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novamariestark · 9 months

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Cowboy on a Segway

[A/N] this was written on my phone. There may be spelling mistakes, either due to my fat thumbs or autocorrect.

Summary: you and Madison have been alone since the start. You feel completely responsible for her safety. One day you two meet Columbus and Tallahassee. When they invite you back to their camp, you have a little drink with Tallahassee

Warnings: 🔞, piv (unprotected sex), age gap, Venice mentioned as your name but you can change it, oral, poorly written smut

Word count: 3641

Fandom: Zombieland 2: Double Tap

Pairing: Tallahassee x reader

For the past several years, the abandoned mall had been your home. You had managed to scavenge and collect enough supplies from the various small businesses tucked away within its walls to keep yourself fed and tended to during the winter months. However, your resources were now running dry, and you had come to the realization that it was time to venture outside of the mall and find some more provisions elsewhere. Despite the availability of other housing options, you had chosen to make the mall your home, with the only problem being your persistent little sister who had taken up residence in the freezer. Your living quarters were situated on a catwalk hanging down the ceiling of the mall, which provided you with an excellent view of all the shops and stores below, including the one that your sister wouldn’t leave.

You sighed as you encountered yet another zombie. This was typical for any journey outside - always a few of them that either had failed to make it to wherever they were going, or were too comfortable where they were. You had become used to the sudden adrenaline rush of preparing to face another one of the undead - a reflex that you had grown accustomed to over the years.

You raised your trusty axe, ready to defend yourself against the rotting corpse lurching towards you. In one swift motion, you brought the axe down on its head, cleaving it in two. The putrid flesh and bone crumbled under the force of your blow, leaving a mess behind. You wiped the axe clean on your pants and continued on your way, the cold air filling your lungs as you breathed.

But what if something happened to you? What would happen to your sister without you around? The thought crossed your mind, as it often did, as it was a constant and understandable fear. You felt a bit protective of your sister, and you wanted to make sure she was safe no matter what happened.

When you got back to the freezer, you found it empty. You realized you had been gone longer than expected and your heart sank with worry – had something happened to her while you were away? You scanned the horizon for any sign of movement. You quickly dropped the supplies through the door and set off to look for her.

‘What part of stay here did she not understand?’ you asked yourself aloud. Even before the world was overrun by drooling, undead freaks, you were looking after Madison. In some ways, she was like a toddler, you couldn’t take your eyes off her for a second.

A scream and a gunshot caught your attention, sending your heart into an indescribable panic. You knew who had screamed and terror beyond compare had you sprinting towards the source. Your sister's safety was your sole priority and with that in mind, you cocked your own gun, ready to shoot whoever was attacking her.

The distance between you and the source closed with each step you took, until you could hear your sister's voice coming from a candle shop. You stopped behind a board when you saw a – cowboy? On a segway? ‘How tired are you?’

“Don’t mind me,” he said, putting his gun away.

You stopped outside the doorway and peered into the shop. You make your presence known to the cowboy and stand beside him to find your sister hugging a curly haired boy. A stranger. Typical.

“Maddy!”

She released her hold and turned to you, “Hey Venny, look. Humans!”

“Yes,” you said, drawing out the word longer with a sarcastic nod of your head, “That’s why they’re talking,”

“Is this your dad?” Madison asked, turning towards the curly haired kid she had just been glued to. Gesturing to the man with the Segway and cowboy hat. God you loved cowboy hats.

“For shit’s sake, slightly older, better-looking friend,” he corrected. You loved older guys too but being stuck in a mall after the world ended, didn’t give you much of a social life. In fact, the only person you’ve had contact with was your sister, and sometimes you could feel yourself losing IQ points.

'My name's Venice,' you said, introducing yourself as you held your hand out eagerly for the man to take, desperate for any kind of physical contact. He placed his big hand in yours and introduced himself.

“Tallahassee.” He replied, he nodded his hat towards curly, “Not his dad,”

“Didn't think so,” you smirked, almost unable to take your eyes away from him.

He raised his brow and turned to you, his lips forming a smirk to match yours, “Oh yeah? How?” He challenged.

You looked him up and down, “Well, you’re handsome,” you shrugged then you looked over to curly, “And he’s… well I don’t want to be rude,”

“He’s a little spit-fuck, I know, Darlin’” the nickname caused shivers to dance along your spine. He looked around the shop, “You live here?” he asked you, but your sister answered for you.

“No, Paul Blart. I live in the freezer in Pinkberry, mm-hm,” she replied with a giggle, “It keeps the zombies out. Though it is awfully chilly,”

“Ever consider... turning it off?” Tallahassee asked, even though he was sure he knew the answer.

“Couldn’t find the switch, like anywhere. I was hoping the electricity would run out.”

Curly then added something about how the dams 'keep giving us power' and Tallahassee had quipped, 'Apparently not brain power.' You couldn't help yourself, and snorted in agreement, quickly trying to hide your laughter behind your hands, lest your sister discover that you were making fun of her.

As she spins to face you, her smile fades in an instant. “l feel like you’re being super judgey. Like, I’m getting a real anti-me vibe off you.” she says, pointing at Tallahassee

“Are you?” Tallahassee retorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he mimicked the stance of a teenage girl. His voice had even adopted a slightly higher pitch.

“Oh, my God. There it was again. That’s hurtful. I’m like really good at surviving,” Madison whined.

“What are you talking about? You barely leave the freezer. That’s hiding not surviving,” you told her.

“What about food?” Curly asked, standing beside Madison, “How’d she get food?”

“How do you think?” You asked, pointing to yourself, “Door to door service,”

“I carry a can of mace with me everywhere I go,” she says, “And I can run really, really, really, really, fast. I used to do a lot of hot yoga and Soulcycle and…”

“Cardio!” Curly blurts out, stopping her annoyingly long ramble, “Sorry, I do a lot of Cardio too. It’s actually my number one rule, which is dorky,” he said, to which you nodded, with a quiet ‘yes’ falling from your lips, which apparently the hot cowboy heard, if the throaty chuckle was anything to go by, “But I’ve got a list of rules for surviving Zombieland,”

“Really? So do I!” she yelled in her annoying peppy voice

“You have rules?!” he asked, getting excited.

“Well actually, it’s mostly just ‘Stay in the Freezer.’” She said, twirling a piece of her bleached blonde hair.

“Yeah, and you can’t even follow that rule,” you grumbled.

“Oh and ‘Don’t Eat Nuts.’ ‘Cause I’m allergic. To nuts,” she added.

Curly smiles at Madison as if she charmed him, “We’ve, uh, set up camp just down the road,”

Tallahassee tries to catch Columbus’s eye, waving his arms around, mouthing ‘no’. he wouldn’t mind you coming to their camp. But your sister? No, he’d rather slam his balls repeatedly in a car door.

Curly ignored Tallahassee and continued, “At the White House, care to join?”

“The White House?! I’ve always wanted to visit the seat of government!” Tallahassee shoots Columbus a look.

Tallahassee turns on the segway and you turned towards Pinkberry where you left your supplies, “Aren’t you comin?”

“Aw dang, you noticed me trying to dump her on you,” you said in mock defeat, earning another chuckle, “I am, just getting our things,”

“I could come with you, watch your back,”

“Is it only my back you want to watch?” you asked, catching him off guard, you shrugged, muttering “Shame,” before walking off.

You walked through the hall of empty shops. The only sounds were your footsteps and the whirring of the segway.

“You know, your boy isn’t going to have any backup if he’s attacked,” you said to him as you opened the freezer door, sticking your hand in to grab the supplies, “Just one more stop,” you said before grabbing a rope that dangled from the ceiling and climbing up to your “room.”

“You lived up there?”

“Yup, so I could keep an eye on her,” you said, pointing to the yogurt shop, “Found a cool spot years ago but she wouldn’t leave. Figured if I left it turned on, she’d change her mind. She didn’t,” you explained.

“Wait, you knew you could turn it off?” he asked, you smirked and nodded.

“Why do you think she never found the switch?” You asked, pointing to a poster on the wall.

“You hid the switch?”

“Like I said, I was trying to get her out,” you shrugged. Tallahassee laughed. Although he did wonder why you didn’t just leave her and go off on your own. He guessed it was the same reason he kept Columbus around, not that he’d tell anybody, “That’s everything,” you said before climbing down the rope and jumping to the floor, “Let’s go,”

***

Soon you were at the White House. That was now, white and green. You had tuned out the list of rules that Curly was rambling on about and your sister walked beside him as if she were a golden retriever and he had a treat in his hand.

“And rule fifty-three - ‘Wet-naps.’” He said pulling some out of his back pocket. You rolled your eyes and looked to Tallahassee.

“Does he ever stop?” you asked, he shook his head as he stared at the back of his head, a murderous gaze in his eyes.

“I can’t believe you keep all this stuff in your head,”

“Thank you,”

“It’s amazing,” she said, she stopped and turned to Tallahassee causing you both to come to a stop, “You know, you’re really lucky you found someone so smart to take care of you. Most people your age get left all by themselves, and that can be so hard,”

Tallahassee closes his eyes, the vein by his temple pulsing, he punches him in the chest, “I am so lucky.” He dragged him away, “Can we have a little summit in the Oval Office?”

“You guys. I can’t believe we’re in the White House. This is soy random,”

“Will you shut up? Please?” you looked around the space and spotted a statue, “Look, go introduce yourself,”

“You know why she’s still alive, right? Zombies eat brains. She don’t got one,”

“It’s true, she’s having a conversation with one of the statues right now,” you said at the door,

“In fact, the statue is smarter than her,”

“See,” Tallahassee gestures to you, “I’m not the only one,”

“If she’s so bad, why have you put up with her for so long?” Curly asked you.

“I could ask him the same question about you,” you said nodding to Tallahassee. Curly opened his mouth to say something but you didn’t want to hear his voice anymore, so you continued,

“Maddy’s my little sister. Like it or not, I’m stuck with her,”

“Oh,” Curly said.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, it’s just she’s um you know, like really, y-you know and you’re like y-you know, like him,”

“You know I could kill you, right? Without even moving from this spot?”

Before he could respond, your sister walked in, “Could you maybe give you a tour?” she asked, she looked around the room, “Woah, this is the Oval Office. Wait, why do they call it that?”

“For the love of God, take her on a tour,” you spat out, you needed a break from her. You were starting to miss your little paradise that hovered above ground, that gave you much needed peace. A place to escape before your sister’s squeaky peppy voice forced you to put a bullet in your head.

The two rushed out the door and a hand with a glass appeared in front of your face, you took the glass and downed the alcohol in one, “Thanks, needed that,”

“I can tell,” he said pouring you some more, “It seems yours annoys you more than mine does,”

“7 years in that shithole with only Maddy, I mean I love her, she’s my sister, but God I’d have a better conversation with a poodle,” you said, downing another half glass of whiskey, “I’m sorry, you don’t want to hear this,” you popped the glass down and headed for the door, “I’m going to find us some rooms, far away from you guys, give you some space,”

“You don’t have to, relax, have another drink,”

And you did. Or 5.

***

You and Tallahassee were swapping stories about your 10 years of Zombieland. You were sat on a chair, and he was opposite, sprawled out on the couch, you had to stop yourself from staring as his shirt lifted up higher every time he moved, displaying his abs and v-line.

Soon you heard noises coming from above, “Oh my God,” you groaned.

“I believe that’s what she’s supposed to say,” Tallahassee pointed out.

You rolled your eyes and downed the last of your drink. You don’t know what it was that caused you to be so bold and confident, probably the whiskey, but you stood from you seat and straddled Tallahassee’s hips. You lean in close, your warm breath against his ear “When was the last time someone took care of you?” you purred.

His eyes meet yours, a hint of surprise swimming in them. He smirks, his rough hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you in closer. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” he replies, his voice husky.

“I don’t?” you asked innocently. He growled and without hesitation, he swiftly pins you down, caging you beneath his powerful body, his eyes burning with raw intensity.

Tallahassee pauses for a moment, his intense gaze locked with yours, “You say the word and we’ll stop,”

“What word? I wanna avoid it,” you smirked up at him a mischievous glint in your eyes.

Tallahassee chuckled darkly before bending his head, his lips finding your neck. His hands traveled up your back, massaging and kneading the muscles there, making you arch into him further. You moaned, feeling his hot breath on your skin as he suckled a trail up your neck to your earlobe. His teeth gently nipped at it, sending a shiver down your spine.

Breathless, you look deep into his eyes, her voice dripping with desire as you plead, "Fuck me," Tallahassee groans, One hand pins yours above your head, the other travels under your shirt. His calloused fingers trace your silky-smooth skin, his touch leaving a burning trail. He undoes the button of your jeans, yanking them halfway down your thighs. Without wasting a second, he pushes your dampened panties to the side, easing a thick finger between your dripping folds. He kisses your neck and along your jawline as he thrusts two fingers expertly inside of you.

Your back arches off the couch, a strangled moan escaping your lips. Tallahassee's thumb teases your clit, circling and pressing until you're on the brink of ecstasy. He leans forward, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss as he begins to thrust his fingers deeper inside of you. You can feel his erection pressing against your hip, hot and hard, and you ache for him to be inside of you.

He started to increase the intensity as he felt your body twitch, responding to each of his movements, “Please,” you whimper, wanting more. Practically begging for it.

Your pleas didn’t go unanswered. He placed one more kiss on your lips before sliding down your body, your eyes following his every move. He pulled your jeans down the remainder of your legs and threw them across the room. As your eyes were looking to see where they landed, you feel something warm and wet seep through you folds. Snapping your head back to him, you see his face buried between your legs. His tongue swirling around your lips as if he’s trying to mop up every last drop of your slick. You can’t help but let out a moan as he bites, licks and sucks at your little bundle of nerves. Your hips buck involuntarily causing him to rest his free hand on your stomach to keep you still.

His hand returns, sliding up your abdomen, cupping your breast and squeezing gently. He licks you one more time, tasting the sweetness that coats his tongue, before looking up at you, his eyes dark with lust.

He stands up and starts stripping himself of his clothes. You clench your legs together to get friction as his cock springs free.

"Like what you see?" he asked, his voice husky and rough. You nod, unable to speak, as your gaze drifts down to the thick length of him. You quickly climb off the couch and onto your knees in front of him.

He groans, his hips jerking forward as you take him in your hands. Your fingers wrap around his shaft, stroking up and down the length of him, marveling at the heat and the size. "You're so fucking beautiful," he breathes, his eyes watching you intently.

You look up at him as you continue to stroke him, feeling his skin slide over your palm. His gaze meets yours, and for a moment, you feel like you can see straight into his soul. You lean forward, taking his cock into your mouth, feeling the velvety smoothness against your tongue. You close your lips around him, taking him as deep as you can, and begin to bob your head up and down.

His hands run through your hair, cupping your head as he watches you work him. You can feel the way he trembles, the way his hips jerk forward as you suck him deeper, the way his breath hitches in his throat. You know he's close, and you want nothing more than to feel him come in your mouth.

Pulling back, you look up at him, your chest heaving as you catch your breath. His eyes are half-closed, his head tilted back, his expression one of pure bliss. You reach out, tracing a finger along his cheekbone, feeling the warmth of his skin against your fingertip. "I want to feel you inside me," you whisper, and he groans, his hips jerking forward again.

He helps you to your feet, his hands on your waist, and guides you back to the couch. You climb onto the cushions, legs spread wide, and watch as he positions himself between your thighs. He brushes a stray hair out of your face, his thumb tracing your cheekbone, before leaning down to capture your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. His cock presses against your folds, and with one smooth motion, he pushes inside of you.

You gasp, feeling the stretch of his length as he fills you. He groans, his hips stuttering as he begins to thrust, the rhythm echoing in your core. His hands move to your hips, holding you steady as he takes you roughly, your body meeting his thrust for thrust. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, your nails digging into the soft cushion beneath you.

He looks down at you, his eyes dark and intense, his expression a mixture of lust and possession. His lips find your neck, sucking and nipping at your skin, leaving a sting that feels almost as good as the thrust of his hips. "You're so fucking tight," he growls, his words vibrating against your skin.

You arch your back, meeting his thrusts with equal force. Your nails scrape down his back, leaving a trail of red lines on his skin. You can feel the tension building inside you, the familiar ache spreading through your core. "I'm close," you gasp, your body trembling with the effort to hold back.

He groans, his hips moving faster, his cock thrusting deeper. "Cum for me," he urges, his lips finding yours in a bruising kiss. You shudder, your orgasm washing over you in a wave of heat and pleasure. Your inner walls tighten around him, milking his cock as you cry out his name.

His thrusts grow jerky and rough, and you feel the warmth of his release deep inside you. He groans, his body shuddering as he empties himself, his hips still moving even as he collapses onto you, pinning you beneath his weight. His breath comes in ragged gasps, his chest heaving against yours.

For a moment, you're lost in the afterglow of your orgasm, feeling the weight of his body pressed against yours, the heat of his skin seared into your memory. You luxuriate in the intimacy of the moment, reveling in the way he moves against you, the way he feels inside you.

He rolls off you, collapsing to the side, still breathing heavily. You watch him, tracing a lazy finger along the lines of his chest, admiring the play of muscles in his arms and shoulders, "I don't remember it feeling that good,"

"What?"

You laugh, turning your head to look at him. "You know what I mean."

"I think you mean, round 2," he smirked.

"Oh really?" you asked, a smirk of your own painting your lips, "You think you're up for it, old man?"

He swiftly pins you down again, "I'll show you who's an old man, darlin'"

[A/N] I feel like it didn't turn out as good as i imagined.

#female reader #reader insert #tallahassee x reader #zombieland x reader #zombieland fanfiction #zombieland double tap

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phonydiaries · 10 months

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Someone's Memory - Lies of P

Takes place during the opera house fight, apologies if I got some lore wrong but it was all done in the name of sadboys

No intended pairing but if you interpret or enjoy this as promeo/carmeo/any ship that’s cool and valid

Warnings: canon-typical violence with a sprinkle of weird robot gore for funsies

---

The glinting puppetstring of the legion shielded P’s eyes from the bright white burst which rippled through the wide open space of the opera house. A flash of heat singed the edges of his coat as his hand lowered and he peered through the billowing smoke. There, descended from his monstrous corpse of a throne stood Romeo, King of Puppets.

He was somehow more and less regal than Pinocchio had expected- tall and imposing but with a Lear-like posture, as if he’d aged considerably. This was most conflicting, as upon closer inspection he was sure Romeo was a man, but only barely. The half of his face which remained unmarred by char and decay looked hardly older than a boy. This revelation stirred in the puppet an unexpected and unpleasant tightness in his chest, but there was no use in indulging it. He’d do what was expected of him, as he always did. The King’s reign would end here.

The blade of Romeo’s scythe dragged languid across the floor as he advanced, leaving a faint scrawling along its glassy surface. He drew it slowly behind him and steadied his grip with both hands.

“I have to kill you.” His voice buzzed, strangely resonant and far away, as if something inside him had broken. “There’s no other way.”

At this P’s gaze narrowed. He’d sounded almost remorseful. What care did the king have if he lived or died? Was it merely his appearance? Perhaps he was only so moved as P had been at the thought of slaughtering something so convincingly human. Well, little good it would do him.

His steps echoed in time with Romeo’s and the two watched each other like circling hawks through keen eyes. P’s shoulder flinched back as the blade of the scythe cut through smoky air, staking its claim at the puppets feet. Quickly, he turned on his heels, sidling up behind the king and winding up to strike his exposed back. But as he swung, the blade caught on the outer shell of Romeo’s forearm as he whipped himself around. Suddenly his good eye alit with an expression P couldn’t discern.

“Tricky…” The king said under his breath, the word holding some elusive weight as it left his lips.

P’s blade slid across the armored limb with a ringing that cut through the air. Foolishly he made a cheap swing for the King’s head, but his opponent was swift and weaved his way out of range. There was no time for P to calculate his next move as Romeo charged for him, the staff of his scythe already flying. Reflexively, P met the weapon with the steel of his own, a resonant CLANG crying out around them. Through sheer force the puppet shoved Romeo’s blade away, forcing an opening just long enough to land a strike to the king’s torso. Romeo’s eyes twitched and flickered eerily between the blade piercing his chest and the face of the puppet that wielded it.

A wave of fear crashed over P as he jerked the hilt of his weapon uselessly. The serrated edge had caught stubbornly in the King’s mechanized skeleton and refused to budge. Romeo closed a glimmering hand around the weapon and thrashed his body wildly to the side, the inertia throwing P to the floor unarmed. As he scrambled to stand, his back brushed the wall of the arena, still hot to the touch. He was cornered. He watched with unblinking eyes as Romeo seized the hilt, which jutted out from the meat of his shoulder at a strange angle, and ripped it with unfeeling carelessness from his body. He gave it a curious glance before letting the weapon clatter unceremoniously to the floor.

P’s heart thrummed incessantly as the king met his gaze. Though the fresh wound sparked and smoked, there he stood hauntingly composed. Heat made the air about them grow thick, and auburn flames licked at the heels of the king as he stepped closer. His chin dipped solemnly as he raised the mighty scythe above his head.

“There’s no other way.” He echoed gravely, fingers curling about his weapon in reluctant duty. His shoulders rolled back and as the blade reached its crest he froze. P’s arm was outstretched, the puppetstring held high, shielding his face. He stared at the unmoving king, puzzled. But as his eyes followed the stark path of the puppetstring’s tether, he discovered the arrowhead buried in the dead center of Romeo’s chest. Before P could blink, the king was dragged before him.

The sudden closeness shocked him too much to flinch. He stared with a dumb, blank expression, his chest still rising and falling with a quickness at his narrowly-averted beheading. His nose was practically touching Romeo’s, and he squinted in response to the red flicker emanating from the king’s socket. It was then that something in Romeo’s face shifted, a strange softening of features, even those more grotesque, the exposed jawbone of his right half unclenching. His brow turned up and his good eye went foggy, as if suddenly overcome with emotion.

“...Carlo?”

The puppet string dislodged from Romeo’s chest with a horrible gnashing sound, ripping through layers of charred metal. With it was pulled a ruptured heart, still beating even half destroyed, in an arrhythmic dissonance. Bits of shrapnel clattered to the floor as the king’s head sunk low and lifeless into his chest. As his legs faltered, P reached out reflexively. He held the fallen puppet firmly and with as much grace as could be mustered, guided his body to rest against a pillar. The king wheezed and his head rolled lethargically against the pillar. The rest of his body went limp. P’s gaze flickered across the face of this puppet in sudden awe. So he’d known Carlo. How? And to what extent?

The king’s body shook with a shudder of a laugh. His speech was strained and yet held a sure and unexpected warmth, perhaps even longing. It was as if new depths previously unknown to even himself had been unlocked by this onslaught of memory. How ironic, the liveliness he knew only on his deathbed.

P’s throat felt tight. He was sure this was the first time they had met, but it was clear to him now that this puppet- or something inside this puppet- had known the boy from the painting, and well enough that even as he lay dying, still held affections for him. He longed to know more, to hear of all the times they’d spent together. Oh, how he would listen with rapt attention, how he would ask to be told again and again until the retellings were as clear to him as memory. Just as they should’ve been from the start.

“Carlo, My Carlo… I was sure I’d never see you again, not since-“ the king stopped himself, eyes suddenly twitching with something akin to fear. His gaze locked with Pinocchio’s and his brows knit hesitantly. “You do still know me, don’t you?” He asked.

He did not know the king, but as he looked upon the poor man, crestfallen, a half crushed heart protruding from his open wound, it seemed horribly cruel to admit this. He conjured up the image of Carlo’s portrait in his mind and made mimic the best he could, imagining the way those lips may have curled and the way those eyes may have crinkled with fondness for this once beloved friend. He nodded assuredly at the king. It was a deception yes, but a kind one.

“Of course I do.” He said, low and certain. He didn’t care much for words, truth be told. They filled his mouth in a way he found quite displeasing, and never seemed to fall quite the way he intended. But he was aware that Carlo had not shared this same distaste for conversation.

At this, all the raw and jagged edges of Romeo’s face seemed to soften, awash with relief. This was interrupted quickly with -P could only assume- a sharp pain in the king's chest, which made him wince as he curled in on himself. His eyes squeezed shut momentarily and when he opened them again, he stared up at the ceiling. It was a curious thing, P observed, that he seemed to be looking through the ceiling rather than at it; straight through to a deep and starlit sky.

“Please tell me… do you know what comes after death? Have you felt it?” Asked the king, his gaze still wandering and foggy. This seemed too grand, too important a thing to lie about, and the question startled P. He shook his head apologetically, but the king seemed not to mind, preoccupied with the invisible solaris above him. He let out a sigh that sounded just as sad as it did pretty.

“Whatever it is that comes next, I admit I am afraid to see it alone.” Romeo spoke, the timbre of his voice faltering.

At this P held an awful feeling in his chest, one of desolate hollowness, a kind of gnawing guilt taking root. He did not care for this at all. With a mind of caring servitude, P knelt before the king. Romeo’s gaze fell from the ceiling, meeting with that of his old friend.

“Then I’ll stay with you.” P said simply. The corners of Romeo’s mouth lifted in a melancholic smile and he extended his weary hand. P clasped it tight and bowed his head. Romeo’s lids fluttered.

“Thank you, Carlo.” He breathed. As his eyes gently closed, the inner machinations of the puppet droned to a halt.

With the king’s hand still in his, P pressed the cold palm to his own cheek and tried to will a memory into place. If there was any part of him that held recollection of Romeo, he wanted desperately to know it. But nothing came. And so in the absence of fact, Pinocchio dreamt something up. He painted a tender scene in his mind, one in which Carlo and Romeo were only boys still, untouched by the world. He imagined them looking up at the stars bedded by cool grass, the world around them quiet and warm.

As this invented memory faded, Pinocchio pressed a kiss into the palm of Romeo’s hand and folded it neatly against the fallen puppets heart. He wondered if king was a grand enough title to be remembered by, or if friend would be truer, nobler, far more fitting, simple as it was. He left the opera house heavier than he had found it.

#im not gonna lie i edited this sloppy style I'm so fucking tired rn #combat is obviously inaccurate to gameplay #but it's always okay to sacrifice accuracy for homoerotic fights to the death #didn’t write this with the intention of it being promeo/carmeo/Any ship #but if you interpret it that way that’s totally cool!#guys it felt so weird to not write in second person or in present tense for the first time in months #lies of p #lop #lies of p fanfic #romeo king of puppets #lies of p romeo #my writing #promeo #carmeo

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white-wolf-buckaroo · 7 months

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Chapter 4: My loyalty is bound by blood

Here it is! Second flashback of Emily's childhood in my daughter of Ares fanfic. Hope you like it! <3

Word count:: 3600 ish words

Warnings: mean people :(

Fic masterlist here!

Seven year old Emily stood in the training arena, with a tight grip on a sword and a shield.

It had been a year since her arrival at camp half-blood, and she had changed a lot: she still slept with her teddy bear, and liked running around the woods playing with dryads, but she had also worked on her fighting skills. Last summer she had met the rest of her halfsiblings, and although many of them were… rambunctious, she got along with most of them; they didn’t take her too seriously, as she was the youngest of them (and one of the youngest campers as well), but they sticked to her, they let her stick to them, and they didn’t treat her poorly.

Camp was a lot different during the summer: there were no classes, only practices and activities to learn to shoot arrows, climb lava walls, fly Pegasi, go swimming or riding a canoe, and play volleyball. It was a lot of fun, and Emily was really sad when most of her siblings went back home for the school year; she stayed at camp, obviously, because she had nowhere to go, but she had slowly but surely started to think of camp half-blood as her home.

She started second grade then, and when she wasn’t learning what any other average kid her age would be studying, Chiron taught her ancient Greek, and told her stories that were known as myths in the mortal world, but that were basically family history for her. She listened to him in wonder, and remembered every single tale, completely fascinated.

And then there was training: she put on her first armour, and lifted her first ever sword, ready to learn. Most weapons were still too heavy for her to lift, but she managed well with what she could handle, and after a year at camp, well, no one could say she wasn’t a child of Ares: she had a natural skill for it.

Emily’s siblings, particularly her brothers who stayed at camp the whole year, were the ones that trained with her the most, although she had befriended other campers, descendants from different gods; she was advised by her brothers and sisters to not befriend children of Athena, though, as their father and the goddess had a well-known rivalry.

She didn’t think much of that, until one day, two new demigods made it to camp.

That day, at the training arena, under the light of sunset, Emily charged against her opponent, a daughter of Demeter, a bit older than her, but not as skilled. The girl defended herself from Emily’s attack, but she was quickly disarmed by the daughter of Ares, who smiled at her victory. It didn’t last long, though, as a boy from the Hermes cabin named Chris shoved her from behind, causing her to stumble. Her grip on her weapons didn’t falter, though, and she recovered fast enough to stop the next shove, protecting herself with the shield.

Her sword clashed against the one of the boy, and they kept going like that until the boy used brute force to hit her on her arm; Emily felt the impact of the blow on her limb, and she momentarily dropped her sword. She winced, but her now trained reflexes helped her recover quickly, and so when the Hermes boy charged at her again, Emily switched tactics: without missing a beat, she drew the dagger she had strapped to her side, the blade gleaming in the fading sunlight.

With swift movements, Emily maneuvered around Chris, and she aimed for his exposed side, still protecting herself with her shield. She threw the dagger. The blade didn’t cut deep, but it scraped his skin enough, making him hiss in pain, and causing him to step back for a second. Emily used this time to retrieve not only her dagger, but also her sword, regaining her initial stance, a determined glint in her eyes.

The Hermes boy was clutching his side, his fresh yet small injury burning under his hand. He dropped his sword, signalling his surrender against the daughter of Ares.

“Well done, demigods” said Chiron, standing on the side along other half-bloods “Chris, you may go to the infirmary before dinner to treat that cut”

The boy nodded, picking up his stuff and leaving the arena. Emily received a clap on the shoulders from two of her older brothers, who congratulated her.

“Good job there, little sis”

Emily sat later on by her siblings during dinner, and she smiled excited at the prospect of having the table full of people again in only a few weeks’ time, when the rest of the half-bloods came to camp for summer.

She then burned part of her food, as usual, thinking of her father.

Ares had kept visiting from time to time. He didn’t show up anymore last summer, but that was fine for her, as Emily had had all of her siblings to keep her company. He visited a few weeks after the end of summer, though, the same day she managed to climb the lava wall to the top all on her own for the first time, and she told him all about it, proud at herself. He kept watching her from afar, appearing once more in December, then in February, and then once again sooner than expected, in March, her birthday month; in true Ares’ fashion, he gifted her a throwing knife made of celestial bronze disguised as a bracelet, enchanted to have more accuracy and strength in her shot than with other blades, and that would return to her magically any time she threw it. It was the first birthday present she ever remembered getting from him, and she loved it.

He watched her progress at training, and each time he visited she told him about her new skills. All alone, more often than not Ares caught himself smiling at her sight, fighting other campers, every day stronger; she’d truly make a fine warrior someday.

That evening, in the month of May, Emily went straight to bed after a staying outside by the campfire after dinner. She had developed a habit of sneaking out after curfew at night every other day, watching the stars sitting at the beach or in a clearing in the forest; she knew she shouldn’t be outside that late, especially because there were actually some monsters in the deep forest, set there to keep demigods alert even at camp if they ever decided to wander around, but she always sticked to the safer parts of camp, where they wouldn’t catch her, and where monsters wouldn’t eat her.

If her siblings knew of her habit, they didn’t say anything, like that particular night when she walked outside of her cabin, alert for Chiron or Mr. D. The night sky was clear, not a cloud in sight, and the constellations were all spread on display for her eyes to find, which she was determined to do.

As she was focusing on connecting the dots of what she believed was the Ursa Major, a sudden commotion disrupted the peace of the night: there was shouting, and people running down the hill, straight to camp.

At first Emily was startled, afraid that something bad was happening, so she grabbed her bracelet, which transformed on command into the throwing knife. Other campers that still weren’t sleeping walked out of their cabins, some of them also holding up weapons, while the lights turned on in the big house.

Emily saw then that there was no apparent danger, as the newcomers were a satyr, a teenage boy and a girl who looked her age. She didn’t recognize them, although she knew the satyr: his name was Grover. He spent most of the year outside camp, like many other young satyrs, searching for demigods in schools, taking them to camp to protect them from the creatures that would attack them once they knew what they were (or if they were already too powerful). She guessed that the boy and the girl with him were half-bloods, which was normal, but that didn’t explain the commotion they caused entering camp.

Chiron and Mr. D made their way to them, and Emily went swiftly back closer to her cabin, pretending she wasn’t already outside when the newcomers had arrived: the teenage boy had short black hair, and dark eyes, although his skin was light, whereas the girl had deep chocolate colour-like skin, matching her brown eyes and her black braided hair. Both of them, just as Grover, looked dishevelled and tired, but also agitated. The girl was crying, and the older boy was trying to console her, while his own tears streamed down his cheeks. Grover was talking frantically to Chiron, and after telling him something that made the girl cry even harder, the centaur, and even Mr. D, ran up the hill, followed by the older campers.

The air was tense, and by that time, everyone had exited their cabins, wanting to know what had happened. One of Emily’s brothers who had stayed behind after Chiron left told her to stick to his side until they knew what was going on, and she didn’t need to be told twice.

As Emily stuck close to her brother, the camp buzzed with speculation, doubt, and worry. It was clear something bad had happened. You didn’t need to have heightened senses to pick up the somber atmosphere: in silence, they watched Chiron and Mr. D on top of the hill, out of reach for them to hear, but it didn’t look good.

An older girl from the Demeter cabin approached the new girl, who was still crying her eyes out, and offered her some tissues to dry her tears. By the time Chiron, Mr. D and the campers that had went with them were back, the boy and the girl (who Grover had introduced as Luke and Annabeth), were sitting on a bench together, still shaken, but a bit more calm. The looks on Mr. D’s and Chiron’s faces didn’t bode well.

Emily’s brother put a reassuring hand on her shoulders when their sibling joined them back. The night seemed to stretch endlessly as campers waited for answers. Eventually, they received them:

“A young demigod has fallen in battle. Thalia Grace… a daughter of Zeus” there was a collective gasp after hearing that “A forbidden child who has sacrificed herself in order to save her companions, Luke, Annabeth and Grover, from the monsters hunting them. She has now been turned into a pine tree by her father, to preserve her spirit, which has now created a magical barrier that will reinforce our protections against monsters luring outside. Her sacrifice, her courage and her bravery, will forever be remembered, as we are safer now thanks to her. Thanks to Thalia Grace, daughter of the king of gods”

A wave of shock and grief washed over everybody present: demigods, satyrs, dryads, nymphs… all of them felt a pang of sadness and shock at being so close to death itself, the weight of loss heavy. It was one of the toughest nights Emily had ever spent at camp half-blood, and the morning that followed wasn’t much easier: it wasn’t only that a forbidden child had been revealed (which was, apparently, really big news), but she had also died, and her soul had been preserved by Zeus himself in a way that would protect other demigods at camp, forever.

This was all a pretty big deal.

And then there was Luke and Annabeth. Their protector, Grover, blamed himself for what had happened, but they were trying to cheer him up, saying that he had brought all three demigod’s to camp, and that it was Thalia’s choice to protect them, to sacrifice herself, for them to live. Both half-bloods were officially claimed as well: Annabeth was Athena’s daughter, which she apparently already knew, and Luke was a son of Hermes. They slept in their respective cabins for the rest of the night, which seemed to bother them, as they seemed pretty close and didn’t like being separated, especially not after what happened to Thalia.

Emily eyed Annabeth curiously. From what she had learned, she was seven years old, just as her. She ate breakfast at the Athena table, with the few of her siblings who lived at camp full term; it seemed like she would be joining them as a year-round camper, and Luke as well.

There weren’t many kids as young as Emily at camp when it wasn’t summertime, so even if Annabeth was a daughter of Athena (something her siblings thought wasn’t all that good), Emily was secretly excited at the prospect of having someone else her age at camp for the whole year.

“Why are you staring at her?”

Emily looked to her left, where one of her brothers sat; he had caught her looking at Annabeth, which wasn’t all that weird, because basically all of the campers were staring at the newcomers, but Ares’ kids seemed to be ignoring Annabeth on purpose. Well, all of them, except Emily.

“She’s my age” it seemed like a valid explanation to her, but her brother shook his head “What is it?”

“We don’t mix up with Athena’s kids, remember? Our parents don’t get along”

“But that doesn’t have to mean we can’t” she frowned “Just because Daddy and her Mom don’t like each other…”

“Listen, Emily, it doesn’t work like that” her older brother, the oldest one of them, spoke. He was starting to look concerned “It’s not just about our parents not getting along personally. It’s about the history, the conflicts between Athena and Ares: they both represent different aspects of war. They clash, and so do we. It’s in our blood. Our cabins have a long history of not getting along”

“But… she seems nice” she insisted. Her young mind struggled to grasp the complexities of their family dynamics.

“It’s not about being nice or not” her brother looked frustrated now “This is about power, our cabins’, and our parents’. Mixing with Athena kids only leads to trouble”

“Really?” it didn’t seem right to her. Why couldn’t she befriend the girl anyways? Who cared about their parents’ rivalry? She only wanted to have a new friend.

Her brother, the one on her left, put a hand on her shoulder, like he did the night before.

“I know it’s hard to grasp now, but in time you’ll see that we’re right. For now keep your distance from her” he smiled pitifully at her, sensing that she wasn’t really convinced “Hey, we’re your big brothers. You know you can trust us”

Despite their warnings, Emily couldn’t stay away from Annabeth; you could say that was a trait she inherited from her father: always pushing it, challenging the rules.

She approached her that afternoon, during archery class. Annabeth was still pretty affected by the recent events, which was totally understandable, and she seemed to be struggling with her aim. By her side stood Luke, who didn’t seem to have that many problems with the bow and arrows, but his sad face gave away is sorrow mood instantly. Chiron had thought that trying out camps’ activities would help and distract them from what had happened the previous night, but everybody was still shaken up by it, not only those two. It wasn’t everyday that Zeus yielded his power in matters related to half-bloods, and especially not involving one of his own children (who shouldn’t even have been born).

Emily wasn’t all that bad at shooting arrows, so when her brothers weren’t looking, she walked up to the girl.

“Hi” she greeted, smiling “I’m Emily”

“I’m Annabeth” her voice was small, her throat sore from all the crying.

“Um… do you want some help with this?” she pointed to the bow in her hands, and then the target: a huge stuffed sac of straw shaped like an hydra, with a bull’s-eye painted in the centre. Annabeth looked at Luke, who nodded at her, encouraging her, and then she accepted.

Emily had had fun that afternoon: she taught Annabeth a few basics in archery she had picked up over the year from the Apollo kids (who were the best archers with the best aim out of all of the demigods by far), and she even got her to smile once or twice while they practiced. What wasn’t so fun, was the looks Emily received from her brothers when she was caught: disappointment, anger, coldness. They didn’t like it one bit.

And it didn’t end there: the next day, Emily was alone in the Ares cabin during the afternoon, catching up on some sleep. Her young body was tired because of the rollercoaster of emotions she had experimented during the last hours, so as any other kid, she took a nap to recharge her batteries. Clutching her teddy bear, she lay under the covers of her bunkbed, when suddenly the inside of the cabin turned darker, and the lock on the door was sealed.

She had just woken up, so it startled her pretty much. Sitting up, however, she relaxed when she saw her father sitting across from her on one of the unoccupied beds, on the other side of the room.

“Hi Daddy” she rubbed her eyes, getting rid of that foggy feeling that came with waking up, and smiled at him. She was starting to get accustomed to his sudden entrances.

Ares had been watching for the last few days. The news of a forbidden kid hadn’t only shaken camp half-blood, but also Olympus. His father had broken his promise of not having any more demigod children, and now said child, a girl, his half-sister, had died on the outsides of camp, fighting monsters to protect the other demigods she was travelling with.

Hera wasn’t pleased at the news. Ares wasn’t pleased at the news. Hermes wasn’t as well, like Athena, but they were also relieved that their children had survived their way to camp, where they would be safe (now even more, thanks to the barrier of Thalia’s tree). The atmosphere was tense at Olympus, and no one wanted to be there while said tension lingered.

“ ’Heard there was a lot going on down here” he said. Emily didn’t notice, but he looked tired; there had been a lot of fighting going up at Olympus after Thalia’s heritage was revealed “You okay?”

She nodded, standing up. With her teddy under her arm, she made her way to Ares, sitting next to him on the small bed: he was so large that he occupied most of the mattress, so Emily had to squish herself in between him and the bars of the bunkbed. It was a curious sight: a big strong man, a god, and his petite young half-blood daughter.

“I was scared… there were monsters outside of camp, and a girl died to protect everyone” she had been thinking a lot about the recent events, processing everything slowly but surely “She was very brave”

“Seems like it” he shrugged.

“I also met the new campers Grover brought with him. They seem nice!” she looked a bit less sombre, her mood becoming more light-hearted “Their names are Luke and Annabeth; his dad is uncle Hermes, and her mom is aunt Athena. They’re both going to stay the full term, like me! And Annabeth, she’s my age, and we’ve been practising archery together, and…”

“Hold up there” Ares raised his hand, effectively stopping her rambling “You said she’s Athena’s kid?” Emily nodded, having forgotten for a second what her father thought of the goddess “Nah, better not get mixed up with those. Stay away from her”

“But why?” it was like talking to her brothers all over again, her enthusiasm turning into uncertainty “She’s nice! We talked about constellations, and she can draw like, super well, and she…”

“Emily, I said no”

She scowled, displeased.

“Daddy, but-“

“No ‘buts’, Emily! I don’t want you near her! You hear me? Stay away from her!”

It was the first time Ares raised his voice at her, like, in a really angry, dark way. Emily flinched at his voice, eyes welling up with tears, overwhelmed, but she quickly nodded with her head, not wanting to hear her father yelling again and upset him even more. He scared her deeply.

Ares’ own eyes gleamed, but with fire. He came down from his outburst a few seconds later, standing up from the bed.

“Trust you old man, kiddo. I know what’s best for you”

He ruffled her hair, and vanished then, without another word; the light inside the cabin turned brighter again, the door unlocking itself, and Emily sat all alone with her thoughts.

Emily didn’t want to displease her dad. He was the only thing she had left, besides her siblings, who also weren’t keen on her befriending the daughter of Athena. So, even though something in her inside screamed at her to reach out to Annabeth (probably the part of her personality that came from her mom, more caring and loving than Ares), seeing a potentially great friend in her, she decided to follow her fathers’ and her siblings’ advice, in order to stay on their good side.

That doesn’t mean that it didn’t hurt when the next morning Annabeth asked her in front of most of the campers if she wanted to practice together archery again, and she had to tell her straight in the face “no”, saying that she couldn’t, and that she didn’t want to be friends with her.

Emily’s brothers saw that interaction, and they congratulated her for having reconsidered where her loyalty stood. She just wished that their praise could’ve erased the feeling of regret she got after seeing Annabeth looking at her in tears after so blatantly rejecting her.

----

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tathrin · 1 year

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Back at you with the asks! You write Gimli and Legolas as distinctively representative of their own peoples, and clearly you have some pretty strong headcanons about dwarves and elves, as kindreds. What counts as "smart" and "capable" for each, and how much would your Gimli and Legolas be considered smart and capable by their respective cultures? What might each of their peoples think of Gimli's and Legolas' particular strengths? What might their relative weaknesses be, in their own contexts? How much do you consciously or unconsciously write them to balance each other's weaknesses, within or across cultures?

Ohhhhh boy wow this is an extremely delightful and, frankly, flattering question and I feel like you are maybe giving me more credit for Thinking Things Through than I have actually earned or deserve, but I am going to try to answer it in full the way such a fantastic query deserves as best I can anyway!

(the not-so-secret secret is that I write a lot more by instinct/seat-of-my-pants than I probably should shhhhhh.)

Legolas and the Wood-elves: he's everybody's little brother. He's one of (if not the) youngest elves in Mirkwood, one of the very last to be born before the Shadow (which was already creeping over the forest when he was born, although only a little bit; not enough that they had to really acknowledge it yet, even if they had sort of noticed its first unwelcome tendrils) grew so dark that they stopped risking birthing new children into their woods.

So Mirkwood (Greenwood still, then; Greenwood for a long, long time before they finally resigned themselves to the truth of the name everyone else had given them a long time ago) has always, in my head, been a very we'll be happy to spite you on purpose sort of place. Their forest is awash in darkness, so they will be joyful as a weapon against the dark. They're happy on purpose. Their merriment is a weapon. And they raised their children to be happy, dammit. Not naive, not vulnerable; they couldn't afford that. They raised them to know the dangers of their forest, and to know how to protect themselves against it, yes; but also to do so without ever giving up on joy and laughter. Which was a weapon, yes, but it was also very important to them that their children would still grow-up happy. That no matter how dark Mirkwood got, the children would never stop laughing.

Which was great, and I think informs Legolas's attitude and consistent cheerfulness during the Quest very much (of course it does, since it's being worked backwards from the canonical fact of said attitude, as an explanation for it lol)...but also, as a sort of unintended side-effect, the elves of Mirkwood didn't really want to see their youngest generation grow up, not entirely. Elves clearly have to be able to adapt to seeing someone they knew as a baby as a whole-ass adult, because they live forever (unless you kill them) so there's no just aging-out and letting the new generation eventually take over; the new generation lives alongside all the old ones too. So they'd have to have become adept at this shift in perspective, culturally.

However. The last generation of children born in Greenwood before it became Mirkwood is a special case, because their youth was such a source of joy to everyone else that they just sort of...never entirely stopped thinking of them as kids. (The fact that there hasn't yet been a generation of kids to follow them contributes to this too, of course; they're seen as The Youngsters because they still are the youngest.)

So on one hand, yes everyone has learned to respect the skills and fighting prowess of "the youngsters" because this is Mirkwood, and you aren't going to have many elves who don't go out and fight because practically everything in the forest wants to kill you a little bit. And Mirkwood values things like swift reflexes and sharp eyes and good aim, because that's how you stay alive; they value being able to judge the difference between a shadow and A Shadow at a glance because if you guess wrong "dying" is sort of the best-case result. They value loyalty and determination and the ability to be joyful even in the face of defeat and despair. And Legolas has all of those traits and skills, for sure.

In fact I think Legolas is one of their best archers (in a scene I can't remember whether I've published yet or not, his sister muses on how it might be because his spirits are so bright that his vision is yet unclouded by the Shadow that hangs heavy on the rest of them) and he's definitely trusted to, like, Walk Into The Murderforest And Come Back Alive, sure. They trust him in a fight! He's a competent adult and a skilled archer! But he's also still a kid to their eyes, in a lot of ways, even though he isn't and they know he isn't...but he still feels like one.

So it's not like they're condescending or cruel or anything, but they do I think look at him and instinctively think "oh no baby, must take care of" on some level. So: is he seen as smart and capable? Yes, for sure. But also: "omg Elrond did you really send A CHILD to MORDOR?" Elrond: he's six-hundred years old wtf. Mirkwood: "yes, a six-hundred-year-old BABY!" Elrond: .....wtf tho. So, again, it's not like his opinions or suggestions would be dismissed or ignored...but there's always going to be a bit of a protective urge there (because the elves of Mirkwood worked so hard to protect their last generation of children, and it's a hard habit to break even though they aren't children anymore) and a kind of eternal-head-pat vibe.

Also he is sheltered. (Or was, before the Quest. I expect Elrond was smart enough to try and avoid Thranduil as much as possible before he got on that boat to Aman.) I go back and forth on whether or not Rílaerloth was involved in the Battle of Five Armies, but Legolas was absolutely not brought along when Thranduil marched a bunch of their forces off to potential-war-with-the-dwarves. It's one thing to let your kids go out and shoot spiders and possibly risk a glancing encounter with a Nazgûl ("and what do we do if we see one of the Lords of Dol Guldur? That's right we run the fuck away, thank you children") and another thing altogether to bring them purposefully to something that might become a war.

Especially for the elves of Mirkwood, who lost so much in the War of the Last Alliance. None of the folks who lived through that would be keen to bring any of the "youngsters" into a full-fledged war I don't think, even a comparatively little one that they were all expecting would end up being nothing more than some Posturing With Weapons in the end. (If Thranduil had known that it was going to be an actual war he wouldn't have brought Rílaerloth, either, even if he'd have had to have Eregmegil sit on her to stop her.)

*You'll note that I haven't mentioned anything about lore or wisdom or any of the more traditional Elvish Talents here, just fighting and survival; this is tied to the whole more dangerous, less wise aspect of Mirkwood. They certainly do value wisdom and lore still, and it's not like Legolas is ignorant or an idiot; but there's a reason he forgets the words to old songs halfway through, and Aragorn doesn't. In Mirkwood they're more focused on "this is how you kill a spider before it can eat you" and "how to recognize a web that's fresh enough to be sticky versus one that's old enough to be safe to touch" and "when you feel a creeping darkness like this brushing against your soul, run like fuck" than on the things you learn in Rivendell.

In the evenings they don't gather in their peaceful Hall of Fire and exchange poetry compositions, they get drunk and dance around the fire and sing as loud as they can to scare the shadows away. They're more practical in the sort of lore they value because they have to be. They don't have a magic Ring to protect their borders; in fact, they literally have Ringwraiths and Dark Lords squatting in their own damn forest far too much of the time. Also, honestly, a lot of that lore is the history of other people anyway.

The elves of Mirkwood stayed in their forest because they wanted to; the ones who fled from Doriath and joined them there came precisely because they wanted a "simpler and more natural" elvish way of life. They weren't really involved in a lot of the Elvish Drama going on outside their woods (and when the stakes got high enough that they did get involved, three-quarters of their army died so. yeah. that's not really going to inspire them to go out and socialize more, is it?) most of the time. So if maybe Legolas can't remember the difference between Andreth and Adanel...does it matter, in Mirkwood?

(No, no it doesn't.)

Gimli and the Dwarves: I have a lot fewer Concrete Headcanons and Societal World Building done for the Lonely Mountain than I do for Mirkwood, so this is going to be very much a briefer response, I'm afraid. But I think Gimli was likely equal parts respected and overlooked by his people, because he is a very talented and erudite dwarf of a very fine line of dwarves, so on one hand everybody definitely would respect him and his capabilities...but on the other, I think they do take him for granted a little bit, because of course he would be good at x and y and also z, because he is Gimli son of Glóin of the House of Durin! And he's certainly talented—but also hasn't really done anything of great significance before the Quest, due mainly to the fact that there simply wasn't anything significant to do. So: respected, yes. But not always acknowledged, in a way.

Not given the "he's a kid!" treatment like Legolas is, but just having his competence and skill taken for granted much more often than it gets remarked upon. People expect Gimli son of Glóin of the House of Durin to be awesome (and he is!). Mind you, over-achiever that he is, he goes out and gets himself sent on this massively important Quest and then proves to be so much more awesome than anyone was prepared for...but it's not until he gets back, and the full accounting of his deeds and accolades and honors is recounted, that anyone in the Lonely Mountain really stops to go oh huh.

And I think even then, they probably still continue to take his prowess for granted a little bit, simply because they're so used to him being that way—and so used to expecting him to excel at whatever it is he's asked to do. I think the full breadth of his brilliance probably won't be properly realized and appreciated until some years later, when he's Lord of Aglarond and there's a bit more distance there, and more younger dwarves who grew-up on the stories of Gimli more than just "yeah that's Glóin's kid, he's good hand at [insert-skill-here]" running around to be in proper awe of Gimli of the Nine Walkers, Gimli Lockbearer, Gimli Elf-Friend, Gimli Lord of the Glittering Caves, Gimli Silvertongue, Gimli Friend of Kings...etc etc etc.

I think the older dwarves might actually end up a little blindsided by it, in a way, when it does sort of click in their heads.

Weaknesses & Balance: Legolas has a tendency to run-off half-cocked without thinking things through, trusting his instinct and skill to get him out of whatever he might end up running into (part of this is because of the aforementioned sheltering: yes Mirkwood is a dangerous place, but he's never really been anywhere but Mirkwood before, and the dangers of Mirkwood are dangers that he knows how to deal with so he doesn't need to worry that he's going to end up in over-his-head there). He's also definitely the short-tempered one of the pair (hello, Éomer!) although he's also the more easy-going in a lot of ways simply because there aren't a lot of things that do make his temper spike.

Gimli by contrast is more of a craftsman in his approach to the world, although not so much as to hesitate when faced with a need to act (for instance: "dwarves can't shape stone with our fingernails, but I'll come figure it out anyway!") but that's countered somewhat by his extremely overpowering sense of loyalty: if his idiot friends run into a bad situation, you can bet that Gimli will be right on their heels even if he ought to know better. He's more self-effacing, too, which can be both a good thing and a bad thing, although in his case it's mostly the former. Conversely, he's very prideful, too, although he's such a gentleman about it that you don't really notice ("I would take offense at x, if you weren't too ignorant to know better!" etc) because it's not a rude sort of arrogance; just a supreme, contended confidence both in himself and in his people.

I think Gimli wears his heart on his sleeve a lot more, although Legolas is the one who's more directly open about his own thoughts and feelings whereas Gimli is more inclined to keep things to himself. (Gimli thinks; Legolas blurts.)

Gimli certainly does share his feelings ("what about your companions! what about Legolas and me!"), sometimes trying to cover them with gruffness (see: "I was upset to think you might be dead when I found you underneath that troll, only because I'd gone to so much effort to keep you alive, you see! I definitely wasn't running around the battlefield frantically searching for you out of pure friendship and love, nope!" and "say not so! I'd be bummed if all the elves left because elves are kind of cool you know?") and sometimes dropping some full-on poetry at us (see: "I have looked the last upon that which is fairest!" as well as literally every single word about Aglarond lol) but it tends to pop out in half-involuntary bursts where he just gets so overwhelmed by how much he cares that he can't help himself.

Whereas Legolas is just like "oh yeah let me tell you about the Sea-Longing that's eating my soul from the inside out, nbd" or "sorry, can't translate these songs for you because I Am Sad." He may not walk around actively volunteering his thoughts or opinions unprompted often, but he doesn't seem to make any efforts to maintain a pretense or keep whatever he's feeling private either, when the topic comes up. He'll just walk around Singing What He Feels for the whole world to hear, why not?

And on the aforementioned topics of poetic phrasing and Not Having A Filter, Legolas is definitely The Awkward One when it comes to conversation and diplomacy. Gimli Silvertongue knows how to craft a clever phrase, thank you very much! He is eloquent and gracious and even-tempered and Legolas...well, we're all probably lucky if he's remembered to speak in Westron rather than his own weird forest dialect of Sindarin, tbh. When one of them needs to do the talking for them both, it's almost always going to be Gimli. Legolas is the guy you get when you need to shoot-down a flying Nazgûl; Gimli is the one you call when there's a delicate diplomatic situation to be discussed.

Legolas is also definitely the more easily distracted, and I think Gimli teases him about that a lot—although that's also a bit of a cover, because Gimli knows that Legolas's senses are so much sharper than his. Said distractability is in part a result of the natural flightiness of Wood-elves and in part the result of having those keen senses: he notices more things, so of course he's more likely to be distracted by them. Having said sharp senses also means Legolas can more safely afford to allow himself to be distracted, because he doesn't have to actually pay attention to notice an approaching danger the way Gimli does. (And yes, Gimli gets grumpy about that sometimes, but this is part of that "cover feelings through gruffness" thing: he doesn't want to admit that he worries that Legolas will get himself into trouble by not paying enough attention, and he definitely doesn't want to admit that dwarven senses can't keep up.)

In fact, I think post-Quest one of Gimli's biggest weaknesses is his concern that a mortal dwarf can't keep up with an elf. I think he worries about it a lot more than is merited by reality, actually, and I think that's informed in large part by his knowledge of his own mortality and how much it will eventually hurt Legolas to lose him. He cannot help but dwell on all the things a dwarf can't do that an elf can, because he's so preoccupied by the one big one: an elf can stay, while a dwarf eventually has* to leave...has to die. So while it doesn't exactly shake his sense of confidence in himself, it has him paying a lot more attention to what he can't do than what he can. He doesn't forget his strength or skills; he just ends up weighing them less than they deserve when balanced against what elves can do instead.

*he doesn't, as it turns out! but he doesn't know that yet.

(As much as he comes to dread Gimli's death, none of the rest of that has ever occurred to Legolas. If anyone asked Legolas if he ever got "tired" of being "held-back" by the "limitations of a dwarf" you'd get a very confused look in return and an apologetic explanation about how Different Types Of People Have Different Strengths, Silly...or, depending on how rudely you phrased the question, a very quick and probably painful lesson on what more dangerous and less wise can mean. Legolas doesn't really understand mortal limits—see: "are you sure you don't want to just keep running all night? why not?" and of course the infamous "gee why don't y'all just walk ON the snow? what, like it's hard?" incident—but when somebody says "No Legolas, that's Not Physically Possible" he rolls with it, even being able to later point-out to marchwardens who don't know Mortal Limits as well as he (now) does that his friends need more than a single rope to run on, pls!)

Legolas is right, though, because their different strengths really do balance one another well: Gimli is the solid, thoughtful, reliable rock who makes for both an unwavering foundation on which to build and an eloquent shield upon which the waves of the world will break and leave them both unscathed behind his kind and dauntless walls. Legolas is the swift, sharp knifeblade that darts out mercilessly from the shadows to dispatch a threat and then turns around and returns just as fleetly with armfuls of unquenched joy and laughter to brighten even the blackest, deepest night without any caution or hesitation. Legolas reminds Gimli of how much he delights in curiosity and exploration; Gimli reminds Legolas of the joy and comfort of coming home after wandering afar.

Of course they had to go to Aman together. Gimli could never have resisted following Legolas somewhere so interesting, and Legolas would never have managed such a portentous journey without Gimli there to steady him along the path.

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scribbliff · 3 months

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1. Guild Troubles

I raise a hand to my face to conceal my insuppressible expression of disappointment while Jim “All Thumbs” Jarvis fiddled away with the locked door of the dispensary we’d been contracted to hit. Since the fifth minute of the operation has already gone by, and the distinct lack of rolling clicks signifies an equally distinct lack of progress, I can give you a little background. Thieves Guild ain’t what it used to be, long gone are the days of razor-sharp titles and lone wolves making it big… nowadays, we’ve got a buddy system, since the Thief Master In-Charge was tired of his infamous heisters getting caught by crown-funded task forces. And with the growing public interest in trial coverage, anyone with a few good heists under their belt ends up on the front page, so thieves nowadays want names with pizazz, that exhibit gumption, monikers that make them sound rascal-esque and cheeky.

Back in my day everyone had names like ‘The Shrike’; ‘The Gull’; ‘The Ghost’; but nowadays the newer thieves want comedy in their nicknames, hunting sensationalism they should be desperately avoiding. Oh yeah, unsanctioned thieves desperate to see their names in lights, what a world, and these little upstarts keep taking the piss out of me for being called ‘The Shadow’.

The audacity.

So that’s why I’m here, twiddling my thumbs while a man who is so unnaturally clumsy that he can’t fall asleep without self-injury fiddles in vain with a lock that wouldn’t keep a strong gust of wind out. I light my third cigarette of the night as I watch him bumble and curse, the number of broken lockpicks littering the floor equaling the number of spent butts I’d created myself.

If this was a solo job I’d already be in Bartholomew’s Slophouse tucking into a house special- no, it’s more like a house below-average actually, in the almost-warmth of his establishment and enjoying the almost-good ambience, yet I’m out here in the biting cold. Honestly, if I hadn’t been instructed by the Thief Master In-Charge himself to take a step back and let All Thumbs work, I’d have done it myself by now… Wait, was that a click?

I turn to regard my compatriot, my surprise so tangible it mustered enough breath to launch my cigarette from my mouth, the ember protruding up in salute from where it’d landed, nestled erect between two chipped cobblestones. There All Thumbs stood, the door handle grasped in his meaty, ham-adjacent hand, a grin plastered across his weathered chops, his assortment of teeth bared in the moonlight like the mouth of a long-rusted bear trap. He straightened up, pushed the door open and stomped into the establishment, full of pride in himself and his work, despite my whispered warnings to move slowly and carefully.

I peer around the door just in time to see All Thumbs explode in a flash of dark red light, a glare so intense I reflexively raise my gloved hands to shield my eyes from the intensity. As the smoke cleared and I took a glance, I spot that All Thumbs had been polymorphed. A curious trap indeed, that utilised strange, odd magics to turn a fully grown man into a smoking, misshapen skeleton. With a heavy head, and not so heavy heart, I exhaled a sigh against my palm: not only had the operation been a resounding failure, but my charge had been suitably skeletonised by one of the oldest traps in the scroll. Oh yes, orc magician and entrepreneur Bog Scrimbly’s The Skeletonizer had been very popular in the days of my youth, effective too I might add, but just like the thieves tripping them, the traps themselves were beginning to be developed with ‘necessary’ layers of irony built-in.

Traps that, when tripped, arcanically tattoo ‘naughty boy’ across your forehead, for example, or traps that dye your hands blue to ensure your swift apprehension by the city guard. Oh yes, it certainly helps keep the arrest statistics higher than the fatality reports but it isn’t much of a deterrent. Nowadays tripping a tripwire meant potential embarrassment and ridicule, or at worst, a few days out of the public eye to avoid capture, but back in the old days tripping a tripwire meant a coin-flip on whether your person-meat continued to exist or if it’d be spirited away to another plane, leaving your bones squeaky clean and pristine… If that was how Bog Scrimbly’s trademark trap worked, anyway: the inner workings were, reasonably, a closely-guarded secret.

But no trap works on everyone, I suppose, and I shoved my hands deep into the pockets of my jacket, deep enough to grasp sadly at the miscellaneous detritus that lingered in their confines. I wandered down the street towards Bartholomew’s and pondered the mediocre morsels I’d partake of within. What would my next partner be like? Hopefully another old guard like myself, a real go-getter with decades of thieving experience.

“But what does The Shadow know?” I say to myself under my breath, the misty drizzle of the autumn rains getting my trench coat all soggy, and the cold making every exhale through my lengthy lizard snout akin to a billow of steam from one of those fancy new rail engines. It was a cold night, but I never minded the cold much - A side-effect of being cold-blooded both physiologically and philosophically, I suspect. Undeterred, I submerge myself deep within a roiling ocean of speculative thought as I stalk along those cobbled streets, lingering adjacent to the curb so I may cast myself bodily into an alleyway should a particularly diligent guard come to investigate the localised explosion that claimed “All Bones” Jarvis.

—

Jerris the stableman watched as, once again, the little Kobold stomped past the stables, the pitter patter of his little lizard feet on the wet cobblestones echoing across the street. Ferris had seen the odd little fellow around now and then, whoever he was, and was always mumbling to himself, wrapped up in that dark leather with a grimace on his face. He shook his head briefly and returned to breaking up steed leavings with his trusty shovel, thanking his lucky stars that he hadn’t been raised a thief in today’s job market, before tossing a portion of his odorous payload into the wooden wheelbarrow behind him.

#writer #writing #fantasy

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that-angry-noldo · 1 year

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You voted against my boy and I demand recompense. A fic with Eldacar please!! Some suggestions if you like (though you don’t have to use them): his childhood in Gondor, or maybe something about the moment he found out Ornendil had been executed, or (to satisfy my bloodlust) a cool battle scene where he kills Castamir at last?

His mother, Eldacar remembers, told him stories of grace and mercy.

She told him tales of knights in white armor, with their valiant deeds and swift swords. She told him of those who were proud and strong and feared no hardship; she told him of people who, when presented with choice to kill their enemies, lifted them from their knees instead, and granted them forgiveness, and were rewarded with life long and full of blessings.

Eldacar yearned for another reward. Reward dark and bitter, but so sinfully, so fiercely desired.

"My King!" his captain yelled, pointing his hand, and Eldacar retrieved his blade from the body of the man he just killed. He followed the direction with his eyes. "There!"

An arrow whistled just above Edacar's ear, only swift reflexes saving him from sure death. He growled, sound low and dangerous.

He saw the patch of black hair on one of the hills, a flash of deep red robes, and roared.

When he was younger, he told Ornendil stories of heroes brave and noble, of their valour that moved mountains, and of their loyalty, so praised, and of their sacrifices, so valued.

When he got older, he wished to tell Ornendil of the beauty of the spring and the song of nightingales. When he got older, he wished he could tell his son he loved him, and valued him above any throne, above any power, above any glory available in this marred world.

He couldn't.

Eldacar couldn't even bury him.

"We hanged the boy in the middle of the city, for everyone to see," Castamir snarled, blood trailind down his chin, eyes gleaming with wild fire. In his bloodstained hands was a sword, and Castamir cackled madly as he brought it down on Eldacar.

Eldacar spat and parried the blow. Ducked down, swinged at Castamir's side.

The man was older than he, but he still had his strenght and swift movements. He blocked, attacked. "We left him there," he hissed when their swords crossed at a momentary stalemate. "We left him to rot. Your poor, precious, loyal son, made a crow's feast," Castamir pressed further, and Eldacar bared his teeth. "I will make sure you join him. I will make sure the crows of Osgiliath remain fed."

Eldacar thought back to his Ornendil, to his brave, brilliant Ornendil. Earlier, the thought would bring him nothing but guilt and tears. Now, he snarled and sprang forward.

When Vinitharya was a child, his mother told him tales of mercy.

When Eldacar was a father, he told his son tales of loyalty.

When Eldacar became a king, he never felt the first, yet learned the bitter, bloody, painful taste of the second.

He pushed his enemy to the ground. The steel of his blade sang a song of vengeance.

#eldacar #ornendil #castamir #tolkien #tolkien fic #silm fic #<- tagging as such for organization purposes purely #beloved I AM SORRY. I APOLOGIZE. AS I SAID THE GUILT IS STRONG BUT THE BIT IS STRONGER #anyways i think i slayed it with the last line #will you stop calling me a castamir supporter now

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leonsrightlations · 8 months

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The Earth is Online Chapter 19.1

The students hiding in the gym left from each of the four entrances.

Li Wen and Teacher Li took the two less physically fit reserve students for the sake of protecting their lives, looking for a safe place to take shelter. Tang Mo knew that Chen Shanshan had an ability. With the addition of the chubby little boy’s protection, there shouldn’t be any issues.

Tang Mo was responsible for attacking. [1]

“How is it that those stowaways didn’t make any noise by stepping on glass this time? And also didn’t trigger those traps at the entrance?”

Tang Mo lowered his voice. “Last night, they attacked twice. The second time, you noticed their whereabouts because they stepped on glass and were on guard beforehand. They definitely wouldn’t make the same mistake again this time. They must have used some other way to enter the school.”

The two of them left the gym, sticking to the wall for cover.

Tang Mo focused, carefully observing the surrounding area. The pitch black night was like a huge, silent beast, using a pair of bloodthirsty eyes to stare at every single person. There were a lot of trees in the school. As the cool wind blew past, the tree’s leaves gently swayed and their huge, dark shadows shook with a rustle. This was the only sound in the murderous night.

Tang Mo turned to the side. “Give me a nail…”

“Bang!”

Tang Mo rapidly moved to the left to get out of the way, but the swift-moving bullet still unavoidably scratched past his right arm, striking at the wall between him and the chubby little boy. The two of them looked at each other, then split up and ran.

Obviously the stowaways were hiding someplace where they could watch their positions. Before the fight, Tang Mo and the chubby little boy had devised a strategy. If they encountered the worst situation, the two of them would split up in order to deny the other side the chance to concentrate their fire power. It was now the worst situation - the enemy was in the dark and they were in the light.

“Bang! Bang! Bang!”

Tang Mo held the solid, wooden stick in his hand as he rushed as quickly as possible to the school building closest to the gym.

Bullets fired unceasingly behind him, nipping at his heels over and over again. Just as Tang Mo twisted around to enter the school building, he drew up short. He watched as a bullet flew in front of his eyes and struck the wall.

Tang Mo lifted his foot and strode into the school building.

But right as he entered the building, all the hairs on his body suddenly stood on end. He reflexively raised the big stick, blocking behind his head. With a loud bang, a large knife crashed together with the wooden stick in a violent collision behind Tang Mo’s head. The wooden stick was cracked by the big knife and Tang Mo stumbled forward a few steps. The other side also fell back a step.

“Your strength’s not bad…” a coarse laugh sounded along with the mocking voice, “but you’ll still die!”

The attacker didn’t say anything more, directly moving to strike. Tang Mo held up his stick to meet the blow.

The long knife and the wooden stick continuously struck against each other and came apart, the two people both moving very fast. The sound of metal clanging frequently sounded. The knife was longer than Tang Mo’s stick, and the man using the knife left bloody gashes on Tang Mo’s shoulders, waist, and elbows. Tang Mo was forced to constantly retreat as if he were at a disadvantage.

The man saw his condition and attacked even more fiercely. With a good knife like this, even if he cut indiscriminately, it was enough to threaten the other party. Even more so, he was a stowaway with great strength. Every time the big knife swung, it made a forceful sound in the air.

The big knife recklessly cut swung forward without rhythm. Tang Mo’s evasion speed got slower and slower.

At precisely this time, the man vigorously brandished the big knife, cutting striking from the side at Tang Mo’s skull. Abruptly, he saw Tang Mo, who had just been struggling to evade, bend back into a bridge. [2] The big steel knife waved past Tang Mo’s eyes. With his left hand he held himself steady and struck at the man’s knee.

The man gave a muffled hum of pain. The sound of bone breaking was very clear in the dark night.

The man staggered slightly and nearly fell to the ground, using the big knife to support his body.

Tang Mo straightened up and wiped the blood seeping from his chin. It was his first time clearly seeing his enemy.

It was a towering, powerful man with a height of at least 188 centimeters and a bare, shaved head. His whole body was covered in robust muscles and there was a navy blue tiger’s head tattooed on his left arm.

The building closest to the gym was this one. This stowaway had unexpectedly hidden here in advance for an ambush in order to kill Tang Mo while he was caught unprepared. Tang Mo didn’t dare lower his guard. Official players and stowaways both have an extremely fast recovery ability. The wounds on Tang Mo had already begun to itch, which meant that they were in the middle of scabbing over.

Taking advantage of the fact that the man’s knee was broken, Tang Mo lifted the stick without the slightest hesitation. However, he was still late by a step. The man was already capable of standing, brandishing his big knife and facing Tang Mo’s attack.

The situation once again changed. Tang Mo unceasingly took the initiative to attack while that man could only use the knife to resist. Time elapsed, and the man’s footwork grew faster and faster. It seemed the injury to his knee had already quickly returned to normal.

Tang Mo gave a furious shout and directly struck at the man’s head.

“Why keep hiding!” The man abruptly threw down the big knife and put both hands on his hips, facing Tang Mo’s wooden stick without fear. He gathered his qi in his dantian and opened both his eyes into wide circles. With all of his qi, he bellowed, “Kid, return my grandfather!”

Tang Mo only heard the word “grandfather,” not hearing it clearly, when a trace of unease bubbled up in his heart.

Tang Mo waved the wooden stick through the air, forcibly changing direction and hitting the school building’s wall. The recoil was enough to send him to the other end of the hallway to dodge. Right as he halted his attack, the burly, muscular man opened his mouth into a circle and sprayed blazing gas. In the next second, there was an immense flame.

The burly man’s hands were on his hips, his mouth spitting out flames. Both his eyes were opened wide and he looked like a glowering luohan [4] as he stared straight at Tang Mo and sprayed fire.

Tang Mo turned and ran.

The burly man’s flame was faster than he was, blocking directly in front of him and nearly scorching the hair on the front of his forehead. Tang Mo stooped to dodge a flame and it scorched the white wall, burning the dust off of it. There was a crackling sound as dust unceasingly peeled away from the wall.

Tang Mo moved his limbs to follow along the floor and evade the flame. The burly man was like a fire-breathing dragon. With the flame ignited, the temperature of the air abruptly rose. Charred black marks were burned one after another into the cement by that flame. Tang Mo’s wooden stick was no match for it and had long since been turned into a pile of ash.

As the flame disappeared, Tang Mo crouched on the ground and gasped roughly for air.

That burly man’s vitality was extremely good and he could already freely move. He picked up the knife he had thrown to the ground and howled with laughter, once again striking at Tang Mo. Tang Mo was unarmed and could only continuously dodge and withdraw.

The movement of the knife as the burly man swung it was truly rough. It was only non-stop cutting at people. However, Tang Mo hadn’t studied any wrestling [5] techniques. The two of them were purely relying on the super strong physiques of official players and stowaways to conduct the most rudimentary of struggles.

“Those who’ve seen my ability all must die!”

The big knife chopped in front of Tang Mo. He turned to avoid and then ran. The man pursued his retreating enemy.

“Bang!” Just as Tang Mo ran from the school building, a bullet struck beneath his feet.

His brow was beaded with sweat, yet his gaze remained calm and sharp, fixedly staring at the place the gunshot had come from.

The muscle-bound man pursued Tang Mo from behind as bullets burst one after another at Tang Mo’s feet. Twice, he moved his head sideways, only with difficulty dodging the fired bullets. Right as the ninth bullet was fired, Tang Mo and the muscle-bound man ran into the gym.

The burly man laughed coldly as swung his knife at Tang Mo. However, he didn’t expect that right at the moment he moved to slice, the black-haired youth who had been struggling to evade just now suddenly turned and faced him straight on.

“Shit!” A sense of crisis bubbled up in the burly man’s heart and he turned, wanting to flee. But his body speed was less than the speed of his realization and that knife had already chopped straight at Tang Mo. Then he saw the young kid simultaneously lift his right hand and swing at him.

But there wasn’t any weapon in the youth’s hand!

The burly man opened his eyes wide, not blinking once. Yet in that split second he saw a huge match appear in this person’s hand.

The big steel knife beat back the enormous match.

“Clang!”

The big knife snapped and the match head ruthlessly struck the burly man’s head. The burly man rolled to the ground, his body continuously twitching. He wasn’t completely dead, his eyes fixed on Tang Mo and the enormous match in his hand.

The burly man’s lips parted and it seemed he wanted to speak, but he couldn’t say a word.

No matter how strong his physique, when his skull was split open by Mosaic’s match, he was also unable to survive.

Tang Mo panted heavily, looking at the man who had fallen to the ground.

This person didn’t speak, but Tang Mo knew what he wanted to say.

“Why did I only use my ‘trump card’ now and why was I just now purposely pretending to be completely struggling? On the one hand, I wanted to cheat out your ability. Chen Shanshan said that your ability has a three minute cooldown. It just happens that three minutes and two seconds have now passed. On the other hand, it was to prevent you from raising your guard.” Tang Mo’s expression was ice-cold and incomparably calm words spilled from his mouth. “However, the most important thing wasn’t to kill you, but to find that person.”

The burly man’s eyes were moist with blood. His eyelids trembled and were unable to open. But after Tang Mo said these words, his body violently twitched, intensely reacting.

Right at that moment, an alarmed voice sounded from the clock tower not far from the gym: “Ah, how can you…”

“Bang!” After the sound of the gun, there was no second sound.

“Last night, that gunner only showed himself once. At other times he was always hiding in secret and coldly shooting. His melee abilities should be weak, right? During a normal attack, he will shoot once and then change his position to be safe. But when you were chasing me just now he had to provide support without delay and didn’t have time to change positions.”

Tang Mo knew that the gunner had already been taken care of. He looked again at the muscle-bound man who had fallen to the ground.

The burly man gave a full-body twitch, his body growing stiffer and stiffer. But in the end he unexpectedly hooked the corners of his lips, showing a strange and excited smile. Until his body was completely ice-cold and his heart beat had stopped, his face still wore that bizarre smile.

Tang Mo suddenly realized that something was wrong. At that moment, two voices gave a mournful cry.

“Teacher Li!”

Tang Mo immediately ran out of the gym.

On the sports field, there was a one-armed man wearing a sly smile. In front of him, Teacher Li had rolled onto the ground, a pitch-black and bloody cavity in his chest.

Li Wen held Teacher Li, seven or eight wounds on his body as well. He worked hard to use his hands to press down on the hole in Teacher Li’s abdomen, but there was nothing he could do to stop the bleeding. His hands quickly became wet with blood.

On the expansive sports field, dozens of towering flowers sprouted. There was no grass at all on the school’s sports field, only artificial turf, but these flowers grew in that turf. They had no blooms, only buds. They looked like ordinary roses.

The one-armed man standing in front of the roses was short and slender. His face had an ugly and terrifying scar that cut from his left eye straight to the corner of his mouth. He had no right arm and used his left hand to hold a knife. Scarlet blood flowed down the knife’s edge and dripped onto the ground. The man smiled darkly, his gaze cold as he looked at Tang Mo.

“What happened to those useless things?”

Tang Mo gripped the big match tightly, vigilantly watching the other party as he cooly said, “You’re the only one left.”

“Only I will survive.” The small man laughed strangely and used the knife to point at Teacher Li, who had fallen into a pool of blood. “He’s dead.”

Li Wen reached out to look for Teacher Li’s breath. His voice was stiff and sluggish. “Teacher Li…”

[6]

“Clang!”

A big knife once again shattered into pieces.

A gleam flashed through the one-armed man’s eyes, his expression blazing hot as he looked at the big match in Tang Mo’s hands. “It’s actually so powerful!”

Tang Mo suddenly revolted, brandishing the match and attacking the one-armed man.

The one-armed man raised the knife to defend.

Tang Mo had already guessed that these people would attack, but they had set traps at every corner outside the school. Previously, Tang Mo had spoken with the chubby little boy - if the stowaways didn’t make noise by stepping on the glass, it was because they had guarded against it. But actually, Tang Mo had kept something in reserve.

During the daytime, he and Li Wen had rearranged the streetlight glass on the road, intentionally leaving a small, winding path that could be walked.

If the stowaways were a little bit clever and thought to avoid stepping on the glass and making noise, they would certainly walk this route. This was tantamount to exposing their location. If they were even more clever than that and saw through Tang Mo, they would avoid walking on this path on purpose. Then their whereabouts would be exposed because they stepped on the glass.

However, the worst situation had appeared. They hadn’t stepped on the glass or taken that path. As a result, as soon as they appeared, everyone was caught unprepared. Fortunately Tang Mo had prepared in advance and discussed a strategy with the chubby little boy, otherwise it was possible that their current situation would be reversed.

Tang Mo gripped the enormous match as he asked, “How did you get inside?”

They neither stepped on the glass nor took that path. How could they have entered the school without triggering any traps?

The man gave an unpleasant laugh. “Enter? Since the very beginning, we didn’t leave!”

The chubby little boy said in alarm, “No…no way! How can you have never left? Don’t tell me you were in the school the whole time?”

“This school is so large. If we hid here, how would you know?” The man’s small eyes swept over each person’s body, especially giving Chen Shanshan and Qiao Feifei, those two little girls, a few more looks. “These two days, I’ve been watching you set those useless traps. Originally I intended to attack you last night but didn’t imagine that this kid would suddenly appear. So laozi let you live for one more day.”

The villains had actually always stayed together with them. This kind of feeling made everyone’s hair stand on end.

Chen Shanshan clenched her teeth in self-blame. “It’s me who didn’t imagine, didn’t consider it thoroughly.”

Qiao Feifei grabbed her hand. “It’s not your fault. None of us imagined that this group of bastards would leave and then turn back around and come hide in our school!”

The one-armed man heard Chen Shanshan and Qiao Feifei talking, an odd light in his eyes. As he watched them, the corners of his lips hooked up.

Tang Mo’s face was steady. He moved a few steps to the side, blocking in front of the two girls.

He said. “Your comrades are all dead. You’re still not running away?”

“Why should I run? You will all now die.” The man grasped the broken knife, pointing at Tang Mo. He only had half a knife left, but he was unexpectedly not in the least bit afraid, even looking at Tang Mo as if he were looking at a dead person.

Tang Mo tightly gripped the match in his hands, the feeling of unease in his heart growing more and more intense.

He turned his head to look at those dozen flower buds at this side and loudly said, “Go destroy the flowers!”

The one-armed man coldly shouted, “Dream on!”

Tang Mo struck with the match. The man reacted extremely fast, using the broken knife to block. There was the sound of clanging metal as the broken knife was hit by the enormous match. From the point of the collision, spider web-like cracks appeared one after another on the knife’s body. With a snap, the broken knife completely shattered into fragments, unable to be used again.

“Quickly destroy the flowers!” Tang Mo roared.

Everyone rushed into the cluster of flowers. The chubby little boy used both hands to grip a rose’s stem, pulling hard. Alarmed, he said, “I can’t pull it out! This thing is even harder than steel!”

Tang Mo finally understood where that tense feeling he’d had the whole time was coming from.

The one-armed man’s physique was actually stronger than Tang Mo. He seemed small, slender, and weak, but his body was all firm muscle. Those muscles weren’t what someone who had become a stowaway could possess. Before the earth went online, this man’s physique had far surpassed a normal person’s. His reaction speed was about the same as Tang Mo’s, but his fighting techniques and his strength all surpassed Tang Mo by far. Even though he now had no weapon, under the circumstance of being unarmed, he could still evade the big match’s attacks over and over again. He was only struck by the big match once.

“Use your ability! We absolutely must destroy those flowers!”

[PREV] [TOC]

Okay, now begins my hiatus! See you in about four weeks! ^_^ This is a terrible place to do it, but I am fairly desperate. :v ...I just spent about thirty seconds looking for the inverse symbol of '^' on my keyboard it's time for a vacation.

Translation Notes:

[1] Immediate clarification is needed. Tang Mo and Zhao Ziang (the chubby little boy) are working together. Chen Shanshan is working with Qiao Feifei (the other student who is an official player). The print edition removed direct reference to this configuration without bothering to actually change it. I’m not sure why this particular change was made as it seems like it should be enough to just alter the line “Tang Mo and the chubby little boy were responsible for attacking” to something like “Tang Mo was responsible for attacking. The chubby little boy followed after him.” (Assuming that the concern is the depiction of children engaging in violence, which seems to be the case based on other alterations made.) The other changes here are just unnecessary and confusing.

[2] Like this:

[3] The lower dantian.

Ignore the Orphic Egg, this ain’t about him.

(I'm pretty sure the lower dantian is higher than that, in your navel/lower abdomen, not your butt. Also there's a middle dantian. Look, I just thought this inexplicable dantian/orphic egg mash-up was really funny. Also, it's from a blog post about Easter? Anyway.)

[4] Luohan/Arhat - Buddhists who have attained Nirvana but the reference here is probably meant to evoke images of Shaolin kung fu specifically.

[5] It translates as wrestling, but it seems to be more like MMA/boxing than the heavyweight wrestling most English speakers probably associate the word with. It’s more of a Tekken situation than a John Cena one, so to speak.

[6] Cut from here is a section where Qiao Feifei rushes at the stowaway with her knife. She is rebuffed and Tang Mo attacks to defend her.

#the earth is online #translation #danmei #mo chen huan #teio #地球上线 #19.1

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coldstar0605 · 1 year

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Varian Month: Week 1 (Alchemy)

As prompted by rocksandrobots, here is my chapter 1. I didn’t get a lot of heads up... just kind of made this as fast as I could. Mine are going to be How to Train You Dragon crossovers because I want to.

The landing had been rough. Hiccup and Toothless, and the rest of the riders, had been practicing crash landings. They were always unpleasant, but they had gotten the technique down. The dragon is responsible for taking the brunt of impact and rider readies themselves for a force dispersing roll. It wasn't perfect but it's hard to practice something that could break every bone in your body.

Thankfully, that skrill hadn't knocked them from too high. Well, more like thankfully there was an island summit they were just passing. They had been trying to practice some advanced reflex tests around the cliffs and sea stacks.

It was funny how unprepared he was. With all the dealings with the Outcasts, Berserkers and even his own people, He hadn't put much thought into what to do when he met another person like him. Another dragon rider... another inventor even. Another hiccup.

When he'd first seen the skrill, the same skrill, unfrozen and back for revenge he cursed his usual luck for running into it again while just out for a nighttime fly. It dove in and out of the clouds snapping and sparking at them. That was when he heard a voice shouting over the wind. Normal dragon flying things like "Hey! Knock it off!" Or just general screaming.

Eventually he got a good look at what was ridding the skrill and it didn't look human. Just a blob of dragon skin flapping in the wind completely unbothered by the electricity around it. Hiccup had just made contact with a pair of horrible bug-like black eyes and was distracted enough to miss his moment. Toothless tried to doge another attack and his tail wasn't turned for it in time and they were flung onto the better side of a cliff.

Now, as Hiccup turned himself upright, the purple dragon was landing just behind Toothless. Before he could stand a burst of pink erupted beneath his dragon. The substance clung to his scales and the ground. Toothless gave a roar as he rolled. Grass was ripped from soil easily, but his claws and wings couldn’t be pulled free.

Hiccup sprinted to his dragon tried to help pull him free only for his hands to get trapped as well. "Oh, gods" He sighed in panic. "Calm down bud. Don't move." Toothless managed to move himself just enough to see his rider's predicament before turning back and roaring at something Hiccup couldn't see.

Suddenly a staff, polished and alight with the same electric energy as the skrill was held too close to his face. The light reilluminated the horrible bug eyes. A swift movement removed the unformed shawl from over its face. It's human face, obviously, of course he was human. Hiccup never thought he wasn't.

The boy seemed to be Hiccup's age, only slightly taller. "Ok" He sighed, catching his breath. "We ready to calm down."

"Am I ready to calm down?!"

"I know this looks bad, but I swear this isn't my fault."

#Varian month #varian #hiccup #httyd #how to train your dragon #riders of berk #dreamworks dragons #tangled the series

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prettywhenibleed · 2 years

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𝕳𝖊'𝖘 𝕬𝖑𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖞 𝕯𝖊𝖆𝖉 (He's Already Dead)

Pt 6

G/nReader x Poly!Lost Boys

TW: A graphic chapter.....Abuse, Abusive parents, Language, Attempted murder, Murder, Blood, Description of wounds Also, not a warning but: Soft David

I shot up from my bed so I was now standing next to it. I knew I would need to be standing if I had any chance of defending myself. My parents had burst into my room, already screaming at me. "You fucking bitch! Did you really think that you would be able to get away with this shit forever?!" My dad screamed at me. "We know you've been out with those boys again like usual. Do you really think they actually like you? Huh? They're just using you. Eventually, they're going to realize what a worthless piece of shit you are and ditch your sorry ass." My mom chimed in. Her words seething with anger. Venom dripping form every word that left her mouth. I didn't even have time to react before I was attacked. My dad backhanding me across my face and then proceeding to grab me and throw me to the ground. I struggled as he got on top of me, bringing his hands to my throat and squeezing. "Maybe we'll do them a favor, do everyone a favor and just end your pathetic life now." He said in a low snarl as he brought his face down, closer to mine. I clawed at his hands, trying to get him to release his grip on my throat, but it was no use. Soon, I started to see black dots appear in my vision and it was in that moment, that I thought I was going to die. They were finally doing it. Just as I started to drift away, I felt the pressure around my neck disappear. My body reflexively started gasping for air. I was so disorientated and just desperately trying to get as much air into my lungs as I could, that I didn't notice that my dad had gotten up off of me and he and my mom were now standing above me, staring down at me with wicked smiles on their faces. "You really should just kill yourself." My mother told me before delivering a swift and hard kick to my side. My dad repeated her actions, kicking me in the same place as she did. Feeling satisfied, they turned around and left my room.

I laid there on the floor, eyes flooded with tears, throat burning and my ribs feeling like I had just been beat with a metal bat. I didn't dare move or make a sound for what felt like hours, but was probably only about 30 minutes. By the time I was ready to get up off the floor, it had felt like something in me had just finally snapped. Although my face was still wet, the tears had stopped. I got up off of the floor and walked into my bathroom. I stood in front of the mirror and stared at my reflection. My face looked a mess. Wet from my own tears, red and slightly swollen from the blow I took when my parents had first entered and my neck had already forming bruises from my own dads attempt at ending me. My eyes, they looked hollow and lifeless. My whole life I had put up with their abuse. Their hate and venom filled words. Their physical abuse that I would fall victim to almost every single day. I just couldn't take it anymore. I just couldn't. So I decided to do something about it. I waited until I was sure that they were asleep before I quietly made my way out of my room, down the stairs and into the kitchen. I walked over to the draw and opened it, finding what I was looking for. I made my way back up the stairs and to their bedroom, quietly opening their door and creeping in. They were asleep in their bed. Vulnerable, just like I had been. I walked over to my dad's side of the bed, deciding that it would be best to start with him. Raising my arm, the blade of the knife that I held tightly in my hand, pointing straight down towards the man that had caused me so much pain, I didn't need any time to think about what I was about to do next. So, without a second thought, I brought the knife down, plunging it into his throat.

He immediately awoke. Trying to scream, but it came out a gurgled mess. Before he could do anything, I pulled the knife back out and brought it back down into his neck again. And again. And one more time. By now, my mom had obviously woken up. She screamed and leapt out of bed, running to the door, that I had closed behind myself when I entered. As I pulled the knife out of my dad's, now mangled, throat, I made my way over to my mom. She had yanked the door open and tried to make a run for it. She had gotten halfway down the stairs before I came up behind her and pushed her. She went tumbling down the staircase before making a loud thump when she reached the bottom. I continued down the stairs and walked over to where she laid at the bottom, unconscious. I could see a small pool of blood starting to form from underneath her head. I knelt down next to her and looked her over. She looked so weak and pathetic. All the pain, torment and abuse I have had to go through my whole life. It's all finally going to end tonight. She started to open her eyes, still groggy from hitting her head and I presume also from the continuing blood loss. "Hey mom." I said, staring her in the face. She looked up at me, horrified expression covering her face. "W-why?" She croaked out. That caused me to let out a very sudden and loud laugh, making her flinch. "Why...... Why? You really need to fucking ask me WHY!?" I said as my laughter died down and turned into a yell at the end. "You know why. You and dad yelled and screamed at me, insulted me, brought me down and abused the fuck out of me my whole life!!! You never showed me anything but hate. You were my parents!!! You were supposed to love and care for me! You were supposed to protect me!" I was screaming now, tears not yet falling from my eyes but they were threatening to. All this woman could do was lay there and watch as I lost it. Until she decided to speak up. "You pathetic, whiny little bitch. You were the biggest mistake of my life." She hissed. My face twitched and before I knew it, I had plunged the knife into her chest. She let out a scream and tried to push me away, but I didn't stop as I pulled the knife out and repeated my actions, much like I did with my dad.

I woke up to someone shaking me. I groaned as I sat up and looked around to see that I was on my bed. I didn't even remember coming back in here. I looked up to see my four, extremely worried, vampire boyfriends staring down at me with varying levels of fear and worry on their faces. I looked down at myself to see that I was covered in blood. I didn't even notice it last night. "What the hell happened? Are you okay?" David was first to ask. He came over to sit on the bed next to me, immediately taking my face in his gloved hands, inspecting it for wounds before going to inspect the rest of me. I stopped him, gently pushing his hands away. "I'm fine. It's not my blood." I told them. "We know. We saw the bodies." Dwayne said softly. The rage I felt last night was now gone and all I was left with was a sort of numbness. I didn't even know what to feel. Sadness? Regret? No. None of those feelings fit. They never did anything for me. Never loved or cared for me so, why would I feel regret or sadness about what I did. If anything, I felt relief. "What happened?" Dwayne asked gently. They all looked at me expectantly. "It's okay, just tell us prince/ss." Dwayne added. I looked between them all then took a deep breath in and out before telling them what I could remember. Things were a little hazy, but I could still remember most of it. The boys were silent for a few moments after I finished talking. Marko was the first one to break the silence when he threw himself at me in a hug. "I'm so sorry we weren't here babe." He said into my hair, now being at my side, hugging me with his face buried in my neck. Paul quickly followed suit and crawled onto the bed and laid himself in my lap. "Yeah sugar. We should have been here to protect you. We're really sorry." He said while looking up at me from my lap. I smiled down at him and placed one of my hands into his hair and with the other, I reached next to me and placed it on Marko's cheek. "It's okay, really it is. I'm fine. I took care of it myself... Everything is going to be okay now." I said. Not too sure if I was trying to convince them or myself that everything was going to be okay.

David and Dwayne were watching me, trying to decipher the expression on my face and the tone in my voice. Surprisingly, it seemed like I was, in fact, okay. When they boys had first gotten to your house to pick you up for the night, they were immediately hit with the almost overwhelming smell of blood. That threw them into an instant panic, thinking the worst. They charged into your house to figure out what had happened, and they were not expecting nor were they ready for the sight that laid before them in the living room. There, at the bottom of the staircase, laid your mom. Blood pooled around her body, blood covering her body and her chest covered in stab wounds, the knife still sticking out of it. They took a quick glance at each other before they set out to search for you. They had gone up the stairs and into your parents' bedroom first, the scent of blood being the strongest in there, besides the smell from your dead mom downstairs. They were more prepared this time for what they would see. Your dad still laying in his bed, again covered in blood and his neck looking like an animal had gotten it's jaws on it, but in reality, they were just stab wounds. The boys were surprised by the brutality of the attacks. They didn't want to believe that their innocent, pure little human y/n could have done something like this.... But at the same time, if it had been you, it filled them with a sense of pride. When the time came, you would in fact make for an exceptional vampire. They found you pretty quickly, your heart beat now being the only one that could be heard in the home. When they first saw you laid out on the bed covered in blood, they were terrified that you were hurt or dying, but they could hear your heart beating just fine. It just seemed as if you were asleep, which when Paul ran over to you and shook you awake, they found out that's exactly what you were.

"Okay you two, get up so our little y/n can get cleaned up. I'm sure their wanting a bath." David said to Paul and Marko, which caused them to let out groans but they still complied. David told Dwayne to take Marko and Paul with him and get rid of the bodies then clean up. Dwayne just nodded, knowing that this needed to be done as soon as possible. Dwayne came over, giving me a hug and kissing my head before leaving with the other two. As the three left, David turned to me and nodded his head in the direction of my bathroom. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up sweetheart." He said as he held his hand out for me to take. I took it and he walked me into the bathroom and sat me down on the toilet. He shrugged off his coat, then his jacket, then finally his gloves. He knelt down beside the bathtub and began to run me a bath. Seeing David like this was kind of weird. Not only was it rare for him to be so soft with me, or anyone for that matter, but he was also taking care of me. Not that he doesn't take care of me in the first place. I just mean more in the way of how he's here, running me a bath, speaking soft and sweetly to me. Even as he came over to where I sat to help me undress and get into the bath, he did it with so much care. Like I was a porcelain doll that, if he held me too tight, I would shatter. I didn't exactly hate it either. I loved when David’s walls and tough guy exterior would melt away. He was being so gentle as he took the wash cloth and wiped my face with it, getting rid of the blood. "There you are." He said with a playful smirk as he got rid of the last bit of blood from my face.

I gave him a small chuckle and smiled back at him. "You sure you're okay?" He asked one last time. He knew I was, at least physically, okay. And from what he could tell, I didn't seem so bad emotionally either, but he was still worried. "I'm fine David, really. I know I should probably feel something after killing my parents but, I don't know... All I really feel is relief." I confessed. David just nodded, accepting my answer. "You don't need to feel anything if you don't want to. They got what was coming to them and if you didn't kill them, we would have." He told me. His face and words very serious. "I know. And I love you boys for that but, I don't know what happened. I just........ snapped." I told him as I looked off at the wall behind him. David softly grabbed my chin and turned my face so I was staring right at him. "You were protecting yourself and we are so proud of you y/n." He said in a stern voice. I nodded. Just then, Paul had come into the room and leaned on the doorframe. "Bodies are gone. Just cleaning up now." He informed David. David nodded at Paul. "Good." Was all he said before returning his attention to me. Soon enough, I was now cleaned up and dressed in clean clothes, the mess I had made last night was cleaned up and the boys had decided that it would be best if I packed some stuff up and stayed at the cave with them for a while.

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simpforanyanimeguywithdarkhair · 2 years

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DADDYS GIRL

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#Includes: Suna

#Genre: Smut

#Description: In which Suna ends up seeing a message from mother dearest, asking about her future grandchildren and he aims to deliver.

#Warnings: Breeding, creampie, praise, daddy kink, ‘mommy’ is used, fem reader

#Note: Got this request awhile ago and unfortunately I only managed to do Suna because I lacked motivation to do the rest, sorry :(

Minors for the love of all that’s holy please DO NOT interact , thank you :)

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He was just in the kitchen making himself a protein shake, minding his business.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices a phone light up from a notification and out of reflex picks it up, thinking it’s his.

Once he realises that it isn’t his phone from the case that is very clearly not his style, he goes to give it to you, seeing you have a message from your mum.

However, he can’t help read the text and his eyes widen as they go over the words multiple times, wanting to make sure he read it right.

“This weekend was great sweetheart. Suna seems like a lovely boy, when can I expect the grandkids? ;)”

After the shock wears off, a sly smirk makes its way across his face. After meeting her once, Suna can confidently say that he loves your mum and he aims to stay in her good graces and what better way than to give her what she wants?

You feel arms slowly snake themselves around your waist and soft kisses make their way from your neck to the shell of your ear, “your mum seems to like me”. Before you can question where this came from, you’re met with your phone in your face and groan in embarrassment as you read the text “omg why would she say that!” you whine. You’re only met with a soft chuckle and lips that continue their assault on your neck.

“I think we should start practicing for when the time comes, what do you think?” “Practice?” You ask with a raised brow. “Mmh” he mumbles as he turns you around to face him. You wrap your arms around his neck and bring your lips to brush over his as you whisper “Practice does makes perfect”. Before you can seal your lips, you’re thrown over his shoulder as he makes his way to your bed and swiftly drops you on it. Suna looms over you with smirk as he makes quick work of his clothes, then starts on you. “We can’t make a baby with these on” he teases as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and underwear, removing both in one swift pull.

“Fuuck…you’re already so wet baby, just the thought of me making you a mommy got you this wet huh?” He asks as his fingers part your folds to toy with your slit. Your hips buck off the bed, trying to reach closer to him as you pathetically whine out pleas “Mmh Rin, please” “please what baby? Come on use your words”. It takes a few seconds to gather your thoughts before you’re able to communicate what you want “want you inside me, feel so empty”, he attempts and fails to hold back a groan at your words, already imagining himself buried deep inside of you.

He sits up and brings himself over to your spread legs and with one hand he teasingly runs the head of his cock up and down your wet slit, getting it lubricated and making you keen. “Fuck baby, stop teasing and just put it in” “what’s the magic word?” He asks coyly. “Please…” “please what?” He smirks. “Please daddy” “There you go baby”, and with that he carefully inches himself into your tight hole, the slight stretch making you bite your lip and him grip your hips as he spreads you wider. Once he’s fully inside of you, he bends down to give you a sloppy kiss, tongues intertwined and breaths mingling as he groans out his praise “you feel so good baby, so fucking tight”. He slowly pulls out, wanting you to feel every inch of him before he slams back in and repeats this rhythm until you’re both panting and moaning without a care.

“Fuck daddy, feels so good, you’re so deep” you moan out as your hands move to grip the nearest thing to them. Your head lolls back and Suna’s pace refuses to falter, and you’re pretty such he has the aim of knocking you up with how hard he’s going. “Shit y/n, you keep getting tighter baby, if you keep squeezing me like that I might actually fuck a baby into you”, you can’t help but whimper at his words and as a result you instinctively clench around him. You watch with dazed eyes as he throws his head back and lets out a deep groan, your eyes following the path the beads of sweat make down his toned chest until they reach where you both connect. You can make out the white ring of cream that decorates the base of his pretty red cock and can’t help but whine out “cum in me Rin, wanna feel you cum in me baby” “shiittt”.

Your words only aid in making his thrusts deeper as he moves your legs up to your chest, essentially folding you in half. “Gonna cum so deep in you baby, gonna fill you up till you can’t take any more” “please, pleaseee” you chant as you reach up and slide your hands into his hair, using it to pull him down into a kiss “I’m so close daddy” you whimper against his mouth.

He reaches one hand down to run feverish circles on your clit and you can feel the tight knot in your stomach snap causing you to arch your back and clench around him to the point where he finds it hard to move. The tight grip your pussy has on him, paired with the fucked out look on your face as you come down from your high, triggers his own release. With a deep groan and incoherent words, you feel him pulse inside you and release thick ropes of cum deep into your hole. He softly pants as he collapses into your chest, his now softening dick still inside you, acting like a plug but you can still feel some of it making its way out of you, the sensation causing you to whimper. “done so good baby” he whispers against your neck, “my mum should text more often” you softly laugh as you kiss his forehead.

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bump1nthen1ght · 3 years

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Dangerous Liaisons (Reader x Tentacle Monster)

Pairing: Male!Kitsune!Reader/Tentacle Monster

Genre: FWB, Dark Fantasy, Sado-Masochism

Warnings: 18+ content up ahead! Description of blood and cuts, Mentions of past dub-con/rape (none depicted), Mentions of past murder, Just some bad people y’all

Word Count: 1695 words

Summary: After one of your neighbor’s kidnapping goes awry, you decide to make up for his lost prey.

Request: hi! i fell in love with your tentacle write, now my absolute favorite, so i’m here to request another one if you don’t mind. for this could it be a male tentacle monster x kitsune male reader? and instead of being traditionally good natured, reader’s of a more dark/evil-esk nature, as well as open minded to whatever kinks. esp anything rough, sadistic, & bloody. Tyvm!!

The cave floor is cold, icy compared to the humid air of the summer day. Sweat beads at your shoulders and your temple as you walk in, the shade a nice relief from the setting sun. You thread your tail in between your fingers, eyes drifting to the drying pool of blood near your foot.

“Another one bit the dust, huh?”

A deep gurgling sound crawls through the dark at the center of the cave. The looming stalactites and pitch-black emptiness might have scared away any nearby travelers or the mortals of the village, but you know what hides here; It’s not that scary.

To you, anyway.

“No….escaped.”

You roll your eyes, walking deeper inside until you see the familiar form of your pitiful neighbor.

He isn’t terribly damaged, only one long scratch running up one of his tentacles. It’s one of his larger ones, so the poor little morsel he had captured must have shocked him enough to run away and avoid any of the other tendrils.

“Tch, figures.” You chide, kicking a rock his way. “Seems you’ll have to move caves again. There will be adventurers here by tomorrow morning to kill you.” You brush off the dust from a nearby boulder, plopping your butt on it as he moans in pain. “This is what you get, Nio. You got too greedy, kidnapping mortals to partake in your ‘fun’”

A lone tentacle throws a pebble at you, but you dodge. A set of golden eyes peers out from the mass of limbs, furrowed in anxiety. You had only seen the form he used to lure his ‘playmates’ a couple of times; It resembled a handsome young man, only entirely purple, with shiny skin and placating smile. It was just tall enough to peek out from the cave and attract any wanderers, coming close enough to be snatched up by his tentacles, stolen away for his sick fantasies.

“Besides,” You click your teeth, “They break too easily. How many have you gone through now, six? Seven?”

“.....Nine.” Nio hisses, rubbing soothingly over his slowly-healing wound.

“See? Insatiable, you are. It’s not a very respectable look, you know.” You stand up from your seat, sauntering over to where Nio huddles in the corner. You rub your neck, feeling the sweat pooled at the base, and your robe falls down to reveal your shoulder. Nio’s eye’s flit from your exposed skin to your flicking tail. A lone tentacle, dripping with a viscous ooze, slowly wraps around your ankle. You chuckle, the damp air slowly reeking of Nio’s pheromones.

“But it’s your lucky day.” You undo the strap of your robe, letting it fall down your chest and exposing your form to Nio’s greedy eyes. “Because I’m a little insatiable too.”

Nio’s pupils blow out in excitement, his tentacles shifting as he slowly reveals his form. The tentacle around your ankle begins to travel up your calf, leaving a trail of slime behind it. But you yank away your foot and stomp on the tip, Nio squealing in pain and jolting backward. You smile, his yipes music to your ears.

“Just because I’m giving you my time doesn’t mean you're the one in control, idiot.” You throw your robe to the side, slicking your hair back between your ears, “Now you can touch me.”

Two more tentacles approach your legs, far more cautious than before. But when they reach your legs, you allow them to fondle your calves and your thighs, that thick ooze making your skin light and tingly. You let out a long sigh as you let the slow-burning lust of Nio’s aphrodisiac slime run through your body. You don’t need a lot, but it’s a definite plus of these rendezvous the two of you have.

You walk forward, Nio’s hungry tentacles easily latching on to your soft skin. They skirt around your erogenous zones, knowing what punishment awaits if they do anything without your direct permission. But one tentacle craves the pain, and tentatively fondles your balls.

Your deep groan descends into a snarky chuckle, letting the tentacle press against your perineum and even prod at your asshole. But with quick precision you grab Nio’s wounded tentacle and dig one of your claws into his wound.

All of the tentacles around you shudder and tighten as Nio shreaks, but none of them detach, even as blood drips down your fingers and onto your palms. You pull out your thumb from Nio’s flesh, the tiny wound reopened from your prodding, and take a long lick up your wrist. Crimson stains your jaw and lips, smearing as you lick your lips from the taste. It’s iron-like, but just a little bit sweeter than mortals. It’s another plus of sleeping with Nio.

You relish in the taste, putting on a show of rubbing your bloody palm up and down your chest. Nio’s eyes squint in frustration, but they dart up and down the red trails left on your skin.

“That hurt?” Nio nods and you lick your lips once more. “Good-”

You’re left wheezing as the offending tentacle shoves itself past your asshole with no warning. Another tentacle wraps itself around the base of your cock and squeezes hard. You keel over from the sharp tension and fire that is stoked in your belly. You look down at the offending tentacles with a sneer, but you can’t help the small moans that escape you as you’re stretched open.

“Oh, we’re playing that game h-huh?” You mutter, thrusting your hips into the tight, hot grip of the tentacle around your cock. That tingly sensation now buzzes across your shaft, the tentacle alternating between playing with your tip and holding your balls in a vice grip. But the hand you use to yank back his bleeding tentacle is swift, controlled.

Blood falls down the appendage in small rivulets, the wound slowly rehealing before you lick the tip. You let your tongue roll out of your mouth, licking up the tentacle like a frozen treat, just avoiding the open wound. Nio’s groans rumble through the cave floor and up your body. You sink your lower half into his grip, more tentacles coming to support (and grope) your ass and thighs.

Your hand squeezes Nio’s trapped tentacles, claws retracted, and coerce it further down your throat. Saliva and blood drips past your lips as it goes even deeper, thrusting against the back of your throat. Droplets fall onto your hard cock, now covered in a mixture of Nio’s ooze and your pre-cum.

The tentacle in your ass has become sloppy, it’s pace haggard and quickly losing focus on your prostate. To kick it back into gear, you nip the tentacle in your mouth with your teeth, pulling it out completely before giving it a kiss.

“You’re so greedy, Nio. Isn’t this supposed to be a partnership?”

Nio growls, but you can see the burning lust in his eyes as they take over your debauched mouth. Your lips are bruised from the blowjob, your skin sweaty from the myriad of sensations attacking your body all at once. You kiss the tip of the tentacle again and give him a wink.

The tentacle inside your ass picks up speed, going even deeper than before and paying extra attention to your pleasure spot. You smirk, slowly reinserting the tentacle back in your mouth.

“Good boy.” You sputter, Nio’s tentacle hungrily forcing itself down your throat once more. It presses hard against your gag reflex, ooze spattering over your cheeks as it plunges in and out of your mouth, soon matching the tempo of the one inside you. With each jolt of pleasure running up and down your abdomen is another shuddering thrust into your mouth.

You take deep breaths, compensating for the thickness currently blocking your airways. Despite his roughness, you do feel Nio slip a tentacle back to the base of your tail, petting your fur with light touches as another one punishes your asshole.

Aww, what a softie.

You can feel a tightness beginning to cinch in your stomach, your cock weeping globs of pre-cum, spurred on and on by Nio’s aphrodisiac. The tentacles coveting your body thrash with abandon, shuddering as their movements become messier and messier. A tentacle presses up against your insides, barely leaving your asshole before pushing it back in with an uneven pace.

You moan, heading rolling backwards as you feel your climax approaching and your muscles preparing for a big finish.

But right before you can approach that peak, a large tentacle wraps itself around your neck, and squeezes.

You barely hear Nio’s raucous moans as your throat constricts around his tentacle, the rubber band finally snapping as you orgasm. Your hips jerk into Nio’s grip as ropes of cum spray across Nio’s body and up your navel. He is quick to lap it up, the tendrils soaking in it as the pet your skin.

Nio let's put another booming growl as hot liquid shoots up your asshole and down your throat, viscous and sweet like nectar. The heat feels like heaven against your sore muscles, dripping out of your holes and down your skin as Nio finally pulls himself all the way out of you.

You collapse your body against the cave wall, sweat and cum coating your skin as you slide down to your bottom, cringing from your ass’ sensitivity.

The air is thick, reeking of bodily fluids and sex. The pool of blood has long dried, barely leaving a dent on the cacophony of scents in the air.

After catching a breath, you stretch your arms upwards, craning your back before pushing yourself back to standing. You bend your neck too and fro, your tail lazily swinging behind you.

You approach Nio, still quivering from his climax, and grab your robe. You sling it over your shoulder and brush your hair back.

“I’d suggest you get going soon. We don’t want any stupid knights to come and ruin our fun, right?”

Nio gurgles, eyes drooping as he sinks back into his mass of tentacles, exhausted. You lean down and pat one of them.

“That's what I thought.”

#my writing #male reader insert #reader insert #Tentacle monster #kitsune #kitsune reader #monster reader #monster x reader

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husbandohunter · 3 years

Note

Your Stardew Impact has given me a serious brainrot and I couldn’t sleep on it so here

Imagine the boys getting Isekai to Stardew and meeting their (soon-to-be) s/o a.k.a the farmer who found them in the mines and dragged them out.

It’s basically the same as the original but the reader lives in Stardew universe from the beginning.

The Outlanders who trespassed the Stars [Stardew Valley + Genshin Impact]

Synopsis: You were a simple farmer who lived a simple life before crossing paths with these outlanders. A tale of greetings and farewells tells a story that loving someone was like looking at the stars in the sky; a sense of warmth amidst darkness, where the dots connect no matter what distance it was. But just like stars, they were meant to be unobtainable.

(Basically what happens if the boys get Isekai'd)

Genre: fluff, angst (faceapalm didn't mean to)

Characters: Childe, Xiao, Zhongli

(A/n): Hi anon, haha I didn't think the Stardew Impact series would be this enjoyable. Allow me to serve your brainrot. But just for future references there is a character limit! Also it long, a pro tip to use ctrl+F and type in the name :>

======================

~Childe's Story~

The day you met Childe was perhaps during the most fortunate yet unfortunate hour of your life.

Winter comes by, your fields were left dry, what else was there to do other than mining? You were aiming to build a new Barnhouse before summer comes, fishing only made average income thus you decided to take your pickaxe and hope to run into some diamonds, gold or even better: prismatic shards. However, expensive items could only be found in the deepest parts of the mountains, where dangerous monsters lurk by.

When peeking over the abandoned minecart you so carefully shielded yourself with, you began contemplating whether you've just dug yourself a grave instead. The whole area became infested, you weren't in the best condition and on top of all that, you were out of food.

You decided to make a run for it, with the treasures and goodies at hand, you couldn't give up. However, things only got worse when purple mist began taking over your vision, signaling a lava bat wave drawing nigh. It was thanks to your greed that you ended in such a predicament but it was also your greed that brought you to him.

"W-Woah!!"

You tripped with your toe pointing downwards into a pile of wooden crates. The bats swarmed in shortly after, daunting around the area above but you couldn't afford to look. Your face was down to the ground and you could only rely on your ears regarding their whereabouts. As if Yoba heard your prayers, the lava bats could not seem to find you, confusing them to think you've escaped. And so, they flew away.

"I'm never doing that again," The sudden impact was excruciating, you were sure that your lip bled due to biting too hard. At least the floor felt somewhat soft, cotton-like and warm enough to be comforting. Yet, for some reason it was also a little…bony?

"…Mn…."

Your body jerks up like a springboard when you felt something shifting. A man, no older than his twenties, no older than you, lays sprawled out under your form. He was beginning to stir and you panicked when a pair of blue cerulean eyes pointed into your seemingly shocked ones within the close parameter.

Too close.

The man gives a cheerfully wry chuckle, you could practically feel his breath almost, "Well this is quite unexpected, didn't think I'd end up in this position," he jests, soon his expression began to tighten into a grimace, "Mind getting off me though? With all due respect miss, you're a little-…heavy."

You scrambled to the side while still kneeling, "What the hell, who are you?!"

"Hm," The man didn't answer, instead he pushed himself upright and turned his attention to examine the surroundings, "Where are we?" He paused when he noticed how the ceiling was made of rocks, "Wait, is this a cave?"

"Ninety two floors deep and surrounded by monsters," you sighed in frustration while rubbing your head with your palm, "Seriously, whoever you are you shouldn't be here, especially if you're not even carrying the necessary supplies."

"Hey, I just got here. I'm just as confused as you," he puts his hands up in a defensive gesture, "But how strange," he mutters to himself, lowering his arms ever so slightly before pinching his chin in deep thought, "I swear it was the right portal…or maybe it was the other one? Hmmm, could it be the effect of the hidden seal?"

I have so many questions. You sweatdropped nervously. Here you were, hours spent to get to the deepest parts of the earth and looking like a cavewoman while his clothes were practically untouched, nor did they seem to be a recognizable fashion. You've seen many odd events within Stardew Valley but not to this extent, "Alright you know what, let's forget about it for now. We need to get out of here before those lava bats come back for us again. Otherwise we're toast," you gestured to the lava pool, "Literally."

He gave another one of his gleeful smiles, you wondered if he was afraid at all, "Sounds like a solid plan to me. Judging by the equipment you're wearing, you seem to have been here for a while. You know your way around?"

Figures that he doesn't know, you thought, "I'll lead."

"Glad we're on the same page. Though, we've only just met and yet you're still willing to help a stranger like me," he mentions in an off-handed manner, perhaps he wasn't used to generosity ever since being recruited as a harbinger, "But not that I'm complaining. You have my thanks, comrade."

"(Y/n)," you tell him, "That's my name. I'm a farmer that resides in this town."

"I see. A town it is then," he inquires, "Call me Childe, as where I'm from, not sure how to answer that anymore."

"What do you-"

But before you were able to question him further, a hoard of lava crabs were spotted crawling it's way towards where Childe sat. He shot you a confused look and turned to the direction, amusement sparks in his eyes,

"Lava crabs? You've got to be kidding me," your arms have already grown tired long ago, at this rate, you figured it may be best to pay a visit to Harvey's doctor office and check up for any muscle strains that have occured during the process. You most likely have considered how heavy your items felt now. Partaking in another battle would only make it worse.

"Ah an opponent, to think this place wouldn't have a set of new monsters to fight. I was growing tired of beating up hilichurls all the time."

His casual reaction caused you to scrunch up your nose in disbelief, "We're being ganged up on and your first response was that???"

Childe paid no mind, instead he propelled himself back to his feet using his trained reflexes and swaggered towards the crowd, "Relax girlie," Stopping just after a few steps, he turns his head ajar over his shoulder with a floppy smirk spreading his lips, "I've got this."

You held in your breath, wondering if you could trust this man. For now all you could do was sit back and hopefully regain some of your strength while observing by the stacks of crates that were abandoned years ago. The lava crabs formed a straight line in front of him, they were smart creatures, cornering their prey in a very well strategized form so that trespassing was out of the question. Childe wasn't intimidated in the slightest, he merely looked down at them with hooded eyes, flexing his fingers for preparation.

"Lava crab…in other words you're of the pyro element," the harbinger holds out his hand in front of him, trying to cultivate the shape of his bow, "A shame. This fight would end much shorter than I anticipated."

However, when he expected his element to manifest, nothing came out. Childe was left dumbfounded.

"Don't just stand there," you screeched, "Do something!!!"

"Wait," he halts you and tries to summon his bow again. Once, twice, as the crabs grew closer still there was nothing, "My powers…they're gone?!"

"Take this," left without a choice, you pushed yourself towards him and shoved Neptune's glaive into his grasp. He examines it with curiosity, but you knew this was also your own well-being you were entrusting him, "It's really easy to use, just-"

When a crab leapt forward, you ran back to create some manageable space for Childe to move in. He delivers a powerful slice using one arm, hitting the crab's weak spot while tossing it toward the side until a dent was formed in the wall. Your mouth parts, fast, he was fast, you didn't even have the time to blink. It was as if he knew the glaive more than you did. Though, the assumption wasn't that far from the truth. Childe was well adept with swordsmanship as he was an expert with many other melee weapons. Which is precisely the reason why he chose the bow as his main, a ranged device, the challenge to keep him on his toes. Just like he was now.

"He wasn't lying when he said he could fight," you watched in mesmerization, each single blow he delivered deemed equivalent to three hits on your part. Childe was both powerful and swift. He was formidable. The way he effortlessly deflected his opponents despite not having an enchantment ring made you forget how much of an idiot he was earlier before. Soon, the lava crabs began to lessen, leaving what remained of their dusted corpse while some retreated back into the depths of the cave.

"Not bad, it was kind of fun!" Childe laughs exasperatedly, glancing at his blue reflection upon the marred blade, "It's been a while since I last used a sword, and still haven't gone rusty either," he hands you the hilt, "Thanks for letting me use it by the way. You seriously got yourself a sick weapon."

"Keep using it for now, I think I'm a little too worn out to handle it," you say regretfully and pointed your nose towards the ceiling, "The mist hasn't disappeared so there's probably gonna be more monsters we'll encounter soon."

Childe looks up as well, "Huh I was wondering what that meant."

"By the way I've never seen anyone fight like that. Exactly what kind of place are you from?" You finally ask, "You somehow ended up in a cave, without anything to defend yourself with and it's not like you know your way out either. Are you...from another world?"

"Huh didn't think you'd draw that conclusion so quick," he comments jokingly, "Guess there's no reason to hide it anymore. Indeed I am from another world, at least, that's what I can tell so far. I've never encountered these types of monsters either."

You couldn't help but be taken aback by his honesty, "That was strangely easier than I thought...."

After escaping the cave, you introduced Childe to the wizard who lived in Cindersap forest, M. Rasmodius. He was extremely intrigued by the concept of an outlander and seemed happy to be of assistance. Since helping others was the culture of Pelican Town, you commissioned Robin to build a small cabin for him to live in temporarily. In return, Childe must accompany you back to the caves and make up for your losses. It was a mutual benefit since he had the opportunity to fight as well.

Childe befriended the townsfolk rather easily. On friday nights where everyone goes to the Saloon to enjoy their time, he would be found in the other room playing pool with the gang (Sam, Abigail and Sebastian)-- you as well when he managed to drag you along with him.

Crashes at your place when you were busy with the farm. You can bet that he would pop up suddenly midday through your window, “Can you use the door like a normal person???” But despite how much you get irritated by this habit, all bygones are bygones the moment he starts a conversation.

He sticks around as you carry your hay batches, sharing his stories. How the organization he worked in was a powerful militaristic force that had authority over many countries. But you didn't see him as a brute since he only joined for the sake of his parents, for the sake of his siblings and their dreams.

You thought of your grandfather who also once told you to pursue your dreams: live a peaceful life away from urban society. However, as long as the harbinger was with you, there wasn't much option for 'peace'.

"Tell me again why you dragged me out here? You know thatI still have a lot of work to finish back in the farm," you trekked your feet through the thick icy sheets with one hand clutching the zipper near your collarbone. It was incredibly windy in Cindersap forest and Childe happened to have convinced you to leave the comfort of your home for 'a surprise favour'. He purposely made a vague statement to draw in your curiosity but if you had refused-- well, that would have led to constant nagging on his part.

"You'll see," is what he said, it was what he told you through this whole ordeal. He lifted his chin to feel the frosty air against his face, "There's this one activity I wanted to try out. Back in Snezhnaya, I used to bring my brother to go skating out on the lakes. It's deadly freezing there so the ice is pretty thick to work on. Haven't done any of that since I joined the Fatui."

You shot him a deadpan glare, "That's why you brought me out here? Why didn't you just go by yourself?"

"Now that's cold (Y/n),” you rolled your eyes at the pun, “Can't you loosen up instead of throwing yourself in a pile of work all day?"

"It's not that I don't want to...I'm just very busy with the farm since it's the last day of the month. At least I want to do as much as I can before Spring comes."

"Haha you're right but you only live once y'know?" Childe noted happily despite your protest, "And like I said before, seize the opportunity when you see it. You never know when it will be your last."

You cocked your head to the side, "What do you mean?"

"Now let's get started shall we?" As you both reach the edge of the frozen lake, Childe takes a step forward ahead of you, "Have you ever gone ice skating before?"

"Yeah but..." You glanced at the glassy surface with skepticism, suddenly struck by hesitance. The thought of drowning made you retreat your steps right away, "I don't know Childe, it doesn't seem that safe."

"That's true if you're not careful enough," he pointed out, "Luckily you have me to help you with that."

"How does that work?"

He placed one foot onto the hardened lake and parts his mouth into a grin, "Watch."

In contrast to your cautious personality, Childe was considered to be more of a wildcard if anything. He loved adventure, just like you except his side often included bloodshed and the thrill that danger carries. You weren't sure if it was worth putting up with his antics or entertaining his idea of skating on thin ice, but you complied regardless. He had a way of delivering his words through that cheery voice you couldn't deny.

Prior to meeting him, life was boring. The corporate world was boring. You moved into your grandfather's farm in order to search for some form of fulfillment that Zuzu city couldn't give and you thought you did now that you had your very own farm, but slowly you began to pile more responsibilities than you could even count.

Everything you did, you did alone.

If it weren't for Childe, you wouldn't have learned the art of surfing on ocean waters. You never would have known the taste of mixing three different ice-cream flavours together despite what strange names they all had. Or what it felt like to mingle with the townspeople rather than mingling for the sake of business. Suddenly, everything became...fun.

Childe wanted to go far and wide. He was always running, so far ahead, somewhere beyond the stars as he could conquer the world to the point you might no longer reach him.

No longer reach him, huh. Curling your fingers into your palm, you renewed your courage and took a step onto the ice.

At the sound of boots tapping behind him, Childe spins around to see you wobble in your stance, nearly tipping over. He slid across to where you were and grasped your arm before you fell.

"Gotcha."

"Thanks," You sighed in relief, "Jeez, this is harder than I thought."

"Guess this is your first time then," he commented with a bit of jest, "Don't stress yourself over it too much, you'll be okay. I got you."

He carefully led you to the center, staying close in case you were to fall sideways again. You awkwardly tried to keep your legs straight, balancing on your own yet the fact that there was still water underneath struck fear into your nerve. It caused you to tremble and eventually skittered backwards.

"Haha ice skating isn't your forte isn't it?"

"I'm just getting started!"

He takes your hand in his before you could even protest, it was one of his many aspects that you found endearing-- the fact his impulse stems from genuine intentions, feelings, not giving them a second thought. The two of you glide using the soles of your shoes, he speeds up ever so slightly and the adrenaline begins to increase until there comes a rush of excitement, freedom. The stress you once had already forgotten once taking flight upon the ice.

"Look Childe! I'm actually doing it!" You couldn't help mentioning with a bit of youthful playfulness in your voice, "It's so smooth and fast! Almost like I'm flying!"

He smiles quietly from a distance, “See? I told you that you'll be fine.”

It was clear to many that the two of you were much closer than what meets the eye.

Childe began to notice the change in your aura. You were happier and much more soulful. Before you were always on the edge, cautious in contrast to his sanguine approach, he couldn't help but be caught off guard whenever you teased him. Or the sudden honesty that causes him to be flustered. By your side, he was no longer a Fatui Harbinger rather more of a puppy, adorable almost.

But when he saw that the reason you changed was because of him, it brought fear into his bones. Why? How did things get to this point? You were lost in a wonderland, ignorant to the blossom that had sprung inside of your chest.

Maybe it was better to be ignorant. Just live in the moment while it can still last.

"You're leaving?"

Standing at the gateway between the mountain cliffside and the starry sky, you call out to the man you've known in a way that carries more than what words could say. Because he left a mark in your years that could never be erased and here he was, trying to erase his existence completely.

Childe lets out a bitter chuckle, he didn't dare to face you, "I didn't expect you to catch up so quickly. You're quick-witted, comrade."

"It's (Y/n)," you corrected, trying to steady your voice so that he couldn't tell the expression you were making, "Why didn't you say anything? What makes you think that I'll just stay silent and let you go on your own way? This isn't a joke Childe! Don't act as if none of it matters to you because it sure as hell did to me."

His lips that held his usual smirk flattens into a straight line, "Even if I did, would it make a difference?"

The world stills. You knew the answer, he knew the answer, you just refused to admit it. One by one, the stars begin to collect themselves until a bridge was formed in front of him, on another day he would be enjoying the scenery alongside you. But today they would be for you alone to witness. The man who you spent your time with had slowly, regretfully, inevitably became a stranger. He was right. It wouldn't make a difference. You were already aware since the day you met him that he belonged to another world and you willingly offered to help him find a way home.

"You know, you could come with me."

Your eyes jolt open. His voice was so free of care. As if he was commenting on something so minor on a casual Sunday afternoon while accompanying you to the beach. But when you came face to face with the harbinger, his expression lackluster, you knew that he meant every word.

"Just you and me, we can travel across the world to our heart's content. I always thought you were an adventurer just like me and you know what, the farm life just doesn't suit you," Childe slowly extends his hand as an offer, for you it was a temptation, "So what do you think? Care to join me?

Your lip quivers. What he said sounded like a sweet dream that you so desperately wanted to take a bite out of. But even so, you thought about the townsfolk, your farm, your grandfather. Their images flashed in as if holding you back, chaining you to the ground, "I can't."

The answer pained you more than it did to him.

"Figures, this is your home after all," he huffs out, " Now do you understand? I can't leave my home either. If I did, heh, I think my siblings would despise me until the very end and I just don't want that. So no hard feelings, okay?"

You didn't reply.

"Don't worry. I won't pressure you if you don't want to," Childe turns back to the bridge, it was almost time, "Do what you have to do (Y/n), hate me if it makes you feel any better. You can even forget about me," he paused, renewing his resolve, "But I know I won't."

"Childe-"

You ran to grab his scarf only to have it ghost through your hands. He was relieved that he couldn't hear your voice, as he returned to Teyvat, Childe wonders what kind of expression did you have before he left? He'll never know.

---

~Xiao's Story~

The day you met Xiao...well, you weren't in the best of the best positions.

This was probably your sixth attempt trying to make it through all levels of the cave and reach the last floor. The quest had been sitting in your drawer for months.

Of course you didn't expect things to be easy, the fortune teller channel you watched every morning had yet to inform you with any good fortune and you would often bump into obstacles that would halt your progress.

But to be fair, sometimes the colourful ore would attract your attention and before you knew it, it was time to go.

So close yet so far. You dragged your feet tiredly against the ground. What time was it? Who knows. Judging by your state, you assumed it had already struck past 12 a.m.

However, today luck seems to have taken pity on you, just...slightly.

You puffed air into your cupped hands for the nth time, huddling deeper into the touch of your coat while trudging into the cave's cold climate. A little longer, any time soon, you kept telling yourself over and over but as if time was frozen, the wait felt like an eternity. Ah how much you wish to be in the comfort of your soft, fluffy bed right now. Though, merely visualizing the image only reminded how achingly freezing it was so you decided it was best to spare yourself from the details.

"I can't do this anymore..." leaning your head against the ice covered cavern, you whimpered, "I should have stayed home."

As you were about to shut your eyelids, something flashed by your peripheral vision. You darted towards the direction it came from, the light was a bright green hue against blue, could it be, "Warmth!"

It seems you jumped to conclusions too quickly. With impatience, you swung around the corner, expecting to find a heat source, only to meet something much more horrifying.

"KYAH!"

They stared straight into your eyes, those demonic eyes tainted by black and fangs that stuck out of the mouth like tusks on an elephant.

However, when the light evaporated you were able to have a better sense of sight, slowly revealing the monster's true form and the body of a human boy. He fell onto his back with a thud and you used this chance to calm yourself from the frightful encounter.

"He's...unconscious?"

You meekly crawled to where he lay and examined closely. Aside from the mask, there were various distinct features that stood out in his attire, his tattoo being one of them, imprinted in what looked like an eagle. You then realized how unsuitable his clothes were in this current situation. At least there were no injuries so far. But was that a good thing? This man practically came out of thin air as if some sorcery had been committed. Witches never left a good impression ever since they cursed your chicken coop. You were hesitant whether to help a stranger who could potentially be one of them or a creation they cultivated. What other explanation could there be?

"I can't leave him here, it's too cold."

Your gaze suddenly falls upon his covered face. The design, although intimidating at first, upon closer look was very alluring in it’s own way. You haven't stumbled upon anything like what the merchants had to offer in Pelican Town and the mask almost looked too foreign. Was he from the east? Curiosity eventually takes over and you gingerly reach for the mask, sliding it off his face.

"Eh...?" You gasp, taken aback by his striking appearance. A part of it made you feel this was no ordinary boy but that didn't mean he should be abandoned in this environment. It would be immoral to let him die in a place like this.

Before you could even make a noise, his eyes bursted awake, grabbing your wrist in a harsh grip. He used his other hand to push against your shoulder until you were instantly pinned on your back with no opening to escape. You choked a sharp sound as you stared with wide eyes. The man was akin to a beast, he had the expression to match it, like the glaring sharp gaze of wolves that roam at the mountain cliffside near Zuzu city and the ferocity of the demonic mask he once wore. You were breath taken but in a more fearful way as he continued to grip onto you tighter with the possible intent to harm.

"Speak!” He demanded, “What have you done to my powers and where have you brought me?"

In Xiao’s case, he was thrown into another world under the circumstances of fighting against one of Liyue’s unknown beasts. He was on high alert, thinking the fight was still ongoing.

You may look human but you could still be a threat. Xiao is the type to act upon instinct in the moment when something feels out of place. Like the spear he wields, he was trained to behave like one: to strike, strike down his foes without hesitation. Don't leave an opening for them to take the advantage. Xiao is a weapon and violence was what he knew best. He couldn't afford to lower his guard even for a minute.

You could say he left a pretty strong first impression to the point you were paralyzed. As he looked at your face, petrified and tense, he wavered and began to reevaluate things. Large doe-like eyes stare into his feline ones. They didn't seem to hold any sort of malice, was it possible for you to be the one who cursed him?

"Eeeeeek! I-I have no idea what you're talking about, let me go let me go!" you cried, "Please don't hurt me!"

Perhaps he shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.

Xiao feels your struggle and eventually gets off to give you some space. Your reaction was understandable, he was used to it anyways. Xiao scoffed to himself, why are mortals so weak? Their strength, if compared to the adepti, was separated by a large gap (Like it always should be). Xiao kept his gaze averted to the side as you rubbed your wrist, focusing his attention elsewhere. He glanced at the vastness of the cave in front of him.

Why was he sent here? For what reason did it serve? Ever since he sealed the contract with Rex Lapis, the guardian Yaksha had never entertained the thought of leaving his country nor did he act upon it; he was far too loyal to his god to do so. But here he was, against his own will yet free from his karmic binds, stripped of his divine powers in the return of endless questions about this new found mortal-like form.

What should I do now?

Choosing not to dwell in any longer, Xiao rises to his feet and proceeds to walk the other way.

"Ah u-uhm sir, where are you going?"

If the universe wanted to test him then he'll find his own answers.

"Wait! Please wait up!"

"Tch."

Although he intended to keep going, Xiao heard you running to his direction and slowed to a halt, some mortals surely do not know their boundaries, "Hmph there's nothing timid about you. Leave me be," he demands without turning around, "Don't forget what I'm capable of."

Stay away.

"I-I know that," you retaliate weakly. Just by hearing his tone made you want to melt away and become one with the ice. He was a scary man indeed, the same one who attacked you earlier. But even so, "That doesn't mean I want you dead! If you go that way, you might freeze to death. Aren't you cold? You don't even have a coat on."

"..." Upon the mention of his predicament, his senses started to kick in. As a yaksha, Xiao wasn't able to be affected by temperature but now he felt his hands beginning to sting, trembling from it’s impact. Ah, so this is what it feels like to be cold. Still Xiao was stubborn and continued to push you away, "What happens to me has nothing to do with you. Now leave, or else."

"I-I can't do that!"

Xiao clicks his tongue in frustration. How annoying. This is why he dislikes meddling with meddlesome humans. But quite frankly, he wasn't sure how to handle your type of forwardness since most tend to back away. And so, Xiao does what he usually does, he ignores you and continues walking, eventually you'll give up on him anyway. However he hears a loud thump and whips around to see your body laying in the snow. The hours of travelling in the cave have seemed to caught up that you inevitably collapsed from exhaustion.

Knitting his evergreen brows together, Xiao lets out an irritable sigh.

...

You wake up to find the sky above your head and your coat draped over your shoulders like a blanket. Dawn was slowly rising above the distance valley, you figured it was around 4a.m in the morning. Rubbing your eyes, you eventually noticed a figure sitting across, admiring the sunrise.

"Ah it's you!"

Xiao jolts ever so slightly, peeking over his bare shoulders until you could see the sun's light casted against his golden irises. Did he stay here while you were asleep? Then, that would also mean he was also the one who carried you all the way up from sixty floors below.

“You're awake,” he noted flatly, “If that's the case, then I have no reason to stay here."

Of course, that wouldn't be the last time you saw him.

You were a tenacious human being, always so insistent in dragging him away from his lonesome personality. He resides in the forest and camps there for the time being (similar to Linus since they’re both homeless lol). But you’d always run in, DAILY and sometimes for the most stupid and mundane reasons. It could either be giving him the snacks you snatched off the table since Xiao refused to participate in parties, or fancy seashells you found on the beach. You didn’t want him to miss out on all those things of course! Although he responds with irritation, it was as if his words went through your ear and then out the other. His efforts were futile (however, he was slowly warming up without realizing).

He learns how easily his body reacts in the presence of food purely because he was hungry. You bring an extra set of blankets and pillows to his campsite when the ones you gave him wore out (he didn’t ask by the way). Xiao needed help whether he liked it or not since he no longer has his powers, hence he couldn't run away. He somehow ends up moving in to live on the small islands near your farm.

Xiao doesn't understand humans very much. Just as he was unable to understand how human emotions work. He was the almighty yaksha, Adeptus Xiao and a formidable beast that killed thousands in thousands of years, at least that's what he used to be. Even now he still has yet to figure out what he was or who he was exactly without a weapon to define his existence. He was made for battle but nowadays, he found himself watering plants, chopping down trees and throwing seeds to the chickens living in your coop. How did everything escalate to this? It baffles him, how much his life changed so drastically.

Haha, you’re Xiao of course! The greatest farming assistant I could ever have.

But above all else, the one thing Xiao couldn't understand among those universal questions, is you.

"Why are you doing all this?" Finally he asked. The urging thought had been persisting at the back of his mind ever since.

You stopped on your tracks and turned to look at him, tilting your head with a complexion made curious, "What do you mean? Ah, did I do something to bother you?"

"I didn't say that," Xiao interrupts abruptly, he folded his arms across his chest and shot you a deep contemplating gaze, " You're...incomprehensible. All I did was drag you out of that cave yet why are you so kind to me? Don't you think you're extending yourself too much just because of one little deed?"

Because to him, saving a life was the norm. He does it unconditionally just like you helped him with those same intentions. Except, Xiao had been pursuing corrupted souls behind the scenes all this time and expected nothing in return. Experiencing someone's gratitude was rather new.

You shook your head, "It wasn't small to me," a satisfactory smile melting onto your face, "I'm here at this very moment, feeling the wind against my skin and smelling the scent that nature carries, these are just the few things I cherish. It's thanks to you that I can still watch over grandpa's farm, that's why I don't feel like I'm overextending myself in any way," suddenly you beam at him, "At first I thought you were a scary person. Haha. Time flies so fast, it's amazing how much can happen in between."

"Hn, you're a simpleton. But that's not a bad thing..." he points out curtly yet softly, "Do as you wish, I won't stop you so feel free to call my name whenever you need my help. I'll be there."

Xiao also finds you to be very clumsy. He couldn't leave your side even for a minute. But that was a lie. He just grew very attached to you.

When you tell him that you've been going into the mines for a quest, he tells you that you're far from capable. So he teaches you how to wield a weapon properly. Xiao was a strict teacher and he intends to keep it that way, he wouldn’t even allow you to set foot in the mines until he finds you capable enough.

You were a meek yet optimistic person, yet you were also strong-willed.

For a place that wasn't his home, he felt it was. And he found that it was all in your presence. Those peaceful hours hiding inside the barn while a storm rages outside, you sit beside him while hugging a sheep close to your chest. Xiao learns how to feed some of them, he even brings seeds for your hen house too. If you were ever short on materials, Xiao would travel to the enchanted forest behind the wizard's tower and get them for you, no matter how late it was. Though if you went by yourself, he'd deliberately go with you despite your protest.

The minute Xiao realized how much he was attached to you, it was devastating. As if the claws of his karmic debt had come back, pulling him into the shadows once more. He was an adeptus with a contract and bound by his duty, he must choose between his god who saved him from a nightmare and you, the girl he fell for, showed him that the world was indeed a beautiful place, he was stuck in an equilibrium and he felt that the binds may even tear him apart if he kept resisting.

But when did he ever have a choice?

"Where are you going Xiao?"

When he heard your voice calling his name, the yaksha willingly pulled himself to a halt. His sunset eyes narrowing from guilt before it shuts with a trembling sigh out of his mouth. Why is it that you always appear during the moments where he desperately needs to get away from you? He planned to sneak out the door, making sure his footsteps were unheard while you slept. And by the time you woke up, he didn't have to face you, he wouldn't have to say goodbye. He won't. Even if what he was currently doing said otherwise. He will never hear himself say those words.

"Xiao?"

Yet, he cannot refuse you. Not now, not ever. You were breathtaken to see a type of expression that you never thought was possible for him to make. The creases that once formed between his slender brows, the heaviness he always carried in his expression was replaced by a sense of sentimentality. Before you could register what was happening, Xiao took his step towards the porch of your house, not once did he tear away from your attention. He slides his hand beneath your jaw and affectionately against your cheek, the fondness evident in his gaze that you almost felt imprisoned by it.

"You never fail to appear in the most inconvenient of times," He gives a weak smile, a smile that makes your heart swell. Despite how much you could drown in his honesty, you couldn’t help but feel there was something wrong, “No matter how many times I’ve tried to push you away.”

You don't know him. You don't know his history and what things he committed in the past. But as if you've known this whole time, Xiao couldn't picture you leaving him for those reasons.

“You’re gentle but you don’t let others put you down. You’re kind but you don’t allow it to be your weakness. I sometimes wonder how it is possible for anyone to be so forgiving?”

"I-I don’t understand why you’re this Xiao. Is something happening?”

He won’t tell you. He doesn’t see the reason why you need to know.

You wince when something poked the side of your neck and you realized it was a tranquilizer. You looked at Xiao with dismay, his face becoming hazier until your vision darkened and could no longer hold your own weight. Xiao caught you around the waist with one arm as you fell unconscious.

"How can you be so stupid...?"

But he speaks as if those words were meant for him.

Pulling your body closer to him, Xiao chains you down into a desperate embrace. A silent scream of desperation. His forehead pressed against the bent of your shoulder and the other arm rested his hand at the center of your back. He will relish in the shape of your body, memorizing every curve both perfections and flaws. The way you fit into his arms and the pleasant smell of nature that you taught him to love, this was the only remnant he was allowed to take. Every detail, he will remember it as if clinging to the last moments of his whole world.

If he was allowed to have a desire, let him meet you again. He prayed to a god, any god-- even if it meant damaging his oath, he will accept his punishment. He prayed to each star in the sky and if he must he'll pray to the devil himself, whatever it is, he will do it for you.

As he painfully lets go, Xiao lets his hand slide off your body until the last thing he felt was the very tips of your fingers. He settles you down gently into your bed. You belong here in this peaceful world, not the one riddled with monsters.

---

~Zhongli's Story~

The Skull Cavern was considered to be the most dangerous mine of Stardew Valley. It wasn't your intention to run into any trouble, all you wanted was to test your cool new galaxy sword on some easy monsters and then be on your merry way. At first.

Just one more floor. You say, before catching an arm sticking out a pile of rocks.

"I-Is that a person?!!!"

You dug as fast as you could, any time soon the mummies would wake up and start attacking. Quick quick! Moving the last rock, you saw the face of a young man, he was asleep but alive! and undeniably attractive oh wow *lip bite*. But despite your attempts of shaking him awake, it was fruitless and the monsters weren't waiting.

Taking out two warp totems, you raised it to the ceiling and chanted a teleportation spell.

It wasn't everyday that you brought a man to your house.

But when you did, he wouldn't be from a cave, six floors down and buried in a place filled with monsters.

"And this small black device you say is some form of communicator? That certainly is intriguing, never in my years have I heard of something so advanced."

However you were beginning to think otherwise. That this man would have been from the prehistoric ages who you managed to unbury after his thousand year slumber. Zhongli sits on the couch across from you while examining your smartphone, a term he claimed had been completely foreign. You were contemplating whether you should bother Harvey despite being past his work hour and book an emergency appointment to see if this man had a special case of amnesia.

You brushed the idea away. There was so much going on and nothing made sense, for now, you decided to settle this on your own.

"Uhm Zhongli is it?" you asked nervously, "Maybe you can try giving the name of a relative or someone you know. I can use the phonebook to see if I can find their number."

“Number?” He parroted.

You blinked a few times, making sure if you heard him correctly, “Yes, number. You know? To communicate?”

"I appreciate your kind gesture," Zhongli acknowledges in a polite manner, "But that won't be necessary. This device doesn’t seem to be at a level where it can communicate with the people from my homeland."

If he was travelling then how the hell did he end up in THE Skull Cavern is what I wanna know!

“T-Then if you don't mind me asking, where are you from?"

Zhongli takes this moment to think of an answer, aware that if he blurted something out it would not have translated in the way he wanted. But you so kindly invited him to your humble household that he felt it would only be proper to owe you an explanation, "I suppose a land from afar."

You sweatdropped, "Suppose?"

"Yes. Although I won't spare you the details since this is not your burden to bear, it’s quite difficult for me to try and remember exactly what happened," Zhongli took his chin into his hand, fingers almost covering his mouth, "Perhaps I would need search for clues in order to refresh my memory."

Oh no he really does have amnesia!!

"A-Actually why don't I just call the local doctor, I'm sure he wouldn't mind giving you a hand," you say while taking your iPhone.

"A doctor? There's no need," dismissed Zhongli, "My condition is only a minor one and I do not think I'm in a position to afford medical assistance. Besides, you have done more than enough. May you find great fortune in your years Miss (Y/n), I shall be on my way."

He pushes himself up from the couch and you watch him cross towards the door. But just when he was about to reach the space of your carpet, Zhongli pulled to an abrupt stop.

"Ah yes,” He began as if remembering something, “ Do you happen to know where the nearest Inn is located? I would need to find a place to shelter for the time being."

"..."

This was how the former god ended up being your roommate. Like Xiao, Zhongli also takes upon a human form. He needed to eat, drink and a place to sleep. He insisted that he would take the couch as well as help you with any tasks that needed to be completed during the day.

You question if Zhongli was even aware of what situation he was currently in. Answer: HE WASN'T because Zhongli is an extremely dense man. To feel embarrassed was not part of his dictionary when living with a woman.

The type to take long showers. You always find the bathroom steaming because he doesn't turn on the fan to get rid of it (but maybe you should've taught him). So when it was your turn to use the shower, the water was either lukewarm or worst case scenario, cold.

Also he somehow finds your old kettle (that your grandfather used) to brew tea even though you told him you already had a water boiler. He stated that he liked doing things the old-fashioned way, it brings him a sense of nostalgia. You couldn't understand what he meant (unless you considered that he was older than he seemed....no that can’t be it!)

Despite it all, Zhongli was incredibly polite and considerate. Tending the farm was not an easy job and you often came home with sore muscles, fatigued from running so many errands. He's knowledgeable in terms of making the best herbal mix for a soothing remedy.

You would see a warm cup, every morning before going to work and every time you come home, it was sitting on the kitchen table (if his drink had potion effects, they would be regeneration).

Gentle he was but it wasn't good for your heart.

Ever since Zhongli moved in, it became difficult to live in your own house.

There were many situations where he caused trouble despite not intending to cause disruption to your daily routine. And when he did, the repairs came out of your own pocket. One time you opened your microwave to find thick ash and burnt cinders stuck upon the walls.The entire space was a hazard and needed to be dispensed immediately since Zhongli thought that plastic-wrapped items were allowed to be microwaved. Another incident, as bizarre as it sounded, was when your vacuum cleaner zoomed out of your house...and never came back. You remembered the awkward cough he gave when you shot him a deathly glare, hence why Zhongli was not allowed to touch your high-tech devices (if you considered them high-tech) without your permission.

Even so, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him. It was the opposite in fact. One day, all the flaws you counted suddenly became his charms. You came to find them endearing almost.

Zhongli was a handsome man. He carried himself with a distinct aura that could only be found in the rarest geodes; revealing orestones mined from the depths of a forgotten cave, sometimes in the shape of exquisite artifacts-- a type of ancient charm. Perhaps that was why people were willing to obey his every command without hesitation. Whenever Zhongli spoke, it was full of firmness and authority yet somehow deprived of arrogance. He was polite to all and does not indulge in conflict despite how tempting gossip can be in modern society. Always patient during your temperamental moments and considerate to the point you wonder if he even had any desires. He was so kind that soon enough, you couldn't help but be flustered by his presence. Forget about having a conversation, maintaining his leveled gaze was already enough of a challenge. Like staring into the sun after the morning dew. So gentle and so very comforting. But the more you linger onto the sun, it's rays will continue to set ablaze, eventually bringing you pain.

And you feared that you have grown addicted to those feelings.

Why can't he understand?

Stopping at the center of the bridge, you kept your head low while letting the anger take form into your tightened fists. The town was empty with only the sound of water flowing beneath your feet, filling the heavy air. They rippled and swayed, peaceful amongst your inner turmoil. The fact that such a miniscule attribute was able to make your blood rise was hilariously pitiful. How did you stoop to a point that even nature, the very being you've tended for a living, could bring you bitterness? Were your feelings this uncontrollable? The answer was obvious. It spiraled, violently and mercilessly as if commanded by another. There was a wave of emotions filling your heart and you could almost feel yourself drowning from the inside. If only they were as tranquil as the ones you stood upon.

"I thought I would find you here."

The voice you dreaded calls from across and you fight to keep yourself from gasping. Oblivious to it all, Zhongli proceeds to close the distance until he towered over you, looking down to your bowed head, "When you hadn't returned home without a notice, I was getting worried if something had happened. But I'm glad that wasn't the case."

Your whole face clenches.

"Is something bothering you? If you would like, we can discuss it after eating dinner. Come, I have already prepared our meal while you were gone as well as turning off the rice cooker once finished. I hope it can ease your stress since I know it can be difficult maintaining a farm like this."

"Zhongli."

He blinks hard when the sound of his name falls out of your lips. Zhongli was an experienced observer and listener, he was able to catch the glimpse of frustration that dripped from the tone you used. Relaxing his poised shoulders, Zhongli carefully asked in a reserved manner, "Have I...done something to make you upset?"

A trembled breath escaped when you breathed out. Dense. He was so dense that sometimes it made you want to crack him open.

"Tell me..." you began, "Are you also like this with other women?"

The former god sets a brief sharp pause, "I beg your pardon?"

"I'm talking about the way you act, they're...giving me all these mixed signals. We've been living together for months, we even share meals together! And sometimes you would help me with the farm and when I didn't ask, you still insisted on tending to my needs when I felt sick. I just…” you trailed off, trembling ever so slightly, "It's all perfectly normal. You’re nice to everyone. I know that. I know that!"

"(Y/n)," Zhongli whispered. They sounded like a thousand needles to your heart.

"I doubt you have the intention to put me in this situation. You're a really great person Zhongli but I sometimes can't help feeling this isn't just some roommate thing you know?" closing your eyes, you thought of your past relationships, how they started and ended, "Do any of your actions mean anything to you? Do you know how it makes me feel? Or am I just overthinking this, that it was all one-sided this whole time?"

Alas the truth spills and the air stills, bringing the waves to a halt. Peace, tranquility, nothingness. That was all you wanted. That was all you heard. It was deafening.

"I see, so that's why," Zhongli mutters to himself with eyes narrowed, "There's...something I need to confess."

After several months, he tells you everything. How his memories returned, some of them were already intact. He told you about his homeland and his true identity, that he was a god that once ruled over Liyue for six centuries before giving away the gnosis.

The reason why he hadn't said anything until now was because there will be a day where Zhongli must depart and return to Teyvat. He was a god with a contract, the circumstance didn't matter, he must stay with it until the very end of time.

Through his years, Zhongli learned to cherish his finite moments. He didn't want to taint them with troubles to come. Thinking too far ahead into the future would only bring strain.

But what he didn't tell you was his true feelings. You were a sweet woman, tender and enthusiastic about agriculture, the way your feelings extend to the earth with grace whereas many others chose to trample over without hesitation, he fell deeply in love with that side of yours. You taught him many things and showed him many sides of humanity that he had never seen before. He even discovered an aspect of himself. Like breaking a geode, revealing the beauties held inside.

Zhongli couldn't look you in the eye when your expression was covered in disbelief. He thought he hid his feelings well but it seemed that he was expressing his love in subtle and subconscious ways that eventually drove you to fall for him as well. You didn't stop him when he left the bridge. He wasn't even in your house. He chose this, he chose to set you free from his heavy presence.

And as the weight started to lift from your shoulder, you sank to your knees and wept. It was cruel of him. To give you these emotions yet he could not bring himself to stay by your side. But your heart would not allow you to hate the man you love.

Things couldn't end this way. You had to say goodbye to him, see him one last time because if you didn't, these burdens will haunt you forever.

When Zhongli looked up to the sky he saw his ending drawing near.

Three days had passed since he last spoke with you and he had no plans in seeing you again. Soon, the former god will return to his rightful place. Even though he had already given his gnosis to the Cryo Archon as Liyue already began to enter a new era, it seems that his decisions weren't his to make as he was born in a world where stars ruled above the archons. Fate-- they won't allow it. He does not belong here. If there was one thing Zhongli regretted during his time in your world, it was that he couldn't leave you a good memory before taking his departure. The sight of your large glassy eyes and quivering lips when he crushed you with the truth, he sincerely believed that they would haunt him much more than it probably did to you. But perhaps things would be easier if you despised him. Because if he had stayed and you came to forgive him, he would no longer have the strength to let go.

Despite it all love was indeed a selfish creature. He couldn't help but feel resentment towards the stars for bringing you into his life in such a mockingly sweet manner. They tied him with a contract, made him vow to his own beliefs and tested them by using you-- a bystander struck between the crossfire, eventually bringing you down into the depths of his battlefield and he thought that maybe...maybe there was hope that he could bring you with him as well.

How disgraceful for a god to let the devil tempt him so.

Zhongli was thankful that you weren't beside him. Otherwise he would dance with the ugly hope of a slim chance for you to come along. This was the best choice. It was for his-- your own good.

"Zhongli!"

The arch of his lined eyes shot upwards. As if fate had decided to give him one final test, he felt your small figure crash into him from behind and your arms coming to hug around his waist, tightly and fearfully that he felt like you would be the one who would slip away instead.

"I...I made it time," you panted, burying your nose into his clothed back, "I’m so glad...I'm so glad you're still here…!"

Your cry of relief was a thunder to his ears, a reminder that he was the main cause. Zhongli, casted by solemn smile, lifts his hand to cover over yours and grasped onto them, I'm here, he wishes to say. Yet he knew they were only temporary promises, "To come all this way despite everything that has happened. You foolish girl..."

"It's your fault Zhongli, I'm a fool because I love you! It's all your fault that I have to say goodbye," You grit your teeth as the tears fell down your face until it blended into his clothes, "Take me with you. Please. Don't leave me all alone…!"

The words he wanted to say melted into a silent gasp through parted lips. Zhongli merely clenched them back together and his hand on your hand, even tighter. He won't lie to you. At the very least, let his actions speak for him where he himself could not.

Take me with you.

Don't leave me alone.

Goodbye.

If it is fated Morax...we will meet again.

"I see," letting his thoughts echo in his mind from the distant memories, the former god begins to take a new perspective upon his wisdom, "For many years, I have experienced countless farewells from the people I've come to known," Zhongli reminisced, tilting his head back with his golden eyes against night, as if searching for some sort of answer, "And yet I never thought what it must have felt like being in their position."

"Zhongli…" you trailed off, "Then don't! I may not know everything about you but it doesn't have to be this way. At least, just answer me this, will I ever see you again?"

"I'm sorry (Y/n)," he apologized and you knew the answer. He gently pries your arms off him, turning around so he could swipe the corner of your eyes dry. There was a glowing reverence in his countenance, one that he reserved for you and only you, it was the only way for him to express the feelings that run deep in his heart, "I cannot thank you enough for coming into my life. If there will be a day when I erode from your memories, I truly hope that you will find someone more suitable than I."

"That's ridiculous," defiantly, refusedly, you protest, "No one can replace you."

Zhongli laughs sadly as the white halo outlines his whole figure, signaling that there wasn't much time left. He wonders if there was anything he could do in his last moments, a small token, something, it could even be as small as a single star in the sky, "If it is fated...we will meet again."

You watch him turn transparent until he slipped from your grasp. No longer was the man, only the dust being one with the sky. They shone brilliantly but you were left in the darkness.

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