#::: { OOC } Ours Is Not To Question Why; Ours Is But To Do Or Die

[prettytm]

@survivorofhellskitchen I see you Bells.

[prettytm]

@manufactoredxbyxdesign

columba livia

[voguelfoyy]

Dating Cho Hyun-Ju Would Include... (Headcannon)

cho hyun ju x fem!reader

a/n: long live our queen, hyun-ju. can't sleep so might aswell make something for my diva. i hope i didn't make her ooc in this.

warning: just fluff, english is not my first language, my opinion, not proofread yet

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

• HOME DATE NIGHTS, you love and appreciate when Hyun-ju takes you to a fancy dinner sometimes, but nothing beats a home-cooking dinner made by her. Hyun-ju is an expert when it comes to cooking her own meals. When you tell her that you love her cooking more than any fancy restaurant food, oh the joy and excitement that lit up her face. At that moment, she would try her best to pour all of her love into her homemade cooking just for you. Nothing but the best just for her baby girl.

• WORDS OF AFFIRMATION, hyun-ju never misses the chance to shower you with praises. Every day, every minute, every second, is filled with her telling you how pretty you are, how lucky she is to have you, and how proud she is of your work. Whether you two out on a fun date or just snuggled up together in your shared bedroom, she ALWAYS finds a way to express her feelings to you,

"Angel, you are so beautiful. I love everything about you"

"you look so gorgeous, even in your pyjamas, baby"

"do you even know how lucky I am to have you in my life?"

• HOLDING HANDS IS A MUST WITH HER!!! Hyun-ju would DIE if she can't hold your hand even just for a second. There was one time you accidentally slipped out your hand from her grasp when holding hands, and she would get all pouty and sad and make that puppy eyes to you like, "babyyy, why would you do that?". you're confused not knowing what she meant "oh no what did i do.." then you realized "oh, we're not holding hands."

• PICNIC DATES are Hyun-ju's favourite go-to date (bcz I said so). Since your shared apartment is close to a park, she often takes you there for a picnic. The first time she takes you for a picnic date was because she needed to save money; she couldn’t afford to keep taking you to fancy restaurants. However, she also wanted to make sure you felt special and enjoyed the time spent together. Then it became a habit; it became her favourite way to take you out. Even better than booking a reservation at a restaurant. Plus picnic dates + Hyun-ju's homemade food? Heavenly combo!

• last but not least, SHOPPING SPREE TOGETHER YIPPEE. It's a good thing Hyun-ju has you by her side when it comes to shopping, especially for dresses because she needs your most honest opinions on whether the dresses will fit her body shape. Would they look good on her? You're the expert when it comes to answering those questions.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

[jenchan-writingmultis]

Twisted Wonderland Boys x Fem Reader in their respective Fairytales (Series)

(Riddle Part two) ─────❅─────

Content Warning: This Fic will be tagged as 16+ since it is a bit suggestive along with mentions of Gorey themes (Azul), it’s very vague. I haven’t finished Book 6 and Book 7 because I’m stuck in Tartarus, but they’re not done here yet. Riddle (Suggestive Themes), Leona (Cussing, Blood mention), Azul (Obsession, Manipulation, Potential Cannibalism? (He eats merpeople who are turned into Polyps). The reason for potential OOC was cause I mixed both the classic Villains with the personality of our beloved boys

Due to the Tumblr Limit, Each one will be divided unfortunately, hopefully it's an easy navigation for all of you!

─────❅─────

First Batch would be: Riddle, Leona, Azul Second Batch would be: Kalim, Idia, Malleus

List of Villains interconnecting with each character:

Riddle = Queen of Hearts

Leona = Scar

Azul = Ursula Riddle Part one

─────❅───── Riddle:

He didn't even notice that his knights kept a close eye on every exchange between you two, although short, there lingers a feeling of longing, especially on your part, the way you looked at their queen definitely wasn’t normal; but Riddle wasn’t normal either, he was too lenient on you. You spilled his favorite tea accidentally, he didn’t get mad, instead, he sighed and had another one made while you apologized profusely to him while patting his shirt with a napkin, the knights were sure they saw their majesty blush!

“I’m telling you man! He’s acting weird!” Ace complained, hugging his pillow while his whole body ached, Riddle went way too harsh on their training, and it got him to run another 20 laps after their usual 10 laps just because he saw him idly chatting with Deuce!

“You’re not wrong, whenever they’re around he seems to be more chill than usual” Deuce said, crossing his arms while he flopped on his bed, his body screamed to slumber but his mind was awake. “Do you think your highness might be…” his thought wandered, snapping out when Ace laughed, “you think he’s smitten?” he finished the sentence, silence filled the room with Deuce’s head working overtime, he placed his hands on the back of his head while he looked at the ceiling, “I think he is”

Unfortunately, during those moments, Riddle was walking around doing rounds on each dorm room, usually this was Cater’s job, but he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering to you; thinking about you is distracting and he despised it. So, he decided to have Cater rest early, while he does the rounds himself. The moment he reached Deuce and Ace’s room, he was going to open the door till he heard the murmurs behind it, opening it up, the two still continued, Deuce stopping first stiffening up while Ace babbled his life away, not noticing that the guy that they were gossiping about was behind him.

“You should’ve seen how he stared at them when they were eating Trey’s pastries! It’s like he wanted to smoochy smooch the life out of them!”  Ace laughed, creating smooching noises, not realizing that Deuce was trying his best to signal Ace to stop”

“Oh?” the moment Riddle spoke; a chill ran through Ace’s spine. “Deuce should have seen how I stared at them when they were eating Trey’s pasties as if I wanted to smoochy smooch them?” he questioned, a vein popping on his head as fire burnt on his hand, lighting up the crooked bedroom.

“Sir- “

During that night, Ace was fortunate that he didn’t die, and only was forced to run another 50 laps and do 100 pushups till morning.

Now the reason why Riddle didn’t have Ace killed was the fact that what he said made sense; he was indeed smitten by you, drawn by a unknown force that attracted him to you, he didn’t know what it is, but it felt as if he knew you and he loved you In another world, maybe in your world he did loved you. That’s just a theory though.

While eating with him, the queen put his tea down, the sweet taste of chamomile tea lingered in his tongue, you were getting used to the comfort of the kingdom, although you still want to go back, you were still around your friends, and your boyfriend, who started treating you much better than before, even if you didn’t make any effort to tear down his walls once again.

“I have a question for you” he glanced at you, your etiquette felt familiar as well, the way you hold your tea, the way you carry yourself, it was similar to how he does it, 

“Ask away” You resumed eating your fill.

“is it possible that you might have known me in your world?”

Freezing up, you accidentally choked on some of your food, causing you to go on a coughing fit, Riddle gave you his napkin as you unconsciously took it, tapping your lips as your coughing subsided.

“Yeah…” you said, glancing down, the tablecloth looked pretty right now. “What’s my relationship with you?” he pushed, causing you to get flustered more, you didn’t answer which got him pissed, standing up he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him, it wasn’t a rough touch, but it did get you to finally look at him once again. “I won’t let you go till you answer me” he threatened, it sounded bad, but you only loved the attention he was giving you.

“Why do you ask?” pushing his buttons huh? You certainly were bold trying that on the queen of hearts, however, instead of getting mad he chuckled.

He answered though, pressing his fingers on your cheeks “Being around you has caused me to be distracted,” he noticed you looking away from him again, almost pinching your cheeks, he got your eyes back into his. “I always end up thinking about you, feeling a sense of familiarity, do you think I wouldn’t find a solution on this?”

Seriously, when he’s rough like this, it makes your heart flutter; giving up you grabbed his wrist, pushing it away from your cheeks. “You were my spouse” you confessed, placing your hands on your cheeks, rubbing them to ease up the sudden soreness; realizing that the word “Boyfriend” might not exist in this time.

Riddle’s face went beet red, just like how he is when he is angry but this time, it was all over his face all the way to his arms, he looked adorable like that.

“Spouse?! You’re my spouse?!” he asked rather forcibly, trying to confirm it for the second time as you nodded.

When he calmed down, he sat down on his chair, pushing his hair back while he slumped on his chair “Why didn’t you tell me this in the first place?” you fixed your position on your chair while playing with your fingers. “I don’t think you would have believed me, Your Highness” he raised his hand, effectively cutting you off as he sat up straight as well.

“From now on, you will call me Riddle, or whatever nickname you think of” a privilege that only you have, how lucky you are.

“You accept it?” you asked, surprised how fast he took in the information, you were thinking of a few more resistances and doubts on your part, but Riddle only stared at you, face unreadable. “It explained everything I felt clearly, I am smitten for you”

The way he worded it caused you to snort, making him jolt in surprise, glaring at you as he felt his cheeks heat up again, “Why are you laughing! Am I wrong?” he asked, wanting to shut you up. “I’m sorry, it's just” you continued to stifle a laugh. “It’s funny when you say smitten, like some old man” Honestly, he should have put his unique magic around your neck, but it was useless on a quirkless person like you.

Although he should have minded the fact you just insulted him; seeing you smile like that, he guessed sacrificing his dignity was fine just so he gets to see you smile, it made him lose all the embarrassment and anger towards you.

Leona's Part

[prettytm]

I HATE YOU

But god how I love you.

i'm a national treasure

[drxmxss]

Our Eternal Novel °❀.ೃ࿔*

LADS Xavier × Reader

Summary: A cozy bookstore, a love for classics, a small town, a secret and an eternal promise of forever...What could happen when Y/N meets a stranger at her local bookstore who is not who he seems?

Content Warnings: Vampire! Xavier x Human!Reader, 18+, mentions of murder, missing persons, blood, death, injury, stalking/obsessive tendencies, biting, smut (will have a separate and more descriptive warning when included in chapter), more warnings to be added as the story progresses, maybe some oocness (this is my first xavier fic bare with me) reader discretion advised.

a/n: Hello! Here we are for chapter three!! Also did you guys have any luck for the spring banner? It took me like..100 pulls for Xavier..but I got Sylus as well! Anyways, enjoy!

Find the masterlist here.

Chapter Three: Explanations

With a scream, you shoot up from your sleep.

Your hand covers the imaginary wound on your neck. You feel your heart beating a million miles a minute and relief washes over you.

A dream, you thought, it was just a dream.

You decide to brush off the disturbing dream and head off to work. The day seemed to drag, it was Cassidy’s day off and the sun was bright so you’d assume you wouldn’t see Xavier either.

After what felt like an eternity it was finally time to close.

After locking up, you began your walk to the nearest bus stop home. You have half a mind to call Cassidy during your walk, but decide against it, it was only a few minutes anyway.

You notice a man in dark clothes by the ATM machine a short distance from the shop, you notice him look up at you and you ignore him, not interested in conversation.

To your dismay, you begin to hear heavy footsteps behind you. You just continue to walk quicker, knowing the bus stop is only a couple more blocks.

Suddenly, you feel an arm grab yours, and a cold metal touch your back and you immediately know its the man from the ATM. You freeze, terrified out of your mind.

“Walk to the alley, give me your purse.”A gruff voice demands you, “Do it or I’ll use this gun, I don’t wanna play dirty honey.”

Not looking behind you, you nod. The man guides you to a nearby alley, you feel tears run down your face. The thought of dying in a dirty alley from a robbery gone wrong makes your stomach churn.

The man forces you to face him with your back against the wall, and grabs your purse from your hands.

“Now listen, you never-“ His voice is cut off by a swooshing sound and immediately he is no longer in front of you before you can even blink. You look around in front of you, but only see the alley get darker. Then, you hear the mans voice from the darkness.

“Hey! What the hell are you-AHHH!” You hear the man’s voice break off into a scream and you hear a gunshot, then another, and another. Each one rings in your ear, making you wince and close your eyes. Too scared to run, you stay against the wall.

Suddenly, you hear a sickly breaking noise, and the man seems to groan, you gasp. This is it, you think, this is how I die.

The alley is quiet for a long moment, and you hear shuffling from the darkness, along with the lid of a dumpster opening. A loud thud makes you shake, and you hear footsteps coming towards you. You close your eyes, preparing for the worst.

“Are you alright?” A distinguished voice asks, and you feel a cold hand touch your cheek. Wincing, you slowly open your eyes.

In front of you stands Xavier, his mouth bloody and clothes tattered. Shocked, you gasp and take a step back from him, you notice three distinct holes in his shirt, but no wound. Was that the gunshots?

“Xavier?” You gasp, “Wh-what are you doing here?”

Xavier, face full of concern, shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter, are you okay? Did he hurt you?” You look at him, dumbfounded.

“No but, how are you here? What did you do to him?” You ask, still full of fear. Xavier sighs, like you just asked him some kind of stupid question.

“Listen, why don’t you go home? I can explain everything there, it’s too risky here.” Xavier says with a stern expression. “The last bus is leaving soon, get going and here’s your purse.” He hands you his bag, which you take slowly.

“Do you know where I live?” You ask him, and he nods again.

“Like I said, I can explain when we get there, just go home.”

In a daze, you can only nod and turn out of the alleyway to walk to the bus stop , leaving Xavier behind.

Something in your heart told you this was going to be a long night.

***

Once you make it to the front door of your apartment, Xavier is already there.

Now, he looks like his usual clean self, no tattered clothes, no blood. Totally normal.

Almost, if you hadnt seen him probably kill someone just twenty minutes ago.

“Let’s go inside.” Xavier says, moving for you to unlock the door. You stand still, looking up him.

“I need to ask you some questions first, before we go inside.” You say, looking at him for any sign of protest. Xavier nods, “That’s fair. Shoot.”

“Did you kill that guy earlier? In the alley?” You ask, voice barely trembling.

“Yes.” Xavier answers shortly. Your eyes widen, but then you nod. You pretty much knew that anyway.

“Alright..When we go inside..are you going to kill me?” You whisper the last part, not sure if your really want his answer.

“No.” Xavier says. You stare up at him for a long moment, and you decide to open the door.

You guide him to the living room where you both sit down on the sofa. Uncomfortable silence fills the room before you finally break the tension.

“So, what are you? I mean, how did you do…kill that guy?” You ask, voice trembling. Xavier shakes his head, “It’s..not easy to explain so I guess I should just get right to it.”

You nod, anxiously waiting for his answer. Xavier clears his throat and looks at you seriously.

“I’m..a vampire.”

You stare at him dumbfounded. Before you can think you blurt out, “Like Dracula?”

Xavier loses his typically serious composure, breaking into a half smile. “Yes. I can see this is weird to hear. But it’s the truth.”

You can only nod, yet you continue to ask him more.

“Why did you come to the city? And to the bookstore?”

“I’ve traveled alone for many years now.” Xavier explained, “It gets boring quickly so I am a pretty active reader. That was my only reason to go that first day, but..” he trailed off

“But what?” You asked him.

“I met you.”

“What do you mean?” You ask him, confused.

“When I walked into the store and you introduced yourself, I immediately caught your scent.” Xavier sighed. “And I went into a bloodthirsty frenzy, I was ready to risk everything right there for a taste.”

“Is that why you ignored me?” You said, voice barely above a whisper. Hearing his confession made you scared, but still wanting answers.

“Yes and I really am sorry about that, I just needed to leave before I lost all control. Even now, your scent is enticing, but I made a promise not to hurt you.”

His confession catches you off guard. Why would he promise not to hurt some stranger?

“Why?” You ask him.

Xavier chuckled, “Honestly, I’m curious about you. I wanted to be your friend. It’s been so long since I stayed in one place so long, and I actually enjoy reading so it’s all a win-win.”

You feel your cheeks warm. He wanted to stay..for me? You thought, unable to resist feeling flattered.

“Okay.” You said, contemplating your next question, while still trying to absorb everything else he told you. “How did you know where I live?”

“I’ve been here nearly every night for about three weeks.” Xavier answered matter of factly, you gaped at him. “At first it was just to make sure you went home safe. But now it’s become a sort of..habit.”

Seeing your scared expression, Xavier gives you an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s weird, but I just have this sense to..protect you. Just know my intentions were never meant to harm you, I promise.”

You only nod, taken aback. Protect me? Is he trying to be some kind of superhero? You think to yourself.

“Now that you know the truth,” Xavier began. “I want to give you the choice. I can stay here, if you want of course, and we can carry on like before, though of course the truth of my existence would have to be kept secret, and I do enjoy spending time with you at the store.”

You gulped,“Or..”

“Or..” Xavier sighs. “I can leave. Move on and we can just pretend that nothing happened. I would trust you with the secret, and since I would leave immediately I highly doubt anyone would believe you.” You sit quietly for a moment, weighing your options.

Your conscience is telling you to make him leave, not only is he a literal vampire, he’s been following you! He also just told you he wanted to kill you the first moment you met.

Yet, you can’t help but feel safe with him, after all he did just save your life. How bad could he really be?

Xavier stares at you as you contemplate, you meet his gaze and nod. “You can stay.”

Xavier is visibly taken aback by your response, he looks at you confused, and then breaks into a chuckle.

You scowl at him, “What’s so funny?”

Xavier shakes his head and looks at you, a small smile on his face.

“This is going to be interesting.”

a/n: taglist! (comment below to be added!) @onebatch--twobatch

[eluxcastar]

One of Repetition — Prologue

── ୨୧：arlecchino x reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: your sudden dismissal from your position of harbinger, and the fatui as a whole, marks the end of the largest chapter in your life. you had never known a day without the tsaritsa's guidance, and you are set to never know another with it.

୨୧﹑genre :: angst

୨୧﹑content :: fem reader, reader is a harbinger, reader has a pyro vision, capitano is still not human and I haven't played fontaine or natlan ngl, possible ooc, not proofread but lightly edited

୨୧﹑words :: 6.5k

it only took me forever and a day. it's finally here being rewritten this is gonna take so long updates WILL be slow so you're gonna have to bear with me

CROSSPOSTED ON AO3

Her words left you exasperated, literally at a loss for words, and you struggled to comprehend the reason for it. There was nothing you could think of, no instance that struck you as prominent. Yet, somehow, as one of the Tsaritsa's children, you had become what any parent might refer to simply as a disappointment, their failure—the problem child who never quite ironed out their issues. You had always been faithful to her, hopelessly devoted to the archon and her will. News such as this came out of nowhere and struck you like a hammer to the chest.

Effective immediately, you are to be stripped of your title.

Two of her most mighty children were near and dear to her, and now the other had turned against you as he remains loyal to her. The Jester, who you once held in high regard, has turned against you. It is a bitter pill to swallow, for you must now sever ties with the one man you believed was truly deserving of serving the Tsaritsa. Your mother—your world—turns against you with him, before him, leading the way for him. 

In vain, you draw your bow to strike an arrow between his eyes. You have to prove your strength and power as above your position, above him, even with this weapon that disagrees with your armour, but it means nothing. Your strike is blocked, and the Tsarita's Damselette Columbina moves to detain you. You believe she would not be strong enough, but you don't itch to fight eight other Harbingers or their Director. You understand that even you have a limit, and fighting what are supposed to be the strongest people in the country is not a part of that.

Your honour is on the line, an honour which would tarnish not only Brighella's name but also have a ripple effect on your soldiers, men and women who fight for you and do not deserve the punishment that would result from their actions.

"Think carefully, Brighella." Columbina's warning is not lost on you. "You could remain as a hero or fight, and I will lure the creature you brought from the Abyss and gut him before your eyes."

You do not want that. That creature is not yet loyal to the Tsaritsa but to you, and she will convince him he can save you. He will fall into her trap and die because, for all that you have taught him, he is naïve.

You bite your lip, trying to think of a way to escape and capture him so that you can run off somewhere. He does not deserve to die, but you can't think of anything. Not when you know how thorough these people are. There is not a will, really; there is only a has. He has fallen into her trap and is at the mercy of the Damselette.

It suddenly makes an abundance of sense why your greatsword was missing this morning from where you discarded it on the floor of your chambers. Someone took it. They took it so you would appear before the Tsaritsa without your armour to carry your bow with you, taking advantage of your subordinate's absence to wander around so exposed.

You revealed your every weak point just as you were meant to because you are an arrogant creature of habit.

"What if I am to obey?" You finally ask the question you did not want to, surrendering in a way, though the bite has not left your words.

"I'll leave him be." Her answer is swift. She expected that you would eventually give in and only needed to wait for it to happen.

You shake your head, dissatisfied with only that as your compensation. "Not enough."

The smile on her face does not waver, thin and deceitful as ever, eyes hidden and closed, unseen behind the band of lace. "Mm. I can't bargain anything else." 

"Have him take my place." You lay your condition out firmly. There is only one to meet, and it is not a hard one at that. It would be easy to sway him into it, using whatever they plan to do to you as motivation. His loyalty and affection for you would make him accept it.

She ponders the situation and proposal momentarily, powerless to make the executive decision but undoubtedly keen on the thought of it all. "He believes that you are about to fall in battle to a foe and that he is going to save you."

You grit your teeth, knowing that this is her trap. Lure that creature to a place where he is vulnerable. It was not what you had expected, but it is no less the Damselette's style of acting. There is always a damsel, but perhaps she recognised that she would not suffice this time. She needed a better damsel for him to save; for that to work, it needed to be you. 

She needs your name, reputation, and your relationship with your subordinate. They meld with her lies to write a tale of tragedy, with him as the grief-stricken hero vowing to take his mentor's place.

The thought of him rushing to his death under the guise of saving you spikes your blood cold, chilling you. You're aware of her cruelty and always have been, but to experience it is different than hearing about it from her perspective. You are experiencing it from the perspective of the victim. 

His death was another factor to hold over your head—your penance—the anchor to force your compliance. Your blood boils with rage, but you cannot fight. Despite your anger and frustration, you know that lashing out will only cause further harm and pain.

There is only one thing you can do. You know you must. It's simply that you don't want to. 

But…you must. 

You must for him, that poor creature you tried to give a home to and who would never be in such a position if not for you and your ambition. 

"Then I will fall, and you will use the honour I built into him to persuade him." 

It was an honour meant to humanise him in a way, a being only able to imitate humanity. He had a mentor and something to fight for. Now you're imploring that it be used against him to burden him, but he will do well in your position.

Columbina smiles, that mocking smile like she knows the secrets of this world and more. "Would he really believe that?"

The helmet. You should use the helmet to your advantage. Your subordinate's first exposure to humanity being you, a woman in a metal helmet, seemed to last. He used to think that was what humans looked like, and he admitted as much to you as he had asked you to remove it once he could speak. Your impression left an indelible mark on him that he still treasures. Even if he were to see you in the aftermath, he would not uncover the lie.

"He has never seen my face. He would not recognise me."

Columbina accepts that readily, and her eyes open, pools of black and white visible through the cracks in the lace over her eyes. You've seen them before, inky black sclera and inhuman patterns decorating the borders of her irises, but you can't help the unsettled feeling that makes a home for itself in the pit of your stomach. 

-

By the evening, you are stripped of your honours, titles and coat and dumped to the curb like a bag of rubbish somebody left out. There is no more fight, no more bargaining, no more arguing. Everyone has the things they want, for the most part, so you are all satisfied enough to remain amicable with each other. Without a fight, you allow the Jester to remove the fur-lined overcoat despite the cold that rushes over you once it is gone and discarded in a heap of fur and fabric on the floor with none of its previous value. 

After that comes the slow, deliberate removal of every trinket that denoted you as you. From your delusion, several gifts to your very insignia, the only thing left of you is a lone pyro vision and the clothes on your back. You've never been more thankful to not wear a standard-issue uniform lest you be made to undress and hand that over, too.

That was it. Your everything.

With each piece of regalia taken, a part of yourself disappeared until you were left an empty husk of a person, your entire reason for being for hundreds of years snatched out from under you and spat on. Pierro allowed you the pity of dressing you in your weathered armour one last time to see you off, though he admits he cannot return the sword that goes with it.

The Harbingers were supposed to be the children of the Tsaritsa, and this was your grand disowning. A show of power and influence over her closest children and, by extension, the ability to bring pain to her lesser— to her followers. It was foolish of you to ever think you were special in her eyes for having been by her side since during the Archon War. 

What did it matter when she left you amongst the rest of them?

The years you spent since you had hobbled into her life so tiny and cute were now reduced to a few personal belongings and a set of words that shattered your world to sharp and dangerous pieces that would only hurt you in your haste to reassemble them and string your life back together.

Whatever should remain of yourself is torn away as if those things never belonged to you. Your memories are tossed down the drain by time, and the crown you thought sat firmly atop your head as Snezhnaya's spoiled princess is broken by the hurry to dismantle your power in its entirety.

When you were young, your cuteness may have been your best asset: a small body with endearing quirks and the inability to walk long distances without tumbling. You required your mother for everything because you would only find danger in the harsh Snezhnayan winters. To even acquire your own food was unthinkable, so you were sheltered and provided with ample treats that you could nibble from the palm of her hand if that were what you wished. Anything to keep you happy and content.

Like a little trinket, she cradled you for as many years as it took you to grow, and once you were at an age where you no longer needed to be cradled, she made you her loyal companion, or so you had believed. You thought her affection for you was unwavering. She was the only mother you had ever known; she is the only mother you will remember for all eternity.

Although it may have been an exaggeration, watching the sun's gradual descent below the horizon, you could almost believe eternity would quickly prove to be a very real concept. You watch the sky darken in silence for a time. You roam aimlessly around the city, your presence still striking unease in the people from the threatening demeanour you learned to conduct yourself with as a Harbinger, even without your official attire. The only remnant of your former self is a helmet you consistently wore during every public appearance strapped to your hip. 

You can't help your wandering mind. Did your imitation of the Tsaritsa's actions make you weak? Attempting to nurture someone in the same manner she nurtured you? You are not a god, only the former child of one. Maybe you cannot care for him and maintain your objectivity. He may have become your Achilles' heel, as you were forewarned when the Tsaritsa less than subtly suggested you eliminate him.

You cannot live like this.

No matter how many suns you watch set, you will never come to terms with living like this. The world you once knew, which revolved around a singular governing entity and individual, has disappeared without a trace. Without a central axis to anchor it in place, your world spirals chaotically out of control, with each passing second feeling more frenzied than the last.

This purposeless existence where you have no one to create meaning for you feels just as endless as your high on the rush of power once did.

Your head is too muddled, your brain too overwhelmed by your emotions to think objectively of the faults in your time as a Harbinger. Years of your life have been spent that way, burying your thoughts beneath a heavy weight of despair. Your life is over. Even as the woodlands are forced to welcome you, they mark the end of everything, embracing you in what could be your death, as you imagine it is meant to.

The conclusion of those years greets you with nothing but a cold, detached farewell you never expected. The years you spent dutifully carrying out your mother's will should've been concluded by a grand celebration or momentous occasion to mark the end. This is not how these things are supposed to go, but you can't say it's never happened before. Usually, you'd just kill Harbingers your mother no longer approved of. You might have the better side of things, even if your career is at the worst possible end.

You almost want to call those years wasted, but that would be wrong. Without the Tsaritsa, you might've— no, would've died during the Archon War. Perhaps another god would take you in, but it is unlikely that they would have exhibited the same level of compassion and generosity as the Tsaritsa. They would not have coddled you into comfort the way she did. Then again, what if that had been your downfall? Did she ever genuinely want you to stay? Based on this…perhaps you took her kindness for granted and overstayed your welcome.

You had no right to make demands of her in your final moments as her child, acting like a spoiled brat throwing a temper tantrum. But can you be justified? Can the threat to your subordinate's life negate that? Surely a bit, but not entirely, not if her actions were in response to yours. 

Oh, even if you begged on your knees, she would not take you back now.

Why had you not done that before?

She must be disappointed that your attitude was born from her compassion, the epitome of her failures. You do not deserve to call her your mother. You took her generosity as a guarantee, thought yourself above her other children solely because you were her first, and believed you were her favourite for no reason besides arrogance.

You have failed the only being in Teyvat willing to show pity toward you.

-

The deepest heart of Snezhnayan forest welcomes you readily with open arms and the gnashing jaws of monsters starving for food. The forest seems to come alive with a vicious hunger for flesh. You have only your vision and bow left to aid your defence as you shrug off part of your armour to delegate it to the ties on your hip that secure your helmet.

Your delusion is gone, and your subordinates are nowhere to be found to assist you. The danger is to be braved alone for the first time in what must be forever. Despite this, marking your way with a trail of bodies is easy. It is just an inconvenience to always be on guard, but you are strangely used to it. Your life has been spent that way. Being on guard is what keeps you alive on long expeditions, at night when your lessers slept under your watch, in the depths of the Abyss where it is the only thing stopping the resilient from dropping like flies.

The cold is numbing as the air hits your face, your fingers almost wholly without a sensation of touch and even a tingle in your toes. Your vision emits warmth like a stone of fire seeping into your bones to chase the chill away. It nearly suffocates your fingers each time you press your hand to it, hoping to glean some heat from it.

You spent many missions that way, tensed and expecting violence at any moment, hardly allowing yourself to sleep, let alone relax. Despite so many things changing, you are just as high-strung as you used to be. It feels like nothing has changed in that respect, but you know everything has. You cannot hear the large crackling bonfire or the pattering of footsteps in the snow as your subordinates come to join you, their laughter and chatter and their whispers to each other.

While everything falls apart around you, you freeze as if that is the only thing keeping you together, even knowing that nothing will remain once you finally let go. Breathing is difficult, and so is thinking, but you'd rather not think at all. You want to pretend you'll look across the clearing you wander through and see that creature eagerly waiting, so safe and out of every hand that might harm him.

There is a fragile little balance of land around you that slowly crumbles away piece by piece as it encroaches upon the section that keeps you afloat without regard for where you're supposed to stand when the last of it falls from under your feet. Eventually, you'll have nothing left beneath you.

If there is a time when the only part of what was is yourself, you must protect that no matter what it does to you. You have to maintain the same rigid ways you've always stuck to. Those are the last parts of you made by your mother; those are the last parts of yourself you can trust for as long as you can't trust yourself.

The stark silence is deafening to your ears.

-

On the seventh night, you pass through a village on the outskirts of Snezhnaya, where you first catch wind of the news you had agreed on.

The locals informed you that they had recently halted their work for half a day in honour of your passing, believing that you had been slain in battle, though they are just as unaware as everyone else you've passed that they're talking to the person they believe to be dead. Hearing the story that the Jester spoon-fed the public to explain your disappearance makes it feel a touch more real, the consequences of your obedience stinging in a way you didn't expect. You cannot claim it to be a sick joke when it has had time to reach the smaller villages.

Even when that information would naturally spread like wildfire, the thought that it has come to be known by the nation solidifies the death of Brighella.

In a way, she really is dead.

You're the only one still standing here.

You find what can only be a wayward adventurer not far from the town, engaging a wild boar in combat, brandishing a blade at the beast as it snarls back at him and prepares to rush toward him. He faces it with the heavy hand of experience steadying his grip, ending the boar in a swift movement of his blade that matches the work of his feet to jostle him out of its path.

"Good morning," you greet him after a moment, arms folding over your chest as you watch him poke at the boar with the tip of his sword. "Strike it through the back of its neck. It'll die quickly."

"And painfully," he scoffs back, yet his foot steadies the boar nonetheless, and it is out of its misery by the final stab.

You break away from the spot that had glued you to the ground, approaching the man and his kill to assess the job as if on instinct. "Good work," you tell him without really thinking.

"You think so?" he questions. His eyes focus on you instantly, watching you inspect the boar with a curious gleam. You offer a curt nod. He stares as if waiting to be appraised in precisely the same manner you do a dead animal, weary enough not to sheath his blade. "You really think it's smart to walk around like that?" he asks after a few seconds.

"Why?" you ask, absently poking at the boar. You half expect it will spring back to life and knock the both of you flat on your asses, yet it never does.

He hesitates for the first time since you first saw him, opening his mouth to speak before reconsidering and pressing his lips into a thin line. He catches his breath. "The armour," he begins. "It..."

"It...?" You don't recall ever meeting him before, though it is not uncommon that adventurers know what you look like. You travel so much that it's hardly unusual that people catch glimpses of you, and never forget the Harbinger dressed in the old armour of the guards of Zapolyarny.

It is not unthinkable for a man used to being at odds with Fatui soldiers would recall what might be the most royal pain in his ass.

"A Harbinger was slain," he continues, gaze wandering away. "A Harbinger dressed in armour. I mean, people wear armour all the time, but that set..."

You quirk an eyebrow at such an awkward explanation. It's an accusation he doesn't dare make for its boldness, but he cannot deny it when he considers it for himself. "You recognise it?" you question.

"Something similar. From when Brighella was in Sumeru," he confirms. "I may have been a child, but I recognise it anywhere. Most people have armour custom made to fit them, but yours..."

"Someone else's," you finish for him.

That is technically true regardless. Even as Brighella, the armour was stolen. You vaguely recall the story, but you took it from the stores, assuming it belonged to a guard who no longer had use for it. It should've been the property of a grown man, but you have always accounted for the pinching and awkward proportions. You had to grow into it and didn't grow quite enough.

"You're asking if I killed her," you conclude, though that is an equally bold assumption.

He pauses, weariness in his eyes at the thought, but shakes his head. "That would be a bit presumptuous," he responds. "I just wondered if you really thought it was smart to wander around in armour that looks so much like hers."

"Perhaps not," you admit, swallow your pride to allow that much. "It might be smarter to get some clothes from a market."

"New armour wouldn't hurt," he adds. "You're travelling to...?" he trails off, briefly glancing up as if to seek your appearance for the answer. "Not the heart of Snezhnaya, I hope."

"Fontaine," you answer. "It's the first trail south."

"I'm sure you'll find both of those things there," he says. He offers a slight smile despite the circumstances, an unspoken reliving of the tension you realise lingered on past the point you expected it to.

A part of you knows that he makes that presumptuous assumption. He suspects that you have killed the reigning tyrant but says nothing, perhaps out of relief at the possibility you did. Snezhnaya finds liberation in your slaying. A weight has lifted in your absence that they are not yet allowing themselves to get used to out of fear that you might return. It's as if everyone holds their breath for the news that you resurfaced from the Abyss and were merely lost to a chasm in the world.

You know that news will never come.

Now, the armour that once protected you as a Harbinger will stand as a triumphant emblem of your hard-won victory over Brighella and the end of the Harbinger's tyrannical hold over the land. Even knowing that he is right and it is unwise to wander clad in your old armour, you can't let it go. You are glad it is still yours. Pierro granted it to you, and you didn't care to ask why when it felt as though you were watching your comrades through the eyes of your younger self five hundred years ago. Through danger, you will keep it close, treasuring it always as a tangible reminder of the sacrifices you made to reach this pivotal moment. 

You slayed Brighella. You ended the Harbinger's tyranny.

Brighella is dead.

Though there is no truth to it, you take responsibility for the Harbinger's slaying at the first gasp of a wayward adventurer recognising it. You grasp it as your singular piece of this life—your trophy. It is the first fragment of your new self.

If you didn't know better, you would think you were getting a little too far into it and starting to believe it yourself.

-

By the eleventh night, you find yourself situated in an inn, and the nights only carry on from there all the way up to the twenty-second night since your abrupt dismissal and, to the rest of the world, your supposed demise. The sigh of relief finally sounds, if a tad reserved. Snezhnaya collectively agrees that Brighella is dead enough to think they might have escaped her thumb, even if they aren't wholly convinced that she could really be dead.

The whispers that once revolved around Brighella's defeat now shifted to speculations regarding her successor. The question was not necessarily who, but who could possibly? Her brutal reign as a Harbinger had instilled fear in the hearts of all who crossed her path; in the minds of the people, no one else could measure up to her sheer terror-inducing presence.

Nobody knows what happened once they dared to fight Brighella until now. She was the first of the Tsaritsa's children, and she was the most combat-heavy. No one wished to cross her except for the rumoured contender for her throne, who was spoken of in hushed tones, as nobody was eager to have their reverence for whoever was bold enough to reach the wrong ears.

Your achievements find their place amongst the rumours as people say that Brighella's killer stole her armour and wears it as her trophy.

Despite the slew of gossip that its patrons indulge in, you enjoy the quaintness of this bar made and run by travellers who use it like a pitstop to rest and recuperate. It is a home to them, along with adventurers and merchants who benefit from the atmosphere. The people are strangers, often reserved and eager to keep to themselves, but have an immeasurable wealth of information that spills with a few drinks and a group of acquaintances who are, for only one night of pleasure and indulgence, their lifelong friends.

Among those friends buried in your own tankard of cheap ale, you laugh along with their jokes and entertain their questions like a test of your ability to lie and improvise in this tale you're making for yourself. If they have names, you don't know them. Brighella's death was a glorious battle but isolated to the hills where you were alone.

"Brighella was alone, and they were weakened by prior injury. I don't know what caused it." You mix a dash of the speculations in, downplaying your strength as you're unwilling to expose too much of it. "I'm not one to miss an opportunity. When would it arise again?"

One of your new acquaintances scoffs, amused but no less aware of the dangers of doing such a thing. "And make an enemy of the Fatui?" He is a new graduate of the Sumeru Akademiya who's come to make his way through Snezhnaya for a job offer. Reminds you of someone else, minus the graduating.

"They will not miss her." You are quick to answer—too quick, arguably—as it draws a sliver of attention before dipping back under the radar as a product of your confidence. "Her 'head' makes too cute a decoration on my side to pass up stealing it."

"I wouldn't dare say such a thing. Fatuus comes here sometimes." They are the words of a Snezhnayan native raised to worship the Fatui, though he is somewhat disillusioned by their crimes and cruelty, as you've learned many are.

"Let them hear it!" Your laughter is boisterous and unabashed. "They'll see the armour anyway. They probably despise her like everyone else."

Another one of your new friends, a travelling merchant from Fontaine, interjects your ravings to add only a passing comment. It was as she had done all evening, her secrets locked up tight. "She did not make herself likeable."

"She was not meant to be likeable but a fearsome warrior." Again, the Snezhnayan man rebuts the criticism against her as he had been doing all evening.

"You don't have to get so far up her ass, Brighella's not gonna crawl out of her grave and thank you for it."

"You're so vulgar."

You plant your tankard firmly on the table between the four of you, leaning over it to close the distance between you and the man. "I'm not meant to be likeable either."

Forget being only a little too into the role. You're revelling in the freedom of this new identity of yours.

Quick to disperse the tension, your graduate friend changes the topic without a hint of hesitance in his voice. "They left an underling people believe will take their place. It's a surprise to think Brighella had someone who followed them with such…devotion."

It seems they finally figured out who might take Brighella's place in the grand scheme of things, and the rumours say there is only one candidate.

The creature wearing the face of a man she brought home from the Abyss.

"It's strange but not impossible." The merchant from Fontaine again, contributing nothing you weren't all already thinking.

"Could she have had a sentimental side?"

"Who cares if she had a sentimental side?"

"Upset the attention isn't on you anymore?"

Anger crosses your face, but you stifle it as quickly as it appears. You wish their attention was off of you, really. The former you, maybe, but you nonetheless. You want to know about your subordinate. What happened to your second in command? You don't care to hear their speculation as to whether you were or were not particularly emotional with your underlings. You know the answers to all of those questions and more without their guessing games.

"Regardless of the reason, they say the underlying is much easier to swallow than she is, so maybe the position of First Harbinger will change drastically if he takes it." 

"Would he really change its purpose if he was so loyal?"

"Unintentionally, perhaps."

Gods, these people are so dull. Just by listening to them, you can tell they know nothing about the ways of the Fatui. Harbingers are not individual job positions with specific parameters. Each role is its own, and they are moulded by the person who assumes them like a character in a play, enchanting and unsettling in a horrific mix of theatrics and violence. It is what they stand for. One does not assume the role and become an actor with a script. They must improvise and act on a whim to the beat of the Tsaritsaʼs drum, their life no longer their own.

They are not whatever these ramblings and poor excuses for speculations make them out to be.

"Terribly misinformed, aren't they?" In your ear is the low voice of the Snezhnayan man holding in his laughter at the two as the scholar and the merchant go back and forth. You watch them with a sharp gaze that almost borders a glare, bored of their squabbles and misconceptions.

You glance to your left, where he has leaned closer to you. You eye the way he tilts in his seat, his hand resting on the table. "Repulsively," you respond curtly.

He has a faint glint of satisfaction in his eye as you seem to have confirmed something. "I thought you might've been from Snezhnaya." 

Your eyes narrow at his conclusion, though it is the truth. You don't trust the gleam in his eyes or the way his gaze fixes between you and the helmet secured to your hip. "So what if I am?" you question lowly.

"It was only an observation."

In the background, the main conversation continues, just as clumsy as before you had tuned it out in favour of drinking some more. "Does this mean he will also be named Brighella?"

Straightening back in his seat, the man swiftly interjected their back-and-forth responses to explain to them. "They receive a unique title upon their promotion, and nobody knows what it is until then." A simple enough concept to understand.

"In other words, anything but Brighella."

"It hasn't been long enough to know yet."

"It's strange. Nobody knows his name even now."

That would probably be because you never gave him one.

You considered it in the years you spent with him but couldn't find one you liked. His name was inhuman, not for your ears and not for your tongue, rendering it useless to you and everyone else who would hear it. The night you found him was spent crowded around a bonfire listing off every suggestion you and your subordinates could think of to no avail, as he only sat quietly by your side and said little about any of these choices, finding no familiarity in any of them. That's only natural, you suppose. 

You still haven't chosen a name for yourself that isn't Brighella, either. Your old one is well and truly forgotten, with the years eroding your memories. It had been centuries since you had been called anything else. Evidently, picking names is not your forte. 

"As far as I've heard, nobody knows what it is."

You find the mention of your subordinate has completely ruined your mood. You are grateful the creature is alive but worried the knowledge you're snooping around to find out when he will be promoted could land you in trouble. It's troubling enough to wonder if he has heard your tales through the grapevine about how you had supposedly 'killed' Brighella—his mistress and mentor—which he would not be happy about.

Though you did not fear the creature before, now that you've personally trained him to understand human combat, you're not so sure you'd want to fight him. It would be a hassle. Unlike many, you do not fear the inhumanity of the Doctor or the stone wall called the Jester. Even the cunning Damselette struggles to do more than unsettle you, but you respect that creature's raw strength and understand that no matter what you do, it doesn't matter. You are confined to a human form, and he is not.

You lied when he said he wouldn't recognise you, however. You don't actually know if he would.

You don't know the extent to which his eyes can pick out the details in your appearance that aren't physical. Had he memorised your relative build? Your height? The way you carry yourself and your mannerisms? The thought unnerves you, but so does everything else about him.

"I'm turning in for the night," you declare to the table with a knock of your cup as you slam it down.

Without regard for the ongoing conversation, you announce your intentions and abruptly shut down whatever is being said at the time without much care for it. Whatever it is, it isn't important. Your unfinished drink is left behind as you make your way to your quarters.

In retrospect, you understand their eagerness to merely cover up the circumstances of your dismissal. For a Harbinger as feared as Brighella, it is easier to halt work for a mere half-day rather than attempt to contain the resulting fallout of admitting one of their own was inadequate while simultaneously preserving their tenuous hold on power.

You drop to your bed with far too much faith in it and already regret the potent scent of alcohol on your breath that addles your mind and forces you to wander back to your betrayal. There's not much else you can call it.

Even as you try to squeeze your eyes shut and vanish the image from your tired mind, the confusion lingers against your will. You thought you were your mother's lucky charm. You had been so since the Archon War, to your knowledge, but you lost many of your fragile memories to the sands of time. Something changed while you weren't looking, and her gaze shifted from you to her goals.

Nobody won.

Nobody won...

You have always wondered what she met. You thought it was because the people were at a point of unrest you feared they wouldn't return from, but no one is left to remember the old gods now. You are instead struck by the ghost of your own blindness. You had ventured to the Abyss so many times and lived for so many years that you fell out of touch with her in a way. Even as you did everything to preserve her love for you, it disappeared.

It couldn't have happened in an instant.

You just don't know when it started or at what point it ended, both of which gnaw at your mind incessantly like a parasite that threatens to consume you whole. You dwell on what may never be answered in an attempt to understand something that cannot be understood. You have never been good at avoiding the bad habits of chasing ghosts, even if you fooled yourself into believing otherwise.

Each passing day forces you to wonder if it has anything to do with the many people who died under your command or were distorted by the Abyss during your expeditions. You struggle to imagine it has anything to do with anyone but yourself. You thought you were exactly who she wanted you to be, but perhaps you weren't. Whatever the reason, it escapes you.

You pile your armour off and leave it beside the bed with a touch more respect than you've ever had for it; your helmet carefully stands on the nightstand where you hope it does not fall and collapse back into the bed, eager to escape such vision of before.

You have no desire to remember the days when your hands were smaller, and you could barely reach the handles on the palace doors or fit your suit of armour. Those were the days you never once doubted her affection, though you feared she was pulling away. You looked into the eyes of a weathered old man and saw competition where he mourned his fallen nation as he was forced to linger in a world ruled by the very gods that had caused it to crumble.

You never understood his weakness. By then, though small, you had forgotten what it felt like to be an ant on the mountain where gods battled.

[shijjii]

More than feeling rested

So- I've been trying to work on my dungeon meshi character. I've somewhat built a small story for them but the thing is that I am kind of scared that the lore of them might be a little Mary Sue? I hope not, honestly. I'll probably tweak some stuff around as I try to finish drawing them but I don't really have the energy to draw right now so here I am writing! I hope everyone enjoys it! Pairing: GN!Reader x Chilchuck Tims Genre: I guess kind of fluff? It's mostly cuddling. Though, TW because Drinking and Smoking is mentioned in the story (reader is the one smoking). Also some cussing. A bit of OOC from Chilchuck tho Word count: 1,148 words Reader appearance/notes: Tall-man!Reader

The sun was setting the horizon when the party came out of the dungeon. Laios thinking that he wants to go to the market to buy some stuff that they'll need in the next dungeon crawl, Marcille and Falin going to the inns to rest, meanwhile, Chilchuck, Namari and you decide to hit the taverns and release your chaos to it.

Namari was laughing out loud as Chilchuck tells her a story that happened a while back. You were hanging about while contently drinking your pint of beer. "Yeah, it was so shit quality!" Chilchuck exclaims. As you observe how he explains his story, you notice the bags under his eyes. He looks very tired despite his smiling face.

Namari bursted out in tears as they continued on, as she was doing so, the half-foot's attention turned to you "what about you, ____? What's a moment you'll never forget?" He asks you, eyes filled with warmth and amusement after him and Namari talked

"Accidentally tripping down a flight of stairs and dying is something that's stuck to me-" Both Namari and Chilchuck bursted out laughing "is that why you always stick close to the wall???" The dwarf asks, you nod at her question embarrassed. Downing the pint of alcohol you had and pulling out your pack of cigarettes to avoid looking at them.

"it happened once but it traumatized me a lot, okay?" You tell them but they wouldn't stop snickering at it.

"you know, usually, people die because of monsters" Chilchuck started "but somehow, you died because of your own clumsiness?" He teases you, swiftly taking a swig from his own pint as you huff a puff of smoke and groan at his teasing "shut up" you grumble. Carefully taking the ash tray in the middle of the table and removing the excess ash from your cigarette.

"may I?" Chilchuck asks for your cigarette, if he can have a drag out of it too, while Namari gets her stuff "right, I'm leaving you two here. I'm gonna go home and rest" she sleepily tells them. Both you and Chilchuck wave good bye at her as Chilchuck continue to take a drag from your cigarette "hey now, I know I allowed you to have some but don't forget to give it back" You joke, making Chilchuck throw his head back and bark out a laugh

Apologizing, he gives it back to you and both of you continue to talk with each other as the night progressed on. Topics getting deeper and serious as the two of you drink more.

"yeah well, things happen, and no matter how long we've been, it doesn't change the fact that she doesn't want me anymore" He whispers under his breath, talking about his wife always puts him in a solemn mood but he didn't really know who else to talk about it to.

You hum and ponder what he just told you "While ye might think that yer so old now, you still have life ahead of you. I'm sure ye'll still find sumone you can be wiz" you shrug, words slurring a little bit from all the alcohol, and Chilchuck took notice of this

"I think we should head back to our lodging" You look at the sky and then inside the tavern, seeing what time it was on a clock, both of you would take a lot of time getting back at the inn the other party members are in.

"M'house is somewhere here...." You tell him slowly, trying to regain some of your soberness "if ye want, we can just use that instead'f walking all the way back to the inn" Chilchuck hummed to himself before nodding. "That's a good idea actually" He mumbles, both of you paying for your drinks

"lead the way, ____" He calls out. The both of you walked towards your home. Sometimes, eyes looking up at the sky to see the stars on it, making the two of you smile in content. The cold gust of air hitting your faces making you a little bit awake as you two rounded the corner and see a little quaint house.

You slightly fumble with the keys and open the door "make yerself at home" You tell him before going inside and trying to see where you kept your extra bed for him to sleep on. Thirty minutes had passed and you've yet to find it, your head slowly spinning with the world around you and Chilchuck knew it was getting bad for you.

"Right, this what we gonna do" You start, taking a pillow from your bed and putting it in the middle "this is going to be our divider. That side is yours and this side is mine. Good night" not waiting for his response, you kick your shoes off of your feet and laid down on the bed. The last thing you hear from him is an amused scoff before the other side of the bed sinks unto someone's weight.

The next morning, you can hear pitter patter of the rain hitting against the windows, only a small ray of sunshine peaking through the dark clouds. Despite this gloomy weather, you felt incredibly warm. Delving deeper into the blanket and holding the pillow even tighter than before, you just wanted nothing more but to fall asleep once again.... That was until you hear a small peep from something-or well, someone- your eyes open snap to see a half-foot in your arms, red as a tomato

Immediately letting go of him, he coughs through a clenched fist and awkwardly scratches the back of his head "I'm so sorry" you start, not looking at the half-foot.

"Uh" You give him a little glance as he speaks up "don't apologize. That was uh...." He kept looking at you then at the floor "That was the best sleep I got in a while" He admits, a tinge of redness reaching his cheeks and ears.

"It's been a while since I slept that good" You blink at his confession, not sure what to do. A long silence embraced both of you until you reached out to him and pulled him back into bed. "What are you-" He asks flustered

"This doesn't go out of this room..." You tell him with furrowed eyebrows as you cuddle him in bed "It's still early and it's raining... Might as well make the best of it" He hums awkwardly, letting himself melt into your touch "Might as well" He agreed with you, shuffling a bit to make himself comfortable in your hold and put his head against your head "This is more than feeling rested. Feels like heaven" He whispers against his palm as he feels your hand running through his hair gently.

Both of you enjoy the cold morning by cuddling in bed, promising to never talk about this interaction outside of the room.

[prettytm]

Hoooooly Fuck that episode.

[doki-doki-lit-club]

question for all of you:

fav music artist?

Oh my gosh, our first ask! THANK YOU SO. MUCH AIHJHAKFBDShKFAS

Natsuki: actively shitting my pants i love this question okay chat chat listen here my love for Babymetal is beyond fucking HUMAN I will kill for them i will frame for them i will die for them i will lie for them i will kiss them i will marry them you don't want to know the lengths i am willing to go to vro

(why can't you express this positive enthusiasm towards me?) (what do you want me to do give you backshots or smth the fuck) (yes) (sweetie what the hell. other sweetie, also what the hell.) (no cause i get you like i feel both of them on a spiritual level) (ya know what... be who you are for your pride.)

Yuri: There is something about Natsuki's enthusiasm that hinges on bestial ferality, and somehow I find it both offputting and oddly attractive. Anyways, as for myself, I enjoy listening to Mahler's symphonies, but as for more modern artists I do find IAMX's experimental music fascinating.

side note from natsuki: chat fyi yuri does not talk like this irl she literally makes your mom jokes idfk what shes on rn

(sukies shes just letting out her inner alpha it's okay!!!) (wow, natsuki... I didn't know you were such an animal... you got us all feeling some type of way, man, I don't know...) (i feel submissive already) (I hope you all die of scarlet fever.)

Sayori: ugh this is gonna be hard jeez uhhhhh lemme think... OH RIGHT WILL WOOD I LOVE WILL WOOD I made monika listen to him to and she likes it heh... weirdly enough tho my current favorite song is COMPLETELY the opposite of will wood's whole, like, vibe- AiScream by that one jpop idol group i forgot the name of IM SORRY IM SORRYYYYYYYY AHHHHHHH

(RUBY CHAN) (HAAAAAI!!!!!) (NANI GA SUKI) (CHOKOMINTO!!!! YORI MO A NA TA!!!) (AYUMU CHAN?!?!?!?) (HAIIII!!!) (NANI GA SUKI?!?!) (Sutoroberii fureibaa yori mo a-na-ta!!!) (SHIKI CHAN!?!?!) (𝓱𝓪𝓲….) (NANI GA SUKI!/?!!??!?!) (COOKIE ANDO CREAMU. YORI MO A. NA. TA.)

Monika: This was a great question! I can't say I listen to an individual artist, but I do have a few favorite songs- my top choice is definitely Little Dark Age by MGMT, but a few others are Lay All Your Love On Me by Abba, Snap Out Of It by Arctic Monkeys, and Mambo No. 5 for... obvious reasons.

(don't you also really like weezer?) (...) (yeah queen you bought all the albums and everything) (...) (...) (...) (...) (...) (... you bought all the fucking weezer albums?!?!??!) (AHAHA WOW LOOK AT THE TIME I THINK IT'S TIME FOR SAYORI TO TYPE SOMETHING GO SAYORI GO WE'RE ALL LOOKING AT MC NOW THE FOCUS IS ON MC NOT ME.) (buddy.) (omg buddy holly haha... ha... hm.)

MC: Kendrick Lamar. Where do I begin. My glorious king. My beautiful pinnacle of radiance my patron saint my absolute monarch my advanced placement global history test above average score. Words cannot begin to describe my love for you. I gave birth to our third son yesterday. Tears of joy streamed down my face as I witnessed yet another beautiful result of our love. For one hundred days and one hundred nights you thrusted deviously in a motel roo

Sorry about that, v11v1-en, hope we answered your question!

(hey why'd you take the computer from me what happened to my free speech??) (oh wow the constitution where did it go gee I guess you have no rights now how tragic.) (sigh... you gotta fight back mc... men's rights..)

ooc: the stuff in parentheses is them out loud at the club btw! the stuff they'd be actually posting is out of brackets <3

[in-shows-and-shadows]

!!!OOC POST!!!

So. Uh. Have a sneak peek at a possible scene in Act II (this also kind of doubles as a Burning Spice character analysis if you squint REALLY HARD at Bahador's dialogue)

"Yeah, I still have a hard time believing my parents got married due to how different their beliefs are."

(Min-Seo raises an eyebrow.)

"Oh? What do you mean by that?"

"Well, it's just, my dad's Vaugardian, so he obviously follows the change belief, but my mom's Bulsaran, which follows a belief that states that everything happens in repeating cycles. Every thousand years or so, we're reborn without the memories of our previous life, and we basically go about our life the same way we did in the previous one—befriending the same people, saying the same things, visiting the same places—everything is the same."

"Everything?"

"Everything. Apparently, we're on cycle number ten."

(Sable grimaces, fidgetting with their hands.)

"That sounds... boring? Depressing? Terrifying? In any case, I'm not sure I like the sound of that... No offense! I'm sure there's a reason people practice it!"

"Don't worry, you're not alone in that sentiment. It's a belief that's supposed to help people find comfort in routine, and it's not like anyone remembers anything from their previous lives, so it's not like anyone's experiencing the same life over and over again without any way to escape."

(...)

"Okay, but what if someone did remember everything from their previous life?"

(Bahador's face darkens.)

"Oh, well, uh... That's the reason I told Sable that they're not alone in their discomfort with the idea of a never-ending cycle. Like most Vaugardians, I'm a big follower of the Change belief. So, when my mother told me about the cyclical nature of Bulsara's main religion, it kind of... sent me into a spiral. I started questioning whether my actions were truly my own, or if I was compelled to take them simply because of the nature of the cycle. Then I started wondering what I would do if I could remember my previous lives, or maybe if I was immortal, forced to watch my family and friends be born, grow up, grow old, and die, time and time again. How would I react? Would I grow depressed? Desensitized? Bored? All three? Would I continue to follow the same script for all eternity? If not, when would I snap? Just how far would I actually go just to change things, no matter how small of a change it is?"

(Bahador goes silent for a moment, letting those words linger in the air.)

"Anyways, that's why I'm glad that I'm mot immortal."

"Bravo, Bahador. Way to give yourself an existential crisis at the ripe old age of twelve."

"I didn't!"

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really!"

"..."

"...I was ten."

"That's worse?!?"

(...Wow. Maybe time loops aren't always so great. Oh well. At least the one you're in is working to your benefit!)

[askchilchuck]

May it be alright to ask if we can learn a bit about you, our lovely admin 😊

Btw you're doing awesome! Keep up the great work ♡

Huh? What do you mean admi- Chilchuck is yanked out of frame.

OOC:

HI you’re incredibly sweet!

I’m not super good with this kind of stuff so I���ll go over the basics.

My name is Sophie. I’m 26. I live in the Pacific NW in the US (hence why my schedule sticks to PST usually). And I work an office job, which is why I get a lot of free time during work days lol.

HUGE Dunmeshi (and especially Chilchuck) fan, but I also really like MHA (Keigo/Hawks my beloved 💖) even if the ending made me really sad. (Hori should’ve taken a hiatus IMO. I fully believe he would’ve been up to following through with the plot lines he set up if he wasn’t pressured to keep his pace.)

I was also violently reminded of my massive Peter/Quicksilver (x-men movies) crush when he showed up for .2 seconds at the end of DP3, so I’ve been wanting to watch those again with my mom some time.

I’ve been on Tumblr since I was in high school. I came over from DA where I used to post my fics before my mom found out and got me into AO3 (fandom runs in the family lol. She’s also a professional author/editor and was like “no kid of MINE is gonna post to fucking da” lol.)

Not sure what else to say so I’ll give you a fun fact: I hate coffee AND tea! If I need caffein I’ll drink a Ghost energy drink (preferably the red Sour Patch Kids one) and if I want a hot drink I’ll go for hot cocoa. Also for soda I’m on team Dr. Pepper and will die on this hill lol.

That’s all I can think of, but if any of you have any questions I’m more than happy to answer! I’ll check up on the comments on this post throughout today if you’d like.

Thank you for being awesome, it makes doing this a lot of fun. 💖

[deuxcherise]

Operation Otterly-In-Love

C/w: Possibly OOC Neuvillette, cooking soup, suggestive behavior, dramatic!Reader, male!Reader

A/n: So… is he an otter or is he a dragon? It has been answered in the game, but as with many, many others, I suspect otherwise! Hehehe. Anyway, I realized I haven’t really written a story with a male!Reader so I decided to for a romance with our favorite Hydro Otter— I mean Hydro Dragon!

Masterlist

Everyone knows that there are many rules in the illustrious region of Fontaine, where wonderful engineering meets sophisticated art. There are some odd ones such as it being illegal to eat ketchup on its own, or that it is forbidden to release anything flying during the first three days of the month. But there is one particular rule, among the normal ones, that almost all prolific families follow, lest they allow any accumulated wealth and property to fall through their fingers… like some unscrupulous members of society unfortunately ailed by gambling or overindulgence of spirits or— may their souls find peace— illegal activities.

When it comes to inheritance, the rule states that the heir shall be the eldest child of the previous title holder.

Quite simple, is it not? And quite modern in some books, seeing as potential female heirs were often looked over for the benefit of a male heir historically, even when said ladies proved more capable than their gender counterparts. Nowadays, all that it requires is that one of  your parents possesses the particular title and that you are the eldest child (and of good health) to inherit it.

In this time and age, there are more and more families who have allowed the tides to turn and accepted this rule as is. However, there are still some who find it better to continue the traditional way. Such as the Vernon Family, whose older members have firmly stated that they would rather die than bypass a proper male heir.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t care less. If it were possible, you’d rather let your sister inherit the Vernon Viscountcy. Except that you are not only the eldest child of the eldest child but the only son of the Vernons, among cousins who are all daughters, thus you fit all of the qualifications to inherit everything. And so will your first son, should you ever consider settling down and finding a decent wife to make pregnant, as your parents constantly feel the need to remind you ever since you turned the adult age of 21.

Luckily for your despairing mama and papa, after much, much, much consideration for a handful of years, you have decided that now is that time.

You give an elegant twirl before you hold your hand out and dramatically declare, “Marry me, Neuvillette.”

It is less of a question, and more a command… or a suggestion if you’d like to put in gentler terms. However, you are confidently assured that he would say—

“No,” Neuvillette objects. Your sudden proposal did nothing to sway his attention from the ever growing stacks of paperwork on his desk he has yet to tackle, thanks to Furina. He didn’t so much as look up at all, much to your slight disappointment.

Quite understandable, really. Who in their sane mind would say yes to a sudden proposal when you haven’t courted each other yet? Even you would answer the same, though not as coldly as he did, especially to someone he’s known for a while. That being said, all part of the plan.

You place your hand over your heart and act as if he had shot you in the chest. “Augh, you wound me, Neuvi… But I understand, which is why I have come here to propose that we–”

“No.”

Cut off, you take a moment to process. “No? I haven’t even asked the question yet,” you pout.

Neuvillette puts down his pen and pinches his nose bridge, letting out a heavy sigh that weighs on you more than expected. He finally makes eye contact with you, his dark blue slit eyes daring you to annoy him further than you already have. “(Y/n), as much as I entertain many of your jokes, I do not believe courting and marriage are topics one should play around with.”

You gasp, offended. “Pardon? I should have you know that I am being very serious. More serious than I have ever been in my life, in fact. I am asking to court you. I. (Y/n) Vernon. Want. To. Court. You. Neuvillette. I'm serious.”

You almost grin once you see a certain light enter his widening eyes, a signal of understanding. However, it suddenly goes away just as quickly as it had arrived, before he exhales a tired sigh and picks up his pen again. “My sincerest apologies,” he says, returning to concentrating and scribbling on his current paper. “I apologize if I have ever possibly led you to believe that I am interested in any sort of courting with anyone. I do not ever wish to court you or be courted by you.”

It is one thing for your intended person to forsake romance of any sort, but to add words specifically mentioning that he would never be interested in you… Well, it certainly makes your heart bleed a bit.

Oh ho, but not nearly enough to dissuade someone like you!

Although pained, your face doesn’t fail to turn that melting frown right side up, a new determination traveling through your veins. If he is not interested in courting you or being courted by you, then isn’t this simply a challenge you must face in order to win his heart? All good romances have to start somewhere, yours will just have to start from zero.

Your silence piques Nevillette’s attention once more, prompting him to look up and take notice of your expression. He has witnessed that mischievous smile and those glittering eyes before whenever a fresh new idea pops into your head. The kind that tends to cause chaos.

He begrudgingly stands up from his chair intending to prepare for whatever your head has concocted, when he is stunned at a thrown white glove to his face. You place your hands on your hips and declare with a pointed finger, “Neuvillette, I will capture your heart one way or another! Prepare yourself, good sir!”

And so begins, Operation Otterly-in-Love.

The target: Neuvillette. The challenger: You.

-----🦦-----

The setting? A picnic table by one of Fontaine's many beautiful lakes under the shade of a large tree.

The objective? Culinary seduction.

Anyone who is anyone in Fontaine knows the stoic and righteous Neuvillette as the Chief Justice, the Iudex of Fontaine, and a man of unknown origins. With how long he has held the position throughout generations, if not a god or divine being then he was most definitely blessed by divinity at some point.

You, among a select few others, are fortunate enough to be privy to the fact that the subject of your heart is none other than the blue-haired, stone-faced judge. Despite that truth, you cannot help but have a strong belief that he is something else entirely. The edges of your lips instantly curl upward at the sight of those lovely, fluffy creatures swimming about in the sparkling waters of Fontaine.

Otters.

Their blue coats and their darker blue markings, their love for water, and cuteness are extremely reminiscent of your Neuvillette. In your humble opinion, of course, which he does not share.

Speaking of which, the subject in question exhales audibly, miffed at your distracted form. “(Y/n), I believe you said that there was something in dire need of my attention?”

“Dire” is certainly a polite description that severely downplayed how thickly you had laid upon the supposed details of a possible disaster should he not allow you the opportunity to drag the hard worker away from his work and out of his stuffy office.

You direct your brilliant smile towards him and place your hand on top of the cloche’s handle, and lift it up to reveal one of your lover-to-be’s favorite dishes in a simple yet very elegant bowl: Soup. 

Not just any plain old soup, mind you! It is a painstakingly and lovingly homemade Consomme Purete, made with only the finest fowls, eggs, and vegetables in only the purest, chilliest waters from the highest mountains that you could get your hands on.

The method by which you somehow acquired these ingredients, well… you have already sent many prayers towards a dear friend of yours who at the moment might be busy occupying the capable hands of a certain Lord of the Fortress of Meropide. You'll have to find a suitable gift worth a million thanks for the noble sacrifice.

“Consomme Purete,” you cheekily introduce the dish as you place the cloche to the side and rest your elbows on the table, your chin on top of intertwined fingers. “A fine day to have it, don't you think?”

His narrow eyes widen just a tad at the sight of the soup. He hasn't eaten yet, and his stomach is already taken by a whiff of the savory scent. The dew of the soup reflects the gentle sun shining in the sky accompanied by a few fluffy clouds. A fine day indeed.

“And whatever is the occasion for your efforts? You know that I do not accept bribes,” he says, elegantly taking a spoonful of soup but not yet a taste.

You bat your eyes. “Should I need any occasion to feed you, my dear?”

He lowers the spoon. “If you are still going on about your ridiculous proposal, I should have you know, once again, that is a meaningless endeavor.”

You hold back a click of your tongue. “Again with that…” you wave a hand. “Well, at least have a taste. I put in my blood, sweat, and tears just to make this.”

He raises an eyebrow.

Your eyes bug out at his silent implication. “Not literally! That's gross!”

“If you say so,” he says, but still decides to take a sip.

“How is it~?”

You watch intensively as the spoonful of soup disappears behind those lips of his. The lack of wrinkles on his face seems to indicate acceptance. You spy the tip of tongue peek out for just a split second to lick whatever glistening essence hadn't made it into his mouth. This tiny seductive display sends sends a bit of blood down to your—

“It is… adequate.”

Instead of heading downwards, your blood shoots upwards. “WHAT?? Adequate!?” You shriek. You place a hand over your heart and the back of your other hand on your forehead. “Neuvillette, please. I'll allow you to step on my heart, but do not jest when it comes to my cooking.”

“Unfortunately, you and I both know I do not jest when it comes to a dish like this. I applaud you for your efforts, but you may have over-steeped the vegetables a little too long for this to be called Consomme Purete.”

Your jaw drops.

You knew it! You turned your back on the stove a little too long when you were arguing with your parents. Stupid, stupid, stupid. To think you had presented this special dish to your love interest with such confidence! Augh, you wish you could go die in a hole right now.

Plan - Culinary seduction: Failure.

Will you give up?

…..

HA! FAT CHANCE! COMMENCE THE NEXT OPERATION!

-----🦦-----

[Extra]

You give out a disheartened sigh and reach towards the dish. “In that case, allow me to clear–”

Neuvillette blocks you from reaching his bowl with his arm. “I didn't say I was done, did I?”

You tilt your head in confusion. “Huh? But– Oi!”

The Iudex lifts the bowl and gulps it down in one sitting before delicately placing the bowl down and wiping the corners of his lips with a napkin with as much sophistication as a gentleman could muster. He then gets up and leaves the table with only a simple, “thank you for the meal”.

You sit there, dumbfounded as you watch him head back towards his office.

Plan - Culinary seduction: Failure Success…?

[the-grungler]

kaito fuji on: two minutes of his balls finally dropping, a lifetime of dropping the ball

a/n: short romancebiguous OOC slice of life/fluff cringe for our resident pissboy (why are his legs spread so wide in his new cards what is this cunty ballerina doing)

warning - this bitch is so uncooked its still shitting salmonella on the barn

-------

There is no joy without misery. Simple fact of life.

"I'm so glad to have a friend like you!"

His laugh was shrill through the pain. At least cardiac arrest would never friend zone him (technically, right? No, that was 100% what it was. She hated his sad little guts, for sure). Of course, likewise, the conversation always swiveled into something of the sort.

Kaito Fuji was a man of great inaction. In other words, he did not get that - in either combat or women.

Really, he was happy with this, anyway.

"SHHHHHHHHHHHHIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!!" he slammed his fists against the porcelain of his sink, glaring holes into the eyes of that bleach blond bitch on the other side of his mirror. Water soaked his face to his collar, continuous splashing through his face to pretend he was pulling himself together.

"This is it... I'm gonna fucking die alone! And poor! What kind of pathetic loser does that!?"

The face in the mirror passed him a solemn, knowing look.

He grit his teeth. It wasn't like he wasn't prepared for this on a day to day basis. Kaito was nothing if not a veteran of rejection. And so, he took deep breaths until he was limp enough to swallow the truth. Couldn't feel bad about an outcome if you were always prepared for the worst one, after all.

"That's right!" He creepily grinned at himself. "I knew this was gonna happen all along, anyway! Just gotta move on..."

He macho'd up a determined glare into his own freckles. "Who needs women, anyway? Pshhhh! That's-That's right! I can be a cool, independent man who don't need no girl! Kaito Fuji always just gets over it."

His smile slowly fell.

"...What the fuck am I doing?"

---

He was rejected, that was fine. He was rejected, that was fine. Four hours of drilling it into himself with a cheap tub of mint ice cream. Two hours of actual sleep. At least he had a new playlist of rabid cat videos.

"Hey... o... you... doing okay?" A soft finger poked his cheek.

He leapt out of his seat like the very same cat on his phone at odds with a cucumber. His chair clattered so loudly everyone in the room jumped. "EEEK!? AH-! UH- Heyyy, Honor Roll!" Real smooth, Kaito.

Wait, why does that matter? I've already been rejected. I'm a free man.

Sunrise filtered soft under the windows. It was a very not romantic scene where the guy never sexily caught the girl mid trip with the curtains fluttering and rose filter forming between their eyes.

He took a deep breath. What did they say helped with anxiety? Imagine the other party as a naked potato?

He offered the sweet little angel in front of him a mental apology for what he was about to do to her image.

He blinked, gears halting. "What're you doing here so early anyway? Class starts in fourty five minutes."

"Hm?" She dragged a playful grin. "I could ask you that very same question. Maybe I'm just a top notch student?"

He laughed - too tired from the previous night's endeavors to remember how soprano he normally sounded. "I'll bet - surviving in this hellhole itself should be its own degree, or something. If punctuality could dictate our lives, I'd be camping out here all night. ...Which is sorta why I come here every morning. This is my normal routine."

"Oh?"

He laughed sheepishly, "Poor guy's gotta do something to match up with the rest of these monsters of classmates, you know?" He sighed pitifully. "Remedial's are definitely teaching me a lesson, at least..."

Her mouth parted wordlessly.

"W - What's wrong?"

"Nothing! Nothing at all. You just seem a little different today, is all." She had a contemplative tilt to her head. "I mean, it is a special one, isn't it?"

"Is it?" He blinked, placing his chin between his fingers. "Like, one of those Instagram posts? 'Treasure each moment like a gift... that's why we call it the present'."

She let out a chortle and a scoff. "I didn't mean it that cheesily, I swear."

His grin went crooked. "I could. I mean, you're here now, aren't you?"

"...oh. R-Really?" She blinked, shyly burying her cheek in a tuft of hair. "...I didn't realize you had a side of you like this, y'know."

He let out an abrasive snort. "Like...complete cringe? I do it all the time, Honor Roll." He puffed out his chest. "You just don't see cuz I always make sure to show you my coolest."

She giggled, slowly devolving into soft laughter she had to press in with her hands.

"...What? Did I say something funny?"

"Sorry, I think I'm just... Still processing your studious side," She broke out into breathy chuckles.

"Heh, nah. It's not like I actually do much, anyway. If the teacher isn't here I just go roam the cafeteria for cool food snaps." He said. "Looks like that time's about here, too. You interested?" He thumbed a smug finger at himself. "On me, of course."

She smiled. "I really do hope to repay you one of these days."

They made light small talk as they rounded the corner to the staircase. A fresh Caution: Wet sign was left in that (disturbingly attractive) janitor's morning rounds, which could never be choppy foreshadowing for anything extremely cliche about to happen.

Kaito would never admit it to anyone, but he felt badass in these mornings. Like these hours were a completely separate world from the mortal plane, so casually ethereal.

That was probably because his preferred routine was waking up at noon, though.

A scream had him jolting in his skin, as he watched Honor Roll scrabble and slip on the top stair. She flailed for the railing, slipping coarsely through panicked fingers.

"SHIIIIIIT!" he leapt forward, just barely managing to tug her into the less medically damaging direction. This didn't manage to apply to him, though, as the awkward, unfamiliar motions had his foot jerking down the step in the wrong way, his torso quickly following into a concussive tumble down the whole stairway.

She winced he made a collision with each step, leaving him sprawled out on the landing with a miserable hand against his skull. She cursed, cautiously speeding down with a touchingly panicked call of his name.

She knelt by his side, propping him up by his spine with awkward, lost hands. "Jesus, I'm so sorry... Your face is all beat up and bruised...!"

"...Nah. I'm a ghoul, at the very least. Better me than you, you know?" He found himself throwing his head back with a bark of a laugh. He wasn't sure how long it went on for, just that he must've looked ridiculous right now.

"Are... you sure? That looked painful..."

"Hahaha! Yeah, it hurts like a bitch. But just let me have this one - I'll probably cry and snivel later." His grin was luminescent under the sunrise, softening the harsh edges that usually came with it. "...I know I'm just a coward, but I still have pride. What kind of guy would I be letting you see me lose to a flight of stairs?"

"Ha!" Her lips curved in careful tenderness. "...You're such a dork." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a cleanly ribboned handkerchief, undoing it with slow fingers.

Kaito froze in headlights as she dabbed the grime off his cheek in careful strokes.

"I - you- b - but-?"

"Happy birthday, Kaito. Sorry, it's not as fancy as the stuff the others gave you... But, at least we know it'll be useful, huh?"

The air was electrically still.

But - rejection - ? Hold on - she remembered - I - she's giving me uh aE uh uh -?????

Fire bursted under his skin.

Girl - touching me- handkerchief present??? Feelings??? Could it be? Doki doki????

Was his sad excuse of a college kid romance finally getting some action?

"LISTEN - I - UH I-I'M STILL - WAIT I JUST UM - "

He bluescreened.

"P-PLEASE BE GENTLE...?"

The girl's face grew jaded.

"...What."

---

---

i'm notoriously shit at fluff but i love this loser (sigh)

other tokyo debunker brainrot works for those who like dumpster fires and feeding my maniacal ego:

(u should comission me for smth teehee [<broke asf]):

[testaccount4]

...

How is it like to die and die endlessly?

And how is it like to kill? (<the question for Anticheat)

If I could free you all the the endless suffering

I̴͙͉͛̽ ̸̣͉͔͚̉̑̈́͂W̷̤̳̺̒͒͐Ǭ̶̧̼͐͝Ǘ̴͙̘L̷̝̀̃̇̀D̶͕̆̓̚͜N̷̩̿͠'̴͎͎̟́̌̀̚͜T̵͎͇̣͈͋͊͝

Because it's quite entertaining to me for people to perish in the hands of T̵̡̢̬̩̣̙͇͇͖͕̼̝̅̊H̸̢̨̢̫̥̩͙͕̻͍̣͌̆̃ͅĒ̸̢̱̹̬̭̠͚̙͉̇̌̈́͛͂͘͠͠ ̷̧̢̪̟̠̪͗S̸̗̑͌̈̐̇̄͠P̸̧̯̣̪̫̗̫̼͉̖̂͊̈́̐͑͂̌́́̏Ė̴͈͎͕̮͍̣́́̉̈̆̇́͒͒͊̌C̵̹̳̑͊́̅̈̎T̴̘̱̑̾̂̎͠R̴̡̡̞͍͎̗̞̲̭̼͘ͅͅE̷̦͚̾

I̸f̸ ̶I̴ ̸w̵o̴u̴l̷d̴ ̴h̴a̷v̶e̵ ̵a̶ ̴p̷h̴y̶s̸i̴c̸a̴l̴ ̶f̷o̶r̸m̷,̵ ̸I̶ ̴w̸o̶u̵l̸d̶ ̸t̴a̶k̸e̴ ̸o̷v̵e̴r̷ ̷t̵h̴e̶ ̵w̶o̵r̷l̷d̶

I̴f̴ ̷I̴ ̴c̷o̴u̵l̶d̴ ̶c̸o̸n̵t̷r̸o̴l̴ ̵e̶v̶e̶r̶y̶o̴n̶e̴ ̵I̴ ̸w̸o̶u̷l̵d̵ ̶t̵a̴k̴e̴ ̸o̸v̸e̴r̸ ̶t̵h̴e̷ ̷u̷n̶i̶v̸e̶r̴s̸e̸

Ḭ̶̒̀͑f̴̟̱̈́ ̴͔͛Ï̸͚̓̇ ̴͙͍̹̇c̶̭̝̈́̕o̴̤͐̆ű̷̗̮́l̴̢͇̓d̷̹̠̆̉͠ ̴̠̝̍h̴̫̩͂̔ą̶̨̦͆͋v̴̹̰̓̄̎e̴̯̱̺͊̄ ̷̢̙̒͑b̸̛̰̳̃ṏ̷̗̱̖́́t̵̲̃h̸̰̞̔̕.̴̞͎͋.̷͎̖͗͘.̴̻͂͝I̶̭̜̚͠ ̸̢̘̺̑̉̇W̸̡͆͠O̴̡̙͎̊̏̕Ǔ̴̮͛͌L̵̩̤̂̉̇Ď̵̝̪͓̆̀ ̷͕̗̾̽̓ͅM̸̺̰̏̇A̷͕͍͍͋̈́K̷̛̳̘̈̓ͅĚ̶̡̯͙̕ ̵̧̣͚̇E̴̻̦̲̿̎V̵͙͑E̴̲̔̊R̵͖͕̮͐̿͠Y̶̧̏̋O̵͇̣͖͒͒̚N̷̤̩̔̑E̴̺̙͙͐͌ ̶̰͖̙͛͂͌S̴̙̐͆̾U̵̘͎̅F̸̡̤́̇͛F̷̖̔͆͘E̶̠͛̌͝R̶̢̤͐͂́ ̶̛̦͛̈́A̷̛͕͕̱͂͑N̴̰̺͗D̶͖͘ ̵̢̰̐Ḿ̷̢̽A̷̩͓̭̋͊̕K̵̫̬̙̋̔̅Ȅ̷̮ ̷̘̩̫̈́̀T̴̳͌̈̈́Ḩ̸̛Ë̸͓̜́̓M̸̧̖̞̓͠ ̷̹͊B̷̡̗̱̈́Ȅ̴̬̮ ̶̺̐̑͐M̴̰̖͌̈́̚O̸̭̙̠̓̄̍Ŗ̵̬͖̃̄͝E̴̡̞͝ ̸͍̅T̷͎̮̓O̵̪̪̥̔R̶̺̰̽͌C̵̣͋Ĥ̴̫͝E̸͔̗͋̉̓ͅR̶͙̈́̇͒ͅD̷̯̑̃̃ ̴̨̃́̾T̶̝͇̦̓̃͌H̷̗͌E̸͍̓̀̚N̴̪̻̲̍̑͠ ̷̋͒́͜Ỹ̸̟̿Ȭ̷̪̺̀Ȕ̶̜͉̀͑ ̸͍͍̻͒͝Ǧ̵̛̝Ȗ̴̢͓̱̽Y̶̹̮̰̑̋S̵͙̓͠ ̴̖̙̜́̓̈́A̷͇͌͆̑R̴̛͙̕Ẽ̸͚̹̻̾͘ ̵̡̠͝T̵̹͈͙͘Ō̸̳͊Ṛ̸͔͓̍̅̉C̴̤̥̣̚Ḩ̸̜̜̃̄E̶̟̖̔R̴̛̹̺̂͝D̴̠̠̔̉ ̸̳̹̃̚͠Ȋ̷͍͝Ǹ̶͕̪͔͗ ̷̢̥̓Ť̶̲̊̚Ḣ̴̡̓͘A̴̭͍̔T̵̡̨̳̑̈́ ̶̖̦̪͘͠͠H̴̞̞͛͂E̷͍͚͛L̴̮̺͐̈̈ͅL̸̟̾̈́

-that one odd voice inside your head anon

((OOC: again I'm sorry if it's a little too violent))

☆ [ TEST is also a killer so I'll assume the second question is for them also ]

[ also guys NEVER WORRY ABOUT BEING TOO VIOLENT I LOVE VIOLENCE ] ☆

It.... it hurts. This hurts. I just want to go home. why are you- why are you like this? Why are you doing this?? Aren't we in enough pain for you?!... Have I just finally gone crazy? I think I've finally just gone crazy. This hurts. I don't wanna be here anymore! I DON'T WANT TO WORK! I just- I just want to go home and--and read my books and talk to my friends and.... and.........

[yikes, they're crying. they didn't even get to see the overly specific asks!]

I'm... I'm tired.. of giving up everything for these people....... they don't know.. they don't.. get.... it........ They CAN'T. or why would they keep asking..?

Ye again? Don't ye 'ave anythin' better t' do?... Might as well answer anyway. The dyin' part ain't fun, but at least we come back, ey? Gettin' chased by these killers be... well, it's thrillin'! I've ne'er gotten close t' dis kind o' excitement, even while plunderin' enemy ships! Haha...ha.

Listen, these abbey lubbers needs me t' keep smooth sailin'. ROBLOX hisself could be here, 'n still I'd recon I be more qualified t' lead these men. So either straighten yourself out, or ye'll be kissin' the gunner's daughter. Savvy?

WE LOVE KILLING PEOPLE BECAUSE THEY'RE HERE AND IT'LL TEACH THEM THAT WE'RE STILL HERE! IT'LL MAKE THEM REGRET WHAT THEY DID TO US!! ^.^

ALSO IT'S JUST REALLY REALLY FUN TO HEAR THEIR SCREAMS AND WATCH THEM RUN AROUND LIKE LITTLE INSECTS WE GET TO SQUISH IT'S LIKE A GAME FOR US :D WE LIKE TO PLAY WITH OUR FOOD >.<

> Mea-a-ans to an en-end.

> I-I-If these pa-athe-etic chea-ater-rs must die, so be-e it.

> The-ey took that ri-isk. Pla-ay fai-i-ir.

[some-pers0n]

Dragon Business

Fandom: WoF

Characters: Glory, Deathrbringer

CW: None, really (unless you consider Glorybringer/Deathbringer to be a content warning)

Summary: Oh, great! Out of all of the dragons for Glory to ambush, she just so happened to pick the most annoying dragon on this entire blasted continent.

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: I know I am God's strongest Glorybringer hater, but I wanted to try and rewrite this scene in THK. Add some more cheesy banter and gently tweak it a little bit. I'll first and foremost add that now Deathbringer is Glory's age. Not older or anything. Same age. I also tried to keep Glory as in character as one possibly can with this scene (very hard, she's very OOC).

Glory took a deep breath, letting it sink in what she was about to do, then pounced. She landed beside the NightWing. "If you value your life, leave this kingdom."

"Moons above-" He recoiled. Even when startled, he jumped with finesse and grace. Compared to Starflight, this dragonet seemed to have some skills when it came to being stealthy. "Where did you come from?"

"I'm not here to answer questions," she snapped. "You strayed too close to the Ice Kingdom."

"By all means, this is still technically the Sand Kingdom," he rebutted. "Look, that big wall over there? I'm not behind it. Still here. Shouldn't you of all dragons know that?"

Glory's eye twitched, but her menacing expression never faltered. "You're close enough. Besides, when Blaze wins the war, it'll be ours. So, you're stepping on soon-to-be IceWing territory."

"Wow, bit cocky aren't you frost-face?" He grinned confidently. "Or maybe you're dealing with losing the war in a different way than most."

"I'm the cocky one?" she scoffed, pointing the spear right at him. "You have a lot of guts to say that to the one with the spear."

"Oh please, I'm not scared of your frostbreath, much less your little spear here..." He ran his talon along the tip of the spear.

For a moment, panic shot through Glory. It was only now that she just realized she was talking to a NightWing. This dragon could've been reading her mind this entire time. He could've found out she was a RainWing. He may know she was just doing this to scare him off and was playing around. That'd explain his demeanour. It would be idiotic to be this bold.

But, she pressed on. She repressed those thoughts to the best of her ability. She was an IceWing. She should be thinking IceWing thoughts, like how this NightWing was in her tribe's territory.

"What are you doing here? Rather suspicious of you to be spying on Princess Blaze's fortress. Long ways from...wherever you come from, isn't it?"

"Just a little bit of sightseeing, that's all."

"There's nothing here to really look at though."

"Mhh, I'd beg to differ. You're quite the sight yourself." He shot her a look, one that she was unfamiliar with. Never in her life did she see a dragon stare at her in that way. Glory was used to glares and scowls, but also the kind and thoughtful eyes of her fellow Dragonets of Destiny.

This was different. It showed spirit and tenacity, but also respect and genuine meaning. It was playful and bubbly. The more she thought about it, the more confused she was. A feeling rose within her, one that was just as perplexing as this dragon before her.

She shook her head. "Answer the question, or I'm afraid I'll have to bring you to Queen Glacier."

"Afraid? Why would you be afraid? Are you perhaps enjoying our little conversation?"

"N- no?!" she barked at him. "What? Do you want to be locked up in some dungeon until you rot away?"

"Not particularly, no. Doesn't sound all too pleasant. It's already pretty chilly just being here." He dramatically shivered.

"So then tell me why you're here. You give me a quick answer and we can both go on with our lives. What a bargain, mh?"

"Except it's about whether I live or you taking a couple minutes out of your night to drag me to my death. Doesn't sound all too balanced."

"Do you want to die? Yes or no?" she said bluntly.

"Not really, no."

"Then answer the question. Why are you here?"

The NightWing shrugged. "Fine. I'm here to meet someone. Well...maybe a few someones."

"And who would these 'someones' be, exactly?" Glory asked.

"Can't say. It's a bit secretive. NightWing business and all."

"I didn't know NightWings had 'business'," she said. "I was led to believe your entire tribe just sat around in the dark, whispering and conspiring with one another about the current events, doing nothing to warn the other tribes and stop them. Very time-consuming, I'm sure."

The other dragon snickered. "Is that what you think of us? The NightWings? Where's your sense of fear? That tone of respect for our grand powers? Honestly, do you really believe that I'm not this heroic prophet that history will repeat the name of for eons to come?" He raised his wings to the moons, but his eyes held only sarcastic teasing.

"No. Not really," Glory said harshly.

"Oh. That's a shame then." He folded his wings back in.

"If your tribe was so 'grand', you'd do something about the war, would you not? Instead of spewing some dumb prophecy, couldn't you, oh I don't know, tell the tribes which princess would be the best? Or simply which one is going to win?"

"Do you not have faith in the prophecy?" he snorted. "That'd explain why you're so grumpy."

"I'm not grumpy. I'm trying to do my job here," she growled. "I'm the one with the freezing death breath over here anyways. Watch your tongue if you want to live."

"Three moons, you just love to flaunt how you can breathe snow, don't you?" He titled his head. "Either way, prophecies don't work that way. We can't just get a straight answer. It has to be through the most convoluted and contrived way possible."

"And that would explain why you can't seem to give me a short answer for why you're here."

"That's my line!" he said.

"And now it's mine." Glory smirked back. "Still, that's a lot of blood on your tribe's talons. Could've ended the war YEARS ago had it not been for your little prophecy. Now every dragon on this blasted continent is hoping that five dragonets who've lived in a cave their whole lives are ready enough to say which one of these terrible candidates is good enough to rule as queen." She spat, her voice becoming more strained.

"Holy mother of lava," he said. "Sounds like you've been keeping that in you for a while."

Glory bobbed her head a bit. "Yeah, pretty much."

"You feel sorry for them though, that's a surprise."

"Who?"

"The dragonets. I've been all across Pyrrhia and I've seen a lot of reactions to the prophecy. Some are hopeful that it's going to bring peace. Others believe it's nonsense and an excuse to drag out the war for longer than it needs to. Yet, I often see dragons show sympathy for them. It is a lot for a dragon my age, I'd say."

"Mh-hm. Imagine like...just barely being an adult and having to do that. You've been living under a rock for quite literally your entire life up to this point and you're expected to...know everything."

He laughed, but then quieted down. "Yeah..." He looked thoughtful for a moment before then yawning. "Speaking of those dragonets, you've seen them around?"

She paused. "No, why?"

"Rumor has it they're coming to visit Princess Blaze. I would've thought they'd be here already." He looked over at her. "You didn't hear of them being captured, have you?"

"No. Not a word." She tried her absolute hardest to think like an IceWing. This dragon could be probing around in her mind as she spoke. Pretty obviously too, as he was ogling right at her. She thought of blizzards and fields of ice, something rather difficult considering she never once seen either.

"Right..." he eventually said. "Well, I suppose that's not all too unbelievable. It's quite a journey from the Sea Kingdom, no?"

"How did you know they were there?" Glory asked. "Oh wait, is it because you're all-knowing and have infinite power?"

"Well, that and how the Summer Palace exploded because of Burn wanting to kill them. Word travels fast when it comes to literal palaces burning to the ground in attacks."

"Oh. Right." She bit her lip. "That still doesn't answer my question. You're here to meet a couple 'someones', correct?"

"Mh-hm. Though, they don't seem to be here right now. Guess I've got all night to sit and do nothing." He glanced at her. "Say, you seem like an alright dragon. Well, aside from the whole threatening to murder me repeatedly part, that is. You know any good IceWing taverns I can stop by?"

Glory squinted. "Aren't you a little young for that? Why are you asking me either?"

"I thought you dragons didn't care about age when it came to that."

"No?! We most certainly do." She shook her head. "And besides, you really think I'm going to let you into the Ice Kingdom? A NightWing who won't even give me a simple answer? Come on..."

"I mean, you got to give me some points. Besides, what if I buy you a drink? It's all good then, right?"

"Ah yes, I'm sure Queen Glacier will be completely understanding then. She hates when other dragons are in her kingdom except when it's about buying her fellow guards a drink."

The NightWing giggled. "You do have a point there." He sighed. "Well then, sad to hear that's a bit of a bust. Can't say it wasn't worth a try." He spread his wings once more.

"Wh- where are you going?" she inquired.

"Oh, just somewhere."

"You're going somewhere to meet your someones, mh?"

"Pretty much, yes," he answered. "But, if you ever get bored, you could probably find me. Been a pleasure talking with you, RainWing."

Glory froze up. "What? What are you saying?"

"Did you really think I couldn't see through your disguise?" he asked. "Come on. I'm pretty sure not too many IceWings have that weird looking of horns and spikes. You're too lean, too smooth. You don't give off a cold feeling either. It's quite warm if I do say."

She couldn't help but feel her scales shift in colour at this revelation. She tried her hardest to keep them that pale white, but it was obvious that she was slipping. "And you didn't say a word?"

"Nope."

"And you didn't question why I'm here?"

"Not really, no." He shrugged. "I'm here for a reason and you're probably here for another reason as well. I didn't think I needed to know anyways."

She was dumbfounded. It made sense, of course. It was a stupid idea to begin with. It's mind-boggling how she even thought that her disguise was even remotely close to what an IceWing actually looked like. But, still. This NightWing talked to her and treated her like...a normal dragon. No talking down to her. No treating her like she's some brainless lizard.

It was new. It was nice.

"Oh, and I didn't get your name," he said as he took a step back. "I'd love to know."

"Afraid I can't, it's RainWing business." She mocked him.

He grinned back. "Well, will you tell yours if I say mine?"

"Nope. Not interested in knowing."

"Well, fine. I'll still say my name then since that seems to bother you." He smiled at her. "You can call me Deathbringer."

With that, he took to the skies, becoming one with the night.