#...in order to learn from an inconspicuous position.

[absensia-archived]

I've spoken briefly about this before and, again, it's usually something I leave in the little details of Charlotte's portrayal, but it's really been on my mind lately so I wanted to write out some of the prominent traits that continue to establish that, despite having gradually accumulated more experience, capital, and property over the years, Charlotte remains coded as working-class. It is crucial to both the narrative itself and her actual existence as a vessel for the primordial void, also known as Khaos. This means that she still has no ( legal ) credit cards and continues to thrift almost all her belongings, including her clothes, books, and furniture ( with the exception of shoes and appliances.) If you are someone who regularly meets up with Charlotte, you might begin to notice ( if you are perceptive ) that while she may be variably early, right on time, or show up in some unexpected state, she is rarely ever late and certainly never without a legitimate reason as to why. It is also not uncommon for Charlotte to juggle multiple jobs at the same time, and the only time she'll agree to a single job, at the exclusion of all other work is if she knows that that one job will be worth it. Related to this is the fact that Charlotte has a very hard time saying no to job offers; it's a habit ( read: stress response ) she is trying to unlearn, but it continues to be a struggle. Lastly, despite having successfully taken on leadership roles in the past, Charlotte expresses a strong dislike for being consigned to a "boss" role as she still much prefers to be hands on, in the action, at risk rather than sitting back and letting others do the work. She becomes restless if she finds herself "at the top" or in the position of too much obvious power; recall the adage about how it is lonely at the top, and how isolation is not something that the void's vessel can allow. She needs to be among people; she needs to be present to catalyze chaos. That being said, this doesn't mean that Charlotte simply allows herself to be treated or thrown away as a mere lackey or just another body, but that is still part of the struggle, isn't it?

[n30nwrites]

Chapter 7 - Play Dead

Masterlist here

Warnings - Suicide (still alive, not detailed)

Beta Editor: @letmelickyoureyeballs

Note: Not back, but I need to post ig?? I'm 20 now.

Part of being on the job was having a code name. Maya’s was Silver, named after the element. Yours was Chimera, for reasons that you didn’t like thinking about. Price’s was based off his last name, a little on the nose but the man was cocky. Ghost was silent, unknown. His face was unknown, it matched him. But revealing identities was dangerous in the workforce. It did not take a lot for people to sell people out, which is why you had to focus on calling them the correct names. 

Soap interrupts your thoughts.

“I thought you had a car? That jeep you-”

“I can’t drive. I never really cared to learn how too.” You tell Soap, leaning next to Silver as she just stares outside the window. It took her a different mindset to get ready for a mission, one she was currently mentally preparing for. 

Price speaks up next, “It’s kind of important to know how to-”

“Why weren’t you alive 6 years ago?” Ghost interrupts Price, and you know he thinks it's for a good reason. Since the showdown, things have been tense between the two of you. Silver had to convince you to share a vehicle with them, and you only agreed for emotional support. The vehicle was a Ford Explorer, three rows with two seats in each. Soap was driving, Maya sat next to him and was controlling the radio. Price was next to you, and Ghost and Gaz were behind you. “Laswell told me to stop looking into you. Are you a threat?” He decides to not mention how Laswell only hired the two of you through KorTac because of him and how he mentioned you two were his new neighbors. He figured it would irritate you more and he didn’t care to have a gun pointed at him again.

“To you? Probably. As of right now, no.” You look at the flag of your country of origin. It reminded you of your naivety of the world when you first came here. Things had changed since then. “I was alive 6 years ago, I’m older than all of you-”

“Not possible.” Price cuts you off. 

“It is when you aren’t human.” Price’s eyes widen, and Ghost’s movements come to a halt. “It seems Soap forgot to mention that to you.” They turn to the driver who has a sheepish smile on his face. Even Gaz seems surprised. You scoffed at them, turning back to the window Maya was looking at.

The building was plain. Mainly gray and it looks like a warehouse. It’s meant to be inconspicuous, an unofficial military base. There isn’t even a fence surrounding it yet it is one of the safer buildings in this state. There’s not many people in this building, and the ones that are are mostly human. You could see the state of their souls, including the direction they were heading when this journey of life was done.

The walls were bland, the entire building was quiet. You didn’t like it. Despite looking abandoned on the outside, it was meticulously clean. Maya was the one leading, despite it being her first time in the building. She was going off of instinct, all of them knew it.

The room you entered looked the opposite. It looked, lived in, messy. There were papers scattered on a table, and some pinned to a cork board. It looked like something out of a tv show. But some of the information was redacted, marked off with thick black sharpie covering words of an unknown origin.

Laswell flinches once you enter the room. Your energy is heavy to her, she’s aware that the boys can’t feel it, but she knows they can tell of her distaste for you. She was glaring from the minute you walked in, but smiled brightly at Silver. You didn’t blame her for her distaste, it ran in your guys' blood. Hating each other was normal. Even though you two personally had no beef.

“Chimera.”

“Angel. Nice to see you again.”

“I’m sure.” Laswell hated that nickname. She gets reminded of why she had this position in the first place. Most task forces in SpecGru that are made up of the supernatural were under her order. But you were KorTac, she couldn’t control you. “Your file is blacked out, like usual.”

“Aw, reading up on me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” She tells you, “The only reason you’re here is because of your history with Graves.” 

“And the only reason you’re here is because-”

“Get on with the debriefing.” Price interrupts as Maya pulls you away from the Archangel. You don’t stare at her with hatred, despite your words making everyone think you hate her, instead it’s just some neutral stare with a cocky smirk. “We don’t have all day.”

Laswell goes over the mission. It’s always the same. Flying to a different country, killing so many people that Charon himself would regret being born, grabbing files (it’s always files?), and leaving, not thinking about the chaos you left behind. Graves has the support of the Shadow company, obviously. With a hidden location, and a benefactor that no one knew, the only way to get to Graves was to find the people closest to him.

It was time to leave. 

You had separated yourself from everyone, Price had stared after you and kept staring even when you were gone. It was strange. Almost like you blended into the shadows, but he knew you weren’t in the room. 

He just didn’t know where, and it almost worried him. 

Laswell didn’t seem to like you, she seemed disgusted in fact. Though she was smiling with Maya at this moment, and he didn’t understand anything. He wouldn’t get answers either, not from Laswell and not from you.

You were so unbelievably complicated. An intricate web of deceit and neutrality. He had no idea what to think of you. You weren’t perfect. If you were, you would actually tell him what was going on in that beautiful head of yours. He wouldn’t have to fight to have a conversation with you, and you’d actually go on a date with him.

To be fair, he had never asked you. That was what he was going to do after this mission. Just take you on a date, you had to at least give him a chance.

When you come back, you are in full uniform. A helmet that blocked your eyes so he could no longer see them, it was black as well. And finally your gun, an M4 Carbine with a nice scope on it. Silver had a more traditional helmet, similar to his and Soap’s. You seemed different though. 

Angry.

He could’ve sworn your eyes were glowing red. Bright enough for him to see through the sunglasses but dull enough that he had to take a second look at you. But you didn’t look at him, you didn’t look at anyone, and even Maya seemed to step away from you. She talked with Soap on the way to the carrier. You were left alone, in the back of the carrier, at least 5 feet away from the last person, which was Ghost. You didn’t speak at all. He couldn’t hear much from you.

Now that he thinks about it, he couldn’t even hear a heartbeat.

You will always remember your first encounter with violence. After just two days of being on Earth, you had entered a bank in the process of being robbed, and because of your idioticness (really your innocence on everything that was Earth) you died.

You died 7 more times after that. The last time being to your Husband. You packed up and left after that. You didn’t care to remember that now, not when you could die again and meet your maker. Not when your mates could die.

You were angry.

You had the high ground (Anakin) as you stared from the top of a building, watching over Silver, Ghost, and Price. Soap and Gaz had gotten separated but were still alive, considering you could hear the Scot yelling in your ear about how they wouldn’t let up. You aimed at a man hidden behind a vehicle, between Silver, Ghost, Price, and the men from the Shadow Company who are more than determined to kill Task Force 141, no one was paying attention to the man attempting to get away.

No one was until he dropped dead. Then it seemed half of the soldiers that you were in battle with turned your way and you ducked under the building parapet. Your eyes dart to the next building. You could make it, you had jumped the River Styx, You’ve made your way through Jaaniw, Jumped out and into Hell (and even Heaven a few times), Escaped the Lake of fire, you could make a simple jump between a building.

Even while being shot at. You had survived worse.

Your head shook, almost inhuman, and your fangs became refined. Your eyes glowed as did your veins as your nails sharpened. This was who you were. Well, part of it. You were still missing two parts. 

You jumped, higher than needed and the gunshots followed. With your heightened sense of hearing you could hear the surprised gasps from the Shadow company along with the inquiries of Price and Ghost. You sat up and aimed once again, shooting twice, never missing.

You didn’t miss. You never missed. With each kill it seemed you got worse, more bloodthirsty. Panting as you craved this feeling. This was what your Heaven was. Punishing those who deserved it, and what was better?

Getting back at Graves of course. 

You dashed to the opposite side of the wall, before turning around and jumping immediately, not worrying about dying due to height. Your body almost collided with the building but you put a stop to it, your claws extending as you dug into the brick, the building cracking as debris fell with you. You jumped once again, almost like you were climbing down the wall without some sort of protective gear.

You didn’t care anymore.

Your feet hit the ground and you growled. Gunshots were still ringing, and you locked eyes with one of your temporary teammates.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick.

How was he so gorgeous even when sweating his ass off. It wasn’t fair. The words ‘mate’ left your mouth faster than you could think. You were angry at the idea of something happening to him, to both Soap and Gaz.

You turned to your other temporary teammate. Soap was staring, blood covering him from head to toe, he looked worse than Gaz. You rushed over, checking their bodies for wounds. You couldn’t smell his blood, just the enemies. “You guys are okay?”

“What’s gotten into you?” Gaz questions, touching your shoulder, which causes you to pause. You don’t like touch, not from strangers and you have to convince yourself to ignore the shiver from it, and ignore the feelings that rose with it. They were fighting against each other and you hated it. “You seem different.”

“You two should stay near me.” You tell them, “Keep safe. Mates are safer together.” You spoke the last bit to yourself as you turned towards the gun shots. “The rest are over here.” The two followed you as you snuck over to the others. It seemed that the chaos was almost over, just a few more men. And you decided to end it right there.

Sneaking up from behind, you quickly put one man into a chokehold, shooting the other point-blank in the head, his body collapsed onto the ground right as you yanked your shoulder back, snapping the other guy’s neck and dropping the body with a large thud. Gaining the attention of the final man, he shot at you quickly, firing three rounds at your chest, which would’ve hit.

They should’ve hit.

But you were gone, and Soap and Gaz watched as you appeared right behind him, knife in hand as you slit his throat. You were smiling, almost deranged as you stared at them while his body dropped. “Let’s go meet with the others, ay?”

“He’s in the building.” Price tells you all, and Silver’s hand starts to glow as she finishes a rune she was carving on her arm. Before she turns to you. 

“Lift your sleeve.” She mumbles as Price continues to speak. It seemed like you two were in your own little world, she avoids your gaze though. It seemed even your partner was being cautious with you. As if a wrong move could set off a volcano, she gently turns your arm and traces your veins. “You need to calm down.” 

“They were almost hurt. They could’ve been hurt. They shouldn’t be doing this.” You lean closer to her yet you still look at the men behind her.

“They are grown men. They’ve done this before, and they aren’t human. They will be fine.” She reassures you. “You only feel this way because of your current mindset, once you get back home this won’t matter anymore.” She hates the words that leave her mouth, you would care in your own twisted way. The way that meant pushing everyone away because you were hurt once before and therefore every man would hurt you.

She wished you would just get some damn therapy.

Task Force 141 does not notice what is going on until they smell blood. Then their heads snap towards you, where they witness Maya cutting into your skin with her knife, the blood that forms is black. Soap takes a step towards her until you look at him, “Don’t,” you warn them as she carves the first rune into your arm. It was something simple, something that would help you in the near future.

He’s inside the building. It’s four stories, looks to be abandoned but you can sense dozens upon dozens of people from the Shadow Company all looking around, waiting for all of you. It would be intimidating if you weren’t so confident. Plus you would never let humans hurt your mates, nor Maya.

Yourself, you didn’t really care. You always came back.

You weren’t paying attention to Price’s plan, and so while his entire idea was to sneak past everyone (which would fail because despite being trained, Gaz is not the best at sneaking around) and find your target, the less bloodshed the better, your plan was to just find his soul and drag him down with you. But that would require leaving your mates and you couldn’t do that right now.

The debriefing ended, everyone agreeing to sneak into the building through an unused underground hallway because of course this building had one. There seemed to be a gathering going on, you weren’t sure. But the group all walked in a line.

You stood behind Gaz, watching and preventing any misstep he might’ve taken. It was strange to suddenly start caring about them. You knew it would disappear as soon as the mission was over and yet you couldn’t find yourself to care. You would enjoy this for the moment.

You would enjoy him for the moment.

Yeah, you were staring at Gaz’s ass. It was inappropriate, especially when you were sneaking around. You had completely zoned out. Thankfully your face was covered because it was so obvious what you were doing. Especially to Maya who was following right behind Ghost but constantly glancing at you, and despite not looking at her you knew she was rolling her eyes. But you couldn’t care. It would all disappear, these feelings. After the mission it would disappear, so while you had half of your soul, you were going to keep staring. 

You barely hear Price yelling your name. It takes Ghost grabbing your shoulder roughly for you to snap out of it. It reminds you that he’s right behind you, walking in a row. “Something interesting with Gaz, sergeant?” He seems he wants to embarrass you, enjoying your pause.

“It’s Colonel, Second Lieutenant.” You called him by his title, “And just his ass.” You admitted, “It’s nice.”

Gaz just looks surprised, slightly confused but his heart is fluttering. He makes eye contact with you and you just wink. It’s not the time but you couldn’t care. “Let’s just get this shit on the road.” Maya says as she pushes Ghost away in a way to keep the peace between you two. “Let’s just find this guy and get out of here.” Maya glares at you as she says this sentence, trying to get you to act right for the next 30 minutes before you two would inevitably break off from the rest of the group.

It didn’t take long to find him. He held himself up in a meeting room, holding a gun out to everyone, he was severely outmatched but still thought he had a chance. He’s dressed in a nice suit, so nice it felt like he was overcompensating (he was) but he didn’t seem terrified, more like he was cocky. You could only guess that he thought he could talk himself out of this. The room itself looked like it was made to hold meetings, a large round table in the center that could hold up to 18 people, maybe 22 if some more chairs were pulled up. It was decorated in red and had deer heads mounted against the wall. He rotated the gun to aim at each and everyone’s head, but you didn’t waiver. None of them did.

“Tell us everything about Graves.” You ordered.

He told you where he thought Graves was heading, his plan to take over, and how he faked his death. He wanted revenge, as most men did. Then he continued his rant. It was all stupid, you couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Being powerful was a drug, addictive but once you’ve had it you become stupid with desperation. Graves was, and so was this man.

“Graves won’t stop until he finds-” he says your name in disbelief and you glare at him, Soap stares at you, but the rest keep up the facade. “Which is strange because he’s supposed to be dead.” He doesn’t recognize you, he wouldn’t with the mask and the complete uniform change, if all he’s seen is a photo of your face, he wouldn’t know it was you. But they did, there was no way they didn’t.

Damn, he really just outed all your secrets didn’t he. Why doesn’t he tell them all about your heritage too while he’s at it.

You stalked closer to him, while he stares at Price. Silver is on the opposite end of where you are, she looks at you while you move closer and she does the same. He decides to start swinging his gun around at both of your movements, not sure who to shoot first, but he was making a choice.

Chimera or Silver.

The choice was obvious to him. And he fired.

“Oh you sexist pig are you kidding me! The woman really?” You exclaim as his bullet collides with her skin, but no longer does she look the same. Her skin has changed, now impenetrable. The bullet just flattens against her skin and drops to the ground. His face changes, and he yells in disbelief. It is always strange when a human suddenly finds out about the supernatural. But he didn’t have anymore time to react as you went over to him and snapped his neck. You felt his soul go through you before he went down, goosebumps formed on your arms because of it. Another soul you had to accept into the gates of hell, which you did immediately. 

“When the fuck were you gonna tell us you were married to Graves?” Price moves fast, stepping quickly to get in front of you before grabbing onto your shoulder, confronting you immediately once the man is down. “This is something we should’ve known.”

“Calm the fuck down, Alpha.” You pushed back, taunting him, “It wasn’t relevant information. And don’t touch me again.”

“You should’ve told us.” Gaz says, interrupting the showdown. “We should know you’re married.”

“Was married.” You were disgusted just thinking about him.

“That doesn’t matter, you have ties to the man we are hunting down!” Soap interjected.

“Oh god this is pathetic.” You rolled your eyes, “Is this what you’re gonna do now? You guys think you’re entitled to my business just because I made a bet with Isis years ago this is just bull shit. Are you guys gonna question me the whole way?” From the way Ghost was looking at you, you got your answer. “This is just great.” You backed away from them. 

“Were you gonna tell us?” Ghost asks.

“Maya, wake me up when we’re at the base.” 

You take out your gun, and shoot yourself.

________________

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[kii-nami]

WHITE COMET'S DESCENT | IL CAPITANO

You never state for what reason you are holding him back, but it is already obvious. The Commander of the Khaenri’ahn army went missing with one swift strike of the starbound ice. You don’t seem to think of people as disposable yet cannot bring yourself to warm the snake’s nest willingly. Thrain shares the sentiment: he has never been a fan of holding his enemies closer than his friends. And despite your peculiar character, this is definitely something Thrain cannot fault you for. Queen [Name] Einherjar is incapable of trusting even herself. He fears that one day it can become your downfall. He accepts the position with no hesitation, yet it does not save either of you from damnation.

CW: 9K WORDS; PART TWO OF TWO; FEM!MC; MADE-UP KHAENRI'AHN LORE; OCS MENTIONED; PART OF A WIDER GENSHIN AU BY ME AND MY FRIEND; INCLUDES A NECESSARY MAVUIKA NERF; IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS FEEL FREE TO ASK, I NEED TO RANT ABOUT HOW THEY BUTCHERED NATLAN

His lady cannot die, as she buried her own mortal flesh under the Sea of Flowers at the End a very long time ago.

It takes five years of your companionship and the watchful eye of the Crimson Moon for Thrain to learn that you do not deem yourself a living being. You have died twice and twice you’ve been reborn as someone else in a corpse of the white comet long faded. And now, the rapidly evaporating ice that makes up your body is all they can ever have.

Not that they will have anything at all for much longer.

You entrusted him with Saga’s life. Ordered to accompany her, Lumine and Alice through the collapsing terrains to the closest gate that can take them up above. Whatever is in the box the witch forced him to carry, Thrain doesn’t know and does not dare ask. Not that he is able to complete his mission, as halfway through their journey Alice, startled by Skirk’s sudden appearance, orders him to immediately return to the palace. In all honesty, Thrain has no right to comply with Red Witch’s demands; your word will always weigh more especially under such circumstances. Yet something in the way their hushed, tense conversation seems to be moved more by the inconspicuous glances than the careful choice of words that makes Thrain stop questioning Alice’s choice.

Lumine departs with him, lips tightly pressed together and strained muscles stonier than usual. They never truly got to know each other, so the silence is a bit overwhelming right until the point Twilight Sword appears, barricading their path. Distraught and somehow guilty, Dainsleif tries offering his side of the story. Lumine unsheathes her sword without much of a word, just throwing a nod towards the desolate, floating island to the west of the royal palace. Then she strikes first.

Whatever happens next Thrain does not know. Those closest to you wish for someone to return to your side no matter what, and if it so happens that they can’t do so anymore, then he will become that person in their stead.

When Thrain arrives at the Einherjar family’s burial grounds, his platoon is already waiting for him. Anxious and horrified, they scurry to let him pass to the entrance of the building. The air of the royal tomb is dry yet heavy, the marble and diamond follow his every step, vacant eyes of the statues watching him pass by. You are nowhere to be found but the dull light flickering at the end of the dimly lit corridor is guiding Thrain in the right direction. He stops at the heavy doors, creaked ajar just enough for a person to barely slip in and slides it fully open.

“Princess Saga has departed safely, along with Lady Alice and the box.” Thrain enters Lady [Name]’s crypt without announcing his presence. You can hear his footsteps, for better or for worse, and he guesses there isn’t much time to abide by etiquette now that the sky is falling.

As if expecting him, you are already facing the entrance with your misty eyes gazing right through him, “I am glad.” You say, hastily turning away. “What about Lumine?”

The Bough which crowns your head looks particularly heavy when you take it off and place it on Lady [Name]’s tomb. No headpiece and no extravagant braids, no diamonds woven into your hair and no flowing silks or sheer tulles clinging to your skin. You look more like a soldier than a royal, yet something in the way your shoulders quiver under the weight of your cape prevents Thrain from forgetting that you are, in fact, a queen. His lady. Now and until the memory of this world fades away.

“The last I’ve seen of her, she deserted…” Thrain cuts himself off, picking and choosing what is better suited to say to you in this moment. Watching your hand trembling on top of the stone of the first princess’ tomb, Thrain is sure that any careless word will surely send you spiraling. “To engage in battle with the former Captain of the Royal Guard, my lady.”

He must have made the right choice for once, and you huff. “Whatever helps her sleep at night.” Unclasping your cape, you throw it mindlessly onto the marble casket and face him once more, this time focusing on Thrain instead of the horrors hiding behind his back. A second of silence. Then another. With unblinking eyes, you unapologetically stare at Thrain as if you were seeing him for the first time in your life. And when you address him at last, there is a foreboding sense of finality laced into your tone, “Commander, I wish to formally dismiss you from your duties. You and your platoon may leave this place for good.”

Thrain expected as much. It is evident in the way you sent all those dear to you away long before the ground started shaking. It’s not even a bit surprising now that everything is done you are trying to push him away as well. And Thrain is a knight first and foremost, he was taught to never question any orders and follow them with no complaints even if it is only death that waits him when it’s all over. Yet here you are, relieving Thrain of his duty so he can preserve his life. A life that is not of equal value to that of a queen. A life that to you is far more precious than that of your own self.

Hands crossed over his chest, Thrain rewrites fate of this world for the worst, “I am afraid I must decline your offer, my lady.”

It is not something Thrain says after weighing all his options, but something that happens on its own, with not much thought yet with all the urgency of the collapsing ground below your feet. Your death would mark the loss of the Plane of Fólkvangr, and with the world as he knew it no longer existing, there is no point in preserving his life if the souls in his restless heart have no place to return to.

“That is not a suggestion, that is an order, Sentinel Knight.” Your voice is firm and icy, leaving no room for arguments. “Abandon Khaenri’ah, there is no hope left here.”

Only it is not an argument, never was and never will be. Thrain is a man of honor before he is a soldier, or a knight, or even something as primitive as a simple human. Abandoning you to fight on your own means abandoning the code of honor. Abandoning his beliefs means abandoning the memories of those whose will Thrain is carrying with him wherever he goes. And you are right, people like you and him are not allowed to forget.

“I am afraid I cannot do that, my lady.” Thrain declines once more, this time more deadpan than the last.

You huff, exasperated, accusatory finger pressed against the metal armor of his chest plate, right where his heart is. “Why, of all times, it is now that you decide to be difficult with me, Thrain?”

“I have never been exceptionally easy for you to deal with, my lady.” It is not the best of ideas to prolong this conversation. The world is quaking, the crimson skies burn with celestial blight, and your game of chess has finally come to its end. You always knew something that others didn’t, and you still hold something up your sleeve even with all your cards spread on the table. And if this something is your third death, then this time around it would be not as lonely as those two that came before. “Nobody should ever die alone.”

“Nobody will die.” You snap, knuckles knocking against the metal with a thud that oddly resembles drums. “You will live to fight another day.”

Your lies, as impressive as they usually are, fall flat this time around. Thrain reaches for your hand; some lines have long been blurred enough for it to seem like the only appropriate thing to do. Even with the leather separating your skin, you are freezing. Colder than you have ever been, as doomed as the time he saw you for the first time: dripping blood and diamonds, with no future ahead of you except the one that spells your death date in the slowly fading stars.

Somewhere on the mainland an explosion convulses the realm just as he lifts the palm of your hand to press a chaste kiss on top of the black leather covering it, “I never thought you for a liar.”

“Then you have never thought of me enough.” A joke, as amusing as it could have been at any other time, is still a lie no matter what. “Please don’t make this harder for me.”

And Thrain is sure he should have thought of you a bit less than he did, it would have been more appropriate that way. It would not have gotten him here, however, so Thrain cannot regret the thoughts that crossed his mind in those long five years of knowing you.

A woman of no shortcomings, you never weep. Yet as you hesitantly lean against his chest, face once again hidden from the world you love more than life itself, Thrain can’t help but wrap his arm around your shoulders carefully. Allowing you a moment of weakness before your final endeavor of resilience may be the only thing he can offer you, but what is that if not his duty?

Your breathing is erratic, you shiver every time you hear another slab of ground collapse into abyss, yet you never shed a tear. You move away from him on your own, only when some warmth seeped into your bones, and the sorrow on your face is so unbounded, Thrain finally understands why you hide yourself so. You’ve finally given up.

“What is our next course of action?” It’s just you, Thrain and the platoon he ordered to stay back to protect you, not trusting a single person from the royal guard after the reveal of Dainsleif’s betrayal. It is nowhere near enough to protect everyone, but neither does he expect to do so. Defeat is inevitable; now it is simply the matter of how you meet your end.

You frown, still clearly apprehensive about his disobedience, yet answer anyway, “I will cleanse as much of abyssal corruption as my body can allow. Then I shall engage the demon gods. So you must leave.”

The desperation in your voice is almost enough to convince him. Were Thrain anyone else, he probably would have abided by your final wish. He isn’t, so he doesn’t. With countless souls in the crevices of his modified heart, he met death face to face more times than he can count. He isn’t afraid of dying once more, this time by your side. Maybe this way you all can reach the Plane of Fólkvangr together.

 “Put your trust in me to watch your back.” Thrain wonders if anyone ever told you that you have done well with what you were given. Whether your bloodied efforts and sleepless nights were appreciated. If someone ever reminded you that there is more to life than that tall wall of ice you have built to separate yourself from this world. If so, they did a poor job. If not, then he shall be the first. “You’ve done more than enough.”

Arms limp at your sides, your mismatched eyes still begging him to leave, “What kind of queen would I be, willingly letting her people walk into a decade long plan of treachery instead of shouldering it all by herself?”

You don’t get it, but Thrain can’t truly blame you for it. He too, is used to perceiving his life as duty. For those like you and him, who are strong, it is easier to embrace the burden than let another, weaker person, carry it for you. But he wasn’t born into a lie and neither did he choose to live in it willingly, Thrain knows how to trust his people. You, despite all your efforts, never truly learned how. And that is precisely why you couldn’t see Dainsleif’s true intentions. For you never really trusted him, so you never truly knew him. And he took full advantage of it.

“The one which knew her people stood with her till the very end.” The answer is simple, and even if you think your people despise you now for letting the skies catch fire, Thrain knows it to be false. “A human one.”

“I am a weapon.” You defend your lies with teeth bared and winds raging.

“You are a woman.” Thrain’s truth is as harsh as the cold radiating off your body. “You loved him, and he betrayed you.”

Shaking diamonds of your pupils, you take a guarded step back. You must realize who he is talking about, because your manic laughter forces all the air out of your lungs until tears pool in the corners of your eyes. “Oh, how scandalous.” You muse, a teasing lull to your vowels, “You have learned all about court drama, haven’t you?”

“Only what you taught me.” And you taught him a lot, so Alice has no way to cling to his poor choice of words. Assured Gold can never hold anything against him even with his life being all but in the palm of her brilliant hand. You’ve blinded Vedrfolnir and colored Thrain just the right shade of royal grey for Surtalogi to find him unappealing. You may have dragged him into the life of danger far greater than even that of a demon god, but you have never left him to fend for himself with only the voices of the dead ringing in his ears. That alone is worth a lot more to Thrain than you could ever truly grasp. “I will stay. Whether you want it or not. That’s my duty, not as the Commander but as your trusted friend.”

“I asked you to make things easier for me, not to complicate them even more.” You sigh, heavy and breathless, then you close your eyes. When you gaze at him once more, Thrain knows things will never be the same again. “Those of us who have already escaped will see the sun; those who remained will meet their forever end under the Crimson Moon.” Whatever you decide to do next, it won’t change the outcome of the game you’re playing. Death is unavoidable. Yet as you extend your hand to him, Thrain can’t help but hope. And hope is a thing far too misleading. “Come, my friend, the nation only falls when the last of its people is dead. Khaenri’ah will live in their memories.”

The six eyes follow your every move as you step out of the crypts. Not even once do you spare the Shade of Death a glance. Head held high, you move ahead to your final resting place. And as the ground beneath his feet trembles with god-made quakes, Thrain crosses the line once more.

“What has she done?” A question so innocent in nature, it could tear the veil of sin all over again.

“Complicated things.” The crimson of celestial retribution clings to your body as if it met someone it dearly missed. You welcome it into the Blade of Fólkvangr, the sharpened edge pointed at the skies, “And I am about to exploit that.”

The horizon burns with a peculiar kind of flame Thrain has never seen before. You march there with conviction of someone who has nothing to lose. The transparent crown above your head is shimmering with the glow of a thousand stars. When he notices the protection of your unwavering will is extended to him as well, it is already too late.

It is the last time Thrain thinks of death as a punishment.

La Innamorata masks her true intentions even under the watchful eyes of those most ignorant of the truth.

A lot can change in 500 years, yet nothing can uproot your masterfully disguised sorrows. There is something hopelessly disheartening in the way Thrain, too, learns to hide the truth behind the most mundane of conversations.

Although it is only Thrain and Saga who seem to be exempt from volunteer work, recently you’ve taken a liking to forcing the Harbingers to do some meaningless manual labor.

The old man Alberich is tasked with carving some chess pieces; a pointless thing it seems to be as you never end up satisfied with the finished project. The nameless puppet, rescued from the grasp of the crazed Doctor, is forced to look after the stray cat you took in on a whim one day. Zandik himself, is exiled into his lab with a pile of your journals.

Even now Rosalyne is rearranging the bookshelves in the precise way you instructed her to; she is rightfully confused about your ever-growing collection of fairytales but never dares to complain. Peruere, the unwilling recruit in the place of late Crucabena, is trying to tend to your flowers although her success rate isn’t all that high. Artificially made they may be, yet they die as any other. Although you don’t look all that burdened by the loss of your hard work.

“They died today.” You state absentmindedly, bringing his attention from the empty flowerpots back to you. “The winter is particularly harsh this year.”

Peruere throws you a quick glance, most likely the culprit behind the wilted flowers. The girl, as much of a blank slate as she may seem, is extremely sensitive in the most disconnected of ways. A survivor of the Crimson Moon dynasty; she’s young, misguided, and extremely powerful. A combination which you favor and are not afraid to use to your advantage. She may not be young enough for you to raise into the perfect heir to your ideals, but she is old enough to understand that those who have nothing to lose are the most terrifying.

In Thain’s opinion, you seem to baby her a little too much. But then again, isn’t love both one’s strongest weapon and their greatest weakness?

“Your sorrow wilts those flowers, my friend.” He plays along, Peruere’s shoulders relax just enough for her to not be stone stiff under the pressure of failure.

“I do not weep for that which I do not yearn for.” You examine the black obsidian pawn in your hands – one of Alberich’s creations that you deemed not suitable enough – and finally finish setting up the board. “And I am not particularly attached to windwheel asters, Thrain.”

“That is not what I meant, and you know it, [Name].” Thrain takes it as his cue to make a move, carefully taking the white marble piece in his hand. “What happened in Natlan that made you return empty-handed?”

From the other side of your office, Rosalyne is watching your reflection in the mirror. For as long as Thrain knew her, she was always a fan of gossip. Something like this definitely caught her eye, and despite it not being an official discussion meant for her to hear, you indulge her in it. Something tells Thrain that you pity the woman. Something, if true, won’t surprise him one bit. Considering she became what she is now as a direct cause of Teyvat’s meddling with Khaenri’ahn practices long abandoned even by those strong enough to withstand them, you must feel responsible for her in a way. Which always spells trouble.

If you aren’t careful, your soft spot for humanity might just be the end of you. It was once. It will happen again.

As if proving his point, you give Thrain a pointed look. “We are better than those who took our home away from us.”

Or what would have been a pointed look if he could actually see your face at all. No diamonds or tulles, just ancient moon's remnants and the divine nail rabble melted together into a mask you almost never take off. Not that Thrain himself is any different. Ronova’s wrath latched onto the two of you for reasons he can never dare bring up. What is the point of rubbing salt on the wounds most tender?

“I am well aware.” The words come out a little more deadpan than he intended, you pretend like you don’t notice. “That doesn’t explain your oppressive melancholy.” Rosalyne’s skeptical brow is hard to miss, but she cannot see you the way Thrain does. And it’s only natural for humanity to question what they don’t understand. “Does her way of dealing with this hinder your plans?”

You sigh, a little hopelessness lingering in your breath. “She is a good woman, Thrain.”

Despite it being your words, Thrain doubts the validity of such claims, even if he never truly met the Lady of Fire. He, however, witnessed the scorched inteyvat fields and the utter devastation of Natlan’s terrain, completely abandoned by its human god in favor of committing pointless act of genocide. A good soldier should never question orders, a better one would never lift a weapon against those who cannot protect themselves. All in the matter of perspective, yet you never truly tried to convince each other to change your mind.

“Your unconditional love for humanity utterly blinds you.” Thrain indulges in a bad habit of reminding you of your flaws. Things that pose a clear distinction between the divine weapon you wish to be and the stubborn human that you are. It’s just as entertaining as it is necessary, and if nobody else wishes to extend such kindness, then Thrain shall be the first to do so. “Not that you can see much as is.”

You huff, half annoyed and half amused, “I liked you more when you remained tongue-tied and lost around me.”

“You mustn’t lie.” He chastises you. “Peruere might think it’s okay to be dishonest.” At the mention of her name the girl – long abandoned the flowers in favor of the terrarium full of poisonous spiders – lifts her head to look over her shoulder at you.

“She already does.” You counter with a light smile tugging on the corners of your lips. “Let that child breathe.”

“Will you answer me, or should I pry it out of you again?” The scandalized expression on usually stony face of Rosalyne is almost as delightful as the day you received those from the royal maids in the palace. If only it were that simple even now.

A tired shake of your head and strain to your jaw, you finally speak, “Their ley lines are in a terrible shape, way worse than we initially thought.”

Not seeing anything of worth to observe, Peruere returns to her spiders. With no more gossip for her to feed on, Rosalyne resumes her task. Thrain knows better than to remain on the surface level. You must have found no alternatives to whatever it was you were looking in the ley lines, and with his own journeys proving fruitless, you have finally exhausted your options. You never grieve that which you do not hold close to your heart. Yet somehow it doesn’t pacify his worries. How heart-wrenching it must be, discarding such a burdensome task on someone else’s shoulders just to give everything up to a gamble with fate in the process.

“This makes them easy to access, although there is no way for an ordinary human to restore them naturally unless a divine miracle occurs...” The directions are clear, and the confirmation is there even when it is not. The game ends with a checkmate. Your obsidian king cornered with no way of recovering, just like you planned it to. Natlan must be truly following Khaenri’ah into abyss. “Not that we need to worry about it right now.” The pieces rearrange themselves; the game begins anew. “There are more pressing matters on our board, my dear friend.”

“Which is?” A foolish question. One that can move mountains in its wake.

“We are about to enter the era of change.” You smile, replacing the bishop to king’s left with a shining golden piece. “In ten years’ time, the fourth descender will awaken.”

A divine miracle indeed. Yet not the one you are looking for.

[Name] Einherjar is the embodiment of humanity’s will to transcend the limits of this world.

You are not a particularly sociable person but when it’s beneficial for you, you have a way of making people trust you. Thrain doesn’t know much about your history with Haborym, but she seems to believe that you will help her out free of charge. Something that is simply impossible. Being born into a thousand-year-old deception made a liar out of you, Thrain needs to accept it eventually. And he did so a long time ago, only hoping you haven’t been too dishonest with him. Not everyone has as much insight on the inner workings of your mind however, so they tend to trust your lies as if they were the only truth they’ve ever known.

“I don’t usually question your decisions, especially considering stuff like this, but we do not have much time.” Xilonen’s ears twitch, tail swaying impatiently behind her. “She won’t be quick enough to install the barrier. Even with the Waypoints it takes ages, Mavuika.” Albeit not to such a dire extent, she too, just like you, is distrustful of everything. In a way it’s a good thing, especially for the people of Natlan. Right now, however, there is simply no time for doubt.

Opposite of her companion, Mavuika believes you a little bit too much, “Trust her.”

Once again, a frown crosses Xilonen’s face, “You can’t blame me for being apprehensive. She’s a fatua–”

Mavuika interrupts her before Xilonen can finish her sentence, “Do you trust me?”

With a heavy sigh of defeat, Xilonen gives up her pointless fight, “Yes, Mavuika. I do.”

The Lady of Fire sees it too, somehow pleased to win this stubbornness contest, “Then continue with your tasks as planned.”

Despite it being a proper waste of time and breath, this conversation served as a good distraction from the fact that Xilonen’s doubts, in fact, had merit. Thrain trusts you because he knows you and what you are capable of. Mavuika’s convictions stand on shaky ground at best, yet even with sky corrupted by the tumor of abyss, she still believes you will carry out your self-imposed task as planned.

“It is never a matter of time but of human will.” Thrain reminds it to himself more than he intends to explain it to the rest of the group. “We shall aid you as promised but you must trust her.”

Xilonen’s frown deepens even more, a little sliver of disgust clinging to the corners of her mouth, “I never asked for your opinion, Harbinger. You–” her rant is put on hold by another earthquake, and she lifts her head to the sky where the swirling depth of abyss is looming over the horizon. Only Xilonen doesn’t find what she expects to, “What in Xbalanque’s name is she doing?!”

The ground trembles with each step you take closer to Gosoythoth, until you stand face to face with the imposing abyssal eye. As if imagined the quaking stops, you look over your shoulder and though Thrain knows you cannot see them from all the way up, it still seems like you do. Or at the very least you can hear him.

 “Don’t worry about me.” Your voice is a distant echo that only those under your protection can hear. Then you turn away, outstretched hand itching closer to the tumor until almost all of your arm is swallowed by the dark blue matter. “Carry on as planned.”  

Despite his better judgment and more out of habit than necessity, Thrain nods, and goes on to relay the message, “She said to proceed.” As skeptical as always, Xilonen purses her lips in contemplation. “I shall depart at once. Lady Brighella should be at her assigned location already. Despite what you think of us Fatui, we do not wish ill upon you. At the very least not us. I cannot speak for the likes of the Doctor.”

Leaving no room for arguments, Thrain leaves to continue the fight that does not belong to him but to those who he’s carrying in his heart. Not long after, the sun of Mavuika’s doing lights up the sky and casts a blinding glow upon the people with a promise of protection. You stand, still and unwavering, even when the abyssal corruption starts to slowly creep up your arm and latch itself into the rest of your body. Whatever you want to do, Thrain doesn’t know. Sometimes even he is left in the dark about your schemes.

In a way, it’s better for you to be up there than on the ground. The battle is too reminiscent of the fall. Thoughts clouded, spirit restless, there is way more at stake right now than when it was just the two of you and your almost failed trick to turn the tables on divinity. Now it’s countless souls in his heart and the lives lost before his eyes; the past not lived, and the future not yet dreamt. The mark of the sun brightens; for the first time in a long while Thrain catches himself on the thought of treacherous doubt. The favor of your will may be unmoving yet purifying abyssal corruption has always weakened you more than you dare admit. This loss might spell the end of all things as he knew them.

“[Name], you must get down at once.” A whisper that may be lost along the wind, but it is enough for you to hear. The battle seems to put itself on hold for a moment. Even the creatures of abyssal mimicry freeze in place, watching the sky as it readies itself for the third death of the white comet.

“Just a little more.” Desperation never truly suited you, but Thrain knew more of you than to think of you as anything other than shamelessly desperate. “Just a second more.” Even Mavuika’s warnings of an upcoming attack on Gosoythoth are lost on you as well. “This body matters not, so fire at will.”

Traveler – the descender you have waited so long for, is searching for a way to change your mind. There is none. Not when it’s your whose will they’re trying to shake. Your voice is deafening in the silence brought by death. It’s clearer than it has ever been, even back home where you were the strongest. So much so, that even those who cannot possibly hear you cover their ears.

Mavuika must have heard you too, as the glow of fire blinds his vision. Her trust in you to survive this is misplaced, Thrain decides then. He is not the one to doubt your ambition, but Thrain is sure to question Ronova’s hatred. What is stopping her from tricking you into complacency just to remove you from the equation? Not much, yet your love for humanity is not a learned trait but the one you inherited with your mother’s blood. So should he trust the one who cursed you all to care?

“With my own two hands I shall carve the new dawn of humanity…”  Your breath stutters as the sky cracks open. “And let your light awaken the destiny of your own forging…”

It’s quiet as the flames slowly die out, only to reveal the shattered plates of the fake sky. You are nowhere in sight; the only visible thing is the corpse of the moon scattered around behind the firmament. To his relief, your blessing is still hanging over his head, so Thrain dares not lose hope.

White noise in his ears, your heavy breathing is rippling at the edges of his mind with the drums of someone’s erratic heartbeat. Mavuika is hesitant to descend from her spot, the residue flames flickering as she carefully approaches the breach to glance inside the vastness of that which is forbidden. She never gets a chance to gaze upon the darkness beyond the false sky, the glow of starlight almost blinding her completely. Thrain watches the woman turn away suddenly, hiding her face in the crook of her elbow until the radiance subsides enough to not burn her eyes.

“To transcend the limits and descend upon this world with the power of my own will…” Everywhere, all at once, your voice is the sea engulfing the manmade cities of days long gone. “Mo–”

Shaken, the Lady of Fire extends her hand for you to take, you never get the chance to do so. The crown above your head is flickering in and out of existence; a small step in her direction, you fail to find the foothold in thin air. Something dimly glowing all around you, you tumble to the ground with the trail of shimmering ice following your descent. Without hesitation, Haborym abandons everything to catch you.

Whatever happens next is undetermined. But against all odds, the white comet was reborn once more.

His dear friend drowns in guilt like in the sea of stars.

Drop by drop, it sinks you deeper to the bottom. Yet with lungs full of shimmering moonlight water, you stand your ground. Ronova doesn’t appear to appreciate your efforts. She didn’t enjoy your wits 500 years ago and she definitely doesn’t enjoy the irony right now as well. It must sting, the idea of being outsmarted by someone so insignificant. So much so, in fact, that she casts her gaze at you the moment she finds nothing else to say to refuse Yohualtecuhtin’s decision to continue serving humanity even in the wake of destruction.

“The wayward daughter of flowers, what have you schemed this time?” Her fury quakes the ruins of Ochkanatlan, the descender’s worried eyes never leaving you all the while.

With your back turned to him, Thrain cannot tell your expression, yet something in your voice is painting a particularly smug curve of your lips, “Are you telling me all those eyes of yours are for naught?”

The Shade of Death still doesn’t get the humor. “Do not be smart with me, child.” Or maybe she is still coming to terms with the fact that for the third time in her long, pathetically restricted life, she has been outsmarted by a mere human. And two of those are your doing.

“I am always smart, not just when you’re around.” You wave her off in a manner that has Haborym questioning your sanity. Evident by the light flickering in her dull eyes for the first time since she and the Traveler returned from the Night Kingdom. It seems walking out of this with her life intact was not enough to return her will to fight, but your reckless distaste of divinity is just barely enough to ignite a spark. “Your eyesight must truly be losing its sharpness, Ronova.” You point at your mask, the dull thumping of leather against metal resonates through the ruins. “Don’t you remember when I said that with these very hands of mine, I shall forge humanity’s new destiny?”

Your cleverness is lost on the ruler of death, her omniscient gaze seemingly closer than it was before your shameless provocations, “Your will is as weak as that of an ant.”

Arms crossed over your chest, you let out a humorless chuckle, “You underestimate the evolution of human spirit, Shining Shade of Death.”

“Have you any shame, child?” Scandalized sneer may not be visible to the human eye, but even in this form Thrain could clearly picture the appalled expression on Ronova’s face.

“No.” Deadpan and straight to the point, you turn your back on the divine which abandoned you first. “I have no right to interfere with the expression of human will. Especially right now.”

“As defiant as always.” The ground shakes. The crimson skies almost seem like they’re bleeding. “And to think immortality taught you absolutely nothing.”

Ronova acts like that curse she placed upon his people was closer to Celestia’s gracious blessing than the greatest punishment for the betrayal which most were not aware of.  Divinity was always a little bit delusional, and despite his disdain for the Shade of Death, Thrain almost pities her entire existence. Immortal and shackled, she is forever forced to watch over the rules of the world she despises.

This freedom to choose your own fate must fill her entire being with envy. And what is the best way to deal with something that you can never possess, if not take it away from those who are lucky enough to have it? And what is a greater punishment than having all the time in the world, yet not being able to do anything with it? Thrain can’t think of any. Neither can Ronova, herself.

“Do what you must, Yohualtecuhtin.” Not quite resigning, Ronova gives up her fight. Cornered with by her own rules and with no loopholes to use against you and him, she must endure yet another triumph of humanity over the laws of the gods. “This world is of no interest to me now.”

She lingers. Looming and unwanted, watching his every move. Even when Thrain gets down on one knee before you, hand over his heart, the feeling of Ronova’s many eyes watching his back never leaves. You are stiff, rigid fingers gripping your own forearms as if you are trying your best to keep yourself anchored in this dream. Even right now, Thrain cannot see your face. It’s truly a shame, he almost forgot what your eyes look like. If only the memories of you and him from 500 years ago were as fresh as the last moments of those who died yesterday.

“May I request to be relieved of my duty, Your Majesty?” It’s simply an obligation. A necessary pleasantry to sell the centuries old lie, yet Thrain is almost taken aback by how his own voice is laced with the bittersweet finality of a last meeting between… whoever the two of you are.

“You may.” You nod, looking straight ahead and never at him. “You’ve done well, Commander. May inteyvat guide you.”

“It has, and it will.” Thrain can admit that you were right, in a sense. Despite never making it easy for you, he sure knew how to complicate things when it mattered the most. “Farewell, my lady.”

You say nothing. Just step away and stare at the void of death while it stares back at you. Until the glaciers cover the ruins and the glow of the stars dies completely, with only the crimson of sin clinging to the tips of your fingers. Until the omnipresent daze of death leaves this doomed world to never witness it go up in flames but to return to its last embers flickering in the dark. Until the one whose will can rival the world grazes your mortal flesh and it falls apart under his careful touch.

The brightest morning star calls out to you in the most tender of ways. Hand on your shoulder, he is ignored in lieu of your unwavering devotion to the void. The long-lived shaman, Citlali, shakes her head in some sort of almost-disappointment and insists on leaving you be. It’s for the better if they do, yet Traveler’s hesitation to abandon you in the height of your most bitter loneliness makes him unwilling to walk away. Ororon, always the outsider even in his own domain, advises Traveler to listen in his usual politely shameless fashion; yet when his words change nothing, the young man hastily hides behind Citlali, his hood tugged over his eyes.

It’s admirable in a way, Traveler’s devotion to those he deems his friends. Yet sometimes the worst thing one can do is to meddle with matters they cannot resolve. Even Mavuika sees it, tugging the golden-haired heir away from you. He is almost ready to give up when you finally break your silence. All eyes on you, you finally abandon the void to let it fester on its own.

“Have I ever told you how much I love humanity?” You ask.

“500 years ago. You did.” Mavuika’s brows furrow, wandering gaze searching for something she will never find. “What is this about?”

“Our will to strive forward in this never-ending dream is truly the most precious thing.” You continue, disregarding her question. Human or not, you never planned on answering any, and thus you are not about to start. Be it Furina, or Mavuika, or even Bronya herself who questions you. “That’s why I admire you, Mavuika. The power of human will is shining especially bright in you.” The Lady of Fire doesn’t get it, even from his temporary realm of the evernight, Thrain still understands you more than most. “That being said, even if life slumbers peacefully with the knowledge that it will eventually wake up and face reality, some get complacent. You, too, are not exempt from delusions of grandeur. I guess it just proves how human you truly are. Makes it all the harder for me to stay rational.”

 “What are you talking about?” A careful step back. A guarded one as well, Mavuika may not truly comprehend it, but her body reacts to danger before she can even force it to. “[Name]?”

You move forwards, the crimson pools under your feet in the shade of alchemical Rubedo. The one which served the heavens yet the one which was never truly the final stage of the magnum opus Khaenri’ah was always striving for. Discarded for the golden glow of Citrinitas, Rhinedottir tried to replicate the power of the unrivaled will, yet even with half of your soul ripped away from your body and forced upon Thrain’s unsuspecting heart, she still failed to do so, leaving only mayhem of stardust in her wake.

And now that the omniscient is finally blinded by its own prison of light; now that the Blade of Fólkvangr can never cut through time and space ever again; now that you’ve given it all up for Thrain to return it to the ley lines, weakened enough to be successfully tempered with; now that everything of true value is guarded by Thrain’s own ambition and Yohualtecuhtin’s devotion to serving humanity, nothing that remains in this world can stop the crimson moon from engulfing your body in all-corrupting flame. And so, your flesh is forever swallowed by the eclipse’s shade, awaiting the day the white comet dies for the fourth time.

“Haborym.” The pleasantries are no more. Humanity is done negotiating with the gods, and no compromise can be accomplished. “It was truly a miracle that you walked out of this with your life intact. Yet while you get to save your life and your people future, I have lost one of my most trusted men.”

You’ve lost way more than just one man. The freezing cold of the glowing stars abandoned you once and for all; there is no way for you to return to how things used to be. From this moment onwards the Plane of Fólkvangr can never exist again. All of homeland’s memory is gone, sacrificed for the dream of the future that is yet to be dreamt and what is left of it in Thrain’s heart must find solace in the afterlife of the foreign land. Mavuika does not know this, she can never know this. And this alone makes the exchange as unfair as the contract between mortals and the divine.

“The exchange is nowhere near being fair,” Despite your efforts with Gosoythoth proving fruitful, you cannot hear him now that Thrain abandoned his eternal life in a pursuit of the favor of the dead, but it still feels like you do. “And no good deed ever goes unpunished.”

“Fatui always collect their debts.” Mavuika agrees solemnly, yet she’s quick to refuse you, “I’m sorry, unless you wish to duel me in the arena, I don't think I can give you what you wish for.”

“I fear you are mistaken, Kiongozi Mavuika.” Names have power. Titles mean nothing except the ink spilled carelessly over the parchment. The crimson seeps from your tear ducts, running down your cheeks in such potency it almost seems black. It drips on the white silks of your blouse, soaking in and spreading all over the fabric like blood stains. “I don't blame you. Being a human occupying a heavenly throne, you forget where you stand. Yohualtecuhtin did not lie. God or not, your life is meaningless in the grand scheme of things. It is not with your own efforts that you won, but with the unshakable will standing by your side.”

Betrayal flickers in Mavuika’s eyes. History tends to run in cycles, and it is only natural for the betrayed to deceive the one who trusts them the most, “After all we’ve been through together, you're threatening me?”

“Just because my subordinate is a righteous person, it does not make me one.” You state, the crimson smeared over your skin seems to spread all around you like a contagious disease.

All unyielding flames, the Lady of Fire steels her resolve, “If we were to fight, you would lose your life.”

“Ego the size of the sun. It suits you, Haborym.” One step forward, two steps back. Traveler, apprehensive and cautious, reaches for his blade. Old and weathered, that thing is still sharp only due to his will. Hesitant to use it against you, Traveler is still weighing all his possibilities. The choice, however, has never been his even when he makes up his mind to interfere. Firm grip on Traveler’s cape, Ororon tugs him back to where Citlali is waiting. The woman, disheartened and oddly silent, simply shakes her head.

Mavuika, for all of her talk, still refuses to draw her weapon against you. Crimson is the stone all around you, crimson is the sky above your heads, bleeding is the heart that cannot ever find peace. Your feet never truly touch the ground when you move, and when you stop at the precipice, the crimson slates pave you a path right into the void. The fall is inevitable, but so is the descent.

You ask, the crimson pathway under the two of you shifts and morphs into a staircase. Finally, eye to eye with your first betrayal, you remove the mask from your face. It slips from your grasp, and you let it fall to the ground, to remain forever lost in the city which became its own grave. Mavuika’s face contorts into a pained expression yet never once does she divert her gaze. Deluded and delusional, she remains a faithful friend even in the wake of a collapsing world.

With the only truth you are willing to grant Mavuika no longer being yours alone, you lean down to whisper in her ear, “What can a human god do against a divine weapon?”

You move away before she can do it for you, although her hand catches yours before you can put any more distance between the two of you. “I truly pity you, [Name].”

“You shouldn't waste your sorrows on the likes of me.” You mutter, letting her intertwine your fingers together. A second, maybe more. When Mavuika lets you go, you are uncharacteristically hesitant to walk away. “Thank you. And please don't hold it against him and do not condemn yourself for your weakness. You are only human, and he knew nothing of my schemes. It would have been too exhausting to explain a plan dating 500 years back.”

Held up in the air only by your own will, the Lady of Fire lifts her head to the sky, “Ronova, she called you–” A stutter to her breath, you do not let her ask any questions. The crimson of Khaenri’ahn sins stains the golden brown of Mavuika’s skin. You wipe it carefully with your own sleeve until it’s gone as if it never existed.

 “Natlan will be safer without it, Mavuika.” Your hands drop limply by your sides; the crimson morphs once more and you leave her standing there alone amidst the bloodied sea of wilted inteyvat flowers. “Besides, I am not the only one pulling strings from the shadows. Right, Aether?”

At the mention of his true name, the golden-haired traveler almost falls over the edge. Whoever you are talking about, he most likely understands it very well but all his desire to know more is cut at the root by a steady hand on his shoulder. Mavuika, casting one final glance your way, heads for the stairs that will take her down and away from the ruins of Ochkanatlan. With no choice but to follow, Traveler decides to ask you about it another time, not knowing that there won’t ever be one.

The crimson turns to stone, it cracks and breaks, and the harsh winds carry the dust away from the Throne of the Primal Fire. The silks are still soaked, and your cheeks are still wet when you drop yourself on the top of the stairs, right next to the throne which will serve as Thrain’s temporary resting place. His mind and soul may be disconnected from the mortal flesh, yet the phantom bite of chill grazes him still when you lean your head against his knee.

“I wonder if you still think me human even now, or have you given up on me at last…” Your whisper should be lost in the void, yet it still reaches its destination.

Cradled in the palm of your hand is the pyro gnosis. The corpse sizzles, glowing and warm, awaiting with bated breath the moment you deliver it to Bronya’s chess board where it finally reunites with the rest of its body. Only Thrain knows better than to believe it will ever leave your possession.

[Name] Einherjar trusts no one, not even herself. So when the other six parts of the corpse appear from the thin air, circling your palm with a magnetic pull that forces the pieces apart, Thrain is not even a bit shaken. You drop them to the ground too carelessly for something you so painstakingly hunted all this time, mismatched eyes forever scarred by abyss refusing to look at the remains any more than necessary.

“If I were a better person, I would’ve found another solution. I am not, so here we are.” Voice strained with emotion, your lashes drip with starlight. You do not weep for that which you do not yearn for, yet with the way tears dilute the crimson staining the skin of your face, it is hard for a heart to not ache in return. “But aren’t you proud of me, Thrain? For finally relying on someone else? It only took me 500 or so odd years…”

Swallowing harshly, you wipe your face clean with the same sleeve you cleansed the baleful blood from Mavuika and dart to your feet. Knee perched on the throne and one hand on his shoulder, you lift the helmet and place it carefully next to your feet. Then you lean down impossibly close. So close, one would be able to feel the warmth of breath on their skin. Neither of you is truly breathing, however, so the only thing that retains any warmth is the palm of your hand in which you held the pyro gnosis.

“You’ve waited a long while for me, so take your time. All the time you need. It’s my turn to wait.” Ear pressed right over his heart, you hear nothing. No heartbeat and no echoes, the void is the only thing that remains constant. “And when it’s over, I will welcome you back into the remnants of the old world with open arms.” Somehow the knowledge of this being just a beginning does not quench your misery, in turn, your tears grow only stronger. “But I am sure you know that already. You were always good at seeing me…”

The wind picks up again. The ashes and dust floating in the air serve as a reminder that the Thousand Winds of Time follow your every endeavor with a blessing which Death would never grant you. You shiver, the stained fabric of your glove slides off your hand with ease. Winds pick it up and carry it somewhere far away and you will never go searching for it. Your fingers swipe along the surface of your bottom lip, and then you do the same for him, fleeting touch yearning to linger for more than allowed. The phantom cold has never felt more like home than in that moment.

You distance yourself with a bitter chuckle, stained sleeve covering your face from the world, “How scandalous, some court ladies would have been devastated…”

Thrain is sure it would have been the case, yet there is no way of proving you right by causing outrage in the royal court of your memories. Fate was cruel, and it continues to prove to be the worst kind of tyrant even when you rebel against it.

“I’ve always–” You interrupt yourself, shaking your head to remove whatever improper thoughts crossed your mind. As if it could get any more inappropriate. “Never mind. It can wait for when I see you again.” Then you place the helmet back and gather the scattered gnoses, hiding them back in the Blade of Fólkvangr for safekeeping. “Till we meet again under the kinder moon, my heart and I.”

Thrain is aware this is your final farewell. You turn around and vanish to never come back to him despite your tear-stricken promise. His beloved is a distrustful liar, and when he sees you at last, you are a white comet descending upon the flaming remains of this old world. Burning bright to unite humanity in hatred just to die by the Holy Blade through your chest and the nails through your limbs.

This new world better be worth living with your blood staining his hands.

Thrain will decide when he gets there. For now, the white comet smiles just as beautifully as the day he lost her.

[shewhxmustnxtbenamed]

Through His Eyes (I Am Set Free) | 134k | E

Harry and Draco have a telepathic connection that remains unexplained in both the Muggle and wizarding worlds. Draco is assigned a mission by Voldemort to locate and capture the Boy Who Lived-- the trouble is that they don't know anything about him. While Draco struggles to gather information on this mysteriously absent hero, he and Harry start communicating again for the first time since they were kids. Harry continues life as normal until he discovers information which compels him to abandon his ordinary Muggle life with the endeavor to rescue and emancipate his only friend—even if that means bartering with his own life.

Preview under the cut

I’ve had a voice inside my head since I was young. Some people would call this a conscience. Others, maybe, an imaginary friend. That sits well when you’re a kid and everyone thinks you’ll grow out of the freaky habits that you pick up in adolescence. However, at twenty years old people are far less understanding. Especially when your “inner voice” has a name. 

“Draco,” I told my aunt one evening as a child, “that’s his name— the person in my head.” 

“Be quiet, boy,” she hushed, her narrow eyes glancing toward the open window. 

I wished that my conscience would’ve had a more ordinary name— maybe Tom or John. I was sure that other people had to have names for their voices, but as I grew older I realized that this isn’t the case at all. 

For one thing, people usually have thoughts in their own voice— Draco’s voice sounded like a posh northerner, which is far from my Surrey accent. I also figure that most people can control the voice in their head, but I can’t. I haven’t heard from him in nearly five years— not until recently, anyways, when his voice started slipping through. 

At first, it was just in my sleep. I’d wake up with the memory of shouting, but as soon as I was conscious, it was gone. Then, it started bleeding into reality, coming through louder than the music in my headphones. The odd part was that the things the voice said had nothing to do with me— sometimes it didn’t make any sense at all. 

I’d feel angry at random times, terribly sad at others, and occasionally when I was going to sleep, loneliness would overwhelm me so acutely that I would ache. On the other hand, I’d burst out laughing in the middle of work or have dreams about a giant castle with flying people and ghosts. It was bizarre, but I grew to like it. It was something interesting in the mix of my incredibly mundane life. 

Working as a builder wasn’t any more fun than it sounded. Sure, it was cool to see a house patched up and finished, but the dust that got in my eyes, and the mask that I wore every day did tend to get old. Not to mention that all of my clothing is covered in paint. It didn’t pay well, either, which left me to stay at my aunt and uncle’s house even though I’m twenty. I try as hard as I can in order to avoid them, but I’ve never had much luck in the realm of friends.  Growing up underfed and lanky, the target of my cousin’s bullying in school, and with a gigantic ugly scar on my forehead didn’t prove well for me even as I grew older. The confidence that I so desperately wanted never seemed to form, so I stuck to myself and kept my mouth shut. Being invisible is better than suffering— I learned that a long time ago. 

One thing about having a voice inside your head is that it can make inconspicuousness difficult, especially when you’re climbing a ladder to start thatching a roof and suddenly someone is screaming. I first took out my headphones and looked around, expecting someone to be in a perilous position and in need of help, but after locating all of my workmates I realized that it was Draco. 

It wasn’t a stream of words either, but random, sporadic ones that made me jump. What he was saying didn’t make any damn sense— like it was a made-up language you’d invent as a kid. He kept shouting word after word and I tried to get back to my work and ignore it, even turning up the volume on my headphones as high as it would go, but Draco’s voice only got louder. Eventually, on the roof with a bale of long straw at my feet, I yanked the headphones from my ears and shouted, “SHUT UP!” as loudly as I could. 

I stared around wildly, waiting for the voice to keep yelling or even argue back, but it was finally silent and I could think clearly again. Unfortunately for me, my workmates were all staring and I quickly realized how mental I appeared. I cleared my throat, waving them off as I shoved my earbuds back in and got to work, my face burning. 

After that, I only heard his voice in distant echoes in the back of my head. It was starting to be a concern of mine, and I did a lot of research on schizophrenia but didn’t think that most of the symptoms applied to me, except the auditory hallucinations. Clearly, that’s what this was— sounds that are being made up in my head. Nobody else can hear it, and it was never attached to anything that I’m doing. 

As a kid it was different— sometimes I would be able to have conversations with him and we’d play. He was my only friend, and we could talk anytime I wanted, no matter if I were locked in my cupboard for days on end, or if I was alone on the playground. We had come up with this imaginary world of magic and spells, and Draco would tell me stories of a grand school called Hogwarts that we would both go to one day. Over time the conversations grew less and less, and I assumed that my imagination was shrinking. And then, I didn’t hear from him at all— not a peep except a dream now and again of the made-up school we created. 

So what was happening to me? Why, all of the sudden, have I heard him? And why couldn’t I control his voice anymore? Why does he never seem to hear me? 

I felt like a child— not in the fun, playful way that a lot of people seem to think, but like I was lost and alone, and I wanted my imaginary friend to talk to me. Yes, I realized how pathetic that sounded, but when you’ve gone without friends for as long as I have— when you’ve lived in an abusive household since you were a year old— you get desperate for any type of connection. 

I felt braver in the dark. Maybe because it was familiar from all those years in the cupboard, but I pulled the duvet over my head and whispered to him desperately. 

“Draco?” my voice was quiet and hoarse. “Draco, can you hear me?”

[glatisant-questing]

Hakuouki Drama CD: An Unexpected Prospective Recruit (Translation, Part 2)

See part I here.

Iba: Ah, hearing that puts my mind at ease. Yes, Yamazaki-kun is someone Toshi-san trusts deeply. I'm sure he has no ulterior motives. By the way, Yamazaki-kun, did you join the Shinsengumi as soon as you heard about the formation of the Rōshigumi? Yamazaki: Yes, when I heard the news, I felt like this was the only place for me. Back then, it wasn't called the Shinsengumi, but rather the Rōshigumi. Hijikata: Those were nostalgic times. People from all walks of life came from far and wide to join us. Iba: Mr. Hijikata, you as well, right? You aspired to be a samurai since you were young. Hijikata: That's right. I was born a commoner, and my family business was going to be inherited by my older brother. When I was a child, I didn't really think about what kind of person I wanted to be. I just had this vague notion that it would be really cool to become a samurai carrying two swords. I even dabbled in merchant work for a bit, but it never felt right. However, my true desire to become a samurai blossomed only after I met Kondo-san. Iba: And then the Shinsengumi was formed. So, in a way, Toshi-san's long-held dream came true. Hijikata: Indeed, that's how it turned out. Yamazaki: Yes, for me, it seems I'm better suited for covert operations rather than direct confrontations with people, which is why I'm committed to my current role within the Shinsengumi. Hijikata: Yamazaki seems to have a liking for the ninja style, doesn't he? Yamazaki: Vice Commander! How did you know about that?! Hijikata: It's pretty obvious, isn't it? Even though there's no order, you often dress like a ninja. Yamazaki: That's because I just want to be inconspicuous in the dark. It's definitely not a personal interest of mine. Hijikata: No need to be so defensive. Wanting to be a ninja when you were a kid is pretty common. Yamazaki: Well, that's true, but still wanting to be a ninja at this age… Isn't that a bit childish? Hijikata: Don't worry too much about it. I'm sure the others understand you too. Yamazaki: I hope so. Iba: Yes, you do have quite the ninja vibe, so keep rocking that heroic look. Yamazaki: Hmm, not sure there's a strong connection between ninjas and heroics 🧐… But speaking of which, Iba-san, are you the heir to the Shingyōtō-ryū Swordsmanship School? Have you been practicing swordsmanship since childhood? Iba: Actually, no. I wasn't all that keen on swordsmanship when I was a kid. I preferred sitting in my room and reading books, and I even dreamed of becoming a scholar. Yamazaki: Really? Given your current position, that's hard to imagine. Was there a special reason that led you to learn swordsmanship? Hijikata: It seems he started learning swordsmanship because he wanted to protect someone he cared about. Iba: Well, yes. But hearing it from Toshi-san makes me a bit shy.

(tbc.)

[alexxkresnik]

💤- Clive 😏

Alex, upon returning that night from a mission, had taken the usual path to Clive’s room. Not the normal path through the door, though. Too many eyes watching and there was bound to be someone saying something. No, instead, he made his way over to the little balcony off the side of his room and climbed up. Was it inconspicuous? Absolutely not. But there were less people around who were even less likely to say something; other than Otto, of course, but he’d learned how to avoid his attention. 

He was exhausted and just wanted to curl up in bed next to Clive; leech off his warmth, listen to his heartbeat, actually sleep throughout the night. Clive, however, was still sitting over at his desk looking through missives and reports. It was his job, yes, but the man needed to also get rest; he worked the hardest out of all of them, after all. 

Without disturbing the silence, Alex walked over to the desk and sat down on the floor next to Clive’s chair. He wouldn’t bother the man, knowing he wouldn’t move until he felt he had done enough. Being able to be close to him, at least, was comforting enough for now. 

An hour passed and he could feel himself nodding off. As nice and tempting as the bed sounded, he didn’t want to move. So he just scooted closer, close enough to rest his head on Clive’s thigh. Gently enough to not disturb him too much, but also enough so he could relax. It didn’t take long after that for him to finally slip into slumber. Was it the most comfortable of positions? No, but he wouldn’t move even if ordered to the bed. Besides, this wasn’t the worst position he’d slept in. He was warm, though, and that was all that mattered at the moment.

[fishnamedsushi]

On the nocturnal habits of Hamsphire’s elusive owls (Pt. 1)

[In which I cannot wait 3+ years for the Jane Austen flashbacks we *better* be getting in Season 3, so I made up my own.

Featuring, in no particular order: a secret smuggling ring, Aziraphale annoying the local wildlife, and Crowley making a new friend.]

In the remarkable quiet of her rather unremarkable Hampshire cottage, Miss Jane Austen had taken a defensive position behind her writing desk. Her quill, having downed one too many pints of ink, was weaving a delightful drunken waltz across parchment, breathing life into the characters of her latest work, although somewhat against its own will. However, even as her hand was forced to document the scandalous affairs of society balls and romantic mishaps, her keen mind was having a party of its own somewhere else.

Resting on a random corner of her desk, as if it had just wandered off from a dull social gathering, was a letter. While about as inconspicuous in appearance as a piece of parchment could be, the letter, much to the annoyance of her fictional characters, was the real protagonist in Jane's thoughts. With the execution of a final full stop, she finally allowed herself to eye the letter with her full attention.

"An intriguing little fellow, isn't it?" she mumbled to the four walls. Her fingers gingerly navigated the unfamiliar terrain of the fine linen paper with a hint of the trepidation you'd feel before opening a suspiciously ticking box. It wasn't the typical love letter from a fan or a persuasive piece from a money-hungry publisher. No, it had all the trappings of a secret thriller, without any of the appropriate background music.

Without further ado, she rose, pushing the chair back with the aplomb of a magician revealing his final trick. She tread across the room, the wooden floorboards protesting beneath her feet. At the fireplace, a fire, the warmth of which was doing a poor job of countering the cool British draught, crackled in varying degrees of discontent.

She reached above the mantelpiece, where an innocent-looking set of her books sat. She selected one - a copy of 'Emma', rather fitting considering the meddling she herself was about to conduct. The book, in reality, was not a book at all, but a cleverly disguised secret box. It opened to reveal a fine selection of ciphering tools, looking as if they belonged more in the hands of a learned detective than a gentlewoman of her standing. But then, appearances could be as deceiving as a flattery-spouting suitor.

Settling back at her desk, she retrieved the coded message and the cipher from 'Emma's' secretive interior, the two entities meeting like old friends who had many a scandalous tale to share. Her quill, recharged after its dramatic performance earlier, dived headfirst into the decoding process. Decrypting was a favorite pastime, her mind working as smoothly as a well-oiled conspiracy theory, and with far more proficiency than the Reddit-that-would be. This was a world that operated in the shadows, where Miss Austen, the revered author, metamorphosed into "J" the underappreciated secret agent.

"Why, this is most bewildering," she muttered. Words emerged, and altogether made no sense: consignment, midnight, rookery? 

Then, like the striking of a well-tuned piano, it hit her. "A gathering of local intelligentsia?" she read aloud, her eyes widening with recognition. An idea began to form, as enticing as a plot twist in a novel, as she connected the dots.

"Mrs. Norris, we are off to a soirée!" she announced to her cat, who responded with the kind of disdain only felines and dowager countesses can muster.

In the next room, a clock chimed the eleventh hour, its sound seeming as out of place as a cucumber sandwich at a demon's feast. Time, it seemed, had a knack for making itself known when least welcome, much like a nosy neighbor who'd decided to 'pop by' right when you're in the middle of something terribly important.

"Dear me, look at that," Jane tutted. "Agent Austen, it seems your services are once again required." It was less a murmur and more of a statement that demanded a whimsical score in the background. With the decoding done, she reached for a bottle of disappearing ink. She quickly scribed a response, her hand elegantly conveying her words of acknowledgement and confirmation, weaving in coded phrases as easily as Mr. Bingley danced at a ball.

Her task complete, she sealed the letter with a wax emblem. The insignia, a simple-looking quill, was as deceptive as the rest of her evening had been. She surveyed her work, a smug satisfaction twirling in her eyes. "Just a night in the life of Jane, the novelist slash spy for King and country," she announced, to the distinct lack of applause from her audience of one.

She then returned her attention to the half-written manuscript, her mind shifting from dangerous intrigue to witty banter at a society ball. "Why, Miss Austen, you are as enigmatic as a heroine in one of your own novels," she mused, adjusting her bonnet with a flourish. Just as well, Jane thought, exiting her chair, there was never a dull moment. As she often noted, life was a lot like her favorite stories. It was full of twists, turns, and drama. Except, life also had a tendency to go off script and demand rewrites at the oddest times. 

She left her home with a bounce in her step, off to mingle with the intelligentsia and perhaps unmask a plot as twisted as any she could pen.

Mrs. Norris, left to her own devices, merely yawned and settled into a comfortable slumber, unimpressed by the human propensity for drama. After all, real intrigue involved strategically knocking objects off shelves, not gallivanting off to gatherings with intellectuals.

[Part 2 coming soon]

[dreams1nc]

Just some general headcanons about Isamu’s timeline in total along with how his appearance shifted.

Kyoto Tech Days: lanky && small boned, to the rest of the Taniguchi Clan he was thought to be submissive, someone who didn’t have much to give with little self esteem. Highly introverted while rarely speaking to classmates as he endured a cultural shock, he would meet Naoto around this time despite their language barrier, they became fast best friends. Naoto often found it peculiar Isamu was enrolled in formal teachings finding it to be pointless due to his own militaristic training && belief strength cannot be determined by a grading scale. Shoulder length blonde hair, feathered, soft to the touch - no scar yet, fox like brown eyes that shine when he smiles. His uniform was more form fitted in order for him to move about, at this point he’s still playing with cursed tools to see what he likes, bludgeoning weapons tend to be his favorite. Around his third year, he would acquire the old war hammer he’s most known to carry. No one is quite sure where he manages to store his strength, even if he is confused by it.

Post Graduation, Isamu is urged to join the rest of the Taniguchi Clan by learning their trade of hospitality. Rather than endure the social pressure of a minor noble house, he leaves to venture off to Tokyo, estimated to be around his early 20’s he essentially migrates life as a non sorcerer but has experience from living previously with his father in Sweden. At this point, Naoto joins him having lost his crown as head of the Hei while the two ultimately try to figure out where their lives progress from there forth. He makes minor notoriety for his intensity when it comes to being an adrenaline seeker, someone that wants a thrill at any expense. Isamu learns to manifest his cursed energy into the Börjesson technique of puppeting entities, from there, he crafts a familiar in the design of a white wolf. Though, he doesn’t seem to show any indication of becoming a sorcerer that would become registered && take on assignments as he graduated with low markings due to his lack of personal drive. An inconspicuous man with shoulder length blonde hair, at this point, he plates it intricately while starting to modify his body in piercings && acquire his sleeve tattoo. It’s noticeable he has a rather gruesome jaw scar that he vocalizes was obtained by it nearly being ripped off his face. That was where Isamu realized, perhaps he wasn’t cut out for field assignments. He does nothing to cover it, finding it gives him character.

Late 20’s early 30’s, Isamu takes up a position in administration at Kyoto Tech. Essentially working a clerical role while it’s noticed he has acquired multiple vehicle registrations. All of which he laughs at are dubious as he is known for street racing much to the dismay of his inner circle. Surprisingly works well as a salaryman, once more dealing with Naoto’s criticism that he is wasting his talent while he finds the work of overseeing operations to be soothing. In order to hide his tattoos && modified body, he tends to wear luxurious suits, well tailored with pristine boots, heavy silver rings to cover his fingers, there are slight traces that Taniguchi is far more exciting than his bland face allows. The residue of black around his eyes, the slight glimmer of jewelry in his mouth && his platinum blonde hair swept into a high ponytail. He refrains from smoking in front of students obtaining a strong addiction to salty licorice && caffeine. Known for sending students off with the continuous echoing, should they need assistance to end a mission; don’t hesitate to scream. Makes a brief cameo during his mid 30’s during JJK0 as he’s seen during the Night Parade smoking casually while his familiar devours curses.

Current day, still continuously working at Kyoto Tech while ushering in new students && continuing classes. His ethereal && dreamy nature becomes notorious as he seems more confident in his abilities in his mid 30’s, showcasing to students his decision to work behind the scenes does not lessen his strength, it was merely what he enjoyed. Regarded highly for his ability to make quick decisions && remain calm in the midst of turmoil, after Shibuya, Isamu would lose a portion of his left hand replacing his digits with a prosthetic via gloves. Wears his hair completely loose now, parted in the middle, hanging past his waist while his suit constantly has a different pin to represent the season or various symbolism. Students are granted the chance to gain a driving license with his tutoring && he’s commonly seen with his familiar Fenrir when lowering the veil as the entity can be summoned by students for further assistance if they need it.

[spookyfishbiscuit]

Black Clover Headcannons

Prompt: What it's like to be best friends with Black Clover characters. (outlining how you met, why they like you as a friend, what your relationship is like and what you like to do together).

Includes Asta, Yami, Mereoleona and Nozel.

Asta:

To be honest, I think it would be very difficult to become Asta's number one best friend, considering how well he gets along with literally everyone.

I'd say to have an advantage you would have to have known him from an earlier stage – namely his childhood in Hage village.

Before you were friends, he would always see you running around and helping at the local tilling fields. You were a peasant out in the country side of the Forbidden Realm, just as he was.

What initially drew him to you was your positivity and happiness. You were a very earnest child and many of the village's adults enjoyed having you around to help them farm.

One day he approached you, and ever since then you guys were inseparable.

He always had a bunch of energy and you always managed to keep up with his shenanigans.

Because of you he started helping around the village just like you, which ended up acting as a contributing factor to his wish of becoming the Magic Emperor.

He didn't really show it, but when he didn't get his grimoire on the day he was supposed to, he was a bit upset about it.

You were the one to motivate him to keep trying. You were literally the only person at the time to believe in his hard-working efforts.

As a result, he now keeps you in the highest regard for all the help you gave him.

Because of you, he strongly believes that his bonds with others are the key to unlocking his inner strength. You're quite literally the proof for his ideal.

When you meet up, the two of you like to hang out around Hage village. The place holds many memories for you, so you spend a lot of time catching up while walking and lounging around in your childhood meet up spots.

He loves to tell you about his exploits with the magic knights and he keeps you updated on the latest happenings in the country.

Sometimes he takes you to the royal capital or to the towns in the common realm. He doesn't go there too often himself, so the two of you go around exploring and doing fun things in general.

Unlike with others, Asta can also confide in you whenever he isn't feeling like his usual self. When he's down, you're the only person he honestly confides in, because he knows he'll feel better and that you'll end up finding a way to motivate him again.

Yami:

With this guy it's pretty simple. As long as you're straightforward with him and honest from day one, he'll end up taking a liking to you.

It doesn't matter whether you're super strong, gutsy or brave, as long as he can understand where you're coming from, he won't have anything against you.

However, I believe that in order for you to become his best friend you may have to be able to fight (either in battle or just standing up for yourself) – even to a small extent.

If he's genuinely impressed by one of your qualities, he'll want to spend more time with you.

He'll be amused by your antics and would truly find you intriguing enough to spend his time with.

But if he can learn something from you, that would be an even greater bonus. If you can challenge him and bring new concepts for him to try out in battle, he'll keep you around even more and his respect for you would skyrocket.

The first time you meet, it could literally be anywhere. You could either be a fellow magic knight, a random person on the street or someone drinking in a local bar – the options are limitless.

Yami opens up rather quickly after getting used to someone being around, so you don't necessarily have to know him for a super long time in order to become his number one friend (a few years is more than enough).

He enjoys his alone time and generally tends to be reserved, so if you're someone who can be quiet and inconspicuous he'll appreciate that greatly.

The two of you like to lazy around together most of the time. He invites you to the Black Bulls base often just to chill and strike up conversation ocassionally.

Everyone in the squad knows who you are, and literally all of them respect you just as much as their captain (they see you as practically two peas in a pod).

When something's bothering Yami, he would genuinely confide in you with anything (even if it's vulgar and ought not to be discussed). As a magic knights captain he feels the need to be strong in front of the his squad, so if he's ever in a pinch about something, you're the person he talks to.

He really likes when instead of sympathy you give him solid constructive criticism. He may be a bit defensive at first but once you knock some sense into him he'll begin to look at it your way, and more often then not he'll find the solution to his problem.

Naturally as your best buddy, he would hang around with you at his favourite bars often.

Even if you're not much of a drinker or a gambler, he enjoys the atmosphere of the place and the two of you always find ways to entertain yourselves there.

He trusts that you'll be able to protect yourself if need be (he truly sees your value), but he can be a bit possessive at times, especially if he's a bit drunk.

"Oi, what the hell. They're my friend you dunce. Go get your own." (He would say that with the most ticked off and intimidating expression).

The man has literally no shame in front of you. Honestly, he would even walk out naked and not bat an eye to your presence despite how indecent that is.

Mereoleona:

In all honesty, you would probably meet her in the middle of a forest.

As a kid she was very aggressive and wild, but despite that her heart was still pure.

When she first saw you walking by yourself through the wilderness, she grew intrigued and decided to go test your strength. You were close to her age which was something she instantly recognised.

It's said that strong people sense others like them from a distance, and that's exactly what happened between the two of you.

Somehow, you managed to stand your ground after your confrontation, and ever since then the two of you were attached by the hip.

Mereoleona loves to drag you around with her. You're considerably more passive compared to her which she adores about you (because you never resist when she literally kidnaps you).

She finds that adventures with you are always more fun than if she were to go alone, so be prepared for a bunch of spontaneous tests of courage and strength that she creates.

As her best friend, you're able to keep up with her and occasionally challenge her outright.

Even if you're not a mana genius or a combat expert, if you have any quality that far surpasses her she literally won't stop bugging you until she beats you (but she will always admire that quality of yours).

Over time, you'll learn to read her.

Mereoleona isn't a woman who expresses herself in ways other than toughness, but sometimes she lets a softer side slip.

She enjoys that she can open up to you without being viewed any differently. In fact, she's considerably softer towards you in general.

She truly loves that she can smile and laugh around you freely.

The two of you often stay up late, laying around outdoors and staring up at the dark sky the same way you used to do as kids. She talks to you about anything and everything, including more sensitive subjects such as her feelings towards her brother's injuries.

You're one of the only people capable of calming her down and she's very honest towards you as a result.

Nozel:

You would have to know this man a while before he considers even slightly opening up to you.

He's very cold on the surface and has a hard time expressing his true concerns, so naturally it would take ages of dedication to finally crack that shell.

The first time he began considering you an ally was when you stood up for him despite not needing to. Someone was making fun of his stoic expression and hairstyle, but for some reason you decided to shut them up.

You weren't a suck up, so he knew you weren't doing it just to get in his good books.

In fact, on the inside he's always admired your righteousness and peace-loving attitude.

After that incident, he actually started speaking to you properly. He graudally increased how often he spoke to you, and eventually he could be found with you more than with his siblings, which greatly surprised everyone.

He continued to hold you in high regard throughout the years. He saw you as a strong and independent person.

You never really relied on anyone to do anything, which only prompted him to confide business related problems with you more often (since he knew you weren't influenced easily by others).

He's only ever viewed you as a strong and greatly trusted ally (practically a confidant) until one day you called him your friend, at which stage he realised that this was in fact the case with you two.

It was foreign to him at first, but when you explained that the words ally and friend were practically the same thing, he realised that it wasn't as bad as he initially thought.

You are honestly the only person in the entire kingdom that can make him smile even a bit. Because of you, he's actually been caught smiling in front of others too – a very strange sight to those who know him.

You've finally discovered his fleeting non-existent sense of humour (which apparently only works when he's in a good mood).

He feels like he can express his problems with you easily enough. Of course he still gets a bit flustered when doing so, but your totally normal attitude towards his confessions brewed confidence in him, so he started doing so more often.

Whenever he's tired of paperwork or any official business, he calls you to his office just to have you around. He'll continue working even when you're there, but he'll give you a small smile if you bring him some tea.

Despite how busy his schedule is, you guys are always near each other. If not in the same room, then definitely in the same building.

He really enjoys talking to you in peace and even feels comfortable falling asleep near you when the two of you are alone.

Also, if anyone as much as insults you, good luck. They won't be going unpunished by Nozel's wrath.

[honeypirate]

Just a little Touch Starved

Hinawa x fem reader

When your Lieutenant, who you have a very flirty relationship with, learns of your predicament, he tries his best to help you.

Unedited

@fatgumshoneybun :)

You didn’t have much experience with weapons. You were an expert with hand to hand combat but that only got you so far, so you weren’t surprised when Lieutenant Hinawa brought you aside and told you he wanted you to start training with him with weapons.

“Once you become an expert with different weapons you’ll be a well rounded soldier and I won’t have to worry about you” he said with his normal stoic expression and unamused tone, pretending like he didn’t just admit to worrying about you specifically.

You felt special for maybe three seconds before you realize he probably worries about the rest of the crew too since that’s his job and he never usually breaks protocol. He never flirts with you at work.

“Yes sir! I’ll be looking forward to it”

Which wasn’t a lie, you were looking forward to it. You were excited to get stronger and learn, but you didn’t realize it meant he’d have to show you how to hold the weapons.

“Can I touch you?” He asks and you nod, knowing it would help to have him just position you “Let me know if I make you uncomfortable being this close and i will stop ” he says and you nod “it’s okay. I don’t mind close contact I used to work in a kitchen” you say with a laugh and he lets an almost laugh out, which was just air from his nose as he smirks.

You tried to control your breathing as the world seems to slow down. He steps close behind you, pressing his chest against your back you can feel him from your shoulders to your top of your butt. He wrapped his arms around you, his thumbs brushing lightly against your forearms, leaving tingles as he brushes them down to your wrists as he guides his hands around yours and transfers his gun into your hand.

“Hold it like this” you can feel his breath, hot on your ear and you bite the inside of your cheek so you didn’t make a sound.

If you said you were touch starved, that would be an understatement.

A pat on the shoulder from your captain was the most touch and action you’ve gotten in what seems like years.

Sure you get a hug from Maki or Iris occasionally but that wasn’t satisfying to you. You wanted, no, needed, one of those whole body hugs with the right amount of tightness. you wanted to be smothered by someone as they lay all their weight on top of you while you cuddle, you wanted, in the most innocent and naughty ways at the same time, to be touched and held and loved.

When Maki talked to you about love languages one day and showed you the test, you weren’t at all surprised to find out your love language is physical touch, just made you realize how extra touch starved you were from being single for so long.

And if you really paid attention you would have realized that since that conversation with Maki, Hinawa(having overheard your conversation) has been giving you more attention that usual. he would pat your shoulder/back more, ruffle your hair, inconspicuous ways he could show you that he cared for you by using your love language. cut him some slack he’s rusty with feelings.

All that touch starved energy you’ve been ignoring comes back full force as try not to focus on the way you can feel his voice vibrate into your back from his chest “Keep your hand here, bracing the bottom. Keep your elbows like this” he runs his hands up your arms to your elbows to position them before he gently knees you in the back on your leg and you feel your breath hitch and have to remind yourself to breathe deeply so you don’t get light headed from not breathing.

“Keep your knees bent a little” he pushes up your foot with his “keep your left foot farther forward and keep your legs slightly wider than shoulder width”

A sound like a whimper leaves your throat and you quickly cough to cover it, your cheeks heating quickly when you feel him chuckle against your back, you knew he knew but you were grateful he didn't tease you about it.

What you did to deserve this from the universe you didn’t know, but you couldn’t decide if you liked it or if it was cruel to give you a taste of something you didn’t know if you could even have. You’re leaning more towards cruel because even though you and Hinawa have a pretty flirty outside of work relationship, he’s never openly been so bold while working, so, this has to be you reading in to things, right?

“Line up the barrel with your mark, never put your finger on the trigger unless you’re ready to shoot.” You nod and look down the barrel to the target he’s placed a ways off “when you’re ready, take a deep breath and pull the trigger on the exhale” you sight the paper in the distance and line up a shot, you take in a deep breath, and smile slightly, goosebumps running down your back, when he breathes in with you.

And as you both let out your slow breaths you move your finger over and put pressure against the trigger

Your ears ring from the blast, your fingers vibrating with the recoil, but his strong arms around yours made it easy to keep the gun in your hands

“Good job” he says and steps away from you, your back feeling cold for just a second with the lack of his warmth.

Your soul felt like it was glowing, felt like an infernal, Your heart seemed burned alive with how good that felt. Shooting the gun and having him pressed into you for so long. You miss it, you realize a little sadly, the feeling of his strong chest against your back and you decided that the universe was cruel.

You practiced with his guns for a few hours until he was satisfied you knew all he wanted to teach you. Then you spent the next week doing more training to get the information to stick.

You thought that this was it, that guns were his specialty and he had nothing more to teach, you tried to forget about the way his strong body felt pressed to you but you couldn’t help but think about it every time you see him.

Forgetting, you realized, wouldn’t be easy when he said “okay, tomorrow we will practice with a staff” you choked on the water you were drinking “you know more than just guns?” You ask and you felt your cheeks warm when he meets your eye

“I know a lot of things that would surprise you” he says and his deep voice sends tingles down your spine. ‘He’s definitely flirting’ You think as you smile up at him “I hope you teach them all to me then” you say back and watch as his ears turn red, he just rolls his eyes, changing the subject before dismissing you.

The next morning when you walk out to the training ground he tosses a staff to you, which you catch with ease “are you ready?” He asks and you nod “let’s do this”

After he talks to you about how to use it, when to use it, what it’s good and bad against, he comes to stand behind you and you suck in a breath and hold it

He uses his left foot to tap your boots until you widen your stance, he reaches around your body, grabbing the staff next to your hands “copy me” he says into your ear and you feel your body begin to buzz as your heart races.

You move your hands, right hand holding the top of staff and left hand underneath, pressed right against his. “Good girl” he says, seemingly right into your ear, and you let out your breath quickly, biting your tongue to withhold any inappropriate noises. There was no way this was normal, no way he treated others like this. He has to be teasing you. Then it clicks, he’s enjoying this just as much as you are.

For the moment though, you push the way he feels pressed up next to you out of your head as he goes through movements with you. After a few minutes, when you were moving through his order precisely, he stopped. “Good, now lets spar”

After you’re done sparring with him, your hands feel blistered and you’re panting as you collapse to the ground “geez Lieutenant, I’m beginning to think you’re an expert at everything” you say between pants and he suppresses his smile, grabbing a couple water bottles.

He comes and crouches beside you, handing you a bottle. “Good thing I’m your teacher then” he says and you laugh, sitting up and taking the water from him with a smile “thanks Lieutenant” you say and he shakes his head “Hinawa” he says and you raise your eyebrows “what?” He clears his throat “if you’re comfortable, you can call me by my name” you laugh and place your hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently for a moment before pulling back “thanks, Hinawa” you watch his jaw tense and his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard and nods, his ears turning pink.

Oh god if you thought the first two were bad, the bow was worse.

“Can I show you again?” He asks and you nod, avoiding his eye so you wouldn’t blush.

He stands behind you, kicking your boots gently until you’re in the right stance then his arms come around you once more.

A soft sigh falls from his lips and you feel electricity enters your body from where his chest was pressed into your back. A sigh that made your cheeks heat, one that said ‘I like this’ and made you realize without a doubt that he felt the same as you did.

His hands rested against yours as he placed them on the bow before guiding your fingers to the string.

“This isn’t a very heavy string, as you train and get stronger you can use better bows” he says into your ear and this time you don’t hold in the satisfied hum “and you’ll teach me then too?” You ask, feeling a little bold

“I don’t know if that will be necessary” he says in his stern way that almost makes you think you took the signs the wrong way until he turns his lips closer to your ear “but I’m willing to give you a refresh lesson” you hear the smirk in his voice and you can’t help but chuckle

You turn your head to look back into his eye, your noses almost touching “and will it be like this?” You ask and you see his lips turn up in smirk “I believe that might be necessary if you keep this weak hold on the bow” you gasp and drop the bow, turning around in his arms and hit his chest playfully “so you have been teasing me during these lessons!”

He moves his hands to be closer together on the bow and stands up normally, pulling you a little closer to his chest with the bow “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable” he says and you feel your cheeks heat up again under his gaze

“I didn’t say that” you say softly and he chuckles “I just, I didn’t know, ya know? At least at first” you feel your cheeks warm “ No one has ever shown me how to hold a gun before or any weapons. I didn’t know it was extra flirty. I thought it was normal. Until the staff lesson, that was obvious”

He is silent for a moment and you watch as his cheeks dust light pink “I know I should have been professional, I -” you reach up and cover his lips with your first fingers softly “yes, you probably should have, but i’m not complaining, really” your cheeks heat up again “plus, it’s not like we haven’t been flirting for months”

“And i may have heard you talk to Maki about how you were touch starved” he confesses and you laugh once as you look up at him

“You had to look up what - “

“I had to look up what that meant yes” he nods once. After he looked it up, he couldn’t handle even thinking about you getting that from someone else, the jealousy he felt imagining you hugging someone who wasn’t him or kissing someone who wasn’t him, he couldn’t do it. That’s when he realized how deep his feelings for you were

You smiled, your heart was warm. He heard you talk about something that you were struggling with, looked it up to see how to help, and has been trying to help you ever since.

“You know, it would have been easier to just ask me if i needed a hug”

“Yeah but you need the training. I didn’t make that part up. You need to get stronger to stay with the company”

You laugh at his business demeanor and then wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face into his shoulder and sighing into him

He sets the bow aside and wraps his arms around your back, hugging you to his chest tightly, his strong arms making you feel safe and supported. You tilt your face up, brushing your nose against his neck as you whisper into his ear “thank you Hinawa” you whisper and he lets out a low hum of approval, of obvious pleasure from the hug, like he has been just as touch starved as you.

“Maybe you should teach me how to use a bow” you say after five minutes and you chuckle when his hold tightens a little

“Yes” he agrees but doesn’t show any sign of moving

Even though you havent had a lot of intimate or close time with him, you felt comfortable in his arms. It felt right, and you didnt want to move just as much as he didnt. You hum softly as you brush your nose up his neck and then against his jaw “Hinawa” you whisper and it sends tingles down his spine.

“You’re such a secret softy” you whisper and he chuckles “don’t tell anyone. It’ll ruin my reputation”

You chuckle “we can’t have that. It cant ever come out that the bad ass lieutenant of the eighth likes to hug and likes physical affection” you pepper light kisses across his neck and jaw. feeling him shudder slightly at the sensation of your lips against his skin.

“Cant have anyone know how the lieutenant broke the rules on a work day in the middle of training, stopping just to hug and hold his coworker even though they’re not really together and haven’t even filed the proper paperwork.” that one seemed to get him and he pulled back to look down at you “I hope you know that we’re still doing all the training i have planned. This isnt changing that. And the paperwork isn’t difficult we should do that later”

You pause for a moment, looking into his eyes, watching as the corners of his lips turn up into a small smile.

Your fingers play with the hair coming out of the back of his cap “So what you’re saying here, is that you want to be relationship with me and fill out the paperwork, and that you aren’t gonna cut me any slack with training today?”

He nods “yeah that’s what I’m saying”

You laugh and take off his hat, putting it on your own head and turning it backwards as you reach up and run your hands through his hair.

“Then let’s do it” you say with a grin and he cups your cheek, eyes looking down at your lips “what are you doing friday night?” he asks as his eyes look back up to yours “I got a hot date” you say and he raises his eyebrows “do you now?” he asks and you nod, standing on your tiptoes to brush your nose against his “yeah. with you” you whisper and you see the way his eyes go from confused to amused as he rolls his eyes and then surprises you by pressing his lips to yours.

Safe to say, you both won't have to be touch starved anymore.

[starlightinhumanform]

The Untold Tales of Ba Sing Se

Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender 

Ship: Sokka x fem!Reader (Romantic Relationship)

Summary: The daughter of an airbender has lived her entire life trying to hide her bending, but upon hearing the news that the Avatar is in the city, she is determined to meet him and learn more about her culture. But things never go as planned, and she finds herself sidetracked by a water tribe boy. 

Warnings (in order of strength): None (Please let me know if anything needs to be added)

Genre: Fluff, Meet-Cute

A/N: Well... my hand slipped. This is based on this request and it was so fun to write!!! I’ve never written x reader before so I hope it’s ok! Love you all 🖤✨

Ao3   Fic Masterpost   Fic Request Info

It was a dusty afternoon as you tried to walk inconspicuously through the crowds at the top of the middle ring of Ba Sing Se. As the sun beat down and the people bustled into each other, you were grateful for the loose, thin material of your clothes and its light yellow colour which kept you far cooler than the deep greens and browns of the earth nation. Your mother told you that dressing like an air nomad— you had shaved your head and everything in an attempt to follow tradition— was like drawing a target on your back and maybe she was right, but it was so much more comfortable.

The thought of your mother’s chiding turned your mind towards her and guilt began creeping over you. She would kill you if she knew you were here, trying to sneak into the upper ring of the city to meet the Avatar. She was incredibly cautious and, in turn, incredibly protective of you. You couldn’t really blame her, though, given her own experiences as an airbender barely escaping the carnage of the fire nation. She had managed to reach Ba Sing Se and hide her identity almost completely. Almost. Her foolproof plan had one tiny crack in its great structure— her daughter. By either blessing or a curse, you had been born with the ability to airbend like your mother. Unlike your mother, however, you did not have such an easy time tamping down those abilities. You could feel it all the time, the spiritual energy surging through you and all the powers of the sky trapped within your body. You felt like a caged bird, desperate for freedom. And finally, you had the chance to fly. The Avatar could be your way out if only you could reach him.

“Oh, hey! I didn’t expect to see you here!” A boy’s voice only inches behind you startled you from your thoughts. It was rough, with a hitch in the middle and it didn’t sound like anyone you knew.

You felt your heartbeat begin racing as he came up beside you and threw his arm around your shoulders, “What are you doing here?”

I’ve been caught haven’t, I? They know I’m trying to sneak through the wall. You tried to swallow but your mouth was dry. Your mind began racing to come up with a plausible excuse. The crowd was thick and if you could just break free, it would be easier to hide amongst all these people than it would be to try and talk your way out of this.

You ducked from under his arm, prepared to walk swiftly in any direction away from this situation but he quickly caught your wrist, gripping it tightly.

“Where are you going?” His voice was deeper now, dropping as it had shifted to a serious tone.

Guilt and panic churned in your core, your heart sinking to join the mix as you realized there was no way out of this. You turned to face him, actually looking at him for the first time. He was about your age but definitely taller than you. You could tell immediately that he was from a water tribe, his tan skin and blue clothing giving it away. His eyes were blue as well but what you noticed more than the colour was how sharp his eyes were, like they had been chiseled into his face.

Realization dawned on you, “You’re Sokka, aren’t you?”

He squinted like he was trying to read a small font, “And you’re not Aang, are you?”

The adrenaline still pounding through your body was making your head feel light and at the thought of being mistaken for the Avatar, you doubled over laughing, “No, no, that’s not me.”

Sokka let go of your wrist and rubbed at the back of his neck with his now free hand, obviously feeling self conscious, “Well, uh, sorry about that whole mix up.”

You couldn’t help but laugh lightly at his awkwardness. You had heard stories about Sokka, he was supposed to be a great warrior but he was just… a boy. It was kind of cute, actually, “No it’s fine, even if you did give me a small heart attack.”

“Is there any way I could make it up to you?”

A grin spread across your face, “Take me to the upper ring?”

You grabbed his hand as he led you through to the center of the city, noting the blush spreading to his face as you did so. Oh, definitely cute.

Sokka cleared his throat, “So, uh, why were you trying to get up here anyways?”

Your face turned red, “Was it really that obvious?” 

“Oh yeah. And besides, you’re not exactly dressed for stealth,” He gestured at your brightly coloured clothes, “Why do you wear that anyways?”

“Well… I wanted to get up here to meet Aang and as far as my clothes,” You could feel your heartbeat quickening again. You could trust him, right? He was friends with the Avatar and was fighting against the fire nation. He was safe. The crowd was far thinner now as you continued walking, but there were still too many people. Your mother had taught you that even one could be too many if they were the wrong person, “I’ve just always felt a connection to the air nation I guess.”

“Huh.”

You began chewing on your bottom lip at his noncommittal answer. He can tell I’m lying.

“Aang’s not around right now,” Sokka broke the tense silence, “He’s looking for Appa.”

You nodded; you had heard about the Avatar’s missing bison and had been looking for signs of the animal yourself.

“But, you know, you could hang out with me. If you want, of course. Just until Aang’s back. But I understand—”

That adorable awkwardness was showing again as Sokka tried to get the words out. You smiled, “Yes, that sounds great.”

Sokka’s face split into a beaming grinning, “Ok, great!”

————————

The day passed quickly as Sokka took you on a tower of this elite portion of the city. He had even taken you to lunch at one of the fancy restaurants because— as he said, with a wiggle of his eyebrows, of course— he “had connections.”

Now you were sitting together on a hill from which you could see almost the entirety of Ba Sing Se burning with the rays of the sunset.

Sokka was sitting beside you, the sharp lines of his face accentuated by the deep shadows. You had convinced him to let his hair down and now tucked a piece of it behind his ear so you could see his profile more clearly.

He glanced towards you and you were almost startled by the intensity of his gaze. He was an idiot, no doubt about it, but that silliness was just a fraction of his personality, counteracting his fierce cunning. Now all of that intelligence was being directed at you, his eyes sweeping over your body.

“You’re an airbender, aren’t you?”

You turned away, your eyes searching for something to look at in the city below, anything but his eyes that continued to pick you apart.

You couldn’t see his face but his voice softened as he began to speak again, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you, I just—”

“No, you’re right. It’s just… my mother has always taught me to hide my bending. And she’s right, with the,” You lowered your voice, “with the war and all. We’re not supposed to even know about the war here, but my mom told me about it. She told me how she escaped one of the air temples and she taught me just how ruthless the fire nation army can be. She’s right, I should keep it a secret.”

Sokka placed his hand over yours, “You shouldn’t have to keep who you are hidden. You deserve better than that.”

Water was supposed to be cool, but Sokka was anything but cold. His voice flowed over you like a summer breeze and the warmth of his hand seeped into yours, your fingers thin and somehow far more delicate beneath his. And now the warmth was spreading upwards, reaching your face as your eyes began to fill with hot tears.

Sokka reached over with his free hand, gently tipping your chin upwards to face him, “I promise that one day this war will be over, and you’ll never have to hide again.”

You nodded, not sure what to say. The only other person you had ever talked about airbending with was your mother, and those conversations revolved entirely around fear and secrets. This was completely different, “How did you know? That I was an airbender, I mean.”

“Well for one thing your clothes,” He grinned, “I knew there had to be a good reason for a pretty girl like you to wear those big old robes.”

You shoved him lightly, trying to play off the blush rising to your face. You were grateful for the shift in the conversation but still completely unsure of how to react.

“But really, there’s something about the way you walk and move,” Sokka’s eyebrows were woven together in thought, “like your footsteps are lighter than they should be. I don’t really know how to describe it but it’s something I’ve only seen in one other person.”

“Aang?”

Sokka nodded, then suddenly pointed up into the sky, “Look, there he is now.”

You looked up where Sokka was pointing. The silhouette of a glider circled against the fading red of the sky before landing amongst the buildings a little ways down the hill.

Sokka began moving as if to get up, “Do you want to go to talk to him?”

“Wait!” The word slipped out of your mouth before you had the chance to think. You didn’t want to go yet, didn’t want this— whatever this was— to end yet.

Sokka shifted back into a sitting position, leaning lightly against you, “Everything alright?”

“Yeah I’m fine, I just… I just wanted to say thank you.”

He grinned quizzically, “For what?”

“I don’t know. For everything, for today, for showing me that there’s hope for a different future. Also for this,” You leaned forward, pressing your lips against his and feeling him sigh into the kiss.

He broke away after a moment, his cheeks a bright pink, “Oh, that, ok.”

You winced slightly, “Sorry, was that alright?”

“What? Oh yeah that was fine!” He laughed then pulled you into another kiss, one hand holding the back of your head and the other lacing through your fingers.

You melted into it, feeling yourself smile against his mouth. The Avatar could wait.

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[jun-thorne]

I will fall so you can rise. "He is wonderful, Kishou, really!” The young, green haired woman laughed. “He had so much to endure, so much to suffer. It feels like he jumped right out of a novel”

Arima felt the corners of his lips pulling. He did not share Etos enthusiasm for tragedies, but her happiness and talkative behaviour always lightened up his mood.

“Ill see if he is a suitable candidate for our purpose” he replied in his usual serious tone.

“The CCG will soon attack the 20. Ward. Then I will be able to assess him first-hand.”

Eto giggled “I’m sure he will prove himself to be worthy, Kishou. Ken Kaneki, the future one-eyed King. “

 

The atmosphere in cochlea resembled the silence before the storm. The air was thick and seemed tense. The occasional footsteps of the guards were hectic, nervous. But the white reaper of the CCG remained unfazed.

Kishou Arima stood motionless on his post, his glance fixed and his face neutral. But his outer appearance deceived. His mind was racing, roaming restless, thinking about him.

During the last months, Haise had changed. Arima pretended not to notice, but the truth could not have been more obvious. The, formerly, strong wall between Ken Kaneki and Haise Sasaki had crumbled and turned to dust. The gears which had been created by Eto and him, Arima, were now turning, and could not be stopped anymore.

 

„You need a name. “Arima said, his voice bland and stern, his face vacuous.

“A name…? “Replied Prisoner 240, surprise and a hint of confusion in his expression.

“The rehabilitation program plans for you to become an investigator. We cannot call you number 240 forever. What would you like it to be?  Arima said, his expression still neutral.

“A Name… Don’t others usually give names?” asked Prisoner 240. The surprise in his face had now turned into confusion completely.

“The Higher ups have said that they would leave it to you.” Arima replied, his voice imperceptibly softer. “Pick to of your favourite Kanji”

“Then Coffee… and the world” 240 said after hesitating shortly.

“So Haise“

„mmm… I like it. It sounds nice. Thank you, Arima-San. “ in Haise’s voice lay happiness, as he looked up to Arima. The older man looked back with his usual neutral expression. But if one would have looked closely, they could have recognized the spark in Arimas eyes, which had not been there before.

 

A squad of guards passed under the platform he was standing on. But Arima did not pay attention to them, his thoughts dwelling in the past.

Arima had supervised the “creation” of Haise Sasaki. He had trained him, had watched him grow and learn. He knew every of his little mannerism, every move of him, by heart.

In the beginning he had tried to convince himself, that his interest in Sasaki had been of pure professional nature. Eto had chosen him, and he would train him, forming him into the man he needed to be.

But Arima had grown fond of Haise. He catched himself reorganizing his schedule to make time to return the borrowed books personally, or to slide in a small stop for coffee at the chateau.

 

“Arima-San, your coffee is really mug-nificent” Haise snickered, voice filled with unconcealed pride about his successful pun. Contrary to his normally reserved behaviour, Arima could feel a small grin pull on the corners of his mouth.

“Thank you, that beans a lot to me” he answered, resulting in Haise bursting out with laughter and spitting his Coffee over the table. The sight was hilarious and soon Arima was laughing too, loud and sincere.

 

Startled by his thoughts, Arima returned his attention to the present. He noticed the small smile which had sneaked upon his face and quickly removed it, going back to his blank expression. He could not afford such displays of emotion.

His thoughts travelled to his first encounter with Kaneki, during the fight at the route V14 under the 20. Ward. The determination of the young ghoul had surprised, even impressed him. Kanekis will had been strong, but he had been no match for Arima. Still, Arima had decided to spare his life…. At least a part of it. He had inflicted intolerable pain on Kaneki, wiping out his old life and his memories in the process.

 

„You were right Eto” he said. “He really is special. “

„Was there ever any doubt?” asked the young ghoul. “He has this determination, right?

 Arima only nodded-

“This world is just like a novel, Kishou…” she mused “and we are creating the protagonist.”

“That remains to be seen” he replied.

 

Arima checked his watch. 11:32 PM. The night had already fallen over cochlea. Haise would not wait much longer, he knew. Soon it would begin.

Arimas gaze wandered through cochlea, suddenly fixing on a inconspicuous door in the lower levels. His position stiffed imperceptibly and a wave of nausea came over him.

 

„This is our last meeting. “ He said, seemingly emotionless.

It was a futile attempt to make their parting easier.

“I… will miss you” the green haired woman said, not even trying to supress the feelings which crept into her voice. She stood up from the smack bed in her cell and looked him in the eyes. Arima returned her gaze, a small smile playing on his lips. He closed the distance between them and embraced her in his arms.

“My Story is now written” he whispered. “And I’m glad I spent it with you.”

“Me too” she answered. She rose up on her tip toes and her lips brushed softly over his in a last tender kiss. When they parted she averted her gaze.

„Kishou… He will succeed, right?” suddenly doubt in her normally confident voice.

“Of Course! “He answered.

 

The Sirens of the cochlea whirred in Arimas ears and pulled him out of his thoughts

“Attention Staff: Capture the Person who is continuing to open the isolation cells. Associate Special Class Haise Sasaki. I repeat: capture Haise Sasaki “

At the end of the bridge, he was standing on Squad 0 appeared, his squad. They were whispering with each other, seemingly nervous. With a side glance he noticed that Take Hirako was eyeing him but Arima did not pay attention to it. Etos words echoed through his mind

“I’m sure he will prove himself to be worthy, Kishou. Ken Kaneki, the future one-eyed King. “

Yes, Kaneki was worthy, of that Arima was sure.

And so, he made his decision.

“Squad 0, the orders which I gave remain unchanged!” he said, his voice stern and without any emotion. His gaze wandered over the young investigators, his grey eyes cold and still filled with pride. Then he turned to Hirako

„Take good care of them Take” he said, a hint of warmth in his voice. He patted him on the shoulder, an almost heartfelt gesture between the partners which had known each other for so long. They exchanged one last glance, then Arima turned away.

His thoughts which had been restless in the last hours were now at ease, making room for a pleasant void. There was only one last task to fulfil.

„Haise… I will fall so you can rise!” he whispered

[servingliesarchived]

MERLIN’S FAMILY AND THEIR STATUS BEFORE THE GREAT PURGE.

Initially, Merlin knew very little about who he was or where he came from. Raised by his mother who would speak neither of her own heritage, or the identity of his father, he lived a humble life for the first years of his life. Despite the poverty they lived in, his mother was the one that made sure to educate her son, a very unusual thing for how widespread illiteracy was at the time, a fact that was never addressed until later into his adulthood. Interestingly, had the Great Purge never happened, Merlin’s status would vastly differ from what he had been brought up to believe he was, which means  Merlin was a commoner due to circumstance rather than birth.

HIS MOTHER’S SIDE OF THE FAMILY.

Though living an exiled life of a commoner from infancy, too young to remember anything else, Hunith was the youngest child born into a royal family of Demetia  ( Dyved )  in Wales  before its fall due to regicide  ( Merlin later in life visited the place, and later chose to reside at Carmarthen / Caerfyrddin, commonly known as Caer Myrddin, where he established a magic school ).  There were five children in total, three sons from the king’s first wife, and two daughters from the second. The third son was Gaius, who subsequently left their home and any claim to the throne behind at a young age to pursue the study of science and magic in the court of Camelot. Though none of them were naturally gifted like Merlin when it comes to magic, besides Gaius there was a number of magic practitioners among the family members, including Merlin’s own grandmother, as well as Gaius’ mother.

Having different mothers, there was a big age gap between Hunith and Gaius, so they never quite grew up together. Gaius had already been at Camelot when Hunith was born, and she was only few months old when a plot had been conducted to overthrow Merlin’s grandfather. He had been killed along with his wife, two sons and older of two daughters, who was only five years old at the time. Only baby Hunith was successfully smuggled out of the castle and outside the border by one of the knights and her nanny. They settled in the small village of Ealdor, Essetir, close to the border with Camelot, where Hunith was raised by her nanny who acted the part of her mother due to the long years she had previously spent in the service of their family. An educated woman herself, she had been who taught Hunith how to write and read in the secret of their little, inconspicuous house.

Meanwhile, convinced his entire family is dead, it wasn’t until Hunith herself was about nine years old when Gaius found out his sister had been alive. From then on, though they only met a number of times in person, they exchanged letters every now and then, to a point that he sent Balinor, one of the last dragonlords not yet killed during the Great Purge to her house, which ended up resulting in Merlin’s conception  ( which had been destined to happen all along with him being a critical powersource of infinite magical energy ). However, it wasn’t enough for her to enclose in great detail that her only son is magic before sending him off to him eighteen years later, for the fear of the message being discovered and him being executed for it like other magical folks  ( magic children were routinely drowned at the time ). 

Chased away by Uther’s pursuit, Balinor had never known of his son, and Hunith gave birth to him with the help of the woman that raised her. She passed away when Merlin was too young to remember her. Though aware of her own heritage, having lived in exile all her life as well as facing the reality of raising a very magical child in a world where those were killed, she didn’t disclose any of it to him until later in life, when he had already been working on restoring rights of magical folk for years. He was aware Gaius was his uncle by blood, but continuing the safety habit of his mother, never officially called him as such, and rather addressed him by his name.

HIS FATHER’S SIDE OF THE FAMILY.

While Hunith had never lived a noble lifestyle, the same can’t be said about Balinor, who was titled before the Great Purge and Uther’s eradication of the dragonlords. The Order of the Dragonlord was held in a high regard during the times when magic was still cherished and valued, though they practiced the status differently to the norm. The skill itself had been the primary merit behind their power and respect, though they still, for the majority of cases, held lawful titles and position of power among the peoples. Balinor himself had come from quite a prolific line of dragonlords, known for their notoriety, zest, as well as a rebellious streak. In fact, Merlin’s grandfather had proven such by marrying a woman he loved in spite of his own father’s wishes concerning his possible match. Merlin’s paternal grandmother had been a druid, and a very skilled and renowned healer. She passed away just two years before the Great Purge, and Balinor was her only child.

Native to the lands of Camelot, Balinor had been brought up among his people and traditions, taught their ways from young age by his father the same way he was supposed to teach his own son, which he could never do due to Uther ordering a literal genocide. Traditionally, however, he didn’t receive his powers until his father’s death, which happened fairly early when he was only fourteen years old. Starting at a young age had been difficult due to the nature of how you receive the gift, but the already existing reputation of his family had been helpful, and soon enough he too became respected in his own right. In fact, he had grown quite famous due to his strong relationship with the Great Dragon, Kilgharrah, woven and tied to him and his kin throughout the centuries. Balinor was also often a guest at the court of Camelot, and in fact developed a friendship with both Gaius and Nimueh.

When the Great Purge began, at first the danger wasn’t quite so clear to any of them. In fact, the dragonlords were tricked by Uther by false promises, who considered them too close to magic in his vendetta against it. Using them to to call on the remaining dragons to kill them, and Balinor himself who was tasked with bringing Kilgharrah to Camelot so Uther could imprison him beneath the castle as a token of his victory, he rounded most of the dragonlords and executed them, while the rest of them, including Balinor, were pursued and ordered to be killed. Being one of the last, with the help of Gaius he managed to escape and was sent to hide with Hunith, which led to Merlin’s conception. Before he knew Hunith was pregnant, however, he was forced to run again and hid until Merlin found him hiding in a cave in Essetir when he was around 19-20 years old. Never knowing he had a son, and dying within a day of meeting him, Merlin never really learned the ways of his people and was left in the dark about their traditions and practices, at least the ones of dragonlords among the Britons.

[write-it-motherfuckers]

Staring up at the thick canopy above where you laid, you watched and listened as the gentle breeze rustled the vibrant green leaves, your thoughts drifting absently, though they were quickly interrupted by the sound of a very different kind of rustle.

Instantly scrambling into a sitting position, you ignored the wave of dizziness you got from the hasty action, focusing instead on retrieving the note from the inconspicuous hollow in the tree, a note that had very much not been there, only moments before.

Smiling brightly as you finally pulled it free, you dropped back onto the moss covered ground, leaning against the ancient tree behind you, as you happily poured over the contents of the message, your heart fluttering in delight as you did so. As always, their words, no matter how simple, never failed to brighten even the most terrible of days, the simple knowledge of their existence, somehow soothing you in a way you couldn’t explain.

Whilst the discovery of this place had been completely accidental, it was an accident you would be forever grateful for. 

Originally, you had only written letters as a way to vent your thoughts, the hollow simply having served as a convenient place to deposit them, making it feel as though you were actually doing something with them, rather than simply throwing your heartfelt feelings into the trash. Though that had all changed the day you arrived to find all of them missing.

Terrified and angry that someone had seen a glimpse into your innermost thoughts, you’d done your best to avoid the place for a time, though eventually your curiosity had gotten the best of you. It had understandably been quite a surprise, when you had discovered a different letter, in their place.

Apprehensive at first, it had taken you a while to respond to it, the heartfelt apology within, eventually softening your negative feelings towards the sender somewhat, though you had remained rather wary for quite a while. 

Thankfully, it hadn’t taken long for the two of you to learn the true mysterious nature of the hollow, something that you rather readily put to good use, having grown quite fond of each other in the short time you’d been interacting. With how deep your conversations always tended to be, it seemed only natural that you would both end up developing feelings.

After a rather emotional confession on both ends, the frequency of your messages had increased greatly, to make up for the fact that you couldn’t actually see each other in person, thanks to quite literally, being worlds apart. These days, the two of you could sit for hours, simply talking about anything and everything, just relishing in the strange and intense companionship that had formed.

Lost in your daydreaming as you imagined being able to actually see them and feel their embrace, you almost didn’t notice that you had received a response to your last reply, a smile spreading across your lips as you dropped your notepad and pen giddily, in order to tug it free. 

What you found written there, quickly stole all breath from your lungs, an overwhelming wave of emotion, surging forth and bringing tears to your eyes.

“I think I found a way to bring you to me.”

[davids-cartoon-corkboard]

Next up are Hamburg and Fry! What do they want, and how will the power of their Stones help them get it?

They’re an unusually heroic spin on the “Bumbling Henchmen Duo” trope. Dr. Eggman from the Sonic franchise, Cruella De Vil from 101 Dalmatians, The Hacker from Cyberchase, and many more have a skinny henchman and a stocky henchman, though the diner guys break the mold a bit because Hamburg is taller than Fry.

Neither of them are particularly bright: both fell for Jo’s fake phone call in “Rings of Power” despite being in the same room with her.

And they didn’t properly protect themselves from the “earthquake” in “Niña Gigantica”.

They’re also eager to follow orders, as seen in “Big Win” when they interpreted Jo’s “Listen!” as “I’m about to give you instructions”.

Hamburg has a strict No Bullshit Policy; his response to Kid being noisy and destructive in “Rings of Power” was to wield a rolling pin menacingly and lift Kid up by his ankle one-handed.

And when Carl claimed to have already known about Kid and co. having powers in ”Big Win”, Hamburg bluntly called him a liar.

Hamburg’s name and accent suggest he’s from Germany. Of all the places to move to, why a dinky little side-of-the-road town an ocean away? And why did he move there alone? As is common among comic book heroes, Hamburg has terrible parents. He moved somewhere distant and and inconspicuous to escape them, and isn’t willing to put up with bullshit from anyone else after all those bad experiences.

He would have severed a lot of bonds when he did so, and his seriousness and hint of a bad temper probably mean it’s hard for him to make new ones. Hamburg wants what he never got at home: positive connections.

Flo asks him if he has super strength in “Big Win” and he replies with “Yes, but it’s from working out and eating healthy”. Since Hamburg already has mundane “super strength” and Rosa’s Stone gives her cosmic “super strength”, Hamburg’s Stone will give him strength in a metaphorical, social sense. He’ll have “strength in numbers”, but in a different way than Papa G does.

Hamburg’s Stone will give him the power of Zoopathy (the ability to communicate with animals), and it will be Indigo to reflect the blue/black pattern of his pants and shoes. This man deserves to be a D*sney Princess! He’ll ask his animal friends to act as spies, distractions, allies in combat, emotional support, etc. And if Tuna Sandwich’s translator ever gets lost or breaks, Hamburg will be able translate for him until it's found or fixed. But relying too much on the Stone to give him animal companionship means Hamburg won’t make progress in terms of human companionship. There’s a limit to how much you can work through your issues without the help of other people. His character development will have him learn that sometimes people can be good, and it can be good to trust and bond with them.

Fry seems to be a bit of a wibbly-wobbly nothin’-in-particular kind of guy. He mumbles when he speaks, even while on the job.

He’s oblivious; unlike Hamburg, he couldn’t connect the town’s “earthquakes” to Rosa’s stomping around. He’s also pretty gullible, since he believed Carl’s lie about knowing Kid and co. had powers... or maybe he just chose not to challenge the lie to avoid conflict.

Being able to “turn to goo” like Flo suggested would be fitting, since goo is by nature a wibbly-wobbly nothin’-in-particular thing. But like her questioning of Carl and Hamburg, it's a hint, not 100% accurate. Since his two full tattoo sleeves indicate a high pain tolerance and a willingness to alter his body, Fry’s Stone will give him the power of Shapeshifting, and it will be Gray like his tattoos. What better power for a nothin’-in-particular kind of guy than to be everything? The Local Heroes will no doubt meet a huge menagerie of people and animals on their adventures that he can draw inspiration from. Sharp claws, venom, camouflage, gills, the ability to impersonate a relevant evil alien minion- there are all sorts of uses for such a power!

It’s especially useful in a metaphorical sense, because shapeshifting is about hiding who you are, and what happens when you can’t do it anymore. As we all know, The Audience Craves Violence Catharsis, so we generally expect the character in question to go apeshit once the lid pops off of their repressed anger or trauma or hungers of various kinds. But trope subversion is part and parcel of Kid Cosmic’s appeal, so I think Fry is hiding something else.

Fry is queer and/or neurodivergent, though Vibes are my only evidence right now. Shapeshifting will go a long way towards helping him Blend In And Be Normal wherever he goes, but it can’t truly change him. Rather than an accidental outing or a breakdown and tearful confession, Fry will come out of the closet after he gradually grows smore confident at being himself and trusting that his allies won’t think less of him because of it.

---

(Carl) (Carlos and Ramona) (Carla)

(Hamburg and Fry: You Are Here) (Flo) (Chuck)

[dangermousie]

CFC 106

1.Love HY looking at XQC from afar but not approaching him because he knows it’s pointless to tell him “I love you,” since that would drive XQC away faster than anything else. And the point that when he didn’t care about XQC’s feelings he’d have been whatever and done what he liked but now...The bit that “his fangs were made of frosting” awwww but not as awww as his also remembering his promise not to pester XQC who’s already suffered enough. Watching HY learn care and putting someone else first and thinking things from the position of what they’d want instead of what he’d want is so good and so necessary for HY.

2. Man, HY is gone. He drives around peeking at XQC, sees XQC buy a cake for auntie Li and is so jealous and decides to go in after XQC leaves to order the same cake for himself and that is honestly so realistic - the whole longing for that sense of indirect sharing with someone you like, seeking closeness in whatever small (for everyone not for you) way you can.

3. Oh my GOD he bought an inconspicuous car just to follow him around, He Yuuuuuuuuuu!

4. XQC spots him and is all what are you doing here and HY is ... and then “can I help you carry your cake?” I am cackling.

5. XQC tells him to scram and HY has nothing to say. I love love love the reversal of power dynamics and I love that XQC did not magically melt after 102 (in fact, enjoying himself in bed and having his heart move for HY, even if he didn’t consciously realize it, made him withdraw even further.) The line about if someone may not like your liking it’s called a secret love but if they definitely won’t like it, it’s just called bad - except for his true feelings for XX and XQC, HY is actually a pretty reflective person - he’s had to be due to his condition.

6. He Yu not planning to show his feelings because he’d get disgust, contempt and shock in return and it would hurt too much but also his worrying about XQC losing weight (again?! Does he even have any left to lose? Jeez, he is 100% dying!) I do love the sense how much of this chapter is HY flailing and banging his head against the cage of XQC’s dislike and contempt that was largely built by his own hands and his own dick.

7. XQC has a bag wit medicine. DAMMIT OMG WTF I know Meatbun we are in for kniiiiives.

8. HY not being able to help himself and in the face of XQC’s coldness bringing up that he wasn’t cold that night but then backing down - I love the little backslides because it’s realistic.

9. HY going home and instinctively looking for club pics and then remembering he deleted them, and all he has is a profile pic of XQC he pulled from some website and it’s just his face and HY is kissing the phone!!!! his eyes and brows “gently” in the photo!!!!!! AAAAAAAAA!

10. Ahahaha HY going to a chat group to see fellowlove pangs sufferers and is so jealous of them. When someone posts about not being able to get over a break up a year ago, he’s all “at least you were together” ahahahah.

11. HY asks for advice (honestly the way he describes the situation makes me think of “girl” Taxian Jun in the extras omg) and my favorite response from someone being “I can tell you clearly that if you get pregnant, he won’t even pay for your abortion” made me die. Even Anons on the internet think He Yu is the girl in the relationship ahahahahah dying. And HY is wondering “why does everyone think I am a female?” OMG DYING

12. WHAT THE FUCK!!!! The medicine was not for XQC but XX and XX showed signs of taking RN13?!?! WHAT WHAT WHAT and it’s not the same formula as what XQC and HY took so it means someone is actively working on it and HY asks how she could have come in contact with it and XQC brings the asylum OMG THEY ARE NOW TOTALLY GONNA WORK TOGETHER TO TRACE THINGS DOWN OMGGGGG