#not really resolving it within this collection i guess?

[elliemarchetti]

To Start Anew

A spontaneous Elucien drabble for the prompt jasmine from my alphabet of flowers prompt list in honour of the first day of spring. This story was born from a flash of inspiration, so I didn't have time to either proof read or submit it to my beta.

Words: 731

Elain was cutting her jasmines when she sensed Lucien's presence nearby. She heard his heart beating in the distance, felt him getting closer, until the constant pulsations were drowned out by the sound of his footsteps on the gravel driveway. He didn’t need to make so much noise, she knew he was able to move as silently as a cat, but he was doing it to alert her of his arrival, so she could avoid her undesirable mate by hiding in the kitchen or retreating to her rooms. Today, however, she had no intention of doing so. She had all winter to think about her attitude and she had concluded she acted horribly. She hadn’t behaved as the kind person her friends and family knew and loved, and although it was the Inner Circle’s pressure that pushed her to be so rude, she still owed him an apology and a demonstration of how amiable she actually was. That’s why she was picking her jasmines, but her elaborate plan B probably no longer mattered since he was here. Not that Elain hadn’t been warned with adequate advance of his arrival, on the contrary, perhaps Feyre gave her too much time to orchestrate her plot to be alone with him. She didn’t really feel guilty for having suggested to some of Velaris’s less well-off citizens to insist for an emergency meeting with the High Lady, after all the issue had to be addressed sooner or later, but she had relied on timing and the twin’s cooperation so that Lucien wouldn’t be notified of the cancellation of his visit. Evidently, now she really had a reason to wait with bated breath for the familiar creak of the gate.

She turned only when she was sure to be within earshot, but when she met his guarded gaze, her resolve faltered. He was perfect, with his red hair collected neatly in a low ponytail, which left his angular jaw and high cheekbones exposed. His skin was more golden than when she'd last seen him, and even the long scar that ran across his face seemed less noticeable, more blended. He was wearing a green suit, with a jacket awfully similar to the one he'd given her years ago, when she'd just been Made. The golden embroidery on the wrists highlighted well-groomed hands, strangely free of calluses, with tapered fingers, more suited for a lover than a warrior, but after all, if the gossip Elain had picked up had any truth to it, Lucien knew how to be both, and was extremely skilled either in the art of love and that of war. The thought, for some reason, made her blush.

“Good morning, my lady,” he said, bowing his head slightly, maintaining the distance she herself had imposed and now made her ache so much.

“Hello Lucien,” she ventured, her voice almost too small. He made her uncomfortable, and he intimidated her, but maybe it wasn’t such a terrible thing, maybe the sense of crumpling in her insides she felt every time she saw him had nothing to do with negative emotions. On his part, Lucien was so amazed in hearing her say his name he stopped on his tracks, giving Elain the opportunity she had been waiting for months. At first, she moved a little uncertainly, then her legs took courage, and with a few steps she was next to him, with a basket full of his favourite flowers in her right hand.

“Unfortunately, Feyre had to go out urgently and I’m afraid she wouldn’t return until late afternoon,” she started, studying his face in search for hints on how he felt about the whole situation. “She apologizes for not being able to warn you in time, but I guess it’s no big deal since you’ll see each other tomorrow for Nynsar.”

“Actually, by tomorrow I figured I’d be back… you know, to Spring…” Lucien began, but Elain cut him off, telling him he just couldn’t miss the treats Nuala and Cerridwen helped her to make.

“Do you want to try a slice of our apple pie?” she asked, incredulous at her own brazenness. “If a maid is the one serving it there shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

“No, no problem my lady,” he stammered, and Elain smiled, ecstatic at the idea of ​​having caught him off guard with her invitation.

“Please, just call me Elain.”

[perhaps-in-anotherdream]

[CN] Victor x MC – S2 CH 46 (Eng Translation - Part 1)

“All I know is that I really want to see her.”

“The moment I heard him speak, I felt as if a soft voice in my mind was whispering to me, reassuring me that it was okay not to be so strong right now.”

⌚ This post contains detailed spoilers for a chapter that is yet to be released on the global server. ⌚

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

[Notes from Anika]: I’m currently working on adding subtitles to the chapter, so I’ll save myself the hassle of adding many sprites, and probably will be skipping on adding notes for voice acting too, otherwise I’d have to do it for every line he says ahah-  ಥ﹏ಥ

—

【CH 45-1, Victor part】

[Note]: The first part is the continuation of S2 CH 42-15, where it was shown that Victor and Kiro had met up in Paris. Another important segment of Victor’s “taking care of everything” before the inevitable happened. (TдT)

—

Half a month ago, in Paris.

The patter of raindrops falls rhythmically on the glass windows, accompanied by the melodious tune from the vinyl record.

As if treading on the beats, the door of the room is pushed open. A dazzling blond figure appears at the entrance.

Kiro’s gaze sweeps over the figures in the shadows of the room before finally landing straight on Victor, who is sitting in the center.

Kiro: The BOSS specially arranged a meeting with me at a secret location in Paris. So, I guess there must be an important matter to discuss.

As Kiro speaks, he walks directly to the seat opposite Victor and sits down, slightly raising his chin.

Kiro: Well, let’s begin.

Victor: I only have one thing to announce.

Victor’s gaze briefly intersects with Kiro’s, but soon shifts towards the figures in the dark corners.

Victor: Starting today, he will be the new BOSS of BS.

Victor’s deep voice resonates throughout the room, eliciting a collective gasp of astonishment.

The conference room lapses into a deathly silence, and no one utters a word. The bewildered and uncertain gazes of those lurking in the shadows silently exchange their thoughts.

Even in Kiro’s own eyes, a subtle hint of being astounded passes by, almost imperceptible.

But he quickly suppresses it, as if entering a state, and immediately displays a smile that says, “as expected.”

Hades: Since when did a test subject become worthy of being the BOSS?

Hades’s voice breaks the silence. He is the first to step out of the shadows, confronting Victor and Kiro directly.

Hades: Such a loser has no right to dictate and interfere with us.

Kiro: …

Kiro lifts his eyes, and within his radiant golden eyes, a smile filled with arrogance can be seen.

Kiro: Regarding this matter, you have no authority to intervene.

—

[Note]: From here onwards, we’re back to the present day, i.e., following the days after S2 CH 44~ do note that it’s been 15 days since the lantern festival of CH 44, but when MC says “two months” later, she is referring to all the events that took place before, minus the moments spent with Victor (TдT)

—

The early morning sunlight spills onto the desk covered with scattered documents.

Since Chen Hui was taken away by the city hall, the investigation has temporarily reached a conclusion. The company’s files and materials that were previously seized are gradually being returned.

However, following this, there has been an overwhelming influx of various government approvals and media interview articles.

The consecutive and complex tasks for over two months have been suffocating, leaving me gasping for air. I can only find small moments to do ordinary work in between and relieve stress.

I shake my hands vigorously as I prepare to submit the proposal to LFG, sighing subconsciously.

Anna: Haven’t all the issues been resolved? Why are you still heaving deep sighs?

MC: There are still so many formalities to be completed; just the thought of it gives me a headache.

MC: Luckily, all the relevant documents for the redevelopment plan have been retrieved, so it won’t affect the subsequent regular work.

MC: The several projects that were temporarily put on hold during the investigation can now be resumed. Anna, I appreciate your hard work in following up on them.

Anna: Don’t worry, I’ll take care of these things. And as for you, have you forgotten about the medical check-up again?

It’s only when Anna mentions it that I remember. The company’s annual medical examination deadline is approaching, and we’ve recently organized a round of group check-ups for everyone.

I didn’t participate in the medical check-up at that time because I was busy with the Chen Hui issue. After returning from the Lantern Festival, I remained holed up in the office dealing with various matters, and now the time has flown by.

Lantern Festival… as the two words inadvertently pop into my head, a series of gentle waves spreads in my heart. I don’t know why, but I have a feeling that I’ve forgotten something very important.

Anna: What’s on your mind, MC? Remember to make an appointment.

MC: …hmm, okay. I promise to go for the medical check-up once I’m done with my tasks! Right now, I’m heading to LFG for a routine report.

Anna: Isn’t the routine report to LFG always sent electronically?

I look at Anna in puzzlement, only to see an even more bewildered look on her face.

MC: Electronically?

I’m stumped momentarily, feeling like something has fleetingly passed through my mind, but I can’t grab hold of it.

Yeah, that’s right. Of course! It has always been the practice to submit electronic documents. How could I even forget about this?

Ever since receiving investment from LFG, all the major decisions have been conducted through online communication, with e-mail approvals, and the number of actual visits to LFG in person has been few and far between.

A familiar sense of dissonance suddenly surges within me, as if a vital part has been wiped away from my life in a mere moment, leaving no trace behind.

Perhaps noticing my unsettling expression, Anna pats me on the shoulder.

Anna: I told you that you’re too tired. Go back early today and get some rest.

I nod my head and sit back down in my seat, then proceed to open the emails on my desktop.

Indeed, the email contains the routine report for LFG, and reviewing the email history, I can see that it has always been sent as electronic manuscripts to LFG in the past.

Could it be that the delay has caused a memory bias? I shake my head. After briefly checking the document, I click the “send” button.

With the end of the workday drawing near, I set aside the lingering unsettling feeling for now and prepare to go home early and rest.

—

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—

【CH 46-1, Victor part】

As is usual LOL, through various twists and turns, following the events of the prev. CH, MC finds herself being engulfed by a strong force and ends up in the familiar white desert—

The event MC gets flashbacks of is the white desert scene of S2 CH 37 and meeting a Victor with no memories. But since Victor is erased from everyone’s memories now, the details are blurred for MC even though she desperately tries to recall~ (TдT)

—

MC: This place…

Before my eyes stretches an endless expanse of pure white desert, blending seamlessly with the distant horizon.

Waves of heat surge towards me, causing a thin sheen of sweat to form on my forehead, unbeknownst to me.

A sense of déjà vu at the sight makes me freeze in place––

I have been here before.

I feel as if a comet is reversing above my head, taking me back to that chaotic and disorderly space-time overlap incident.

Back then, after Shaw and I mistakenly stepped on that glowing boundary line, I inexplicably found myself falling into this eerie white desert.

MC: That’s right… I had walked here for a long time…

MC: And then, I… huh?

How did I eventually return to Loveland City?

?? (little boy, in flashback): Don’t waste your breath.

?? (little boy, in flashback): You had just fallen into a disordered space. If it weren’t for the CORE on you, I wouldn’t have been able to locate you among countless intricate dimensions.

Ah, yes. Afterward, I was taken out of the desert by that mysterious person from the Black Cabin.

MC: …no, that’s not right.

As if to deny my own memories, I practically cry out.

MC: [yelling]  NO!!

Before returning to Loveland City, I had clearly met someone in this desert.

Furthermore, that person should be someone really important to me.

Swirling in the rising heat, a blurry figure emerges in the distant horizon, but it only manifests for a mere second before abruptly dissipating.

It feels as though both the blazing sun and the illusion are jeering at me. If that person is so important to me, why is my memory failing me?

Lost in thought, I stand amidst the deadly silence of the sand dunes, the grains beneath my feet slowly swallowing my ankles, as if quietly trying to drag me into the sea of sand.

—

MC wearily walks through the desert, trying to find a way out. Finally, she finds a totem, and upon touching it, she is taken out of this dimension and into ruins, where she meets Shaw cue. Shaw’s part in the update~

—

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—

【CH 46-8】

[Anika’s Notes]: One thing I want to mention before starting, throughout the entire chapter, Victor is referred as “男人” (man) while his character is defined as “Others,” unlike how his name would’ve been shown as 李泽言  (Li Zeyan) had this whole oblivion thing not happened. I’ve already wailed over it in my twitter thread, so not gonna do that again LOL. I will, however, write his name as “Man (Victor).” Otherwise, I don’t think I’ll be able to do this shit–– （ ꐦꉺωꉺ)つ)`Д˚)꘎༄ؘ 

—

After parting ways with Shaw, and in the plane on her way to Loveland City—

 —

After being away for two days, the unread messages and e-mails have piled up like a mountain. As I quickly scroll down with my finger, I happen to tap on a message that has already been read.

“——Hello, Miss MC. Thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to attend tonight’s networking event. I will be at the venue on the cruise ship, and I sincerely look forward to your presence…”

I blink my eyes, and then it dawns on me that a few days ago, I did receive an invitation from a business partner.

MC: Oh, yes! I almost forgot about this... Luckily, I can still make it in time.

After confirming the time for the evening cruise event, I quickly respond to several messages from my business partners. It’s only after hearing the broadcast reminder to turn off the devices that I finally put my phone down.

The past few days have been filled with such diverse and bizarre experiences that when I close my eyes, images of what I saw in the ruins flash through my mind.

Who exactly was that blurry figure? Why were there so many identical figures around that person?

And what is the connection between those overlapping points of light and the heart of the world...

Lost in my thoughts, I unconsciously sketch out that pattern in my mind. Inexplicably, a familiar warmth gradually begins to well up within me.

Unwittingly, my palm curls up, and a sudden surge of power sweeps over me. Before I can even react, everything before my eyes starts spinning.

The soft seat behind me abruptly vanishes, leaving me without anything to lean on. Caught off guard, I take a few steps back.

Suddenly, my feet sink into softness, as if I have stepped onto a sandy terrain.

MC: Why am I here again––?!

Unlike the calm and tranquil white desert from before, the quicksand this time is exceptionally swift and violent. Before I can even let out a cry of alarm, it engulfs my calves.

I quickly lift my leg, attempting to free my feet from the quicksand. However, with the slightest movement, my body begins to uncontrollably sink further. In a matter of seconds, it has already reached my knees.

MC: …I’m done for!

The image of being swallowed by the quicksand races through my mind, and I instinctively struggle, but the sinking speed only accelerates.

?? (Victor): Stop flailing about.

In the next second, a deep voice suddenly reaches my ears.

I restrain my instinct to struggle and cease my movements, listening as the voice resounds once again.

?? (Victor): Now, lie down on your back and keep your body flat.

MC: …b-but I’ll end up sinking if I do that!

?? (Victor): If you continue like this, you will only sink faster.

The other party’s voice is not sharp, yet it inexplicably makes one want to have faith in the person.

Gritting my teeth, I fight back my fear and gradually lay down in the quicksand behind me. The warm grains of sand slowly surge up, almost drowning my ears, until they finally come to a halt.

Just as I breathe a sigh of relief and try to clearly see the source of the voice, the surroundings are suddenly engulfed in a swirling sandstorm.

The moment I try to speak, dust fills my mouth, making it difficult to breathe. I struggle to lower my head and suddenly feel a strong hand gripping my wrist.

?? (Victor): [incomparably anxious]  Hold on to me tightly!

Even though I can’t see the other person’s face clearly, I instinctively hold onto his hand, reminiscent of clinging to the last piece of driftwood, and slowly shift my body.

The wind and sand brush against my face, leaving a sensation of pain akin to being cut by a sharp blade, which only intensifies the anguish in my heart.

If this continues, we will both be swallowed by the quicksand. What else can we possibly do…

As I struggle, the power within me seems to respond to my will to survive, burning fervidly in my chest.

It seems to have an impact as the surrounding sandstorm abruptly weakens a little. The hand gripping mine exerts a sudden force, pulling me out of the whirlpool in an instant.

I fall to my knees in exhaustion and apply all my strength to get back on my feet, only to find that my hands and legs have gone limp.

I can only gasp for breath, allowing uncontrollable tears to roll down my eyes. It takes me a while before I lift my head in lingering apprehension.

MC: [crying]  Th-thank you… 

Through the blur of tears, I find myself looking into a pair of ink-black eyes.

The sound of the wind brushes past my ears, but it grows distant and muffled.

I stare at the person in front of me in a daze, and my heart suddenly skips a beat.

His dark-colored coat is stained with dirt and dust smudges, yet his figure remains upright and composed.

His thin lips are slightly pursed, seemingly due to dryness, making them appear even paler in contrast.

Peering through his slightly disheveled bangs, he gazes at me with gentle and serene eyes. For some unknown reason, unfamiliar emotions of aching sorrow suddenly surge within me.

I tightly squeeze my palm in a somewhat wretched manner, fearing that if I wait for a second longer, tears will gush out of my eyes beyond my control.

Why does my heart suddenly feel as if it has lost a vital part, so empty that it makes me unable to breathe?

I have obviously never seen this man in front of me before, yet I feel as if I’ve sketched his features in my mind countless times over, and every subtle change in his expression tugs at my emotions.

MC: [sobbing]  Why do I…

I restrain the urge that arises from an unknown source, attempting to calm my breathing. Yet, the man seems to sense my gaffe.

He furrows his brows slightly and takes half a step forward, speaking in a hushed tone.

Man (Victor): [THE TONE OF TRADEMARK “VICTOR-TENDERNESS”]  Are you okay?

I open my lips, but the words “I’m fine” or “It’s okay” feel so heavy that they are choked up in my throat.

I gaze into those deep eyes, and the world before me slowly becomes blurry. The determination I’ve been obstinately holding on to seems to crumble bit by bit.

…the moment I heard him speak, I felt as if a soft voice in my mind was whispering to me, reassuring me that it was okay not to be so strong right now.

Finally, I can’t hold back anymore and grasp onto his lapel, allowing burning tears to stream down unbridled.

MC: [sobbing]  …I’m sorry. I-I might have been too scared… just give me a moment to calm down…

I struggle to explain, my words coming out in fragments, and I can sense the man’s body stiffening for a moment.

However, he stands silently in his spot, not uttering a word, allowing me to tightly hold onto his clothes as I sob.

The surroundings are quiet, with only my sobbing echoing in the gentle breeze. In the distance, the faint image of tall buildings seems to appear, only to quickly vanish into the heat waves.

Once my emotions have settled to some extent, I awkwardly loosen my grip on his clothes and nod incoherently.

MC: Thank you. I… I’m sorry about earlier.

Perhaps because I myself don’t know how to explain, in the end, I don’t say anything at all.

The man doesn’t ask me any questions, but his gaze lingers briefly on my dusty face, and his brows seem to slightly furrow.

With a belated realization, I wipe away the tear stains on my face and voice the question in my mind.

MC: Were you also accidentally sucked into this disordered space?

The man averts his gaze and speaks with an indifferent expression.

Man (Victor): I don’t know what you’re talking about.

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【CH 46-9】

The unexpected response leaves me momentarily stunned.

For a moment, I’m unsure if the person doesn’t understand what I mean or if there is some other reason, so I tentatively try to ask once again.

MC: How did you end up here?

Man (Victor): I don’t know.

MC: …?

Hearing one perfunctory answer after another, I can’t help but feel a little frustrated. However, upon reflecting for a moment, I quickly find solace.

After all, considering that we are in a space filled with unknowns and mysteries, it’s only natural to be on guard.

Moreover... I don’t have much knowledge about this place either. Perhaps this mysterious man hasn’t entered here accidentally to begin with.

The immediate priority is to get out of here as soon as possible.

With that thought in mind, I discreetly clench my fist, trying to tap into the power of CORE. However, nothing happens.

MC: Why is this happening again… oh, right, the totem!

A sudden realization strikes me, and I promptly scan the surroundings, trying to find the stone totem I had encountered earlier. But then, I hear the deep voice of the man beside me.

Man (Victor): We should go.

MC: Go? Where are we going?

Man (Victor): …I don’t know.

His perplexing response continues to baffle me, but as I watch the man’s figure gradually fade into the distance, I hesitate for a moment before ultimately deciding to chase and catch up with him.

Since he was willing to risk his life to save me just now, it’s unlikely that he would have any ill intentions toward me.

Whether he is an ordinary solemn man who got trapped here like me or a mysterious being from another dimension, two people teaming up have a better chance of finding a way out of here.

Seemingly hearing my footsteps, the man glances at me calmly but doesn’t say anything.

I clear my throat and strike up a conversation with him, trying to sound natural while maintaining moderate proximity between us.

MC: Um... I’m not really familiar with this place. Would you mind showing me the way a little longer?

MC: But I don’t quite understand. If you don’t know where we are headed, what’s the point of moving forward now?

The man’s eyes flicker for a moment as he glances slightly behind me, lifting his chin.

Man (Victor): In order to not be caught up.

MC: ...Is there something behind us?

The specious words cause a cold sweat to creep up my back. I turn my gaze in the direction he gestures, only to be greeted with an endless expanse of white sand.

But there seems to be some kind of movement not far away.

My eyes widen as I finally see a gigantic vortex that has materialized in the desert at some point, slowly spinning and extending towards our direction.

MC: What is that?

Man (Victor): Time. If we stop, we will be swallowed up before long.

As if to validate his words, the vortex continues to expand without a moment’s pause. Subconsciously, these words escape my lips.

MC: Are we really going to keep racing against it indefinitely? Until when do we have to keep moving?

Man (Victor): I don’t know––

Seemingly catching a glimpse of my wordless expression from the corner of his eye, his tone falters.

Man (Victor): But time won’t stop. So we must keep moving forward.

His resolute tone sounds as if he is stating some kind of conclusion, which only adds to my bewilderment. But I instinctively follow in his footsteps.

Why does he know all this? Who is he exactly? And why does he keep answering my questions selectively?

I surreptitiously turn my head and gaze at his profile under the scorching sun. A peculiar premonition starts to emerge within me.

He might be the key to my escape from this place.

MC: Hey! Stop for a moment!

The man glances at me with a hint of confusion but still stops in his tracks.

MC: If we keep walking, we’ll exhaust our energy sooner or later. I know a potential solution that might help us find a way out of here.

MC: Let’s go find a stone totem together!

I squat down as I speak and begin to draw earnestly on the sandy surface.

—

[Tidbits]: it’s a nod to the orphanage escape incident of S2, where kid MC did the same thing, drawing the map on the ground to explain the route to kid Victor~ 🥺

—

MC: I’ve accidentally entered this space once before, and at that time, I happened to touch a stone totem. It transported me out of here.

MC: It probably looks like this, with snake or gear patterns on top, in a very quaint style...

I point to the diagram I’ve drawn, explaining the details. But as I lift my head to look at the man, my voice suddenly trails off.

A faint outline emerges on the distant horizon, causing my eyes to widen slightly. In a somewhat incoherent manner, I point towards the distance.

MC: The city I was transported to had buildings with a similar style… perhaps the totem is somewhere nearby!

I spring up impatiently. The man stares into the distance for a moment and then silently keeps pace with me.

However, despite scaling a sand dune, the distance between us and the city remains unchanged.

MC: Strange… why can’t we seem to get any closer?

Man (Victor): That’s a mirage.

Man (Victor): This desert projects one’s innermost longing. But the manifestation is transient, and it eventually fades away.

As if in response to his words, the distant outline begins to blur, reminiscent of a drop of water spreading across a picture scroll.

MC: …why didn’t you tell me earlier?

Man (Victor): There was no need for it.

Man (Victor): As time goes on and you keep on walking, moving forward also becomes an increasing consumption of willpower.

Man (Victor): Being able to see hallucinations at this moment is something that can be considered a blessing.

I instinctively want to refute it. But the moment our eyes interlock, the words get stuck in my throat.

He isn’t teasing me. He genuinely feels that I actually need such a fantasy right now.

MC: You sound like you don’t like seeing hallucinations…

Man (Victor): [voice trailing off]  Whether I like it or not is irrelevant. If it can be a source of support for you in the desert, then it’s a good thing.

The man’s tone when he says this doesn’t sound as indifferent as before. Perhaps, within his emotions that have been weathered by the wind and sand, there still lurks a glimmer of hope?

The way I’m trying to get out of here now, has he tried the same methods too?

The moment I realize this, I feel that all my previous dissatisfaction with his attitude vanishes into thin air, and that it even surges a resonance from the depths of my heart that I’m unable to understand.

As if sensing my abrupt silence, the man’s tone softens a little.

Man (Victor): ...I haven’t seen the totem you mentioned, but I have come across some other fragments in the sand dunes.

Man (Victor): Nothing happened when I touched them, though. So I kept thinking that I couldn’t leave this place.

Man (Victor): But…

The man pauses.

Man (Victor): Now I feel like perhaps you will be able to do it.

I didn’t expect this person, who seemed to have an indifferent attitude so far, to say such words. I can’t help but be frozen in surprise.

As the man observes my bewildered expression, for reasons unknown, a subtle smile tugs at the corners of his otherwise stoic lips.

Man (Victor): [laughs softly]  So, come on. Let’s continue looking for that thing you mentioned.

The sun relentlessly shines down, and every grain of sand beneath our feet reflects a blinding white light that makes one’s head spin.

I don’t know how long we’ve been walking, but suddenly my legs give in, and I hear the man speak just at that moment.

Man (Victor): Let’s take a break for a while.

MC: But the vortex behind us––

Man (Victor): It’s still some distance away from us. We can resume our journey before it catches up.

Heaving a sigh of relief, I follow him to a massive sand dune and flop down beside him. I feel an aching sensation radiating through every bone in my body.

The surroundings are eerily quiet. In the vast sea of sand, we are but two insignificant grains of sand that can be scattered with a single breath.

MC: By the way, I don’t know what to call you. I’m MC. What’s your name?

MC: You’re not going to tell me again that you don’t know, are you?

The man remains silent for a while, his eyelashes casting a faint shadow.

Man (Victor): [sighs helplessly]  …I really don’t know.

Man (Victor): I have no idea about my own identity or why I ended up here.

Man (Victor): I don’t remember anything from the past.

I’m slightly startled, recalling the cold and indifferent “I don’t know” that I got from him before... So, it turns out that it wasn’t just a perfunctory response?

MC: …so, you don’t know how long you’ve been here either?

He nods and casually picks up a stone lying next to his feet.

Man (Victor): I was already in the desert when I regained consciousness. I don’t remember my past, and have no clarity about the future.

Man (Victor): But I remember that I need to go somewhere… because someone is waiting for me there.

MC: Where is that?

He shakes his head and calmly lowers his gaze, as if what he just said isn’t worth caring about. I, however, can’t help feeling a little distressed.

Even without knowing that so-called destination, he persists in carrying this one and only thought in his heart, continuously traversing through the desert without ever stopping–– for who knows how long.

I don’t know whether to call this person persistent or a dummy.

MC: What did you mean earlier when you said being caught up by time would swallow us?

MC: Also, what you said about the desert reflecting innermost longing… have you seen something in the mirage?

His hand stroking the stone ceases its motion, and he turns his head to look at me.

Man (Victor): Hm? Have you always had so many questions?

MC: I’m just curious... And who knows, maybe as we chat, you might also remember something.

Not sure if he’s been persuaded by my words, but he locks eyes with me for a moment before speaking.

Man (Victor): I don’t remember what will happen if we get caught up… but my subconscious tells me that we mustn’t stop.

Man (Victor): As for the images I saw, I can only remember a blurry figure.

His eyes rest on me as he says this, as if he is gazing upon a hazy memory.

Man (Victor): I can’t recall the details clearly. And even if I could, I don’t think I would remember who the other person was.

Man (Victor): All I know is that I really want to see her.

The surroundings lapse into silence, and for a moment, neither of us speaks. After a while, the man gently tosses the stone from his hand.

Man (Victor): Tell me about yourself.

MC: I… the place where I live is called Loveland City. It’s a place where miracles can happen at any moment.

MC: If you drive along the mountain road to the seaside, you will be treated to beautiful sunsets. The streets and alleys are filled with small hidden stores, and you can find delightful surprises more often than not…

I keep babbling on and on, sharing a range of topics from the smallest and trivial matters of everyday life to various incidents with some details left out.

I’m unsure whether it’s to break the monotony or to persevere with the hope of returning home just a little longer, and a little bit longer.

The man remains completely silent, leaning against the sand dune, his gaze lowered as he looks into the distance. It feels as if he is regarding my outpouring as mere background sound.

Amid the boundless tranquility, weariness begins to creep in, little by little.

My eyelids gradually grow heavy. In a half-asleep and half-awake state, I seem to hear a very soft sigh.

The sound of breathing beside his ears slowly becomes even. The man withdraws his gaze from the distance and lowers his eyes to the person beside him.

She has her eyes closed, her body curled up slightly, appearing somewhat restless. A faint sense of trance flickers in his eyes.

He doesn’t know why, but his emotions are stirred by the presence of this girl, causing ripples within him. And this slight throbbing, it seems like, isn’t the first time.

He presses one hand against his forehead, trying hard to recollect. Some scattered and broken images flash intermittently in the depths of his memory.

Amidst the sandstorm, there appeared to be a blurry figure. He is unable to make out the person’s face clearly, but he remembers that when she disappeared, she desperately yelled out a name to him––

The memories in his mind suddenly become blank, and the man opens his eyes, exhaling slowly.

Reminiscent of water droplets seeping into gravel, traces of those images fade away in an instant. His recollection of these fragments is becoming increasingly challenging to grasp.

A familiar rustling sound transmits to his ears, and he lifts his head toward the source.

The gigantic vortex reveals a glimpse of its presence within the shadows.

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【CH 46-11】

A muffled sound comes from beside my ears, as if something has collapsed with a loud thud. Startled, I’m jolted awake and find myself lying face down on the man’s back.

From behind, deep footprints meander their way, while the sand dune where we were resting earlier is now falling apart in pieces within the vortex.

Despite this, the vortex shows no signs of slowing down, continuing to expand relentlessly without satisfaction.

I draw a soft breath in lingering fear and hear a deep voice coming from beside my ear.

Man (Victor): [the trademark Victor-tenderness]  Awake?

I promptly leap off him and thank him, feeling a little embarrassed.

MC: [blushing]  Thank you. You saved me once again.

The man doesn’t say anything, but I can discern the traces of weariness in his bloodshot eyes.

We got to relax for only a moment as we are just a hair’s breadth away from being engulfed... and how much longer will we have to endure these sleepless and tireless days?

Man (Victor): What are you staring at?

I hurriedly avert my gaze and respond in a low voice.

MC: Nothing. I’m just thinking about how grateful I’m to you for earlier… I’m fully rested now!

MC: Next time, you take a break, and I’ll keep watch. I promise I won’t cause us any delays again!

As I speak with an expression of making a solemn vow, it seems like a faint smile briefly curves at the corners of the man’s lips.

Man (Victor): [chuckles indulgently]  You just focus on taking care of yourself first.

Memories stir up like fleeting ripples, reminiscent of a dragonfly lightly touching the water’s surface. But before I can say anything, the person beside me takes the lead in stepping forward.

After trekking through the blistering waves of heat for a long time, something suddenly catches my eye in the distance. As I approach closer, I can vaguely make out the outline of an arrow. 

I blink and cautiously turn my gaze to him.

MC: Is it the same kind of fragment you’ve seen before? Or is it also a mirage?

Man (Victor): Not sure. Let’s get closer and take a look.

Ten steps, three steps, one step… the arrow still hasn’t vanished. I quickly walk closer, closely examining it.

MC: Although it’s not the totem I’m looking for, it might still be able to take us away from here… want to take a gamble?

The man casts a quick glance at the encroaching vortex.

Man (Victor): Let’s go.

Man (Victor): As long as we’re not staying in this same place, anywhere else is fine.

As the man speaks, he lifts his hand in unison with me, as if by some unspoken agreement.

A familiar power suddenly surges within my body, causing the worn-out arrow feathers to glimmer faintly. In the next moment, a powerful repulsive force swiftly sweeps us up.

—

A faint smell of blood rushes to my nostrils. I open my eyes to a desolate twilight scene, with an immense heap of armor strewn across the barren plain, reflecting in my gaze.

MC: Is this a filming set?

I look around with some surprise and hear the man speak in a contemplative tone.

Man (Victor): It doesn’t seem like an artificial arrangement. Let’s look around first.

I nod and carefully avoid the scattered feathers and arrows as we walk towards the edge together. However, as we continue forward, my puzzlement intensifies more and more, and I can’t help but mutter to myself.

MC: This battlefield feels too real… there isn’t anything like this in Loveland City. It doesn’t even seem like we are in the same era.

Man (Victor): Then perhaps it is real.

Seemingly hearing my fragmented mumblings, the man naturally picks up the conversation. However, a realization suddenly strikes me.

MC: Could it be that the disordered space is connected to other worlds…?

??: Messenger! Why did you leave the military camp and come here?

Before I can finish my sentence, a shout reaches my ears from a distance. I raise my head somewhat and see a troop of soldiers clad in armor waving at me from afar.

An inexpressible sense of familiarity suddenly wells up in my heart. I stop in my tracks and whisper inquisitively to the man next to me, my mind filled with bewilderment.

MC: It’s so weird… why do I feel like I’m really the messenger they’re calling out to? Do you have a similar feeling?

Man (Victor): No. Are you sure it’s not just your imagination?

MC: …but I have a strong sense about it. How about when they get closer, I try talking to them and see what happens?

As we are speaking, the soldiers gradually draw close to us. But before I can even probe, their eyes fall in unison to my side, and they jerk to a halt.

The originally joyful expression on the soldiers’ faces disappears entirely. And in the next second, they swiftly raise their bows and arrows with a numb demeanor.

MC: …!

With no time to react, the man takes my hand and briskly turns, leading me to escape into a deeper part of the jungle.

The sound of arrows whizzing through the air chases closely behind us, reminiscent of intangible shackles. I push aside the branches and leaves obstructing our path and speak as I gasp for breath.

MC: Why would they suddenly turn violent…?

Man (Victor): [in pain and breathless]  Not sure.

The tail notes of his voice seem to be muffled. I turn around and see that the man’s suit has been slashed in several long cuts, with even dark marks seeping into the fabric.

…but how could the branches cause such deep wounds?

I anxiously pull him closer to me, wanting to get a better look at his injuries. But without any warning, a nearby boulder suddenly shakes and tumbles down, catching us off guard.

A cloud of dust and fog billows up as a deep crater is formed where the man has been standing just now. I open my eyes wide and look in the direction from which the boulder has rolled.

MC: Why… did it suddenly come rolling down like that? 

The series of coincidences seem more like some kind of “manipulation.”

The man furrows his brows. It appears that he, too, has sensed something amiss. Without uttering a word, he swiftly pulls me behind a tree, seeking shelter.

The distance between us is suddenly closed, and I can almost smell the scent of blood emanating from his body. I try to suppress my racing heartbeat, listening to the chaotic footsteps echoing through the jungle.

I cautiously peer through the gaps in the branches, and an unexpected figure abruptly enters my line of sight––

That mysterious little boy, attired in an outmoded sweatshirt and oversized beach shorts, blends in among the soldiers chasing us, creating a stark contrast.

Oddly enough, it seems as though the others are completely oblivious to his presence.

Seemingly aware of our gaze, he smiles and lifts his hat in our direction.

Little Boy: How interesting! So, it turns out those exiled by the world would end up in such a wretched state.

What does he mean by that? And why did he appear here?

My heart shudders as I notice that the little boy’s eyes are not directed at me, but rather at the man next to me.

The sudden change in the soldiers’ attitude, the inexplicable assault on him from the surrounding trees… akin to igniting a flint, an unimaginable thought suddenly springs to my mind.

Could the boy be referring to him as the person “exiled by the world”?

Just as I’m about to speak, I hear the deep voice of the person next to me resounding.

Man (Victor): Do you know me?

The little boy just grins, neither confirming nor denying it.

Little Boy: Maybe? If you want to find out, it will depend on how much patience you guys have.

As the little boy speaks, his figure disappears in an instant among the troop. The next second, we hear the shout of a soldier coming from a distance.

Soldier: Over here! Ready your arrows!

The man shifts his gaze away from the spot where the little boy has disappeared, furrowing his brows as he looks down at his feet.

I follow his line of sight, only to find the previously solid and arid ground tremble, suddenly sinking like a swamp, drowning the man’s ankles in a flash.

MC: …what is going on!

Unfathomable events unfold one after another right before our eyes, but before we can even begin to process them, countless arrows are aimed in the man’s direction.

Panicking, I hurriedly rush forward. But the man’s voice stops me in my tracks.

Man (Victor): [THAT PAINED TONE—]  Let’s part ways here.

MC: What?

The man’s voice is very soft but carries an indisputable tone.

Man (Victor): One thing I can be sure of now is that I can’t stay here for long.

Man (Victor): Leave me. It will reduce the dangers for you significantly.

As he speaks with a little more urgency in his tone, an invisible wave of energy ripples through the air, as if trying to forcefully expel him from this world.

As the surging air wave grows increasingly violent, the boulders in the surrounding seem to quake. Realizing that there is no more time for argument, I grit my teeth and lunge myself towards the man.

Before he can react, I instinctively grab his wrist without hesitation.

—

A familiar wave of heat rushes over us, and in the scorching air, there is a hint of dryness, carrying the scent of sand and dust.

Just as expected. We are greeted with the sight of that vast white desert once again. The swirling vortex remains at a distance, separated from us by a sand dune.

MC: Why does it feel like the vortex hasn’t moved?

Man (Victor): It’s time that hasn’t moved.

Seeing my bafflement, the man points towards the direction of the vortex with his finger.

Man (Victor): I have a sense that the time spent in that world won’t impact the time in this desert.

MC: You mean that the time in each world operates independently?

Man (Victor): It’s likely. But the evidence from one world is not enough; we need more…

The man suddenly pauses as if having a lump in his throat, and his brows knit into a frown.

MC: Why did you stop talking?

Man (Victor): …why did you follow me back?

It seems like the man has suddenly realized that his analysis conflicts with his earlier unyielding insistence for us to part ways. He averts his gaze and abruptly changes the subject.

A small chuckle escapes me, feeling a mixture of amusement and dissatisfaction. I pout my lips.

MC: Why do you think? You’re really a dummy.

Man (Victor): …

The man arches the corners of his eyebrows slightly, his expression becoming subtly nuanced. Realizing that my teasing has crossed a boundary, I quickly explain with a serious face.

MC: You yourself mentioned before that when you touched something in the desert, you didn’t receive any response.

MC: So, it’s highly probable that I was the one who brought you into that space just now.

MC: Can we interpret it this way, then? It’s safe to say that without me, you wouldn’t be able to travel to other worlds and would be relentlessly chased by the vortex, so...

Man (Victor): But my predicament has nothing to do with you.

Man (Victor): For you, the world we were in just now was much safer than this desert. It’s not a wise choice to turn back for a stranger.

The man’s words are indeed rational, but why is it making me so infuriated! I pout my lips indignantly.

MC: …I did not turn back for a stranger.

MC: You saved my life twice and took me on walking through this desert for so long. I’m way more familiar with you than I was with that world.

MC: And, by the way, that little boy who was talking to you earlier, I’ve seen him before too.

MC: If we can catch up with him, maybe we’ll be able to find a way to return to our own world!

I continue talking non-stop about all sorts of reasons, but I keep one thing from him––

I don’t know why, but there is a voice in my heart that keeps telling me––

I absolutely cannot leave you behind like this.

As the man listens to my systematic explanation, his expression relaxes slightly.

Man (Victor): [laughs extremely softly]  …indeed. The reasons are quite compelling.

Man (Victor): Let’s go then. Let’s search for the other fragments.

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【CH 46-12】

With our previous experience, this round of search seems to have gone much smoother. After crossing over a dozen sand dunes, a worn-out crown appears before us.

As if by a wordless tacit understanding, the man and I simultaneously put our hands on it again. As the familiar sensation of whirlwind strikes again, we find ourselves in a courtyard.

On the other side of the gauzy curtains, people dressed in gorgeous attires are laughing and frolicking near the fountain. A woman resembling a maid, carrying a wine jug above her head, gracefully approaches us.

The familiarity of the surroundings surges in my heart once more, inexplicably dispelling my nervousness. Just as I’m about to approach and intercept her to ask, my footsteps halt, and I turn around to tear off a corner of the gauzy curtain. 

MC: Though we can’t fully trust what the little boy said, it’d be wise to keep an eye out.

MC: Just in case, let’s cover your face first.

Apparently not expecting my sudden move, the man doesn’t dodge me. He allows me to swiftly cover his face, leaving only a pair of deep eyes that locks gazes with mine through the gauzy veil.

His warm breath brushes against the palm of my hand through the soft fabric, bringing me a slight tickling sensation. Only now do I realize how closely pressed we are, and I belatedly find myself speaking up.

MC: …tie it yourself.

I hand him the sheer fabric, our fingertips parting as soon as they touch.

Man (Victor): [extremely softly]  …alright.

As the man speaks, his fingertips wrap the white fabric around his ear.

I avert my gaze and carefully approach the serving maid from behind the pillars before finally opening my mouth.

MC: Hello, I––

Court Lady: Your Highness?

A brief moment of surprise crosses the other person’s eyes, and she puts down the wine jug to bow to me.

The familiar sense of recognition is reaffirmed once more, and I make a conscious effort to adapt to this implanted sense of identity, tentatively asking my questions.

MC: No need to bow. Have you happened to see a little boy around?

I describe the little boy’s appearance to her, and she seems momentarily taken aback before pointing towards a far-off location.

Court Lady: Yes, I have indeed seen a child like that. He is currently swinging on the swing over there!

Court Lady: It’s strange. I didn’t even feel like he was an unfamiliar face until you mentioned…

The man and I follow the direction pointed out by the serving maid and, sure enough, spot a small figure on the swing. Without any hesitation, we approach him at a brisk pace.

Just as we’re about a step away, the little boy turns his head and shows us a wide grin.

Little Boy: I can’t believe you actually managed to pull him out of that other space again… that’s really amusing.

MC: Hold on! We have something to ask you!

Paying no mind to my words, the little boy leaps off the swing, and his figure disappears in an instant. Suddenly, a subtle air movement stirs up in the previously tranquil courtyard, heading towards us.

The man tries to dodge the airflow by moving to the side, but it eerily follows closely beside him, forcefully lifting the veil that covers his face.

MC: …

Man (Victor): …

Court Lady: There’s an intruder! Guards!!

Several cries of alarm sound near the fountain. In response to the words, an invisible fluctuation ripples out once again.

The man and I lock eyes with each other, tugging helplessly at the corners of our lips. Before the surge of energy sweeps us up, we swiftly clasp each other’s hands.

In the subsequent time, we traverse back and forth between different worlds, relentlessly following the trails of the little boy’s figure.

Driving a severely run-down off-road vehicle, we make a desperate escape through a charging herd of wild animals…

Through an unfortunate turn of events, we find ourselves inside a spaceship, and out of nowhere, the alarm of the malfunctioning AI machinery blares…

Meanwhile, the peculiarly attired little figure remains at a distance that’s neither too far nor too close, observing us mockingly as we struggle.

Following another burst of white light, we find ourselves facing an expansive and deep space, akin to a starry sea, adorned with numerous translucent golden gears floating in the air.

The little boy lifts his head and looks up in quiet contemplation. As we draw closer, he looks at us with a mirthful smile.

Little Boy: Well, really impressive! You two actually managed to chase me this far~

Little Boy: It’s a pity, though. It’s just useless persistence, after all.

Ignoring the ridicule in his tone, I take two steps forward.

MC: Given that you never show up without a reason, I don’t believe this time is an exception.

MC: I’m sure you know how to leave the white desert, do you not?

Little Boy: You’re being so straightforward. But you’re the special one, are you not? Only you know the answer to that question.

Deep in thought, I furrow my brows, while the little boy has already shifted his attention towards the man, speaking with keen interest.

Little Boy: I know what you’re about to ask, but I’m not going to tell you.

Little Boy: Because–– it’s also a punishment.

Little Boy: Oh, right, I almost forgot. You mustn’t take him with you when you leave.

Little Boy: Those who assist in cheating will also face the punishment.

The little boy giggles. His figure gradually fades into transparency, and the familiar ripples of energy emanate once again in the surroundings.

–

After a dizzying spin, the immense desert comes into view again. Under the nearly white daylight, every grain of sand around us radiates a blinding brilliance.

I stagger a few steps and am steadied by a strong arm. Just as I regain my balance, I suddenly notice a plane ticket lying quietly at my feet.

Passenger Name: MC, Destination: Loveland City, Departure Time: 10:45 AM.

Isn’t this my return ticket?

I hesitantly reach out my hand, and a familiar power surges within my body once again. As if sensing something, the plane ticket emits a silver-white glow, even more radiant than before.

MC: …look! This seems to be a fragment for returning to Loveland City! Let’s go together!

A rare expression of hesitation briefly crosses across the man’s face.

Man (Victor): …there’s no need. You heard what he said just now. If you were to be punished…

I swiftly close the distance between us in three steps, clutching onto his sleeve.

MC: I don’t believe we are cheating at all.

MC: The real punishment for me would be if I, despite having the ability to take you with me, leave you behind out of fear of the “so-called” punishment.

MC: So, come with me!

The man’s lips twitch slightly, and he doesn’t pull back his sleeve. A white light envelopes us instantly.

–

“...This flight is now halfway through its journey, and we will soon be serving meals. Please remain seated and patiently wait…”

The sweet-sounding voice over the announcement accompanies the loud humming of the aircraft’s operations as it reaches my ears. Feeling apprehensive, I open my eyes and see the flight attendant approaching our direction with the food cart.

The man sits in the seat next to me, quietly observing the surroundings. The dim light of the cabin is reflected in his deep, dark eyes.

Without giving him a chance to speak, I reflexively grab the magazine on the seat and open it, placing it as a barrier in front of him.

MC: Shh––

I glance in the direction of the flight attendant and quietly caution him. Inadvertently, I catch a glimpse of my phone out of the corner of my eye, and the screen displays the current time.

13:28.

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【CH 46-13】

…when I was swept away by that force, it was exactly this time.

Just as expected, all those immensely long experiences in the disordered spaces seem to condense into a single fleeting moment upon returning to reality.

Before I have a chance to process my thoughts, an amiable voice inquires in my ear.

Flight Attendant: Hello, miss. Today’s set menu offers two options: beef and fish. May I ask which one you would like to choose?

My body tenses up, and I hastily scan my gaze across the man’s figure.

Oh dear, now there’s suddenly someone in the previously empty seat. Even if I cover his face, there’s no way she wouldn’t notice him…

After not receiving a response for a while, a hint of confusion appears on the flight attendant’s face. She lowers her body slightly and speaks in a gentler tone.

Flight Attendant: Miss? Have you made a decision?

MC: …beef, please. Thank you.

Trying to conceal my nervousness, I watch as the flight attendant smiles and hands me a meal tray. Then, she pushes the food cart and heads straight towards the back row.

The man and I share glances with each other before I tentatively call out to her.

MC: Excuse me, could I please have another serving?

The flight attendant looks at me with some bafflement for a moment, but professionally hands me another meal tray before moving away with the food cart. Once she is a bit further, I speak in a low voice.

MC: What just happened? It seems like she can’t see you?

MC: Come to think of it, I haven’t actually confirmed this before, but... are you human?

The man sets aside the magazine from his face and glances at me with a puzzled expression.

Man (Victor): What do you think?

MC: It’s hard to say from my perspective… do you mind if I poke you to find out?

Man (Victor): [sighs LONG AND HARD]  …

The man lets out a sigh, seemingly declining to comment. His expression, however, suggests tacit approval.

I reach out and poke his arm. Hmm, it’s firm;

I then prod his chest. Hmm, I can feel his heartbeat;

I gently touch his cheek again. Hmm, it feels warm as well;

Just as I’m about to feel his hair, the man grabs hold of my fingertips.

Man (Victor): Have you confirmed it now?

—

[Anika’s Reactions]: LMFAAOOO MC!! sorry I had to stop haha. what an innovative way to say you wanna touch his 104 LOL; we see you girl 😆 when you have a life-size full course meal with midnight snacks sitting right next to you, despite the predicament, it is indeed “hard” to control yourself.~ 😂 but also, the fact that she can ask him that so naturally and he just lets her have her way with him like he always has– it simply further seals their “sense of belonging” and that line that no matter what world, they’ll always meet and are destined to be 吸引 (drawn/ attracted) to each other with or without the memories. After all, attraction to another means both emotional and physical, does it not~ ❣️

—

MC: Yes, yes, I have. How do you feel now? Is there anything that feels off to you?

Man (Victor): [GODS THAT PAINED TONE]  Everything seems normal.

Man (Victor): The seat hasn’t collapsed, and the seatbelt hasn’t suddenly tangled around my hands or feet.

MC: You’re right. It’s definitely more welcoming than that spaceship world… now that I think about it, it seems like every world reacts differently to your presence.

MC: On that battlefield, the soldiers were directly on guard to fight you with swords and spears; whereas in the ruins, the dwarves simply kept their distance from you, pointing and whispering among themselves;

MC: Perhaps the inability to see your existence is a manifestation of this world?

The man’s eyebrows furrow slightly, and a hint of contemplation flashes in his eyes. After a moment, he speaks.

Man (Victor): Indeed. Other than that, there doesn’t seem to be a more plausible explanation.

MC: Compared to other worlds, this level of rejection seems relatively mild… it could be a sign that you have a special connection with Loveland City!

Man (Victor): …

MC: Why the speechless face! I’m being serious!

MC: If it’s only to this extent, I think you could totally live here. Who knows, if you stay long enough, this world will eventually embrace you?

Exhilarated, I pick up the spread-open travel magazine and gesture for him to take a look.

MC: Look, this is the seaside sunset I mentioned to you earlier… and here, during the flowering season, it’s also a sight worth visiting!

I describe the charm of Loveland City to him, but suddenly, something crosses my mind.

MC: Since you’re going to live here, you should have a name. Otherwise, it would be inconvenient to address you.

Man (Victor): …? If you’re the only person who can see me, it doesn’t seem to matter much whether I have a name or not.

MC: But selecting a name would also serve as a declaration of the beginning of your new life!

The man and I lock eyes for a moment, but then he shakes his head.

Man (Victor): I don’t have any particular ideas about a name at the moment.

MC: How about I help you in choosing one?

MC: Since we met in the desert… how about the name “Dune”? (*)

Man (Victor): …

MC: Or how about Mr. Handsome? Mr. Benevolent Enigma? (*)

Man (Victor): [much more dots than usual]  …….

Seeing the man’s expression becoming increasingly nuanced, I quickly seal my lips.

In the corner of my eye, I coincidentally happen to glance at a photo of a panda in the magazine. I seem to feel a sudden surge of emotions stirring in my heart, causing me to blurt out without thinking.

MC: How do you feel about the name Vic-Vic? (*)

MC: Just the one to be a good reminder for you to talk more, instead of being like a closed-off person.

The man’s gaze lingers on the photo for a moment, and his expression seems to soften with a touch of tenderness.

Man (Victor): [laughs elatedly, unbeknownst to him]  …childish.

─────

[Notes]: It’s gonna be a big note, and yes, it’s on the names:

– the 1st one MC chose was 沙沙 (shā shā), taking the first character from 沙漠 (shāmò; means desert) and using iterations to make it cutesy. 沙 independently means “sand.” so I’m pretty sure Elex will go for something like Sandy LMAO

– the 2nd one (Mr. Handsome) is the literal translation of 小帅; the 3rd one’s tricky. It’s 沈密仁 (Shen Mi Ren). Here, 沈 (Shen) is a surname; whereas 密 (Mi) means “enigma/ mystery”; and 仁 (Ren) means “benevolence/ kindness.”

– and lastly, it was, as you might’ve already guessed, 言言 (Yan Yan), derived from his original name 李泽言 (Li Zeyan); the same name his mom used to call him, the name of his panda friend, and one of the names the whole fandom calls him affectionately~ 😭  and as for why MC says it’s a good reminder for him to talk more, the term 言 (Yan) independently has the meaning of “word/ to speak/ to talk/ speech”~ ❣️

──────────

CH 46 Part 2: Here!

────────────────────

[coveholdenmyluv]

R. Braun - Honey Soaked Promises

synopsis. In which you reminisce on your quest for revenge, irrigated with broken promises and fermented with betrayal, allowing you to act as the judge between life or death for yourself and the viper dressed in the skin of the love of your life.

— or alternatively, in which you make the stupid decision to fall in love with the wrong person on your journey to freedom...

Oh well, you'll just have to kill him now.

Series masterlist

chapter warnings. none! oh, also there's no reiner this chap, sorry :(

chapter sypnosis. Unexpected visitors, unexpected topics. Conversations that dictate the outcomes of many events to come in the future.

A/N: okay! I know this took forever and a day, but it’s here… though it is rather short. Nonetheless, I love how it turned out and I hope you do too, I’ve already begun working on the next chapter a while ago so fingers crossed it doesn’t take another century!

VII. Mornings. Word count: 6.1K

“If what Armin had shared with you happened to truly exist, you feared that fact would change more than you wanted it to. The mere possibility forged a newborn pavement road in your vision of the future. A path that your heart called for, but if you acquiesced and indulged, that would mean sacrificing your long term goal.”

Teetering the edge between indulgence and selfishness.

You were never a morning person.

At one point you had even abhorred the time of day and regarded it with such disdain. That day was not disbarred from your wrath as you twisted and turned in your sheets in search of a position in which your covers were not far too warm for your taste; but alas to no avail, you were left frustrated. You groaned in discomfort and kicked the sheets off of your body as you internally berated yourself for seeming so ungrateful — for just a few years prior you hadn't had the privilege to do so. The mental scolding delivered by yourself only worsened your disposition and you huffed.

Light footsteps reverberated throughout the wood that fabricated the barracks you stayed in and a familiar voice followed.

"Y/N, are you awake?"

You sat up, albeit as sluggishly as possible, and blinked your tiresome eyes at Krista who had climbed halfway up the ladder to peer at you. "No." You stated.

The girl giggled, "Oh? Are you sleep talking then?" She teased with a grin.

"Yes, but I don't know how to sleep walk so whatever you need, it'll have to be done from here."

"Unfortunately, that's not do-able. You have visitors!" She informed you enthusiastically. Her words caused your brows to furrow in confusion — you had no plans to your knowledge and no one had mentioned that they needed to see you so soon during the day.

"Is it Jean? I already told the guy, I don't want him showin' me his coin collection again, it's really not as cool as he thinks it is." You perfunctorily guessed.

The boy had plenty to display to you in those regards, though you didn't think you could have endured an additional three hours of the delineating of the differences between pieces of metal that no longer held any value. Though, he had sworn up and down that was not to be the case in the near future; you surmised his idea of near differed from your own. Although, if his words had held merit and he indeed accumulated wealth off of his chunks of junk, perhaps you would have eaten your words.

You hoped he would have still paid you frequent visits at the very least, or extended an invitation to take a tour around his home located deep within the interior. You had entertained the idea of him becoming a noble, as brisk as the humored thought existed, and resolved that such a thing could have only been plausible when the walls fell — which, in your mind, was equivalent to the word never.

"It's not Jean this time, you should come down to greet them." She informed you and descended to the ground where she presumably went about her day.

'Them?'

Her phrasing piqued your curiosity and you swiftly slipped on your brown sweater before you followed her actions and arrived on the ground. As you stepped up to the door of the barracks, you were met with two gentle and amiable faces.

"Marco and Armin? To what do I owe the pleasure of your sudden visit this morning?" You asked with an inquiring tilt of your head.

Marco had become one of your dearest friends since the day you joined the Cadet Corps, he had welcomed you into his coterie with open arms and a warm grin. You spent most of your meals in his company, with the addition of a certain tall and long faced fool.

Truly, your question had been directed towards the latter of the pair.

You had the chance to acquaintance yourself with Armin and determined he was an altruistic person. You had no issues with the blonde and didn't mind his abrupt visit, for you entertained the idea of growing closer. Though, you had not reached that stage of your relationship yet. He was merely a friend of a friend, so there was no pondering on why his visit had came as a surprise to you.

"Good morning, Y/N!" Marco greeted and his bright grin caused your insides to warm at his affability. You couldn't help but to smile in return.

"Mornin', Marc." You replied.

Armin spoke next with a wince, "Good morning, Y/N. I'm sorry to bother you on one of our days off, and so early too. I hope we don't burden you too much."

You reassured the boy with a dismissive flick of your wrist, "Nah, it's fine. I had to get up soon anyway, I should thank you for giving me a reason to quit lazying around."

"It wasn't without reason either, I promise." Marco told you, "Basically, we were wondering if your services were still available?" He asked with a hopeful light in his eyes.

Your brows furrowed in question, "Services?" You repeated. The pair nodded in unison and pointed a finger towards their own heads of hair. The realization struck you then, and you sighed in resignation. "Alright, talk. Who was it?"

Armin chuckled sheepishly, "Do you even have to ask?"

You scoffed playfully and decided he was absolutely correct in that judgment. "That girl is gonna be the death of me." While no spoken words had confirmed it, there hadn't been a need for them to. Sasha was, indubitably, the suspect who spilled your competence as a hairdresser. "Come on in, you can head all the way towards the back." You instructed, and stepped aside to allow them to enter the girls space. Both boys acceded, and by the time you had drawn out your supplies, Armin sat prettily on the wooden chair; albeit slightly stiffly considering how intrusive he felt to visit a space intended for the opposite gender.

Hesitatingly so, he strained his neck as to peek at the tools you had laid out on the surface of Sasha's bed. It was the least she could have offered, considering her blabbering words had led them to you in the first place. Not that you minded it much. "Uhm, so, what exactly do you use, anyway?" The blonde asked.

Unsheathing the blade that had continued to lay in your pocket for years, you presented it proudly. "For the most part, this small thing." The case was worse for wear, though still intact enough to be useful, but the cunning edge had still held its pristine and threatening shape; curtesy to your thorough care. "Recently though, the girls have gathered their own tools and let me use them when I need to. I'm sure they won't mind." You explained.

The array of instruments that laid before you had consisted of shears, bristled brushes, wide tooth combs, sectioning clips, and some hair ties. While it hadn't been the most adept collection, it held some merit and did its job.

Marco sat beside the layout and fiddled with whatever had piqued his interest. "This is impressive, I didn't know this was an actual thing." He uttered in awe.

His words had caused you to chuckle lightly, "Me neither, I was under the impression it was a one time occurrence. I guess I can make some exceptions," You teased, "I don't mind, really." You finished, and it was the truth. It bore you no hassle for the movement of your fingers was as instinctual as wielding a blade. Ironically, both skills worked in your favor in that moment. "Anyway, what are you looking to get done today, Armin?" You asked.

He seemed to have had needed a moment to mull the ideas over in his head before he resigned and explained his decision. "For today? Just slightly more than a trim, if possible. Perhaps some time in the future I'll grow the balls to go shorter." He tittered, before apologizing. "Sorry."

His tone had indicated that he bore some embarrassment for his decision, which you felt the need to soothe. "That's fine with me, hun. It's far less labor on my part." You reassured.

"Thanks," He sighed in relief, "My hair has always been a part of me that is intertwined with my confidence. I guess, sort of like a security blanket? Something that I'm not so sure if I'm ready to let go of yet."

You nodded understandingly, for that sentiment was something the both of you had shared. "I get it, that's pretty common." You were sure that many more cadets in your class had felt the same, or perhaps thought the opposite and wouldn't mind leaving that security blanket behind. "Can I begin?" You asked, to which the boy accepted.

You brushed through his aureate strands first — an action you found had hardly even been needed in the first place. It seemed as if he heeded his golden locks enough to treat them with the utmost care, something you found that you admired and decided to provide the corresponding amount of effort from your own palms.

His eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of your fingers parting his hair, alike a garden-fresh breeze towed in with the springtide. The lashes that feathered his cheeks had made it apparent that he found your gentle touches comforting.

"I was wondering, how did you learn to do this type of thing? Did someone teach you?" He voiced suddenly.

You pondered your response rather than uttering the bare truth that came to mind, ran your words through a mental sieve and culled your phrasing. "You could say that, I guess. Though, I'd call it sittin' around and watchin'." You chuckled at your vague reply. "Perhaps the skill rubbed off on me, which I reckon wasn't such a bad thing."

"Well, it worked out for us either way." Marco added with a warm smile. You knew then that he had to have sensed there was more you were reluctant to share, and as always, the freckled boy never pried but instead attempted to alleviate your stress; never intensify it.

You hummed softly, "Very true. Thank you, slothful ten year old me."

Apparently, the early hour was not a nuisance to solely you, for Armin released a large yawn. Though, that action was not what had your eyes broadening as you staggered.

It was the glassy appearance of his cerulean irises once his eyelids had peeled away once again. The blonde was gifted with wide and round shaped eyes, which weren't the greatest contradiction to the ones that arose in your mind, though you would not classify them as similar either. You had guessed it was the gleam they harbored that sparkled alike the millions of lanterns that flickered about every night, or perhaps it was simply the way in which they appeared when soddened. Most likely, it was the doe eyed stare he peered at you with — so alike, yet dissimilar.

Your breath hitched and you implored yourself to analyze the details that made them distinct, instead.

Cielo's weren't as wide as his, and they certainly were not the same shape. They had also differed in shade, disparately so — whereas Armin's mirrored the sky during midday, Cielo's were reminiscent of the opposite. You supposed Mikasa's irises bore the most resemblance, considering they resembled in shade and shape. Though, if you had the obligation to choose, she was most definitely not the person you would have compared his to.

But, that raised the question: what was it that had made you envision the small boy?

"Y/N?" Armin called in concern.

You blinked harshly to release yourself of your trance and noticed that your palms had remained stagnant in their previous movements, right before his face. "Oh, sorry." You apologized and sluggishly resumed his trimming.

"You're fine, I was just worried. Is something the matter?"

You shook your head slightly, "You just- you kind of reminded me of someone just now."

His brows rose with curiosity, "Oh, who?" He asked.

You allowed yourself to respond at your own pace, not intending on ignoring the boy, but as well as refusing to force yourself to speak in vulnerability. "Just someone that I used to know." You replied shortly.

Your dry response had caused the blonde to reappraise his inquiry, for he feared that he had trekked over a line that he wasn't aware existed.

Marco remained quiet, instead opting to inspect your expressions closely. There was an aura to your words that created an air of uncertainty. He realized that it wasn't that you were uncomfortable speaking about the mystery person on your mind, it was that you simply did not know how to. There was conflict in your eyes reflecting a storm that brewed anew. He was certain that, that storm had not previously been there nor did it deserve its place; for it replaced the usual crisp draft that swept away the sepulchral tones.

You berated yourself for behaving so uncongenial towards the boy. He should not have felt poor for asking genuine questions.

"He used to love clouds." You offered as compensation. Unexpected, but not unwelcome. You chuckled airily, "Sometimes, it looked as if he wanted to nap in'em."

Armin smiled fondly, "Did he love to spend his time outside?"

You gulped down a whimper, "You could say so."

The boy beamed at your confirmation, "Me too! I love a lot of things about the outside worl- er, I mean the outside. Like nature!"

Though you had caught his hesitation, you hadn't called him out for it, figuring that if you had your own secrets, others were allowed to have theirs.

"Me too." You giggled. "While I didn't see my expression, I know that I probably looked like a lunatic the first time I saw a river. Not to mention, the first time I held snow." Your eyes softened in their reminiscent state, "This might sound cheesy, but it was life altering. In some abstract way." Your voice dwindled into a whisper.

"It was the same for me," The boy related, "I mean, I know that snow isn't living, but it felt like I was holding life directly in my palms." His fond stare had moved to poke and prod at his own hands.

Your eyes widened in recognition, a flicker of excitement igniting in your chest. "Really? I felt that way too."

He hummed in agreement, "It was..." He sighed in resignation after a moment of deliberate dwelling on words. "I don't even know how to describe it, or if I'd ever be able to."

That had been one of the very first instances in a while where it was as though someone had understood or viewed what the world had to offer in the same light as you had — placed those offering as high on a pedestal as you had. An emotion that you had not felt so much of in ages bubbled up in your throat, as though there was so much that you yearned to say, but the weight of your tongue would not allow it to spill so haphazardly.

You felt exhilarated. Exhilaration you couldn't contain, so you disregarded the hamper in your mouth and allowed those retained words to soil your clothes.

"I-it was like, in that moment, even with my fingers so stiff from the cold, when I watched the snowfall melt on my skin I felt... everything?" Your words tilted in question, before you decided that what you spoke was the truth. Whether it made any sense didn't matter at all. "Everything all at once, it was pure rapture. As if being there in that second, hour, and day to witness the miracle of literal fucking ice falling from the sky meant that it didn't matter whether I lived or died because simply being there, then, a part of this universe was enough. Whether I did something abstract with my life or spent it in the slums was arbitrary, because in the end I held that snowfall for myself. My joy. Not anyone else's, it was me."

All was quiet once your proclamation had came to a close, and Armin gaped while Marco gazed at you with an admiration full of affection. You heeded their expressions and abashedly cleared your throat. "But, uhm, anyway..." You continued and moved to begin the last section of Armin's hair.

Armin's pending eyes moved to his lap, before they flickered towards the brunet that sat on Sasha's bunk. He seemed to be pondering a thought that he wasn't sure he should elucidate or not. After a few moments of strenuous silence, he began, "Can you guys keep a secret?" He asked hesitantly.

You looked to your friend, still sat comfortably with his arms supporting his weight, with questioning eyes briefly before you settled your gaze on the blonde once again. "Sure." You admitted.

"Of course." Marco reassured.

The boy inhaled deeply, as if steeling himself was necessary in order to utter his next words. "Do you know about... the sea?"

His foreign words had caused your head to cock in perplexity, "The sea?" You repeated.

Marco hummed, "I'm almost sure that I've heard you talk about it with Eren before, though I feel that it's rude to eavesdrop." He added.

You chuckled, "Of course you would, Mr. Nice guy." You teased, to which the boy rubbed his neck with a sheepish grin.

"Yes, the sea!" Armin exclaims, "It's the reason I'm here, as a cadet. You guys probably won't believe me, but the sea is a huge body of salt water." He beamed.

Your brows furrowed, for his words had rung no bells in your mind. Though, they had raised alarms that blared at you to tread carefully. "Wait, salt water? As in, merchant salt?" You reiterated.

He bobbed his head enthusiastically, "Mhm! But, it's so big that merchants can spend their entire lifetimes attempting to remove it and still wouldn't even come close to rendering it empty!" He vehemently informed you.

"What?!" Marco freaked in his seat, his brown eyes as wide as saucers.

You hastily moved yourself to stand directly before the blonde and firmly placed your hands atop his shoulders. "Armin, say that again." You urged. Your ears couldn't believe what they had heard.

"I know! It sounds crazy, but it's true! I know that it's somewhere beyond the walls with other places we couldn't ever think to imagine exist. I haven't even told you about the fire water, or the lands of ice, or even the fields upon fields of sand!" He added brightly. The fascination in your eyes did not allow you any other option than to believe his words ring true.

It was then that you realized just what it was in him - that wide eyed dreamer that you had met serendipitously in your time as a cadet - that had reminded you of your Cielo.

It was the way in which he viewed the world in wonderment; as if he had worshipped all that the world he was born into had to offer him. It was a sentiment mirrored in your own irises, as well.

He treasured life, or rather, the things that came with it.

"Fire water? Lands of ice?" Marco repeated incredulously, for his mind seemed to have the same amount of trouble conceiving such ideas as yours did.

"Armin, where did you hear about this?" Your eyes pleaded for his answer.

While you were sure his words had registered in your cerebrum, it did little to aid in the construction of the scene they painted behind your eyes. Fire water was otherworldly even in its name, could it be liquid or plasma? If you dipped a palm in, would your fingers grow wrinkly or charred? How would it form? Would it be tangible? What variety of colors would it present itself in? Not to mention the fields of sand? Where would such a thing even originate from?

"My grandfather had a book stashed away with a plethora of ideas such as these. When we were younger, Eren and I would spend all day looking at the pictures." He explained.

"A book?" Marco tittered lightheartedly, "Armin, anything detailing the outside world is illegal. No MP is gonna come knocking on our door, are they?" He jested.

Armin gasped at the notion, "No! I swear, they won't. Don't worry, Marco." He reassured.

"Well, I was joking, but thanks for the confirmation anyway."

"Do you have it with you?" You asked.

The blonde's brows met and he gazed at you sympathetically, "No, not anymore. I'm sorry, it's back in Shiganshina." He informed you.

You hid your disappointment well, though you knew that Armin did not require physical hints to understand your feelings. "Oh." Was all that you replied.

"That's okay, though. Right, Y/N?" Marco suggested.

"Yeah, of course, it's just that..." You trailed off, before your lowered gaze lifted itself back onto the catalyst of the incoming downpour restraining itself in your still young body. "Armin, are you sure that this is the truth?"

"Well, that's what I'm hoping to find out once I join the scouts. So that one day, I'll get to see it for myself."

You were hesitant, it was as clear as the night sky after a sweltering summer day. You pondered if your question was truly worth asking, before you determined that your body would not allow itself to rest so easily if it went unanswered.

"Armin..." You uttered weakly, to which the boy in question hummed attentively and your brows knitted with apprehension. "You're willin' to risk your life for a dream? A dream that you're not even sure truly exists?" It was patently such a genuine question, for the notion was inconceivable to you.

He wasted nothing but his breath in replying, "That's the thing! It's not just a dream, it's more than that. So much more that I can't even begin to explain. I guess I've never been well with words." He chuckled sheepishly before earnestly contemplating his reply. While he knew it would bear value, you had great doubt that he had ever truly comprehended the weight at which it would tug at your heart in the near future. "It's as if there's a part of me that demands it. A significant part that I can't bear to ignore, because doing so would be ignoring myself. I could never treat myself that way, and I'd even go as far as to say that I pity anyone who does." He stated fervidly whilst his bright lazurite eyes shone with as much verity as a pastor citing the gospel. "So yes, I'd be willing to join the scouts if it means seeing what's beyond the walls."

His words had snapped you out of a daze that you couldn't remember when you had entered. It prodded at your bare soul and cried out, as if your inner self had just registered how unjust it had been treating itself and would allow it no longer; causing a turmoil to ravel itself further in their chambers.

"The scouts... the outside world." You muttered absentmindedly.

If what Armin had shared with you happened to truly exist, you feared that fact would change more than you wanted it to. The mere possibility forged a newborn pavement road in your vision of the future. A path that your heart called for, but if you acquiesced and indulged, that would mean sacrificing your long term goal.

"Well, when you do find it - go ahead and send us an invite alright? We'll travel all the way from the king's side just to see it." Marco insisted, never being the one to dim anyone's light, even if he didn't fully believe the proclamation.

"Of course!" Armin agreed, before he attempted to peek at the length of his hair. "Oh, are you finished, Y/N?" He asked.

"Oh, yeah. You're all done. Sorry if it isn't perfect, I'm learnin' as I go."

His head shook rapidly, "No, it's better than perfect! Thanks a lot, you've got a really handy skill. I've never seen anyone wield a blade as proficiently as you."

"No problem, and this is free of charge Armin, so there's no need to flatter me." You jested, and then looked towards the brunet at your side. "You ready?"

Marco nodded in confirmation and both boys traded spots with a slight bounce to their steps, you delighted at their infectious demeanors, "So, what'll it be today sugar?" You asked.

"I don't need much done if I'm being honest. These front pieces are just about to reach my eyes though and I really don't want that. It's probably a job I could have done myself, but I don't trust my inadequate skills." He chuckled at his admission.

"That's alright, this shouldn't take long at all." You said and began to stroke your fingers through the short strands you aimed to cut, for preparation.

"So, you're an outdoors kind of gal?" He asked suddenly.

Though it was an unexpected observation, that didn't thwart the formation of your fond smile. "Yeah, nature is beautiful. I can't help but to admire it."

"I can see that, that's admirable in itself as well, you know? Life is a beautiful but fickle thing."

"Fickle?" You asked, one of your brows bent with interest.

He nodded as best as he could have without causing you to accidentally nick at his skin. "It's transient, and the role we live in can be snatched away in an instant. I can't imagine living it in any other way than chasing our dreams. Otherwise, what's the point? Was all of it for naught?" He explained.

You hummed softly, "Perhaps it's far more complicated than that."

"I think it's as complicated as you make it to be." He suggests without doubt to his words.

Your brows furrowed in contemplation once more, for what he said had made sense to you, but of course you chose to stubbornly deny to accept the insight and clung onto the thread of fate coiled around your throat. Marco saw how heavily you struggled with your own self, however he recalled how that had always seemed to be the case when it came to you.

You had always been locking horns with a miscreant you yourself had concocted.

"My point is - life is short. Make of it what you can, and if that means chasing something you see as intangible, then that's all the more reason to keep trying. A reason to live." He continued even when the furrow in your brow had only seemed to deepen. "What is life without a destination, and what is a destination without some sense of accomplishment? You never know what chapter is on the horizon."

"I don't want a strange author dictating where my life goes and what I accomplish." You stated as the mere thought of such an idea brought distaste to your tongue.

You were reminded of Stefan and Cielo.

What kind of author had written and devised their deaths for the sake of accomplishment? Not one you were willing to adhere to.

You were no Icarus and would not bear to allow yourself to burn for ephemeral bliss by gliding far too near the sun. It was inconceivable to you.

Marco merely laughed in the way that made his head move from side to side, the same way you had every time you had caught Sasha purloining food from Connie's tray at lunch. "Silly. You are the author." He rebutted with shaking shoulders.

Your fingers grew stiff and subconsciously withdrew themselves from within his dark hair. Your breath was nowhere to be found, and even your chest had halted its rise and fall. You were caught entirely off kilter, not having expected him to have a rebuttal on hand. Though, you supposed it was more so how correct he was that caused you to enter a state of stupor.

Marco's words were nothing but the truth — you had the baton to conduct the ensemble of your life. Dictating its path, one that could either bring your disgustingly selfish and vindictive goals to reality, or allow you the ability to feel free; to experience eternal bliss.

You, who is forever fizzing, frothing, buzzing, and exploding at your core. You, a human, who is bubbling over and blooming wide. You, who is your own solar system, galaxy, and universe. You, the conductor, the orchestra, and the choir. You who would be eternally grateful if all you held was yourself, the trees, the skies, and the seas — that would be enough. Whether you stood over the corpse of a mere MP or a million Titans was insignificant.

Your voice was raw, raspy, and true. "What I would pick wouldn't make any sense. You'd think it's stupid, hell, I think it's stupid. Which is why I won't go down that route."

Marco remained quiet once more, presumably to collect his own thoughts, to choose and pluck them individually. His head tilted to find your lowered gaze as he told you, "It doesn't have to make sense to anyone but yourself. If simply being happy is what brings you peace, then that's a good enough reason to listen. Forget needing or deserving, do you want it?"

You did, more than you had ever wanted anything else in your life. "It doesn't matter if others don't agree, they aren't you. You're allowed to make your own mistakes, you might even find that there are none."

Your head shifts to the side and you release a sigh of defeat. Though, unfortunately, not towards Marco. It was an exhale of submission to the implacable voices in your mind that thwarted your ability to pursue anything other than what you carved in stone on the day of both Stefan and Cielo's deaths. Mere words of affirmation would never be enough to spur you into an alternate direction.

For the sake of your future, you wished they had been.

"It's convoluted." You determined with a wince. "I'm sorry to waste your wisdom." You said as your disheartened gaze met his tender and empathetic one.

Those raw umber eyes had told you they understood, and although you knew it was quite impossible for that to be true, you believed their whispers.

"Nothing could ever be wasted on you, Y/N." He assured.

You chuckled at his habit of making it his priority to dispel any worries his peers might have created for themselves, "Charmer." You teased lightheartedly.

You had wished to be even the slightest bit as optimistic as Marco had always presented himself as. The thought of his mien being a sort of veil had occurred to you, perhaps the boy hadn't truly believed his own words and simply uttered them with the hope of speaking them into existence. A wish to change the future.

Or perhaps he had thought them to be true, and in that case, you knew you could never compel that mindset to be your own.

"Alright, this marks the end of my coiffeuse career, for today at least." You announced as you completed the final snip of bark colored hair.

"Wow, thanks so much for entertaining our abrupt visit! You're amazing, Y/N." Armin praised vehemently.

"I am, aren't I?"

"Not too much commending for this one, Armin. Her ego inflates as rapidly as Jean's does." Marco jested as he ruffled your hair, "Look, her head's already grown and you've barely begun your applause."

Your eyes rolled at his obvious taunting, "As if yours isn't ten times worse." You goaded in return. "Anyway, I'll walk you two out. If you don't mind, I'd love to return to my attempts of peaceful slumber and I still have to clean up."

"Kicking us out already?" Marco feigned offense.

You laughed at the notion, "If I don't, Armin will chew all of his nails off by the time he musters up the courage to dismiss himself." You gestured to the blonde who, ironically, was doing just that.

"I feel like I'm invading a space that I shouldn't be." He muttered in embarrassment.

Marco guffawed at his discomfort, "Alright, let's go before you bite your fingers off." He agreed and led your group towards the door where he took ahold of the knob and twisted.

But, before he allowed himself to leave you to your midday napping, his hand hesitated on the glossy metal. His brows furrowed and an expression hindered by his pensive thoughts formed on his soft features. Before you could have uttered any word of concern, he spoke what you had assumed to be the thoughts plaguing away at his mind.

"Y/N, you're allowed to take your time. Especially so considering how young we are, but... if I may?" He asks and you couldn't tell whether his hesitance was caused by mere caution or scruple. "Life as we know it ends, at some point. And in many cases, it's highly unexpected."

You hadn't heeded how adept the freckled boy was at reading people, or perhaps it was you specifically that he had grown accustomed to that had allowed him to peruse your soul so easily. Conversely, the thought that maybe you had always simply worn your emotions on your chest and laid them all bare was what had permitted the boy to skim your thoughts.

You never responded and you doubted he had ever expected you to, though you wish you had, for perhaps future emotional turbulence could have been avoided if so.

So, he proceeded with his departure, though as soon as the door knob twisted and unveiled what awaited you on the other side, the gush of polar and dampened wind fled into the cabin alike a cold bucket of water.

"Ack!" Marco grimaced at the alteration of atmosphere. No longer had he felt cozy and safe, instead his shaking bones curled in on themselves to shield his body from the chill that invaded your senses.

"Oh wow, it's raining!" Armin examined.

"How didn't we notice that before?" You asked as you braced yourself to step out onto the wooden porch. Your sock clad feet felt the moisture instantly, though the temperature only spurred you to inch closer to the railing. After a deep inhalation that cleared your head, you surmised, "It smells like it's gonna rain all day."

Armin takes it upon himself to stick a palm flat in the air not shielded by the large awning that thwarted the water from meeting your heads. "Oh, but it feels very refreshing." He announced with a fond smile as he stared at the droplets that littered his hand.

"There are already so many puddles, I wonder how long the rain has been here for. It wasn't here on our way to the cabin." Marco wondered.

Mimicking the blonde's actions, your skin feels the frigid water that falls from the sky, the sensation not at all deterring your good mood. In fact, it seemed to have cleared your mind of any tussle of thoughts that sat on the forefront of your head.

Almost as if under a spell, Armin haphazardly stomped his foot into a small pool of water that had accumulated by his boots, soddening the pants of the boy beside him in the process, the blonde seeming to not know the reason why he did it, if the perplexity on his face had any telling of the truth.

"Oops, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-"

Before the worried boy was able to complete his apology, his friend repeated his actions in retaliation, though he failed to notice that you too were in his range of fire. He didn't seem to have any regrets either way. Only amusement detected in his guffaw as you squealed at the sudden dampness of your pants.

Of course, ever the challenging spirit, you did not allow the misdeed to go unpunished, and even as you reciprocated, neither boy granted you the courtesy either.

Before you knew it, all three of you had somehow ended up out from under the awning and instead, under the open sky catapulting throngs of heavy droplets your way. Not halting the splashing and kicking of your legs further soiling your clothes, incautiously permitting the buoyant giggles and chortles to fill the air and irrigate the strands of your hair along with the rain. Not that any of you had cared.

In that moment, you weren't soldiers in training, awaiting the fortuitous day that you too would perish from the world you were born into. A world that was unjust, inequitable, and bore many secrets. You were dreamers who had came upon other dreamers on your paths toward your individual goals. Dreamers latching onto the feelings that allowed them to feel alive.

Or perhaps you weren't something as abstract as that, chasing a will to live. Maybe you were just kids.

Kids who grew to love mornings a little more after that day.

Fun fact: maia and arlo are both sick and honey is not helping.

[spawnofdeath]

A Frog and a Flower Crown

(The second chapter in the "King Scott and the Codfather" collection)

Read on AO3

In which a demon offers two gifts to a king. One is refused, and one is accepted.

Used to the snow-capped mountains as he was, the swamp seemed intensely warm, indeed sweltering, the air almost physically heavy, thick with moisture and the buzzing of insects. Still, it was a decent place. Or at least an empty one. Hopefully the others wouldn't think to look for him here right away.

Scott crouched on the half solid spot of earth he'd found, trying not to get too much mud onto his robes, and gazed into a pool of murky water.

How deep was it? He found it hard to tell what might have been the bottom of it from what was simply floating particles, and so it could just be a puddle, or it could go down deeper than he'd be able to dive. Not that he had any mind to dive in it. Who knew what lurked in there?

Well. He could see one creature in the muddy brown.

The fish didn't actually look very out of place, the red and green of its scales almost blending into its surroundings. It didn't belong though. With a good guess as to who ruled over this place, Scott was pretty sure that salmon weren't wanted here.

"How in the world did you get into the swamp?" he asked the creature. "I don't think you're very well liked around here, you know."

As if on cue, a shadow became visible within the pond, and as it rose, resolved into a silhouette, one Scott recognised with ease even as the muddy water blurred its outlines. The pool did have to be really quite deep, he realised, because of how far below the shadow had appeared, though it was rising quickly. The salmon had no chance to get away before it was caught, helplessly thrashing, in the Codfather's jaws.

The demon rose out of the pool without any effort, in the manner that Scott by now was used to, still seeming to swim, as though the water and the air were one and the same.

He dropped the salmon into the mud next to Scott, quickly pinning it in place with one hand before its thrashing could carry it back into the water.

"What a pathetic creature", he muttered, and his eyes fixed on Scott. "You wouldn't know how it got here?"

"I don't", Scott replied, "but I'd also been wondering. Don't they swim into the rivers where they were born, something like that? Seems unlikely one would end up in the swamp by accident. I can't well tell of course, but does that pool even have any connection to the ocean? Or to a river, for that matter?"

"It certainly connects to the ocean", the Codfather said, "that's where I just came from."

He was now lying on his stomach in the mud and playing with the struggling salmon seemingly absentmindedly, poking his claws through its fins and into its gills.

"I suppose it could have gotten in here on its own. But I doubt that. Much more likely someone put it here on purpose. Should have to pay that tinkerer another visit, I reckon. He's usually the one leaving the vile things everywhere."

The salmon was most definitely dead by now, or very close, lying still and bleeding from various holes the demon had poked through its skin, and the Codfather shoved the cadaver aside, seemingly bored with it now he could no longer hurt it.

Resting his head on a slightly bloody hand, he turned again to look at Scott.

"But enough of that. What brings you to my home then, little elf?"

"There's a diplomatic discussion taking place right now", Scott began to explain, "in Mythland as being the most neutral of the empires. Every ruler is obligated to be there, but really none of it is currently relevant to Rivendell, and I just didn't see the point in staying.

And I was also just getting a bit overwhelmed. I mean, no offense to the Lost Emperor, he is my best friend's husband, but I cannot listen to him argue with the Mezalean King for half an hour straight and not just about lose my mind. They weren't even finished when I left! They weren't even close to being finished! I really just couldn't stay there, for my own sanity's sake. So I snuck away. And then, well, this is the closest place to Mythland that I thought the others wouldn't look for me immediately. So, hi, I guess? Sorry to intrude into your land."

The Codfather looked at him with a somewhat shocked face.

"And here I thought you'd come because you actually wanted to see me", he said and pressed his free hand to his chest dramatically. "I'm a little hurt, you know, to learn that's not the case."

"I mean, that's not-" Scott blushed, trying to keep his thoughts together and his words from escaping him. "-that's, I didn't mean it like that, I just, I had a hunch this might be your place? But I wasn't sure, and then I wasn't sure you'd want me to visit either, and I didn't exactly have a chance to ask beforehand, and I just thought I should apologise? Like, just in case, you know. It's, it's certainly not that I didn't want to see you."

"Ah, that's all well, I was only messing with you anyways."

The Codfather slapped an unexpectedly cold hand onto Scott's shoulder, making him jump slightly with the surprise of it, which in turn cost him his balance. With a slight yelp he tumbled backwards into the mud.

The demon laughed heartily. Had he done that on purpose?

"I was trying to stay clean", Scott muttered, which only made the Codfather laugh louder.

"You're in a swamp, Scott", he said. "You're in a swamp, and you expected to stay clean? That's not how swamps work. You should be glad you didn't step into a concealed puddle yet and sink into the mud up to your waist, then have to struggle to get out again. That's how swamps work."

"Yeah, I guess", Scott sighed, resigning himself to the dampness seeping into his robes as he sat back up, and returned to gazing into the water where he'd first spotted the salmon.

There was again some movement, this time in the mud at the edge of the pool, and like an arrow from a bow string the Codfather's arm shot out to snatch whatever had been hiding there.

"Frog?" he asked, and held his hand out towards Scott.

Scott stared at the creature caught in the Codfather's grasp, gutted by claws but still twitching, as its blood dripped down the demon's wrist.

"You want it or not?" the Codfather asked. "Should try it. 's good. Nice big one too."

Right. He was expecting him to eat it. Okay.

"I'm not sure my stomach is very well adapted to eating raw frogs", Scott said, a half-true excuse that he hoped wouldn't make his aversion to the slimy thing too obvious.

"Suit yourself", the demon said with a shrug, and began to lick the blood off his arm.

His tongue was long and pointy, and looked rough like that of a cat. Was that what a cod's tongue looked like? Scott hadn't really seen many fish heads before, much less ever tried to look into their mouths. What kind of tongues did they have, anyways?

He elected not to ask, as he watched the Codfather wrench a frog leg from it's socket with a snap and begin to gnaw on it with sharp teeth.

It wasn't long before the bone was clean of any meat, and the demon paused, put the bone and the rest of the frog aside, and once more turned to look at Scott, rather thoughtfully this time.

"I do have something else for you", he said. "Something that I hope you won't refuse."

"Well, what is it?" Scott asked. "As long as it's not something that'll make me ill..."

"It's not", the Codfather said. "Wait here."

He got up and jumped back into the pond. Scott watched the water ripple as he disappeared below the surface. There was a connection to the ocean from that pool, he'd said. Were there other ways to different places, too? Was there a whole network of underground waterways below the surface of the swamp? He could very easily imagine it.

He watched and waited for a few minutes for the Codfather's return, and indeed was so focused on the pond that he near jumped out of his skin when suddenly he heard the demon's voice behind him.

"Don't turn around", he said. "Don't look yet."

Scott obliged and wondered what it was the other had for him.

"You aren't wearing your crown", the Codfather said, which seemed entirely unrelated to just about anything Scott had been expecting. "What's a king without a crown?"

"We don't wear crowns or similar to the meetings", Scott explained. "Show of respect and such, that noone thinks themselves above any of the others, you know, that sort of careful politeness. And in any case, I don't wear my crown every day and everywhere. I wasn't wearing it when first we met either, remember? It's more just for special occasions."

"This one isn't", the Codfather said, and Scott felt something strangely soft and dripping being placed upon his head. "I want you to wear this one always."

Scott reached up to touch whatever he'd been given, as the Codfather sat down beside him and placed an arm around his shoulder.

"Look", he said.

At a wave of the demon's hand, the water of the pond cleared up, particles moving aside without causing the slightest ripple, and the surface became smooth and shiny as a mirror.

When Scott saw what he was now wearing, he had to admit he hadn't expected it to be a flower crown. It was woven from water lily blossoms, and some other bits of swamp plants. There was a slight sheen to it, like it was enchanted in some way. Perhaps to keep it from wilting, Scott thought.

"It's beautiful", he said.

"It suits you", the Codfather replied, and then he laughed again. "Little flower elf. Like you'd belong into the Overgrown, and not the mountains."

"We actually used to live in a flower forest for a while", Scott told him, "my people and I, before we came into the mountains and founded Rivendell. I liked it there. It was very pretty. Reminded me of something, although for the life of me I couldn't have said what. But it didn't last. None of our settlements before Rivendell did. We never did figure out why."

"Sometimes you're just meant to be in one place and not another", the Codfather said. "Nothing really to it that's possible to understand. Just forces of life pulling you this way and that, like a jellyfish swept along in the current. And think of this, your current pulled you to me."

"That it did", Scott said and smiled.

It was getting a bit darker now, and he noticed fire flies starting to appear between the reeds. One of them landed on his arm and sat there, blinking slowly. He smiled at that, too.

"You'd best head home now", the Codfather said after they'd been watching the dancing lights for a while. "Before the others do come looking for you here. I'd rather not be found today."

"Yes, I should go, shouldn't I?" Scott suppressed a yawn. "The others will be worried."

Well. Xornoth would be worried. Sausage would be, and probably Pearl. Joey, maybe, too, or maybe not. Most of the others, he didn't actually know that well. He could imagine some of them might rather be annoyed than worried at his disappearance.

"Promise you'll wear your new crown", the Codfather said. "Every day and everywhere, not just on special occasions."

"And at night?" Scott asked. "I might crush it if I wear it to bed."

"Well, not at night, that isn't necessary", the demon conceded. "But I'd hate for my gift to just be sitting around somewhere. I'm sure your normal crown will even fit under it. On special occasions."

"I'll wear it every waking hour then", Scott promised.

The Codfather gave him a wide, sharp-toothed smile.

"Come visit me again, my little flower elf. And soon. It does get lonely here."

[multiplicity-positivity]

I need some advice, and am sending this to as many blogs as possible to get diverse opinions. Feel free to delete if this is too confusing, or not something you wish to answer.

I have a system, who are all distinct and separate selves, and I consider myself just one part of that system, a singular system member. Sometimes, though, I feel like I, myself, have separate, smaller parts, selves that feel more like literal "self states". There's the musical one, the organizational one, the little one, and the conflict-resolver one (and possibly more?), and I'm not quite sure if these self-states count as alters or parts in a "members of a system" sense. They definitely, most times, feel like just me in different moods, but sometimes I feel they connect more with how people describe system members / alters. Are these parts/alters? How can I tell? And what could that mean for the other, more distinct selves/alters?

Hi! We’d say that this could be a couple different things:

First of all: it’s normal even for singlets to have different emotional states. Someone’s “happy self” may feel totally different from their sad or angry selves. Individual alters in systems can also have a range of emotions that they experience! So if I feel determined, for example, I may act or behave differently than I would if I’m feeling listless. I’m still an alter in a system, and I’m not a subsystem just because I experience different emotions or emotional states.

Second: some people’s systems do exist as multiple versions of the same person. We think this sort of thing may happen in OSDD-1A systems (but we’re not educated enough to say for sure)! If you feel truly disconnected or separate from these other selves, you may be collectively a subsystem.

Subsystems are basically a system within a system, or an alter who has alters themselves. From what we understand, they usually form this way as a means of hiding or covering up large or particularly heavy traumas that the rest of the system is not able to handle or process effectively.

I guess we’d recommend for you to spend some time trying to get to know these other selves to better understand if they really are separate system members rather than just different moods or emotional states. At the end of the day, if calling yourself a subsystem helps you and works best for your system, you’re welcome to do that (or at least question if that experience applies to you)!

For anyone who reads this, remember that having different moods, emotions, or separate emotional states is usually not a plural experience in and of itself! It’s completely normal, even for singlets and individual alters, to feel different or like a different person when you’re experiencing distinct emotional states. It comes with the territory of being a living, breathing, emotional being.

Thanks for reaching out! ^^

🌸 Margo and 💫 Parker

[holygrailcycle]

It's 3am and I've shifted from Riderposting to thinking about Lancer/Setanta and feeling weepy.

Because it's clear when he turned on us that it wasn't because he hated us. Like. He tried to talk to us. He tried to get through. He empathized with us. Not just his own Master but the mass of us - this patchwork of souls in whole.

And it backfired on him. Badly. Nearly got him, one of the most iconic heroes housed within the Throne, killed.

So it's no wonder he's decided to go full throttle this time around. He can't afford to second guess. Because if he tries the same trick twice, there's no guarantee it'll get the same result. He doesn't know if we'd hesitate, or slip up. If he gives us a single inch, this could be the time we actually beat him. And he can't - or doesn't want to - trust that anyone else will be willing to meet his resolve, to pick up where he left off.

Or maybe he just feels like it's his duty to finish the job. To make sure it's him, and no one else, that ends us.

I don't know whether he's grown to hate us in the time between then and now. But before - he probably just saw it as a mercy.

I mean, if you saw an animal going rabid, wouldn't killing it seem like a mercy? A kindness? Something you, a being with the power to offer this kind of ending, should do for its own sake? Isn't that what was happening to us, as far as we're aware at this point? Going rabid, losing our collective mind. A slippery slope into the depths of Madness, dragging our own Servants down with us like the most hateful kind of leash.

Can you blame him, really?

The curse of Gae Bolg is a curse of ending for the things that Cu Chulainn holds dear. He's already accepted the burden of death. No reason to look to anyone else when he's perfectly capable of getting the job done. No matter what it costs him, personally.

Cu Chulainn already accepted the costs when he chose to chase that star, all that time ago.

Of course, as Setanta - as a boy not yet bound to that fate - he might have other options still available to him. If he's willing to consider them. To see them as any kind of possibility without catastrophe being the likely outcome.

I don't know if it's possible to get through to him at this point. I just hope, before the end - whoever's end it ends up being - we get to at least share one drink with him.

It's also clear that fucking SOMETHING happened to us during our 'investigation' in the Origin War. That we weren't always a walking mass of Rage. Musashi said we were never the personable type, but that as time went on our Madness Infection got worse and worse. And even she wanted to try and save us from it... Not destroy us. Not until she had all that time to herself as a Nameless Shade, to turn her mind to the idea that maybe that was what it would take.

Was it us simply giving in to our nature, or an outside influence for the worse? I think it's a decent question worth considering and pursuing.

[cha-ra-nui]

Part 2: Anime and Other Media

This is the story section of my 2023 retrospective. Any story telling media goes. Anime, live action movies, cartoons, it's all game. The other parts of the retrospective are linked below.

Playlist | Prefix | Part 1: Music | Part 2: Anime and Other Media | Awards Section

My Anime burnout is still holding on, but actually it’s depression so yeah. My life sucks right now and I can’t even enjoy the media that used to bring me joy. It’s rare for something to hold my attention nowadays, because I feel like half a person.

But I tried, and there were some things I can list at least.

Jujutsu Kaisen aired its second season, which was great. I mentioned the openings earlier in the music segment, but the season also adapted the manga’s two best arcs, so that was obviously fun. What wasn’t fun was a certain manga chapter which really felt like the author was just fucking with us. Even if you hate your own characters, at least respect them enough to not explicitly contradict their previous characterization and entire point of their arc to make them look worse in a chapter where you kill them off screen. It’s been a while since I felt this betrayed by a story I previously enjoyed a lot. Which was all the more funny because Bungou Stray Dogs did some similar fucking around nearly at the same time, and that was resolved in a much, much less infuriating way. And yes, the new season of the anime was just as good as all the previous ones. Bones puts way too much effort into making this show look pretty. Then we had Jigokuraku, which is another point for the new generation of Weekly Shounen Jump. They’ve collected a strong line-up in recent years. Spy X Family is also great, and Anya is best girl, obviously. Finally, there was the second season of Link Click, which we expected at least a year earlier. But the wait was worth it. The creators said it was pushed back so they could deliver the best possible version of the season, and damn did they ever do that. It’s a departure from season one in many ways, but the ongoing storyline was no less compelling than the episodic ones in season one, and I can’t wait for season three. The show also looks unreasonably great, especially its opening, which is a work of art. The insert songs are great as well, “Until It Dies” especially.

Speaking of insert songs though, I watched Helluva Boss in 2023, and I loved it. It’s certainly not a perfect show, but what it nails, it really nails. Season two is much more of a mixed bag than season one, but “Oops” and “Mammon’s Magnificent Musical” did a lot to redeem it. It’s certainly been a while since I had brainrot as bad as the one these two episodes gave me. Fizz and Asmodeus are the best things about this season and it’s not even close. It doesn't hurt that they’re great together, and also that anytime Fizz gets a song it’s also great.

I didn’t care much for the music in this show before. Sure, there were some nice tracks, but none I went back to afterwards, and they were never the best moment of the episode, with maybe the exception of “House of Asmodeus”, but well, that’s also Fizz and Asmodeus, so I rest my case. But “Look At This” was the first time a song in this show made me laugh. It’s absurd, it’s hilarious, it suits the character and the scene in the show where it happens, it switches genre like five times, and it’s utter nonsense. It’s great. So when Fizz got more songs in the next episode I was on board immediately. “Crooked” is nice and wholesome, and it comes at a moment in the episode where that was desperately needed. But “2 Minutes Notice”. Man. This song took over my life for a while. Within the context of the episode it’s a great cathartic moment, but even without that it still slaps. I wish they’d release the song properly, but even as a rip from an episode, sound effects and all, it’s still one of my most played songs of 2023.

And since the playlist is only music, I guess I have to add “Just Look My Way” to it as well. It’s the best they’ve written this character and ship all season, and if that’s any indication for the quality of episodes to come I’m optimistic.

In other news I listened to the Sandman audiobooks and they’re great. I never read comics but I might have to make an exception for Neil Gaiman, who could’ve guessed. I’m anxiously awaiting the release of the fourth and final part of the audiobooks too, I have a feeling about how this story is going to end, and I really hope that I’m wrong about it, I will cry otherwise.

Speaking of which, Good Omens Season 2 sure happened too. I laughed, I cried, I had the usual brainrot phase, I can’t wait for season three.

Finally, I want to mention a few movies I watched in cinema this year. Puss In Boots was great, and I enjoyed the second Spiderverse movie more than the first because it felt surer of who its target audience was.

Barbie was fun but ultimately a too compromised vision to be truly great. A visual masterpiece that isn’t allowed to be as revolutionary or even just as feminist as it wants to be because it can’t make Martell look too bad, who’s going to buy their products if it does?

Oppenheimer meanwhile is that great. I left the cinema and immediately wanted to watch it again. The sequence leading up to the trinity test is a masterclass of building tension, and it’s hard to believe that this movie is three hours of men sitting in rooms talking, because it’s such an engaging watch. Absolutely brilliant work, and I can’t wait to see it get snubbed at the Oscars because that is what happens when the public likes a movie.

[imnothinginparticular]

#finishedbooks Rousseau The Dream by Ann Temkin. Picked this up at @momolee 's yard sale and found it is part of a little MoMA series that choses works of art from their collection and offers a complete analysis of the work. Always had a soft spot for Rousseau out of the neo/post impressionists (however you want to label them) because I always saw him as such an underdog. Pretty rare at the time he was self trained and worked his life as a sort of toll booth collector. He only began to get recognition late in his life and "The Dream", perhaps his most known painting, came just months before his sudden death. One funny note, I always like to do when I come across his paintings is to look at the feet...because he lacked any training he could never get the perspective right representing one of the several technical short comings that make his work endearing to me. Even in the painting at hand in "The Dream" his classic use of the odalisque, the woman shows complete deference to gravity or physical torsion while facing impossibly forward. This combined with the sporadic foliage, animals, and musician always came off more collage like. Which for technical reasons makes sense since he was too poor to travel to any jungle the painting draws from a variety of researched materials. Finally, what becomes important is that no element of allegory or narrative resolves the picture into a story that can be fully understood or explained and this is done in-spite of the remarkably clarity of forms within it. This really could be said for any of jungle paintings which again carry heavy implications for myself in regards to collage do to the inherent extraneous elements of the medium. Guess really in all is the fact that and especially at the time that Rosseau's loyalty to his own vision really endears his work as a profound testimony to the virtue of artistic honesty.

[wealthcamera23]

Buy and sell Lesson - Benefits of Automated Trading for Retail Traders

Automated trading is becoming more and more popular within the retail store trading space. This particular is largely due to the development of personalized computing power, the simplification of computer system software trading vocabulary, and the acknowledgement that in order to be prosperous in the market segments a mechanical in addition to disciplined approach will be essential. Through schooling, retail traders will be becoming increasingly aware that trading on a new discretionary or subjective basis is almost impossible to maintain in the long term. There are some people out presently there who may have both the requisite ability and even the necessary control of their emotions to reach your goals discretionary traders, but these people are nearly all definitely the exemption to the rule. Most of all of us mere mortals obtain caught up throughout the emotion regarding trading, i. e. fear and hpye plague our decision making. We might be able to stay away from the consequences of these largely unmanageable emotions for many time nonetheless they sooner or later they meet up with us and destroy our own capital and our resolve. During my early on trading days I actually distinctly remember enduring a string of losses. Seeing my funds erode I foolishly and fearfully decided that I might significantly increase the position size on the next trade in order to try to make my money-back in a single hit... I'm certain a person can guess the way the story ends. The advantage of a mechanical/automated stock trading system is that will it eliminates the subjective portions of buying and selling, which are without a doubt the ones of which will likely allow you to get into the just about all trouble when in the heat associated with battle. Mechanical stock trading systems can array from basic chart patterns or basic indicator triggers used to enter and even exit trades, almost all the way upward to advanced math algorithms which manage all facets of typically the trade and which often are executed quickly through an investing platform. What contact form an automated method takes isn't really all that important. What is important, nevertheless , is that it will be, in fact , a 'system'; a predefined collection of rules and even conditions which govern trading behaviour. By having a well defined system that will will inform you exactly how to behave in just about any given condition, and applying that system consistently in addition to constantly, it will ensure that not any decision needs in order to be agonised over. Indeed a lot more and more automated you may make your trading, typically the less and much less you will at any time have to worry or fret over the decision. This all appears rosey but how does one go about developing, testing, in addition to applying a buying and selling system? In ok bye to the growth, this needs to be done former to trading starting out. That sounds really obvious but an individual will be surprised exactly how many novice plus even some encountered traders try in order to produce a system in the fly (i. e. whilst they can be already trading). The particular thinking about in addition to development of the system needs to end up being done beforehand in addition to you should be quite specific as to what the conditions/rules will be, specifically in relation in order to your entry, business management, exit, and capital management/position dimensions. Having laid outside your rules and even conditions, the machine next needs to be backtested. Provided typically the results are appear, it is next ready to end up being traded. Once typically the system is made is ready in order to be traded, it then needs in order to be strictly utilized, i. e. there can be simply no deviation from typically the plan/rules. This really is one particular area that numerous traders struggle with for a range of reasons. Firstly, they may make an attempt to cherry pick deals in order in order to increase their overall performance. Cherry picking requires trying to decide on the 'best' deals and avoiding typically the 'bad' trades. Since you may well appreciate, this totally defeats the aim of having an automatic system by applying your personal opinion into the procedure. This is, of course , the very factor you will be trying remove by automating your own trading. Trutrade Usually, cherry wood picking ends inside disaster with traders picking the 'wrong' trades (ones that lose them money) and missing the particular 'right' ones (those that make these people money). As Murphy's Law states... exactly what do go wrong, will certainly go wrong. Second, the system might be beyond the logistical capabilities of the person trying to implement it. With regard to example, there is usually no justification in somebody who works 9-5 and who cannot always access a computer trying to carry out an intraday FOREIGN EXCHANGE system which demands trades to end up being taken at any hour of the particular day. It is definitely not practical and even it will not work. A system needs to be made with the finish user at heart, we. e. the one who is truly going to end up being placing the trades, and so that they are in fact capable of sticking to the guidelines (unless, of course, it really is all done by simply computer, but this specific is only applicable to experienced traders). Most people will certainly be looking at an end-of-day files driven system which often can see orders placed outside market hours, after somebody comes home coming from work for example of this. Once a system is implemented and trading is under approach, the next section of the process involves managing the system. Unavoidably any system, zero matter how robust it is, will have negative or 'drawdown' periods found in which the method may suffer a string of losses. These types of periods not only reduce a trader's account but actually will likewise challenge the investor emotionally. I believe, typically the best way to be able to handle a drawdown period is usually to continue to be confident, trust typically the system and, most of all, don't deviate from the process or adjust your money managing rules. You have not spent weeks or perhaps months developing a new system just to put it out following your first string associated with losing trades. For those who have tested your technique correctly, you is going to know what is likely and not likely and may become both mentally and emotionally prepared regarding this scenario. Really the only time you may possibly worry is in the event that the results start off falling outside regarding your system's expectations; for instance , your technique test may have displayed that more than a 10-year period the greatest number of consecutive losing trades was four in the row. If, instantly, the body loses ten trades in a new row, you should consider reviewing the body. This should be observed that systems will and do suffer system death occasionally. Good traders will be in tune along with both their method and the tempo of the marketplace to know when changes/refinements towards the system will be necessary. Without planning into more certain detail about how to build a system and programming dialect, that's about most I can find out you about automated trading via this article. Mechanical, automated systems that are nicely researched, developed and tested over varying markets conditions can more often than not lead to be able to better, more lucrative results than discretionary trading. Over the longer-term, there is no doubt that a mechanical system will make sure that you engage with the market in a consistent plus disciplined manner.

[mimiplaysgames]

Beloved Memories, in Notes (Vol. IX)

Pairing: Terra/Aqua Rating: T (for sexual references) Word Count: 5,377

Summary: Aqua was drunk when she kissed him and doesn’t remember. Terra is too much of a disaster to talk to her about it. Terra is 20, Aqua is 18.

Read on AO3

A/N: Based off of a prompt @holyteapotofrussell​ gave me: “It’s three in the morning,” which they gave me... two years ago. *HIDES* Considering how old this outline is, it’s interesting to see how my writing has changed since the first chapter of this installment, and how much it hasn’t. There was so much that I learned from writing this specific story, and going through so many mistakes. But I have to stick by it anyway. I hope you enjoy it anyway!

~*~*~*~*~

A Tale of Landslides, Pt. 3

The following days had been sunny with the inevitable chance of random storms. A typical summer in the mountains meant for ghost stories by a fire, long hours stargazing, and indulging in lazy naps on hammocks by the creek. 

As if they had time for any of that. The Mark of Mastery was now three days away (as if they spent these final moments as students productively). Inside the castle walls, every hour was tense and thick and weird. 

Talking with Aqua was bust. Their conversations ended with Okay, Sure, and the worst of all: Oh. It was as though Terra had forgotten how to exist around her. Every time he remembered what happened between them, a pit in his stomach filled with acid and sunk, leaving his blood cold. 

He had a semblance of a plan. For now, he was equipped with a stack of three books. Soon, he’d find an answer to one question.

He heard:

“I said, you need to wax your Keyblade with bird grease if you want to improve your air magic. You know, from their beaks.”

Terra snapped his gaze up at Ven, who sat across from him in the library. Ven was supposed to be working on an essay about Keyblade ethics in the context of drawing energy from bonds shared between people - the same one he’d been procrastinating (ignoring, in Ven’s words) for days. As expected, the only book he had open was Terra’s childhood copy of The Adventures of Robin Hood, a fox and a bear gracing the cover.

“Why are you talking about severed beaks?”

Ven scoffed. “I wasn’t. You act like I’m not here, so I made it up.”

Terra pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry.”

“Sure. And I know how to fly.”

“You’re supposed to be working.” Terra marked the last word he read with his finger. “Why don’t you tell me what you need help with?”

“Why don’t you tell me what’s up?” Ven leaned over to read Terra’s book upside down. 

Terra shut it on his finger.

“It’s not like I don’t know what you’re researching.” Ven rolled his eyes and tapped a spine. “Book of Fairies? Spirits and Other Idyllic Superstitions? What do they have to do with your exam?”

“What does Robin Hood have to do with your essay? You have a deadline.”

“I bet I could convince the Master to extend it.”

“I bet you couldn’t.”

“Five munny.”

“Fifteen.”

“Ten munny.” 

“Did you forget who the Master is?”

“All I gotta do is tell him how desperately I want to be there for your Mark of Mastery.” He flapped his eyelashes. “I’ll even cry a little. When I get him to say yes, you’ll be so impressed with me.” Ven shot a dubious smirk, confident and willing to hand over his allowance. 

Terra clicked his tongue. “It’s your investment.”

“Do the butterflies have anything to do with Aqua?” 

“Someone has to mind his own business.”

“Someone needs to stop avoiding her.”

Terra stammered. That was nowhere close to what he wanted. “I’m not avoiding her.”

“I’ll add twenty munny to the bet if you don’t leave.”

“If I don’t leave what?”

“Aqua!” Ven called, his voice a collision onto Terra’s senses, who scrambled to turn the spines of his books away from the entrance so she wouldn’t see.

It took a moment but there she appeared, her breath heavy as though she’d been dancing. “What is it?”

“Terra’s being obnoxious.”

If Terra kicked him under the table, she’d hear it. So, he held onto his pride. 

Aqua glanced over, the quiver on her lips something she tried to hide. “What did he do?”

“He won’t let me read.”

She approached the table, a knowing smirk twisting across her face when she saw Robin Hood. By instinct, she met Terra’s eyes for recognition, only to let that smile fall.

Still, she took a seat beside Terra, who adopted the sudden habit of staring hard into the wood.

“We used to pretend we were the characters,” Aqua said. “Terra never let me be Robin Hood.”

Terra winced, but the memory was warm all the same. You couldn’t pull him off, was the argument he used against her, a red feather in his hair and the same wooden sword used for practice in his hand.

“You would have made a good Robin,” he murmured. 

Aqua, tensing over the fact that he spoke to her, shrugged. “It wouldn’t have made sense. He was your favorite.” 

The conversation choked. 

Ven rolled his lips. “Did you play Maid Marian?”

Aqua tossed him a look as though she swallowed bitter tea, and said, “Of course not. I was Little John.”

“The bear?”

“Little John was the smarter one,” Aqua said, dignified as she crossed her arms. But she lost all composure as she remembered something, her proud expression collapsing into a string of chuckles. “There was this one time-”

“Not that story,” Terra moaned, digging his face into his book. 

“Terra the Hood was fighting tax collectors up by the lake. I sat on a tree branch. My job was to warn him of enemies.” She sniffed. “But he tripped and fell into a goose nest, and...” She giggled. “The mother chased him all the way back to the castle.”

Ven snorted. “Brave Sir Robin.”

“Great job watching my back,” Terra said.

“I yelled out wolf hole before you blundered into it,” Aqua said, biting her grin. “It’s not my fault Robin Hood didn’t listen.”

“You pointed and laughed at me.” 

“It was a good show.” She flicked his bicep.

It almost felt like they never shared a kiss. 

A heaviness dropped as soon as Terra thought of the taste of her lips, sinking his gaze back down to the book cover. Brave Sir Robin, always looking like an idiot in front of her. 

“I’m going to get a snack,” Ven announced too loudly, stealing the same opportunity Terra would have tried for. He didn’t offer to grab anything for anyone, and he eyed Terra ceremoniously. 

“Now it’s a thirty munny deal,” he reminded Terra. As if that's any consolation. 

“Is that for a bet?” Aqua asked when they were alone. 

Terra straightened. “Yeah. It’s dumb.”

Her lips pulled a small, polite smile. A peace deal, pink and supple and pillowy. 

“What are you reading?”

He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat as he stopped an urge to push his books further away. He could have told her something near the truth. That being near her brought a rush of thoughts he couldn’t define. That he wanted to bring her something special, something distracting to make his apology more sincere, less surgical. 

That he was about to burst if he didn’t say something about it. 

He should ask her (he should’ve asked her that same night) to follow him into the wilderness and track an answer to the butterflies together. Instead, he looked stupid at the worst time, with a blank mind and a dry throat.

It was only a kiss. Aqua was the same person. 

“Nothing special. Just killing time,” he said, shrugging.

“Don’t be like that,” she asked softly, crossing her hands. She blinked too much, and her head hung. 

Terra knew he was an idiot.

“Be like what?” He gathered the books into his arms. Denying it wouldn’t discredit it - she’s too smart for that - but he flashed a smile anyway, hoping it would console her. 

Aqua nodded, not allowing herself to look at him. 

“I have a lot on my mind. The exam’s coming up in a couple of days, you know?” 

This time she did, grimacing. 

Terra cursed himself.

~*~*~*~*~

Stars clustered in the sky that night like galaxies. Meteorites cut across the window. Terra, shirtless, stood in the kitchen, and sipped his tasteless tea.

Aqua was mad now. 

Their spar session had ended with a spat. After hours of failed attempts to break through her ice barriers, she knocked him down to his knees.

Stupid, stupid ice barriers. He proudly performed the dumb mistake of insulting her when it was really his own technique that needed the pounding. 

He’d been failing bad lately, and getting worse. Worse when the Mark of Mastery was unforgiving already. How was he going to pass now?

Aqua entered the kitchen, scoffing when she saw the mug in his hand. She waved her arm in annoyance. “You didn’t leave any for me.”

Terra leaned against the marble island where she’d knead dough, and smirked. 

“Maybe if you tried getting a hit on me,” she said, stepping close enough to kiss, her nose pointed, uptight, high. “Then you wouldn’t have to act like everything is my fault.”

“Everything is your fault.”

“Not your bad cup of tea.”

“You must have cursed it. Where were you during the fifteen seconds I looked away from the kettle?”

“Tell me one thing.”

He waited for her question, but the chill of vapor floated from the floor. Another damn ice barrier erected between the two of them, thick and blurring her image. 

“Tell you what?” He punched the ice with flames in his fists, but it wouldn’t crack.

She didn’t reply. Blue eyes wide. Pink lips puckered to the ice. She melted a layer.

Terra pressed his forehead onto the barrier to make sure he saw correctly.

“Try again,” she scolded. 

He railed the ice, a swirl of flames combusting onto the surface. Nothing. He growled. 

“Do you really want me to be the one to break through?” she asked, her lips blowing smoke on the ice, inching closer. 

No. Yes. He didn’t know what to expect when it happened, but she was coming, her face the only thing he could see and the only thing he wanted.

They finally touched, lips to lips. She said nothing. He only had his hands exploring her bare back, pulling her hips to dig into his. 

The way her body folded into his was an unbearable pressure. Nothing satiated the hunger for more. He grabbed her chest. It wasn’t soft.

In place was something leathery, long, strong, wrapped around his hands. The tip of it suckled his thumb. An elephant trunk.

She gasped at the lewdness.

The trunk lurched from his grip and slapped him so hard he woke up. 

Warmth churned in his chest. Where was he? In his room, not the kitchen. His arms wiggled as he failed to lean on them, his torso the weight of a ton. He felt good, like a relaxed breeze, but exhausted as though he’d taken a punch to the gut. 

Wetness and stickiness pooled in his pants.

“Not again,” he groaned into his pillow. 

His body protested as he stood up. Dragging himself to the bathroom, he threw off his clothes and scrubbed the crotch of his pants, cursing every single stitched fiber. 

He thought of her, and his stomach jumped with the urgency of a child awaiting punishment. This was why they stopped wrestling, why they didn’t share a bed anymore: do the right thing and avoid the possibility that he’d hump her in his sleep. It wasn’t like he didn’t enjoy these dreams - well, with exceptions - but they made it difficult to face her in the morning.

After a cold shower, he slipped into clean, dry pajamas. 

In a couple of hours, the sun would rise. One of the books laid open on his desk. He found them: small, white butterflies that were transparent upon closer inspection, their glow so bright it only gave an impression of a shape. 

Terra should go back to sleep but didn’t know if he was capable now. He shook away every flash of an image of her undressed. He wanted her. But he wanted his best friend back. He wanted lots of conflicting things and right now he had neither.

Damn it, it was getting worse.

If they weren’t on odd terms, he’d march to her room and ask her to sneak into the forest with him, no matter the time. Usually, the worst he’d catch from her was a sour mood, but he found them. Small, white butterflies. No better timing. No better way to face her wrath than suffering it half-asleep.

Aqua’s door silently peeked open, like she made the effort to oil it. Her bedroom was prim as usual. Her comforter tucked tightly around her body, slick and even everywhere else. Through the darkness, Terra noticed shaved shards of colored glass on her workbench, orange, blue and green, and narrowly avoided bumping into them.

He gently rolled her shoulder. “Aqua?” he whispered.

She didn’t respond. He sat at the edge of the mattress, and shook her harder. “Aqua.”

When she woke, she threw him a squint before turning the lamp on her nightstand. She mumbled, “What’s wrong?”

“There’s something I want to show you.”

She blinked slowly. “What?”

“In the forest.” He snorted.

Aqua snatched her clock, a frustrated smile spreading on her face. “It’s three in the morning.” Her voice was hoarse.

“It’s noon somewhere else.”

Blinking a few more times, Aqua had the sudden awareness of who was sitting on her bed. Terra knew what to expect. She scrambled for her pillow and beat him on the head with it. “Now you’re talking to me? After days of acting like I was a plague?”

Terra caught the pillow before it could hit him a sixth time, his heart choking itself.

“Couldn’t afford to get infected,” he said with care, cocking a smirk. “Girl cooties, doctor’s orders. I’m sorry.” He watched her use all the weight in her body to wrestle the pillow out of his hands, her head thrown all the way back. “Cute,” he said of her failed efforts.

Aqua glared at him and twisted the pillow for a better grip. She hated the term when it applied to her, but Terra had always thought of her this way. Seeing how hard she was trying, like a kitten bunny-kicking a tired dog, how could he think otherwise?

A twang of guilt stabbed his heart.

He let go and she toppled backwards. She cursed under her mutters. Too tired for this nonsense. 

She studied him before she scoffed. “What’s in the forest?”

“Magic.”

“Take yourself, then.”

“It’s something you’ve never seen before.”

She paused, stopping herself from throwing him out of her room. 

“If you promise to give my best friend back,” she said softly.

Hearing that stung exactly as he deserved. “Of course. I’m sorry.”

“You said that already.” She smiled anyway, refusing his help in getting out of bed. 

Her hands reached for the ceiling as she stretched. This lifted her shirt and exposed her stomach. Her pants were low enough to show how her pelvis dipped inward near the hip, shaping a subtle pouch just below her belly button amid strong muscle underneath.

Heart now hyper, Terra forced himself to look away. 

“I’ll get Ven,” he said, his voice trembling. He begged the stars that she didn’t notice. 

Ven only agreed to get up if he was carried. He snored on Terra’s shoulder, piggybacked out of the castle through the front entrance, past the waterfalls, and downhill into the furthest clearing where the castle lanterns met the border of dark woods. 

Close to the ground danced what looked like stars, bobbing up and down as they fluttered in mismatched patterns. 

“Are we here?” Aqua asked, hushed as if to avoid disturbing the lights. 

Ven let out a noise of awe, very much awake. Terra straightened to shake him off his shoulders. Not that Ven minded - he was the first to approach the lights, an apprehensive hand reaching out as one zigzagged around his fingers.

“Wish fairies,” Terra said, which encouraged Aqua to step forward. “Some worlds call them prayer sprites, or ghouls.”

Ven laughed, herding a group as he chased them by the creek.  

Terra planned to feel proud of this moment, but Aqua shot him a cynical look. “Is this what you were researching?”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Took me a while to find the right books. They travel in between worlds, appearing once every fifty years for a couple of days before moving on.”

“Does that mean they’re good luck?” Ven asked.

“They’re like shooting stars, they grant your wishes. They have a reputation for being a sign of significant change...” Terra was rambling and he lost sight of why he was there. None of the information moved Aqua, who crossed her arms. “It can’t be a coincidence they appeared just before our exam,” he finished with mediocre finesse. 

She stepped closer to him. “Did you think bringing me out here would make everything between us okay?”

If Ven heard what she said, he did an excellent job not showing it. He flopped onto the ground, his legs spread wide. Some of the wish fairies gathered closely to him, rolling in his palms. 

Terra brushed one hand through the hair on his neck. “I hoped so,” he murmured. 

She sighed, the smallest smile coming up as she watched Ven play. 

“Are you ready to talk?”

It was Terra’s turn to sigh. He was desperate, but now that the moment was here, he found he wasn’t ready to jump this chasm. The kiss seemed like a swamp, set up to drown them both. The feelings he had for her were disorganized at best, one voice begging to touch her and the other wanting to escape somewhere where she couldn’t find him for a decade. They were mean and juvenile. Hopeful and hopeless. If he was a worthy person, that kiss wouldn’t be destroying him now.

“I don’t compare to you,” he said, his voice low and shaky, regretful of every syllable that passed through his teeth.

“That’s what’s bothering you?” She leaned forward, forcing Terra to look at her. 

She didn’t allow him to reply, her body trembling with earnestness and confusion all the same. “You nearly pulverized me the other day. You… You’re wonderful- A wonderful Keybearer.” She shook her head, suddenly gawking at the horizon. “I’m not above you or better or… How could you think that? We’re equals. We’ll always be,” she said with fragile confidence, as though she was responding to doubt.

When she finished, she deflated. It gave Terra the impression that there was something else on her mind as well. 

Strangely, her words didn’t do much to help him feel better. She was always one to lift him up, and he did the same for her for so many years. Now they just seemed rehearsed, the reality of an exam that would test how far they’ve come looming over their shoulders. 

He wanted to believe they were equals. 

“You’re not afraid of the exam?” he asked.

She inhaled, eyes hard on the grass. Ven stopped playing, idle on his hands as the wish fairies danced on his legs.

“I’m afraid of change,” she said, bracing her fingers on her lips as though the words slipped. 

“What does that mean?”

Aqua hugged herself, her voice distant. “We’ve known nothing except training. I knew this day was coming, but it seemed like a dream. Now it’s here.”

“It is a dream. We’ve shared it.”

“Yeah.” She breathed. “But what about the after? We’ll have different responsibilities. Separate missions. I know that’s the point, but what if we don’t see each other anymore?”

“That won’t happen.” Terra swallowed. The Master did all of his duties alone, no friends to speak of. 

She pursed her lips. Terra wanted to kick himself. She needed her best friend. Now. Tomorrow. Yesterday. What in the world was he doing instead? 

“I’m an idiot,” he said.

“Should I even reply?”

“I shouldn’t have... There was just... One other thing that was on my mind.” She listened. He wished she would prod him. “The night of the feast, you…” He scoffed. “You got drunk.”

Her eyes widened. 

“It’s kind of crazier than that.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “You kissed me.”

Aqua caught her mouth open. 

But the gasp Terra heard wasn’t hers - it was Ven’s, who dropped his jaw and took in air as though he had witnessed his lifetime’s greatest scandal. 

“Do you mind?” Terra spat. 

Ven snapped his mouth shut and turned away.

“I’m so sorry, Terra,” Aqua said, horrified. Her cheeks turned rosy. “I’m sorry. Were you upset with me?”

Terra expected her to be penitent, but this - did she regret it? His heart sunk. “It’s fine,” he said, stopping himself from embracing her. “It wasn’t a big deal. The dumbest thing ever.” 

Aqua held her breath. She looked hurt. Did he say something wrong? Was he supposed to make it out to be important?

“I mean,” he forced a laugh. “It felt nice.”

She brought her hand to her chest and gaped. Oh no.

“But it was nothing. I’m being very stupid.”

She pouted.

What was he supposed to say?

“You didn’t answer my question,” Aqua breathed. “Did it upset you?”

“No.” He didn’t sound convincing. The kiss was awesome. Stop the dreams, I beg you. “I mean it. I didn’t know if it meant anything, or how to act afterward, and I think I made it worse than it was. There’s nothing else.” 

Nothing else. How it hurt to say.

She didn’t nod. “Promise me we’re okay?”

“Better than that. I promised to bring me back.”

Aqua seemed relieved. Much more relaxed in her shoulders. But something was still off. Her eyes went somewhere else, somewhere that made her sad. Terra only saw a flash of it before she picked herself up and smiled. It wasn’t natural. 

Ven was still listening - he didn’t say anything, but he shook his head in disapproval.

Things were supposed to be fixed by now. Wish fairies fluttered near. Terra felt an unfamiliar warmth radiating from it, a magic he didn’t recognize. Holding out a hand, he let it sit. An outline of wings glowed and dimmed, swirling patterns knitting across.

“What did you wish for?” Aqua asked. One sat in both of her hands.

Her. He let himself take one very selfish moment in the vicinity of a power far greater than him despite that he could crush it with his fingers. He prayed it knew that he didn’t have bad intentions. He wished for her. 

“That I pass the Mark of Mastery,” he said.

For someone who believed you had to work to make your dreams come true, that was the one time he actually sounded believable.

“What about you?”

She passed him a glance before shifting her gaze back to her visitor. “Oh. The same.”

He lobbed his hand and the wish fairy panicked, hovering close to his face. It was like it wanted him to take a message. He nearly leaned forward to hear, as silly as it made him feel, when he felt Aqua’s head on his bicep, testing it for the best spot. 

“You owe me the very least of being my pillow,” she giggled.

He could put his arm around her. He weighed the possibility, but opted to watch the way her eyelids resisted and lost the fight to stay open. 

“Can you guys get a room?” Ven called.

Aqua snapped, a deep crimson staining her cheeks. “Ven!”

It was enough to make Ven nervous, shakily getting on his feet. The wish fairies scattered. “Wh- What are you going to do?”

She summoned Rainfell, a chill building in the air. “I need target practice.”

“You can’t do that to me.”

“I suggest you survive what I plan to do.”

Whatever Ven felt transformed into an impish grin. “Catch me first.”

He ran laps as Aqua swung her Keyblade and made ice chunks implode. She missed. “Stand still.”

“I’ll tell the Master!”

Aqua was slow to respond. 

Ven launched himself up behind her. “Death to taxes!”

He knocked her to the ground, holding a firm grip around her shoulders. She was no Terra, not that much taller than Ven and surely not bigger. She attempted once to stand up, but she collapsed, crushed by his weight on her back. Her laughter lacked strength, a small bird’s song.

The sound of it hit Terra hard. He couldn’t shake off the gnawing fear that he let something precious slip through his fingers. That she was lost forever or that she was never his to begin with.

“Ven, I’m tired,” she begged.

“How about you promise me something?” 

She responded with a slap that landed nowhere, a giggling Ven shuffling away. Aqua nestled in the grass, sighing, as though all she needed were sheets and a pillow.

The least he could do was carry her. Taking her head on one arm and roping her knees with the other, Terra picked her up. She didn’t protest - she had to be dead tired not to - and instead clung onto his shoulders. She nuzzled her face into his neck, hiding her face away from the glare of the lanterns. Terra couldn’t help but notice her smell, a flowery sweat with a dash of perfumed soap. Vanilla? She was soft; his dream didn’t do her justice. He preferred it this way, though, over her being so far away, even at arm’s reach. 

Ven did him the favor of not saying anything stupid as they walked back to the castle. He chatted instead about his wish to see the worlds - something Terra was sure would happen one day, as soon as the Master deemed him old enough to. Aqua may have listened. Her breath slowed but she kept a strong grip on Terra.

“We still share the same dream, right?” she murmured when they got to her room. Ven waited outside - there was an implication there, but Terra chose to ignore it.

“Yeah.” Terra inhaled, her warmth the only thing in his mind. 

Her face left his neck, something he sorely missed. Standing up, Aqua held his elbow, glancing at his lips before looking back up at him. She nervously pushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

“You said it felt nice.”

He froze, his tongue thick. “It- It was,” he stammered. 

Her eyes darted around the room, locking over her colorful glass work in progress. “There’s something we should talk about.”

“Okay. Whatever you want.”

“After the exam, I mean.” She fumbled with her fingers. It was strange to see her so unsure. Unbreakable Aqua. “We have too much going on right now.”

“Of course.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. 

“You okay?” he asked, brushing her hair with his fingers.

“If you are, I am.”

That again. “I told you, I’m fine.”

She squeezed him before letting go. Her hand smoothed the wrinkles of his shirt, splaying on his pecs. Her smile was tense. Brave.  

“Thanks,” she said. “They were lovely.”

Terra gently closed the door behind him as she retired to bed. Ven frowned. Like steam about to wheeze out of metal, he flipped a look at Terra on the verge of sputtering a lecture.

“You guys are ridic-”

Terra clamped a sharp hand on Ven’s mouth, picking his body up at his hip like carrying a log. Protests, insults, and sneers were muffled. Flailing kicks bumped the backs of Terra’s knees.  They didn’t have much of a punch, though.

When Terra entered Ven’s room, he had to stop. A warm, slimy brush grazed his palm.

“Ven! Gross.”

“You deserve it.”

Terra wiped his palm on his pants - he wasn’t going to let Ven go that easy. 

It wasn’t the same as throwing boulders for exercise, what with Ven being heavier than some and less cooperative, but Terra kept a firm hold on Ven’s thrashing body, lifting him high in the air. Ven still tried to wiggle free. Bless his heart.

Terra threw Ven onto the bed, who bounced before he settled.

“You need to be told a thousand times over: You’re an idiot,” Ven said, fixing his hair. 

“Go to sleep.”

“Did you expect things were going to go differently?”

Terra stopped at the door. “What do you mean?”

Ven grasped his forehead in disbelief. “You didn’t notice? You rejected her.”

“I did not.” Hope tasted sour in his mouth. 

“Seriously, you flat out made her think that nothing was going to happen between the two of you at all.”

“What do you want me to say?” Terra whipped over his shoulder.  

Ven wasn’t offended. If anything, he was amused, pleased with himself that he had Terra’s attention. His bedsheets were messy, and he kicked his legs under. “Anything. Something that sounds like the truth.”

Terra sighed with exasperation. Something like the truth meant the thought of her traveling to other worlds without him pricked the tiniest bit. It was the thought of her meeting new people. The thought of her sleeping in someone else’s bed made him nauseous. And he had to let her just to see her smile.

“We’re both very stressed.” Terra shrugged, pushing statues and books from other worlds off the top of Ven’s dresser, leaning his elbow on the surface. “It’s complicated.”

Ven rolled his eyes. “Come on. Give me something real.”

Something like the truth. Terra smirked. “She’s hot.”

Shock first. Disgust melted Ven’s outgoing expression into the horror of witnessing a scene he didn’t want to see. 

“Ugh, why would you tell me that?” He covered his ears before realizing it was too late already. “I thought you cared about me, man, I’m never gonna heal from this.”

Watching Ven squirm and mutter indecencies was a welcome amusement, but it didn’t last long. Terra took a seat at the foot of the bed, tucking one leg in and crossing his arms. Something like the truth gave him very little about this to find funny. 

For years he kept it to himself, and he was plenty fine with that. Never did he expect a day would come where he would hate that fact.

“I love her.”

The agony washed away from Ven’s face in a blur, his head raising from his hands. He nodded. Terra let himself wallow, appreciative that Ven understood how serious he meant it. That he did not have to explain himself. That there was some quiet.

“Thanks for not treating me like a little kid,” Ven said softly.

Tears tickled the back of Terra’s eyes and he quickly braced them with his arm before they fell. “No problem.”

“Will you tell her?”

Silence. “I don’t know.”

“You have to.”

“It’s the worst timing.” He couldn’t take her best friend away from her. “The Mark of Mastery is so close. We should be studying.”

“Then tell her after. At least it’d be off your chest.” That same, twisted grin that made Ven look like a sock puppet crept back up. “I think you’d like the answer she’d give you.”

Blush cooked under Terra’s cheeks. He jabbed a finger at Ven’s face. “You’re not going to say a thing.”

“I won’t… if you promise you will.”

He didn’t want to take the bait. But it was tempting. A surge of foolish bravery birthed from nowhere heated his body. “Okay,” he whispered.

Ven was pleased with himself. That happened too much. “You owe me thirty munny, by the way.”

“Shut up and sleep.” Terra stood up. 

“You’re still paying me tomorrow.”

“Make me.”

“Where’s your honor?”

“Up my ass.”

Ven waved his hand, as though he was commemorating art. “The tragic life of a best friend gone bad. Starring Terra Butt-Picker.”

“And Ven, the Destitute Boob.”

The hallway outside was still, but alight from the moon that glowed through Terra’s bedroom door. Telling Ven released a pressure akin to a valve loosening. At least someone validated Terra. At least he wasn’t crazy. Half of him considered knocking on Aqua’s door one more time. Get it out of the way. See if what Ven said was true. The other half knew better.

The clock was ticking and he had already wasted a day. Aqua’s door would still be there after the exam. 

Terra planned to pay most of the munny. Terra planned to take her to a world with lots of fireworks, where the colors could make her smile and he could finally say it. It’d be perfect. 

It was a comforting thought.

A/N: This chapter makes references to Disney’s Robin Hood (1973).

[kiefbowl]

Since I want to talk about this anyway, and the last chapter I listened to was Aragog last night, and my boss bounced for the day so it’s time to goof off, I’ll take this as an opportunity to collect some thoughts on this :)

It’s not particularly noteworthy to say one of the themes of HP is whether Harry needs to work alone or together. Very Buffy Summers. Not surprising, the “hero’s path is a lonely one” is a popular theme in fantasy and sci-fi. Ultimately, Harry defeats evil with love, friendship, and the community, so let’s say one of JKR’s ultimate themes is “evil is defeated together.” Let’s put a little pin in that for later.

JKR’s main source of exploring her macro story is using the micro story of the golden trio (aka Harry, Hermione, and Ron). Again, I don’t think this should be too surprising. The bulk of the story are what this 3-person best friend gang are getting up to. The plot is driven by choices of these 3 characters. They are the main characters. They are the heroes.

By macro story, I mean both the full scope of each book and the story of the entire series as well. As each book stands alone and with each other, we keep seeing cycles of resolutions within the books but there is an ultimate arc of the entire story, which is of course to defeat Voldemort. What Harry, Ron, and Hermione are bopping around doing is the micro story that plays out the themes of the ultimate macro story.

This morning I said I had a hypothesis forming that Ron and Hermione are used by JKR to parallel the macro story, specifically I said that she uses “Ron’s story arcs to parallel the macro story’s conflict beats, and Hermione’s story arcs to parallel the macro story’s emotional beats.” If we consider the first (SS) and second (COS) books, here’s how I see JKR’s use of Ron and Hermione to pull in the narrative:

In SS we see a huge arc for these 3 characters, considering that at the beginning of the book they are not friends or in school and by the end of the book they are best friends and established students. It’s important that the primary arc for the 3 of them is to become the best friend gang in the first book because it is the rest of the story: 3 best friends defeat Voldemort.

SS sees this arc played out by having neither Harry or Ron really care for Hermione, she’s bossy and a know-it-all and she can’t mind her business. Her primary character flaw is she follows rules to a fault (her ultimate arc is to learn to bend, to question authority – Harry and Ron don’t have a problem with this. This will play out with Gilderoy Lockhart in COS as Harry and Ron see through his phoniness immediately, but Hermione defends him). However, the conflict that kicks off what will resolve in the best friend gang (necessary for the story, plot, and theme) is motivated by Ron and Hermione’s actions, and not Harry’s. Hermione overhears Ron’s comment of “She’s a nightmare, no wonder she doesn’t have any friends” which was predicated by Hermione publicly and snobbishly outshining Ron, which aggravates him (his ultimate arc is to accept his role, to find his worth, as well as represent the failings and ultimate triumph of the wizarding world – I have much more to say about this so put another pin in it). Hermione runs off to cry (and skips class!) which makes the boys uncomfortable with their actions. We see Hermione pushes the emotional beat forward, and Ron pushes the conflict beat forward.

This story conflict ends with Harry and Ron saving Hermione by defeating a troll, and thus become friends. They must go save Hermione to resolve their emotional beats, they must right their wrong and take responsibility. The actual defeat ultimately goes to Ron though. Harry jumps on the troll and gets his wand stuck in its nose (I thought this weird because she describes the troll as like 10 or 11 feet but w/e I guess he jumped real high bc he’s magic) which distracts him. Ron uses the spell Hermione corrected him on early to knock out the troll, ending the conflict. Hermione then lies to the teachers to save Ron and Harry. Again, we see the emotional beats and conflicts resolved by Hermione and Ron respectively, and overlap with the wingardium leviosa spell, which had nothing to do with Harry.

This troll is also revealed later to be Quirrell’s first attempt to get at the stone, but it failed because of the power of friendship. We see the golden trio’s micro story affect the macro story and set forward the ultimate theme of love, friendship, and community defeating the plot’s evil (albeit they were unaware of it. Neither is the reader). Later, when the three of them go to confront Quirrell at the end of the book, Harry must go forward alone without them. Let’s unstick that first pin and say this is when the books first introduce Harry’s ultimate arc (do I defeat evil alone or with my best friend gang?). Ron is taken out of the fight by literal physical conflict via being knocked the fuck out by a huge stone chess piece, and Hermione is taken out of the fight by solving a logic problem and giving Harry a sweet pep talk. JKR is drawing attention to the fact in the least subtle way possible that she’s going to keep using these two characters like this. She’s saying “duh” here.

Moving on to COS, which has been great fun for me because it was always my least favorite and so least read, and there was so much stuff I did not remember happening in this book.

In COS, the golden trio doesn’t really have that great of an arc. They pretty much start and finish the book in the same place. They’re still friends, and they don’t have any conflict with each other from start to finish. (Granted I haven’t finished, but Hermione’s knocked out by now and I’m kicking off the 3rd act). However, it’s Hermione’s petrification that ramps the story into the 3rd act by creating a complete lockdown at school and motivating Harry and Ron to solve the problem, not only because it’s Hermione but because Albus is voted by the school governs to be suspended removing him from campus and Hagrid is taken to Azkaban. What’s more Harry is terrified Hogwarts will be closed forever (which parallels with Riddle’s fear which is directly indicated by JKR it’s not subtle).

[Hermione isn’t the only one petrified in this attack, so is a character named Penelope Clearwater which is revealed later to be Percy Weasley’s girlfriend, but this isn’t known by the reader yet. I don’t know why this character is included in this book, maybe just set dressing? idk]

The boys must now go into the forest to learn information from Big Ass Spiders, and eventually the Big Ass Spiders want to eat them, then they’re saved by Ron’s Weird Ass Car. The next chapter they go into the Chamber of Secrets, or at least that’s what the chapter is called. Let’s jump into this.

Ron is set up to be terrified of spiders in this book. But let’s go back way before that, in chapter 2 of SS. Harry is introduced as a kid who lives in a cupboard under the stairs, and JKR explicitly points out he’s got lots of spiders in there and he isn’t afraid of them (he pulls one of a sock and it’s narrated he’s used to it). To me this indicates JKR is well aware she’s going to write the Aragog scene in the next book. But what strikes me in the second book is that Harry’s lack of fear is not really brought up or explored. The two boys aren’t foiling each other in the scene, Ron is simply written as overcoming his fear by sheer will and hating every moment of it, and Harry’s feelings aren’t commented on much.

So why is Harry set up to be unafraid of spiders? I think JKR wants this scene’s conflict and emotional state to be played out through Ron’s fears and have Harry’s opinions on spiders be irrelevant. She is once again calling the reader’s attention to the fact that Ron’s story arc is going to parallel with the macro’s story’s conflict beats, and what’s more we are seeing the consequences of a failure of the wizarding world (Hagrid was wrongfully expelled, Hagrid’s Big Ass Spider was ignored, and Riddle was not stopped from becoming Voldemort) personally affect Ron’s state and actions. And then Ron’s car ends up saving them, another magical item tied to Ron.

This is all set up for what will be the last and most important conflict the trio faces together within their micro story, which is Ron abandoning them in the forest in the 7th book. The more I listen and think about these books, the more I am realizing this moment in the 7th book is probably one of the most important things to happen in JKR’s story. Harry, Ron, and Hermione have isolated themselves from the wizarding world (does Harry fight alone or with the wizarding world?) and are not succeeding. Then their connection to the wizarding world (Ron) leaves, metaphorically isolating them more from their community and further fail at their goal by doing very little but starve in the forest. Ron also represents the failure of the wizarding world here, representing everything that was done wrong since the fall of Voldemort, and also comes back, bringing the wizarding world back to Harry and Hermione which kicks off the 3rd act of the book and gets the action going again by getting them out into the fold. Harry can not work alone to defeat Voldemort, he needs his best friend gang. The best friend gang can’t defeat Voldemort alone, the Wizarding World has to rise up and band together. We have to see the trio fail, and it has to be Ron. Then the trio has to reunite, and it has to be Ron. JKR new this from book one, she’s setting it up. She says Ron is the wizarding world in conflict with itself, and I’m going to hammer this metaphor in each and every book.

[itsdanii]

i loved the rejecting and regretting series!! could you do one with akaashi and osamu? thanks again!!

Hey, bub. Thank you so much for requesting. I'm happy that you're loving my works, it makes my heart soft 😭♥️ Here's your request! I hope you have a good day and stay hydrated. Mwah!

Rejecting you and regretting it pt. 5

genre: angst to fluff

warnings: rude behavior (resolved), cursing

a/n: Do read the warnings before you proceed. Warnings have been put there for a reason.

ft. akaashi keiji, osamu miya

Title says it all

Akaashi Keiji

With your grades in literature almost at the brink of destruction, you had to swallow your pride and ask one of your classmates to tutor you

While you're the best in most subject areas, you sucked when it comes to literature

You didn't see the point of studying articles, analyzing literary pieces and using poetic words

But for the sake of graduating, you had to take the subject

But it seemed like the subject hated you just as much as you hated it

And so, one afternoon, you slammed a limited edition book you knew Akaashi, your classmate and your crush, liked on his desk and stared at him with pleading eyes as you begged him to tutor you

At first, he rejected the offer, opting to pat your head before leaving the classroom

But you were persistent

It wasn't long then when he started taking pity on you

All your papers had red marks in them and everytime there was a test, you would stare blankly at your paper and jot down nonsense ideas

At the sight of you in the  brink of tears, Akaashi sighed and decided to help, given that you have to focus and not do random stuff during your sessions

And that's how you found yourself in this current situation - hand holding the pen tightly, your eyes focused on the man in front of you instead of the story analysis he's explaining, and your heart beating as if you just finished a 5km run

"Are you even listening?"

You blinked your eyes at him and smiled sheepishly before scratching the back of your head. You knew that a small blush was probably visible on your cheeks now but of course, you had to play it cool.

"Of course," you said with a confident nod. "You were uh, talking about young love."

Akaashi rose an eyebrow at your answer as if challenging you to elaborate.

"The main character was in love with the guy... and the guy doesn't like her? And she-" you paused for a moment and grabbed the book you were reading, eyes scanning between the lines before continuing your probably wrong answer. "She died?"

With a sigh, Akaashi stood up and sat beside you, your elbows pressing against each other as he leaned down to write something on your book.

"Okay, first and foremost, she didn't die. She left. This part here-"

As he continued explaining, you felt yourself getting lost once again. Your eyes scanned over his features, taking notice of how long his lashes were and how flawless his skin was that you were almost tempted to caress it. His scent surrounded you for being too close which tempted you to shut your eyes.

"I like you," you blurted out unconsciously.

The both of you froze as soon as the words escaped your lips, eyes widening and lips parting as you stared at each other with shocked expressions.

Fuck.

Aaashi, who was the first to compose himself, cleared his throat before sitting upright. "Y/n-san, I'm really flattered by your infatuation but you do know that I'm only here to tutor you, right? We agreed to focus. We're supposed to be studying, not flirting with each other."

"I know but..."

"I can't accept your confession, I'm sorry," Akaashi said before sighing. "How about we end this session already? I don't want your mind wandering while I talk here knowing that you're out of focus."

You immediately shook your head no. "It's okay, Keiji. You don't have to like me back, you know? Just let me like you. You can just pretend that nothing happened. I promise I won't do anything that'll make you feel uncomfortable."

Despite your facade, Akaashi knew that you were forcing yourself to act unbothered. It wasn't really hard to figure you out. Like a book, he could read you within seconds and know exactly what you were thinking and how you were feeling, and at this moment, he knew that you were just pretending.

For the sake of not making you feel uncomfortable and guilty, Akaashi nodded before continuing his explanation regarding the story.

Surprisingly, you stayed true to your words. You didn't say anything out of the line nor forced your confession to him. Akaashi admired you for that since most of the girls whom asked him for help from the past were only after his looks and the sake of getting in his pants.

As your session came to an end, you stretched your arms out. You released a breath of relief before smiling at him. "Thank you so much for teaching me, and I'm sorry for taking so much of your time."

You started keeping your things and piling up the books you're going to borrow from the library. Standing up, you gave him a small bow before grabbing your bag. "I'll see you around then?"

Akaashi just nodded and watched as you made your way out of the library, not knowing how hard you were gripping the books you had in your hand.

That night, you cried your eyes out. Sure, at your age, it may seem childish to cry over someone, but this was Akaashi we're talking about.

The Akaashi Keiji.

The one whom you've liked ever since your first year in college. The one you've liked the moment you saw him sleeping inside a nearly empty library, several cups of coffee and littered paper surrounding his table as if he had been studying the whole night. The one who never noticed you but you never failed to notice.

Your Akaashi, or at least in your dreams, he was yours.

You stared at the now empty tub of icecream on your lap and sniffled. Grabbing another roll of tissue, you began to wipe your tears and your runny nose before playing another cliche romance movie to soothe your broken heart.

-

Your study sessions with Akaashi continued for a couple more weeks but unlike your previous meetings, you weren't as enthusiastic.

You were focused and attentive, but it just wasn't the same. Akaashi noticed how you would try to put a bit of distance between the two of you, how you would avoid looking at him in the eye, and how you avoided touching him.

But what he noticed the most, were your swollen eyes the day after you confessed to him. He knew that there was only a 50% chance that it was because of how you were rejected by him, and yet he felt an immense feeling of regret. The moment he saw you, he realized that he never wanted to see you like that again.

But he didn't know how to approach you. No, you didn't ignore him like the other girls do. You also didn't say any nasty remarks nor talk shit about him.

What you did was pretend as if everything was okay, as if nothing happened. It felt normal... too normal.

And it terrified him.

One time during your break, you slipped a test paper in front of him, a big A+ written on the sheet of paper making Akaashi lift his eyes from the paper towards you.

"You did good," Akashi said with a proud smile.

"Mhm, I guess I did," you said before taking the paper from him. "I wouldn't have gotten this score if it weren't for you though. Thank you."

He shook his head no before leaning back on his chair. "That was all on you. All I did was guide you."

"This might be our last study session."

"What?" Akaashi said as he stared at you with an expression you can't quite decipher.

"I mean... I don't think I need any more help. I feel like I can manage on my own already and I've no one to thank but you." You looked away from him before continuing, "I think it would benefit the two of us if we stop this already. While I'm grateful for you, I don't think that it's good for me anymore. I thought that if I acted like it didn't matter then it wouldn't, but Keiji..."

"No," Akashi said with a shake of his head.

"What do you.."

"I don't want to stop this." Gripping his hair, Akaashi, took in a deep breath before reaching for your hand.

"Y/n, I don't want to go back to how things were before. I don't want to be just your classmate. I'll miss how you would stare off into space and daydream while I'm explaining to you and I'm going to miss how you would make up answers just to prove that you were listening when in fact you weren't. I'm going to miss you, and I know that if we stop this study sessions... I may never get the opportunity to be this close to you again, and I don't like that."

Akaashi squeezed your hand in his and intertwined your fingers. "I like you. I like you so much that it scares me."

"Keiji.. look at me, please," you said softly as you tried to take your hand back.

Feeling your movements, Akaashi tightened his hold on you and shook his head no. "Y/n..."

"I'm not going to leave," you assured him and smiled when he finally let go of your hand.

Akaashi watched as you stood up from your seat and made your way to his side. He was then surprised when you suddenly sat on his lap and wrapped your arms around him.

"Did you really mean what you said?" you asked which made him immediately nod.

"Of course. I really do like you." Akaashi carefully wrapped his arms around your waist, watching for any negative reaction, and pulling you closer when he didn't receive any. "You're sitting on my lap and basically hugging me. Does this mean that you still like me?"

"Of course, Keiji," you said with a smile.

"Then..." Akaashi collected your hair to one side and gently placed his hand on your nape, his eyes traveling down from your eyes to your lips. "Can I kiss you?"

With a simple nod from you, Akaashi pressed his lips against yours.

a/n: yes, you made out in the library. This is Akaashi were talking about and there's no way I wont take the opportunity to make out with him in the library lmao.

Osamu Miya

You were one of the lucky fans of the Miya twins, specifically Osamu's

Why? Because you're Aran Ojiro's sister and that meant that you can freely see your crush any time of the day

The team basically treats you as their own sister

Although it gives you a lot of perks, it also had its disadvantages

Because no matter how much you try hinting your feelings towards a certain Miya, he just won't acknowledge it

In fact, you didn't get along with him

Unlike the rest of the team, Osamu would always pick on you

You actually didn't expect it to happen because you thought that Atsumu was the playful one among them

But boy did Osamu prove you wrong

There weren't any time of the day that you won't pick at each other, spouting remarks here and there until the other gives up

It never went overboard though. You both knew your limits and when to stop

Or at least that's what you thought

Because today, he chose to target the wrong topic

You were currently seated in the middle of the court with the rest of the team. All of you were in the form of a circle with an empty bottle in the middle.

It was Atsumu's idea to play a game of truth or dare before you all go home. According to him, it would be effective on "cooling" off their bodies from the intense practice. Even Kita was forced to participate, thanks to Atsumu's constant whining.

With a wide grin, Atsumu spun the bottle which made most of you take in a deep breath due to the anticipation.

Finally, the bottle stopped. The tip was pointed at you while the other side was pointed towards Atsumu.

"Y/n! How lucky of ya! Truth or dare?" he asked with a wiggle of his brows.

"Truth." You couldn't help but roll your eyes after that, knowing that what's to come will probably be something silly.

Except it wasn't.

"Then... If yer given the chance to date someone from the team, who would it be?" Atsumu asked proudly, giving Osamu a side glance before focusing on you again.

You heard your brother groaning from beside you making you giggle. Placing his arm on top of your head, Aran gave each of the members a glare.

"Hm... I'd probably date 'S-"

Before you could even finish your sentence, Osamu let out a loud chuckle. All eyes snapped to his direction, watching him in confusion.

"Sorry, sorry," Osamu said after composing himself. "Did ya really have to ask that? Of course she'd pick Suna. Haven't ya notice the way she looks at him every practice?"

"Huh?" Suna muttered absentmindedly, his eyes lifting up from his phone towards Osamu.

"Don't even try denying it, y/n. Plus, even if ya try, I know Suna will basically reject ya. I mean, I can't even stand ya. If it were me, I'd reject ya on the spot. Yer annoying and too loud and that thing ya do with yer hand when yer explaining? Super annoying. Ah! And don't ferget the way yer nose scrunches when yer deep in thought," Osamu said without any pause.

Once he was done, he titled his head a bit to the side, trying to peek at your face that was now casted downwards, your hair covering most of your face. "Oh, are ya crying? Did I ruin yer confession?"

To his surprise, there were indeed tears streaming down your cheeks when you lifted your head up. Everyone grew silent, completely shocked at the sight.

"I was going to confess to you, dumbass." With that, you stood up, grabbed your bag and ran out of the gym.

Aran immediately stood up to follow you, but not before throwing a glare to Osamu.

Atsumu, who was the first to break the silence, turned towards his twin. "Okay, I know that I'm dumber among the two of us but that was a real jerk move right there, 'Samu."

Osamu could only stare at the gym doors with shock and regret written on his face.

"You're on the bench until I'm sure that you and y/n-san made up," Kita simply said before standing up. "Game's over. Let's all go home."

-

The following days, you avoided Osamu like a plague. It even reached the point that you have to eat lunch inside your classroom instead of eating with the team like you usually do.

Even Aran was pissed at Osamu. Aran knew that a playful banter was normal between you and Osamu but never had it ever reached this point.

You were basically crying all night when you arrived home and if not for Aran's patience, you wouldn't have went home in the first place. When you left the gym, your brother found you in a nearby park, your knees up to your chest and your head hidden from view.

He wasn't oblivious about your feelings towards Osamu but he never mentioned about since he wanted you to tell him or any of the members when you're comfortable enough. It was only unfortunate that the moment you felt confident enough to confess, Osamu had to pull that shit on you.

"C'mon, Aran. I need to talk to them," Osamu pleaded as he tried to get pass your brother.

Aran stood firmly infront of your apartment, his arms crossed over his chest and his figure blocking the door. "You really have the audacity to march your way to our apartment after the shit you put my sibling through? What, you got tired of sitting on the bench during matches? Can't impress your fanclub anymore? Go home, Miya."

"I'm sorry, okay? I wanted to apologize to them but they've been avoiding me. This is my last resort." Osamu said and gripped his hair in frustration.

Once he saw a peek of you trying to hide yourself behind a wall, Osamu immediately grabbed the opportunity. "Y/n, I'm sorry! Talk to me, please!  I... I don't know what to do anymore. I'm sorry..."

You soften at the pleading voice of Osamu and revealed yourself from behind the wall. Walking over to the door, you placed a hand on Aran's shoulder. "Give us space to talk, please?"

Your brother threw a glance at Osamu and sighed at the determined look on his face. "Alright," he muttered before turning towards you. "Call me if anything happens, alright?"

Upon hearing you hum in agreement, Aran placed a hand on your head to ruffle your hair, chuckling as he heard you whining before he went out.

You invited Osamu inside your apartment, making sure to close the door before settling yourselves on the living room.

"Water?" you asked out of courtesy but Osamu only shook his head no. "Talk then."

Osamu felt an unsettling feeling inside him at your dismissive tone. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"I was used to havin' banters with ya that I didn't realize that I was already sayin' too much. I didn't mean to hurt yer feelings, y/n. I know that it may sound ridiculous considerin' how harsh I was to ya but I really didn't mean those words."

You listened attentively to him as he continued to apologize, your tears once again flowing down your cheeks as you remembered everything that happened. "I really like you, 'Samu. I don't even know how or why but I just do and I guess I was hurt, not only because you rejected me but also humiliated me. I don't deserve that," you said and brought your knees up to your chest, clutching the throw blanket as you sobbed.

Osamu was beside you in an instant, his arms enclosing you as he pulled you to his lap. "I know...I know. I'm sorry," he whispered as he rubbed your back soothingly. "I guess I got blinded by jealousy. I thought that ya were going to say Suna's name so I assumed that ya like him."

Wiping your nose with the sleeve of the hoodie you're wearing, you looked up at him with a frown. "Jealousy? I thought you hated me. Why would you even feel jealous?"

"Do I really have to spell it out fer ya?" Seeing you nod, Osamu sighed and pressed your face to his chest in order to hide his flustered cheeks. "I like ya, okay? I always pick on ya because I wanted yer attention. I didn't actually expect ya to fight back but ya did. That's why I was intrigued by ya, and if ya still like m-"

"Yes," you answered without even letting him finish. With your face still buried to his chest, you could hear his heartbeat picking up. You pulled away from the hug and looked up at him, you cheeks still slightly damp from crying.

"Yer not kiddin'?" Osamu asked as he stared at you, his hand reaching up to wipe your cheeks with his thumb.

"I'm not. I'm still a little hurt so you have to make it up to me, but my feelings? They're still here," you answered honestly.

A smile made its way to Osamu's lips upon hearing what you said. Pressing his forehead with yours, he tightened his arms around your waist to hold you closer. "Thank ya fer givin' me another chance, angel."

After making up and stealing kisses here and there, you and Osamu decided to cuddle on the couch, your back against his chest and his arm resting against your waist.

It safe to say that when Aran came back, the most sour expression made its way to his face. It hadn't even been two weeks when he witnessed you literally crying your eyes out and now, he comes back to you sleeping on the couch with the man that made you cry.

"Fuck my life," Aran muttered with a groan.

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated ♥️

[robininthelabyrinth]

There was a comment a while back about NMJ having capybara energy. So have a cracky prompt of some strategists in the Sunshot Campaign deciding how this could be weaponized, or used as an interrogation technique. If they give cooperate and give information, they can be in a cuddle pile with NMJ.

ao3

The worst part about war was, unquestionably, the war itself.

The loss of life, the injuries, the stress – the agonizing terror of knowing that each moment might be your last, the painful boredom of waiting for something to happen, the shaking anxiety of never knowing which one the day would bring. Watching your friends and family suffer, watching innocent people suffer…it was grotesquely awful in ways Lan Xichen had never even dreamed of it being.

And yet, as if war wasn’t bad enough by itself, it also had – side effects.

Evil creatures thrived on resentful energy, their own or others’, gathered at sites of death or violence, and there was nothing that they liked better than the wasted spiritual energy that accompanied the untimely death of cultivators. This war, sect against sect, was a breeding ground for all the creatures that they ought to be night-hunting, not encouraging.

Led by Nie Mingjue, who never forgot his obligations, their side – the Four Great Sects, that was – took care of the innocent people who were being harmed by their war, protecting them from the immediate aftereffects, settling them in new places if their homes were damaged, making sure they weren’t caught in the middle of ongoing battle. Sects that skimped on their duties to the common people were mercilessly cut off in turn, where necessary, and Nie Mingjue had even demanded that Lanling Jin personally recompense an entire village that had lost their homes due to their negligence or else face the next Wen attack without his aid – the cost of doing so was negligible for them, but the humiliating loss of face among the rest of the sects that he had even had felt the need to make the threat, coupled with the fact that they really did need his help, served as an extremely potent reminder for everyone else.

When possible, the sects devoted some resources to night-hunting, trying to restrain the effects of their war, but it was like trying to hold back an avalanche that had already started: they could mitigate some of the damage, but until the war was over, it would only get worse and worse.

It didn’t help, naturally, that the Wen sect’s leaders didn’t care one whit about the effects of their actions.

Wen Ruohan loudly blamed the other Great Sects for it, claiming that they were ‘rebelling’ against him – as if they hadn’t all been equal just before – and that the heavens were punishing them for their violation of the natural order; his commanders followed suit, disdaining even the distraction of night-hunting and making dismissive promises that it would all be resolved when the war was won.

Still, however Wen Ruohan felt, however his generals and commanders felt, even they couldn’t ignore all the effects.

Especially not the ones that hit everyone equally.

“More nightmares?” Lan Xichen asked Jiang Cheng as he came into the command tent, rubbing his red eyes and looking awful. They all looked awful, but the recent affliction of dream-eaters that had swept through their camp and the enemy’s was especially vicious - particularly on those like Jiang Cheng, who had already existing trauma and were already burdened by nightmares. They were killing the creatures that generated the nightmares as quickly as possible, but there was only so much they could do with the encampment of the Wen sect not far away, waiting for a display of weakness that would give them the opportunity to attack.

The Wen sect were afflicted by the dream-eaters, too, and under any other circumstances Lan Xichen would propose that they raise the flag of truce long enough to eradicate the menace. Unfortunately, the Wen sect had proved themselves fundamentally untrustworthy – Jiang Cheng’s own family situation told the story quite vividly, even if Lan Xichen didn’t have to only close his eyes to see the burning of the Cloud Recesses – and so they all just suffered, instead.

“Bad ones,” Jiang Cheng said grimly, and nodded at Wei Wuxian, who had followed him into the tent looking, somehow, even worse. Not a great surprise, given that he’d been trapped in the Burial Mounds and now utilized resentful energy as a weapon – he had to be even more susceptible to the nightmares than the rest of them, but there was nothing to be done about it; his new cultivation style was too valuable for him to stop now. If Lan Xichen had to guess, Wei Wuxian was working himself to the bone and collapsing into nightmares, never getting any rest; his eyes were bloodshot, his face haggard, his waist too thin.

When Lan Wangji entered the tent next and saw Wei Wuxian there, looking half-dead, his face immediately twisted in what Lan Xichen recognized as clear concern. Poor Lan Wangji was suffering, too, although perhaps Lan Xichen was the only one who could tell.

Lan Xichen felt a stab of pain on all their behalf, all of them, and handed out tea to strengthen their spirits. He’d selected the most energizing blend he could find in preparation for this meeting, their first in several weeks – they were all fighting their own fronts, Lanling Jin in Langya, Qinghe Nie in Hejian, so on and so forth, but they needed to coordinate, and these in-person meetings were the best option for it.

And they really needed to discuss what to do about this new nightmare scourge.

“I think it’s like this for everyone,” Jiang Cheng said, accepting the tea, and Lan Xichen was just in the middle of nodding when he heard a strange sound – laughter, of all things.

They all turned to stare at the door, where Nie Huaisang was walking in, followed by an exhausted-looking Jin Zixuan as his father’s representative. It had been Lan Xichen who had asked for Nie Huaisang to be brought here from his refuge at the Cloud Recesses, thinking that this highly protected meeting was as close to safety on the battlefield as they could get and that it would be good for Nie Mingjue to see his little brother safe and sound.

Of all of them, they needed Nie Mingjue to remain strong. He was the Great Sects’ most effective general, their most terrifying war god; he was as viciously effective a general as he was a frontline fighter, designing many of the strategies they all used and providing many of their sects with critical assistance even though his Nie sect and its affiliated sects were the least numerous of the Great Sects, excluding only the significantly diminished forces of the Jiang sect.

More than his personal contribution, though, he’d become something of a lucky talisman for the rest of them. Lan Xichen had heard all sorts of stories about each and every one of them - Jiang Cheng as the resurrected phoenix, unkillable; Wei Wuxian as a demon barely leashed and used for their own purposes; Lan Xichen himself as a beacon of light bringing hope to those who needed it most - but that was nothing compared to what was said and believed about Nie Mingjue: that as long as Chifeng-zun was there, inexorable and inviolable, the unquestioned king of Hejian, the Wen sect’s eventual defeat was inevitable.

Even Lan Xichen found himself thinking it, reassuring himself late at night that all their efforts were not for nothing, that it would all end well in the end.

It wasn’t a healthy way of thinking, not for them and least of all for Nie Mingjue himself, who had to live up to that terrible reputation, but it was what was getting them through each day of this terrible war. So if there was something within Lan Xichen’s power to help Nie Mingjue keep himself together, he would do it, no matter the risk.

Nie Huaisang had arrived at their encampment the day before, with Nie Mingjue himself arriving even later, coming very late at night, and now it was morning and Nie Huaisang was laughing.

Laughing free and easy as if he didn’t have a care in the world, no less, and probably at one of his own jokes; Jin Zixuan was looking at him as if he’d never seen such a strange and wonderous thing in his life, and Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian and…well, everyone, really, were all following suit. They’d all laughed in recent days, of course, war lending itself to black humor, but Nie Huaisang looked so light-hearted.

So…well-rested.

“Huaisang,” Lan Xichen said, blinking owlishly at him. “You look…good.” No, that wasn’t the word he was looking for. “Healthy.”

Not in need of sleep, he meant.

“Oh, well, you know,” Nie Huaisang demurred, hiding his face behind his fan. “I’m happy to see da-ge, that’s all. I get to comfort myself that he’s well and get a good night’s sleep for once; why wouldn’t I be well? Nothing much to it.”

“Good night’s sleep?” Jiang Cheng echoed, looking disbelieving – as well he should, too. Their current encampent was right next to one of the worst collections of nightmare afflicting creatures, the vicious dream-eaters that confused the mind and injured the spirit. “You got a good night’s sleep?”

“Better here than in the Cloud Recesses?” Wei Wuxian asked, rubbing his eyes. “Really?”

“Uh, yes?” Nie Huaisang said, and now it was his turn to blink at them. “My da-ge is here. I slept well and untroubled for the first time in ages.”

“That sounds...nice,” Jin Zixuan said, rubbing his eyes as well – probably inspired by Wei Wuxian. Such things were communicative. “You must have been worried about him.”

“Oh, da-ge will be fine, I’m sure,” Nie Huaisang said blithely, and Lan Xichen suppressed the abrupt and overwhelming desire to punch him. “But I have nightmares sometimes, you know, and there’s no reason not to use medicine if it’s available, right?”

“Medicine?” Lan Wangji asked, voice intent, and Lan Xichen went from mild irritation to sadness at once: for Lan Wangji to ask such a thing, to show such weakness, the nightmares must be very bad indeed.

“Yes, my da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said. “He’s nightmare-proof.”

“I’m glad that that works for you,” Jiang Cheng said snippily. “Pity about the rest of us.”

Nie Huaisang frowned at him. “It’s not just me,” he said. “It’s just how he is. Don’t you know?”

Lan Xichen was going to intervene and settle them down – their tempers were all unduly short, given the nightmare situation, and he really didn’t want to have to deal with that before having to cope with the same from Nie Mingjue, whose temper was extremely short at the best of times – but then just as he was opening his mouth to say something he was suddenly hit by an overwhelming feeling of sudden calm, the same sort of pleasant languor that came in the early morning of a calm rest day where you didn’t need to get out of bed, or perhaps in a warm and lazy afternoon when you had nothing to do and were considering a nap.  

It was amazing.

Lan Xichen could see the same effect taking hold of the others, too: Jin Zixuan let out a little sigh, Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji both rocked back a little on their heels, eyes sliding closed in pleasure, Wei Wuxian actually let out a near-audible whimper of relief –

And then Nie Mingjue walked into the command tent.

“Good morning,” he said. He looked as steady as always, a tall and unshakable mountain; his brow was creased in his usual expression of neutral ill-humor and one could arguably feel the heat of his always simmering temper, but at the moment it just felt like warmth. “It’s good to see you all.”

They all murmured greetings in return, watching as Nie Mingjue – and the aura of calm relaxation that, apparently, accompanied him – passed them by and went towards the table where they had laid out all their plans. Unconsciously, they followed after him, drifting in his wake, each of them edging closer to him without ever having made a decision on it; as the other sect leaders who were leading the war showed up, they did the same, and by the time the usual pleasantries had concluded and the meeting was about to start, Nie Mingjue could barely turn around without nearly bumping into someone who had drifted too close.

Lan Xichen really ought to tell them to stop – he was the courier, the connection between the sects, familiar with each and every one of them – but he found himself instead abusing his position and his history as Nie Mingjue’s old friend to finagle a place at his right side, just behind his shoulder, and just stood there, his eyes half-lidded as he basked in the feeling. It was a little like really good meditation, he thought, the type that centered you and grounded you, let you be steady and hold your ground, come what may.

As the general, Nie Mingjue opened the meeting, running through the usual updates – he was short and to the point as always, which invariably made these meetings run significantly better because after a start like that even the most long-winded and shameless of old men felt a bit constrained to keep their words within the realm of the reasonable. After he finished detailing their current positions, the Wen sect’s latest moves and his predictions on their next, certain counters he planned to use – all at a very high level of generality, of course, in the event of spies – Nie Mingjue looked around, frowning a little: they had been all listening with surprising quietude, not a single objection or comment among them the way there usually was.

“Is there any other business?” he asked.

One of the leaders of a smaller sect – Sect Leader Ouyang – visibly shook himself and coughed. “The…scourge?”

“Scourge?” Nie Mingjue scowled. “What scourge? Has there been a greater than usual resurgence of evil creatures? What type? Why was I not informed?”

Lan Xichen looked at his old friend as though seeing him for the first time, as though abruptly realizing that your old familiar pillow was in fact a wonderous treasured pearl to be held carefully in one’s hand.

“It’s dream-eaters,” Jiang Cheng said, sounding blank and surprised. “The sort that cause nightmares...you know the type, surely? Common enough and usually fairly harmless, but there’s a whole lot of them and they’re breeding faster than we can kill them – not unless we devote ourselves just to the task, which we can’t do. Has - has the Nie sect not suffered from this affliction?”

“No,” Nie Mingjue said, frowning, and he seemed oddly discomforted, the reason for which he immediately revealed: “In fact, I’ve never seen a dream-eater. They’re not common in Qinghe, I think.”

That was impossible, of course – dream-eaters were notorious for being a pest that could be found anywhere, no matter what the climate or terrain; it was a little like saying that your household had never known a rat.

Although, Lan Xichen supposed, one could see such a statement being made by the single household in the village possessed of a cat…

“That was one of the main reasons I wanted to have this meeting,” he said, clearing his throat. He had told most of the sect leaders that it would be on the agenda, but he hadn’t had time to meet with Nie Mingjue, nor had he needed to – as the general, Nie Mingjue’s presence was a necessity, and so Lan Xichen had known that he would be there and had assumed (incorrectly, it seemed) that he would obviously want to devote some time to the issue. “It has been a rise in the number of such creatures, and yet we cannot divert attention from our frontline. Surely there must be some solution?”

“If it’s so severe, then we could strike a balance,” Nie Mingjue said, looking relieved at the possibility of turning the discussion onto the practical. “Those sects in regions with less ongoing strife could send teams to other fronts specifically to aid in eliminating the dream-eaters –”

“How has Qinghe Nie not suffered from the affliction?” The person interrupting was one of the sect leaders affiliated with Lanling Jin, even though Jin Zixuan turned and glared death at him. “Whatever can be said about dream-eaters in Qinghe, Hejian certainly doesn’t lack them, or at least it never has before. If there is some means of resisting them, it ought to be shared.”

That particular sect leader had arrived late and was seated relatively far back; perhaps he was out of range of Nie Mingjue, and hadn’t noticed – or perhaps, and more likely, he was simply being obnoxious and looking for an opportunity to snatch up whatever talisman Nie Mingjue was using to relieve the effects of the dream-eaters for Lanling Jin’s benefit. As if they had some greater claim to it, when they were doing the least of the fighting..!

“I haven’t seen them,” Nie Mingjue said, his face black with annoyance that Lan Xichen knew was merely a cover for embarrassment. “Not even in Hejian.”

Nie Huaisang giggled behind his fan. “That’s not your fault, da-ge,” he said. “They run away when they see you coming. Isn’t that right, Xiaochun-shushu?”

Eyes turned to the man standing by Nie Mingjue’s side – one of the Nie sect commanders – who looked a little awkward to be put on the spot, shifting his weight and clearing his throat. “To the extent it has been an issue at any of our outposts, we usually ask the Sect Leader to check in on morale, which generally resolves the issue,” he said circumspectly, and Nie Mingjue looked minorly outraged at the suggestion that his entire sect apparently used him as a way to ward off a creature usually classified as a minor pest. Without telling him, no less.

“So the effect is not caused by a talisman or spiritual instrument?” Sect Leader Yao asked, looking disappointed. “Nothing that can be duplicated?”

“What effect?” Nie Mingjue asked.

“Perhaps we could ask Sect Leader Nie to visit some of the other territories?” another sect leader suggested.

“And risk Hejian? Don’t be ridiculous,” Jiang Cheng said, though he looked sorely tempted.

“What effect?” Nie Mingjue asked again.

“I wonder if the Wen sect is suffering to the extent we are,” Wei Wuxian said thoughtfully, spinning his flute in his hand. “We have some prisoners of war, don’t we? They might be inclined to share more information if they were a little more relaxed. Don’t you think?”

“Especially following a state of heightened distress,” Jin Zixuan said, nodding. “The relief will be much more pronounced, which could lower their defenses –”

“Maybe we could even get –”

“Xichen,” Nie Mingjue hissed in his ear as the debate began in earnest, each sect leader rushing forward to add in their views. “What are they talking about?”

Lan Xichen looked helplessly at Nie Huaisang who scuttled over. “It’s the dream-eaters, da-ge,” he said in an undertone. “Sustained exposure. People get tired, cranky, irritable; their cultivation is weakened, their focus impaired…they become simultaneously less sensitive to certain things, like social niceties, and more sensitive to other things. Like a feeling of steadiness and reliability.”

“…so?” Nie Mingjue said.

“So a lot of people are noticing for the first time that you’re very – uh – grounding.”

“Grounding,” Nie Mingjue said skeptically. “Like…a lightning rod?”

It wasn’t quite the metaphor Lan Xichen would have gone with.

“It’s always like this?” he asked Nie Huaisang, fascinated, and Nie Huaisang nodded. “Why didn’t I notice?”

“You probably noticed subconsciously?” Nie Huaisang guessed. “People like being around da-ge, even when they don’t like him. Anyway, you’re usually very steady yourself, Xichen-gege –” Nie Mingjue sighed at his brother’s rudeness. “– so you probably didn’t notice that you were feeling even more so. In our sect, you’ll find parents coming by to drop off their kids next to da-ge; they follow him like a flock of ducklings, it’s the only thing that keeps them quiet…”

“I thought they just liked watching me train?”

“I mean, they like that, too, da-ge, I’m sure. But mostly people just feel safe when you’re around.”

Safe. Yes, that was what it felt like, calm and safe and secure, like there was a rock-solid foundation to the world that nothing could tear down; like even if Nie Mingjue were at the end of his rope, he would still do everything he could not to let you down.

“It’s very nice,” Lan Xichen said.

Nie Mingjue was pinching the bridge of his nose. “Huaisang,” he said. “If this is such a common phenomenon, why didn’t anyone tell me about it?”

“To be honest, we were a little worried that it’d go away if anyone pointed it out to you,” Nie Huaisang said. “Apparently not. Good!”

“This is ridiculous. I’m a sect leader, a front-line fighter, a general…I can’t go traipsing around fighting dream-eaters. We have a war to fight!”

“People fight better if they can sleep,” Nie Huaisang said wisely, and Lan Xichen nodded in firm support. Lan Wanji had drifted over at some point and looked to now be sleeping standing up, which was practically an endorsement as well. “Anyway, I think the idea of gathering people up to go deal with the problem is a good one, and anyone who’s really desperate for a good night’s rest can trade over to fight in Hejian for a while. That’ll keep your forces fresh, encourage the circulation of people and the development of relationships between the various sects, and you’ll have the chance to get a good look at who’s actually competent or not while they fight directly under you.”

“Hmm, true,” Nie Mingjue said, and Lan Xichen had to agree – it wasn’t a bad idea at all. Maybe it was the fact that Nie Huaisang was the only one of them who’d gotten any sleep that had allowed him to be the one to suggest it.

“And of course, best of all, as long as our side is getting relief and the Wen sect isn’t…”

“Oh, all right,” Nie Mingjue said. “I still think this is ridiculous, and I’m having some difficulty believing that I really give off some sort of – sleep field, or whatever.”

“You do,” Lan Xichen said. “In fact, I may propose that we break up the meeting temporarily to allow everyone to take a brief nap.”

“We are not doing that,” Nie Mingjue said. “We’re not toddlers.”

“We should do that,” Lan Wangji said, opening his eyes.

Wei Wuxian’s head turned at the sound of Lan Wangji’s voice. “Do what?”

“Break up the meeting for everyone to take a nap and return with steadied nerves and calmer minds,” Nie Huaisang said.

“We should definitely do that,” Wei Wuxian said, and nudged Jiang Cheng. “Hey, Jiang Cheng, how do you feel about everyone in the room taking a nap before we continue discussing the war?”

“That is the best idea I’ve ever heard,” Jiang Cheng said.

“You’re not serious,” Nie Mingjue said. “You cannot be serious right now.”

“Oh, we are very serious,” Lan Xichen said, and cleared his throat, waving for people’s attention. “Everyone, in light of the scourge of dream-eaters we’ve all been struggling with over the past few weeks, I have a suggestion…”

[gothbitchjuice]

Sit Still - A Shoto Todoroki One Shot

Warnings: 18+, temperature play, cockwarming, praisek!nk

Words: 542

(a treat for @toesliketowers)

---------------------------------

"Sit still, (Y/N)." Shoto spoke calmly.

"I'm trying, i-it's just-"

"I said sit still."

Every word came from Shoto's mouth as calm and collected as usual, but the tinge of dominance making the sound that much sweeter. You had come to him pleading--begging even--to satisfy you. From the time you woke up this morning, there was a low fire burning sadistic embers in your lower stomach, ebbing and flowing flames making it hard for you to concentrate on anything. Usually in these times(because let's face it, this happens often) the youngest Todoroki has no problems helping...ease...these burning flames inside you.

Today was quite different though. Shoto was busy studying and had told you previously about his need to focus on the material in front of him. You had tried your best to give him space and peace, you really did. These burning embers from within, however, had a mind of their own-- and who are you to deny what your body needs?

You had finally gotten to the position where Shoto had painstakingly agreed to satisfy you; but it was on his terms. There was no way out of this. You were forced to sit still in his lap, your large breasts pressed firmly against his chiseled chest with his arms around you and chin resting on your shoulder as he looked over you to study. It would all be sweet if it weren't for the fact that his erection was buried to the hilt inside of you, and your one command was to stay still. So badly you wanted to be his good girl and to listen to the one rule you were given, but it was so difficult not to adjust yourself to create a smidgen of friction.

You lifted up the slightest bit, and Shoto slammed you right back down. "You need to cool off."

Before you could begin to fight him on it, you felt it: immediate cold chills erupted and goosebumps formed all over your skin, but most of all, your walls clenched around his length. For the half-hot half-cold hero, he really did know how to use his quirk in the middle. A whimper left your mouth, one so sinful it caught Shoto's attention, and his member twitched lightly inside of your warmth. "Hush."

"I-I can't! I'm trying but I...I just need you so badly," You rocked your hips a little more, being disobedient of Shoto's earlier request. "Please, Todoroki."

"I said hush." The once freezing sensation immediately melted away to a scolding hot rush that almost matched your own fire burning in the pit of your stomach. You arched your back in a snap reaction and let out another, more guttural moan.

"Unf!" You cried out, gripping his shirt so hard your nails cut the micro-sized threading. The sound of your voice in Shoto's ear made him twitch again inside you. No matter how high his resolve, you were always his weakness.

"Fine." He muttered in defeat, slamming his textbook closed and sweeping the desk clean of his study materials before gripping your hips and slamming your back to the now empty desk and began to rut into you with no mercy.

"I guess I'll move on to studying a different subject. Your anatomy."

[snlhostharry]

try try again

harry x reader

2.2k words 

summary: harry wants to propose, but life keeps getting in the way 

a/n: first off... I suck at titles... why am I like this.... second off this is my secret santa gift for @jambrosemc ! happy holidays em! hope you like this, you are a super talented writer I just binged all your pieces and I am obsessed. and thank you to @peeterparkr for hosting 

The first time he tries is after the first concert he does for Fine Line. 

Fine Line at the Forum is a success in all the ways that matter, and Harry is so happy coming off the stage that he almost forgets about his plan to propose all together. When you barge into his dressing room after the show is over, smiling and ecstatic for him he suddenly sees the ring box on the counter and rushes to shove it in his pocket before you can see it. 

“That was insane, love,” You say wrapping him into a hug. “I think they really liked it.” 

He gives you a cheeky smile, “You think?” You roll your eyes in response, “What gave it away?” He asks, “The frantic screaming or the bra’s that were thrown onto the stage?” 

“You should’ve kept a couple,” You tease, “They could’ve been my size.” 

He laughs, “If you want one that bad I will buy it for you.” 

“I’m holding you to that,” You say, taking a seat on top of the counter. He runs a hand through his hair, knowing that this would be the perfect moment to just get down on one knee. He can see himself doing it, simply bending down and saying the words he’s wanted to say for what feels like forever. “You okay?” You ask him, seeing the look on his face and supposing that he’s thinking about something that happened during the concert. “You did a great job out there, seriously. Everyone really loved it H, the album is spectacular.” 

He shakes himself back into the moment, “I know, I know.” He says, and it comes off a little sharper than he means it too, he’s just very much in his own head about this whole thing now. What felt like it would be the perfect moment now feels wrong, like doing it now would cheapen the entire thing. He sighs, “Sorry,” He says, planting himself down on the floor dramatically, “Thank you.” 

“We don’t have to go out if you don’t want to,” You tell him, guessing that he’s just tired from a long night. “Let’s get takeout and go home, or go home and get takeout whichever order.” 

He smiles, “You ate before the show.” 

“That was like three hours ago, and it was a snack, I always planned on eating again, and you were too nervous to eat before the show.” 

He hugs his knees to his chest, “Watching you eat an entire kids meal in under five minutes actually helped with the nerves.” 

You shrug, “What can I say? I have my moments.” 

He stands and presses a kiss to your forehead as you swing your legs over the side of the counter. “You have a lot of moments, I love you.” 

“Love you too,” You wait a second before asking, “So home then?” 

He thinks about it for a minute, “Yeah.” 

“When you call in the food order make sure you put it under my name,” You tell him and he collects his things from the room, “People are beginning to get suspicious when I go into the restaurant to pick up an order for Harry.” 

He nods, and gently grabs your hand as the two of you leave. Maybe he’s not going to do it tonight, but he’s more resolved to actually pop the question than ever. He’s just so in love with you that he wants the whole thing to be perfect, and for some reason he has it all in his head that it needs to be a story that the two of you can tell in the future, something meaningful, he just has absolutely no idea what that is. 

The second planned attempt is a lot more off the cuff. 

You insist on throwing him a birthday party at the house, saying something about wanting to one up your sister who threw a very tasteful christmas party that the two of you went to. Not that your sister was invited seeing as the party was in London, but you knew that there would be enough pictures that she would see that you’re just as good as she is. Harry doesn’t understand it at all, but he decides that he doesn't even want to know how a rivalry like that can develop and leaves it alone. 

Objectively, you throw a very nice party. Of course Harry makes it a point to tell you this as often as possible without seeming overly invested in it, because he loves you and he wants you to be proud of your own work just like you want him to be proud of his. It’s hard for him to leave your side at all because he loves to see you talk to his friends and family and seem so happy to do it. You fit right in with everyone and he’s so grateful for that, and it’s as he’s standing there watching you talk to people that it hits him that this could be his moment. 

Not in front of everyone because that would be so much more pressure than he needs, but he thinks that after when everyone has finally left the house that he could catch you in the middle of cleaning or something and gently ask you to marry him. He decides that tonight, that’s the plan and he spends the rest of the night just thinking about that. It really is a great party, full of all his favorite things and people, it’s one of those nights where he feels like he loves you so much that his heart might just burst out of his chest. 

When finally every last guest has left the house, and things are a bit messy, he can’t seem to find you anywhere. He locks the door behind him, and starts walking through the house calling your name. He checks upstairs, in the kitchen, in all the bathrooms, and nothing. Until finally he walks into the living room and finds you sound asleep on the couch, snoring loudly enough that he’s surprised he didn’t hear it while he was looking. He looks at you and just smiles, suddenly completely fine with the fact that another plan has been ruined. He simply picks you up and takes you to bed, well aware he’s going to have to move onto plan C if he ever wants to get this done. 

The next time he tries, you end up surprising him. 

Plan C is a nice candlelight dinner at the house, which Harry tried to cook but ended up burning so eventually he relented and ordered food before putting it all together. Of all the plans he had come up with thus far, this one seemed the most foolproof. Everything was already planned: he knew you were going to come home from work at a certain time, he knew that there wouldn't be any distractions, and he had psyched himself up enough that he wasn’t just going to forget about the whole thing like he did the first time.

When the entire table is set up and the ring is in his pocket, he sits waiting for you to come home. He thinks about getting up to change some of the place settings just a little, but when he does he hears the clicking sound of your key in the door and sits back in his seat. After you walk into the house and set your stuff down in the entryway, Harry hears the sound of your shoes on the floor as you excitedly run into the kitchen. When you make it to where he can see you, he sees that you have a megawatt smile on your face and a large box in your hands. 

“I have a surprise,” You say, keeping a firm hold of the box. 

“I suppose it’s in that box,” He says, leaning over the chair so that he can see. 

You roll your eyes but keep smiling, “Yeah, obviously.” 

“Do you want me to guess?”

“God no,” You say, “That would take way too long. Basically I was at work today, and Mark has been producing this piece about a no kill animal shelter for a new segment about everyday heroes or whatever which is gross because puff pieces but when the woman came in to do the interview she brought in all these cats, no dogs for some reason, but anyway so we were all playing with the cats because our job is stressful and cats, and then she was like ‘you guys seem so good with these cats, they are looking for homes and-” 

He looks at you with a wide eyed expression, “You didn’t.” 

You ceremoniously walk over to the table, open the box and pull a small orange cat into your arms, “You bet your ass I did.” You gently pet the cat, which mews quietly from your arms, “She does not have a name mostly because I couldn’t think of any.” 

“We talked about pets like a week ago, briefly.” 

You give a guilty smile, “Yeah but I felt like I really needed this cat. I live here now, we live here, and I finally feel like I’m settled-” You sit down at the table and sigh, “I think I might be nesting, which is kind of gross but I don't know. I love you, and I love being here and I finally feel stable enough to get a freaking cat so that’s the explanation I have.” 

He can’t stop himself from breaking into a smile, even though he knows his plans have been thwarted again. (He thinks later, after the moment has already passed that he very well could’ve done it right then and there after you’d given a whole speech about the two of you being stable). He shakes his head after looking at you making funny faces at the cat like it’s a child, “Okay hand her over.” 

You hand her over and say, “I will not accept any names that have to go with the fact that she’s a ginger, because that’s just lame.” 

“Well seeing as those were my only ideas-”

You sigh, “We will think of something, just not now because you got dinner and I’m starving.” 

“What’s she going to eat?”

“I got food and a bowl, and a bunch more things being delivered within the next week or two.” 

“Did you go out and buy a box just for the dramatic reveal?”

“Yes, I did and it was totally worth it.” 

The cat’s name ends up being Hillary, after you discover an affinity for pet names that are usually person names. Something about the way you’ll end up talking about Hillary in polite conversation and someone will have to ask you who that is makes you want to choose it overall. Even though Harry is not sure about the sudden change at first, he soon becomes best friends with Hillary, and you often find the two of them cuddled up together on the couch. She likes to listen to him play music just as much as you do as it turns out. 

Harry is still trying to think of a way to propose. So much time has passed since he bought the ring, and the first time that he planned to pop the question that he wonders if he’ll ever find the right time to do it or if you’ll just end up asking him one day because it’s all gone too far. One afternoon when the two of you are relishing a rare shared day off, he watches you cook lunch in the kitchen and decides that now is the time to do it. No more excuses, no more surprises, just him and you and the question on the tip of his tongue for too long. 

When you put all of the food on plates, and set them out on the counter he walks over and just looks at you. It weirds you out at first so you ask, “What? Is there something on my face?” 

He gets down on one knee and you still are very confused about what he’s doing. You open your mouth to ask him, but the realization suddenly hits you and you cover your mouth with your hands. 

“y/n,” He says, “I have been waiting to ask you this for what feels like forever. And everytime that the plan fell through you somehow managed to make me want to marry you even more. I love you so much, I love everything about you, how excited you get about your work, how much you love Hillary and how supportive you are whenever I do anything. I love our life here, and I want to be with you forever. Will you marry me?” 

You don’t say anything for a second, still shocked, “Yes of course.” He stands and kisses you, slipping the ring onto your finger. “I was wondering when you would ask me.” 

“You knew?”

“I saw it that night after the forum,” You say, “I figured you got nervous.” 

“And you just let me flounder here for almost six months?” 

“Yes,” You smile, “I figured you wanted to do it on your own terms.” 

“Next time just call me out love, because I sat on this for too long.” 

[red1culous]

Oh part 1

Part 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7

Standing in front of that imposing building you felt your resolve falter slightly. It looked as though nothing had changed in years. Even the grove of trees that lined the driveway, tall and graceful, seemed to be frozen in time.

One foot in front of the other, you coax yourself. 

You suck in a laboured breath and walk into the large courtyard stopping once again as you take in your surroundings. You had hoped to be able to come and go without notice but the gravel covering the courtyard was doing a great job in announcing your arrival. 

This is new, you think to yourself slightly amused at your naivety thinking things would have stood still just because you left.

You hadn’t been back in over a decade after that little incident and if anyone had told you you would be standing where you were right now, you would have laughed in their faces before smacking them across it. 

You walk through a smaller sylvan courtyard of blooming orange trees. In its centre you see a fish pond. Smiling you look into it and search for the red and gold koi you had put there when you built the pond as a birthday present for Tony. It swims up to the surface as if it recognises you and if it weren’t for the boxes you were lugging about you might have even bent down to poke at its mouth.

For a split second you consider turning around and walking, no, running away. Screw the freshly baked muffins that were precariously balanced on you. You could just head back to the shop and sell them off at half price. You didn’t need the huge commission that the Avengers had agreed to pay for them. No you definitely didn’t need it…

…you also definitely did not need your business partner chewing off your ear about passing off said commission. 

Think of all the rich people eating your food? you can hear her clawing voice bounce about in your head. 

In truth you knew that the Avengers could easily afford a better baker. The best pastry chefs this side of the globe would happily saw off their left foot to be able to cater for them. But Pepper rings your mobile phone, claiming she meant to actually dial the shop, to place an order…a significantly large one…one she knew you would not be able to resist.

“Shit…” you mumble under your breath seeing the cause of your stress marching towards you a huge smile on her face.

“Is that how you greet an old friend?” Pepper says holding onto your upper arms and leaning in to place air kisses on your cheeks.

“No of course not…it’s just…umm…” you stutter as your heart thumps so hard it rattles its ribcage.

“I know…it’s a little weird being back” she says hands still holding you in place as if she knew you were about to bolt right out of there.

You shrug chuckling a little. “It’s stupid isn’t it?” you adopt a wide smile which had always been effective when dealing with difficult customers.

“Don’t give me that look” she swipes at your chin, “and it’s not stupid either. Just so you know, we’re all on your side.” She adds giving you a sympathetic look and you calm slightly at her words. 

“Thanks Pep.”

“Ok you head in. I’ll meet you inside in a bit, you don’t mind do you? Tony ordered a grand piano and it’s just arrived…” she trails off.

“Sure, I know my way around” you say smiling as she squeezes your arms before letting you go. Of course you knew your way around. After all, this had been your home too for over 5 years. 

5 years of bliss with her. 

You mentally chide yourself. Nope, not gonna go back there. 

As you climb the white marbled steps that led to the main door of the mansion you steal a glance at the silent looming windows glinting in the early morning light. You hesitate a little seeing a shadow pass quickly across one of them. 

Shit. 

Shaking your head, yet again, you finally reach the large oak doors. The bright and zesty scent of your lemon muffins waft into the air and as you are about to ring the doorbell the solid doors open revealing a tanned and muscled man in a shirt way too small for his body.

“STEVEN!” you shout whisper as his face splits into a wide grin.

“Y/N! Wh-what are you doing here?” he almost engulfs you in a hug stopping at the very last moment realising your arms were occupied.

“I-I…umm, muffins?” you return his grin looking down at your packages.

His eyes widen a little before taking some of the boxes from you. He balances 3 with ease in one hand as he pulls you inside. “No I mean I knew we had ordered from you…,” he says walking with you towards the kitchen, “…but I thought you said you were going to send a runner or something.”

“Well I was but our regular guy called in sick” you say gently placing the boxes onto the kitchen island.

“Well isn’t that unfortunate” he eyes you winking when you catch his gaze.

You roll your eyes at him. “No Steve, it’s the very opposite of what you mean.”

“Oh come on Y/N,” he shuffles up beside you to bump your shoulder, “it’s been so long.”

“It has...but hey! I get to see you again!” you bump his shoulder back and he pretends like it hurts him. “Ok so these need to be consumed within 3 days…”

“Woah woah woah now…” he cuts you off, “…you’re talking like you’re about to leave.”

He gives you a sad pouting face. His crisply parted hair makes him look like a choirboy albeit a very well built one. You almost feel sorry for him. 

“Steve you know I don’t belong here” you say fingering the hem of your shirt.

Your answer seems to baffle him. He straightens up and stares at you for a moment narrowing his eyes slightly. “I’m skipping my morning run just to hang out with you, so you can at least spend some time with me.”

“Steve…” you protest before he cuts you off again.

He raises a hand in your face. “Not hearing any of it” he says grabbing yours and leading you out of the kitchen, “…we’re going to take a walk and you’re going to meet some of your family.” 

You knew there was no use arguing with him. The death grip he had on you meant that you couldn’t even try to make a dash for it. “Steve if she…” you add and he cuts you off. Third one in a row. This was getting ridiculous.

“Shh!” and that was final. He leads you into the giant library where that vapid painting by Albert Ryder still hung on the wall. You hated that massive eye sore and always wandered what Tony liked about it. You’d always pegged him for the colourful extravagant type and this painting was just so out of character.

“Sam! Look who’s here?” Steve’s voice bellows out interrupting your thoughts. Your eyes trail up the curving mahogany spiral stairs that Steve is looking at and onto another floor of bookcases that were bathed in sunlight pouring in through a round skylight on the ceiling. 

“OMG Y/N?!” Sam almost shrieks as he bounds down the steps at a dangerous pace to collect you in a massive bear hug. “What are you doing here?!” he adds still crushing you in his arms.

“I came with the cupcakes…” you giggle as he picks you up and twirls you around. “Th-They brought me as their plus one.”

He puts you down to really look at you as if committing you to memory. A large smile sits on his face. “I see the sass is still there?”

“It never really left, big guy” you raise an eyebrow smirking as he hugs you one more time. 

“Pleaseee tell me you’re here for the party?” he groans wrapping an arm around your shoulders looking at you hopefully. “Parties here have been so sad since you’ve been gone.”

You hum about to answer as out of nowhere two slender arms wrap around you. It knocks the wind out of you and you instinctively hug back letting the smell of cinnamon and spice invade your senses. “Wanda!” you yelp.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming” she squeals smacking you across the arm.

You giggle at her pout. “I didn’t know I was coming, malyshka.”

She grins at your use of the word. “Ok let’s go” she says to a chorus of groans. 

“Excuse me! You are not taking her any where!” Sam blurts out grabbing your free hand.

“Sorry guys but I found her first” Steve adds standing in front of you and placing an authoritative hand on your shoulder his fingernails biting into the flesh there. 

“Guys…” you cough nervously, “how about we take a walk…together” you say quietly and sigh in relief as everyone starts smiling and pestering you with questions again. 

I guess nothing’s really changed after all.

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