#what to do with duck or taro

[nabi-unveiled]

This feels like when I try to meal plan for the week with the "not picky" people in my house.

[emperordinozenmon]

Hybrid Theory XII

Well this is a downer. Don't worry the next one will be sappy and sexy.

“What is a Hero’s Purpose? To bear the burden of those who can’t bare them,”

The late spring sun cast dappled gold through the trees as Jeewon settled onto the plaid picnic blanket Achilles had laid out beneath a wide oak. The sun dipped low through the trees, the golden light catching on Jeewon’s hair as she stretched her legs across the picnic blanket. Around them, the world was humming with life—kids chasing each other, couples strolling, and dogs pulling at leashes.

The food was beautifully laid out But for Jeewon, it all faded into the background as she looked at the spread Achilles had pulled from a surprisingly well-packed cooler.

There were little rice balls shaped like cows. Bento boxes arranged with almost artistic precision. Cut fruit arranged like flower petals. And—of course—her favorite: sweet taro buns from that bakery she mentioned once in passing, weeks ago.

“You went all out,” she murmured, blinking at the arrangement.

Achilles was already sitting across from her, fidgeting slightly. “I remembered you said you didn’t eat lunch when you’re busy… so I thought I’d make enough for two meals. Or three.”

Jeewon smiled, touched. “You do know I have a fridge, right?”

He ducked his head. “Yeah, but it tastes better fresh.”

As they began eating, Jeewon noticed it more clearly. The way he waited to see her take the first bite. How he subtly nudged more dumplings onto her plate before he took his own. When she complimented the tangy sauce on the tofu, he lit up, suddenly shy but proud.

“This one’s from my mom’s recipe,” he admitted. “She used to make it when I had a bad day. Figured it might work the same for someone else.”

Jeewon’s chest tightened a little. Not in a sad way—just… full. She let her eyes linger on him. Achilles, the forge knight who ran a junkyard and handled city records, who wielded a sword taller than she was. This same man also sliced strawberries into little hearts and tried to feed her first, every time.

“You know you do this with every meal, right?” she asked gently.

He blinked. “Do what?”

“Feed me like I’m royalty. Like you’re showing me how you feel without saying it.”

He paused, then gave her a sheepish half-smile. “Is that weird?”

Jeewon reached across the blanket and took his hand. “No. It’s perfect.”

They sat like that a while, their fingers loosely interlaced, surrounded by half-eaten food and the easy quiet of two people growing into something warmer, something more.

And when Jeewon leaned in to kiss him, she tasted the honeyed sweetness of taro on his lips—and knew, without words, just how much she mattered to him.

She watched him now, cheeks slightly flushed, posture ever so humble as he opened a second bento box, this one filled with carefully arranged fruits cut into stars.

“You do this with every meal,” Jeewon said softly, her eyes not leaving his. “You feed me like I’m a guest of honor.”

Achilles blinked, pausing mid-reach. “Do I?”

Jeewon nodded, smiling. “Yeah. You don’t say much, but you show me how you feel. With food. With gestures.”

“I guess…” he looked down at the blanket, then up at her. “It’s just how I was raised. When you care about someone, you make sure they’re fed. That they’re safe.”

Her heart swelled.

Just as she was about to respond, a voice called out from the trail nearby: “Wait—Achilles?”

Both of them turned to see a woman approaching with wide, surprised eyes. She had soft auburn hair in a loose braid and wore a summery cream blouse with green shorts. Jeewon recognized her immediately—Nayeon, one of the local schoolteachers and a longtime friend of Koby’s. The bunny hybrid bounced towards them as she smiled. Her two protruding bunny teeth make her smile more pronounced.

Achilles stood quickly, polite as always, though Jeewon saw a flicker of something tight cross his expression.

“Nayeon,” he said calmly, nodding once with a smile that was forced.

“I thought that was you,” she beamed. “Wow… It’s been years! How have you been. Are you well?”She looked to Jeewon. “He saved me and my rabbit squadron during the war you know? If it weren’t for him and his mentor Samira I would lost my leg or died. I almost didnt recognize you with the beard and no pastels.”

Jeewon watched as Achilles nodded before Nayeon hugged him “thank you so much for your kindness.” She said before leaving

Jeewon looked up at Achilles, surprised. He hadn’t mentioned anything like that. But her attention was drawn more to his posture. Still, composed—but his hands had subtly curled into tense fists at his sides.

“I almost didn’t recognize you without the armor,” Nayeon continued, smiling brightly. “You used to wear them all the time. You looked like a dream out of a fantasy novel.”

Achilles’s voice was low. “I don’t wear them anymore.”

Something in the tone made even Nayeon falter. She blinked. “Oh. Well… it’s good to see you, Achilles.”

“You too,” he said quickly, already moving to sit down again.

As Nayeon wandered off, Jeewon didn’t speak immediately. She watched the way he distracted himself with rearranging a food container that didn’t need rearranging. The tip of one of his etched tattoos was twitching beneath his shirt sleeve, glowing faintly.

“Achilles?” she said softly, once Nayeon was out of earshot. “You okay?”

He hesitated before nodding. “Yeah. It’s just… old stuff. Stuff that doesn’t fit anymore.”

Jeewon didn’t press. Instead, she reached for his hand, threading her fingers through his. “Well. For what it’s worth… I like the way you are now. Even if I don’t know all the colors you used to wear.”

That got a small laugh from him, and the tension in his shoulders eased just a little. “Thanks,” he murmured. “I like… this. With you. Even if I’m still figuring it all out.”

They sat like that again, hands clasped in silence, food half-forgotten. And when Jeewon reached over and gently kissed his cheek, he turned toward her, eyes soft.

Whatever he had left behind in the lavender and blue, she’d help him carry forward in warm meals and quiet affection.

The late afternoon hum of the coffee shop was soft and comforting—milk steamers hissing, indie music murmuring from overhead, and the occasional clink of ceramic cups. Jeewon stood in line waiting for her matcha latte when she heard her name.

“Jeewon?”

She turned to see Nayeon, radiant as ever in a linen jumpsuit, waving from a table near the window. Beside her sat another rabbit hybrid—slightly younger, with soft ears that drooped a little, a long braid of dark hair, and clear, clever eyes.

Jeewon smiled and walked over. “Hey! I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“We’re catching up,” Nayeon said, gesturing to her companion. “This is Eunha. She’s in the historical archives division at City Hall.”

“Hi!” Eunha beamed, then tilted her head curiously. “Wait… Jeewon, are you the Jeewon who’s dating Achilles?”

Jeewon blinked at the way Eunha said his name. There was something warm, almost excited in her voice—but there was also a flicker of something else. Something quieter. Sadness. Longing.

Jeewon took the seat Nayeon offered. “Yeah, I am.”

Eunha smiled again, more gently this time. “He’s… kind of unforgettable, isn’t he?”

Jeewon nodded slowly. “He really is.”

There was a pause. Jeewon’s drink was called out, and she excused herself to grab it. But when she returned, something had settled behind her ribs. Something unsettled. She looked at Nayeon, and then Eunha.

“Can I ask you something?”

Nayeon and Eunha both gave curious, cautious glances.

Jeewon sipped her drink, then set it down. “I want to know about Achilles. His past. You both clearly knew him before I did. I… know he doesn’t talk about it much. But I’ve always felt like he’s carrying something heavy, and… I want to understand.”

Nayeon glanced at Eunha, then leaned forward slightly, her voice lowering.

“Are you sure you want to hear it?” she asked softly. “It’s kind of a downer.”

Jeewon didn’t hesitate. She nodded. “Yes.”

Nayeon exchanged another glance with Eunha, who was staring quietly down at her cup. Then, with a sigh, Nayeon folded her hands together and began.

The sun dipped low behind the rusted hills, casting burnt-orange shadows across the cracked earth as Achilles Montgomery approached a half-collapsed stone bungalow nestled in the outskirts of the wasteland. He moved with purpose, his eyes fixed ahead, trailing behind a four-legged companion with a jagged tail and glowing, intelligent eyes—Naafiri, a blade hound with war-forged instincts and a strangely maternal presence.

Naafiri’s ears twitched as she pushed open the door with her snout and trotted inside. Achilles followed, cautiously stepping over scorched tiles and broken furniture.

From the back room came a sharp, pained groan.

Achilles’s heart kicked into overdrive. He sprinted toward the sound, bursting through a crumbling doorway—and froze.

A woman lay slumped against the far wall, her side slick with blood and ash. Her tan skin was mottled with bruises, her dark, matted hair clinging to her forehead. Her grip tightened around a heavy revolver, which she leveled at Achilles without hesitation.

“State your business or I’ll send you to oblivion,” she snapped, her voice firm despite the obvious pain.

Achilles raised his hands slowly. “I was following your dog, but—forget that—you’re bleeding badly. You need help.”

Before she could fire, he dropped his pack and pulled out a first aid kit, the familiar click of latches echoing between them. He moved with steady, focused hands, carefully setting out sterile gauze, forceps, and antiseptic. The woman didn’t lower her weapon, but she didn’t stop him either.

“You reek of amateur,” she muttered through gritted teeth. “But you’re earnest. I like that.”

Her gun lowered slightly. She chuckled, then winced at the motion.

“Name’s Samira. What about you, rookie?”

“Achilles Montgomery.”

Samira nodded as Achilles began to clean the wound, murmuring an apology before extracting the shrapnel lodged beneath her ribs. She didn’t cry out—just hissed and bit down on a leather strap Naafiri brought her from the floor.

When the bleeding slowed and her breathing steadied, Samira exhaled a quiet laugh. “You’ve got the touch, Achilles. Not trained, but not bad. You’re welcome to stay the night… but I gotta ask—why are you wandering the wastes? You don’t look like a sellsword. And medics usually travel in packs. So where’s yours, little cub?”

Achilles stiffened. His chest puffed out slightly. He squared his shoulders.

“I am a ForgeKnight,” he declared, eyes burning with youthful fire. “Sworn defender of the innocent, forged to protect those who cannot protect themselves. I stand against marauders, tyrants, and destroyers of peace.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Samira blinked… and burst out laughing.

“A ForgeKnight?” she wheezed. “Like from that old VR holo-game? What was it called—Shieldborn: Legacy? That came out like 10 years ago.”

Achilles’s face dropped. “You… know about that?”

Samira’s eyes narrowed. With surprising speed, she grabbed her sword and pushed herself up, leveling the blade between them.

“Caught you, little cub,” she said, her tone measured but curious. “So what’s the truth? Why are you really out here, alone?”

Achilles looked down, the fire in his voice dimming. “This place… it’s my home. Even with everything happening—the war, the raiders—I want to make it better. I guess I thought if I acted like a hero… I could become one.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Samira stepped forward, her gaze steady. She didn’t lower her sword, but her expression softened.

“Lift your chin, ForgeKnight,” she said, her voice warmer now. “You’re not the first fool who wanted to save the world. But maybe you’re one of the good ones.”

Achilles looked up, meeting her gaze. Slowly, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“You can stay,” Samira continued, finally sheathing her blade. “But you’ll have to earn your keep. I’ve got a reputation to uphold—and so do you, apparently.”

Achilles nodded and rolled out his sleeping pad beside the fireplace, Naafiri curling up beside him like a sentinel. As the night deepened and the fire crackled to life, something unspoken passed between them—a tentative trust, a strange beginning.

Samira laughed and said “she likes you? That’s surprising because she doesn’t like anyone,” while pointing at Naafiri

Achilles laughed as he pet the bladehound careful to avoid her spines

Samira leaned back and muttered, “ForgeKnight, huh? Let’s see what you’re really made of.”

The next morning, the wasteland shimmered with heat and silence, stretching endlessly under the copper sky. Behind Samira’s bunker, the patchy training yard—a dirt lot marked with scorched tires, broken fencing, and the occasional metal sparring dummy—sizzled with rising anticipation.

Samira, bandages fresh around her ribs, moved like a storm in slow motion, sword slicing the air with sharp, deliberate grace. Across from her, Achilles gripped a worn practice staff, sweat glistening at his temples as he tried to keep up.

She would strike and he would parry effectively but to slow that her next move would already be out forcing him on the back foot as he kept up with her but never creating an advantage.

“Stop thinking,” Samira barked, her voice cracking the quiet. “You’re moving like a kid solving a puzzle, not a warrior reading a battlefield.”

“I am thinking!” Achilles snapped back, adjusting his stance.

“Exactly that’s the problem!” she said, rushing him.

She feinted low then spun high. Achilles barely managed to raise his staff—but the air shifted.

A faint hum pulsed outward, like a tuning fork struck in silence.

Then—light bloomed.

It wasn’t bright or harsh, but soft, ghostly—a swirl of pastel blue and lavender that traced around Achilles like wind-blown ink in water. The energy clung to his outline, humming gently, forming subtle lines that flickered across his skin and eyes. His silhouette shimmered with ephemeral color as if his very soul had bled through his body. It pushed Samira back in a pulse of energy.

Samira halted, lowering her blade slightly.

Her good eye widened, and a smile twitched at the corner of her mouth.

“…Well, well.”

Achilles looked down at his hands, at the ethereal glow now drifting from his fingertips like smoke.

“I—what is this?” he asked breathlessly.

“You’re a psionic,” Samira said, tone impressed but grounded. “And a rare kind, at that. Most psionics flare with red or gold—aggression, heat, kinetic bursts. Yours?” She circled him, watching the way the pastel energy rippled when he moved. “These are empathic colors. Lavender, blue—calm, memory, sensory awareness. You’re a Empath or less controversial a healer and a feeler.”

Achilles looked overwhelmed. “Huh. Neat! I just thought it was AUDHD and being overstimulated .”

“It’s more than that,” Samira said, her voice softening. “You’re tuned to the spaces between things. People like you don’t attack—they shield, they redirect, they anchor. It’s probably why you followed a blade would into the home of a half-dead woman in a warzone to help her without thinking.”

Achilles chuckled nervously, still watching the pastel hues coil gently around his forearms.

Samira stepped closer. “But raw power without direction is dangerous. You need focus. Discipline. Control.”

He swallowed hard. “Will you teach me?”

Her smirk deepened. “Damn right I will. But only because I like underdogs.”

She took a step back, whistled to Naafiri—who sat up with a bark—and pointed to the edge of the yard.

“Drop the stick. We’re starting where it counts. No more training your arms—we’re training your mind.”

Achilles obeyed, letting the staff clatter to the ground.

“Now,” she said, raising a hand, “tell me what I’m going to do next.”

“I—”

She moved—fast—but Achilles saw it coming. Not with his eyes.

With his whole being.

He ducked before she even struck, lavender and blue flaring brightly around his shoulders.

Samira blinked. “Good. That was instinct. That’s your power. That’s you.”

And in that moment, for the first time, Achilles didn’t feel like a pretender playing ForgeKnight.

He felt like one. As the weeks passed, Achilles’s training under Samira became grueling, but transformative.

She drilled into him the art of precognition—the ability to feel the shape of a moment before it arrived. To anticipate an opponent’s intent before the blade even left their hand. Combined with psionically conjured armor that shimmered with soft pastel hues of lavender and blue, Achilles began to move with a grace and efficiency far beyond his age.

He fought not with anger, but clarity. Not with ego, but empathy.

Sparring with Samira was brutal, but every clash of blades made him faster. Every failed dodge taught him to listen harder—to feel more. Running jobs together in the wastelands, from escorting refugee convoys to diffusing local tensions in collapsed territories, hardened his instincts and sharpened his resolve.

In just over a month, Achilles had gone from an idealistic wanderer to a capable, respected mercenary. But what made him stand out wasn’t his improving technique or growing list of completed contracts—it was his heart.

He took the smallest jobs. The thankless ones. Escorts for hybrid elders trying to reach safer ground. Deliveries of food and medicine to children trapped between border skirmishes. Retrieval of bodies so families could bury their dead. Where others saw loss or futility, Achilles saw someone’s last hope.

Word spread. In the dusty whispers of mess tents and halfway camps, people began to call him “The Incarnation of Heroism.”

He didn’t ask for it, and never acknowledged the title. But when he walked into a war camp—whether hybrid or human—soldiers stood straighter. Civilians smiled. And just for a moment, the war felt… bearable.

Samira watched this transformation with a wry but warm eye. While she didn’t fully believe in the sustainability of his selflessness, she couldn’t deny its effect. Something had shifted. Where once there had only been bitterness and desperation, now both sides fought with a little more dignity. As if the very presence of Achilles reminded them of what they were fighting for.

One evening, as the sun bled into the horizon and the air turned violet with heat and dusk, Samira tossed Achilles a bundle wrapped in aged leather and string.

“Time to build your sword,” she said simply.

He blinked. “I already have one—”

“No,” she interrupted. “That one’s borrowed. This one will be yours. Real psionic resonance. Real legacy. Your soul, in steel. You’ve earned that much, cub.”

Naafiri barked softly in approval from where she rested, and Achilles felt something stir in his chest. Pride. Fear. Readiness.

He unwrapped the bundle and found a map leading to the inner forge. Not the crude workspace he used to repair gear—but the true one, hidden beneath the compound. And waiting for him there…

Were the resonant materials.

And his next transformation.

The forge was quiet.

Not the silence of vacancy, but the sacred stillness before creation. The low fire burned violet in the hearth, casting undulating shadows across scorched stone and walls lined with tools older than memory. These tools were relics—but not what he needed.

Samira entered with a crate, Naafiri trotting at her side, her tail wagging lazily.

She set the container on the central anvil with surprising reverence, uncovering it like a shrine. Within lay strange materials—unnatural and raw, humming with restrained power.

Metal shards with oil-slick sheens. Charred bones laced with glowing script. A piece of wood darker than shadow but veined with slow-moving pastel light. And at the center, a heart of resonant crystal, almost translucent, yet pulsing with a rhythm that matched Achilles’s own heartbeat.

“These are resonant materials,” Samira said, her voice low. “They don’t yield to hammers or heat. They respond to will. To truth.”

Achilles stood silent, watching them shimmer under the forge-light. His psionic aura began to glow softly—pastel blue along his shoulders, lavender in his chest and arms, like starlight pressing through skin.

“Reach out,” Samira said. “Let them see what you carry. What you mean.”

He stepped forward and raised his hands, hovering them just above the materials. As he exhaled, his aura unfurled, tendrils of light drifting from his fingertips and coiling around the metal and bone, the wood and the crystal.

His mind narrowed. The forge faded. All that remained was intent.

This isn’t for conquest. This is for the end of the world. For the last man standing on the wall. A sword not to slay—but to say: “This is where I stop you.”

The materials stirred.

The metal rose first, shimmering and undulating mid-air. But instead of straightening into a narrow blade, it began to ripple, taking on a fluid, serpentine form—a great, wide flamberge, its edge dancing like flame.

The crystal floated to its core, fusing into the fuller—becoming the blade’s soul. It pulsed with pastel fire, syncing with Achilles’s breath, his blood, his memory.

The wood shaped itself into a long, heavy hilt—dark and weathered, not ornate but weighty. A handle for two hands gripped in desperation. A weapon forged to be the last defense of a man’s home.

His body shook as the final pieces fused. Sweat dripped from his brow, his jaw clenched, his thoughts burned clean with purpose.

When the sword settled, it hung mid-air for a moment. A glowing monument of will. The lavender-and-blue glow shimmered across the forge like ghostlight.

Then, gently, it descended onto the table.

Achilles stumbled back, breathless.

Samira stepped forward and placed one hand reverently on the sword’s guard. Her expression softened.

“You made a funeral sword,” she murmured. “One meant to end things, not begin them.”

Achilles nodded, his voice rough. “It’s not for glory. It’s for the last stand. When there’s no one left but you—and still you choose to stay.”

Samira looked at him for a long moment, then smiled faintly.

“You’re not just playing ForgeKnight anymore, cub.”

She extended a hand and helped him steady himself.

“You’re becoming what they should’ve been.”

And in the quiet of the forge, the flamberge pulsed once—deep and slow, like a vow spoken by the soul of the steel itself.

As Jeewon listened to Nayeon recount Achilles’s history—the camp, the skirmishes, the heroics, the flamberge forged with light and will—she felt an unexpected warmth blooming in her chest. A smile tugged at her lips, despite the heaviness of the story. The image of Achilles, younger and scrappier but still that same sincere, unshakable force of good, made her heart swell with affection.

But as the story grew more layered—his odd nobility, his earnest way of throwing himself into danger for others—she also began to feel a quiet confusion creeping in. It was like peering into a painting with brushstrokes she hadn’t noticed before.

She tilted her head, curiosity blooming.

“Wait… so how did you meet Achilles, then?”

The question hung lightly, innocently—but it landed like a stone between them.

Nayeon blinked, her shoulders subtly stiffening. The brightness that had flickered in her eyes while telling the story dimmed, and her smile faltered. She looked down for a beat, then back at Jeewon with a guarded expression.

“Um… well,” Nayeon said, her voice suddenly thinner, quieter. “Let me finish the story.”

Her tone wasn’t cold—but there was something clipped behind it. A pause too long. A flicker of something Jeewon couldn’t name.

Jeewon’s smile faded slightly, her brow knitting. She noticed how Nayeon’s fingers had curled in around her coffee cup, the tension in her posture just a little too practiced now.

Whatever came next, it wasn’t going to be simple.

And maybe—Jeewon realized—it wasn’t just Achilles’s story anymore.

The air around Samira’s encampment buzzed with heat and tension. The midday sun cast sharp shadows as dust coiled in the distance. Two armored transports tore across the badlands, converging on the same target—the gates of Samira’s war camp.

The first vehicle screeched to a halt, its hatch slamming open as Nayeon, her long ears twitching with restrained impatience, stepped out. Beside her, the Bunny Brigade emerged in sleek light armor: Eunha adjusted her gloves and scanned the perimeter, Heejin slung her rifle over her shoulder with a cocky smirk, and Yuna, the youngest, hopped out last with a grin and too much energy in her step. They helped Nayeon to her feet as her left leg was mangled beyond current function.

“Eyes up,” Nayeon called, brushing her bangs out of her face. “Samira said this was neutral ground, so let’s not start anything.”

“Which is funny,” Eunha said, chewing a strand of jerky, “coming from you.”

Moments later, the second vehicle rolled in—thicker, slower, more heavily armored. The doors ground open and Sohee stepped out, spear slung over her back. Her unit moved like a single shadow behind her: Saerom’s eyes scanned the surroundings like a hawk, Aeri moved with disciplined grace, and Haseul—quiet and coiled—kept her hand resting on her sidearm.

There was a beat of recognition. The two battalions locked eyes.

No words were exchanged. Just narrowed gazes. Twitching ears. The sound of boots shifting in sand.

And then, like a match to dry tinder—the fight broke out.

It wasn’t war—it was fury. Grudges and reputations exploding into raw motion. Heejin and Saerom exchanged quick, brutal kicks. Yuna zipped between Haseul’s strikes like a blur before catching a hard elbow to the ribs. Eunha and Aeri were already grappling in the dust. And in the middle of it—Nayeon and Sohee collided with the force of years of mutual disdain.

Blows landed. Grunts filled the air. Energy crackled. Dust kicked up.

Then—

“ENOUGH!”

A flare of lavender and pastel blue split the air as Achilles leapt between the two factions, landing with such force that the ground seemed to groan beneath him.

His presence—tall, scarred, sweat-soaked from training, with his massive flamberge strapped to his back—froze the chaos. His psionic aura, soft in color but dense in pressure, rolled over them like a wave.

Nayeon stumbled back, one arm clutched against her ribs, a gash blooming across her cheek. Yuna winced, nursing a twisted ankle. Haseul stood shakily, blood trailing from her lip. Sohee dropped her spear, her shoulder clearly dislocated.

Achilles didn’t speak. He simply moved—first to Nayeon, his hands already glowing faintly as he knelt.

“You should know better,” he murmured, pressing his palm gently to her side. The cleaning and bandaging her leg.

“You’re late,” Nayeon grumbled through clenched teeth, her eyes glossy. “We were bonding.”

“Through broken bones?” he muttered.

Next he turned to Yuna, helping her sit. “Stay off that leg. You’ve got nerve strain.”

Then Haseul, who tried to push him away at first, only to pause when his psionic warmth bled into her cracked ribs. “I’m fine,” she muttered.

“I don’t heal pride,” Achilles said flatly, without looking at her. He continued on with the basic medicine he could do that wouldn’t t have them die that night.

Finally, he faced Sohee. The two stared at each other a long beat before she nodded, breathing heavy. “You’re different,” she said quietly.

Achilles shrugged, helping her arm back into its socket with one firm movement. She hissed but didn’t cry out.

Only once all four of the wounded were stabilized did Achilles rise to full height again. His calm voice carried over the quiet murmurs.

“You’re all good fighters,” he said. “But if this is how you greet others in neutral territory, maybe none of you should be leading anything.”

Neither Nayeon nor Sohee argued.

The wind picked up, kicking dust around his glowing silhouette. Behind him, Samira stepped out from her tent, arms crossed and an amused smile on her face.

“Well, ForgeKnight,” she called, “looks like you’re finally becoming more than a pretty symbol.”

Achilles looked over his shoulder, jaw tight but eyes warm.

“Still just trying to help.”

Inside the war bungalo, tension hung as thick as gun oil. Dust still clung to the girls’ uniforms, sweat lined their temples, and the bruises—physical and prideful—were still fresh. Samira stood at the center, backlit by a lantern’s orange glow, her one good eye scanning the gathered rabbit hybrids like a general surveying a battlefield.

Achilles leaned against one of the support beams, arms crossed, saying nothing. Naafiri, his ever-watchful companion, lay at his feet, her growl low and persistent as her sharp eyes flicked between Sohee and Nayeon.

Samira broke the silence.

“You know what this place is. My encampment is neutral ground. I don’t give a damn which side you’re on, whose flag you bleed under, or what grudges you carry from past skirmishes. If you bring war here, you’re disrespecting me—and him.”

She motioned toward Achilles. He didn’t look up.

“This young man has worked his ass off to make sure this camp stays a sanctuary. He patrols it, protects it, and heals anyone who walks through those gates—without asking for their allegiance.”

Samira stepped closer to the girls. Naafiri’s growl deepened, the sound vibrating low and sharp in their bones.

“You come into this camp clawing at each other like street dogs? Fine. One mistake. One warning. But if either of your units so much as twitch wrong again… I’ll personally drag your sorry ears out into the waste.”

Nayeon flinched, but bowed her head respectfully. “Understood, Samira.”

Sohee followed suit, chin dipped in obedience. “You have my word.”

Samira exhaled through her nose, lips pressed together. “Good. Then get some damn rest. You’ll have a joint patrol rotation tomorrow morning. Let’s see if you can learn to breathe the same air without biting each other.”

With that, she waved them off. Achilles gave a curt nod to both groups as they filed out, though his eyes lingered on Nayeon—softening for just a moment—and then briefly on Sohee with quiet scrutiny.

Outside, once the two battalions returned to their temporary quarters, the masks dropped.

In a corner of her tent, Nayeon leaned over a communication slate, her fingers tapping out a coded message.

“Primary location confirmed. Sohee’s battalion in place. Suggest immediate extraction mission. Backup necessary to avoid compromise.”

Meanwhile, in the opposite side of the encampment, Sohee sat on her cot, her shoulder bandaged, eyes glinting under dim light. She quietly activated her comm device and whispered into it.

“Confirming Nayeon’s presence. Intel asset with her—possibly Achilles. If I move first, I can secure both. Request authorization.”

Each girl ended their message with a practiced tap.

Neither trusted the other.

Neither intended to lose.

And somewhere between them both, Achilles, unknowingly, had become the most valuable piece on the board.

The moonlight washed pale silver over the dusty fabric of the medical tent as Achilles moved from cot to cot with quiet diligence. The night was still, save for the occasional distant howl of a jackal or the low, warm growl of Naafiri keeping watch outside the perimeter.

He crouched beside the first bed, eyes scanning Sohee’s side where he’d wrapped a tight bandage earlier. It held well. Her breathing was steady. Achilles adjusted the blanket over her shoulders and moved on.

Haseul was next—stubborn and silent even in sleep. Her bruised arm twitched slightly when he pressed a cool cloth to her forehead, but she didn’t stir.

Nayeon had dozed off sitting upright, as she often did. Achilles gently tipped her back, cradling her head to the pillow with surprising gentleness for someone carrying a flamberge and half a camp’s worth of responsibility. She murmured something incoherent in her sleep—he thought he heard his name, but he didn’t dwell.

Then he moved to Eunha’s cot.

She was very much awake.

Lying on her side, propped up on one elbow, Eunha looked far too alert for someone recovering from shrapnel wounds. Her ears twitched as he approached, and a faint, knowing smile pulled at her lips.

“Well, well,” she purred softly, voice teasing. “So this is what it’s like to be checked on by the ForgeKnight himself.”

Achilles blinked at her, kneeling beside the cot. “You’re still awake. Does it hurt?”

Eunha chuckled and tilted her head, her eyes tracing the inked lines of his tattoos peeking beneath his rolled sleeves. “Only a little. But I can’t complain. I mean, how often does a girl get fussed over by Achilles the Invincible?”

He looked up from inspecting the bandage at her side, brow furrowing. “That’s not a real title.”

She grinned. “Oh, but it is. We’ve all heard the stories. The hero with the giant sword, glowing eyes, who speaks softly and carries an entire defenseless on his back.” She leaned closer, dropping her voice a little. “They say you’re part ghost. Or made of light. Or that you once ran across an artillery field just to carry a wounded hybrid on your back.”

Achilles’s ears pinked slightly, a reaction he hated but could never seem to control. “I just try to help where I can. I’m… not really any of those things.”

“But you are,” Eunha whispered, watching him closely. “You’re kind. You don’t posture. You don’t leer. You give without asking anything in return. That’s rarer than a ghost these days.”

He busied himself adjusting her bandage, avoiding her eyes. “You need rest. You took a nasty hit.”

“You didn’t answer me,” she said.

“About what?”

“About whether or not you’re part ghost,” she said with a mischievous smile, then softened. “Or… maybe if you’re as lonely as you look when you think no one’s watching.”

Achilles paused. The night seemed quieter then. He didn’t reply.

Instead, he gently pressed the blanket around her sides and offered a small, fleeting smile. “Good night, Eunha.”

Eunha watched him rise and move toward the tent flap, her smile lingering—tinged with curiosity and something warmer beneath.

Behind her, Nayeon stirred in her cot, eyes fluttering open just enough to watch Achilles’s silhouette vanish into the night, flamberge glinting faint lavender and blue in the moonlight.

Over the next week, Achilles kept to his steady routine—waking before dawn, patrolling the perimeter, tending wounds, and helping with rations and supplies. But no matter where he went, Eunha seemed to follow like a curious shadow.

At first, she claimed it was because she wanted to “learn some field medicine.” But after the third day of her trailing him while offering to “sanitize” things he’d already sanitized, even Samira shot her a look over her morning tea.

Still, Achilles never shooed her away. If anything, he found her chatter soothing, even if he didn’t always respond. Eunha, for her part, never pushed—she just… hovered close. Helping. Listening. Occasionally throwing playful jabs that made his ears pink and his fingers still.

By the fifth evening, she was the one carrying the fresh bandages, handing him herbal poultices from Samira’s stash, even offering up a cushion for him to kneel on while tending to Haseul’s burns.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” Haseul muttered to Eunha, “You’re not the only one he’s been nice to.”

“I know,” Eunha said brightly. “But I’m the only one with fashion sense.”

That night, while most of the encampment settled in for sleep, Achilles—exhausted from back-to-back raids and sleepless nights—turned in early. Samira, half-lounging outside her tent with a blade in one hand and whiskey in the other, watched as Eunha stood nearby, hands on her hips and eyes glittering with mischief.

“Don’t,” Samira said flatly, even before Eunha moved.

“Do what?” Eunha said innocently.

Samira narrowed her eyes. “You’re planning something.”

Achilles awoke the next morning to faint giggling outside the tent. That was never a good sign.

He sat up slowly, yawning as the canvas flap rustled and Nayeon’s face poked in.

“Morning, ForgeKnight,” she said, voice trembling with suppressed laughter.

Achilles blinked at her. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Nayeon said, then turned away quickly as more snickers rose from outside.

Confused, Achilles reached for his water basin, crouched to splash his face—and froze.

The reflection that stared back at him was unmistakably his: tired eyes, sharp cheekbones, the faint lavender glow that hummed beneath his skin—and a new crown of bubblegum pink streaking through the top half of his otherwise black hair.

His fingers flew to his head.

“…What.”

Outside, a voice called sweetly, “Do you like it?”

Achilles stood and stepped out of the tent slowly. The girls were gathered by the firepit, trying very hard—and failing—not to burst into laughter. Eunha stood proudly with her own pink-tipped curls bouncing in the morning breeze.

“I thought we could match!” she said, clasping her hands behind her back. “You needed a little color, hero.”

Samira snorted into her tea. “He looks like a cotton candy guardian now.”

“I think he looks cute,” Sohee said, grinning.

“Very approachable. Like a pretty knight who moonlights as a candy vendor,” added Nayeon.

Achilles looked from one laughing face to another, his ears pinker than his hair now. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Thought.

Finally, he sighed… and smiled.

“If it makes you all happy,” he said, running a hand through the pink-streaked mess, “I’ll wear it like a badge of honor.”

Eunha beamed. And for the rest of the day, she walked just a little closer beside him—wearing the same pink in her hair, feeling like she’d claimed just a sliver of something warm and soft in the heart of a man she wasn’t quite done figuring out.

Back in the present…

Jeewon blinked mid-sip, her coffee hovering just inches from her lips.

“Wait. Pink hair?”

Nayeon smirked, clearly savoring the memory. “Top half. Cotton candy pink. Matched Eunha’s exactly.”

Jeewon’s eye twitched. “He let her do that?”

Nayeon stirred her drink, casually. “She did it while he was asleep. He was exhausted after patching everyone up. But the best part? He didn’t even get mad. Just rubbed his eyes, looked in the mirror, and said it was… cute.”

“Cute?” Jeewon echoed, her voice a bit too sharp. The pitch made Nayeon smile wider.

“Mmhmm,” came another voice—Eunha, emerging from behind the counter with a tray. “It actually suited him. You should’ve seen how it shimmered when he sparred. Total knight-in-shining-hair moment.”

Jeewon turned slowly, her gaze flicking between the two girls. Her smile tightened. “I’m sure it did.”

Nayeon tilted her head, the teasing grin never fading. “Jealous?”

Jeewon gently set her cup down with surgical precision. “No. Not jealous. Just… invested.”

Nayeon arched a brow. “In his hair?”

Jeewon met her eyes evenly. “In everything.”

Eunha chuckled. “Relax. I had a crush. We all kind of did. Back then, he felt like some kind of ghost-story hero made real. Stoic, strong, ridiculously sweet… and always showing up where he was needed most. The pink just… made him seem a little more human. Reachable.”

Jeewon tilted her head, voice laced with amusement and mild venom. “So you marked him like a schoolgirl tying ribbons on her crush’s backpack?”

Eunha raised an eyebrow. “You say that like it didn’t work.”

Nayeon chimed in, grinning, “Actually… I noticed the other day—there’s still some pink at the tips. Even though it’s mostly grown out.”

Eunha’s eyes lit up. “Wait, really?” She turned to Nayeon, delighted. “Oh my god, that’s hilarious.”

Jeewon stood abruptly, brushing imaginary lint off her coat.

“I’m going to go see him.”

Nayeon blinked. “Now?”

“Yes,” Jeewon said, curt but composed. “I need to ask him something.”

As she left, Nayeon leaned toward Eunha with a conspiratorial smirk.

“Think she’s going to ask about the pink?”

Eunha giggled. “No. She’s going to make damn sure it’s gone.”

⸻

Later that afternoon…

The sun had started to dip when Jeewon arrived at the junkyard. The scent of oil and rust hung in the air, mingling with the sharp tang of metal and summer dust. She found Achilles elbow-deep in the exposed guts of a busted generator, sleeves rolled high, hands coated in grime.

He looked up, blinking against the sunlight, then smiled. “Hey. Didn’t expect you tonight.”

Jeewon marched straight up to him, arms folded, eyes locked on his head.

He froze as she scrutinized him.

“…What?”

She stepped closer, squinting. “Still got some left.”

He blinked. “Of the—oh. The dye. Yeah. I haven’t gotten around to trimming it yet.”

Then his brow furrowed. “Wait. How do you even know about that?”

“I ran into Nayeon and Eunha at the café,” she said, voice deceptively casual. “Asked them how they knew you.”

Achilles stiffened slightly, his easy smile dimming. “…What did they tell you?”

Jeewon watched his expression. “Enough. The pink hair. The encampment. The stories. The heroics.”

Achilles exhaled and muttered under his breath, “Of course you’d catch that part.”

Jeewon softened. “I’m not mad. Just… confused. You never use your psionic powers anymore. You don’t even wear the colors that used to represent you. What happened?”

He didn’t answer at first. Just turned and wiped his hands clean with a rag, back tense.

Jeewon stepped forward, quieter now. “What happened to Samira? And Naafiri? Nayeon made them sound… important. Like they were your family.”

At that, Achilles paused.

A long silence stretched between them. Then—so quietly she almost didn’t catch it—he said, “They were.”

Back to the past

The sun hung low, casting long shadows over the wasteland as the clang of metal echoed across the cracked dirt. Sparks danced each time blades met—Samira’s heavy longsword against Achilles’s flamberge, its wavy pastel-blue and lavender hue gleaming with psionic charge.

“Too slow, ForgeKnight!” Samira barked, sidestepping his downward slash and striking his side with the blunt edge of her blade. Achilles grunted, stumbling back with a breathless chuckle.

“I meant to do that,” he panted, wiping sweat from his brow.

“You meant to get your ribs bruised?” Samira raised a brow, circling him like a desert wolf. “Bold strategy.”

“Character building,” Achilles replied, shifting his stance, blade raised. “You wouldn’t want me to get too confident.”

Samira laughed—genuinely, sharply. “Confidence is earned, cub. Now show me that fire you bragged about.”

From the sidelines, Eunha sat cross-legged on a rock, chin in her hands, watching with bright-eyed delight. Her cotton-candy pink hair bounced slightly each time she giggled at Achilles’s fumbles. She’d taken to following him around when she wasn’t training with her squad or doing recon, and no one—least of all Achilles—seemed to mind.

“You’ve got this, Achilles!” she called, cupping her hands around her mouth. “Don’t let her dunk on you like that!”

Samira groaned theatrically. “Stop encouraging him, rabbit.”

“I’m rooting for both of you,” Eunha said with a cheeky grin. “I just like the way his hair sparkles when he uses his powers!”

Achilles’s cheeks flushed slightly as he twirled his flamberge with a psionic pulse. The blade shimmered brighter in response—lavender streaks flaring against the sky like a banner. He narrowed his eyes and lunged.

This time, he was faster. Samira’s scimitar caught the strike, but she had to brace harder than before. He pressed forward, feet digging into the dirt, sparks flying with each clash.

“That’s more like it,” she growled, grinning through grit teeth. “Don’t just swing—command the weapon!”

Their blades locked. Achilles’s eyes flared with psionic light as the weapon rippled, humming with energy. He pivoted, pushing off with a well-timed burst of power and knocking her backward just enough to break the lock.

Samira laughed aloud, breathless, pride gleaming in her eyes.

“Good! That’s how a ForgeKnight fights!” she called, lowering her blade at last. “You’re still raw—but that was real strength.”

Achilles lowered his weapon and offered a bow, a little sheepish but smiling wide.

“Thanks, teacher.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Samira replied, slinging her scimitar over her shoulder. “Tomorrow, we spar blindfolded.”

Eunha squeaked. “Blindfolded?! That sounds dangerous!”

Samira winked at her. “Danger is the best teacher.”

Achilles laughed as he wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve, the lavender and pastel-blue glow still faintly shimmering around his shoulders like the last traces of a dream. His breath was steadying now, his body aching in all the right ways—proof of a lesson hard-earned.

He spotted Eunha waiting near the edge of the sparring ring, her hands behind her back, eyes wide with admiration. As he approached, she stepped forward and offered him a water canteen with both hands, like presenting a medal.

“You looked awesome out there,” she said, her voice quiet but brimming with awe. “Like… like a real hero out of a storybook.”

Achilles took the canteen, smiling softly as their fingers brushed. “Thanks,” he said, tipping it back. “But honestly? I’m just trying not to get impaled.”

Eunha giggled, then gave him a playful nudge with her elbow. “Well, if you do get impaled, I call dibs on the sword.”

He choked slightly on the water, laughing. “Wow. Cold.”

“Sentimental,” she replied with a teasing wink. “You’ll be dead. I’ll keep the legend alive.”

Their laughter drifted on the breeze, soft and warm against the cooling desert air. A little distance away, Samira crossed her arms and watched them, her expression unreadable but her eyes glinting with quiet approval. Even the hardened warrior couldn’t suppress a faint smile.

As they turned to head back toward camp, the sound of claws crunching through dust approached. Naafiri, ever loyal and battle-scarred, trotted up to them and nuzzled Eunha’s side with a low, pleased growl.

“Hey there, girl,” Eunha cooed, crouching to scratch behind Naafiri’s ears. The bladehound’s tail thumped contentedly in the dirt as she settled at Eunha’s feet, tongue lolling.

Achilles watched the two with a soft smirk. “Huh. She doesn’t take to many people.”

Eunha looked up at him, her hand still stroking the hound’s fur. Her expression had shifted—less playful, more wistful. The light caught her pink hair as it moved in the wind, glowing faintly in the dying sun.

“Tomorrow’s our last day here,” she said gently. “Before we redeploy.”

He nodded, setting the canteen down beside his pack. “Yeah. The front’s pulling everyone back.”

There was a pause. Then, with a vulnerability she rarely let surface, Eunha looked at him and asked, “Would you run away with me?”

Achilles blinked. “What?”

“Run,” she said again, softer this time. “Not forever. Just… a while. Be my covering. My shadow. We could disappear for a few days. Pretend the war isn’t happening. Pretend it’s just us.”

There was a flicker of hope in her eyes. Not childish or naïve—but tired. Longing. A need for something simple, something safe.

Achilles sighed and looked down at the sand, then back at her with a sad smile.

“I want to,” he admitted. “But… someone has to stay. Someone who doesn’t take sides. Someone who can stop the bleeding before it gets too deep.”

Eunha’s eyes misted, but she smiled through it, nodding slowly. “Right. The neutral hero.”

“ForgeKnight,” he added with a gentle grin.

She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her uniform and stood tall again. “Okay. No pressure. But just so you know… if you do change your mind, I’d still steal your sword.”

Achilles laughed and ruffled her hair—messing it up just enough to make her squeak in protest.

From a few steps away, Samira turned her back and walked toward her tent, her smile lingering as the two young warriors stood beneath the pink-orange sky, the day ending around them like a secret they almost shared.

Later that night, beneath the low hum of desert wind and canvas canopies…

Eunha sat cross-legged on a supply crate just outside the main tent, her arms wrapped around her knees, the stars winking above like scattered fireflies. She twirled a loose thread on her sleeve, her thoughts heavy. The sound of approaching boots drew her out of her reverie.

Nayeon emerged from the shadows, arms folded and brow furrowed.

“You missed the strategy meeting,” Nayeon said, eyeing her closely.

“I know,” Eunha replied, her voice quiet. “Wasn’t really in the mood.”

Nayeon sighed and sat beside her, the weight of command visible in the way her shoulders slumped the moment she was out of sight of her battalion.

For a few moments, silence sat between them—comfortable, sisterly. Then Eunha spoke.

“Nayeon,” she began, hesitating, “can I ask you something… a little crazy?”

Nayeon arched a brow. “With you, that’s usually a given. Go ahead.”

Eunha took a breath. “Do you think… I could retire? From the hybrid army, I mean. Like, step down. Stay here. With Achilles.”

Nayeon’s smile froze.

“You’re not serious.”

“I am.” Eunha’s eyes met hers. “I’m tired of fighting. And Achilles—he makes everything feel… different. Like there’s something else I could be besides a soldier. Something more.”

Nayeon stared at her, then shook her head with a sharp exhale. “No.”

“No?” Eunha echoed, confused. “Just like that?”

“Yes, just like that,” Nayeon said, standing abruptly. “You think you’re the only one who wants to rest? Who sees something in Achilles worth holding onto? We all feel it, Eunha. That’s what makes him dangerous.”

Eunha flinched. “He’s not dangerous.”

“He’s hope,” Nayeon snapped. “And hope is a liability in war.”

The words hung in the air like smoke from a burnt fuse.

Nayeon softened then, placing a hand on Eunha’s shoulder. “You’re young. And you’re scared. So am I. But don’t mistake comfort for a way out. You swore an oath—to your people, to this battalion, to me.”

“I didn’t swear away my heart,” Eunha whispered.

“No,” Nayeon said. “But you don’t get to give it away until the war is over. That’s the price we pay.”

Eunha looked down, eyes brimming with silent rebellion and hurt.

“I just… I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” she said.

Nayeon crouched to meet her eyes. “Then lean on us. But don’t run. Not now. Not while the others still need you.”

They locked gazes for a long moment before Eunha finally gave a small nod.

“Okay,” she said. “But I still love him.”

“I know,” Nayeon said softly. “So do I.”

And with that unspoken truth left between them, the two girls sat side by side again, watching the moon rise over the canyon—each mourning a future that war refused to let them have.

A few hours later…

The moon was high when Achilles heard the soft crunch of boots on gravel outside his tent. He didn’t look up right away—he was focused, carefully applying oil to the edge of his flamberge, the lavender-and-blue glow of psionic residue humming gently against the steel.

A silhouette cast against the tent flap.

He recognized her posture before she even spoke.

“You’ve got a way of collecting hearts, you know that?” Nayeon stepped inside without waiting for permission.

Achilles glanced up, brushing a hand through his hair. “You’re up late.”

“So are you.”

He gave her a tired smile. “Blades don’t clean themselves.”

She didn’t return the smile. Instead, she stood near the edge of the tent, arms crossed. Watching him.

“Eunha came to me tonight,” she said.

Achilles paused, setting the cloth down. “Yeah?”

“She asked if she could retire. Stay here. With you.”

He didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he wiped the blade one last time, then slid it into its wrap before setting it aside.

“She’s got a good heart,” he said. “Too good for war.”

“She’s also seventeen,” Nayeon said sharply. “And she listens to you more than me now.”

Achilles’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t ask her to—”

“I know you didn’t,” Nayeon cut in. “That’s the problem. You don’t even have to ask. You exist, and people want to follow you. Fall in love with you. Paint their hair pink for you.”

There was a flicker of amusement in his eyes, but it vanished when he saw how serious she was.

“Nayeon…”

“She’s not ready to be left behind, Achilles,” Nayeon said, softer now. “And neither are the rest of them. You keep making them feel like there’s another world waiting after this. That you could be part of it.”

“I want there to be.”

“So do I,” she admitted, her voice catching slightly. “But until that world exists, you need to be more careful with what you give people. With who you give yourself to.”

He stood, crossing the space between them slowly. “I’m not trying to lead anyone on. I just want to help.”

Nayeon looked up at him—into the eyes of the boy she once saw bleed for strangers and bury the broken. “You are helping. Too much.”

There was a pause. Then, with a small exhale, she added, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Achilles. Not to girls who don’t know yet what war will take from them.”

Achilles nodded slowly, the weight of her words sinking in. “I hear you.”

Nayeon lingered in the tent doorway for a moment longer. “She still loves you, by the way.”

Achilles didn’t ask who she meant.

“I know,” he said softly. “I still remember the way she smiled when she dyed my hair.”

Nayeon turned to leave, but paused. “She wasn’t the only one who loved you, you know.”

He looked up.

But by then, Nayeon was already gone.

Achilles woke to the sound of gunfire. Not drills. Real gunfire.

He bolted upright, hand instinctively gripping the hilt of his flamberge, breath catching in his chest. Naafiri barked once—sharp, urgent—before lunging toward the tent’s flap. Achilles followed her into chaos.

Outside, the morning air was thick with smoke and shouting. The once-neutral encampment had erupted into a battlefield. Nayeon’s and Sohee’s battalions were engaged in a vicious skirmish—steel flashing, psionics cracking like lightning, hybrid and human soldiers screaming commands.

But when they saw him—glowing faintly, sword in hand—their priorities shifted.

“Secure the psionic asset!” both commanders shouted at once, eyes locking on Achilles.

His stomach dropped.

Frantically, Achilles scanned the field for Samira. Nothing. Only smoke, fire, and war.

A blur of motion—too fast to counter—closed the distance. A human operative with a massive cybernetic arm powered by a jet engine roared into view, slamming his fist toward Achilles. He barely blocked with his flamberge, the shockwave sending dust and debris skyward. In the gleam of his blade, Achilles caught a glimpse of a lithe, scythe-wielding figure charging in: a heterochromatic snake hybrid—eyes mismatched, movement serpentine.

Naafiri snarled and lunged past him, her bladed hide cutting through enemy lines. Still, there were too many.

Achilles made a split-second decision. He turned to Naafiri. “Find Samira! Go!”

She took off through the dust and gunfire.

Meanwhile, Achilles fought a desperate retreat. He slashed at the cybernetic brute, ducked the arc of the scythe, and spun away toward the med tent. His flamberge clanged against metal and caught in a table. Before he could pull it free, a burst from the operative’s jet-powered punch sent him flying backward—straight through a window.

He landed hard but rolled into a crouch, bruised but alive.

With a pulse of pastel energy, the sword yanked itself free and flew to his hand. He danced backward across the open ground, playing keep-away, outmaneuvering both operatives. But the more they pressed him, the more his focus slipped—and then it happened.

The snake hybrid lunged, scythe gleaming. Achilles raised his hand.

Not lavender. Not blue.

Black.

A searing pulse of malevolent psionic force erupted from his body, knocking both enemies back in a crackle of dark fire.

He stared at his hands, horrified. That wasn’t the ForgeKnight. That wasn’t him.

But no time. He raced back into the battlefield, yelling, “Stop this! Samira declared this ground neutral! STOP!”

No one listened.

He pushed through the skirmish, parrying without killing, holding back the darkness threatening to overtake him. Finally, he saw them—Samira and Naafiri—fighting a dozen soldiers with bloodied steel and waning strength. They were surrounded.

Achilles surged forward, cutting a path with stunning precision, incapacitating but never taking life. Still, for every step forward, two more enemies tried to block his way.

When the tide finally broke and the soldiers scattered, he dropped beside them.

Samira was covered in blood, her breaths ragged. Naafiri lay still beside her, twitching once before going limp. Achilles’s face went pale.

“Samira—no, no—hold on, I’ve got you,” he said, reaching for his first aid kit.

She batted his hands away. “You’re not saving me this time, cub.”

He looked down—her side was torn open, a chunk of her torso missing. His breath caught.

“What’s wrong?” she rasped with a crooked smile. “It’s war. People die. Better me than you.”

Her hand found his shoulder. “The world needs a ForgeKnight now more than ever.”

Naafiri whined faintly and leaned into Achilles one last time, then went still.

Achilles froze. The breath left his body. The pain was there, rising—but the tears never came.

Instead, his heart filled with something darker.

Something hollow.

Something malevolent.

Back in the Present…

Jeewon sat frozen on the couch, her fingers curled tight around her mug. The silence that followed Achilles’s story wasn’t just awkward—it was suffocating. The soft hum of the lights, the gentle thrum of city life outside the windows, none of it could mask the weight in the air between them.

Across from her, Achilles stared blankly at the floor. His fingers were laced together tightly, knuckles pale. That haunted glint in his eye—the one she’d noticed before but never questioned—was now unmistakable.

“I didn’t cry,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “I wanted to. I felt it coming. But… all I could feel was rage. Like something cracked. Like I’d lost the part of me that could grieve.”

Jeewon swallowed hard, the lump in her throat painful.

“I saw her die, Jeewon. Both of them. And all I could think about was how I couldn’t save them. How the whole world just kept asking me to survive while the people I loved… didn’t.”

He gave a bitter laugh, eyes still distant. “And then the black psionics started showing up. I kept hiding it, pretending I was still that ‘incarnation of heroism’ everyone wanted to believe in.”

“You were just a kid,” Jeewon whispered.

Achilles looked up, his gaze sharper than before. “So was Eunha. So were a lot of us.”

Jeewon opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. What could she say? Sorry didn’t even begin to cover it. She reached out instead, laying a hand gently over his clenched fists.

“You’re not that person anymore,” she said softly. “You’re not alone anymore either.”

Achilles looked at her, really looked. For the first time since the story began, something softened behind his eyes. Not quite relief. But something close.

“You still think there’s something left of me worth holding onto?” he asked.

She smiled—small, but certain. “Yeah. Even with the pink hair.”

That got the smallest huff of laughter out of him. “It suited me?”

“Not as much as it annoyed me,” she deadpanned.

Achilles leaned back, exhaling slowly. “You’ve got good timing.”

“Someone has to,” she replied, brushing a tear from her cheek—only now realizing it had fallen. “I think… I think Samira would be proud. Even now.”

He didn’t answer at first. Just nodded slowly, then whispered, “I hope so.”

Outside, the sky had darkened to a soft lavender and blue. The kind of color Achilles used to be.

And maybe, Jeewon thought, with time—it could be again.

Jeewon sat alone on the rooftop of her apartment building, knees drawn up, a blanket wrapped tight around her shoulders. The city sprawled below her in glimmering waves—cars sliding past like flickering fireflies, neon signs pulsing in time with distant music. It was beautiful. Too beautiful for what she felt.

She didn’t even realize her cheeks were wet until the wind kissed them cold.

Achilles’s story played in loops in her mind: Samira bleeding out with that final, selfless smile. Naafiri’s last breath curling into silence. The way Achilles said he didn’t cry—not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t.

That haunted her.

Jeewon had always sensed something fractured in him, some scar that no battlefield could explain. But hearing it—the truth, raw and unvarnished—rattled her deeper than she expected.

She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a little trinket: a charm Eunbi had given her earlier in the week, a simple string of beads that supposedly brought clarity. She rolled it between her fingers, eyes unfocused.

“I thought I understood what he’d been through,” she whispered to the wind. “I didn’t know anything.”

She thought back to the way he’d looked at her when he asked, “You still think there’s something left of me worth holding onto?” And how terrifying it was that the question had even needed asking.

“Of course there is,” she said, quietly, fiercely, to the night. “Of course there is.”

A sudden gust blew her hair into her face, and she pushed it back, wiping her eyes again. There was no one to see her cry, and she was glad for that. This wasn’t a moment for bravery. It was a moment for grief—for his, and for her own helplessness in the face of it.

“I don’t want to be just another person who leaves him behind.”

She didn’t know if she said it as a promise or a prayer.

But as the sky shifted from night to deep navy blue, Jeewon sat a little taller. Her heart still ached, but beneath the ache was resolve—quiet, steady, and fierce.

Achilles had borne the weight of too many ghosts. She wouldn’t let him carry them alone anymore.

Not if she could help it.

[zombeebunnie]

🎂✨🍰Happy birthday Noah!🎂✨🍰:

Since Noah's birthday is May 7th, here is his official Spotify playlist!:

Noah's choice in music progressed and changed over time before and during the events of the game. I tried my best to incorporate this in 1 playlist but I didn't like the sudden jump into different genres so now it's 4 separate playlists that'll have a description for each one.**

1. In the beginning years of his finance career, Noah enjoyed and mainly stuck to instrumental jazz music. It's the kind of sound you would possibly hear in elevators, jazz clubs, commercials etc. Later on in his career something happened which caused him to no longer listen to the jazz genre and his music choices became melancholy for a short while. [Click here to listen.] 2. With a time skip, his music developed more into a interesting form of Smooth/Neo-soul with hints of gospel sounds mixed in. [Click here to listen.] 3. This goes on for a while until something causes Noah to go into a deep ambient state towards music and this lasts for a long time. [Click here to listen.] 4. In the end, Noah's music choices ultimately develop into what he listens to currently which is influenced by not only R&B, alternative indie, and neo-soul with lo-fi textures but, his friends tastes in music! **There are still hints of deep ambient music mixed in but it's from a better healthier, headspace. [Click here to listen.]

**Please note: The description of these playlists are still undergoing music adjustments and additions. :,]

🎂💙Noah's birthday fun facts💙🎂:

🍰🎊Here's a small recap🍰🎊:

Noah used to celebrate his birthday but certain reasons caused him to lose interest in it during until his mid 20's. He treats it like any other day or completely forgets. If Y/N shows interest in celebrating his birthday he would be very happy about knowing you cared enough to do it anyway and he'd eventually find joy in it again.

🎉🎂🥳What type of birthday cake would Noah like?🎉🎂🥳:

Noah honestly isn't that picky when it comes to birthday cake as long as some form of effort was put into it. For the flavor, he does like and prefer vanilla flavored cake and maybe even cookies & cream. His least favorite cake would be the kind that has that artificial chocolate taste.

You'd win him over if you made him a frog or duck themed cake, he'd find that very thoughtful and endearing.

🎁🎉If he could have anything, what would Noah want for his birthday?🎁🎉:

He would really want lounge wear, preferably in the color realm of dark earth tones. If you want to go a step further, a good flannel shirt or hoodie would make him happy. For necessities he'd ask for maybe a pair of comfortable boxers and a good shaving kit for his beard. Speaking of bath products, Noah loves to smell good and any body wash that leans into the essential oil Lavender, Mint, Cashmere Wood, Sandalwood, and Amber category is a plus. This would also include some cologne's but I have something planned for this so I'll save it for another post. :]

🫧Does Noah like party theme's?🫧:

He does and would like to be surprised, If you asked him what theme he'd want specifically he most likely wouldn't have an answer for you until weeks later. He does have a soft spot for silly lighthearted theme's that would catch him off guard.

🥤Does Noah have any food preferences for his birthday?🥤:

He does actually! If Y/N went out their way to cook anything or order out, his top 2 picks would be:

1. Grilled BBQ - Chicken, burgers, hotdogs, ribs, steak. 2. Seafood - Catfish, crab legs, shrimp, lobster. **For the sides it would be between corn on the cob, red beans & rice, sweet beans, collard greens, macaroni & cheese, potato salad. Any left overs would be saved and eaten over the next few days. Noah would be very happy if you surprised him with some lavender/taro boba!

May is considered his birthday month so hopefully I'll be able to post more drawings and fun facts about Noah, etc! :,]

[whatifitookalilnap]

Three's Company, Four's a Crowd!

(Korra x Fem!Reader x Asami)

Prologue: Yuma Gives Birth to Half of the Airbending Population

(A/N: Hey hey! Wanted to give a lil intro to my reader insert fic here sorry it's so long. So this story will be Korra x Fem!Airbender!Reader x Asami they will end up a throuple. I will be covering over half of the show so it's gonna be a few chapters. I will be mostly focusing on season one and three. I won't cover season four at all and season two will probably be like three or four chapters at the most. Most chapters will be second POV but a few will be third person like this one. Also I named reader's mom Yuma because it's easier for me lol. There will be more entertainment in the next chapter rest assured! This will also be posted on my ao3 account I'll post that link right after this!)

"It's time to wake up, Turtle Duck!" Yuma whispered while gently rubbing her child's arm.

(Y/n) groaned and slowly sat up. Yuma's poor girl is not a morning person in any sense of the word. Her (h/c) hair was an utter disaster as it always is after a good night's rest. The five year old little girl yawned and rubbed her bleary (e/c) eyes in an attempt to get the sleepiness away.

"Can't I have five more minutes?" (Y/n) pouted.

"Not today, my love. We're visiting Gran Gran today, remember?" Yuma smiled.

At once, the five year old girl perked up at the mention of her grandmother. Honestly, that woman is the only reason why Yuma stayed in the Southern Water Tribe once the divorce from her ex-husband, Taro, was finalized. Zoh was an angel sent from above in Yuma's eyes. Always happily taking in (Y/n) whenever there was an emergency and helping around Yuma's home when she desperately needed a break.

Zoh has absolutely zero contact with her son after the divorce. Something about cheating on his wife and abadonding his child really pissed Zoh off. Honestly, Yuma can't even remember the last time someone was so loyal to her. It means the world to her that her ex-mother-in-law has her back. After all these years, Yuma felt as though she had a mother again.

"Yes! I can't wait to show you and Gran Gran my magic trick! I'm going to blow you guys away!" (Y/n) enthusiastically exclaimed.

"And I can't wait to see it! But before you blow us away, we have to fix this," Yuma grinned while patting her daughter's head.

(Y/n) gave her a cute little pout as Yuma began combing her hair. Once that was completed after much wincing from both parties, Yuma put her daughter's hair in two little buns atop her head. The Fire Nation woman then went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast while her daughter changed clothes.

Honestly, Yuma really couldn't wait to see what this little 'magic trick' is. (Y/n)'s been talking about it since last week and it has been driving Yuma mad. The Fire Nation woman has never been...how does one say...patient. Obviously, Yuma has all the patience in the world for her daughter, but literally anything else? That's going to be a hard no. She's also a very curious woman by nature. Yuma is just itching to know what the magic trick is.

Yuma highly suspects that (Y/n) might be a waterbender like Taro. She took (Y/n) to a waterbending show a few months ago and her daughter claimed it to be magic, which just furthers her suspicions. Yuma herself didn't have the ability to bend, so it made the most logical sense.

Then again, it could just be something like a picture or sleight of hand magic. Kids did have a tendency to exaggerate or bend the truth. There are plenty of possibilities which is greatly irritating because again, Yuma is painfully impatient and horribly curious.

Ah, well, it will be revealed today when they visit Zoh. (Y/n) rushed up to their little table and practically shoveled her food into her mouth.

"Careful now, we don't want to have to see the healers now do we?" Yuma reminded her.

(Y/n) didn't respond verbally but ate considerably slower. Her sweet daughter always got so excited to see her Gran Gran even though it's a pretty frequent occurrence. It really does take a village and even though Yuma's village is truly just one other person, she couldn't be more grateful for it.

Once Yuma finished her breakfast (Y/n) was shoving her out the door. The trek to Zoh's hut was only about ten minutes on foot so it wouldn't be long until Yuma got to see that magic trick.

(Y/n) talked on and on about how this trick is just the coolest thing ever and that Yuma will be so impressed. To be fair, practically everything about (Y/n) impresses Yuma. It must be a mom thing.

In what felt like no time at all, the mother daughter duo reached Zoh's hut. (Y/n) excitedly knocked on the door. It only took two knocks before the door swung open.

"Oh hello Yuma. Didn't you say (Y/n) was coming with you? I can't find her anywhere!" Zoh exclaimed while purposefully looking upwards.

"Oh you know how five year old girls are these days, she just wanted to stay home and listen to her radio," Yuma joked.

"Gran Gran! I'm right here!" (Y/n) laughed.

Zoh looked down and feigned a gasp of surprise. The older woman quickly scooped her granddaughter up and peppered kisses all over her face. (Y/n) giggled in pure delight as her grandmother smothered her with affection.

"And how's my favorite granddaughter doing?" Zoh smiled.

"I'm your only granddaughter, silly! I'm doing good! I'll be even better when I get to show you my awesome magic trick!" (Y/n) exclaimed excitedly.

"Oh? A magic trick you say? I didn't know I was getting good company and a show! We better all get inside to enjoy such a performance," Zoh smiled.

The older woman stepped aside to let Yuma inside and gently placed (Y/n) on the ground. Yuma smiled and gave Zoh a quick but firm hug.

"Thanks for having us, Zoh," Yuma said.

"I'm sorry, who is this Zoh you speak of?" Zoh grinned.

"Apologies. Thank you for having us, Mom," Yuma laughed.

"That's more like it. Besides, I'd have you guys around all the time if I could," Zoh chuckled as she locked the door behind them.

"Before I can show you my magic trick, I must grab my materials! Please, have a seat ladies," (Y/n) dramatically stated while gesturing to the couch in the living room.

Her daughter is just too cute. The adults shot each other an amused look before sitting on the couch. Once (Y/n) saw that they were seated, she rushed off to the kitchen to grab these 'materials'.

"You don't happen to know what this magic trick is, do you?" the Water Tribe woman asked her.

"No, not quite. She's been talking about it since last week but insisted that she would only do it with both of us present," Yuma explained.

"That must have driven you mad," Zoh smirked, well aware of Yuma's patience level.

"Oh, you have no idea. I really should work on that," Yuma sighed.

"All I'm saying is that this is about the age where children start to discover their bending abilities," Zoh said in a sing song voice.

"That was my first thought when she said magic trick. The waterbending genes do run strong in your family," the Fire Nation woman admitted.

"That they do. We're very strong benders, too. One might say, some of the greatest benders of all time?" Zoh asked smugly.

Yuma immediately rolled her eyes. She knew exactly what the older woman was implying. And it's all because of that alleged 'seer' Zoh dragged Yuma to.

Back when she was still pregnant with (Y/n), Zoh and Yuma were attending a festival in one of the main cities in the Southern Water Tribe. Zoh found a seer and insisted they get a reading of (Y/n)'s future. Yuma didn't exactly love the idea of a strange woman touching her belly to get a reading she didn't actually believe in, but figured it would be harmless.

Long story short, the seer told them three things. One is that (Y/n) will face great challenges in her life but will inevitably be victorious as long as she trusts in herself and her loved ones. The second thing is that (Y/n) will be one of the most powerful benders of all time and help create balance in the world. The final tidbit of information they got was that (Y/n) would be blessed to experience twice the amount of romantic love than most people got in their entire lives and will end up happily married with healthy children.

What a load of shit.

Seriously? Her daughter needs to believe in herself in order to overcome great trials and tribulations? That is the most unoriginal reading Yuma had ever heard. Could have gotten that from half of the fortune cookies in creation.

As for the bending, that seer probably says that to every person that crosses her path. It's not like benders are a dying breed, it's a pretty good guess that (Y/n) would end up one. The damn seer didn't even specify what kind of bender she would be! And that balance part? What a joke. Probably wanted to make it seem like she's meant for some great purpose.

The romantic aspect of (Y/n)'s life confused the hell out of Yuma. What did the seer even mean by twice as much love? Doesn't matter, because it's total bogus. Yuma is pretty sure that the whole happily married with children part is yet another thing that the seer says to everyone that gets a reading from her.

In other words, that con artist merely told them exactly what they wanted to hear. Zoh claims Yuma is just a pessimist and Yuma claims Zoh wasted her money.

"Relax, Mom. I highly doubt today is the start of (Y/n)'s 'destiny'," Yuma scoffed.

"Ye of little faith," Zoh said with a dramatic shake of her head.

At that precise moment, (Y/n) came back into the room with the biggest grin Yuma had ever seen on her. To both her and Zoh's surprise, (Y/n) did not come into the room with a glass of water. Instead, there were two little marbles resting on the palm of her left hand.

Okay, now Yuma's confused. Obviously, there would be no waterbending today. Maybe her magic trick is sleight of hand magic? But what kind of magic trick only involves two marbles?

The Fire Nation woman looked at Zoh from the corner of her eyes and saw she was just as confused as Yuma is. What is this girl planning?

"As you can see, here in my hand there are two marbles! No string, no magnet, just some boring old marbles! Now feast your eyes upon me!" (Y/n) excitedly yelled.

Both women looked on intently as (Y/n) hovered her right hand about two inches above her left. Both palms were facing the marbles. For a split second, nothing happened.

Then, the marbles moved. (Y/n)'s hands didn't tilt at all, they were completely still as the marbles levitated right in between both her palms. Then, the two marbles started to spin rapidly around each other in a circle.

Yuma's seen an exact picture of this once. But he is long gone and only one other person could pull this off.

There's no way. It's not possible. She can't be an-

"Airbender. Yuma, she is an airbender," Zoh hissed in her ear.

"But that's impossible! The only living airbender is Master Tenzin and we know for a fact (Y/n)'s not his!" Yuma hissed back.

First of all, unlike her ex-husband, Yuma's not a cheating whore. Second of all, during the divorce, Yuma wanted child support because it was the least Taro could do. He had tried to contest it by claiming (Y/n) wasn't actually his. Yuma went out of her way to be petty and gave the court four separate DNA tests. Each and every one of them confirmed Taro was the father.

Long story short, Yuma got her money.

Plus, Yuma's never even been in the same room as Master Tenzin. This means that (Y/n) has no biological relation to the previous Avatar or his family. Yuma knows her daughter can't be the current Avatar because she was already discovered about one year ago. This shouldn't be real. She shouldn't be able to airbend.

"Uhm, excuse you, it is very rude to talk while I perform," (Y/n) huffed as the marbles plopped back onto her hand.

"We're sorry, my love, we're just surprised. It's just, you're an airbender! It's incredible!" Yuma sincerely told her while struggling to get over her own shock.

"I see! So you're in awe of my super cool skills!" (Y/n) beamed. "But I thought there was only one airbender and you can only be an airbender if you're related to him."

(Y/n) has a very vague concept of bending. The only bending she's actually seen in person is waterbending and most of it is from Zoh to keep her entertained. She knows that people can bend both earth and fire as well as the fact that the only living airbender is Tenzin, Avatar Aang's son.

Yuma's daughter also enjoys listening to the pro bending matches on the radio but this is about the extent of her knowledge. How is Yuma supposed to fully explain this situation when she didn't understand it herself?

"Well I promise you are not related to Tenzin. But honestly, who cares how you can be an airbender?! This is phenomenal! Say, why don't we see what else you can do?" Zoh enthusiastically exclaimed.

(Y/n)'s entire face lit up, quickly forgetting about the technicalities of her airbending abilities.

"Like what?" (Y/n) asked curiously.

"I've got a stack of papers on my desk. Let's see if you can move them with your bending," Zoh told her.

"You're thinking big, Gran Gran! I like it!" (Y/n) cheered.

"That's my girl!" Zoh grinned as she rushed off to grab those papers.

Yuma took the opportunity to make sure all the doors and windows in Zoh's home were sealed shut. Of course they were, they lived in the South Pole for spirits sake! Even if they weren't shut, it still wouldn't have been able to explain the marbles rapidly circling each other in between the palms of (Y/n)'s hands.

The Fire Nation woman is pretty sure she's still in shock. Who wouldn't be? Her daughter has an ability that's practically extinct. It is nothing short of a miracle.

Zoh rushed back into the living room and plopped a small stack of papers on the table. She put her hand on (Y/n)'s shoulders and took a couple steps back.

"See if you can move the papers using your bending. I've obviously never taught an airbender, so it may be a little difficult. Feel the air in this room. Allow yourself to work with it to achieve your desired result," Zoh wisely told her.

Zoh's been teaching young children waterbending for years. Yuma doesn't understand how she's able to keep her voice steady enough to give off that confident instructor appearance under these circumstances.

(Y/n) narrowed her eyes in pure concentration and slowly lifted her arms. Yuma's jaw dropped seeing the papers slowly rise into the air. The young girl gasped in pure happiness at her accomplishment. Seeming to be testing the waters, (Y/n) began slowly swaying her arms from side to side to see if the papers would follow. They did.

Zoh and Yuma merely looked on in pure fascination as (Y/n) began to spin ever so slowly, taking the papers with her. The papers seemed as though they were dancing as they followed (Y/n)'s command, swishing in whatever direction she wanted them to. Her cute little face began scrunching up before dropping her likely tired arms. The papers, now no longer being controlled by airbending, began to slowly fall to the ground.

There is truly no denying it now. This isn't some small trick or accidental fluke, this is real.

(Y/n) is an airbender.

Yuma picked up (Y/n) and looked her dead in the eyes.

"I have to be honest with you, Turtle Duck. That was the coolest thing I've ever seen," Yuma grinned.

(Y/n) shot back what might be an even bigger smile.

"Thanks, Mommy! It was a lot of fun! I wonder what else I can do," (Y/n) smiled.

Yuma ended up zoning out as Zoh and (Y/n) chatted about how awesome the airbending is. It's certainly a fun thing to think about, what else could her little girl do? What is the extent of her abilities? She would certainly need proper training to-

Damn it. Damn it all. Reality's now hitting her like a train. This girl needs to learn to bend! And there's only one person in all four nations that could provide such services!

Oh for the love of spirits, (Y/n) is now one of two living airbenders! There's no doubt in Yuma's mind someone is going to want to hurt her daughter because of her extraordinary abilities! Not to mention the fact that Yuma has a pathological need to know how it's even possible that (Y/n) can airbend! There's so much that needs to be done and so much potential dangers-

"(Y/n)? My love? Gran Gran and I need to have a big kid talk. Why don't you curl up in your room and turn on the radio. I believe one of the pro bending matches just started in Republic City," Yuma told her daughter.

"Really? Awesome!" (Y/n) stated.

Zoh raised an eyebrow but ultimately didn't say anything as Yuma led (Y/n) to the guest bedroom she stays in for sleepovers. Once she got her daughter situated with her radio, Yuma walked back out and closed the door behind her. Then she dragged Zoh to the bathroom farthest away from the room (Y/n) was in and locked the door.

"Zoh, I need you to talk me down from a really high ledge because I am freaking the fuck out right now," Yuma hissed.

"Yeah, I had a feeling this might happen," the older woman sighed.

"What do I do? She's absolutely remarkable, Mom! She can airbend! The second person alive to do so! I just know some sick freak out there is going to want to wish harm upon my daughter! People always want to hurt the ones that stand out, good or bad! Oh spirits, what if someone kidnaps her and sells her on the black market-" the Fire Nation woman exclaimed, very clearly spiraling out.

"Breathe, dear. No one is getting sold in any markets. The answer is simple. We contact Tenzin so that (Y/n) will train with him and-" Zoh began.

"What if we didn't?" Yuma asked breathlessly. "What if we just leave now, change our names, and relocate to the Fire Nation? No one has to know. If no one knows about her, they can't hurt her."

Zoh gave her a look. Yuma knew that look. It was a look that said 'you're going off the deep end, kid'. Yuma did not like that look.

"And how do you think (Y/n)'s going to feel a few years from now, knowing you are purposefully trying to hide a part of who she is? How exactly do you expect her to control and conceal an ability she never got any training for?" Zoh asked.

Shit. Zoh's got her there. But that's why she's talking to the other woman. It's to prevent Yuma from doing something she'll regret.

"You're right, of course you're right. I'm just so scared. She's my baby. If anything happens to her...," Yuma trailed off.

She wouldn't make it. She knows she wouldn't.

"Nothing will happen to her. Not as long as she is properly trained. Katara was my mentor and we've stayed in touch. We'll make the journey to her place at once. There, she can contact her son and we will figure something out," the Water Tribe woman calmly told her.

Okay, Yuma likes this plan. It's a good plan. A solid plan. A plan that likely wouldn't end in utter devastation.

"Seems sane enough. But there's still the issue of how (Y/n)'s even an airbender. You know everyone's going to assume I had an affair with Tenzin. That's what I'd think. We'll need to brding the paternity tests and try to find out why (Y/n) can airbend," Yuma reminded her.

"I agree. Okay, obviously, if she's an airbender we must be descendants of Air Nomads. One of the girls I use to teach, Miyu, works in the archives at Republic City. I'll call her to send our family records over," Zoh told her.

"That's great! Alright, this is a real game plan. I feel much better now. Thank you," Yuma sighed.

"No need to thank me for doing my job," Zoh smiled.

At that, the older woman walked to the telephone and dialed this old student's number. Yuma began to anxiously pace around the room while Zoh talked to her former student. After a few minutes, which honestly felt like hours, Zoh ended the call.

"Alright, I asked Miyu to get her hands on both of our family trees and there shouldn't be any problem getting them to us. It'll take about a week until they're here," Zoh told her.

"Really? A whole week?" Yuma asked, visibly disappointed.

"Patience is a virtue, dear," Zoh grinned.

"Boo patience! I want to know now!" the Fire Nation woman whined childishly.

"Honestly, so do I. I don't think we should contact Katara until we have as much proof as we can get. This is going to be a rather hard hit for her," Zoh sighed.

"That's true. So for the next week we're just waiting?" Yuma frowned.

"Afraid so," the older woman confirmed.

"I'm nervous, Mom. This is huge. I'm worried this will somehow get out before we can get to Katara," Yuma admitted.

"I know, but please try not to worry. It's one week. We'll just keep her inside. And close all the blinds. We can just tell her a nasty snowstorm is coming. She's not going to know the difference," Zoh suggested.

"Oh, lying to my child. Hate to say it, but I kind of love that idea,"Yuma sighed.

"It's just one week. It can't be that hectic."

**********************

It was, in fact, that hectic.

Zoh was gracious enough to let Yuma and (Y/n) stay at her place until they got the family tree from the archives. Yuma's pretty sure that her child has rearranged the entire house at least fifteen times.

(Y/n) was restless. Ever since she found out she could airbend, it was the only thing she wanted to do. Yuma obviously didn't know much about airbending, but it's starting to look like her daughter's a bit of a prodigy. There's just no way a five year old should be able to airbend two chairs all the way up to the ceiling at the same time.

Yuma's daughter started to get irritated that the ceiling was in the way of her bending, so (Y/n) keeps trying to convince them to take her outside. Obviously, that's so not happening, so Yuma is trying to make (Y/n) focus on bending as many objects as possible instead of seeing how high they can float.

This child needs a damn airbending teacher. Yuma really could not wait until they could contact Tenzin.

To put it bluntly, when the family records came back, both women were relieved. (Y/n) thankfully is taking a nap, so they don't have to hide the papers.

After a couple minutes of searching through the results, Yuma finally found the Air Nomad in her very extensive family history of Fire Nation family members. Her name was Ina.

Yikes.

That is the first word that comes to mind when looking at Ina's rather short life. The records give very basic information. Birth date, death date, what kind of bender they were, and cause of death. The poor woman died at the age of twenty two, three months after giving birth to her only son. Ina had been burned alive. This was right at the start of the hundred year war. A Fire Nation soldier must have found her out.

Her son ended up being a firebender, which was for the best considering the fact that he also would have been killed if he inherited her airbending. What a tragedy.

"Did you find any Air Nomads on your side?" Zoh asked, effectively breaking the silence.

"Yeah, her name was Ina. Poor thing died from getting killed by a firebender when she was twenty two. It was at the start of the hundred year war. Had one firebending child. Any on your side?" Yuma asked.

"That's just awful. And yes, I actually did. Allin was his name. He was also about twenty when the hundred year war started, but must have hid himself well. Married a waterbender and had three children. Two of them were waterbenders and one was a nonbender. Died at the ripe age of eighty seven," Zoh informed her.

"Huh. I mean, Ina was in the very nation that wanted to eradicate the airbenders. That's probably why she got caught," Yuma frowned.

"Well, we've got what we need. Are we still going to start the journey to Katara's tomorrow like we originally planned?" the Water Tribe woman asked.

"I think that's best. I'm not sure if your furniture will survive if we wait," Yuma joked.

"Who cares about stupid furniture? My granddaughter is an airbender! That's so much better than furniture. I'll call Katara, tell her it's an urgent matter and I must speak to her immediately," Zoh laughed.

"Alright, I'll go and pack for all three of us. It's going to be a long journey," Yuma noted.

"Perfect. You already grabbed the paternity tests, right?" Zoh asked.

"Who do you think I am?" Yuma snorted.

She opened the top cabinet in the kitchen and revealed all four paternity tests.

"Show off," Zoh grinned.

Yuma merely laughed and walked to the room she was staying in to start packing. A few minutes later Zoh joined her. Apparently Katara was thrilled to get a house call so there was no issue there.

All Yuma told (Y/n) was that they were going to visit Gran Gran's old friend. The little girl just seemed happy to get out of the house, so she was ready for the journey.

Before they left, Yuma made sure to tell (Y/n) that airbending was their special secret and she would get to show Gran Gran's friend when they visited. (Y/n) didn't seem to put up a fuss about it, so off they went.

**********************

The trio made it to Katara's hut with zero incident. That was Yuma's main worry. She finally felt like she could relax when they walked up to the waterbending master's front door.

Zoh knocked a couple times before Katara opened the door. She smiled brightly before greeting Zoh with a tight hug.

"Oh, it's wonderful to see you again. I take it that these lovely ladies must be the wonderful daughter and granddaughter I've heard so much about," Katara said with a smile.

"Yes, that's us. It's an honor to meet you, Master Katara," Yuma said with a polite smile.

And it really was. This woman is kind of a living legend, after all. Yuma then nudged her daughter to give the woman a proper greeting. In (Y/n)'s defense, it's a pretty early morning so the little girl is still incredibly sleepy.

"G'morning, Miss Katara," (Y/n) yawned.

Katara laughed at the greeting, clearly finding (Y/n) as cute as Yuma does.

"Oh please, just call me Katara. Master and Miss is just so formal. Not really my style. Now come on in, it's a particularly cold day today," Katara said as she stepped aside for them to enter.

They walked into the beautiful hut and sat down on the couch. Zoh and Katara made small talk while (Y/n) leaned on Yuma's side, probably about to fall back asleep.

"Alright, you said there was a family emergency that only I could help with. I'd love to assist you out in any way I can," Katara said once they were all settled.

"Okay, before we show you what we're about to show you, I'm gonna need you to really look at these paternity tests," Zoh said as she handed Katara (Y/n)'s tests.

Obviously, Katara was confused but did as requested.

"Alright, her father is very clearly a man named Taro. What is this about?" Katara asked.

"Time to wake up, Turtle Duck. Show Katara your awesome magic trick," Yuma smiled while gently nudging (Y/n) awake.

"Must you demand me to perform when I clearly need rest?" (Y/n) grumbled.

Yuma snorted. Where in the four nations did this child get her sass from?

"If you do it now I'll let you have dessert before dinner," the Fire Nation woman said, blatantly bribing her child.

"Okay!" (Y/n) said brightly.

"Only use the marble trick, (Y/n). This is not your grandmother's house, Katara will not appreciate you rearranging her furniture," Yuma reminded her.

"Well you're no fun," (Y/n) grumbled.

Ultimately, she grabbed the little marbles from her pocket. Katara is looking more confused by the minute. Who can blame her?

With ease, (Y/n) put two marbles in between her palms and got them to rapidly spin around in a circle. Katara's jaw immediately fell open. The marbles fell back onto (Y/n)'s palm and she smiled. Then she plopped back onto the couch and fell asleep on Yuma's lap in about three seconds.

"(Y/n)'s an airbender, Katara. She's an airbender that needs training and your son is the only person alive that can help her," Zoh stated.

Katara looked like she was having a hard time processing this information. Yuma could relate. Katara then looked back down at the paternity tests like she really couldn't believe this child isn't Tenzin's. A completely understandable reaction.

"But how?" was all the older woman could muster out.

"Well. As it would turn out, (Y/n) is a descendant of Air Nomads from both sides of her family," Zoh told her.

Zoh pulled out her's and Yuma's family tree and pointed out the Air Nomads on each side.

"I'm not all that into genetic research, but something tells me it's almost impossible for (Y/n) to be an airbender. But she is and we need to know if Tenzin would be willing to train her," Zoh told her.

"Willing? Are you kidding me? Tenzin is going to be thrilled! Oh, it's his biggest dream to revive Air Nomad culture. Another living airbender not related to him is unimaginable. I have no doubt in my mind that he will be more than happy to train you daughter," Katara insisted now that she's relatively over her shock.

"Oh, that's wonderful news," Yuma sighed, utterly relieved.

"I need to call him right now. I'll make sure he gets here as fast as possible," the waterbending master informed them.

"Are you going to tell him (Y/n) can airbend over the phone?" Zoh asked curiously.

"Over the phone? Hah! I want to see his face when he finds this out. I'll just tell him it's urgent. If he leaves right after I call, his sky bison should get him here by the end of the day," Katara told them.

Oh thank spirits, it was going to be a quick situation. To be quite frank, Yuma has gotten really sick of waiting.

After getting off the phone with her son, Katara was kind enough to make them tea. While Tenzin would get here at some point today, it would be close to sunset when he arrived.

When (Y/n) woke up from her nap, Katara was heavily encouraging her to airbend. Yeah, the furniture was rearranged yet again. Thankfully, the waterbending master didn't mind at all. If all else fails, (Y/n) has a real future at being a one woman move in service.

As the sun began to hide behind the mountains, a loud roar was heard from outside. Katara got up from her chair, already knowing Tenzin had arrived. His wife, Pema, joined him in greeting his mother and introducing themselves to Yuma's family.

Yuma made sure to show Pema specifically (Y/n)'s parentage. They were, of course, confused out of their minds.

"Alright Turtle Duck, you know what to do," Yuma nodded.

"Do I get to move the chair?" (Y/n) asked excitedly.

"I don't see why not at this point," Yuma snorted.

(Y/n) then used her airbending to push the chair to the ceiling and gently lowered it back down. Zoh began clapping as Pema and Tenzin looked at (Y/n) with dropped jaws. Huh, Tenzin actually looked exactly like Katara with that expression. Strong genes.

"I know this seems impossible, but my daughter is an airbender. An airbender who needs a teacher. Master Tenzin, please, take on (Y/n) as a student," Yuma asked him.

Then, Tenzin fainted.

"I have to say, he took that much better than I thought he would," Katara noted.

Pema looked down at her husband then proceeded to check his pulse. (Y/n) frowned and looked down at the fallen man.

"Um, is he going to be okay?" the young girl asked.

"Eh, he'll be fine. But, more importantly, this is incredible! Another airbender! I know he's a little unconscious right now, but Tenzin will be more than happy to train your daughter. It's just, there's a bit of an issue with the living situation," Pema said while trailing off.

"I'm fully prepared to move wherever you need me to in order for (Y/n) to get proper training," Yuma said with zero hesitation.

She'd do anything for her daughter. This wouldn't be the first time Yuma's uprooted her entire life for family. If she's done it twice already, what's one more move?

"Cool, when are we moving?" Zoh asked.

"Oh, that's wonderful! That's really the only concern I had. We'll hash out the finer details once my husband regains consciousness," Pema smiled.

Yuma nodded and watched on as Pema then tended to the still knocked out man. The newly realized airbender furrowed her brows and aggressively crossed her arms.

"Mommy, I don't want to move. I want to stay near Gran Gran," (Y/n) frowned.

"Well that's an easy fix. I'm moving with you two," Zoh casually stated.

She's going to what now?

"Oh, okay! We can move now," (Y/n) said with a bright smile.

"Really, Mom? But you have a life here! You have work and-" Yuma began.

"And you two. I can find young waterbenders to train anywhere, but there's only one place where my family is. Besides, (Y/n) is going to be training as a bender. You're going to need a good healer on standby when accidents happen," Zoh told her.

Yuma sighed and wrapped the other woman in a firm hug. Zoh readily embraced her back. She watched as her daughter excitedly started to jump up and down at the prospect of her grandmother moving with them.

Yuma's daughter is an airbender. One of two in all four nations. Motherhood is not for the weak.

**********************

(Thirteen Years Later)

Korra sighed as she took a seat on one of the benches on Air Temple Island. It's been, to put it bluntly, an insane day. Republic City certainly isn't what she thought it would be. It's not like she had much of a choice, though. As the Avatar, she needed to learn to airbend. The selection of airbending masters are slim pickings given the fact that there's literally only two.

Given Tenzin's major responsibilities in Republic City, it did make sense that he wouldn't be able to get away from it even though it was always the plan for him to move to the South to teach her. What's always stumped Korra was the other airbending master, (Y/n). Mainly because they've never even met.

Tenzin's family visits rather infrequently to see Katara and Korra while she was in the South Pole. Korra’s heard all sorts of things about (Y/n) from the whole family over the years but the airbender’s never made an actual appearance. Apparently, the reason why the (Y/n) is unable to teach Korra is because she’s the one that gets sent out when there’s trouble with sky bison poachers. Some assignments take weeks, others take months and Korra doesn’t have that kind of time.

This (Y/n) girl has a pretty impressive track record. Got her airbending tattoos at age eleven, making her the youngest airbending master in recorded history. Korra remembers reading a paper a few years ago where (Y/n) saved a bunch of people from falling to their death in some gang related incident at the age of fourteen. Poor girl also had to fight off said gang members.

Korra’s always been quite curious about this air bending master. She figured now that she’s in Republic City and ultimately lives on the same island (Y/n) does, they would meet eventually. For now, Korra just has to wait.

Korra strolled around the island, looking for something to do. Maybe she could find an open space to train or something. She had some time to kill before dinner. Then, out of the corner of her eye she saw a couple adorable baby sky bison playing together. If Korra doesn’t get to pet one she might actually die. Knowing bison are a fan of apples, Korra picked a couple from the tree and held them out to the babies.

“C’mon little buddies, I’m not going to hurt you,” Korra cooed at the sweet little animals.

One of the babies perked up at the sight of the apple in Korra’s hand and began waddling towards her. Yes! Just when the baby was nearing Korra’s hand, she seemed to have been struck by an intense gust of wind.

Korra groaned as she landed on her back. Unfortunately, the madness did not stop there. Before she could even blink, Korra was literally suspended in mid air. She could feel air rushing at her from all sides, pinning all her limbs together as if she was in a strait jacket. Damn, she could barely breathe.

Okay, now Korra's starting to panic. She can't move which means she can't bend. Plus she has zero idea who is attacking her right now.

"Who the hell are you and what do you think you're doing to those bison?!" a woman's voice snapped.

At least now she can see the woman currently assaulting her. The attacker looked to be about Korra's age with (h/c) hair tied into a braid. Huh, her attacker is actually kind of pretty. But most notably, she had airbending tattoos.

Well this is not how Korra wanted to meet the other airbending master. She may not even need to deal with awkward introductions because Korra's pretty sure she's loosing consciousness.

"Korra, dinner's re- (Y/N) DROP HER RIGHT NOW THAT IS THE AVATAR!" Tenzin yelled in a frenzy.

The stern look on the airbender's face fell into a shocked one. Her arms flopped to her sides, releasing Korra from her air like prison. Korra doesn't even care that she managed to cut her arm on the fall down, she's just happy to be on solid ground again. The girl that can now certainly be identified as (Y/n) is just standing there in pure disbelief.

"She's the who now-"

[sakumz]

hello! super shy to ask & its okay if you don't want to write it, but...

may i have a lemon meringue tart & vanilla latte with taro?

apologies if this is an uncomfortable request! 🙏

a/n : ik it's supposed to be enemies to lovers... but make it angst :p

____________________________________________

[ s. taro x reader ]

____________________________________________

" taro sakamoto! today is the day I hit the jackpot! " you scream, jumping at your fellow classmate, pinning him on the ground.

he stays still, deadpanned expression on with rion and nagumo's laughter filling in the background. how long has it been? you've been pouncing on him, sabotaging him whenever you can just to get a reaction out of him. you call yourself his rival, but that's old news. anyone who practically called themselves his rival, ends up giving up one way or another.

you pull a pocket knife to his neck this time, he doesn't even try to wiggle his way out.

" y/n! how many times do I have to tell you not to pick random fights in class, " satoda, the teacher of the current class scolds. picking you up with ease as you stare dumbfoundedly at the scene.

to say the least when he joined the order alongside nagumo, you graduated alone. joined some cheap assassination organisation that paid you hefty. you see sakamoto sometimes after your own mission.

did it hurt? when he looked straight ahead, not sparring you a glance? maybe he's forgotten about you and the jaa life he had. he doesn't reek of bloodlust but the small scent of childish aw didn't go unnoticed by you.

letting out a low groan of frustration, you turn around quickly, catching up to the man. you clutch onto the back of his coat as he abruptly turned around, titling his head as a blush slap its way to your face.

" sakamoto, right? " he nods.

" it's y/n from you know... back then, " scratching your cheek awkwardly, he finally turns his whole body to face you.

" yeah I remembered... kinda, how's life? " you'd like to bury yourself alive, this was the most awkward conversation you had with the man. all you did back in the jaa was attempt to assassinate him! and get a reaction out of him, which all failed. you claim to be his rival but he doesn't acknowledge you at all!

" don't ask stupid questions, " you duck out of his sight, wrapping your arms around his neck as he managed to put his own arm in yours, blocking the attack.

" I'm not going to kill you, " you jump off immediately.

" what? "

" aoi told me not to. "

" who? " you throw a blade at his face but he dodges, the blade managed to scratch his cheek but still, he remains nonchalant.

" what flowers do girls like? " you stop dead in your tracks, moving to sit on one of the empty benches from the street walk you both were at.

" roses maybe? why? " he stares at you in thought.

" I'm thinking of proposing to her so... flowers are a must have right? " you can't help but stand up, staring directly at his eyes. is this a joke?

" you've got to be kidding me, " you clutch onto his shirt, glaring at the male as you exit, ignoring the calls of your name from the male.

you liked him...

several years gone by, you joined the man called uzuki. he was from the jaa you saw him before. you don't know much about him but the rion persona that recruited you told you to stay and you did.

" where you going? " you slurred, staring at the reindeer man.

" you can follow him, " uzuki instructs and you did.

you're at the science museum, you definitely weren't expecting to come face to face with sakamoto again.

" y/n? " he calls, they just defeated the mad scientist! you sigh, kicking the old man aside.

" what? " you spat as shin pulls sakamoto aside before the blade you throw, hits his face.

" you never change, " he says as you tried your best to not laugh.

" you certainly changed. " shin can't help but panic in the inside, you're having a cute conversation here but your thoughts say otherwise, you're mad, really full of rage.

" I heard you've got a child now, damn. I really used to like you, " slamming your fist on the wall as it cracks.

" really? I couldn't tell, " you run towards the white haired male, ready to throw a punch as he catches your fist in his hand.

" what the hell! why do you think I've tried to- "

" mr sakamoto! you made her cry! "

you don't even realise the tears falling from your face as sakamoto releases your hand.

" I-i didn't mean to grab you so hard. "

" no, no that's not it, " you cover your face.

" I always thought you liked nagumo or something, " you whipped your head towards him so fast, you thought you could've accidentally snap your neck.

" what? "

" nagumo said you were interested in him so you kept trying to challenge me in front of him to woo him... "

" he's definitely talking bullshit! " you grab his shirt, shaking him back and forth.

" I wasn't interested in him to begin with, only you! " you let go, turning your back against him.

" it's too late, you know. " shin says as you look back.

" are you working with x? " sakamoto questions.

" yeah and it's none of your business. "

" she's our enemy! " shin whisper shouts at sakamoto, readying himself in a fighting stance as sakamoto puts his hand in front of the blonde.

" enemy or not, I won't fight you. "

" you never change huh? " you turn around, sparing him one last glance before disappearing.

and his heart wont change for you either.

-----

bakery event | orders

[sorceressofthesky]

Get to know your mutuals!

Thank you for tagging me @silcobrainrot!!

What's the origin of your blog title?

This feels like doxxing myself somehow but my first fandom blog was @empressofthewind, as per my standard online name Empress. When I got into Arcane, I wanted to keep my fandoms separate but have some sort of theme/consistency between blogs, even if it's only me + a few friends who know about both (and I guess now the other 200 of you too 🫣 hi lmao)

OTP(s)+ shipnames(s):

For Arcane, Silco/Vander (Zaundads) :') my other fandom is Mello/Near (Meronia) from Death Note

Favourite colour:

Purple!! More specifically the intersection between blue and purple, like #9173f1 (also prev I'd love to see your hair colour)

Song stuck in your head:

I've had Pink Pony Club by Chappell Roan stuck there for the past week

Weirdest habit/trait:

I have sensory issues which generally cause a lot of habits people look at me sideways for; e.g. I have a visceral reaction to roast potato skins so I have to scrape them off.

Hobbies:

Writing!!! Also piano, guitar, musical theatre, I guess just music in general. I do art very occasionally (and poorly)

If you work, what's your profession?

I'm in my last year of undergraduate psych + working in a peer mentoring/tutoring role, which essentially means I live at uni 90% of the time

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be?

My actual life goal is to be a researcher/lecturer in the field of queer psychology, although if I could pick anything with no barriers, I think it'd be fun to pull a Lin Manuel Miranda and write a musical just to cast myself as the lead

Something you're good at:

Of all my hobbies, I think I'm best at piano! I'd consider myself a good writer but I haven't written professionally in years, so my fanfiction is probably not the same quality as anything I used to write for publication

Something you hate:

This is very boring of me but I have a LOT of driving pet peeves (which could just be specific to my city), like cars parked on the side of main roads and busy intersections with no right turning arrow

Something you collect:

Pins for my work lanyard 😅 the quantity is getting a little absurd but I love fidgeting with them

Something you forget:

I have a horrible habit of doing super mundane things on autopilot and then forgetting that I've done them. Often I will brush my teeth 1-2 more times than I need to because I forget that I've done it already

What's your love language:

Quality time baybeee

Favourite movie/show:

Arcane of course + The Talented Mr Ripley for a movie

Favourite food:

Taro flavoured gelato

Favourite animal:

Wood ducks 🦆 they're so cute!!

What were you like as a child:

Awkward, lonely and depressed

Favourite subject at school:

Psychology :') I've rambled about work and uni enough that this probably needs no explanation

Least favourite subject:

Phys Ed 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

What's your best character trait?

Optimism for sure! I was depressed for the vast majority of my teenage years and I've worked super hard to train myself to be positive - something about it being a learned trait makes it feel more significant to me

What's your worst character trait?

Verbosity (paradoxically to this response)

If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be?

Honestly I could just use a few extra hours in the day. I love work and uni but my downtime has started eating into my sleeping time 😭

-----

I have no idea who's been tagged already and who even enjoys doing these at all, so throwing out a few tags with no pressure: @fangfuckers @seiya-starsniper @iabandonedmybois @p0mipaws @sinistercervyr

[perfectclematis]

Turntable Card • Artistic Touch

[1]

Honey, it’s me. You’re finally here.

How could I forget my promise to you? On the contrary, I’ve been waiting here for a long time.

Yes, this is a unique way of welcoming you. Does my fiancée like it?

You think I smell good? Of course, I have bathed in black fragrance and prepared myself both physically and mentally in order to create a perfect portrait for you with my superb art skills.

You already noticed, yes, those snacks are for you, in case you consume too much energy later.

This is all for the pursuit of the ultimate beauty of my fiancée. But, I can’t guarantee that I will “let you go” easily.

Hm? You brought me a gift? It’s a small pink pendant. Such an eye-catching pink, as expected, only I can handle it.

What’s wrong? Why are you smiling so happily? The picture on the tag is Sherry… Well, although this pendant is very suitable for my outfit today, this style is also suitable for Sherry.

I just know that my fiancée would not forget to give Charlie a gift.

Having me guess what it is first? Would my kind fiancée be willing to give me some more hints?

Well, interesting. I’ll close my eyes and feel it.

Mm, it’s itchy. Furry, like a high-tech face washcloth?

Isn’t that right? It’s a toy? My fiancée is really romantic, but these little props can really enhance the experience. I'll have to use them next time… hahh…

You don’t want to listen to my nonsense, so you shut me up with a kiss? I’m very generous. Next time you want to kiss me, just do it. No need to find excuses.

Oh, it’s a stuffed toy. A pair of pink spoonbills, and a necklace you customized for me. I like this gift very much. 

On behalf of the other bird members of Charlie’s corner, I would like to thank you for giving them two new friends.

Let’s go to the studio first and find a place to put them.

Hmm, how about putting it here, next to the emperor penguin and call duck? Okay.

Well, my dear model, can the artist start to draw you attentively now?

[2]

Hang on a little longer, fiancée. This great portrait is in the final stages of completion.

The taro paste cake can be placed farther away from the head.

Hmm? If I’m not mistaken, it seems to be closer than before.

Am I seeing things? Where did the little purple flower on the cake go?

Oh, it turned out to be on the kitten’s face.

If you liked it, you should’ve eaten a few more during dessert time.

All the desserts here are prepared for you, and the props are not bad for this one.

Don’t move, I’ll help you clean it up… As an artist, of course it is my responsibility to help the model with her makeup.

Okay. Don’t worry, you’re beautiful. Even if you miss a drop of cream or two, it will not affect your charm at all.

Huh? Why did you come over here and stare at me like that? Is my fiancée testing the artist’s professionalism and concentration?

Oh, this strand of hair does bother me occasionally. Thank you for the hairpin.

It didn’t hurt. My hair wasn’t pulled, and my fiancée’s movements were very gentle.

If you keep touching me, I can no longer guarantee my professional ethics.

However, it seems understandable that some ambiguous feelings arise between the artist and the model.

I must explore and sense your deep beauty before I can present it on the canvas…

I always feel that this drawing is missing something. It turns out to be the warmth when I hold you in my arms.

Well, now we have it. Let’s finish the last few strokes together.

Do you like this drawing very much? That’s great. Nothing is more precious to an artist than the praise of the person in the drawing.

Beautiful? This is what you are, and beauty is your least noteworthy quality.

For me, the most special thing about this drawing is the you in the drawing who is unique and unmatched.

You remain authentic and comfortable in front of me. That unrestrained and free-spirited you is the most beautiful.

Do you want to draw together? Of course, no problem. My fiancée is a professional when it comes to art, I am looking forward to appreciating your drawings.

[3]

What should I use to draw with?

Ink

Charcoal

[Ink]

Crayon

……

Did you choose ink because the colorful bottles look pretty? Oh, it turns out it’s also because of the sweet smell.

That’s because I chose edible ink which is easy to clean and safer to use.

When doing activities with my fiancée, safety always comes first.

Do you want to invite me to work with you? Okay, I’ve been looking forward to working with you for a long time. What do you want to draw today?

Fireworks? You think I would like it?

Yes, seeing the peaceful night sky illuminated by many different colors cheers me up.

Those “bouquets” of flowers exploding in the air reminds me of the important moments that make up life.

In these moments, I can always see you.

That’s awesome of you. I love this suggestion.

Since it is fireworks, we have to use a large format to present it. How about this two-meter high canvas?

Okay, then let my fiancée, the maestro, do the line art.

The line art was finished so quickly. The structure is very good, and some details are very imaginative. I can already see how it will look after the colors are added.

Can’t reach the top of the canvas? I have a suggestion.

Just put it on the ground like this. Many masters draw like this. It might have unexpected effects.

Do you want me to help you draw the fireworks on the left?

How about using fuschia for the body and lavender for the halo around the edges?

The painting is finished, come and take a look.

Hmm, after you blend it like this, the fireworks will become more natural. However, if you want to adjust the color, you can actually move it away first. 

Otherwise, lying like this doesn’t look like the correct posture for drawing. It’s more like playing Twister.

Why would I have any objection? I’m just afraid my fiancée might be distracted.

With such a large canvas, we can of course be more unconfined and draw wherever we want.

I didn’t mean to hurt you. Is the painting crooked? Is it crooked? Why do I feel like it’s a stroke of genius?

There is an extra horizontal line here, just like a heart with an extra tail.

This stroke is like a jellyfish growing a smiley face.

Does this look like the curved antennae of a butterfly?

fiancée, why don’t you try this side? No, no, this side doesn’t count. My body is not your canvas.

Did your clothes get dirty accidentally? It doesn’t matter. It’s easy to clean. Just have fun.

How can I draw if you throw yourself on me like this?

Can you draw like this? Okay, but this drawing posture is a bit bold.

You are right. Boldness is a very valuable quality for an artist. Please continue.

Your hair is making me hot.

But I can control myself and not interfere with the artist’s drawing process.

You can even go a little further.

Which position should you go to? It depends on what you like. As long as it’s comfortable.

Well, the art style is loose and the artist is also madly charming.

Is it a surprise? Didn’t we agree long ago that the two of us would draw together?

Don’t move. There’s some color on your chest. Let me help you deal with it.

Mm, this one is peach-flavored.

Oh, and your cheeks, the back of your neck, and arms were all accidentally stained… It seems to be of different flavors.

Unfortunately, I didn’t taste it properly. I need to taste it again.

This primitive method doesn’t seem to be able to handle it cleanly. Otherwise, we will just “make the best of it” and overlay some patterns on it.

Hm? Have you guessed the shape of the pattern? That’s right, here on your chest is a heart with layers of hearts.

As for the cheeks, arms, and other empty spaces of the canvas, we will continue to complete them little by little.

[Crayon]

My fiancée chose crayons. Is she planning to draw a stick figure?

Oh, I see. You want me to guess what you are thinking through a simple picture, right?

It just so happens that I have also dabbled in the psychology of art. My fiancée can draw anything she wants. Allow me to help you analyze it.

The spiral circles you draw represent that you are curious about many things, eager to understand the laws of development of things, and have a strong desire to explore them.

These small flowers are chosen in four different colors, which shows that you are a person with a rich inner world, and you are in a good mood at the moment. Probably because you are drawing with me.

Sherry, why are you here? Uh, she said she thought I was… talented and wanted me to help analyze her claw drawing.

Isn’t that right? Well, she thinks I said that because I understand you.

fiancée, stop laughing. Let me try again. This time, you can draw something more complicated so that I can show my true strength.

Hmm… Now the drawing becomes more detailed. There are two castles. They are different colors but both are warm… There is a big tree in front of the castle. You and I stand under the shade of the tree.

You thought about your job, right? You have been under a lot of pressure at work recently. You think you can handle it, but you also hope that someone can give you some strength.

I got it right? Why didn’t you tell me that you were under a lot of pressure at work recently? You can still put on a relaxed and optimistic face every day.

How did I know that? Maybe it’s because the color of the whole drawing is cold, which means that your mood in recent times is not as happy as it looks.

You gave yourself broad square shoulders, which means you feel that the responsibility on your shoulders is heavy. And your head is slightly tilted towards me, which means that you still want my emotional support in your heart.

However, the big tree in your drawing has a full crown, luxuriant branches and leaves, and is full of fruits, which means that it is difficult for you to be defeated by momentary wind and rain.

How is it? Is the master of art psychology worthy of his reputation? Sherry, who did you learn from recently? You are starting to tear me down. You let them…

It’s okay. Children grow up and will always rebel sometimes. Just get used to it.

Hmm? My fiancée finds it very interesting and wants to try to analyze me too?

Alright, I’ll just draw something. You want to analyze my childhood drawings?

No problem, which one do you want to see? That drawing of a hundred birds paying homage to the phoenix was indeed drawn by me when I was very young. What does my fiancée think was on my mind at the time? 

“Some kind of desire to conquer?” When I put the pen to the paper, I might just be enjoying the birds surrounding me. But after listening to your analysis, this drawing does seem to reveal a part of my subconscious desire to conquer. My fiancée’s perspective is very sharp.

And what else? He looks like he is having a lot of fun playing with the little birds, but he really needs a hug?

I can’t imagine how touched little Charlie would be to hear these words… He would definitely come with the little birds in his arms and hug the caring big sister tightly.

Tell you about my childhood? Well, there was a time when I really liked drawing. The moment I picked up the pen in art class, I would feel relaxed and comfortable.

My teacher also encouraged me to draw. A blank piece of drawing paper is one of the few spaces in my life where I can express myself truly.

At that time, I carried a drawing board with me wherever I went. Whenever I saw flowers and plants on the roadside, I would stop and record the scene and my mood at that time.

Then one day, I found my drawings in my father’s study, and I knew that he would send people to do psychological analysis on those drawings to understand my true thoughts.

I have never really drawn since then. I disguised the brushstrokes and the colors just to get a passable report from the psychoanalyst.

Later, I also tried to use drawing as a way to remind myself what I should be like.

It’s okay, fiancée. It was all a long time ago.

After that stage, I slowly picked up drawing again.

When? Let me think… It was probably one of the summer vacations after I started medical school, and my colleagues and I went to the beach near Richini to relax.

At that time, there was a child using a wooden stick, writing and drawing near my beach chair.

The child took the book that I was covering my face with and excitedly asked me to guess what he had drawn.

I took a look and saw only simple lines and details on the beach, so I guessed based on the shape that it was a turtle.

He said no, this is his moving castle. The turtle is just the base of the whole moving castle.

His words made my heart tighten, and a distant yet familiar feeling seemed to hit me.

The child frowned as if he was very proud of his drawing, but also seemed dissatisfied with something.

After waiting for a minute, I pulled out the straw from my soda and started drawing something on the beach.

I asked him, does your castle need a navigator? He nodded, so I drew a two-story sunflower on the turtle shell.

Then I drew an eagle on the top of the castle. It knows all the roads in the sky and is the navigator of this moving castle.

The warehouse is also filled with desserts, providing the turtle with the power it needs to fly.

There is a big eye on the window of the castle. I drew it for no reason. I just liked it.

The child and I drew on the beach for an entire afternoon until the sun set and the sea became pitch black.

When we finished drawing, we didn’t know what we had drawn and collapsed on the beach.

No one can understand those strange patterns, but I know that doesn’t matter.

Afterwards, I held an art exhibition.

Yes, that’s right. I have held art exhibitions, and you should get better used to the fact that your fiancé can do anything,

Okay, I’ll continue talking. I drew what it looked like at each stage from birth to then.

When I was drawing, I didn’t think too much. Whatever memories flashed through my mind, I put its reality on the drawing paper.

Some of it is me being eccentric, some are confident, some are brilliant, some are not so brilliant, some are a piece of scenery, some are just a block of color, but I know that they are all me.

There were many children who came to the exhibition. They liked my paintings very much, so I gave them the paintings they liked.

By the last day of the exhibition, the entire exhibition hall was emptied out, and I was very happy.

Well, I started to continue drawing after that, and through art and other things, I gradually regained the feeling of sitting alone in front of the drawing board when I was a child.

In the world of art, there is no need to hide or explain to others, just show your true thoughts.

I decided that I would never be older than eight years old when I was drawing, because it was an extremely simple thing and I wanted to remain pure.

However, drawing is a very personal thing. In principle, I don’t want anyone to be around me when I’m drawing.

But in front of you, all my principles are voided.

Such a private act, of course I have to share it with you.

[Charcoal]

You want to draw a portrait of me in charcoal? Sure, I look forward it.

You also drew a picture for me last week, and I want to put the two together.

Want me to comment on the previous picture? I can only say that my fiancée knows me too well.

The little tongue that sticks out inadvertently represents my inner pride.

The wings spread out behind me represents my extraordinary imagination. In addition…

Wrong? Where was I wrong?

The wings were painted in hopes that Charlie could find true freedom…

I am so lucky to have a fiancée who understands me so well.

You don’t want to go for a cartoony style today and want to draw a realistic one? Okay, my fiancée will try different types of drawing to show her true strength.

Then the model Charlie has officially swapped places with you.

What kind of pose do you want me to do this time?

Let me guess… Open my lips slightly and bite something, or pull my collar with one hand and show off my arm muscles?

Still feeling a little bit off? Oh, I get it. What my fiancée wants to draw this time is not an ordinary portrait sketch, but a figure study.

Why are you shy? This is an elegant and pure artistic creation. I will definitely respond to your request and give my full support.

Hm? Not ready yet? Then I’ll take off my clothes slowly to give my fiancée more time to get ready.

Is it enough to just show off my abdominal muscles? Michelangelo’s masterpiece goes beyond this.

What’s wrong? Since it’s a nude sketch, of course I have to take off everything and be naked.

This is nothing. I’m happy to offer myself for my fiancée’s art.

How about I sit on the chair like I am now, prop my chin with one hand, and stare in your direction?

Why is your face so red all of the sudden?

You don’t want me to look at you? Okay, then where do you think I should look?

En. En. En. Although I promised you, it is really a big test for me to not look at you during the whole process.

fiancée, there is a secret I have never told you.

My eyes are organs independent of the body. They have their own thoughts and consciousness, and will automatically follow and lock onto things that are too dazzling and fascinating.

Okay, I won’t tease you anymore.

Why are you breathing so rapidly? Why don’t we take a break and start again later?

No need? But if you blink so quickly, will it affect your observation? Then take a deep breath and slow down, or look somewhere else.

Why did you look there automatically? Could it be that my fiancée’s eyes were also out of control and attracted by something fascinating?

However, starting from there is also a new way of drawing. You can try it boldly.

Are you thirsty? Then I’ll pour you a cup… No need for me to pour, just have me sit here nicely?

Okay, okay. I’ll stay here and be your exclusive model. I won’t go anywhere else.

Of course, if you have any needs during tis process, I will be happy to serve you.

What’s the problem? Because you’re too familiar with my body, you want to get closer and find some new perspectives?

How about I look down? You can feel the lines of my eyes, the curve of my eyelashes, and the gleaming luster in my pupils.

Not feeling it? Then take a look at other parts as well.

You know my lips too well, so you lack a feeling of novelty? I know just how to discover a new perspective. Does my fiancée want to try it?

Cover the windows and leave only a 45-degree light source shining into the room.

Simple lighting strips away the effects of diffused light and reflected light, so the boundaries of the mode’s body structure will appear much clearer than usual. This will also make it easier for you to come up with new creative sparks.

The light is too dim now, and you can’t see the shape of my lips clearly?

In fact, the fastest way is to experience it directly without using your eyes.

Do you want to leave after finding the least bit of an idea? Since you are here, why not observe it thoroughly? Besides, how do you know that I can’t give you more inspiration?

Want to get to know this “strange” fiancé again? Kay, is it the kind of “getting to know” I imagined?

Oh, so you want to start directly from a deep understanding.

Not deep enough? How about this?

Raise it a little higher. Or is this better?

Are you admiring my spine? It is the core support of human aesthetics. It is a work of art in itself with a flowing and elegant outline from top to bottom.

Your hands are now touching my sacrum and coccyx, which are now tracing a double reverse curve moving back and forth.

Does it feel hard? Because the abdominal muscles are tightening and the pelvic floor muscles are contracting repeatedly. Look down and you will see that my abdomen is showing a perfect shadow under the light.

The quadriceps assist the body in lifting and bending the legs… The prone position and movement lines may satisfy the comfort and variety that my fiancée needs.

Darling, do you want to sit on it because you think your view will be more beautiful if I hold you up?

Now, do you understand me better?

Why are you avoiding my eyes? Look at me and speak clearly.

Your voice was too soft and I couldn’t hear it.

Mn, now I can hear it.

I also feel that every time we explore each other, our souls “resonate” again.

Do you want to hear how I feel at this moment?

I want to be close to you, to touch you, and warm you. I long for both of us to piece together as a more complete whole. Yet I also restrain myself from the desire to invade, devour, and destroy.

Hasn’t all of this been laid bare before your eyes?

Don’t want me to suppress it anymore? Your slightest touch could ignite sparks– care to try it out?

[4]

We really completed quite a few paintings today. Cheers, fiancée, good teamwork!

You want to take home that portrait I drew of you?

Wait, let me frame this painting before you take it away.

After all, for a picture, a suitable picture frame will add a lot to it. It happens that my family has purchased a lot of picture frames before. Do you want to go and have a look?

It turns out my fiancée is so interested in these picture frames.

Well, here are some embossed frames from the Rococo period, and here are some wide-edged handmade solid wood frames and some colorful transparent acrylic frames.

That’s right, embossed frames are more suitable for retro-style art, solid wood is suitable for natural and gentle art, and colored acrylic is suitable for matching some modern and experimental works.

What kind of frame do I think is more suitable for your portrait? It depends on… how you define the picture.

I think that since you are the one in the picture, the right to choose should be given to you. Well, because only you can define yourself, not even me. 

You just want this one? My fiancée really has refined taste. The frame she chose is very suitable for this picture. 

Think of it this way, once a frame wraps and decorates a picture, they will accompany each other for a long time, just like lovers.

You’re asking who between us is the picture and the frame?

You and I are, of course, the people in the picture.

Not only that, the series of pictures belonging to the two of us will be continued until the end of time.

[garbagefarm]

Garbage Farm (#48)

2024-03-25, session #48 of Garbage Farm! Spanning Winter 3 through Winter 9 of Year 4!

cast:

me (@mothmute)

E.B. (@blueherin)

Kimi (@2kimi2furious)

Highlights include, but are not limited to the following:

pre-game:

it's been a while, but Garbage is back, woohoo!

—oh. logistical difficulties. welp, it was bound to happen.

“so, uh, what'd you have for dinner?”

I did my Garbage Homework and I came prepared with a to-do list and everything! But nobody knows what we're doing.

(the song from titanic plays softly in the distance)

Possum is gonna be so so glad to see us, he might do a li'l hop and everything, maybe get all flat

Winter 3:

LET GARBAGE BE JOINED

oh god I've got clown shoes on and they jingle now, let's see how long before they notice

(spoilers: they don't)

I visit Marnie. Lewis assures me he is there strictly for business reasons.

Cringefail, one (1) more duck.

felled tree remains mysteriously appear in the graveyard??

Kimi finds a mystery door......

Clint caught me digging in the trash, who cares

Special order for Taro Root!

Alex is wearing his special shorts, but Kimi's are more special (hint: they are purple)

Winter 4:

Mr. Qi flies by on an airplane. Mystery boxes can now be found.

The Wizard Catalog is amazing.

I try to renovate my house, but all my stuff is in the way!

Made another shed big, though.

E.B. finds a mystery box. “what's inside?” “mystery, duh”

Honestly, a lot of the day is spent mindlessly wandering.

Big chests!! I'll miss the stone ones' aesthetics, but big chests!!

We all went to bed early

Winter 5:

Bookseller is in town???

Cool pig had an Elliott Portrait, that's not weird at all

(apparently had an Alex portrait, too)

I go ahead and max out the ducks

then I go consume all the books at once

Kimi finds powdermelon seeds??

Winter 6:

After moving all my furniture, I get a bunch of renovations to my house. To be honest, I have no idea what to do with all this space, my place was already a little sparse.

Kimi dies in the volcano because she didn't bring food!

(Somewhere in here, I suggest EB take the lead on the Taro Root quest)

Wind in the night...

Winter 7:

The big tree! Noooo! —eh, it was only there a few days.

A little hardwood turns it into a cute little house, though

Turns out, I'm the only one of us cool enough to explore the mystery cave 😎

It's wine night, and I drastically underestimate just how many kegs I have

Winter 8:

There's always so much to do! —and yet I can recall almost none of it!

Ice fest??

Kimi is running late to ice fest, but no worries. ... okay, maybe some worries, I am anxious-typed.

Hey, whole bunch of new dialog!

Evelyn is worried it might be the last time she make a snowman with Alex. That's so sad!! (It's okay, nobody dies here)

Harvey froze his face

Clint is completely useless at making snowmen

KIMI CAUGHT DOPING IN THE CONTEST AND STEALS 1ST PLACE

(it's okay)

I call out how nobody noticed my literal clownshoes and then realized, “shit, I sound like Clint,” 100% clown behavior

Winter 9?:

non-canon day!!

possum gives us a snail

MAYO CHUG hang on let's try and get a picture

Kimi tries and fails to count down

I suggest using a bomb as a timer; when the bomb goes off, drink!

we are so bad at this

over 12 in-game hours and no mayo chug picture, truly phenomenal

TO-DO:

crystalariums for coffee project and so many stairs

💀💀💀

I've been putting off kegs, preserves jars, and some tree-tap improvements for so many sessions, now

friendship!!

walnut room......

long-term projects, shopping lists

OPERATION MAGIC HAT (strictly confidential)

Keep exploring 1.6 content!!

Gotta defeat the ocean. The whole ocean.

... do we want extra garbage cottages?

oh right, darts

-

A short session, but it's good to be back, and I'm looking forward to exploring more 1.6 content with my friends

[virtual-bunny]

‼️tokyo debunker episode 7 debrief chaps 32-46‼️

okay, starting off, i think yuri’s stigma is pretty fucking cool. i love seeing jiro laugh and smile at the most obscure things. the fact that he low-key makes fun of us for being scared of dead bodies makes him a little charming IDK. the fact that the sick guys from Mort was behind all this and it was a MERMAID piece that caused all this low-key didn’t have me surprise but the things that came after that surly did lmao. when the guy turned into this big ass blob i honestly thought Jiro or Yuri were about to die but NAH (expect for that woman… rip). ALSO the way Jiro was so non chalky the whole time LMAO the way he was not phased AT ALL with anything that was happening was so funny. WHEN MC GRABBED YURIS HAND AND HE BLUSHED PLEASEEEE I WAS DYING. When Yuri gave Jiro the “go” and JIRO SMILED AT HIM MY HEART ALMOST RIPPED OUT MY CHEST I LOVE JIRO SO MUCH GUYS. Mc’s small speech about the Ghouls when the other students of Mort didn’t want to help??? I had to stand up and applaud. OKAY AND THEN WHEN YURI PUT A SHOT INTO JIRO AND MADE HIM STRONGER??? DAWG I WAS BARKING JIRO THE MAN THAT YOU ARE.

Anyways. HARUUUUUUUU. When he saw MC all sad and was trying to cheer her up by asking if she had a “tummy ache” I ALMOST CRIED. When he said to tell him what was wrong and that we only had each other BROOOOOOO and when he said he was gonna help us i almost kissed my phone bro Haru they could NEVER make me hate you babe. ALSOOO THE OTHER MERMAID???? This is a reach but what if it’s Towa bruh. WHEN HARU SAID HE TRUSTS MC WIHT HIS LIFE MAAAAAN. Also fuck Hyde.

THE ASSEMBLY BRO

OKAY FIRST IF ALL WHEN HAKU CALLED MC PRINCESS I ALMOST RAN OUT OF OXYGEN MY HEART STOPPED FOR ONE SECOND I SWEAR.

what the duck do you mean jiro and “zenji” are brothers….. WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN ZENJIS REAL NAME IS TARO BRO??? I HAS TO TALE LAPS AROUND MY HOUSE I COULDN’T HANDLE THIS INFORMATION… but it was just the beginning.

FUCK TAIGA BRUH FUCK THAT IGLY ASS SHARK TEETH MF. FUCK THE CHANCELLOR TOO. FUCK THAT SHORT ASS DUDE.

JIN MY BELOVED RICH KING COMING FOR MC’S REACUE THAT TRUE KING SHIT RIGHT THERE.

Edward.

Edward my beautiful old man.

How I love you.

I did not expect for Edward to just pop out of nowhere, but when he took the mic from the Chancellor and shoved him. i knew he was about to cook.

FUCK BRO WHEN EDWARD PULLED MC CLOSE??? I ALMOST FAINTED.

When he announced the truth about MC’s curse, bro the reaction from the other ghouls ripped my heart.

KYKLOS????????????? THATS THE NAME OF THE ANMALY THAT CURSED MC??? EDWARD THE MAN THAT YOU ARE.

when he whispered in MC’s ear bro… i don’t have anything appropriate to say.

anyways. i still think professor Nicholas is sus but the fact that none of the staff told MC that they knew about her curse bc the Chancellor didn’t want her mental health to be impacted negatively kinda touched me.

ANYWAYS

IN CONCLUSIOOOOONN

my blood pressure is high. all this game does is cause me pain, bankruptcy, heart palpitations and anxiety. the end.

(ps i’m supposed to be writing an essay, which i haven’t done btw, and i wrote this in less then ten minutes… there are my priorities to you all.)

[fireworksoverhell]

Let's finish off the Pwuffy set and give Charlie a bag too!

Which of these do you want, Charlie?

https://pwuffy.com/products/fruit-cow-ita-bag?_pos=1&_sid=efd154b89&_ss=r

https://pwuffy.com/products/taro-deer-boba-ita-backpack?_pos=5&_sid=efd154b89&_ss=r

There's more animals for the Boba bag I just picked the deer for the example because Alastor's a deer and he's your friend!

There's also pins and keychains on the Pwuffy site to decorate your new bag, search around and pick out what you like! Your father's Nilla plush came with a free pin as listed but I'm pretty sure he's gonna keep that for himself since it's a duck

┏━✦❘༻𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖊༺❘✦━━┓

[link1] [link2]

"Oh these bags!!! I've heard of them! Not these ones specifically, but the concept! This company makes such cute things I think Vaggie might ban me from buying from them myself! But uhhh maybe the deer one! It's soooo cute. I think Alastor would think it's funny!"

"I have all kinds of buttons and pins I can put in it! Also I think if my dad knew I had this kind of bag, he'd give me the pin for it... He'd say it'd be like he's keeping an eye on me and keeping me safe."

[fasa-umich]

₊✧‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✧‧My FASA Experiences as Boba🧋₊✧‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✧‧ || Zainab Ahmad, FASA's 2023-2024 Professional Development Chair

Introduction

Hi. My name is Zainab Ahmad (zay-nub eh-med), and I am a fiend for boba. That’s what everyone says, though, right? Yes, but dare I even call myself a connoisseur, I have the credentials to prove it:

I worked at CoCo in my junior and senior years of high school (yes, the one on north campus)

I worked at Sharetea my freshman year of college

I had 200 boba drinks in 2021 (I counted)

I won free boba for a year from Palgong

I have a private story (called bobruh 🧋) where I rate boba every time I get it

I absolutely demolished PASS in the boba drinking competition at Rice Bowl ‘23 (we still lost overall ʕ ´•̥̥̥ ᴥ•̥̥̥`ʔ )

POV: you’re beating PASS @ the boba drinking section of the eating comp @ Rice Bowl ‘23

Thus, you can clearly see I have a(n) mild obsession. Thank God I don’t have diabetes!

Wait, what does any of this have to with FASA? Actually, for my testimonial, I will be comparing my experiences regarding FASA to boba drinks. Let’s get into it.

Taro milk tea ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

Respectfully, taro milk tea is the most basic boba drink. It’s by no means bad if taro is your favorite, but it does mean your taste is basic (and that it completely ok ദ്ദിʕ•ᴥ•ʔ ). We all start somewhere on our boba journey, and more often than not it’s with taro (myself included)! How could this possibly intertwine with my FASA origin story?? You guessed it– like so many other FASA members, I went to one FASA event in freshman year and dipped until sophomore year.

Let’s run it back to winter 2021 of my freshman year– technically the first FASA event I went to was mass meeting. But guess what! I attended on Zoom and did not really engage with anything!

So, the first FASA event I truly attended was FAM/lin reveal. I honestly don’t know what compelled me to fill out the form to join a FAM, but I do recall going to Rackham, sitting at a table watching the lin reveals (at this point I did not know what a lineage was so I did not opt to be in one), then the FAM reveals began and I was on the edge of my seat. It was down to me either being placed in H.A.M. or $WAG and truthfully I was hoping for $WAG just because the possibility of the Muslim girl being in H.A.M. would be… interesting (for context, Muslims do not eat pork). Then lo and behold I was placed in $WAG ฅʕ⭑ﻌ⭑ʔฅ I thought it was cute how my new FAM members and I all sat together in a circle & introduced ourselves, and I left that event feeling a little bit closer to FASA.

Taken after my first real FASA event! Idk why I called it a meeting tho!

Then I fell off the face of the Earth in regards to FASA events & didn’t go to anything until the fall mass meeting of my sophomore year (lol but nobody’s laughing)  ₊ ⊹ʕ – ᴥ – ʔ

Thai milk tea ʕづ๑•ᴥ•๑ʔづ♡

By thai milk I specifically mean Ding Tea’s thai milk tea  – my favorite milk tea! But only the version prior to Winter ‘24 (because they changed the recipe this semester ʕ ꆤ ᴥ ꆤʔ). Anyways, as I became more active in FASA as a general member in my sophomore year, I had so much fun! I finally got sorted into a lineage in Fall ‘22 (darago!) & enjoyed debriefing with people that I probably would have never spoken to if it weren’t for FASA.

Darago @ PCN Centennial ୧ʕ•̀ᴥ•́ʔ୨

I never considered myself a dancer (& still don’t tbh) but I learned tinikling for the first time, sucked at it, but eventually danced to Industry Baby at PCN

+ learned to dance like an elegant lady through performing pag-apir at both PCN & Battle

Chins up for pag-apir!

+ danced like a duck by doing itik-itik for Kalayaan.

I wanted to dip my toes into being more integrated with FASA than just being a general member & a performer, so I joined the yearbook committee! I always thought graphic design was fun, & I enjoyed the creative liberties the yearbook gals & I took to make last year’s yearbook <3

I designed the fit check page (right) ᵔᴥᵔ

I enjoyed the FASA community so much that I wanted to contribute to it more as a board member. Thus, I ended up running for both S’Advocacy & PD because I thought my prior experiences/skills aligned well with both roles (fun fact: I was the only applicant who ran for two positions last year). As you can see, I became the 2023 - 2024 Professional Development Chair, & I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

PD lin!

Wintermelon milk tea ⍝ʕ´•ᴥ•`ʔ⍝

I feel like not many people have gotten into wintermelon milk tea, but it’s really good and underrated. I would down it so fast when I worked at Sharetea. So good. But, as we all know, too much of a good thing is no longer a good thing. Woah, this seems like it’s about to go downhill. Let me explain.

Transitioning into when I became a full-fledged boardie & started being one of the people behind the scenes of the ever-loved FASA events, I learned a lot about myself as a leader & about my personal characteristics. A lot of time goes into being a boardie, & being on board made me get my planning skills down to a T– despite me thinking they were already good. I experienced a lot of ups & downs as a boardie, & I utilized my experiences as learning opportunities. I currently am on two other boards (shoutout NOiR & IMSA lol), but I have never seen on organization value community as much as FASA does, & I think that’s something to be treasured.

Board @ senior farewell fresh outta the womb for one of our first events together

As I write this in my final month as your Professional Development chair, I feel ready to pass the baton off to the next. Being a FASA boardie has definitely been a good thing, but I have reached a point where I believe our organization could benefit from someone with a fresh perspective. Time for something new. I have had the great pleasure of being PD chair, & I hope that our members only continue professionally developing!

Hands up, time’s over!

Kita kits,

Zainab Ahmad - ̗̀꒰ঌʕ⁠•⁠ᴥ⁠•⁠ʔ໒꒱ ̖́-

[emmyrosee]

“Daddy, Uncle Shi-Shi called you a news-ance.”

From underneath the cabinet, Atsumu’s head slammed into the wood above him, whatever he was doing suddenly not mattering. Rintaro, who was holding the tools, now was absolutely cackling at the entire scene. The now wounded blonde slowly pulls his head out of the cabinet, a massive hand cradling his head and a look of betrayal on his face.

“He what!”

“Well, when you called Uncle Shi-Shi after lunch to tell me to come home, ‘nd he asked if you were done, ‘nd you said no, he got mad when he hung up and called you a complete news-ance.”

Rintaro’s cackling reached new levels as Hisako looks quizzically between them, hand smacking his knee and gasping for breath he cannot seem to catch.

Uncle Shinsuke, who was just supposed to have Hisako for the day while Atsumu fixed the sink- right, that’s what he was doing, pre-slander and concussion- but when the job became too much, Atsumu figured he’d have Hisako dropped back off at home to have some lunch and her nap, so Kita could go about his day; no matter how much Kita adores Hisako, it can be hard to balance errands with a four year old.

So much for being courteous.

“Daddy, Uncle ‘Taro, what’s a news-ance?”

“It means your dad’s annoying,” Sunarin ungraciously explains, leaning against the counter. Hisako tips her head in confusion, and Atsumu gives him a glare.

“It means,” Atsumu sighs, “that Uncle Shi-Shi got mad that I was busy but still wanted you home. He didn’t think it was a good idea.” Then, under his breath, he mumbles a quick “didn’t stop him from dropping you off, though.”

“Oh…” Hisako seems to ponder this before she nods, letting Atsumu duck his head back under the sink. “Well I don’t think you’re ‘noying!”

Atsumu groans as his child picks up Suna’s description of a nuisance, “I’m glad baby; why don’t you go put on paw patrol, I’ll bring you lunch in a minute?”

“Okay daddy!”

Tiny feet toddle off, and from above the cabinet, Atsumu hears Rin stifle a laugh. “Damn, she’s funny.”

“Don’t encourage her, she turns every single uncle of hers against me.”

“Pretty sure you do that to yourself, my guy.”

“Give me the pliers and stay quiet.”

A few moments later, a small voice comes back into Atsumu’s earshot again, this time directed mostly at Suna.

“Uncle ‘Taro?”

“What’s up, lean cuisine?”

“How come Uncle Shi-Shi uses those big words, but mommy just says daddy’s ‘noying?”

His head slams back into the cabinet, once again whining in pain, and Suna’s laughter of betrayal once again filling the Miya home. A trip to the ER would have to wait; this is far more important.

“She WHAT?”

[dahliakbs]

Yandere! Ayano Aishi x Crush! Reader

Warning: None, Yan-chan using her persona's

You were currently sitting on the roof top eating your bento box. Ayano, a girl from class 2-1 had made it for you. She had asked for your opinion on it.

(Flashback)

"Y/N, may I speak with you for a moment?" Ayano asked from across the hallway. You nodded your head and followed her into the cooking club.

"What may I help you with?" you asked the somewhat timid girl.

"Can you help me with this project I have?" She lowered her voice as she handed you the bento box laying on the counter.

"Thank you but what's this for?" You asked as you gladly took the box.

"I need you to taste it and then give me some feed back " she explained.

"Sure I'll do it" you agreed. You didnt bring any lunch today so why not, plus the canteen's food is really expensive.

"Thank you, I'll see you later" she said with a burst of enthusiasm as she walked out of the cooking club.

'Well that was quite out of character for Ayano ' you thought to yourself.

(Flashback ends)

When you had finished eating your food you rested the bento box back into your lunch bag and proceeded to head to Ayano's given destination.

"I wonder why she wants to meet in the storage closet" you mumbled to yourself.

In the corner of your eye you could see a glimpse of a figure watching you from behind the wall. The small glimpse made you pick up the pace.

"That's really strange" you said while opening the storage closet.

When you entered the room all you could see was an empty box laying on the floor and a message laying next to it.

You reached down for the letter and opened it to see what was written inside.

Dear Y/N L/N♡

I would've loved to meet you under the cherry blossom tree in the back of the school but I thought that we could just hang out at my house instead. Now you might not understand what context that was In but in a few seconds you'll see what I have in store for you. Just know that even if I seem a bit off I still love you. ♡

See you soon

Right as you finished reading the small message you turned around. Ayano was standing right behind you and by the looks of it she was in a hurry to get here.

"Oh Hey Ayano, what's the meaning of this?" You asked but paused.

She had a wicked look in her eye and a syringe in her hand. She seemed to be twitching violently.

"Just sit still love" she said while pulling you in closer.

Her hand slowly travelled to your hips as she snaked her hand around them.

"Wait what are you doing" you started to try pushing yourself off of her but she already had a solid grip on your waist.

"Yan-chan this isn't funny, wait no... STOP" you screamed but she had already plunged the syringe into your neck.

She giggled as the fluid released into your body.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way but I saw you getting to close to Taro" she whispered into your ear.

"I can't have both of my senpai's loving each other can I? " she finished as she gently layed your unconscious body onto the floor.

She stood above you for a bit, admiring your relaxed face for awhile before she dragged it over to the empty box laying on the floor.

"I'll come back for you later" she said while locking the box.

'Now all I have to do is get Taro alone and do the same process over again' she thought to herself as she slowly ducked outside the room and left Y/N's unconscious body there... In the box.

(By the way this is part 1)

[patheticlittlemen]

ALL ABOUT ME

[Kurt Kunkle x Female Reader]

Chapter 3- One Look and I Couldn’t Breathe

Words: 1711

Warnings: None

Looking up the boba shop on your phone, you see that it’s not far from your house so you decide to walk. It’s a nice day outside so you don’t mind putting in your headphones and enjoying the fresh air.

After a short stroll, you come across the boba shop that starred in Kurt’s video. You walk in and look over the menu for a bit before ordering a small taro milk tea. After getting your drink, you decide to walk to a park nearby but before heading out, you take a picture holding your drink up with the logo facing out and send it to Kurt on instagram. You go to Spotify and scroll through your playlists, but before you can even decide which one to listen to, Kurt responds to your picture.

kurtsworld96> You actually went?

doodlesgalore> Of course, I wouldn’t lie haha

doodlesgalore> It’s such a nice day too, I’m probably even gonna go to the park

kurtsworld96> What park? I’m filming a video and need some good ideas, maybe you could help 😋

The emoji makes you laugh. Normally your friends only use them as a joke, but it seemed perfect coming from Kurt. You send the address and start walking toward the park you had in mind.

Eventually reaching a bench next to a tree that was shaded enough to keep you cool, you sit down and pull a sketchbook out of your bag. You aren’t anywhere near a professional artist, but you love to sketch people and landscapes. Settling on a view of a nearby lake, you start drawing.

Spending a little extra time on the scenery, you become engrossed on trying to draw the ducks near the pond. They keep moving around so you decide to try and draw from memory but can’t seem to get it right.

“Hey Y/N!” You hear a voice call, pulling you out of your fixation on the ducks. Kurt runs up to you, holding a camera in his hand. You wave to him, taking your last sip of boba.

“Got any ideas for the video?” He asks.

“I’m gonna be honest, I have no clue what to do.” You admit.

“That’s fine, sometimes the best thing you can do is turn the camera on and wait for something to happen.” Kurt hits a button on the camera and lifts it up, smiling at you.

“We’ll start by introducing you to the fans!” He says.

“Oh, uh… I’m Y/N, I’m 23 years old, and I’m one of Kurt’s…friends?” Kurt nods eagerly, urging you to say more.

“I don’t really know what else to say,” you laugh nervously. “Personally I’m not a content creator but I’m glad to be making my debut on Kurt’s channel.”

“So viewers, that’s Y/N! Hopefully she’ll be in more of my videos soon.” Kurt turns the camera to face himself, grinning. You laugh a bit at his awkwardness.

Nothing eventful happens for a while, so far the video is mostly you and Kurt walking around and commenting on things at the park, speaking about memories and making up stories about the people at the park.

“You see that lady in the purple jacket? I think she writes werewolf romance fiction and is one chapter away from finishing the book that will make her famous.” You say and Kurt laughs. This had been happening back and forth for a little bit, becoming more absurd the longer it went on. Kurt is about to say another one when he stops in his tracks.

“Y/N look, a playground!” He says excitedly. You laugh, a little confused.

“Yeah this is a park, there’s probably gonna be-“

“Y/N hold the camera,” Kurt says, pushing it into your hands and running off before you could do anything. You’re a bit surprised by the sudden action but follow him and hold the camera up to try and capture whatever Kurt is doing. Kurt approaches the playground, stopping next to the monkey bars and turning around, smiling.

“What I’m gonna do is something called epic parkour. Now, if you’ve seen my Draw my Life video, you know that last time this didn’t end too well, but this is gonna be different. Watch this!” Kurt says, turning around and attempting to climb on top of the monkey bars.

After a couple of weak jumps and you hyping him up, he sprints over to the slide and tries running up it, which proves to be more successful than the last attempt. He stops at the top of the slide for a second, panting before crawling through a tunnel and swinging across the monkey bars. The whole time, you’re laughing and cheering him on. He runs back to you, breathing hard and grabbing the camera. He turns it towards himself, face red and a bit sweaty. Something about the flush in his cheeks made your stomach do flips and you cast your eyes to the ground.

“Wasn’t that so cool?” he speaks to the camera but looks at you, beaming with pride. “What should we do now?”

“Well, you seem like you need water. I have a bottle in my bag and there’s a drinking fountain over there.” You say, walking towards the table to retrieve it. After handing it to Kurt, he runs away and you sit down on the ground next to the tree. You pull your sketchbook out and try to finish the lake drawing, but your mind is filled with thoughts of Kurt. You turn the page and start a new drawing as Kurt runs back and plops down across from you.

“Perfect time to take a break and talk about my music! I’ve been working really hard…” Kurt’s voice fades into the background as you get absorbed into the drawing. After a few minutes of cleaning up the sketch lines, you realize Kurt had stopped talking. You look up at him and see the camera facing toward you.

“Y/N show everyone what you’re drawing!” Kurt says. You wordlessly turn the sketchbook around and Kurt’s eyes widen.

“Is that…is that me?”

“Yeah,” you say, smiling. “I haven’t worked on a portrait in a while so it was good practice.”

“Do you know what this means, Y/N?” Kurt says excitedly. You shake your head, a bit confused as Kurt turns the camera to capture you both in its view.

“Guys, it looks like I officially have fanart!” The comment makes you laugh. You quickly sign the bottom of the page and tear it out, handing it to Kurt. He looks at it in awe, turning towards you and grinning. The genuine joy on his face made your heart beat faster.

“Thanks for joining me and Y/N today, have a great day Kurties!” He turns the camera off and sets it down, smiling at the drawing once again. Your phone buzzes and you check it to see a message from Rick.

Rick&lt;3: Bobby’s gone u can come back now

You look up at Kurt who is still staring at the drawing. All good things must come to an end, you suppose.

“Hey Kurt, it’s getting kinda late. I probably should get going.” You say. Kurt looks up at you with a sad expression but agrees.

“I can drive you home if you want.” He offers. It is getting quite dark, and walking anywhere at night as a woman isn’t always the best idea. You agree and he leads you to his car, where you notice a “Spree” sticker on the back.

“You’re a Spree driver?” you ask and Kurt nods. You have only ever been in a Spree once, but it was such a bad experience you swore off ride services forever.

You get in the car and Kurt’s phone connects to the radio as he starts driving. It’s a song you don’t fully recognize but know is popular on tiktok. It’s a bit quiet but you’re enjoying the music when finally a song comes on that you recognize and you start humming along. You’re still jamming when it reaches the chorus.

You said that he did you dirty, so what’s the harm in flirting, baby? ‘Cuz your boyfriend’s a bitch, he ai-

The song quickly gets cut off as Kurt skips it. You look over, a bit confused. Kurt’s eyes are wide and he is gripping the steering wheel, but his gaze is glued to the road. You brush it off and recognize the next song playing, humming along to that as well. This time you barely get through 15 seconds.

You know I’m grade A, your boyfriend wanna be me. You go out of your way to make sure you don’t see me. You should break up with your boyfri-

“Sorry, I just…” Kurt stammers as he skips the song. He settles on some hyperpop song as he pulls into your apartment complex. You thank him and step out of the car.

“Hey,” Kurt calls as you start to walk away. You turn around and walk back to his car, leaning into the now open window.

“Can I get your phone number? I just get so many DMs that I don’t want yours to get hidden.” You knew there was no way that was true as his Instagram had about 20 followers (mostly bots) but you’re not going to turn down the chance to get his number. You nod and Kurt hands you his phone. You open his contacts and type in your name and phone number, adding a smiley face next to your name. Handing the phone back to Kurt, you wave as he drives away and you walk into your building.

Kurt’s behavior was very strange regarding those two songs, but the lyrics give you a theory. Both of them are about telling someone to break up with their boyfriend, but they were also popular online so Kurt didn’t need to get so awkward about them. Unless he has feelings for you too.

“Too”.

You didn’t mean to think that. You know deep down it’s true, despite the fact that you just barely met Kurt and you have a boyfriend. But Kurt makes you happy, more than you have felt in a long time, so you don’t bother fighting the feelings.

[beanieman]

How I Think A Danganronpa Style Game Would Go In In The YTTD Universe

Chapter 1 

Ranmaru is the blackened, Reko is the victim. 

After being put in the killing game, Ranmaru realizes that he doesn’t want to die before he even turns eighteen. He wants to do more with his life, and therefore goes to do something extreme. 

He notices that Reko is playing an electric guitar hooked to a speaker in one of the buildings hobby room. Taking his chance, he dumps a bucket of water on the speakers, electrocuting Reko to death. 

Chapter 2

Nao is the blackened, Mishima is the victim. 

Nao kills Mishima on accident. During chapter two, everyone gets a handicap they aren’t allowed to get rid of until someone’s dead. Mishima isn’t allowed to speak, and as a teacher he finds this torturous. Nao’s handicap is that she can’t use one of her arms, as she’s a painter. This makes her paranoid that someone will attempt to attack her while she can’t defend herself.

One night, Mishima comes to check on Nao, but as he can’t speak he sneaks up on her. Nao gets so scared she reacts without thinking and smashes a blunt object into his head. Killing him. 

More Undercut

Chapter 3

Keiji is the blackened, Shin and Shunsuke are the victims. 

For the entire game, Keiji has tried to figure out who the mastermind behind all of this is. He figures if he can them, everyone will be able to escape safely. As he’s already killed Mr.Policeman, he feels like since he already has blood on his hands he should take the burden of killing the one behind this.

His first target is Shunsuke, as a slip of his tongue revealed that he knew more about the game then anyone else. Keiji kills him in hopes the game will stop, but when the floormasters announce a body has been discovered, Keiji realizes that he messed up.

His next and final target is Shin. Shin knows a lot about technology, and he’s one of the only people who could electronically keep twenty people locked in a building with the sealed doors. So he takes his best guess and kills Shin again hoping the games will end. Again he fails. 

Chapter 4

Mai is the blackened, Q-Taro is the victim.

For the fourth motive, everyone is told if a murder isn’t committed in twenty four hours all of them will be executed. Mai isn’t fond of the idea of dying, so when she notices Q-Taro alone at the vending machines, she acts quickly and stabs him in the back. 

Chapter 5

Alice is the blackened, Hinako is the victim. 

Much like Nao’s case, Hinako’s death is an accident. The motive this time around is the first person to leave their room will become a blackened. The opening of a door will trigger an alarm that sends a floormaster to kill another person at random. As this can only happen if a door is opened, the first person to go out will be held responsible. 

No one leaves their room for three days, so the floormasters decide to spice it up a little. They play the sound of gunshots right outside the participants door, hoping one will come look to see what’s happening. Sure enough the noise scares Alice so badly he bolts out of his room so he’s not a sitting duck, forgetting completely about the motive in his panic. Hinako pays the price for his carelessness. 

Chapter 6

Joe is the blackened, Kai is the victim. 

The final motive is that anyone who kills someone can escape with the person of their choice. When Joe hears this, his mind goes to dark places. He doesn’t want to loose Sara, as he has no idea what he’d do without her. He goes to kill one of the survivors, but finds he can’t do it. Joe wants to escape with Sara so badly, but taking a life is a heavy burden to hold.

Kai notices what Joe is doing, and realizes that this will likely be Sara’s best chance to escape. So he offers to let Joe kill him if he promises to get Sara out of the games. Joe is weary, but Kai convinces him. 

TW For Suicide Mentions

Joe ends up stabbing Kai to death, before staging it to look as if Kai took his own life. 

Mastermind

Sara’s father, Meister. 

Survivors

Sara, Kanna, Gin, Naomichi, and Anzu. 

[40sandfabulousaf]

大家好! Usually, a flu/cold takes me only a day to recover, but a pesky cold bothered me for 2 days, so I walked to the nearby coffee shop for mutton, pork or chicken. Meat is fine and has its nutritional purpose if we eat it in moderation and I have some from time to time. What I take into consideration are: how often, how much and how the meat is cooked. Whilst oil is used in stirfried and braised dishes, I generally don't finish the gravy or sauces when I eat qing dan (less oil and salt), so a lot of the oil is left behind.

What I had: braised sesame oil chicken, tomato and shredded carrot scrambled eggs as well as stirfried bitter gourd and zhou (porridge). Iced local coffee completed the satisfying meal. The black stuff in some veggie dishes is hei mu er, which I eat to keep my blood pressure normal (due to its believed blood-thinning properties, it generally isn't recommended for those on blood-thinning medications here). Hei mu er is similar to mushrooms texture-wise; because it's tasteless, it takes on the flavour of whatever else it's cooked with. Bitter gourd helps prevent diabetes and in less severe cases, some claimed to have been cured naturally after eating it for prolonged periods.

Another day, another variation of fish soup, this time with yam (taro) rice. Chunks of yam, dried shrimp, cabbage and finely diced mushrooms are some of the ingredients used to make this delicious dish. At home, we sometimes swap the yam for pumpkin, which is just as yummy and nutritious. If you think about it, wholegrain bread and pasta are still made from flour, which is even more processed than white rice. Not to mention shortening is needed to bind the flour to make some of these breads and pastas so... 🤔

This week, 5 of us - MS, XT, JA, JL and me - had a stroll after our meal (our group is getting bigger!); on some days there was only enough time to circle the office building twice, but that was better than nothing. I hadn't expected this tbh; it was just a way of helping JL to break out of her largely sedentary lifestyle. On the way to eat, I casually suggested to JL that we might consider catching up on a weekend, grab a bite then go for a walk together since her home isn't that far away from mine. Hearing this, JA asked if we would head to her neighbourhood, on the opposite side of the country, so we can do this together. We'll see how it works out since all of us have time constraints.

The pesky cold is gone and I'm back to feeling normal, just tired from the heavier workload. In the last few days, a coupla gym bro friends have pivoted away from diets promoting 'healthy oils' to Asian qing meals and that's a good sign. To me, it signals that they're weighing the pros of 'gains' against the risks of hypertension and heart attacks in their later years. Sure, we may have harmed our health following 'experts' from countries with lousy health statistics but there's still time to change before it's too late. 下次见!