#in fact that 'woven into the fabric of my being' thing-- | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dmitriene · 2 months

Text

THOUGHTS ABOUT CAVEMAN SIMON AND VILLAGER READER.

synopsis: spring has come, and with it the time for sacrifices to someone, who lives far from people and scares everyone who pokes their noses into the forest, and what could be better than bribing the one you fear, so you were chosen as the one who will bear all the gifts deep into the forest.

cw: fluff, comfort, smut, possible dubcon, story set not in modern time and might be unrealistic, not based on real knowledge about cave people, possible ooc simon since he's a caveman, virgin reader, mentions of cannibalism (not in action), biting, licking, groping, simon is rough around the edges, pet names, cunnilingus with dubious consent, simon is inexperienced, male and female intimacy, many mentions of bare flesh, overstimulation, crying, aftercare, kinda kidnapping. pairing: caveman simon ghost riley x villager fem reader

author's note: this idea was born from an absolutely spontaneous conversation with @suimon, and i'm grateful to her, because without her encouragement i wouldn't decide to write such an interesting story, which is kind of new for me, but i still hope those who will read it enjoy, it's my first attempt on writing this kind of plot, that ended up being 4.5k words.

✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3. ˑ༄

long melted snow, allowing fresh green grass to break through the once dissipated white fluff of snow, bright flowers decorating endless meadows and forests surrounding the village exactly along the perimeter — all this brings with it spring, warm weather, fresh juicy fruits and vegetables, and after them the time for a sacrifices.

behind the forest clearing, where the trees become thicker and seem to be getting darker, lives one whose cave, the exact location of which not many people know, are afraid to approach, and you never heard the exact answer, the exact reason, but everyone was afraid of this place more than fire, but were justified by a man who was frightening to the point of trembling, as if they had seen a living ghost.

naturally, you had never seen him, and you treated his stories as if they were fairy tales — an attempt to intimidate the kids from going too far during walks, nothing more, or so it seemed to you, until you were chosen as the one who would go to him with the onset of spring with fertile gifts, an attempt to appease the so-called monster, which terrifies the entire village with its very existence, and you couldn’t understand why you should go to the one you’re afraid of, and also with gifts?

but one way or another, it was not in your authority to refuse the election of the head of the village and the people, so you were dressed up in the best dress from your meager wardrobe, the white fabric flowing to your feet seemed as soft as silk, an absolutely light linen, diluted a wreath woven from fresh, sickly sweet flowers, and in your hands a basket of the freshest fruits and vegetables, with a rope on your wrist, a thick plexus leading to the neck of a good, well-fed cow, the devil knows what he will do with the poor, as you would think, animal, but one way or another — your task is to give, even if you looked the most appetizing here.

walking through the forest is difficult, especially when, of all the attempts to navigate, you only have — “go straight ahead and stop when you see the cave„ and the only thing left to do is to listen, periodically stop when the cow bends down to nibble fresh grass, and then walk again until feeling of dull pain in the legs, due to the fact that making your way through trees and large branches with almost bare feet is uncomfortable, a little painful, and you have to pick up the white dress in your hands so as not to get it dirty, trying to maintain a festive look as possible, not drop the basket, and still get to this damned place.

more and more doubts creep into your head, maybe no one lives there at all, or does, but it’s just a wild animal, and villagers just couldn’t see it in the dark clearlier?

but it’s hard to believe that in the thicket, which every time becomes darker and denser, in which there are more and more bushes and broken branches, and somewhere where there are even tree trunks lying — someone really lives, and while thoughts are wandering around your head like a prodigal wind, and the path completely disappears under your feet, you finally reach the right place, meeting your eyes with a stone cave, assembled from stones in a stable structure, sprinkled with greenery, moss and tree trunks.

really someone’s abode, albeit open, and looking as if it could become your undoing.

even the poor animal seems to be enveloped in fear, the cow bursts into a loud moo, resting her hooves on the ground, and with all due respect, you cannot push such a weight behind you, but you will not let her escape, tying the poor thing by a rope and to a tree trunk nearby, allowing her to calm down a little, to be distracted by tufts of grass, while your gaze rushes forward into the darkness of the cave, and your legs tremble slightly.

— “well.. here i come, cave man, huh..„ slips from your lips encouragingly to your own self, although your voice trembles, but you cannot return to the village with the same full hands, and in any case, you will most likely be sent again after this, damn old people, so the only way is forward.

the branches crunch under your feet, it seems to you, until you notice glimpses of animal bones, and it’s as if you are tugging from the inside, your step immediately quickens, and you practically stumble, clutching the basket to your chest and swallowing nervously, saying in your mind over and over — “it doesn't belonged to someone, it doesn't belonged to someone„ but it didn’t get any easier, as if the deeper you went, the more terrible it became, there was only pitch darkness ahead, not planning to make way for you even for a second, so you walk, almost blindly, closing one eye and making your way with the other.

— “is.. is someone there? hello??„

your voice echoes against the stone walls, but it becomes clearer under your feet, and a little brighter ahead, so you continue to walk even despite the dead silence, step by meek step, getting out to the center of the cave, where the walls become wider, and your eyes get used to darkness, letting small details immediately scatter before your eyes — some kind of wooden cabinet, a small rectangular table with a single chair, and above it a shelf with plates, everything is just like in your own house in the village, however, the bed is not very similar to the usual one, full of skins, located quite low, and you hesitantly step deeper, saying

— “hey?.. i'm, uhm.. i mean no harm, hello? someone?„

your voice sounds a little quieter, patient, as you walk to the table and allow yourself to place that same basket on it, carefully adjusting it along with the vegetables and fruits mixed in it, before moving away, smiling at the more welcoming composition, besides, it decorated a small surrounding emptiness, you even forgot for a while that you were in a cave, you felt comfortable, until the moment you turned around, noticing a dark figure in the corner that turned around sharply, and you screamed uncontrollably.

a large, massive figure in the very corner of the cave turns to face you, demonstrating its immensity and body, hidden under only one piece of fabric, vaguely reminiscent of pants, but what catches you, or rather scares you, is the skull attached to his face, and the skull would be less frightening if it belonged to an animal, but the shape was human like, separated from the back and leaving only the front, somehow attached to a dark piece of fabric stretched over the man’s face, showing the world only his sunken, dark eyes.

simon overreacts to the sound, furrowing his brows and clenching his hands into fists that hang on either side of his wide hips, not liking it when someone barges in uninvited, especially like this, but watching you shake like a cornered rabbit , he softens, and at the same time resolutely begins to walk in your direction, without warning, which makes your heart jump right up to your throat and back into your chest when you calm a bit inside, but still take a couple of steps back from approaching figure.

— “uh, h-hi? i'm sorry, i must scared you.. i-i screamed pretty loud, yeah?„

you babble, the words fly out of your soft lips hastily and with an attempt to justify yourself, and he freezes, breathing somehow displeasedly through his nose and causing his bare chest to heave, but still, he grumbles somehow approvingly, tilting his head to the side, as if having mercy on you and giving the opportunity to justify yourself, and you don’t dare to miss it.

— “uh, i was sent from village, you know, not far from here! i brought you some fresh vegetables and fruits, and cow.. you know, that does moo„ the words come out in one breath, while you spin around, pointing first at the basket that suddenly appeared on his table, then towards the exit, talking about the cow, telling him about it as if you were talking to a child, as if mistaking him for a completely savage, and simon squeezes out a rough, dry laugh, crossing his burly arms over his wide, scarred chest, cutting off your explanations

— “i know what a cow is„

his voice is hoarse, tart like coffee beans on the tongue, and you stop, taking a deep breath.

simon has already realized that you are from that stupid village full of fools who take him for some terrible animal, but instead of the usual fear like in other people’s eyes, in yours he sees some doubt and sincere guilt, like in a child’s who was scolded by his parents, and this causes amusement in his gaze, a flutter in his light eyelashes

— “i'm, sorry.. it's just, the villagers acted like you are some kind of wild animal, and i.. i thought..„

the words get confused in your head and on your tongue, one way or another, you, even if not for long, believed to the words of the people living in the village, believed that he was less human than many, now trying to justify his honor and your words, standing under his gaze and trembling as if leaf in the wind, your legs shook as you squeezed them together, feeling his strange, ardent gaze where your plush thighs began behind the thin fabric, and goosebumps ran down your skin as his lips stretched into a wide, wild grin.

you stand before his eyes like a prettiest gift, a prey — you are shaking like a little rabbit, or a newborn doe, as if your legs are about to lose control of your weight and collapse on the stone floor, even though a carpet of someone’s skin lies under your feet, he wouldn’t want you to return back to the village in a deplorable state, or maybe you yourself were sent as a sacrifice?

he doesn't know, because you look incredibly attractive and alluring in that light outfit with just panties underneath, the silhouette of the fabric of which he can see on your hips before his gaze goes up to where your round, soft breasts are hiding under the finest cloth, and up to the strands of your hair, decorated with a wreath of fresh flowers, he knows it by the sweet smell and by the fact that he has already seen such in the forest, and simon has never tasted people, has not eaten human flesh — but looking at you, at the softness, at the sweetness, maybe he should give it a try?

— “i never tasted human flesh before„ words roll off his tongue in advance of rational thoughts, a rich baritone from the thin line of pale lips behind the fabric of the mask and the shape of the skull where he licks them like a predator.

and you are theprey, the one which trembles and whose eyes widen when you hear his unexpected speech, wild, causing the blood in your veins to freeze and your legs to obey the instinct of escape, and you take off from your place, turn around on the thin sole of your sandals and move your body towards the exit and impenetrable the darkness from which you came, which previously let you in — and will no longer let you go without the permission of its owner.

you can’t even hear simon’s steps behind you, because of how adrenaline is pumping in your ears and blood echoes like white noise in the background, as his figure wraps around yours like a shadow and pulls you, he clings to the light fabric with dirty fingers and squeezes with a heavy weight around your waist, first with his fingers, then with his hand, heavy bonds that drag you into the air and there’s no point in even twitching your legs, he immediately turns you around in his arms, places your soft flesh in his palms, relishing in the softness, warmth, fingers greedily kneading the soft, supple skin between his fingers on top of the now slightly stained fabric, pressing you into a cold stone wall as you close your eyes tightly.

your body is trembling, you’re waiting for the touch of someone else’s teeth on your body, a sharp flash of pain, surrendering to the clutches of creeping death in the guise of a person without resistance, having resigned yourself in advance, even on the threshold of this cave, even when the dark, densely trees swallowed you in the depths of the forest, but no pain comes, no sensation of rough, sharp teeth in the skin, just his hands that slide from your butt, where he shamelessly touched you, to your hips and thighs, tracing the skin and bones over your dress, forcing you to twitch, squeezing your legs together.

something inside you is twisting shamefully hotly, curling into a coil in your lower abdomen and setting all your nerve endings on fire, you still don’t look, your eyelashes and eyelids are trembling, and simon takes pleasure in your instinctive fear, akin to the animals he mercilessly catches in the depths of the forest, kneeling in front of you just as he once knelt in front of them, but you were distinguished from a dead animal by your vitality, sweet aroma, soft warm body which he wanted to taste until greedily accumulating saliva in his mouth.

— “pretty„

he growls low from his throat, causing you to flush with a flash of blush, your fingertips prickling nervously, it seems that he’s saying this from a sadistic point of view, not really to you, rather than to your body, to what he will eat, and you refuse to look at the eyes of your fear, even when rough, calloused hands run along your legs until he lays them on his broad shoulders, lifts up the dress that gets in the way, exposes the skin to your thighs and carelessly leaves them rumpled to dangle there, when his bare mouth pierces your skin and licks.

your eyes immediately widen following the hitching breath that flies through your parted lips, and you look at him, this beast, this man, standing in front of you on both knees, and even between your legs he seems immense, but strangely tender, when he licks and gently bites a path to your thighs along the soft flesh, pressing his nose into it, you see it’s slightly crooked form briefly, the black fabric falls to cover everything except his mouth, which greedily tastes you like no one has ever tasted.

his dark eyes meet yours fleetingly, yours are frightened, his are peaceful and satisfied, the corners of his lips rise forward and spread on his face, and you feel every movement of his lips on you in dangerous proximity as he crawls higher and higher, settling between supple thighs with his head, sticking his nose and mouth into a place that attracts him with sweetness and wetness, a small sticky spot on the thin fabric, into which he buries himself greedily, opening his mouth wide and licking the fat stripe along your panty clad pussy, burying his nose in your twitching clit and grinning at the reaction of your body, as well as at the quiet, ringing moan that arose from the depths of your throat.

the light, thin fabric gets wet from the amount of saliva in his mouth, mixing with the moisture that is released from your hot, bothered pussy, causing the gusset of your panties become almost transparent, as simon buries himself deeper, without asking, he just takes it, squeezing your thighs until there is a slight, uncomfortable pain burning on your skin, as your legs kick forward and attempt to squeeze together because of the new sensations that you don’t understand, didn’t experienced before, but he’s not going to let you escape just yet, but you squeak, a shushed, soft sound, which makes him soften nonetheless.

simon's gaze studies you through his light eyelashes, he sees the conflicting emotions on your face, how your chest is heaving, how moisture collects on your lash line, threatening to release and turn into tears, so his arms wrap around and squeeze your legs a little more carefully, stroking the soft skin with awkward, uncertain circular movements of his fingers, he hasn’t interacted with people for a long time, especially in the moments like these, when his face is buried between your thighs while he laps lightly against your panties.

fear slowly leaves your body along with rational thoughts, you lose your vigilance in the hands of a stranger, a person who shamelessly touches your private parts, but touches you so well, so carefully, igniting that warmth in the bottom of your belly more and more each time and allowing you to twitch, squirm as much as it possible while being held half in the air, thus only pushing your hips forward, towards his wet mouth, and shuddering with pleasure and new flashes when his nose nuzzles harder into your little clit, making your toes curl, and he growls.

— “so sweet„

comes out as a muffled growl, and you don’t know if he’s talking about you or your pussy, but he licks you more actively, making your folds stick to the absolutely wet fabric of your panties, while he slurps and sucks your folds and clit, his movements are messy, uncertain, he's been isolated from people and any contact with them with his own hands, but that doesn't stop him from having a taste, as his tongue runs between your folds and he continues to tease you with slow, exploring movements.

you make more and more unusual to yourself sounds, quiet moans, breathy mewls, wet squelches that he swallows whole as your hands find support on his head and you dig your fingers into his mask, as you grow more and more impatient in your movements, just in time when simon gets tired of this unnecessary, wet piece of fabric, a barrier to the sweetest fruit and nectar in his life, so he bares his teeth and clings to the waistband of your underwear, helping himself with his fingertips and tearing them away down your legs, exposing your fluttering, wet hole to his hungry eyes and mouth.

the mere sight leaves him swelling with hardness in his pants, and your gaze catches on the silhouette of his cock, leaning heavily against his meaty thigh and bulging against the thin fabric, one little sight had you swallowwing nervously before your eyes roll back from the sharp contact of his bare lips with your bare cunt, he swipes his thick tongue once, twice, licking your wet folds and slurping your juices as an endless source of quenching his thirst, he licks and licks until you begin to lose yourself in how long you've been in this position, where your folds and clit swell, and simon just presses himself unexpectedly deeper before suddenly diving in further.

a loud sigh and a whiny moan spread through the cave, his tongue curls at the tip, when he accidentally, but with pressure, pushes your folds apart and into your fluttering hole, his tongue flattens against your entrance, before licking and thrusting inside, into the warmth of your velvety walls that tighten around his muscle right there, and he growls with satisfaction, akin to a muffled purr, moving his head up and down, smearing his entire jaw and lips in your slick, surrendering fully to your softness and warmth.

every movement of his tongue inside leaves you trembling, your legs intuitively spread apart further along his broad shoulders, your hips find a natural rhythm and constantly buck forward with every lick of his fat tongue against your walls and his sucking on your clit, noticing what reaction it causes in you and trying to hear more of your absolutely innocent, wanton squeaks and moans, enjoying the knowledge that you act and feel this way because of his actions, so he presses his knees into the stone floor harder and leans forward further.

your stomach twists more and more, and you push his face away from you with sharp, broken whimpers, when his tongue touches your spongy spot again and again, your body seems to be engulfed in flames, your spine arches away from the wall, resting your entire weight on his face and curling over him, breathing loudly and shakily when the tip of his tongue thrust rapidly, abusing your sweet, spongy spot with his hungry, drooling mouth.

he only grunts as you lean your full weight on him, continuing his assault on your throbbing and clenching hole, alternating between grazing his tongue against your folds and clit, or thrusting his muscle deep inside your core in fast, albeit languid movements, just until your loud whimpers and hoarse mewls echo against his stone walls, and your stomach twists and turns as your body convulses in an unexpected feeling of sudden orgasm, cunt clenches and pulsates around his tongue, letting go of your sweet slick and milky cum for him to have, covering his chin and mouth in the huge amount of liquid that he actively drink and lap up, opening his mouth wide and licking you clean, drinking till the last drop.

simon doesn’t stop, as if not knowing the line, which he doesn’t really know, continuing to run his tongue against your slit and cling to your hole, as he sukles on your clit, your whole body is buzzing strangely, your head begins to ache from the endless pleasure and overstimulation that his actions and touches bring, making everything between your legs swell and tingle, you desperately claw his bare back with your hands, adding to the scarred canvas of his flesh, trying to push, resist, but he doesn’t care, right until a loud sob escapes your lips.

he reacts instantly, making something close to a questioning grumble before retreating slightly between your legs, licking his thin lips around the edges and all your fluids on your thighs, you hang on him like a sack of potatoes, trying to grab his back with your hands and at the same time not allowing him to move away from you normally, quietly, pitifully sobbing, which cause him to growl, and with a rough grip of his wide hands on your hips, unhook you from him.

simon holds you more carefully, more gently, his hands are still shamelessly squeezing and pawing your hips, going down to the swell of your plush ass, touching the skin and also pulling down your dress to cover you and provide you with the minimum comfort possible in your position, where your panties lie torn on the floor, and endless salty tears flow down your raw, cowered in slight blush cheeks, and he feels even more sympathy for you than all the times before, frowning his light eyebrows and pursing his lips.

— “don't cry..„

he mutters in frustration, carefully releasing one hand from under your butt to carefully wipe the wetness of tears from your cheeks, while you sniff your reddened nose, your head and body pulsating with a strange surge of fatigue, there's still an uncontrollable throb between your legs, and the very thought of this feeling makes you sad, as your eyelids gradually get heavier with a dissatisfied whine escaping from the depths of your throat.

— “shh„

simon whispers quietly, shamelessly moving his face closer to yours to lick your wet cheeks, making you frown and grimace, resting your hands weakly on his shoulders before he gently begins to rock you in his bulky arms and press you against his chest, changing your position so that he supports you under your knees and your back rests comfortably on his thick bicep, curling up, and you no longer care about everything that happens.

you were in a comfortable, floating state between sleep and consciousness, not struggling or scratching like most of the little preys he meet, allowing him to carry you carefully away from the far wall and to a place that vaguely resembled a human bed, full of soft animal skins and located closer to the floor, on which he lays you down and immediately wraps you in the warmth of various furs, fleetingly touching the top of your head while carefully stroking your hair, reaching to the already slightly tattered wreath with flowers and throwing it away somewhere, to which you don’t even react, on the contrary, you cuddle in response to his touch with your head and face.

this makes him chuckle hoarsely, a sound that makes your skin crawl, but he carefully lays you down more comfortably and strokes your warm cheek, going down to your shoulder and drawing the same awkward circles here with the tip of his finger until you are taken into deep sleep, first with your mind, then with your body, allowing your eyes to close and plunge into darkness in a place unfamiliar to you, going limp and burying your nose in fur that smells sharply of musk, something tartly foresty and reminiscent of him, plunging you even deeper and further in viscious sleep, following the rough whisper, that is contrasting with his careful, soft touches.

— “sleep well, my pretty sacrifice„

simon mumbles practically under his breath, his dark eyes following every flutter of your eyelashes and the sigh that slips from your parted lips, before making sure that you are in a deep sleep and getting himself up from his haunches, the movement is accompanied by a slight crunch of bones and a grumble from his lips, he looks around his own cave, a torn, damp cloth lying on the floor, a wreath with scattered petals and a basket with some sort of offerings on the table, which he will use later.

for now he rests his hands on his hips, licking his slightly dry lips and looking at the prominent weight between his legs, resting against the fabric of his pants and responding with warm, tingling arousal and slight drippling moisture, but he will take care of this later, for now, simon will collect all the unnecessary garbage from the floor and get it as far away as possible, and then take care of the cow you brought with you from the village, even if he doesn't prefer to use meat from someone else's hands, he can definitely let it pass now, because he will need to persuade you to stay with him, as soon as you wake up.

simon will not allow something like you to escape, he has denied himself contact and warmth for too long, and now, having touched the forbidden fruit, he knows one thing for sure — he will never let it go again and will not refuse it, so you are in his abode for a long time.

394 notes · View notes

bookishdream · 1 year

Text

Something he wants

kaz brekker x fem!reader word count: 2k CW: a bit of unpleasant touching, but nothing further than that

If one peered carefully into the dark, they would see a pair of young adults walking down the cobblestone street. One of them – a man – limping and clicking his cane. The other one – a woman – with long hair and a magnificent dress, its colors conveying the moonlight. And they were arguing.

“I said no,” the man’s voice was hoarse, loud enough for his companion’s ears but quiet enough so that no one else could hear. “Your complaining won’t help change my mind.”

“You’re unbearable, Brekker,” she remarked, crossing her arms on her chest. The gown had puffy, tulle sleeves. The pattern of roses with thorns was woven into the fabric, cleverly covering her crow tattoo. “I told you I would go no matter what you’d say, so here I am. And you know we have a better chance of obtaining information using me as bait.” She let her arms loose, playing with the cuffs of her dress. It was cold in Ketterdam and her dress had a wide opening that showed her entire back.

“I don’t care,” Kaz rolled his eyes. The crow on his cane blinked mischievously, sending shivers down the woman’s spine.

“Kaz, no offense, but you’re as pretty as Pim’s rear,” she looked into his eyes. Obviously she lied. However, she would never admit that to anyone. “I am your best shot at getting whatever you need. And it will be a lot easier than breaking into his house.”

“You’re a stubborn thing, aren’t you?” he sent a smirk her way. Only later that night will he realize that a bit of red on her cheeks wasn’t from the freezing temperatures, but from the way he looked at her. And did he look at her, all right. Kaz didn’t pay attention to anything unless it looked like a stack of kruge on his desk. But when she had entered the Crow Club, demanding an audience with him, he had been stunned to say at least. Her hair had flown when she’d darted past Jesper, straight into Kaz’s cane.

“Pardon?” she’d asked, eyeing the crow on his walking stick. “Are you Kaz Brekker? If not, get out of my way”

“Saints,” Jesper had whispered behind her, his palms loosely on his revolvers.

“Why are you seeking him?” Brekker had said casually, the cane still in between the fierce creature and the staircase.

“Unless you’re Brekker, I won’t be speaking with you,” she had crossed her arms on her chest, eyeing Kaz. “But you are him, aren’t you? The cane, the gloves, Nina said you’d be unusual.”

“Un–” Jesper had started, but one look from the Dirtyhands had made him stop. “I’ll go guard the door”

“Good idea,” Kaz had finally let his cane drop, leaning his body on it. His eyes focused on the woman. “What do you want?”

“I need your help,” she breathed. He’d only raised his eyebrows. “I need you to kill my father.”

Since then, they had been working together. Y/n with her striking beauty would seduce merchants, when Kaz was robbing their pockets. In more or less legal ways – depending on their mood. Not a single soul was aware that Brekker had such a compelling ace up his sleeve.

“Kaz, please,” she whispered, her dress swooshing on the wind. “I dressed up, you can’t let my efforts go to waste.”

Brekker rolled his eyes, but he must have admitted that the dress, in fact, looked magnificent on the woman. The color lit up her eyes and the brocade corset was making her skin glow. Yet, he didn’t speak another word, pointing his cane in the direction of the perpendicular street. Y/n tilted her head. “Which house?”

“The one with the green door.”

“Give me twenty minutes,” she nodded her head in acknowledgment. “No mourners.”

“No funerals,” Kaz replied.

Y/n went down the street. The lamps were dimmed, not giving much light, yet she could see the path clearly. When she was younger, she would wander around this district, dreaming about being an important persona herself. She would pretend that she was a grisha. One day she would be an Inferni and the other she’d be a Heartrender. She would have to be careful so as not to get caught by stadwatch or worse – her father. He despised grisha, the littlest mention about their kind got his blood boiling. He would murder them. And he would make her watch.

When she got close to the door, she took a breath in. Her body tensed and her heart beating so fast, she could swear people down the street were able to hear it. She knocked, once, twice. No one answered at first, but a moment later she noticed a loud noise of someone making their way to the door.

“Who’s there?!” a man’s voice echoed from behind the entrance.

“Please, I need your help,” she strived to make her voice sound as desperate as she could. She forced her palms to tremble and she bit her lower lip. She promised twenty minutes and she needed to be a bit faster than that. “I-i got lost,” she stammered.

The door opened with a wide swing, the man’s face was wrinkled and he didn’t look as pleasant as she remembered from the photo. When his eyes laid on her body, she knew exactly when he thought about taking advantage of her. She knew what he saw. A broken girl, who looked like a doll, with her big, princess-looking dress, smeared make-up and a trembling lip. She couldn’t look longer than a few seconds at him, which he also took notice of. She was nothing but a broken piece to him. And she made him believe in whatever he wanted.

He helped her get up and while still touching her arms, he led her to the office or a living room, she didn’t know. His breath reeked of whatever alcohol he was drinking prior to her interruption. She wanted to grimace but kept her face straight, Kaz trusted her to get this work done and she didn’t plan on doing otherwise.

“So, darling, what are you doing in this neighborhood?” He forced her to sit in one of the armchairs standing opposite to the big, oak desk. “Such a fine, little thing getting lost in the night? You never know what can get from behind the corner.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She suppressed a shudder and only smiled, hoping she looked as coy as she wanted to convey. She wanted to punch him.

“My father was playing cards in one of the clubs,” she started, her fingers were trembling so she intertwined them. “I just wanted to take a breath, but I went too far and I got lost. I don’t know what to do…” she forced her voice to break. The old man’s face was focused on her lips the entire time she was talking, her heart beat with a new dose of uneasiness. Where the hell was Kaz?

“It’s okay, doll” he placed his fingers under her chin, lifting her head. She could smell a cigar smoke somewhere in the room. She didn’t notice that the lamps were dimmed and the heavy, dark curtains were blocking out the light from the street lamps. She discreetly scanned the room, looking out for any possible exits, but the merchant wasn’t as stupid as she originally had thought. There was only one way in and only one way out. Right behind her.

The merchant was looking into her eyes, searching for something. “You think you are so clever huh?” his hold on her chin started growing stronger, soon he moved his palm to her throat, squeezing it, cutting her airways. She sucked in a breath but couldn’t do much about her situation. “Do you think I haven’t seen you around this bastard Brekker?” He squeezed her neck harder, she could feel her eyes water. “Do you think I wasn’t aware you would be coming here tonight?”

She tried speaking, but her efforts came out fruitless. She saw in his eyes that he had no intention to let her go. She was happy she would die in a gorgeous dress, at least.

“Oh, no, no, no,” he tsked. “You won’t die tonight, doll, not until I get my answers.” The merchant let go of her neck, just so she could utter a sentence.

“I will never betray Kaz,” she spat on his face, clawing at his palm.

‘You bitch,” he let her go. Y/n saw an opening and kicked him into his stomach. She turned on her heel and made her way to the door, but the man managed to grab her waist and kept her in one place. “I wonder if Brekker cares enough for you to come here,” he whispered into her ear, sending shivers along her spine. She felt the hairs on the nape of her neck rising. She tried wiggling out of his hold, but to no avail.

“Actually, I’ve been here for quite some time now,” came a voice from behind the desk. This husky voice, whose owner she wanted to murder with her bare hands at that moment. “You have something I want, Marcus.”

Y/n saw Jesper on the threshold, pointing both of his guns in their direction. When she looked up, Zemeni winked at her, letting her body relax. She forced herself free out of the merchant’s arms and made her way towards the exit. She was trembling. She saw Kaz motioning for Marcus to sit on the armchair she was previously on. The merchant was making his way to this direction slowly, never letting Brekker out of his sight. How clever.

“I must admit, your bitch is a feisty one,” he put his ankle onto his other knee, resting his hands on the armrests. In a second his head flew to the right and blood was leaking from his cheekbone.

“Call her a bitch one more time and I will break every single one of your fingers,” Kaz remarked calmly, his demeanor still the same. “I came for the money.”

“I don’t have your money,” Marcus countered, clutching a handkerchief to his face. “I have never stolen from you.”

“You are mistaken,” he got up, pulling a paper out of his pocket. “You were about to steal from me, Marcus. That’s what you wrote to your acquaintance, isn’t it?”

The merchant sat there, wordlessly, his eyes wide. Y/n smirked into his direction, whistling. “You’re a naughty boy, Marcus, a naughty boy.”

The man only snarled at her, she rolled her eyes in response.

“Well, since you wanted to steal from me, all I want is a percentage of your shares in one of the clubs in the Harbor,” Kaz looked at Marcus, his eyes still locked on the merchant.

“You are crazy,” he yelled.

“And you are a dead man unless you agree. It doesn’t have to be a big part, just a small one would be enough.”

After some time, Kaz had his shares and she had a bruise around your neck. She could still feel the phantom of Marcus’s hands on her throat. Until it heals, she won’t make it go away.

“So now what?” Jesper asked, his revolvers back in his belt and a smirk on his lips. “You’re going to sabotage the rest of his clubs?”

She was looking at the pavement, but not hearing Kaz’s response, she lifted her head and sent him a look. “Saints, you really want to do that.”

“Why else would I want shares from only one club? It wouldn’t be much if there were five others now, would it?”

Jesper whistled at his words and resumed his vigorous steps towards the Crow Club. Y/n stayed behind, her legs heavy.

“Kaz?” she whispered. She saw him lifting his eyebrow. “Why didn’t you help me when you saw him strangling me?”

“I didn’t see it,” he replied.

“What?”

“I only saw him holding you and you were trying to elbow him. And y/n I wanted to smash his skull so hard that his brain would leak out of his ears,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers.

“That’s disgusting,” she breathed a light laugh. Her brows knitted together. “How did you get in?”

“A magician never tells his secrets,” he smirked, leaving her behind him.

#kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker one shot #kaz brekker #jesper fahey #shadow and bone #six of crows one shot #six of crows #crooked kingdom #grishasworld #girshaverse

1K notes · View notes

ghostofskywalker · 9 months

Text

Where You're Meant to Be - 1

Will Turner/Fem!Reader

Words: 1,928

Summary: After being taken prisoner aboard the Flying Dutchman, you resent the men who have accepted your soul as repayment of another's debt, especially the Captain. It doesn't matter one bit that he's the most attractive man you've ever seen, not at all.

Flower and Meaning: frangipani || the strength to withstand tough challenges

Chapters: one || two || three || four

Note: my august work for the @yearofcreation2023 :) pirates of the caribbean have completely taken over my brain at present so this was so much fun to write!!

Year of Flowers Masterlist • Will Turner Masterlist

The ship was an ugly thing, if you did say so yourself. Now of course anyone would be critical of a ship they were currently being tied to the central mast of, but this one was especially unappealing. The sails looked to be made of woven seaweed, rotting as it hung limply from barnacle-encrusted masts, and the dreariness of the boat was only surpassed by the terrifying nature of its crew. There was an emptiness to the men’s eyes that you couldn’t describe, and although your captors were no longer part of the sea by their appearance, you could feel the strength of their rage with every rock of the boat.

You had heard the stories, you knew what this vessel did and who its previous master was, but you couldn’t bring yourself to hold too much sympathy for the men who were tying you to the mast of their ship. They may also be trapped here, but at least they were able to move freely around the deck, while you were essentially nothing but a decoration against the wood.

You also held a special contempt for the crew because they were the reason you were here. While your life was nothing special and you worked in a nearby saloon serving beer and rum to all the questionable men the traversed through the doors, you enjoyed the fact that you resided on dry land. Now, your latest whirlwind romance had been nothing but a trick, and you were traded away to settle a debt with the devil that kept this ship moving. You hadn’t even met the current captain, and you had quite the barrage of insults planned for when you did. What kind of lowly piece of scum accepts another’s soul in place of the one that made the deal in the first place?

You could feel the ropes around your wrists tighten as you heard the sound of heavy footsteps echo across the floor, and the mysterious captain of the Flying Dutchman was revealed. Unfortunately for you, words of battle had already left your mouth before you got a chance to see how attractive he was. “I demand you free me this instant, you arrogant swine!”

And by heavens was he attractive. With long hair that was kept out of his face by a gray piece of fabric, a single gold earring that shimmered in the moonlight and the bone structure that could only be described as beautiful, you suddenly weren’t feeling as combative as you were before. How dare he not be the grizzled, old, and decaying figure you were imagining from the moment you set foot on this boat? How dare the man who makes all the decisions around here, the one who had very clearly ruined your life, be so attractive? This just simply wasn’t fair.

The captain let out a short laugh, and your eyes searched his face, taking in the way his hair fell across his shoulders and trying not to let that change your opinion of him. “And why the hell would I do that?”

“Because you took an deceitful deal, and I was caught in the crossfires,” you responded sharply, refusing to let him intimidate you. “If there was any heart left in your chest, you would be searching for the man who tricked you into wiping his debt clean, not lashing me to this post and moving on with your life!”

Another laugh, and this time the crew members on board joined in. “You see dearie, Will Turner ain’t got no heart,” one of the men said as he stepped up closer to you, and the pungent smell of his breath was enough to make you gag. “Not anymore at least.”

The captain, whose name you now knew, spoke before you had a chance to respond to the crewman’s strange comment. “It doesn’t matter,” he said sharply. “The deal’s been done, and that’s it.”

The conversation was done after that, it was clear that this man did not have any patience for you, and he moved along the ship. You however, did not take the affront lying down, and you continued to spit insults at every passing sailor, including the (unfairly) handsome captain. They all ignored you, and you were starting to wonder how on earth you were going to get out of this, because you had no intention of spending the rest of your life in what could only be described as hell.

After a while, your anger morphed into a refusal to speak to anyone. When the captain offered you food, you took the bare minimum, the entire time wondering where exactly you stood in the cycle of life. If the stories were to be believed, all of these men were dead, condemned to crew the decaying corpse of the Flying Dutchman as she sailed the seas for eternity, but you weren’t dead (well, as far as you were aware). And yet you seemed to be protected, and when the boat fell beneath the waves, you could breathe. You refused to believe that it could be anything else but the heart of the ship itself, because there was no love lost between you and the Captain.

Will Turner may be devastatingly handsome, but the two of you traded insults every time you spoke. You didn’t expect him to try to be your friend, but you would prefer it if you were allowed to walk free on the ship for more than just a few moments each day. The ship was nowhere near land, where were you going to go? Even if you did manage to make an escape without anyone realizing, you would only be dooming yourself, and then you would end up tethered here for real, the very thing you wanted to avoid at all costs.

***

It felt like weeks had passed since you were first brought aboard, but the reality of the situation was that it had barely been three days. The sharp claws of final judgment had not yet sunk into your flesh, even though you felt like you should be dead by now. Each day you watched as the creaking ship supervised the movement of departed souls between the realms of the living and the dead, looking empty and lost as they boarded small boats of their own and joined the procession alongside those who died on land.

At night, the ship traveled the seas, and sometimes you were able to make yourself believe that this voyage was normal, and that you weren’t trapped here, serving as collateral on a ship of the damned in the place of a man who did nothing but lie to you from the moment he first said hello. The stars that twinkled above you were a reminder of the good and beauty in the world, and even though you knew little of the constellations an d their meanings, you picked out shapes yourself, assigning them whatever significances happened to catch your mind at the time.

It was during one of your heavenly searches that you were surprised to hear footsteps coming towards you. It seemed that the Dutchman never needed a crew member to keep watch at night, because in all the time you spent here, you had never seen another vessel (even the vessel that had brought you here was a crewman’s lifeboat). There must have been someone at the wheel, but you were facing away from that area of the ship, and had no way to know whether or not anyone was there.

Annoyed that someone was interrupting your time alone, you looked down from the skies and glared right at the Captain. “What are you doing here?” you asked, a biting tone to your voice that he must have known all too well by now.

But instead of the usual retort, Will Turner smiled. “I couldn’t sleep. What about you?”

“Very funny,” you deadpanned, nodding down to your tied wrists. “I think you already know the answer.”

“I could untie you,” he said, seemingly out of nowhere.

You almost burst out laughing. “Wow, I didn’t know you had a sense of humor, I almost believe you.”

“Do you really think so little of me?” Now his voice had a tinge of sadness to it, and you genuinely wondered if something was wrong, because this did not seem like the same man who had traded insults with you every time he passed, that had allowed for another man’s debt to be paid with your soul.

“Do you really expect anything more?” you asked. “Or have you forgotten the entire reason I am here?”

There was a stretch of silence before he responded. “I suppose you’re right,” he said. “But I would like to make it clear that it wasn’t I who chose to accept the deal, but a member of the crew in my place.”

“But surely you could have sent me back.”

The ropes holding you to the mast of the ship fell away as he untied them, and then he responded. “That’s what I had every intention of doing,” he said. “Until you yelled at me the first time we met.”

“So?”

“Clearly you’re not a pirate, because then you would know that no self-respecting captain would allow his reputation to be called into question the way you did to me.”

“You’re right, I am not a pirate,” you huffed, sitting down on top of a crate. “And I would like to return to land, Captain.”

“Very well,” he said. “But please, call me Will.”

Deep down, you expected more of a fight, and it seemed almost too good to be true. “Why the change of heart?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been stuck on this ship for days, we’ve been nothing but rude to each other, and all the sudden you’re untying me and telling me I can leave? It seems odd, that’s all.”

He sat down on a crate across from you, and you were able to look at him again. “I know what it’s like to be trapped on this ship, and I never intended for that to be your fate. No debt has been paid, and eventually I will claim the soul of the man who thought he could cheat death by sending another in his place.”

There was a genuine emotion to his voice, and you actually believed in what he was saying. “Thank you,” you said, a smile crossing your face.

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes before Will got up. “Why don’t you go get some sleep? I have a room separate from the others.” You stared at him with a confused look on your face, and he laughed. “I feel bad enough for trapping you here, the least I can do is offer you a bed to rest in. I don’t use it all too much anyway.”

He didn’t take no for an answer, and soon you were stepping into a small room below the deck of the ship. You could hear the cacophony of snores that signaled where the rest of the crew slept, but this room was completely empty, except for a decent sized cot, a small desk, and a couple bottles of rum in the corner. Compared to rough wood the ship was made of, the slightly scratchy bedding felt as if you were falling asleep on a cloud, and soon you had drifted off to dreamland, wondering whether or not this was all a dream.

If it was, you didn’t really want to wake up.

- end of part one -

Series Taglist: N/A

if you want to know when i post a new fic, follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library!

#where you’re meant to be fic #will turner #will turner x reader #will turner x you #pirates of the carribean x reader #pirates of the caribbean fanfiction #orlando bloom x reader

215 notes · View notes

kiwiraccoon · 6 months

Text

Dream Of Me

Chan x fem!reader

Description: y/n mentions her wild dream without details in a late night car ride with her longtime best friend. When they make it back to her apartment they wind down with music videos only for a certain one she couldn’t keep watching to play and now she has to explain her dream. Little did she know Chan would make her dreams come true.

Word count: 2689

Notes: MDNI, first person POV, mature language, steamy dream, suggestive, dream description is foreplay, teasing, pet names, chain and choking kink mentioned

The streetlights did nothing to ease my mind from the dream I had during my nap. Everytime the light hit his skin perfectly I could only imagine how he would look right in front of me doing the things I dreamed about. I shouldn’t be thinking this way of my best friend, we had spent all of our awkward years together, shared embarrassing stories, and helped each other achieve so many goals. We should only be best friends, but my mind and body want him in more ways than one. So much so, I think my heart is being convinced to let him in.

“What are you thinking about?” His voice cuts through my inner turmoil, sending it to a screeching halt and stopping my mind from thinking through my response.

“Just this wild dream I had earlier.” As soon as the words leave my mouth I look over at him with wide eyes not believing I said them. I would have to explain it to him now, we don’t keep secrets. I pray he doesn’t pry, but I would be stupid to believe he wouldn’t.

He chuckles while looking away from the road for a second to meet my eyes, enjoying the surprise written across my face. “A wild dream huh?” I notice the small clench of his one hand at the top of the steering wheel, the rush it sends through my body is criminal.

I groan in frustration at my stupidity of letting him in on my dirty secret, I knew I should have canceled our weekly night drive. “Please don’t make me talk about it.” I drag my hands down my face, turning away from him in embarrassment.

His annoyingly adorable chuckle invades the silence again as he quickly throws his hands up in mock surrender when I look his way again. “Alright, alright, but just this once. I can’t promise I won’t ask again tho. Let’s just enjoy this ride.” His free hand moves to my thigh to turn my body back to the front of the vehicle instead of away from him. He had done this so many times after I had grown annoyed with him and his jokes, but this time it felt intimate.

The way his hand slightly flexed against my bare skin, why did I have to wear shorts? The cool metal from his rings eased the heat rushing through my body, but of course I had to be wearing one of his sweatshirts. His scent woven within the fabric invaded my senses in the moment and I knew I was going to dream of him again.

Through the rest of the drive his hand would leave my thigh as he spoke and then find its way back to softly rub the smooth skin with his thumb. The things he does to me, and all because of that stupid dream.

“You’re YouTube is still logged in on your TV right?” He asks as I set my keys on the kitchen counter of my apartment and grab a cold water, which I wave in his direction to ask if he wants one. His nod is soft but the eye contact sends a wave of heat through my body that makes me turn back to the fridge quickly.

“Yea,” I clear my throat subconsciously, “I was watching music videos earlier.”

“Needing some inspiration?” He asks, knowing my need for music to function daily but the videos help feed my inspiration for my own films.

I chuckle walking past him to get to my spot on the couch while passing the water to him, hyper focusing on the way his fingers gently touch mine in the transfer. “You know me so well.”

“I would hope so.” His response has an underlying meaning, hinting at the fact we had grown up together in both countries surprisingly and by complete accident. Without wasting a second I curl up in my favorite corner feeling the need to be small as the tension I feel grows. I should have canceled.

Chan takes the TV remote and plays a random music video letting shuffle control which videos play like normal. I watch the videos intently, needing a distraction from the man only two feet away from me. Sadly no distraction was strong enough to keep my eyes from drifting to him occasionally, especially when he drank his water. I shouldn't be attracted to him, but he looks so delicious tonight, curse that damn dream.

“Hold me tight, right now.” My eyes bulge as the next song plays directly from where I stopped it after I woke up from my nap. I couldn’t watch that music video without thinking of Chan, my dream, and him choking me or using chains. I was fucked. Royally fucked when I let out a gasp I didn’t mean to. His eyes cast over to my side of the couch realizing his music video started from a scene of him standing over Hyunjin who was writhing in the bed wrapped up in chains.

Every muscle in my body works to keep my gaze on the random set of books in the corner of my living space, I cannot make eye contact with him right now. The video keeps playing, but his eyes remain on me. I can vividly picture the video and my dream together as I try to remain calm. But he knows. Fuck he knows.

“Tell me about your dream.” He says reaching for the remote on the coffee table to pause the video and ultimately turning off the TV. There were no more audible distractions, I could only hear his voice now. God please strike me down.

A gulp sounds from my throat as I continue to look around aimlessly, “huh?”

I feel the couch dip as he slides closer to my side, making two feet become two inches. Why did he have to be so close?

“Y/n. Tell me about your dream.” He won’t give up now, he let me have my one free pass and now he would ask until I told. Why did I have to react and why did I leave that video unfinished?

“Umm,” another gulp of both embarrassment and anxiety, “you were there.” I meet his eyes now, facing the inevitable and just saying fuck it. What could go wrong? We have shared so many embarrassing stories before, laughed at horrible memories, and experienced the worst years of growing up together. If anything this would just be something else we would laugh about, that’s it.

“Yeah?” His focus remains on me as I notice his hand against the back of the couch close to my face and his other hand on his thigh. I notice how close he is, and how intimate this feels.

“With me.” I turn my face away from him, needing a break from the intensity of his stare, he could ruin me just by looking at me.

“Yeah?” He wants to know more, know it all, and with my brain turning to mush already I know I’ll eventually tell him everything. He has a power over me like no one else, and I can’t believe I’m only realizing it now.

A sigh escapes my lungs trying to relieve the tension building within my entire being, “in bed.”

“Mmhmm.” He shuffles slightly, either feeling uncomfortable or needing to get comfortable. Either way I continue as I notice his eyes slightly darken, is he liking this?

“Touching.” When our eyes meet again with full intensity I know he likes what I’m saying, I can see the way he is reading my face, my emotions, my body language, and my words all at once. His full attention is on me and me only. How is this turning me on?

“How?” Is he leaning in?

“First with hands.” I remember it vividly, how we were touching each other with curiosity. Almost like we were trying to figure each other out.

“Okay.” His voice sounds slightly deeper, but he’s still wanting me to tell him more. It’s driving me crazy.

“Experimenting in a way I guess.” I sigh and run a hand through my hair. “Kind of figuring each other out in a new way.”

“How did it feel?” God, I’m sorry. I watch as he slightly darts his tongue out to wet his lips, oh Chan the things you do to me.

“Good.” I lie, because I know it felt insanely good that it alone made me crave him in just my dream.

“Like this?” His hand on his thigh reaches forward and touches mine in a different way than he did in the car. This time it felt heavier, warmer, and full of sexual tension we had built up over the years without realizing. And even then it is still just the ghost of a touch as he trails his hand against my skin feeling the way his hand glides smoothly against it. He doesn’t stop, his hand moves further each time he goes around the circle he’s creating. I wonder if he is holding back.

Another sigh leaves me at the insane feeling that my dream couldn’t even begin to relate to. “Yeah, exactly that.”

“What next?” His hand keeps moving, slowing down and speeding up, gripping my skin and pulling back to leave the tiniest amount of space between us. I can feel the heat increasing in his hands, or is that me?

“We kissed.” My eyes dart from his hand to his face, watching his reaction to my words. I would be lying if I said the way his eyebrows raised then creased didn’t turn me on even more. Something in the idea that my words alone could affect him sent my mind racing. How else could I affect him?

I hear him intake a large breath, soothing his own tension. “How?” He wants to ruin me, I know it now.

“Small and quick at first.” I remember the way we kissed like we were afraid of what it would mean, how this kiss would change our relationship and now I can feel it truly. This would change the way we interact around each other for the rest of our lives, this one night will change us forever. Something about that excites me.

“Okay.” He doesn’t ask to know more but his head dips slightly in a gesture to continue talking as I feel his fingers grip my skin making a gasp leave my lips.

“Then we liked it, you smiled, I blushed, so we kissed again.”

“How?” He asks again, he wants every little detail, he’s so invested in what my mind created.

“Like we were starved.” I watch something flash behind his eyes, a small smirk forms on his face and the excitement in my veins burns dangerously. I want him so bad right now, I want to ruin our friendship.

“Like this?” In an instant his lips are on mine, kissing me slowly at first, letting my shock fade away before he dives in completely. He pushes into me more, making me lean back into the couch as he moves to lay over my body between my legs. Our bodies fit perfectly together, molding into shape like perfectly worked clay. His hand on my thigh squeezes, sending a shock through all of my nerves eliciting a gasp. And before I know it our tongues fight for dominance, neither wanting to lose this battle we have put off for so long. We were starved.

He pulls away, placing his forehead against mine to stare into my eyes, “chan.” My voice is nothing but a whisper of my desire, he awoke the demon in me that had been waiting patiently for this moment.

“What happened next?” His voice breaks through the silence that formed between us as we tried to regain control of ourselves, but he doesn’t move.

“You kissed down my neck.” I say confidently, feeling no embarrassment or anxiety anymore as now I know he wants this just as much as me.

He closes his eyes momentarily, inhaling deeply before asking, “how did it feel?”

“Good, really good.” My words mix with another weak sigh and I realize how desperate I sound, but I couldn’t be more indifferent to it. I no longer want to fight my need for him, he can ruin me however he wants now.

Chan moves back slightly to place his lips against my cheek in a soft ghost of a kiss following it with a trail of them down to my jaw. The kisses increase in pressure the further they go, eventually making a moan escape me when he reaches my throat. “How does it feel?”

“Better than the dream.” The desperation is evident now, especially when I feel his tongue touch my skin making it cold against the air only to warm it back up with his lips. The heat between our bodies causes sweat to form on my back, but I couldn’t care less. I know we are going to take this all the way, and I couldn’t be happier to get hot and heavy on my living room couch with my lifelong best friend.

“Tell me more.” Now his voice is laced in desire, calling to my soul and my core. I’m so turned on. He doesn’t know what he does to me yet.

“My hands roamed your body, up your chest over your shoulders.” His lips remain against the skin of my neck making gasps leave me when he nips at my skin and moans form at the back of my throat when he soothes the pain with intimate kisses.

This time he sighs, “do it.” I place my shaking hands against his skin enjoying the way the tremors stop the second they make contact. Slowly I move them feeling his muscles tense beneath my touch telling me he is enjoying it as much as me. When my hand reach the back of his shoulders I decide to use my nails and drag them against the back of his shirt. A shaky sigh fans against my skin from him and both of us inhale deeply.

Instead of waiting for him to tell me to say more I carry on, “your hands hovered up and down the outside of my thighs, you teased me.” There’s a slight irritation in my voice at the thought of being teased.

His head leans on my shoulder letting out a small chuckle at the irritation. “Yeah?” He says in a teasing way as he moves the hand on my thigh to the outside to ghost his touch along the sides, up and down. I release a groan at the feeling.

“Chan stop teasing me.” My nails dig in a little more to make him know I’m not joking, I hate being teased. But something about him being the one that is teasing me makes it feel satisfying. He is the only person who can tease me, and now the only person I want to ruin me.

“Keep talking baby.”

“Oh god.” My eyes roll at the pet name, nothing has ever sounded more perfect from him. Yet I know deep down I will hear plenty of perfect sounds from him tonight. “Chan please fuck me.”

He groans and his hand grips my thigh tightly, I have him right where I want him. “Fuck, y/n, you’re making this very hard.”

I chuckle at the double meaning as I can feel just how hard he is against my other thigh, “what’s hard?” The innocence in my voice makes him pull away and look directly in my eyes. I would do anything to have the way he’s looking at me ingrained in my brain for the rest of eternity.

“That’s it.” Seconds later I’m in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist and arms on his shoulders staring at him wide eyed.

“Chan?” I ask looking at him as he walks towards my room, never breaking eye contact with me and gripping the back of my thighs tightly.

“I’m about to make sure you dream of only me for the rest of your life baby.”

#stray kids #bang chan #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #chan #chan imagines #bang chan imagines #straykids #straykids x reader #skz bang chan #skz imagines

132 notes · View notes

lumienyx · 5 months

Text

fluffy funny Bloodweave comic for an anon prompt + a ficlet to go with it🥺

Feline Meditations

Read on AO3 or continue under the cut ↓

Rating: T | Pairing: Astarion/Gale | Words: 1,077

Tags: Humor, Fluff, Banter, Romance, Established Relationship, Catstarion (I am so sorry for my crimes)

~~~

Astarion can, honest to the gods, feel his eye twitching.

“You did not," he says with the most threatening inflection he can manage, "just compare me to a bloody cat!”

“That is true,” Gale agrees, сompletely unabashed in that infuriating way only he can manage. “Actually, I compared you to a tressym.”

“That's just a winged cat! ”

“Now, careful there!” Gale glances around, eyes rimmed with a nervous frown. “You don't want Tara to hear you. It's a delicate matter,” he insists. “They are complex magical creatures. Their very being is woven from the intricate patterns of the Weav—”

“They're feline,” Astarion protests, “and you just compared me to one!”

“Well, yes, because you did that thing Tara always does—”

“What thing?”

“Rubbing me with your head.” Gale’s smile, Astarion decides, is not in any way sweet or adorable. At. All . “That is distinctly catlike.”

“Ugh! I was just—I was… wiping dirt off my hair on your robe.” Astarion flinches at his own words, thankful that he has thoroughly lost the ability to blush.

Gale raises an eyebrow. “You're usually better at this.”

“I will end you."

“I mean, you’re practically growling.”

“Gale, dearest, if you know what’s good for you—”

“Also, I swear the curls in your hair are standing up just right,” Gale outright lies, with no regard at all for his continued existence. “Like cat ears, honestly."

“Oh, for hells’ sake, that's it.”

Astarion makes short work of manhandling Gale to the ground, ignoring the clumsy flailing that really is no match for his deft hands and tight grip. He straddles Gale, then locks his wrists above his head with one hand. The other finds its way to Gale’s side, squeezing hard enough for him to feel Astarion’s fingers through the thick fabric of his robe.

Astarion smirks. Perfect. “There.”

“Where?” Gale chuckles, content to stay right where he is, it seems. “I’m not ticklish if that’s what you're going for.”

“No,” Astarion huffs, “just keeping you captive.”

“That is your grand revenge plan?” Gale outright laughs. The crinkles around his eyes multiply, like rays straying outward from the sun. “Color me terrified. I have been felled! Beaten down and defeated! Are you going to scratch me now or—oh! Bite?”

In fact, Astarion decides to do just that. He grabs the front of Gale's robe and yanks him in for a kiss that's messy and raw. Sinks his teeth in Gale's lower lip, hard enough to earn himself a surprised yelp and just a touch away from breaking skin. He slides his tongue into Gale’s mouth, claiming him harshly only for Gale to completely melt into it. Astarion—inevitably, as always—follows soon after, his irritation fizzling out only to be replaced by gently simmering pleasure. And there’s not much roughness left, eventually. There's just the feel of Gale’s lips against his, tantalizingly soft and so, so perfect.

Seconds pass, maybe minutes. Maybe they stay like this forever, and this never ends—and Astarion is once more letting Gale's insolence slide, isn't he?

Then again, as Gale draws him closer now, into an embrace that’s not too tight to remind Astarion of being restrained but firm enough to envelop him in a feeling of safety—Astarion finds he doesn’t quite mind. He relaxes easily, letting go of whatever tension still lingered in his muscles. It's something that Gale does to him. Softening him, mellowing him down.

Astarion draws away to let Gale take a breath, narrowing his eyes and expending all of his willpower to avoid returning Gale’s stupid-looking smile.

“That was…” Gale breathes, “well, not what a cat would do.”

“Ugh .”

Astarion leaves the taunt unanswered, proceeding to position Gale so he’s comfortable for Astarion to lean on. Once he’s satisfied, he places his head on Gale's chest and shuts his eyes, inhaling deeply, sinking into the comfort of the familiar scent. Light, woody perfume mixed with the warm aroma of the soap he uses all tinged with the sharp cool tang of the Weave that sizzles deep in Gale’s veins as Astarion listens to the blood in them flow. A tempest held fast by a painfully mortal body and the sheer force of will.

Gale starts stroking his hair, then, careful not to mess up the curls too much.

“I am not,” Astarion says, suspicious, “going to start purring.”

“Oh, I know, I know. But a man can dream, can’t he?” Gale laughs. “So, am I to be your pillow now?”

“Yes. I’m going to meditate a while here, I think,” Astarion says, burying further into the self-proclaimed pillow. His tone softens, then, as he adds, “Though I suppose if you’re busy—

“You’re good,” Gale whispers against his hair, placing a soft kiss on Astarion’s head. His lips are featherlight, tingling with the energy of the Weave as he recites the words of a protection spell that creates a barely visible sphere of light around them. The sounds from camp become muffled, the cool wind turns warm, and Gale is radiant with magic that thrums rhythmically in time with his heartbeat. A perfectly beautiful melody Astarion is content to listen to for as long as he’s able. “Stay here as long as you want.”

Astarion does smile then, hiding it in the flaps of Gale’s robe. And he lets himself fall like he would never have dared to in the past, this close and exposed to someone. With his throat so vulnerable, ready to be severed. With his heart unprotected, so easy to pierce through with a stake. With his body pliant and loose, surely far too slow to dodge any attack that might come his way—yet Gale is no source of danger. Hasn’t been for such a long while Astarion sometimes forgets what life was like without him, as if it was all simply a terrible fever dream.

Gale is only warmth, and solace, and silken lips moving against Astarion’s ear as he murmurs,

"I love you."

Astarion can't quite reply, as he’s just about to be pulled under into a deeper meditative state, to a point when forming any coherent word would require too monumental an effort. But for now, he's still present enough for small movements. And him nudging into Gale’s hand as it brushes behind his ear, tightening his hold on Gale's shoulders, pulling him ever so lightly into what is, at best, a sloppy hug—is Astarion's way of saying,

I love you, too.

~~~

thank you for the read! I'd appreciate any comments and feedback💙 requests still open here, though I go through them pretty slowly🙏

#bloodweave #astarion x gale #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanart #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 gale #lumi arts #lumi writes #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep

102 notes · View notes

peanutbutterwrites · 1 month

Text

My Good Looking Boy - Part One

warnings for series: angst, struggles with self worth and self esteem, issues with appearance, childhood trauma, and mentions of death and murder.

summary: taking place after the southern raiders, zuko and katara finally learn to understand each other a bit more and long held on to feelings come to the surface. the gaang go and watch the ember island play and chaos ensues with katara's feelings.

part one - part two

authors note: here is the awaited first part! nothing crazy will happen in this part just because i'm trying to build a foundation on the slight heistance of acceptance between zuko and katara and expose the flaws in katara and aang going further into a relationship. i hope there's no major errors as i've read it a million times myself, but it is not beta read. please, let me know what you think and send me your thoughts and requests! i am open to criticism but please be kind to me lol. also let me know if you wanna be on a taglist for this series. thank you guys ~

word count: 1.8 k

Summertime in the fire nation was beautiful to see, the exotic flowers were in bloom and there was plenty to gather and hunt in the forest near camp. But one thing that summer did mean, was heat. Rays from the sun began beating down as early as six and were relentless until seven in the evening. Being a night owl meant Katara could spend a lot of her time in the cool light of the moon, late into the hours of the night. But it also meant a rude awakening when she rose at ten and it was already blisteringly hot. Groaning awake, she threw an arm to cover her eyes and felt the crease of her elbow sticky with sweat already.

“Ew, come on really?” she mumbled sleepily as she peeled the patchwork blanket from her balmy skin. Unsticking some of her hair from the nape of her neck, she rose from the tent to begin a long, hot day. Opening the curtains with a loud flap, the sun blinded her briefly before resting her eyes on the makeshift camp that the group had formed. Luckily, Sokka, Toph and Suki were all still sleeping so Katara didn’t feel too guilty about her habit of sleeping in. Yawning and making sure her wraps were tight, Katara stretched and began the laundry that she would have to do. “I need to gather food for dinner tonight, fix Suki’s blanket, teach Aang his lesson…” she mumbled, thinking out loud while she worked. As soon as she had all the blankets and clothes that needed washing, laundry was a daily occurrence thanks to the heat and dirt, she made her way down to the lake nearby camp.

The journey there was beautiful and pleasantly uneventful, but the need for cool water spurred her on and hindered her ability to appreciate the scenery. Once she finally arrived at the beautiful lake, she waded knee deep into the water and allowed the full, woven basket to float towards her. The lake lay under the cool shade of a carved out mountain with lush greenery growing all throughout it. It was beautiful to see such life within the fire nation, Katara had always thought it would be barren and depressing. Using a long, flat rock as support for the clean clothes, she breathed in and out as the gentle glide of her hands wove the water in and out of the fabric. The push and pull of the arm motion became therapeutic, and not too long after she began she was lost in her own thoughts. So lost in fact, she missed the rustling of the nearby leaves and the airy laughter floating its way into the clearing.

“Yeah! It was incredible right? Oh good morning Katar-” but her attention snapped just in time for a needle-thin icicle to hover right in front of the intruder's nose. “Whoa! It's just us.” Aang said as he brushed a large plant out of his way and walked with a bounce in his step toward her.

“Oh! I'm sorry, I was in my own world.” Katara dropped the icicle immediately in favor of returning to her former activity. “What are you doing out here? Didn’t you have practice this morning?”

“Yes, he did.” A rich, gravely voice rang out. It was quieter than Aangs and still held some apprehension. Katara raised her head to meet golden eyes.

“Oh, hello Zuko.” she said in a quiet greeting. Relations with Zuko had been strained to say the least. Katara spent the better half of the summer hating his guts and only recently had the formed common ground with the firebender. And by recently, she meant a little over a week at most. Finally accepting that his kindness and sincerity were, well, sincere; Katara was still finding it difficult to adjust to being comfortable around Zuko.

“Yeah! I did so great today, it was actually Zuko’s suggestion to come down here!” Aang bounded towards the water, taking off his robes in a fluid movement as he did so. Katara’s eyes flickered from Aang’s juvenile behavior with a fond smile on her face, back to Zuko. Noticing a light flush across his cheeks,

“Zuko? Are you okay? It’s quite hot today, why don’t you get in the water?” But the color only intensified.

“Uh yes, it is rather hot isn't it? I should get in.” Katara nodded while lightly giggling at him as he stood stiff as a board. Snorting at his behavior, she went back to focusing on the back and forth of the water she used to wash their laundry. Listening to Aang's babbling she hmm’d and oh’d in all the right spots about his stories of today’s lesson, about how wonderful he was getting at firebending. In her defense, she was fully involved in her work, focussing heavily on her job. That was, until a certain jerkbender decided to join them. Zuko derobed without any flourish, but Katara had a hard time focussing after the fact. Her breath fumbled and her heartbeat worked in a stuttering pattern. Her stomach felt awkward and didn’t it suddenly feel hotter out? Sinking slowly into the water, Zuko waded his way over to where Katara was working, forcing her to end her gawking. What the hell were you thinking about, Katara? Get a grip! Aang’s laughter could be heard reverberating off the walls of the carved out side of the cliff where the lake formed at the bottom, and Zuko finally settled on a ledge of rock, not too far from Katara. “So,” he began, “what have you been up to?” Katara fought the urge to roll her eyes.

“Well, you know me I’m a late riser but somebody needed to get this laundry done.”

“You don’t have to do everything by yourself, I could help you know.” he said sheepishly. “I feel bad with you doing all the work around here.”

“Well at least someone acknowledges it. You know, the occasional “wow thanks Katara!” would suffice.” She ranted, clasping her hands in a prayer position while exaggeratingly batting her eyes in mock praise.

“I’m serious though, I want to help.”

“Please, you and all your princely training isn’t going to help here.” he blushed a bright red and hung his head at the obvious statement. He had neglected to remember that to help with laundry he needed to know how to do laundry.

“W-well, teach me Sifu Katara.” she snorted at that, but hesitantly agreed. He had stood up from his seat on the rock ledge and had a hopeful look in his eyes. As soon as her eyes deviated from his, she regretted it. One would think all the traveling and limit to food would make one malnourished, but apparently Zuko was healthy as a horse as the water dropping down his toned stomach would beg to differ. Snapping her head down to hide the fierce blush that had bloomed across her face, she slapped a wet blanket into Zuko’s chest while he waded closer. Showing the motion of pressing the fabric into a rock for non-waterbenders, Zuko began learning how to actually help. He never once complained, even when Katara snapped at him for doing it incorrectly. They stood there in comfortable silence, only the sounds of water, rubbing of fabric, and occasional bird calls with Aang’s distant laughter never ceasing. It was one of the few times Katara has actually felt peace in a while. Even alone she often found her mind wandering into undesirable thoughts. Thoughts about her mother, the war, and even the man she killed. She knew he deserved it for all the waterbenders and innocent people of her tribe he must have wounded besides her mother. But for some reason, that didn’t make killing feel any better to her. “You thinking about something?” His hoarse voice suddenly spoke.

“Um yeah, I guess I am.”

“You can always talk to me. I mean, if you want that is.” Katara paused, debating on if they were comfortable enough yet with each other. “Actually, you never have to talk to me about anything really. You know I don't want to push your boundaries and-”

“It's okay, Zuko. Thank you.” She gave him a small smile and the tension of his previous rambling physically exited his body as his shoulders relaxed down.

“Well, good. Because honestly, you’re a really good friend Katara, and I don’t want to mess this up.” She offered him a soft grip on top of his hand and that slightly uncomfortable fluttering returned to her stomach.

“You haven’t messed it up.” He smiled softly back at her, his eyes twinkling and Katara swore she could see golden light dancing in them. But suddenly, his face fell and his hand slipped out from under hers. He went back to washing the fabric and a frown found its way to Katara’s face.

“Zuko? What’s-”

“Hey, you guys are washing out our clothes! Cool!” Aaang waded out of the water and the moment was lost. Maybe she was imagining it, but she swore she heard Zuko let out a sigh of relief.

“Well yeah, you guys have been complaining about the sweat and dirt so, here we are.”

“Wow, really cool of you to help Zuko. You didn’t have to.” Aang said cheerfully, grabbing the finished clothes and hitting them with some gusts of wind to help dry them quickly. Katara’s frown only deepened,

“You know Aang, he didn’t have to but it would be nice if you guys helped me out a little more.” “Why? It's like your job, you know? I have to train, Zuko and Toph have to teach me, Suki has stuff to do for her people and helps you out sometimes, and Sokka is, well, Sokka. That stuff’s your thing.”

“But Aang, I teach you too.” Katara grumbled.

“I barely need help waterbending anymore, I think it’s fine.” He shrugged while he pulled on a robe. Katara ground her teeth and had to contain herself from snapping.

“I think she has a point, there’s nothing wrong with us all helping each other out a little more.” Zuko came to the rescue. But Aang simply shrugged, as if this conversation was no big deal at all.

“Sure, I’m heading back to camp. You guys coming?” Katara sighed and tried to keep her tone even.

“No Aang, I’m not finished with my job.” Aang looked pointedly at Zuko.

“I'll stay with her.”

#zutara #zuko x katara #atla #atla imagines #zutara imagines #angst #hurt comfort

30 notes · View notes

phoenixyfriend · 1 year

Text

I know I'm a nerd because the amount of time I've spent obsessing over the Vojvodina dress is. Way too much.

This dress doesn't actually have a name (probably), but it's from late 19th century Vojvodina, and I kind of obsessed over it when I was at the Serbian Ethnographic Museum in Belgrade (main site is available only in Serbian).

(Unfortunately, I'm trying to work within the tumblr image limit, but here's a google drive!)

BTW, if you enjoy this post, please consider leaving a tip! I spent more time than is reasonable putting this together.

Also, due to tumblr being Odd, you may want to open this in a new tab to avoid having the posts expand to full; the dashboard view only lets there be one image per line, for some reason. If you open in a new tab, they are much more neatly organized into sets, and quicker to scroll past.

Due to the fact that I can't really describe these photos in a way that means anything to readers unless they have a large technical vocabulary or background in Balkan fashion history, and there being so many pictures, I will not be including image descriptions. However, my commentary on those photos throughout the latter half of the post should hopefully give you a solid summary on what the photos contain, even if it's not going into details for most.

Here is the general shape of what you see in 19th century Serbia (incl. Kosovo), Montenegro, Bosnia&Herzegovina, and Croatia:

You can see a few throughlines, even with the variety from one region to the next. Certain types of fabric are more common, especially that heavy plain-weave white fiber (I think usually cotton, nowadays, but probably historically flax) with the small knots; my grandmother's apartment is still stocked with that as the default bed linen! You see it all through the exhibit, most frequently in the skirts, but often for blouses or chemises, too.

There are a lot of hand-woven fabrics, which you can see on display best with the aprons, and a very specific style of applique trimmings on the cropped vest. The arm's eyes and necklines have similar proportions. The lengths are similar. Most things are cut on the rectangular, or not cut at all. Hems are often tassled, for complex weaves, or simply folded under for the white base fabrics; plain, non-white fabrics tend to get a textured applique at the hems. Lace is usually eyelet.

There are exceptions, of course. I'd love to know more about that mint green cardigan(?) from Montenegro, with the gored pieces. I think it's made of doeskin (the tight wool weave, not the leather), and I wish I could get more information on the history. Most of the larger green dyes, not counting floral motifs or minor elements of a multicolored weave, are from the Bosnian section of the display (wide stripes along the collar, for instance), presumably due to Ottoman influence leaving a large Muslim population. And then there's this mint green cardigan from Montenegro made of a fabric I'm not seeing on any other garments? Tell me more, please.

(Also, in the close-ups, you can see that the hook and eye closure has released rust stains onto the blouse!)

There are so many more pictures, but unfortunately, I have a thirty-image max and really want to talk about this one specific dress:

The image description on the floor below describes this as:

Woman's festive dress with a zlatara cap, Banat, Vojvodina, late 19th century

(I have minimal commentary on the hat. It's a traditionally Serbian vestment, but there's nothing too unusual about it.)

So, here are a few things to note at first glance:

The arm's eye on the vest is wide. It dips further in towards the neck than most vests, and swoops further down towards the ribs. Most of the traditional vests have a much tighter arm's eye.

Relatedly, the straps are much thinner than most of the vests, maybe half as wide. This is partly the arm's eye, and partly the width of the neckline to start!

The vest comes down in a slightly pointed oval ending at the swell of the bust, rather than curving back up or being a rounded shape a few inches higher. It's also finished with these little satin triangles?

The vest is laced at front, rather than hook and eye closure.

The bottom edge has tabs!

The hems on those tabs are chain stitched in yellow, and then the hem is wrapped in a thin orange ribbon that I would hesitantly say is satin? Plus all the other yellow embroidery, which to my eye looks really different from the embroidery you see on various aprons, and also different from the metallic appliques you see on most vests!

That bottom edge also appears to be straight across (most of the vests curve up slightly at front), and is very tight to the body. While some of the vests are tight, those are generally the shorter ones. Longer vests are much looser than this one, which cuts off and cinches at the waist, right where it meets the skirt.

The fabric itself! I'll get back to this but it seems to be a satin jacquard??? A jacquard that matches (in thread, not in pattern) to the skirt? Insane.

[Disclaimer: Some of these deviations, such as the arm's eye size or the dropped shoulder hem, could be a matter of the mannequin being the wrong size for the clothing. Unfortunately, I don't have enough background information to be sure. It could be just the right size. It could be far too small. I only have these photos and the most basic of background information to go off of.]

Okay moving on to the blouse:

It's not completely unique to be sheer, but it's definitely uncommon!

The chest is not pintucked or a flat weave, but rather the sheer fabric has thin stripes of more opaque weave? I don't actually remember what that's called but it's definitely cool to see.

We also see a net lace at the cuffs, which is similarly uncommon; most of the fashions I saw had eyelet lace instead (which we can see at the collar of the blouse).

The dropped shoulder! The shoulder seam sits much higher on most of the pieces I saw (there are a few exceptions, but mostly from regions nearby). In fact, most of the examples had the shoulder seam hidden, between the higher seam and the width of the vest; it's both the dropped seam and the thin straps of the vest that let us see this here!

That metallic embroidery. Again, most of the embroidery we see on the other pieces is cross stitch or done with a much thicker thread; sometimes, you get lineart, but not filled in in this manner. This kind of thin-thread embroidery that fills the space between the lines isn't common in the other pieces!

I don't think I can actually say much about the sleeve length? I feel like most of the pieces have sleeves that are full or bracelet length, while this one is a three-quarter, but I'm not 100% on that actually being true. It's a bit hard to tell in some cases. Might just be summer clothes?

The skirt:

SATIN JACQUARD

BOX PLEATS

SLIGHT OVAL HEM

SATIN RIBBON TRIM

I'm gonna be honest this was a huge part of why I began to obsess over this dress let me just. Whoo!

This fabric is, as far as I can tell, a satin jacquard, very probably machine-woven. It is very different from basically every other fabric we see in this exhibit. This is not a plain weave, and it is not a hand-woven design. This is a meticulously, mechanically repetitive pattern done using satin-weave manipulation to adjust which sections have shine and which don't. Given the time period, it's probably silk. (Take a look at this portion of a video on silk by Nicole Rudolph to understand what I mean by jacquard. If you want to know more about satin weave, you can watch the full video.)

I'd guess that the vest is made of the same type of fabric, even the same threads, just in a different pattern.

The pleating! If you take a look at the other photos, the general pattern is 'put together some rectangles, gather at top, and you have a dress. Cover with a hand-woven apron in front and possibly in back.' There are, again, some exceptions, but this dress has both the box pleating and the satin jacquard. The structure of this skirt is completely different from 90% of this exhibit.

In conjunction with the pleating, the skirt had a very slight oval shape around the bottom. I didn't get a good photo of that part, but it's typical of 1890s dresses in Western Europe to have a sort of egg-shaped hem if you look at them from above, through use of pleating, strategic panel shapes, and bum pads or petticoats. In short, the dress is just slightly longer at back without being a full-on train. Most of the other pieces, due to the rectangles and gathers, are a much simpler circle shape around bottom.

Length! Part of why the egg-shaped hem is happening is because this dress actually brushes the floor. Ankle-length is the default across the exhibit, even for formal wear.

Simple satin ribbons for decorative trim, rather than something textured, shaped, or multicolor!

Then, the actual hem of the skirt: a center-pleated green ribbon. This is, again, really different from most of the hems. Most of the skirts don't reach the ground, and aren't made of a fancy fabric. Those white dresses/skirts that form the base of most looks are easily washed and have hems that don't drag on the ground. If they aren't left to just the selvage, they're very simply hemmed; I think what I saw most frequently was a double-folded hem. The pieces that have more decorative hems, like blouses and vests and aprons, aren't pieces that get the same form of wear. However, since this dress does reach the ground, it needs a centimeter or so of additional fabric to take some of that wear to protect the fancier skirt fabric, like hem braid, which the easily-replaced ribbon could conceal for this skirt since it's a festival item.

I think that might also be part of why there's a seam about twenty centimeters up from the bottom edge; it's a replaceable section in case it needs replacement, or the seam is for a protective layer inside. However, it could also be a seam used for a stiff inner lining meant to help the skirt flare out just a touch, like this.

Now, finally, why is all this even a thing, and why do I care?

Vojvodina, the region this outfit is from, was under Austro-Hungarian control during the latter half of the 19th century; whether it was officially Hungarian, Austrian, or both changed from one decade to the next, but it was definitely under that sphere of influence for a very long time. Despite this, it was and is culturally Serbian, and is majority Serbian in terms of population; it was even back then! However, the 19th century saw a large number of ethnic Hungarians and ethnic Germans in the region as well, and the cultural impact from Vienna was not to be underestimated.

This dress is a great example of how a culturally Serbian individual would have clothing that integrated those foreign influences. For most of the Balkans, the greatest influence was the Ottomans, due to five centuries of imperial rule, but this dress is a great contrast due to Hungarian occupation, and then Austrian. It contains elements of the culture that birthed it, yes, but the influence of the West is so very, very clear.

(I wish I could talk more about the Pannonian elements in general, but I'm still learning.)

I hope you enjoyed this rambling deep dive into a single outfit from the Serbian Ethnographic Museum. Visit it if you get a chance!

And if you've read this whole thing and feel like dropping a tip, you can do so on this blog, post, or over on ko-fi. You could even join my Patreon!

#serbia #vojvodina #fashion #fashion history #the vojvodina dress #serbian stuff #balkan stuff #balkans #Banat #Hungary #Austria Hungary #austro hungarian empire #phoenix posts

171 notes · View notes

nightswithkookmin · 1 year

Text

SET ME FREE REVIEW #1

I said I wasn't going to write a review so I'm not writing one. This is just a commentary. Take a deep breathe, unclench your jaw amd brace yourself for this ride.

I want to start off by saying, admiting, and testifying that Jimin is a genius point blank period. His creativity, his duality, his delivery and execution in every single art work is an attestation to this fact.

If ever his ingenuity was in question, Set me free sets the record straight. It is only Park Jimin that can dare to assemble such imposing sounds, competing talents, daunting expanse and fine rhythm in one room under the single gaze of an equally brilliant director and not get lost in all that magical mashups.

The song is huge. BTS level huge. And for him to attempt to take on a song that takes 7 brilliant minds of our generation, him included, with varying vocal skills and talent- I must say, Jimin has some big balls on him and I respect him for that.

When I tell you my mind is blown, it is.

The song reminds me so much of BTS and everyone seems to agree. However when they say it's a nod to the group I disagree. I'll explain in a minute.

He draws on familiar elements and artistic devices that's signature to BTS as a group thus infusing among other things, nostalgia and that feeling of excellence and excitement we associate with BTS.

But that was the plan all along wasn't it? To show you he is not afraid take on a big shark like BTS or even to be compared to the brilliance of the group? Namjoon told us in words, Jimin just walked the talk.

I don't think this is a nod to BTS however. Because then we have to ask ourselves, is Jimin celebrating the band or has the band been celebrating Jimin all along.

This is bringing to light the artistic inspiration behind the creation of almost all BTS' master pieces. It's jimin. It's always been Jimin, the choreography, the beat, the visuals- everything has been inspired or created around him and his capabilities. The group has always leaned into his strengths in that way. It's why he transitions so well into it even as Solo.

Blackswan comes to mind. The stunning visuals, the contemporary dance styles, the concepts- everything was woven around Jimin. There are pieces of him intricately woven into the fabrics of BTS.

You can't have BTS without Jimin.

He is the secret ingredient that spiced up the group and this master piece of an MV shows it.

It makes sense to say there are songs that were made for BTS with Jimin in mind, choreographies inspired by him and that played to his strengths and uniqueness too.

It's why people accused him of being Hybe's favorite or the director's pet. The writing was on the wall.

Does this mean the others suck?

Yes.

I'm kidding😆

If you want to look at the strength of BTS you only have to look at the strength of the individual parts that make up BTS. From Namjoon's lyrical intellect, Hobi's versatility, Suga's unmatched flow, to even Tae's radiance- you cannot dispute that these men rose not by luck but by substance.

I used to think their Solo phase was them moving apart and away from their shared identity but now I think its the phase for each of them to model and strut across the biggest runway to show the world what they each bring to the golden table that is BTS. It's not a competition among themselves. Not at all. It's a review and examination of the parts that make up the whole and they all have something to prove.

And by Odin's beard, THEY WILL PROVE THEMSELVES. EACH AND EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM. IT'S IN THEIR BLOOD. IT'S THE BANGTAN SPIRIT.

He killed it.

He delivered.

Part two will focus more on the themes, visuals and vocal delivery. Look forward to it.

Hashtag drinking Hennessy. I saw what you did there Jimin. And if you read my blogs closely you'll see what I'm getting at.

Cheers Jimin 🍻

YOU DID IT

138 notes · View notes

meirimerens · 1 month

Note

What were you reading on your trip!!

Omg love this question. It's been so long since I've been able to discuss books... you're getting reviews too. Or like My Thoughts.

First book was La Nuit Chienne (Nightbitch) by Rachel Yoder. my review: first thing first I do think I'd have loved it more in its original English version, but I bought it in France in a French bookshop so it's in French. However, a lot of the packed punch of it hinges on the wordplay and the homonymy of bitch and bitch, of Da Dog, so the orginal version probably is a less "jarring" read, as the translation left in parts in English that it just Couldn't find a way to translate.

the feminist themes are both overt and somewhat shallow, one could say "loud" without being "deep", being tinged a little of "baby's first feminist thoughts" and "baby's first discovery of Feminine Rage/the concept of a mother goddess" However Comma it does fit with the characters AND considering the author grew up in a fundamentalist Christian cult which, as Christian cults do, offers nothing but patriarchal projections and rehearsal, the narration does feel like something like she might have found/thought while deprogramming, and I don't doubt it could have been very liberating and empowering to her, and could be for many, manyyy women in the same situation as the main character. [Extremely vague spoilers from now but you'll have forgotten all about this if you pick up the book + i do feel like the "ride" is not spoiled by this] the husband was way too readily redeemed, and I think it's another symptom of writing about a feminism that's quite centered on wives and mothers (nothing wrong with that) but does not want to make them confront the fact that Your Husband Is Part Of The Problem. The actual Bitch (As In The Dog) I find actually quite good, and it's both the thing that attracted me to the book ( I ❤️ STORIES OF LYCANTHROPY OR EVEN VAGUELY RELATED TO LYCANTHROPY ESPECIALLY FEMALE LYCANTHROPY I DID MY BACHELOR'S ACCROCHAGE ON IT) and kept me going. [/spoiler] Tldr: the bones are good but the meat leaves to be desired (topical metaphor)

Second book was Le Ciel en Sa Fureur ("the sky in its fury") by Adeline Fleury. About the life in a small tight-knit Normandy village as animals turn up dead, this one kid is making it rain frogs and toads and is constantly found near the animal carcasses, and everyone has to come to terms with the town's secrets and their own that they've kept all these years. I ❤️ magical realism stories and I ❤️ stories in rural settings so mostly I've had a good time. The background of a tight-knit rural village slowly overtaken by a new suburb greatly appeals to me + how legends are woven into the fabric of social life... loved that... I thought the storey was kind of diminished by the early reveal of Who Done It, even thought it serves to humanize them and That's The Point, I felt like it could have been kept secret juuuust a little longer. Get scared etc. Also on one hand I'd have wished to know more about the [...]-kids, on the other I believe the ambiguity is how they're truly lived and experienced as living legends so. Yeah I'll cope with that. Also they had a lesbian second-main character and the author was normal about her \o/ you would not believe the bullshit I've had to read in contemporary books for 10 years until I got a lesbian character who's written normally. It's never too late!

THANK YOU FOR QUASTION... me tucking myself into bed every evening 📖🤓

#ring ring (answers)#fckyaas

19 notes · View notes

demonicornauthor · 3 months

Text

Enjoy this sneak peak at my next Riku/Sora oneshot, "Return From the Brink"! I hope to have the full version out soon!

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Disney Town was always so lively and bright, filled with laughter, chatter, and various exclamations of glee. When they were hosting a party, that was heightened exponentially– especially a birthday party which was exactly the occasion today. Their dear Kairi was turning seventeen, and you could definitely tell she was the birthday girl based on her state of dress. Kairi’s short red hair had purple orchids woven through in vine-like patterns that matched her dark purple tank top with lilac fabric ruffles on the sleeves and over the chest that had all sorts of sparkles. The redhead was wearing white jeans with black boots to go along with it, and over everything she was wearing a sash that stated her position as birthday girl, a tiara, and all sorts of buttons and pins of the birthday variety that Xion and Naminé had enjoyed placing all over her between giggles. Riku had watched in amusement while they had all finished getting ready in one of the living areas of Disney Castle. Now, though, they were all gathered outside having fun. They were in between scheduled activities, allowing everyone to do what they wished. Terra, Aqua, Mickey, Minnie, and Isa were playing some kind of card game while observing everyone else. Donald and Goofy were working with Huey, Dewey, and Louie to make the tallest possible ice cream cone. Yen Sid and Merlin were running tests on the fireworks show they had prepared for later in the evening to ensure there wouldn’t be any hiccups. Kairi was enjoying a friendly dance-off with Lea– Kairi was being backed by Ventus and Naminé while Lea was backed by Roxas and Xion. Xion had originally seemed intent on backing Kairi, but she couldn’t switch her loyalties from one of her first best friends like that. Lea, Roxas, and Xion were inseparable as a trio, after all, especially now that they could all completely accept the fact that they had their own hearts and emotions. It had been an entertaining journey to watch Roxas, Xion, and Naminé figure out what it was like to have their own hearts, even if it had led to a few embarrassing moments of needing to explain societal norms. The sex talk had been uncomfortable for all involved, and no one let Lea forget that he was the one to make the innuendo that started it all. They had grown into themselves, though, and the three were flourishing. Everyone was.

Well, almost everyone.

Riku was sitting alone against the wall of a nearby building in the shade, silently watching everyone else enjoy themselves. He really did want to join in on the fun– he wanted to be able to truly smile with them– but he just couldn’t. All of these bright colors, the laughter, the joy… It all reminded him so much of Sora. Sora who was somewhere unknown, most likely by himself, and far out of Riku’s reach. His dear, sweet, sunshine Sora had been gone for a year and a half, and Riku hadn’t been able to relax much since he disappeared. He still made routine checks once a month to each world they knew of to ask the residents they knew if anyone had any leads on Sora, but it was always answered in the negative. Many of them had said that he was most likely gone permanently and had tried to convince Riku to focus on other things. He knew that they meant well, but he vehemently refused. Even the idea of giving up on Sora made his skin crawl. The only other ones who seemed as certain as him that Sora was even still alive were those who had literally lived in his heart at one point. Even so, it seemed that Kairi, Naminé, Ventus, and Xion were beginning to suspect they had been wrong. Roxas was the only one Riku could talk to without being told to stop looking and just to give up. Roxas had been a lifeline for Riku ever since Sora’s disappearance, and wasn’t that ironic? The person Riku had worked so hard to destroy and return to Sora now was one of the few things keeping the silveret sane.

.........

“... Riku?” came a shaky, disbelieving whisper.

Riku jumped up and whipped around, his aquamarine blown wide as they met confused and fearful sapphire. Riku couldn’t believe his eyes. He reached his hands up to scrub at his eyes before looking again to see that the boy was still there.

#soriku #kingdom hearts #fanfiction #ao3

17 notes · View notes

leviathan-supersystem · 1 year

Note

why dont you like the church of satan? im not a satan simp i promise i'm just genuinely curious because idk anything about them

i'm glad you asked! during my debate with the CoS simps on twitter i dug up a bunch of evidence of the Church of Satan's right-wing leanings, which was wasted on those losers because obviously they're not going to concede anything ever, but i'm glad to have a more receptive audience here.

so, to start with, the most well-known pieces of evidence relating to this are A: Anton Lavey said at one point that the CoS gives people "Ayn Rand with trappings" and B: there's a segment in the satanic bible called "the book of satan" which is outright copied from the proto-fascist philosophical tract "Might is Right", written by Ragnar Redbeard.

now, apparently CoS simps have taken it upon themselves to go around bothering anyone who brings this up, arguing that Anton Lavey only said that thing about Ayn Rand once so it probably doesn't mean anything (i am skeptical that he did only say this once but i haven't been able to find smoking gun evidence of him saying it other times) and the parts which copy from Ragnar Redbeard directly are only a few pages out of the satanic bible so, again, it probably doesn't mean anything. (ignoring that the influence of "Might it Right" is woven throughout the entirety of Anton's work, hardly limited to the direct quotes.)

so, to prepare my readers for if they get hassled by some CoS loser for stating the obviously correct fact that the CoS is right-wing, here's some more evidence to that effect, under a cut because i am merciful and this is going to get very long and very ugly.

here's Boyd Rice, then a major figure in the Church of Satan, saying that the principle of satanism is "let the master be the master and the slave be the slave, and never the two shall meet." this was in the documentary "Speak of the Devil", created by Nick Bougas, also a prominent figure in the CoS at the time. Nick Bougas is more well known by his nom de plume "A Wyatt Mann", aka the guy who drew those old nazi comics that became memes ("le happy merchant" etc).

here's some quotes from the official website of the CoS:

Satanists see the social structure of humanity as being stratified, thus each person reaches a level commensurate with the development (or lack thereof) of their natural talents. The principle of the survival of the strong is advocated on all levels of society, from allowing an individual to stand or fall, to even letting those nations that cannot handle themselves take the consequences of this inability. Any assistance on all levels will be on a “quid pro quo” basis. There would be a concommitant reduction in the world’s population as the weak are allowed to experience the consequences of social Darwinism. Thus has nature always acted to cleanse and strengthen her children. This is harsh, but that is the way of the world. We embrace reality and do not try to transform it into some utopia that is contrary to the very fabric of existence. Practical application of this doctrine would see the complete cessation of the welfare system, an end to no-strings attached foreign aid and new programs to award and encourage gifted individuals in all fields to pursue personal excellence. A meritocracy will replace the practice of such injustices as affirmative action and other programs designed to punish the able and reward the undeserving.

Satanists also seek to enhance the laws of nature by concentrating on fostering the practice of eugenics.

but if you REALLY want to get into the ugly shit that the CoS has been promoting, here's some excerpts from the magazine "The Black Flame", which the CoS published throughout the late 80's and through the 90's:

^that last one's from an interview with Lavey himself

and to bring things back around, here's another interview with Boyd Rice:

youtube

on the whole, while the CoS may present itself as an opponent of right-wing christianity, it's ultimately just controlled opposition, pushing largely the same right-wing agenda that the christian right was. it's funny that people never seemed to ask why christian conservatives like Bob Larson were always spending time interviewing, or being interviewed by, the Church of Satan if they were supposedly such mortal enemies.

171 notes · View notes

mermaidsirennikita · 2 months

Text

ARC REVIEW: Wake Me Most Wickedly by Felicia Grossman

4/5. 4/9/2024.

Vibes: older woman/younger man, Snow White retelling, Jewish historical romance

Heat Index: 6.5/10.

Sol Weiss is looking to live up to the example (and expectations) set by the half-brother who raised him--and that means marrying the right woman. The right woman is NOT Hannah, with a shady past and a shadier lineage. But after she rescues Sol from an attack, he can't get her out of his head. And the more she tries to stay away, the more he wants her...

If you're looking for something light and fun--though not at all silly--with a good dose of interclass conflict and a rough around the edges heroine, this is for you. It's not often that we see heroines who are a) older than their heroes, which Hannah is and b) the more "dangerous" one (in theory) in the couple. At the same time--though Sol is funny and sweet, he's not a milquetoast. Seriously, how could he be with Hannah if he was?

It's like... a feel-good book, but not without stakes. Which is what I think Felicia Grossman is starting to specialize in. With, of course, a strong focus on the 19th century Jewish community in England, which--how often do you see that in romance, despite it being a huge part of the era.

Quick Takes:

--You often do see heroines who have a bit of an edge, but it's less often that you see them actually do things that make them seem more worldly and, dare I say, competent than the hero. Hannah is introduced here as someone who has a lot of responsibilities, doesn't shy away from her sexuality (but also, you get the sense, has never really had someone truly care about her needs), and isn't above committing crimes.

And then... she saves Sol. It's not that Sol isn't competent--more that he doesn't have as much life experience as Hannah. Which tracks, as he's literally younger than her and also comes from a more sheltered background. But I wouldn't say he's spoiled. He's willing to learn. He's eager to learn, really (in every way... yay, a hero who's less experienced in bed than the heroine!).

Sol is a good dude, but as I said before, he's not a boring dude. He wants to do the right thing, but Hannah quickly becomes his priority. Also, he does crochet at one point, and I did find that delightful.

--To be clear, I am not Jewish, and my understanding of Jewish customs and history is superficial at best. But it's clear that Grossman has done her research regarding the era, and I really appreciate that her characters' identities are woven in to the fabric of their beings. Like, there isn't a Very Special Episode Where We're Reminded That The Characters Are Jewish (which I've seen happen when writers who aren't Jewish write characters that are). It's just always there.

--One thing I really liked as Sol and Hannah's relationship progressed was the way that he clearly started to take care of her. I love an independent heroine who takes care of people (Hannah does not have a kid, phew, but she does have a sister she's trying to set up for a better life) and resists the hero trying to care for her. That's done really well here. Sol is like, mildly outraged that this woman doesn't have people looking out for her, and it's very sweet.

--This is a Snow White retelling! There are nods to elements like the Seven Dwarves. I don't know that I would call this a particularly heavy retelling, and I'm not sure that the retelling element was super necessary? But it was cute.

The Sex:

There are several sex scenes in this one, all of which are good, and they usually revolve around Hannah's pleasure. Sol is not super experienced, but he's READY to jump in, and it's really great. In fact, their entire sexual relationship (which begins before the halfway mark, thank God) begins with him basically going "let me help you RELAX" which. Gold. He's a GOOD boy.

For the fans of a face-sitting scene.... There is a great one in this book wherein she is shocked! Shocked I say! And he basically goes "hold on to the bed frame I'm working here".

Anyway, this is a super fun, fluffy-but-not-TOO-fluffy read that gives you something beyond the typical hero/heroine dynamic (which I still love) along with a solid dose of heat. It's for the girlies (and not-girlies) who just want to go home after a long day's work and have our shoulders massaged, and also perhaps other things too. We love to see it.

Thanks to NetGalley and Forever for providing me with a copy of this book. All thoughts and opinions are my own.

Preorder here:

Amazon

B&N

Bookshop.org

#romance novel blogging #romance novels #book recs #arc reviews #netgalley #book reviews #books

8 notes · View notes

clever-fox-studios · 26 days

Text

Chapter 7

The breadth of knowledge that Sun found himself lacking was far more vast and profound than he ever imagined. In merely a shake of the day–-or roughly 100 minutes to anyone not on Adir Standard Time–-he’d been introduced to no less than twenty different variations of wild grass, four edible roots, and six ‘trust me, don’t touch it’ varieties of leaf and flower that he’d never heard of, let alone seen before. Jenn was more than willing to explain each of them with enough prodding, he found, though he felt just a bit guilty about regularly pinging Moon with a distance reading to enable his brother’s paranoid snooping. Despite this, he found himself to be enjoying the outing.

It was fun !

Just as well, it was a chance to try and understand the odd human just a bit more without Moon breathing down his neck with words of caution. I love you dearly, my brother, but there are days, he thought to himself with a touch of shame for being harsh, even if it was just to himself. Though I’m not helping I suppose…

Sun sighed.

“You alright?” Jenn lifted her head from the shrub she was picking through, wiping her brow with the back of the glove on her organic arm.

He hadn’t realized he’d made a sound. “Oh! Yes!” Quickly, he picked his way over the tangle of roots and dirt, amused at how it felt like steps to a bizarre dance at times with how he had to maneuver to avoid stepping on something unsavory.

“Not bored?”

“Never!” Crouching, gangly legs splayed to avoid hitting anything, he peered at the mass of puffy leaves she tended to while doing a binocular comparison–-one eye was focused on the shape and color of the vegetation, the other analyzing his store of information for direct comparison until it found a match. Often this was a feature used for color-correcting or aligning cut patterns of paper and fabric but it worked fantastically for identifying plants and berries–-delightful! This one didn’t have a match yet; he smiled. “What’s this one?”

Carefully, Jenn pulled a tangle of leaves from the bush, the ‘branch’ unfurling into a long vine-like wisp heavy with fat, round leaves that had a grayish tint on them. She coiled the base of the vine around her mechanical fingers and ran it through her hand, the bulbs popping free without a hint of resistance to fall into the basket beneath her. The air smelled of clean linen and spring water suddenly. “Soap leaves,” she answered once the harvest was stashed, a woven mat placed over the top of them within the basket to keep them separate from other collectibles. “They’re super convenient and grow just about everywhere; when they're ready to use, they get that silvery color on their skin. You can peel them, juice ‘em, crush them in your hand–-they lather up with water and make you smell super clean. Great natural deodorant.”

“Deodorant?”

She had a wry grin on her ace. “You might not sweat or smell but we humans tend to have funny odors after a long day of work.”

“Oh? I’ve never noticed.” Most of high society did their best to be presentable at all times, though he vaguely wondered if too much perfume counted as body odor. Nevermind the fact he could simply disengage one of his senses whenever it became overwhelming.

“Lucky.” Standing up, Jenn gathered the materials she’d removed from the basket and gently placed them back inside: woven mats that acted as separators, a small kit of pruning tools, a smaller pack of ointment and bandages, plus a handful of other random things had been stored inside the large carrying basket until needed. Whenever Jenn wanted to harvest something, she set the basket down, pulled the tools out, took a bit of what she needed, then put the tools back, always careful to not throw or drop anything. Sometimes, Sun thought, he would hear her humming but never loud enough for him to point it out.

Rising gracefully, Sun placed his hands under the basket as she lifted it up, reflexively trying to assist though she didn’t need it. After four attempts where he couldn’t stop himself, she’d given up trying to correct him and simply allowed it, the basket creaking under its growing weight as she used her head and neck to support it through the underbrush. It seemed dangerous to do too often, but the gold robot wasn’t nearly brave enough to tell her that for fear of running out her patience with him. How she hadn’t yet was a gift he wasn’t intending to look in the mouth. “So, um…” Jenn turned her head slightly to indicate she heard him, her step never breaking as they rounded a stand of trees. “All of this… foraging? Do you do this every day?”

She rose up a few inches while stepping onto a particularly large root, then dropped back down; Sun was able to stride over it fairly easily with his long legs, clearing it like a balance beam. “Well, sort of. Harvesting every day is bad for the plants, but I don’t clear them off when I need them cuz that’s wasteful. I just keep track of what I need and know where to find it and collect only that much. This area is consistently temperate so the plants stay in bloom year-round as long as the aurora cooperates.”

“That must be extremely convenient!”

“It is.” The trees ended abruptly, breaking onto a stretch of sand and grass along a small lake. Sun stopped, awestruck at the vision of the aurora reflecting in the water, barely realizing Jenn was still walking until she started talking again. “It’s why I stayed here to build my base.”

Blinking hard to snap out of his gawking, Sun trotted up to shrink the distance between them. “You–-you built this place? Alone?”

She shrugged, gazing at the water for a moment in thought. “Salvaged, if you want to get technical. It was gutted and falling apart when I found it but the basic house structure was already there. I patched it up in my spare time, moved in and stayed put.”

“That’s… incredible!”

A humorous laugh escaped her. “I mean, sure? I guess? Dragged thing still leaks like a–-” Jenn paused for just a moment to avoid cursing unnecessarily, aware her tag-along didn't seem to care for it. “Like an old boat when it rains but it’s home.”

Jenn slowed to a stop, gaze on the treeline ahead of them, which allowed Sun to fully catch up without having to hurry, hoping to keep the discussion going. Moon would be pleased with any information he got, surely! “How long have-–”

“Sh.”

Sun froze completely at the chaste sound, feeling a bit of panic well up inside that made his rays retract slightly. Had he upset her? Was she going to chastise him? Or worse-–?

Slowly, Jenn placed the basket down at the foot of a tree and rolled the front of her skirt up, using the back panel as a belt to tie and tuck it out of the way. With eerie silence and a half crouch, she slipped into the underbrush along the tree line, the green and brown colors of her clothes blending her into the leaves and dirt just enough to make her hard to keep track of. The panic Sun felt shifted immediately from worry for upsetting her to raw survival. Something was in the forest with them.

Was he supposed to follow? She hadn’t said-–was it a trap?? Would he be left to fend for himself??

A branch snapped somewhere.

It took everything in his system to withhold the shriek he wanted to let out, hands covering his mouth to block the sound from escaping.

Locked.

Moon scowled, sliding his hand up and down the door to look for any secret hinge or panel to press that would open it without the passcode. No such luck. Fingers drumming on the metal door for a moment, he huffed and rose, feeling along the seams of the frame.

Nothing.

A tip-tap got him to turn, only slightly surprised to find Rukbat staring at him curiously, wrong ear flopping at the tip as he titled his copper brown head as if to say ‘what’cha doin’?’ Putting his hand to his hips, Moon considered the fact that he could be getting spied on with the canine present, but couldn’t be mad about it. It was simply doing as it should by guarding its mistress’s secrets from nosey visitors.

“I don’t suppose you can let me in, can you?” he wondered, not expecting an answer. Why was he even talking to this thing?

Rukbat whined.

“Didn’t think so.” Backing up from the door, Moon turned on his heel and began to walk away, listening for footsteps. When none came by the time he got down to the yard, the navy snoop looked up to the part of the patio still visible from where he stood, seeing the canine’s head poking out from between the rails. After a moment, Rukbat slid back and turned, out of sight. Moving to try and see up more, Moon could just barely make out the tops of the doors the Sirius was next to, the ones he’d just come from.

One led to the kitchen, he knew that already after seeing it at breakfast, but the other one beside it was sealed tight with no other doors that he could find. Whatever it guarded was a part of the house he had yet to see, and with her warning about locked doors he had to assume it was a private area. A bedroom, or perhaps a study? Something that may have answers for him.

Rukbat’s nails tapped the patio as it wandered out of sight, then scratched on something. A rush of air–-Moon squinted, seeing the sliver of the locked door vanish for a moment. What?! Hurrying, he stomped up the steps, three at a time, sliding into the rail as he circled back to the set of doors, disbelieving.

They were shut.

With a quick check, he found it the same as a moment ago: no handle, no panel, still in need of a wireless access code. “Draggit-–” he hissed, hitting the rail with his hand. Did… I just get punked by a dog ? Drumming his fingers once more, Moon made an annoyed sound in his throat, both impressed and embarrassed.

He was not telling Sun about that.

Changing objectives to try and salvage his dignity, Moon made his way to the lounge, intending to comb through the papers and notes strewn about. She was so eager for that binder in here, maybe there’s something else? Jenn had gotten short with them after their sit-down in the grass, her eyes darting about as if looking for or avoiding something. In an unexpected burst of speed, she’d gotten ahead of them on the way inside, which prompted Moon to follow quickly to figure out what she was doing. They’d nearly collided as she ducked out of the lounge, a massive, black binder full of laminated paper breaking their contact with a whump .

That thing was dense.

She’d slid off to the side, telling them to relax without another peep on their situation, and escaped before he could stop her, locking herself in the white container–-

Moon stopped shifting through papers–-something about the practical uses of a wood fungus native to the boglands miles from here-–as he pondered over the white block of metal under the patio. The human had already brought equipment out of it once and managed to spend an entire resting time locked inside doing something or other that put her in a good mood. It couldn’t be a storage shed, could it?

Idiot.

Dropping the paper, Moon left quickly, hopping the railings with practiced grace to land as lightly as he could on the lawn. Unsurprisingly, the white block was sealed tight, just like the door, but he had time to burn. Starting at the front, Moon began to systematically search for cracks or wires across the outer wall, maybe an emergency key or passcode hint scribbled somewhere that went unnoticed. Humans often had odd habits like that so he hoped this human was just odd enough to be prone to the same silly idea.

He looked and looked–-right up until the panic set in suddenly, nearly knocking him prone with dizziness. Not his own panic however.

Sun’s.

Crack.

Sun took a quick step back, feeling his gears and wires screeching again-– run.

RUN!

Something creaked–-he turned to the motion above his head, hands trembling. Burning.

He could defend himself.

He could–-

In a lithe motion, Jenn swung herself from the creaking branch and landed on the balls of her feet, knees bent to disperse the impact and muffle the sound of her return. Before he could even process what was happening, Sun was silenced by her finger at her mouth, staving off his attempt to ask anything; baffled, he crept over when she waved, keeping low as she led him into the trees.

I’m dead, he frantically chanted, Moon was right, she’s crazy, I’m dead.

Her hand came out and he stilled, watching her movements with every scrap of focus he could muster beyond his confusion and panic. It was remarkable how quiet she could be when climbing, easing herself into the tree overhead, eyes on something beyond the wall of shrubbery that carpeted the forest floor. It got more bizarre when she looked down and pointed to her head, making some sort of gesture it took a moment for him to decipher.

My rays? Hide… hide my rays?

Uncertain, he shut off the process that controlled the haptic array, withdrawing the light spokes into the seam of his head. It was darker than he thought without them. He didn't like it.

Motioning again, Jenn indicated he should move to the space below the branch, just beyond the bushes. Nervously, he did so, sending one last location ping to his brother so he could have hope some part of him would be recovered. Being silent in the overgrowth was quite a task with his long frame, but Sun managed well enough not to get hushed again, crouching between the roots of the gnarled blue-wood tree Jenn was perched in. Maybe if he were quick enough he could jump-–

Finger to her lips once more, Jenn slowly pointed, splayed out on her belly across the arm of the great tree to minimize herself. Staring into her eyes for a moment and seeing no ill intent–-he hoped-–the golden bot turned his head so very carefully, bracing for something awful.

His exhaust cycle paused.

Through the leaves of the canopy, the aurora’s light took on far more colors than it usually had, all flickering as the trees shifted in unseen winds. Greens and blues and oranges taken from leaves and flowers danced through the air on the way to the ground, bugs humming curious tunes to each other that filled the forest with its own unique heartbeat. None of that mattered so much, though, compared to the massive creature standing between the trees; almost as tall at the head as he was when standing, with a furry pelt a shade of blue usually reserved for deep water, the creature grazed idly, unbothered by anything going on around it at that moment. Great, curling antlers of sapphire and diamond dust twisted over its head, catching the light from the falling leaves in such a way, Sun felt he would cry if he could. It turned slightly, chewing-–the dark eyes of the beast found him.

He froze.

The animal-–a great stag of sorts–-grunted, nose flaring. Only then did another head appear behind it, ears pivoting at the sound. Sun counted three of them as he waited to see if they would charge or flee, one without a curling crown of gems and another much smaller one, hiding between their legs. It was with awe and joy that he realized it was a family.

Suddenly, all three lifted their heads, ears rotating to one direction collectively as they stood stock still. The male grunted again, shaking his great neck; light seeped up through the curls and points of its crown, a blinding flash making Sun look away for a moment. When it cleared, the deer had fled, the trees thumping and shaking under their hooves as they disappeared into the depths of the wood. Such an interesting survival tactic!

“SUN!”

Faintly, the familiar voice of his brother caught his ear, somewhere back where he’d just come from. Getting up from his vantage point, the gangly bot moved back through the shrubbery to the lakeside, his radials fluttering to their rightful place–-not two seconds later, Moon’s footfalls thundered to him as he broke cover, bare feet sliding to a stop on the lush grass and sand. “Sun!” he repeated with some relief, his pulse points flashing and fading from his distress. Before his brother could answer, Moon had hold of his shoulders, looking him over. “Are you alright? What happened??”

Sun wobbled as he was turned by Moon’s frantic examination of his person. Catching himself before he could fall, Sun gently clasped the dark robot’s hands between his to try to assure the worrywart he was fine–-but hesitated, grin faltering slightly on his face as the desire to tell Moon what happened caught in his voice box. In a fraction of a second, Sun changed his answer. “I-I’m fine! I…”

A thump in the grass nearby revealed Jenn emerging from the forest, dusting herself off and fixing her skirt to hang like it should, a piece of underbrush being plucked off absently. The pair acknowledged her appearance with a glance, forcing Sun to interject before she said anything.

“There you are!”

Jenn looked up from her dusting, brow creased for a moment, seeing the tight expression on the golden bot and the annoyed one of the blue jerk.

Placing his hand on Moon’s shoulder, Sun went on, “I’m sorry, Moon, I got separated and lost sight of Jenn. I… didn’t mean to worry you.”

OH! Jenn realized with a start, finishing her realignment of her clothes after the tree messed them up to buy time to cover her reaction. “I didn’t think it would be so easy to lose you in the woods, bright eyes. A seven-foot-tall Sunrise with a halo on his head should be pretty easy to keep track of.”

“I’m sorry,” Sun reiterated, folding his hands together apologetically. “I got distracted and then you were gone and this forest is a lot bigger than…” Glancing to the side, Sun saw the wary glint in Moon’s yellow eyes. “Than the yard… um, there’s a… distinct lack of fences out here!” Moon sighed at his prattling.

“There’s a lack of a lot of things out here,” the human agreed, playing off the situation with the plain casualness they’d come to expect from her at this point. She hefted the basket up to its position on her head with a slight grunt.

Unwilling to expend more energy into dissecting the conversation, Moon closed his eyes for a moment and forced himself to let it go. “I think,” he started, half through his teeth, “that’s enough for today, don’t you think?”

“Oh?” Sun chirped, not wanting that to be the case.

“I mean, I’m not done yet but if you want to go back you can.” Walking past them both, Jenn idly pointed through the trees toward the house, heading to a completely different area of the forest without a glance back.

“Wait!” Sun blurted, taking a step after her before Moon grabbed hold of his wrist, forcing him to stop. Silently, the two prodded each other through their Lock, each trying to convince the other to go the way they wanted; Moon’s eyes flicked toward the house, wanting to discuss things privately, but Sun turned his cheek to indicate following Jenn, as he wanted to keep learning and familiarize himself with the land around the house. It was a stalemate between them for some seconds until Jenn coughed to get their attention.

She’d paused at the treeline and waited, as asked, but she seemed put off by their refusal to follow, her gaze dull, mouth turned in a frown. “Well?”

Taking the moment to change his grip on Sun, Moon tugged, bringing his brother back a step. “I think that’s enough excitement for right now,” he claimed firmly. “Let’s go back, Sun.”

“He’s fine,” she quipped dismissively. “It’s not like he got hurt or anything.”

“That’s not the point.” Moon took his own step toward the house, pulling Sun off balance slightly as he did so the golden robot would stumble after him. “It’s been long enough for our first day.”

“Give him some credit.” Jenn turned her body to face them fully, her stance changing subtly as she moved from one foot to the other. Moon felt his inner coils tense in anticipation, something in her movements forcing an alert in the backmost part of his mind, as if preparing for a fight. “He’s picking up on foraging incredibly fast and wants to keep going. Since he’s not hurt and his battery is full, I think he can choose to stay out if he really wants to.”

“And Sun has a bad habit of being an overachiever who doesn’t know when to quit,” Moon pressed, looking at his brother whose gaze dropped to the ground, knowing it was true. “It’s the first day,” he added, a bit gentler as he saw his brother wilt slightly. “There’ll be time to learn more later.”

As much as he wanted to fight, to speak up for himself, the weight of his lie and the worry in Moon’s voice stripped Sun of the energy to do so in moments, leaving only the ability to placate them both with an answer. “You might be right, Moon,” he agreed quietly, stepping closer to his brother of his own volition.

“Alright then.” Shrugging, Jenn turned and disappeared into the trees without further argument, leaving them to find their way to the house alone.

Sun allowed himself to be tugged back to the familiarity of the yard, unable to bring himself to even look at Moon’s back. There was a wrongness in the air between them, a wall that shouldn’t be there-–he’d put it there by lying, he felt. Lying to spare Moon’s feelings-–to stop him from having more reason to unfairly hate the human that was keeping them safe-–or perhaps lying just to make himself feel better. More capable. In fractions of a second, Sun had chosen to lie about his willingness to follow the strange human into the forest because he thought it would cause Moon more stress and provoke a fight.

How tired he was of fighting already.

Moon was already so strung out and he was being foolish, careless with his safety and choices which were making it even harder on them both. With regret, Sun recalled how easily he’d cracked under the pressure just recently and how Moon stopped everything to ensure he was alright. The fatigue that set in had been all-consuming and heavy, dragging him into sleep without even an attempt to fight it. If that had been his feelings, Sun could scarcely imagine what the stress was doing to his beloved brother under the surface, beyond where their Lock could reach. Feelings that made Moon tense and angry and mistrustful, hardly what he knew his brother to be capable of-–or had been at least.

Before, Moon was a calming presence, laid back and hard to bother with most things. Sun recalled how much he appreciated the gentle presence of Moon after an event or an ordeal, always there, never stressing the details if Sun wouldn’t share them. A snappy joke and steady hand at his back could help him relax from anything that happened within the walls of the estate, but somewhere along the way, Sun found changes. Worried looks, concerned squeezes, fewer musings in the halls where ears couldn’t hear them-–at some point, the stress had begun to eat away at Moon long before now. It was just far worse recently. More obvious.

Sun knew it was his fault.

I should be doing better, he told himself as they finally reached the grassy swath of the yard, Moon’s grip on him loosening. I will do better. Before he could slip away too far, Sun quickly stepped forward, grabbing his brother in a tight hug that caught the navy-and-night hued robot off guard. “I’m sorry,” the golden half of the pair croaked, radials fluttering. “I didn’t… mean to worry you.”

After a second, Moon melted, his anger washing away at the worry and regret in his brother’s voice. Gently, he wrapped his arms around the lanky bot and held tight, clearing his mind before he could reply. “I know you didn’t.” Pulling back, Moon held his brother’s shoulders carefully, meeting his teal irises with concern and authority. “This is not a place to play, Sun. I know you’re excited to get out and I appreciate you keeping her occupied so I can look around but you need to remember this isn’t the backyard and not a vacation. We don’t know what’s out there and I don’t want you getting overwhelmed in your excitement when I’m not there to help you.”

The reflex to argue he’d be fine came and went as Sun held it in, only nodding as Moon was right to an extent. There was so much to do and learn and see, and he’d been so understimulated for so long the chance of his system going into a critical shutdown wasn’t impossible. Just another thing Sun hadn’t considered that was worrying his brother needlessly.

Carefully, Moon pulled Sun’s head down, their foreheads touching softly as they both calmed themselves, trying to strengthen their Lock against the wear and tear of their mutual stress. Moon hoped Sun would understand that this situation needed to be taken seriously and handled with care; Sun promised to them both he would be more careful, though more to himself than Moon. If he tried hard enough, he could manage his stress and his behaviors so Moon would have one less thing to worry about. It was the least he could do, Sun felt, having already caused enough problems simply by being himself and having no self control.

“You’re alright?” Moon’s voice was quiet.

“I am,” Sun replied just as quietly. “Did… you find anything?”

Sighing, Moon pulled back and turned, seeming annoyed. “No. The door locks are wireless and I don’t know the code so I couldn’t get in anywhere.”

“Oh…” Sun rubbed his neck. “Well… there’s time, I suppose? Maybe Jenn will… maybe I can ask to go out again tomorrow?”

Moon flopped into the grass, sitting back in a way that faintly reminded Sun of the old, relaxed Moon he remembered. “Think she will?”

“Maybe?” Following suit, Sun folded his legs and dropped lightly, leaning on one arm. “It took a bit but after I asked enough questions, Jenn seemed to open up and was happy to explain. Maybe if I ask for more, she’ll go out to tell me?”

Brow raised, Moon wondered, “She didn’t get annoyed?”

Sun shrugged. “If she did, she kept it to herself. At first I thought I was just bad at asking questions–-”

“Doubtful,” Moon cut in jokingly, earning a faint smile from Sun.

“--but then it felt more like…” His hand waved a bit as he searched for the words to use. “Like she was being short on purpose. I almost gave up on it entirely until she slipped up talking about sweetleaf.”

“Isn’t that what sugar is made of?”

Nodding, Sun skimmed the file he’d made on the plant quickly. “Apparently it grows all over the place if the orbura tree is around.”

“The what?”

Reaching up, Sun began to gesture, excitement growing. “Those big blueish trees with the leaves that have fuzzy, gray undersides?” Moon nodded, knowing the ones Sun meant. They were common decorations around E’rta, visible on most corners from the windows of the estate. “So apparently that gray fuzz forms from extra sugars in the tree being stored for later use, but when the leaves fall the sugar doesn’t go anywhere. Sweetleaf grows where the sugary leaves collect to recycle the excess so it doesn’t go to waste; when they die, the tree reabsorbs the sugar from the soil and starts it over, like a recycling system.”

Moon stared, baffled. “You learned that while looking for food?”

Nodding more enthusiastically, Sun’s smile broke through genuinely. “I didn’t even know sweetleaf made sugar sweetener–-well, I did but not how or that it’s not even the thing making the sweet part itself! Jenn was collecting some and I asked what it was, and at first it was a short answer like before but after I asked how to turn it into sweetener–-oh! That container!” Pointing to the house, Moon jumped a bit as Sun grew more excited. “That’s all made by Jenn!”

“Huh,” Moon mused, resting his elbows on his knees while waiting for Sun to continue, glad the abrasive mood seemed to be passing.

“She told me how to process it in a double boiler and how it grows under the trees–-but then she kind of stopped.”

“Stopped?”

Now concerned as he recalled his day more clearly, Sun mumbled a bit. “It was like she realized she was talking too much and just... Quit. I feel like maybe she’s used to not sharing things with others.”

No surprise there. A tad bitterly, Moon huffed, rolling his eyes. Sun was still going on about something but he couldn’t help his thoughts straying to his own day and how comparatively lacking it was in results. Nevermind the fact he was still outwitted by a Sirius of all things. Pathetic, he told himself, barely noticing his brother mention something or other about the forest and the colors of the light through the trees. If he wanted to soothe his bruised ego, he’d need another chance to learn something worth sharing. For that, he’d need another chance to explore. Catching a lull in the conversation, Moon decided to interject, “If you’ve gotten this much out of just one day, then I’d say it’s worth trying again tomorrow. Or later, even.”

Sun paused, feeling a bit happy that Moon thought his info dump was worthwhile. “You think so?”

“We’ll need as much as we can get if we’re going to be on our own eventually.”

On our own.

The words were heavy and incomprehensibly sticky, attaching to everything Sun had shared thus far and managing to drag them out of the levity and excitement of learning something new down to the echoing, muted cavern of worry he’d been desperate to stay out of the entire time. There, it stayed, thick and cold. Despite knowing it somewhere deep inside, Sun couldn’t help the gear-wrenching anxiety the idea of being alone gave him, even if it was alone with Moon, which was simply normal and expected. However, no matter how used to being with Moon he was, Sun was also used to rarely being isolated indefinitely from outside contact. Hired hands were around every corner, gatherings were frequent enough to be part of the weekly schedule, visitors were few but frequent in between-–brief periods of them being alone were rare. Now, being expected to have it as the default brought dread into his system.

Likely to do with his programming which was made specifically to be around and entertain guests, encouraging him to seek human interaction as a priority, Sun pushed back on it, unwilling to sabotage himself or his brother with confusing feelings of duty and purpose that he wasn’t completely sure were his own. Fighting one’s own ingrained sense of self was horrid, itchy and wrong, full of dust almost that clouded one’s train of thought into senseless background screeching.

It didn’t matter what he thought he wanted. What they needed was to fix the mistake he made by being a coward and get as far away from that woman as possible. Maybe one day the wrongness would go away, or fade into little more than a mild grievance in the deepest corner of his mind.

Maybe one day he would know if it was his own desire to be in human company that begged him to stay in this odd house in the jungle, or if it was simply the result of programming forced onto him from before he ever came online the first time.

A lot of life was dark. Or it felt that way so far to the pair who stood patiently in the atrium, only their eyes alight in the dimness. ‘Keep your radials down’ the Sunrise had been told, as they would draw too much attention otherwise and ruin the surprise. The inner flurry of codes and systems inside him buzzed excitedly to finally be allowed to fulfill his purpose after the long journey from the facility; he so wanted to reach out through the dark and take hold of the other unit standing nearby, to remind himself he wasn’t alone in this chamber, but he couldn’t.

Wait, they were told.

The yellow glint in the dark was enough for now, he told himself. The other unit–-Moondrop, his Tidally Locked partner-–was there with him, just as quiet and, if his inner hum meant anything, just as eager. They were never far from each other, not in the short time they’d been active, so there was no reason to believe now was any different. It was even dark, like the first time they became aware of each other...

***

Coming online for the first time was a slow process; awareness of one’s limbs always came before any sense of space or outside assessment. File after file opened and ran in quick succession, demanding fingers and toes be moved, passive processes being read for anomalies, systems cycled through checkmark after checkmark to ensure they cooperated properly. Somewhere between this initial calibration and wanting to open his eyes, something else rippled through like an echo.

Sunrise.

That was him! A sunrise. A star.

Happiness flashed in his system at knowing himself. A tickle followed his elation, some quiet repetition of his joy that felt just a bit different. Feeling that extra nudge of emotion took his attention from his waking process for just a moment, drawing him deeper into himself. What was it? He wanted to know! Mustering the sensation as best he could, Sunrise urged his emotional code to run again; the echo answered faintly, bringing another wave of happiness that it mirrored. Each pass made Sunrise want to skip and laugh! To stay in this place with the little echo of his own happiness forever!

“Hello?”

Startled by the feeling of his own voice, Sunrise waited for the echo to respond. For a long moment, there was nothing. Fretting he’d scared it off, the robot tried to summon his joy again, to share it into the void and see if that brought an answer–-but he couldn’t. Afraid that his echo had vanished had left him empty, too much to be able to express that fleeting feeling of light and positivity.

Then it answered.

“It’s alright.”

The echo sounded nothing like him, to his surprise. While his own voice was high and light, with clear notes that felt like they could reach deep into the darkness and find the edges easily, this one was lower, soft but creaky as if someone had just woken up.

“I’m here.”

Sunrise peered around, unsure where ‘here’ was. “Where?”

“Next to you.”

There was no one, though. Pulling himself from the deep depths of himself, Sunrise reeled as his systems continued their processes around him–-breathing, cycling, flexing–-but he found what he felt he needed by clinging to his dexterity processes. Just enough to move his fingers. Turn his hand.

A cool sensation flickered through his system check, his hand coming into contact with something outside of himself that was not part of the flurry of self-diagnostics he was dealing with. The feeling grew as the thing also moved, his fingers being laced into something firm and, inexplicably, familiar.

“Is that you?” Sunrise wondered, not fully expecting an answer.

One still came though, more of an impression than true words. “Yes.”

Joy washed through him again. He wanted these checks to finish so he could wake up! “I’m Sunrise!” he cheered, squeezing the cool thing between his fingers.

The pressure matched his as his hand was squeezed back. While the feelings weren’t as intensely directed as his, Sunrise still knew this echo was as pleased as he felt. “I’m Moondrop,” they replied. “I’m your brother.”

Since then, they hadn’t been apart, even when the lights went off and they were told to conduct a sleep cycle. Moondrop was there, only an arm’s length away.

But this time, they’d been told not to cling to each other, to stand presentably and behave.

Sunrise trusted in the familiar, yellow eyes of his brother that he was there, within reach in the dark, and he would still be there when the light returned and they finally got to meet their mistress. Finally, they could dance. Bring her joy. Sate this nagging urge to be with a human, at their side to make their life more colorful!

He was so excited he could hardly contain himself!

The tension had mostly gone during their chat and Sun wasn’t going to risk it coming back due to his own misplaced feelings, so he kept it to himself, shoving it as far back as he could into his mind. The outside air was pleasant at least, a balmy temperature without a lot of humidity to seep into the joints and make them squeak. Quietly, the pair of robots sat and tried to enjoy this feeling of wavering peace they were afforded amidst the tension that stalked their every movement like a scavenger waiting for one to fall so they could be consumed. Because of this quiet, they could hear the bugs and grass hum on the wind, the birds tweet and whistle in the trees–-

“Do you hear that?” Moon asked suddenly, glancing around slowly.

“The voice? Yeah, I do,” Sun replied, equally confused.

Just above the wind, they both swore there was a trill of music. Wordless, keening and distant, but there nonetheless, slowly getting clearer as it went. Getting… closer?

Moon was up in a blink, hands balled into fists as he strained to hear which direction it was coming from-–to no avail, the forest managing to mangle the source of the sound between the trees so it was impossible to know for sure where it was coming from. Hunched against the grass, Sun struggled to make out any words within the reverberation, leaving him unsure if it was an aria or a language he couldn’t decipher clearly. Whatever it was, it was beautiful but chilling to not know who or what was making it.

Though there was one possibility.

Suddenly, the sound stopped, leaving them more baffled than when it had started. A minute passed before the bushes rustled, Jenn and her basket coming into view from the far end of the yard. Moon was on her before she’d even gotten to the stairs, eyes flashing. “Did you hear that just now?”

“Hear what?” she replied to him, a bit perturbed by his question. Her basket was distended with weight now, creaking as she put it down with a grunt; at her waist, her skirt was tied up oddly, stretched from whatever she had wrapped up in the hem. Sun found that quite clever of her, using her skirt like an extra hand to carry something; perhaps that was why she called them gathering clothes?

“You can’t tell me you didn’t hear a voice singing in the woods just now.”

Jenn’s eyes widened with concern for a moment before returning to normal. “No, I didn't, and neither did you.”

Moon glared. “Are you saying that because it was you?”

She stared back, just as hard. “I’m saying that because out in the wilds, if you think you hear something singing or talking out in the woods and you can’t immediately see who or what it is, then no you didn’t.”

“Excuse me?”

“Believe me when I say you don’t want to know.”

Well, that’s terrifying, Sun said to himself, coming up to them both before Moon could press the matter. “Do you need help?”

Gathering her laden skirt front in her arms, Jenn nodded at him, seeming to relax. “If you’re careful, you can bring the basket to the kitchen.”

“Sure!” Without hesitation, Sun stooped, grabbing the bottom and hefting–he grunted, surprised at the registered weight. Carrying this on her head can’t be good for her back! Taking a step, Sun followed politely behind Jenn, walking slowly so he wouldn’t drop or jostle the woven burden in his arms. Behind him, Moon took to the steps, keeping back so they wouldn’t collide by accident.

Thankfully he was there. Sun slightly misstepped at the edge of the next stair, his heel buckling as his balance shifted wrongly. Quickly, Moon held up his hands and pushed on Sun’s back to keep him from taking a tumble.

“Thank you!” Sun squeaked, his system surging with panic from the near fall.

“Of course,” Moon replied back distractedly. Something was off. “Are you sure you’re alright? You’re never this clumsy.”

“I just missed the stair,” Sun assured, though he also wondered briefly if there wasn’t some issue he hadn’t noticed in his balancing system. Perhaps there really was a good reason for Jenn to keep them there for a few days after all.

“Yeah, and you don’t do that.” Keeping his wits sharp, Moon watched his brother finish the climb without further incident, prepared for another catch should it be needed. “We’re not made to trip and fall.”

“I know, it’s… probably because I’m not used to the stairs here.”

“Mm-hm.” Unwilling to risk it, Moon took a deep breath and swallowed his pride, finding Jenn already in her kitchen putting away round roots from the folds of her skirt front. She turned her head to them and indicated the table for the basket, about to relay instructions for what to do with the contents when Moon cut her off, voice firmer than intended for asking a question. “Is it possible that storm could mess up a balancing system?”

“Huh?” The human stared for a moment, processing his question. Annoyed at having to repeat himself, she ended up answering before he could. “Oh, yeah, absolutely. Why?”

Moon glanced at Sun who looked at the floor.

Making a throaty sound of thought, Jenn put the last starchy tuber away, wiped her hands on her skirt and put them on her hips. “Let me guess.”

Sun groaned. “I’m sure it’s nothing, Moon!”

To his surprise, both Jenn and Moon managed to simultaneously bark, “Doubt it,” at him in the same tone before glaring at each other confusedly. Had it been anything else, Sun would find it funny, but instead it only took away his ability to get someone on his side as they seemed to agree just long enough to double down on there being a problem.

“Geo-magnetic anomalies can cause all kinds of things to happen in computer systems,” Jenn went on once she broke eye contact with Moon. “It’s why Task Managers–-you guys-–are made with magnetically inert metal parts where possible. The ones that can’t be though, usually up here-–” She pointed to her head. “--are still completely at the mercy of the aurora. Why do you think anomaly bunkers are a thing? Bots and modified humans that are sensitive to the activity need them so their systems don’t get fried.” Sun flinched a bit. “Honestly, if you didn’t have something wrong with you after your little trip through the atmosphere I’d be more surprised.”

She wouldn’t be, knowing full well if they didn’t suffer side effects beyond physical damage it was because they weren’t built like normal robots, likely reinforced against the effects of the magnetic anomaly. But there was no way she’d admit that freely right now.

“Can it be fixed?” Moon asked, trying to hide his worry after the last issue hit a dead end due to technical limitations.

“Oh, absolutely.”

The confidence of her voice caught Moon off guard, the tension leaving him faster than anticipated.

“Thankfully, I already know it’s not a hardware issue since-–” She gestured up and down at them. “Ya know. Been there, fixed that. If I had to guess, he’s just not calibrated properly anymore.”

Sun squeaked confusedly, head tilting. “Eh?”

“Being whipped around at mach-stupid with no sense of up or down tends to mess up anyone’s sense of direction. It’s likely self-corrected by now to a functional degree after walking around, but given you both have advanced gyros made for fancy dancy stuff–-” Moon scowled, “--it’s likely just out of tune. Best way to fix it is to just practice.”

“Oh!” That was a relief, Sun’s shoulders heaving with a sigh. “Not a problem then!”

Thinking for a moment, Moon inquired, “So why am I fine?”

Jenn shrugged after thinking. “Lucky I guess?”

“I’m never lucky.”

“Well, out here maybe you are. Now scoot.” Shooing at them, Jenn started to unpack her basket, sorting its contents from the top carefully to have reason to ignore further questions.

Ever the helpful one, Sun leaned over. “Can… we help?”

Pointing to the door, Jenn replied plainly, “Appreciated but maybe go work on that gyro thing if you want something to do.”

“Ah.” Perturbed by her change in mood, Sun stepped back, Moon at his side as they exited.

Under his breath, Moon hissed, “Rude,” but got shushed as they returned to the yard.

Side-eyeing them carefully, Jenn stopped her sorting once they were out of sight, just barely visible through the window as they descended the steps to the outside. That was awfully obedient of them, she pondered, rubbing her chin in thought. It might be nothing but if they’re only half awake then that’s a problem on its own. Leaning on the table, her eyes danced around the kitchen in time to her strings of thought.

Jenn knew full well why the anomaly didn’t mess with the Moondrop’s balancing system, but what got her more curious was the consistency with which he seemed to play dumb about it. It was reaching ‘beyond a shadow of a doubt’ territory that these two runaways absolutely did not know what they were, and that was deeply concerning. I tell myself not to mess around with this stuff anymore and yet there’s always something, isn’t there? she told herself bitterly. I need to get them as far away from their target area as possible before something happens. If they went rogue before their goal was achieved then there’s probably someone out there looking for them right now to finish it. If they don’t know their mission and ran off for their own reasons, as aware AI tends to do, then they also don’t know the conditions needed to fulfill their task. That’s bad. Very, very bad.

Hand over her mouth, Jenn reviewed her mental notes thoroughly, making a list of facts for herself.

One: They were not normal Task Managers. Not according to the component catalog she kept in the giant black binder in her lab.

Two: They did not know they were not normal. That for all intents and purposes, they should not exist as they do.

Three: She was not their objective. It simply didn’t make sense if she was.

And four: She couldn’t not help them. That wasn’t who she was.

If everything went well, there was a chance she could remove the problematic factors altogether and they would never know. A normal life was what they wanted, and she could give it to them. It was the right thing to do.

But they needed to trust her first.

#ao3 #free runner #dca #moondrop #sundrop #jenn&co #free runner sun #free runner moon #azil #creative writing

7 notes · View notes