#what is their group name without china?
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𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐬
‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
Zombie Apocalypse AU w/ Gwendoline Christie characters; (~9.2K words)
(Featuring: Larissa Weems, Brienne of Tarth, Jane Murdstone, Anna from WTM, Lucifer Morningstar, Miranda Hilmarson, Captain Phasma, and Jan Stevens) x Reader
‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
It started about two months ago. Russia went down first, then Mongolia. China. India. And in the midst, Finland, Sweden, Norway, the United Kingdom, down to the very southern tip of Africa. The Ocean is no killer of disease, frozen or not, and encouraged it to ravage South and North America, then Canada and Greenland. Until every place was overrun by dead freaks. Stinking corpses and moving gore.
They traveled in herds, packs, whatever it was that people wanted to call them—murders, perhaps—and shuffled aimlessly across any land they could find. Eager for food, for sustenance, to fill the empty bellies that would never be full. Gorging themselves on creatures like you.
Officially ‘the other’. Officially ‘the enemy’. The sole survivor of a good group that was attacked some days ago because an idiot forgot to shoot one of the creatures in the head. And by sunrise, it was over. Screams echoed into the silence and you soon found yourself alone… running for your life with a duffle bag over your shoulder (slowing you down) and a gun in your hand (low on ammo). Trekking through thick woods in a heavily-infested Vermont town was not a good idea, but you had no choice. The house you were camping in was left behind, ravaged by bullets that you put into your friend’s heads, and every other spot nearby had been looted. You couldn’t move all of those bodies yourself. You couldn’t do much yourself. There was no army background attached to your name, no conspiracy theorist survival-obsessed gene in your body, and not much training in fighting either. All you could do was run. Run and run and run until you were miles away and your lungs started to burn. Not the most useful skill considering most people could run, but if you were quick enough to speed past the shuffling bastards, you were quick enough to make it to safety.
—
Safety…what a joke. A shit joke. A joke that was, quite honestly, the worst joke to ever exist. There was no safety. No place, nowhere. You’d been walking for a few hours, hearing nothing but the forest’s silence, and stumbling over leaves and branches. They ravaged the animals, took them into their mouths like they were people, and ate until there was nothing left. Not even a squirrel, or a fox, and the birds had grown weary of the vast number of hunters (both dead and undead) that found themselves in the woods looking for food. So no birds either. And no houses. And you were pretty sure, as you paused to catch your breath, that you were doomed.
Only a few bullets left and your aim was never perfect. One knife tucked into your waistband but it was getting uncomfortable, digging into your skin, and caked in blood. Creature blood. Everything smelled horrible. Like burning flesh or dirty meat, raw and soiled. You probably didn’t smell too good either. It wasn’t like the world still worked without the people; only a few places had running water and you couldn’t trust the creeks and rivers. The undead enjoyed walking through shallow water, knowing somehow that there’d probably be prey nearby.
But you hadn’t seen anything in a while. A long while. A suspiciously long while...
Everything was green and brown around you, whisked by wind and soil, and you stood out like blood against snow. The last thing you saw was yesterday. Ever since? Not a single flash of undead flesh.
You swallowed, throat embarrassingly dry, and tapped your fingers against your thigh.
It wasn’t good when everything was still. You were vulnerable, out in the open, and without a good few rounds of bullets to spare. Every muscle and organ in your body screamed for mercy, crying with the effort it took to keep surviving even when you didn’t want to.
You thought about it a few times; gave the gun in your hand a long look on several occasions, but ultimately decided that ‘opting out’ was only a last resort. Somehow, even amidst the chaos and hatred and swill of humanity’s nature, you managed to hold hope. And often wondered where it would get you. How it would get you. While you were sleeping? While you were already wounded? Fighting off the hands of a loved one? The twist of hope’s rope… would you feel it closing in around your neck? A literal metaphor for the eventual death you’d experience?
Thinking about it gave you a headache.
For where was the point in wondering?
You had no one else. Whatever form of death awaited, it would end up being your fault. Probably because you couldn’t run fast enough. Probably because-
Because-
Wait.
Somewhere behind you, on the right, was a low sound. A hum. The smooth whoosh of something quick. The parting of wind… the low growl of…
“Fuck.”
You shot off in that direction, bag smacking against your shoulder blades, and instantly felt the exhaustion pull at your body again. It lingered like a plague, like the undead disease, and you yearned to fall to your knees - to give in - but it wasn’t the time for that. You had to at least try. You had to at least make it over the hill. Right over the hill. So close but so far. You leaned forward, threw yourself at the ground, and grasped onto gnarled tree roots. The Earth smelled wet with decay, sweet with promise - you huffed against dry leaves. They crunched and scratched at your fingers, eventually crinkling into nothing when your arms worked to drag you up. You probably looked a little mad, scrambling up a steep hill to reach something that probably won’t save you, but there was no other option. The hum grew louder, the quiet was broken, and you only had a few moments to get this right.
“Help!” Your lungs caved around your scream, but the forest swallowed it instantly. Greedy trees with their greedy barks, wanting to keep you hidden from salvation. The hum grew louder. Your fingers grew clammy, sweating and slipping against rough wood.
You’d be bruised to high heaven later, and probably exhausted, but the hum and the growl of an engine meant a road and a road meant civilization and goddammit you just needed to get over the stupid fucking hill.
There was a loud ringing in your ears, nearly deafening, and making your voice sound fuzzy.
“Help! Help!”
Was that you? Were you the one screaming like that? Why couldn’t you be quiet? Those things could have been lurking… wandering nearby… coming up behind you, eager to grasp at your ankles and drag you back down to Hell.
A glance back over your shoulder, aching from the duffle bag, found nothing but blurred terrain and darkened leaves–a symptom of the setting sun. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. If the light went out, you’d be screwed. You couldn’t use the last of your matches and the world went black when evening struck. So there really was no choice. As the growl turned into a roar… there was no choice. Just a little higher- a little more. Your arms pushed, biceps straining against the cotton of your shirt, and your pants threatened to get caught on wayward sticks and tear into rags. The boots on your feet pressed hard against loose rocks, kicking them out of place, and gained just enough ground to push you up - over the ridge. The final stretch. Your chest pushed to the hard dirt and forced a grunt of effort from your tired body; the sound echoed through the woods, through the ground, and through the air that sat above the concrete road in front of you. Hard and vast, grey and long… you looked at it as though it were the holiest of grails, lying just beside it with your arms outstretched, your fingers still pulling at dirtied grass. Soil covered your skin, masked your features, caked beneath your fingernails, and when the roar of the speeding vehicle grew so close you had to close your eyes and wince, you knew raising a hand for help would not be enough. In the shade of the forest’s edge, half draped over the peak of the hill, you were inhuman to other survivors. Your dry mouth opened, your throat croaked, and your legs moved to push you up–closer–just short of the wind that caressed your hair when the car, the truck, ran past you with no second glance. You looked after it, watched it pass, and felt the burn in your heart grow into its own inferno. It licked at your insides, at your desperation, and had you hauling the duffle bag off of your shoulder and out onto the road. It rolled, a shuffling sound, and you followed after it with deep growls of effort and dwindling strength.
“Please,” you wheezed, panting for breath as soon as you staggered up to your feet.
In the distance, the car turned into a disappearing black spec. It drove and drove, out of sight, and you stood there, putting your arms in the air to wave it down and bring it back. To beckon it back. To beg and plead.
“Please please no-,” your voice was soft, weakened by days of rugged survival, “no…” rough and lost to the wind, it dissipated into nothing and you were forced to swallow again.
The thick smell of car exhaust settled against the steaming road. You watched the horizon, tracking the space in the atmosphere where the gold traced into a deep blue, and felt your bones quake beneath your skin. Their final cry. The last hurrah as you watched your future, the tatters of it, drive away from you.
Too late.
You were too late.
And you’d die there, on that road, and they may never come back and find you again in the morning. And your corpse would be chewed upon by undead bastards who would never give you a proper burial. And you’d be just another stupid human that found themselves trampled beneath the stinking feet of the walking dead.
Tears teased your eyes, burning the dry lands of your irises, and you felt the heart in your chest lurch against its cage.
Too late.
You were too late.
You had a duffle bag, a handgun somewhere off to the side, and the clothing on your back. One lasting water bottle, the knife you felt poking your side, and small bags of food that wouldn’t last you long at all. The tent, too, was destroyed by animals the night before. The most you could go was perhaps one more day, but your feet were aching so terribly that each step was a journey within itself. And you couldn’t push yourself to go further. There was no further. There was nothing in the woods and there was nothing beyond the road and you were running on fumes that no longer existed.
But you couldn’t just lie there and take it. You were about to reach over, bending at the waist, to grab your bag. To pull it up over your shoulder and trek on, even though it was pointless. But something stopped you.
Something–a sound–made you freeze.
It was faint. It didn’t sound like the undead, with their discordant groans and disgusting squelches, no… it was far. Getting closer. Closer. The hum and the growl. The purr of a motor. The hiss of pavement.
Your head snapped up, eyes bulging wide as you looked over the horizon to see…. Yes. Yes! Yes, it’s them! The car! A grin pulled at your lips. Halle-fucking-lujah! You felt the anxiety ebb, slowly falling away from your body, as they got closer. The black spec turned into a black blob, then a figure that took shape, and finally you could make out a Vermont license plate and the dirt that stuck to big wheels. Up close, it was a sleek thing, tall and well-built. Midnight black and aside from the splatter on the rubbered wheels, it was polished and clean. The dark paint reflected the bright world around you, turning it into weird warped versions of a faux-paradise. You swallowed at the feel of warmth against your legs, the exhaust from the truck flooding over the smallest sliver of skin around your ankles. Suddenly fearing a changed mind and bad intentions, you stumbled back until your heels pushed against your bag.
Tinted windows stared down at you, menacing and opaque. Not a thing to see behind them, even if you squinted. Nothing moved, nothing jumped, and you watched with bated breath for a window to roll down - until finally, it did.
The driver’s side. It went whirr-ing down, sliding for the shortest period of time in the world until only a shadow met you - and then a flicker of movement. And then-
“Oh my god! Jesus! Okay okay!” You flinched, not even hesitating to raise your hands above your head. You spread your fingers out, desperate to prove your innocence to the stranger in the car. And the gun they were holding, pointing at you, through the gap.
“Were you bit?” A rough voice, muted and deep, broke the atmosphere.
You shook your head.
“Words. Use them.”
“No,” you licked your lips, instantly deciding to turn around in a slow circle. “Not bitten. Not scratched.” You tried to ignore the way your hands shook, even as you shifted all the way back to face the gun’s muzzle.
“Ask where…” a voice, soft and feminine, came from somewhere beyond the driver’s seat. It was saying something, telling something, but faded into a whisper so quiet you couldn’t hear a thing. Your eyes shifted to the dark backseat windows, trying to see something- anything- and found no surprise in the lack of life.
“Any weapons?” The driver seemed to ignore the other person, and instead held the gun steady. You watched it with weary eyes.
“Yes.” And before they could ask, you tugged the knife out of your belt and the gun out of your pants pocket. They were held up in the air, another white flag, and you twitched the hand that held the firearm. “At least three bullets left, but that’s it.”
“And the others?”
You blinked. “Others? What oth-”
“Where is the rest of your ammunition? In the skull of a human or scum?” The stranger spat, and you detected the hints of an accent.
Scum… you’d never heard them referred to as that before. Your last group called them walkers, and some others claimed flesh-eaters. You were tempted to use ‘zombies’, but it felt rather silly. The world took that term too lightly, and the undead were nothing if not a very serious problem. But scum? Like they were beneath humanity and not its current destroyer? You’d ask about it later, you decided, if they deemed you well enough to take in.
“Both,” you breathed honestly, dropping your weapons to your sides with a heavy sigh. “They um- weren’t quite there yet. Got ambushed overnight.”
The gun still didn’t move.
“They don’t ambush. What really happened?”
Hm. They weren’t wrong. Animated corpses didn’t ‘ambush’, but when a herd of them went lurking about, it certainly felt that way. You didn’t think logistics were entirely necessary, but you understood the need for specifics. Trust among men was eviscerated in the face of danger, especially against those once living. You’d seen paranoia before, in others. Humans simply didn’t take each other in anymore… not without some level of severe mistrust. The second thought after seeing the truck drive off was that you probably wouldn’t be accepted anyway - you’d killed without technical reason. Could have just left. Run away.
But you didn’t.
You didn’t want to see them turn into those… creatures.
So what else was there to say? You stared at the gun, willing a click and the shot of a bullet, as you opened your mouth.
“A herd. A lot of them. Just… descended upon the place. Someone might’ve been walking around in the woods or something, and there was just not enough protection,” you paused, licking your lips, “...I was the last one alive. Had to shoot them and go.”
“How long since?”
“Few days, give or take,” you shrugged. The exhaustion only built as you stood there, trying not to sway and collapse in your spot. The truck was still running, hissing hot exhaust; it was the first genuinely warm thing you’d felt in so many days that you wanted to crawl underneath and take a nap. The world, turning to autumn, was growing chilly. There was no chance you could survive winter on your own.
“...Give or take,” you heard the driver scoff and laugh, bitter and mean. You frowned.
Then the window started going up, and you couldn’t help yourself. With a hard thunk, you pushed your shoulder hard against the car, and knocked on the thick glass with the butt of the knife. A look of utter desperation crossed your features, heavy and thick. Urgency, anxiety, fear forced any sense from your mind. There was no chance. There was no survival at all.
“No please- please I can’t be out here alone please- I’m smart and- and I can run fast and be an asset. Please,” you shook your head, searching with worried eyes, “please, please you can’t do this to me-”
Something dark spliced through the corner of your vision, dragging a shadow with it, and you just barely dodged the sudden swing of the truck’s backseat door. It bounced with force and you glanced back at the driver’s window once before stepping back and hastily swinging your bag over your shoulder. The knife and gun were slipped back into your clothing, concealed, and you held yourself strong as the black leathered interior bore itself to the world.
“-we can’t just leave them-”
“-on’t be stupid. They could be a liability-”
“-not stupid. We need more people-”
Voices, at least two, were rushed and tangled in an argument. You didn’t pay much attention to what you could hear, though the growing irritation was hard to ignore. It would be a hassle to be accepted, you knew, but you’d deal. There was no choice. The backseat door was open and there was a figure hustled back against the other window.
“The offer won’t last,” the stranger murmured, somehow louder than the two people in the front seats, and you decided not to take any chances in the world alone.
With a grunt, a push, and a final slam of the door, you found yourself in the truck. Your bag was pushed down by your feet, you tugged your knife out to rest it on your thigh, and you turned to say thank you- but was cut off by a cold blade at your throat. It grazed the soft dirty skin, less than a centimeter away from pushing, and you felt saliva pool in the back of your throat. Swallowing would have pressed you closer, so you fought the urge and only stared.
“Woah-”
“Try anything and you die. I don’t want a peep, not a shuffle. Do I make myself clear?”
The driver’s voice, clearer in such close quarters, was deep and mean. Accent, as you had clocked, from somewhere in the United Kingdom. It held a natural growl, a gruffness from years of smoking, perhaps, and you couldn’t help but sense the intimidation. It wasn’t fake confidence, you noticed, as you looked up and met the cool sharp grey gaze of a woman. Her hair, a deep blonde, was slicked back and short, ruffled slightly by the nape of her neck. A long neck… that led to strong looking shoulders. They were half covered by a jacket, but you could see the strength in the chords of her muscle. A force to be reckoned with. A leader, perhaps. She was pale, with a defined nose and lips twisted into a permanent sneer, and you probably would have thought she had some potential for post-apocalyptic modeling, if it weren’t for the scar that covered one half of her face. Slashed across the left eye, the wound was jagged and rough - it dragged from a point close to the exact middle of her forehead, right to the corner of her jaw. Thicker at parts and thinner at others, it split through a pale eyebrow and seemed to have permanently rendered her blind. The lid didn’t even move when one stormy eye shifted, and you suddenly felt extremely creeped out. Something about her was undeniably cold. Almost reckless, but her hand was so steady with control you knew not to make a move. She’d probably kill without hesitation, dump you back into the road, and drive off with the duffel. There was no choice but to answer, answer quickly, and do as told.
“Yes, clear.” Your head shifted half an inch up and half an inch down, still cautious of the blade.
But she didn’t move.
It was a battle of wills for just a moment, with your hands in your lap, empty and docile. You weren’t looking for a fight, or a staring contest, but the stranger didn’t let up until the figure to your right decided to sit up and speak.
“Ah they do not seem so bad. Look at them. Tired and scared, like sad city mouse,” another woman, one with a Russian accent and a voice a hint too loud, cooed.
Silence followed, persisted, for only a minute- and then the blade was tugged back so quickly you swear it nearly cut the air in two. The driver tsked as she twisted herself around, murmuring as she went.
“More like a rat.”
And then you were thrown to the side with a heavy wheeze as the truck lurched and began moving, working into a turn so you could go back the way they’d come.
You glared at the back of the headrest, not feeling above a little bit of irritation for some poor handling, but eventually grew bored. With some apprehension, your eyes flicked over to the person in the passenger seat. Their profile was strong, feminine, and you noted the unbelievably well-kept head of snowy hair. She looked clean, just like the driver, and a spark of hope welled up in your tired heart. Running water and food existed where they came from, wherever they were camped out, and if you played your cards right, you could finally indulge in some good hygiene. Unless the woman in the passenger seat was stingy with her water… god her skin was so clear, and she seemed to be wearing makeup. No one wore makeup anymore. Not the people in your old group and not the few stragglers you’d stumbled across. It simply wasn’t a necessary luxury anymore, but the woman sitting across from you, back straight and hands in her lap, seemed to think it was of the utmost importance. You wanted to speak, wanted to ask her name, but found yourself turning to your right - and catching the gaze of the person that opened the door for you.
“Anna,” your savior spoke, tilting her head to the left and regarding you with curious eyes. A pale hand, big and long-fingered, shot out and hovered above your lap. You glanced down at it, at the clean skin and the perfect fingernails, and knew that you hit the survivalist jackpot.
With a nod and a quick clasp of her hand, you whispered your name in reply. She nodded before leaning back against the door and crossing her arms; she seemed quite comfortable there, with a rather large gun resting across her lap. Her hair, blonde as well, fell in gentle waves to her shoulders. She saw with deep blue eyes - a contrast to the cold steel of the driver - and didn’t hesitate to flick them over your body in some sort of analytical search. Weapons, you figured, is what she was looking for. And the knife in your lap, which she eyed with some interest.
You wanted to say something, wanted to thank them, but it didn’t feel like enough. Nothing felt like enough those days. Asking something of someone was a risk every single time. And you’d asked—begged—them to take you in. You needed to pull your weight, no questions asked.
“Um- thank you for-”
“Shoot them.”
“What?!” You straightened up, eyes going wide as, in your peripherals, you saw Anna’s hand inch toward her gun. Through the rear-view mirror, you caught the way the driver’s brow twitched.
“You heard me. Shoot them.”
“Pha-”
“I said no talking,” the stranger growled, not even bothering to address the woman in the passenger seat. The white-haired woman looked frustrated, her red lips tugging into a frown, as she watched the driver double down on her focus. “Didn’t I say that?”
“But I-,” you wanted to plead your case, wanted to defend yourself, but were cut off.
“I am not going to shoot,” Anna said before you could speak. “Why do you expect her to be quiet hah, Phasma? We just saved her жопa. No need for fighting.”
You glanced at her, picking up on the Native tongue. Fresh off the boat, or perhaps visiting, with the way she said it so easily. Zhopa? Given the context, it wasn’t hard to tell what she meant. Yes, they had just saved your ass. And yes, you wanted to say thank you. Even if that Phasma person wasn’t too keen on a bit of gratitude.
“I hardly think thanking us for a kind deed is worthy of execution, no matter how much silence you require,” the fair-haired woman across from you said smoothly, throwing a slight glare to the woman on her right. And finally, she took that moment to turn around in the seat and make eye contact.
Something that proved to be far more difficult than you thought it would. Good lord, she was gorgeous. Pale skin, deep admiral blue eyes, and lips redder than blood. Not even a scratch on her face, not even a single spec of dirt - as if the apocalypse never happened and there weren’t dead people roaming every street in the world. In fact, she didn’t seem incredibly worried about the predicament the human species found itself in, and was looking at you with kind eyes, a furrowed brow, and a smile that she hoped was welcoming.
“My name is Larissa,” her hand, gloved in white fabric as soft as silk, reached out as an olive branch. You wanted to take it, wanted to feel something so lovely for the first time in a long time and create some sort of bond, but your hands were very dirty. A part of you guessed that Larissa hadn’t put them on earlier that day with the hope to return to camp holding soft fabric smudged with dirt and dried blood, so you only looked down at your palm and then back at hers.
“Oh uh- I don’t wanna get your gloves dirty-”
“Oh,” she glanced down, realizing that she was, in fact, wearing hand-coverings. “Later, then,” a warm smile shone back at you - and you were helpless, instantly offering her a nod in return.
“Finished?” The driver piped up, eyes cold as she stared at you in the rear-view.
As if on cue, Larissa turned back around in her seat, rolling her eyes as she went, and you could only fall quiet. Introductions were over, you were warming up to the easy heat in the car, and Phasma–if you dared address her by name in your head–had a good handle of the wheel. You were safe. For now. And with one last suspended look at the gun on Anna’s lap, you reached over for the seatbelt, tucked yourself in with a click, and leaned back in the seat. It was so suddenly comfortable, such a huge contrast to the shit you’d dealt with recently, that you couldn’t help but close your eyes and revel. Even for a moment. Even for a second.
—
“Get up,” a mean grunt, paired with a quick rush of piercingly cold air, tugged you from the depths of sleep.
Before you could even open your eyes properly, a shiver set itself into your bones. Eager to escape it, and the confines of the car, you jolted and scrambled for your seatbelt. Leaning against the open door, watching you grab your things, was the driver. Phasma? Weird name, but there was no time to dwell - especially not when she was looking at you like that. Eyes sharper than the knife on your lap, holding a polished chrome pistol in one hand, and waiting with some tension for you to hurry up. The duffel was pulled up onto your shoulder, the knife was tucked into your belt, and your hands scratched at the leather as you looked around wildly for your gun.
“We took it. You’ll get it back when you prove you’re not a complete imbecile,” she spat, peering down her nose at you. Disgust danced in her expression, sparking flames of unwanted insecurity, and you felt compelled to look away. Her nostrils were flared, her pink lips curled into something disdainful and mean, and you couldn’t help but watch the way her jaw shifted as she tensed, watching you watch her. The hatred seemed a bit out of place, too strong for normal trust issues, and you briefly wondered if perhaps she’d always been that way - even before the end of civilization. She was clearly a bitch, and not interested in showing you kindness any time soon, so you decided to forgo a response, ignored her glaring, and slipped out of the car without a word.
Before your feet were completely on the ground, and your bag was out of the way, the door slammed closed behind you, quick and sharp. The speed of it nearly clipped your shirt, and you whirled around to face the stranger’s irritation. She seemed to have lost interest in you and side-stepped your figure without another glance. One finger on the trigger, a shit-ton of audacity-filled swagger in her walk, and a back broad and strong. She looked like an outlaw, tall, mean, wearing grey with a belt around her strong hips and a leather jacket over her shoulders. You wanted to throw your gun at her and watch it hit the back of her head, but there was no way in Hell you’d be able to run away faster than she could catch you.
“Come,” you heard Anna speak, interrupting your train of thought as she trudged up to your left. You turned, seeing the way she cocked her head. “I’ll introduce you.” The gun swayed in her grasp as she turned, making little shuffling sounds in the grass.
The grass.
You went to go forward, but stopped. The grass. It was… terribly neat. Very well maintained. Not like apocalypse grass, which was flat and bloodied and mudded and dusted, but like rich person grass. Striking green grass, healthy, it bounced back behind you when you stepped on it. And the air… you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. It was fresh. Pure. Free of the smell of death and free of gunpowder and spraying blood. Just where on Earth were y-
oh.
Oh.
You looked up, finally, and found yourself in a courtyard. On all sides was a wall, sections of it made of brick, others of stone, and the rest of wrought iron fence, bolted hard into the ground; and across the way, piercing the sky, was a manor. Or what looked like a manor. No - what was definitely a manor. Dark, illuminated slightly by the deep blue of the atmosphere and the torches that littered the ground in neat paths, splitting off into cobblestone sections. You swallowed. It was gorgeous. Untouched. A world that seemed to run on and on while the rest of the globe went to shit.
How fucking lucky were you?
“Come! I must say twice?!” Anna called, giving you an exasperated beckon as she started disappearing behind the dark stone brick of the main entrance.
Sparing a quick glance behind you, you found a fortified gate and short stone walls - reinforced and built upon with barbed wire, wood, and sheets of metal. It must have opened up for the truck when you were still asleep, but was very much firmly shut and impenetrable once closed. You wanted to explore it more, wanted to study the mechanism and the layout and come to understand just how they managed to get the place so protected, but you didn’t want to leave Anna waiting. And a low rumble of thunder, far but rolling quick, told you that rain was eager to make her appearance - and you did not want to get caught in that.
After adjusting your bag and patting the knife in your belt for reassurance, you set off after the Russian stranger.
—
“So I am Anna, this you know already,” she pointed to herself, tapped her chest twice, then rolled her hand over to gesture to the clearing ahead.
It was beautiful, outlined against a dark wood. Rocky paths led to a big circle in the middle, and the ruins of stone benches and statues littered the camp. You could definitely see what it used to be - a beautiful place for the elite to sit, to bask, to enjoy the nice air and the wind. But the end of the world had gotten to it, not with the bearings of total destruction, but with the promise of change. A big spruce shelter had been built to the far left, reinforced with four beams and no walls - clearly just meant to keep the rain at bay while they worked outside. Beneath it, there were wooden benches and designated spots for farming equipment, guns, and even a water purifying system from the looks of it. If you assumed that sleeping quarters and showers existed in the castle, then they seemed to be in the best shape anyone could be in.
Even the people, who were busy going about their evening and tending to their duties, while you watched by Anna’s side and felt your excitement grow.
“Phasma was woman driving. Not so kind,” she tsked, giving you a knowing look, and you found yourself unable to ask about the strange name. You figured she wouldn’t have known the answer anyway. Then her hand moved, stealing your attention. “That is Jane,” she pointed to a pale woman sitting on one of the large stone benches.
Her back was turned, but you could see the severity of her expression in the reflection of a hand mirror. She was handsome, free of makeup, with jet-black hair. The strands fell from between her fingertips, spilling like water, as she threaded them into a braid around her head. Her movements were slow, methodic, and you watched, sort of hypnotized, as the long sleeves of her hooded dress stretched across her slim back. Tight along her arms and resting over the black pants covering her thighs, leading down to knee-high leather boots. Fit for an apocalypse, but somehow still chic. You watched her hands for a moment more, and turned slightly to her right when Anna gestured to the woman beside her.
“Miranda. Good girl, but way too skinskie,” she nodded to herself while crossing her arms.
The stranger in question–Miranda–was holding up an antique hand mirror for Jane to look into while doing her hair. They seemed to be the same height, though Miranda’s build was lankier and toned. The sleeves of her white top had to have been torn off, leaving freckled shoulders free to the air, and around one wrist was a black watch. It nearly matched the same leather as her belt, which held an attached holster and a sleeve for a walkie-talkie. Its antenna stood out against the baby blue of her uniform pants; tight by the hips but baggier toward the ankles, tucked into dark laced boots. Her hair was styled into a fair blonde bob, probably recently cut by the sight of such clean edges. It looked unbearably soft kissing the back of her neck.
“She was policewoman. Strong.” Anna commented, gazing at her from your spot by the castle wall.
You nodded absentmindedly, looking over the two strangers and the chess board that sat between them on the bench. Jane had black and Miranda white. The latter seemed to be focusing quite hard on the game, holding a pawn loosely in one hand, as the dark-haired beauty tsked and adjusted the hand mirror that slowly slipped to the side. You watched Miranda jump and offer what you assumed was a sheepish apology, as she tried to multitask. Her small smile was pink and soft, warm and welcoming. A friend, perhaps.
“Very…domestic,” came your soft murmur, sparked by the surprise of such a peaceful camp. In the past group, everyone was too busy trying to sleep, find food, or talk themselves through panic attacks. Maintaining sanity with comfort was not a priority.
“Da. Comfortable,” your companion nodded. “Jan is there, washing.” And you turned, yet again, to find a figure standing in front of a clothesline.
The combat boots made her seem tall, though they were a bit out of place—not really matching the long white sleeved shirt and full red skirt combo. Immaculate and clean, you noticed, though that was to be expected from a woman trying her hardest to get blood out of a white blouse. Her hands were covered by blue rubber gloves, with one clutched around a sponge and the other around the neck of a bottle of white wine vinegar. On the ground by her feet was a large pale jug of hydrogen peroxide and a bucket of what you assumed was water. And the blouse in front of her, held up by wooden clothespins, rippled from the breeze. It seemed to get colder and windier the longer the night went on, probably bringing the rain with it at some point. With any luck, it would clear up the light splotches of pink that covered most of the shirt’s chest up to the collar, but ‘Jan’ didn’t seem too patient and satisfied with that. She got back to her scrubbing a moment later, the strict waves of her blonde hair bumping gently against her neck.
“Jan is very chic. You go to her for fashion advice, no?” Anna tilted her head at you, dragging dark blue eyes over your face. The lawn lamps stabbed into the grass lit everything up with a sweet warm glow, bringing out the flames in her expression as she peered at you curiously. Very handsome, in her own sharp-featured sort of way. You couldn’t help the snort that bubbled up.
“Respectfully, I think fashion is the least of my concerns right now, Anna.”
“Hm. Maybe,” she hummed, shrugged, and gave you a once-over that set your heart racing before turning her attention back to the group.
“Brienne!” You jumped, flinching away as Anna’s loud voice carried into your ear. In the distance, a hulking figure shifted and unfolded, moving to look up at the call. They were sitting on a big pile of cut logs, holding a stone cylindrical sharpener in one hand and a… sword… in the other. Anna waved, talking to you gently as you both watched the figure’s expression change into one of suspicion. She was handsome. Pale, with the lightest blonde lashes and brows, and eyes that sparkled even from that distance. They squinted, drawing frown lines across her face, as she straightened up in her spot. You tried desperately not to stare at her figure, but it was impossible. The deep blue ribbed shirt clung to her torso like a second skin, wrapping tightly around strong biceps and broad shoulders. It was tucked into muddy green cargo pants, offsetting the brightness of the steel that covered the toes of her dark boots. You tilted your head and watched as she glanced between you and Anna before she finally decided to shoot the woman a firm nod. Anna’s lips quirked up into a smile. “She was once soldier. Good woman - she will protect you if you’re in trouble. Saved me many many times.” Her blonde curls swished as she nodded to herself.
That was good to know, you reasoned. Everyone seemed quite strong. Tall, too. And pale. The camp was gorgeous, the people seemed mundane enough, and the company was… well. Your eyes drifted over to Anna’s side profile, a silhouette of soft dips and curves, and you couldn’t hide the attraction you felt even if you tried.
“Larissa, you know too. She is leader, xорошо?” You didn’t really know what ‘harasho’ meant, but the light intonation of her voice had you saying ‘Yeah’ anyway.
Then an arm was winding itself around yours, jostling the bag on your shoulder and the gun slung around Anna’s body. It rested against her back, hitting her thighs, and you were suddenly powerless to the way she steered you further down the gravel path. Toward the right, there was a makeshift driveway; a patch of land ripped up from the grass and replaced with gravel, soil, and rocks. The black truck made an appearance again, probably having been driven up from around the back, and you watched with curious eyes as Phasma busied herself with a few bags and boxes from the trunk. Jesus, she was fit… tall and lethal. A small grunt left her lips when she hauled two boxes up into her arms, never faltering or pausing. Damn. You found yourself getting lost in the sight of her legs in those cargo pants, filling them out, until Anna clicked her tongue.
“Lucifer is strange, but ultimately harmless. Do not worry, they are not naked under the robe.”
Lucifer? Naked under the what?
You were going to take a quick glance around, to find whatever the hell Anna was talking about, but there was no need. Some feet in front of you, lounging on a red and gold velvet chase, was a lithe figure. They were almost glowing in the reflection of the walkway lamps, with the deep crimson of a flowing silk robe offsetting the smooth pale planes of soft skin. One elbow was propped up on the arm of the chair, and you traced the folds of flowing sleeves up to a slim forearm, wrist, and a delicate hand. Slender fingers were curled under the curve of a pale cheek, and you felt your heartbeat speed up at the sight of soft features and crystal eyes. And their hair, curled so perfectly into handsome shining ringlets of spun golden-web… goodness, they were…
“Luxurious,” you murmured, tilting your head as you watched the stranger chat with Larissa. She was standing over them, in front of the chase, and even at that height, you had a feeling that the one laying down was somehow a little bit taller. “Is Lucifer their real name?”
“Da,” Anna nodded, “little strange, no?”
“Yeah,” you gave her an odd look. “Strange as fuck.”
“Don’t get comfortable,” a voice growled from behind you, making you slip away from Anna’s hold and turn around. Phasma was walking past, holding a big bag under each arm. Her muscle was impressive, but dear god she was an asshole. You had to sort out that situation as quick as possible.
“Hey what’s your problem, man?” You spread your hands out at your sides before letting them slap against your thighs. “You picked me up, and while I’m grateful for that, I am, you didn’t have to-”
“Exactly,” she bit out as she whirled around and marched right back to you. Her breath was cool, washing lightly over your face, and she stood so close that your foreheads nearly touched. From that angle, looking up, you could reach out and trace the jagged line of her scar. It was quite attractive actually, even if her eyes narrowed as she watched you look at her. They were cold. Not an ounce of care.
“Don’t. Get. Comfortable.” Her lips twitched, carrying a silent threat.
“Okay,” Larissa’s voice, sing-songy and weary, cut into the conversation. “Why don’t we all take a moment to calm down, hm?” Her smile was blinding as she turned to you. One gloved hand hovered above Phasma’s right shoulder, but was instantly shrugged off the second it made contact. Her sneer didn’t fade even when she stepped back, eyes still flaming with anger. Larissa cleared her throat. “Y/n, you’re new here. Why don’t you and I have a little chat?”
Her expression, although kind, hid a sharpness that you didn’t think was wise to fuck around with. If Larissa was the leader, according to Anna, then it was her you had to charm. You didn’t really know why she was the top dog, especially because some of the other group members seemed more… abrasive… but clearly something about her was good enough to be the one in charge. And pissing her off, messing around with her people, was a one-way ticket to possibly turning into those fuckers lurking in the woods. So you didn’t really have a choice - and you didn’t really want one. No matter what, you’d stay. You’d be of some help. You’d stay on the soft grass, smelling the clean air. You’d become best friends with Larissa, the group would learn to like you, and you’d try not to combust when any of them looked your way.
Easier said than done though, of course. Especially when Larissa’s smile knocked down all of your reservations at once, in one big swing, and coaxed an obedient nod from your body.
“Okay. Yes. Sure.”
“Perfect,” Larissa’s grin, somehow, grew even wider.
“It’s getting late,” were Phasma’s parting words before she turned away and headed off toward two big wooden double doors.
You watched her strut without much thought, and found yourself on the other end of a staring Larissa. Her eyes were utterly striking in the evening light, and the outline of her face… a sight to be seen for a person as weary as you.
“So… is your group considered women only?” You murmured, peering up at her through your eyelashes.
Red lips twitched.
“Not intentionally. Though we have had the discussion before,” she contemplated her next words carefully, looking all over your face before resuming, “and we think it’s best if it’s just women. And Lucifer.”
“And Lucifer?” You still can’t get over that being their real name. Probably just picked out in a moment of edginess when they were a teen. Lucifer did sound cool, sort of bully-worthy. Like they were emo kid once upon a time.
“Lucifer is what many would refer to as non-binary. Not a man and not a woman. I hope that won’t be a problem?” Something flashed behind her eyes. Not a threat, but a warning. You couldn’t help but smile.
“Not at all. They and I are… one and the same,” you shrugged and adjusted the bag on your shoulder.
“How lucky I must be…,” someone purred from over your shoulder.
You tensed up, surprised by the closeness, and felt yourself grow a little weak at the tone. Like spiced honey, their voice was intense and smooth. You wanted to lap it up.
“Ah right on time for a proper introduction,” Larissa, ever the most efficient woman from what you could tell so far, found herself a golden opportunity. One hand shot out and gestured over to you, then to the person slinking around to your right. “Y/n this is Lucifer, one of the strongest members of our group. Lucifer and I make most of the big decisions, with the necessary input from everyone else. And Lucifer,” Larissa’s grin relaxed into a smile, “this is Y/n. Depending on our discussion of the rules, they may become a familiar face, so I suggest you play nice.”
You found that you couldn’t look to the side without short-circuiting. There was something.. something… about their aura that had you wanting to shy away and cower. It wasn’t the explosive intensity of Phasma or the consuming strangeness of Anna, or even the gentle but strong hand of Larissa… but instead a subtle sort of consumption. Utterly intriguing and fascinating - like they were put on the Earth to confuse humans. You didn’t even look at them and you could feel that. Didn’t even know them and you could feel that. Standing so close. So much body heat.
“It’s a pleasure,” they murmured, turning to you fully.
You swallowed, braced yourself, and looked up to your right.
Sweet holy Jesus. They were even more handsome up close. Just absolutely soft and glorious. And carrying the faint scent of… firewood? You cleared your throat.
“Um yeah- likewise. Hi.”
A flash of black, followed by measured footsteps in the grass, had all three of you shifting to see Jane walking past. Miranda was not too far behind, taking her time to cross the yard.
“Dinner is being prepared. Show face in the next 20 minutes or go to bed hungry.” Jane didn’t even spare you a glance before she disappeared behind the same doors Phasma had gone through.
“Thank you, Jane,” Larissa managed to call just before they closed behind her with a dull bang.
“Three moves…,” Miranda was muttering, holding the box for the chess set in one hand. “She beat me in three moves.”
“Oh it’s not hard. I would’ve beaten you in two,” another voice entered the fray, polite but amused. Jan, you recognized, as she sidled up between you and Larissa with a small smile on her deep red lips.
Miranda scoffed and turned to look at Anna, only to find that she was gone. One glance behind you revealed that she’d wandered over to Brienne, probably prompting her to go inside for dinner. You hummed, hiding the amusement of friendly banter. It had been so long since you felt even the smallest sense of normalcy. If they were so comfortable with each other, then it must have been a bit since they were all alone out in the world. You’d probably ask Larissa about that later - once everything was said and done.
“I would’ve beaten you in one,” Lucifer smirked as they pulled away and went walking inside. Had they been barefoot the entire time?
“That’s not even possible!” Miranda yelled, but the door was already shut. “...Is it?” She turned to Larissa, then to you, then back to Larissa.
“I don’t think so, Miranda,” Larissa smiled before looking at you. “Any chance you’re good at chess?”
Dear lord, having two sets of beautiful blue eyes on you was nerve-wracking, but you ignored the flush building up on your cheeks and nodded.
“Um yeah- it’s possible to beat someone in two moves. But it’s only black, I think.” You gave Miranda an apologetic smile and a shrug as she pouted.
“You will beat her next time Miranda,” Anna returned with Brienne in her wake. The sword she was sharpening earlier was still in her hands. “She cannot win forever.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Brienne cut in, her voice strong and deep. Her mouth was pulled into a light frown, and you noticed the scar that cut through the upper lip on the right. From the time before, you suspected. Otherwise she’d be turned. “She beat me and Phasma one after the other.”
Miranda sighed, tsking beneath her breath.
“Then there’s no hope…” Goodness, she looked like a sad puppy.
“Why not?” It slipped out of your mouth before you could grab it.
And of course, all of the attention then dragged itself over to you. Five sets of sea-blue eyes, all gorgeous in the glow of the evening lamps, traced lines over your tired body. In comparison to them, you looked a sight. Obviously having been picked up from the side of the road, unclean and awkward, somewhat detached from society. In your bag? Not enough clothing and not enough supplies. In your belt, peeking out from beneath your shirt? A knife, dirty and growing dull. And in your eyes? Lurking sadness and horror - the same which probably lived in the women that were observing you.
Larissa, thank goodness, finally broke the lull of silence.
“Brienne and Phasma were in the military,” she said gently.
“Oh. That makes sense.” And it did - Jane must have been an intellectual force if she beat people that used to be in the military before the world ended. Though that made you wonder… “What branch?” You turned to Brienne, not really surprised that you had to look up to meet her eyes. It seemed you’d been adopted into a camp of skyscrapers. Though the sharpness of her eyes had you swallowing. “I mean- if you don’t mind me asking.”
She seemed to consider it, sizing you up, before saying, rather shortly, “SAS. Then Delta Force.”
You couldn’t hide the way your eyes widened.
“Oh.”
“Oh, indeed,” Larissa hummed. “But I think now would be a good time to head in, wouldn’t you say?” She spared her smile for everyone, meeting the gaze of each woman, before finally looking at you and raising her eyebrow.
It wasn’t really up to you, so you just shrugged and waited for Anna to say ‘Da, da, xорошо’ before heading in. Brienne followed after her, then Miranda, who was studying the back of the chess box, and Larissa, who started taking off her gloves. Jan, meanwhile, stayed where she was and kept her eyes on you. They were curious and deep, never-ending, and lined with mascara and eyeliner. Mascara and eyeliner that… well it suited her, but goodness it was certainly intense. Dark and shadowed, but beautiful nevertheless. You couldn’t look away.
“Jan Stevens,” she breathed and gave you her hand, elegant and admittedly quite charming. Her nails were painted a deep cherry red. Utterly flawless.
At the sight of it, you weren’t entirely sure what to do. Your palms were still dirty, and sort of calloused, and you didn’t want to… ruin her. So you hesitated, stared at it, looked back up at her, and found her kind smile to be unwavering.
“Go on,” Jan finally whispered, giving her hand a pointed look, and you fell prey in an instant.
Quickly, you shot out to gently cup her hand into your own, and gave it a gentle shake. You felt strangely compelled to bring it up to your lips, but you weren’t sure that meeting a stranger in an apocalypse really called for such formalities. Even though you yearned to feel her skin beneath your mouth. It wasn’t proper; though you did think that Jan’s expression fell just a little bit. Like she was excited. Like she wanted you to kiss her hand.
“Y/n. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” she purred, looking you up and down, before turning toward the door. “Come quickly now. If we’re late, Jane will send us off to bed without dinner. And we wouldn’t want that.”
It probably would have been wise to consider and contemplate the fact that you were in a stranger’s camp, with a stranger’s group… but the saucy little wink that Jan threw over her shoulder sent a deep blush crawling up your cheeks. And just like that, without fail, you were one of the flesh-eaters… caught in the pretty paws of eight different beasts.
‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
Please let me know if my characterization is okay and if you'd like to see more. Be safe, darlings. - Rip x
‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
Far too many names to tag. Find it as you come.
‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
#rippersz#fanfictionwriter#fanfic#fanfiction#wlw fanfic#gwendoline christie#gwendoline christie characters#larissa weems#captain phasma#jan stevens#lucifer morningstar the sandman#brienne of tarth#jane murdstone#anna welcome to marwen#miranda hilmarson#x reader fanfic#x reader fic#x reader#larissa weems x reader#phasma x reader#jan stevens x reader#y/n#x y/n#jane murdstone x reader#anna x reader#miranda hilmarson x reader#brienne of tarth x reader#lucifer morningstar sandman x reader#lucifer morningstar sandman#got brienne
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Nerdy cultural details about the word "Hashira"
Some details can be hard to pick up without context or in translation. I recently went over a few details about the Hashira's names, Breaths, or symbols, but today I want to focus on the word "Hashira."
To get this out of the way, I use "Pillar" all over this blog because I thought that's what they were called. I was astounded that phrase was not translated, as it is a (somewhat rare) case of a one-to-one translation equivalent. They are the pillars that support the Demon Slayer Corp, after all. The kanji for it (柱) very literally means "pillar" in any modern day Japanese to English dictionary. But since you all know the word "Hashira," let's climb up and see where it takes us!
First, the kanji itself (brought over from China and given the Japanese pronunciation "hashira," based on the existing spoken Japanese language), is composed of 木 for "tree" and 主 for "master" or "main/principal," among other semi-literal or more widely applicable possible meanings in modern kanji dictionaries. However, Prof. Owada Tetsuo, a retired university professor who published an unofficial book of his own Kimetsu no Yaiba interpretations based on Japanese demon slaying folklore, points out that 主 can also be interpreted as a still flame atop a candlestick, and that 柱 (hashira) is a tree that cannot be moved. (I'll continue to use a lot of Prof. Owada's details in this explanation, as well as details I have picked up in other research.)
That makes 柱 closely associated with holy trees found in, or treated as, Shinto shrines throughout Japan. As Shinto is a nature-based belief system, trees are often something that a kami (deity) will inhabit. Keep Shinto in mind, because we're going to focus on that a lot.
Before that, let's finish up with the kanji 柱. According to the first official fanbook, there is an upper limit of nine Hashira because there are nine strokes in the 柱 kanji. (See this dictionary entry for a breakdown of those nine strokes.)
Now that the easy official tidbit is out of the way, back to the Shinto fun stuff and conjecture! We need to dive a bit more into the spoken Japanese language, from which a lot of Shinto terms derive.
For starters, the Japanese language uses counter words for when you say a certain number of beings or objects. You could think of this as "a sheet of paper" or "three rolls of tape." It is an annoying part of starting out your study of the language because there are a lot to memorize based on sizes, shapes, types of animals, etc. Deities also have their own counter word: 柱 (hashira). This goes to show how the Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corp are something more than human, what with how much power they possess.
Now if we think about the pronunciation of the spoken Japanese word from long before a Chinese written character was assigned to it, the "hashi" of "hashira" is a "bridge." Clever ones among you might know that "hashi" also means "chopsticks." But even chopsticks have the same effect as a bridge! They serve as a connection, bridging the gap between you and what was another living thing, that which will become a part of you as your sustenance. "Hashira," as pillars, are likewise something that serve as a connection, in this case, a vertical one. They are that which connect us with the heavens, or in the case of the Demon Slayer Corp, they bridge the gap between the limits of human strength and the inhuman strength of demons.
As another Shinto tie, one of the connections that Prof. Owada and I both made was that there are nine pillars that support the main sanctuary in shrine architecture like that of Izumo Taisha Grand Shrine. Or rather, in the case of at least one of the historical iterations of Izumo Taisha, there were nine groups of three massive tree trunks each, resulting in a shrine over 48 meters in height (see here for photos of how big the remains of those pillars are and how exciting the archaeology is). These pillars give you a sense of awe for just how powerful pillars can be, especially when you have a spread of nine to distribute the weight.
Now, there's more that Prof. Owada and I would both say about how Izumo Taisha also ties in with the "Ubuyashiki" surname or the "yakata" title by which the Hashira address him, but that's a dose of nerdery for some other time.
#kny nerdery#kny reference#kny references#I forget which tag and I'm sticking it in there for the official fanbook bit#otherwise this is what My Research makes possible#thank you My Research#and thank you Prof. Owada's Research even though I think you're stretching too far to make connections#for the sake of talking about other nerdy folklore stuff in a KnY themed book
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all my mandarin dictionaries (and dictionary-adjacent books)
Through chatting with @don-dake and @cherrymintvampyyri, I've come to realize that I might own a less than normal number of Mandarin dictionaries. So, here's a post about all of them.
I do have two basic bilingual dictionaries (Mandarin/English): the Langenscheidt pocket dictionary and the DK visual dictionary. These are quite easy to buy and not that interesting imo, so I'm not gonna talk further about them.
I'm also going to include a couple books that aren't technically dictionaries, but are rather about etymology of characters, and that's close enough to count for me.
Okay, let's get on to the interesting stuff!
1. What Character is That? An Easy-Access Dictionary of 5,000 Chinese Characters by Ping-gam Go (second edition, 1995)
bilingual
This strange little dictionary was gifted to me by a nun who went to high school with my grandma and later lived in China as a missionary. It's organized alphabetically based on the English translation of each radical?
I have not used this dictionary for actual reference ever, because I flipped through it once and realized that it was absolutely whack. But it's cool to have I guess.
2. 新华字典 第11版
monolingual
This little guy was gifted to me by a Chinese classmate back when I was in college. It's a 字典, so it's just focused on defining individual characters and providing some words featuring that character. Despite being a mainland dictionary, it also has 注音 next to each character for some reason.
It's got some neat stuff towards the back, like the periodic table and a chart of all the 節氣 solar terms.
3. 小学生全笔顺 同义词 近义词 反义词 组词 造句 成语 多音多义字 词典
monolingual
Whew, that's a mouthful. This is an actual 词典, so it defines full words. It also provides example sentences, synonyms, antonyms, and close equivalents. Then there's a section for idioms, and another section for 多音多义字.
There's also this nifty little insert with examples of words/phrases that follow common patterns of repetition.
4. 新现代汉语词典
monolingual
I picked up this chunky guy from a used bookstore down the street from me (the owner of the store passed last year, and the store is no longer there unfortunately). This is a fairly normal dictionary, it's just bigger than my others and has more words listed in it.
One thing I also noticed is that this chart towards the end of the dictionary apparently had a strip of paper pasted on the bottom. It doesn't seem like something I can peel up without damaging the paper under it, and when I shine a flashlight through the page I can't make out any major differences between what's on the sticker and what might be on the page under it. So my best guess is there might have been some damage to the text on the page?
5. 商务馆学汉语近义词词典 The Commercial Press Guide to Chinese Synonyms
monolingual
This book is easily the one I reference the most. As the name suggests, the book is all about synonyms. It takes sets of 2+ similar words and thoroughly explains the similarities and differences between them all. There's plenty example sentences, with notes about whether the synonyms can be used interchangeably in certain contexts.
It's a great resource, but I had a bit of trouble getting my hands on a copy. It's possible that in the years since I bought it there have been more copies made available for sale though.
these next two are books I haven't explored too much since they are old and the binding is incredibly fragile and starting to fall apart. just opening them is stressful.
6. 漢字分解 Chinese Characters Explained by F.X. Keelan (aka 康愛玲修女) (1967?)
bilingual
This book was also gifted to me by the nun who went to school with my grandma, and appears to also have been written by a nun! Based on what I've found from Google, this book was published in 1967.
Rather than a dictionary, this book is "a compilation intended as an aid in grouping and remembering [Chinese characters] with a view in acquiring a reading knowledge of Chinese"(p. iii). It aims to break down characters into radicals and giving similar/related characters. It's apparently the final installment in a 4 part Mandarin Course.
This book uses traditional characters. According to Google Books, the publisher is 光啓出版社, which is a Taiwanese organization. The book includes a very long table that has Mandarin, Cantonese, Taiwanese, Hakka, Japanese, and Korean pronunciations for (what seems to be) every character mentioned in the book. The intro mentions that this is so the course is more "accessible" for speakers of other East Asian languages.
Also, look at that printing error in the third photo! The text got cut off at the bottom of the page.
7. The Structure of Chinese Characters by John Chalmers (second edition, 1911)
bilingual
This final book is the oldest of the bunch, and was gifted to me by my boss's boss for some reason? She found it in a used bookstore apparently.
This book also uses traditional characters, because simplified characters just weren't a thing yet in 1911. This book is falling apart, and opening it stresses me out. It creaks whenever I open it.
Going by the title page, the full title of this book is An Account of the Structure of Chinese Characters Under 300 Primary Forms; After the Shwo-Wan, 100 A.D., and the Phonetic Shwoh-Wan, 1833. It was published by Kelly & Walsh, which was a Shanghai-based publisher.
Someone very kindly penciled in the years the author was alive: 1825-1899. John Chalmers was apparently a Scottish missionary (bc of course he was) who apparently popularized the term "Cantonese". This book that I own in particular was originally published in 1882.
It is, as the very long title suggests, an analysis and etymology of 300 common components
It also has a nifty fold-out of all 300 "primary forms" in seal script.
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͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏࣪⌗͢💭 . . ࣪. ISSAYAH was a South Korean boy group under Flowerbank Entertainment. Debuting in 2012 as Flowerbank's second idol group and first-ever boy group, they were met with instant success and quickly began to climb the ranks, winning the title of "Rookie of the Year" and "Best Global Group" in 2012. The group would continue to grow and top the charts, even gaining international success that put them in competition with One Direction.
Despite their ever-growing stardom, the group would be met with tragedy when the heart and soul of the group, Lee Chang, would go missing in 2015. Upon his disappearance, the ISSAYAH members refused to come back without him, joining every search party for their missing friend. With no leads and very little evidence, police would close Lee Chang's case after six months of searching. Just a month after Lee's case was closed, ISSAYAH would go on an indefinite hiatus, only promising to return when they found Lee.
Lee Chang is still missing nearly ten years later.
͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏࣪⌗͢💭 . . ࣪. BASIC INFO ?!
DEBUT DATE: FEBRUARY 12TH 2012.
FANDOM NAME: SHOUTYAH.
YEARS ACTIVE: 2012 - 2015 ; 3 years active, 8 years on hiatus.
DISCOGRAPHY:
͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏࣪⌗͢💭 . . ࣪. THE LINEUP ?!
KIM BAEKHOON, 1993. LEADER, VOCALIST. He remains signed to Flowerbank Entertainment as an actor and soloist. Has hopes of ISSAYAH coming back one day and has never given up hope that Lee is still alive.
BAI WU, 1993. VOCALIST, RAPPER. He left Flowerbank Entertainment in 2018 when his contract expired and returned to China, where he is a well-respected artist and model. In a 2022 Instagram post celebrating what would've been the group's ten-year anniversary, Bai referred to Lee in the past tense, leading many to believe he no longer believes he is alive.
PARK HAON, 1995. RAPPER, VOCALIST, PRODUCER. He remains signed to Flowerbank Entertainment as a producer and soloist, still working and producing for the groups under the label. He has not made his opinions on Lee's whereabouts known, but he sends money to Lee's mother in America once a month to take care of her.
SUH JAEHYUN, 1995. VOCALIST, RAPPER. He remains signed to Flowerbank Entertainment as an actor, creative director, and producer, working with their most popular groups, such as DeepDive and VENUS. In 2018, Jaehyun made it publicly known that he does not believe Lee is alive and that the investigation into his disapperence was botched beyond belief. He harbors a lot of resentment towards the police and seemingly the Flowerbank CEOs for this, which he has made known several times during his controversial live streams.
LEE CHANG, 1995. VOCALIST, DANCER. His contract remains active with Flowerbank Entertainment as he has not been legally pronounced dead. Carmen Bae, Co-CEO, has explained that this is so his mother can continue receiving royalties for Lee's music. Lee was last seen officially on CCTV leaving a bar known as "Devil's Lock and Key" in Busan with three friends, one female and two males, at around 2:12 in the morning, June 8th 2015. He has not been seen or heard from since.
MOON IDEUN, 1997. VOCALIST, DANCER, MAKNAE. After ISSAYAH's hiatus was officiated in 2015, Ideun was put into a sibling duo, 2MOON, with his twin sister Rua. Though the duo would be extremely famous in Korea, once it was time for contract renewals, Ideun would not resign from Flowerbank Entertainment and leave the industry to focus on his education. Ideun believes Lee Chang is alive and has disappeared on his own accord, saying: "Lee always talked about how beautiful Hawaii was when he visited as a kid. I like to think he got over all this and lives there now. It's better than the alternative."
#༘⋆✿ ISSAYAH#༘⋆✿ ARTIST PROFILE#ficnetfairy#fictional idol community#idol oc#kpop oc#idol au#oc kpop group#fictional idol group#kpop fanfic#fake kpop oc#kpop au#kpop addition#idolverse#oc girl group#bts addition#fake kpop girl group#fake kpop idol#stray kids addition
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Okay, so over on the business account ( @duckprintspress ) I said that I'd finished reading the newest article about the Hugos by Chris Barkley and Jason Sanford (this article) and written up some thoughts that troubled me. I AM gonna post them, because I feel strongly that there are aspects of this being pushed aside as if they don't matter, and. They do matter.
To be clear, I am NOT an expert. Most of my knowledge second or third hand, but I've been active in Chinese fandoms for four and a half years, have friends in China, am actively studying Chinese, and at least have a (white, Western) point of view a little different from what I've seen in coverage so far.
What's troubling to me here is the minimal discussion of the dangers in China. It's mentioned in passing that self-censorship happens because the placement of the red line is so unclear that no one is sure what will constitute passing it. Leaving aside that that's an intentional design feature from the Chinese government - they enforce when they want to enforce when they want to enforce it - what's not discussed in this article is who was actually at risk.
The Chengdu organizers in China: if McCarty and the others didn't comply, would the Chengdu organizers have been in danger of ruin? Imprisonment? Execution?
The Chinese authors who were removed from consideration: what were the perils to them and their families if they hadn't been removed from consideration?
The Western authors who were disqualified: if they hadn't been removed, what might have happened to them upon arrival in China? Could their safety have been ensured?
This article presents a very narrow view (and extremely important and informative one, but still only) into one aspect of what happened. At the beginning of it, Barkley indicates that this article shouldn't be considered a final word, and that's a point that really needs emphasis: we know now about exactly ONE aspect of what happened. We do not know what was getting communicated to the Chinese organizers, and we do not know what they were doing with that information. We don't even know who those Chinese organizers were, nor who their influencers, stakeholders, investors, etc., were, nor what their goals were.
This article, and many others, ultimately end up reading like the Western organizers were Actors and the Chinese government was an Actor and that everyone else in China involved who wasn't The Man (business, government, etc.) was a passive receiver of whatever these three groups did. Without more information about all those other people (who, granted, NEED anonymity to be safe, but we don't even have anonymous statements), what we know about this situation is glaringly, starkly lacking, and it feels (if I'm being generous in my interpretation) patronizing that all these regularly Chinese people are getting treated as not having agency under the monolith that is Chinese Government And Business Interests (ill-defined in everything I've read) on the one hand and, on the other hand, Very Specific Named Western People Who Get To Have Names, Power, Agency, And Active Participation In Events.
We have no information whatsoever on what risks the Chinese organizers might have been willing to take.
We have no information whatsoever on what was discussed with the specific Chinese people who set this event up, bought ballots, etc., etc.
It's this ginormous gaping hole in the coverage, and while this gets acknowledged a little in this article, what no one seems to be saying is "if people outside China can't get this information for various reasons, perhaps we're not the right people to tell this story" or at least "we're only able to tell a small part of the story and people who have the necessary language skills, information, expertise, and contacts should do what they can to bring more to light." And again, Barkley and Sanford DO acknowledge that, but in ways that read to me as throwaway and incidental (my opinion, only, other people may have found that wording more impactful, I was already getting frustrated by that point and that would have colored by interpretation), and in the end I feel like it prevents them from posing some of the questions that are truly essential to understanding this. (Some of this is likely known, just not by me, to be clear, but these are the questions I'd personally like to know more about before I can draw firm conclusions about what happened.) For example:
Who in China was really behind organizing and funding this?
Why was the decision made to hold the event in China?
What research was done into Chinese censorship before the event bid was accepted, and what impact did the results of that research have on the decision to accept the bid? How much of that information was provided to the people reviewing the bids, and when and how was that information presented?
What is happening that is causing Chinese posts on this topic to be deleted?
What is the danger to Chinese fans who've spoken out? What is the danger to the Chinese organizers of the event? Have they been victims of reprisals, and are they safe now?
WAS this self-censorship or active censorship, and who was ultimately responsible for the decisions to remove the ballots?
There's so much we don't know, and so much that we probably can't find out at all, but the focus solely on Western sources (by Western journalists and interests, who seem to rarely have ANY contacts in China, much less ones capable of providing useful information) has been a huge flaw of virtually every bit of coverage I've seen on this.
China isn't a ginormous evil black box, and I'm getting really tired of reading coverage that foists off explaining what happened there onto "well, acshwally, the Chinese government..."
What I really want is an acknowledgement that had Dave McCarty refused to do this research, there's a very real chance that people's lives could have been in danger in China. And it's all well and nice for a bunch of people in the West to say "they should have stood up for what was right." But the Western Hugo awards committee people are NOT the people who would have been in danger had they taken a stand. They could have sat perfectly safe in countries with more secure freedom of speech, while their counterparts in China and Chengdu had their lives ruined over it.
And I'm not saying that was a factor.
I'm say we don't know. And without knowing that, I'll own I'm extremely skeptical of any conclusions being drawn about what we DO know. And I'm saying that if McCarty and the others knew that was a risk that existed, it could have colored their decision-making process, and pretending that the issue wasn't a factor feels naive at best. Knowing that the event was settled in Chengdu and couldn't be moved, I wish I was seeing more people asking: was insisting that these works be nominated for an award worth risking the lives of people's lives for? If there was active censorship, and McCarty and the others had fought it, could the Hugo awards have possibly have won against that active censorship, and if they'd tried and failed, what would the consequences have been?
Based on this article, I'm genuinely frightened for Chinese SF/F fandom organizers, authors, and fans right now. I've seen what can happen to people in China, and I'll own it's distressing to see how little that factor seems to matter to the people upset about the censorship, all of whom are safe in places that aren't China.
I want to see more discussion of: once the bid for Chengdu was accepted, what were the genuine options left on this topic? Was this censorship an inevitable outcome of holding the Hugos there? Or, as I personally suspect, is what is happening now not the result of the Hugos being held there OR of the censorship that was done by whoever did it, but rather the result of how all this coverage is making China look bad (when we STILL DON'T KNOW IF CHINA HAD A HAND IN THE CENSORSHIP AT ALL)?
I think we're missing way, way to much information for the level of conclusion that I'm seeing people draw based on this article, including myself in the meme I made based on only a surface understanding of the contents of this article.
I'll own, as someone who knows just enough about China to understand some of the risks people there took, this is feeling like a lot of Westerners going "CENSORSHIP BAD! STAND FOR WHAT'S RIGHT!" while sitting safe and sound and ignoring their counterparts in China and all of the Chinese SF/F fandom screaming "THIS IS DANGEROUS FOR US THIS COULD RUIN OUR LIVES."
I'm. Not comfortable with a lot of what I'm reading, including parts of this article. I'm not saying I know bad things have happened or will happen, but I do feel that a lot of people opening their mouths know far too little about China, and do not seem to think they have a responsibility to learn more, to be taking the stands that they are.
#unforth rambles#please don't let this blow up in my face please don't let this blow up in my face please don't#i'm not tagging to relevant tags but i'm okay with people reblogging#if someone actually wants to and cares about my opinion on this topic
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Talking about the Qabā'. Again.
The last time I talked about the Qaba was in another post where i was very excited to have found a miniature from either Syria or Egypt that matched an extant piece of fabric from a close time period. Today I'm going to talk about the garment itself more, and it's relatives. The impetus for this is that a few months ago, I was scrolling through hanfu blogs- if you've read the article I published in Egyptian Migrations, you know I have an interest not just in Egyptian fashion, but how other cultures navigate fashion, both in their unique subcultures and traditional styles. While doing so I came across the tieli (貼裏), and quite liked the look of it, so I searched up the garment and began looking more at it. As I was scrolling through the many pretty pictures, I realized hey- I've seen this before. This looks a lot like that coat with the red foliage pattern!
Turns out this was because they're related.
They're not the only ones either- the Qabā' (as both Farsi and Arabic call it), the Tieli, the Indian Jama, the Korean Cheolik, and more, all bear a resemblance to each other. Covergent evolution happens plenty of course, but in this case there's something of an established link. In fact while doing my research, I found a paper specifically about this garment family (The Dress of the Mongol Empire: Genealogy And Diaspora of the Terlig by Woohyun Cho, Jaeyoon Yi, and Jinyoung Kim), though without explicit mention of the Qabā'.
The name and garment Tieli come from the Mongolian Terlig and Jisün (also called a Zhama (诈玛 or 詐馬), establishing a possible linguistic connection to the Jama) during the Yuan dynasty. Like many Mongolian traditional garments, it's well suited to horseback riding, which which what many Mamluk depictions also show the Qabā' being worn during. It could be round or cross collar (the combination of the two is unique to the Qabā'). The key features of the garment were a knee to calf length skirt that was gathered or pleated, a close fitting bodice cut separate from the skirt, close fitting sleeves, a corded waist which usually lead into the ties that closed the garment. According to the aforementioned trio, the garment was originally made of hides, and the waist detail found in the original Terlig, lost in other cultures renditions, is an indication of this. The Terlig, known before this point, was introduced to China, India, and Korean when the Monglian Empire was an active political entity in the 13th century and onwards, and this is the case for this style of Qabā' as well. During the 13th century, the Ilkhanate was established in the former territory of the Khwarazmian Empire, after a political incident where the Shah ordered the execution of a group of merchants sent by the Mongolian Empire lead to a long military conflict. The Ilkhanate went on to control large portions of Turkey, Syria, Iraq, and the Caucasus, as well as Afghanistan, Turkmenistan, and Pakistan. Ultimately the Ilkhanate tried, but never did, conquer Egypt, which was ruled by the Mamluks at the time.
However, it did leave a cultural influence behind. Reference to this origin for this style of qaba can be found in one of the two names for the Qabā': al-aqbiya al-tatariyya or qabā' tatarī, meaning the Tatar coat or Tatar way of wearing a coat. Tatar, in this instance, is being used to refer to Mongolians. A similar distinction can be found in the Jama, where Muslims fasten it on the right in the Mongolian style (brought to my attention by the paper mentioned before). The tatarī is fastened in the same way, ties on the wearer's right of the body. The other style of Qabā' (al-aqbiya al-turkiyya) is the same, but fastens on the opposite side of the body. The Mamluks preferred the tatarī, but it was not the exclusive style worn. Along with this, some Qabā' fastened in the center front.
The Jisün was a type of Terlig, made of one color of silk and gold, worn as a robe of honor by officials during the Yuan dynasty. During the later Ming dynasty, it became the dress of certain military officials. It had different varieties for seasons and social status. It also progenitated the Yesa (曳撒), which was longer and more widely worn than the Jisün. The Feiyufu (飞鱼服) was a Ming variant of the Tieli, and another type of honor robe. The Qing dynasty Chaofu also seems to have taken the terlig into account when it was designed.
The Cheolik has a crossover collar, pleated skirt, and may have quite long, wide sleeves. Political marriages with Mongolian courts likely helped this garment take root. This garment is still worn today as Korea, like China, has revitalized its traditional clothing. It is mostly by women today as far as I can tell, though historically it was a masculine garment. It has a longer hem than the Terlig. It also sometimes had a higher waistline.
The Jama was introduced by the Mughal dynasty, and unlike the other garments listed here which typically used rectangles and triangles for constructing clothes, the one pattern I've seen for it taken from an extant garment (as opposed to being a guess) shows a skirt made of gores and set in sleeves with a gusset. Another example, laid flat, shows rectangular sleeves with a gusset, but the skirt cannot be determined. It was later renamed to sarbgati. It typically has a crossover fastening, though I have seen one that closed in the center front. The ties are especially prominent and decorated, which overall is not the case in the rest of the garment family. Gold bands on the sleeves and collar are sometimes found as decoration. It also has a longer hem and higher waistline than the Terlig.
In my previous post I noted a similarly to this robe and the Central Asian and Persian robes I'd seen from a different century, but was hesitant to connect them. Now I'm sure of a connection. The waist seam is confirmed! There are still several stylistic differences, though:
1. The Qabā', in Syrian and Egyptian depictions, typically combines a round neckline with the cross over collar. The Persian Qabā' typically does not have a round neckline.
2. The Qabā' usually has what looks like a gathered skirt, not a pleated one, as the Tieli does. The Terlig sometimes has a gathered skirt as well, as does the Jama.
3. The Syrian and Egyptian Qabā' is decorated with strips of gold, not with a cloud collar. The Persian Qabā' often has a cloud collar, which it inherits from the Terlig, and I have seen an Angarkha from Lahore with a cloud collar as well. It sometimes has bands. The Seljuk Qabā' sometimes has bands, and sometimes has a rank badge (more commonly found in Chinese court dress). As an aside, I recently found a British drawing (from life, presumably) of an Egyptian envoy in a garment similar to an Angarkha as well...
4. The Qabā' in Syrian and Egyptian depictions often retains the knee or calf length good for horse riding that many other garments in this family moved away from.
5. The Qabā' most likely does not have the corded waist found in the Terlig. There is a gold band around the waist in some depictions that could be a braided waist, but could also be a belt. Unfortunately I don't know of any extant examples from Syria or Egypt that would clarify matters. There is an example which might be Persian that does show this corded waist. Most depictions have no waist detail other than an indication of a waistline.
As far as I know, while this robe spread a little into the Balkans and Eastern Europe (the cloud collar has appeared in some Christian Iconography and a few examples of Terlig like historical garments exist), it did not spread much further west or south of Egypt. However, given the Qabā' has been excluded from discussions of the Terlig's many sons already, it's possible I simply don't know about it, as further iterations in Africa would be excluded as well. As always, I welcome people bringing their own findings to the table.
Further reading: The Dress of the Mongol Empire: Genealogy And Diaspora of the Terlig by Woohyun Cho, Jaeyoon Yi, and Jinyoung Kim
Mongol court dress, identity formation, and global exchange by Eiren L. Shea
https://sartorialegypt.wordpress.com/2022/12/03/a-brief-discussion-of-a-mamluk-robe/ - prev post
http://collections.vam.ac.uk/item/O480307/gown/ - the cloud collar angarkha
https://www.newhanfu.com/6021.html - Discussion of the tieli and yesa
https://www.jstor.org/stable/41917645 - Terlig discussion
https://www.jstor.org/stable/43957434 - general discussion of Yuan clothing with a nice example of a terlig
https://en.unesco.org/silkroad/silk-road-themes/mouvable-heritage-and-museums/robe-decorative-braided-waist-band-0 - Terlig example
A Preliminary Study of Mongol Costumes in the Ming Dynasty by Luo Wei
https://m.terms.naver.com/entry.naver?cid=46671&docId=563301&categoryId=46671 - Cheolik
Arab dress: a short history; from the dawn of Islam to modern times by Yedida Stillman
https://lugatism.com/outer-garments-in-the-mamluk-sultanate/#3-_Qaba_qba - the Qaba and other dress in the Mamluk era
https://www.agakhanmuseum.org/collection/artifact/robe-AKM677 - a robe which may be Persian or Central Asian with the corded waist
Additionally, blogs like @ziseviolet and @fouryearsofshades post about hanfu, including the tieli and yesa.
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Behind the world of "What Crawls in the Night" the pseudo-science
'What Crawls in the Night' Masterlist
AN: This was not written by a professional I am just a nerd. This is pseudo-science for an upcoming post-apocalyptic AU. Nor have I played COD I just think it (it being TF141) looks neat.
*Recovered Historical Document - HDC-TF141-483-NHL*
A Summary of Known Information on Toxoplasma Grant (T. Grant)
By Dr. Stigandr Katten et al
Objective
Summarize the history, symptomology, modes of transmission, prevention of infection, and what should be done in the face of Toxoplasma Grant.
History
Toxoplasma Grant (i.e., T. Grant) is also known by its common name, “Night Crawler”, so named after how it causes its hosts to be active at night and not, ‘as some may claim’, because of one of its original researcher’s love of the Marvel Character. T. Grant was originally found in a cave hidden in the permafrost of Siberia. The geological team led by Dr. R. J. Antony stumbled across a group of ten mummified human remains that were littered with holes. The team called for support from both an anthropologist as well as a parasitologist when one of the students of the geological team astutely observed that there was what appeared to be a dried, hyper-enlarged parasite inside the holes. This unknown student is the only reason we have been able to gather this paltry information or even know about T. Grant. Without their observation, we would be lost in the dark as this infection rolled over the globe; it’s a shame then, that their name and also their life was one of the first lost to the parasite.
Dr. Shanti Cale of UCSF's parasitology department was sent to investigate, along with her assistant, Steven Banks. A Doctor of Anthropology, Zackery Addy of Georgetown, was also sent. It was during one of the many autopsy sessions that video evidence shows Steven Banks accidentally cut himself and squirted one of the pipettes with rehydrated worm larva into the cut. Instead of informing the doctors, Mr. Banks cleaned the wound perhaps believing falsely that it would be ok. As we know now, that was the furthest thing from the truth. During its incubation period, Mr. Banks became severely ill, vomiting into a sink that flowed into the communal water tanks for the site. We believe, but can't confirm due to loss of the site, that faulty filters didn't pick up the presence of the parasite, which then was given back to the researchers in the water they drank. Even without that confirmation, within hours nearly all of the assembled teams were infected, as is evidenced when, after its incubation period of about 24 hours, video shows Mr. Banks, as well as the other infected, attacking and killing other members of the teams. From there, the hosts start dissipating from camp while shortly after, cases start appearing in Russia, China, Mongolia, and other eastern European countries.
Sources have started to also call hosts 'Zombies,' since they hold many of the same characteristics as the made-up monsters. Unlike the monsters, who some of my teammates have informed me are considered near immortal, the hosts start decomposing after the frontal lobe is eaten by the parasite, as the brain no longer has the ability to tell the body to replace or repair cells. Movement becomes limited the further the infection progresses. An odd pattern has been observed that the infected avoid sunlight as well as warmth, moving more towards colder climates. A debate has been raised as to whether or not the parasite realizes its host's body is decomposing and trying to find ways to slow down that process. Personally, this researcher doesn't believe that a parasite could be capable of that kind of thinking and instead posits that it avoids the light as normally it is only found alive in the dark. Hopefully, time and more studying will reveal the answer.
Recent autopsies conducted on hosts of T. Grant show that the parasite goes from the intestinal tract to infect the blood and then starts burrowing into the muscles and organs of the host, eating away at them and from there growing in size. For some of the infected, about 15%, the parasite can't cross the blood-brain barrier. We do not know at this time if anything can be done to save these kinds of cases, but we do know that within a week or two of infection, the patient is driven mad with the agonizing pain of being eaten alive and death is a mercy. It's almost to be considered a blessing then that most of the time the parasite eats the brain first. The only way death can occur in victims or the brain-dead-but-walking hosts is to shoot them in the head or remove the head in some other fashion. Once the host’s body reaches the active and advanced stages of decomposition, they are no longer able to move but still are considered an active and dangerous carrier.
Symptomology
The initial indicators that one has been infected by T. Grant are brain fog, as well as muscle cramps, and abdominal pain, followed by hematemesis. After 24-72 hours, depending on the digestion system of the host, the biggest sign, to put it bluntly, will be the host trying to attack and eat you.
Modes of Transmission
There are three common vectors for the transmission of T. Grant. First, the blood, spit, waste, and other viscera of infected hosts. Second, reservoir host animals are a concern, as, while animals can't develop fully the parasite like the human body can, eating undercooked meat—especially the intestines of infected animals—leads to human infection in nearly all cases. Third, the parasite has been found in wastewater as well as natural bodies of water. Dr. Mary Wolfenstein of Lancaster University postulates that this is from rain waters falling on the putrefying bodies of T. Grant's victims or should a host fall into a lake or free-flowing body of water during decomposition.
Prevention of Infection
Avoid contact with the infected, including the non-moving. Only once a body has reached full skeletonization is it safe to touch. If contact can't be avoided, do not allow any of the host's fluid or body to enter your mouth, other orifices, or wounds.
Reservoir host animals are typically carrion birds and other carnivorous animals; avoid eating these animals, especially if they are undercooked. Omnivours also can be reservoir hosts, but not as frequently as carnivores. Caution should also be applied to animal waste as parasites can live in it for weeks to months. Until the waste is fully dried or sterilized, it should not be handled without great care. Thankfully, research has shown that herbivores can't be infected even when given infected water or injected with the parasite. Early studies have shown that this could be due to the rumination in their complex stomach systems.
When dealing with water, research has shown that the only way to rid the water of the parasite is to boil it for five minutes or let it rest in a clean environment for 10-14 days, with a shorter timeframe of 4-6 days if the water is in a warmer climate or the contaminate has been removed from free-flowing water. Standing water should be avoided on principle.
Caution is also to be extended to soil if it's been contaminated by carnivorous or omnivorous animal waste or decomposed host bodies. So it should go without saying don’t eat soil or get infected soil into an open wound. Now depending on soil temperature, parasites can live for five months in environments where the soil temperature is 40°F (4°C) and three months at 70°F (21°C). With the evidence of the permafrost mummies, should the parasite stay in a host that is then rapidly frozen after death, it can live for close to thousands of years if the carbon dating was accurate. While plants can't host the virus, should you improperly wash vegetables or fruit grown in contaminated soil, you risk infection.
What Comes Next
Given all of this information, we should be preparing for a long siege by the parasite. Yet, the United States as well as many other 'developed' countries are currently using AI technology to search and destroy any content relating to T. Grant. When I questioned a source at the CIA, they could only offer the idea that this was to keep from repeating the violence and hysteria of the ‘Odin Crisis’ and the COVID-19 pandemic—to which this researcher can only say, bullshit—people need to be preparing. We have, at most, months if not weeks before this parasite is completely global. People need to be barricading their homes with enough food and bottled water to last at least 6 months, if not fleeing to warmer, southern climates. Yet, many governments are not only burying their heads in the sand, but one politician I spoke to said, "If this is how Armageddon is meant to come, then we can't stop it." Without any action or preparation, we are looking at 95% of humanity dead within 2 years. This is a fact that I wish I was making up, but computer model projections show that when the virus hits the United States, 60% of humanity will be dead within six days, 84% at two weeks, 89% at six months, 93% at a year, and finally 95% at 2 years. With the proposed 6-month quarantine, we are still looking at losses close to 74% on a global scale, but it would mean a billion or so lives that would be saved with those preparations.
However, it seems that government policy will remain the same. If the government will do nothing, then we, the scientific community, must do something. Speak out about this coming crisis. Warn all around you to prepare. The end of humanity comes not with the splitting of an atom or a shot heard around the world, but with a parasite that will eat us from the inside out.
*Historical note - While this document is different than contemporary scientific articles in its structure and tone, evidence has been shown that this document was meant to be the start of Dr. Katten et al releasing all gathered information; and therefore more of a call to action to a scientific community that was stunned at the swift silencing of information by many governments. Dr. Stigandr Katten was killed soon after the publication of this article. While police claim it was a home invasion gone wrong, recovered internal NSA emails offer evidence they were killed in an attempt to silence the truth from getting out. Following their death, the rest of their team was disbanded with more evidence showing they were threatened into silence.
*More Information - The journals of Dr. Katten, as well as portions of the team's notes, were recently discovered showing the work put in to build the parasite’s profile. Should you wish to read either of these documents, please contact the New Hope Library about receiving an e-copy of them. The physical copies will be on display in the New Hope Museum in the 'Survival During the Endemic' Wing.
#babbling.brook.writing#call of duty#call of duty fic#cod fic#tf 141 x reader#tf 141#john price x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#What Crawls in the Night
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As some netizens said: If the 1st year (of the epidemic) is panic, with some a little bit secretly delighted for being able to rest at home for a while, the 2nd year began to look confused, with people hoping that the epidemic quickly end. The 3rd year is about some complaints, (people wondering) when is the end.
In addition, some places have recently used the name of epidemic prevention to "increase the level (of control)", abusing their power and making things difficult for the masses, resulting in epidemic prevention becoming out of shape, and in some cases, while not saying they were implementing restrictions & control but they were actually doing it, disregarding the interests of the masses & people's demands, & arbitrarily interrupting the normal production and living order.
It damaged the image of the Party and the government & hurt the masses. There are even some people who take the opportunity to make money from the epidemic. Compared to the epidemic, these phenomena break people’s hearts. The ensuing people’s feelings of helplessness, tired & even anger are understandable.
Epidemic prevention & control is to prevent the virus, not to prevent people; there is no such thing as "epidemic prevention first" but "people first". No matter what kind of prevention & control measures are taken, they should be aimed at returning society to normal ASAP and getting life back on track as soon as possible. All options are "bridges" and "boats" to this goal, not simply to restrict people, regardless of the cost of blind brute force.
During this period, the World Cup in Qatar is in full swing. The crowd in audience didn’t wear masks, look at the scene of the revelry, everything seems to be no different from before the epidemic. Some people ask: "Many countries in the world now have everything as usual. They 'lie flat' and they survived. If they can 'let it go', why can't we?"
Let's look at the confirmed cases first. Up to now, there are 636 million new confirmed cases & over 6.6 million cumulative deaths worldwide, with 230,000 new confirmed cases and 428 deaths in a recent day. Among them, Japan, which has 126 million people, sees 98,000 new confirmed cases per day; South Korea has a population of more than 50 million people. It sees 47,000 new confirmed cases per day.
Second, regarding medical resources, this year China has 6.7 medical beds per 1,000 population, compared with 12.65 in South Korea, 12.63 in Japan and 7.82 in Germany in 2020. In 2020, China has 4.5 ICU beds per 100,000 people, Germany 28.2, the U.S. 21.6, France 16.4 and Japan 13.8, a global average of 10. Earlier this year, covid critically ill patients occupied 32.7% of the total ICU capacity in the U.S., and about 7 ICU beds per 100,000 people were crowded by covid critically ill patients, the number of which has exceeded the total number of ICU beds per 100,000 people in China.
As of the end of 2021, China's population aged 60 & above reached 267 million, & the population of children exceeded 250 million, so the size of "the elderly & the children" group is huge.
According to the latest data from Singapore, the mortality rate of infection among the elderly aged 60-69, 70-79 and 80 years old and above with vaccine protection is 0.014%, 0.064% and 0.54% respectively; the mortality rate of infection among the elderly in the three age groups without vaccine protection is 0.19%, 0.29% and 2.5% respectively. And the three age groups of elderly people who have not completed vaccination in China are about 22.64 million, 16.16 million and 14 million respectively.
If we completely lift all the restrictions now, according to the estimated mortality rate of infection in Singapore, the number of deaths in our country will reach about 600,000 for the elderly over 60 years old only.
China's social system, history and culture, values and ethics do not allow us to watch our fathers and grandfathers and children face death threats and simply give up. For example, in some Western countries, hundreds of people died in a single nursing home from an epidemic.
By understanding this, we can also understand our country's efforts to contain the epidemic. It is selective forgetfulness to envy the freedom and revelry of Western countries, but ignore the painful price they have paid. To talk about the "control" & "lifting restrictions" in isolation from China's national conditions and development reality is an empty proposition.
If we compare the epidemic to a rough river, in order to reach the other side, some countries choose to go into the water bare-chested, and let some people become sacrificial lambs, while China chooses to ride out the storm together, using a big boat to give everyone a chance to survive. When the big boat is difficult and gradually leaning towards the other side of the river, if blindly envious of those who have landed on the other side of the river and no longer work together to row the boat and choose to risk jumping ship, the results of the many efforts we made before may be lost.
https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/Inz_kORneG7QyEttAXnZzg
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The original "medicine men" in history were actually women. Briffault writes on this subject, "The connection of women with the cultivation of the soil and the search for edible vegetables and roots made them specialists in botanical knowledge, which, among primitive peoples, is extraordinarily extensive. They became acquainted with the properties of herbs, and were thus the first doctors." He adds:
The word "medicine" is derived from a root meaning "knowledge" or "wisdom" - the wisdom of the 'wise woman." The name of Medea, the medical herbalist witch, comes from the same root.... "The secret of the witch," said an Ogowe native, "is knowing the plants that produce certain effects, and knowing how to compound and use the plants in order to bring about the desired result; and this is the sum and essence of witchcraft." In the Congo it is noted that woman doctors specialise in the use of drugs and herbal pharmacy. In Ashanti the medicine women are "generally preferred for medical aid, as they possess a thorough knowledge of barks and herbs." In East Africa "there are as many women physicians as men." (The Mothers, vol. I, p. 486)
Dan McKenzie, in The Infancy of Medicine (1927), lists hundreds of ancient remedies, some of which are still in use without alteration, while others have been only slightly improved upon. Among these are substances used for their narcotic properties. A fleeting review indicates the astounding scope of these medicinal products. Useful properties were developed from acacia, alcohol, almond, asafetida, balsam, betel, caffeine, camphor, caraway, chaulmoogra oil (a leprosy remedy), digitalis, gum barley water, lavender, linseed, parsley, pepper, pine tar, pomegranate, poppy, rhubarb, senega, sugar, turpentine, wormwood, and hundreds more. These came from regions all over the globe-South America, North America, Africa, China, Europe, Egypt, etc. Not only vegetable but animal substances were made into remedies; snake venom, for example, was converted into a serum to be used for snake bites, the equivalent of today's antivenin.
According to Marston Bates, very little had been added to this remarkable ancient collection of medicine, until the discoveries of sulfa and antibiotics. "How primitive man discovered the ways of extracting, preparing and using all of these drugs, poisons and foods, remains one of the great mysteries of human prehistory," he writes (The Forest and the Sea, p. 126). But it is not so mysterious when we look in the direction of the female sex and become acquainted with the hard work, vast experience, and nimble wits of primitive womankind, preoccupied with every aspect of group survival.
Not only medicine but the rudiments of various other sciences grew up side by side with the craft and know-how of women. Childe points out that to convert flour into bread requires a knowledge of biochemistry and the use of the yeast microorganism. This substance also led to the production of fermented liquors and beer. Childe also gives credit to women for "the chemistry of potmaking, the physics of spinning, the mechanies of the loom, and the botany of flax and cotton" (What Happened in History, p. 59).
-Evelyn Reed, Woman’s Evolution: From Matriarchal Clan to Patriarchal Family
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Memories
WJSN’s Cheng Xiao
8.4k words
Warning: pretty angsty
Rainy days were always a hit or miss for you. If caught outside without an umbrella, hiding from the unforgiving freezing droplets would always be a nightmare for you. If it were a cold, indoor day, the rain made the day more peaceful; its cold embrace soothed you to a well-earned nap. Either way, you have heard a saying from mom that rain was considered good luck. It symbolized positive things such as change, renewal, and life.
Maybe it was mom's way of making you feel better—for whatever reason—because today was not the case.
The day started out beautiful; the sky was like a dome of plasma blue. The clouds were fluffy marshmallows drifting under the gleaming disc of the sun. Suddenly, the beautiful blue shade began to darken into gravel-gray, and the gloomy rain clouds blotted out the sky and the tangerine sunlight. Then the rain started to fall from the heavens.
There wasn’t a day you weren’t drenched during your whole stay in China—it rained cats and dogs. You were lucky that you were already in the conference room when it started pouring.
As you watch a droplet that slides down the window, you wonder why the higher-ups decided to send you out of all people to facilitate this important meeting. There are better people suited for this. Maybe the years you spent with the group as their manager made you the perfect candidate; you know this group inside-out, but you feel too attached to make objective decisions.
Either way, it might have been fate that brought you here—for better or for worse. The weather seemed to reflect the inner state of mind, a storm of feelings brewing inside you. You are thankful, at least, that Starship sent an actual lawyer on this trip and someone you are at least familiar with.
“Tsk. It’s only been crappy weather since we got here,” Jaesung says as he fiddles with his necktie. “And they’re late, again!”
“Yeah, to be honest, I just want to get this over with,” you reply as you tap on the window anxiously.
The rain droplet you were following slides further down the window and out of sight. With nothing else to do, you sit down next to Jaesung.
Jaesung slides the open folder that was in front of him towards you. “You think they’d finally show up?” he asks.
“I don’t know, but I want to see them.”
Looking down at the bundle of papers, the words “End of Contract” are written in huge font. Your heart always sinks when you read the names under it—Cheng Xiao, Meng Mei Qi, and Wu Xuan Yi.
It was inevitable, but it still broke your heart when the higher-ups broke the news to you. Ever since that contract fiasco with Tencent, and their booming individual careers in China, they didn’t need an incentive to return to Korea. It was only a matter of time till Yuehua called in and decided to pull the plug—a year before their contract renewal with Starship.
Memories of the three Chinese girls flood your brain as your finger traces their names on the paper
Xuan Yi. You never met anyone as pleasant or as happy-go-lucky as her. Despite her aloofness on camera, she is the most sensitive and observant of everyone's feelings. You think it was because she grew up in hardship. She always made everyone else happy, even at the cost of her happiness.
Meng Mei Qi. You hope the stories were false, but perhaps you never truly knew her. The Mei Qi you recall was insightful, compassionate, and one of the more mature members of the group. You prefer to remember her like this. She usually kept to herself, but she always knew what to say; Mei Qi was the best at expressing herself.
Cheng Xiao. No amount of words can even begin to describe her. Out of the three Chinese girls, she was the closest to you. Xiao was just perfect in every way possible. She was not just beautiful; everything she did was just as flawless as her. Xiao affects others by bringing the best out of them. She was a flower that made others bloom; that made you blossom.
The "Chinity"—as they were fondly named—completed the 13-member girl group you were lucky to take in as a family. You watched them grow together, lead each other through hardships, and celebrate the best moments of their lives. Staying up for 18 hours at a time was worth it to see those 13 starry smiles. WJSN was your youth; they have changed you in so many ways.
Even the happiest of stories have to end someday. You remember the day you brought the three to the airport—and little did you know it was the last time you saw them. In this line of business, people will come and go out of your life, but that day you lost an enormous part of yourself.
Jaesung taps your shoulder, taking you out of your reverie. “How are you holding up?” he asks.
“I’m good. A bit nervous, to be honest. Just wondering whether or not the girls will show up," you reply. Taking in a deep breath, you take a moment to calm yourself down.
“They mean a lot to you. It's okay to be a bit tense.”
He pulls the folder towards him. “Don’t worry, this will be a quick meeting. Just some negotiations and the signatures. Then if they don’t show up, we can leave, rest up, and catch a flight tomorrow.”
As soon as Jaesung finishes his sentence, the door to the conference room opens. The two of you stand up to acknowledge the presence of the Yuehua executive officer.
The executive officer enters first, and he holds the door open. You weren't expecting anyone else for this meeting.
The clacking of heels echoes from outside the room. Your instincts kick in; something is up. You assume from the pattern of sounds that it was more than one person. Taking deep breaths, you anxiously await their entrance. The anticipation is killing you inside; it feels like waiting for the curtain to come down on the surprise main attraction.
And three ghosts of the past enter the room.
The past always catches up to you, one way or another. Xiao leads Xuan Yi and Mei Qi in a single file line as they enter the room. The years have been kind to them—despite their busy independent schedules, you are thankful they look healthy.
The three look surprised to see you—eyes slightly wide and mouth agape—but they quickly regain composure as they approach the table. Xiao takes slower steps as she nears her seat in front of you, eyeing you up and down.
“We apologize for being late. We had to coordinate the girls’ schedules so they could all be here today,” the executive officer says as he closes the door. He then takes his place in between the girls.
“It’s no problem. We can begin the meeting then,” Jaesung says. He nudges your shin with his foot, taking you out of your initial shock.
This is going to be a long meeting.
_______________________________________________________________________
An hour passes by, and all the details are reasonably sorted out. It was arduous, but you’ve finally made it to the signatures. Jaesung gives you the paper for everyone to sign.
You tap the table multiple times with your pen. Taking in a deep breath, you sign right above your name. Every stroke felt like you were losing a part of yourself. With the final inking done, you take one last look at your signature—ink lines permanently closing the doors to The Chinity. With the deed done, you pass the paper first to Xuan Yi.
Xuan Yi looks at you for the first time since she entered the room. She gives you her signature smile, but the eyes never hide what you truly feel. You can tell through those glassy eyes that Xuan Yi hesitates to sign. It is touching to see she has not changed; she still has difficulty saying no so that she does not hurt anyone.
You nod at Xuan Yi, returning a smile. “It’s okay,” you mouth to her.
Xuan Yi's smile falters for a split second. She nods back, and after a couple of seconds, she quickly signs on the paper and passes it to Mei Qi. She turns in her swivel chair to face away from you and the table.
Mei Qi takes her time reading the contents. She specifically rereads one particular sentence, tapping it with her finger repeatedly. Leaning in for a closer look, you realize it’s the sentence with her name as “WJSN” Mei Qi. You hear an audible sigh from her, and then she signs the paper. She finally faces you, and her lips slightly quiver.
Maybe she does care.
Lastly, it was Xiao’s turn.
The sight of Cheng Xiao entering the room was like getting struck by a freight train; fast and messy, it reopened feelings you had not felt for a long time. Xiao always captivated you in more ways than one—wide brown chocolate eyes, heavenly beaming smile, dangerous womanly curves.
Today could not be a better example. Xiao has not changed over the years—she still had those lively eyes, plump red lips, and a simple yet killer attire that outlined her heavenly body. She was dressed in a long-sleeved black shirt and high-rise jeans that make her curves shine, but you notice she's slimmer compared to her days in Korea.
After all these years, Xiao still makes you feel these emotions you thought you’d forgotten.
She looks dangerously calm despite the situation; you wonder what is going through her mind.
Xiao takes one look at the contract. Then in one fluid motion, she signs the paper. Xiao doesn’t even look up to you, turning to face the window when she passes the contract back to you; not even a single ounce of emotion on her face.
What she does shocks you; no emotion whatsoever on her face. Xiao never wears her feelings on her sleeve and rarely does she talk about them, but now you can't seem to get a read on her. Sometimes, on a good day, you can predict her—you have known her for so long that you know she lets her actions do the talking. It feels like she placed a gigantic wall between you two.
Has it been that long, Xiao, that I barely know you now?
You set aside any other negative thoughts for now and focus right back on the topic on hand. After a quick inspection, you pass the paper to Jaesung, who does his reading.
“Everything seems to be in order,” Jaesung says, standing up and offering his hand to the Yuehua executive.
“Thank you for your utmost cooperation,” the man says, accepting Jaesung’s gesture by shaking his hand, then offers the same to you.
You quickly stand up, shake his hand, and swiftly let go. Even though endings like these are a part of everyday life, you still wish you had more time with these girls.
“Mr. Lee, I believe we can discuss some of the smaller details of the contract. The girls would want to have some final words with their former manager.”
You try not to show any shock on your face, but you can’t help but raise an eyebrow. A wave of hope washes over you.
Your final words with the girls.
Jaesung pats you on the back before following the Yuehua executive outside and closing the door.
And now you’re left with The Chinity.
Xiao still refuses to look at you. She stands up and approaches the window. You at least understand that she needs some space, and let her be for now.
Xuan Yi quickly rounds the table and tackles you into a hug. You absorb the impact, catching her light body and cushioning her with your chest. Her arms tightly wrap around your torso. She shudders in your arms, and you feel part of your shirt suddenly get moist.
"There, there. I'm here, Mèimei,” you tell her as you lightly pat her back. You have always called her your little sister, even if she was a few months older than you.
This might be the last time you could call her that.
Mei Qi treads carefully behind Xuan Yi. She stops a few feet before you, shuffling between moving forward and staying in place.
This doesn't go over your head. You gesture to her with your free hand to come closer, giving her your most reassuring smile. Mei Qi blinks, and tears suddenly start to roll down her face. With her walls broken down, she joins the hug.
This is the Mei Qi you remember, and you pray she finds her footing again.
“I’m so, so proud of you two. You’ve both grown so well.” Xuan Yi bawls even more from what you say while Mei Qi tightens her embrace around you.
“I can’t believe you’re even here,” Mei Qi says.
“Me neither. This is all unexpected,” you reply as you settle into the group hug.
“How long are you staying here?”
“I’m only here till tomorrow afternoon. Then it’s back to Korea.”
Mei Qi clicks her tongue to that. “What terrible timing. I have a schedule in a while, and I’ll be busy the whole day tomorrow. At least we were able to see you, Oppa.”
Xuan Yi finally calms down in your arms. She looks up to you. “It’s the same for me, Gēgē. I wish we had more time together.”
“It’s okay. At least we have this moment,” you say. You have to breathe deeply to prevent yourself from crying.
“What about Xiao? Will she be okay?” you whisper to the girls.
Xuan Yi frowns at your question. It takes a while before she whispers back. “Oppa, I think you need to ask her yourself. We’ll give you some privacy.”
“We have to go now. It was great seeing you, Oppa,” Mei Qi says after.
Mei Qi is the one who breaks the hug first. She gives you a big smile, then blows a kiss to you.
Xuan Yi gets on her tip-toes, kisses you on your cheek, then finally lets you go. Her face is slightly messy from all her crying; you’re not letting her out like that.
You reach your pocket for your unused handkerchief and hand it to her. “Here, keep it. Something to remember me by.”
Xuan Yi beams from your impromptu gift. She uses it immediately, cleaning her eyes, patting out some of the smudged makeup on her face, and blowing her nose with it. You chuckle at her; she’s still the same untidy Xuan Yi, and you’re still picking up after her.
Mei Qi and Xuan Yi approach the door before turning to you, possibly for the last time.
“Goodbye, Oppa!” they say at the same time.
“Stay safe, girls.”
Xuan Yi opens the door, and the two girls exit the room to continue their lives. It takes most of your willpower not to tear. It feels like a part of you was taken away with them.
You hope they return with it one day.
_______________________________________________________________________
Now, it's you and Xiao left in the room.
Xiao still has her back on you. She has not moved a muscle since Jaesung left. It makes you uneasy; you are not sure how to approach her.
Seconds pass, and neither of you budges from your positions. The silence is deafening, the air thick with tension that you can slice through with a butter knife. There is so much to say in so little time; where would you start?
"Why haven’t you left yet?"
It was faint—almost a whisper—but you heard her. Hearing Xiao’s voice gives you the courage to approach her. You find yourself walking towards her.
“Xiao?” You stop just when you’re within arm’s reach.
“It doesn’t have to be this hard, Oppa.” She shakes her head. Xiao’s voice is jittery, as if she’s terrified to talk to you.
You reach out your hand to her. “I don’t understand—”
“Stop.”
You withdraw your hand instantly. You had your arguments with Xiao before, but she has never used such a livid tone with you before. It's shocking, so much so that you're too stunned to move.
“Do you know how hard it is to leave people you love behind so unexpectedly?” Xiao’s shoulders start to shake. Her hand moves to her face, and you hear her start to sniffle.
“I—I thought today was going to be easy. I was going to sign that stupid paper and try to move on with my life in Korea as a happy memory.”
“But why are you here?! Why, out of all times, do you have to show up when I’m about to move on?!”
Every word she said was like a dagger to your heart, reopening wounds you thought you had recovered from.
“I wanted to stay! I was okay with the back-to-back flights and never-ending schedules because I had a family to fall back to.”
She turns around, and your heart breaks into a million pieces. Tears were streaming down her face. With Xiao’s mask finally falling off, her brown eyes carry a mixture of shock, hurt, and barely contained anger. You hate seeing Xiao like this.
“Most importantly, I h-had—I had you. I had someone to talk to about my worries, someone to hold me when I cry, someone to tell me everything was okay.”
That was the last straw for you. Xiao's outpouring of emotions opens your floodgates, and tears trickle from your eyes. Xiao has always been strong, but you hate seeing her now so miserable—she did not deserve this.
You reach out your hand to her again. It carefully inches towards her face this time, and Xiao doesn't show any signs of rejecting you again. Your fingers finally graze her silky skin, remembering how soft and smooth it is. Xiao doesn't flinch, closing her eyes to the feeling of your hand. You gently wipe away the tears that stain her flawless face with your thumb and step closer to her.
A wave of nostalgia hits you as your arms circle around her. You remember this feeling blossoming in your heart—something only Cheng Xiao can evoke from you.
She opens her eyes, and they gaze back at you with a sense of longing. Xiao's eyes start to water, and more tears threaten to come out. Her arms shoot out for your waist, pulling you into her comforting embrace. Your body recognizes the familiar touch of her body as your arm wraps around her in a protective hug. Xiao releases all of her anguish onto your chest, crying and reinforcing her hold around you.
The years of separation have taken a toll on the two of you. It was four long years of rolling on through life, looking for the missing piece that made you grow.
And finally, you are complete for now; here she is, in your arms, reunited at last.
______________________________________________________________________
“How did the hotpot taste for you?” Xiao asks after taking quick sips of her beer.
Hotpot is your favorite way to have a meal—it is the easiest way to feed a big group of people, there is so much variety in the ingredients, and it is a great way to bond over food. It's one of the things you shared with Xiao.
Xiao was the only one free to have dinner with you tonight. After calming down from the outburst of emotions, she led the two of you to her favorite hotpot restaurant just down the street from the Yuehua building. It has been hours, and the two of you chatted up a storm about the recent updates about each other’s lives.
You cherished every moment you brought the girls to any hotpot restaurant. Taking care of 13 girls in a hotpot restaurant is always a chaotic task, but these were some of the best memories you have.
You gulp the last of your Highball. Its sweet, snappy flavor washes out the meaty aftertaste left on your tongue. “Pretty delicious, but I still don’t know how you can eat so much.”
She pouts at you for taking a jab at her unladylike appetite. “Please, you know I’m not even the heaviest eater among the girls!”
“I don’t usually eat like this. It has been a while since I’ve had a proper hotpot with someone. It’s a bit lonely to eat hotpot alone.” Xiao looks into her beer glass, then downs the last of her drink.
She sighs. “I’m sorry, I’m bringing down the mood, aren’t I?”
“Hey. No, you’re not. Hotpot is always made for sharing.”
“Are you feeling better?” you ask her, deciding to change the subject.
Xiao flashes you a smile. “I am. I never imagined seeing you again, Oppa. I missed you so much.” Xiao's tender smile warms you up faster than the hotpot can. It is always the comfort to be in her radiant presence.
“I missed you too, Xiao.” You reach out for her hand and gently squeeze it. It could be the alcohol, the hotpot, or the skinship with Xiao, but it suddenly feels hotter in the restaurant.
Xiao squeezes back, then she looks away—unmistakable that she's trying to hide the blush on her face.
Xiao flags down a server to get the bill. While waiting for it, the ringing from your phone grabs your attention. It’s a message from Jaesung.
*How are you and Xiao? We have a flight tomorrow. Just remember to come back safe and sound.*
You always appreciate Jaesung’s thoughtfulness. A couple quick taps on your phone, and you send a quick message to him, reassuring Jaesung that the two of you are having fun.
After the two of you pay up, you both exit the restaurant, entering the cold rainy night. You open the umbrella to immediately shield you and Xiao from the rain. It’s comfortably chilly compared to the warm restaurant you were in, the drops of rain splashing on the umbrella adding to the cozy atmosphere.
“Are you still free tonight?” she asks.
“Still got some time left. What’s up?”
Xiao hesitates for a moment before hooking her arms around your free arm.
“Can you take me home? Please?”
Her request tugs on your emotions. The full moon floats in the middle of the night sky—a reminder that you only have limited time with her. You feel this is the only chance you will get to spend more time with her.
“Of course, I can.”
Xiao leads the way through the empty streets. It feels like a calm, solemn walk—it's only you two in the area, with street lights lighting up the path. It's so silent that you hear the pitter-patter of the rain around you. You catch a whiff of petrichor, noticing how different it smells in another country. A sudden gush of wind blows in your direction, making you tighten onto the umbrella handle. You pull Xiao closer in to keep her more secure under your arm.
The two of you enter a park. As you walk along the path, you’re reminded of the one you frequented back in Korea when the girls needed fresh air—or some time alone. You would wait at one of the park benches—reading a book or listening to music—then one of the girls would call you to bring them home.
“This feels quite different, doesn’t it?” Xiao suddenly says out loud.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m still technically an idol. And we look like a couple, walking in a park. If we were in Korea… the reporters would have a field day.”
Back in Korea, parks are used by some celebrity couples for their secret rendezvous. Some reporters would wait late at night just for a quick scoop. The gossip of an idol dating would be scandalous, to say the least. Strangely, she brought up such a situation.
“I’m glad none of that is here,” she says.
Before you can say anything, Xiao’s hand slides down your arm, intertwining her fingers in yours. Her hand is soft—feathery even—and it fits well like a well-slotted puzzle piece. On closer inspection, some parts of her palm are slightly calloused, a testament to the hard work she has endured over the years.
You are taken so much by surprise that you stop in your tracks. It’s not like you haven’t held Xiao’s hand a couple of times—especially like a while ago—but not so openly in public and definitely not as intimately as this, her fingers laced around yours.
“Xiao—”
“Can you allow me this? Just for this moment, let me pretend we had a happy ending together.”
Happiness. Simple as a glass of chocolate or tortuous as the heart. Bitter. Sweet. Xiao’s melancholic voice is the icing on this bittersweet revelation. The timing of all of this is anything but fair. Often these things happen for no reason, and though we wish for an explanation, there just isn’t one.
“How long have you had feelings for me?” you manage to ask. You feel your own voice tremble at the weight of her words.
Xiao looks longingly into you, her eyes piercing the core of your person.
“For so painfully long.”
Lightning strikes in the distance. Xiao's confession turns you inside out, and there is no going back from it. Once a thunderbolt hits, your life can be irrevocably changed. You've fantasized about this moment for so long, but life had to be so cruel to have other plans for the two of you.
“I’m not exactly sure when it happened. Or even when it started. All I knew for sure was that I was falling so hard for you, and I prayed every night that you might feel the same way.”
“You’re very charming and kind. I've never known anyone so caring for anyone else. And you make me smile. That accounts for a lot," she added, choking up a bit.
You looked into her eyes and saw tears, and your eyes started welling too. Every fiber in your being wanted to wrap your arms around her. You wanted—no needed to tell her that tonight everything was going to be okay, for once she got that happy ending. No words can comfort an already bleeding heart.
So you did what you know best; let your actions do the talking.
You pull Xiao towards you, wrapping your free arm around her waist, making sure the umbrella still covers the two of you. Her chest presses against yours, and Xiao lets go of her hand to wrap her arms around your neck. Her wide eyes can’t settle between looking at your eyes or your lips.
“Oppa?”
“I’ve always wanted to hear those words from you, Xiao.”
“Then you mean…”
And then silence. The only sounds you could hear were the splashing raindrops and the distant thunder in the background. Once you cross this line, your relationship with Xiao will change forever. So you waited—until the crashing of booming thunder echoed the emotions cascading from your soul as you pressed against her lips.
Wise men say only fools rush in, but you can't help it when it comes to Xiao.
Your eyes flutter shut as you feel her soft lips draw every breath from yours, her fingers carding through your hair, feeling the thud of your combined heartbeat sync up to each other. Her insistent mouth parts your lips, Xiao flicking her tongue against yours, mewling into your mouth from the contact. Years of unbridled, pent-up emotion trickled into this kiss.
The two of you are forced to break the kiss to catch some air, leaning onto each other’s foreheads. You were so enthralled that you dropped the umbrella onto the ground—the two of you getting soaked in the rain—but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Xiao was in your arms, your true feelings known to her.
Before you can pull back a bit more, Xiao pulls you in for another mind-blowing kiss. This kiss will forever be in your memory as it trickles down your entire being, engraving the feeling of Xiao’s lips into your memory.
It was just the two of you in the pouring rain, and nothing else mattered.
_______________________________________________________________________
The front door creaks open as Xiao inputs the correct code to the door. As you enter her apartment, you're amazed to see how spacious and chic the living room is; a far cry from the cramped dorm where they lived as 13 girls. It might actually be possible that she could fit at least 13 people just within the space of her living room.
Xiao leads you to the kitchen island on the side of the room. She grabs two glasses from a drawer, fills them up with the water dispenser, and passes one to you. The warm water heats you up as you gulp it down, immediately feeling a warm buzz spreading all over your body. It slightly helps stave off the wet, cold feeling from your coat. Thankfully that was the only thing drenched from the rain, apart from your hair.
"Let me grab some towels. I'm freezing from the rain. I'll be back!"
Xiao disappears into the hallway. With nothing else to do, you decide to explore the living room. Her place feels homey, filled with the typical furniture—a couch in the middle, a side table right next to it, and a fluffy carpet to match. On the far end of the room is a cat castle, and you could barely make out an outline of Xiao's cat Susu fast asleep on the highest perch.
Picture frames fill up the table with photos of her family and friends. As you peruse them, two images grab your attention.
The first is a photo of 13 very familiar girls. Upon closer inspection, you realize it was the picture of their debut many years ago in that big gaming tournament. The innocent smiles remind you of simpler times, the start of humble beginnings for 13 young girls. Your heart swells with pride looking back on how far they've come, no matter how the meeting ended today.
The second photo surprises you; it’s a picture of the two of you dancing in formal wear. The smiles on your faces stretch out to the edges. The two of you hold on to each other so lovingly that anyone else would mistake you as a couple.
A towel suddenly lands over your head, obscuring your vision. Before you can turn around to see the culprit, her arms wrap around your waist. “That was one of my favorite memories.”
“How did you even get that photo?” you ask as you remove the towel obstructing your vision, using it to dry your hair.
“Exy took the picture. Believe it or not, she knew about my feelings for you. They all did.”
“No wonder they kept pushing you that night to me, especially to dance with you.”
"I’m glad we had that one dance," she says, and you barely catch a hint of sadness in her voice. Xiao lets go of you and takes the picture frame from the table. She traces it longingly.
“We can always do it again, someday,” you say with some melancholy in your words. You know it’s only comfort in your words, with little truth and confidence in them. If only you had the guts to even ask Xiao out on a date before, despite the circumstances.
Her eyes suddenly go wide, and she places the picture down. Xiao takes out her phone, and with a couple of taps, a familiar song plays around the room.
“Take my hand?”
As Xiao offers her hand, the piano's slow and haunting melody echoes around the room, taking you back to that moment with Xiao. Every note plays on your heartstrings, making the hair on your skin rise. You offer your hand in return. Like before, her soft hands carefully slide into yours as she guides you to the middle of the room.
Take my hand
Dejavu strikes you, overriding your senses, and sends your brain into autopilot. Your arms instinctively wrap around her curvy waist as her arms wrap around your neck securely. The two of you start to slowly sway to the music. You smell the sweet, rosy perfume that Xiao really loves to use. It hits you like a drug, your lungs taking it in as if it was oxygen to live on. You pull her closer, trying to engrave the feeling of her smooth and porcelain skin into your own.
Take my whole life too
You are Icarus—drawn to the sun's fiery light, running out of time, chasing the impossible. You would prefer this, however, then never find out Xiao returned these feelings for all these years. If you want a happy ending, that depends, of course, on where the story stops.
For now, it has ended here, but your love for Xiao will always be immortalized in this memory.
For I can't help falling in love with you
You looked down to see Xiao looking back at you; her mouth was already waiting like a question. Her focus darts between your eyes and lips as she pulls you in slowly towards her face. She stops inches before your lips touch, feeling her breath brush against your mouth. All you can hear is the clock ticking down, the beating of your heart, and Xiao’s soft breathing.
"Please. Stay the night."
It was all the permission you needed. You waste no time and press your mouth against Xiao's plump lips. She did more than just not stop you; she kissed you back with such ferocity. It was earth-shattering—her soft lips against the bite of the liquor and sugary coke still on your tongue. Xiao fervently kisses you with such force that it feels like she's taking your breath away with every smack.
This is an entirely different situation; it screams of want, of need to commit this fleeting moment into a memory, for all the lost time to cascade into one final momentous passionate instant.
Your calves hit the couch behind you. You pull Xiao down as you sit down on it, making her straddle you and adding more to the passionate embrace. She breaks the kiss, leaning back to tie her hair into a ponytail. Not to leave you hanging, Xiao starts to rock her hips back and forth. It’s your turn to moan; you didn’t realize how hard you were until every grinding movement from Xiao sent shockwaves of pleasure up your spine.
Both of your hands move from her bottom to enter her shirt, exploring up and down her body. Her icy porcelain skin shivers on contact, Xiao purring to the warmth of your hands. Xiao grabs your hands and guides them to the back of her bra, allowing you to undress her. You hear her hum as the bra slackens around her, watching it loosen under her shirt. She pulls her shirt off with her bra—an unforgettable sight to behold. Xiao’s magnificent ample breasts bounced in the air, free from their constraints. Her light brown nipples were already taut from anticipation.
Your hand cups her breast, and Xiao groans as she closes her eyes. Going down from her lips, you kiss down her neck, hearing Xiao sigh when you inch closer to her chest. You kiss between her cleavage before diving and sucking lightly on a nub.
Xiao whimpers, hearing her voice reverberate through your eardrums. She leans back, giving you more access to her succulent bosom. Your tongue swirls around her tit while your fingers slightly twist and pull on the other, alternating from one bud to another. Xiao is putty in your hands and shakes from your ministrations. She tries to muffle herself with her hand, but her sweet, needy voice cracks through.
“Wait, wait! Slow down!” Her hands grasp your head, and you groan as you stop playing with her voluptuous globes. Xiao takes a couple breaths before speaking. “Let’s take this to my bed.”
She gets off you, pulls you up, and drags you into the adjacent hallway. Xiao giggles while pulling you along for the ride, and eventually, you reach her room. It has a spacious queen-sized bed, definitely enough for the two of you. Xiao guides you onto the bed—the two of you settling by the headboard—and continues where you left off by straddling you again and taking the lead this time.
Off goes your shirt, taken away by Xiao and thrown haphazardly somewhere in the room. She caresses your chest, admiring your fitness, before diving into your neck. A nibble from her teeth causes you to shiver, making you catch your breath as she marks your neck as hers. You keep your hands to your sides, enjoying how Xiao takes charge.
With a quick peck, she kisses down your chest, and you watch as Xiao crawls downwards to your groin. Positioning herself between your legs, she palms your bulge, and a groan escapes from your throat as she lightly squeezes. She looks up to you before pulling on the hem of your pants. You nod back, helping her unbuckle the fastener and Xiao tears off your pants and underwear.
Your rod is released from its confines. Xiao’s mouth goes agape at your size, her eyes running up and down its length. She grasps it with one hand, slowly pumping you. Xiao is delicate with you, a warm hand going up and down your shaft, the other hand gently cupping and massaging your balls.
“Fuck—go a bit faster, Xiao.”
She doesn't follow. Instead, you watch as her tongue joins in the fray, first licking your head, her tongue circling and lapping up your pre-cum. Xiao looks up to you with those doe-like eyes that send even more shockwaves up your spine. She kisses the top of your head before sucking down on it hard. Your breath hitches at the sensation, your stomach flexing from her actions. Time is agonizingly slow as you watch Xiao in between your legs, erotically pleasure you for the first time.
Xiao abruptly stops her ministrations, letting go of you. You’re about to protest before she wags her finger at you, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Xiao then lines your cock between her breasts and squeezes, enveloping your shaft with her tits. She then slowly slides them up and down; thanks to her previous work, you easily slide in and out of her cleavage. She never breaks eye contact with you, catching the tip of your head with her mouth and giving it a couple of flicks with her tongue.
This new sensation is mind-numbing. Tit-fucking does not feel as close to actual fucking, but it is just crazier to see Xiao in such an erotic position. You cannot help but thrust as you feel your abdomen gets tighter with every passing moment.
Your arms shoot to Xiao’s shoulders, keeping her in place. You did not want to blow your load too early; the night was very well young. Xiao understands and releases your cock from her pillowy confides, placing a quick peck on your tip. She slowly pumps you; the sheen of saliva coating your shaft makes it easier for her hand to slide up and down.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
You chuckle at her silly question. “I’m definitely more than okay. Now it’s your turn.”
Xiao crawls up beside you. Taking the lead, you surprise her by kissing her as she lies on the bed. It takes effort to be as delicate as possible, careful not to put pressure on her with your weight. You line kisses down her chest—making sure to give her delectable pair a good squeeze as you pass them—down to her toned abs and finally settle between her thighs.
You unbutton her jeans, and Xiao lifts her legs to help you remove her pants. She slowly opens her legs for you, revealing a damp spot in the middle of her white lace panties. Planting kisses first on her feet, you line more kisses up her legs, eventually ending up by her inner thighs. She tenses up as you inch closer to her core. Your curious fingers push on the fabric, and she whimpers; Xiao’s dripping wet.
A foot nudges you on your side. “Stop teasing, Oppa,” she says, her voice laced with impatience. Xiao bites her finger in anticipation, waiting for your next move.
You oblige her request, and without delay, you help take off the last of her clothing. You posture up first to take in the hair-raising sight before you; Xiao is now fully bare in front of you, and no words can describe how ethereal she is in her most vulnerable form. This is a moment that will be etched forever in your memory. Not wanting to prolong the suspense, you dive right in and lick up her folds.
Xiao gasps loudly to the initial touch of your tongue, raising her hips up. Your arms quickly pin her down as you lap her up. She’s intoxicatingly sweet, getting you high faster than the highball you’ve consumed earlier. She squirms under your touch, her hand gripping the bed sheets, threatening to rip them to shreds. You shock her by inserting two fingers, Xiao’s tight cavern surrendering to your digits. You watch as her glassy eyes roll slightly up before closing, her face contorting with pleasure. The moans of absolute bliss are music to your ears.
“Fuck, that’s so good.”
Xiao is never vulgar with you, which absolutely turns you on. Your tongue moves up and down faster, never giving Xiao a moment of respite. She reaches out for your hand to help distract her from the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her, but it’s not enough to stop the inevitable, as she moans louder and her walls get increasingly tight around your fingers.
“A-ah—fuck! I-I’m close!”
With one last flick on her clit, Xiao explodes in waves of pleasure as she cums on you. You do your best to catch every drop, feeling some of her juices overflow onto parts of your jaw. Her thighs grip you like a vise while her nails bore into your hand. It’s a pain that hurts too good.
As her hold on you loosens up, you kiss up her body. Still overly stimulated from her peak, she shakes from every contact with your lips. You pass her abdomen, her chest, finally reaching her lips with a kiss.
“I don’t want to ever forget this day,” Xiao says, her voice soft and delicate.
“Let’s make it memorable then.”
You line up your head to the entrance of her slit. You look into her eyes one more time. “Are you ready?”
Xiao nods and gives you a chaste kiss. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
You slowly insert yourself. As soon as your head penetrates her, the immense tightness of her walls almost overwhelms you. Both of you are speechless; Xiao's mouth is also agape. You try to moan or grunt, but you are just swamped with pleasure. Xiao arches her back. She tries to muffle her moans against your neck, Xiao pulling you closer and simultaneously pulling you deeper into her.
“Oppa—you’re so big,” she moans, groaning louder as you sink further and stretch her out more. You gather Xiao in your arms while her legs wrap around your butt, deepening your connection. You pause when your length is fully embedded in her. The two of you take deep breaths; it takes a couple of moments for you to get accustomed to the sensation of her, savoring the warm, encompassing feeling.
“Try moving Oppa, but go slow, please.”
Now that you are used to the feeling, you pull halfway out of Xiao and gently thrust back in. The two of you groan as you fill her up to the hilt. Thrust after thrust, you develop a slow yet comfortable rhythm. Her breasts heave with every deep thrust. Xiao whimpers with each stroke. You look down at her, and she is as beautiful as ever—glassy eyes that focus on you, lips partly parted from panting, cheeks flushed from pleasure.
She pulls you down and kisses you. You taste your shared breaths and feel the combined thud of your heartbeats as your bodies synchronize, moving as one in your fiery embrace. You suddenly feel a sharp pleasurable sensation nipping onto the side of your neck, causing you to gasp. Xiao’s teeth sink into flesh as she sucks and nibbles on your pulse point.
You return the favor by increasing the tempo of your thrusts. Your cock pistons in and out sustainedly, hitting Xiao's sensitive spots deep and hard. Xiao breaks the kiss and squeals loudly, grasping onto you tightly. Her nails scrape across your back, making you hiss and add to the mixture of pain and pleasure.
Xiao starts to shake suddenly—her walls rapidly contract around you as she reaches her limits first, succumbing to her second orgasm of the night. Xiao brushes her fingers through your hair, clinging helplessly around you, trying to pull you over to the peak with her. You stay still, feeling her contract around you, watching her squirm and mewl from her climax. To help calm Xiao down from her high, you pepper kisses around her face, holding her tenderly in your arms.
It takes a couple moments before Xiao relaxes around you. She kisses your cheek. “I wanna be on top,” she whispers. With you still embedded inside of her, you roll over, your back on the bed and deeper in Xiao in this position.
Xiao plants her hands on your chest, slightly raking you. "F-fuck, even deeper!"
She moans at your size, groaning louder as she sinks further onto you. You pull her in to fervently capture her lips as the two of you try to get used to the indescribable tighter feeling. You taste your shared breaths as her voice hums around your face. Xiao then starts grinding, moving, and gyrating those thick hips on hers.
All you can do is nod as she starts to rock her hips, your mind blanks and is only filled with Xiao. You moan from her movements, your toes curling into the mattress. Her bed creaks steadily in the background, matching the sounds of your slapping flesh. Your hands move to her butt, kneading her cheeks to guide her motions. You watch as Xiao’s glassy eyes roll slightly up before refocusing back to you. “Fuck, you’re so deep in me.”
Getting a gather of her rhythm, you start to move your hips, grinding back into her. You knead, squish, and fondle her breasts, watching them heave with your every thrust. Xiao’s moans and screams reverberate throughout the room. Her walls gradually tighten around you, and you feel her impending climax. You hasten it by looking for her clit and rubbing it, pushing her to the limit.
“Ah—I’m—!” Xiao lets out a scream of delight. Her body starts to tremble, and she falls forward onto your chest. You feel her pussy clench as Xiao enters her third orgasm of the night. She quivers in your hold, clinging tightly onto you while still trying to ride you to your orgasm. Xiao is leaking, absolutely lost in her ecstasy as you wildly thrust into her. Your body starts to shake as you try to hold out a bit longer. Her walls contract around you long enough for her to finally pull you over to the edge.
“Xiao, I’m about to—”
“In me, in me, please!”
A warmth surrounds you as you fill and spread your white seed along Xiao’s walls as she threatens to milk every ounce of you. She hums at the feeling of your semen filling her to the brim. Xiao peppers you with kisses around your face, trying to bring you down from your high. Your breathing returns to normal. The pulsations finally stop, but you decide to stay in her, savoring the moment.
It feels like an eternity passes while the two of you recover, only hearing the sounds of each other's breathing fills the room. The sheets were ruffled, the pillows scattered around the bed, your bodies entangled in the embrace and covered in sweat and other bodily fluids. Xiao rolls off to the side, and the results of your affair slightly drip onto your legs. The two of you are too tired to clean the mess, drawing the blanket over your bodies.
“I wish we could just run away and live like this forever, just the two of us,” Xiao says, not hiding the sadness in her voice. Xiao embraces you and settles her head on the crook of your neck.
Your arm pulls her in. You give her a kiss on her forehead. “A nice beach house by the sea, just the two of us.” Your eyes start to get heavy. You try to fight the sleep off but to no avail, and close your eyes.
Xiao yawns, hugging you tighter in her embrace.
“I don’t want this to end.”
It was barely a whisper, but you heard it. If only this were like the movies—the credits roll, the audience cheers, and the guy gets the girl. Sadly, these were the cards that were dealt.
“I wish we had more time,” you whisper back.
Xiao places one more kiss on your lips, and sleep finally takes you.
The story of life is quicker than the wink of an eye; the story of love is hello and goodbye until you can ever meet again.
———————————————————————————————————
The first thing you notice as you gain awareness from your sleep is that it is cold. The upper half of your body wasn’t covered by your blanket, only relying on the shared body heat from last night.
The second thing you notice is that the bed feels emptier; you feel around for him, but you frown when you realize he left earlier than expected. You open your eyes, hoping to see him come out of the shower, but after a few minutes, it highly seems that won't be likely.
The third thing you finally realize is that your body is sore. The two of you made love last night—all the years of pent-up and unbridled emotion were finally laid out. You stretch yourself out on the bed; it still feels like last night was all just a dream.
After taking a quick shower, you enter the living room to be greeted by Susu. As a part of her every morning routine, Susu leads you to the kitchen to be fed.
Entering the kitchen, you approach the fridge and notice a sheet of paper pinned on by a magnet. Your heart skips a beat; recognize the handwriting.
You take the letter off the fridge and start to read it.
My dearest Xiao,
I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye, but I had to leave early to catch a flight back to Korea.
He was always thoughtful, no matter what the situation. He didn't need to write a letter, but it meant the world he did.
There's so much to say. I want to start from the beginning because it's what you deserve. I want to tell you everything from the bottom of my heart. But where do I even begin?
Your vision gets blurry, and it's suddenly getting harder to breathe.
How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard. You’ve changed me forever. And I’ll never forget you.
Tears drop onto the paper, and you cover your mouth to stifle the sobs. In another life, you had your happiness together.
I love you Xiao
AN: Well... it’s been a minute! I actually meant to post this way last month around June. I... actually was away for a while. I don’t want to go into details in this post, but I had to shut myself away and go into hiatus from a lot of things because I developed an anxiety disorder.
I got back to writing last week, and I’m still trying to catch up to all my fellow writer’s works! I really missed writing, but I’m still technically on “hiatus” because I need to build myself up first again. I only finished this because I didn’t want to waste this idea.
This piece was super fun to make, especially because Xiao doesn’t have enough fics, and it was my first time writing angst! I tried to my utmost ability to edit myself and do other things myself because I want this fic to show everyone this could be the start after a hiatus. And the dynamic between the Chinese girls and WJSN was such a fun concept to explore. And if you guys didn’t get it in the end, it was Xiao’s POV. A writing technique I’ve always wanted to try!
Lastly, it was her birthday recently! So belated Xiao xiao!
Anyways, I’m glad to have posted. Till next time everyone!
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I need help from my Germans out there,
I was with a group of newcomers here in Toronto, we were having a very normal conversation about food (yes, I did initiate it). A Chinese woman was talking about her favorite Chinese dish, of which I don’t remember the name but basically there is a big pot on a fire in the middle of the table and people dip some food like veggies and meat to cook it on the spot and peacefully eat it.
There was a german guy (very tall, very serious, the mood kinda shifted when he was in the room) next to her and she turned to him and said “have you tried it, since you told before you’ve been to china a couple of times?”
And this man, to everyone’s horror, replied casually, without a smile, with a German accent “no I don’t like Chinese food, I don’t eat cats and dogs”
NOW
Some people came out to me later (after I apologized profusely to the Chinese woman) asking what the hell was that about. If he was serious or not. As an Italian, I’m 50% convinced he was trying to make a joke. I lived in the North of Italy, we get lots of Germans and yes, we usually stay away because blonde people freak us out, but I know Germans can be hard to get.
Please help me understand this man. Can I safely invite him to another meeting or what. There are people from all over the world attending, some running away from dictatorships, some don’t know English well and are very shy, I don’t want to have a German dude freaking everybody out help
#this whole thing may not be that serious#people were a bit shocked but forgot quickly about it#but cmon#cats and dogs#this is something dads say in their house to their relatives#not at a NEWCOMERS EVENT#with STRANGERS
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Round One: Lavocatisaurus vs Ruixinia
Factfiles:
Lavocatisaurus agrioensis
Artwork by @i-draws-dinosaurs, written by @i-draws-dinosaurs
Name meaning: Lavocat’s reptile from Agrio del Medio (in honour of French palaeontologist René Lavocat)
Time: ~120 to 113 million years ago (Aptian to Albian stages of the Early Cretaceous)
Location: Rayoso Formation, Argentina
Lavocatisaurus was a genus of rebbachisaurid, the clade of diplodocoids that saw everyone else doing the whole neck thing and were like “actually what if I didn’t”. We actually have a complete series of neck vertebrae from Lavocatisaurus, and while its neck wasn’t as short as some of its relatives it’s clear that reaching tall branches wasn’t the priority here. The skull is wide and flat at the front, so it may have been a low browser, preferring to take in as wide a selection of plants as possible.
The well-preserved skull also makes obvious a weird and unique feature of Lavocatisaurus; it had a big extra hole in its skull! Some sauropod skulls have a small hole in the side of the snout called the preantorbital fenestra, and while it usually looks like a pinhole in species that have it Lavocatisaurus has a bizarrely huge one. It’s not super clear what the purpose of this was, but it might have been to further lighten the skull.
Ruixinia zhangi
Artwork by @i-draws-dinosaurs, written by @zygodactylus
Name Meaning: Ruixin Zhang’s Titanosauriform
Time: 125 million years ago (Barremian stage of the Early Cretaceous)
Location: Yixian Formation (unknown bed), Liaoning, China
Ruixinia is a recently named genus of almost-titanosaur, and it was named so hastily that it wasn’t even fully excavated and prepared prior to publication! It is known from the most complete series of tail vertebrae of any titanosauriform in its region, and the last few were fused together like those of Mamenchisaurus or Shunosaurus, except in Ruixinia they formed a rodlike structure rather than the features seen in those other taxa. It also had a neck longer than four meters with similar numbers of vertebrae to other almost-titanosaurs known from the region. Overall, Ruixinia was about 12 meters long, making it mid sized (for a sauropod). It may or may not have been a titanosaur - it had a weird number of similarities to Mamenchisaurs, but that’s a whole other conversation, and it’s possible it could have fallen outside the group of titanosaurs proper. More research is needed to better understand its position in the titanosaur family tree. Living in the frequently disrupted environment of the Yixian, Ruixinia shared its habitat with a wide variety of other dinosaurs, though without information as to the specific part of the ecosystem it came from, we cannot be sure which specific ones.
DMM Round One Masterpost
#dmm#dinosaur march madness#dmm round one#dmm rising stars#palaeoblr#dinosaurs#paleontology#bracket#march madness#polls#lavocatisaurus#ruixinia
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GJ and ZZH Updates — February 11-17
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This is part of a weekly series collecting updates from and relating to Gong Jun and Zhang Zhehan.
This post is not wholly comprehensive and is intended as an overview, links provided lead to further details. Dates are in accordance with China Standard Time, the organization is chronological. My own biases on some things are reflected here. Anything I include that is not concretely known is indicated as such, and you’re welcome to do your own research and draw your own conclusions as you see fit. Please let me know if you have any questions, comments, concerns, or additions. :)
[Glossary of names and terms]
[Masterlist of my posts about the situation with Zhang Zhehan]
02-11
→ Tissot posted a promotional video spoken by Gong Jun.
→ The Instagram posted a video that I did not care to watch long enough to figure out what it was.
02-12
→ The Instagram posted another of the same.
02-13
→ Fresh posted a promotional video spoken by Gong Jun.
→ The Instagram posted another of the same.
02-14
→ Gong Jun posted nine pictures to his Weibo: six of the god of wealth and three of him dressed as the god of wealth. Caption: "Please choose a God of Wealth from the pictures below to spend Valentine’s Day with 💐" His studio reposted this with the added caption, "The house is full of joy, the God of Wealth has arrived! @ Gong Jun Simon wishes you to get rich without getting lost, and find wealth on all roads!"
→ Gong Jun posted a douyin of himself as the God of Wealth. Caption: "Money comes, money comes, money comes from all directions."
Fan Observations: Some are speculating that the person who taps him (rather hard) on the shoulder could be Zhang Zhehan. [hand comparison]
→ Gong Jun's studio posted an additional three photos of him. Caption: "On the fifth day of the Lunar New Year, we welcome the God of Wealth @ Gong Jun Simon, and wealth will come and come!"
→ PRSR posted a photo ad featuring Gong Jun for Valentine's Day.
→ Gong Jun's studio posted a douyin of behind the scenes footage from the God of Wealth photoshoot. Caption: "Soft-hearted God of Wealth @ Gong Jun Simon invites you to share good luck, click to accept the invitation immediately~"
→ The Instagram posted a vlog of London.
02-15
→ The Instagram posted another vlog.
02-16
→ The Instagram posted seven photos of "Zhang Zhehan" in rehearsal.
→ The scam held another concert, this time in Hong Kong. This one included Zhang Sanjian strutting around topless with fake tattoos (I'll spare you the link) and saying that Zhang Zhehan's songs are "too soft". Tickets sold so badly that VVIP tickets were reportedly being given away for free a week before, and photos from inside the venue show empty seating sections and a number of audience members who were likely hired.
For previous info I've collected about these concerts, see [here] and [here].
02-17
→ The Instagram posted six photos and a video of "Zhang Zhehan" showcasing the scam concert's venue.
Addition 02-24: Tumblr user @moniquill posted an article about a group of anti-Indigenous extremist Wikipedia editors. Among the editors listed is OnCamera, the editor who has also been maintaining the misinformation on Zhang Zhehan's Wikipedia page since 2021. (previously discussed under 2023-02-07, original exposé by Flora [here].)
Additional Reading:
→ Apologies for missing last week, I had some personal issues going on.
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This post was last edited 2024-02-24.
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We return to the series where I discuss the origin of every non-fish aquatic Pokémon. This time I’ll be covering generation IV, which has some of my favorite designs out of the whole franchise. As before I’m saving starters and legendaries/mythicals for their own posts and I covered all fish Pokémon in their own series of posts. To see previous parts of this series see gen I part 1, gen I part 2, gen II, and gen III. To see the fish of Sinnoh, see here. To see the fish Pokémon series see here.
We begin with what is undeniably the most popular and influential Pokémon line in the history of the franchise: the Bidoof line. Never before has there been a beast of such majesty and power, an angelic presence from the heavens. Mere mortals are not worthy to gaze upon Bidoof. Technically only Bibarel is aquatic, but to not include Bidoof would be the greatest of heresies. They’re both rodents (the chaddest of mammals) with Bidoof most likely being based on a groundhog or mountain beaver. Mountain beavers resemble tailless beavers but are not closely related and don’t live in water.
(image: a mountain beaver)
If you are foolish enough to dilute Bidoof’s purity by evolving it to Bibarel, it will be based on a beaver.
(image: a North American beaver)
These amphibious rodents are famous for building dams by chewing through small trees and assembling the trees and branches in structures that block waterways. Beaver dams can turn a stream into a full wetland by blocking the flow and they are very important to the wetland ecology of their habitats. The dams serve as homes for the beavers and is where they keep their young.
(image: a cross-section of a beaver dam. source)
Juveniles will stay in the dam until they are mature enough to fend for themselves. Bidoof is likely a juvenile that is not old enough to swim yet and must rely on its parents to thrive in wetland habitats. There are two species, the North American beaver and the Eurasian beaver. The Eurasian beaver was almost hunted to extinction for its fur, but has been successfully reintroduced to quite of a bit of its historical range. Bibarel might be based on the Eurasian beaver as it is native to, and has been reintroduced to, China and Sinnoh has quite a few references to China. Also of note, the male Bibarel has two extra balls on the base of its tail. Male rodents are notorious for having large testicles. Do with that information what you will.
Moving on from Bidoof will never be easy, but it is necessary. We now turn to the moist mustelids of the Buizel line. They are based on otters, particularly river otters due to their freshwater habitat.
(image: a eurasian otter)
Even more specifically, they may be based on the Japanese otter, a river otter native to Japan that was last seen in the 1970s and officially declared extinct in 2012. Despite being primarily depicted as a freshwater species, their category name is the “sea weasel Pokémon”, indicating that they are also based on marine otters, the most famous of which being the sea otter of the north Atlantic. Otters and weasels are both members of the family Mustelidae, with their subfamilies being sister groups. There are weasels that are partially or even primarily aquatic, though they as a group are more terrestrial.
(image: a mink going for a swim. Minks are a subset of weasels)
The Buizel line also draws from floatation devices like inner tubes, water wings, and life vests, with the yellow parts of their bodies being inflatable and buoyant and Floatzel being said to rescue drowning victims.
The Shellos line is without exaggeration one of my favorite lines in the franchise due to the cool biological references they have. They are based on nudibranchs, an order of marine gastropods commonly called sea slugs (though some non-nudibranchs are also called sea slugs). Many nudibranchs are very colorful, which inspired the pink and blue coloration of the Shellos lines.
(image: it's a nudibranch, dudeibranch)
Nudibranchs can be divided into dorids and aeolids based on their breathing apparatuses. Shellos and Gastrodon are aeolids, who have tendril or fronds like growths called cerata that help them breathe. The head tendrils of east sea Shellos and both Gastrodons and the crown-like organ of west sea shellos are based on cerata, as are the various lumps and fin-like structures found on all of them. A few species of nudibranch have moved their cerata to a more fin or wing-like position, which may explain why east sea shellos appears to have wings. The “wings” could also be based on sea hares, another group of sea slugs, some species of which have developed wing-like structures that allow them to swim.
(Image: a flying sea hare)
Sea hares are named for their large rod-like scent organs called rhinopores found in most sea slugs, which may be another inspiration for the head tentacles of Gastrodon. Shelos and Gastrodon can learn some poison-type moves depending on generation and this has a few bases. Many nudibranchs have venomous or poisonous cerata. Often this is a result of eating venomous hydrozoans like anemones and sequestering their stinging cells in the cerata. The bright colors of some nudibranchs may be the result of aposematic coloration, where a species is brightly colored as a warning to potential predators that they are poisonous. The line releases a purplish chemical when stressed, which likely references sea hares again. They can release a colorful, toxic ink into the water as a defense mechanism.
(image: a California sea hare at a rave releasing ink)
The coolest trait of the Shellos line in my opinion is the fact that there are two distinct populations, east sea and west sea, that have different colors and body structures. This is due to the process of allopatric speciation. This is the process where a species is split into two or more distinct populations by a geographical barrier. Once they are isolated, the populations will begin developing distinct traits due to evolution and them no longer being able to interbreed. Over a long enough time period, the populations can grow so different from each other that they can no longer breed and will be considered different species.
(image: a diagram of how allopatric speciation works. source)
The two Shellos and Gastrodon populations in Sinnoh were separated by the Sinnoh mountain range, causing the process of allopatric speciation to begin. The two populations can still breed, suggesting that they have not been separated long enough to become two distinct species and may be more accurately described as subspecies or a superspecies, but breeding in Pokémon is nothing like real life reproduction so that may not be the case. Most other regions use only one Shellos population and in Paldea they may be isolated by the connection to Kalos. A real-life example of allopatric speciation can be seen in the two species of chimpanzee: troglodytes and bonobos. The two shared a common ancestor a few million years ago but that ancestor’s range was cut in two by the Congo River. Since chimpanzees are very poor swimmers, the two populations were isolated from each other and developed into two species. Allopatric speciation likely plays a part in how some regional variants developed, but this on on a case-by case basis and is rarely the only factor.
This is the shortest of these series and Gen V will hopefully be out soon. See you next time for when I talk about my first generation of the games.
#pokemon#pokemon biology#marine biology#aquatic biology#freshwater biology#zoology#animal facts#biology#beaver#otter#weasel#mink#sea slug#nudibranch#sea hare#bidoof#bibarel#buizel#floatzel#shellos#gastrodon#ALL HAIL BIDOOF#allopatric speciation#evolutionary biology
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On a crowded street in 1944 - Chapter 12
Summary - The four walls of Upton’s General Store were all Hailey knew although she longed to see what else life had to offer. When a handsome soldier walks through the door, she thinks he might just be the answer to the life she wants to have. But it was 1944 and the country was at war. Would fate smile on her or would her heart be another casualty of the war?
Chapters - 12/15
Notes - sorry for all the pain and yelling last chapter but hopefully this one starts to make up for it! Happy Reading ❤️ AO3 Link
August 1945
6 weeks, that’s all that stood between Hailey and her marriage to Oscar.
The date had not been her decision, Oscar Senior had made the call and she had no reason anymore to fight it. She had no reason to fight anything any longer, she simply went through the motions every single day, plastering on a smile for her family and the customers in the store who were all excited for the wedding of the century.
That was how the newspapers were framing it anyway. A young couple who had put the needs of their country above their own desire to be together and postponed their wedding until the brave boys were back on home soil. They were pitched as heroes, self-sacrificing saints - it made Hailey sick to her stomach every time she read it. It was selling the papers and giving both Upton’s and Farrell’s a boost commercially as well. So it was a happy ending all around.
Though not for Hailey.
Her tears had dried up, she had stopped reading Jay’s letters, had folded them up neatly and placed them in a box in the bottom of her closet. The words that had been a lifeline for her throughout the past year, now caused her nothing but pain when she read them. Her copy of The Mysterious Affair at Styles was tucked away with them. She should have felt sad putting them away, but inside her chest was nothing but emptiness, her broken heart beating alone.
If her mother had noticed that she was not excited for her wedding, what should be the most anticipated day in a young woman’s life, she had not said a word. On occasion Hailey would catch her mother looking at her with an expression she could not quite read, but still she said nothing. And Hailey had given her word. She would not go back on it now.
In six weeks she would be Mrs Oscar Farrell. The title left a sour taste in her mouth.
Oscar came to pick her up one morning, apparently there was a discussion at his house that required her input. She doubted that was the truth, all the decisions regarding the wedding had been made without her, not that she minded. The less involvement she had, the less she had to try and force a smile and excitement over the guest list full of names she did not know or a menu with food she didn’t like. The wedding was a party that held her name only.
‘Mother wants your opinion on china patterns,’ Oscar said warmly, offering Hailey his arm when he greeted her. She wrapped her hand round the crook of his elbow, engaged couples could walk arm in arm without inviting comments from the elders of the community. To not do so could possibly warrant more questions so Hailey dutifully accepted every time it was offered.
‘I am happy with whatever she wants,’ Hailey said flatly. She really could not care less about which china patterns Mrs Farrell wanted. She was more concerned with a memorial that was due to be erected in honour of the towns fallen and she didn’t know who to ask to see if a certain name would be included. It had been on the front page of the local newspaper, a tribute to the brave and fallen. Hailey imagined it would give people a place to grieve, she just didn’t know if she would be among them yet - would his name be listed?
The boys from the front had been returning home in groups, some in much worse states than when they had left, though their sweethearts still ran and greeted them, thankful they had come home at all. Lists of missing were still posted daily to the papers but she had stopped checking. She knew in her heart she wouldn’t see Jay’s name there.
He had lost his life in battle, and no one had told her.
According to the paperwork and all official records that the army had to go on, she was nothing to him, so didn’t warrant a letter or a notice to let her know her loved one had died.
He was just another man who wouldn’t return home with no one left to mourn him. No one to miss him or to remember the good man that he had been.
‘She’s picking between a blue one and a red one,’ Oscar continued, clearly oblivious to Hailey’s less than interested attitude. ‘Patriotic she thought.’
‘Mhm,’ Hailey hummed, he wasn’t listening to her anyway so what was the point in talking.
She let her focus drift, staring unfocused at the shop fronts they walked past, all hanging Stars and Stripes banners and celebratory placards. It should be a joyful occasion.
Her eyes focused on a figure at the end of the street.
A familiar figure with dark hair and green eyes.
She blinked hard and shook her head a little before opening her eyes again.
There was no one there.
She must have been mistaken.
She was tired and was hallucinating.
But it had looked just like him.
As if someone had walked into her memories and projected an image of him in front of her.
But it couldn’t be.
And it wasn’t.
The figure, if it had even been a figure and not just a shadow, was not really there. The end of the street was empty.
Oscar was still discussing his mother and her incredibly difficult decision of which flowers were more appropriate for their wedding. He hadn’t even noticed her heart had jumped into her throat or that her blood had run cold.
——————————————————————————
Hailey should have known her presence was not needed. Angelica Farrell never stopped talking long enough to let her get a word in, and after three attempts, Hailey ceased even trying.
She could tell the woman was excited for the wedding, and seemed to be pleased that it was Hailey who was marrying her only son. Hailey wondered how much she had been aware of her husband's influence in the arrangement or if she thought it was truly a love match. That her son had found someone to share his life with.
Hailey let her continue with her excitement, the older woman continuing to talk at her rather than with.
If this was what it took for her to have a quiet life, she would take it.
From what she knew, Oscar was not a cruel man and he would do his best to provide for her and any children that they would have. But still Hailey did not think she would ever love him.
Her heart belonged to Jay, whether he was walking this earth with her or had gone on to another plain. It was his and she hadn’t had the chance to ask for it back, so he had taken it with him.
He had promised to keep it safe, but it had shattered into thousands of pieces, those pieces fracturing inside her and stabbing her from the inside out. Her wounds and pain were not visible to the outside world, but the agony was true. It was with her always, waking or asleep, in the store or in the street. She imagined it would stay with her forever, although after some time, it might melt into a dull ache.
Part of Hailey wished it wouldn’t, wished it would remain as painful today as it would in years to come. The pain proved to her that it had been real, that her love for Jay and his love for her had been true. If the pain ever disappeared, the love they held for each other might disappear with it.
‘Mother, I think it is time I walk Hailey home,’ Oscar said, strolling into the front room where the pair were sitting. Apparently china patterns had not needed her fiancé’s input, it was a woman’s job.
‘Oh is that the time?’ Angelica said, glancing at the grandfather clock in the corner. ‘Time flies, doesn't it, Hailey.’
‘It does Mrs Farrell,’ Hailey forced a smile and a nod. The hours she had spent in this room today had anything but flown by. ‘Thank you for hosting me today,’ she said warmly.
‘Our home is your home Hailey,’ Angelica said sweetly.
The sun had not quite set as Hailey and Oscar walked down the street, the warm summer heat had stayed in the air so there were still bystanders out enjoying the last of the warmth.
Oscar was quieter on the return than he had been before, he had once again offered Hailey his arm but had chosen not to provide a running commentary as they strolled. Hailey was thankful for the peace and quiet if she was honest.
Glancing to her left as they passed the bookstore, she saw a man talking to Mrs Richards.
She yanked her gaze away.
Her brain was playing tricks on her again.
Because once again, the man looked so incredibly similar to the man who filled her dreams and her waking thoughts.
She just needed to sleep.
That would stop these visions, these lies her mind was trying to persuade her were truths.
She didn’t allow herself another look. She didn’t need to.
Another look would just prove what she already knew.
That she had imagined it.
Because why would Jay Halstead, her Jay Halstead, be in the bookstore talking to Mrs Richards? It made no sense. No sense at all. She pushed the thought from her mind as she walked down the street back to the store.
——————————————————————————
Although her father had allowed her to spend the afternoon at the Farrells, that didn’t mean he hadn’t left all of Hailey’s chores for her to do when she returned. He had closed up the store but the floor still needed to be mopped, the proceeds counted up and marked in the ledger and the trash needed to be taken out onto the street.
She wondered who he thought was going to do these things when she wed and moved out. Although the wedding didn’t bring her an ounce of joy, the thought that she could finally get away from the store brought a modicum of hope for her. A shining light in an otherwise grey sky.
She busied herself mopping the floor, trying to comprehend why her mind had decided that today was the day to provide her with hallucinations of her true love, when she should have been planning a wedding to a man who was not.
The sun had long set by the time she had put the mop away, she might have gone over the same spot multiple times as her thoughts were anywhere but in the store with her. Still, her father couldn’t complain that she hadn’t done it thoroughly. The floor was practically gleaming.
Deciding to take the trash out now, the ledger could wait until the morning so she wouldn’t have to do it by candlelight and risk dripping wax on the sheet. She grabbed the large bags waiting by the door, because taking them actually outside would have been too much for her father to do.
She only took two steps out of the door before the bags crashed to her feet.
Underneath the lamppost, his features unmistakable, was Jay.
‘Hi Hailey,’ he said.
#upstead#hailey upton#jay halstead#chicago pd#one chicago#hailey x jay#upstead fanfiction#chicago pd fic#upstead fanfic#chicago pd fanfic#upstead fic#chicago pd fanfiction
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THE CULT (PART ONE)
Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader
Words: 3,165
Warning: Smut
Notes: This has been in my drafts for a while and I am still not happy with it. But I posted it anyway. Let me know what you think.
Being out on your own in Liverpool after 8 o’clock wasn’t something you had planned for but, occasionally, you didn’t really have a choice.
You had to pick up a parcel that was important and deliver it to the man who your commune referred to as the one who had been chosen. Being the chosen one meant that he only trusted several people in his group and, fortunately, you were one of them.
Delivery of the parcel wasn’t a problem and you finished your mission by around 9 o’clock that night, following which you thought to take a short cut through an area called “Little China”.
You adored the food and tea in the area, but just as you went through one of the alleys to get a late-night snack on the other end of the suburb, you were attacked.
The sound of footsteps behind you and you felt a moment of absolute, saturated terror as a group of two men approached you from behind.
The men were already moving towards you when you turned around, blocking the path between you and the way back onto the main road.
“Don’t fucking come near me” you spat and, whilst you then tried to scream and call for help, one of the strangers muffled you with the palm of his hand while wrapping his arm around your body.
“Don’t worry Sweetheart. We aren’t animals, alright? We just need money and gold” the other man then said while you bit the flesh of his acquaintance’s fingers.
“Bitch” he yelled as you started began to kick him and lifted your arms to hit and claw and fight back.
The stranger immediately pulled his hand away for a brief moment and you struggled to get loose. There was no chance that you could out-muscle them both but you hoped to throw the attacker off balance at least so that you could pull out your gun.
After as little as a minute, you succeeded and the men became scared as soon as you pointed your gun at them both.
“We want no trouble Miss” one of them then said as he was backing off slowly.
“Oh, no? You should have thought about that when you attacked me” you spat in response before telling the men to leave before you would shoot them both.
With that, the men ran away and little did you know that the confrontation for them wasn’t over just yet.
Scared and relieved at the same time, you decided that it was time for a drink and instead of a late-night snack, you now wanted a glass of whiskey or two in order to calm your nerves after what had just happened to you.
Within less than a minute, you found a suitable pub and sat down at the bar and, when the owner of the pub realised which group you belonged to, he served you without hesitation.
You downed one whiskey and then asked for another which was also when you heard another man approach you from behind.
“You gave them quite a scare, eh?” the stranger said with a husky voice and, without even looking at him, you sighed.
“I am not interested in company right now, thank you” you told the man while starring at your whiskey glass and all you could hear in response was a quiet chuckle.
“Me ha��arav tut” the man responded in Romani tongue before continuing on in English. “But then I figured that you had lost this and, perhaps, may need it again in the future” the man went on to say while holding up your necklace which displayed the Romani gypsy symbol of protection.
“You are gypsy?” you acknowledged with surprise after you quickly turned around and snatched the necklace from the stranger’s hand.
“I am” the man then confirmed before attempting to excuse himself. “I will leave now. But baxt tuke” he said, but you reached for his hand again.
“No, wait” you told him and he chuckled again.
“You said that you didn’t want company” the stranger then acknowledged and you bit your lip and smiled.
“Perhaps I changed my mind. Now sit!” you told him, which almost sounded like an order.
“My name is Y/N Y/LN. What’s yours?” you then asked before ordering another two whiskeys, one for him and one for yourself.
“Thomas” the man said before thanking you for the drink.
“Just Thomas?” you asked intrigued.
“Just Thomas” the man confirmed and you offered him another smile. He was older than you, but handsome nonetheless.
“Well Thomas, thank you for returning this to me. It was my mother’s necklace” you told him but, instead of looking you into your eyes, Thomas’s eyes were stuck on the scars you displayed across your arms.
“You are welcome, Love” he said before swallowing harshly while desperately trying not to stare.
“My father did this to me” you eventually told him as you began to notice his looks and Thomas was quick to apologise.
“I didn’t mean to…” he began to say but you quickly interrupted him.
“Don’t apologise. Have another drink with me and tell me what you are doing here in Liverpool. You dress well which means that you aren’t a traveller nor do you work in the factories downtown, which is pretty much where all of the other non-travelling gypsies work” you observed.
“I am here for business. What about you?” Tommy asked while lightening himself a cigarette.
“Same” you told him before snatching the cigarette from him and taking a puff.
“Are you married?” you then asked after inhaling the smoke and the handsome blue eyed stranger shook his head.
“No” he confirmed.
“Are you with a woman?” you then wondered before returning his cigarette to him.
“No, I am single” Tommy confirmed, causing you to smile.
“Do you want to fuck?” you then asked bluntly and his chin dropped
“Excuse me?” Tommy asked after almost choking on his whiskey. He certainly didn’t expect this kind of question from you after you had only just met him.
“You’ve heard me, Thomas. Do you want to sleep with me?” you asked again before making an observation. “I never met a man who didn’t want to sleep with me actually” you teased and Tommy’s eyes certainly widened.
“Yes, I want to sleep with you Love. I’ve got a hotel suite two minutes from here. Do you want to go there or do you prefer the alley?” he chuckled in response before getting up from his seat and offering you his hand.
“Please Thomas, don’t be ridiculous. Of course I prefer the suite” you laughed and, with that, you followed him until you reached the third floor of the Mason Hotel.
Twenty later in Tommy’s suite…
“What are you waiting for Thomas?” you asked bluntly as you stood stalk still and looked him right in the face.
You were completely naked within mere seconds and he was still fully clothed, in his shirt, pants and vest.
He opened his mouth to speak, but you gave him no chance. You walked forward aggressively and immediately reached for one of Tommy’s wrists and pulled it behind his back as you pressed your body into his.
“Eager, are we Love?” he barely managed to say as you stood up on your tip-toes to kiss him.
“I don’t have all night” you said before you grabbed onto the hair on the back of his head with your free hand to force his lips to yours.
Tommy’s response was halting, but yielded slowly. You kissed him passionately and pushed one of your legs between his two, wanting to press yourself into every part of him. As you raised your leg into his groin, you felt it begin to stiffen against your thigh and were pleased.
“There is it is” you teased, whispering into the stranger’s mouth and it was almost like he was under your spell.
You were filled with the sense of your own power and lust, and pushed forward roughly, mercilessly running a hand over his concealed but hard cock. Tommy gasped sharply and you could empathically feel his willpower falter as you stroked him up and down.
Capitalizing on his weakness, you grabbed one of his shoulders and he allowed you to push him to his knees.
You stared down into his face as he looked up at you with his deep blue eyes just before you took two fingers and slid them against his lips softly.
“I wonder how those lips will pleasure my body” you teased while circling his mouth a few times, taking delight in his obvious turmoil. Clearly, he wasn’t used to be dominated like this but he sure liked every bit of it.
Then, with depraved satisfaction, you pressed your two fingers into his mouth and Tommy allowed you to do this. Turned on by this, you began to push your fingers in and out of his mouth, simulating phallacio. His mouth was warm and soft and wet, and you took delight in the scrap of his teeth against your fingers.
Eventually, Tommy began to reciprocate, sucking on your fingers without looking away and the fact that he continued to look you in the eyes said to you that he was a real man. A man with a lack of fear. A man you may not be able to bend to your will.
“That’s enough” you soon said as you pushed your foot between his bent legs and felt that he was still rock hard.
“As you wish” Tommy smirked and, being unable to help himself anymore, he reached up to you and his fingers brushed your stomach.
You leaned in closer so he could touch your more easily and, after a little teasing on his behalf, you grabbed his hand and forced it between your legs.
“What are you waiting for Tommy?" you eventually asked as you threw your head back in delight. “Taste me” you ordered as you placed your hands onto his, forcing him to pull your labia open to reveal the pinkness inside, barely an inch away from him.
With that, Tommy couldn’t hold back any longer and clamped his lips around your pussy, and felt your sweet taste fill his mouth.
“That’s it” you moaned as Tommy flicked his tongue across your numb and you were more than happy to play along, pulling his head against you to feel more of what his lips had to offer.
Feeling bolder, Tommy eventually pulled up one of your legs with his free hand, and gripped your buttock as you wrapped the leg around him.
He held you tight and kept on pleasuring you with his tongue, causing you to moan in delight until you pulled Tommy’s hand back, stood up, and reached for the zipper of his pants.
“Like I said, I don’t have all night and I need your cock inside me! Now!” you told him as you were aching for him to plunge into you.
“I’ll be at your service Love” Tommy smirked before taking off his shirt while you were undoing belt buckle and moved down the zipper of his pants.
Without having lost any time, you released his cock from its confides and, with one hand, stroked its whole length.
“I know you will be Thomas. Although I think that, before you fuck my brains out, I should get a little more acquainted with this beautiful cock of yours” you then said before sinking slowly to your knees.
Keeping eye contact the whole time, you opened your mouth and enveloped the head of Tommy’s cock. For a moment you were still, but then Tommy could feel your tongue starting to roll around him, flickering over his frenulum and gliding over his glans. Slowly, one of your hands began to pump along the shaft, rhythmically and in time to your tongue while your lips began to move forward and back along it, sliding firmly over his skin.
With your free hand, you eventually reached behind him, right in between the cheeks of his firm buttocks in order to penetrate him from behind. Despite Tommy’s relative silence, he tensed up in anticipation and you pressed one finger into his anus.
He made barely any noise and, with a wash of satisfaction, you began pushing in and out of him rhythmically.
Before long you were pushing into Tommy with considerable force and his breathing had picked up, in a good kind of way.
“Fuck” Tommy groaned louder and this groan soon turned into a suppressed cry, followed by an uncontrollable moan as you forced your finger into him as far as it would go without pause.
He began to gasp very hard and you knew that he was getting close and you felt a hot, wet pain between your legs at the sound of his pleasure and choked breaths.
"Cum for me, Thomas. Let me taste your pleasure" you said in a commanding whisper and, at your command, he did, indeed cum, unable to hold back any longer.
“Fuck Love…” he barely managed to say as only moments later he made a loud choked cry. His whole body quaked, and he seemed to go limp.
His cum quickly filled your mouth, thick and warm and you felt that hot pain between your legs shoot up into an awful, unbearable strain- only to almost instantly break into the indescribable pleasure of climax.
You swallowed up spurt after spurt and Tommy was now shaking violently and attempting to breathe in quick, short little gasps.
His orgasm was intense, more intense than anything else he had ever felt before. It was almost magical in a way.
***
After Tommy finally came down from his high, you were still full of wild desire for him, but considered it unlikely that he could go again. Most men couldn’t but, one way or the other, you didn't care.
You pulled him down on the floor, ignoring the fact that there was a perfectly comfortable bed just behind you.
“Make me cum Thomas” you demanded and he began to kiss you over every emerging piece of bare flesh.
“Don’t worry Love, I will. In fact, I will do anything you ask of me” he said and his teeth grazed you, and finally closed upon you all around. You made wild, babyish gasps and began gyrating against his crotch.
“I want you to make me scream, for everyone to hear” you moaned and, to your surprise, you were moving against a decided, tantalizing stiffness. You couldn't believe it! You once again felt that hot, wet pain between your legs that demanded penetration.
You spread your legs wide against him and Tommy knocked his body in between your bent legs and put his fingers on you, sliding them up and down your wet and aching softness.
“So wet” Tommy groaned in approval as you made a demanding noise, and he shoved his fingers into you, opening your up. His rock-hard erection quickly followed like the thrust of a sword.
“Oh god yes, that’s it” you made a girlish, squealing moan and he began thrusting in an out of you like a machine. He was spellbound, a man with a mission.
“Fuck me hard Thomas. Fuck me like I am nothing but a whore” you demanded as you threw your hands up onto his back and dug your nails into him, pulling him down upon you, relishing the relentless plunge into your body.
You continued to make wild, animalistic moans, and took pleasure in clawing him and pulling his hair. You were still in charge and all he did was follow your commands.
A mindless, euphoric depravity possessed you and you began to whisper to him, over and over “make me cum Thomas…take me…fuck me” in a child-like, gasping voice- taunting him like some demon.
You grabbed one of his large, hot hands and bit him cruelly but in a teasing kind of way and Tommy made an agonized cry and began shaking again in the same way as he had before, near climax.
Then, you suddenly grabbed him by the throat with both hands and squeezed so tightly that his vision clouded in an instant and his thrusting was peaking in a crazed violence.
Just as he pounded into you with all his might, you came so fast that you made a weird, strangled cry of your own. Shaking and shivering, enjoying your high, you spurred him on.
“Fill me with your cum Thomas. I want to feel it deep inside me” you told him and, with that he, too, let out a strange, tormented wail and stalled.
“Fuck, you feel so good” he barely managed to say as you released the grip on his throat and he came, hard and fast, filling you with his seed before he collapsed upon you.
You could feel the warmth of his release inside of you and it felt amazing.
You stared up at the off-white ceiling, sweaty and thoughtless. You felt the warmth of his gasping, heavy body pressed upon you and were flooded with pure satisfaction.
After some moments of lying there, you finally laughed merrily, and gently pushed him onto his back, so that he, too, could stare up at the ceiling.
You got up to get dressed and you could see his smile. It beamed like the sun while he watched you as you yanked on your underwear, then your skirt, and clumsily began to button up your blouse.
“Why don’t you stay the night Love?” Tommy asked as he reached for his cigarettes but you shook your head.
“I can’t. I have to get back” you said and Tommy could see that, unlike him, you were not beaming, nor were you smiling at all.
“Get back to where?” he asked as he saw that your expression had turned serious again. For some reason, you were clearly beginning to feel a heavy burden of guilt about what had just happened between you and he didn’t know why. After all, it was you who initiated this.
“Go back to my people Thomas. You wouldn’t understand” you said and, when he stood up and approached you, you looked him in the eyes and ran the fingers of your clean hand through his hair and over his cheeks.
“I enjoyed this Y/N” Tommy said before kissing you one final time. “Will I see you again?” he then asked but you shook your head.
“No. It’s not possible Thomas” you told him, clearly being upset by your words.
“Why?” he asked and you sighed deeply.
“Because I am cursed and it is safer for the both of us this way” you told him and, with these final words, you left.
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#thomas shelby#thomas shelby imagine#thomas shelby x reader#thomas shelby smut#Tommy Shelby#tommy shelby imagine#tommy shelby smut#tommy shelby x you#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby x y/n#thomas shelby x y/n#Peaky Blinders#peaky blinders fanfic#peaky blinders imagine#peaky blinders smut#cillian murphy#cillian murphy fanfic#cillian murphy fanfiction#cillian murphy smut#cillian murphy x you#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy imagine
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