secretive. Getting a tiny stick and poke where no one could see was exhilarating.” She looked up at him, and his face was bright.

His face was reminiscent of the past, a hint of gratification that she knew he hadn’t felt in a long time. Raleigh had always struggled with being truly content with his life, and she knew that their whirlwind romance was something to fill his void, as harsh as that sounded.

She couldn’t imagine what he’d been through. She’d gotten a taste of the high life, and she was exhausted. Knowing that, she didn’t mind being the person to fill in the cracks, clinging to the pieces to keep it together.

He used chaos as escapism, as a way to outrun the parasitic tendrils of the industry, the burden that came with being a household name, and the inevitable role model title that came with it.

She knew he was chasing a high that he could never sustain, and if feeding into his law-bending fantasies was the way to bring out the best in Raleigh, she would do it no matter the cost.

“So you want us to get party tattoos?” She finished, and his features twisted into a sheepish expression, one that was foreign on his face. He wasn’t one to get beaten to the punchline, so he seemed surprised by her willingness to match his energy.

“What do you know about party tattoos?” He smirked, his curiosity piqued.

“That’s for me to know, and for you to find out… eventually.”

He quirked a brow and leaned back, glancing at her lower back.

“I’m not saying a word,” she giggled, grabbing onto the hand draped around her waist, intertwining their fingers.

They rounded the corner and spotted the neon sign of the tattoo parlor down the road from them.

“You sure about this? Tattoos are permanent, you know. Plus we’re not exactly in the right mindset for this.”

“I’m sure.”

They walked in silence for a while, the only sound between them the tapping of her heels on the concrete sidewalk.

He pulled on the handle, and the small silver bells attached to the inside of the door jingled, and a gruff-looking man covered in tattoos looked up from the magazine he was reading. Luckily enough, it had to be Raleigh’s most recent cover.

His eyes widened, and Raleigh stopped him almost immediately. “I’d really appreciate it if you could keep this between us. We had to outrun the paparazzi a few minutes ago, and we really wanted a night to ourselves.”

The man looked starstruck, so Raleigh continued. “I’ll pay extra to rent out the shop for an hour or two.”

He shook his head, finally finding his words. “No need, Mr. Carrera. I’d only request an autograph, and maybe a picture to show my wife, if you wouldn’t mind. She’s a huge fan.”

Raleigh flashed him his most charming smile. “You got it.” He grabbed a sharpie and the magazine, while the man switched off the open sign and locked the front door.

“You want me to make it out to anyone in particular, sir?” He asked, signing his name with a flourish.

“Yeah, could you make it out to Linda?”

“Of course,” he smiled, a few strands of hair falling in front of his face while he concentrated on the message he was scrawling.

The man led them to a back room, and sanitized his station before sliding on a pair of gloves.

“How do you want to do this?” Excitement glimmered in his eyes, and warmth spread throughout her chest.

“I thought it could be a surprise,” she said, already locking in on an idea.

“You read my mind,” he grinned. He stripped his shirt off quickly, his lean torso flexing as he shimmied off his top. She tried diverting her eyes, but to no avail. He caught her staring, a hint of hunger in his look.

She sat just outside the room on a small leather couch, thumbing through Raleigh’s magazine shoot and interview to keep herself company while the needle buzzed in the other room. The interview was alien to her; he was keeping true to his public image, but it was so different than the side of Raleigh he’d allowed her to see.

She pitied the public who’d never get Raleigh to be truly candid and vulnerable with them.

Soon enough, he was done, and it was concealed from her eyes by the small bandage.

“I have an idea of where I want it, but I’m not so sure what I need to do…” she trailed off, not knowing how to approach an underboob tattoo. Was it appropriate to keep the shirt on? To take it off? Should she just take her bra off?

“If it’s anywhere near your chest, you’ll have to take your bra off. You can keep your shirt on as long as you keep it above the area we’ll be tattooing,” the man said professionally, and it eased her mind.

Raleigh watched from the doorway as she unhooked her bralette and slipped it through the arm of her shirt. His eyes were trained on her as she laid down on the table, lifting her top to right underneath her nipple. She didn’t mind him watching her; a heat bloomed in her stomach when she truly realized how her body commanded his.

“Go sit down,” she said, shooing him away. He chuckled, raising his hands up in front of him, before plopping on the same leather couch she had sat minutes before.

She described the tattoo to him, and he looked at her like she was crazy. It was simple, but so reckless. Something she wouldn’t have even entertained the idea of a few months prior. But something that seemed so natural and… right.

The machine punctured her skin, stinging in a way that was a comfortable pain – therapeutic, even. She winced, sighing as the needle passed across her rib bone.

“I have to go back over it one more time, and I’ll be done. You’re doing great,” he said under his breath, intently focused on maintaining the steadiness of his grip on the machine.

She gritted her teeth as he passed over the tender skin again, sucking her breath in.

“You okay?” Raleigh called from the other room, concern laced through the raspy bass of his voice.

“I’m great,” she replied, gripping her shirt above her bra.

“You’re all done,” he said, rubbing a thin layer of a sticky substance on her skin before taping a small bandage over it. “I’m putting petroleum jelly on this. Don’t take the bandage off till this time tomorrow.”

Within a couple of minutes, Raleigh handed over cash and a hefty tip to the artist, and they were out of the door.

It was nearly 2 a.m., and her thoughts seemed clearer, the cloudy haze of tequila beginning to fade. They walked leisurely down the empty road.

The street lamps were illuminating small patches of the road, the stretches of darkness more prevalent than light. The apartments and small shops were closed – they were the only people outside.

He stopped her underneath the bright bulb of the lamp nearest to them, and grinned. “Were you planning on showing me what you got at some point?”

“Yeah, but only if you do it first,” she replied, barely able to think straight. Her eyes grazed over his features as he looked down on her, taking in the soft shadows left on his tanned skin, his jawline and exposed collarbone looking especially sharp under the yellow light.

“Alright, that’s fair.” He pulled up his shirt, before peeling back the tape and the bandage with it. He’d gotten a tiny cloud tattooed right above the paragraph of text on his ribcage.

“What does it mean?”

His eyes glimmered despite the dim lighting. “You’re the only person in this world that makes me feel like I’m more than what I pretend to be. And you’re the only person who’s really seen the real me, and makes me feel like I’m… worth something, you know? I feel like I’m weightless, like I’m floating when I’m with you. Like I’m dreaming. Like my head is in the clouds, but in the best way.”

He reached out to stroke her cheek, and she leaned into his hand. He pressed his lips against hers softly, and she chuckled once. He pulled back, eyeing her. “I never thought I’d see this side of you, but I’m so glad it’s my secret to keep.”

He grinned, and reapplied his bandage, gesturing for her to take her turn.

She pulled her shirt and bra up, just enough for the bandage to be free. She lifted the tape, revealing two letters: R.C.

His eyes widened. She could tell he was momentarily stunned, so she jumped right in.

“My whole life I’ve felt average. Just another girl chasing a dream that she’d never achieve because she sounded and looked like every other girl that she was competing with. You changed my life. One in a Million was my ticket, but you were the one who gave that to me.

“I never wanted to be ‘boring’. I was just cautious. Comfortable. Safe. You’ve brought out a side of me that I never thought I could be, because you believed in me. I could spend a lifetime thanking you, but I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“So you branded yourself with my initials?” He said, still stunned, but the look on his face had softened significantly.

“And you got a tattoo inspired by me, too. What’s the difference?” She smiled and sniffled, scrubbing at her eyes with the back of her hand.

“I guess we belong to each other now,” he said, before sweeping her up into his arms and kissing her fervently, the distant sounds of the city keeping them grounded.

----

#platinum #platinum choices #raleigh carrera #raleigh carrera x mc #playchoices #choicesmarchchallenge #jade writes choices fics

[yoaridk]

~Disgusting Feeling~ (One-Shot)

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Invader Zim.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences.

Warnings:  This fic is a ZaDe and has hints of DaTr and ZaGr (if the shipps are not to your liking please refrain from reading), character death and ambiguous plot.

Relationships: Zim/Gaz and  Dib/Tak

Characters: Zim (Invader Zim), Gaz (Invader Zim), Dib (Invader Zim), Tak (Invader Zim).

Additional Tags: Drama & Romance, Angst and Tragedy, Family Drama, Tragic Romance, Interspecies, RomanceZAGR - Freeform, Zim and Gaz Romance, Top Zim (Invader Zim), Badass Zim (Invader Zim), Zim Rules the Earth, Zim is an Invader after all, Strange feelings, Dib suffering, Partner Betrayal, Duty is everything.

Summary: 

Feelings are not part of the programming of Irken soldiers and their race in general, not when the ultimate goal of their existence has always been conquest and ambition. Love? Compassion? Affect? These were weaknesses that made them vulnerable in their condition. Dib understands it to the worst way he can imagine, Zim is a monster in every sense of the word.

                                               ~*~

"It's the most horrible creature I've ever seen in my life."

 That´s the only thought in Dib's mind as he lies on his knees in front of the ostentatious throne of his worst enemy. The black surface of polished marble reflects the horror of his gaze when he observes the vile creature, a creature who instead returns the gesture with lazy grace, transmitting power, strength and something that Dib catalogs as a mantle of death around him.

 Dib's fists clench, hating the fact of staying in an unfavorable position for not saying disadvantageous and resisting frustration at the vain attempt to stand up. The marks on his wrists remind him of how exhausted he is and how weak his body feels because of the blood he lost during his fight to reach his freedom.

 One that unfortunately never came.

 “So?” The creature's tone is barely a mocking hiss."Human, did you really believe that Tak had those inferior feelings for you?”

 The derogatory tone does´t go unnoticed by Dib, much less the slight tinge of twisted fun that mixes in it. Cruelty is not unknown for him after all, growing up at the expense of it became something inherent in his life.

 A misunderstood child whom everyone always labeled as mentally ill. No less than the shame of a successful father and recognized by those same people...

 A father that Zim murdered mercilessly when chaos spread throughout the world.

 “Where is she? Where do you have her, Zim?” Dib calls in his despair. “I swear if you did something her... if you hurt her, I...”

 "You are even more foolish than I thought." Interrupts the Irken, rising slowly to rise even more above the human from the ostentatious throne he occupies. “Hurt her?” The vibrations of Zim's boots at approaching echo through the room. “Oh, dirty beast, don't you know?”

 The weight of this affair records a bad omen in Dib.

 “Know what?” He doesn't quite understand the weight of words and feels fear settling in his being.

 Zim looks at him in a way that suggests he doesn't consider him very clever and Dib's face pales at the alien's tacit expression.

 "You're really pathetic." The Irken shows his peculiar zipper teeth in a smile wickedly sinister half. “Do you know how you got here Dib?” The question lacks genuine curiosity and it´s intentions have the whole purpose of being derogatory.

 No more than one uncomfortable and silent minute passes in which Dib is not able to answer that question, and in general that is because the answer really remains a mystery to him. The last thing he remembers is running away from the Zim soldiers before receiving an impressive discharge and then losing consciousness and waking up in one of the specialized cells for the members of the resistance. The following is horror and the beginning of hell.

 “Your stupid soldiers! They ambushed Tak and Me to one of your traps.” The pieces fit perfectly creating the only plausible answer, Dib has no doubt that that is what happened.

 The pleasure dances in the alien factions of Zim at the words of his enemy, ignorance and naivety are the blessing of idiots like Dib.

 "You fell directly into a trap, yes, but I assure you disgusting beast that the credit of such ambush is not mine."

 Zim's words blink into Dib's gaze briefly as if they had managed to hit a nerve in him and seconds later the alien sees beyond the human, urging him to follow his example, surprise hits Dib so hard that his feet falter threatening with sinking it further into the ground.

 “Tak?” Dib whispers with growing disbelief, running around the silhouette of the Irken woman with his eyes, although she doesn´t seem to answer his call. What is happening? “You are alive!" He try again with the hope that this time she dignifies her words even with a simple nod.

 The statement doesn´t have the expected effect and Dib frowns, Zim's laugh breaks the charm of the reunion filling the air of uncertainty and malice.

 “So you still don't guess?” Zim asks in a hard and ruthless voice, yearning to see the expression of who has been his nemesis for years and a hindrance in all those plans that ended in failure. “Please Invader Tak, help this dirty human to better understand the nature of your loyalty to the empire.”

 Dib shudders when Tak's silhouette leaves the shelter that the shadows provide her from the other side of the room, and to his bitter disappointment he realizes that Zim is not boasting with empty words.

 “What…?” The face of the human shows some confusion, but any doubt dissipates when Dib seeks sincerity in Tak's gaze and any sign of denial in the face of such an assertion.

 Doesn´t find it.

 Dib's eyes dodge Tak and get stuck in some empty spot in that room, so remember, recognize and he horrified by the truth. That Tak's offer to overthrow Zim's advances on the planet was nothing more than a tactic to take him straight into a trap, the ultimate end of that alliance has nothing to do with Zim's fall and all with his revenge to him.

 Dib's mind and heart are breaks.

 “Why? I trusted you!” The boy simultaneously questions and protests, shaking his head as if with that simple action he could expel the betrayal thoughts that flood his mind.

 Dib is sad when he recognizes that the small moments of complicity and sincerity that he shared with the alleged ex invader meant absolutely nothing to her, perhaps, he thought, he longed for a bit of company and understanding on the part of anyone in the middle of hell they were living. No one could blame him for placing his trust in the first `person´ who held out a hand with the promise of helping him in his cause.

 "I had no choice." She just says, feeling the need that she didn't need to explain more and assuming is better that way. Will help make what comes next much easier for both of they.

 "Yes, you had, but you preferred to take sides with the monster you swore to take revenge on." He corrects painfully in each of his words and gives her a look of disapproval.

 The invader opens her mouth as if she were going to respond but says nothing because she doesn´t find the valid argument to refute the human's words, however Tak doesn´t believe she can explain and justify her actions. At this point any explanation is left over.

 Instead, she regains the determination necessary to end the matter once and for all.

 "Well, you already have him Zim, now you can send him to that prison on one of Saturn's moons." The only reason she ended up in that situation was because of Zim's promise to keep Dib alive by banishing him to that prison.

 The former invader has a backup plan to amend the damage she has done to the human.

 Zim lets out another shrill laugh as if what Tak had just say him was nothing more than a funny joke, then cleared his throat before speaking.

 "The plans have changed Tak but I appreciate your help in bringing this scum to me." The alien replies dryly, hardening his countenance. "I will remember your loyalty when I kill the human." With a wave of his hands Zim calls the guards that waiting patiently for his signal.

 Three soldiers approach the Irken girl to catch her, two hold her hands and the third one positions and presses the tip of his weapon on Tak's back.

 “What? Don´t!” She fights trying to get out of the soldiers grip when they drag her to the door to take her to one of the cells."You're a damn traitor Zim, you promised me you wouldn't hurt Dib!”

 The guards take her out before she could finish her prayer. Dumbfounded by the events, Dib cries out Tak's name again and again hoping she can get rid of her captors, but hope dies when He doesn't perceive her voice after a while.

 "Tak was as pathetic as you after all." Zim says in a hiss to no one in particular. “Harbor such inferior feelings for a pathetic creature is not worthy of an invader.” He boasts, but his tone keeps disgusted by the simple idea.

 After all, feelings are not part of the programming of Irken soldiers and their race in general, not when the ultimate goal of their existence was always conquest and ambition. Love? Compassion? Affect? They were weaknesses that made them vulnerable in their condition.

 Dib pays attention to the words of his enemy recognizing hypocrisy in them, Zim has the nerve to take human feelings as the worst blasphemies for his people when he has also professed those emotions.

 “What about you?” Dib dares to question with the intention of erasing that smug smile on the despicable face of the alien. “You are nothing but a hypocrite in accusing Tak of pathetic when you also has felt affection for a human, Zim.”

 Zim changes his expression of arrogance for one of shock mixed with slight indignation, although it only lasts a fraction of a second before recomposing and facing that human. It doesn't take him a minute to unravel the meaning in Dib's words and frowns at the grief that arises when memories stir within his mind.

 The Irken murmurs a curse in his alien lenguage before approaching the human and putting his heavy boot on Dib's shoulder to sink him further into the ground, rubbing it again and again delighting in the groans of pain from his enemy.

 “Are you going to deny it, damn unhappy monster?” Dib's face comes down to a grimace of pain and his voice is barely audible to fill the room but if to reach Zim. He hopes to see some hint in him, anything that answers the question he has had for many years.

 The alien clicks his teeth towards Dib before removing his boot on him and turning to surround the human, he walks from side by side maintaining the necessary distance between the two although the possibility of escape from the boy is void. A hint of disdain touches Zim's factions in the face of Dib's boldness, it is a subject he continually avoids and has in mind despite the years.

 "I admit that I had these... feelings for little Gaz." Zim have a sudden crackles heat inside him as he pronounce his former lover's name. “But you are wrong Dib beast, Gaz was not a human more of your dirty race, she knew how to recognize the inferiority of her species and despise them for their stupidity, I must admit that little Gaz had enough vision to be taken a account by someone so superior like Zim.”

 Of course, Gaz , the thought reinforces a smile on the alien. Despite the time, Zim still remembers the approach he had with the sister of his worst enemy; the video games, the time she shared at his base repeating him how ineffective his plans were, Zim's mania for pleasing her mundane and ridiculous desires. And the interaction, the feeling of company that made his stay less boring on that deplorable planet.

 Many other details and moments were marked in the alien's memory. Love? His species does not know the term or anything remotely similar to it, however Zim could classify the strange and annoying feeling for the girl as such. Maybe.

 "No Zim, if you had loved Gaz, you wouldn't has left her alone before her death." Dib's voice is barely a low growl full of rage that drips down the ostentatious room, Zim lies and is certain that the affirmation of the feeling of Love to his sister on his part is totally false. “And you wouldn't have killed our father on your return.” No, that was not love . Dib finishes the sentence in his mind but his eyes in rage reflect the thought.

 Dib's hands sting to circle Zim's slender neck and twist him to extinguish his miserable life to avenge his father and all those who died since his return to earth. Underestimating Zim was perhaps the worst mistake made.

 The Irken shrugs as if the claim of the professor's death wasn´t much and in reality for Zim it isn´t, Membrana as well as other humans are obstacles in their way to take the planet and prove to the Tallest their worth as an invader, being this the last and true opportunity.

 It has taken several years for him to have that mission again and he doesn´t plan to let his opportunity be ruined.

 "You will see Dib, unlike your dirty inferior species, the Irken race has only one purpose in its existence." Zim retakes up the previous action of surrounding the human while he explains, moves with sinuous grace in front of him. “The expansion of the empire and the destruction of all inferior life that crosses the road, for thousands of years the empire has been responsible for the ruin of hundreds of planets. That is the purpose of our race, to grow until everything is part of it.”

 Yes, Zim is nothing but a monster. Dib thinks, avoiding the desire to get up and kill the alien right there. The Irkens are really a universal plague: they infest, consume and destroy other planets in order to quench their hunger for domination and power.

 “Invaders like Tak and I shouldn´t have such inferiors feelings because they are a setback to our missions.” Zim's eyes narrow and his lips twist in sardonic humor.

 “You said you loved her!” Dib replies, also remembering Tak's words.

 A dark emotion flames on life in Zim's eyes.

 "Of course I did Dib." The Irken tilts a slight smile that denotes little humor on his lips, but is just a grimace at the awareness of what he will say next. “Zim loved his love-pig very much, but as much as I loved your sister, I also realized that this feeling was only an obstacle to my mission.” He stops to observe the frank disbelief in the human.

 “What do you mean Zim?” It takes Dib a moment to recognize something else in Zim's speech and just a moment to feel the bad omen in the response he was about to receive.

 Zim's expression hardens and Dib understands that his assumptions are true, something doesn't feel right. A strange sensation settles deep within his heart.

 "That even if I loved little Gaz a lot, I had to do what was necessary to do my duty as an invader." The malicious gleam in Zim's eyes goes out when he releases his next words. “I admit that ending Gaz's life was perhaps the hardest thing I've ever done. It hurt me to implant those Nanobots in her bloodstream to weaken her defenses and make they think it was an autoimmune disease.” Despite the broken tone, Zim's expression shows no regret."

 Dib blinks at the blunt confession. The premise that the death of his sister was caused by Zim generates a state of shock in him.

 "You..." Dib throws a dark glance at the alien when the feeling of sickening settles in the mouth of his stomach.

 "I understood that if I continued with this situation I would never achieve my purpose and even if I returned to Irk or some other distant planet, I would end up returning to be stay with her." Zim ignores the look on Dib and continues his rant with grim determination.

 A low hiss is heard from Dib's lips and in an outburst of renewed determination he gathers forces to stand up and rush against the despicable Irken who dared to boast about the murder of his little sister. The impact bounces and echoes through the cold walls of the room, the force is such that it throws Zim on the floor in just a second.

 Dib's breathing is agitated and his emotions turbulent and violent with the desire for death characteristic of the instinct for revenge. But the victory lasts less than a blink when Zim stabs Dib's side with one of his PAK legs.

 “Soldiers!” Zim screams angered by such a grievance by a disgusting human and the least he can do with it is to give him the punishment he deserves. Four soldiers arrive to him shortly after that call. “Throw the human into the reinforced containment cell and prepare what is necessary for its execution this afternoon.” Zim's lethal tone doesn´t go unnoticed by subordinates.

 A dismissive wave of his hand is enough for the soldiers to abide by the order immediately taking Dib, and the human is not even strong enough to fight after the outburst of previous violence.

 Dib is dragged to his destination to find death a few hours later and Zim looks at the human with cold disdain for having awaken the feelings inside. The hand of the Irken migrates to a compartment in his PAK from which he removes an object that he has been carrying with him for years protecting him as an invaluable treasure.

 The sharp claws hold the pendant of a necklace with such delicacy, the Invader looks longingly  the object and sighs with regret admitting that he still misses his lover's company; He only hopes that the sacrifice is worthwhile to reaffirm his loyalty to the empire.

.

 .

 .

  End.

~*~

A/N:

 This thing started as a vague idea and it took me almost two weeks to finish writing it... I was inspired by the Guardians of the Galaxy scene vol. 2, when Ego tells Peter the truth about his mother's death and I said why not? And finally this was the final result.

 I had a lot of fun writing this, I think it's been my favorite fic of all the ones I've written so far.  

 Sorry if the story is flawed, this is a translation or at least an attempt at translation... my English is bad.  

 Anyway, I hope you like it and in advance thank you for reading

#zagr #zim #gaz #invader zim #fanfiction #iz #one-shot #zim x gaz #zim iz #gazlene membrane #zim y gaz #romance #drama #tragedy #dib #dib membrane #tak #datr

[duker42]

Yayy! Your askbox is open! ❤ Can you write a fic where the reader loves Levi from the bottom of her heart, but she refuses to confess because she's afraid of his possible rejection so when she's sure he's at his office she'd leave quality tea leaves behind his door and goes to her room without letting Levi know it was her when he finds the tea bag. This process continues for a few times until the night before the RtS arc and after-

💜The Gift of Tea💜

Y/N was head over heals in love with the short, stoic and often times offensive Captain. There was just something about him that made her heart pound and her face to get hot when he turned those cold granite eyes on her. However she knew that she didn’t have a prayer of the reserved man returning her affections.

She had made her peace with the fact that her love was unrequited, and would always be, for she had no intentions of every telling the raven haired man how she felt. She knew that she would be rejected and that would just make the entire issue of working beside him daily a problem.

He hated the fan fair his fame brought. Detested the idea of people fawning over him for his strength and accomplishment on the battlefield. So the idea of Y/N caring for Levi on a personal level would just be swept aside like ill placed romanticized hero worship. Y/N knew that it wasn’t, she loved Levi for exactly who he was, but the man would never believe that.

Still, she tried to figure out a way to show him that someone cared for him in a way that he would appreciate. He was often a loner, retreating to his office unless he was in meetings with Erwin and Hanji or training with the Squad. He was also a simple man, having very little in the way of luxury that he allowed himself.

As Y/N spend her free day in the marketplace, she contemplated her options. There wasn’t much that she could thing of. The man loved cleaning and tea. Cleaning supplies didn’t appeal, so she decided to find some amazing tea. She wandered through the open air market until she found the stand she had been searching for. They had blends she had never heard of, the earthy smells of the dried leaves filled her senses and made her smile. She asked the merchant many questions, inquiring about the most precious blend of leaves he had. Something that would appeal to a black tea drinker.

Her purchases made, her purse was much lighter for the carrying. The tea had cost her a month’s wages, but would worth it if it would bright some joy into the somber man’s existence. Her plan was simple, she would leave the tea at his door anonymously, giving the Captain an opportunity to enjoy the gift without the worry of rejection.

She put her plan into action that night when she came back to the base. Slipping away from the Mess Hall, she set one of the small containers of loose tea leaves on the doorknob to his office, certain he would see the tin when he came back to burn the midnight oil.

The next day, she noticed that Captain Levi was observing the members of the Scouts very carefully as he sat at the superior’s table. She made sure to look away and grinned to herself as she resumed eating.

Delivering another report from Commander Erwin for the Captain’s signature, Y/N was discreetly asked about the gift.

“Cadet, did you see anyone lurking near my office last night?” He didn’t look up from the report as he casually asked.

Y/N feigned a perplexed look as she answered. “No sir, is something amiss?”

“No, here you go. Return these to Erwin.” He glanced at her as she saluted, waving her off and handing her the papers. Her back was turned as she grinned all the way to the door.

~~~~~

She continued the delivery of the small tins of tea, taking great pleasure in that the Captain had enjoyed the small gifts she left for him. He had pondered the intentions of the person several times, never coming up with the truth of her tokens of affection.

The time had grown near. The mission to reclaim Wall Maria was fast approaching. The tension within the walls of HeadQuarters grew as the plans were finalized. Levi had already briefed his Squad on what was to come, as protecting Eren was their primary objective.

Y/N knew that when the details were given, many lives would be lost in the battle for humanity’s fate. As she sat in the Mess Hall, listening to Erwin explain the Titan serum injection that would be held by Levi, her stomach dropped. It was going to be even worse than their most devastating expedition. In those moments, listening to Erwin’s deep voice, Y/N knew that she wasn’t going to come home from Shiganshina.

~~~~~

Levi was sitting against a wall, his arms propped on his knees, in the alley when Y/N found him. He seemed intently listening to the conversation on the street behind him. She stood back, not interrupting him as the animated conversation interested him.

When the people on the street moved on, Levi picked up his mug of ale and took a sip and looked down the dark alleyway. “Come on out, Y/N.”

She emerged from the shadows and walked to him, looking down at him when she stopped at his feet. “I’ve a favor to ask you, Captain.”

Tired eyes looked up at her as he took another swig of ale. “What?”

She crouched down in front of him and reached beneath her shirt. Sharp eyes watched her movement as she pulled a beautiful necklace from where it rested on her chest. It was a beautifully delicate chain of precious gold, intricate knots crafted at perfectly positioned intervals. The disc in the center of the chain was the embossed image of Saint Maria.

Taking the necklace off, she offered it to Levi. He furrowed his brow in confusion as he looked at the proffered item. “It was my mother’s. It was the last thing she gave me before she died.”

“So why are you handing it to me?” His curiosity evident in his question.

“I’m realistic. I’m not coming back from Shiganshina. I want you to keep it safe.” Understanding filled his eyes as he nodded once and lowered his head, allowing her to slip the necklace around his neck. The gold gleamed against the dark shirt he wore and the pale skin at his throat.

“You come get this from me when we get back, Y/N.”

~~~~~

Y/N trudged wearily down the hall to her destination. Her entire being ached. Not just her body, which was battered and bruised from the fierce battle, but her soul cried out in pain. Ten Scouts had returned to Wall Rose. Almost two hundred lay dead in and around Shiganshina, and ten were all that were sparred the finality of death. Commander Erwin had been lost, his life’s blood drained on a field where stones had been used as weapons against man and beast.

She knew that Levi had taken it the hardest. Having to choose between two comrades, one who had plucked him from the Underground was enough to make the strongest man falter. Still, he had remained stoic, but the dimness of his eyes told the tale of his grief. He had slipped away from the others after the debriefing, skulking away to mourn in private. Y/N wouldn’t let him grieve alone.

Knocking on the door, she heard the silence from within. She knew that he was in there, alone, in the dark with just his memories and self doubt for company. Pushing the door open, she found him sitting on his couch, elbows on his knees with his head hung down. His jet black hair covered the eyes she knew were clouded with pain. He always felt the loss of their comrades so deeply, even if he didn’t show it to others.

Slowly approaching, she sat down gingerly beside him and laid a warm hand on his forearm. He turned his head slightly and looked at the hand, then her eyes, his own screaming out the weariness and pain of the days results.

“Captain Levi, would you like me to make some tea?” The offer of companionship was extended, veiled in a chore.

He said nothing but nodded his head, unable to even voice his extreme thanks for the momentary relief he found at thinking of anything other than what was in his head.

Y/N returned quicker than he had imagined she would. The tray must have already been set up. She had known that he would accept, and prepared. A single thought shot across his mind. Had she been the one who had left the tins of tea?

She was the only one who seemed to accept his love of tea as just a natural part of his personality. Like the crass insulting demeanor fit in perfectly with the civilized nature of tea time. She interrupted his analytical thoughts into her behavior as she handed him cup and saucer.

Bringing the tea up, he inhaled deeply before gripping the cup with his fingers. The scent was one that he had grown extremely fond of before their last mission. It was the tea blend that he had been receiving from the mysterious benefactor. His narrowed eyes finds hers looking away, suddenly hesitant to meet his intense gaze.

Setting the tea down, he fingers the metal that has been around his neck. Warm from his skin, he pulls the chain off, and moves closer to Y/N.

“I believe this is yours.” He whispered, his hands moving to unfasten the clasp. He watched her carefully as his arms moved around her, noting the deepening color in her cheeks as she nibbled on the bottom of her lip.

He let his hands trace the chain, fingertips brushing her flushed skin as they came to hold the disc in the center of her chest. “Thank you, Y/N.”

Her confusion as his cryptic words was evident. Her eyes widened as he came closer, their noses almost touching. “Your gift of tea was appreciated. But I like the affection behind it more.”

He leaned forward and melded his mouth to hers. Letting the sweet taste of her fill his senses, he knew that while the past hurt, he could get used to the idea of a future with Y/N.

#captain levi #levi ackerman #snk levi #levi aot #shingeki no kyojin #aot fanfiction #attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #snk x reader #aot x reader #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin x reader #levi x reader #captain levi x reader #levi heichou

[fabulousquel]

GreedFall: Tips + My Review

So I picked up this game out of curiosity because I’m currently working on an RPG style historical fantasy that draws inspiration from a similar time period. I wanted to see how someone else handled the ‘flintlock’ genre and told a story with elements of this era. I am in no means a pro game reviewer but I completed the entire game yesterday and I have a lot I want to say.

There are some spoilers in this, so if you’d like to avoid reading them, don’t read the "Story” section. 

Tips:

Do your companion quests early and as soon as they pop up. There are some incredible lore bits and development of your character as well as your companions within them. Also if you sideline a companion for too long, they might leave your party in ways that might surprise or unsurprise you.

Certain dialog options will give you more quest content. For example, you’ve caught a criminal and you are given the choice to kill them on the spot, or capture them for trial. If you kill them, your quest line ends there. If you decide to trial them, another quest line opens up and you get a lot more flavor.

You can essentially just follow the main quest line if you want to speed-finish the game, but you lose a lot of context and additional dialog options if you do so. You will also wind up fighting the final boss at a much lower level, thus making the fight harder, but not impossible. They may have made this an option for people coming back wanting a challenge or to try a different build. But in my opinion, they should’ve made the side quests a mandatory thing because it’s a huge disservice to the context of the main story without them.

Don’t forget to give your companions gear upgrades- especially if you’re playing on more challenging modes.

If you want to avoid bloodshed and sneak into a camp, make sure you put on a chest piece of that faction. 

Put some skill points into Stasis no matter what build you roll with.

The Soundtrack:

It’s amazing. The snare drums going off in combat sequences create a very distinct and powerful mood. The zone music is very well orchestrated. It’s now up on spotify as well! 

Combat & Talents:

Of the RPGs I’ve played, this most reminded me of a combination of Red Dead Redemption, Final Fantasy with the option to semi-turn style with spells & traps, and a very versatile talent tree system that is really...fun. It’s the first time in a while that I felt I could make an effective solid build and playstyle around what I wanted to do most. Combat takes getting used to but I set up my keybinds to be a lot like ESO and I adapted very quickly. I went shortsword / gun tactical and it was immensely satisfying. 

The Story:

[SPOILS AHEAD]

The difference between historical fiction and historical fantasy is that a historical fantasy does not seek to retell history accurately, but rather take inspiration from it. How heavy this inspiration goes varies from story to story. This is how I approached interpreting the story, even in its very realistic parts. As I played through, there were several themes that became very clear to me. Keep in mind that I played through the game with De Sarde taking the Neutral Good alignment choice in most dialog options. 

The Elephant in the Room: Colonialism. This is one of the big criticisms I see with the game, and truth be told, it is a point of criticism for myself. The game treats the colonizing factions exactly like colonizers of real history, and it’s a subject that still rightfully touches nerves. One faction seeks to profit, another nation seeks to convert, and another seeks to experiment on. While there are subgroups of these factions that are more extreme than their leadership- the leadership seems complacent about it until condemning evidence is brought up. While extremely problematic this is, it is very true to what has happened in history surrounding colonialism, and places you in one uncomfortable situation after another in a frighteningly realistic way. It makes your decisions as De Sarde in some instances painful but it can be satisfying to see how your actions affect justice in these matters.

Some critics have said that De Sarde’s choices do not always condemn truly objectionable events enough. I agree that more depth could have been added. But in my playthrough, De Sarde’s role starts out as a truly neutral party looking for truths, and they gradually became more adamant on stances as the game progressed. By the end, my De Sarde was about to 1v1 Theleme, and drag out the Bridge Alliance governor. So I am unsure if this is a perspective coming from those who haven’t completed the game in its entirety with all side quests which influence reputations more & seem to flesh out more dialog options. 

Humanity Has a Sickness This was written both physically and metaphorically in how humans are as susceptible to committing atrocities as they are to growing ill. Throughout the story as De Sarde, you play almost a detective in uncovering the truth about the people you were raised to believe were benevolent. De Sarde does not take these accusations of corruption lightly, but they also treat it very seriously. Piece by piece, De Sarde learns more about each factions true intentions, and the lies, corruption and greed that intertwine. But at the same time, the story attempts to reveal the potential for all people to ‘do better’ and change- and some of this is seen when you use De Sarde’s charisma + intuition dialog options. This theme especially became clear in the arc when De Sarde finally gets to speak to the god of the island, En on mil Frichtimen, who expresses to him that the malicor (sickness) is a result of them poisoning their own land with their lack of care or concern for it.  En on mil Frichtimen urges that the colonists need to listen and learn from the Islanders’ ways if they wish to heal the sickness.

Where to Draw the Line at “For The Greater Good” I feel like this is a theme that crops up with any story involving Utopian ideas. GreedFall does a good job of backing up each faction’s actions with their point of view, whether it is morally misguided or not. This truly emphasizes the human element in the mix, underlining that no perspective comes without its flaws. As De Sarde, one thing you are constantly faced with as a detective is defining a line of where something has gone too far. It is sobering and somewhat frustrating to watch factions step over a line that could have easily remained morally sound. But it is also equally satisfying to see how much influence you can have in swaying others to make a different choice. This theme becomes the summit of De Sarde’s character progression when he is forced to make the choice of taking your dear cousin, Constantin, out of power, or joining him. And when you’ve done all the side quests there are in the game, the decision becomes far more meaningful than this just being the final boss fight.

This theme also seems to come full circle by the end of Petrus’s quest line, when you discover your true origin- how your mother was kidnapped from the island in a rash attempt to bring a healer to the continent. This realization that everything you’ve known has been a lie and kept secret from you...all for the “greater good”. 

Things I Liked:

I appreciated how much love and care went into the worldbuilding- especially with the native Islanders. From what I understand, a linguist was hired to write a language for them that was a mash-up of Flemish, Breton, Gaelic and Irish. I appreciated that they brought forth inspiration from the Gauls and Celtic nations of the Iron Age in Western Europe before they were subjected to Christian Missionary activity.

The art & atmosphere was amazing. While there are a few clipping issues with hair, even big AAA games have them. The level of detail put into the game art wise is just very visually pleasing.

The devs did a good job in making a fantasy world that was LGBTQ+ friendly, and giving us diverse character customization. Anyone from any faction had a diverse set of features.

Things I am Critical of:

While I understand that there is a point of growth to watch De Sarde go from neutral to invested in a cause, I really do think they should have been given less complacent responses earlier in the game. I understand limitations but I don’t think it helped with handling colonialism in a truly neutral way.

I wish you could start the game as someone from a faction of your choice, rather than only the Merchant Congregation, especially considering how your origin is written.

IT’S DEPRESSING. A lot of the game is depressing... which maybe makes all the little things you do that shine some shred of goodness still in humanity all the brighter. But it definitely hurt my soul in places and back to point #1, I wish I could have been more aggressive with De Sarde earlier in the game.

Recycled assets: there were quite a few of them- mostly noticeable with buildings in the main cities, which is probably what marks the difference between an AAA game and a more independent studio.

Potential Triggers:

There’s a lot of heavy subjects in this game including religious abuse, manipulation, some body horror (though it’s not super grotesque), one instance of suicide that I know of, xenophobia, and general violence. 

Features I Wish it Had:

You can’t ‘jump’...but you don’t really need to. I still wish I could though.

For all this beautiful scenery, I wish they gave us better screenshot taking options.

Different fights for the different Coin Arenas and a meta achievement for completing all of them.

I wish I could play it with friends.

More armor options!

I wish the companions had better and more in-depth romance options. They fall a little flat in diversity of personalities.

Final Thoughts:

I personally enjoy diving into stories that we should be morally critical of, and I like it for what it reveals in the best and worst of humanity. Colonialism has done and continues to do irreversible damage to peace and prosperity among people and nations in real life. Spiders picked a topic that nearly everyone has been affected by in one way or another and it’s understandably a heated subject. Some folks do not want to dive into such deep subjects, just as there’s some stories I cannot stomach comfortably. So I respect and understand that.

Overall, GreedFall exceeded my expectations but there’s definitely some hiccups. It’s a fun game if you’re into a detective-style RPG, political intrigue, history, and interested in exploring this sort of setting. While I think the story could have been written better in places, I was satisfied with the outcomes I triggered, even if that satisfaction took a very slow build up to. It left me feeling hopeful? That perhaps people still have a chance at treating each other better than they do.

#greedfall #review #just thoughts #big post