#thawing dawn

[lovekia]

[scratchedjewelcase]

Wild, Wild, Wild Horses by A. Savage. I really like this solo project (off of Parquet Courts) and I'm particularly obsessed with this song right now. Ask me how I've twisted the lyrics into a gay t4t interpretation, I dare you

[senorboombastic]

Live Review: A. Savage at YES in Manchester 08 February 2024

Words: Andy Hughes On Thursday evening, with a bitter, ice-cold wind cutting through every layer, I’d never wanted to get off the streets and into the Pink Room at YES more. Amazingly – given our penchant for live outings throughout the 12 months that make up any year – the A. Savage show in Manchester would end up being my first of 2024. Rather fittingly though, half of the live players for…

[human-performance]

New solo release from A. Savage — "Thanksgiving Prayer". Bandcamp link for the more ethical among us: https://asavage.bandcamp.com/track/thanksgiving-prayer

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Thanks for the tag @purplehairsecretlair to do this uquiz

tagging: @clicheantagonist @natesofrellis @direwombat @harmonyowl @poeti-kat @josephslittledeputy @adelaidedrubman @strangefable @lethal-justice @funkypoacher @confidentandgood @wretched-mischief @glitter-and-gasoline and anyone else who'd like to try, feel free to tag me

A Demon

you are a demon summoned by a mysterious cult in the depths of the woods. ever since you appeared this part of the woods turned "dead", birds weren`t singing, trees weren`t blooming, and anyone who stepped at your territory forever disappeared.

a walking dead

even though your brain died long ago, your heart won`t stop beating. you`re rotting as you walk, worms piercing through your skin, and nobody knows what you`re searching for. and nobody wants to.

[ghoulsbounty]

From a Previous Life

Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bound and fearful, you seek answers from a mysterious stranger about the fate of those you love.

Warnings: Emotional hurt/comfort, mentions of death, pregnancy, non-detailed talk about experimentations, angst, grief, swearing, judgement, flirting (if you squint)

Word Count: 2.9K

A/N: My first Cooper fic! I've had this idea going around my head for a hot while and I really could go on, and on with more (yearning, smut, etc) but I just wanted to get out an initial one-shot that could potentially turn into more if any one likes it (or I end up adding to it anyway!) I'd love to hear your thoughts 💌

Edit: Part 2!

Silently, you moved through the desolate wastelands, each step stirring clouds of dust and veiling the once lively towns now reduced to rubble. Somewhere in California, though the exact whereabouts blurred, you were leagues away from the sanctuary you once called home, apparently almost two centuries ago. Time, to you, was an elusive concept, for the stiffness in your joints and the lingering ache betrayed the recent thaw from cryo-sleep. Your mind remained ensnared by fog, a residue of the drugs coursing through your veins during preservation.

Yet, your senses, dulled by centuries of slumber, detected his presence long before he materialized. Heavy footfalls pierced the barren silence, prompting a cautious glance over your shoulder. There he stood, solitary amidst the wasteland, a gun slung lazily across his back and a weathered ten-gallon hat shadowing his features. Perhaps he had spotted you, perhaps not; regardless, neither of you quickened your pace, silently agreeing to maintain a wary distance.

Ever cautious, you abruptly veered into the next structurally sound building, bracing for a potential standoff. Praying it wouldn't come to that, for the meagre supply of bullets salvaged from a fallen vault security guard, coupled with his erratic pistol, offered scant reassurance. The art of marksmanship was foreign to you, a skill unbefitting a woman of virtue in the world before its descent into chaos. Your pride lay in nurturing the home, not in extinguishing life.

"What would your husband make of this sight?" you thought. Clad in the worn remnants of the blue and yellow jumpsuit issued upon vault entry, now stained with blood and grime from your desperate flight. Would he mock your dishevelled appearance, your unadorned face and frayed nerves? Would he marvel at the pistol clenched tightly in your grasp, its weight unfamiliar and your trembling fingers poised on the trigger? Could he shoulder this burden, like you wish he was here to do so? Such musings left you unsettled, your husband's whereabouts a lingering question mark, conspicuously absent from your side.

Peering cautiously from beneath the window sill, your gaze swept the scorched landscape beyond. The lone figure should have drawn near by now, should have approached the building where you lay in wait, yet his silhouette remained absent from the horizon. Instead, the frigid touch of a gun barrel against the back of your skull sent a shiver down your spine, your body tensing instinctively under the ominous threat. You suppressed the cry that clawed at your parched throat, swallowing hard as you slowly lowered your pistol to the ground beside you.

"That's it, nice and slow," he instructed, his voice gruff with a hint of amusement. "You might be my easiest catch yet."

Realization dawned upon you—he had been tracking you. You inwardly chided yourself for your naivety before complying, raising your arms slowly with palms outstretched. Encountering no one in these barren lands, you were uncertain of the customs among people so removed from your time. You were one of them now, but survival demanded adaptation.

"Please, I don't have any money," you offered, hearing his scoff. "I mean it. Take my gun, you can have it."

His movement rustled the air, his presence brushing against you as he leaned to retrieve your pistol. A low hum of amusement escaped him, and you felt the cold barrel of his gun pressing against your skull before it vanished altogether.

"I don't want your hunk of junk, sweetheart," he drawled, tossing it back to the ground beside you. "Doubt it can punch through a tin can. No, what I seek is your cooperation."

"O-okay, yes," you agreed, the words tumbling from your lips almost too hastily, embarrassment flushing your cheeks.

A nudge at the side of your heel prompted you to turn and face him. You complied, shifting on your knees, arms growing weary as they remained raised above your head while you awkwardly pivoted to meet his gaze.

The scream tore from your throat as you beheld him, sending shivers down your spine. He loomed above you, his visage warped by decomposing, discoloured flesh that swathes his form. Cracked lips parted to reveal yellowed teeth in a perpetual grimace, his once vibrant eyes now a haunting shade of blue-green, still clinging to a trace of humanity amidst the decay. You recoiled at the absence of his nose, now a dark cavity amidst cartilage and bone.

"That's not polite," he admonished, his narrowed eyes betraying annoyance. Trembling under his scrutinizing gaze, you stammered out an apology, extending a trembling hand to ward him off as he took a step forward.

"Please, leave me alone. I-I don't have anything," you pleaded, but he showed no sign of relenting. Your fingers curled around the pistol on the ground, raising it shakily in his direction.

"Well now, what are you going to do with that?" His smirk deepened as you aimed the weapon at him.

His amusement infuriated and terrified you in equal measure. You were aware of your body shaking, aware that he saw it too. You hadn't formulated a plan, hadn't considered the consequences. But you'd never faced a situation like this, especially not with someone so grotesque yet strangely human. He spoke like a man but resembled a monster, reminiscent of the creatures from the old sci-fi holo tapes your husband used to rent on Friday nights, leaving you cowering behind embroidered cushions until the credits rolled. You weren't built for this, but just like only hours before, you must fight.

With a tight grip and clenched eyes, you pulled the trigger. The recoil sent you crashing against the wall, the impact jarring your head as the bullet ricocheted through the room, narrowly missing the man and striking a nearby doorway with a sharp ping.

"Well, that was disappointing," he remarked, his head cocked and lips drawn into a condescending smirk. "You finished, sweetheart?"

With a mixture of annoyance at your failure and frustration at his dismissive demeanour, you tossed the pistol at his feet. Your head throbbed, and as you tentatively touched the back of your skull with trembling fingers, you were unsurprised to find them stained with blood.

"Are you going to kill me?" you panted, forcing yourself to meet his gaze.

He shook his head, kicking at the dirt with his pointed boot before crouching in front of you. "Not much use to me dead, not much use to me at all if you don't cooperate," he emphasized, his tone dripping with implication.

"Fine," you huffed. "What do you want?"

A triumphant hum escaped him as he straightened up, retrieving a long rope from his hip and tossing it into your lap. "Tie your hands together," he commanded.

You hesitated, eyeing the rope and then him with uncertainty. His tone shifted, imbued with a hint of authority as he spoke again. "The rope goes around your wrists or around your neck. Either way, you don't want me to be the one to do it."

With deft fingers, you hastily wound the rope around your wrists, striving to fashion a knot that would hold without chafing your skin too severely. He bent down, giving the tether a firm tug to test its security before nodding in approval. Seizing the other end lying in the dirt, he yanked it harshly, nearly causing you to stumble forward onto the unforgiving ground.

"Get up," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument.

You complied, awkwardly pushing yourself to your feet without the use of your bound hands. There was a pregnant pause as you gazed at him expectantly, awaiting further instruction. However, he simply tugged on the rope, turning to lead you out of the dilapidated building and back into the sprawling wasteland.

You followed him into the desert expanse, both of you shrouded in silence save for your intermittent attempts to coax answers from him. Questions about where he was taking you, what he planned to do with you, hung in the air, but he offered no response. Instead, he whistled a tune, leaving your inquiries to dissipate into the wind.

As frustration reached its boiling point, you dug your heels into the sand, exerting force against your restraints as the rope cut into your skin. A hidden thrill coursed through you as you witnessed his hulking frame falter against the resistance, a fleeting moment of satisfaction before he regained his footing. His narrowed gaze met yours from beneath the shadow of his hat.

"I'm cooperating," you asserted, your voice strained. "You can—should at least tell me where we are going. Why you're doing this to me."

A heavy sigh escaped him, his shoulders slumping as he gazed skyward before meeting your eyes once more. "You're sure dumb for a pretty thing," he muttered, retrieving a flask from the recesses of his torn duster and taking a long swig. "I guess that's how they like to keep you down there."

As he turned to face you fully, his eyes rolled at your bewilderment before he elaborated. "Not much up here untouched nowadays, so when you see a little rabbit wandering the lands fresh from her cage, a smart man doesn't think twice before he acts."

Anger surged through you at his mocking words. Barely escaping your 'cage' with your life, barely comprehending the aftermath of the bombs, and now captive again—this time by a man, no, a monster, likely more sinister than those who had ensnared you initially.

"You already said you're not going to kill me, so you're going to fuck me or sell me," you asserted, mustering more confidence than you truly felt, chin lifted defiantly as he scrutinized you, tucking his flask away.

"Now you're catching on," he replied cryptically, offering no further explanation as he tugged at the rope and resumed walking. Your mind whirled with apprehension at his ominous response. Which fate awaited you? Both? The thought churned your stomach, imagining the touch of his weathered, calloused hands, pondering the atrocities he may have committed before and the ones he might be willing to commit now. You resolved not to make it easy for him, determined to fight tooth and nail if necessary.

"I can hear you thinking from over here, vaultie," he called back. "I ain't gonna fuck you," he added with a smirk, glancing briefly over his shoulder at you before continuing. "Ain't my type."

You scoffed, your brows furrowed in disbelief at his audacity. Doubt crept in, questioning if someone like him truly had preferences, more inclined to prey on anything within reach rather than adhere to any type. He resembled a monster more than a man, and you suspected his instincts remained consistent regardless of his words. Out here, where the population had dwindled to ashen, skeletal remnants of unfortunate souls caught in the blast, it seemed unlikely anyone could afford to be picky.

"What happened to you?" you demanded, your voice tinged with genuine curiosity.

He visibly stiffened at your question, briefly halting his movements before resuming with a dismissive gesture. He heard you, yet chose not to respond.

"I said, what happened to—"

"I heard you," he snapped, cutting you off. "Doesn't mean I owe you an answer."

You huffed, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "I'm just trying to understand what's going on! Yesterday, I was in my kitchen baking a key lime pie and dancing to the radio, and then—"

"Miss your cage, vaultie?" he interjected, a cruel chuckle escaping his lips. "If you miss it so much, why are you out here?"

Straining against your restraints, you heard him sigh in annoyance as he came to a halt. Turning to face you, irritation etched on his ghoulish features, he regarded you with a jutted hip and clenched gloved fingers tightening around the rope. "I'm not talking about the vault," you said earnestly. "I was in my home yesterday, just a normal day. Then the sirens blared, so loud I couldn't think. My neighbour, she came to my door, told me we had to leave, find safety. I didn't want to go without Glenn, but everyone was running, scared. I was too."

"When we reached the vault, it was chaos," you continued, his attention now fully captured, eyes glazed. "So many people, struggling to get in. But we made it, and... my neighbour, Patti—she's my friend. She had just given birth to her first child, a beautiful baby boy." You swallowed hard, suppressing the bile that threatened to rise in your throat. "They were supposed to let us in, we were pre-selected. But when we arrived, they turned Patti away. Shot her husband when he fought back," you recounted, the horror of the memory still fresh. "Then chaos erupted. The first nuke fell, and I was pushed through to the vault door. I lost Patti."

He regarded you with a sombre understanding, silently urging you to continue.

"When I entered, it wasn't like the commercials," you spat bitterly, recalling the false promises of safety. He cleared his throat. "That actor, going on about how great the vaults were—'a vast and wonderful place,'" you mocked with disdain. "Mine wasn't like that. It was... They did unspeakable things to us, to unborn children, and there was no recourse. It wasn't right. I knew what they wanted, deep down, but my head told me not to be so naïve. Vault-Tec was supposed to be saving us."

Tears welled in your eyes as the memories flooded back, as vivid as if they had happened yesterday, because to you they did. "They threw us into pods, froze us until they needed us. Took us out for testing and... I was the last one. Everyone else had... died, from the testing," you choked out, the pain of loss still raw. "I fought to survive, because I couldn't let what happened to those women and their babies happen to me or mine."

He listened intently, his eyes widening as he took in your story. His gaze flicked to the small swell of your stomach below your tied wrists, realization dawning.

"So I need to know," you implored, your voice trembling with fear. "Is what happened to you also what happened to Patti and her baby? Will it happen to mine?"

He studied you, and you felt yourself shrink under his penetrating gaze. You hadn't intended to divulge so much, to reveal your condition that you had desperately tried to conceal until it could no longer be hidden, to relive the trauma that still haunted you, though in reality centuries had passed since its occurrence. Yet, you needed answers. You needed to know what lay ahead in this desolate wasteland, and if you possessed the strength to face it.

"Yes," he answered quietly, his voice laden with a heavy solemnity. "It will, in time."

Fresh tears traced their path down your cheeks, and you nodded in understanding, raising your bound hands to wipe at your wet nose. "Okay," you whispered, then smiled sadly in resignation as you rubbed your wrists gently over your stomach. "At least up here, we had a little freedom for a time."

You felt the rope that he had been keeping such a tight hold on slacken before being dropped to the ground. Stepping towards you, he gingerly took your wrists and began working on the knot, untying it with ease before meeting your gaze from beneath his lashes. "You just gained a little more."

"You're letting me go?" you asked, doubtful.

"I'm letting you choose," he corrected, his voice carrying a peculiar weight as he rubbed the tender, burned skin of your wrist where the rope had left its mark. His thick thumb felt rough against your flesh as it traced over you in a gentle, swiping motion. "There are things worse than me out here, sweetheart. Are you going to take your chances?"

His words hung heavy in the air, and you met his gaze defiantly. "I don't need your pity."

"Good, because I ain't giving you none," he replied, his tone firm.

You held his gaze, neither of you willing to be the first to look away. Moments ago, he had been intent on taking you to an undisclosed location to sell you for whatever passed as currency in this wasteland, but now he presented you with a choice—a grim ultimatum. Stay with him or fend for yourself in the harsh wastelands. Neither option was ideal, but you hadn't lasted a single day on your own before being apprehended by him. Perhaps it was better to stick with the devil you knew, especially if there truly were worse threats out there as he claimed.

"I'm going to get bigger, you know. I'll slow you down," you warned him. "And I can't fight."

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he gathered the discarded rope and secured it at his hip. "I've seen you shoot, but I've yet to see you fight. I think a few vault security guards could probably vouch for you, though," he teased, a hint of admiration in his voice. "You can't stay with me forever, nor would you want to. I'll take you to a safe haven for women in your condition. It's a few months' journey north from here. Until then, try to keep up."

You pondered his words, feeling a sense of relief at the prospect of a safe haven and the promise of being escorted there, despite the long journey. "Why the change of heart? What's in this for you?" you asked, curious about his sudden shift in demeanour.

His expression tightened, his gaze drifting to the small swell of your stomach that you now cradled protectively. "Righting some wrongs from a previous life," he answered solemnly, not waiting for your response before turning and beginning to walk away. He paused momentarily, waiting for you to follow.

"I don't know your name. What do I call you?" you called out after him.

He pondered for a moment, gazing out into the vast desert before turning back to you, tipping his hat in acknowledgment.

"Ghoul, for now."

[dekariosclan]

Gale: Ah, my friend, being left to fend for oneself in camp is quite burdensome at times, is it not? My very soul feels restless. But before you think me a man who longs for bloodshed and battle, allow me to clarify: it is the separation from my beloved Tav that I am railing against. Being apart from my love for any length of time leaves a frost on my heart, one that can only be thawed by the warmth of their embrace. Nothing shall soothe the essence of my soul until we are reunited once more. (smiling fondly) Were you aware that my dearest turned down a proposition from Halsin? The wood elf is a walking aphrodisiac to be sure, and yet when he offered himself to Tav, he was gently reminded that my beloved already had a relationship they treasured. My dearest Tav chose me! (beaming with delight) By the Gods, our bond truly is a wonder to behold! The power of the Weave itself could not tear it asunder! Oh, how I long for the day when my darling Tav and I can retire to my tower in Waterdeep, make love to one another from dawn til dusk, and then drift off to a gentle slumber within each other’s arms!

Withers:

Withers: …

Withers: …so wouldst thou like to purchase hirelings, or…?

[harmonysanreads]

hello <3

wishing you freedom and happiness from academic hell before diving in. you opened requests so 👉👈

forgive me if this counts as idea stealing since you posted about it but yan! neuvillette with a darling who wants to file for divorce would be such a messy situation. court proceedings go to him now that the oratrice is no longer functioning. how do you expect to win against the law of the land?

filing divorce in a different land also isn't an option, because it is written in your marriage contract that you cannot leave fontaine without your husband and he sure as hell isn't going to come with you for something like this

oh well.

Jeux de Vagues

Yandere!Neuvillette x Reader

cw(s): yandere, implications of forced marriage, slight dehumanization, manipulation, fontaine archon quest act one spoilers, old married couple bickering (literally)

wc : 3k

hiii zuri!! i have been brainrotting this fic since version 4.0 so thank you so much for just giving me the opportunity to unleash it lol. for plot reasons this takes place between act 1 and 2. i dedicate this fic to all the anons who brain-rotted with me and kept me motivated to think about neuvillette with their creative asks <3 btw you get a 🍪 if you can recognize where the title comes from :>

“Husband, I wish for a divorce.”

In Spring, the snow of the bygone winter thaws and raises the tides. They twirl to the edges of the shores ; push and pull, back and forth, mesmerizing the nation of Hydro with their temptatious dance. You wonder what it'd take to entice the waves to your direction, to have the power to make them rage and placate. When one desires to control something great, they see its reflection upon mundane things — just as you envision yourself dictating the tides upon cups of dainty porcelain, noon to evening and midnight to dawn — your spoon conducts its rhythm.

In Summer, the waters boil and vaporize upon the touch of sunlight to reach the heavens and complete the cycle. Just as wisps of steaming tea tantalize their way upwards from cups and tea pots. Beyond that translucent veil stares back a pair of watchful eyes, undecipherable are their emotions and primordial their age.

“The tides of time heed no one's orders or pleas. Very well, mon trésor, let us begin this trial.”

You're quick to catch the hint and slow to react, deliberate and relaxed as you bring the rim of the cup to your lips. The tea scathes your lips and paints your tongue bitter, bitter, bitter — a smile stretches across your tingling lips, deeming the liquid's taste adequate to your present temperament. You are bitter, not because of the contents of this ‘trial’ but, due to the delay of it. You've been crossing days after days from heaps of calendars, preparing all your accusations and aligning evidence to back up your claims for this chance only comes once every fin de siècle.

“I heard your justice machine broke?” a ‘clang’ accompanies the tea cup meeting the saucer. You focus on the chirping of birds and the noises of crystal flies buzzing past instead of the possible damage done by your words. You hear it, the swell of rising waves before they pacify with a purposeful cough. You don't let the event’s lamentable duration plunder your motivation, more precisely, you take it as a good start.

“Calling it broken is quite the stretch. You and I both know that the Oratrice Mechanique d’Analyse Cardinale—”

You swat a hand and the waves placate completely, sans any questions or any other brewing feelings. “I'm quite aware of what it's called, husband.” ‘I just could not care less’ goes unsaid.

You point your finger towards the Iudex of Fontaine, “You,” then return it back to yourself, “and I, both know the purpose of me bringing that incident up in our private trial.”

No amount of sensory loss would render someone ignorant of the mockery of your words. You bite the inside of your cheek in a lazy attempt to suppress a smirk, times like this really make you regret not having the privilege to face off against Neuvillette in the Court of this land ; you're quite sure your most recent stunt would earn you many bewildered gasps. If only the gates of your husband's manor crashed down, perhaps incapacitating him in the process for good measure.

“...Yes, we do. Your intention is to insinuate the impending prophecy and learn how we plan to prevent or battle it.”

Neuvillette's words resemble velvet in the manner they roll off his tongue, you catch his gaze drifting towards the chalice to his left, from where his reflection returns his stare. There are many tales passed among melusins of the equanimity practiced by your husband in even the most dire situations. But you have seen the depths of the ocean, where its secrets are forever concealed by an ever stretching darkness.

“Correct,” you affirm.

“Unfortunately, mon trésor, our investigations have not yet reached a decisive conclusion. While I can guarantee you that we'll do our utmost in the face of the prophecy, I cannot yet give you the specific details. Besides, this information is quite... arbitrary to our ‘trial’.”

The ocean returns your scrutiny, threatening to yank your breath away to that unknown darkness. You watch the ripples along its surface, wondering and devising plots to uproot the ocean's schemes from your safe space. You want to tear through that ataraxia and illuminate those depths for all to see its hideous secrets — so that your claims will no longer be deemed senseless.

“Well, you could try acting the part of the Iudex first.” you exhibit great interest in your nails.

“Apologies, mon trésor. The trial is now in session.”

The most preposterous trial there ever was, in fact ; spectated by cups of tea and plates of desserts, overlooked by the jury of birds and bees under the naked skies and one stubborn ‘judge’ to lay down the final verdict — who was also the accused in question. It'd be more fitting to call this some courtroom version of playing house and you wonder if Neuvillette sees it as exactly this ; since the notion of normal matrimonial life flies past his head.

You swallow your profound irritation at his nonchalance and that prickling soft gaze, the calm of the ocean surface is just a facade, you remind yourself.

“O honorable Chief Justice of Fontaine, riddle me of what I must do with my husband. He sees fit to cage me down while preaching justice simultaneously and allows me not to indulge in ‘rudimentary interactions’ with any other life forms. Do you not think that such hypocrisy is utterly ridiculous?”

Your hand cradles your heart, fully embracing the spirit of a mistreated spouse. Neuvillette regards it with an almost comical graveness, nodding as though he understands. Had it not been for the situation, you would've marveled at how willingly he's playing along with this fiasco.

A gloved hand stretches out to you in suggestion, “Perhaps it's because your husband just worries too much for your well-being?”

Your right eye twitches, “I’ve made it acutely obvious to him that I'm far from a toddler in need of constant supervision.”

The Iudex smiles succinctly, “I’m sure that he's not ignorant of that fact. But if, as you say, your husband guards you with such determination that you're not allowed to interact with any other forms of living organisms besides himself, it means that you hold great value to him.”

You cross your arms petulantly, it's not that you're forbidden from talking with everyone, many of Neuvillette's most trusted melusines do come to add flickers of color to your otherwise bleak existence sporadically. You're grateful for their kindness and brief companionship but, this small leeway does not outweigh the rest of your husband's misdeeds. Your eyes flicker to the patient eyes of the man separated by one small oak table, barely suppressing a scowl at his serene composure.

You despise it when he acts like the raw image of propriety, of an ideal husband ; so withdrawn from the covetous creature that he actually is — because it poses you as a lunatic, a lunatic who demands separation from what the rest of society perceives as perfection and debilitates all of your claims. The more you think about it, the more frustrated you get — you don't want to let frustration consume you, you don't want to lose this one opportunity for freedom. Your nails dig into the sleeves of your apparel as your mind scrambles to search for more accusations.

Why did you want a divorce again?

You control your erratic breaths forcefully, “Well, I don't feel safe in Fontaine anymore. A deadly prophecy is at our door and with no solution in sight. I'd much prefer to relocate to someplace with less volatile weather, like Liyue or Mondstadt.”

Neuvillette tilts his head, “Ah, you want to go on a vacation, am I correct? To be honest, I've been entertaining the thought of traveling to the other nations with you by my side for quite a while. Though, things being the way as they're now, that is not possible. I can promise you that after everything has been settled, we will go on a journey together, mon trésor.”

This time you don't bother to conceal your disbelief, of course he focuses on the part that most serves him and twists the narrative to further enrich his fantasies! You bite your tongue from yelling that you don't want a vacation, you want freedom from these suffocating high walls of marble. You don't just want freedom from Neuvillette, you want freedom from this cursed nation and it's solely Neuvillette's fault you were unable to do so with your kin five hundred years ago.

“Fontaine will face diplomatic and political consequences soon. Because you threw that Harbinger of Sumeru—”

“Sneznaya, mon trésor.”

“—I know that. My point is that we might face backlash from the Fatui in our vulnerable state and who knows? Fontaine might just collapse as a nation! I don't want to stay in a city like this.”

You freeze at the sigh that escapes Neuvillette's lips, you've been probing and digging for a normal human reaction from this man for a while, but at the instance that he actually gives it, you cannot help but find it jarring.

“Fontaine will not collapse from something as trivial as diplomatic pressure from the Fatui. Even though the prophecy looms above our heads, there are many factions that are actively working towards prevention. And even if Fontaine were to be drowned tomorrow, I have faith that not all of the citizens will be dissolved and you would always be my first priority. As for that Sneznayan Harbinger… we've merely followed the Court's protocols. If we did indeed convict him of crimes he did not commit, we'll most certainly compensate him to the fullest extent allowed by the law.”

For a transient eternity, all that echoed throughout the garden of the Chief Justice were the chirping of birds. Your mind carefully assesses the words from moments ago, searching for even a modicum of dishonesty. You watch the Iudex's unfettered gaze, at last giving a glimpse of the tumults raging beneath the pretentious still surface. You can hear the swelling of waves again, albeit not for the purpose to engulf but, with the determination to protect.

You'd recognize that look on Neuvillette's face even in your (unlikely) deathbed, the causation of your bafflement though is that, this is the first time you've seen it appear in correlation to something other than yourself. Your right hand idly smoothes your garbs and your left grips the wooden handle of your seat, you find both of your palms drenched in sweat upon contact.

“You’ve gone soft, ______”

You blankly admit in your semi-dazed state and it's Neuvillette's turn to take a deep breath. It's been a while since you've spoken that name aloud, the one that is only permitted to be uttered by you in private ambiances such as this and which serves as the origin for this clandestine marriage. For some reason you cannot quite comprehend — especially since your husband does not seem to suffer from it — your memory enjoys having a love-hate relationship with you. From what you recall at this instance, the last time you called the Iudex by his true name was when he gifted you this garden. Its utterance is so rare that even the bearer is rendered speechless each time.

Neuvillette copies your previous antics and pastes it onto the current situation with a prolonged look-over of your person, “Your apparel today suits you most exquisitely, mon trésor.”

You answer with a gracious eye-roll, “Don’t change the subject.”

The Chief Justice of Fontaine straightens his posture with a somewhat bashful chuckle, the afternoon sun's soft hues make the ivory strands of his hair sparkle. “Apologies, I've been meaning to compliment your appearance, not that it is ever short of radiant — I just could not find a suitable opening.”

You submit to the urge to slouch ever so slightly with a sigh, “You don't have to apologize for every little thing, you know?”

“Apologi—” Neuvillette corrects himself with a cough concealed by his fist, you watch with intrigue as soft coral dusts his pale cheeks, “As for your ‘question’, I will admit that throughout my coexistence with humans as Fontaine's Iudex, I've come to appreciate their ideals, characteristics and interpersonal relationships. In a way, I've understood myself to a great extent through observing them. Just as you wished I would.”

You furrow your brows in genuine confusion, “What do you mean?”

Your husband seems to steel himself for something, hands intertwined atop the oak table and eyes drained from his earlier playful light all too quickly. “You’ve always wished to become human. To view this world through the eyes of a mortal, to be able to have a taste of their myriad and complex relationships and... to die alongside someone you truly love.”

Somewhere in the crevices of your archaic mind, there's a vacuum hidden beneath the symphony of sea waves. Unchanging, uncharted and unperturbed by your attempts to identify what used to occupy that space. Neuvillette's cryptic admission creates a crack on what you assumed to be an empty spot occupied by white noise, the cleft dents your memories and spreads, a raucous scream threatens to rupture your eardrums.

“Are you, perhaps,” your fingers clasp onto the silk of your garb, “insinuating that you've granted me my ‘wish’?”

If you had gathered the strength to look up, you would've been blessed with the sight of the Iudex thrown off-guard. But the lapse in composure is short lived, “Of course.”

Something about his easy confirmation annihilates your decorum and replaces it with a rage of unknown origin, “So you think imprisoning me has made me happy? That it's made me feel human? That your kindness and preachings of justice have bewitched me so much that I've considered you as a lover for even a second? No, no and no! I have never and will never stop hating you, ______!”

But why do you hate him? Your thoughts echo back to you ; he's ensured you never have to ask for a meal, he's clothed you, he's provided a solid roof above your head and he's given you his heart — or at least that's what he says. For not once does a memory that he's mistreated you arise in your head but, what does bubble in your heart is an inexplicable hatred. A hatred so grave that it motivates you to not surrender to this unfair trial, contemptuous waves swell, rise to heights unseen, crash down—

“Do not forget that abandoned property belongs to whoever finds it first.”

And drag everything to the ocean's dark depths.

A jolt shakes your whole body, your eyes rise to meet the tempest in disbelief and suddenly, the dam shatters. Now you can see the serpent leering behind the charming flower, an unrestricted view of what the fair and ideal Iudex is inside those glimmering garbs of honor — a dragon with manicured claws and perfumed scales, seated to a chair of judgement yet, forever guilty of a sin he refuses to purge.

Only you remember that Neuvillette wasn't always like this ; in days not noted down in history he'd been an enigma, unsure of the significance of his existence, burning with contempt for the so-called Usurpers and sometimes cruel. But at least, he wasn't a hypocrite. He'd dug his talons deep into your heart and skin and engraved his name within your soul, he'd defiled the waters that construct your being with hatred and malice but at least, he hadn't refused to acknowledge that it was him who shackled you to this godforsaken nation, separated from the rest of your kin.

Neuvillette takes a deep breath upon noticing your erratic trembling, the tsunami recedes. “It always ends like this,”

It does. This excuse of a trial with your freedom as the wager, born of your husband's ironic belief of justice, that you should still be given a chance to speak up against iniquity. He'll take great note of any other issues that might cause you distress, but the actual concern will never be addressed — that's how it's been for five centuries. It is the kind of judge that Neuvillette has become in matters that concern you, finding loopholes to keep you attached to his name yet hidden from prying eyes ; all because of his principle that having a public personal relationship will bring the impartiality of the judiciary system to question.

“However, it must be done to ensure your safety.” you tense as he rises from his seat, gloved fingers trace the silk table cloth.

The grass crunches beneath his heel, “For who knows what the public's reaction would be if it was to be leaked, that the Iudex Neuvillette's spouse was the progenitor of the prophecy?”

You feel the familiar texture of Neuvillette's glove supporting your face, wiping the cascading tears that escaped without your notice. “Do you not remember, mon trésor, that you need me?”

Your vision blurs and all you see is blue, his blue or yours, your mind refuses to confirm. But what it does corroborate are Neuvillette's words, that you would not survive without his care, that you are the first who had wished to become human and that you are the first sinner.

You feel his touch more firmly this time, it's not warm like all the other times ; but soothing and sedating. As though, a cavity within your soul was given meaning and a portion of your memories hidden away. Your eyes are defeated against the temptation of slumber, but before the darkness engulfs you, you vividly hear the rumbling of an ensuing storm, the first of many tears of the sky hitting your skin.

“I suppose this must be my punishment. But, I would rather prefer being the recipient of your scorn and contempt than to not have you at all.”

But why go through such lengths? Neuvillette's conscience asks as he takes your limp body in his arms, the sound of heavy rain follows his footsteps back towards your shared ‘home’.

To this, he consoles himself : the words unspoken are the flower.

Trivia for Jeux de Vagues

[lixie-phoria]

[ 3.0 oh... ] BETTER THAN REVENGE !

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57 messages. 35 calls.

57 unread messages. 35 unanswered calls.

yeonjun. your boyfriend. who's in the field in front of you, who's been with you for four years, who's seen your best and worst times, who's always been there for you, who's been ghosting you for an entire week.

7 long days and no contact from him had pushed you to your breaking point. if he wasn't going to speak with you, you would force him to. you're only waiting for half time to roll around because you know you can't wait for the entire match to make your presence known.

it feels strange, sitting there, the game unfolding before your eyes but you're not paying attention. the cheers and shouts are white noise as you get lost in what you're going to say to yeonjun. a small part of you is terrified of the explanation you're going to hear. terrified also because you knew if he lost, you will be on the receiving end of his anger.

your nerves are going haywire because you could see the timer for half time ticking frustratingly fast, every second bringing you closer to the moment you weren't sure you wanted to witness yourself.

when the whistle finally blows and the players step off the field, everyone around you gets up, the noise multiplying as they head out for the break. it's a flurry of movement, and you know you're supposed to be stepping down, but it's difficult when your breath is coming out in short puffs and you can see him right there, gulping down water as his eyes remain trained on someone blocked by the crowd.

probably his coach?

and then you see her.

hair tied up, a bright section of pink standing out against her black locks, and a sickly sweet smile twisting against her lips.

you don't realize what's happening until you see her lean down and peck him on the lips, giggling as he pulls her closer.

hwang yeji.

campus celebrity, part-time model, yeonjun's childhood friend hwang yeji. and she's wearing his jersey, kissing his lips, tangling her fingers in his hair.

you see red as your 'boyfriend' shoves his tongue down someone else's throat and it's sickening. you nearly throw up.

and it appears as though hyunjin sees it at the same time too, because from your periphery you can see him drop his bottle, mouth open in shock as his eyes immediately search for you in the crowd.

you must not have been a pretty sight, because his features immediately twist into a scowl as realization dawns on hims too.

so this is why he's been acting strange.

you don't register what happens after that. you're slumped in your seat, heart racing a hundred miles an hour. you don't even know if you're crying or not. everything feels numb.

you notice when the game resumes and hyunjin playing absolutely dirty. even from a distance you can tell he's livid as he nearly takes down HYBE's defense single handed. you don't think you have ever seen him this angry before, playing as though it was a game of life and death, and when the whistle blows, it's your university that wins, not HYBE.

but your best friend doesn't bother celebrating. he's running out to catch up with you as you hastily let your feet carry you out of the campus.

"y/n."

you can't meet his eyes as he stops you at the entrance. guilt gnaws at your insides. he tried to warn you. he tried to stop you. you should have listened to him. you should not have snapped at him.

"i'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, angel. It's not your fault."

he insists on driving back with you, comforting you to the best he can.

it still feels numb, although the ice is slowing thawing. you can feel the sharp pain of hurt and disbelief working its poison on your system.

"It's just, I can't believe he cheated."

"he's an asshole. i can't believe it either." he envelopes your hands in his warm ones as the taxi drives through the busy streets of Seoul.

yeonjun. your boyfriend. who's been with you for four years, who's seen your best and worst times, who's always been there for you, who's been ghosting you for an entire week. who's been cheating on you for probably more than just this past week.

the reality sinks in.

"I'm going to get back at him for this."

"what?"

You choose to ignore the surprise in hyunjin's voice as you nod.

"Yeah. He wasted four years of my life, jinnie. He's not going to get away with that."

"But how?"

You hadn't thought that far, but you were determined you would.

Choi Yeonjun had chosen to mess with the wrong person, and you would make his regret it. after all, there was nothing you did better than revenge.

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©lixie-phoria, 2023

[selarina]

And I'm Asking You to Hold Me Just Like the Morning Paper

-> older brother’s best friend!Gojo Satoru

Gojo Satoru grew up lonely. He’s not only the freak whose mere existence altered the balance of the world, but he’s also the only one of his kind. There’s no more after or before him. There may be one, born hundreds of years from now, who will understand him, but for now, for today, he stands all alone.

But then Getou comes along, and he starts to feel like he can stand beside someone. Getou will never understand what it means to be him, but he understands him in most ways no one else does, and it thaws his heart just a little. But then he meets you, and you—you’re just the worst parts of Getou.

You understand Getou like no one does, despite your differences in looks and techniques. You have the same blood flowing through your veins, so you get him in so many ways he could never.

That’s when he starts craving for what you and Getou have, while also hating you all the same. Your mere presence has managed to single-handedly make him feel even more alone. Of course, he hates you.

He wouldn’t ever say it out loud; you're Getou’s sister, and Getou loves you more than the world itself, so he would never. But it shows—sometimes he just so forgets to pull out a seat for you.

Some days, he forgets to invite you out with the group.

Some years, he even forgets your birthday. But Getou never believes him, even if you do. Gojo remembers the day you were born so vividly; he was there alongside Getou, after all. He saw your father's hands tremble as he held you. He later saw Getou's hands do the same. It was the strangest thing.

He also got to hold you when you were born, and it was the first newborn he had held, the most insane experience he had at the age of three. So, of course, he remembers.

So one day, you grow tired of it because you grew up idolizing this man. He’s an idiot, and he’s always embarrassing himself in ways you didn’t think were possible, but he’s just so—well, he’s Gojo Satoru, right? There’s something about him.

There are so many things about him—he’s pretty good-looking for starters. Sometimes when he stands under the sun, you think he’s no short of an angel. And he has these eyes; you see them so rarely now, but when you were a child, you thought you could see the ocean in his eyes.

One time you told Getou, and he told Gojo, who wouldn’t—no, doesn’t shut up about it.

And it’s not just his looks really—one time, you saw him save not only you but 53 other people from a building that was making its way to crush you all. You could’ve moved and saved yourself, but you didn’t see the point, not when that meant living with the fact that you couldn’t save those 53 people, but things like that came easy to a man of his capabilities.

You could go on and on about how you came to form a crush on Gojo Satoru, but the fact of the matter is—your pride matters more, and you decided that after 16 years of pining after him, the least you could start doing is pick up your pride and find other options.

Your heart may not find them instantly, still slightly transfixed on the man who bleeds gold, but eventually, you think you’ll move on.

So when the popular guy from your class asks you out—you think, “Why the hell not?”

And so, you find yourself on a date with a man who’s really into furniture and protein shakes apparently. It’s all you’ve gotten out of the conversation you’ve had with him. And frankly, he doesn’t compare.

But you tell yourself over and over again, as you begin to zone out—that this is to be expected. No one compares to Gojo Satoru, a man who’s entirely too unique to supersede or replicate, so it’s only natural. It’ll take time.

So you try, the fake laughter and soft brush of your fingers. You focus on the little things and you try to beat the sleep dawning on you.

That’s when Gojo sees you. You’re wearing a blue dress that hangs just above your bruised knees. Your hair is down but slightly styled and pulled up halfway by a clip, and beside you, there’s a guy.

The guy you’re with, his hand slips around your back, ushering you into the elevator, and Gojo thinks he’s never felt something so sinister boil in his gut before. He clenches down hard on his jaw. He doesn’t understand.

Are you with this guy? No, there’s no way. Is this a random guy bothering you? If he was—he’d be on the floor, pleading for his life. So no—it can’t be.

He doesn’t think at all, really, but he rushes towards the elevator before it closes. Only when it starts to close after he gets in does he notice his date—and then he snaps out of his daze to hold the door open.

She looks surprised but joins him by his side, and now you and your date stare at him in surprise.

“Are you Gojo Satoru?” your date speaks up.

“Yeah,” he grins as he pulls his glasses down. “That’s me.”

“Can I have a picture with you? My mother practically worships you,” he continues.

And Gojo turns his attention to you, and your eyes have grown stone cold, and he immediately turns his attention back to the guy, not wanting to be subject to you staring daggers at him.

“Of course, I always have time for fans,” he maintains his grin.

“Who even are you?” he hears his date murmur, and frankly, there’s more to this story. His date wasn’t entirely a fan of his at the moment. He was late to the date, and he got caramel chocolates which she mentioned she hates. He disappeared on a bathroom break but really, he was halfway across town fighting off a curse that could’ve been taken care of by an amateur, and on his way back, he started wondering if he was really needed there or if he just wanted to leave the date.

So, yeah, when the elevator dings and the doors open up to the ground floor, he’s not entirely surprised that she’s saying goodbye, but he is surprised by this.

“Not to sound like a bitch—” she starts. “—but you need to learn how to be a better date. I understand that boys your age are slow in the brain, but it doesn’t take a genius to send a text if you’re running late.”

Just when he thinks she’s done, she’s talking again, as though she only stopped to take a breath in— “And I know that wasn’t a bathroom break, who even is gone for that long and comes back smelling like he bathed in perfume when he didn’t a moment ago. And for God’s sake, don’t go out on a date if you’re in love with your best friend's sister,” she says.

“God’s sake, what is wrong with you?” is the last thing he hears from her as she makes her way out.

“So,” your date begins. “About that photo?”

“Chimin,” you bat his shoulder. “Not now.”

“But he—”

“It’s fine, give me your phone,” Gojo says, and he’s less chipper now, although he does a good job of maintaining the facade.

He poses with a peace sign, and he pats your date on the back.

“Uh, thank you, sir,” your date says before he turns to you, his arm reaching your waist. “Shall we go? I was thinking there’s a park—”

“It’s cold out,” Gojo’s voice comes out abruptly, leaving your date’s mouth agape.

“I mean, I should probably take you home,” he says, situating himself right next to you now. “You can expect a text about that second date. What was it you said? Oh yeah, a park date. Heh,” he scoffs. “Sure.”

“So sorry,” you start. “I’ll text you. It is pretty cold, and I’d rather get home now. Thank you for the date; you were lovely,” you say with a smile before you lean in for a hug as he kissed you on the cheek.

“It’s alright. Text me when you’re home safe,” he says mirroring your smile, only his feels a little more real than yours. “I’ll wait for the text.”

So as you make your walk back home with Gojo, you pull his coat tighter around yourself. Gojo doesn't say anything as he walks beside you, and for a moment, the silence between you two is almost soothing.

You steal a glance at him, and his lips remain unreadable, his expression hidden behind those ever-present sunglasses.

"So," he finally breaks the silence, his tone light but something else lingers beneath the surface. "You're dating now, huh?"

You merely nod, trying to keep your composure. "Yeah, kinda."

Gojo smirks, and you can feel his gaze on you, "Interesting choice. He did seem more into me than he was into you if I'm being honest."

"Haha, it's a pity. I pegged him for a man with good taste, what with the Toyota Crown he promised to take me on a ride on and whatnot."

"Do we really want to go there?" he turns to you, bending down, as he smiles all in your face. "You don't want to go there."

Your heart quickens just a bit, caught between a fine line of annoyance and amusement. You tilt your head, looking back at him through narrowed eyes. "And where exactly is 'there,' Satoru?"

He chuckles. It's a low, throaty sound. " 'There' is a dangerous place, sweetheart. A place where your date, no matter how charming, can't compete with me, Gojo Satoru."

You roll your eyes at his arrogance. "Ever the egotistical maniac. You're insufferable, you know that?"

"I am?" he replies, with playful obliviousness.

As soon you approach your home, you stop in front of the door, turning as you awkwardly wave at him. "Well, um, bye."

"Bye," he replied back. He doesn't motion for you to return his jacket back, but honestly, you're disappointed in yourself. You should've asked him about what his date meant. You should've said something.

"Actually—" you start. "Do you want some tea? It's cold."

He doesn't get cold easily, he wants to say, but he'd play weaker if he could spend a millennium cooped up in your house. "Sure," he says.

He walks in, and there's silence. "No one's home?" he asks.

"Yeah," you say. "They should be back soon though."

He hums in response, through muscle memory alone, as though dragged by strings he removes and places his shoes in the rack. The same place he's been placing them for years. And then, he blindly follows you down to the kitchen.

The kitchen is dimly lit, the only source of light coming from the small hanging lamp above the kitchen slab. You set the kettle on the stove, the sound of its soft whistle filling the room as it begins to heat up. Gojo takes a seat at the table, his fingers tapping absentmindedly on its surface.

You busy yourself with preparing the tea, the gentle rustle of tea bags as you move them. There's a muted grassy smell that's emanating from the tea, but it's not strong enough to overwrite all the tension in the air, a lingering curiosity that just won't leave you alone.

"So," Gojo begins, breaking the silence. "That guy, you really going to go on a second date with him?"

You glance over your shoulder, meeting his gaze. "I don't know. Maybe. He's nice."

He smirks, leaning back in the chair. "That's nice."

"What about you? How did your date go? You know apart from terrible," you grin.

"Well, it was also 'horrible'," he says, mirroring your grin.

"Date with Gojo and horrible. Seems about right," you say.

"Oh, come on. It was an off-day. I can be a very good date," he says.

"Why was she so mad then?" you ask. "Your date."

"Well, I'm sure you heard most of it," he starts, truly wanting to know if you did, but your expression remains muted. He can't tell, but it seems obvious. It's why he's here and not halfway back home, after all. "But I, uh, I got her caramel chocolates."

You wait.

"She hates caramel," he adds with a small pout.

"Ah, smooth. I've changed my mind about you, Gojo Satoru, you would make the best date ever."

He grins. "Thank you, kindly."

Your tea seems about done, so you reach up, opening the cabinet, but the classes are placed too far back for your height. And generally, you'd pull a chair and get the cups, but before you could, Gojo's right behind you, reaching for it before you could move back. He pulls out two cups, one plain pink one with hearts and another white mug with a bear on it. His and yours.

It reaches the slab with a soft clink, but before Gojo can move away, you speak up, "So, what did she mean?"

"What are you talking about?" He asks, plainly.

"You know," you say, stressing, as you turn to face him. You're so close to him now, but he doesn't move back. For once, he doesn't move back. You gulp, "You know what, Satoru."

"I don't," he says. His grin is gone, and his lips are in a line. You've never truly seen him this way.

"Bullshit, what did she mean by 'you like your friend's sister'?" you almost half-yell.

"Ignore her. She was just talking nonsense because she was mad at me."

"Was she, though?" you press, studying his expression more closely now.

He resigns with a sigh, as he begins to move. "Yes. Now, drop it."

"No," you say, as your hand comes up to hold his own. "So, she was just making it up?" you ask, incredulously.

"Yes," he says.

"And you don't like me?" you ask. This time, you move closer to him, his lips practically a few centimeters away from yours.

"Look, it doesn't matter what she said. I was just trying to save your date, be a good friend to your brother, and all that."

You scoff, trying to mask the lingering disappointment. "Save my date? By ruining it completely?"

"How did I ruin it?" he asks.

"Oh? I don't know, the same way you always ruin things for me. Just by showing u—"

And that's all it took, really. For his lips to meet yours. His hands find themselves on your hips as yours rest on your shoulder and his chest. Your lips move roughly against his. It's not like any of those soft first kisses you see on TV. This one feels like yearning. You feel it in your heart and in the way your arms tug his body into your own.

When he pulls off, you feel strangely disappointed.

"I'm serious. If you didn't show up, that could've gone somewhere," you say. A little proud of yourself for not giving in so easily.

"Gone where exactly? The park? You know you deserve more than the fucking park."

"What? Sure, I wouldn't end up married to this guy, but does it matter? I was moving on," you say with a shrug.

"Moving on from what exactly?" he asks.

"From you, obviously stupid."

Gojo's expression shifts, a mixture of surprise and something else, something you can't quite read. Your grip on his hand tightens just a bit, and for a moment, neither of you says anything.

"Moving on from me?" he finally repeats, his voice softer than before.

"Yeah, Satoru, from you." You pull your hand away, breaking the contact.  "It's about time, isn't it?"

The kettle on the stove whistles, signaling that the water is ready for the tea, but neither of you moves to attend to it.

"Look," he starts, his tone serious, "I didn't mean to mess up your date. I was just trying to have some fun and play the hero for a bit. I didn't think you'd actually be interested in that guy."

"Well, you thought wrong," you reply, crossing your arms. "I was giving it a shot, trying to move on. But you can't resist bringing everything back to you, can you?"

"I'm sorry, okay? I didn't think it through." His shoulders slump a bit, and he runs a hand through his hair as his head falls onto your shoulder. "I just... I couldn't stand seeing you with someone else."

"So, your date wasn't wrong then?" you say.

"Yeah," he says, and you feel the breath of his words on your neck. "I guess, she wasn't."

The kettle continues to whistle, now completely forgotten in the background.

"I don't believe you," you say.

"What?" he looks up now, his eyes looking at your face. "I just told—"

"You can tell me whatever you want," you say, frustrated. "But you don't even remember my birthday. How could you like me if—"

"I remember," he says. "I remember your birthday."

"But you—"

"I know, I know, baby." His hands come up to hold your cheek. "It's stupid, but I guess I was scared. It's stupid and not an excuse. But of course, I remember your birthday. I could never forget."

"Scared?" you repeat. "Scared of what, Satoru?"

"It's not that simple. You're Getou's sister. I can't just..."

"Can't just what?" you challenge, even if his thumb moving against the supple of your cheek thaws your heart red. "You can't just admit that maybe, just maybe, I'm worthy of being liked by you?"

"It's not that," he sighs, frustration evident in his expression. "It's complicated, okay? I didn't want to complicate things between us. I didn't want to risk our— whatever it is that we have between us."

"I get it," you say, a few moments later to his surprise and your own.

"You do?"

"Yeah," you say, reaching up to leave a soft kiss on his lips. Soft. Delicate. Like your touch could break him. "I do. I really do, and we'll figure it out, okay?"

His ears perk up as he turns, and the soft purring of the car engine comes to a halt. He can't believe he didn't notice your parents pulling in with your brother.

Your hands reach out to hold his own, and he realizes that they're trembling, just a little. And he gets it now. To love is to be afraid.

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Love Triangle

Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Steve Rogers Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

i have an idea... a love triangle.

now, hear me out.

an actual love triangle. not the love corner disguised as a love triangle.

bucky loves you, you love steve, and steve loves bucky. imagine the angst. the pain.

after all, no one leaves a love triangle unscathed.

no one.

we'll start with bucky, self effacing, self sacrificing, noble, bucky barnes. he swore he loved you from the moment he saw you. the one and only person to welcome him to the compound after his stint in wakanda.

he remembers it perfectly. every detail of the moment he first laid eyes on you. but mostly, your smile. it was that damned smile. so warm. so genuine. from ear to ear, you greeted the both of them. you reached out a hand to him. it was so unexpected, he couldn't remember the last time someone voluntarily stood that close to him. he couldn't remember the last time he didn't see fear shining in a stranger's eyes. you reached out your hand to him, only for him to kiss the back of your hand. you blushed and a little chuckle bubbled from your lips, and he fell just a little more.

you showed him kindness he'd long forgotten. a warmth that almost thawed all his years as the winter soldier. you listened to him. held his hand as he told his story. how easily you slid past his walls. he loved you so much it hurt.

and that smile. that damned smile.

it didn't take very long for him to realize that smile wasn't for him.

he could pinpoint the exact moment he figured it out. a mission gone wrong. him and steve barely made it out with their lives. he limped off the quinjet with steve hobbling right behind him. the door slammed open and you skidded across the hangar. panic and tears welled in your eyes. that smile. that smile bloomed across your face at the sight of them. he smiled back. his heart warmed at the sight of someone actually caring about him.

bucky couldn't help but think that maybe this would all be worth it if you were always there to welcome him back.

you sprinted up the ramp. you and that smile blew right past him. right into steve's arms. bucky's heart broke as steve wrapped his arms around your waist. even more as you nestled your head against steve's chest, right over his beating heart. all he could hope was that you didn't hear the sound of his heart shattering.

he sees you walking past him in the compound and he wonders how he never noticed it. how after all this time watching you, pining for you, he never saw it. your eyes don't search for him, they search for steve. his heart beats for you. and still, your heart beats for steve. of course it does, why wouldn't it? steve is everything that bucky is and so much more. this only proves it.

you're friends. that much is true. but your eyes, your heart, that damned smile, it's all for steve. and there's nothing he can do about it.

he'd give you up in a hearbeat. bucky would hand over the dream of holding you in his arms. the hope that one day you would look at him like you look at steve. he would give it up to see you smile like that for the rest of your life. he would live his life on the outside looking in, watching steve live the life that bucky wanted. he could take another lifetime's worth of hurt if it meant that you would be happy.

and then there's steve, captain america himself, head held high, stoic and unflinching. a moral compass personified. the moment he came out of the ice, he pined for the man that he promised forever to, he longed for bucky.

until the end of the line, he promised.

and he meant it.

it was wrong, he knew. at first, he liked your company. it only dawned on him months into your friendship that you felt differently than he did. he wanted to tell you. he just didn't want to hurt you. he didn't want to lose you. he liked the way you looked at him like he hung the moon and the stars. he liked being loved.

he wanted to love you, desperately so. he told himself he just needed time. loving you would be so easy for him, all he needed was time to move on from his first love.

the moment he finds out bucky is alive, he knows how wrong it really is. because he'd do just about anything for bucky, even breaking your heart over and over again without a second thought.

no one could ever compare to the man he spent more than seventy years loving.

he fought his way back to bucky. fought through all the politics, war, all the time lost, back to bucky. foolish hope bloomed in his heart when bucky uttered those same words back to him, 'until the end of the line'.

for a short moment, steve thought it was the start of a love story for the ages.

it only took watching bucky watch you, to know that bucky didn't mean it.

not the way steve did.

he wasn't sure why he thought it would be any different. beneath the serum, steve was still that kid from brooklyn. the kid that bucky defended, protected. he was bucky's friend, but he was never truly his equal. bucky had never given him any reason to think that he was remotely interested in him. he never gave him so much as a second glance. not in the way he wanted. not then and most certainly, not now.

bucky had eyes for you and only you. of course. you were amazing, exactly the kind of woman that bucky deserved. exactly his type. more than steve would ever be.

why would bucky ever look in his direction when you were right there?

how could he take bucky's chance at the love that he deserved? bucky deserved that, as much as bucky believed he didn't. steve knew he deserved that and so much more. so he stood aside. tall and unflinching. and watched bucky love you the way that steve always wanted bucky to love him.

and you. you came much later into their decades long saga. you were his first real friend when he came out of the ice. it didn't take long for you to fall.

you knew your mission. help him, be there for him.

you tried to talk yourself out of it, to keep yourself from falling. you were just an agent. just a friendly face to him. he was captain america. you were the shield agent that followed him around like a lost puppy. he never made you feel like that, never treated you as anything but his equal.

there was something about the way steve looked at you.

there was something about steve rogers that you couldn't let go.

he made you feel almost worthy of his love.

perhaps it was the way steve would call you in the middle of the night when he lie away sleep evaded. you didn't mind it, not one bit.

perhaps it was the way steve always held out an arm for you to hold on walks through new york city. you liked listening to his stories, watching him point out the things that were still the same.

maybe it was his warmth. the warmth of his overheated skin that could warm you from the inside out on blistery days. the warmth that radiated from his skin when he would hold you in his arms, listening to the sound of his beating heart soothing you like the most comforting of lullabies. the warmth of his smile. the warm blue eyes that you wanted to fall into.

sometimes, you thought he could love you, too.

until bucky catapulted back into his life.

it happened so quickly. and still, you'd never forget the moment you realized he would never love you like he loved bucky.

'you're going to do something stupid, aren't you?' you asked him on your final call before he disappeared.

'i love him' steve whispered into the phone. it was the way the words fell from his lips. love. it wasn't the sort of love that you declared for your friend. it wasn't familial, platonic. it was an intensity he'd never felt for you. in that moment, you're sure he never will.

a breath lodged in your throat. your heart splintering. 'you love him?'

'until the end of the line.'

and still, you couldn't stop loving him. you loved him enough to become a fugitive for two years. enough to run by his side knowing that he would never want you. two years worth of pain isn't enough for you to learn your lesson and walk away. it's not enough to stop you from loving him either.

even after the dust settled, when steve returned with bucky barnes. none of it is enough for you to walk away from him. and steve rogers is far too love struck to notice the way you watch him.

you curse yourself, how foolish you were to think that steve ever loved you. that was not steve rogers in love. it's clear to you now. it's clear because watching him like this, you know what love actually looks like on steve rogers. he never had a fraction of that for you. he never looked at you like that.

he never loved you. not even a little bit.

there's a part of you that wants to hate bucky, but you can't. you can't because he's pretty incredible too.

you can see exactly why steve's spent seventy years loving him.

you'll take your pain and bear it with the bravest of faces because he's perfect for him. you'll swallow all the hurt, the broken pride, the bruised dignity, all to see steve finally at peace. after all the decades of suffering and pain, they deserve their happy ending.

you wonder if he knows. if either of them know.

you wonder if you'll ever escape this feeling.

you don't think you will.

none of you will.

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez@ludicbouquetfromearth@matchat3a@famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff@valoraxx@blue786sworld@buckyandgeraltsupremacy@geminigengar@ansaturn@ecolle@lexhalstead3@ybflkmj@mediocre-daydreams@shanye1112@thegirlnextdoorssister@toomanyfanficsbruh@moonlightreader649@breathtaking-cynthia@mirikusashes@beans-and-toast@niyahcoca@katiechikin@elxvrr@antiheroxsblog@infamouslyclumsy@krissydclayton93@buckysbarne@deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic@whitexwolfxx310

[zwhoreo]

gray moon - luffy x gn!reader

angsty fluff

summary: after luffy cuddles you on a beach for warmth one night, you fall for him. there’s a confession, and a kiss.

Includes… somewhat angsty, the raunchiest this gets is a detailed kiss, sequel is very nsfw and x f!reader

Link to pt 2 :>

words: 2.4k

_________________________________

It’s cold, freezing cold, white sand crunching with its dusting of frost and nowhere to go but up, along this crystal beach.

Night falls and all of you are terrified by the thought of snow, you’re chilled by the frozen clouds that turn the rising moon gray. But your bones all ache, you won’t make it back like this, your vision blurs and your lack of sleep wears on you and you’ll have to go through the forest to make it back to your ship. You and Nami have instinctively huddled together as you walk but both of you know inside that this will do nothing because the night is too cold. 

“…We can’t go on,” Nami murmurs and it’s lost on the wind, “that forest isn’t gonna be safe tonight.”

It seems like Zoro wants to start a fight over this until he sees Chopper barely able to walk anymore and how he’s almost crying and Zoro seems to know not to say anything, they won’t make it through the forest. This isn’t the time to only care about yourself. 

You’re worried about Luffy, who’s wearing an open shirt with no sleeves and his tanned skin is going white. You tell everyone that maybe it’s best to just build a fire and go to sleep and hope the night is forgiving and dawn will bring thaw. 

So now Zoro has a job as he immediately heads to the forest edge to collect wood, and you all find a place in the sand, Sanji unpacking the food he has left so you’ll all be at least warmed by a hot meal tonight. Nami has walked off to look for something so you go to Luffy and sit down beside him, he does look cold and uncomfortable, you feel for him. But you’re all cold so there’s not much to do. 

You and the rest of the crew have your spirits lifted by food and a fire and thank god that wood is dry, right? Thank god Luffy’s smiling again. You sit around and talk and try to turn your coats into blankets. It’s a fight to get close to the fire, one that you lose, although the light still flickers across your body you’ll still be cold tonight. 

You dig a perfect imprint of your body in the sand, a pillow to rest on, you’re good at this because you’ve had nights like this before. Unplanned journeys to the ship that make you all hate each other a little bit and blame each other and think whose decision was it to walk back so late in the day? but it doesn’t matter now. So you try to cover yourself in your jacket which only barely works. You close your eyes. You think of other things and sleep comes to you eventually, at least. 

Luffy is shocked that it doesn’t for him. 

He’s so tired but there’s no way to get comfortable even by the fire, his eyes stay open as he stares at the unrelentingly gray moon. The fire flickers which makes him panicked and he doesn’t know what to do, laying on his back in the sand, arms around his chest as a shield. Because even facing the fire does nothing for his bare, white arms. He needs something more or he won’t be able to sleep.

So he looks around and sees you, you’re resting to his left away from the fire. You look so fast asleep and Luffy wants that too, he gets jealous. He’s mad at you for looking so unfairly relaxed. But maybe he can have that? If he moves closer?

And you’re drawn from sleep in a way that only lets you feel things, there’s something cold against you, enveloping you, your body’s instinct is to jerk away but suddenly it’s locked in place. Are these hands on your back? Is this another heartbeat? 

Your senses awaken and you realize it’s a body against you, a freezing body crushed into you with a deep tightness and desperation. Fingers grip your back and a face is buried into your neck and all you can see is raven black hair that tickles your lips. It’s Luffy. You’re stilled by surprise, not expecting this at all, but you’re compelled by some primal urge to comfort him as if he’s a child so you wrap your arms around him slowly, because you think he’s finally fallen asleep. You can’t let him back to this world of cold. One hand tracing gentle circles between his shoulder blades and the other tucked into his hair, this becomes warmer for both of you, comfort tugs at your heart and the area between you heats up as if you’re in the fire, this exchange of body heat works blissfully well, you put a leg up over his hips so that no part of him is allowed to be cold anymore. He murmurs and squirms a bit in his sleep but he’s happy which is all that matters. You can feel his smile. 

You sleep soon as even your heart grows warm. 

The night passes quickly now and yes, the morning brings thaw. You wake up with wet, sandy hair and it feels strange not having Luffy in your arms now. It felt natural, somehow. 

You look around and you see everyone packing up, or still sleeping, Luffy’s talking to Usopp on the ground who is still evidently half asleep. You want to approach them but something in your heart is telling you not to, a sort of fear of something that should have been normal, so you turn away, you need to pack up to head back to your ship, through the forest. 

And when you head back you catch Luffy looking at you but you stay back, away from him, blocking yourself with crew members and other conversations. You feel uncomfortable and confused and you don’t know why, you just feel like you don’t want to look at him. And when you reach the ship you don’t celebrate beside him, you just find your cabin because for some reason you want to cry. 

__________________________

It’s going to be a long time until the next island because the sea is big. So you have a lot of time to be alone with your thoughts and eventually you come to terms with your feelings for him, the ones that bloomed that night or maybe were just uncovered. This makes you feel terrible because he’s going to reject you, and now you have to live in this wooden prison with your worst fear of a broken heart with nowhere to repair it. Your feelings are so intense, so terrible, you’re in love with him more every day. 

You consider leaving the crew, that’s how bad it is. You can’t stand this. 

And with every day you try to avoid him Luffy only seeks you out more. You sit as far away from his usual seat at the table as you can but he follows you every time and sits nearly on your leg because he has no sense of personal space, which is normally charming but now is pure pain. He tries to talk to you all the time thinking nothing of your cold, one-word replies. You refuse to hug him, that’s what he notices. It makes him visibly sad. You don’t like this at all, but you’re selfish and it would be worse to hug him, it would make the feelings worse. But they get worse anyway. 

You can’t be alone anymore so you decide to tell Nami one night and you end up crying about it, and she laughs at you but seems empathetic at least. She says just tell him, what’s the worst that can happen? And it’s true. Even if he rejects you, he wouldn’t treat you any differently. He’s not normal, there would be no awkwardness from him, he might even forget about it at some point and nothing would change. But still, that doesn’t change your temperament, how you just can’t handle rejection. But Nami shrugs and tells you that you might as well, because she knows you and you’ll do it anyways eventually, may as well get it over with. 

“There’s gotta be a reason he went to sleep with you that night,” Nami says, “it coulda been anyone, it coulda been someone, you know, warmer, no offense.”

“It was just because I was closest.”

“No it wasn’t.”

“I was the first one he saw.”

“Stop being like that!” She crosses her arms. “I know him better than anyone here. I know you have a chance… probably more of one than anyone here. You gotta trust me on this one.”

So you decide you have to. 

__________________________

There’s another freezing night, more clouds, another gray moon. It’s perfect because maybe he’ll want to hug you again, or something, and you can make up for your guilt. It’s after dinner and it’s perfect because you catch him sitting alone and looking at the stars beneath the mast. Everyone else has gone inside but you’re left alone with him, so you walk to him and he smiles. 

“[Name]! Hi!” He gets up but you’re already sitting down so he does too, but this time much closer. He stares at you with sparkly eyes and tilts his head when you don’t say hi back. “Dinner was great, huh? Sanji can cook the best-“

“Luffy,” you murmur, interrupting him. 

“Hm?” 

“…uhm… it’s nice out, isn’t it?” You look up as you try to find the moon and avoid his eyes.

“It’s cold.” Luffy looks at you with confusion.

“Yeah… really cold. Guess you’re right. Hey, uh, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Luffy looks at you blankly, waiting, but you don’t know what to say next. So you just say whatever comes to mind. 

“Luffy… since the first day I met you, you changed my life. I mean, I had never met anyone like you before. You made me see everything differently, I didn’t know someone like you could even exist, you’re the best thing to possibly happen to me. I…”

He’s staring at you blankly, smiling.

“I love you.”

“Oh.” Luffy’s expression doesn’t change at all. “I love you too!” Because he doesn’t understand. 

“No, I mean like… I love you. I’m…” You steal yourself and force your eyes to meet his, you’re about to feel real pain, you know. “I’m in love with you.”

You don’t know if Luffy knows what you mean. You’re about to spell it out for him when he breaks the silence with an “Ohhh…” and then a more awkward silence, one you don’t dare break. 

Until tears prick your eyes. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry… I know you don’t feel the same, I just needed to-“

“Wanna kiss?” Luffy asks simply, tilting his head at you.

“…What?”

“Yeah, let’s kiss!” And he gets up close to you so you can feel his breath on your face. It’s warm and your skin lights on fire. A hand circles to the back of your neck 

“Wait, wait, why? Why are you kissing me?” You murmur to him instinctively closing your eyes.

“Don’t you want to?” His lips hover over yours, he gets even closer, he blinks and his eyelashes flutter over your cheek. “Isn’t this what that means? That you wanna kiss me?”

“…Do you want to?” You’re out of breath.

“Mhm! But I don’t know how. You have to show me,” he says cheerfully, moist breath against your lips with every word.

So you lean forward and cup his face as you kiss him on the mouth, a sensation you never thought you’d get to experience yet dreamed of every night, you keep his lips slightly parted as your hand holds his jawline. You never knew you could feel so relaxed yet so scared, overwhelming feelings from all sides, you can’t breathe again so you pull away a couple inches.

Luffy climbs into your lap to chase your lips. You feel his weight on your legs, you’re caught off guard and have to cling to him for balance, he giggles softly as he kisses your cheek and then returns to your lips, emboldened by knowing how. He sits on you, he’s too heavy but you don’t stop him, instead naturally letting your arms slip over his shoulders, a hand in his hair, the other still on his face. He clutches you so tightly in his arms, like he did that one night, and he’s eager as he attacks your lips with his. 

You decide to blow his mind and slide your tongue against his. He makes a small sound and follows suit with more intensity and force, mouth opening into yours, tongue hitting the roof of your mouth as he begins to drool down your chin. He holds your head in place, kissing with more passion than you thought possible, juicy, loud noises filling the night from just that kiss alone. 

Finally he pulls away but he’s still so close. He wipes his mouth and gazes into your eyes. “That was fun!” he says simply, and you have no idea what to say, you just lean into his arms and let the tears flow down your cheeks. 

He doesn’t understand why you’re crying, or probably what just happened at all, but he holds you tightly. This feels different than his normal hugs. This is more. 

“Do you feel the same way, then?” you whisper, afraid of any answer. 

“Mm, I think so…” he says so quietly, smiling widely, eyes turned down towards you, “I don’t know much about this, but the kiss felt good. I’ve always wanted to try kissing someone, everyone told me it was fun.”

You stay there like that for a few minutes, in each other’s arms, the wind stilling over the water and the ship swaying almost imperceptibly now, the moon still gray with clouds as the night grows deeper. You feel safe. You feel loved. 

“Do you want to kiss again?” you say finally, meeting Luffy’s eyes once more. 

“Yeah.” And he shoves his body into yours, wrestling you to the deck, his lips meeting yours again. It’s familiar now. He whispers into your mouth, “it feels so right… to kiss you…”

link to pt 2 ^-^ (nsfw)

[mrs-nanami]

Women have many belongings. It used to vex Nanami. But it doesn’t anymore.

The first thing to migrate to his home, was your face lotion. He has a face lotion, a perfectly serviceable one, but you insisted on bringing your own. Your routine was important to you, you had told him, and Nanami understood. Routines, rules, structure – these are all things he has always respected, found meaning in. And so, in his bathroom, his drugstore razor, toothbrush, and facewash sat together, lined up like toy soldiers, right next to a luxurious indigo jar of face cream.

The rest of your routine follows shortly: the lilac bottle of mist that smells like aloe, the golden serum that smells like summertime, and the periwinkle tube of your green tea face wash. Your bergamot and sandalwood soap linger on his pillow, and when he can’t smell you on his sheets anymore, longing sits heavy and sticky in his throat.

Your clothes are next. Amidst his practical navy, gray, and blacks, appear pops of warm lilac, royal blue, and torched orange. He doesn’t mind it in the least – it would be entirely unreasonable for him to demand that you stop bringing such colorful clothes in his home, especially when he never really wants you to leave.

When the two of you finally just bite the bullet and put your name on the lease, Nanami imagines that his life will certainly become more colorful. But he doesn’t have the first idea of how many more things will be in his house.

All his life, Nanami has lived quietly, abstemiously. He is a jujutsu sorcerer – while his non-sorcerer peers were learning trigonometry, he was learning how to kill curses and how to die as a soldier dies: with resolve and bravery, to the bitterest end. His life has been fat trimmed from steak, practical solid color towels, plastic storage bins with plenty of clearing near the edge, never packed to capacity. A man who walks on the very edge of life and death doesn’t require more than the necessities. The very few things he indulges in are sensible: good whiskey, grade A rice, custom leather shoes (no broguing) built to take a beating.

You bring in your life to his, and it is completely different. You’re striped linens, fresh flowers, scented candles on every corner. Baby blue drinking glasses shaped like beer cans, artisanal ceramicware made by friends locally. Your life is marked by comfort, simple pleasure, and (dare he say it) the sweetest, most innocent frivolity. He supposes it’s really what he loves most about you, honestly. He’s always tended drawn closer to brighter, bolder personalities: earnest and warm, like Haibara and Itadori, not bombastic and irreverent, like Gojo or Tsukumo. You belong in the same shades of sunlight as Haibara and Itadori, but…tender. Like the dream-like throw of warm, rose tipped dawn that thaws the chill of his lonely apartment.

Now, in the mornings, he doesn’t wake to the desolate silence of a man alone. He wakes to the sound of your fluffy slippers in the kitchen, the smell of dark roast coffee, the sight of your toiletries sitting side by side in the bathroom, cozy and couple-like.

Somewhere between your checker print tea kettle, and the warmth of your body on the sheets, Nanami falls so in love with you that he looks back on his life and wonders how he ever lived, starved of the sun that is you, for so long.

[justabrunettewhowrites-stuff]

'As Icy As A Winter Wonderland'

Clarisse La Rue x Unclaimed!Fem!Demigod!Reader

A/N:Rq'd by one of my friends - specific rq so the color focuses on what she requested <3

Reader is new at CHB and has heterochromia - blue eyes with central heterochromia.Short fic!

In the heart of Camp Half-Blood, where demigods found solace and camaraderie, a new presence stirred the air. Unclaimed yet, with eyes that held the frosty allure of a winter's dawn,you stood at the edge of the training grounds,observing the seasoned campers in their element.

Clarisse La Rue, the fierce and fiery daughter of Ares, was in the midst of a sparring session. Her piercing gaze swept across the crowd until it collided with your captivating eyes. A momentary pause ensued, as if the fates themselves had intertwined, and in that instant, something unspoken sparked between you.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow on the camp.Clarisse, never one to shy away from her feelings, approached you with a determined stride. Her eyes met yours, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze as the intensity of your gaze met the fire in hers. Without hesitation,Clarisse broke away from her training and approached you.The shadows danced in her determined eyes as she spoke, a hint of vulnerability beneath her tough exterior. "Never seen eyes like yours before. What's your deal, newbie?"

Your gaze met hers, a blend of icy blue, with a mesmerizing blend that came in a circle around your pupil - the same gorgeous chocoloate brown, revealing the intricate tapestry of your lineage,one which gave your gaze an otherworldly depth, like the frost-kissed surface of a winter pond. In that moment, Clarisse felt a magnetic pull, a connection she couldn't quite explain. "Just waiting to be claimed, I guess."

Clarisse's lips curved into a half-smile, a rare sight from the battle-hardened demigod. "Well, aren't you a mystery? Keep those eyes sharp, new kid. This place has its secrets."

As she spoke, a rare vulnerability crossed her face. "You're different, and I don't say that lightly. We're not all rainbows and sunshine here, but something about you... it's intriguing."

As the night unfolded, you found yourself drawn into the fabric of camp life, where the shared stories of heroism and heartbreak echoed through the bonfire-lit air. Clarisse lingered nearby, occasionally stealing glances, and it became evident that an unspoken connection had woven its way into the tapestry of fate.

In the quiet moments, beneath the celestial canopy, Clarisse confessed, "Your eyes tell a story, and I'm damn curious to unravel it. We'll see who claims you,but for now?You're not walking away from me that easily."

For the first time, Clarisse - whose heart was guarded like a fortress, felt a crack in her defenses. The winter wonderland within your eyes seemed to cast a spell, thawing the frost around her heart...

[anemoi-i]

Venti’s Presence in Mondstadt and in Lore: A Comprehensive List

Barbatos is an Archon that does everything in secret and wants virtually no recognition for it. Desiring not to become like Decarabian, he "disappeared" so Mondstadt could be free and without a ruler, yet he has still done what he could to retain Mondstadt's peace. Here is a comprehensive list of everything of note that he has done.

Disclaimer: I may miss details. Some things such as character voice lines about Venti, save for Xiao’s are largely omitted. All sources are present.

I. Wind Gliders

“The ability of wind gliders to glide is reliant first and foremost on the Blessing of the Anemo Archon. Of course, it’s also been intertwined with human engineering.”

Wings of Companionship

II.  But I do not intend to make my readers think that we could do without archons. On the contrary, say, if Barbatos had not guided the warm monsoons to Mondstadt with his divine powers, would Mondstadt still be so bountiful as to produce the brews that it does?

The answer would be no. Mondstadt is an inland city and would have struggled to provide for itself if not for the grace of Barbatos. If we look back through history, we learn that Mondstadt is situated on a land that was once frozen, where the living conditions were harsh and brewing would be virtually impossible. It was the power of Barbatos that changed everything.

Along With Divinity: Prologue

III. The songs that had once flown joyfully in the wind were drowned by a venomous dragon [Durin]. In the wake of its earth-shaking footsteps, even the cries and the flames were ripped asunder. The Anemo Archon heard their agony, though he had refused to rule. But to protect his old friends' dream, and defend the wind-kissed fields of green,He woke from his long slumber anew, and with the sky dragon [Dvalin] in battle he flew...

Elegy For The End

IV. In ancient times, Barbatos softly strummed his lyre and summoned the pure thousand winds and songs. Charmed by the free-spirited winds and songs, Dvalin the high dragon descended and swore loyalty to him. Barbatos rejoiced in making a new friend, and entrusted the people of Mondstadt to Dvalin. And so, the wandering Anemo Archon and the Wind Dragon forged Mondstadt's dawn with their relationship.

Skyward Harp

V. On the cliff facing the eastern sea, the ancestors worshipped the masters of Time and Anemo together. The two are intimately related, as expressed in the saying, "Anemo brings stories while Time nurtures them." This bow tells the story of the pioneers and the hardships they went through.

Sacrificial Bow

VI. When Mondstadt was born anew, and the Church finally unshackled, the scriptures of the winds could bear no longer being confined to a shelf, and so the book took flight, left the Church's treasury and was gone. Like the winds of Mondstadt, and like the people of Mondstadt, it belonged to freedom and the winds. The elegant handwriting on the title page reads:

Children of the Anemo Archon, heed these words:

From the winds we have come, and with the winds we shall go.

Never, ever grieve for me.

'Tis but my flesh and bones which rest in the soil:

My soul has become one with the thousand winds.

When flowers bloom, when leaves sway,

That is me who sings the songs of freedom, of the winds.

Lost Prayer to the Sacred Winds: Scriptures of the ancient winds, passed from generation to generation among the observers of ritual in service of the Anemo Archon.

VII. The Skyward Atlas consists of 100,000 odes to a single cloud or wind and calling it by name. The cloud atlas gave form to the winds, and odes infused them with personality. The myriad formless winds are now friends and family in the eyes of Barbatos. Legends tell that in ancient times, Barbatos summoned the four winds with the original version. He thawed the snow, drove away vicious beasts, summoned rainfall, and created Mondstadt.He permitted the atlas to be shared and copied among the people, giving it the name of Cloud Atlas.

­Skyward Atlas

VIII. In the days of the ruling aristocracy, the Church that revered the Anemo Archon was once split in twain by a schism: On one side stood the clergy, who ate at the lords' table, and overturned the archon's statues with them even as they wrote songs and hymns of praise. On the other stood the saints, who held no clerical office, and who walked the streets, the wine cellars, and the world beyond the walls. These saints drank cheap moonshine, blessing the slave and the plebeian with the original holy manuscripts that circulated amongst the people and with words that the wind brought to them.

And while they did so, they penned forbidden songs and poetry.

When the gladiator from a foreign land [Vennessa] arose together with the re-awakened Anemo Archon and raised the banner of rebellion, the aged saint known as the Nameless Shepherd mobilized the true adherents of the Church of Favonius.

Song of Broken Pines

IX. When he opened his eyes, he was in the sky above a mountain swept by roaring snowstorms, the green, tranquil land had already been painted crimson by fire and blood,and the song of that sky-blue bard's lyre was almost drowned in the howling tumult,and that bejeweled, lovely dragon, like a tender lover, had now pierced his neck through with its sharp fangs.

"Farewell, Mother! My journey is ended. I shall sleep beneath this white, shining silver... and perhaps this, too, is good. Farewell, O lovely bard! And farewell, O lovely dragon! Would that we had met in a different time and place, to meet, to sing and dance together!"

So he thought most sincerely as he lay dying.

Durin (Dragonspine Spear)

X. They say that a region's character follows that of its archon, and that this holds true both for the people and the land itself, but was it the unfettered archon who bestowed a love of freedom and wine upon the land and people amidst conflict? Or was it the people who nurtured the Anemo Archon's love of freedom as they pined for it amid the howling wind and frost?

This is a question that can no longer be answered.

Freedom Sworn

XI. Twenty-six hundred years ago was the era of Mondstadt's most ancient inhabitants. They swore a solemn oath, after the new Anemo Archon descended and reformed the world:

"For Mondstadt, as always. For the verdant plains, for the hills, and for the forests of Mondstadt. May they continue to flourish, as always."

"For Mondstadt, as always. For the everlasting freedom of Mondstadt from the blizzard and the tyrant, whose coldness and oppression are one and the same."

­­Royal Longsword (Refers to Gunnhildr Clan & the oath to protect Mondstadt.)

XII. Ludi Harpastum

Ludi Harpastum was established in commemoration of how Barbatos, the Anemo Archon, taught his people to brew wine and live freely. It was a festival meant for all people to enjoy. However, by the time of Vennessa's rebellion a thousand years before Genshin Impact's main story, Barbatos had long departed to avoid becoming a tyrant like his predecessor, while the aristocracy that ruled Mondstadt grew corrupt and abused their power.

The event turned into a mockery of what it originally was. It became an event enjoyed only by the wealthy elites. The head of the Lawrence Clan, the foremost clan among the aristocracy, cared not for the enjoyment of the people and canceled all the games, leaving only the climax of the harpastum. However, only Lord Lawrence's son, Barca Lawrence, had the right to touch that harpastum. Anyone else who dared even approach the ball would immediately face torture. Furthermore, Barca was also given the rights to take the maiden who will throw the harpastum home.

Barbatos awakens during the climax of the Ludi Harpastum in the manga and seizes the Harpastum.

Genshin Impact Manga

XIII. The Letter in the Chasm

Not as if I were to be outfitted as that guardian of Khaenri’ah,

Not as if my destructive self were made to be the lyre of Barbatos,

Not as if I were meant to soar like a Pegasus,

Not if I were the swift, snow-white pair of Morphes,

Add these to the feather-footed and the winged,

And likewise, call for the swiftness of the winds,

And though you should harness these, friend, and offer them to me,

Yet I should be tired to the bone, and worn away by frequent faintness,

My friend, while I would search for you,

The heavens fall to pieces,

And falsehoods collapse.

Mysterious Letter obtainable after completing The Chasm related Archon Quest(s) & World Quests (Information gathered by CatWithBlueHat)

It is important to note that each player who finished these quests only received one line of this letter in Abyssal Language, indicating this is a bigger part of something and made to be very secretive and hard to decipher if not for the efforts of players to translate it.

XIV. The Hexenzirkel

“Once upon a time, it even challenged the Anemo Archon himself, but he replied: “Let us make music, not war, and resolve our conflicts through song.”

Alice, The Mage’s Tea Party (Windblume’s Breath)

XV. Waterborne Poetry

“A soft breeze beckoned me unto a spring. “Sleep, weary wanderer. Your journey is over. May the dancing petals sweeten your slumber.”

Callirhoe, who recalled her journey to Springvale (Waterborne Poetry event)

XVI. Presence as a significant figure to Xiao

He longs for a day to come when he will wear the mask and dance — not to conquer demons, but to the tune of that flute amid a sea of flowers.

Barbatos appears as a cameo in Yakshas: The Guardian Adepti, playing the Dihua Flute. It suggests his music is powerful enough to suppress Xiao’s Karmic Debt. He also has a line for Barbatos indicaing he knows who he is, but cuts himself off.

Yakshas: The Guardian Adepti & Xiao: Mask (Namecard)

Other things to note:

As of Version 4.3 Mondstadt is the only nation that does not suffer from any “filth” that needs to be purged either by a Sacred Tree or otherwise. The battle that took place 500 years ago with Durin did not affect the nation in any way, instead, Durin died on Dragonspine which was already affected by the Skyfrost Nail and is an inhabited land that only Adventurers see as an area to explore. No one lives there. Even with the presence of his “heart”/”core” still beating, it would forever lie in the frozen wasteland unless someone were to deliberately disrupt it.

There are no storms in Mondstadt. Vind, one of the Sisters/Storm Watchers, says that she hopes she never has to do her job.

A large amount of npc’s around Mondstadt, especially in the area of the Anemo Archon statue, revere Barbatos and speak highly of him

It is important to note that during the second rebellion, Barbatos also forged Rex Lapis’ signature to dismantle the Aristocracy, indicating he would go to such lengths to establish freedom for the nation.

Barbatos’ voiceline about Albedo suggests that he knows close to “everything” about him, especially about his fear of “destroying Mondstadt.”

In addition to the above, Barbatos contradicts himself: “Ah, never mind! What goes on within Mondstadt's walls is up to Mondstadt's people to deal with!” Except that twice when the people cried out for help, he awoke to help them and has actively been helping Mondstadt with no recognition. From liberating Mondstadt to helping an Oceanid, this line will not hold any weight in any argument that suggests that Barbatos does nothing for Mondstadt.

Barbatos was already attempting to purge the Abyssal corruption from Dvalin prior to the Traveler’s appearance.

There is irony in Diluc and Jean finding out Barbatos’ true identity considering both the Ragnvindr’s and the Gunnhildr’s were primary protectors of Mondstadt.

The Skyward Atlas suggests Barbatos was originally a catalyst user while Amos’ Bow suggests he changed his weapon to a bow to honor Amos’ memory. He uses Der Frühling (E Skill) in a way a catalyst user might.

His appearance as his dear friend, the Nameless Bard is to honor his memory for the skies, bright sun and birds he could never see. To honor the songs he could no longer play.

[egginround]

Thaw

Gale wrestles insecurity in an intimate moment with Tav. Gale x GN!Reader - CW: None.

For all his flowery words, Gale feels tongue-tied when you're near. Even the traitorous air from his lungs rushes out to greet you as you step into his tent, a bright shine in your eyes as if he's ever earned the right to be looked at like that. A phantom of a touch as you brush the wisps of hair from his face, a startingly natural slip of your hand into his. Not even his endless years of study could catalogue the swell of magic in his blood - it's moments like these that have him spellbound.

Your hands leave a delicious trail of warmth up his skin. His shoulders, his arms, the sides of his body. Not one inch is left untouched, not under your curious hands. As the two of you lie together, a sinking chill starts to frost over in his mind, a nagging guilt that claws into the back of his head. He takes a shuddering breath and wrestles it down as your touches whisper over him. A voice hissing sick poison - telling him he has done nothing to earn this, that you will leave at his next mistake - floods into his thoughts. His breathing quickens but not for pleasure. As his eyes dart across the tent, hands starting to tremble as if to cast Misty Step, he feels ready to escape - and yet he can't.

It is impossible to tear his gaze from yours once you see him.

Shivers dot the back of his neck, but still he cannot look away. All the brilliance of the morning dawn could not compare to the way you peer up at him. Your gaze seems to burn his very soul - past the bravado, the confidence. The heat radiating off your palms sinks deep into his chest, flooding his every vein, and threatens to choke him as it washes up his throat. His tongue, usually well-practised from his propensity towards verbosity, suddenly feels large and foolish in his mouth as he struggles to free a coherent sentence. He can only hold your hand to his chest just as he did all those months ago. It feels poetic in some way. Again, he is at your mercy, pleading, desperate, aching for you to understand him in a way he cannot trust himself to say.

He hopes that somehow you will understand the depth of his feelings for you. Even the Astral Plane seems insufficient. Shifting, you slide into a more comfortable position and lay across him, your cheek resting on his shoulder as if his orb doesn't thrum a stuttering beat. As if your fingertips would not melt away his sickening mortal flesh, and there he would lay - stripped to mere bone and gasping for breath all the same.

The same fingertips reach to tease the wrinkles from his brow, and he snaps out of his reverie. They tangle themselves in his hair before tracing a near-scorching path down his cheek, ghosting over the corner of his lips and oh, it must certainly be the orb that lurches so in his chest. Again, he endeavours to loosen a word from his lips, but - ever the tactician - you read him before he has the chance.

As Mystra's Chosen, Gale had tasted the highs and lows of all the Weave could offer. The electrifying sensation of power, the soul-piercing loneliness without it. The endless weeks where he locked himself away has left him brittle as ice when confronted with the mortifying idea of being known to another. So much of his heart has wasted away in his chase for the cold wisps of Mystra's perfect favour.

He grunts as your nails accidently scratch his skin, the pain bringing him back to the moment, and your cheeks faintly colour in embarrassment. A hoarse chuckle is all he can let out as he finally reaches out to you fully. He thinks he'll take the blistering warmth of your mortal touch any day.

Author Notes: I thought it'd be interesting to write a Gale situation where he doesn't fucking talk LOL. Much love for our rizzard (who i am convinced is actually a sorceror ahaha) - maybe one day I'll write something actually happening instead of lovesick fools. I might expand this when I post on ao3 hmmm.