#and you can tell! he did his research. he traveled far and beyond. he got the renegade legendary on his side. he cracked the code

[theemporium]

[1.7k] travelling can be stressful, but it's a little easier when your swiss grizzly bear boyfriend is by your side.

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It was stupid. 

You were fully aware it’s stupid. People liked to remind you how stupid they found it. It was something so, so stupid and being so painfully aware just made it worse. Because logic didn’t work, despite what countless people tried to tell you. Their reassurances and rationality didn’t help the way your brain spiralled until it could latch on to every single possible thing that could go wrong.

And you knew, nine times out of ten, nothing would happen. In fact, you could count on one hand the times your spirals had played out and became a reality. But that didn’t stop you having the spirals, and it didn’t stop the way your brain processed everything. 

Unfortunately, even your own common sense lacked in the battle between your brain and the anxiety travelling brought you. 

It was something you were mostly mocked for and, truthfully, you could understand their perspectives. It did sound silly when you tried to explain to your coworker the fact you couldn’t sleep the night before a journey, even if you had done it a million times before. It did sound dramatic when you tried to explain the fear a new destination brought you, regardless of how much research you did. But they didn’t get it, they don’t understand that voice in the back of your head whispering away. 

What if this is the one time something goes wrong? What if there is an accident?  What if something gets cancelled?  What if the traffic is worse than usual and you’re late? 

Random but burdening questions rattled in your head on the days coming up to a big trip. It’s why you hated booking them in the first place, because you knew exactly how you would react. And you told yourself it would be different, that you wouldn’t be so dramatic this time, that you could handle it.

And, without fail, you would find yourself sick to your stomach the morning of the trip, unable to stomach anything beyond a piece of toast (if you were lucky).

“Do you think you would know if I was replaced by an alien?” 

You blinked, taking a few moments to process the question before you turned to find Nico already looking at you, a contemplative look on his face. 

“What?” 

“Like, I’m sure you would notice but how long do you think it would take you to figure it out?” He questioned, his hand resting on your knee and lightly squeezing as he spoke. 

You stared at him for a few moments, trying to wrap your head around his question before you let out a breathless laugh. “What are you going on about?” 

“You looked lost in your thoughts,” he said, keeping his voice low so he couldn’t be heard above the music the taxi driver was playing through the radio. “I can see inside that pretty head of yours. You were spiralling.”

Your cheeks flushed in response. “I’m sorry—”

But Nico cut you off with another squeeze to your knee and a kind smile on his face. “You don’t have to apologise for it,” he reassured you. “I just wanted to help.”

Something in your chest tightened at his words. 

“For the record,” he continued, saving you once again when he could see emotions overwhelming your ability to speak. “I think it would take me five minutes tops if you got replaced by an alien.” 

You snorted. “What? Five minutes? There’s no way.”

“I know you, schatz,” Nico shrugged in response. “I would be able to tell.”

“Aliens could have crazy technology far too advanced for humans to comprehend,” you argued back and, for the first time since you went to bed last night, your brain was thinking about something other than long security lines, overpriced airport snacks and cancelled flights. “I could have been replaced by an alien months ago and you wouldn’t have realised.” 

“I would know,” Nico said, sounding far too sure of himself as he flashed you a smile. “I doubt aliens would know that you make a little sound whenever I–”

“Nico!” You hissed, your eyes widening as you glanced at the taxi driver with worry. 

And the fucker had the audacity to giggle in response as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, tugging you against his side as much as your seatbelt would allow. 

“I was just going to say when I tickle you,” he said with a shameless grin. “I don’t know what dirty thoughts are in your head, schatz.” 

You huffed, nuzzling further into his side. “You’re evil.”

“And you love me anyways.”

You rolled your eyes, but Nico knew from the smile on your face that he was right. 

You knew exactly what he was doing and, truthfully, you couldn’t even find it in yourself to call him out on it. Because it was working. Because he was Nico and he would deny it but he wouldn’t stop, even if you did call him out. Because there was a warm feeling in your stomach at the idea that someone—that Nico—cared enough to go out of his way to make you more comfortable.

Because he was Nico Hischier and he was just the kind of guy that went out of his way to make his loved ones more relaxed, to take on that captain role beyond the ice.

You barely got a chance to climb out of the taxi before Nico was already reaching for the bags in the boot of the car, pulling them out and only giving you the lightest ones he couldn’t physically carry whilst also holding your hand. You didn’t bother to hide your smile.

It was a feeling you didn’t have with many people. Or at all, usually. Especially when you were travelling. Your brain was working on overdrive, your eyes constantly looking around like some unexpected variable was going to throw your plans off. You couldn’t physically stop how wired and on edge travelling made you.

But something about travelling with Nico made it easy to just let your brain switch off. 

You were far too focused on ogling the way he casually carried more bags than one person should, carrying them with such ease that made your head spin a little. Far too focused on the way he guided you through the bustling airport, so sure of himself and so in control as he led you towards the front desk where you could check your luggage in and grab your boarding passes. 

You didn’t even get a chance to reach for your hand luggage before Nico took the smaller suitcase in his hand, his other hand on the small of your back as he led you towards security with no sight of the panicked rushing that you were used to. 

“Do you think aliens could make it past airport security?” 

You snorted. “Do not start this again.”

Nico’s smile widened in response. 

Security passed as quickly as one would expect for such a busy airport (meaning not very fast at all) but it was easy to not think too long about it when Nico was chatting your ear off with a million different topics. The possibility of missing your flight (despite being over three hours early) didn’t cross your mind as Nico scrolled through the endless TikToks Jack had sent him, or pictures Jonas had sent, already back home in Switzerland earlier than Nico.

“Here,” Nico called out to get your attention. 

You turned around, finding him reaching into his backpack before pulling out a bundle of fabric. You raised your brows in questioning but took it from him without second thought. It took you a few moments before you realised it was one of his hoodies. 

“You brought two hoodies?” You questioned. 

“No, one is for you,” he answered like it was obvious. “It’s your favourite one, too. I made sure not to pack it away in the big case.”

Your face softened in seconds. “Nico.” 

“None of that,” he murmured as he stepped forward, taking your face in his hands as his thumbs lightly skimmed along the apples of your cheeks. “I want my girl to be as comfortable as possible, okay? So, you’re gonna put that hoodie on, we are gonna get some food in you and then we can relax by the gate. I have card games and playlists and your kindle in my bag too, because you almost forgot to pack it last night. I made sure it was charged too.” 

Your eyes welled up with tears before you could stop yourself. “I love you.”

He beamed in response. “I love you too,” he answered before leaning down to press a lingering kiss against your lips. “And I cannot wait to kick your ass at the new card game Timo taught me on the way back from LA.”

“Oh?” You raised your brows. “You’re so sure you’ll win?”

“I always win,” he murmured against your lips, kissing you again before he pulled away. “I won you, didn’t I?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “You’re so cheesy today.”

“You’re going to be stuck on a plane with me for the next few hours, better get used to it.” 

“I should have taken Jack up on his offer to go to the lakehouse instead,” you grumbled, but there was unwritten relief on your face as you wrapped your arms around his waist, leaning against him as he squeezed you closer. 

“You’ll love Switzerland far more than you would have liked Michigan,” Nico assures you, lips brushing against the top of your head. “The food is better. And so are the views. And it has something Michigan doesn’t have.”

Your curiosity peaked. “Hm?” 

Nico’s head shifted down a bit, his lips brushing against your ear as his voice dropped until it was a whisper only you could hear. “A cabin I booked away for the week, just for me and you. No city, no people. Just us, a lake and so many surfaces I can’t wait to fuck you on.”

Your cheeks burned as you pulled back, glaring at his smug expression. “Nico!”

“What?” He looked giddy, dimples popping and making your stomach twist in desire. “I saw those little dresses you packed, baby. Don’t think I won’t be taking full advantage of it.”

“You’re a menace.” 

“And this menace loves to make you come,” he retorted, quickly leaning down to kiss you again before you could reply. “Now, c’mon. We have plenty of time to kill and I even downloaded some movies Nina recommended. Everything is going to be fine, baby.”

And you were just so inclined to believe him. 

.

[fountainpenguin]

Riddle watches New Wish - Post #5

They're so cute...

OH, she set them up!! Here we go!

Wanda making squeaky toy noises when Cosmo hugs her is all I've ever wanted.

"We're real, all right! ... Real fairies. Not real humans."

BUDAWHAAAAAAAA-? Thank you Cosmo for just confirming elastic skin, which has been one of the most important headcanons in my worldbuilding. I did not expect you to do that for me, but... thanks?

Pfft, Wanda changing her legs.

ERG??? Is that you?

Okay, there's that "We've been retired for 10k years" implied time travel bit; I think I remember that from the story bible + early convos with my friends, so at least I came prepared to expect that.

This is either time travel - which plays perfectly into my established "Cosmo ate a time key during dinosaur times and has been running around through time unsupervised for ages" headcanon anyway, LOL - or they're flat-out lying to Hazel, seeing as the audience already knows Timmy is confirmed as a recent godkid, so... Hm.

SLDKFJSD I love how the guy who accidentally sent his baby stroller down a steep hill is wearing a #1 Dad hat. "My expensive stroller! ... I mean, my baby!" - Yeah, we're still in FOP. All the parents are terrible here.

Setting her up as loving french fries and then turning her into a fly who found french fries was clever.

Cosmo once again being so close and yet so far to his mark. Good to see him back!

Me when I return my would-be murderer's daughter, who is a bug.

I AM SO GLAD that even in 10,000 years, Wanda's small talk skills have not improved far beyond "I'm Human McRealPerson" and "My husband is a grilled cheese sandwich" from back in the day, sdlkfj. That's my girl!

oh no, the Venus flytrap gift they brought over is about to go so wrong.

Yep, she's still goin'. Talking about the carwash.

GIRL check your fingers.

OH MY GOSSSSSSH, he's dressed for a classy party in Fairy culture. Cosmorella? We thought you were dead!!

... That's an ant? I would've guessed tick.

It's a guy ant? Buddy, are you sure you're supposed to be foraging?

Let's go!!

SDLKFJSDKLFJSLKJF noooo... No, no, no, no, no... Not the thing I use to symbolize memorials for the dead, c'mon!

It IS an accurate item for a Fairy house- these were all over the place in Fairy World during the old show, AND in that color, though you usually see more than one "wand" per pot.

I'm super impressed the artists studied the old interior design customs. Huh.

Cosmo lives here. Also, BABY!!

OOH, I'm excited that Cosmo and Wanda's window overlooks Fairy World because it's kind of a portal. I did something super similar with a rat cage in an upcoming Frayed Knots scene, where Anti-Cosmo and Wanda are godparenting together during school. Nifty!

He even confirmed it's a spell on the front door! Wow. Somehow, Past Me nailed that.

"We can choose which world we go out into!" -> /Me with my 'fic where Kevin Crocker is confused that Shirley's Pizza Parlor has an exit on the other side that goes to Retroville.

Cosmo: We lived in Timmy's fishbowl for 20 years. Wanda: It was 7.

You are both wrong- it was like 68 <3 But honestly, I forgive you for not wanting to tell Hazel time was frozen for 50 years. I don't think she'd like that. Actually, I don't think she was born yet, because my vision is time freezing at the end of Season 4, and Dale was rescued in Season 2, so... Yeah, she wasn't born. Still, you don't wanna just drop that on someone.

That's actually very funny that Cosmo and Wanda are struggling because they're out of practice during their retirement.

THERE'S THE SIGN!! Way to go.

Oh, and the credits are done in a similar style to the old ones? Even the colors? That's so cute! That's also nice that Hazel's VA was a story editor too- That probably helps with the passion and vision.

That was cute. I liked it. Huge relief to see something well-researched and made with love after "Fairly Odder" was a struggle for me.

I've got a little more time tonight, I might be able to get one more episode done before bedtime.

[its-in-the-woods]

The Woman Who Couldn’t Die Part 6

master list

Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5,

Pairing: The Ghoul/Cooper Howard x Original Character 

Alternative Universe where I make things up cause I can only research so much

Synopsis: There is something in the woods, and our brave travelers are stuck between a rock and a hard place.

MINOR GET OUT. Rating/Warning: This is based on fallout except typical: Drug use, blo0d/g0re, animal death, alien critters, angst, lots of hurt no comfort, Canon divergence, hints of SH/SA/NONCON, Slow Burn,

Note: that I will not be spoiling any of the reading. I will keep my tags relevant without spoiling what is happening in the story.

Enjoy the show kiddlets.

Night seems to come faster here, the tall imposing trees shrinking the daylight away. They had walked until Jade couldn’t see and almost fell again. The Ghoul had thankfully caught her before she had hit the ground, his lightning fast reflexes snatching her as she tripped over the uneven road. Carefully right her, and making sure he didn’t pull on the stitches Jade still had in her arm. 

“Careful there, ya got to tell me when yah can’t see,” The Ghoul said firmly. He had been weirdly quiet, usually there was a story or two they’d share between them. But today he had asked for silence, his head tipping this way and back listening to every small sound. Lucy had heard almost nothing, the silence was eerie. 

“I can’t see in the dark,” Jade said huffing, dropping her bag on the ground and stretching her back. She groans, the stitches in her back aching as she moves trying to pop bones back into place. The long walk always left her feeling stiff and tense, the added hush of the forest making her extra tense. 

“Exactly,” The Ghoul says, also dropping his saddle bag. “I can, so you gotta tell me when yah can’t see.” She wishes she could make out more than his shadowed outline, she was used to the dark, but this felt different. 

Jade flops herself down on the ground, digging around in her bag for water. “Guessing fire is out for the evening?” A fire here was a deathwish, she’d only be able to see just beyond its light, setting them up for an easy ambush.  

“Not sorry. Somethin’ is very off about this place,” The Ghoul states, she could hear him take a hit of the inhaler. Had he been taking it more often? She pushed the thought out of her mind, she needed food and maybe to try and sleep. The last thing she should be worrying about was if the Ghoul was going feral, they had a dozen plus vials on them. Right now making it to the next morning was more pressing. 

“I don’t like it,” Jade finally says, she didn’t, the whole place felt spooky. No noise. How was there no noise? “It’s too quiet, can hear you think.”

She could almost see the Ghoul’s eyes light up at her, “Don’t think you’d wanna know my thoughts now, Tiny.”

Jade huffs cracking open a can of food, she couldn’t tell what it was. Maybe she didn’t want to know, maybe she did. Jade knew somewhere down inside she wanted to know, to understand him more. Why? There wasn’t much of a reason besides connection. Something that was far too difficult to find in this husk of a world they lived in. Maybe she could pry something out of him tonight. She looks up at the stars, even though they weren’t enough to give light to this wretched place. “What if I did want to know?”

Silence for a moment, but then she hears him sit down, almost beside her. But always an arm's length away, why he couldn’t just sit beside her she didn’t know.  She remembers the heat of his hand wrapped around her body, how his hand had been inches from her face. Pushing that away she continues to eat the mystery meat in front of her. 

“I’ve been around for a long time. Too long if you ask anyone who knows me.” The Ghoul said out into the dark, his voice low enough that it didn’t echo. “Nothing good in between the holes I call ears.” 

Jade mulls that over, it was the most he had said all day. Hoping she could convince him to tell her more she asks, “How long?”

She could hear his boots slide on the dirt as he stretched out, “Long before you’re born, or your mother, or your mother’s mother.”

“You talkin' pre-bomb?” Jade pushed, she was walking a tight line here. He told stories, but never anything truely personal. Jade wanted more, she needed to understand what drove him to stay alive this long. 

“Depends on which bombs you are talking about.” He says she could tell that he had opened a can of something. At least he was eating, he hadn’t touched a thing all day besides the chems and a small amount of water. 

“I am talking about the bombs that end everything,” Jade states, she wasn’t terribly well versed in history, it wasn't like there was anyone teaching her. That said, she knew that there had been a single large event that had happened. That had flattened the entire country with nuclear bombs. This didn't cover the bombs that had been dropped between warring factions, or some such horseshit like that. 

“Yeah, a little older than those bombs,” He says it like a joke, like the fact he was over two hundred years old was nothing. How the hell had he stayed alive that long?

Jade finishes her can and drops it beside her with a clang. Every noise echoes around here, making her skin crawl like something was watching her. She rubs her hand nervously over the stitches that she could feel poking at her clothes. 

“Don’t think I’ve met anyone from before.” She adds, not entirely sure where to take the conversation. “I knew Ghouls could live for a long time. But I didn't think it was that long.”

The Ghoul huffs, dropping his own can beside them. “If you keep yourself fed, and watered pretty much immortal. Comes in handy I’uppose.”

“Have you thought about-” Jade stops herself, who was she to ask if he had thought about ending his life? She’d been here for a short time and the thought had crossed her mind more times than she could count on both hands. 

“Maybe one day,” The Ghoul hummed, she guessed he had laid down as his voice was lower to the ground. “For now, just gonna take it as it comes.”

***

The forest was eerily quiet, no buzzing insects, or scurry of birds, just the sound of her boots and the Ghoul’s spurs hitting the ground. Jade feels tight, her whole body coiling readying for something to jump out of the forest. If last night was bad today was somehow worse; she could feel that both of them were waiting on the edge of a knife for something to jump out.  There were a few dilapidated signs, a handful of empty tins, and other trash. But other than that no other signs of anyone. No fresh tracks, or small fire pits, it was as if no one had been here in years. The Ghoul was on alert, checking behind them regularly. The Ghoul being on edge only heightened her fear.

“Have you gone this way before?” Jade asks, talking helps ease the anxiety, even if her voice echoes around the place. 

“Not in a long time,” The Ghoul said, he stopped abruptly, head tilting as he listened. He held up one gloved hand to silence her.

Jade stops, trying to force herself to listen harder. The squeak of her leather holster and the rustle of the Ghoul’s jacket seem to reverberate around them.  As she stood with her head tipped the same way as his, a twig snaps. 

“Something is coming our way,” The Ghoul said, the shotgun he wore on his back now in his hands, he loaded it swiftly and started moving backward down the road. 

Jade grabbed her pistol checking rounds as she took up the same backward walk as the Ghoul did. She could now hear more limbs breaking off trees as they started to move back at a fast pace. Looking up at the tops of the trees she could see them moving; the trees parting in horrid cracks and snaps. 

“Fuck, fuck,” Jade stammers out starting to turn, pistol still in hand as she looks towards the Ghoul, an unreadable expression across his face. 

“RUN.” The Ghoul yells as he starts to move, turning the same as Jade. They both run in the opposite direction of the horrid noise. 

The beast crashes through the trees onto the roadway with enough force to topple trees onto the road. It was an unimaginably massive hulking thing, bear-like legs thick as tree stumps; each foot lined with dozens of claw-like talons, black matted fur that faded up into scale covered skin. The creature was nearly as tall as the trees, the head a mangled twist of flesh that looked like the burnt carcass of a deer. Its eyes flaming red, mouth open in terror inducing scream. The monster charged towards them as they ran, the haunting call shaking the ground beneath their feet. The screech was loud enough to momentarily deafen them. 

The Ghoul stops, sliding into a half kneeling position and firing a shot at its head. Jade took up the same crouched stance, steadying herself as she fired at the beast's underbelly. Black ichor oozed from its flesh but the beast didn’t slow down. Jade moves lower aiming for a leg, she watches as chunks of flesh go flying out of the thing. 

“Take out its legs” Jade calls, watching the Ghoul load in different ammo, before leveling his weapon back at the thing.

The creature came up on them fast and hard, the ground around them shaking. A loud pop erupts and one of the creature's front paws explodes into gore. The creature fumbles but continues forward on three legs. Barely slowed down by the missing appendage. 

“Fuck,” The Ghoul roared as he reloaded and went to aim, a chuck coming free from the blast. It wasn’t enough, the thing was going to be on top of them in moments. 

Any rational thought went out of Jade’s mind, her pack slipping off her back, they were going to die, and the beast was going to be on top of them in moments. Dropping her pistol, which had been nearly useless up to this point; she grabs the machete from her back and runs towards the thing. She could hear the Ghoul calling out her name as she ran straight at the beast. The thing's head coming down, mouth opening, decaying teeth, and spit drooling out.  Wild eyes burning against hers as she dove towards it. Jade could see right down the beast’s throat, as she crashes into its mouth, her makeshift sword straight ahead of her. The feeling of hot humid stink coming out as she turns to swing in an arch around the inside of the monster's throat. A wrecked scream shook her as she felt black blood splash around her. Her ears going deaf from the intense noise ringing around her. The space got smaller as she slashed and swung wildly, chunks of its flesh flying as she lodged herself in its throat. She could feel it trying to swallow, her machete lodged firmly in the roof of the creature's throat. Reaching for her waist Jade grabbed her hunting knife sticking it down into the soft tissue. The thing is trying to scream as she cuts and hacks, trying to remove herself from inside its maw. 

She felt another impact rattle the creature’s body, the beast tossing it’s head back and forth. Jade holding on for dear life and as she tries to cut and saw through whatever she could. Reaching up she grabs the machete slamming it in between her feet as she slides towards the monster’s guts. The soft flexible flesh below her opens up as she slides down the horrors esophagus. She dug her boots in as she felt it start to fall, her body tensing bracing for impact. Her world goes dark as she watches the ground come flying up as the creature collapses. 

The Ghoul felt fear wash over him as he saw Jade leap into the gaping maw of the thing. He calls out her name several times hoping it would somehow stop her. The creature stopping and shook its massive head back and forth trying to cough her up. He could see blood oozing as his companion struggles inside. He reloads the explosive round back into his shotgun. The beast pausing long enough for him to aim for the other front leg. The rounds punching through and shattering the beast's foot. It rose on its back to feet, front stumps trying to grab at the horror's throat. He could see the machete blade poke out and start to slide down opening up the beast’s throat. He reloads and aims for center mass,firing. The Ghoul hoping to the stars that he would miss where Jade was. A head sized hole went through the beast's chest, it sways back and forth before falling forward.

“Fuck,” The Ghoul shouts, running toward the beast, its fiery eyes dimmed, black ichor covering the ground, guts, and bones scattered in a circle of gore. 

He got to the beast trying to move it, which was a near Herculaneum feat. He managed to roll it enough too see where Jade had hacked underneath its giant jaw. The slit she had made that ran down the monster’s neck, gaped open. Following it down he used his blade to start opening it up more, going down to where Jade’s hands were gripping the machete. Two of her fingers on her left hand were gone, as he peels back the meat to reveal more of her arms.

“Jade, Jade,” Ghoul shouts, fingers slipping on all the black blood, he grabs at her hands and tries to pull. The right one felt wrong, looking into the hole it is clear that her arm is probably dislocated. Cussing some more, he cut and cut. Thankfully his knife was sharp. He found her head and her eyes rolling back as he tips her face up to him.

“You better not be fuckin’ dead,” He shouts, slapping her face trying to get her attention. “Come on girly, come on.”

He held her up and cut low enough he could grab under her left arm and pull. Hoping that he didn't tear her stitches as he yanked. Part of her popped out, her hips still stuck. Growling he rips at the flesh tearing it apart with his gloved hands and yanking her out. Her body flops on the ground covered in black goo. Scrambling over to her, he flips her over clearing her mouth and nose of any goop. The stuff was everywhere. He shook her, calling her name several more times, but she lay limp in his arms. Pulling one of his gloves off he searched for a pulse, his hands were too thick and gnarled from radiation to feel much. He lays her gently, taking his hat off he unzips her jacket and pulls her shirt up placing his ear on her chest. 

The soft steady beat of heart and lungs working was like a shot of chem. He leans back covering her skin gently, wincing at the number of fresh bruises blooming across her abdomen. Looking around he spots her bag, getting up he walks over and opens it up, grabbing a stimpak. He walks back and injects one into Jade’s neck. She doesn't move. 

He wasn’t sure the extent of the damage, she was missing two fingers which could be stitched closed and bandaged, her right shoulder was dislocated, another easily fixed thing. The bruising was worrisome, looking down he could see her feet weren’t sitting properly. Moving down he moved her pant legs up some, the coloring was purple at the top of her socks.

“Goddamnit,” The Ghoul hushes, he’d need to get her boots off. He untied them, opening them up some more, her feet were so swollen they didn’t want to come off. 

“You’re gonna hate me, but these got to come off,” Sighing, he cut the boots off. His hands might have lost a lot of feeling but it didn’t feel like her bones were broken. Carefully he grabbed her heel pulling it towards him and twisting. A satisfying pop echos, the Ghoul letting out a breath, before moving on to the next one. He rests her feet down on the ground, checking over the rest of her, he was shocked there wasn’t more damage. Next, he grabs her right arm feeling up to the shoulder and rotating it into place. The girl didn’t even move, he wonders if he should be grateful or worried. Leaning down he could still hear her breathing, looking over her face he couldn’t see any bruising but that didn’t mean there weren't issues. He grabbed his hat and slipped it back on, staring at her. 

As the Ghoul ponders what to do next with his companion, his eyes catch the black slim moving. Standing he watches as it starts to slither back towards the body. Looking around he could see bone had started to grow out of the stumps of the blown off paws. Turning he saw the slit at the thing's throat begin to mend. The black ooze moving on its own back to the mangled body.

“What the fuck,” Ghoul mutters as he watches the things start to piece it’s self together. It wasn’t instant but it wasn’t slow either. In a matter of hours, most of the gore would be gone and the creature repaired.

The Ghoul turning back to his unconscious companion, his mind running. Some part of him wanted to leave her there, take off, as she probably won’t make it anyway. Las thing he needed dead weight and all that. His eyes looking over his companion, she looked so different compared to the day he found her. Her skin wasn’t pale anymore, now a deep sandy color, the stitches on her arm poking out. 

Jade may have looked like a frightened young woman when he met her, but she was anything but. She was a survivor, a fighter, and had had his back on more than one occasion. The stupid girl had jumped down the throat of this beast without thinking.

“FUCK,” The Ghoul shouts, kicking at the dead carcass as he stomps over to the treeline. 

Snapping several smaller branches he walked back over to Jade, digging around he found a length of rope. He used it to make a makeshift sled. He wasn’t going to be able to carry her all the way out, but dragging her might give them enough to get away from whatever the fuck that was. He shed his duster laying it down on the makeshift sled, before moving his companion onto it, Placing the bags on either side of her bare feet to try and keep her steady. Grabbing the rope he started to move away from the dead beast. Looking over his shoulder he saw the blackness still seeping back into the dead body. He wished he had a bomb, so he could blow the thing up enough that it would take weeks to piece itself back together not hours.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

seven

*likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated

*we got a lot of hurt, and very little comfort, it's gonna be tense for a while friends.

@pixelatedprofilepic @hiddlebatchedloki @toogaytofunctiondangit

[nevermindirah]

a public transit meet-cute

inspired by this post

"Your ticket is for this time next week," the clerk had said.

Nile could come back in a week, but the whole point of this trip is to see her dad, and his leave will be over by then. Damnit.

She's doing her best to pull herself together when she hears someone say, "Excuse me."

The man says he couldn't help overhearing and offers her the spare ticket he suddenly has because his friend ditched him. Which is so kind. Unfortunately, this train is only going as far as Frankfurt.

"Of course. Well, just in case, here's the list of the 5 places this ticket is going between here and Budapest."

"No way."

"Sorry?"

"I'm supposed to be going to Budapest."

"Would you... still like to?"

"Wow, um, yeah. Thank you." Like, wow. This is beyond lucky. And nice of this person. Whose name she doesn't know yet. "I'm Nile."

She and her rail station hero both go to shake hands and are both stymied by the fact that their hands are full of luggage. The awkward laugh they share is… nice.

"Sébastien," the man says with a cute little nod.

As they wait in the boarding line Nile asks what's bringing him to Budapest.

"Meeting friends," he says. "Minus Andy, who was supposed to be traveling with me, but her ex-wife barreled into town and swept her off her feet."

They chatter their way through the boarding line, then once they're settled in for the first leg of their trip, their conversation winds down to companionable silence. Nile spends most of the ride alternating between working on a research paper, doodling in her sketchbook, and just enjoying the view. Sébastien sits quietly next to her typing away at what from a few glances seems to be some kind of tech job.

Transferring is a little rushed but they make it onto their next train just fine. Sébastien naps for the first few hours of that leg while Nile finishes up her work. She's about to get dinner when he wakes up, so they go to the bistro car together.

Nile was lucky enough for a stranger to come by and solve her can't read the dates on train tickets problem. As the trip wears on she's finding just how much she hit the jackpot — she's having a great time hanging out with Sébastien.

If she'd booked for the right date, she would've been doing this exact same trip, only she probably would've missed her second transfer. Fortunately for her, Sébastien has a lot more experience hopping across Europe and was able to navigate them through a chaotic 7-minute layover.

The longest they stayed in one place for the rest of the trip was wherever they did their fourth transfer, a three hour and change layover that Nile spent most of asleep on Sébastien's shoulder. They'd gotten pretty comfortable with each other by then, she guessed. Or at least she had. He didn't seem to mind.

Finally they're on their fifth and final train of this ridiculous adventure. As the sun comes up, Nile gets an enormous coffee and starts to tell Sébastien all about what she and her dad have planned for their time together. She's talking a big game about what she'd like to do today as if she's not gonna crash by noon and need to head to the hotel for a long nap.

Sébastien and his friends are more play-it-by-ear about their plans, and more intent on night life than museums, but a few places are on both their lists.

"Who knows, maybe we'll run into each other," Nile says without really thinking about it.

But then Sébastien's eyes brighten. "I'd like that," he says.

Now that Nile's thinking about it, she'd like that too. A lot, actually.

"Hey, if you… if you want," Sébastien starts. "I don't know what your plans are, if you're going to stay the extra week or… If you wanted, I've got the extra seat for the return trip next Thursday."

She smiles. "Wow, thank you." With a little laugh, she adds, "Again."

"How about we exchange numbers, and you can let me know what you decide?"

Some things Nile later decides to do:

leave her dad at the hotel to enjoy an early night in while she goes to meet Sébastien and his friends at a bar

dance with Sébastien

kiss Sébastien

start calling him Seb

kiss him some more

take him up on his offer to travel back to Marseille with him

go on a real date with him, not with his friends in tow (though they're great) and not on various trains (though that was so much more fun than she could ever have imagined)

go back to his place >:)

marry him

[trophygony]

i've noticed a side-effect of my obsession with volo, and it's getting an almost-equally-intense cynthia obsession

[witch-hazels-musings]

Until you are safe

Warning: Vision Hunt Decree still in effect, kidnapped themes, reader grabbed by hair (Thoma), possessive themes (scara)

Character X GN Reader | Anthology 

Includes: Albedo, Scara, Thoma, Zhongli

Albedo

The frosty chill of the mountain side was more than you could bear. Every time you thought you gained warmth it was ripped from your body by icy hands threatening to drive you insane. You shivered and wrapped your coat further around your body while you scowled against the frigid cold. 

Ahead of you stood Albedo who seemed indifferent to the temperature and while you were impressed that he knew how to handle this without any complaints, you were also irritated by the fact. He was barely wearing anything and here you were shivering under countless layers of cloth. 

He turned to tell you something but with the turbulent winds and nibbling frost against your ears, you didn’t understand a single word he said. Quickly, you forced your legs to move as you made your way to his side.

“W-w-what di-did you s-say?” Your chattering teeth made it hard, and painful, to speak but you did your best anyway. 

“We are nearly there, can you keep going?” He narrowed his eyes at you but you knew that was a common thing he did. It was unlikely to have any additional meaning behind it. 

“H-how f-f-f-ar?” 

“Just around the bend.” He rested the back of his hand against your cheek and somehow that made you shiver even more than the touch of frost. When you nodded and began to walk forward, he took up position behind you and directed you toward the camp. 

With the cave blocking out the wind, and several warming mechanisms already glowing, you stumbled your way in between them an the fire. Trembling hands extended toward the orange and yellow light while you watched the snow drip from your clothes. 

“I always h-hat-te this p-p-part.” You complained, shaking your head and shoulders to warm up the muscles. This wasn’t the first time you traveled to Dragonspine with Albedo, but each time you braved the conditions you recalled the promise you made yourself last time. Never again, well ... I guess that promise was made to be broken. 

“Here, this will help warm you.” He handed you a cup and immediately you caught the scent of fresh and soothing tea. The aroma itself perked you up and even though your fingers were still stiff, you graciously took the offering. Warmth seeped into your throat as the liquid carved a path down your esophagus and into the pit of your baron stomach. With a refreshing hum you smiled through the steam.  

“P-p-perfect. Thank-k y-you.” Another sip warmed your lips and tickled your nose but you didn’t dare stop. 

“This trip should be less strenuous than last time.” Albedo began, his back turned to you as he rummaged through the stacks of books. “Where did I place that ... perhaps it got caught in the wind, that would be unfortunate.” 

You giggled, eyes watching him meander and speak to himself all at the same time. He had a habit of doing it but it never bothered you, in fact it was comforting to hear his voice, stabilizing, grounding. 

“You ca-can head out. I’ll b-be fine here after I w-warm up-p.” The shivering had eased, but you still succumbed to the residual affects as your body began to shift from frozen to thawed. 

“No need, I can wait here for a while.” 

“Haha, that’s silly, g-go on ahead.” You took another sip of the cup and found yourself sad at the emptiness of it. That’s when a hand entered your field of vision and you watched Albedo walk toward a table, refill your drink, and return to your side. He offered it to you and when your fingers found the circumference his nestled against them.

“Until I know you are safe, I will be here.” His eyes held your own for a while as if waiting for your reaction, your response, and when you nodded he mimicked your action before slipping back toward the bookshelves and research table. 

You were glad he left you, because if he hadn’t you were sure the only way to cool down was to step beyond the barrier of the cave and into the never-ending snowstorm that protected Dragonspine. 

Scara

Being at the side of a Harbinger had it’s own trials. If it wasn’t the constant movement between assignments or the threats against your life, it was the loneliness which creeped in every single day. There were some Harbingers who left the life of love far outside of their reach: Signora, who vowed to never love again and instead put all her attention into fulfilling her duty, Childe, found love a difficult thing to ignore and did his best to keep what he cherished hidden behind closed doors. 

Scara, he never understood the meaning of the word until it crashed around him like a house crumbles into itself, and the way he kept his belongings safe was to have them near him at all times. It was far better to be under the watchful eyes of his competence than leave something so valuable in the hands of another. So, here you were, following him around and staying hidden until he called for you. 

-- 

The room was empty, absent of all the things you would have normally kept to make this place more homey. If you could get away with it, you’d have made some changes to the décor, but the problem with never settling in one place for long made this desire of yours difficult to accomplish. It wasn’t feasible, you thought to yourself  but that didn’t stop you from adding a bit of comfort when you could. 

The night came and went without issue and after you prepared yourself for bed you wondered where your lover was. Was he succeeding, was he accomplishing his goals, would he return to you tonight or would you wake up alone yet again. Luckily for you, you had learn to be patient. 

Your dreams kept you occupied but there seemed to be something about them that pulled you toward consciousness, a subtle wish drifting across your imagines to wake up. 

Something brushed across your cheek, but was it the dream or reality, you couldn’t tell. Gravity pulled you close to something sturdy, but was it a creation of your imagination or the real thing - why was this so challenging. When your eyes finally opened and adjusted to the light of the room, you realized what had been calling to you. 

“Scara?” You pulled your hand down from behind the pillow, the muscles tense from being locked into that position for so long. “What has-” 

“Go back to sleep.” He spoke and the sound of his voice pulled you closer to him. 

“Is everything okay?” You continued your question as if what he said was never uttered, your eyes trying to find the outline of his frame while your skin adjusted to his touch. 

“Nothing to concern yourself with, just sleep.” 

“But, why are you here?

“I don’t recall needing your permission to do anything.” His words may have been direct, but you could sense there was something else behind them. 

“... would you ... like to come to bed?” 

“I can’t.” He adjusted and you felt the warmth of the blankets cover more of your exposed skin. The chill of the evening became blocked by the sheets and you hummed in response. You were confused, but the feeling of his hand running along your neck, your jaw, and into your hair made all the questions you had disappear. Moments like these brought out something completely different in the Harbinger and you wondered why he treated you so differently. 

With a yawn, you turned into his touch, lips finding the palm of his hand easily and placing a tender kiss against his skin. “You don’t need to stay if you have work to do. I’ll be fine.” You hummed again as he thumb ran over your lips and the gentle pull of sleep began to find you. It was quiet for a while and you focused on the warmth, the closeness, the comfort he provided until you practically melted into the bed. 

“I can’t do that either.” Scara whispered, hand pressing into the mattress as he leaned closer to your face. “Not until you are safe,” He breathed in your scent, gazing down at your trusting form beneath him. “Even from me.” He spoke as his fingers curled into the sheets and before he lost himself in you, he slipped from your bedroom and made his way down the hall. 

Thoma

He ran so fast as soon as the news reached him. The weight of his feet as he dashed through the countryside grew with every passing second but there was nothing more painful than his clenching heart and anxious thoughts. 

What have they done, am I to late, please don’t be too late. He wracked his brain over and over again, blamed himself for the stupidity of leaving you. If he had been there would the outcome be different? If he had stayed, would he have been able to fend off their attack enough to get you to safety. How foolish of him for thinking they wouldn’t use dirty tricks like this to accomplish their goals. 

Rumors and intel began to swirl like wildfire and at this point he couldn’t differentiate the accuracy of it all. There was one thing he knew for certain, the vision hunters had you and he was going to get you back. 

-- 

Their campsite was simple and you wondered if they would really be able to escort all of these prisoners back to the city on their own. They were intimidating enough to keep most insurrection at bay, but you were not about to let them get away with this. After a quick analysis of your surroundings, you found a few potential options worth trying, now it was only a matter of timing. 

“You won’t get away with this!” Someone shouted next to you and you patiently waited for an opportunity. 

“Shut up.” A soldier barked, his dismissive attitude apparent from the lack of eye contact and the wave of his hand. 

“This is wrong and you know it! Do you think you’re immune to the decree, when the day come to hand over your vision will you?!” 

The soldier turned and made his way through the trembling captured, you used the scuffling of those trying to get out of his way as an excuse to move closer to your escape. The dirt scraped against your bound hands and pulled at your clothes, but you didn’t care because each inch you gained the closer you got to freedom. 

You watched the soldier lift the woman from the ground, his impressive height apparent as she dangled above the well worn soil. “I will do what is necessary for the Raiden Shogun. I am bound by honor, unlike the resistance.” 

“Honor! You know nothing of it. Put me down you brute.” She spat in his face and he reacted in kind. You hated the fact that you were using her as your distraction, but hopefully if this all worked out in the end freedom would be enough compensation for her bruised face. Your fingers brushed against a metal handle, the sword you were aiming for had been reached and you quickly worked to get yourself free from the bindings.

The loosening rope told you of your success but when your hand wrapped around the hilt of the weapon and you moved to stand, a sudden pain against your head made your vision go blurry. 

“What do you think you are doing?!” Shouted a voice near your ear. They were so loud that you shrunk away from it only to be yanked right back. “You think you could take on all of us? Are you stupid.” 

“I didn’t think so.” You wheezed, blinking harshly to try and bring your vision back to clarity. 

“Well let me help you understand.” He drug you away from the group but before you could take but a few steps, an intense groan blasted it’s way near you and the hand that held your hair fell away in an instant. 

“Are you alright?” A familiar voice asked, hands finding your waist to steady you. It was like your eyes snapped back on because as soon as you turned your head, you found Thoma standing their with an expression you’d never seen before: fury. 

“I’m - ouch - okay.” You whispered and then you realized the implications of him being there. Turning, you pressed your hands against his chest and pushed against him, your voice turned tense as you shouted. “Ge-get out of here! What if they catch you!?” 

“I’m not leaving.” 

“Thoma!” 

He looked down at you, his arm tightening around you and you swore the world shifted red and the screaming soldiers shouts became muffled. “Until I know you are safe, I’m not leaving.” He looked forward and the glint of his polearm caught your attention. “Now hold on, okay.” 

The dry landscape turned into a wildfire until only what Thoma wanted to remain, remained. 

Zhongli

“This is very kind of you, Zhongli. To walk me home.” You chuckled, gazing up at him as you made your way down the path and toward the city. It wasn’t uncommon for Zhongli to escort you from place to place, but tonight you would have assumed he would stay on the Pearl and continue his lively conversation. 

“It is no trouble at all, to allow you to walk by yourself would not sit well with me.” Zhongli commented matter-of-factly, his eyes closing as he nodded his head and gazed up toward the stars. 

“You were having such a nice time, know that I didn’t mean to bring that too a close.” You scratched your forehead and adjusted your clothes after climbing the stairs from the docks. It was a rather pleasant night, but it usually was in Liyue this time of year. 

“I would never insinuate you had ill intentions. I made this decision on my own, to escort you is no trouble at all.” 

“Yes, well, that’s very kind of you Zhongli.” The lights of the festival swayed in the wind. To you they looked like fireflies in the sky, but that was such a silly thought you kept it to yourself. “I think I can manage on my own, if you want to go back?” 

“Nonsense, I will stay until I know you are safe.” He glanced down at you and offered you a smile, one that spoke true and gave you the impression of ‘I will not be swayed.’ 

“Well, thank you.” You turned away from him in hopes that he wouldn’t notice the embarrassment you were sure shined in your eyes and flashed across your expression. How can someone so regal find your company enjoyable at all - but Zhongli was so kind to anyone you fought against your better judgement to believe this gesture was more than common courtesy of a gentleman.

“It is my pleasure. Did you have an enjoyable time?” He asked, head examining the city streets and decorations as you had earlier. 

“Oh yes! Thank you for inviting me, I’ve never attended something so high class.” You fussed at your outfit again, it was apparent you weren’t used to wearing something like this but you did your best to fit in and not insult the guest who invited you to join him. 

“I am delighted to hear. It is far better to enjoy ones time when in company you relish, don’t you agree?” 

“Absolutely!” For a while, the two of you discussed the highlights and lowlights of the gathering. The sound of your laughter and excitement caught the attention of late night patrons, but you didn’t mind because it also caught the attention of the one you wanted the most. 

It wasn’t until you neared your home that the conversation began to drift. Your heart was sad that the night was coming to a close but responsibilities held you to a tight schedule, even if you felt the itch to break them. 

“Thank you again, Zhongli. This night will be one I remember for a while.” Your nails had received a break all evening, but, now that you were about to be alone, they felt the dig of your nervous habits once again. 

“It was my pleasure, it is always a gift to spend the evening with you.” He bowed, his long hair slipping over his shoulder at the motion. 

“I tend to agree with you.” Chuckling, you moved to unlock your door and when you looked back to Zhongli, his face was illuminated by the sparkling lanterns and yellow glow of the city. No matter what he did he radiated colors you’d never fully understand. 

“Liyue has many festivals,” He began, his tone wistful, “though I must say the ones where lanterns adorn the city are my favorite. Do you not think they look like fireflies in the distance?” He asked, gazing up at a few that dangled across the bridges and walkways that lined the city. 

“Yeah, actually I do.” You whispered as your eyes fell onto the man you loved so much it hurt to look at him, but, if it meant you could capture even a hint of his existence in your memory, you would happily suffer this pain. 

[primofate]

Breaking Up (Part 3-Final) Albedo x gn!reader

Scenario: Breaking up and getting back together again

Characters: gn! reader x Albedo

Warnings: This is the FLUFF part. Not proofread. 

Categories: angst in Part 1, comfort in Part 2, Fluff in Part 3

Read: (Part 1)  (Part 2)

You hummed a light tune as you walked around fields, gathering herbs from trees and shrubs. The sun was about to set, and it painted a slightly orange hue on the sky. 

“Y/N,” You stand and turn, sunsettia gathered around your arms and other herbs in your backpack. Albedo is walking towards you with a soft smile, and you return it with a bigger one. “Albedo,” you pipe up and jog to meet him halfway. He thinks you’re a little bit like a puppy sometimes, it’s just not possible to resist the eyes that look up at him expectantly. 

All his fears came crashing down on him once more and he half-panicked. 

He wraps one arm around your waist and leans in for a quick kiss on the nose as a greeting, before pulling away and helping you with the sunsettias. “You lost track of time again,” he states and you just laugh sheepishly. “Ah...yeah, I get too into ingredient gathering sometimes...”

Albedo had gotten home and found a note on the table stating where you were. Just like he had requested. Weeks following the two of you getting back together there’d been an incident where he came home and found that you weren’t there yet again. 

Had he done something wrong? 

Did he say something bad? 

Where were you? 

Did you leave again? 

Only to have you strolling into the house the next moment, smile on your face, saying that you went out to do some shopping. He swept you into a hug that confused you. He was beyond terrified that it might have happened again.

He’d go as far as to say that it was borderline PTSD. 

“Can you kindly do me a favor and leave a note if you’ve gone out? It would really... make me feel better,”

And you understood. Perhaps you would’ve felt the same way. If you came home late at night and found that he wasn’t home yet. You’d tend to think that something happened to him, and so you complied to his request. 

He’d become a little better at managing his time. He figured Sucrose could handle more responsibilities and figured that he could also work a little bit at home. Readings and research did count as work, the only downside was that he had to borrow books from the library and bring it all the way back home, but he didn’t care much about that. You kept the house so warm and cozy that it was the perfect place to concentrate and be productive. 

“Come,” Albedo beckoned you from the chair of his makeshift office at home. You tilt your head, as you were about to leave the tea on his table and leave him to work again but he’d grabbed your hand and tugged you towards him.

“Can I help you?” You asked with a slight grin to your question. He pulls you over to his lap, arms around your waist and has your back flush against his front. His head hovering above your shoulder as he continues his reading as if everything was normal, and as if you weren’t sitting on his lap. “Am I just going to stay here?” You giggle and tilt your head back to look up at him.

A small smile cracks on his face as he shushes you, “Shh, absolute concentration is needed during research, Y/N,” but he lets go of the papers he was holding and leans back into his chair, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “You’re required to stay until my energy levels are back to normal,” 

“And what’s your energy levels now?” You play along with his little game, him starting to pepper kisses on your cheek. “I’m at zero, you’ve only just come in after all,” 

Sometimes you wonder if he really gets any work done, but it looks as if he does, and is even more determined to keep researching certain things. Of course, there were still days where he was incredibly busy. But he’d made up for those days by being considerate and aware of the time he spent at work. 

“I apologize... It got busy again this week...” he nearly sighs as he wraps his arms around your waist, the same nose kiss as a greeting. You’re a little more understanding of his predicament, but mostly because he communicated more. Where before he would come home and not say anything, now he would apologize and tell you about what was going wrong in his schedule. 

And the next day he was free, you’d wake up without worrying about breakfast because he had prepared it--granted he wasn’t the best cook in the world but he knew some recipes--and he knew just how you wanted your coffee or your tea. 

Turns out those little things did add up and made everything much easier.

“What’s for dinner today?” He asks as the two of you walk home. You put on a thinking face, “Maybe some cream stew?” the small talk the two of you engage in is peaceful and natural. “Would that be okay?” You glance at him, expecting an answer, but didn’t get any. You blink and turn your head to look at him, he’s lost in thought it looks like. “Albedo?” and he blinks back to turn and look at you. “Yes?” 

“I was asking if cream stew was okay,” there’s a slight crease of worry on your eyebrows, but his smile takes it away. “Yes, that’d be nice,” he simply says and for some odd reason, he doesn’t talk about his day today. It’d almost felt like a routine now, how he would tell you what he and Sucrose had been working on, or maybe if Klee barged in again today, or maybe even Kaeya. 

He was a little too quiet, and you kept stealing glances at him.

Even as the two of you arrive home and close the door behind you, immediately going towards the kitchen, it was a little tense and you weren’t quite sure why. He had this...frown on his face, but he didn’t look angry. “...Is there something on your mind?” you ask as you start prepping the ingredients.

He visibly stiffens up and just stands there. At this point you know that something is wrong. “Did something happen? Did I say something wrong?” You question as you’re about to wipe your hands on a kitchen towel. He suddenly shakes his head, “No, not at all. I--” 

and he starts his story as you put on an apron.

“Kaeya came by today...He says that...” his eyes dart away from you. “That I should consider...getting a ring,” You stop tying the apron around your middle and focus your attention on him. Eyes going a fraction wider. “But I... That is to say... If you would like a ring then I will gladly get you one, Y/N,” you’re not sure where this is going but your heart is starting to patter louder in your chest. “But I just don’t think it would change a thing. A ring is not enough to really tell you how much I...” he pauses and his eyes finally find yours. “How much I adore you. A band around my finger or your finger...can never represent the gratitude,” he emphasizes his next words “the comfort, the love that I have for you,”

It’s starting to feel like there’s an elephant in your throat, and you start to blink a little faster because you don’t want to cry. You just thought it’d be a little silly.

“I just... I hope you’re aware, ring or no ring... My intentions are the same. I don’t plan on spending the rest of my lifetime with anyone else,” you secretly bite your lip, “...It’ll only be you,” and he scratches the back of his neck, tearing his eyes away from you once again, mumbling--and it’s so rare to see him in such a vulnerable state-- “Kaeya mentioned that if I don’t get you a ring... that you might leave... I’m aware he’s not the most trustworthy but... I just... wanted to make sure,”

And despite the few small happy tears that finally cascade down your cheeks you laugh a little, picturing the mischievous glint in Kaeya’s eyes as he tells this to Albedo. 

Albedo smiles a little and brushes the few tears that managed to slip out, but you reply to him. “You know how Kaeya is, Bedo,” which translates to ‘don’t listen to him,’. Albedo knows. But when it came to you he wasn’t going to take chances. You contentedly wrap your arms around his middle and he hugs you back around your shoulders as he whispers into your hair. “But you know... Perhaps I should get you a ring, when the time comes,”

“Hm?” You merely murmur, asking about his sudden change in opinion.

“Just to let others know you’re taken,” 

Another rumble of laughter lifts from your chest. This time, he joins you.

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Breaking Down The Known Ways Ingo Could Have Gotten To Hisui + My Theory Based On The Most Likely Option

There’s really only a few options within the Pokémon canon currently that would be responsible, so I thought I’d break them down. I organized the scenarios from least likely to most likely. This doesn’t mean I absolutely 100% without a doubt believe the most likely option is what happened, just that I see the most evidence for it and have built a bit of a theory around it.

This took me a long time to put together due to the research involved, editing to be as succinct as I could make it, the fact that I have a life outside of Pokémon and being online, as well as being a bit burnt out on PLA. It was around 8 pages in Word; much longer than any of my previous posts! So be warned that this is a longer post.

I was working on this before the PLA Guide Book was released. The “XX Years Ago” isn’t factored in because not only would it likely not impact any of these scenarios, but we don’t know what numbers the “XX” was supposed to indicate, and the concept art hasn’t been confirmed yet as being canon.

I did, however, make a compilation of evidence suggesting Ingo has not been in Hisui for a decade or more, and if you haven’t already, you may want to read it as some of the information in there factors in to some potential scenarios in this post.

That being said, I don’t want to discuss theories or headcanons with people. I prefer to post for people who may want to read it, but to be honest, I don’t have the time, energy or desire to engage like that. If you disagree, that’s fine. Just please make your own post instead of adding to mine.

Bl*nkshippers dni—I will block you.

Major plot spoilers ahead.

One of the Pokémon (other than Arceus) with time-travel or dimensional travel capabilities sent him back:

First of all, Dialga and Palkia are out of commission prior to, and during the events of PLA thanks to Volo’s actions, so one of them using time or dimensional travel is out. As the game is now, there’s a lack of anything considered outside of the Hiusi PokéDex making it unlikely it was any of the others, such as Celebi or Hoopa. Ingo saying he’s from “another world” is probably because the few things he does remember are so different from Hisui that it seems like one; it might not be a literal statement. We also have no evidence that it was a Pokémon not seen in the game that sent him back, and it would be unsatisfying and even a cheap move for them to tell us later that a Pokémon we don’t see was responsible. We also don’t have any motive for a random Pokémon to have done this to him. This is the least likely way he got to Hisui. I don’t think I really have to explain this one further.

Volo Personally Sent Him Back In Time By Accident Or On Purpose:

This one has nearly no evidence for it. Again, it might help if you read my post about how long Ingo has been in Hisui in order to get a bit more background on Volo’s creation of the Rift and the implication of his interaction with Ingo. 

Let me first point out two things: First and foremost, fan interpretations of Volo have started to go far beyond anything we can actually confirm with PLA. He’s bitter, a little entitled at times (he believed Arceus should appear to him based on his status as a descendant of the Celestica and his insistence on meeting it) and he has some moments where he’s unhinged, notably the closer you are in the plot to the fight with him, but there’s little evidence to suggest he’s a sadistic edgelord who wanted to inflict as much suffering as possible on the world.

The second is we don’t know too much about Volo’s backstory, his motive, or what happens after the events of PLA. The last we hear of him is that he told Laventon he was defeated by the player character, to continue the Dex, and it would be the last time they would meet. He says he will meet Arceus no matter how many “years, decades, or centuries” it takes him. Is this meant to be taken literally? There’s a lot suggesting Cogita may be immortal and/or a time traveler, so is Volo the same (and what is their relationship to each other and Cynthia)? Cogita also doesn’t seem too concerned about Volo being out there, both before and after his defeat. There’s a lot that could be going on here, but we aren’t shown in-game so far, and as this post is about how Ingo could have arrived in Hisui, I won’t be going into that here. The takeaway from this is we don’t know enough about his motives, or if he would even have ever known Ingo in another time, to determine whether or not he would have had any reason or motive to specifically send Ingo back in time to Hisui.

Moving on, Volo doesn’t seem to have much control over the Space-Time Rift. Despite having Giratina make it, he had to wait for Dialga and Palkia to come through it, which seems to have taken a few months at least. If Volo was able to transport people and Pokémon from the Rift at will, why not just pull Dialga and Palkia out immediately? And more importantly, why bring one man he’s never met before back in time? Volo wanted to remake the world as he desired, but he never mentioned wanting to rip people from their friends, families, and homes and throw them across time and space before then. If he had wanted to do that and had the ability to, there should have been more people other than Ingo, and Pokémon not native to Hisui appearing. He also seems to have no idea how Ingo got to Hisui, as evidenced by him asking if Ingo thought his memory loss had to do with the Rift. Considering no other characters (save for the player character to a degree that’s debatable) have amnesia, and the Rift itself is obviously not just inflicting amnesia on people in Hisui, this is likely Volo discreetly trying to get information. He’s probably aware by this point, if not all along, that the player character was sent by Arceus to stop him. There’s a lot of overlap between the player character and Ingo; amnesia, unexplained arrival in Hisui from somewhere unknown, natural affinity for catching and training Pokémon, gets along easily with Nobles (Ingo is made a Warden, the player character is given a Celestica Flute to call them at any time and quells the frenzied ones with ease). Volo may have been trying to determine if Ingo had also been sent to Hisui to stop him. It’s not likely he was trying to get a kick out of faking concern and sympathy for someone he had secretly inflicted pain upon.

Faller Theory:

I’ve talked about why Ingo most likely isn’t a Faller here, so I won’t delve into the details of that post here, but I do have more to add regarding gimmicks in the mainline games, Ultra Wormholes, and more comparisons with Anabel.

Besides the lack of Ultra Beasts and any mention of Ultra Wormholes, from Gen 6 onwards, each Gen seems to have a gimmick that has only been seen in either the region it was introduced in, or has only made it to the next Gen and then disappeared. Mega Evolution, introduced in Gen 6, has not been seen since 7. So far, Z-Moves have not been seen outside of Alola. Dynamaxing has been left in Galar; it did not make it into BDSP or PLA despite being in the same Gen, but the plot of SwSh also tells us why Dynamaxing is exclusive to Galar. There is an Ultra Wormhole in the back of the  Dynamax Lair in the Crown Tundra, but this was likely to allow the Ultra Beasts to be obtainable in SwSh (which more or less just handed us these things), and it seems likely that Gen 7 and SwSh happen at the same time as each other. The Pokémon in the Den have no bearing on the plot itself, are optional, and the Ultra Wormhole in the Den doesn’t affect anything, nor are there any Fallers mentioned in regards to it.

So with that said, Hisui’s gimmick is Space-Time Distortions. They’re not Ultra Wormholes; they’re a result of Volo using Giratina to make the main rift. The ones that appear in addition to the main one, or even after the main one closes, are sort of like aftershocks. Unless they do a DLC for PLA that incorporates Ultra Wormholes and Ultra Beasts, they’re absent from Hisui. It would be a bit of a cop out to have a character arrive in Hisui this way with literally no mention or indication that a mechanic we’ve seen in games before was how they got there, and many people would be disappointed by the omission of the Ultra Beasts if this were the case.

A lot of people have compared Ingo to Anabel, but his appearance in PLA is markedly different from hers in Alola; Anabel appears happy and has her original team with her, and her memories are far more gone than Ingo’s. In fact, Looker tells the player more about Anabel than Anabel herself. She doesn’t even know she’s a Faller. Ingo, meanwhile, looks absolutely miserable even if he’s positive and supportive when speaking to people. He remembers more as time goes on, from having a Fire-type partner Pokémon, to “someone who looked a lot like” him, to the fact that training and battling Pokémon was the norm where he came from. And he never forgot the train stuff even though there isn’t a single train in Hisui to remind him. There’s far more focus on who he was prior to arriving in Hisui and the fragments of his backstory than there are on Anabel’s past.

While people can be in Ultra Wormholes for a short time with little consequence (as evidenced by the player traveling through them in Alola), there’s one more point to consider: Ingo did not have his Pokémon with him, despite the fact that their PokeBalls were almost certainly on him in whatever point in time he was snatched from (he did arrive in his work uniform, after all). All the options discussed in this post, save for one, would have essentially sent him through time with whatever he currently had on him, including his Pokémon. For them to not be with him, suggesting they were intentionally left behind by whatever or however he time traveled, and having memories that are still there but mostly inaccessible compared to Anabel (and Mohn) seems to indicate however he time-traveled was not an Ultra Wormhole.

The Space-Time Rift (Or A Space-Time Distortion) Alone:

Let me start this off by talking about the player character for a bit. The game shows us as soon as it’s booted up for the first time that Arceus itself sends the player character back in time to Hisui. All the other characters believe them to have fallen from the sky, out of the Rift. However, the game never actually confirms Arceus sent the player character through the Rift.

It’s much more likely that after Arceus handpicked the player character it transported them to Hisui in a more unique way. We see Arceus’ realm at the start of the game, and it looks nothing like the Rift, and when it uses its powers to send the player character to Hisui, and the times it does something via the Arc Phone, its power is shown as a golden light. However, Arceus can make rifts identical to the one made by Giratina, as its seen warping through them during the fight with it. It could have made a much smaller rift to send the player character to Hisui, and immediately closed it back up. It’s unlikely that Laventon saw a much smaller rift above Prelude Beach and confused it for the Rift above Mt. Coronet. It doesn’t make sense, and later he is able to differentiate Space-Time Distortions, which have small rifts in the air above the area, from the Space-Time Rift. It’s much more likely that he never saw the actual transportation method, just the player character hitting the ground.

Also consider that the player character wouldn’t just have fallen out of the Rift at the top of Mt. Coronet; they would have shot halfway across Hisui to land at Prelude Beach. Laventon just sees them drop from the sky after his Pokémon take off towards where they’ll land (potentially his Pokémon were signaled by Arceus to do so). He likely only really saw the split second before the player character hit the ground. In a world where there isn’t any type of aircraft and most people do not keep Pokémon, let alone fly on them (Braviary being an exception) and with no flying Pokémon at the scene, what other explanation does Laventon have other than the player character came out of a hole in the sky that appeared recently that has everyone concerned? The Rift is strange to the people in Hisui, and so is the player character. People are interpreting events in the only way they can. Also note that some of the people who are sure the player character came from the Rift are some of the same people who wonder if the player character is a monster in human guise, has magical powers when the Rift worsens, and after the battle on Prelude Beach, Kamado questions if the player is a “divine being”. We all know the player character is just a regular person from Hisui’s future who has a natural talent for raising and battling with Pokémon, and that Arceus itself sent them to Hisui. NPCs can also be wrong that the time-traveling was done via the Space-Time Rift Volo had Giratina open.

While Akari/Rei shows some concern that if the Rift is closed, the player character won’t be able to go back to their “world”, the only options the player is given to respond with is that they don’t know if that’s true. After Dialga and Palkia are captured and the Rift closes, they look up at the now-regular sky and smile. Why would they do this if that rift was their only way home? It could be that they realized that since neither Dialga nor Palkia were the ones speaking to them through their phone, someone else sent them and the Rift really wasn’t the cause of their arrival in Hisui.

Ingo himself isn’t exactly a reliable narrator during the point the player travels with him. He seems to remember even less than the player character about where he came from, and when Volo questions him, he says it’s better to ask the player character because he himself doesn’t “remember a thing”. While he doesn’t think the Rift is the cause of his memory loss (and possibly by extension, his arrival in Hisui), his sudden appearance and lack of memory is almost exactly like the player’s. The only thing he’s missing is an altered phone and a direct order from Arceus. He doesn’t remember anything prior to “standing there” and being found by the Pearl Clan. Neither he nor anyone else mentions him falling from anywhere, or even finding him in a state that suggests he fell (which calls into question if the concept art for Ingo made the final cut). You’d think Ingo himself or someone in the Pearl Clan would mention if he had been found in need of cleaning up, if not medical attention. We aren’t shown the player character falling from anything either, so presumably they don’t remember the exact way they traveled, but the moment the actual game starts, they’re on the ground being found by Laventon.

Something else that doesn’t add up here is if the Rift or a Space-Time Distortion was responsible for Ingo’s arrival in Hisui, why aren’t other people and Pokémon appearing? Why just one man? While there are Pokémon that can only be caught in Space-Time Distortions as well as items, these are all things that are part of Hisui’s past or future (as well as starters and their evolutions needed for the PokeDex and locked until after the Disaster Looming mission). The Sinnoh fossils are obvious, but the evolution items also make sense considering the Pokémon that need them were first discovered in Sinnoh but the items don’t exist in Hisui yet (begging the question of how they evolved in the wild—maybe they wandered into a Distortion and found the anachronistic items on their own?), including Porygon Z, which is why the Porygon line can be found in them. Yet we don’t see a single other NPC out of their time or place, nor Pokémon native to other regions that are not part of Hisui’s PokeDex.  That makes Ingo’s appearance seem a bit more deliberate, rather than simply bad luck.

Arceus Handpicked Ingo The Same Way It Handpicked The Player Character

This section gets more into theory, but I do try to back my theories up with what is, in some cases isn’t, in PLA.

This is probably the most likely via process of elimination. It’s unlikely to be an unseen or new gimmick or Volo, and the Rift and Distortions are not bringing in other people so that only leaves Arceus deliberately sending him back to Hisui.

But why Ingo? What does he have to do with anything? And why doesn’t he have a phone or clear mission?

We don’t know for certain that Arceus ever spoke to him or gave him a mission, but the player character doesn’t really remember their encounter with Arceus either, at least not at the beginning. They seem to not know or understand who is sending them messages about meeting every Pokémon in Hisui; just that it’s something they’re supposed to do without real incentive (presumably the incentive would be to be sent home afterwards, but this remains to be seen). Ingo, however, doesn’t seem to know what his purpose in Hisui is and even says so directly at one point. This seems like a Chekov’s gun that has yet to go off—PLA already forces the player to travel with Ingo and hear what he has to say with no option to speed through the text, and considering how short the game itself is compared to other mainline Pokémon games, there really wasn’t room for embellishments. Why have Ingo himself wonder about his purpose in Hisui if he’s just been carelessly thrown back in time by coincidence or bad luck?

Ingo is drawn to having Pokémon battles despite his memory loss, and even comes up with a few battle types at the Training Grounds after the Daybreak mission. This is most likely him remembering what he enjoyed and his job prior to being sent to Hisui, but it also seems that Hisui may be behind other regions when it comes to both living with and training Pokémon (some of the Old Verses suggest Hisui was abandoned by people for a time) . Other NPCs mention regions where people are living with Pokémon and battling for fun. The people in Hisui rarely keep Pokémon themselves as the idea seems strange and dangerous to them, and even fewer battle with them. Battling is usually done to protect oneself or a village from wild Pokémon. While some of the Galaxy Team know how to battle, most other people in Hisui with Pokémon, notably in the Diamond and Pearl Clans…don’t. They send out multiple Pokémon at a time while the player can only use one, and taking turns is more dependent on speed, and so someone with three Pokémon to the player’s one can in theory, get in at least 6 turns if the player’s Pokémon is slower. It’s frustrating at times to get used to if you’ve played other Pokémon games before PLA, and often it feels unfair. It certainly would not hold up outside of Hisui during the time PLA takes place, and clearly down the line Sinnoh ended up having normal battles.

The best kind of person to send to teach people who have no idea how to battle would be someone from a Battle Facility. A regional Champion could work, but it’s possible to become Champion simply by being overleveled and/or using type advantages as a strategy. You can win using revives over and over after inflicting a status move, or even to the point of the other Pokémon running out of PP and using Struggle, to outlast the other trainer! With all that Gen 5 added in terms of held items, battling can become very complicated (especially evident if you’ve ever watched an online tournament). A Champion may also not be the strongest trainer in a region; they’re just the strongest trainer to complete the Gym Challenge and oust the previous Champion. Stronger trainers may not take the Gym Challenge for whatever reason, and considering how much more difficult battle facilities tend to be and how much skill they require, your best bet for someone who can rival or even surpass the Champion in skill is there. Ingo is one of the best Battle Facility heads out there, if not the best for Singles. Since Hisui isn’t ready for Doubles or Multi Battles yet (Pokémon can’t even hold items and don’t have abilities, and many moves haven’t been created or discovered yet), it wouldn’t make sense to send back someone who specialized in those to start off teaching people the basics of Singles.

Remember how Ingo doesn’t have his Pokémon with him? Neither does the player character. One reason for this is because the player is supposed to project/self-insert onto them. It would kill the challenge and fun of the gameplay to allow the player to do something like transfer their team from BDSP to PLA; they’d likely be overleveled for everything, or not able to be transferred if they’re not in the Dex. But from a story perspective, if the player’s and Ingo’s Pokémon had traveled back with them, it could potentially change the future in a bad way for non-Hisuian Pokémon to show up (and Arceus wants the player to meet every Pokémon in Hisui at that time, not ones that haven’t made it to the region yet). Considering Pokémon trainers always have their Pokémon with them, something had to deliberately separate the player character and Ingo from their Pokémon.

Going along with this is the seemingly temporary amnesia. The player character doesn’t seem to remember as much at the start. Most of the answers you can select are some form of “I don’t know”. (However, being able to say you don’t know what a Pokémon is, from a developer standpoint, is to allow returning players to skip part of the tutorial while new players can get more context. Every Pokémon game is always going to be someone’s introduction to the series.) As the plot progresses, you have more options to know or remember things, and they seem to happen more starting around the time Ingo begins to recall things. After Electrode is calmed, Ingo returns to say he remembered a bit more about where he came from, and the player is allowed to say the “world” they came from was similar. They’re also allowed to say to Volo that Arceus’ name sounds familiar, and at the end of the Daybreak Mission, they remember Gyms and/or Contests. It seems their memories were temporarily locked away, likely because they would have just tried to get back to where they came from rather than complete the mission, or at the very least, potentially said too much and altered the timeline. The things they remember and tell people about are harmless; people living together alongside and training Pokémon, places for people to test their skills…all things that are in present-day Sinnoh. Contests and Gyms could potentially already be starting in other regions, considering Hisui seems to have fallen behind others during the time PLA takes place.

As for Ingo not having an Arc Phone or clear-cut mission, this one does not have a clear answer, let alone hints. What makes sense to me, is that Arceus dropped them in the places they needed to be to best complete their missions, and as Ingo seems teaching people to battle and live with Pokémon, not completing a Dex, he didn’t need a phone to guide him around (he is an adult, after all), or to do things like open the sealed caverns for the Lake Trio. You can also make the argument that Ingo never got sidetracked from his mission, whereas the player gets roped into helping NPCs with what sometimes seems to be menial tasks, and saving the region wasn’t stated to be part of the mission either. Arceus does remind the player after the Disaster Looming mission that they still need to seek out all Pokémon while the game itself considers everything past this point postgame and even rolls the credits. By finishing the PokeDex, the player ends up showing people how to live with Pokémon as well, but gets off track multiple times. Ingo seems to be taking a direct route, possibly even an express to his destination once the player helps him remember a few things.

Dropping the player character in the middle of Jubilife would have caused suspicion, panic, and likely got them instantly booted from the village, so Arceus dropped them just outside it and orchestrated things so Laventon, who was already putting together a PokeDex and is a lot more open-minded than most people in Jubilife, would be the person to find them. The player character is canonically 15, so they’re still a kid. They weren’t actually hurt when they fell, but Laventon didn’t know that initially. Most people would feel bad for not helping an injured kid/leaving them out in the wilderness, so this could have been to ensure Laventon would help, or if somehow someone else got to them first, they’d be taken in and have a better chance of meeting him.

Ingo mentions “standing there” before being found by the Pearl Clan, suggesting he no sooner arrived in Hisui and was taken in by them, but he doesn’t say where. My best guesses are either right outside the Pearl Clan Settlement or near a site sacred to them in the Coronet Highlands given how quickly he seems to have been made Sneasler’s Warden. Wherever it was had to be close to Pearl Clan sites to ensure he was found by them specifically. I have a theory that the Pearl Clan was chosen over the Diamond Clan because Sneasler did not have a Warden at the time. Again, in-game evidence suggests he hasn’t been in Hisui for over a decade, but even if he has been, the Pearl Clan seems to be treating him as an outsider still. Besides his skill with Pokémon, why make an outsider a Warden so soon? If he had ousted someone as Warden, or it had come down to him and someone else, you’d think we’d be hearing from Pearl Clan members how an outsider was chosen fairly quickly over someone born into the Pearl Clan and possibly trained for years for the position, the same way people talk about how it came down to Irida and Palina for leader and their opinions over the final choice. With no mention of this at all, it would seem Sneasler did not have a Warden for some time (as there’s also no mention of a Warden having died or otherwise left the position) and there was nobody in the running for a replacement. And if Sneasler accepts the strange man who prefers to keep his Pokémon in balls and has a natural way of living with them, then the Pearl Clan is more likely to trust him and his way of doing things, which inevitably was going to reach the rest of Hisui given collaboration between all of its inhabitants becoming more and more necessary.

The Conclusion:

Random Pokemon Sending Him: Almost definitely not, unless there’s a DLC or direct sequel that explains how and why this would be

Volo On Accident Or On Purpose: Highly unlikely; what little we know about Volo and his actions doesn’t add up here

Faller: Possible but still unlikely; the gimmick in PLA is Space-Time Distortions, not Ultra Wormholes, and they’d need to put more Alola stuff in via DLC for this to really work out

He Somehow Fell through The Rift Or A Distortion: More likely than the other options, but doesn’t explain why this only happened to Ingo and has a few other plot holes

Arceus: Most likely, more evidence stacks up here than the others but still relies on the theoretical as there’s still so much we’re not told about Ingo’s backstory upon his arrival to Hisui

Thank you so much for reading all of this!

If anyone wants it, I have a master list of my reassurance posts and a few others here, and it’s also currently pinned on my tumblr.

~Moonbeam

[tonystarktogo]

I just read your time travel au, and i gotta say its the most ive enjoyed myself when readjng in awhile!!! Are you considering adding onto it at all or is the fic the last of it? I dont wanna make you feel pressured to do anything you don't want to do but i would love to see more of this au!!!!!!

I'm glad you're having as much fun with that fic as I did! At the moment I don't plan to continue this 'verse beyond what I posted in As Subtle As Cognitive Recalibration on AO3.

But if there was a continuation, it would probably go something like this:

Team Conclusive Evidence That Any Moron Can Time Travel is at a loss.

Oh, sure, the overall plan is obvious: Get Earth ready for Thanos. With a strong focus on Priority 2: Burn HYDRA to the ground. But, well. How exactly are they supposed to do that? After they just gave SHIELD the middle finger and handed the scepter and mind stone to Asgard? How are they supposed to convince Natasha and Tony of the insane truth or — failing that — a credible lie?

Also what the fuck are they supposed to do with Loki— Easy, Thor, no one here has any sort of problem with your baby bro, not even a hint, not a a smidge, nope.

Thor wants to prepare his realm for the invasion of the Dark Elves which, fair enough. No one argues. (The deal is he takes that damn scepter off planet immediately, along with the tesseract and Loki, and comes back as soon as possible to give them an idea how Asgard's gonna handle things this time around.)

(The only one unhappy with that deal is Loki who has taken to staring at Thor with something disturbing like concern. Or wariness.)

In any case, the alien side of things is officially not their biggest immediate problem and how sad is that.

Clint and Steve agree that they need to deal with SHIELDRA ASAP. That doesn't tell them how. Last time they pretty much set SHIELD on fire and watched it burn.

(Steve got so much shit from Tony for that fiasco. So many "there were better ways to handle that"s. Which he used to counter with "there was no time". They both had a point back then — but this time around time is the one resource they don't lack. And Steve knows they need to do a better job. Tony would never stand for anything less and Steve won't let him down.)

There's also the matter of avoiding the entire Winder Soldier and Accords mess if at all possible but one logistic nightmare at a time.

Hulk sulks because no one lets him spend time with Tin Man.

On an unrelated note, Hulk is the worst secret keeper on the entire team and that includes a sleep-deprived, self-medicating Tony running on caffeine and spite.

Steve and Clint start the very complicated process of trying to identify HYDRA agents and missions that they remember, putting together charts and timelines and generally doing a great impression of two increasingly panicked and paranoid conspiracy theorists. If they're gonna do this, they'll do it right and proper this time around, with research, preparation and hopefully limited collateral damage.

So they plan. Natasha would Judge™ them if they didn't. (Right after she'd murder them for keeping this secret from her.)

Maybe they can hunt one or two bases down, infiltrate the network to get their hands on SHIELDRAs data without making it obvious that they're only targeting HYDRA (SHIELD, after all and despite the fact that it kills Clint to face up to it, isn't distinguishable from HYDRA). And hey, Clint thinks he vaguely remembers one or two contacts he could call about some hacking, so there's no need to pull Tony or JARVIS into this mess either. The mere thought that HYDRA might pay him more attention than they already do thanks to his innovations is...

Steve breaks five mugs and the coffee maschine. Clint just breaks his hand.

(They'll both sleep better knowing Tony is far away from any potentially life-threatening situation until they can look their team mate in the eye without seeing his bleeding and broken body on that fucking battle field, thanks.)

Meanwhile, Hulk — still sulking and angry about it — leaves the Tower to go smash any SHIELD agents he encounters. Which, considering the teams Fury has sent to reacquire the tesseract, are quite a lot.

Right in front of Tin Man's entrance door too.

[someonestolemyshoes]

Yo, saw your post about levihan prompts:

How about Hange discovering Levi’s secret hobby (of your choice)

Feel free to do whatever you feel like

And I love your work! 💕 have a good day

Hello! So sorry for the delay in this one, but thank you so much for your patience 🙏 I got stuck for such a long time in the middle of this ksksks but it is finally done! I also played around a little bit with the whole...discovering a secret aspect, but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway! And I hope you're ready for some sweet sweet childhood friends levihan~

**

Levi likes photography.

This, in itself, is no great secret. Hange can barely remember a time he wasn't following after her with a camera strapped around his neck, or packed into his bag—always within reach, should something striking catch his eye. A little neon plastic toy, at first; each click of the shutter cycled through preloaded images, expert shots of famous landscapes, places they could only dream of seeing. And then, a polaroid—still a toy, in essence, still plastic, still gaudy, but this one took real pictures in real time, and spit them out into their eager, shaking fingers within seconds.

Hange remembers them ruthlessly wafting the little laminate squares and watching with bated breath as black mottled into foggy grey, as the blurred silhouette of the park bench faded slowly into being. It was a fascinating thing, at the time. Magic at their fingertips. The picture turned out fuzzy and overexposed in places, where the sun had glared in over the corner of the park bench, but Levi had settled the little square on his little palms and looked at it like he held the whole world in his hands.

There were innumerable disposable cameras, too. Light little things with reels of film, never enough for Levi's insatiable desire to snap pictures of every single thing he saw. They spent half their childhood in the chemist, sitting in the hard plastic chairs, wriggling anxiously as they waited for the film to develop. Kuchel always handed them the envelope, fat with prints, with a small smile curling the corner of her mouth and a fond twinkle in her eye, and Levi always took it politely, while Hange gave a boisterous thanks, and the pair of them delved greedily into their spoils.

He was older, in his early teens, when he was gifted his first real camera. It was heavy, compared to all the others, a case made of metal with buttons and gadgets and a fancy screen on the back, to preview each picture he took. Levi was wholly enamoured with it. He spent hours adjusting it, figuring out what each button and knob did, how they affected each picture; took countless shots of the same rock in the park until he'd tested every combination of settings he could think of.

He had cycled through more cameras since then. Grown a small collection, each one a little different, a little more suited to particular shots. Hange understood the concept in theory, but the particulars were lost on her, and Levi never took the time to explain. Not that she minded—Levi's pictures were beautiful, breathtaking in the way he could capture even the most mundane details and make them something wondrous. Perhaps for the first and only time in her life, Hange had no desire for the magician to reveal his tricks.

He has an eye for things that Hange simply cannot see. She is observant—to a fault, at times, intensely analytical and endlessly curious. Everything is a question, an opportunity to research, to learn, but she doesn't see the way Levi does.

Wild daffodil. Narcissus pseudonarcissus. Hange sees a perennial flowering plant, native to Western Europe, classified by its pale yellow petals and elongated central trumpet. She sees phylogeny with a rich taxonomic history; subspecies originating all over the globe, some larger, some smaller, some more vibrant and some more muted. She sees anatomy, science.

Levi sees the way the evening sun rusts the buttery petals until they blush; sees the way dew drops hang like pearls from the tips of the leaves in the early morning, when the light is still smoky and thin. He sees a moment to be captured.

It should be impossible for a picture to hold so much detail. Hange can look at Levi's daffodil and feel the way the spring wind blows gently on her skin, the sun warm but the breeze a little biting, a remnant of the fading winter. She can smell the pollen heavy in the air, feel the tickle of short grass on her ankles, hear the trill of songbirds in the branches of distant trees.

His proclivity for photography grows with them. Hange's interests spear out in a thousand different directions, from physics and chemistry to botany, to engineering, to literature and mathematics, to history, languages and landscapes—life is a limitless source of information and Hange chases it every which way, insatiable.

And wherever she goes, Levi dutifully follows, with his camera in hand.

Until now.

Now, they are eighteen. The summer is lazily drawing to a close, and tomorrow, at 8:45am, Hange will be boarding a plane that will take her to the other side of the world to attend the university of her dreams.

And Levi will be staying here.

Despite Levi's perpetual scowling and indiscriminate grunting, their last evening together had overall been a pleasant one. Levi and Kuchel had worked hard on their meal, and it had been nice in a warm, filling kind of way, to spend her last night at home with the two of them.

Now, she and Levi are holed up in his bedroom, while Kuchel had insisted on doing the clean up herself. Hange's mind has been churning non-stop for weeks now, ramping up with each passing day, and tonight, her thoughts are unstoppable, and they spill from her with giddy, jittery excitement.

"The university is huge, but my course is pretty small—only like, 30 places. It'll be easy to get to know everybody."

"Nn."

"And did I tell you? There's a museum right on campus? They've got a huge collection, and I heard students can access it after the first semester."

"Hm."

"And there's a flower garden, too—they've got species from all over the world, Levi. They'll have plants I've never even heard of."

"You said."

"Oh! And—my accommodation isn't all that far from the coast. The water looks beautiful in all the pictures I've seen—look, see?"

"I know. You showed me already."

Hange looks up from her phone, where the screen is lit with a bright, sunny beach, tan sand and a stark blue ocean. Levi flicks his gaze over it and offers a noncommittal shrug of his shoulder. Hange frowns at him.

"You could at least pretend to be excited, you know."

Levi gives her a deadpan stare.

"It looks...warm."

Hange sits back with a thump, and kicks weakly at Levi's shin. She pouts over at him. "Better than nothing, I guess."

They sit at opposite ends of the window bench in Levi's bedroom, legs tangled haphazardly together in the space between them. The window was thrown open in some vain hope of tempting in a breeze, but the air is thick, and the soft wind that does blow is still stiflingly warm. It sways Levi's fringe against his brow, but does little to stave off the oppressive heat.

The sky outside is dark, but it is alive with stars. They cast bright sparks on an inky black canvas, and there is no moon in sight. Already, Levi has snapped pictures of it, twisted dials and pushed buttons and switched lenses until he was satisfied.

It is a beautiful sight. Infinite.

Hange lets one leg dangle out the open window. Levi gives her a sour look and wordlessly closes one hand around her other ankle. She has a long history of behaving carelessly—Levi has borne witness to one too many slips and stumbles to trust her entirely. It would be just like Hange, to miss her flight in favour of a trip to the emergency room.

His thumb strokes back and forth absently. There is a callus there, rough and catching, that scratches against her sensitive skin.

Her predominant feeling is one of excitement. Studying abroad had been a dream of hers for almost as long as Levi had owned a camera—to travel beyond the bounds of their small rural town, to see more, learn more, fuel the relentless hunger in her. But there is an undercurrent of something else, some squirming discomfort that refuses to settle. It intensifies with every sweep of Levi's thumb against her skin until it sits heavy in her gut.

She looks over at him. His gaze is trained out the window, a small frown furrowing the skin between his brows, but his eyes are glassy, with none of their usual sharp, unwavering focus. Whatever he is looking at, he is not really seeing it.

It would be a lie to say that his silence had not troubled her. He had been quiet throughout dinner, opting instead to listen to Hange and Kuchel's companionable chatter as he pushed his food around his plate, and he had barely said a word since they had cleared the table and retreated to his room. He had hardly even looked her way.

Irritation bubbles within her. Levi is always more subdued than she is, content to sit quietly while Hange babbles endlessly, about anything and everything. But he usually has something to say. His silence, today of all days, makes her angry. They have one night left like this—one more night to talk, face to face, before they will be separated for who knows how long, and Levi is offering her nothing.

"Levi," she says, before she can think. Something in her tone must startle him, for he blinks rapidly, as though pulled out of a daydream, and rolls his eyes to look in her direction. His gaze settles somewhere near her shoulder. She bristles. "Can you at least—"

"Levi?" Kuchel's voice is distant, floating up from the bottom of the stairs. Levi looks at the door instead. "Can you come give me a hand for a minute?"

Hange clamps her jaw shut. Levi casts her another sidelong glance, and ticks his tongue against the back of his teeth. He squeezes her ankle once, then pushes himself to his feet. "Don't fall, idiot. I won't be long."

Hange feels distinctly like a child on the verge of throwing a tantrum. It's immature, and perhaps it's unfair of her, but she had assumed that Levi's invitation for dinner might, at the very least, come with a little conversation.

She takes a deep, steadying breath. They never fight, not really—they bicker endlessly, poke each other's cheeks and pull each other's hair, childish rough housing that they never grew out of. But they don't fight and as grumpy as Hange feels about Levi's near silence, she doesn't want to start now. She runs a hand back through her hair and sweeps her eyes about the room, counting long, even breaths as she does.

Levi's room is immaculately neat and tidy. Everything has its place, on clean, dusted shelves, or stacked in straight, neat piles atop his desk. It is a level of organisation Hange has little energy for; she herself is a hurricane, picking up and dropping off detritus everywhere she goes.

But Levi's borderline obsessive cleanliness makes it easy to spot something that is out of place.

Hange's gaze falls on a drawer in the desk.  The drawer itself is as immaculate as everything else, gleaming wood and a reflectively polished brass handle. What catches her eye is the corner of a glossy piece of paper, caught when the drawer had been closed.

Hange is a curious creature. Rarely can she hold herself back from exploring an unknown, and now is no different. She unfolds herself from the bench and stretches to stand, then crosses the room on light, tip-toed feet.

Levi is, by and large, a rather private person. He does not share much of himself openly, hides behind an impassive mask, guards what is dear to him close to his chest. Hange is an exception to this rule, whether Levi wanted her to be or not.

As such, she has no real issue prying the drawer open, and is unsurprised by the predictable contents within.

Photographs.

Of course it was photographs.

Her lips tug up in a fond smile and her eyes roll, but it is as she is reaching in to flatten out the rumpled picture that had been poking out of the drawer, that she notices what they are photographs of.

Her.

Hange picks out a stack and sits cross-legged in the desk chair. She flips through them, eyes growing wider with each new picture she uncovers. Every single one is of her. Some recent, some not so recent—some must be from the very first real camera, for she is still in her braces, all thin, gangly limbs and scruffy hair and taped up glasses.

There are pictures of her in the winter, mitten-clad hands wrapped around a paper cup of hot chocolate, blowing steam into the chill air. She can see in stark clarity, the red tip of her nose and the chill bitten over her cheeks; she can almost feel the cold, taste the cocoa on her tongue.

She finds a picture of her from an autumn years gone by. She remembers it as though it were yesterday—they had spent the whole afternoon raking fallen leaves in the courtyard behind Kuchel's cafe, scooping them into a terribly tempting mound beneath the shedding tree. Hange had been unable to resist. Levi had captured her moments after her dive into the pile, sitting up with her weight propped back on her hands, dry leaves clinging to her messy hair and sticking to the fibres of her cardigan. The sun was low, and it cast her in a golden glow, highlighting the vibrant red and orange of the fall foliage around her, drawing out the auburn undertone in her hair and the amber of her eyes. Her smile is almost blinding.

Another shows her in the spring, laying on her belly in the long grass beside a row of blooming daffodils. There is a book spread open before her and she is, as expected, engrossed in it; Levi has snapped the shutter as she was turning the page, the thin edge of the paper caught between the delicate tips of her fingers.

Hange has never considered herself to be particularly pretty. She is just...Hange, a little bit of wild, a little bit of manic, a lot of clumsy and dirty. Being attractive has never been of much concern.

But there is something in the way Levi has photographed her, time and time again, in the way the light catches her, the candid ease of each new picture, that looks....beautiful, in its own way. Somehow, he has made her mess into a masterpiece.

Levi likes taking pictures of things. Plants, rocks, rivers, landscapes and skylines—he likes capturing the mundanity of everyday life and turning it into something spectacular, but he has never done the same thing with people. As far as Hange was aware, Levi had taken very few pictures of anybody at all.

And yet, she holds this pile in her hands, and there are plenty more pictures littering the drawer before her.

There is a strange feeling brewing on her as she stares at them. She had been so excited about moving away to study, so eager to explore the world beyond their quiet countryside home, that the reality of leaving had never truly sunk in. She feels it now though, acutely; a hollow ache in her chest that grows with each picture she flicks through.

Levi has been her shadow for as long as she can remember. There are few memories that he is not a part of, few moments that she can recall in which Levi was not by her side—he has been a constant for her. Something certain and dependable.

And from tomorrow, he will no longer be there.

Hange had known this. She had known it from the moment she had accepted her offer, and she had known it as they looked through her options for accommodation together, as they explored the local area through pictures and videos and maps online. She had known it as they had prepared her visa, organised her finances. Booked her flights. Every step of the way she had understood, logically, rationally, that studying abroad meant leaving Levi behind.

But the weight of it is only hitting her now. The reality of it is like a slap in the face, a punch in the gut—it leaves her shaken and breathless in the worst way.

From tomorrow, Levi won't be with her at all.

Her grip tightens on the photographs hard enough to wrinkle the glossy paper.

She had done a pretty good job of not getting too emotional about the whole thing. For the most part, Hange had been overwhelmed by her own excitement—there had been no time for sadness between all the loose ends she’d had to tie up in order to make the move a possibility. Now though, all that is left is to head to the airport and board her plane. No more distractions.

Hange doesn’t realise she is crying until the bedroom door opens again, and Levi steps into the room, coming to a sudden halt halfway over the threshold.

Hange can't tell if Levi's look of shock is because of the open drawer and the pictures still clutched in her hands, or the tear tracks on her cheeks. He stops dead in the open doorway, fingers still curled around the handle, and for a moment he stares at her with eyes wider than Hange has ever seen them, but then his brow dips low and his lip curls, and his grip tightens around the door handle. Hange holds the pile of photographs close to her chest.

She is expecting anger. She doesn't suppose she could blame him if he lost his temper with her, then. She has a terrible habit of bulldozing into everything, after all, and perhaps this was the one thing Levi had longed to keep secret from her. Her snooping, on top of his already sullen mood—perhaps this is the final straw.

But instead, he turns his face away, staring resolutely into the corner of the room. Starlight spills through the open window. Even in the thin, muted light, Hange can see a vibrant flush colouring the skin high on Levi's cheeks.

Hange sniffles, and wipes clumsily at her cheeks.

"I didn't have you pegged as a closet pervert, Levi," she says, waving the handful of pictures at him. Her voice comes cracked, and weaker than she'd hoped. Levi's knuckles turn white.

It's a funny thing, seeing Levi embarrassed. His emotional expression is usually limited to small twitches, here and there—a slight furrow of his brow, a wrinkle of his nose, a soft twitch of his lip. Hange can count on one hand the number of times she has seen his feelings show so completely. It's almost painful to witness.

"I don't mind," she says. Levi doesn't look at her. Hange looks down at the pile again. "They're nice."

Levi finally releases his death grip on the handle and pushes the door closed. His eyes are still downcast and his cheek is still cherry red, but he hasn't run away and he hasn't snapped at her (yet). Hange takes these things as good signs.

"I didn't know you took pictures of people," Hange says.

"I don't."

"Are you saying I'm not people, Levi?"

Levi lets out a disgruntled sigh. He crosses the room, and plucks the pile of pictures from Hange's hands. His cheeks are still pink, and his brows are still furrowed, but he has composed himself some.

“No, you’re not,” he says. “You’re a creature. You’ve got snot all over your face.”

Hange laughs wetly, wiping her nose with the back of her hand and rubbing the mess on her pants. Levi gives her a look of pure disgust, parking his hip against the edge of the desk beside her and skimming through a few of the pictures. There’s a curious expression on his face, a softness in his eyes that Hange isn’t used to seeing.

“Stalker,” she says. Levi kicks at the desk chair without looking up. “If you wanted a photoshoot, you could have asked.”

Levi scowls. He straightens the edges of the pictures with care, and sets them carefully on the desk. “If I wanted to take pictures of you posing, I would have asked.”

“Wanted to capture me in all my natural glory, huh?” Hange braces her elbows on the desk and rests her chin in both hands, grinning cheekily up at Levi. It must look ridiculous, with her watery eyes and the red point of her nose, but Levi isn't even looking at her to notice.

Levi says nothing. His gaze lingers on the pictures for a little longer, and the colour in his cheeks deepens. Hange nudges him with her elbow, smiling. The pictures are...sweet, in a way. There's something flattering about it. She slumps back in the chair, her smile wavering where a fresh wave of melancholy tugs at the edges of her lips.

“I’ll miss you, you know.” Hange’s voice cracks humiliatingly as she speaks. Levi looks over at her. Hange curses the wobble of her bottom lip and wipes at her eyes beneath her glasses. She isn’t expecting much; Levi is terrible at expressing feelings at the best of times, and so it’s more than surprising when, after a moment of consideration, he nods at her.

“Same.”

Fresh tears spill down her cheeks. Hange presses her fingers into her eyes, trying to stem the flow, ease the sting there. She doesn’t want to spend their last evening together crying, but now that the tears have begun, Hange can’t seem to stop them. A lump builds in her throat, aching beneath her tongue and she can feel her chin wobbling, lips pulling down at the corners. She sniffles pitifully, draws a shuddering breath.

“Oi…” Levi says, though he doesn’t sound angry, or even uncomfortable like she had expected. His tone is gentle. It rips a sob from her.

Hange feels him move closer. He jostles the front of the chair, and when she opens her eyes to look at him she finds him standing right in front of her, between chair and desk, looking at her with a furrowed brow. It’s different to his usual scowl—his brows are a little upturned in the middle, exposing some kinder emotion; something like worry, or concern.

Hange tilts forward until her forehead presses into his chest. Levi’s hand comes up quickly to the back of her head. His touch is familiar, comforting, and Hange cries a little harder when his fingers tunnel into her messy hair, cradling her against him.

She cries until she feels spent, sniffling and gulping empty air. Her fingers twist into the hem of Levi’s shirt as she composes herself, mumbling, “you’ll keep in touch, right? You won’t forget about me?”

Levi clicks his tongue at her. “Stupid,” he says. “As if you’d let me.”

“I’m serious.” She sits back and looks up at her. Her eyes are burning, raw and wet, and the skin of her cheeks stings from crying, but she looks at him with as much determination as ever and says, “call me. Every day.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s not! Just once, every day. Even if it’s only five minutes.”

Levi flicks her between her brows. “You won’t have the time, dumbass.”

“I’ll make time.”

Levi scrutinizes her for a moment, then says, “I’ll text.”

“Well, yeah, obviously.”

Levi curls his lip and pulls at a lock of her fringe, muttering, “brat. Why don’t you call me?”

“I will,” Hange says plainly. Levi’s eyes widen a fraction. “I’ll call as much as I can. But you need to call me too, okay? I wanna hear from you a lot.”

There is a long pause, and then Levi turns his eyes away. The light in the room is pale and muted, but it is just enough to highlight the pale flush gathering anew on his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose. It’s almost cute.

“Fine. I’ll call. Happy?”

Hange grins at him. “Very. And I’ll send you photos of everything, all the time.”

Levi leans down towards her, pinching her nose between his thumb and forefinger and giving her head a little shake. “On your shitty phone camera?”

Hange nods. She bats his hand away and cranes herself up into his space, smiling something wicked. “You’ll hate it. They’ll be all blurry and I’ll have my thumb in the corner of every picture.”

“Pest.”

“Lots of selfies, too. So you won’t forget what I look like.” Hange blindly swipes up a picture from the desk, holding it up between them in front of her mouth and nose. Between Levi dipping down into her space and Hange stretching up into his, they are so close that Levi has to cross his eyes to get a look at it. “Not that I think it’ll be a problem.”

He rolls his gaze up to look at her over the top of the photograph. Up close, Hange can see just how bright the blue of his eyes is, how dark his lashes are; she can see the shadows they cast on his cheeks, the deepening flush bruising the skin red. Levi has always been a pale thing, but now, Hange can see the smattering of light freckles across his nose, barely visible in the low light. He looks pretty. Her heart stutters in her chest at the sight.

Hange has never fully understood Levi’s drive to photograph everything. To preserve any given moment, bottle up every minute detail. She sort of understands it, then—it’d be nice, she thinks absently, to save this particular view for forever. The thought makes her face grow warm.

“I won’t forget.” Levi’s voice is quiet, caught somewhere between embarrassment and uncertainty. He sways closer, rocks back, hesitates. And then he leans down and lets his forehead drop against hers. Hange can feel the press of his nose against her own, separated only by the picture between them.

Hange is used to being close to him. She’s a clingy person by nature, always grabbing him and hugging him, smooshing her cheek against his or shoving her face into his hair, but she is always the one to initiate such contact. Levi is tactile, in his own way—small, non-invasive touches, his fingers on her wrist or his palm at her back, always delicate, understated.

To have Levi enter so wholly into her space like this is new. It’s nice. Hange finds herself feeling very, very thankful for the paper between them, for the urge to lean forward and kiss him comes unbidden, so suddenly she isn’t sure she’d be able to resist the impulse if there hadn’t been a barrier in her way.

“Is it my dazzling good looks?” she says, acutely embarrassed by how breathless she sounds. Levi makes a small, noncommittal noise. His fingers find hers where she’s holding the picture, gripping it and pulling it until it slips out from between them. For the smallest moment, Hange feels the skin of Levi’s nose against hers, and the warm puff of breath on her lips, and then Levi straightens up, flipping the picture for her to see it.

“I’ve looked at your ugly mug every day for long enough. Don’t think I’d forget it so easily.”

It’s a truly unflattering photograph. Hange has her head tipped back, laughing boisterously at some thing or another, with her eyes pinched closed and chocolate sauce smeared over her lips, a drop of cream stuck to the end of her nose. Hange is sure she has looked better, but the thing is—despite her state, the picture still isn’t bad. Hange can hear the lilt of her own laughter and feel the tacky syrup, savour the sweetness of the cream on her tongue. There’s something so...animated about it, about the way the light dances over her skin and in her hair, and the way the background blurs around her, drawing her into sharp focus.

It’s nice, in a strange, unreserved kind of way.

But she’s still a mess. Hange snatches it and slams it down on the desk, glowering up at Levi.

“Why would you take that,” she whines, petulant. “You’re supposed to take pictures of nice things!”

“Because it’s very...you,” He says, neatly slotting the pictures back into the drawer, and moving back to sit on the window. Hange follows, drops herself onto the ledge opposite him with a pout.

“What, disgusting?”

Levi shrugs. “Messy. But...not bad.”

“I’m supposed to take that as a compliment, I guess? That’s almost sweet coming from you, Levi.”

Levi scowls over at her. She dangles one leg back out the open window, dropping the other heavily into Levi’s lap. He adjusts it until he is more comfortable, his hand wrapping again around her ankle, but does not let go once he has settled. He keeps a hold of her, his fingers tracing thoughtless patterns on her skin. The space between them is warm, comfortable. Hange leans her head back and breathes it in—the peace, the quiet, the simple pleasure of spending a tender evening with her favourite person in the whole world.

It’s nice. A small, frightened part of her doesn’t want it to ever end.

**

Hange has been set up in her student apartment for three weeks when the package arrives.

Moving had been harder than she had anticipated. She’d accounted for common issues—problems with her visa, her plane tickets, and had checked multiple transport options from the airport to her accommodation in case problems arose—but she hadn’t put all that much thought into what would happen once she settled at her apartment.

Unpacking had been boring. Her roommates were nice enough, the studious, bookworm-y type, but unlike Hange they weren’t overly sociable. They kept mostly to themselves in their rooms, perfectly content with brief conversations in the kitchen before retiring again, and with classes still two weeks away, Hange was finding the lack of social interaction difficult. She had explored some, but the city was vast in a cluttered, claustrophobic way. Hange had always enjoyed travelling, and had talked relentlessly of every adventure she could take herself on in a whole new country and all the new places she could explore, so much so that it was almost embarrassing, the way she had found herself so unwilling to stray too far from her accommodation without a companion by her side.

She’d felt a little homesick in the first couple of days, lonely and isolated. She missed the small comforts of the country, things she hadn’t even realised she had taken for granted. Quiet nights. Star studded skies. Long grass and trees and the fresh, earthy smell on the breeze. The city was unbearably loud at times, and even when the wail of sirens or the beep of car horns quieted, there was an unidentifiable hum beneath it all that never ceased even for a moment.

She felt Levi’s absence most acutely. Hange had known she would, but she hadn’t been prepared for how much it would hurt to be apart. She felt silly for it—it was ridiculous, to miss her friend more than she missed her own family, even. But Levi’s presence had been more constant than anything else, back home, and without him, she felt like a small part of herself was missing.

He called, as promised. Once a day, though oftentimes it was very late in the night for him, and he sounded tired. If Hange were less selfish, she might tell him to get some sleep instead—but she missed him. Hearing from him was the best part of her day.

It was about an hour before their designated call time when the post came. Hange answers the bell with a frown, which only deepens when the delivery driver hands her the package.

She takes it into her room, settling cross legged on the bed and inspecting the mystery item. It's a decent size, like a large shoe box, wrapped neatly in brown paper with her address lettered in tidy, familiar handwriting in one corner. Hange’s stomach lurches—she’d have recognised the writing anywhere, but her suspicions are confirmed by the return address. Levi’s.

She rips into the paper quickly, snatching up her keys to tear through the tape on the top of the box. It is stuffed full with packing paper, an envelope with her name on it sitting on the top. Hange picks it up and with trembling fingers, she opens it and unfolds the short note inside.

Hange,

Sorry things have been kind of shitty. This stuff might help or it might make things worse, but I figure you can just throw it out if it’s no good. Or give it away. Whatever. I don’t even know if all of this shit will make it through customs, so if you get an empty box it’s not my fault.

I don’t get how you eat half this junk, but I hope it makes you feel better, anyway.

Look after yourself. Eat real food.

Levi

Hange presses the note to her chest, grinning. Her heart aches, but having Levi go to this much trouble for her...it feels nice. Knowing he is still thinking of her. She’d never have admitted it out loud, but Hange had been concerned that perhaps Levi would forget about her after all, without her there to pester him all the time.

She pulls out some of the packing paper, and smiles widely at the rest of the contents.

Levi had put together what Hange can only call a care package. There are packs of her favourite snacks and sweets, things she’d complained she hadn’t been able to find in stores here; crisps, chocolate, hard candy, little mini boxes of sickeningly sugary cereal. There are tea bags with blends Levi knows she likes, each neatly labelled with instructions on what temperature to brew at and how long for. Levi had also packed some of the soaps Hange likes, the ones he uses but she refuses to buy for herself. The lavender scent drifts up out of the box and Hange’s heart squeezes tight in her chest. There’s a shirt in there, too—Hange recognises it at once, as one of Levi’s old, worn tees, thin grey cotton that feels impossibly soft in her hands. It’s far too big for either of them, and had always been the go-to item Levi would chuck at her when she decided she was staying over for the night and had nothing to wear to bed. Hange pulls it on quickly, savouring the soft feel and the smell of it.

In the bottom of the box, there is another envelope. This one is thicker than the first, and Hange knows what it contains before she even opens it.

Photographs. A small pile of them, depicting places she and Levi had frequented from when they were children right up until this last year—her favourite part of the forest, where the trees thin out and the river pools at the foot of a small waterfall. The great, open fields, sometimes full of long grass, sometimes clipped short and striped with windrows. Kuchel’s cafe, with umbrellas raised to block the sun on the tables outside, or else warm and low-lit and cosy in the cold winter. Hange settles back on her pillows as she flicks through each picture, a soft smile on her face. Looking at the images of home hurts, but it isn’t a terrible pain—she longs for these old times and these familiar places, but each recovered memory makes her happy.

In Levi’s pictures she can vividly recall moments in each and every location. He works some kind of magic with a camera, to trigger so many sensory memories—the scent of freshly cut grass, the feel of hay, dry and sharp, poking into her back through her clothing, and the gentle trickle of the river water, the splash of it as it runs over the falls, the feel of it cool on her skin. The tangy zest of fresh-pressed orange juice in the cafe, peach fuzz on her lips and the soft flesh of ripe fruit bursting between her teeth, sticky nectar coating her fingers.

Hange looks at each picture in turn, until she reaches the bottom of the pile, and there she stops abruptly, eyes widening at the last photograph Levi has packed for her.

It is one of Hange, taken in the window of Levi’s bedroom. She was looking out at the night sky, her elbow braced on her bent  knee, chin in her palm, a small smile lifting the corner of her mouth. The starlight haloed her, shining from her hair and illuminating the jut of her chin, the curve of her nose and the slope of her brow. Behind her, Levi had captured the bright glow of the stars like jewels on a deep velvet canvas. She looked peaceful. Happy. For lack of a better word, beautiful.

Hange grins widely. Her eyes sting and her throat aches, but the picture—the whole box, really—makes her happier than she's felt in weeks. She brews her favourite cup of tea from the blends Levi had sent her and settles into the corner of her bed, lifting her phone to snap a quick selfie. She sends it to Levi, complete with a caption: thank you for my presents 😊 all ready for your call!

Levi responds almost immediately, first with a simple you're welcome. And then, after a minute, you look good. Speak to you soon.

Hange sinks deeper into the cushions, cradling her tea close to her face, masking the pleased flush on her cheeks with the heat from the steam.

**

Hange keeps him longer than usual, today.

There is a simmering warmth in her stomach as she listens to Levi's voice over the line. It comes tinny through the speakers, low and rough in the late hour, and his dark, grainy image looks tired, lamp light casting him half in shadow. They talk of everything and nothing, same as always—Levi tells her about his day, about the cafe and Kuchel, and Hange pouts as she tells him how little progress she is making in befriending her new housemates. Levi never voices any concern for her aloud, but Hange can sense it in the dip of his brows as she talks. She gives him a genuine smile when she reassures him that classes will start soon, and she's confident she will settle better after that.

Levi seems reluctant to leave, but after a little over an hour of aimless, comfortable chatter, he is yawning and blinking heavily, the lower half of his face nuzzled into his pillow. In the end, Hange makes up some watery excuse about visiting the coast while the sun is still high, if only to let him get some sleep.

"Sure. Have fun."

"I will! Sleep well, Levi."

Levi hums. The view shifts, blurry and indistinct, the mic muffled by the rustle of sheets, and when everything settles he is laying on his side, fringe mussed and falling over his eyes. He covers another long yawn with his fist. "I will."

"You'll call tomorrow?"

Levi rolls his tired eyes, but the corner of his mouth pulls up in a fraction of a smile. "Sure."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Hange grins. Levi watches her for a long moment, eyes scanning over her face. Then he holds up a hand in a tired wave. "Night, Hange."

"Night."

Hange stares at the screen for too long when the call ends. That terribly selfish part of her would have loved to keep his company for the rest of the day. Maybe, with a little travel sized Levi in the palm of her hand, she'd have been brave enough to explore some more, enthused about all the new things to see with somebody to share them with.

Sighing, Hange drops her phone to the desk and stands from the bed, stretching. There are still things she can do—she has plenty of recommended reading to get through, a small mountain of books at her disposal, and she has mapped the route to her campus often enough that she isn't feeling too overwhelmed by the prospect of the journey.

As she heads for the door, Hange notices something on the floor beside the bed. A neat, rectangular piece of paper; one of the photographs Levi had sent her, laying face down on the ground.

She picks it up again and brings the paper close to her face. Levi had written something on the back of it in small, quick letters, less tidy than his usual practiced script, as though he’d scribbled it as an afterthought, or else that he wasn’t sure he really wanted her to read it.

There is a date, the same night she had found Levi’s secret photo stash, followed by Hange’s name, and the location of the shot. And beneath that Levi had scrawled a few words. Hange squints to read them, and then her eyes grow wide, blinking owlishly down at the note. Her heart swells almost painfully and something solid balloons within her chest, squeezing the air from her lungs. Her lips tremble into a smile as she props the picture carefully on the bedside table.

The day is still young. Hange brews herself another cup of Levi’s tea and settles on the bed with one of her books, content to spend the next few hours reading—though she finds it strangely difficult to focus, with the words Levi had written on the back of the photograph swirling round and round in her head. Hange doubts they will leave her any time soon. They left her feeling more homesick than ever, but there is a soft, giddy kind of comfort in them all the same. It's a feeling that Hange will savour for as long as she possibly can.

It's weird here without you. Come home again soon x

[redrobin-detective]

Starlit Vigil

Dannymay Day 4: Stars _____________________________

Everything has a story to it, a tale interwoven into it’s very being from it’s birth to it’s death. Sometimes the mystery of the story is as much a story in and of itself. 

Scientists and researchers can’t say when the constellation first appeared in the night sky. It could be seen above Antarctica, near where the edge of the continent meets the Indian Ocean. It confounded a great many people as stars simply didn’t appear out of nowhere. But these did, slowly over the course of several decades sometimes years apart but two appeared within hours of each other. Each new star, eight in total, had a glistening, almost unnatural twinkle to them. The constellation was named Mnemosyne after the Grecian goddess of memory and the stars eight of her nine daughters, better known as the Muses. 

You’ve always had your eyes turned towards the stars and Mnemosyne in particular had always captured your attention. You can’t really explain what it is about those stars that speak to you. Maybe it’s sheer impossibility of their existence. Perhaps it’s the particular beauty of these stars, sometimes appearing to shift in shape and change colors. Or it could be the story behind the stars, the mystery that couldn’t be solved and so imagination filled in the holes left behind.

They say there was a great king, hundreds of years ago. A king who was powerful and kind and helped create the world as we know it. The land of the dead exists and certain people can interact with those beyond it. Technology and understanding have advanced dramatically and, while no life would ever be perfect, there was a general sense of peace that could felt in this world and the next. This king loved our world so much it’s said he plucked the greatest jewels he could find and placed them in the stars where he could watch over and cherish them forever. It’s a sentiment you can understand. 

You study astronomy in school and when you’re given a chance to travel to the Antarctic Circle to study Mnemosyne, you can’t say yes fast enough. The bitter cold and isolation is a small price to pay to see your favorite constellation up close. Maybe when you see it with your own eyes, you can unravel some of the questions people have been asking over the years. Why the goddess of Memory? Why are the stars named after the Muses but missing the muse of astronomy, Urania? What is the true story behind the supernaturally bright stars that appeared out of nowhere?

It’s hard to sleep during the day, partially because it goes against your normal circadian rhythm but you’re also too excited for night to come. For the stars to come out. You bundle up in the warmest clothes, pack your cameras and notebooks and throw the highest quality telescope you can carry over your shoulder. Arriving at the best site for star gazing, you are so delighted by the clear skies and sparkling stars that it takes you an extra moment to realize that you’re not alone.

At first, you think it’s one of the many researchers conducting studies at the pole but it’s soon apparent that this is someone new. Their hair is stark white, almost appearing one with the blustering wind as it’s blown around. You can’t see what they’re wearing because a thick white cape covers them entirely; it has the consistency of freshly fallen snow. Atop their head floats a crown made of pure, crystalline ice. Your eyes widen behind your protective goggles. The existence of ghosts was common knowledge by now but it’s another thing to see one up close. You turn to leave, before the spirit notices you.

“Don’t leave,” he says quietly but despite the roaring of the wind, you can hear him perfectly clear. “You came to watch the stars too, I don’t mind. Mnemosyne is my favorite.”

“Mine too,” you say back without even thinking. “I would love to know their stories.” The ghost turns to smile at you and his eyes are a bright, glowing green without any pupils or sclera. 

“Come, I’ll tell you about them.” You know you shouldn’t. While most spirits aren’t malicious, this one exudes a power you can’t even imagine. But you find yourself stepping closer anyway. You want to hear the stories of the stars and his smile is the warmest thing you’ll find for miles. Somehow you know this ghost won’t harm you. He points up at Mnemosyne and your twin gazes stare up in wonder. 

“They say souls and stars are made of the same ingredients. When I was a boy, I loved this thought. There was something comforting in knowing that, no matter where I went, that I could carry the stars within me,” the ghost explains, looking at you joyfully. 

“But unlike stars, souls are mortal, impermanent,” he says, his smile turning sad. “So I thought, why not put a soul into a star? Then it could last for eons.” He turns back to the stars with a melancholic expression. “Danielle was the first, my little sister. She was always fragile and after only a decade of life, one day she just broke. Her core was too damaged to become a full ghost so I offered her another way to live on. I took the brightness of her smile and made it into a star, into Euterpe. She was the muse of lyrics and poetry, they say she was the ‘bringer of delight’. It suited Danielle.”

“My enemy died next,” the ghost continues. “He hurt me and, moreover, hurt the ones I loved. But he was the only one who truly understood me. His existence comforted me no matter how much bad blood existed between us. His life was full of misfortune, most of it self-inflicted but his fear of death pulled on my heart. My last move in our battle was to make him a star as well, Melpomene, the muse of tragedy. I put him far away from Danielle, I think he’d hurt her.”

“My parents passed a few decades later,” the ghost whispers. “Mom went first, in her sleep. Dad always followed her example so it wasn’t a surprise when Dad followed her in death before the day was done. They were scientists, I think but they loved me very much. Things were tense, I remember being afraid for some reason but their deaths pained me. They were too fulfilled to become ghosts. I grabbed bits of their essence before it dissipated and made the stars Polyhymnia and Terpsichore, the muses of hymns and dance respectively. They were a perfect couple, partners in everything. A song and a dance, always in time with each other.”

The wind rustles the ghost’s cape, he clutches it as if he is cold. You cannot tear your eyes from the the soft grief on his face. 

“Valerie went next, some sort of illness; I can’t remember the details,” the ghost frowned. “She had no desire to become a ghost, no matter how much I asked her to stay. I am King of All Ghosts and yet I got on my knees and begged for some part of her to keep with me. In the end, I stole a bit of her fading spirit and crafted Calliope, the assertive muse, the author of epic poetry. She shines so brightly up there like she had in life.”

“Jasmine died peacefully in her sleep like our mother. She was always protecting me, even in death. Her devotion to knowledge and my wellbeing kept her by my side for many years but it wasn’t enough to last forever. When her spirit was nothing more than wisps, I took her core and placed Clio with the rest of our family. The muse of history, the proclaimer of great deeds fit my older sister well.”

“Tucker and Sam stayed with me the longest. Tucker went first, a quick death from an aged body followed by years as the playful spirit I always knew him as. Sam, my life and my love, passed the same and was my queen in death as she’d been in life. But love can delay death but not deny it and their spirits needed to move on. I kissed them both, my soulmates and made them into stars. Thalia, the muse of comedy and idyllic poems for the light Tucker brought to me. Erato for Sam, muse of love and its poetry for all that she inspired and gave me.”

You see glowing tears running down his face, he holds his hands out to the night sky. His fingers are curved as if wanting to reach and tenderly brush the faces of people long gone. Only they’re not gone completely. You look at the stars with a newfound appreciation. They are no longer pinpricks of long dead light but people who lived and died and yet still lived on in such beauty. If you look closely, you can almost see them. Brushes of red hair, dark rugged skin, the glint of glasses, a flash of amethyst eyes. 

“There’s no Urania,” you say quietly, the wind tossing them. 

“Not yet,” he says longingly, “but soon. The Zone and the Earth are at peace, they won’t need my protection for much longer. When that happens, my spirit will leave this world and join my loved ones in the stars as Urania.” This ghost has been dead for longer than you’ve been alive, longer than many of your most recent ancestors. But his love can still be felt, still burns high above in the sky for everyone to see. What better eternity is there?

“May I tell their story?” You ask and he only nods in response, not taking his eyes off Mnemosyne. You get the feeling he has forgotten about you, caught up in the light of his loved ones shining down on him, waiting. All at once, you realize how late it is, how cold. You leave to return to the research shelter, to write the history of the miracle constellation. 

The stars made out of souls, crafted by love.

Twelve years later, you are not surprised when you look up and see a ninth star in the constellation of Mnemosyne. It glows brightly, twinkling with the other muses as if in conversation. You can only smile through your tears, so profoundly happy that Urania’s lonely vigil is finally over and they have assumed their rightful place among the stars. 

[something-tofightfor]

Christmas in July #7: If The Fates Allow

Pairing: Ezra x Female Reader (’Starlight’ / NSFW Alphabet Ezra and Reader)

Word Count: 2,915

Rating: G? There are some slight mentions of sexual content, but it’s mostly Ezra ... fluff? Who the F am I? This takes place before the events of Prospect, and pretty early on in your relationship with Ezra ... so it’s very much A Good Time. 

Combined these two requests for @the-blind-assassin-12​ and @pheedraws​ for Ezra ... and made it extra sweet. Thank you both for reading and supporting me every step of the way ... and for giving me a chance to write another glimpse of Ezra before he becomes the man as we know him. I imagine this man to be SO FOCUSED on details - we see it in the movie, so why wouldn’t he be like that in every aspect of his life? ALSO. I feel like he is so interested in Earth customs and traditions, even if they’re not the same ones that are celebrated on The Ephrate. I hope you both (and anyone else that reads this) enjoys it. 

If you were being honest with yourself, the relationship you were building with Ezra was surprising. Not because the way you felt about him was surprising, but because of the speed at which things were progressing. Your early Autumn meeting led to a few dates, followed by a weekend away together, and before Final Harvest, you were together, the two of you showing up places arm in arm and introducing each other in an official way. 

It wasn’t that you were shocked by it as a whole; instead, you were surprised that Ezra had been the one to initiate the pairing and progression nearly every step of the way. From the moment he’d first flirted with you on the quad to the suggestion that the two of you spend your first Christmas together, Ezra had taken the lead, and you were more than happy to let him. 

You typically went home to visit your parents, and Ezra traveled for at least a few days to see his brother for the holiday, but neither of those would be the case this year. Because he wanted to spend it with me. It made you happy - just like Ezra made you happy - and since you were on winter break from all of your courses, the two of you had been spending nearly every spare moment together. 

His place was smaller than yours - a single bedroom apartment over an art supply store a few blocks off of campus - but it was inviting nonetheless, and when he’d asked you to come over to spend the night a few days after your break started, you couldn’t agree fast enough. And he said he has a surprise for me. You were smiling as you hurried down the sidewalk and toward his building, an overnight bag slung over your shoulder. But what else is new?

Ezra himself was a surprise, and not only because of the way he spoke - the way he treated you was a big part of it, too. You’d dated your fair share of guys in your time at the University, and none of them were like Ezra. Saying one thing but doing another, telling you what they expected without giving you a chance to do the same in return, the same tired physical encounters … every interaction more mundane than the last. But Ezra? That word isn’t even in his vocabulary. 

You’d learned quickly that Ezra’s vocabulary was extensive - and not only limited to the classroom. He was a scholar through and through, and you’d been shocked when you’d first seen his place; a large bookshelf on one wall, notebooks full of his neat handwriting stacked on his desk, relics from other planets and their histories scattered thorough the small space. The way he explained things to you would have been condescending coming from anyone else, but in Ezra’s way, it made sense - it was just who he was, and the way he behaved was yet another callback to the education and area of study that he’d immersed himself in for most of his adult life. 

You couldn’t wait to give him his Christmas gift - a leather bound volume of collected stories from the planet he’d spent the most time researching, and a place he’d admitted that he wanted to visit before he died, even though he knew it was unlikely he’d be able to. You’ll get there, Ezra. Someday. That was another difference between Ezra and most of the other men you knew, you thought as you pulled open the door that led to the staircase up to his place. When Ezra decided to do something, he did it, finding a way to make it happen, making promises to himself that he wouldn’t let opportunities pass him by and sticking with them. Trips to the remote and largely uninhabited Milky Way Galaxy were few and far between, but if anyone was going to make a journey there happen, it would be Ezra. 

Lifting one hand to knock on his door, you waited until he’d called for you to come in to twist the knob. Stepping inside, you were met with the smell of ginger and lemons, the sound of quiet music, and the sight of Ezra standing in front of his small stove and stirring a pot with a long-handled wooden spoon. “Ezra?” You set your bag down on one of the couch cushions and stepped into the kitchen after removing your shoes, unable to keep the smile off of your face. “What are you doing?” He still hadn’t turned to look at you, and so you slid one of your hands up the center of his back, pressing your chest against the arm he wasn’t using to stir whatever it was that he was cooking. 

“I’d hoped to have this done before you got here.” He cleared his throat, turning his head to the side and pressing his lips against the top of your head. “But I was waylaid by finding something else, and so …” He sighed, winding his arm around your waist. “So it’s not done.” There was a long pause, and even though he didn’t sound upset, you knew that he was slightly disappointed in himself. “I’m making us a drink while I wait for what’s in the oven to bake.” Bake? What did you bake? “Get out two coffee mugs.” 

You did as he asked, slipping out of his hold and reaching up into the cupboard to pull them both out, sliding them across the small counter and toward the man. For the first time, you noticed that there were other ingredients waiting on the flat surface - lemon juice in a small glass, a jar of honey, a pair of cinnamon sticks - alongside two bottles of liquor. “Ezra, what -”

“Holiday traditions were … are important to people, correct?” You nodded as he lifted the pot from the stove, pouring the contents between the mugs. “And I thought … that since this is what I know, I’ll show you some of my favorite traditions from the place … and the people that are responsible for us being here today.” Oh. He means … While Ezra was a historian by nature, and his focus was on the history of other planets and people, his focus was on Earth and the people that had lived there. “Some of them are similar to the ones we still have today - needled trees and lights and presents. Spending time with those we care for.” As he spoke, he added ingredients to the mugs - lemon juice and honey, stirring them quickly to combine them. “Whiskey or brandy?” He looked at you, brown eyes sparkling in the overhead lighting. “It’s a matter of preference, both -” “Whiskey.” You chose without pause, and Ezra nodded, unscrewing the cap and adding a generous pour into each mug before adding additional honey and a slice of lemon. “What is this called?” He didn’t speak again until he’d picked up the cinnamon sticks, dropping one into each mug and holding one of the containers out to you. “A ‘Hot Toddy’. It’s not the only traditional Christmas drink, but it’s one that you can savor - especially when it’s cold out, like today.” He lifted his mug, waiting, and yours followed, the rims clinking together before you brought it to your lips and took a cautious sip. That’s good. “You like it.” It wasn’t a question, but you nodded in reply, taking a second sip. “This -”

But he was interrupted by the beeping of the oven’s timer, and Ezra’s eyes closed, a furrow appearing in his brow. “Let me have your mug, Ezra.” He handed it to you and then turned away, opening the door and using a towel to pull out the baking sheet within. I know that smell. “Is that gingerbread?” Your eyebrows rose. “I haven’t had that since I was -” “It is.” He set the sheet down, and you saw that he’d already cut the dough into shapes before baking them; the silvery surface covered in cutouts of animals and people. “I wasn’t sure if you …” “My grandmother used to make these cookies.” You were grinning, grip on both mugs tight. “But after she … we never had them again. My mom didn’t have time to bake, and I thought … Ezra, this is… you didn’t have to do all this for me.” He turned the oven and stove off, dropping the towel on the counter before he turned to take his drink back from you. The man’s eyes didn’t leave your face, but you could see that the frown was gone, his expression relaxed again. “What?” Tilting your head to one side, you watched him. “Why are you looking at me like that?” “Come sit with me?” He spoke quietly, and there was none of his usual flourish - just an honest, simple request. “There’s more.” More? Blinking at him, you nodded, and a few seconds later, the two of you were seated on the couch, drinks on the table in front of you and his arm wrapped around your shoulders. “I have always been curious about the people who … the ones that were here before us. The ones that … helped us get here.” You know that - both from the lecture he’d given and from what you’d learned about Ezra in the previous few months of knowing him. “But my fascination with these people and places goes well beyond their circumstances. I want to know what -” “You want to know who they were.” You understood; it wasn’t enough for the man to know history - he wanted and needed to know what motivated the people who’d lived it. “What they did, how they acted. You want to know them the same way you’re getting to know me.” Sitting up, you turned your head to look at Ezra, still smiling. “There should be more people like you, Ezra. More people that care.” He was quiet for long moments, eyes moving over your face as he stared at you. You heard the song change, for the first time realizing that you were unfamiliar with what was playing, and narrowed your eyes as you concentrated on it. “Is this -” “Christmas music. From  Early Earth.” He held up a hand, closing his eyes. “This is one of my favorites, actually. It originated in the 1940’s, and was written for a movie. There are dozens of versions of it, but there’s nothing better than an original.” You both went quiet, listening to the lyrics of the song - a woman singing, her tone sad, even though the words had an uplifting message. You let yourself get lost in the music, barely even registering the fact that Ezra had reached out for you until you felt him squeezing your fingers between his, attention going back to the man’s face just as he began to sing. “Through the years we all will be together, If the fates allow. Hang a shining star upon the highest bough … And have yourself a merry little Christmas now…” 

“Ezra…” You were unsure of what you wanted to say - you’d never heard him sing before, and even though he was doing so quietly, his eyes averted to stare at the carpeted floor, you were astounded at the sound of it. Is there anything he can’t do? There weren’t any festive lights or a tree in his apartment, and he hadn’t decorated the same way that you knew most people did for the holiday, but you’d never felt cozier; the man’s eyes warm and inviting when he finally met yours with them, and the feeling of his hand against yours grounding. “I didn’t know you could sing.” 

“There are a great many things that we still have to learn about each other.” He leaned closer and you closed your eyes, ready to kiss him - but he turned his head at the last second, lips glancing off of your cheek and stopping just in front of your ear. “Look up.” Startled, you did as he asked, tilting your head backwards until you found what you were looking for. A bunch of leafy green branches with small white fruits was tied with a red bow and hanging just above where you were sitting on the couch. What is that? Confused, you backed away, eyes moving between the man in front of you and the plant above you. “That is mistletoe.” 

“I’ve never heard of that. Why is it … on the ceiling?” Ezra pulled his hand out from yours and brought it up to your cheek, tracing the tips over the skin there. “Another tradition.” He grinned at you, glancing up, too. “If you’re caught beneath mistletoe with someone, you’re supposed to kiss them. It’s not only for luck, but it symbolizes life, too.” He paused, one eyebrow raised. “Bright green and flourishing in the middle of winter?” That… I get it. “It’s bad luck not to kiss under it.” And he hung it right over the couch. Without blinking, you stared back at Ezra, teeth digging into your lower lip as if you were deep in thought. 

“Well I definitely don’t want any bad luck, Ezra.” Bringing your hand up, you brushed his hair away from his forehead, beginning with the blonde patch and then moving down, curving your fingers back and around his ear to follow the slight waves. “So are you going to kiss me or not?” “Indeed I am.” His lips barely moved as he murmured the words, face inching closer and closer to yours until he was kissing you, hand sliding to grip the back of your neck, holding you in place. It made sense - the way he hadn’t kissed you the moment you’d walked into the kitchen, or when you’d first sat down onto the couch. He was waiting. He wanted it to mean something. 

You tasted the whiskey on his tongue as he kissed you; tinged with the lemon and cinnamon, and you couldn’t help crawling onto Ezra’s lap without separating from him, knees on either side of his thighs and digging into the cushions beneath them. It still shocked you each time Ezra’s lips met yours to feel how much he put into the simple act of affection. They weren’t just kisses; he was sharing himself with you, pouring emotion from his body directly into yours, or letting it wash over your skin - and even thought it was still new, you knew that you wanted it to last. 

When he finally pulled away so that both of you could breathe, you let out a shuddering exhale, feeling that he was stroking over the back of your neck with his thumb, grip possessive but not restrictive. “D’you hang up mistletoe over your couch whenever you have a girl over for the holidays, Ezra?” He scoffed at that, but it was quiet, and he shook his head back and forth. 

“You’re the first. But now that I know it’s a successful means to receiving affection...” That made you laugh, but before you replied, you kissed him quickly on the mouth, tightening your arms around him. 

“I’m surprised that you didn’t hang it above your bed, then.” He froze at that, but you didn’t, pushing off of the couch and to your feet, holding out a hand to the man. “Just about any other guy that I can think of would have done exactly that.” It was the truth - no matter how well-intentioned they were, none of the men that you’d ever dated previously would have passed up an opportunity to incorporate the bedroom into something like kissing beneath mistletoe. But Ezra did. Because he’s not like any other man. 

You moved again, lifting one foot and then the other to stand on the couch, both arms over your head as you pulled the greenery down, your fingers closed around the ribbon-tied stems. “What in Kevva’s name are you doing, woman?” When your feet were both planted firmly on the floor again, you held the mistletoe above his head, looking down at the man still sitting on the couch, both eyes focused on your face and his hands settled against his knees. 

“Thought you said it was bad luck not to kiss if you were under this stuff, Ezra.” He wet his lips as you moved the plants, holding the bunch over you. “I -” His hands were at your waist before he stood, Ezra’s body pressed to yours. There we go. “That’s what I thought.” You managed only a few words before he kissed you again, your arm falling to your side and dropping the mistletoe onto the short table behind you. Arms going around his neck, the two of you held each other and stayed connected by the lips until you needed air, parting reluctantly. 

“I think,” he began, voice low as he tilted his head down, trailing his lips over the side of your throat. “I think that it’s time we start our own Christmas traditions.” You shivered, both hands gripping the ends of hair hair that rested along the nape of his neck. He used one hand to tug the neckline of your shirt down before kissing the hollow at the center of your chest and then straightened back up, pupils blown wide and his lips parted. “Are you amenable to that?” 

You didn’t answer him verbally, instead nodding twice and taking one of his hands in yours before you turned, tugging him even closer to you. Very much, Ezra.

--- 

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[authoressofdarkness]

Sick of his world and with nothing left to hold him there, Peter Parker decides to travel to an alternate universe. Once there, it doesn’t take long for that world’s Tony Stark to find him and take an interest.

(Trigger warning for suicidal ideation. Alll photos are from Pinterest.) 

He’d expected it to hurt.

Well, okay, maybe not hurt, exactly. But he hadn’t expected it to feel good either. Traveling through time and space probably wasn’t going to have the greatest of affects on his body.

And that was assuming he even lived, which… hey, he wasn’t sure of, and he hadn’t particularly cared. Why would he? There was nothing left for him in his universe. No family, no friends, not even Spider-Man. All dead, gone, or impossible. And as an unmated omega with no remaining family, he’d either be forced into a bond with someone he didn’t know, or he’d become a ward of the state.

If he was going to run anyway, running somewhere it might be different seemed like the best way to go about it. So he did his research, put the time into it. If wasn’t too far of a leap from what he’d already been working on. And of course he knew things could go wrong, or that he could die — especially if he was already dead in the new universe, he didn’t know what that would mean for him. But even death was better than where he was right now, so whatever. He didn’t care. Not really. Might even be preferable, actually. His powers had made it impossible to try to end things on his own. If he lost those in the new universe… well. All the better, really.

And he’s not wrong. It’s not exactly a comfortable feeling. Especially when he comes crashing down onto the concrete roof of a building, since he hadn’t had much way to control for landing or where he would end up, and immediately snaps the wrist of his stronger hand trying to catch himself.

Fucking great. He can’t die, just get painfully injured. Now he can’t even sling webs. He has no idea where he is and no idea how to get off this roof without his webs. Unless…

He crawls over to the edge of the roof and looks down. Thinks about it. It’s a long, long way down. Possible, but if it didn’t kill him… painful. So painful. And he’d risk exposing himself and facing a fate worse than death in this world that he has no idea what to expect from or where to find the tech to escape from, so...

“Planning to jump?”

The cool voice comes from somewhere behind him. Peter looks up in surprise — both at the fact that he’d been so deep in thought he hadn’t heard anyone approaching, and also at the voice itself. It was the last thing he’d expected to hear, and the image is even more confusing.

Because in his universe, Tony Stark is dead. But the man hovering behind him is definitely Tony Stark. So he’s alive in this world, but… undeniably different. The deadly silent blue and silver armor he’s wearing proves that beyond any doubt. More technologically advanced, for sure, and also more… well. If the way his eyes glow blue are any indication, he’s certainly not human.

Peter gives himself a moment to take him in, then shrugs, looking back over the edge of the roof. His mind spins with thoughts, but he’s in no hurry to act on them. “Maybe. I haven’t decided yet,” he says honestly.

He feels those eyes on his back, and Tony’s quiet for a moment, considering. “Not exactly what I expected to find when I detected a break in the time continuum,” he admits finally. “Why come to another world just to commit suicide?” He sounds genuinely curious.

Peter shrugs. “I was hoping the jump would kill me, but it didn’t. Or that I’d merge with myself from this world, and die that way. Didn’t work, either.” He looks down. “I don’t think this one will do it, either. My body would knit itself back together too quickly.”

“You’re not human.” It’s a statement, not a question. He almost sounds… fascinated?

“Not entirely. I got bitten by a spider in high school. Been different ever since.” Peter sighs. Maybe he should be worried, telling him all this. Maybe he shouldn’t be doing it. But he’s just so far past caring at this point. “Did you come here to kill me?” he asks, not worried, just tired and a bit curious. What had this Tony Stark intended to do about a break in the continuum? Was he good? The outfit change, the fact he wasn’t human  — and a glance around the abnormally quiet city — led him to believe he wasn’t near as merciful as the old Tony, at least.

“If I had to. If you were going to be too annoying, or a potential threat.”

“And now?”

A pause. “Now I’m more inclined to keep you, I think.”

The response startles a laugh out of him. He hadn’t expected that, particularly the honesty in what or why if he’d said no. But he’s not scared, really. Maybe he should be, but actually… “Keep me? You think that’s a good idea?”

“It sounds like a fantastic idea.” Tony moves up behind him, not quite touching him but hovering just close enough for the hairs on the back of Peter’s neck to stand up. “You’re young. Cute. Unmated, I can smell that. You’re obviously smart to be hopping through time and space. You’ve got nothing left, true — perhaps no reason to live, but no reason to die, either. And in your case, dying is so much trouble.” His breath tickles the back of Peter’s neck. “You and I could do so much, kid. I could give you a reason to live — or at least an outlet when living becomes too much. You’ve already figured out you can’t do it on your own. Help me, and I’ll help you.”

Peter considers it. He’s not wrong. And yeah, okay, this obviously isn’t the same Tony Stark from his world. He’s different. Certainly not a hero, at least. But he’s familiar, and what he’s offering…

He turns around, slowly getting to his feet on the roof. Tony is waiting, hovering just a little above the ground with a hand held out to him. He takes it. With a cocky grin, Tony pulls him against his body, an arm holding him in place, and they’re off.

[little-writings]

I HAVE READ THAT THE REQUESTS ARE OPEN AND I HOPE I AM NOT WRONG, can I request Jumin engaging with MC about the random talks she has with him? And like looking at her and thinking: with all the weirdness, she is still cute?? AND THANK YOU!!

Haha, this must’ve been a minute ago because I can’t remember the last time my requests were open fkdslfjkasd but they will be !! I just need to get all the prompts currently in my inbox finished, including this one! But regardless, I hope you have a marvelous day and enjoy! Thank you

———————————————————————————————————–

When Jumin first met you he’d noticed a few things. Of course several of those being your constant kindness, patience, and support of him. Jumin would never quite be able to express just how much that meant to him – how much you meant to him. 

However, he’d also noticed another, peculiar trait of yours. Your active imagination.

He’d never met someone whose mind wandered like yours did. They weren’t the prodding, incessant comments of 707 or ramblings from Yoosung to avoid his work. No, you just… thought about a variety of things. 

It’d first occurred during the afternoon, while Jumin was working. He’d just gotten out of a meeting, looking at the overview just to refresh his mind before he returned to his emails when you called. 

“Hi honey!” Your voice was a cheerful welcome to the otherwise monotonous day he’d been experiencing. “Would you help me with something?” 

Jumin chuckled. “Of course.” 

He’d assumed it’d be deciding your upcoming meal or an activity you’d planned for that afternoon. Something of a usual sort you could tell him about when he came home that evening. Instead, he got something, far different. 

“Do you think dinosaurs had feelings?” 

Jumin sat there a moment, stunned. “Do I… what?” 

You giggled softly. “I know it’s weird but I can’t get it out of my head! Probably because last time 707 visited he made me watch a bunch of dinosaur documentaries.” 

“Why did he do that?” 

“Because he cried watching one of the episodes late one night and wanted someone else to ‘know his pain’.” 

A grin tugged at Jumin’s lips. “That’s not very nice.” 

“No, but it got me thinking! Throughout the show whenever something bad happened the dinosaurs did look sort of sad! And I know they’re just animated, but do you think actual dinosaurs had feelings?” 

Jumin actually considered the question, moving aside his papers and thumping his fingers against the desk in thought. “I mean surely nothing beyond pure instincts, don’t you think?” 

“I thought that too but they do have complex behaviors – the documentaries said they did nesting, raised their young, and a lot of them traveled in packs! That’s got to mean something right?” 

Jumin leaned back in his seat. “In a sense, but plenty of animals do that today, and we don’t consider them to have complex emotions.” 

You laughed and Jumin could hear you falling against pillows. “Fair enough. Not everyone can be like Elizabeth 3rd.” She meowed at the mention of her name. 

“It’s an unfortunate fact.” 

A moment afterward you switched to the next topic that’d come to your mind. It was about the most interesting fact you’d learned about milk not actually being a pleasant drink for cats. Jumin had scribbled that somewhere in his notes for further research. Perhaps milk healthy for cats could be produced?

He found himself so caught up in your constant flow of thoughts he delayed a meeting, only realizing it was actually important when Jahee approached his desk and tapped the names upon the clipboard, urgently. 

“Oh. Thank you, it entirely slipped my mind.” Jumin brought the phone back up to his ear. “Can we continue this conversation when I get home? It should be just after this meeting.” 

“Of course!” You gasped, realizing the time that’d passed. “Can you tell Jahee I’m sorry for keeping you distracted?” 

She must’ve heard you over the phone because she simply nodded, failing to hide the tiniest smile on her fact upon you mentioning her name. 

“I’ll be sure to. I love you.” 

You softened. “I love you too.” 

Jumin came back home when the oranges, reds, and purples clearly painted the skies with the arrival of dusk. You were staring at the old culinary books Jumin’s grandmother had passed down to him years and years ago. He hardly used it, unless he wanted to burn down his home, but it held sentimental value. You weren’t an experienced chef by any means, but you’d taken up the difficult task of teaching Jumin – so far his most elaborate dish being macaroni. 

“Are we trying out a new recipe?” Jumin asked, approaching the dinner table where you sat. Your eyes scanned continuously from page to page and your index finger glided along with the pictures. He set a hand on your shoulder and leaned down to press a kiss on your head. 

You sat up with a faint ‘oh!’, turning around to face him. “I’m so sorry I just got completely lost in thought!” You scrambled to your feet, and Jumin chuckled at the display. Although he wasn’t opposed to the kisses you peppered him with. 

“What were you wondering?” He asked, having to fight against falling against you when you parted. 

“Well!” You tapped the pages of the old book. “Yoosung texted me after we got off the phone, asking if he should cook something or bake something, and I didn’t entirely get the difference, so I thought I’d look in these books!” 

“Did you find your answer?” 

You tipped your head from side to side. “Sort of, but it also just led to more questions?” 

Jumin sat down beside you and you told it all to him. At times you’d even talk a bit too fast for him to keep up, apologizing embarrassedly when Jumin would simply admit it was charming. He adored your excitement. 

Apparently, when you’d read in the books that cooking was “a method of preparing food by using heat,” while baking was “a method of preparing food by also using heat,” you were at least a little dumbfounded. 

Yoosung had said ‘there’s some difference but it’s not like I really know!’ 

So, without any other option, you took to the internet. The most ‘credible’ website you’d come across stated one was considered art while the other a science. That had only furthered your pit of confusion. 

“Why is cooking an art but baking a science? Why is there a difference?” You wrinkled your nose, huffing.

“There’s nothing in the books?” Jumin asked.

“Nothing! One question from Yoosung has ruined me!” 

Jumin grinned. “Down a rabbit hole are we?” 

“You’d want to join me?” 

He leaned forward, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket almost how one would roll up their sleeves. It was… vaguely dramatic. “You say that like I’d rather do anything else.” 

It never surprised you how long you could keep yourself distracted. 

Apparently, cooking was considered art because one could change the measurements and ingredients to one’s own will. Baking, on the other hand, was science for its need for accuracy. 

“That seems subjective,” Jumin remarked, staring at your phone screen where the website shined. “We baked that cake last month and didn’t follow the recipe exactly.”

“Didn’t it burn and taste like cardboard?” 

Jumin paused. “I – some people might like cardboard.” 

“You included?” 

“That would make sense given my abilities.” 

You took his hand and squeezed his palm, brushing your thumb over his knuckles. “I love your cardboard cakes.” 

He never entirely wiped the smile that brought to his face. 

However, chaos ensued again in the home when the topic of ‘baking versus broiling’ appeared. How one could even compare the broiling of meat with the baking of pastries made you contemplate the concept of baking as a whole. And then the concept of concepts. It was a fascinating spiral. 

Jumin found himself simply listening as you raved, one hand held in your own and the other holding his chin. He’d never met someone so prone to contemplation. Usually, Jumin shoved all unnecessary thoughts to the back of his head but you not only accepted them you welcomed them. It brought out some of the most passion and enthusiasm Jumin had ever seen in someone. 

“Cute…” 

You paused in your tirade. You stared at Jumin with eyes widening to the size of saucers. “What?” 

“It’s cute, seeing you so impassioned. I always enjoy hearing your voice but I rarely witness you so riled up. It’s adorable.” 

You’d stopped dead in your tracks, red quickly taking over your cheeks. You ducked your head away in embarrassment. 

“You don’t have to hide.” Jumin chuckled. “We’re married!” 

“I know I just-” You turned back to him and revealed a smile stretching from ear to ear. “that makes me really happy – you make me really happy.” 

You were the only one who made it so easy to melt his heart. A gentle warmth like a candle flickered to life in his chest. Jumin brought your chairs even closer together – the faintest ‘clack’ of the seats as they bumped.

Jumin laughed. “Don’t get me started.” 

[themonotonysyndrome]

Hey i just want to know that if you still make headcanon holy quintet in twst series , if you not is okay ,but if you still make , i have several question ,

What if madoka transform to madokami i want to know boys reaction especially diasmonia boys ?

I want to know what if sayaka got corrupt and the boys reaction(especially adeuce) see witch form sayaka for first time and their think sayaka got overblot but they wrong it worst than that!

I want to know that what boys reaction if they see the witchs and Walpurgisnacht for the first time are they gonna fight or not?

What all boys(especially dorm leaders)reaction homura tell the truth of soul gem and she tell how she looping time to time for 12 years and 100 looping

And btw i am boy its weird boy love twisted wonderland(not really but i love the character design and story(i just hate riddle mom treat him to obey all rules, he need freedom:( ))

Sorry for making many question

Hello! I’m happy that you enjoyed the TWST x PMMM series! Most of my writing projects have taken a back seat due to work and since it’s currently the Ramadan season, I just don’t have a lot of energy to write anymore more than for work. I mean, it took me half a day to answer this ask. 

I definitely want to get back to writing for this crossover series and maybe even copied what I’ve written so far into my AO3 for easy reading and navigating but we’ll see. For now, I’m indulging whatever plot bunnies that come my way so I won’t stop writing altogether. 

So lay them on me, dude! Expanding the series is always fun. (Also, bear with me. This is gonna be a long post). 

@lionheartanotheraccount and I had discussed these actually on Discord! Some were pinned, some were not (I’m an idiot. I should have pinned all of our crossover texts!), so lemme explain what I still remember. Feel free to pinch in if I forgot something incorrectly or left something out, Lion! 

1. What if Madoka transforms to MadoKAMI, I want to know boys’ reaction, especially Diasmonia’s boys

After the anime ended, Lion and I talked about how not that she’s a Goddess, she has the ability to visit Twisted Wonderland on her own and she approached Malleus and the rest of the Diasomnia gang in her human disguise so as not to freak them out. Well, Lilia and Malleus could feel the divinity within Madoka and you can expect the immense shock that not only could Madoka travel across worlds, but she’s also no longer human too. It’s a teary reunion and Malleus’ and Lilia’s hearts break when MadoKAMI explain everything. They comforted her to their best ability but ultimately, it’s been done. There’s nothing else they could do for her. It’s bittersweet for Lilia. Why, a human child ascended into a Goddess so she could save the fates of her friends and every Magical Girls in the past, present and future - she grew up out of necessity and love. Both Lilia and Malleus is proud to be her friend. 

2.  I want to know what if Sayaka got corrupt and the boys’ reaction(especially Adeuce) see Witch form Sayaka for the first time and they think Sayaka got Overblot but they wrong it worst than that!

The existence of a Witch’s Labyrinth is enough to make the boys instantly wary and a bit frighten (not that any of them would admit it). Bad times for everyone. The boys so confused, wanting to help Sayaka. The girls are horrified at the truth of Witches and Magical Girls and Homura is rushing in to kill Sayaka. Chaos everywhere with Octavie shrieking and trying to kill them all, Symposium Magarum blaring in the background and the Witch’s familiars flying everywhere to make sure their Witch could enjoy the music. 

No one could fight Octavia so they had to retreat. Homura causing enough distraction for them to escape. By the time they went out of the Labyrinth, shouting and screams begin. 

Adeuce would the most horrified, Madoka of course, heartbroken. Mami is losing it (to which Homura’s getting trigger happy and refused to look away from her. She’s ready to put Mami out of her misery the moment Mami so much as flinch) and Sayaka is both furious and still in shock. At this point, Homura has no choice but to reveal the fact she knows the truth about Magical Girls in order to explain that no, they don’t Overblot. They... mature into Witches when their Soul Gems turn pitch black. Here’s a little gem(lol) from explorerofsy on Discord:  vil internally: mami is a gem 

vil later when he finds out about soul gems: 

when i said that mami is a gem, i did not expect that to be literal

It’s sad but it made me laugh sick. 

3. I want to know that what boys’ reaction if they see the Witches and Walpurgisnacht for the first time. Are they gonna fight or not?

The moment Homura explains that turning to Witches is irreversible and is the ultimate fate of all Magical Girls, some would deny it. Their magic is different from the girls, maybe they have a way to stop the transformation here in Twisted Wonderland. The academically-inclined students (Malleus, Riddle, Jamil, Vil and even Idia) would delve into hours of research, only to find nothing (I mean, Kyubey is akin to an Eldritch being, something beyond their comprehension so how on Twisted Wonderland would they push their magic against his strange abilities?). The other students are keeping a very close eye on the girls’ Soul Gems. I mentioned in a long-ago post that even Lilia would demand Madoka present her Soul Gem to him for inspection once every week since Madoka is still distraught over what happened to Sayaka. 

Will the boys fight the Witches? Well, in terms of Octavia, the Heartslabyul boys will struggle to kill her, even after Homura explains that the Witch is no longer Sayaka and it’s better to put her out of her despair and give her Grief Seed to Madoka (though Madoka would let Adeuce keep Octavia’s Grief Seed; it’s the only thing the boys have left of Sayaka after all. Madoka at least have years worth of memories of them together). 

In terms of Walpurgisnacht, Homura would debrief the girls and boys the strongest Witch to ever exist (Keeping Kriemhild Gretchen to herself. For now. She really, really doesn’t want to open that horrible can of worms) and showed them just how powerful and destructive she can be using her magic. Malleus would be intrigued in fighting her though. 

4. What would the boys’ (especially dorm leaders) reaction be when Homura tell the truth of Soul Gems and she tells how she looping time to time for 12 years and 100 looping

Characters like Leona, Lilia and Malleus would be shocked stupid. Time magic is already an insanely OP power and Homura, a human child, been abusing and looping time just to find a way to kill Walpurgisnacht? Leona will straight up spit out that Homura’s insane and Lilia will silently agree with him, wondering if Homura has gone mad. Malleus couldn’t help but applaud Homura’s will and her careful planning in making sure her Soul Gem remains pure. Kalim will cry for her; he couldn’t imagine what sort of pain Homura purposely gone through just to save her friends (cue Homura’s awkwardly patting him on the back, telling him not to cry because she made her choices) 

5. And btw i am boy its weird boy love twisted wonderland(not really but i love the character design and story(i just hate riddle mom treat him to obey all rules, he need freedom:( ))

It’s cool! Twisted Wonderland and its fandom are some of the very few fandoms I really enjoy. But then again, I tend to keep to myself and some close friends so I don’t really see the dramas. And you’re right, the story and characters’ design are what hooked me in. I was introduced to Twisted Wonderland when I saw a fanart of a little Azul holding hands with Floyd and Jade, looking disgruntled at being treated like a kid while the Tweels just smirk. That’s why Azul and the Tweels will always be my favourite in the fandom!

Yeah... when you think about it, most of the characters have unhealthy relationships with their family. Riddle with his Mum, Leona with his status and brother, Azul with his childhood bullying, and while we don’t know what exactly happen with King and Queen Draconia, Malleus probably knew them for only a short time (hell, they could even pass away before he was hatched). 

[catherdrashepard]

Atlas au Raa

So, I finished Dark Age not that long ago and it came with so many brand new questions. And so many thoughts about the characters. But, as the title suggests, the character who has been at the forefront of my mind is Atlas au Raa. There’s just so little we know about him but there’s pieces there that I think just need to be put together. It will in no way reveal the full puzzle that is Mr. au Raa but I do hope that it can give some idea as to what he’s about. Spoilers ahead. This post is very long and a but rambly, apologies in advance.

What DO we know about Atlas au Raa? Shout out to @hyena-frog for helping me with this part. (Read: pretty much doing this part for me.) He’s a Rim Gold and brother to Romulus au Raa. He grew up in Octavia's court as a ward because she required each Rim family to send a kid to her as a hostage to prevent another rebellion. Apparently he was a favored student of hers. He mostly stuck to himself there but loved the library. Octavia forced him to have a child with Aja (Ajax, AKA the Core’s Storm Knight.) Atlas himself is the Fear Knight. He was best friends with Lysander’s parents, Brutus and Anastasia and, at some point after they died, he was sent to the Kuiper Belt to supposedly deal with the Ascomanni. Although, we’re pretty sure Octavia sent him there in order to eliminate him. He tortures people in order to kill enemies psychologically, preventing further deaths. He also controls Volsung and Xenophon. There is also the implication that he views the Rim as enemies and is more loyal to the Core. He makes meditation totems out of those who make him question his prejudices. Currently he has totems of (that we know of): Daedre, a Red woman. And a WIP Darrow.

The whole “question his prejudices” thing is really Interesting to me. Golds are taught that they are at the top, that they are the pinnacle of humanity (which they are but....that’s only because they MADE it that way) which definitely gives them some biases against the other Colors. I haven’t quite puzzled out if he counts these people as exceptions or if he realised that Color isn’t indicative to someone’s ability and he needs to remember to judge them based on individual ability. My money’s on the latter tbh because he doesn’t seem like the type of person to assume everyone is going to fit into the place they were assigned. As @hyena-frog beautifully put “He's learned not to let his biases blind him to how dangerous even LowColors can be.” But you know who doesn’t have the same critical thinking skills as Atlas? Lysander.

There’s also the question of his motivations, and what exactly he uses the Fear Knight persona for. Something specific that’s been nagging at me is the story about the Ascomanni that Pax told to Ephraim. I already mentioned it briefly in the first paragraph but I’d like to expand on why I think he was involved in what happened with the Ascomanni.

First, I’d like to go through the timeline. From what I got from the Wiki, some Obsidians escaped to the Kuiper Belt around Late 3rd Century PCE (Post Conquering Era) and approximately 736 years later, Atlas au Raa was banished to the Kuiper Belt by Octavia au Lune. 11 years after that in 747 PCE, Atlas returned to the Core to allegedly help fight against the Rising. In 754 PCE, 7 years after Atlas’ return, the Ascomanni attack the Pandora over Mars. Darrow enters the Institute 2 years prior to Atlas’ banishment. The majority of the first trilogy happens while Atlas is in the Kuiper Belt, including the entirety of Morning Star. So Atlas returns sometime in between the end of Morning Star and the beginning of Iron Gold. I’m not really finding any answers on how long it might have take Atlas to travel to the Kuiper Belt. Pardon some weird math for a second. Based on the Wiki: “the novels depict travel time between planets taking several weeks and often two or three months without layovers...” For simplicity’s sake, I’m going to assume it takes about 3 months to get from one planet to the next. I’m sure it will vary depending on distance between planets but...3 months is a good average. I’m also going to include the Asteroid Belt between Mars and Jupiter. If Atlas was travelling from Luna to the Kuiper Belt, assuming he made no stops in between, my guess is it would have taken him probably about 2 years to get there. Theoretically then, Atlas would have spent 7 years in the Kuiper Belt doing whatever he was doing.

Something else that I’ve been thinking about is why Atlas joined the Core Golds and why Octavia appointed him as the Fear Knight. I don’t believe for a second that it would’ve been to foster peace between the Rim and Core Golds. Atlas’ parents were most likely alive during the First Moon Lord Rebellion considering their oldest child was born 9 years after it took place. We don’t really know a lot about Atlas’ parents but we have gotten little bits of information that I’ll do my best to analyse. Revus au Raa, Atlas’ father was said to be involved in the death of Lysander’s parents so that puts his death to sometime after 739 PCE and I believe before 742 PCE. I am not the cultural anthropologist that my sister, @saiikavon is so I got her opinion on Atlus’ potential motives for joining the Core. Her thoughts are that Atlas joined because he wants to understand the Core. The Rim Golds believe the Core is “barbaric and has corrupted itself with a sense of entitlement...” so it’s safe to say they have heavy prejudice against them. My sister mentioned that based on Atlas’ totems, he seems to be the type who would question the prejudices the Rim has against the Core and prefer to do his own research in person. From what little I know about Revus au Raa, I doubt he would have approved of his son’s choice.

Since I don’t know exactly when Atlas became the Fear Knight, I have to make guesses on which events he was on the Core for. I think it’s entirely possible that he was present for Eo’s song and her death. He also wasn’t sent to the Kuiper Belt until a year after Darrow finished at the Institute so I don’t think it’s farfetched to think that he witnessed all of what happened with that. He was also friends with Lysander’s parents, one of which who was planning a coup against Octavia. As we know, Lysander’s parents were killed because of this plan and, if Atlas was in on it as well, that could explain why he was sent to the Kuiper Belt. Octavia obviously didn’t want him to return from his exile, but she couldn’t outright kill him because that might have started a war between the Core and the Rim. And I don’t think Revus would have wanted to risk a war either had his son been able to succeed in the coup. Which would explain why he became involved in the death of Lysander’s parents and why he allowed his son to be sent away. Revus was then killed which I suppose could’ve been Octavia tying up loose ends.

This finally brings us to the Ascomanni. 736-738 (to account for Atlas’ travel time) years is a long time to be isolated in and beyond an asteroid belt. My guess is that they were incredibly far behind in technology until Atlas showed up. If we consider the above paragraph as canon, I suspect Atlas would have tried to recruit the Ascomanni to help him overthrow Octavia. If we take account the 3-4 years that it probably took for Atlas to reach the Kuiper belt, he spent about 7-8 years with the Ascomanni. We can only speculate (until Pierce Brown maybe tells us please) as to what happened between them but I feel like it’s safe to say that Atlas helped the Ascomanni obtain at least some of the technology they used during the attack on the Pandora. Also, because the Ascomanni didn’t arrive until 7 years after Atlas did, he had plenty of time to make plans and recruit Xenophon.

The only thing is, I think Atlas’ plans must have changed during that time, at least to some degree. In one of the previous paragraphs, I mentioned that Atlas returned to the Core sometime after the end of Morning Star. I’m sure that on his journey back, he learned that Octavia was killed and that Lysander was taken away by Cassius. Whether or not he knows WHO Cassius is is unknown. I think it’s possible depending on how closely he followed the events at the Institute. But as Cassius trained with Aja in 740, Atlas probably didn’t have a close relationship with him or know him all that well. This makes me think that it’s possible that Atlas assumed (like most people now that I think about it) that Lysander was dead.

Where does this leave Atlas then? Octavia is dead, Lysander is also presumed dead, and the Core has been taken over by a new group. I’m reluctant to say that he is entirely for restoring the Core back to how it was, but I imagine that he sees the Rising (and defeating the Rising) as a way to reshape the Core to be what he thinks it should be. I feel like his motives are similar to Lysander’s in that he wants to fix what he thought was broken about the Core. Although, Lysander’s (stupid) opinions on what’s broken and Atlas’ are probably different.

Anyway, I don’t really feel like I answered any questions about our beloved(?) Fear Knight but here are my thoughts. I really hope we get more of him in the next book.