#in terms of lore and flow

[niveussol]

Chapter like, 50 in a Persona 5 fanfic that doesn't exist yet (but it's a scene I really liked, so I yearned to Post It)

A Past Forgotten; Fates Ungotten

Chapter (Like) 50:

Airi gathers the Phantom Thieves and tells them everything-- and brings Akechi down to see the rest of the team. Makoto is immediately suspicious, as is Joker, Ryuji, and Morgana. Airi bows deeply in front of the group, and asks them: “I know what I did wasn’t right. We never intended to damage him, or change his heart, or any of it-- but we learned too much, and now he’s going to do something terrible sooner than we can act--- unless we act now.” Futaba is the first, surprisingly, to agree. She says that “we can’t wait for some guy to learn nuclear launch codes and deploy them before we do anything. Or.. something.” Yusuke takes her side right away, saying, “it is better to act with Surety and good intent, than to falter and allow injustice and devastation to occur. Furthermore, I trust Airi with my life. She’s already saved it.”

Airi becomes emotional-- hearing it means a lot to her-- but she hides it. Instead, she asks to speak with Akira-- alone. They go upstairs. She makes sure to whisper so any potential ‘Futaba bugs’ don’t overhear. Morgana sneaks up and listens at the threshold, out of sight, of course, so he hears the full conversation go as follows:

“I’m going to attempt to change his heart, no matter what. I know the Phantom Thieves have to agree on their target. I understand that will make me an enemy of the Phantom Thieves. I know it’s wrong of me to decide that my path is right, and follow my ideals blindly, even if the team decides against my judgment-- but i cannot look away from what this man is capable of. He could end the world. I think he might. I won’t run from him. And… I know that it will be hard defeating him on my own. Akechi is powerful, but he’s still recovering from his time comatose, even today. He’s still relearning his strength. He may never be as strong, again. He’s a different man now. The two of us will probably fail, on our own.”

“However….. I cannot tell the rest of the team my plans. I don’t want them to feel pressured to enter the metaverse blindly just to keep me alive, to keep me safe. It would not be right of me to hold my life over their heads. And I’m not holding my life over your head either. It’s not your job to convince your team what’s right-- they already know. But you have a right to know what I’m planning. You’ve kept me alive, and safe, thus far. I owe you… I owe you so much. You, at least, deserve to know the truth.”

Akira doesn’t say much back-- he never really does. But he does say: “So… this is the path you’re choosing?”

Airi just nods and says… “yeah. This is my purpose. I’m the only one that can do what I do. I have to do this, even if it spells my end. Even if I’m. Even if I’m…. scared. Of dying in vain, and failing. I’ll still do it.”

“Well.” he says. “Looks like I know my path, too.”

One by one, the phantom thieves come to agree, all except for Makoto. “What if this is a trap, and we never knew Airi, really? What if her plan was this all along, to bait us into doing exactly the wrong thing?”

Akechi speaks up after that. “You’ve spent all this time with her, and yet you still don’t know her? I don’t know if you know who I am, but I am a murderer, a criminal, a liar, a traitor, even. I’m supposed to be a cold, heartless killer, according to this world. I thought I was. Despite everything though, I was shown that even a monster like me has a heart-- and she’s the one who made me see it.” he says it, and Airi can’t see him through her closed-tight eyes, but she knows he’s pointing to her. “SHE made me realize that I’m capable of doing good, by my own merit-- that I don’t have to have a reason. That I will never make up for my sins, but that I can still atone and right some wrongs in this world. She’s good as good gets-- Don’t distrust her because I made her swear to keep my operations a secret.”

“You can say whatever you want,” Makoto says. “But the truth is, none of us know who Airi truly is. And she has no problem doing things behind our backs-- like she did with pulling Akane into the metaverse. Like she did with her foray into Officer Mashime’s Hallowed Grounds-- like she did, every time she consorted with the wanted criminal known as Goro Akechi.”

“Makoto-- p-please… it’s okay,” Airi says, nearly squeaking the words out. “I understand. You’re right. I’ve done little to justify the trust I’ve gotten from the Phantom Thieves. I’ve kept secrets, even since our first meeting, where I pretended not to understand Morgana. You’re probably right to distrust me. If I were you, I don’t know if I could trust me, either. So… just. Say what must be said.”

Makoto takes a breath. “I reject the notion that we should change Aoi Konuta’s heart.”

“But, Mako-chan…” Haru states. “W-we have to be unanimous… if you don’t agree, then… we’ll lose our opportunity. We might allow something horrible to happen.”

“We’ve saved the world from gods three times,” Makoto states. “If something happens, we can fix it, like we always have. But I’m not walking into a trap with my friends without knowing half of what we can expect. I’m not going to let my friends get killed in a vague attempt to do ‘what’s right’. There’s a reason we have a code-- and it’s to keep us from faltering, from making a big mistake. We follow it, lest we lose our way. And I’m not losing my way or my friends, because I trusted someone that I should not have.”

Airi feels her heart nearly stop-- she realizes that she’s about to Waver, and stops it-- it’s painful to reverse that process, she finds. But, through her heart pain, through the pain of being spoken to like… like a villain. Airi just bows and says: “Thank you for being the voice of reason, Makoto. The Phantom Thieves are lucky to have you-- and, that’s not. That’s not sarcastic. I mean it from the bottom of my heart.”

And, just like that, she takes off her apron, and walks to the door. She thinks there’s not much she can say, but figured it’d be rude to just leave without saying: “I’ll catch you guys later.”

She knows she can’t just enter the Hallowed Grounds today-- she still has to construct a calling card. She has to find a way to get it to him. She’ll figure it out. As long as it keeps her from thinking too much about the inevitability of her fate: she’ll do it.

She sidles out the door quickly.

Akira speaks up-- it’s not something he does often, but he does it: “Akechi. I’ve never heard you say something so sincere before. About anyone. You respect her more than anything, don’t you?”

Akechi scoffs. “She’s the strongest Phantom Thief of all of you. I’ve seen you all win every battle, despite less-than-stellar odds-- I’ve even seen you--” he points at Akira “--reign victorious, all on your own-- you all don’t lose.

“But the moment that she awakened for the first time, she was already dying. She’d been stabbed through the heart. She was alone. Anyone, ANYONE else would have died. But her? She was furious at the world. I saw a fury that could rend the world in two, if she saw fit-- she’d been betrayed by the forces that be-- she’d nearly been killed, killed by a demon. She could have awakened, killed him, and continued down a bitter path, filled with anger and strife-- she should have.

“But she didn’t. She didn’t because she was strong enough to fight for JUSTICE. TRUE JUSTICE. She was strong enough to be kind, even after suffering like she did. She was strong enough to win on her own. Alone. Without help, or aid. I could have helped her. I could have saved her before she was stabbed, had I bothered to-- but I didn’t, and she never held it against me, even though she should have. She’s strong enough to see reason, even when she’s hurting, even when her allies-- her friends--” he spits the word with venom, clearly pointing it to Makoto-- “are hurting, or even outright don’t believe in her. When her friends betray her unbreaking trust in them.

“She’s strong enough to face Konuta alone and kill him-- but she won’t take the easy way. She believes in living for what’s right more than she believes in her right to live. She’s better than all of you. Of course I respect her.”

The room is a little quiet-- Makoto’s face goes red, clearly emotional, conflicted, but trying to hold her ground.

Yusuke stands up.

“She had ample opportunity to sit down and live a quiet life in peace. She could have done it all this time-- but she sees the beauty in the world-- she knows she must preserve it at any cost.

“For some time, I had forgotten how it felt to defend the precious and delicate harmony of this world. I’d forgotten how to hold a brush-- what making a decision felt like. I grew cold. She assured me that I’d known all along-- that I could find that power again, even when my inaction had caused her to come to harm. I couldn’t see it, until I was confronted with two worlds: a world where I did not act, and lost everything; or a world in which I risked it all to stand for that which I believe in. To protect that which was most dear to me. I succeeded, and it’s only because she believed that I could. I came away with a perspective I never understood before-- and I will never forget it again.

“I must, therefore, ask that you reconsider your stance, Makoto. Reconsider throwing aside your inhibitions, and seek to protect that which is dear to you.”

Makoto avoids his powerful gaze.

Futaba speaks up.

“Airi… when Inari got really, really hurt in the Hallowed Grounds in Sapporo, I thought my heart was going to break in half. Inari threw himself in harm’s way, just so that I could be safe-- and then Airi stood between him and that mob boss, barely hanging on. She gave me the opportunity to pull him out of danger.

“When we got out of there, I felt all twisted up inside-- I felt so guilty that I’d allowed my.. my best friend to get hurt like that-- and still, she pulled me aside. And you know what she did? SHE apologized. SHE, the woman who had just saved us said sorry-- that if she had been stronger on the beach, had stood up to that creep, Inari would not have been confronted with such strong feelings of doubt.

“I cried that night-- I cried for hours and hours, I couldn’t stop crying. She held me and told me that everything would be okay-- that he would be awake, bright and early the next day. And she was right. He was awake before the sun came up, back to his old self again-- I wanted to cry again, but all I could do was smile. She helped me g-get rid of all my tears, so that I could show him, show everyone a brave smile. I trust her with everything I have in me.”

Makoto shuts her eyes-- she can’t take that gaze.

Surprising everyone, Shiho chimes in.

“When I met her, I was surprised she’d… she’d been assaulted by a man. Her demeanor was demure, and kind, and she didn’t look at men with fear. After what I went through at Shujin, it shocked me-- she took her pain in stride, everyday. It’s been years, and I still hurt. It’s hard to be brave in the face of that pain-- but seeing her thrive was inspiring to me. She reminded me of Ann. Her heart is strong.”

“Shiho…” Ann says.

“When the shooting happened in Sapporo, and we were caught in the middle of it, I saw her face-- I saw fear-- no, terror. But I saw it-- I saw her expression change. She buried that fear in calculations, looking at all of us. She calmed herself and told us to get under the table. Her hands were over her heart-- I almost thought she was having a heart attack, she looked so in pain. And then… time slowed down. We heard Morgana’s voice for the first time, as he leapt in to stop a cognition from attacking us. She’d saved us.

“If she hadn’t considered us, she could have slipped into the Hallowed Grounds by herself. She could have left us to die-- but she didn’t. And when she and Morgana were beaten by shadows, she told us to run. She was afraid. But she clearly cared about our safety and our lives above her own.

“Makoto-chan… I know we don’t know each other very well. And maybe we don’t know her very well, either. But, even with everything we don’t know about her, I do know this: She saved my life; Hifumi-chan’s life, and Akane-chan’s life that day. I know that I’m not obligated to trust her-- but I want to trust the woman who sacrificed her safety-- her life so that we might live.”

Akane speaks next. “Makoto… I don’t understand why you can’t trust her on this. You all hid Phantom Thief activity from the world-- my own dad hid it from me! My… big sisters kept the truth from me. To me, you were all doing things behind my back, but I didn’t mind it-- I know you all had good reasons for doing what you did. She’s a Phantom Thief-- she’s done so much good with you. So why… why can’t you trust her?”

“Akane-chan…” Makoto says. She opens her eyes, unfallen tears obscuring her view of everyone. “I didn’t want to tell everyone this, since these cases were unconfirmed.” She takes a deep breath, and exhales. “Sae’s been working on an investigation-- in fact, the catalyst for it was Airi, herself. Sae probably wanted to learn more about Airi’s interaction with Akechi, rather than anything else. She didn’t find many answers at first. But… a week later, another patient wound up at the same hospital Airi went to-- his skin, hair, and eyes had turned stark-white.”

Everybody looks surprised, and even Akechi’s dour look softens.

“He was comatose,” she continued. “But, Sae was able to speak with the patient’s wife. The wife couldn’t explain what had happened, just that, one morning, she woke up to find her husband had lost all his color, and couldn’t wake up.” Makoto pauses, trying to calm her heart. Speak a little slower. Take your time, she tells herself.

“Two months later, another man-- and a wealthy one, at that-- was sent to a hospital in Kabukicho with the same symptoms.”

“Where we changed the Hacker’s heart?!” Ryuji asks.

“Yes,” Makoto says. “Right after we changed his heart, in fact. His sister explained to Sae a story much like the first patient’s wife. But it doesn’t stop there-- two months after that, a man fell into the same pallor in Sumida-- the police officer who murdered Chiaki’s parents. Right after he’d been arrested.”

“M-Mako-chan…” Haru muttered. “You’re not suggesting that you think Airi-chan is responsible, are you?”

Futaba butts in, stammering, “Y-yeah, there’s no way that Airi did anything to those guys-- if anything, they’re just afflicted with the same thing!”

“But it’s strange how the events seemed to follow the changes of heart she took part in,” Akechi posited. “First in February, then April and June. Even so, it would be completely out of character for her to ruin anyone’s lives.”

“That’s how I saw it, too--” Makoto continued. “--when Sae explained all this to me. I thought to myself, ‘there’s no way that Airi was capable of doing this to people.’ But… in late-August, another person went pallid. In Sapporo. A previous mayor lost consciousness and fell into the same sort of coma the other patients experienced.”

Haru’s eyes go wide. “Y-you don’t mean--!”

“I do mean,” Makoto replied. “Headlines read, ‘Disgraced Ex-Mayor Mariko Hyodo Falls Into Mysterious Coma.’”

Haru’s eyes gloss over, and she looks at her phone, tapping away here and there on it. “No… no wonder Mari-san never answered my calls or texts after our vacation. She… she’s…”

Makoto places her hand on Haru’s shoulder, crouching down to hug her from the side. She knows how much Mariko Hyodo meant to Haru.

“I’m sorry Haru. I promise, if it turns out these events are connected to the metaverse-- like I think they are-- then we’ll figure out a way to restore them to their previous selves.”

“I’m sorry to cut in,” Yusuke cuts-in. “But is that all? Or is there something more to these cases you haven’t yet shared with us? So far, I remain unconvinced of Airi’s involvement.”

Makoto sighs, and releases her hold on Haru. “Two more patients cropped up. One in October, at Shujin Academy-- a student, in fact.” Everyone gasps, and Akane nearly shrieks. “And the most recent one was three days ago.”

“But, wait,” Ryuji says. “We haven’t changed any hearts this month.”

“Which begs the question-- who did?” Makoto asks, pointedly. Her gaze lands on Akechi, distrust mounting as her heart begins to beat faster. “Airi has been especially busy this month-- I hear she’s missed a lot of work, as well.”

Akechi doesn’t even blink at the attack-- he sighs, resisting the urge to ‘tut tut tut’ her logic, but settles on: “Correlation isn’t causation, Niijima-san. Simply because a Change of Heart preceded the other comatose incidents doesn’t mean they’re caused by them.”

Makoto decides she really, really does hate this man. “I know that. But it would be foolish to ignore the quantity of coincidences in all these cases. Furthermore, I know that you and Airi have been keeping in touch-- using pagers-- since at least August. Probably before that, too. If the two of you have kept in contact this long, then it’s highly possible you arranged times to carry out these plans.”

“And to what end?” Akechi asks. “What would Airi-san or I have against a husband, a brother, a child, and a disgraced mayor?” Haru trembles and chokes a sob at the insult. “The cop, I understand your suspicion, at least. He was a terrible person. And.. ah, my apologies. Who was the last comatose patient? You neglected to tell us, Niijima-san,” Akechi says, using his sickly-innocent detective prince demeanor.

She doesn’t answer right away.

In fact, tens of seconds go by, with all eyes on her.

Then, she realizes she can’t contain the emotions no matter what techniques she tries.

“It’s Sae. She’s turned bone-white and hasn’t woken up,” Makoto rasps.

Haru lets out another sob, then covers her face with a tissue, weeping softly into it. Futaba’s and Yusuke’s eyes go wide and they become extremely still. Akira looks at everyone else-- Ann, Shiho, Sophia, and Hifumi, looking at each other; Ryuji, Shinya, Atsuki and Zenkichi sit with their mouths agape, stares unwavering from Makoto. He notices the shock in Akechi’s face-- completely stunned silence.

It’s Akane that breaks it.

“WHY didn’t you tell me that Sae was in the hospital?!” Akane shouts. “My oldest sister was targeted and you didn’t bother to tell me that THAT is why she wasn’t home during Christmas?! NOW who’s keeping secrets from who?!”

“I wanted to tell you-- I wanted to tell you all. But Sae made me swear all of this information to secrecy while she was awake. I wanted to pick up the case where she left off. I wanted to have faith in Airi, believe that she would never do something like this to anyone-- but Sae shared all of this with me two months ago, when the Shujin student went comatose. She said, ‘If even one more person falls into a coma, I’m going to confront Airi about what she knows.’” Makoto huffs, trying to dispel the bitterness in her throat. “And then this happens.” Tears sneak past the corner of her eyes, and fall down her cheeks. She pulls Haru back into that side-hug embrace, trying to find any sort of comfort.

“Dude…” Ryuji says.

“Sae-san…” Akechi says. “Was she close to some sort of breakthrough, Niijima-san? Perhaps she made a powerful enemy.” Makoto opens her mouth to speak, but is cut off abruptly. “Someone besides Airi-san.”

“I… I don’t know,” Makoto rasps out. “The timing is alarming. It’s almost as if…”

“...as if it was planned,” Akira finishes. (as if it was a rush job/as if the culprit couldn’t wait for a better time)

Futaba shakes her head. “No, that can’t be right… no, no it’s not right at all!” she says. “The timing would be perfect, had we changed a heart already this month-- It’s December 27th. This is later than any change of heart we’ve done in a month.. this year, anyway. There could be multiple reasons why this time is different, but a definite possibility is that the culprit expected us to follow our pattern of changing hearts-- one change every two months, somewhere in the middle-- in fact, besides the target Airi told us about today, we haven’t planned any changes of hearts! A potential culprit would have had to choose someone without being able to find a perfect candidate in a perfect place to… albinize! Comatize? Comatize!”

“You’re right, Sakura-san,” Akechi says, a little surprised at her sound logic. “Whoever is responsible for these victims’ conditions-- if a person is indeed responsible-- chose the one person who cared about this case. There was no viable target. They chose a target of convenience, in lieu of a target that correlates with the others. It seems as though someone is rather intent on framing the Phantom Thieves, or at least Airi-san, in these attacks. Perhaps they wanted to sow distrust between her, and the other Phantom Thieves… but anyone doing something like that would have to know who the players are…”

Everyone looks at Akechi. “I appreciate the suspicion, but I meant it when I said I respect Airi more than anyone else in this shit reality. But… regardless, I actually have a suspect in mind. Or, at least, a connecting thread to all of this. But you’re not going to like it, Niijima-san.”

Makoto leers at Akechi through tear-swollen eyes. “You had better not conveniently pin it on your current target--”

“Ugh. Obviously that’s what he’s going to say,” Ann interrupts.

“For certain,” Sophia agrees.

“100%,” Futaba adds.

“No more interjections?” Akechi spits.

“Rule of three’s--” Futaba clarifies. “I’d say you’re good to go, Detective.”

He takes a breath in, then out. “I will explain, but it might take some time. To start: yes, it is our target, Aoi Konuta. But there’s a reason he’s our target. I asked her to take me into his Hallowed Ground, because my investigation halted when I hit upon his connection to the case.”

“Question,” Futaba asks. “What exactly were you investigating? I was joking about the whole ‘detective’ thing.”

“My survival, to be frank with you. When we confronted Doctor Maruki, I had already believed myself to be dead-- Doctor Maruki had even all-but-confirmed it. I’ve been searching for answers since I woke up-- and thanks to Airi-san, I finally found them. Most of the mystery has been cleared up for me.”

“So what happened, then? How did you survive our encounter in Shido’s Palace?” Akira asks softly.

Akechi turns so he can see Akira more directly. “In Konuta’s Hallowed Grounds, we stumbled across a memory of his. On the day that I should have died, Konuta heard a scream come from the Diet building’s boiler room.” He paused, unsure if the Phantom Thieves deserved to know-- but seeing Akira’s soft expression, all doubt melted away. “He opened the door to find me, bleeding profusely on the floor-- and beside me, a young woman clutching her heart. It appeared to be a heart attack. He arranged for us to be carried off, and taken somewhere he knew we would be off the grid. He told his secretary in that moment, that ‘he could learn everything he could about us, medically-- and perhaps he’d be able to mimic the power of metaverse traversal.’ He was in-the-know, after all,” Akechi clarified. “He was a strong supporter and ally to Shido, so he knew about me, specifically. But it was odd he mentioned the woman could travel between, as well.”

Akira’s eyes go wide, a reaction normally out-of-character for him. “You’re saying the woman in the memory was Airi,” he blurted. “He sent you two to that shady hospital. She was studied. The doctor learned something and forwarded that information to Konuta. And now Konuta’s abusing that power to frame her, now that she’s loose-- and Sae got too close to learning the truth of it all, so he had her eliminated from the game.”

Akechi smiles. “Finally, someone with common sense. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“Hold on,” Makoto says. It’s not a request. Everyone turns and listens. “There’s one more piece of information I have for you, regarding the comatose patients. The final nail in the coffin. It’s what made me consider her to be… using us. Lying to us.

“...The first patient woke up four days ago,” she said. “Sis-- Sae-- was still awake. She questioned him right away, but the patient had no memory to speak of. The ONLY thing he could tell Sae was that the very last thing he remembered was seeing a woman dressed in white, with white hair and pale white skin. He told Sae that the woman pulled his heart out of his chest.”

“He remembers a woman pulling his heart out of his chest?” Zenkichi asks. “You kids don’t think that sounds awfully Jail-like-- like how Desires were taken-- do you?”

“It certainly sounds dire,” Yusuke replies.

“A woman who is entirely white? It does match her description.” Hifumi adds.

“--but I don’t think that means it’s her,” Futaba continues.

“Because this guy’s just setting her up…” Ryuji added. “...right?”

“I hope you mean Konuta and not the patient who just woke up from a nine-month coma,” Makoto warned.

Ryuji sputtered. “Bwuhh-- of COURSE I meant Konuta! He saw what Airi looked like in that boiler room several years ago, so he knows just how to fake her appearance and confuse the victims!” he says, proudly.

“Unfortunately, when Konuta saw Airi-san in the boiler room, she wasn’t painted white-- her skin took on a somewhat healthier, tanner-hue; her eyes were dark; and her hair was black as night. The only consistency in her appearance from then and now lies in her facial structure, her shape, and her ridiculously-long hair. I hate to say it, but he might have no idea what she looks like, today. The witness protection seems to have done her some good-- we didn’t find any sign he’d detected her current existence, while we were at his Hallowed Grounds.”

“He doesn’t know about her?” Ann asked. “But… if he knows about the metaverse, then he’s totally been keeping tabs on the changes of heart.. right? So how can he not suspect she’s a part of this?”

Akechi responds, “If I were to guess, it’s because he had never been made aware of the meta-nav. Without knowing about it, he’d have to assume the entry to the metaverse required a different sort of method. Perhaps he believed the Phantom Thieves were operating under their previous capabilities all this time. Maybe he wrote off the existence of the comatose girl once she was no-longer of any use to him. It’d make sense, considering he cut off Doctor Hashiba’s funding entirely right before he snapped.”

“Wait, I just realized something,” Sumire suddenly muttered. “We’re disproving the existence of a ‘culprit’ besides Airi-chan. That simply won’t do,” she finishes, plopping her cheek onto her fist, letting it support her head.

Akechi places his elbows on the table and props his chin on his hands. He expounds, “Konuta may or may not know about Airi, but that memory we saw of someone receiving heart surgery might suggest that he has someone working in the metaverse, now. That procedure to augment a heart with the power to Waver between was finalized by an associate of Konuta’s. It’s likely that he has at least one agent doing sinister work in the metaverse.”

“That’s a convenient fact Akechi, but I’d say the specificity of the recently-recovered coma patient is much better proof than your correlation,” says Makoto.

“Really?” Akechi asked. “A man with no other memory than the one that conveniently points the finger at Airi-san is hardly proof-- it’s unsubstantiated hearsay, and little else. The description is hardly specific, I’ll add-- it mentions white hair, clothes, and skin-- but if he’s talking about our Dove, he missed the most prominent detail.”

Makoto’s eyebrows shoot up. She responds: “Her mask.”

“Furthermore,” Akechi continues, smiling now, “there’s now an array of people turning pallid-- apparently, they’re waking up, as well. Who’s to say a previous patient isn’t infecting healthy people for their own benefit? Since we’re accusing Airi-san, anyway.”

Makoto closes her fists-- she doesn’t know if Airi can be trusted, but now there’s a reason for the Phantom Thieves to enter this politician’s Hallowed Grounds. Makoto breathes in and out. She speaks: “...You’re right. Sae would never have accepted such weak proof. She might have gone along with his story to learn more, but she doesn’t accept a statement as truth just because it fits the facts as she knows them-- she scrutinizes every detail. It appears the only way I’m going to learn more about this, and continue Sae’s investigation, is by gleaning whatever info we can from Konuta.”

Haru gasps, as does Futaba, Yusuke, Shiho, and Akane.

“Does this mean…?” Haru asks.

“Yes,” Makoto replies. “If everyone else is in: then I’m in, too.”

[neroniiii]

gange

[annabelle--cane]

"the magnus protocol had a whole ARG beforehand? what?"

yes! it did!

"oh so I need to have participated in this whole big thing to actually understand the podcast?"

not at all! from the official post-mortem put out by RQ, "while the ARG was not something that was necessary to participate in to understand the magnus protocol, it was designed to contain a wealth of background story and context that would enrich any player's listening experience."

"a wealth of background context that would enrich my listening experience 👀👀👀 how can I learn about this?"

SO glad you asked. sadly, many of the materials made for the arg have been taken down since the game ended 😔 (ex., the official OIAR, magnus institute, and bonzoland websites. (edit ii: I found partial wayback machine captures! see below) though @strangehauntsuk is still up!), so we're a bit low on primary sources, but in terms of learning about what happened:

for a starting point, I would really recommend this video by @pinkelotjeart

it's super accessible, it was made in real time as the game progressed and follows the solving and revelation of clues as they happened, it hits all the major points of the mystery and moments of community insanity while eliding some of the nitty gritty puzzle grinding, 10/10 would recommend.

here's the official summary put out by RQ, and I'd recommend reading through this once you've already gotten a basic handle on the flow of the story and the basic connections between major clues and events. it's got some fun behind-the-scenes info and lays out the thought process behind the puzzles in simple terms

here's the full masterdoc of all puzzles and resolutions put together in the statement remains discord server. masterdoc my absolute BELOVED, masterdoc my bethrothed, masterdoc my soul mate. I'd recommend this as a second port of call after the above video as it either contains all details about the puzzles or links to other expanded docs that do.

here's the narrative summary doc that lays out all the plot and lore discovered in three pages of plain prose. if you just want to get to the good bits as fast as you can and get blasted directly in the face by contextless lore bombs, this is the doc for you. if you don't want to start with the video, I'd say this is another good entry point.

once you've got the lay of the land, some of the game materials that I found particularly interesting include:

the in-universe east germany expat usenet forum, with all content translated into english. most of it is irrelevant space filler with occasional extremely sus lore, but I still found it fun to read through. love to soak in some fictional forum drama.

chdb.xlsx, the spreadsheet of the names of all the children the protocol 'verse magnus institute was studying/experimenting on. EDIT: here is a version of the sheet without any annotations and with all of the names in their original order, kudos to @theboombutton for catching that the commonly shared copy had the order swapped around.

klaus.xls, a (very corrupted) spreadsheet with what looks like the classifications of a bunch of old OIAR cases.

EDIT: have a few more saved materials from the game that I forgot to include.

an in-universe audio ad to apply to the OIAR that ran before archives episodes and kicked off the whole game.

an in-universe video ad to apply to the OIAR, this one is an official upload that's still up from the game itself. you can subscribe to the OIAR's official youtube channel today, if you so chose.

the robo-voicemail greeting from the OIAR's phone line.

EDIT II:

here is a wayback machine capture of the OIAR's official website.

here is a wayback machine capture of the bonzoland website.

(pretty sure both of the above captures just archived the home pages, though I haven't tried clicking all of the links. I'd say they're still worth looking at, the home pages give a good window into the vibes.)

once you start poking around in these documents, you'll find a bunch of links to others with further information, the materials I've included here just contain what I feel to be the most relevant details to getting a broad feel for the whole game. once again, huge shout out to the statement remains server, I was barely in there as the ARG was in progress and only ducked my head in every so often to find links like these. true mvps of the fandom.

[yaekiss]

𝑭𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝑩𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒉𝒔

꩜ Room Content: GN! Top! Bathysmal Vishap! Reader x Subby! Bottom! Neuvillette, spoilers for Genshin Archon Quest 4.2, no gendered terms for reader, reader is a bathysmal vishap, Neuvillette has a dragon form, both reader and Neuvillette have hemipenes/two cocks, cloaca fucking (Neuvillette receiving), frotting, praise (Neuvillette receiving), lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ A/N: If you don't want to read about dragon vishap smut, don't read this one LOL. I know I said "between 800-1500 words". This one just ran away from me ok shhhh. I also made up some draconic courtship lore, don't look too hard at it (but please tell me if you think it's cute thank you <3) anyways ENJOY !!! ꩜ This was written for @coingbee as part of my Care for a Fic fundraising event for Gaza! If you would to request a fic of your own, do check out the event post above ^^

The Hydro Sovereign has returned to their full power.

From beneath the surface, your head lifts. Judging by the excited clicks and chirps made by the rest in the community, it seems as if the others have sensed it too. 

Whilst your fellow bathysmal vishaps murmur and chatter wildly with each other about whether or not to head up to the surface, you’ve already come to a decision. Without wasting another minute, you’re already hightailing it upwards towards the surface, tracking the whereabouts of your Hydro Sovereign via the trail of draconic power traces.

Following the trail takes you all the way into Fontaine. Along the way, you’ve adamantly ensured not to take routes with higher human traffic. The very thought of even crossing paths with one sends your mind twisting with a hatred and loathing so foul. 

As your journey progressed, the ebbing and flowing stream of the trail you’ve been tracking gradually grows stronger and stronger as your distance travelled increases. Until, finally, you’re sure you’re close to the end and even closer to meeting the Hydro Sovereign when the trail stops and seems to be wholly focused and condensed into a solitary being nearby.

Your head emerges from beneath the water, breaking the still surface, sending ripples outwards. Eagerness bubbles within you as you anticipate finally meeting with the Hydro Sovereign that the bathysmal vishaps have been biding their time for, restlessly awaiting the return of their Dragon Lord. The moonlight of the evening is lovely, reflecting off the flow of the ripples.

And yet, as you crane your head to look over to where the water laps gently at the shore, to where the trail you’ve been tirelessly following should end, you feel your blood chill.

All you see is a mere human who stares out into the vast sea.

A split second is all it takes for any previous semblance of anticipation to morph into disbelief and bitterness. Surely, this can’t be! After all this time, was the undying hope in seeing the return of the Hydro Sovereign wasted on some farce? A prime example of a cruel sadistic joke the high heavens would play at your expense, just to see you inevitably crumble at the grand reveal? 

Consumed by your emotions for a moment, you can’t help but regret not having forsaken your sight as your ancestors did. For perhaps if you had followed in their footsteps, you would’ve been able to bask in the exalted presence of your Sovereign leader, albeit for the price of blissful ignorance. 

However, there is still a stubborn, restless part in your mind that wishes to understand just how you could have been so misled like this, how you had managed to be fooled into tracking the trail of a human all this time. 

In a bat of an eye, you swim and make it to the shoreline, the coarse sand crunching under your claws. The disturbance causes the human to notice you, startled by the sudden appearance of a bathysmal vishap. (Although, strangely enough, no trace of fear shows on their face, and they make no move to scurry away.)

As the tension between the two of you grows, you advance slowly towards the human, low hissing sent to them as a warning. And suddenly, they try soothing you in a tongue that’s nothing but familiar to you.

Before your mind can keep up with the fact that this mere human can communicate with your kind, your head has already instinctively lowered along with your gaze pointed down towards the ground in deference to the undeniable traces of draconic authority in their tone and voice.

And when you feel a gloved hand lightly patting under your chin, trying to usher you back up to your previous position, you're struck with the dilemma of relishing in the awe of the unmistakable power of the Hydro Sovereign thrumming beneath or scorning the fact that you've allowed a human to touch you so casually.

(Does it really matter if the human in question is technically your Dragon Lord? The uncertainty leaves a sour taste in your mouth.)

Nevertheless, with enough insistence, they manage to raise your head back up before they start up the conversation.

“Greetings. I am sure you must have many questions regarding my form-” you nod, “-Very well, I suppose an explanation of events both recent and bygone is in order.” Through this, you learn briefly about the matters that have transpired, that his name is Neuvillette, that he is the both Iudex and the Hydro Dragon.

“I expect that you would take this information back to the rest of the vishaps, and that soon I might see more of you on the surface-” his tone drops to one more stern and absolute, “-With this, should any of the human Fontanians meet any unjust or unreasonable form of harm from your kind, I shall not hesitate in enacting the appropriate judgement.” 

An understanding reached, you return back to your community as a sort of newly appointed mouthpiece. However, this proves not to be your last meeting with the Sovereign. No, far from it, really.

The sun starts to dip below the horizon as you slink languidly behind Neuvillette on a stroll together at the area outside of the Opera Epiclese. A couple melusines ride atop your back, Blathine and Veleda. You’ve come to remember their names after Neuvillette encouraged you and the melusines to get along more. (And you might have a soft spot for them after realising the fondness the Hydro Sovereign extends to them.)

The sight of the Chief Justice, along with a literal vishap essentially piggybacking two melusines might seem to be an odd sight to most. However, Fontanians have simply gotten used to this after the first few instances. 

“Ah, there goes the Iudex and the melusines, and that big ol’... weird lizard he keeps around again, for the third time this week,” you hear someone in the surroundings say.

“Huh. Good for him, I guess,” someone else says in reply.

Despite all the time you’ve spent around humans while at your Sovereign’s side, you still haven’t quite managed to readily want to take up the form of one. Hence, the reason why there was a vishap right in front of the Fountain of Lucine. 

Sometimes the Fontanians comment that you’re some sort of big guard dog for Neuvillette. (Honestly, you can’t quite find it in yourself to be opposed to being seen as a protector for someone you hold dear. Plus, it made for easier piggyback rides for the melusines and you enjoy seeing the warmth on Neuvillette’s face when he sees them having fun.)

As the sky darkens and the stars above begin to twinkle, the both of you drop the melusines off at their destinations. Soon, you’ve strolled to the coastline, the soft sound of sea water crashing against the shore blending into the ambient noise in the peaceful evening. Admiring the moonlight glistening and skating across the body of water, you break the comfortable silence first.

“I shall be travelling back to the depths tomorrow, is there any message you would like me to pass on to the bathysmal vishaps?” 

Ever since your first meeting with Neuvillette, more and more of the others have been venturing out and up to the surface with the return of the Hydro Dragon. Due to your enthusiasm in meeting with the Sovereign, the responsibilities of monthly reports and announcements now fall on your back. (Sigh, is this what you get for being the first one back up? “The early bathysmal vishap meets the Hydro Sovereign,” or something of the like?)

“Ah. Has it already been a month since the last one?” He pauses to think, before continuing, “No, I don’t have any information or messages to relay.”

Another short lull in the conversation, you note that he seems to be mulling something over as he thumbs along the handle of his cane in quiet contemplation.

“I hope I am not overstepping as I say this, however, I find myself reluctant to part with you. I find that the time that we spend together is invaluable and that I oftentimes catch myself longing for your presence whenever we are apart,” he communicates this to you, the vulnerability apparent in his words.

“Perhaps, my confession would be more sincere if I were not restricted in my human form.”

As he says this, he wades into the waters, then dives under when deep enough. There’s a change in the atmosphere surrounding you, a heavier pressure forming and coalescing as a vivid bright blue starts to glimmer from the depths.

You look out expectantly, waiting with bated breath, and before long, the mirror surface of the water begins to ripple and distort from something significant moving underneath. Its streamlined movements rocket it towards where you’re standing, and as the level of the water decreases, more of its form is revealed until ultimately, the Hydro Dragon stands before you in all of his glory.

His serpentine frame towers high above you, almost double your height, with smooth iridescent azure scales covering the top of his body and claw-tipped flippers. The colour of his scales transition gradually from blue to ivory white in areas like his underside and neck. His powerful tail relaxes in the shallows, occasionally swishing, causing little waves in the water.

Casting your gaze further up, you see the familiar sight of his glowing tendrils, extending down from the two sides of the back of his head. He cranes his head downwards in one fluid motion, closing the distance between the two of you as he levels you with piercing lavender slitted pupils.

Driven by natural instinct, you bow at the display of ancient authority.

“Raise your head, after all, have you not managed to worm your way into the space next to my heart?” You hear his voice in your mind, the edges of his words pronounced with the slightest hint of a gravelly growl in this new form.

He shifts in closer, nudging his head under yours to lift your gaze back up so that it meets his own.

“As I expected. This form truly is more freeing for myself. Now, I am able to do this,” The tendrils by his head seem to glow more intensely before he can continue. The almighty Hydro Dragon is… blushing?

“Forgive me if I am too forward, however,” there’s nothing but sincerity in his gaze, “Would you allow me to entwine with you?”

Neuvillette's simple question sends your mind reeling. The act of entwining is an incredibly  personal act of intimacy and often indicates the start of courtship in draconic species, one that signals everlasting devotion and commitment.

Usually, entwining is done with tails in regular vishap species. However, species with tendrils can also choose to use them instead of their tails since many believe the gesture to be more heartfelt. It is also said that the closer the frills or spines that the tendrils wrap around are to the head, the stronger the affection that the dragon has for the receiving party.

“I ask this of you not as the Hydro Dragon but rather, as Neuvillette. The one who has seen you cherish and care for the melusines, the one who has had walks under the rain with until the stars have emerged in the clear night sky.” He tilts his head down, tone serious. “That is to say, I do not wish to have your agreement only be one made out of obligation to authority.”

A beat of silence passes as your brain scrambles to process Neuvillette pouring his heart out to you, and you realise that your lack of an answer causes him to hesitate. (His tendrils droop a little and you think you see rain clouds starting to form.)

Before he can apologise or backtrack, you shift forward, headbutting him lightly to shake him out of his crestfallen state.

“Of course, Neuvillette.”

Upon hearing your answer, he instantly brightens and he goes to nuzzle his cheek against the side of your snout. 

“Do excuse me if I execute this wrongly, I’ve never done it before after all,” he comments before gingerly manipulating his glowing tendrils so that they coil around the spines closest to your head on either side. 

Up close, you can see everything so clearly, the tenderness in his gaze that he holds specifically for you. You can’t help but playfully bump your forehead against his, making him emit a content low rumble.

When he untangles and pulls back up, you swipe your tongue briefly against one of his tendrils, something akin to a quick kiss. This elicits a shiver from Neuvillette, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Apologies, ahem, it seems that my tendrils are quite the sensitive area. This full form is still somewhat new to me, and I have not had the chance to discover and understand everything about it just yet,” he squirms lightly against you.

“So how about we find out together? No time like the present, after all,” your tone is sly, charged with a salacious intent that causes Neuvillette to stiffen, tendrils glowing even more intensely than before.

Saying nothing, he swiftly manoeuvres his lithe body until he’s lying supine on his back,.  he exposes his vulnerable underbelly to you, an act so trusting that it roots you to the spot in disbelief for a brief second. Your eyes travel down until you catch sight of his cloacal opening already growing slick.

“Teach me well, beloved.”

Using his tail, he ushers you onto his larger form, where you clamber until you've positioned your slit against his. And when you grind downwards, you can feel him tremble beneath you.

“Hah… I wasn’t aware that it would feel this good,” you hear his voice shake with arousal in your mind. Maybe it’s a side effect of telepathic draconic communication, yet, it’s almost as if you can feel everything he’s feeling, like all your sensations are linked with his, increasing the pleasure bubbling up within you twofold. 

He takes the initiative this time, pushing his bottom half upwards to rut against you. It’s not long before the both of you are reduced to grinding against each other, each moving in tandem in order to maximise the pleasure. 

Suddenly, Neuvillette halts all action, causing you to freeze and check up on him.

“I’m alright. I only stopped because it seems like your hemipenes have everted.” Bashfully, he averts his gaze elsewhere, as if he had been caught seeing something he shouldn’t have. (Which is laughable considering the fact that the both of you were just writhing on the ground, tangled up in each other.)

In your haze, you hadn’t even noticed your cocks evert. Neuvillette’s are still somewhat concealed within, only the drooling tips peeking out of his entrance. 

“Yours haven’t yet, that won’t do. How else are we supposed to help you understand your new anatomy?” you shake your head, a faux forlorn tone decorating your words. “Would you allow me to penetrate you, Neuvillette?”

He nods at your suggestion and you line up one of your tips at his opening. Aided by the copious amount of slick fluid, you’re able to slowly enter him, sandwiching one of his dicks between the one you have in him and the one rubbing against his exposed head.

The new sensation has him throwing his head back, drawing out a loud throaty groan.

“D-Don’t stop, please, beloved.”

Spurred on by how wrecked he sounds, when you’ve made sure he’s comfortable, you start to rock in and out of him, shallow unhurried motions to start then transitioning to a faster pace once he starts to meet your thrusts. Slowly but surely, as Neuvillette gets increasingly worked up, his hemipenes gradually evert until they’re fully revealed.

They’re slender, each with a pale white bulbous base that then curves and morphs into a tip that’s more flared on the bottom edge, like a blunt fishing hook.

“There we go, how are you feeling, still fine?”

“Yes, but allow me to catch my breath first before we continue. Thank you for checking with me, beloved.”

When he’s ready, he experiments and frots his cocks against yours, hissing at the heat and friction as they drag along your lengths. The slick sounds do nothing to quell the rising desire within you and you can feel yourself reaching your peak.

The dragon under you is faring no better as well, judging by how wound up he’s getting. His tail is flicking wildly to and fro in the water, churning up the sand as a desperate mix of growls, chirrups, and pitched calls leave him. Despite it all, he’s still the most gorgeous sight you’ve ever had the opportunity to witness.

“You’re nothing but beautiful, Neuvillette. Ah! I’ve grown to see the overflowing compassion you have within you,” he keens at your words and you can sense the pleasure he’s feeling melding with yours.

“How fortunate I must be to stay at your side, to call you mine, as I, yours.” And this is what does him in.

As he spills over, his tail goes to loop around yours tightly whilst his muscles lock and shake. You follow suit not long after, a sticky mess forming between the two of your bodies

A quick splash around in the water washes most of the evidence off. You rest next to where he’s curled up comfortably, the waves rhythmically lapping up against him. The atmosphere is relaxed as the both of you wind down and converse.

“I’d love to stay with you till the late morning but you have a trial scheduled and I promised to find Pahsiv first thing in the morning to catch up,” you lament.

A rumble from his chest, he’s chuckling. He tucks his head next to yours, caressing a tendril across your cheek.

“I’ll wait for you. Return safe, my beloved one.”

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

If you'd like to request a fic of your own, do consider checking out my event post!

[celaenaeiln]

thinking about some quotes i’ve read and i wanna hear your thoughts on them because i have a lot and i don’t know what to do with them.

“the day Dick Grayson turns evil is the day the universe ends, not because that day will never come but because the boy will make it come”

“Dick Grayson isn’t the universal constant of good. Dick Grayson is the universal constant of competence”

“So, having said all that, it is a few but definitely significant words that fill the contingency plan on Nightwing in case the hero of Bludhaven ever turns to the dark side. Let's hope that never happens.”

YESSSSS

“the day Dick Grayson turns evil is the day the universe ends, not because that day will never come but because the boy will make it come”

This is the truest fact I've ever heard because this is really canon.

Word for word this happened.

In one of the canon timelines Clark laser blasted Bruce under mind control.

And oh how Dick took over. You know what Luthor says?

"After all, as I've heard your father [Dick] so often quoted, 'we make the hardest decisions for those we care about the most.' Well, in his case...that has meant remaking the world."

This man has the power to single-handedly control the fate of the world.

Whatever he wants, he will make it happen.

The entirety of the justice league, all the metas, heroes, and villains too stood no chance against him.

DC vs Vampires

“Dick Grayson isn’t the universal constant of good. Dick Grayson is the universal constant of competence”

I think it's true.

Nightwing is one of the most formidable figures in DC, without fail consistently coming out on top, so if Superman is iterating that Dick's personality and essence of being is the same, then there's really no room for disagreement.

But more truly, I think he is a Nexus.

By Marvel's definition, "Nexus Beings are rare individual entities with the ability to affect probability and thus the future, thereby altering the flow of the Universal Time Stream. These beings, each referred to as a nexus, act as the keystones of the Multiverse and are crucial to its ultimate coherence and stability."

That means that the universe hinges on the actions of Dick Grayson.

Not only does he control the fate of the world but his mere existence determines what will become of it by other people:

I'd like to reiterate that Neux Beings are "the keystones of the Multiverse and are crucial to its ultimate coherence and stability."

You can still be a nexus if you turn dark. For example Lore was a dark version of Wanda Maximoff but she is still considered a nexus. So you're right in saying that Dick Grayson is a multiuniversal constant of competence.

“So, having said all that, it is a few but definitely significant words that fill the contingency plan on Nightwing in case the hero of Bludhaven ever turns to the dark side. Let's hope that never happens.”

In the easiest terms as someone put it, "hope he fucks up" is Bruce's only contingency plan against Nightwing. The man doesn't have a clear plan how to neutralize Nightwing.

His exact words are: "As a result of overanalyzing any situation, this allows Dick Grayson to overconfident and misdirected. This will make himself open to a second attack."

So the plan is basically 'Dick is too smart for his own good so we'll have to go with a lucky surprise attack.' He's literally saying 'yupppp. Let's just hope he messed up because there's nothing we can do on ouR end.' Note that Bruce doesn't even have a back up like 'the second attack didn't work? we're fucked.'

For everyone else he actually has a coherent plan in mind- do this and they will fall. But for Dick? 'I hope he messes up enough for a second attack to actually stick. Otherwise we're shit out of luck. And lives. Fingers crossed he doesn't jump to the bad side.'

Tim also confirmed he would never make a contingency plan for Dick. The only person in the world he wouldn't do one for.

He's just that formidable of a man. Even now he can easily take down the Justice League if he wanted to.

And we know that Dick has one of the strongest wills on the planet.

"I have my enhancements. I have powers. Dick Grayson...what do you have?"

A world where Dick loses his emotions is a world that would not survive.

[alwaysmoncheri]

𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈 | 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

summary: during your time at hogwarts, you and james dated months before he dated lily. but now, after graduation, you find yourself looking for him in every place and you have no idea he’s doing the same.

cw: fem!reader, mentions of alcohol, angst(lots of it), mentions of break-ups, james and reader lore, remus being a sweetheart as always, lightly proofread, 1.8k

a/n: i don’t have much of a plan for this series, so it’s sort of just going where it’s going. if you want to suggest anything i’m open to that! but anyways, i hope you enjoy! :)

<3

james is miserable. the moment he heard your voice through the phone, something within him stirred. all the built-up emotions connected to you are suddenly back in the forefront of his mind. his day was going fine, it was like any normal day hanging out at remus’s apartment, having a few drinks, and discussing their jobs. just moments ago, laughs were shared, drinks were spilled, and remus and sirius went to the kitchen to clean up and grab a few replacement drinks. nothing was out of the ordinary, that is until the phone rang and james mindlessly decided to pick up.

remus has always been a little wary of other people answering the phone when visiting him, but james hadn’t known why, until now. remus didn’t want james to know that you and him were still close and remus surely didn’t want to ruin any peace you had made with the brutal ending of your and james’s relationship with one single phonecall. unfortununatly, due to james’ stupidity and obliviousness, he messed it all up.

“finally! I thought you weren’t going to pick up,” your voice echos through the phone, progressively getting louder as you adjust the phone within your grip. james’s eyebrows furrow together as he recognizes your voice, and disbelief flows through him, “you won’t believe who I just spoke to, she–”

“y/n?” james interrupts and you stop midsentence. there’s nothing but silence on your end of the phone for a few seconds and james thinks that you’ve hung up, but you’re only momentarily frozen with shock and a rush of memories, “hello?”

“...james?” you whisper delicately as if you’re testing his name on your lips after not speaking it for the past couple of years, “why— what are you doing?” you finally ask, a slight stammer in your sentence, after another few seconds of silence. your urgent question makes him grimace, knowing that you don’t want to speak to him.

“i’m with remus and sirius.” james replies, and he mentally facepalms himself because of course he’s with his two best friends, why else would he be answering one of their apartment phones?

“oh.” you mumble, your response barely reaching james’s ear through the phone.

“so, how are you?” james finds himself asking, not wanting you to hang up just yet, but also not knowing what else to say.

“how am I? seriously?” you repeat, an incredulous laugh falling from your lips while you shake your head in bewilderment. james hasn’t changed a bit, still avoiding the conversation that you should be having, “i’m hanging up, james.”

“hold on—” james starts, his words urgent and desperate, practically pleading you to stay on the phone with him.

“do you need something from me?” you snap and james’s eyes widen with shock at your bitter tone.

“I just wanted to hear your voice again, lovely.” james admits, the term of endearment falling from his lips before he can stop it. he grimaces again, waiting to hear your presumably just as bitter response to his comment.

“still a charmer, i see.” you say and james can picture you rolling your eyes through the phone, there might even be a small smile threatening to curve at the corners of your lips.

“some things never change, I guess.” james responds with a hopeful smile on his face. he turns around and leans against the apartment wall, getting comfortable.

“yeah, I guess they don’t.” you agree. there’s a small pause before james hears you take a deep breath, “i’m good. i’ve been pretty good.” you say, finally answering his question from earlier.

“yeah?” james asks, his smile growing wider while crossing one heel over the other.

“look, can you tell remus I called?” you ask, hoping to end the conversation without too much damage left on your heart. james’s smile drops and you quickly backtrack, changing your mind about telling remus, “or maybe don’t even mention this at all. that’s probably better.”

“okay, yeah, I can do that.” james nods through the phone, no traces of the smile from earlier left upon his face because of your abrupt end to the conversation.

“goodbye james.” you say, and james hears a hint of sadness in your tone before the click of a button, indicating that you’ve hung up.

“bye.” james whispers to himself, placing the phone back on the wall, feeling defeated and confused.

now, james is stiffly seated on the couch, a frown and a look of contemplation upon his face. he’s trying hard to forget the way the two of you broke up. he’s trying to forget the way you liked it when he loosely hugged your waist from behind, the way only he could smell your sweet perfume when he kissed along your neck, and how he only knew that you hated your laugh, but whenever you did, he would tell you how beautiful it was—you would never believe him, but he kept doing it anyway. he’s trying to forget every little detail about you, but that took years, and somehow, a single conversation was enough to bring it all back.

“what’s with the face, prongs?” sirius notices first, after he and remus come back from the kitchen, a couple more drinks in their hands.

“what?” nothing.” james says, snapping his gaze up to meet his two friends who come to sit beside him, eye watching him intently. sirius and remus share a glance, one of suspicion and one of concern and confusion.

“oh c’mon.” sirius prys, leaning forward to rest his elbow on his knee and his chin on his hand, a playful smile upon his lips, “we know you better than that.” james sends sirius a glare, causing sirius to lean back mouth agape in reaction to james’s bitter expression.

“I don’t think he wants to tell us.” remus says softly, hoping to avoid receiving the same treatment that james gave sirius. but sirius is undeterred, he crosses his arms and leans back against the couch, frustrated with james’s sudden attitude.

“no, no, tell us what’s wrong.” sirius urges, eyebrows raised, awaiting james’s next response.

“nothing is wrong,” james replies, not wanting to argue, but not wanting to share his previous encounter with you on the phone, “i’m fine.” he assures, and he watches out of the corner of his eye as remus shifts uncomfortably.

“oh ok.” sirius rolls his eyes before leaning forward to glance at remus on the other side of james, “he’s fine, did you hear, remus? he’s fine.” sirius repeats mockingly before scoffing quietly.

“would you just drop it?” james asks, raising his voice ever so slightly and turning to face his whole body toward sirius.

“I don’t think I will—”

“stop it, you are both incredibly stubborn.” remus interrupts, suddenly standing up, causing james and sirius to watch with shock at their friend’s actions, “I don’t know what happened in the two minutes that we were gone, but clearly something is wrong, james. but sirius you also need to know when to take a hint.”

“sorry.” james apologizes, hanging his head low with disappointment in himself.

“I appreciate that, but I think you should go home.” remus suggests, gathering a few empty beer cans off the floor and placing them on the coffee table, “we can do this another time.” james sighs deeply before standing, walking towards the front door and grabbing his coat on his way out. when the door closes, remus turns to sirius a concerned expression resting on his face.

“is he okay?” remus asks, and sirius scoffs, clearly offended that remus didn’t ask if he was okay first.

“how should I know, remus?” sirius asks bitterly, shrugging nonchalantly, as if the whole previous conversation didn’t happen, “we’re in the same boat here.” sirius adds, referring to what little they both know about james’s mood shift and how they were both together when it suddenly occurred.

“don’t do that.” remus pleads, feeling a pang of hurt in his chest as sirius refuses to meet his gaze, “if you want to be that way, then get out.”

sirius scoffs angrily, grabs his leather jacket and stomps out of the door. from outside the apartment james watches as he hops into his car, slams the door shut, and drives away in a flash. the feeling of guilt rushes through james’s chest knowing that he’s the reason for the ruined night and the upset feelings of his two best friends. james feels like his head is all messed up, not thinking straight about anything anymore. when he gets into his own car, he just sits there for a moment, thinking about all your car-involving fantasies you talked about when the two of you were together. you always said you wanted to be kissed in a car, but james never had the chance to make that wish come true. he wonders if it has now. james rests his head on the steering wheel for a split second before starting the engine and driving back to his own apartment.

when james arrives, he shrugs off his jacket and heads straight towards his bedroom. he instantly flips on the light and strides over to his dresser taking a quick glance at the framed picture of you and him neatly placed on the top. james sighs sadly before opening his drawers, digging through the miscellaneous items within, eventually finding a small stack of letters, each one addressed to him, from you. that’s how the two of you met. he wrote a letter with the intention of giving it to lily and left it underneath a log by black lake. james planned on luring lily to his favorite spot, knowing that if he gave her the letter outright, she would find it silly, but before he could, someone else found the letter, the person being you. and you didn’t find it silly at all. you found it quite endearing, the sweet words finding home within your heart. then, you wrote a letter back, left it in the same place and somehow, james found it. that tree by the lake became your spot as the two of you continued to write to each other. but eventually you started leaving your letters elsewhere, communicating these places with each letter sent. this went on for a few months in your sixth year. you and james weren’t good friends but you were closer in your earlier years at hogwarts, so when you finally revealed yourselves to each other at the very end of the year, he instantly asked you out on a date and you said yes.

james could’ve gotten rid of these letters because they only hold memories that hurt him, but it might hurt him even more if he did get rid of them. so, he keeps choosing to hold onto them, just like he keeps holding onto you. james takes a seat on the edge of his bed and reads through each of the letters, reminding himself of the locked up memories from years ago. as he reads yours, he doesn’t know that not too far from him, you’re lying in bed, doing the exact same.

<3

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thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

tags: @annoyingmidgetwhowrites, @googie-jeon, @dreamsygirl, @vixparker, @enamoredwithbella

alwaysmoncheri © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.

[otakuworks]

❛ 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑. reborn au

feat. Zhongli x Reincarnated!GN!Reader | PART I | wc. 4.6K

Based on 'See You In My 19th Life' | overview. this webtoon follows the story of a woman who can somehow remember all her past lives.

sum. after a sweet hello, your lips never found its way to say the bittersweet goodbye. because you knew you would always find your way back to him even if he won't recognize you in your renewable lives.

note. some scenes are purposely inaccurate to the canon lore

main.mlist genshin.mlist | xiao ver.

You first met him as Morax, a little child dragon you grew up discreetly meeting at a very convenient time of your day, never knowing what's stored for the two of you.

He first met you as Y/N who resides at the countryside near Mt. Tianheng in hopes to find new things to discover across the vast lands of Teyvat. And he did. He found you.

Young Morax found you crouched under an oak tree, the wind flowing with your otherworldly voice, enrapturing him in blissful comfort.

Perched in the tree branch, he listens intently and let himself melt in your grace. It wasn't the first time he finds you warbling a melodic tune, and each time he comes back to hear more from you, it's always a different song and it wouldn't cease to amaze him how much ditty you know.

He lost count on how often he'd fall asleep with your voice lulling him and wakes up feeling empty as the epilogue of his day is always spent without your presence.

Sometimes he wonders if you know he has been watching you, and if you do, why aren't you approaching him? No matter, young Morax doesn't intend to befriend with you.

But then one day...

"Hello! You must be the boy who likes to hear me sing by the tree."

He was caught red handed, perhaps he became distracted that he didn't realize he's been shamelessly stalking you. He couldn't stop his curiosity to follow you in your way home.

Not only he's been spying on you, now he sounds like a stalker. But you didn't suspect, there wasn't anything to be suspicious of anyway.

"H-Huh? H-How did you know?" He gotta commend you for your keen senses. He's the Dragon between the two of you, which means he's supposed to be the one who has sharper senses.

"You must be good at anything but hiding. I have known you've been following me, but I never get to see you up close, you're really majestic looking, by the way." You chuckled as his poor attempt of masking his flushed face at your compliment.

"I don't mind your company, in fact, I want to be friends with you."

Friends. What a foreign concept for young Morax.

He has heard of that term, it's common among mortals, but he's not a mortal. Does this 'friend' term stretches to immortals like him as well? If so, then he has no reason to refuse.

Says the person who one minute ago thought of every alternative ways to stay out of your way.

He was skeptical at your optimism, most mortals would be astounded at his appearance and try to persuade him to spill whatever secrets he has, but as he got to know you better, he was a bit guilty to categorize you as one of them.

His horns and inhumane features? Young Morax found out you're only fascinated by his unique physical looks. And never doubted it.

"Cool! You have horns just like our boars, where did you get those? Can I touch them?"

"Did you just compare my horns to a pig? Pigs don't even have horns! How disgraceful!"

The sparkle in your eyes quickly died down as it came, and the young Morax feels tight in his chest just seeing your smile turns into a frown. You insulted his pride though!

You mumbled a meek apology but still kept your sheepish smile, a glimmer of hope that one day he'd let you do it.

The next days were spent by you sneaking out your house every midnight to meet up with the dragon, Morax. He's slightly skittish, oddly resembling him that of a cat, which is cute.

You probably shouldn't be calling a literal Dragon cute, legends depicted them as tyrannical creatures who seek treasures.

Ah! Classic children's story to scare the kids away at night, it did affect you in some way.

But you can't help it when he would eagerly look at you whenever he asks you to sing him a song.

You'd sit side by side under the tree, you have to admit he'd either falls asleep amidst your song or asks you for the lyrics so he can sing it to himself too.

You even dedicated a song that lets a certain flower bloom.

"Glaze Lily? What's that?" Young Morax asked with tilted head.

A smile outstretched your lips, "Beautiful, right? It transforms the memories of the land into its fragrance during florescence."

"Really?! Is that why you're always out in the dark?" You chuckled sheepishly, feigning ignorance, "Don't know what you're talking."

You got to know each other, held hands like innocent children, share what little knowledge your pea sized brain can, hug whenever one seeks comfort, eat under the glistening sun.

Morax is... a sensitive individual, albeit rough around the edges, but he's young and still learning, and you're unbelievably patient with his attitude— a quirk from you that he greatly appreciates.

From that, young Morax grew fond of you and it isn't one sided.

He flies by the same tree and gives you random things he finds magnificent, whether it could be a rock he found by the lake or a rare item that no one has ever discovered before.

Well, the legend wasn't lying about Dragons and treasure, for sure

You'd laugh at the strangest things he discovers but accepted them nonetheless. Every object he gives you is worth something.

This has been part of your routine for days, weeks, months, even years maybe. You don't know how much time has gone by whenever you're with him and you never bothered to count.

Before you know it, the two of you are almost in young adulthood, he grew up to be a fine man, much unlike you were expecting. Nothing changed from your friendship, until now.

You were taken by surprise when he suddenly blurted out one day

"I want to show you what I see from up there one day, Y/N."

He gazes at you much differently when he looks at you when you were younger. There's a glint of promise in his eyes that you can't pinpoint, it sent shivers all over your nerves.

"You can just fly me up there, Morax. I'm sure I'm not heavy." You muster a smile in an attempt to ease your quickening heartbeats.

He never gave a reply, he only stared at you so intensely that it feels like he's poking your deepest and innermost thoughts.

The way he stares at you never fails to summon the tickling butterflies in your stomach and the blood on your cheeks. You merely regarded that as your hormones, anyone would be flustered if someone they're close to stare at them like that.

You should've known better that nothing in your world stays permanent. The only thing you remember after that day was his twisted look of desperation to keep you alive and tear stained amber dyes trying to get the last image of you in his memories.

"N-No... Y/N please stay with me. D-Don't leave m-me just yet." It hurts you more than the numbing pain in your abdomen to see him broke down like a cornered prey. So helpless and vulnerable.

"I-I'll always be w-with you, Morax..."

So cruel, just when you've begun to realize the burgeoning feelings you have for the Dragon, fate took you away before you have the chance to confess.

Should you be selfish to confess your feelings to him? If you do, it seems like you'll be punishing him an endless torture ahead, and you would never wish Morax to suffer for eternity.

You only smiled and caressed his horns, even in your deathbed you're glad you died in the arms of the man you ever loved.

At the last moment, you heard the anguished wail erupts from his throat as he clutches your form closer, begging and crying for you to come back, to not leave him like this, that he needed you, that he loves you. His pleas fell on deaf ears, for you weren’t there to hear him anymore.

But it became clear to you that he reciprocated your love.

It came a shocking twist when you opened your eyes you can hear multiple cooing sounds from around you. Didn't I die in his arms? Where am I? Turns out, you were reborn. But not as Y/N anymore and you were given a surname.

Unfortunately, the Celestia isn't so forgiving. You were suffering from an unknown illness that took away your second life at such a young age.

You trained hard and learned martial arts in your third life as you were born from a family whose tradition is to produce well-trained warriors in the future.

Fourth to eight life came by like a blur, there were times when you get to lived as an innocent child only for it to be ripped away a few years later with your past memories resurfacing.

You stopped counting after it hits a dozen, born in different class, society and unnamed nation. There's no point of it.

All you want is to look for Morax, but will he remember you? Will he even recognize you as Y/N? You're no longer the kid he grew fond of. No, you're much different than before.

What about him? Decades have past, does he still know of your name? You could've been a fragment of his childhood that he dare not talk about with his new friends.

Will I make your life more difficult by trying to reconnect with you, Morax?

Those thoughts haunted you for nights, often occuring in your dreams.

But what can you do, you're so far away from Mt. Tianheng, you don't even know if the village you lived in still exists nor do you know if Morax still visits the tree you first met.

Even if you did meet him in your new life, you ought to stay as acquaintances.

Aiding him in the shadows and lessening his burdens within your power.

In your hundredth life, all of your training in your third life is proven useful at the moment. You're known as the infamous warrior with no name that took down the monsters around Teyvat, you were revered to the people in the Guili Assembly.

War is threatening to wage amongst Gods and mortals alike.

When it came, no one is safe in and out of the battlefield. To survive they must fight tooth and nail, paint the lands in sea of red and play the game of thrones.

It was gratuitously morbid, gruesome and unjust. A macabre of series of deaths surrounded your every wake, your hundredth life is the epitome of a living nightmare. Horrifyingly memorable.

You were at the sidelines, watching as the war unfold, keeping tabs on Morax's allies and eradicating whatever threat they face.

That's when you came across the stunning Goddess Guizhong, the Ruler of Clouds, Goddess of Dust. A very close companion of Morax whom he met at the Guili Assembly along with the others.

She's capable and quick-witted, a type of peculiar person Morax wouldn't hesitate to be friends with.

As of the moment, a claymore is alarmingly closing its gap towards her, ready to slice her open.

Then you heard him scream, a cry of a man who's about to lose everything he has gained of.

That cry sent flashbacks of his tear-stained cheeks. No, you don't want to see him like that again! You'd do anything to chase away that vulnerable image of Morax, he deserves happiness and love.

Your feet went autopilot and swept away the Goddess out of the way, severing your lower limbs in the process and instantly killing you. Your eyes opened and you have started your new life.

Was Morax relieve that Guizhong lived? Did he wonder why a stranger would save her? Did he ever ask who you were? Did he... recognize you at the very least?

Your new parents panicked as they tried to appease the crying infant in their arms. Unbeknownst to your pained heart.

You saw for a brief moment before your demise how Guizhong's plausible absence will affect him. He will mourn her death as much as he lamented yours. For decades or centuries, you know he has been scarred by your passing.

You don't want him to go through that again. It's a different pain you feel when you see him tearing up, you rather get minced by a claymore than to watch him break down.

He garnered the reputation of a tyrant— but you knew better that Morax grew up with compassionate heart, he appreciates anyone no matter how insignificant they think they are.

Which is why you hold yourself from meeting him. He may not remember you, but he will certainly get attached to you once you had your way to his heart.

And a dragon who can outlive you in any lives will only suffer more from your death.

You dedicated your lives in living peacefully, learning history and new things as humanity evolves.

You vow to never fall in love if it isn't Morax you'll spend your mortal life with.

Even if he has someone he can fall in love with.

"Have you heard about the land Lord Morax and Lady Guizhong are building in Mt. Tianheng?" Gossips are everywhere about the infamous partners who survived the Archon War, there's no mouth that has not utter their names, and you're no exception.

A grin spreads over your lips as you sip your tea with elegance, "I've heard, I haven't seen them in person but the rumors about them guaranteed they're ambitious people with good hearts."

This has been a hobby you never knew; praising Morax to elate people's opinion about him. It's your small contribution to his flourishing nation.

You want people to love and respect Morax dearly just as you loved him in your childhood.

You prayed to the new Archons for Morax to find someone he can love and lean on. Someone that can be his source of strength to keep living. Someone much better than leaving him with death.

Now that he found someone he can be with, your goal in your next lives is to protect Liyue's history.

From the names of ancient relics and objects, war waged by the Gods, Nations that were built underneath the once blood soaked lands, fallen heroes who are forgotten— you know all of them. You're openly willing to offer tutelage to the inquisitive.

You sighed at the thought, it certainly will be lonely in your part. Immortal gods can still die— a death in which they'd leave their memories behind and start anew. Morax will eventually cease to existence with lovable Nation and Guizhong to remember him.

And you? Countless past lives yet you never found true happiness, and none of them was worth to remember for anyone.

Part of you feels happy for Morax finally moving on from your death eons ago, but you're still human so you're susceptible to those horrible impulses of bitterness at a basic level.

But you don't want to be a person who looks at Guizhong with jaundiced eyes just because you couldn't have Morax, so you suck it up and move on the fact Morax is in love with another.

At least my sacrifice isn't a total waste.

"Aren't they? I've met Lady Guizhong, she's such a beautiful and soft spoken woman. She and the Lord of Geo are a perfect match. I wish the two of them eternal blessings."

A tug at your heart left an unpleasant feeling, your brain tried to reason that at least he's with someone that'll love him more than you did. That can appease your bitter aching heart a bit.

How ironic. You built a nation where you first met me.

And showed her what you can see up there like you promised me.

Is that how you honor my death, Morax?

"Wow! You sure do know many things, Y/N!" The floating emergency food expressed her awe in your display of knowledge and the traveller couldn't agree more with her, "She's right, you never cease to surprise us."

Their exclaims were followed by your enchanting laugh, "I'm glad I can be at your service, Honory Knight."

You were simply ethereal to look at, you maybe a mortal like the traveller but the Blondie thinks otherwise.

Paimon and her travelling buddy met you by the Starnach Cliff when they were attempting to subdue Dvalin. Jean and Diluc already know you're part of the Adventurer's Guild as you often visit Mondstadt from time to time.

They didn't expect you to join them in their excursion in Stormterror's Lair, it turns out you're a great addition to the team.

You befriended with the traveller after the whole Stormterror fiasco and catch up with Kaeya.

You don't stand out the most in the crowd, you can blend in with everyone and no one would acknowledge your existence. But the traveller can sense the weight of the wisdom you withhold.

It almost feels like you're one of the Seven...

"Is there something else I can help you with, Traveller?"

"Huh?! Oh... I— Uhh... You've been telling us stories and fun facts about Mondstadt. If you don't mind, can you tell us about Liyue?"

For an ephemeral moment, the traveller saw your facade crumbles and slowly morphed into a nostalgic expression.

"Hmm. I'll tell you a quick introduction. Liyue is built in Mt. Tianheng after the Lord of Geo attained one of seven seats, unlike the Anemo Archon who's known to not show himself, he descends down once a year to give blessings to the people of Liyue."

"Exactly how Venti told us, but more detailed."

"He sounds a lot more of a decent God than Tone-Deaf Bard."

Her statement elicited a quiet snicker from you, "I'll be off then, I'll see you around soon." Paimon's expression deflated, "You're not coming with us?"

You shake your head, "I'll visit you when I can, until then I hope for your safe travels."

You forced a smile and took a different path from the traveller, as their figures disappear in the horizon, you felt your smile slip up as the sun whisks past the mountains turning to dusk.

Solitude in the dark has been part of your daily routine, you come and go whenever you feel like it, not knowing when to return.

The excuse you told to Paimon isn't entirely a lie, you couldn't bring yourself to go in Liyue when there's active Fatui agents scattered around the vicinity.

Let's just say you're not in good terms with the Fatui. Who isn't?

Nevertheless, whatever curse you have continued to persist in your thousandth life. You roamed around Teyvat and tell stories that even historians don't know.

Repeated lives were lived by just you traversing in each corners of Teyvat that even Archons never knew it existed.

Along the way, you've come terms with your feelings and settled it down like a dormant volcano. Morax is your first love, you enjoyed reminiscing the memories you made with him, you keep those memories locked up in the depths of your mind and often recount them in particular leisure time of the day.

You still love him, and you'll always be by his side whenever he needs a helping hand, but enough is enough, you've suffered enough to your own idiocy and fears. It's time to move on.

Morax continued to strive forward because he has changed, for the better of course. If you want to continue living the next lives of yours then you need to change too.

You met new friends and companions that you begin to trust and have fun with, the traveller and the emergency food included. It wasn't lonely as you thought it would be.

Sometimes you wonder why do you have such curse bestowed upon you. Did the Celestia punish you for a crime? Did you touch a forbidden relic in your first life? Is there a way to get rid of it?

You stopped in your tracks and you gaze up in the sky.

Am I the only one with such curse?

Damn, you really need to get your priorities straight when you have so many unanswered questions.

Basking the remnants of the ever glowing star, you turn around to walk the path that leads you to the Land of Eternity.

A new journey awaits you as you skid through the mycelium path.

Rex Lapis has died.

What a year starting with the news of a tragic death of an Archon.

Fret not Liyue citizens, Rex Lapis assumed the form of Zhongli as a consultant in the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. In all honesty, he thinks you would facepalm on how poorly delivered that news was.

Zhongli now blends in with the mortals, often strolling to acknowledge the accomplishments he has done as an Archon.

There were too many sacrifices he made just to achieve such title and godly powers. It's uncountable.

Whenever he strolls down the streets of Liyue, there's never a day that he is not reminded of the fact Mt. Tianheng is the very foundation of Liyue. It serves as a reminder that you are his pillar when intrusive thoughts start to linger in his mind.

Oftentimes, your face is only a blur in his memory, no matter what he does he can't seem to remember your face, but your name has been engraved on his mind for eons.

He misses hearing the sound of your name leaving his lips. He misses how ignorant you both were to the world's suffering. He misses your mesmerizing voice that lulls him to sleep.

Whoever fellow Archon listening to his complex thoughts must have heard him and granted his not-so-impossible wish.

"Hey look. Doesn't that sound like a story Y/N has told us before?" A child(e)— no, a floating fae pointed at the storyteller.

But Zhongli couldn't care less about whoever she was pointing. Did he hear her right? Was it just his ears deceiving him?

Y/N... that's your name.

That's the name he longed to hear again.

Why in the seven nations of Teyvat would they mention your name? Is it just a coincidence that someone has the same name as you? No, that couldn't be it.

Something flared inside him, it's been awhile since he felt this excitement, it's not far fetched when he became your friend.

With no recollection, he became friends with the traveller and the emergency food floating companion.

When he asks them about you, an array of hope filled his entire being and he swore his Dragon feature almost burst into existence

Y/N L/N, a member of the Adventurer's Guild, he's certain you've been in Liyue if you know about its rich culture.

But where are you? He wants to go find you. Hug you like when you were kids. Sing him songs. Bring you random things he can find. Speak the words that were left unspoken when you died.

So many questions brooding his mind; are you really Y/N? If so, were you reincarnated? Does that mean you don't remember him?

The elation he felt dropped. Right... he shouldn't be disappointed if it turns out his hunch is wrong. Even if you're not the Y/N he was expecting, he wants to know you as who you are and not compare the similarities and differences you have with the Y/N he knows.

"Oh yeah, Y/N mentioned they'll be visiting Liyue soon, Mr. Zhongli." The Traveler quipped, assessing the abrupt change of emotions on the consultant's face at the mention of your name.

Paimon and her travelling buddy can't help to wonder if you two are acquaintances, or perhaps something more than that. Zhongli seems to be expecting your arrival from now on.

"Is that so? Thank you for informing me, Traveler. I shall see to it that their stay will be comfortable." He smiled.

Stay in what? In the Funeral Parlor? The Traveler sweat drop while Paimon is tempted to point out that's Verr Goldet's job. Good thing their companion put a hand on her mouth and excuse themselves

There's no time to stall! He thought.

He's determined to check it himself, it can go two ways and Zhongli won't be petulant of the result.

Archons forbid if he ever finds you, because he will not let you go.

>> PART 2

©OTAKUWORKS | 2022

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

So, I been curious and I wonder if you have answers; how strong is Idia? I know physically that a new born kitten could woop him, while technology wise not even the master control could stand against him, but what about magic wise? And where does he stand in comparison to the other dorm heads? I know in ch 6 he was strong as heck but isn't that mainly because he was getting energy from the blots?

(Thank you for your time)

Mmm, well... I don't think "magic strength" alone accounts for how good of a mage someone is. You could have all the power in the world but could be a terrible mage just because of how you use it (like if you lack control), or perhaps because you can only cast a few powerful spells before you blow through your energy reserves. All spells are also not made equal; there are defensive spells, offensive spells, healing spells, and more! Because of all that, it's hard for us to really quantify how "strong" a mage is, because really each mage seems to specialize in their own skillsets. It's not "which class is the strongest?" but rather "which class fits your preferred play style?" For this reason, I'm not going to be formally ranking the dorm leaders but instead will point out their strengths and weaknesses.

As Idia points out in book 6:

Riddle has an artificially large magic pool because he started his magical training from a young age. He is capable of casting strong spells and favors offense, but also has low physical stamina and tires easily (from blot accumulation) because he tries to brute-force. His mental state is also said to be heavily impacted by external factors.

Leona can cast spells quickly and effortlessly; his magic pool is described to be "huge", but we don't know how this really relates to the other problem children in terms of scale. He also seems to boast precision, as he can "tailor" his defensive spells' strength to counter his opponents. Because of how efficient Leona is, he barely accumulates unnecessary blot. Stress does not have much effect on how fast he produces blot, but intense emotions do cause a significant spike in him. Additionally, Leona is skilled in flight due to playing magift/spelldrive.

Azul is a relatively slow spellcaster but makes up for that with precision and access to a variety of spells. He watches the flow of a battle, keeps cool, and then plays support/heals as needed. Idia also notes that while Azul can cast many different spells, Azul also does not have a large enough magic pool to support them and so has to be more careful about what and when he uses his magic.

Vil is very stable across the board and is quite resilient to blot. Stress does not have a huge effect on him, but the blot does seem to stick around for longer because of his larger magic pool. Something else to keep in mind is that Vil excels in making potions, which is another form of magic.

Please keep in mind that these refer to mainly COMBAT scenarios, which are not the only cases in which you would use magic... so this isn't an entirely accurate assessment; it's just the most convenient assessment since the game blatantly lays the comparisons out for us. Let's now piece together what we know of the remaining dorm leaders based on lore we have:

Kalim does not strike me as someone who has a particularly large pool of magic (it's never commented on, nor shown). I'd place him at around normal until otherwise refuted by the canon. We know he's not particularly proficient in his studies, as he just barely scrapes by in classes with intense help from Jamil. This may not always translate to poor performance in practical settings, but we also have no standout moments of Kalim pulling off impressive spells or being a notable mage. He also doesn't seem to be aware of the practical or strategic uses for his own UM unless others in his immediate vicinity are in need of large amounts of water. It's possible that he's incredibly powerful, but lacks awareness of how to best utilize his magic.

Malleus is stated in the lore to be one of the top 5 mages in the WORLD. He uses magic on a daily basis and barely blinks an eye to when he does amazing feats like STOPPING TIME ITSELF. Book 7 also reveals to us a hypothesis that fae might have access to an essentially limitless reserve of magic because they pull that magic from nature itself. I'd say that this definitively places Malleus at the top of the "magical power" hierarchy--there was never any doubt about that, the problem just comes in trying to sort everyone else under him.

And then there's Idia, whom we don't really see performing magic much by himself. No, he prefers to tinker with his computer parts which, technically, can count as magic since technomancy is the combination of technology and magic. (Does Ortho count as something resulting from Idia's "magic power"??) It's hard to say.

If I had to guess, I would think Idia is another stable user like Vil but is also highly volatile like Riddle (due to his guilt and grief being the main source of trauma). Idia HAS to cast spells or input magic into his devices because of his curse; if he does not accumulate blot, there's nothing for his curse to dine on... so it'll dine on his own magic instead, which can be detrimental to his health and wellbeing. (This is why the Shrouds are perfect candidates to work at STYX and research blot. All the blot present in STYX HQ fuels them and feeds their curses.) This implies Idia has to have output, and consistent output at that. More blot present in the immediate area may be able to power him up more and allow him to cast more spells/cast spells more frequently, but that's again highly dependent on his environment. Idia has the "flexibility" that the other dorm leaders lack, which can be a curse or a blessing given the scenario. Make of that what you will!

[clarencethemouse]

Bleeding Light (pt. 1)

Nightcrawler x reader

because I'm feral and no one can stop me :)

This has been festering rotting in my brain for a week. This reads like a whole story (and a long one, because I have a lot of thoughts), but my brain spouts better as bullets. So it's bullets. But as a story. Enjoy :))

(also I totally may write out a proper story later. But you get the lore right now)

the Pining.

let it be known that it was mutual. And it was mutual for a Long Time

You were already with someone else when you two met. With his never-ending charm, wit, and kindness, it didn't take long for you to hit it off as good friends.

this soon became a close friendship, often closer emotionally than you were with your partner. You were a mutant, unbeknownst to your partner (out of shame). You trusted them, and they respected mutants, but by the time you gained the courage to tell them, you felt it was too late to risk losing their trust over such a crucial lie. So you maintained this front, masterfully, for over a year

with Kurt, you didn't feel the need to hide. He understood. With him, you could bond and relate life stories in ways you could never with your long-term partner.

it was soon that you began to realize your feelings for Kurt were stretching farther than any other friendship before. And that you liked Kurt more than you ever loved your partner

this tore you up, and you became wracked with guilt. You didn't know how to end it with your partner, though you knew it had to be done. You still loved and cherished the person you spent the last year with, but it wasn't fair to them

over the last several months you two had planned a future together. It was a critical time of your life to gain independence, move out of home, and start your own journeys of life. For so long, you wanted to start this new life with them. It wasn't so simple as breaking up. Their, and your, near future was built upon the assumption that you would marry, as you did love them.

but not as much as you liked Kurt.

Your choice was made when you finally sat down with them and revealed your mutation. One thin cut was made on your hand. Light poured from the skin, igniting both of your faces in shock and fear. As the white blood trickled down your palm, your partner demanded why. Why could you keep this from them? Why did you withhold such an important part of you for so long?

when you could provide no answer they deserved, they walked out.

with your future with them obliterated, you had nowhere to turn. Nowhere to go to escape the psychological torture (and emotional abuse) of your parents' failed marriage. When you turned to Kurt for a deep shoulder to cry on, he provided an answer. An answer he knew would be best for you, and cursed himself that he was more excited about what it could mean for him. The X-Mansion

it only took mere days before you packed everything of value and were stationed at the mansion. It didn't take long for Kurt to convince the professor to let you stay, at least for as long as it took you to get on your feet on your own (and he wanted you to stay because... reasons).

you were more than happy to suggest doing your part as a teacher for the school

settling into the flow of the school, and life so close to people just like you, was a struggle eased by Kurt. He was the new kid before, and just as he had Rogue, you had him.

soon you built your own social circle and support group of friends, fitting perfectly into the puzzle that is the X-Men family. Soon, you were able to grieve your lost love and move on with the world you were always meant for.

...it did not take long for everyone to notice the brighter smiles you offered Kurt. The glances you sent him after making your witty, slightly dirty comments. How he was the first person you sat with during movie night, resting your head on his shoulder as you both grew tired. How you distracted yourself during end-of-the-day classes, searching for him in the hall through the window in your classroom door. How he was the only one you didn't hide the blinding paper cuts and golden scraped knees from.

and it did not take long for everyone to notice the way his tail whipped more excitedly the instant you entered the room. The way he recalled you explaining your day so enthusiastically as if you were the brightest, most wise creature to grace the planet. The way he was always the first to appear by your side after a more gruesome training session, examining every inch of your visible body more thoroughly than Beast. The way when he would let you down after a piggyback ride, his smile faltered ever so slightly to stop touching you.

so Rogue and Gambit formed a plan. Because that's what good friends do

she worked on whittling you down to admit it to yourself. He was happy to encourage Kurt to take more forward action with you. Jubilee soon joined in the plan, and soon there was a whole network of friends conspiring to get you two together because GOD WE ALL SEE IT. THE STUDENTS SEE IT. THE PIGEONS SEE IT. CHARLES AND JEAN HAVE TO SEE IT IN YOUR MINDS EVERY DAMN DAY. GET A ROOM.

and it works

Rogue got it out of you quickly. She was able to help you sort out your feelings and stop feeling so guilty about the past. You did what had to be done, and you never would have been truly happy with your old partner living a life of lies. But you can't lie to Kurt. He knew you deeper than anyone without even trying, and you wished to God he could know you a little better.

it took a month before Gambit was finally able to convince Kurt that you were struggling just the same. Because as much as the man flirted, teased, and worked himself into our attention by any means possible, he could not shake the dreaded pit feeling that you were still someone else's. You were still just out of his reach, and he would never know the feeling of your beautiful lips; your hands beyond high fives and thumb wrestling matches. Never have the honor to show the world everything he wished he could have with you

Kurt met you on the mansion roof. You were minding your business; reading a book and playing with light over the shadows. You didn't want to come inside. And if you were on the roof, that's where Kurt was gonna make himself comfortable. He would hang by the cell tower by just his tail if it meant you would talk to him. Anything if it meant he could tell you the truth.

it started with you looking over at him in a moment of silence, when you truly had no inclination to think he was there with any ulterior motive. Just one thought on the tip of your tongue

"You're so beautiful."

kurt.exe has stopped working

neither of you left the roof. The night wrapped with your head on his chest and his hand in your hair, him wondering where the absolute Hell it all went wrong.

you did wake up around 2 a.m. Sitting up abruptly at the surprise of your position, you were met with Kurt's golden eyes already awake and on you. No one beyond you two knows what happened on the roof that night, but your relationship changed. No more hiding.

when you returned to your lives the next morning, the others didn't need to be told that the mission was successful. Your smiles and bright eyes shared the whole story

[writingismyfortune]

new look | dan heng || honkai star rail one shot

published on august 9th, 2023.

pairing: dan heng x reader

genre: fluff

word count: idk, but it’s kind of short?

synopsis: you woke up to your boyfriend, dan heng, in his new form. that’s the gist of it.

warning: lowercase is intended! there’s some slight spoilers from the new story quest (not from a lore standpoint. it’s in terms of bosses and dan heng’s new look). dan heng’s new look has me on a chokehold fr.

hazy vision, heart rate is accelerating…your head is spinning…the strong stench of your blood…your shallow breathing…that’s what you can only focus on.

last time you recall, you were fighting phantylia in her little domain along with general jing yuan. then next thing you knew, your vision went black. the flowers she summoned continues to drain your life, weakening your strength even more. general jing yuan was concerned for your health before the fight, but you said that you were fine.

general jing yuan trusted you, so he allowed you to fight along side him to defeat this lord ravager. he did have a feeling that he shouldn’t have done that though. but you were so persistent on helping jing yuan that he couldn’t say no. that determined look in your eye was so strong and powerful.

before you completely passed out from exhaustion and your injuries, you saw this cyan colored dragon come from the ground…? where did that…come from? who is this cyan dragon? seems like it finished the job of defeating phantylia though.

a tall figure appears in front of you before you completely passed out. his long black hair flows down his back…he stands in front of you protectively…is this a god hearing your blessing? what is going on exactly? who is this guy? why is he protecting you? why is he look so hot- (a/n: just like me fr)

but before you could even process what was happening after phantylia was defeated, you passed out. what a good time to pass out…

without knowing how much time has passed, you woke up in someone’s arms. your vision still a little blurry, you rub your eyes a little to adjust your vision. looking up, you’re met with…oh wait, you remember this guy. recognizing his cyan horns, you wondered if you’re actually dead or something.

staring at him up close, you realize how gorgeous this guy is. his cyan eyes look alluring to look at. no, you’re still loyal to your boyfriend dan heng. however, you can’t help, but admire his features. the gods above must’ve gave him the special treatment. you thought you were in heaven, so you ask a random question out loud.

“am i dead…?”

the unspecified dragon guy looks at you funny, as if he’s silently asking you what do you mean by that question. not only that, he’s confused why you’re asking such a question.

“you’re perfectly alive, [your name]. i was extremely worried about you. you should’ve stayed out of that phantylia fight after you fought off those marastruck…” he responds to your question. wait, how did he know that you were fighting some marastruck soldiers…? there’s no other way…unless…

“what. how did you know that? i am dead, aren’t i…you’re some unknown aeon, aren’t you?” the dragon looking guy looks at you with his eyebrows furrowing, he’s so confused.

“did something hit your head? you’re spouting complete nonsense again,” he asks you. he continues speaking, looking up at the clear skies. “to be fair, you’re always speaking nonsense from time to time. not only that, you did just woke up. anyways, phantylia is defeated now…hopefully xianzhou is safe now.” he said lightly with this slight hopeful tone in his voice. he adds this sweet line after, which completely makes your heart skip a beat.

“and i’m relieved that you’re okay, [your name].”

huh…so this dragon guy knows your name and he’s also very sweet with you. that’s kind of suspicious, you thought. in addition, this is the first time that you’ve seen him in your life. so really, you find this weird. but do you mind it? kind of, you feel like you’re cheating on your boyfriend, dan heng. well, at least you’ll have stories to tell once you come back to the astral express.

you can’t wait to tell dan heng what happened today…you considered that he might get slightly jealous over this dragon dude though, which you are excited to see.

you grab your phone and start texting dan heng, telling him about your adventures. you then hear a ringtone from the dragon guy’s pocket…

the dragon guy grabs his phone and looks at the notification he just received. you stare at the phone case…you’ve seen that phone case before…that’s the same one that dan heng has.

that normal black phone case? yeah, you can recognize that bland ass phone case from anywhere. you tried to convince him to change it into something more cooler, but dan heng didn’t want to as the phone case is still functional.

the dragon guy then looks at you, one of his eyebrows raising in curiosity.

“[your name], why did you send me a message when we’re literally next to each other? you could’ve just told me your adventures face to face…you don’t have to text me about it.”

“huh, what did you say?” you responded, your expression immediately looks confused. and then…oh shit.

that’s when you realized…that’s when you connected two and two together…wait a minute.

“wait…you’re dan heng?” you asked the dragon guy. in reaction to your question, his cheeks immediately flushed. his eyes dart to the side, avoiding any eye contact with you.

“no way. you’re actually dan heng…like my boyfriend, dan heng?” you ask again, your eyes are wide in excitement. they sparkle in delight.

“…i know i look different, but yes. i’m the dan heng you know and love, [your name].”

“oh my aeons.” you said softly, clearly still very flabbergasted to know this fact.

“i was scared you wouldn’t like my new look…but i had to confirm it with you.” dan heng exclaims. his eyes look elsewhere, deep in thought about something. then he looks at you, he’s slightly pouting. it’s very subtle, but you know it’s there.

“you didn’t even recognize it was me…do i really look that different?” he asks you. “i can’t change back to my original form even if i wanted to…” he adds.

you shake your head without hesitation with this knowing grin on your face.

“you do look different, but not in a bad way. in fact, i think i dig this new look actually.”

dan heng clears his throat at your bold compliment, trying to keep his composure. you stare at his cyan horns, in which, he notices.

“do you want to touch my horns?” dan heng asks you as he puts you down on your feet. he brings his head down a little, letting you touch them. he looks at you expectedly.

you look so excited to touch his horns, your eyes sparkling. glancing up at dan heng, you ask him if he’s really okay with you patting his horns, for a final confirmation. dan heng gives you a nod with this warm smile, saying that he’s perfectly fine with you patting his horns.

and so you reach over and pet his horns gently…they were a little rough around the edges and they’re very dense and strong. they have a similar texture to horns of a goat or a reindeer, if that makes any sense.

you notice that dan heng’s big, cyan dragon tail is wagging a little…it’s clear he enjoys you patting his horns like this. finding this cute, you continue patting his horns gently, your fingers moving along his strong cyan horns.

“your touch is very gentle, my dear.” dan heng says softly, his cyan eyes look at you with warmth. you continue patting his horns, a satisfied grin on your face, clearly happy to see that your boyfriend is comfortable.

“you know, before you identified yourself, i felt like i was cheating on you…even though there wasn’t anything happening.” you said, still patting his horns. “i mean, i found you attractive…but it appears that it was you all along, dan heng. turns out i just fell for you again~”

dan heng’s cheeks go a little red again hearing this, but he’s very happy to hear that. it appears he softens up with it comes to you. otherwise, he isn’t easily flustered…it’s just that his reserved demeanor falls right off when it comes to you.

in addition, your touch makes him turn into putty. he’s so whipped for you. he’s also glad that you love this new look of his…maybe he’ll keep it around for the time being (once he finds out how to change back), just to see your excited smile again when you pat his horns. he loves it when your eyes light up when you touch his horns, your soft and gentle touch full of affection and love.

back then, he wasn’t very fond of this new look as it reminded him of his treacherous past that he ran away from. but now…it seems like…

it seems like he has a reason to love this new look. you made him love himself even more. not only that, he continuously falls for you little by little every single day.

his new look doesn’t only define his past anymore. it defines his future too. it's now something that makes you happy. for once, he appreciates this new look of his.

maybe his new look isn’t so bad after all.

end of one shot. next chapter: n/a

[absolutehomosexuals]

Tag yourself / your ex as de-idealized bg3 men: lore accurate edition

(implied female reader)

Gale of Waterdeep

☆ "My ex was crazy!!"

Accidentally calls you her name on multiple occasions.

☆ Runs on mansplaining and patronizing quips alone

☆ The medieval equivalent of a Quentin Tarantino fan

☆ "Oh yeah? Name five tavern songs."

☆ Due to some odd twist of nature, being on good terms with his mother didn't stop him from developing mommy issues

☆ His favourite book sold three copies total across the Material Plane

☆ Broke up with you over carrier pidgeon

(10k words and counting)

The Cambion Raphael

♤ Swears on his honour he's not gay

Doesn't have a honour

♤ Jokes about clone-fucking way too often for your friends', your family's and anyone's liking

♤ Has a scary amount of child trafficking allegations

♤ Professional pillow princess

♤ A deadly cocktail of erectile dysfunction and premature ejaculation

♤ "Let them eat bread"

♤ All of his jewlery is a product of child labour

The Strap of Frontiers

◇ Vowed to save his virginity for marriage

◇ Idealizes you to an unrealistically toxic degree

◇ Introduces you to his family after the second date

◇ He's not rich, he's "comfortable"

Proceeds to be the son of an archduke

◇ Sports the biggest martyr complex his therapist has ever witnessed

◇ His sugar mommy is part of the package

◇ Gambled with the literal devil (and lost)

Lord Enver Gortash

♧ Thinks of perfume as a substitute for deodorant

♧ Bathes once per fortnight

♧ The coat stays on during sex

While he'll gaslight you with a hundred different justifications, it merely buys him a few seconds before the inevitable

♧ Has never told truth once. Mfer even gave you a fake last name.

♧ His sidepiece has homicidal tendencies, so you'll basically live in terror

♧ Hunts orphans for sport

♧ Occasionally throws in a dehumanizing, downright terrifyingly classist phrase or two. Just to keep the conversation flowing.

[y-rhywbeth2]

Lore: The Bhaalspawn

Link: Disclaimer regarding D&D "canon" & Index [tldr: D&D lore is a giant conflicting mess and it's borderline impossible to cover everything. Larian's lore is also a conflicting mess. You learn to take what you want and leave the rest]

I decided to compile all of the information I could find/remember on the Children of Bhaal in one place; drawing on the original games, BG3, WotC "canon", and a magazine article written by the writers of the original games meant for playing Bhaalspawn in pen and paper games. There's a surprisingly large amount of information.

Also prodding a bit at the distinction between a Bhaalspawn, as in a quasi-deity, and their tiefling descendants, who are also called by that name.

As with all D&D lore, sources may conflict, but nevertheless, here it is.

-

There are technically two variants of being that can be referred to as bhaalspawn (three, if we count the Dark Urge as something separate).

The term "Bhaalspawn" is usually applied to a Child of Bhaal, a quasi-deity who has the Lord of Murder for a father. Most are Demigods, born of a mortal parent, although Bhaal has seemingly also produced at least one Titan, who has no mortal lineage at all (hi, Durge). With the exception of that last one, they were all sired before his death during the Time of Troubles. Many, if not most, had Bhaal's priests as their mortal parent - willingly conceived as part of the greater plan to resurrect their god.

As is the norm for half-planar-half-mortals, the offspring of a Child of Bhaal will be of the planetouched (tieflings, aasmiar, genasi). As Bhaal is an evil-aligned god, his grandchildren and descendants are specifically tieflings (or some humanoid equivalent, if they have children with non-humans).

Each Child carries the divine essence of their father, woven into their very being (the god himself specifically derides them as having "borrowed" existences). This divine essence wasn't distributed evenly, and some carried more of Bhaal's taint than others. Some were aware of his influence acting on them from birth, and others never knew what they were until their more powerful and ambitious siblings came knocking to tear their essence out of them.

Being so tied to Bhaal, the souls of his children are inherently tied to him and the Throne of Blood - when they die their essence returns to him and takes their souls with it. A Bhaalspawn can worship another god and receive spells as a divine spellcaster if that deity accepts them, but there is no other afterlife waiting for them except for their father's domain. Specifically, this is the Throne of Blood, a section of Banehold (Bane's domain) which should be on the first layer (Khalas) of the plane of Gehenna (also known as "The Bleak Eternity of Gehenna"). Every single game has placed the Throne of Blood on a different Lower Plane (the Hells, the Abyss, the Grey Wastes), but none have used the one actually given in the tabletop canon, for some reason. Mount Khalas is an active volcano, hundreds of thousands of miles high with slopes of at 45° at their very flattest. The slope is generally more like a sheer cliff face, and falling may "completely shred" the would-be climber. The mountain floats in an infinite void by the border of the Nine Hells. The ground is full of bottomless black chasms and magma flows fed by "waterfalls" of the stuff, and the ground glows crimson from the heat of the molten rock. The air is clogged with pyroclastic ash and it's impossible to see further than a dozen feet in any direction. It also features the River Styx, a river polluted by all the filth and evil of existence that flows through all the Lower Planes. The next layer of Gehenna, Mount Chamada, is visible overhead, glowing faintly, "burning like a small, bloody moon." The spirits of the dead who are sentenced to this plane are those who were consumed by greed and a ruthless and insatiable lust for power in life; in death they are selfishness embodied. The domains of the deities who reside there are carved into ledges on the slopes. Banehold - also known as the Barrens of Doom and Despair - is "an inhospitable locale, filled with vast deserts of black sand and huge plains of dark granite." The sky is blood red and sunless. The only source of water on the plane is the Styx.

Some Bhaalspawn feel the pull of their father's domain so strongly that their soul can be pulled into Gehenna before they die. Should these individuals become sickened or injured enough they will fall into a coma as their connection to life weakens and their soul is dragged into their father's realm in the Lower Planes. It will return to their body once they're healed and that the pull of life is strong enough.

Some Bhaalspawn have reported the ability to "feel" deaths occurring around them, which is also said to be a pleasant experience that calls to them.

Due to their inherently divine nature, every one of them has the latent capacity for sorcery, though not all will manifest it.

It was originally claimed that all the Children perished in the Bhaalspawn crisis, however a small ttrpg supplement published by the writers in a magazine article (meant for playing Bhaalspawn as tabletop characters) claimed that while many died, including all the most powerful of their kind, many "weaker" Bhaalspawn survived the crisis.

There is conflicting information about the free will of these survivors following the foiling of Bhaal's first resurrection. As per the original game's canon, Bhaal's command over them is gone once broken, and these Children were free to act out their lives as they saw fit - bar stuff like the occasional nightmare and inherent urge to go on a killing spree. The power in their blood is their own to repurpose.

Baldur's Gate 2 presented the possibility of a Bhaalspawn being totally cleansed of their father's taint and rendered fully mortal and free of all divine meddling. 5e has retconned this in both tabletop supplements and BG3 canon, and posits that while one of the Children can (seemingly) be unchained from most of Bhaal's control, his divinity is an inherent part of them and they may still become pawns in his designs.

Judging by the first two games it seems that a Bhaalspawn's ability to resist their father's control is related to their own willpower and how tied to death and negativity they are. Being sheltered from death and suffering allows themselves to distance themselves from him, while exposure and harbouring feelings of hatred will destroy the barriers and push them closer.

One of the things Bhaal may try to push his children into doing is interfering with the plans of Cyric, who originally killed him during the Time of Troubles and temporarily usurped him as god of murder.

Bhaalspawn grow in power with age and experience. While signs can start early, by the end of their adolescence they will all have begun manifesting various abilities and signs. What defines "growing in power" is rather nebulous - in game mechanics it's tied to character levels. Technically, a Bhaalspawn could manifest the ability to create supernatural darkness and turn into the Slayer at age 17 and, by the time she's 18, have manifested as much as eleven more powers (and a plethora of dark influences plaguing her to go with them, including an addiction to killing). Or she could go her entire existence never having more than those two traits, a nasty temper, and some horrific nightmares.

Quasi-deities are immortal - ageless and unable to die from natural causes. While theoretically, a Bhaalspawn might not manifest this trait, it would conflict with other established lore on half-deities (because D&D lore loves conflicting with itself). Bhaalspawn immortality tends to kick in at any point in adulthood, at which point their age freezes. They could be in their twenties - and is more likely to manifest at a younger age, but theoretically it could kick in when they're 87 or older.

A Child of Bhaal can usurp their father and take his godhood for themselves: They must prove themselves worthy of being Lord of Murder by deliberately orchestrating a thousand innocent deaths (the method can be anything). They must seek out a portion of their father's flesh. Remnants of Bhaal's slain avatars, such as the remains of the Raveger in the Moonshaes, or traces remaining in the Winding Water from the Time of Troubles are recommended. Bhaal's actual corpse would've been in the Astral Plane, pre-Sundering. What one is meant to do with this chunk of flesh is unspecified. And then one is meant to present themselves for judgement by the overgod Ao, who will decide if they deserve the job. This seems to involve some kind of epic quest in a very dangerous location to prove oneself.

-

The term "bhaalspawn" also seems to be applied to the tiefling children and descendants of the true Children. Tieflings descended from Bhaal show no outward signs of their heritage the way most other tieflings do, appearing as regular members of their species under physical examination and lacking strange quirks - such as those seen on tieflings descended from the god Mask, who cast no reflections. That said, planetouched descended from deities are known to bear birthmarks in the shape of their divine ancestor's holy symbol, so that might be the exception. Like many of the non-Asmodeus tieflings, they bear the taint of the lower planes in their being, and from birth they often feel it pushing them to bend to their whims. In the case of bhaal-spawned tieflings, these urges would be murder ideation and an obsession with death. God-descended tieflings are no more inherently powerful than the regular kind descended from fiends like devils, demons and night hags.

As with all of the non-Asmodeus tieflings, after the first tiefling grandchild the blood tends to go dormant and hide itself for generations, until it suddenly manifests in a child born to an unsuspecting normal family who is unaware that the taint of the god of murder lurks in their bloodline.

-

There are various abilities (and side-effects) a Bhaalspawn might manifest. Interestingly, while a Bhaalspawn can manifest the vast majority of them, they will never manifest all the possible powers available to their "family." Meanwhile, the most powerful of them will manifest all of the dark urges and traces of evil that threaten to consume their kind.

There are no rules given for their tiefling descendants. Tieflings have been known to manifest a variety of quirks and spell-like abilities, such as those that have been provided for the Children of Bhaal, it's not unthinkable that their heritage may cause them to manifest one or two of them. Going off of the tiefling creation chart from 2e, a tiefling will randomly manifest one advantage, and one drawback.

So a grandchild of Bhaal might have poisonous blood and be unable to control herself from going berserk from bloodlust in battle. One might heal at an unusually fast rate and give off an aura of death that causes strangers to respond to them like they're a monster. Another tiefling may be able to temporarily boost his strength to impressive levels, but be consumed by the urge to murder.

While only the most powerful manifest every trait, the signs of being a Bhaalspawn include:

The undead can sense a Bhaalspawn if they're within 60ft of each other - so clearly that they can pinpoint their exact location. Even protective magics that should hide them from the undead's senses won't keep them from being aware of their presence, it will only prevent them from being able to know exactly where they're standing. In BG2, a vampire named Phlydian describes it as being able to "smell the murder in [their] heart."

Being around the Children of Bhaal triggers the fight-or-flight instinct and makes others uneasy; they give off an unsettling aura that causes those nearby to subconsciously pick up on them as predatory, and Bhaalspawn have a harder time convincing others to like and trust them. Divination spells that reveal alignment and intention will detect them as evil, regardless of whether they truly are or not.

Bhaalspawn are harmed by holy weapons, and those who are particularly murderous can also be harmed by holy water.

Bhaalspawn blood is black and viscous, and the divine essence within it calls out to the lower planes. A bleeding Bhaalspawn leaves a "scent" that calls to all fiends of the Lower Planes, including devils and demons. Even if it doesn't have the texture and colour, the blood is poisonous. If their blood enters the bloodstream of another being it will immediately cause weakness and fatigue. If the blood is not purged, the individual will weaken into a coma and eventually die. Of course this won't affect beings immune to poison. According to Phlydian vampires find the divine blood of the Children of Bhaal irresistibly "sweet."

They experience chronic, horrific nightmares that are traumatic enough to impair the demigod's daily functioning. These visions can occasionally be resisted through willpower, but not staved off indefinitely.

Bhaalspawn always want to kill, and may lose control of themselves in physical conflict, trying to strike at everything within reach. They struggle to restrain themselves, and limiting attacks to non-lethal damage requires will saving throws. They are reckless in combat, paying attention to little except slaughtering their opponent/s - not even caring about their own safety, The urge to kill can be a fundamental need, If not met, thoughts of murder slowly overwhelms their willpower, thoughts and their awareness of their surroundings, until they're finally driven to kill somebody. This urge cannot be sated by anything except for the murder of a sapient being. (This is similar to the effects of some hungers that affect the undead, causing them to devolve into mindless, feral animals driven by hunger - it may look the same.)

They are possessed by a constant undercurrent of rage, and when humiliated or frustrated they must keep a grip on their anger or slip into a state of violent killing rage not unlike that shown by barbarians in combat - their strength and endurance is greatly strengthened as they attempt to attack the subject of their ire.

They may actually find their sense of free will is innately weaker than that of regular mortals.

They are drawn to the sight of the dying and the dead, and take involuntary pleasure in the sight.

--

Bhaalspawn are also known to manifest various quirks and spell-like abilities (which they can cast as three times per hit dice/character levels a day. So a level 12 Bhaalspawn with "death knell" can cast it 36 times a day). Again; not every one of them manifests every ability, many will probably never have more than two, but powerful individuals may still manifest most of them.

They are able to boost their strength to impressive or even superhuman levels (depending on base strength) for anywhere between 1-20 minutes.

They are immune to all poisons and toxins.

They are resistant to being wounded, unless the wounds are caused by an object made of or plated in silver. Complete immunity to being harmed by unenchanted weapons is also a possibility for the most powerful individuals. (I've never been clear on what damage reduction looks like - I suppose either it's harder to break their skin, or else the wounds simply close up or at least heal up a bit automatically.)

They can cure moderate wounds like a divine spellcaster.

If they touch a dying creature they can drain the remaining life-force from them, killing them and temporarily strengthening themselves (as in physical strength and hit points, as well as boosting the power of their spells) Some may manifest the similar ability to drain the life force from a target by looking at them, stealing their vitality to heal themselves. The target doesn't need to be dying, and may be perfectly healthy

They are unaffected by any but the most extreme of temperatures, to the point where they're resistant to elemental damage of that kind (this could be cold or heat, or both). Some Bhaalspawn are also resistant to electricity and any magic cast on them.

They can strike mortal dread into nearby beings.

They can use divine energy to smite their foes - or they can maifest it as a 20ft area of darkness and tangible evil ("cold, cloying and greasy" to the senses) that damages non-evil beings within it.

They can create supernatural 15-20ft clouds of impenetrable blackness that extinguishes all sources of light, as per the darkness spell.

One Bhaalspawn manifested the (involuntary) ability to instinctually teleport to safety whenever he panicked - this is just speculation, but I would assume this works the same as the ability available to Bhaal's Deathstalker priests; they can teleport to the Throne of Blood in the Lower Planes, and from there teleport back into Toril at any location not protected by warding magic.

And, last but not least, Bhaalspawn are known to be able to transform into the Slayer when particularly favoured by their father. In one, exceptional, case a Bhaalspawn was known to manifest Bhaal's other avatar; the Ravager.

[interesting-interludes]

the comforts of creatures (5)

creature comforts:

↳ material/bodily comforts, such as food, warmth, or special accommodations, that contribute to physical ease and well-being

→ pairing: ot7 x fem.reader

→ genre: supernatural!au, soulmate!au, hurt + comfort + recovery, angst with a happy ending, fluff, eventual smut

→ word count: 4.8k

→ summary: you learn what you are, and your reaction is far from what they expected. as they try to help you feel safe, the boys learn about your triggers, and they try their hardest to help in any way they can.

→ trigger/content warnings: PTSD (self-loathing, mistrust, flashbacks/nightmares) effects of brainwashing, lil’ bit of lore, overt and internalized racism/species-ism (?), vomiting, anxiety, mentions of starvation/food poisoning, mentions of physical abuse, dissociation, mentions of torture, aversion to touch, mc pushes jimin but he’s okay, jimin is an angel, facial/body scars, body dysmorphia/repulsion

→ a/n: thank y’all for your patience :) here’s some more hurt before the comfort lol

past part ← series masterlist → next part

part 5: scars and soothers

“This is you.”

The man is pointing at a detailed image drawn in faded ink. The rest of the page is filled with scripted text and anatomical diagrams.

You can’t look at first, scared of what you’ll find.

When you finally do, you don’t know what to think. There’s the thought that he’s kidding, he’s lying. He can’t be serious.

The drawing is of a creature with tawny-feathered wings extending magnificently in the air. It has the body of a powerful big cat, muscular yet elegant. Its four legs end in sharp-taloned feet. Its neck is framed by a golden mane, looking like a big frilly collar. The mane’s trail travels down the creature’s chest and back, ending in a flowing tail. It has the face of a lion, with white whiskers and deep yellow eyes, yet the regal posture of an eagle.

A diagram off to the left shows the inside of its mouth, lined with row upon row of sharp teeth and protruding fangs.

Looking back up, you search the faces of the men around you. None of them appear to be joking.

You can’t speak.

You’re one of them, one of the creatures they all despised. The creatures that roam the wild lands for easy prey, spreading carnage wherever they go.

No wonder they hated you so much. You’re not even human.

A few silent, involuntary tears fall from your eyes, which are locked back on the page. You wipe them away hastily.

The boys don’t know how to react, all looking at each other with concern.

“What...” you squeak out, voice choked. “What is it?”

“A gryffin,” Yoongi replies. “You’re a shifter.”

Something gurgles in your stomach. You clench your teeth, nails digging deep into the meat of your thighs.

You believe him. You don’t want to, but you believe him. You’ve always felt less than human, like something wasn’t right about you. Like something was just beneath the surface, clawing its way up.

Now you know why.

Jungkook, who’s sitting closest to you, slowly, cautiously puts his hand on your shoulder in an effort to comfort you.

But you flinch at his touch, jerking away.

You don’t catch the look of hurt that flits across his face. He knows you can’t help it, but it still stings to think that his touch physically repels you.

“What did they tell you about atypicals?” Namjoon presses, trying to shift your attention so you won’t look so disheartened by the reality of what you are.

From the way you look at him, he knows that you’ve never heard that word before. Or at least you don’t remember it.

“Atypicals are anything that falls out of the humanic species,” he explains patiently.

Your face scrunches in confusion.

“Humanic as in human,” he elaborates.

You don’t understand why he’s talking like that. You’ve never heard these terms before. In the place you came from, the “facility,” anything that wasn’t human was an abomination, a mistake in the eyes of nature.

Simple as that.

But here, things seem to be a bit more complicated.

Nausea is starting to bubble in your gut. You breathe carefully through your nose as you consider Namjoon’s question.

“They said...” you begin hesitantly.

They’re all on the edge of their seats, desperately wondering what those bastards brainwashed you to believe about their kind, your own kind.

“They said that they were monsters.”

Another pang of hurt thrums through their hearts.

“That...that they deserved to be hunted down like dogs.”

They can hear the pain in your own voice, either from witnessing their cruel behavior, or from realizing that you’ve been the target of it this whole time.

Your stomach churns.

“They said I wasn’t even worthy to lick the ground they walked on.”

They can all hear you choking on your tears, despite your attempts to hide it.

Jimin and Jungkook feel like their chests are going to burst from holding it in, both the sorrow they feel for you and the urge to rush forward and drown you in affection.

Jin and Namjoon have storms raging inside their heads. Namjoon is calculating, trying to decode what exactly their motive was and how to use it to track down the ones in charge of it all. Jin’s mind is reeling with ways to undo the damage they’ve done, mentally and physically.

Yoongi is swimming waist-deep in despair. He can’t help but think of what’s to come. You’ll have to relearn everything. How to shift, how to fight, how to cast. That is, if you even want to.

You feel the newly strung tension in the air, looking like you just realized you said all of those things out loud.

One look around the room, and your newly found voice retreats deep into your throat.

The man called Namjoon, his eyes have darkened, jaw clenched and ticking like he’s grinding his teeth.

The one who tended to your wounds is sitting stiffly in his chair, staring ahead with a new sharpness in his face.

The small dark-haired man has his hands clenched, prominent veins crawling up his arms.

You duck your head down, body stiff with nerves.

“You have to know,” Yoongi begins, voice calm as ever despite the rage just below the surface. “That’s not how most people think. Especially not here.”

Here in the North Regions, atypicals make up the majority of the population. Law enforcement, government, and public works are largely run by them, and prejudice is rarely an issue.

But how could you know that now?

They can all see the change. It’s almost instantaneous, the way your face shifts and loses all semblance of emotion. Just like that, the mask is back up.

Then there’s something else. A slight twitch from your nose, a well-hidden shudder. They can see your throat bobbing.

For a few seconds, it looks like you’re about to say something. Your tongue is moving inside your mouth, and you’re blinking rapidly.

Namjoon is about to utter some gentle encouragement, but a jolt racks through your body, making you hunch over.

All of a sudden you’re vomiting up everything you just ate.

Hoseok, Jungkook and Jimin can’t help but jump to their feet, panicked noises filling the air.

Taehyung’s eyes widen. All his limbs go rigid, paralyzing him in his seat. He feels sick himself.

Jin, Namjoon, and Yoongi all look at each other.

Yoongi thrusts into action, heading to the kitchen with Jungkook in tow since he isn’t good around pungent-smelling things.

Namjoon starts giving instructions. Jimin, paper towels. Hobi, get the mop. Said men jolt into action, scrambling to do whatever they can to help.

Jin’s eyes have been fixed on you for some time now, catching your every move, including all the suppressed flinches and tremors.

He’s at your side in an instant, on his knees to try to catch your eyes. But it’s no use, you’re squeezing your eyes shut like you’re expecting to be hit.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he mutters in his gentlest voice. “It’s no big deal. No one is upset with you.”

As much as he wants to, he refrains from touching you right away.

Eyes still tightly shut, you flinch away from the sound of his voice, twitching with anxiety.

Jin can see you start to spiral, so he does the only thing he knows will work.

“Hey,” he begins, voice firmer than it was before. “Look at me.”

Your eyes snap open, shining with moisture.

“That’s my girl,” Jin says before he can help it. “You’re going to calm down for me, yeah?”

Your eyes desperately search his face, looking for any sign of anger or deception. You find none, not even a hint of disgust, and your breathing starts to slow.

All that’s there is the man who tended to your wounds, watching you with those patient eyes. His handsome face is calm, attentively anticipating whatever you need right now.

Sweat gathers on your skin. That same sensation crawls up your throat, saliva pooling in your mouth.

Jin notices the signs immediately.

“Come with me,” he orders softly, putting a light hand on your back and leading you to the nearest bathroom.

You don’t know what to do with yourself.

You remember vomiting a few times at the facility. Once from eating a rotten vegetable, the mold making it impossible to identify. And once when a handful of keepers had held you down, repeatedly punching you in the stomach, until you gave in and called yourself a mutt.

Both times you were severely punished for making a mess. You learned to hold it in your mouth and swallow it down after that.

Jin guides you to kneel over the toilet. He keeps talking to you, but you only process half of what he’s saying.

“Go ahead, let it out,”

You can feel it creeping up, burning and sour. But something deeper, something almost instinctual, tells you to keep it down.

“Stop holding it in, sweetheart,” he says, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “It’s not good for you. It’s okay to let go.”

Before you can think to suppress it, another wave of nausea surges through your body. The crescendo of it makes you wretch, emptying the last of your stomach’s contents.

“Good, good, just get it all out,” he encourages instead of beating you until you can’t breathe.

The bile is bitter in your mouth, but not more bitter than the dread clinging to your entire being.

He’s not going to punish me, you finally realize. It’s almost an impossible thought.

For a moment, you stay hunched over, frozen. Not sure what to do next.

“Here, come wash your mouth out,” Jin says, helping you stand up on shaky legs.

The sound of running water rings in your ears. You feel the coolness against your tongue, but barely register that you’re the one cupping it to your lips. Numb. You feel like you’re controlling your body from the outside rather than the inside.

“Now, let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

You look up at him for the first time in a while. His face is as kind as it was before, with the same full-lipped smile and warm brown eyes.

The man starts to lead you out of the room, that same gentle hand resting on your back.

It isn’t until then that you realize you’re still in the grimy clothes they found you in. And now the entire front of your shirt is stained with even more filth.

You glance into the living room as you pass through the hallway.

The other men are diligently cleaning the area you just soiled. The small dark-haired man and the muscular man are missing, though you can hear rustling from the kitchen.

The one with the jet black hair and bright face catches your eye, flashing a reassuring smile. It makes you rip your eyes away.

Jin guides you into the living room, and everyone immediately looks your way.

Shrinking, you’re shrinking into yourself as much as your body will allow.

“Someone run a bath,” Jin announces. “I think it’s time our little guest got some sleep in clean clothes.”

The fair-haired one steps forward and exchanges a subtle look with Jin, who’s standing slightly behind you.

“Would you follow me?” the shorter man says, holding out his hand.

It’s the one with the silver-gray hair and warm eyes. You think his name is Jimin. His face is soft and friendly. It asks a silent question: will you trust me?

You don’t take his hand, but you do take a step up the stairs in the direction he’s leading you.

You don’t catch it, but Jimin and Jin exchange a heartfelt glance, nearly ecstatic at the fact that you’re beginning to trust them.

Jimin leads you up the stairs as the rest of them settle things downstairs.

When you reach the top, he guides you down a spacious hallway that’s filled with potted plants and window light.

Every single door, down to the very end of the hall, is open. Whether it’s open wide or just a crack, not one of them is closed or locked. You’re not used to it.

The man, Jimin, stops at a door halfway down the hall and looks back to check if you’re still following him.

You stop a few feet away from him, still keeping your distance, but your expression is open and neutral, waiting on his next move.

He gives you a calm smile, and continues into the room with you behind him.

This room is just as bright and inviting as the rest of the house. White walls and clean tile floors, but this time with a large porcelain tub and a sink with marble countertops.

The man turns to look at you with a question in his eyes.

“Shower or bath?” he asks.

It’s a harmless question, a considerate question. But your mind is yanked back to that place.

Shower. A torrent of fire raining down on you, vision blinded by steam. It comes from every angle, unrelenting no matter how much you scream.

They would strip you down and lock you in a metal stall the size of a coffin. Then the dotted ceiling would unleash a downpour of near-boiling water.

You would bang on the walls, but the water made the metal surface just as hot, the floor burning the bottom of your feet. Minutes or hours they kept you in there, not letting you out until your body was covered in burn marks.

Bath. The most intense cold you’ve ever felt. It’s everywhere, submerging you up to the neck, seeping down to your very bones.

They would chain you down in a tub full of ice, nothing but your head poking out of the frigid water. The cold chains cut into your skin the more you struggled. Your lungs would heave from the shock of it, your whole body shivering violently.

Then they would hold your head underwater until you were bucking like a stuck pig. This went on until you were utterly exhausted, falling limp against the freezing porcelain with nothing but the tight chains holding you up.

You’re snapped back to reality when the man takes a step closer. He’s watching you closely, trying to read your face.

Finally remembering that he asked you a question, you shrug your shoulders and shake your head.

You don’t want either. You don’t want to be anywhere near that tub. You want him to leave you alone.

Jimin guesses that the gesture means you don’t care which one. He figures you’re most likely still weak from malnourishment, and he doesn’t want you fainting and hitting your head.

So he opts for a bath, turning on the faucet. He sits on the edge of the tub, hand under the spout to monitor the temperature.

The sound of running water makes every muscle in your body tense up. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

It’s going to hurt, it’s going to hurt. The fire, the ice, it’s going to burn and sting and cut into your flesh. You won’t be able to escape it.

Jimin doesn’t notice it at first, too focused on adjusting the knobs to get the water not too hot and not too cold, but your breathing has picked up again.

You can already feel it filling your ears, your mouth, rushing down your throat as your head is held down. Your skin prickles from the heat, it quivers from the cold.

The water in the tub continues to rise, and you can’t move. Your body is frozen, feet rooted to the floor as the sound of sloshing roars louder and louder in your ears.

Halfway full, now. It’s coming any second. He’s going to turn on you, throw you down and hold you under.

Burning, freezing. It’ll hurt and hurt and hurt.

Jimin turns his head, and his stomach drops.

Your eyes are squeezed shut, lips pursed like you’re trying to bite back a scream. Fists clenched at your sides, shoulders trembling, as your chest heaves up and down.

Immediately, he jumps to his feet and rushes over to you.

“What is it, babe? What’s wrong?” 

Then he makes a big mistake. He puts his hands on you.

His touch is gentle, nonthreatening, nothing but two hands on your shoulders. But you don’t want it, you’re repulsed by it. Because touch always comes before the pain.

On instinct, your body jerks away, arms moving to push the unwelcome touch away, just get it away. Your hands collide against something, hard.

When you open your eyes, the man is on the floor. Sprawled on his back, looking up at you with wide, slightly watery eyes.

There’s shock plastered on both of your faces.

Jimin’s soft heart hurts a little, he can’t help it. In all the years he’s known you, loved you, you’ve never ever been repelled by him. But that hurt is soon drowned by guilt.

He scared you, he made you feel unsafe. You felt the need to protect yourself and it’s his fault.

You’re staring at your hands in horror, completely floored by what you’ve done. You’re in for it now. He tried to help you and you hurt him. Now they’re going to hurt you even more.

Several sets of pounding footsteps draw near. The others must have heard the thud from downstairs and rushed up to see what was wrong.

What they don’t expect to find is Jimin crumpled on the floor and you standing over him in a braced position, but that’s exactly what they see when they peer through the doorway.

They’re all a little astonished, Jin and Namjoon are thinking deeply, and something in Taehyung’s eyes shifts.

He isn’t proud of it, but a surge of protectiveness washes over him, for his Jimin. He knows it’s unreasonable, unfair even. But it’s still there. And he can’t snuff it out.

A new fear consumes you. You were insubordinate, you resisted. You know what comes next.

A sob gets trapped in your throat as you sink down to the floor, burying your head in-between your knees and using your arms to shield yourself.

Immediately, the same way Jimin did, they all rush forward to comfort you.

“No!” Jimin blurts out, making you flinch and shake violently. “Don’t touch, give her some space.”

They all obey, keeping their distance with concern flooding their features.

Jimin shifts onto his knees, scooting a little closer but still keeping enough away.

“I’m sorry,” he nearly whispers, like he’s talking to a wild, cornered animal. “It was my fault entirely. I shouldn’t have touched you. I’m truly sorry.”

Jimin’s voice has always been soothing, even in the darkest times, and your breathing slows a little.

Jimin realizes that the faucet is still running, and he reaches over to switch it off. Then it comes to him.

He turns back to your trembling form, still waiting for the pain to come.

“You’re scared of the water, aren’t you?” he asks gently.

He doesn’t expect you to reply, he just wants to let you know that he’s trying to understand you, to help you.

You nod slightly.

It shocks them all again. You’re becoming more responsive.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Jimin says with all the sincerity he can muster. “It’s not your fault. I promise I won’t do that again.”

Your shoulders gradually stop trembling, breath coming evenly now.

Jimin looks at his mates and gestures for them to give you some more space so you can calm down.

They all do as he says, except Tae. He lingers in the doorway, his piercing eyes flickering between you and Jimin, thinking.

The two men exchange a meaningful glance. Jimin gives him a reassuring smile and nods his head as if to say “There’s nothing to worry about. I got this.”

Tae gives a slight nod back and turns to leave, throwing one last look at you.

Jimin sees the hint of distrust hidden in that look. He files it away for later.

Turning his attention back to you, Jimin looks at the tub and thinks of a solution.

“You don’t have to get in the tub, okay? We can just...” Jimin opens the cupboard under the sink and takes out a handful of washcloths.

“Like this, see?” He dips one of the cloths in the water, using it to wipe down his face.

“Is that okay?” he asks.

You scan his face. Those big brown eyes are full to the brim with kindness, as if you didn’t just hurt him moments ago.

You nod.

Jimin smiles so big it almost hurts his cheeks, heart swelling as you hesitantly hold your hand open. He puts another cloth in your waiting palm.

“Okay, here’s the soap, shampoo, conditioner. You can wash your face with this. Use whatever you want, okay?”

You look at him, trying to convey with your eyes what your mouth can’t say. He stays there for a moment, sitting with you on the tile, answering your every question with just his expression.

It’s okay. You’re safe here. No one is going to hurt you. You can trust me. I understand you.

Breaking from his reverie, Jimin gets up and moves to leave.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” he says, swinging the door closed.

You shoot forward and grab the knob just before it shuts.

Jimin jumps a little, whipping back around. There’s confusion on his face, then understanding.

“Okay, we’ll leave it open just like this. I’ll be just outside if you need anything, okay?”

You feel the tension release from your chest, and nod back.

Another warm smile, and then he disappears into the next room.

He’s not going to lock you in. Another impossible realization.

Turning around, you stare at the full tub. Your heartbeat skitters a little, but you take a step towards it anyways.

When you dip your fingertips in the clear water, you expect it to be scalding, or cold enough to numb, but it’s neither. The water is warm and calm, it doesn’t burn, it doesn’t sting.

Another breath releases from your lungs.

You use the cloth and soap to wipe down your whole body, shedding your dirty clothes and tossing them aside. Soon the tub is cloudy from the dirt on the washcloth. You even dip your hair into the water and use a little shampoo to get some of the grime out.

You sit there and wash yourself until the water turns cold. Using the counter to steady yourself, you slowly come to a stand, even though your legs are aching.

The sight in front of you is enough to shock you into silence again.

You can’t remember the last time you saw your reflection. You wish you weren’t seeing it now.

The person in the mirror is ugly and pathetic. Her short hair is a mangled mess. Haphazardly cut with a pair of dull scissors, it sticks out in all different angles. Her eyes are blank and lifeless, red-rimmed and surrounded by dark circles. There’s a large, hideous scar across her left cheek, deep and forked like a flash of lightning.

Her body is weak and repulsive. Slouching forward, she’s barely able to hold herself up. She’s covered in scars and marks, all over her legs, her arms, her torso.

You know there are worse scars behind you.

Horrifically entranced, you slowly reach up to touch the scar across her face, your face. Your fingertips meet the textured tissue, and then there’s the pain.

It’s not a physical pain, it doesn’t originate from the scar itself. It’s a pain deep in your chest, spreading and infecting the rest of your body. It maims you, twists your insides, disfigures your soul.

You muffle the silent scream with a hand over your mouth. Knees buckling, you barely have any strength left to keep yourself upright.

You’re barely you. You don’t remember who you were before, but you know it wasn’t this.

A gentle knock on the door. 

You immediately stifle any signs of discomfort, snapping the mask back on with frightening accuracy.

Jimin’s arms poke through the gap in the door. He sets a bundle of clothes on the counter.

“Here you go," his pleasant voice says. “Please let me know if they’re comfortable enough.”

You wait a good twenty seconds before you reach for them. A warm green sweater and soft cotton pants.

You hurriedly slip them on to hide your disgusting body.

Leaning closer to the door, you try to hear beyond the wood. Hushed voices, muted footsteps.

“Ready, love?” a smooth voice sounds from just behind the door.

You flinch away, trying your best to make your hair look less unkempt.

It’s Jin who cautiously swings the door open, greeting you with an affectionate smile.

“Much better, hmm?” he says.

You manage a curt nod, following him with your head down to another room. 

It’s the room from earlier, the one with the massive bed. The rest of them are here waiting, muttering quiet words until you arrive. Then they go silent and set their eyes on you, asking a question you can’t understand.

Why are they all looking at you? You don’t like it, not at all. People who look like them shouldn’t look at someone like you. You’re wrong, inside and out.

They all notice the change. Now your eyes are trained on the ground, head bent and shoulders folding in on yourself like you wish you would disappear.

Jin ushers you towards the humongous bed, encouraging you to settle in under the covers. He tucks the comforter around your body, fluffing the pillows behind your head.

“There, nice and cozy,” he says, sounding satisfied for the time being. “Rest up, okay love? You’ve been through a lot.”

Why are they talking to you like that? You’re disgusting. They should be throwing you out on the streets to fend for yourself like a common rat.

The small dark-haired man kneels down next to you. He hands you a mug of steaming amber liquid, using the bed sheets to shield your hands from the hot surface.

“This should settle your stomach,” he says.

While Jimin was getting you cleaned up, Yoongi and Jungkook were hard at work cooking up a tincture for your nausea. Essence of lavender to help you sleep, peppermint to refresh your throat, a little ginger to ease your stomach, and some of Yoongi’s highest-quality potions to replenish your nutrients. And, of course, Jin stirred in a copious amount of honey to sweeten it up.

You hold the cup in your hands like it’s a ticking time bomb.

Yoongi looks at his mates in confusion and concern, not sure what to do. Jimin catches his gaze, and gestures wildly with his hands. He exaggeratedly mimics holding the cup and taking a sip, and then Yoongi understands.

He gently takes the mug from your hands and holds it up to his nose.

“Let me check if it’s too hot for you,” he says, blowing off some of the steam and taking a long sip. He makes sure to swallow with audible emphasis.

“Okay, it should be good,” he says, handing it back to you.

This time you hold it close to your chest like it’s a precious gem, slowly sipping away at the frothy liquid. 

They all look at each other with a relieved, triumphant expression.

Namjoon steps forward and leans down to level his face with yours.

“There’s water for you over there,” he gestures to a table in the corner, complete with a pitcher and cup. “And the bathroom is the next door over.”

You nod to show your appreciation, still avoiding eye contact.

Jin enters your field of vision again.

“Do you think you can hold down some meds?” he asks. It’s sincere, no seeming deception behind it.

But you still shake your head vehemently. You don’t want anymore pills. In fact, you don’t want to see another pill ever in your life.

“Okay, love,” he says, smiling again. “Just rest up for me. For us.”

You have no idea what he means by that, but you sink into the pillows anyway.

One by one they filter out of the room, casting a last look at you before they leave.

You wish they wouldn’t. Their eyes seem to leave even more marks on your skin.

The door starts to swing shut. Then someone mutters something, and it stops just before it closes completely. 

Footsteps recede, silence settles upon the room.

You manage a few more sips from the steaming mug, eventually setting it aside. The bed is soft and comfortable, but you can’t bring yourself to lie down. 

You sit there, watching shadows dart across the wall, for hours.

a/n: thanks so much for reading!! if you enjoyed it please leave a comment on what you thought of the story/any questions it would mean the world to me!! and if you’re feeling extra generous, please reblog with tags it helps to spread the story around, thank you!! 💖

[abitohoney]

Insatiable

CH1 - I Don’t Bite AO3 link

CH1 || CH2 || CH3 || CH4 || CH5 || CH6 || CH7

Vampire Sevika x female reader

Rating: Explicit, MDNI, NSFW

Story Tags: Vampire Sevika, Soft Sevika, liaison reader, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Grinding, Sexual Tension, Biting, Drinking, Smut, Clothed Sex, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Assault, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Minor Character Death, Vampire Silco, vampire Ran, definitely took some creative liberties on vampire lore here, Menstrual Sex, Menstruation Kink, Strap-Ons, Overstimulation

Word Count: 3.3k

Story Summary: As the new liaison between Piltover and the Undercity, you've been guided by the enigmatic escort Ran to meet with their boss- and fearsome criminal kingpin- Silco, as well as his alluring right-hand woman Sevika. You're well aware that plenty of shady things take place in the depths below, but there's something particularly mysterious about these three that you can't quite put your finger on.

AN: This is already in process over on AO3.

The ride down the lift that carried passengers between the starlit skies of Piltover and the dark bowels of the Undercity was no different that night than any other. Ran, your escort, stood in silence just behind you, uncomfortably close despite there being more than enough room to leave you breathing space. Their ebony lips curled into a small smirk when you peered at them from over your shoulder. You offered a shy smile in return before returning your attention to the iron bars of the gate in front of you.

The clear lights from the lampposts above slowly faded the deeper you traveled, replaced by the sparse neon lights barely visible through the thick smog rising from the sump level in the depths below. It pained you to know there were people forced to live in such conditions, but that was part of your job, the reason you traveled to the Undercity once every week.

- - - - - - - - - -

You had been hired as a liaison to work between the Piltover council and the Undercity’s industrialist Silco. It was your responsibility to oversee negotiations between the two, a bit of a messenger and peacekeeper for lack of a better term. You were a neutral party, working to find terms that would favor, or at least be most agreeable, to both sides.

Your first meeting with Silco and his right-hand woman Sevika had been admittedly both terrifying and unnerving. Though you were privy to many rumors, and excessively debriefed by your employer, it did little to prepare you for seeing them in person.

Silco, criminal kingpin, driven to convert the Undercity into the independent nation of Zaun, was a thin, pale, heavily scarred man that simply exuded power and control. Mismatched eyes; one, sitting among the scarred side of his face- a contrasting fire among a black abyss, the other, arguably just as terrifying in its seeming ability to see your soul- a beautiful shade of blue. Lips thin, pulled into a serious taut line. Dark slicked back hair with trails of silver flowed like an extension of the scar on the left side of his face. Suit tailored as if straight from one of Piltover's finest, a regal mix of dark red, black and gold trimmings and accents. His voice was cool, calm, but with a clipped edge that left no room for arguing. He spoke almost poetically, with metaphors and eloquent rhetoric, clearly far more educated than a majority of his Undercity peers. Though he spoke softly to you, his tone almost sensual in nature, you suspected that could take a frightening turn if he were cross.

Sevika, Silco’s second in command, was equally a sight to behold. Tall, muscular, dark, and brooding. She too donned scars, but considerably smaller, vein-like and glowing a lovely blueish-purple against her rich brown skin. They ran along her left check, traveling down her neck, under her leather choker, then disappeared beneath the collar of her leather top. Her eyes, a rare and lovely shade of gray, glowed eerily red and purple at times. She too had dark hair, cut in a short angled bob, half pulled into a tie at the back of her head. But her most notable and unnerving feature was her left arm; a mechanical, electrical, and hydraulic amalgamation- including gears, tubes, and enough joints and movable components to make it a fully functional extension of her body. She typically kept it hidden between her maroon cape, but you had more than once gotten a glimpse when she lifted that arm or shifted such that her cape fell aside. Sevika's voice was unique too. Deep, a bit raspy, and noticeably sultry. At least it seemed that way when she spoke directly to you. She, however, was more straight to the point with her words. She didn't use fancy language or long-winded stories to convey her thoughts. She said exactly what she was thinking and nothing more. And similar to her employer, she too had a tone you suspected could strike fear into anyone who pushed her buttons.

Even your escort, Ran, another of Siclo’s lackeys, was wrapped in mystery and danger. Though they spoke very little, it only served to drive that fear and unease deeper. Their appearance, though slightly less unnerving than Silco or Sevika, still left the impression they were not someone you’d want to trifle with. Their short, black, choppy hair hung diagonally across their face, obscuring their left eye. Dark black makeup painted their lips and surrounded their eyes, a stark contrast to their pale complexion. A leather harness wrapped around their seemingly out of place crisp white shirt, twin blades resting in the sheaths at their back. Similar to Sevika, Ran’s right hand appeared to be a prosthetic, or included some sort of dark metal covering.

Admittedly, the three of them intrigued you despite the fear they instilled. However, Sevika was the one to have piqued your interest the most.

The meetings, held weekly and late in the evening at Silco's office above his establishment- a bar or club of sorts- always started with just you and Sevika, typically for an hour or two before Silco would finally appear. At first you thought it simply was that he was just a busy man, running late and nothing more. However, after several failed attempts to initiate the discussions you were sent to hold on behalf of the Piltover council with Sevika, you started to suspect she was intentionally calling you in early. For something entirely different.

Each visit Sevika would sit on the large settee beside you, arms spread across the back and legs spread wide, a cigarillo or glass of liquor in her prosthetic hand. Her human hand always rested near your neck, fingers occasionally brushing along the sensitive flesh, subtle enough to be considered unintentional, but it sent chills down your spine each time.

Some nights she would listen to you talk about anything and everything you could come up with. Some nights the two of you would sit in comfortable silence. On rare occasions, she would grace you with little tidbits of her own life, to which you hung on every single word spoken in that enticingly deep voice of hers, your eyes glued to her full lips.

- - - - - - - - - -

You were pulled from your thoughts at the sudden jolt of the lift coming to a stop. Your body lurched forward, not prepared for the abrupt halt.

Ran’s metal hand reached out, finding purchase on your shoulder and preventing you from falling face first into the iron bars.

You gasped softly, quickly grasping one of the bars and righting yourself. “Sorry,” you murmured awkwardly to Ran who then stood beside you. “And thank you.”

Their dark lips pulled into a crooked grin. One that had you wondering if they were amused by your slip. They said nothing though, removing their hand, but not without first dragging the very tip of a metal finger along the side of your neck.

The touch sent chills down your spine. It was so subtle, so casual, you weren’t sure if it was intentional. But you weren’t about to ask.

Ran stepped past you, flashing one last smile to your stunned expression.

You followed, feeling suddenly more apprehensive about the night’s meeting than usual.

You sat on the dark burgundy settee in the dimly lit room of Silco’s office, trying to keep your cool as you waited for his arrival, which over the past few visits had been suspiciously later and later.

Sevika, seated beside you, absentmindedly ran the fingers of her human hand through the hair just above your neck. Twirling the strands, her fingertips brushed along the stretch of sensitive skin below.

It took every ounce of willpower not to simply purr, or let your head roll forward, close your eyes, and just relish in the sensations. You were only brought out of your daze when you heard her husky voice beside you.

"You're a lot prettier than our last liaison."

Turning your head, you peered up at her curiously. Had you heard her right?

Gray eyes, almost glowing in the faint light of the desk lamp several feet away, were trained on your exposed neck. Her dark taupe lips pulled up at one corner of her mouth.

You could feel the heat begin to spread across your cheeks. "Are you- are you trying to court me?" you asked incredulously, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Court?” She chuckled– a deep, sensual little laugh, eyes drifting to yours. “You mean, am I trying to seduce you?"

When you only offered her a shy little smile, she continued in a playful tone, "That depends. Is it working?"

"Yes," you admitted, heat flooding your cheeks and ears when you realized what you just confessed. Before you could attempt to cover it up, she spoke again.

"Then why don't you be a good girl for me and lie down so I can do this properly."

That was not what you’d expected. Not at all. You expected her to be surprised, or put off. She couldn’t possibly have been serious. But she was.

Your chest tightened, the implications of the situation quickly setting in. Any ounce of confidence you had remaining was gone in an instant. And you suddenly felt terribly unprepared for whatever was about to take place.

Sevika must have taken notice, as she tried to coax you on.

"C'mon, sweetheart. I don't bite," she purred, then raised a single brow. “Unless you want me to.”

The sinful curl of her lips revealed pearly white teeth, including a pair of eerily pronounced canines. Thick fingers made a long sensual drag along your neck as her hand left the back of the seat. The cushions rose as the weight of her lifted when she stood to leave you the room necessary to lie back on the large settee.

“What if Silco comes in?” you asked, eyes darting between the door and Sevika’s far too tempting smile.

“He won’t be here for a while,” she assured you.

Again, you were left to wonder if that was intentional. If Sevika had planned these early arrivals to have alone time with you. To do whatever it was she had planned to do right then and there.

Despite your trepidation, you finally complied, pulling your feet up onto the settee and turning to lie across it. As you let your head fall back to rest against the arm, Sevika bent down, looming over you while she grabbed a pillow from behind your arm and placed it in the gap beneath the incline of your upper back and neck.

"Thank you." Your words were so quiet you were uncertain she could even hear you. Your eyes tracked her movement, but you focused on her prosthetic hand, finding it too difficult to look into her eyes.

Her human hand tapped the valley between your thighs, just above your knees.

You lifted your gaze to hers in question.

"Make some room for me, sweetheart." It was a command, but spoken with a hidden promise behind it.

Heart hammering in your chest, your eyes remained on hers as you spread your legs just wide enough for her to place one of her own knees between yours. The other knee came to rest on the opposite side of yours so that she was straddling your leg. Even in her kneeling position she towered over you, blocking what little light the tiny desk lamp could offer.

Your eyes fell to the point where her knee was touching yours, hovering there for a moment before traveling up the length of one of her thick thighs and across the muscular planes of that teasing strip of exposed abs. They continued up over the rise and fall off her soft chest, then the leather choker surrounding her neck. Over those thick, dark, smirking lips, and her pronounced nose, before your gaze finally landed on her gray eyes. Even without the light of the lamp, those eyes somehow seemed to glow in an eerie mix of red and purple.

"You aren't scared are you?" she asked, observing your fraught expression and tense posture.

"No," you whispered with a small shake of your head. "Just- just nervous," you admitted.

Her brows raised as she spoke, "Nervous?"

Averting your attention to the leather bracelet around her wrist you replied shyly, "I- I just don't want to disappoint you."

It wasn’t a complete lie. This was a powerful woman who clearly was experienced, likely much more so than you. And you desperately wished to please her. Though not for the reasons or in the ways you should as liaison. But another part of you also worried if this was right. To allow her to have you like this. This certainly wasn’t part of your job description. Not to mention this could certainly appear as if Sevika was trying to win some sort of favor or advantage in what was supposed to be an even, fair deal between Piltover and the Undercity.

And yet, your body seemed to speak louder than any voice of reason. And your body wanted nothing more than to give Sevika whatever she wanted.

Your gaze slowly drifted back to her seductive grin and glinting eyes.

She placed the palms of her hands on the arm of the settee on either side of your head, her cape further shrouding you in darkness. She bent down to bring her face closer to yours, noses nearly touching. "I'm certain you won't," she purred, her warm breath fanning across your face as you took a deep breath.

You were drowning in her scent; a heady mix of fine liquor, cigarillos, and smoke. Your lips parted and breath hitched as you watched her descend further, mouth inching towards yours. Her head tilted just enough to allow space for her nose to fit beside your own. Heat flooded your body and you closed your eyes. You felt her lips pause a hair's breadth away from yours. The room was utterly silent save for the breaths you two exchanged through parted lips. The heat that had invaded your body was instantly replaced with an ache that concentrated in the apex of your thighs and spread down through your legs. A breathless moan escaped the small gap of your open mouth when you felt the tip of her tongue snake teasingly along your bottom lip. Her name fell from your mouth in a breathless whisper. Suddenly, it felt as though the room had begun to spin.

When her soft lips finally connected with yours in a passionate kiss it nearly took your breath away. Moaning against her mouth, your hands instinctively grabbed the collar of her top, trying to pull her closer while you pressed your mouth to hers fervently. Her nose rubbed along the side of your own, brushing along your cheek when she adjusted the tilt of her head to deepen the kiss.

Her metal hand slid down to rest against the seat to support her body as her human hand slipped under the front of your shirt. It left a trail of heat as she slid it up along your abdomen to cup a breast through the thin material of your bra. Her tongue delved into your mouth, tip gliding hungrily along the backs of your teeth.

When her tongue receded, you attempted to replicate her movements, your tongue dipping into her mouth and brushing along her teeth. The sudden gentle press of a sharp canine into your tongue had you gasping against her mouth.

Her throaty chuckle elicited another deep moan. She released your tongue, only to lick along it with her own.

Releasing your grip on her collar, your hands slipped up and around her neck, burying your fingers in her silky hair.

Sevika moved her mouth to your chin, kissing a line along your jaw. She pressed her knee against the apex of your thighs.

A wave of pleasure rolled through your body. You tilted your head back against the pillows, softly moaning her name.

Her lips pressed against the taut, exposed flesh of your throat. Burying her nose into your neck, she inhaled deeply. A low groan pulled from her chest as she kissed, sucked, and nipped her way to your pulse point. When your fingers pulled at her hair, forcing her mouth closer, she released something akin to a growl.

Your mind was in too much of a daze to determine if that sound was a threat or a result of her pleasure. Either way, it only urged you to pull her even closer.

A pair of surprisingly sharp teeth grazed along that delicate point in your neck, threatening to sink in deep and break the flesh. The fingers that were gently groping your breast moments ago pressed harder into the softness, nails leaving little crescent moons in their wake.

“Sevika,” you moaned wantonly as you ground against her knee.

Her breath was hot and heavy against your skin, as if she was getting off to just the taste and smell of your skin.

Or what was beneath it.

And then, without warning, she was gone. With nothing more than a startling, loud growl of frustration.

You blinked several times, still lost in the haze of arousal. Your hands rested at your sides, fingers twitching at the loss of Sevika’s silky hair between them. As your vision came into focus, you found Sevika standing beside the opposite end of the couch, her back to you. Her body was almost heaving, breaths ragged and shaking her body.

“You need to leave,” she growled quietly without facing you.

“What?” you asked, slowly sitting up.

“I said you need to leave!” she growled, much louder this time as she glared at you from over her shoulder. Her normally gray eyes flashed a bright purple, but her mouth was obscured by her cape.

You wanted to ask why. What you had done wrong. What about the reason you came there in the first place. You hadn’t even had the chance to speak to Silco yet. But her anger, her tone, her glare- it all left no room for questions. So you quickly gathered your bearings, or what little you could, and made your way to the door. With your hand on the knob, you paused. Swallowing hard, you turned one last time towards Sevika.

She still refused to look at you. Even with her cape covering most of her body, you could see- even feel - the tension.

What the hell happened?

With a resigned sigh, you opened the door and stepped out, closing it softly behind you.

Ran stood leaning against the railing not more than a few feet down the hallway. They glanced up at you, their exposed brow raising in surprise.

“I- I guess we need to reschedule,” you explained quietly. You silently prayed Ran wouldn’t ask why. You had no idea what you’d say. You certainly couldn’t tell them that you and Sevika were doing something so unprofessional in Silco’s office.

Why had you even let that happen?

You knew why. Sevika was incredibly attractive. Everything about her exuded power and charisma. But she also seemed to have this oddly soft side beneath that hard exterior. Both sides of her drew you in.

Thankfully, Ran said nothing. Not a word. It was one time you were actually quite grateful for their typical silence.

The walk to the lift and subsequent ride up to Piltover would have been more awkward than usual had your mind not been swimming with questions, worries, and concerns. You just couldn’t figure out what had gone wrong. Had Sevika regretted her advances?

As Ran opened the lift gate and watched you step out, you promised yourself you would apologize to Sevika for what had happened next time you met with her.

Assuming there would be a next time.

CH2>>

[paquerettexx]

haku kusanagi — midnight (short fic)

he decided to leave frostheim and you chose to stay with jin. guess this is goodbye, huh?

pairing: haku kusanagi / reader

tags: slight angst, made up frostheim!haku lore lol

words: 650

[cross posted from ao3]

after everything that went down, it was obvious that haku would be the one to distance himself from you and jin– after all, you picked frostheim to stay with jin, didn't you?

then why were you here, looking pretty, leaning on the railing beside him as you both admired the tokyo bay. the ripples in the water reflected the moon as soft waves overlapped on the bay.

"why'd you ask to meet?" haku asked, puzzled by your sudden invitation. he wasn't really on the best terms with frostheim after what had transpired.

"...i'm sorry." haku heard you apologize to him, bringing your eyes to meet his. oh. it seems like the water wasn't the only thing reflecting the moon's beauty. how is this possible? your eyes shone even brighter than the moon.

"it's selfish but... talking to you makes me feel at ease." haku hears your whisper, your voice barely above a whisper.

"even after what i did?" haku asks to which you promptly respond, "even after what you did."

"hah, i guess i did say i'll always be here to listen to your problems." haku chuckled bitterly though there was a slight ache in his chest, right where his heart is.

"i feel like i made a mistake." you confessed, making haku instantly turn to face you. haku finally allows himself to gaze at you under the moonlight, your eyes guilty as you stare into the sea. the cold air of the night bites your skin and caresses your hair, setting the perfect scene right in front of his eyes.

"i should've gone with you." you muttered under your breath solemnly. "i think i regret my choice, haku. what should i do?"

"..." haku couldn't find the words to respond to you right away, letting a painfully tense blanket of silence wrap both of you.

"...what's done is done." he sighed before continuing. "you should take good care of the captain since you chose to stay by his side." there was a biting pain in his words, like pretty venom flowing into your veins.

haku wasn't oblivious or ignorant. he knew you were here just for his company, fearing to lose one of the two. it was either him or jin, and you chose the latter. you were just scared of losing him, though you've already made up your mind. he knew he was just failsafe in your eyes.

and yet, the shimmer in your eyes, the soft gloss over your lips– everything about you is irresistible to him. the way you'd hug his blazer closer to you or how you'd play with your fingers when you're nervous. every little detail about you, he found extremely captivating.

eventually, the sun will rise and the dark will turn to light. this final rendezvous would soon end, too. what's done is done and there is nothing else he can do. you had made your choice.

"so this is it?" you asked haku, eyes finally turning to meet him who has already been staring at you.

"yeah, this is goodbye." haku replies, stuffing his hands in his pocket and turning to look away from you.

for a second, he stops in his tracks to approach you. he was just a foot away from you. he sighs before leaning in. you could feel the tension in the air, prompting you to close your eyes. just when you thought he'd close the gap between your lips, you felt him place a chaste kiss on the edge of your lips.

just like the love between the two of you, it came close but never really met in the end. much akin to the last first kiss he gave you.

"guess this is it then." haku declares with a final sigh before pulling away, walking away with a carefree wave as if his heart hadn't just shattered to s million pieces in the dead of this night.

[she-who-fights-and-writes]

How to Get Inspired to Write and Regain Creativity

The muses are fickle, especially when it comes to writers. Sometimes inspiration strikes at the worst of times—while working, in the middle of the night, etc.—and other times it refuses to strike at all. How do you get inspired to start a project, especially when you haven’t written in a very long time? 

Here are some tips and tricks that may help you get back into the writing groove.

1. Is It Writer’s Block You’re Worried About?

This post is meant to be a resource for people who don’t have any current projects or haven’t written/worked on their current projects in a very long time due to lack of inspiration and motivation. 

In contrast, “writer’s block” is usually used in reference to having a load of inspiration and motivation to write but struggling with a mental “block” that prevents you from doing so. 

These two overlap a lot, though, so if nothing on this post is working, you can find my post on combatting writer's block here!

For some extra help to get the ball rolling once you've regained inspiration, also check out the "Getting Started" section of my FAQ!

2. Set Aside Time to Be Creative

Oftentimes, creativity and inspiration can be lost due to a busy schedule. Life happens! Work, school, and a variety of other things could be restricting your ability to write or do creative things consistently. All it takes is one busy week, or month, or year, and now you feel like you’ve been thrown off of the carousel of creativity and can’t find your way back on again!

The key to combatting this is blocking out an hour or two (every day or every week) that you can use to spend time writing. Set a timer or alarm and put your phone aside (it is your enemy! It can and WILL distract you!) and sit down with the intent to write. Even if you get nothing done, getting in a creative headspace is still incredibly helpful! Baby steps!!!

By blocking out a specific length of time and putting it in your calendar, you can mentally prep to be creative and also can assure that you have ample time to get the juices flowing without worrying about being interrupted.

3.  Check Out Some Writing Prompts

Sometimes, it can be easier to start writing if you’re told what to write. A lot of writers find prompts helpful as warm-up exercises, and use them for projects on the side when they’re taking a rest from their current WIP.

It could be helpful to find a couple of prompts and see what cool things you can come up with! Even if they don’t seem like something you’d want to work on long-term, the very act of writing in and of itself will wake your “writing muscles” back up and get them in the groove of being creative again.

You can check out #writing prompts on my blog, or check out these amazing prompt blogs:

@writing-prompt-s

@creativepromptsforwriting

@promptsforthestrugglingauthor

@daily-prompts

@promptsonpaper

4. Write Fanfiction (If you’re just struggling with original works)

Fanfiction is a great way to get back into being creative because all of the hardest parts about getting started (character creation, setting, lore, etc.) have already been done for you. You don’t have to post your fanfiction or even complete your fic, just write a short scene or story about two characters with pre-established backstories, personalities, and dynamics. It’ll get you back into the basics of describing setting and writing dialogue. 

5. Make a Fun Playlist or Pinterest Board

Making fun playlists or Pinterest boards based on a certain genre, character, or piece of media you like can really get the creative juices flowing! After all, having a playlist to listen to that perfectly encapsulates the mood, tone, and pacing of your scene or story can really get you inspired! And with a Pinterest board for visual references to back you up, descriptions can come a whole lot easier!

I don't really use Pinterest except for art references, but if you don’t want to make your own writing playlist, feel free to borrow some of mine! Just a note: I find words in music very distracting when I write, so all of these are instrumental. Sorry if it’s not your cup of tea! 

Here’s a link to my master list of instrumental playlists.

6. Read!

I know. It’s hard. And I can’t even talk; I haven’t read a proper book in a year, probably. For me, the hardest part is starting; I drag my feet for months before finally picking up a book, whip through a good chunk of it in one or two sittings, but once I put it down, I never return to it. But reading is an excellent way to get inspired as a writer, and to improve your way of writing! 

By learning and getting inspiration from fellow writers, you not only get an idea of the creative possibilities, but also learn how different writers work their process. Fanfiction counts, too!

7. Get a Writing Buddy!

Sometimes, creative things such as writing can be hard because they’re traditionally a “solo sport” so to speak.

But having a writing buddy, someone to just be in the room or on call with you while you both be creative together, can do loads for your inspiration. Sure, there’s a chance that you’ll just distract each other and fool around, but if you really work to hold each other accountable, even getting into the creative headspace is a great way to start.

Also, you have a partner to bounce ideas off of!

Hope this helped, and happy writing!