#capital crime festival

[richardarmitagefanpage]

New photos of Richard at the Capital Crime Festival in London, UK. (September 2, 2023)

📸: Capital Crime

[lionheartlr]

Discover Bolivia: Your Ultimate Travel Guide

A Glimpse into Bolivia’s Rich History Bolivia, a landlocked country in South America, boasts a diverse and rich history. It was originally inhabited by ancient civilizations, including the Tiwanaku and the Inca Empire. Spanish conquistadors arrived in the 16th century, leading to centuries of colonial rule. Bolivia gained independence in 1825 but has since experienced a turbulent political…

[internationalnewspod]

This week, a samurai sword fight broke out over a Monopoly game in Belgium, and the guys get to know the 1980s via Miami Vice!

Hosts: Kevin Harrison, Mike Wiebe, Brian Camp

Producer & Music: Mark Ryan

Announcer: Nancy Walker

Graphic Designer: Mike Tidwell

[milksnake-tea]

✩ CHAPTER SUMMARY : Sunday (unwillingly) engages in his first acts of crime on the Planet of Indulgence.

✩ SERIES SYNOPSIS : Following the catastrophe of the Charmony Festival, rather than in one of Penacony's hospitals or prisons, Sunday awakens right in the base of one of the most notorious criminals in the galaxies. With nowhere else to go, he's left to follow you, the Stellaron Hunters' medic, in his attempts to become accustomed to his new life.

✩ WORD COUNT : 5.76k

✩ TAGLIST : @vynicity , @vxnuslogy , @https-mika @greyrain23 , @red-ninja15, @arienic , @immahuman , @sund4ykisser , @mysteriaqueen , @kiopanxp , @isa-l0v3r , @hesper-houkai-kat , @gamekillera , @nayukiyukihira , @randomidk-123 , @universetrash , @forevernyeong , @thedepartedcryptid , @heyhazelnut101 , @1000-leaves , @lowkeyren , @zhayur , @jellofishuu , @kascar-chronicle , @azaleaflowerr , @neigee , @fallintothechasm , @veritusratio , @astolary , @xphantasmagoriax , @semi-orangeapple , @ezra1yn , @xynthevoid , @apinu , @crysangria , @shenwi (send me an ask off anon if you want to be added !! please specify that it’s for this series)

✩ ADDITIONAL NOTES : do you know how long i wanted to use this chapter title. it was supposed to be for chapter two but GRGGRRGGR anyways it's here now !!! this is definitely my favorite chapter to write so far, it is JUICY so have fun guys !!!

<< previous || series masterlist || next chapter >>

Euphrosyne is a planet bathed in violet. 

The second you step into one of the many overcrowded streets, the color invades your vision. Just about everything is bathed in this vivid purple-pinkish haze like a filter. Conversation flows almost as quickly as money does, and the sky and the stars are replaced with billboards and advertisements displaying the next big thing.

What you like about economic metropolises like these is that no one bats you an eye. They’re all too busy running to snatch the latest trending product before anyone else does. Here, it’s everyone for themselves, and being a second too late could be the difference between life and death.

“Keep up, princess,” you call over your shoulder. “Would be a shame to lose you so soon.”

You adjust your baseball cap onto your head to make sure it doesn’t get swept away by the crowd. Behind you, you hear Sunday maneuvering his way through dozens before he’s able to break free and catch up to you. He shakes his head, his wing feathers ruffled in irritation.

“I never thought I’d see a planet worse than Penacony,” Sunday mutters distastefully. He swiftly pats down his shoulder where someone had bumped into him. “No one here seems to know what basic manners are.”

“That’s high-end capitalism for you,” you laughed. “Everyone thinks they’re the center of the universe.”

You keep your eyes on the sky; looking forward will get you nowhere. But up there, that’s where you can find direction. There, there are the neon lights, the flashing signs of luxury cars, the skyscrapers that are only accompanied by the monorail that stretches throughout the planet.

It doesn’t take long before you find your target. Among the neon buildings and flashing billboards, an ivory tower shines like a diamond in the rough, a refined royal in the midst of puffed-up nobles. Its crown is made up of large, golden letters with a glow that can rival suns.

Many, many years ago, when you’d first joined the Hunters, Kafka had taken you to a similar store - same company, different branch, different star system. You weren’t like Sunday, who was starting anew, but she had insisted you at least get a new coat. That new coat ended up turning into three, with an add-on of five pairs of shoes and the entire sunglasses section.

A small smile slips onto your face at the memory. It’s been a while since you’d last hung out with Kafka. You should invite her out again sometime.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by Sunday’s sharp intake of breath. His eye twitches as he’s once again pushed by some upper-class passerby.

Smiling sympathetically, you offer your wrist to him. “Here, hold onto me.”

He contemplates your offer for a total of five seconds before someone barrels past him again. Irritation flashes over his face like lightning and his halo begins to glow threateningly.

Before Sunday can commit his first murder in broad daylight, you reach out and grab his wrist so you can tug him behind you.

“Why isn’t anyone bumping against you?” Sunday complains, although relief from no longer being tossed around like a ragdoll bleeds through.

“No idea,” you reply, checking to make sure his halo has cooled down, which it has. “Maybe they just know their place.”

“Of course.” 

You feel Sunday’s hand flex under your hold on him, but he makes no move to shove you off him. Apparently, he finds you to be more bearable than the crowd - although that isn’t exactly a difficult feat.

“Don’t worry, you’ll only have to bear with this for a little longer. We’re almost there.” As you finish speaking, you pick up the pace, skillfully slipping through the sea of people with Sunday following close behind.

Windows upon windows of mannequins adorned in designer clothing greet you when you finally arrive at the twelve-floor mall. Despite the brand’s renown, there’s no line to get in; instead, there are bouncers who scan you up and down to make sure you’re a customer, not a thief.

They scrutinize you and Sunday as you stroll in, but one look at your attire and Sunday’s perfect posture and they nod approvingly, stepping aside. You smirk a little at how easily they let you pass - prejudice’s a bitch, but when it works in your favor, you certainly don’t complain.

The doors open like gates to heaven with a whoosh. Workers dressed in suits and ties bow and greet you as you enter. Their smiles are almost as fake as Sunday’s; it’s actually impressive.

“Welcome,” they speak in one, pleasant chorus that oozes with customer service training. “How may we help you today?”

You speed past them, heading straight for the elevators. The workers’ smiles didn’t move at your behavior, in fact, you’d wager they were relieved you didn’t start yapping away at them. You hear the chorus bid you farewell as you tug Sunday into one of the many glass elevators, joining other well-dressed clients.

In some planets, the wealthy were as powerful as gods, and the tower made sure to emphasize that. Ascending the floors, watching the workers shrink and shrink until they were nothing more than insignificant ants, you wonder if this is how the Aeons felt upon ascending. 

But then you remember that Aeons were unfeeling, neutral entities who probably regarded mortal lives as having even less value than insects.

“Say,” Sunday says suddenly. You shuffle closer to him in order to hear him over the other patrons. “Weren’t you supposed to be getting breakfast?”

You blink. Oh, right. That completely slipped your mind.

“I’ll get it later,” you shrug it off.

“It isn’t good to work on an empty stomach,” Sunday chides you exasperatingly. A grin slides onto your face.

“Aw, are you worried about me?” you coo, batting your eyelashes teasingly. “Don’t worry, I don’t plan on drinking anytime soon.”

“That’s not-” Sunday sighs and shakes his head, pointedly turning away from you. You chuckle, sneaking a peek at the displayed floor number at the top of the elevator. Two more floors to go.

When you finally leave the elevator, you’re greeted with what is essentially a palace. Much like its exterior, the interior is layered with marble floors, chandeliers, and reeks of wealth. 

Suits and tuxedos of various colors line one side of the room, ranging from a distinguished black to a bold neon pink for those who like to stand out. The other side presents more casual wear, with comfortable shirts and pants that look simple but cost more than an average IPC member’s salary.

But what made all of them special, other than their superior quality and outrageous prices, were the open backs and windows that allowed for wings, claws, or any other limbs that may need freedom to move.

“You asked about your wings,” you explained to a befuddled Sunday, “and like I said, it’ll be tough to get them back to how they used to be. But it isn’t impossible.”

You stride over to the fancier side of the floor and pluck out a backless high-collared blouse.

“First step is letting them breathe.”

You hold the blouse out in front of Sunday in order to picture how it’d look on him. The darker colors highlight his feather-like hair and golden eyes, and the style fits. Nodding in approval, you turn it around to show Sunday.

“What do you think?”

Sunday’s ichor-filled eyes take on a more calculating gleam as he takes the blouse in his hands. 

“It isn’t terrible,” he admits begrudgingly. “Although the color is different to what I’m used to wearing.”

You stare at the navy dress shirt he has on. “Is that right?”

Sunday rolls his eyes, his wings flapping a few times in annoyance. “Blade’s color palette doesn’t exactly match my personal preferences, I’ll have you know.”

You chuckle. “Alright, alright. Well, we have an entire floor to choose from. Pick out what you like, and I’ll go see if I can find anything for you.”

You move to put the blouse back, only to stop when Sunday drapes the blouse over his arm. He raises a brow at you as if daring you to question him. Raising your hands in surrender, you head off to find him an oversized hoodie because everyone needs an oversized hoodie - and you were not about to let Sunday be the exception.

You find said hoodie in no time - it’s relatively plain, as all fancy clothes tend to be, but the material lives up to its price. After picking out a few more items, your arms are pretty much covered in what will soon be Sunday’s wardrobe. Hopefully. If they pass the test, that is.

Taking a step back, you scan the shop for Sunday. There aren’t a lot of other customers outside of the two of you, although that’s to be expected, considering the target audience of this floor. 

Your search proves unsuccessful, leaving you to assume that the Halovian had set off to the changing rooms.

“Princess, you in there?” you call out once you arrive, earning a few weird looks from nearby staff. Sure enough, a tired sigh responds from one of the stalls, giving away Sunday’s location. You don’t have to see him to know that he’s rolling his eyes.

“Yes, I’ll be out in a moment,” he replies. You hear the shuffling of cloth before he opens the door.

A low whistle leaves you at the sight of his new outfit. A black turtleneck sweater snugly hugs his body from under a chestnut wool coat that reaches just below his knees, with dress pants that match his sweater outlining his long legs.

“I’m starting to think you could wear a trash bag and still look good,” you joke. Like a baby bird, Sunday tilts his head at the compliment.

“Thank you?” he says, the tilt in his voice making it sound more like a question. His gaze falls onto the bundle of clothes that hang off your arm.

“I’m being serious!” You step into the rather spacious fitting room (perks of being in a high-end store) and set the clothes you’d picked out down. “If I’m ever in a situation where I need pretty privilege, I’m stealing you.”

Sunday closes the door behind you, taking great care not to accidentally shut it on his coat. His collection of clothes are fewer, which made sense considering that he was on the formal side and the fact that he was pickier than you when it came to fashion.

“I thought you didn’t like darker colors,” you comment, reaching into your back pocket and bringing out a pocket knife.

Before Sunday can question why you’re bringing out a knife in the middle of a clothing store, you sit down on a nearby stool and begin cutting off tags from the clothes you picked out for him. Alarmed, Sunday’s wings flare up.

“What-” Thankfully, he has the sense to lower his voice to a startled whisper. “What are you doing?”

Your fingers are fast as you rid each article of clothing from its tag. It’s evident that you’ve been doing this for years - and you have. Out of all of the Stellaron Hunters, you hate spending money the most, and stealing is fun.

“You didn’t think we were actually paying for all of this, did you?” you tease. “This place is crazy expensive.”

“...Somehow, I’m no longer surprised,” Sunday mutters, a layer of resignation and defeat in his tone. “But there are employees everywhere here. How do you plan to deal with them?”

“That,” you sing, “is a secret.”

Sunday furrows his brows, but doesn’t push. Cutting through the last of the tags, you stand up and motion for Sunday to give you the tags on the clothes he’s currently wearing.

The coat is easy; all Sunday has to do is slide it off and give it to you. It’s the turtleneck and the pants that are a bit tougher to work with.

You hear Sunday’s throat constrict as you reach behind him, your finger hooking at the high collar to find the tag. His wings bristle, and his muscles tense. You can practically hear the thump of his heart with how close you are.

“Relax,” you murmur, Sunday flinching at how close you are to his ear. “I’m not going to cut you.”

“I’m aware,” he replies, despite the nervousness wavering in his voice. You don’t miss the way his wings stiffen as the blade of your knife ghosts his neck.

Unable to help a glance down, you catch sight of his larger set of wings protruding from the back window in the sweater. Just like when Kafka had brought him in, they’re cramped and stiff, leaving you to wonder how long it had been since he’d last fully extended them. But the feathers seem to be doing better, at least.

“Mx. [Name]?” Sunday breathes out. You blink out of your thoughts.

“Ah, sorry,” you apologize. “I was just thinking.”

Deciding to take pity on the poor thing, you quickly find the tag and pull it up. A swift pull of your knife, a small snap, and it’s over. The tag joins the soon-to-be-burned pile in the corner of the stall, and Sunday heaves a sigh of relief as you step away.

“May I-” he winces at the warble in his voice- “I can do the last one.”

“You sure?” you question, handing it over anyway. “Do you even know how to use a knife?”

“I am not as sheltered as you think,” Sunday says defensively and unconvincingly. You raise your hands in surrender.

“Alright, alright. Just don’t cut yourself.” You stretch, glancing at the stall’s door. “When you’re done with that, take a look at the stuff I got you. Pick out what you like, what you don’t like I’ll either keep or give to Elio.”

Scooping up the fallen tags in your hands, you contemplate setting them on fire right then and there, but decide against it. If you were going to set off the fire alarm, it’d be better to do it after you’d already left the building.

“I’ll be heading out now,” you inform Sunday, crumpling the tags and shoving them away into your inventory. “When you hear the signal, meet me at the elevator and we’ll get out of here.”

Hesitantly, Sunday nods as he hands you back your knife. “And… what is this signal I’m supposed to look out for?”

A mischievous grin creeps onto your face.

“You’ll know.”

—

“I can’t believe you.”

You wave cheerfully to the staff as you leave, and they bow to you, none the wiser that twelve floors above lie their unconscious colleagues. Surprisingly, Sunday keeps up the farce flawlessly as he bids them farewell with a gentle smile before returning to you with an exasperated expression.

“Yes, as you’ve said about five times now,” you say casually, stepping back into the busy streets. Silently, the doors of the store slide closed behind you, the bouncers not sparing you another glance.

“When people say ‘wait for a signal’,” Sunday begins his lecture again, “they usually mean a light or a sound.”

“There was a sound, though?” you point out. Sunday deadpanned.

“The sound of twelve innocent employees knocking their heads on the floor doesn’t count.” He rubs his temple, still trying to process what just happened. “Just what did you do to them anyway?”

“Gas bomb,” you say, eyeing a man who comes dangerously close to hitting you. “Smelled nice, didn’t it?”

“Vanilla, if I recall,” Sunday affirms. “Although I do wonder why I wasn’t affected.”

You hum. “Did you cover your nose in time? The bomb I used was one of the weaker ones.”

Only the roar of the street replies to you. At Sunday’s abrupt silence, you halt in your tracks.

“Princess?” you start, only to falter once your sight falls in line with his.

Displayed proudly on an electronic billboard, snuggled amongst the various advertisements, is a picture of Sunday before the fall. There, his smile is still bright and joyful as he advertises the release of his little sister’s album to the world. He is still the Oak Family Head, still Robin’s beloved older brother, still beloved by the universe.

But all of that is crushed by the big, bold words that underline his photo.

WANTED

DEAD OR ALIVE

2,540,000,000

“Well, I’ll be damned,” you whistle appreciatively. “You’re just a few billion under Silver Wolf, and you haven’t even made your official debut yet. She is not going to be happy when she finds out.”

Sunday still doesn’t respond. When you look to check on him, you expect horror or maybe even despair, but instead, he gazes at the wanted poster with some sort of detachment, and even a little pride.

“Of all the pictures to use, they choose that…” he comments offhandedly, almost offended. You lean over his shoulder to get a better look.

“It’s cute.” You’re already fishing out your phone to take a picture. “The others are gonna love this - come on come on, we have to take a picture.”

A bemused smile slips onto Sunday’s face at your excitement. Playing along, he indulges you and poses beside his wanted poster with a peace sign. Like a mother at her child’s highschool graduation, you snap photos from all angles with the skill of a professional photographer.

“They grow up so fast,” you fake-sob, snorting when Sunday rolls his eyes despite his smile. Once you’ve finished with your impromptu photoshoot, he comes to your side to look over your shoulder as you swiftly text the group chat.

“The Stellaron Hunter… Family?” Sunday raises a brow as he reads aloud the name of your group chat.

“Yeah,” you chuckle fondly. “Silver Wolf found out that the Express’s group chat is called the Astral Express Family, so we’re parodying them.”

“Is that so?” muses Sunday, intrigued. The corners of his eyes crinkle at your antics in the chat. “For the longest time, I’ve thought of the Express and the Hunters as natural enemies, but you’re much closer than I expected. Even on Penacony, you joined forces in order to defeat me.”

“Well, Sparky has always said that we’re like two sides of the same coin,” you recall. 

“Sparky?” Sunday repeats.

“Firefly,” you clarify. “Or Sam, if that’s more familiar.”

“Do you give nicknames to everyone you meet?” Sunday asks, the question more curious rather than demeaning.

You smile. “Only to people I like.”

Your phone pings again before Sunday can fully process the meaning of your words. Checking it, you see Blade - well, it was actually Kafka, since Blade would apparently rather drown than use his phone - sending a photo in the group chat.

Clicking on the attachment reveals a design for presumably Sunday’s official uniform. Midnight black fabric flows in a striking coat with blazing azure and gold accents. Put together, elegant, yet hinting at danger, the outfit bears both a resemblance to Sunday’s previous one and a bold nod to his new life.

“Hey, look,” you beckon, eager to escape Silver Wolf’s vengeful clutches. “Kafka sent over blueprints for your uniform.”

Passing your phone to him, you look back to the billboard. Other than Sunday’s wanted poster, there’s a number of other advertisements and newspapers plastered on it. One such newspaper - or rather, a holographic video of a news reporting - catches your eye.

A Halovian girl sings on the glitchy screen, a swirling glass in one hand and the other raised to the crowd. City lines border on the night sky in a gorgeous horizon behind her, her emerald eyes reflecting the fireworks that burst in little burning lights around her.

You’d be a fool if you didn’t know who this girl was.

“Your sister is beautiful,” you say, watching as she is bathed in the limelight and adoration of the people.

Sunday glances up from your phone, his eyes softening once he catches sight of the advertisement.

“She is, isn’t she?” he says, his voice gentler than you’d ever heard it. Wistfulness and pure adoration fills him, melting the gems in his eyes and relaxing the stiffness in his shoulders. His gloved hand raises, almost hesitantly, before he lays his fingers on the billboard. “She doesn’t look hurt from the fall… Thank goodness.”

A heavy breath of relief leaves him, shouldering the burden of worry that must’ve plagued him since he’d left Penacony. Suddenly, a memory of when he’d been brought in by Kafka flashes in your mind.

His back had been bruised badly, the backs of his wings nearly crushed from the fall. He’d probably hit his head, considering how long it took for him to wake up, and you had no doubt the pain he was in when he did awaken - it had taken one of your stronger medicines to fix him back up.

“You took the brunt of the fall for your sister,” you realize. “No wonder you were in such bad shape when you came in.”

Sunday chuckles hollowly. “Of course I did. It wasn’t her who nearly imprisoned the entirety of Asdana. What older brother would I be if I allowed my kid sister to get hurt from my mistakes?”

“I’m not condemning you,” you say gently. “I would’ve done the same.”

Sunday nods, although he appears unconvinced. Eager to change the subject, he glanced back at your phone screen and the chat.

“Firefly is taking my presence much better than I anticipated,” he notes. You hum.

“Well, she doesn’t have much of a choice, does she?” You lean over to see the conversation - currently, it’s just Sunday and Kafka trading ideas for his new outfit. Surprisingly, he hasn’t made any comment about the black theme. 

“We all have pasts we want to leave behind. Being able to start anew and become more than what you were before - that’s what being a Stellaron Hunter is all about. In that sense, we’re no different from the Express.”

You elbow Sunday playfully, making sure not to hit his wings. The Halovian grunts in response, clearly not used to such gestures.

“Sparky was once in your shoes - we all were,” you say, chuckling as Sunday rubs his side (you didn’t even hit him that hard). “So there’s not too many hard feelings… Unless you stabbed her. Did you stab her? She doesn’t like getting stabbed.”

“I’m fairly certain I did not stab Firefly,” Sunday replies, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Then you have nothing to worry about.” Snatching back your phone from Sunday, you begin to move away from the billboard, having caught sight of something far more interesting - a pharmacy. “Come on, let’s go. I just remembered, I have to pick up some groceries.”

“Groceries?” Sunday scans the surrounding streets for any sign of a grocery store or marketplace, which given Euphrosyne’s nature, obviously aren’t there.

“Uh… not those kinds of groceries.” 

—

“Why are we here."

“Why do you keep questioning me.”

“Have you perhaps considered that you do a lot of questionable things?”

“Not at all. Now be quiet, the adult is speaking.”

“You-” You kick him in the shin, a traditional method of shutting people up. The employee at the pharmacy’s desk eyes the two of you tiredly - given how late it is, you’re sure they’re nearing the end of their tortuously long shift.

“Sorry about him,” you step in front of Sunday to talk friendly with the clerk. “Long day today?”

They snorted. “You can tell?”

“Yeah,” you laugh softly, already rummaging around in your pocket. Feeling a light, paper stick, you quickly close your fingers around it. “I’d know that look anywhere. Used to see it every time I looked in the mirror.”

That brought a smile to the clerk’s face - a cynical one, yes, but a smile nevertheless. “You don’t have to tell me that.”

“Tell you what,” you snap your fingers. “I was saving this for later, but you look like you need it a lot more than I do.”

From your pocket you withdraw a small lollipop, wrapped in colorful paper with some company name plastered all over it. At the sight of the small treat, a small light shines in their eyes.

“Oh, you don’t have to-”

“No no no,” you shush them and push the lollipop into their hands. “It’s my treat. Don’t worry about it.”

“Thank you so much,” the clerk sighs gratefully, unaware of your snake-like eyes watching their every move.

“Of course,” you coo sympathetically (Sunday shudders, evidently disturbed. His face almost makes you break character). “I know just how grueling work is for you all.”

The clerk nods, unwrapping the lollipop and popping it into their mouth. “I can’t thank you enou-”

Their eyes roll, and they collapse unceremoniously onto the register with an unappealing thunk (both you and Sunday wince. That must’ve hurt). Muffled snores soon begin to roll from their lips. A few seconds pass before you prod them with your finger, but they continue to sleep unbothered.

You step back and turn to Sunday with a blank expression. “I did not know that would happen.”

Sunday crosses his arms disapprovingly. Clearly he is not convinced by your impeccable acting.

“You drugged an innocent worker.” He enunciates every word clearly, sharply, and without a shred of emotion. “Again.”

“I didn’t use gas this time though?” you point out, as if that will make it better.

Sunday sighs as you leap over the counter and start stocking up. “You could just pay like a normal, law abiding citizen.”

You pause, raising a brow pointedly. Sunday blinks, before inevitably realizing the irony of telling a Stellaron Hunter with a considerable bounty on their head to follow the law. 

“I stand corrected.”

You grin toothily. “Now you’re getting it.” 

As you grab bottles of painkillers, allergy medicines, and a plethora of other medications, you hear shuffling behind you. When you glance back, you catch a glimpse of Sunday, taking one of the jackets that you’d stolen from the bag and folding it neatly into a makeshift pillow for the clerk.

“I think they’re bruising,” Sunday mutters, barely concealing panic as he slides the pillow under the clerk’s head.

“What?” You shove the last of the medication into your inventory before turning around to check on the employee. 

You may be a criminal, but you aren’t a monster. If you could do anything about it, you’d prefer not to hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. That’s why the concoctions you use with civilians are gentler, only instilling a small nap and short-term memory loss to whoever came in contact with them.

Lightly, you tilt the clerk’s head up to make sure the lollipop was still in their mouth. Thankfully, it was, and predictably, it was almost entirely disintegrated. 

“It should kick in in a sec.”

“Sorry?” Worry overtakes Sunday’s voice for a moment.

“Hold on…” you narrow your eyes, closely monitoring the clerk’s state. If you’d made a miscalculation, you’d have to heal them the normal way.

But it seems that the Aeons are looking down on you, for a pale-colored light soon begins to flutter from the clerk. A relieved smile breaks out, and you gently let the clerk’s head rest back on the jacket.

“There we go.”

The light glows briefly, centering around the clerk’s head, and the bruise begins to fade - slowly but surely ebbing away until it’s completely gone. Hopping back over the counter, you pat Sunday on the shoulder.

“They’ll be fine,” you reassure him. “Let’s get out of here before they wake up.”

Wordlessly, he follows, glimpsing back at the clerk one last time before following you out of the pharmacy. For a moment, pure, yet serene silence hangs between the two of you as you walk down the crowded streets.

After what seems like a tranquil eternity, Sunday finally breaks the silence.

“What was that?”

You shift the clothes bags from one hand to the other. “Didn’t you see it back at the clothing store?”

He shakes his head wordlessly, which you can only tell he did because of the slight rustle of feathers against hair.

“When it comes to civilians, my creations are laced with a tiny bit of my power.” Euphrosyne has three moons, and all of them in the violet sky, you notice. “That way, there’s no lasting damage. I mean, it’s not their fault that their company is a good robbery target.”

Sunday ignores the last sentence. “You fed me something similar when we met, if I recall. One second I was in excruciating pain, and the next there was no pain at all. Was that candy also imbued with your abilities?”

“Yep,” you confirm. “Although you got the variant that’s for allies.”

“I figured, considering I didn’t immediately pass out,” Sunday hums out a laugh. “Although… I will say it puts me at ease, knowing that none of those workers were hurt during our escapades.”

You smile teasingly. “Aw, were you having a guilty conscience?”

“Of course,” he huffs.

“Well, you don’t have to anymore,” you say lightheartedly. “Rest assured knowing that out of all the crimes I’ve committed, assaulting someone who didn’t start the fight isn’t one of them.”

“You certainly have a way with words,” sighs Sunday, but he’s smiling. “But thank you, I suppose.”

“You’re very welcome, princess.”

For once, Sunday doesn’t give you a dirty or unimpressed look at the nickname. Rather, he keeps walking by your side. In the dim light of Euphrosyne’s moons, you can barely make out his face, and so you miss the bemused smile that slips onto his face.

“You know,” he says, “you still haven’t eaten yet.”

You stare at him. “Oh. Right.”

Sunday snorts knowingly. “Of course. There’s a food cart near that building over there. You don’t plan on drugging the chef now, do you?”

“Nah,” you wave your hand dismissively. “I respect food cart workers.”

“So you do have morals.”

“How could you say that after I healed someone?”

“You mean, after you did the bare minimum?”

You punch him in the arm. “I’m not liking your attitude, young man.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sunday says cheekily. You roll your eyes, opening your mouth to respond.

But then something wet hits your cheek, and then another joins it. Panicked screams and stomps erupt around you as people rush for shelter. You gingerly touch your cheek. The drop on your cheek doesn’t sting, thankfully.

“These people… quite like to overact, don’t they,” Sunday observes, as everyone stampedes for cover. “It isn’t even raining that much.”

“Eh, you know how rich people are,” you giggle, wiping your cheek. “But this is a surprise. Rain rarely appears on Euphrosyne, at least from what I’ve heard.”

“Agreed-” A man crashes into Sunday, the Halovian barely able to hold the two of them from falling on the pavement. 

The man’s things clatter to the floor, one of which being an umbrella that he… apparently didn’t know how to use. Curses spew from the man’s lips, his face turning red as he glares daggers at Sunday. The Halovian’s smile is tight as he straightens the man.

“Please be careful, sir,” he says passive-aggressively, customer service mode activated in full force to hold him back from committing murder. “You could’ve gotten hurt.”

The man doesn’t bother to listen. He shakes an angry finger in Sunday’s face, grabbing what he can off the floor before running off. You stare awkwardly at his trail of dust before turning back to Sunday.

“You handled that better than I would’ve,” you say after a few minutes. Sunday exhales heavily, massaging his temple.

“Naturally. I worked with buffoons like that on the daily,” he mutters. “But it seems experience doesn’t make it any more bearable.”

You pat his shoulder. “Well, it’s over now.”

“Yes,” Sunday hums, bending down to pick something up. When he straightens, you see the man’s umbrella in Sunday’s hands. “I suppose it is.”

You blink. “When did you get that?”

“Just now,” he says sarcastically. “But I did kick it out of the way while he was cursing me out, if that clarifies things.”

You stare dumbfoundedly as he opens up the umbrella, acting as if he hasn’t done anything wrong in his life. Holding it above both of your heads, he offers it to you with a smug smirk you aren’t sure you like.

“Well? Shall we?”

You break out of your daze. Pride swells in your chest and you join him, snickering.

“They really do grow fast, huh?”

—

Somewhere near, in Penacony, Firefly stares at her phone nervously. Her body still singes from the burst of fireworks in which she’d experienced her third and final death on the Planet of Festivities, but it’s the least of her worries right now.

She rereads the chat just to confirm her suspicions. She’d already been skeptical when you suddenly asked Silver Wolf to get Sunday’s things, but this just outright confirms it.

Sunday, the man she’d just helped run over with a train at least eight times, the convicted criminal by both the Family and the IPC, the former Oak Family Head who’d tried to imprison her in an eternal dream, is now her coworker.

It isn’t like she wishes anything bad upon him; in essence, she understands that what he did was out of noble intentions and a wish to help the weak. But it had only been a few days at most since she’d last seen the Halovian, and here he was again.

She glances up at the fake sky of the dreamscape. The Radiant Feldspar soars overhead, and on board is Robin, Sunday’s sister who never stopped looking for him.

Firefly’s feet shift uncomfortably. It’s getting hard to breathe. With the Order’s protection lifted, the effects of her Entropy Loss Syndrome return, although not as bad as in reality.

Should she tell Robin? The songstress has been going mad with worry over her missing brother, and it probably hasn’t helped that the Family Heads’ lips are sealed regarding his fate. But Robin is singing right now, and Firefly doesn’t want to ruin that.

She shakes her head. No, she can’t say that. This is Robin’s brother, for Aeons’ sake. And she knows that Robin must be suffering right now, despite the smile she wears for the crowd.

Firefly exhales deeply. She pulls out her phone.

Here goes nothing.

<< previous || series masterlist || next chapter >>

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[thatdeadaquarius]

HELP I JUST HAD A THOUGH

WHAT IF

What if....

Blunt reader became a harbinger

I have NO idea how that would go but im here for the crack lol

I BEEN WAITIN FOR THIS ONE-

(and to use this gif more importantly they're all so hot here lol)

Sun: Reader (you/they/them), Blunt Language AU :D

Orbit: Headcanons-ish, crack treated srsly (yes im using ao3 tags atp)

Stars: Harbingers!

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: none known & Trigger Warnings: none known.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

☆

SO thought I’d update anyone missing out bc of the new year but-

I made this silly thing called Blunt Language AU, that was my 1st post for this blog/fandom actually! :D

I’ll link it here, but TLDR: it’s just our modern speech sounding “ancient” to the Teyvatians, who speak really flowery/fluffy/lots of context in comparison!

That’s all you rlly need to know to read this I think, so enjoy! :)

☆

u fall into Genshin Impact, and Snezhnaya is where you land first type of energy lol

weird golden star falling from the sky? that sounds like a prophecy the Tsaritsa knows abt alright

so they sent Childe, one of the friendliest (if not The Friendliest) Harbinger, to see if it was a valid claim you’d finally descended,

and ofc as soon as the redhead heard you try and talk to him, he knew the claims by the small village nearby (who had taken u in from the cold weather/taken care of you) were legit

pantalone did manage to squeeze some examples of what you’d possibly sound like into his head before he left so while Childe personally has a tough time talking to you, it doesn't mean he’s not willing to try!! >:)

he mostly just kept asking questions forever until he understood what you meant, and as soon he got u were asking abt the Tsaritsa, the other Harbingers, himself, even how to get Sneznayan-made clothes lol

he was like: 👀👀👀???!!!!

it wasn't so much recruitment at first as it was “omg the exalted one wishes to learn abt us, the Tsaritsa and her Harbingers? abt me?? well would your highness like to come to our palace perchance???!!!!”

= have u ever been seduced and worshipped by a god and her country?? would you like to- ??? ← Childe actually

and with that convinces you to come straight to the Harbingers/Tsaritsa’s very home

No, you’re not just spoiled.

No, you’re not just pampered.

You are cosseted and coveted.

The Tsaritsa makes her first in person appearance to the people in decades to personally announce your return, and to get a festival going to literally parade you into the capital lol

And tbh it was kind of shocking how quickly the people of Snezhnaya are able to whip out the party supplies, within days of traveling via horses/sleds/carriage/trains all kinds of transportation, u arrived at the capital in full swing of a parade for you

The Tsaritsa herself in what looks like a genshin-ified kokoshnik, the elaborate headress draped with a veil so thin it looks like frost covering her face,

flocked on either side by her harbingers in full (kinda goth) ceremonial outfits waiting on your arrival too

needless to say you are properly smitten intimidated

and you stay nervous around them for the first few days or so,

that is before you run into the weekly, what you would call “family dinner nights”, but they call “dinner reports”…

in which Childe, the only one you’d been comfortable enough around to be a bit more genuine to, and surprisingly the only one to quickly adapt to your speech after traveling with you for days, would translate for you what tf you were saying to them vs. what everyone at the table was saying to you/around you

you would also like to propose other titles for these weekly dinner meetings you’re invited to, aka “family feud dinner night/family fight night/harbinger on harbinger hate night/fruit on fruit crimes, if you will” 💀

the Tsaritsa is just peacefully talking to you abt any and everything, bc ofc Pierro’s on her right, and ur on her left

(she and Pierro are surprisingly soft spoken, very polite, and able to say something interesting/take an interest in whatever subject you all end up on)

u don't think you've ever been more comfortable and on such equal footing around ppl sm older than you (what are older ppl to you, but to them ur literally fucking eldritch with how ancient u are, and u can tell with how they treat u like it lmao)

hard cut back to the rest of the table:

an argument that just gets louder and louder has broken out between Childe, Dottore, La Signora, and Pantalone abt who should get free time with you first/get to do smth with you first as you get over ur adjustment period here, Childe has taken his butter knife to throw and just barely missed Dottore’s eye, and it is now embedded in the back of his fancy chair (the servants placing down dinner courses just move abt w/the most bored expressions on their faces)

(u send half the table if this group gets out of hand and u just: “Please shut the fuck up, each of ur comebacks take 30 minutes and it’s killing me” 💀 bc they're the most likely to understand u too, even Pierro/Capitano/Pulcinella chuckle a little, and u think the Tsaritsa smirked under her veil)

ur honestly too scared to see what Scarmouche, Sandrone, and Arlecchino are arguing about, because they're arguing so silently further down the table. They have murder in their eyes.

Columbina and Capitano are having a peaceful collab over weapons, armor, and clothing to offer you, Pulcinella is close enough to both participate in that convo and in you, Pierro, and the Tsaritsa’s convos too

by the 2nd week you've decided to choose chaos, and get them to play board games together sometimes (they cant all make it all the time, tbh u don't know if u can handle that either) but groups of them will play at a time

u remembered early on what a dick Dottore was, and sentenced asked if he’d like to play this new board game called “Monopoly” from ur world with Childe, Pantalone, Pierro, Arlecchino, La Signora, and Scaramouche all together :)

(so what ur trying to bring khaenri’ah part 2 down on his head as punishment?? u owe scara and collei that at least)

Columbina is more than happy to help get you Harbinger-like clothes to wear since ur so interested in the style!! (yes yesss get converted, she already has a title picked out for you)

she also giggles anytime u talk abt whether u like an outfit or not, bc u just “no thank you I’d rather wear a trash bag than that shirt, but lets try another?”

meanwhile the tailors in the background u could literally edit them to one of those videos where it just zooms in on their faces with a vine boom of shock

like Pierro, ur unranked, just above the other Harbingers really, as it wouldn't do to make you the 12th Harbinger or smth

the names they gave you being, “The Playwright” or “The Renaissance” or even “Drammaturgo”

(pls anyone who speaks Italian correct if I'm wrong ToT )

ok but the first time, unsurprisingly, one of them got snappy with you, likely Scara I would think,

Scaramouche, pissy: “And what shall we do if it appears our almighty god is perhaps a descender who is entirely human? Why I dare say you’d be transgressing on privileges that were never yours to begin with!”

Every other Harbinger, the Tsaritsa herself, the servants, the frost on the walls: 😶😦😨😶‍🌫️

You, unbothered, still eating and fully expecting this moment: “I don't want to hear it from someone who has god-mommy issues. You shouldn’t have an opinion about me, ur biased.”

yeah, so obviously, they’re emotionally all attached now whether they know it or not, and this was of course the moment they realized they're god would fit in so perfectly here

(the other nations are going to have to pry you from Snezhnaya from their cold dead hands, esp since u now have legal deniability to visit bc ur technically a Harbinger, only commanded by her majesty lol)

(Scaramouche, Arlecchino, and Sandrone were fighting about who gets the room nearest to your quarters lol)

(Capitano won, somehow??)

☆

sorry ive been slow lately guys, been just trying to work on alllll the fics these past weeks/days/however long its been??

anyway had the shift from hell last week so wish me luck with work this week if u see this 😭

hope u enjoyed this old ask/crack treated srsly post orah!! :D

Safe Travels,

💀♒

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily / @justinsomniachild / @nanithefuck / @questionotmystopit

@kiyomi-uchiha777

[coven-of-genesis]

Ten lesser-known facts about witches & witchcraft

Witch Bottles: In the 16th and 17th centuries, people believed in the protective power of witch bottles, which were filled with items like nails, hair, and urine to ward off evil spirits and witches.

Flying Ointments: Historical accounts suggest that witches' "flying" was sometimes linked to hallucinogenic ointments, often made from toxic plants like belladonna or mandrake, which were applied to the skin.

Familiars: Witches were believed to have familiars, which were often animals like cats, toads, or birds that assisted them in their magical work. These were considered evil spirits in animal form.

Witch Hunts in the Americas: While the Salem witch trials are well-known, fewer people are aware that other parts of the Americas, such as Brazil and the Caribbean, also had their own witch hunts and trials.

Malleus Maleficarum: This 15th-century book, also known as "The Hammer of Witches," was a significant text that contributed to the witch hunts in Europe. It outlined ways to identify, prosecute, and punish witches.

Witch Marks: During witch trials, accused witches were often searched for "witch marks," unusual blemishes or growths on the body believed to be signs of a pact with the devil.

The Witch's Sabbath: A folklore belief held that witches gathered for secret nocturnal meetings, called sabbaths, where they worshipped the devil, performed rituals, and engaged in revelry.

Witchcraft in Ancient Times: Witchcraft isn't a solely medieval or early modern phenomenon. Evidence of magical practices and beliefs in witchcraft can be traced back to ancient civilizations, such as ancient Greece and Rome.

Witchcraft as a Capital Crime: In many parts of Europe, witchcraft was considered a capital crime, punishable by death. This led to the execution of thousands of people, primarily women, during the witch hunts.

Modern Witchcraft: Contemporary witchcraft, often referred to as Wicca, is a recognized religion that emerged in the mid-20th century. It emphasizes the worship of nature, the practice of magic, and the celebration of seasonal festivals.

[mariacallous]

A well-known Georgian transgender model has been murdered, local officials said, a day after the government passed legislation that will impose sweeping curbs on LGBTQ+ rights in the country.

Georgia’s interior ministry said Kesaria Abramidze, 37, was believed to have been stabbed to death in her apartment in suburban Tbilisi on Wednesday.

Georgian media later reported that a man had been arrested in connection with the crime.

Abramidze was one of the country’s first openly trans public figures. Her death follows controversial legislation on “family values and the protection of minors” that will allow officials to outlaw Pride events and censor films and books.

The law, which was approved by the Georgian parliament on Tuesday in its third and final reading, includes bans on same-sex marriages and gender-affirming treatments. It is expected to be another point of contention between Georgia and the EU as the country seeks to join the bloc.

Critics argue that the bill, initially introduced by the ruling Georgian Dream party in the summer, mirrors laws enacted in neighbouring Russia, where authorities have implemented a series of repressive anti-LGBTQ+ measures over the past decade.

Although the motive behind Abramidze’s murder remains unclear, her death was swiftly cast by Georgian civil society as part of a state campaign against minorities in the country.

Under the Georgian Dream party, which has taken an increasingly anti-liberal stance, the country has seen a rise in violence against LGBTQ+ people.

Last year, hundreds of opponents of gay rights stormed an LGBTQ+ festival in Tbilisi, forcing the event to be cancelled. This year, tens of thousands of people marched in the capital to promote “traditional family values” at an event attended by the ruling party amd the deeply conservative and influential Orthodox church.

“There is a direct correlation between the use of hate speech in politics and hate crimes,” the Social Justice Center, a Tbilisi-based human rights group, said in its statement reacting to the murder.

“It has been almost a year that the Georgian Dream government has been aggressively using homo/bi/transphobic language and cultivating it with mass propaganda means,” it added.

On Wednesday, Josep Borrell, the EU’s top diplomat, called on the Georgian government to withdraw the “family values” law, warning it would harm Georgia’s chances of joining the bloc. The legislation would “increase discrimination & stigmatisation”, he said on X.

After Abramidze’s death, Michael Roth, the Social Democratic party chair of the Bundestag foreign affairs committee in Germany, echoed that call. “Those who sow hatred will reap violence. Kesaria Abramidze was killed just one day after the Georgian parliament passed the anti-LGBTI law,” Roth wrote on X.

The introduction of the law comes just five weeks before parliamentary elections that many see as a litmus test of whether Georgia, once one of the most pro-western former Soviet states, will now drift towards Russia.

The country’s pro-western president, Salome Zourabichvili, whose functions are mostly ceremonial, is expected to veto the law before it comes into effect. However, Georgian Dream and its allies have enough seats in parliament to override her veto.

Earlier this year, the Georgian Dream also pushed through the divisive “foreign influence” law, which western critics argue is authoritarian and Russian-inspired, and has derailed the country’s EU aspirations.

Meanwhile, tributes have started to pour in for Abramidze, who represented Georgia at Miss Trans Star International in 2018 and had more than 500,000 followers on Instagram.

“Kesaria was iconic! Provocative, wise, incredibly brave! A trailblazer for Georgia’s trans rights,” Maia Otarashvili, a Georgian political scientist, wrote on X.

Zourabichvili said the murder should be a “wake-up call” for Georgian society.

“A terrible murder! The death of this beautiful young woman … should not be in vain!” the president wrote on Facebook.

[magz]

From Lets Talk Palestine. Palestine summary March 28 to March 30. (#LetsTalkPalestine)

March 28, 2024.

Day 174

⚖️ ICJ orders Israel to provide immediate unrestrained aid deliveries to Gaza in new, stronger provisional measures; Israel expected to submit report on its efforts to fulfill its obligations

• 62 Palestinians killed, 91 injured in last 24 hours

🇬🇧 @Pal_Action activists force major Israeli arms producer Elbit Systems to shut down a third UK factory after increased security costs & losses

• Israeli forces release 102 Palestinians abducted from Gaza in addition to 7 medical staff. Many more still missing

🇱🇧🇸🇾 Israel widens its targeted attacks on Syria’s capital Damascus while strikes on southern Lebanon kill at least 8

• Israel targets a home & medical facility in Rafah, killing at least 5 while strikes on northern Gaza kill 3 as others remain trapped under the rubble

🇫🇷 France to join in reinstatement of UNRWA funding with planned $32m donation

• IOF abducts 25 Palestinians in overnight raids across multiple West Bank cities

March 29, 2024.

Day 175

🇺🇸 Washington Post: Biden authorizes billions in military equipment to Israel stating a discontinuation of such transfers was “off limits” despite concerns over complicity in the Gaza genocide

• 71 Palestinians killed, 112 injured in the last 24 hours

🇸🇾 At least 42 reported killed in an Israeli attack on a military facility in Aleppo, Syria marking an aggressive turning point in Israel’s aggression in the Middle East

• Israeli forces plan to directly occupy 16% of Gaza to create a Palestinian no-go zone in preparation for long-term military presence in the region

✝️ Despite Easter festivities, Israeli forces restrict Palestinian Christians access to Jerusalem’s Old City

• Israeli airstrike on a residential building in ‘safe zone’ Rafah kills 12

🇯🇵 Japan to join others in reinstatement of UNRWA funding as the 6th largest contributor

• Israeli raids target a police station in Gaza City killing at least 17 and an additional 15 in targeted attacks in central Gaza

March 30, 2024.

Day 176 - Land Day

🌱 As Palestinians observe Land Day to affirm their right to their land, Israel has escalated land seizures in West Bank since Oct 7, destroying, uprooting & poisoning 9,600 trees

• 82 Palestinians killed, 98 injured in last 24 hours

🇬🇧 Leaked recording reveals UK gov’t failed to publicly announce the official legal advice from its own lawyers that Israel is violating international humanitarian law in Gaza, which suggests that countries supplying arms to Israel can be held accountable for complicity in international crimes. UK is ignoring mounting evidence of Israeli crimes by refusing to halt arms sales

🏥 60 medical staff + 107 patients incl. 30 paralyzed patients were abducted & held captive by Israeli forces in ongoing siege of al-Shifa Hospital

🇱🇧 UN peacekeeping mission in south Lebanon targeted by Israeli strikes injured 4 UN staff

• Israeli forces shot & killed 13 y/o Palestinian in West Bank

• Israeli strikes target homes in Khan Yunis, killing 22 people

[probablyasocialecologist]

What is unique, at least since the era of open colonialism and its genocides, is the unity this carnage has inspired among political elites in the Global North, and to some extent beyond it. After all, when fascism rose in Europe the 1930s, it had powerful supporters in our political classes, but it also had powerful opponents. That is far less true today. All across what passes for a political spectrum, from the rabid far right to the mealy-mouthed centre left, we have witnessed powerful actors putting their partisan differences aside to come together in active support of these crimes against humanity. Far from fracturing our political class, this iteration of fascism has united it: Donald Trump agrees with Joe Biden; Rishi Sunak with Keir Starmer, Emanuel Macron with Marine Le Pen; Justin Trudeau with Giorgia Meloni; Viktor Orbán with Narendra Modi. And so, we must ask: On what precisely do they all agree? What are they uniting behind? What are they all defending when they speak of Israel’s ‘right to defend itself’? It’s too simple, I’m afraid, to say they are united in defense of a single state. They are, of course, but they are also united in defense of a shared belief system. Amidst the reality of global economic apartheid and accelerating climate breakdown, they are united in a shared supremacist vision of safety and security for the few. This vision is the flip side of their steadfast refusal to in any way address the underlying drivers of these crises: capitalism, limitless growth, colonialism, militarism, white supremacy, patriarchy. As Sherene Seikaly puts it, we are ‘In the age of catastrophe’ and ‘Palestine is a paradigm’. 

[that-one-i-think]

Time for more lore for my fanfic For My Sunlight, this time THE GLADIATOR PITS! This will start with what it inspired it and then go into why it was created and then make a long reblog about Liochant's history. LONG POST SO EXPANDED (feel free to use the idea for yourself and comment!)

So before there were the gladiator pits, there was something a festival called "The Lioness Tournament". It would happen every solstice as a celebration of Menphia. It featured various celebrations with the major feat being the tournament. Fighters from everywhere in Tu'la would come to compete and try to win an attempt at bonding with Menphia's relic. Very few ever did, which is why there is a second prize of a nether gold weapon. (Despite never winning a tournament, Liochant does have a nether gold khopesh he received from a his mother figure who was a tournament winner)

Now, 16 years ago, the King of Northern Tu'la invaded the desert and completely took over the continent. With the tournament taking place in Solspear, the capital of the desert country, the Tiger King of Tu'la had an idea to get the people on his side. He turned the tournament into an all year event, with the tournament hall turned into a large battle pit as "a way for the people to get closer to Menphia".

He originally sent rebels and soldiers who fought against the invasion to the pit. They fought for the entertainment of the rich and Royals of northern Tu'la, including those of the desert who betrayed their people in favor of the riches of the north.

As the years passed, it became an even larger spectacle with the stakes getting larger and larger and the arena even growing. Two years after the establishment of the pit, Tu'la ran out of rebels and soldiers, so they got creative and started using prisoners instead. Presented with he option of the pit or death, many decided to take their chances. You could win your freedom, as long as your weren't entertaining that is.

Fights featured gladiators fighting against other gladiators, monsters, and sometimes even fights that are rigged. 1v2, 1v4, and even some that are 1v20. Be wary if you are found to be a werewolf or a shadow knight in this area, for you may just be thrown into the pit for "crimes" against Tu'la.

The games operated akin to the hunger games, with many of the upper class sponsoring the gladiators and trading them akin to how one would trade pokemon. These gladiators would become rather famous, shown off like show dogs by their current owners, but the life wasn't easy for the gladiators. It truly was only dressed up torture.

While some of the battles ended in death, a good majority ended in defeat or revival. Those who lost would be severely punished, and even the gladiators who won wouldn't be free from punishment and torture. For if the fight wasn't entertaining or getting the money worths, it could be worse than losing.

If a gladiator stops being entertaining, they will either be put to death or put to other purposes. Being put to death is the better option if people think the nobles are cruel to gladiators they are much crueler to the people they own. The rich want what they can't get, and once they get their hands on them, officially, they savor. Gladiator eye candy is candy, after all.

[richardarmitagefanpage]

Richard at the Capital Crime Festival in London, UK. (September 2, 2023)

📸: ThanhmaiUK / hollygolitelyy / PamelaKeenan13 / foxcornerbooks / dds_book_reviews

[jerzwriter]

A Celebration

Book:                   Crimes of Passion (Just after Book 1)

Pairing:                Trystan Thorne x F!MC (Carolina Rose)

Rating:                 Teen+  

Category:      Fluff

Summary:   They've solved a murder mystery, and they're the talk of the town. That's reason to celebrate, right? Trystan thinks so, but when Carolina doesn't seem to be on board, Luke & Ruby have some suggestions for their royal friend. But what will Carolina think?

Words: 2,190

A/N: Are you all as excited about CoP being back as I am? This fic is in response to @choicesbookclub's ask, what did Trystan x MC do during the "weeks" between CoP 1 and Cop2. I could just see Trystan wanting to celebrate and Carolina (Caro-LEE-na) being all, "yeah, work to do!" That inspired this. I hope you enjoy it! Participating in @choicesflashfics Week 39 (prompt in bold) and @choicesjunechallenge - sunshine, rain, cocktails, and romance. A few Spanish words - sobrina = niece, tio = uncle, cariña = term of endarment - "honey" "dear" - nothing exact.

CoP is new to me - I'm tagging my perma list. But if you'd like to be removed or added for future CoP, just let me know!

CoP Masterlist My Complete Masterlist

The early morning sun peeked through the curtains, creating waves of golden light and shadows in the tiny office space. The room was silent, Luke fixating on his laptop and Carolina immersed in paperwork, but Trystan refused to let this day pass as if it were just any other. He had purchased every newspaper on the stand and smiled broadly as he poured over each one. Sure, the good press was welcomed, even if he knew it would be met with skepticism on the other side of the Atlantic. But, the elation he was experiencing had nothing to do with the accolades being laid at his feet and everything to do with those being awarded to her.

If Carolina was impacted by the coverage and their newfound fame, she wasn’t letting it show. Her interest was far more piqued by the celebratory pastries Trystan brought in from Leske’s. The sugary treats were her favorite, and knowing he made a special trip to Bay Ridge to pick them up before work… that made her heart sing more than she was willing to let show. Now, bathed in the warm sunlight, she let out a tantalizing groan as her teeth sunk into a glazed cruller. When she opened her eyes, she wasn’t surprised to find Trystan transfixed on her.

“What?” she asked, wiping icing from her lip.

“Nothing,” he smirked. “I’m just wondering… what does one do in the States after they experience a huge win like this?”

“I dunno,” she mumbled, shoving the last of her cruller in her mouth. “What does one do in Drakovia?”

“There are various approaches. A national holiday… a military parade, if warranted. A festive ball… that goes without saying! Then there are the various forms of debauchery that would require us to pay off the press to prevent them from making it public. But we’re not in Drakovia, so what should we be going here?”  

“I’m not sure,” she shrugged. “I guess we could go to Disneyland.”

“Disneyland?” he chuckled. “The amusement park?”  

“It’s just a stupid commercial,” Luke injected. “Capitalism at its best. Anytime a sports team wins a championship, one of its star players is asked, “What are you going to do next?” and they answer, “I’m going to Disneyland.”

“All right, then,” Trystan grinned. “If it’s Disneyland is what’s expected, I can have a plane chartered for us by this evening.”

Ruby walked in the front door, her face alight at the thought of the gang traipsing through the park in mouse ears, when Carolina unwittingly quashed her hopes.

“Mmm, I’m not really interested in Disneyland. Plus, we’re not all the idle rich, dear prince. I already have new cases that need my attention.”

“Bummer,” Ruby grimaced.

“I tried,” Trystian shrugged, holding the box of doughnuts in her direction. “But here, a consolation cruller, if you will.”

“Well, that’s something,” Ruby smiled. “But I agree with Trystan. We should celebrate! What do you guys think we should do?”

“I don’t know,” Carolina sighed. “We’ll think of something, but if you’ll excuse me, I have paperwork to review with Mafalda.”

Luke was bemused, watching Trystan’s puppy-dog eyes trail Carolina as she exited the room.   His lips curled into a barely-there smile. If brownie points were desired, he could offer his regal friend an assist.  

“I know something Carolina would love,” Luke announced, letting the suggestion hang in the air to gauge how quickly Trystan would inquire. It took but a second.

“Name it!”

“The Yankees,” Luke stated as he slammed his laptop closed. “Carolina bleeds pinstripes, and you’re in luck. Boston is coming to town next week.”

“Oooh! Boston!” Ruby delighted. “That’s the biggest rivalry there is! She’d love it! I’d love it!”

“Say no more!” Trystan announced phone already in hand. “I’ll arrange for a suite….”

“A suite?” Luke laughed. “Carolina would kill you! Look, I’m not about to suggest dragging royalty into the bleachers, but Carolina will not want to see her beloved Bronx Bombers in an air-conditioned suite!”

“Oh, heaven forbid!” Trystan said with a roll of his eyes.

“It’s just part of the experience,” Ruby attempted to explain. “The overpriced hot dogs, the stale beer… the drunken fans cursing and making complete asses out of themselves….”

“It sounds… delightful,” Trystan offered. “But I could have all that arranged in the suite if required.”

“It wouldn’t be the same aesthetic,” Luke sighed. “Uptown Boy… if you want to make the Bronx girl happy… trust me on this.”

“I do trust you. And if you say it will make Carolina happy… I’ll make it happen.”

“Not so fast,” Ruby chimed in. “It’s a great idea, but Red Sox and Yankee games sell out way in advance, and resale tickets are usually pretty pricey.”

Trystan looked at Ruby with a raised brown.

“You forget,” Luke grumbled. “We’re hanging with the bourgeoisie now….”

“Yes!” Trystan beamed. “And I hope you’ve learned that some of us aren’t all bad. I mean, look at me? I’m kind, generous, charming, sexy as hell, and I have quite the flair for fashion if I must say so myself. I’m also….”

“Humble,” Luke finished. “Please, don’t forget, humble.”

“Hmm,” Trystan rubbed the stubble on his chin. “I’ll work on getting our tickets. But humble… I don’t know if I can manage to swing that.”

~~~~~

One week later, at the Drunk Tank Bar

“… and then I told the guy… listen… you can’t drive! So call a buddy to come get you, or we’re getting you a cab.”

“And what did he do?” Trystan asked.

“He called a friend. The next thing I know, a guy is sitting outside on a horse! The customer stumbles out, somehow mounts the thing, and they take off….”

“On the streets of New York City?” Luke asked.

Tommy crossed his heart. “I swear on my life!”

“Are you sure you weren’t the one who had a little too much that night?” Trystan winked. 

“Oh, I’m sure. Tend bar long enough in this city, and you’ll see everything!”

Trystan laughed heartily. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever see everything New York had to offer, but as Carolina made her way down the stairs, he knew one thing… he loved what it offered right now. His eyes went dark as they drank her in, trailing from head to toes, then back again. Up her curvaceous legs that never seemed to end, over her tanned thighs leading to the cut-off denim shorts that hugged her like a second skin, along her Yankee jersey… number 23… honoring her late father’s favorite player. It hung wide, allowing him a peek at the fitted white crop top underneath. His mouth went dry. Then her hair… the long, luscious waves cascading down her neck, over her shoulder, twining down until they reached her…

“Hello?” she waved her hands in front of his face. “Trystan? Hello?”

“Oh, uh… hello,” he faltered; this wasn’t a look the usually unflappable man was accustomed to wearing.

“What’s the matter?” she teased. “Distracted? Cat got your tongue?”

“Something like that,” he settled, trying desperately to regain his footing. “So, is that what you’re wearing?”

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” she asked defensively.

“Oh, nothing! Nothing at all,” he stumbled again, but this time he grinned with delight seeing the amusement on her face. She loved the control she had over him, and frankly, he loved allowing her to have it. “I’m just unfamiliar with what one wears to a baseball game.”

“Yeah,” she snickered, giving his designer suit the once over. “Trust me… it shows.”

“I take it Brunello Cucinelli silk suits aren’t the standard attire?”

“Not unless you want to get beaten up!” She giggled. She slapped Luke on the back as a loud thunderclap shook the bar. “You suggested a Yankee game but didn’t give him a heads up on what he should wear?”  

“What,” Luke replied sarcastically. “And miss this fun?”

“Sobrina,” Uncle Tommy shouted over the bar. “There to save him. The game was just rain delayed.”

“Aw, man!” Ruby frowned.

“It’s OK,” Carolina grinned. “Tio, keep serving them drinks while I take this one to rummage through your closet. I should be able to find something to help him there.”

She turned to Trystan with a wink and a coy smile. “Come with me,” she cooed as he did his best to maintain a poker face.

They hadn’t reached the top of the staircase before Trystan was already back to his usual ways. “You just couldn’t wait to get me alone, could you?”

Carolina shook her head as she led him into Tommy’s room, rummaging through her uncle’s assortment of baseball shirts.

“I want to make sure you look presentable,” she started. “I can’t be seen with…” a small whimper escaped her as Trystan’s hands landed on her waist, slowly working their way over the curve of her hips. 

“You were saying,” he smirked. Before she had a second to think, he pushed her long hair to the side, his lips quickly claiming the delicate skin on her he had just bared on her neck.  

“I uh…” she gasped, unable to concentrate on anything other than his proximity, his warmth, and how perfect it all felt. “This is good… this is nice… to…”

“Good? Nice?” he smiled, turning her to face him. “Is that the best you can offer?”

“Well, this is a lovely appetizer?” she mocked. “But I’ve had the main course, and well… now everything else pales in comparison.”

Trystan bit into his lower lip, twitching with delight. “Well, we can do something about that.”

Her breath hitched when he lifted her against the wall, his chest flush against hers as his fingers tangled in her lengthy, golden-brown hair. He grinned when the slightest groan escaped her, and his lips captured hers in a soft, sensual kiss that ignited the smoldering passion they had attempted to tamper all day.

“Lovely little sound, cariña,” he breathed into her ear. “Did you make that just for me?”

“I… I… uh…”

Before she could reply, his lips were on hers again, tender but growing rougher as she deepened the kiss. Her hands slid up his chest, running over his skin as she slowly unbuttoned his shirt. They could feel the combustion overtaking them when startled by a loud knock. Carolina’s eyes went wide. 

“Come in!” She hollered, forcefully pushing Trystan away.

A stunned Ruby stood at the door, curiously looking between the two. 

“Oh, uh… I just wanted to tell you… uhm… we’re going to order pizza since it looks like a long delay… do uhm... you want some?”

“Yes! We definitely want some,” Trystan answered far too quickly, eliciting giggles from their friend.

“Pizza, that is!” Carolina quickly corrected. “Please, yes. Order extra for us.”

“Will do,” Ruby replied with a gleam in her eye. “Apparently, you two are working up an appetite.”

“I’m just helping him get dressed!” Carolina insisted as she hurled a Derek Jeter jersey at Trystan’s chest. “That’s all!”

“Mmm hmm. I’ll just pretend that my job doesn’t require paying attention to detail, and I’ll fill you two in on this detail… Julio is taking over for Tommy in five minutes, and he mentioned taking a quick nap on his break; you may want to vacate his room.”

“Oh! Yes! Of course!” Carolina insisted. “Trystan just has to change his shirt and….”

“I’ll wait downstairs,” Ruby winked as she slowly shut the door behind her. She wasn’t more than a few feet away when Trystan broke into laughter.

“YOU!” Carolina yelled, trying her best to appear annoyed, though it was clear she was anything but. “You made me forget we were in my uncle’s bedroom!”

“Yes,” Trystan grinned., more than pleased with himself. He moved toward her, cupping her cheek gently in his hand. “Forgive me, but I enjoy knowing I make you forget the world around you as much as you do the same to me.”

“Yeah, well, why don’t we get you changed before my uncle finds us here. Raincheck?”

“Do you mean me or the game?”

“Both, apparently.”  

Desperate for anything to take her attention off of him, Carolina quickly grabbed a baseball cap and mirrored glasses on her uncle’s dresser. “And here!” she said, tossing the items his way. “You should wear these, too!”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Hey, it’s that, or I find Uncle Tommy’s beer-guzzler helmet. Which will it be?”

“These will do just fine,” Trystan surrendered as he changed. “I hope the rain delay isn’t long. I simply cannot wait to see you in your element.”

“Really?” Carolina snickered as they stepped out of the bedroom. “I should warn you… it is a lot. You’re about to see a side of me you haven’t seen before.”

“Good!” He enthused. “Because you’re the most ridiculous person I know, and, God, do I love it.”

“I’ll remind you that you said that after the game,” she said, catching him from the corner of her eye. “It may be a bit too much.”

“Never,” he said, clasping her hand. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? I want all the Carolina that I can get.”

@choicesficwriterscreations

Tagging others in reblog.

[apteryxparvus]

L ♡ V E R ⇌ L ⦻ S E R — people i tolerate

Group chat — people i tolerate

prev • masterlist • next

Kunikuzushi

Stage name: Wanderer

Occupation: main rapper of 6reeze.

Living situation: residing in his condo in the capital Inazuma, but he often retreats to his secluded cottage in Tatarasuna village, located on Kannazuka island.

Eldest child of Ei Raiden who is the CEO of BB (Baal & Beelzebub) Entertainment

Developed a deep hatred for his younger sister, who is set to inherit the company

Ei's constant criticism led to him becoming emotionally distant

Moved to Snezhnaya to become a solo artist under Fatui Corp., eventually returning to Inazuma and joining 6reeze

Venti

Stage name: Barbatos

Occupation: lead singer and leader of 6reeze, former soloist from Mondstadt.

Living situation: owns his own apartment in the International District of Ritou; occasionally travels back to Mondstadt to visit friends and family.

Born into a musical dynasty family, with a revered mother in Mondstadt's indie folk music scene

He chose to follow his own path as a solo artist, and without his mother’s aid he was able to grow his talent, playing concerts at pubs and small venues

Caught the attention of a BB Entertainment while performing as a supporting act at a festival

Despite his carefree and cheerful persona, he battles personal childhood demons and seeks solace wine

Xiao

Stage name: Alatus

Occupation: lead guitarist and sub-rapper of 6reeze; formerly a member of The Yakshas, a relatively underground Liyuean rock band.

Living situation: renting a small loft apartment in Ritou’s harbor district.

Grew up with an abusive single mother, enduring constant emotional and verbal torment

During his freshman year of high school, he stumbled upon Bosacius practicing drums, igniting a newfound passion for music in him

Formed a band with Bosacius and later joined by Indarias, Bonanus, and Menogias

Joined 6reeze after his previous band, The Yakshas, disbanded

Kaedehara Kazuha

Occupation: sub-vocalist of 6reeze, song writer and poet; passionate hobbyist photographer.

Living situation: resides in a small house near the outskirts of Hanamizaka alongside Heizou; he once used to live in the luxurious Tenshukaku district of Inazuma City.

Born into the noble Kaedehara clan, one of Inazuma's founding families

Witnessed the decline of his family's wealth, and found solace in composing songs for his close friend, Tomo, an aspiring musician

After the tragic loss of his friend, he embarked on The Crux, an offshore vessel, and explored Teyvat

Two years after sailing with the ship's crew, he joined 6reeze, determined to honor Tomo's memory

Shikanoin Heizou

Occupation: drummer and sub-rapper of 6reeze; hobbyist true crime podcaster

Living situation: currently living together with Kazuha in a small, cozy house in Hanamizaka, but he wants to move to Inazuma City’s Tenryu district

Grew up in a small village, forced to work alongside his father and learn martial arts

Went through a rebellious phase, joining an underground fight club

Became a drummer for a small band during his first year at university, and chose to embrace the art, giving up on his academic pursuit

Hosts a true crime podcast in his spare time, staying connected to his initial interest of Criminology

Aether

Occupation: bass guitarist and sub-vocalist of 6reeze

Living situation: he resides in a tiny apartment nestled in the International district of Ritou, located a few blocks away from Venti’s place

Grew up in Starfell Valley along with his twin sister, Lumine

As teens, they established a YouTube channel with a large following, creating covers of various songs

Performed as a musical duo at small venues and pubs until Lumine decided to step away to pursue a travel with her boyfriend

Scouted around the same time as Venti, so the two of them bonded quickly over their shared roots in Mondstadt

Author's note: sike, i lied, no waiting til the weekend, it's 4am but here's the rest of the profiles. Definitely will have to check for any spelling mistakes when i wake up lol

A little secret — i actually haven't watched Moriarty the Patriot yet 😪 it's there, on my to-watch list along with dozens of animes and movies and series and yea

Taglist — @scaramoo

[facts-i-just-made-up]

What did St. Valentine actually do to become the love day guy?

St. Valentine (in life named Sheevus Sidius Valpatine) lived in the 3rd century in the city of Rome, which was the capital of the state of Rome, head state of the the Roman Empire, which was centered in Rome. Christianity was forbidden in the region due to the proclamations of Emperor Gaius Messius Quintus Traianus Decius Johnson. Many Christians persecuted and were fed to lions, which made the Emperor very unpopular with Christians, but very popular with lions. Christian marriage was also forbidden owing not only to the nature of the Roman state religion, but due to the lack of Pachelbel who would not be born for another 1400 years, as well as the Emperor's distaste for fondant, a critical component of traditional Christian wedding cakes.

But Christians could not have children out of wedlock, and thus to maintain their numbers after the frequent lion feedings, they had to be married in secret. Saint Valentine was the clergyman who stepped up to the task. Officiating over 750 weddings in the short 3 years between his ordination and his martyrdom, he often performed several weddings every day, and in the process developed the standard Christian marriage ceremony still practiced to this day, including the sermon, the vows, the rings, and the all night orgy, which was later shorted to just a kiss.

For the crimes of these hidden marriages, St. Valentine was, depending on the historian, beheaded, had his heart cut out, force-fed candy until he exploded, smothered by roses, or paper-cut to death with a doily. Christian hagiography records that in the coming days, several miracles took place including the sick being healed; idols being destroyed; and one guy's broken pencil miraculously being repaired, though this may have been a euphemism for his impotence going away.

This marble bust of the man may suggest the latter:

Pope Gelatinous XII canonized St. Valentine in 492 and made his feast day February 14th, because that was the day before which Rome had its own classical romantic festival, Lupercalia, which is literally Latin for "Werewolf Boyfriend Day," as the boys would dress as wolves and chase their girlfriends around the Sanctuary of Rumina the Boob Goddess. That bit isn't even made up.

Ever since, St. Valentine's Day has been a celebration of love and romance, and St. Valentine himself is patron saint of lovers, flavorless candy with stuff written on it, and deceptive options in RPG dialogue trees.

[kasylikeskiwi]

Crimes of the Empires

Hi idk if this has been made before I'm not super active on here, but Shubble’s character has inspired me to make a list of Reasons the Empires are Probably Criminals, because she seems to think everyone is going to shun her because of being wanted as if they don’t have their own baggage to deal with. If you have any suggestions on things I’ve missed, please feel free to add on I don’t watch every POV consistently  Shelby - faking her death - murdering the sheriff - actually several murders at this point but they do respawn so not that big of a deal imo - practicing magic illegally

Scott - he literally goes around and steals that’s his whole THING - ran a black market, which also incriminates everyone else who participated in that...which was basically everyone -having an actual llama as a bartender is surely frowned upon

Joel - I mean if we’re counting murder... - vandalism technically, although it WAS funny - sold illegal toys - destruction of property, he literally unleashed a wither in Jimmy’s empire - I feel like I must be forgetting several things

Lizzie - identity theft - scamming people as a fortune teller and in several other situations - illegal gunpowder business run with fwhip - blew up her own empire, which I don’t actually know if that’s a crime

Fwhip - regularly steals from Lizzie’s berry farm - I’m pretty sure he regularly steals from most people - you can say “safety is our number one priority” all you want I don’t believe you - illegal gunpowder business with Lizzie - the warden “wedding gifts” killed so many people

Sausage - I don’t watch his POV often but if the Witches Academy is mad about Shelby’s magic then I can’t imagine how they’d react to Sausage’s inter-dimensional travel

Jimmy - He’s in his villain arc right now need I say more

Gem - She might actually be safe - she’s on thin ice with the sun religion thing though I’m pretty sure that’s a cult

Pix - He literally took SOMEONE’S HOUSE without asking first - he’s literally roleplaying the British museum - plus the line between archeology and grave robbing is just too thin sorry dude

False - well if we don’t count all that she did on hermit craft prior to empires... - she still spied on her twin - knocked several people unconscious  - collects member’s heads - and stole her twin’s cat which is pretty rude

Oli - weirdly enough I can’t think of many despite him actually being in jail for a while, but I don’t count that justified - he did steal Gem’s goat horn though - also maybe making things at the festival overpriced but I don’t know if that’s a crime or just capitalism

Joey - He’s a pirate crime is literally his thing

Katherine - I don’t watch her POV either but from other people’s perspective, she is actively denying a very obvious problem with her empire and I think that’s probably bad Anyways I don’t think Shelby has anything to worry about

[judasgodness]

Why is Bai Wuxiang one of the best villains in literature?

Part 1: Your Story

Obvious: ⚠️ Contains Tian Guan Ci Fu spoilers

Bai Wuxiang has been described as "the sun of WuYong", the kingdom where he was crown prince.

“Without any exaggeration, even within the sea of ​​gods in the celestial realm, he was also like the sun, shining so brightly that others close to him would lose their colors.”

In the words of Mei Nianqing, his former guoshi, Bai Wuxiang was kind and honest with his desire to save his people from the volcano's curse. He tried to build a bridge to heaven to save the people from the eruption, but that took a few years, and during that time, while he needed his people's prayers and belief, he couldn't answer their prayers either. Because of this, the people gradually lost their faith in him.

The bridge had a weak structure when it was finished, so just as people were crossing it, it collapsed.

After the deaths and failure, Bai Wuxiang was banished from the heavens and could only return if he ascended again, but for that he would first need to cultivate. And he tried to cultivate, but it was difficult because of the rejection and the blame he received, and trying to help his people, but he didn't reach the level of the other gods.

With the volcano still active, Bai Wuxiang decided to perform human sacrifices to calm it down. He first wanted to sacrifice only those who would normally be condemned for some crime, but was stopped by the priests.

He and the priests got into fights, so 3 of the 4 priests left for disagreeing with Bai Wuxiang's positions, leaving only Mei Nianqing.

Some time after that, Mei Nianqing discovered that Bai Wuxiang contracted a curse that made human faces appear on his skin and that this only happened because Bai Wuxiang sacrificed those 3 priests to the volcano.

Even later, Bai Wuxiang decided to take to the skies and murdered all the gods at the time to sink the history of WuYong into oblivion, proclaimed himself Heavenly Emperor and created a new identity: Jun Wu, a general who proclaimed himself a king and ascended to the skies after ruling for a while.

Like Jun Wu, he created a new dynasty and formed a new Heavenly Court.

Centuries later, he met Xie Lian, the crown prince of XianLe (and the novel's protagonist), who caught his attention by saving a child during a festival in which the prince played the Celestial Emperor himself. And so, Bai Wuxiang decided to make him his perfect successor.

He tried to approach Xie Lian several times, but was stopped by Mei Nianqing, who was now Xie Lian's guoshi. When Xie Lian went on a mission to kill a malicious ghost and after succeeding, Xie Lian said the phrase "body in the abyss, heart in heaven". And it was with that sentence that Bai Wuxiang decided to test him without having to approach him.

Xie Lian then ascended as a Martial God at the age of 17, and 3 years later, XianLe fell into chaos.

A civil war broke out. YongAn, hitherto a state of XianLe, was experiencing a severe drought and did not receive proper support from the kingdom. And the last straw was when a YongAn family died trying to pass into the Capital, but was stopped by the guards.

In the final stretch of the book, we discover that this family was fake. These people were empty shells created by Bai Wuxiang himself, they were there for the sole purpose of being the catalyst for the war.

And when the war was at its height, Bai Wuxiang, acting as the White No-Face Calamity, cast the human face curse on the capital of XianLe, and as it was unknown, hundreds were killed by it.

Anyway, XianLe was defeated. YongAn had his own kingdom now and Xie Lian was banished from the heavens.

Years later, Bai Wuxiang appears to Xie Lian again. And at a given moment, Xie Lian is drawn to one of his destroyed temples, just like other people were too. And nobody could leave.

Bai Wuxiang appeared, cast the human face curse on that temple, revealed Xie Lian's true identity and claimed that he was immortal.

The cure for the human face curse was murder, so it wasn't long before all those people were on top of Xie Lian, piercing him hundreds of times to get salvation.

“Help me.

Help me, help me, help me.

Help me, help me, help, help, help, help, help, help, help, help, help, help, help, help, help, help me!!!

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts..... it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts IT HURTS!!!!!

Why can't I die.

WHY CAN'T I DIE?!!!”

A few months later, Xie Lian's body was completely healed, and when he left the temple, he found the body of the only person who had refused to participate in that mass torture.

When he went home, he sent Feng Xin, his only friend at the time and a former Imperial Guard and Junior Officer, away and the next day found his parents hanged, dangling from the ceiling of the house by a silk ribbon which he used to attempt suicide as well.

He didn't die, and instead the tape became a spiritual weapon. Upon his gaze in the mirror afterwards, Xie Lian saw himself in a half-laughing, half-crying mask and white funeral clothes, the same clothes and mask that Bai Wuxiang wore as the Calamity White No-Face. Xie Lian accepted this identity as her fate and left the house to seek revenge.

But Xie Lian gave up on revenge when he received help from a man who gave him a bamboo hat to protect him from the rain, which made Bai Wuxiang's plan to make him his perfect successor fail.