#and draw flowers on her target name

[delizbin]

Nurse!Julieta was stuck into my brain

#of course Isa chose her stethoscope #and draw flowers on her target name #prrrrr #she’s so pretty I #please give me your hand in marriage #💖💖💖💖 #nciu au #julieta madrigal #encanto #encanto fanart #my art

[urlocalfeiner]

heyyy :) I was wondering if I could request a neteyam x reader fic where there is a miscommunication and neteyum hears a rumor about the reader finding a mate and he gets upset and jealous (I think there was an error with the last message I sent sorry 😭😭) but thank you for taking the time to read this and I hope you’re doing well!!

why him if not i- neteyam sully

pairing: neteyam sully x omatikaya!fem! reader

warnings: swearing, jealousy, protective neteyam, mentions of mating, neteyam fighting over you, kissing, fluff

masterlist!

A/N: i really liked this request!- since you didn't give me too much info i took a bit of creative liberty with this it but i hope you like it! please feel free to send in more requests on neteyam! i also don't really know how to feel about this 😭- sorry if it's bad.

neteyam was often jealous when it came to other boys around you, he hated it when other na'vi men would flirt with you or make you smile like he does. no, you and neteyam hadn't expressed your feelings to one another but it was quite obvious with the frequent touching, flirting and always being around each other. most of the clan was waiting upon the day neteyam would announce you were mated- and so were the two of you.

neteyam had been walking through the village when he heard a group of na'vi talking, he was going to just walk past but he stopped when he heard your name being spoken. neteyam thought the group were talking bad about you, and was going to step in and tell them all off for doing so. but as he listened closely to what they were saying, they were in fact not talking bad about you but you being mated with someone, his ears perked up with curiousity as he listened in. "did you hear, y/n and karait have mated." "i know, it's sorta weird. i thought her and neteyam were a thing, obviously not." "y/n and karait are adorable though, i saw him picking flowers for her this morning."

neteyam scrunched up his face, you and karait? mated? there was no way that you and him were mated, you would've told him. neteyam knew better than to believe the words of other people, he walked away from the group in search for you to tell you about the crazy rumours until he was stopped by lo'ak who ran up to him. "bro, have you heard?"

“what?”

“y/n and karait are apparently mated.” lo’ak said, he couldn’t believe it either.

neteyam rolled his eyes, not believing him. “it’s just rumours, y/n would’ve told me.”

“i thought the same thing, right? and then i saw them together and he was like all over her.” lo’ak told him, neteyam felt a pit form in his stomach at his brothers words. “you missed your chance bro.”

neteyam stood there taking it in,“shut up.” he stormed away, he really had missed his chance with you. he waited too long.

the rest of the day neteyam had been in a bad mood, he kept on hearing people in the clan talking about you and your new ‘mate’. to say he was jealous would be an understatement. and he couldn’t help but feel hurt as well, he was almost sure you had reciprocated his feelings. that’s what he got for letting his feelings get in the way. the feeling he got was sickening when he imagined you mating with another, them getting to please you and make you feel loved- it was all suppose to be him.

neteyam was drawing back his bow, ready to take a kill- but all he could think about was you, he wasn’t his usual focused self like he was all the time. he let go of the string letting the arrow fly towards his target, missing. he barely ever misses kills. his father noticed his son’s odd behaviour, taking notice of how his mind seemed to be in another place. “what’s wrong?” jake asked making neteyam turn to him.

“nothing.” he grumbled setting down his bow, his answer so obviously not being the truth.

“sit down.” jake instructed patting the spot next to him on the log.

neteyam did as he was told and sat down next to his father, “now, are you going to tell me what’s going on in that mind of yours, son?”

neteyam’s angry expression turning into one of hurt as his father repeated his question. “i-i don’t even know.” he sighed looking down at his hands, “it’s just…” he paused wondering if he should tell his dad why he was actually upset. “it’s y/n.” he confessed.

jake hummed, knowing the two had feelings did one another. “what about her.”

“she’s been mated with someone else.” it hurt neteyam to even say the words out loud, his heart feeling like it had been clenched. speaking it out loud he felt incredibly stupid, you could mate with whoever you wanted to. he always had a lingering thought in the back of his mind that you may not choose him to be your mate- he just never really considered that it may become true.

jake furrowed his eyebrows, he had not been aware of a new mated pair in the clan. and he- like everyone else- was sure that you and neteyam would become mates. his face softened for his son, feeling bad for the situation at hand. “have you spoken to her about it?”

“no, i don’t know if i can. i’ll look stupid.” he fiddled with his 4 fingers. “and what will it do if i do speak to her about it? it’s not like she’s going to stop being mates with karait.”

jake sighed putting a hand on neteyam’s back comfortly. “there are many other women in the clan to be your mate.”

he gagged internally at the thought, being mates with anyone but you?- no. neteyam ran his hands down his face frustratingly ”there is no other like her though.”

“well, maybe not. but there are many others that would be a great tsahìk and if you have them a chance maybe you could come to like them.” jake was trying to make him feel better, but was doing the opposite.

“no- you don’t get it. i don’t want any other woman in the clan- i want y/n! she’s perfect an-and everything i have ever wanted, she was suppose to be my tsahìk. i-if my mate is not her, then i do not want a one. i’m so stupid, i messed everything up! i waited too long and now she is with a stupid skxawng.” his father was taken aback by neteyam’s sudden out burst, but he got it. neteyam too was surprised by his own burst of emotion. “sorry.” before jake could say something more neteyam got up from the log, grabbing his bow. “i’m going to head back, sorry for wasting your time.”

the trip back was horrible, he was left with only himself and his thoughts- they were mostly about how stupid he was. he was passing through some trees when he heard a laugh that was all to familiar, it always made his heart flutter- it was your laugh. he followed the direct in which it had came from. you were sitting on the grass weaving something, whilst humming a beautiful tune.

neteyam started to move back quietly but stepped on a twig that made a loud snap making your ears perk up- smiling at his presence. “i know you’re there, nete.”

“hi��.” he came out of the bushes, revealing himself. you expected him to sit down but he just stood there. looking at you even made his heart hurt, the fact you would never be his.

you looked up at him, “do you want to sit with me?” neteyam nodded slowly sitting down next to to, watching as your hands worked on a basket. you noticed something was off with him the second he sat down, he usually sits close to you- but currently he left a huge gap between the two of you.

a silence fell over the two of you- which you couldn’t decide if it was a comfortable or awkward silence- until neteyam chose to break it by clearly his throat. “so, karait?”

“what about him?” you asked not taking your eyes off the basket, you were curious as to why he was asking about him- you were completely unaware of all the rumours going around about the two of you.

neteyam was getting a bit angry, what did you mean- what about him? he was your mate. you couldn't even tell your best friend. "you know what i mean."

you drew your eyes from the basket to meet his own, "am i suppose to?.." karait was your friend, and if you were being honest you found him kind of annoying. he was always following you around, clinging to you.

neteyam scoffed, shaking his head. "i don't get it- why wouldn't you tell me?" you grew confused, what was he talking about- and why was he getting mad at you? he noticed your confused expression. "don't act like you don't know."

"i don't know what you're talking about, nete" you put the basket down on the ground, removing your hands from it- your full attention now on neteyam.

"what does he do?" he asked, what did karait have that he didn't. "does he treat you good?- does he pick you flowers? is he a good hunter- does he spend lots of time with you- is that it?"

"karait?" oh eywa, did neteyam hate the sound of another's on your tongue.

"yes, him!" it came out harsher then he had intended it to, "what does he have, tell me."

"uh.." you started to grow slightly uncomfortable under neteyam's harsh gaze, you had never seen neteyam raise his voice before- besides when he was shouting at lo'ak. "he's nice, i guess?"

neteyam's jaw clenched, "he's nice, you guess? that's it? he's nice?"

"he's quite good with a bow?" why was he asking so much about karait, you were so confused. "i don't know what you want me to say." you laughed.

"i just want to hear it from you, just tell me the truth. i already know." he was hurt, you were laughing. how were you so unbothered by this, he had everything karait had if not more. why did you choose him, why did you string him along all this time just to go off with another?

"nete, i-"

"what does he have that i don't?" his eyes were filled with hurt and betrayal, and they were directed right at you. "were all those things you told me lies? all the promises you made to me?"

"everything i've told you is the truth. what is going on with you neteyam?" why couldn't he just tell you what he was talking about? had you missed something?

"what's going on with me?- what's going with you?" he took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. "were you trying to spare my feelings, is that why you didn't tell me?"

before you could answer another voice appeared. "y/n!- i knew i would find you here...." karait appeared coming from the same direct neteyam had minutes ago, trailing off as he saw neteyam sitting down with you. he looked between the two of you, he could sense the thick tension between you and neteyam. "uh- sorry, am i interrupting something?.."

"karait-" you were about to tell him to go away, he really couldn't have came at a worse time- could he? he always managed to pop up randomly- it was weird how he knew were you were everyday. before you could tell him to go away though, someone beat you to it.

neteyam's hands formed into a tight fist, jaw clenching tighter at karait's arrival. he stood up angrily, narrowing his eyes dangerously at karait. "yes, you are. you've interrupted a lot actually."

karait looked around confused at neteyam's harsh tone. neteyam looked down to what the na'vi was holding in his hand, flowers- your favourite ones. the ones he always got for you. "look man, i'll just come back later- it's fine." he began to turn around to head back.

"no you're not."

karait stopped, turning back around and met neteyam's gaze. "excuse me?"

your eyes widened, "neteyam." you whispered harshly, to tell him to stop but he ignored you.

neteyam took a step forward, standing tall trying to intimidate karait as he stood taller than him by a couple of inches. "you heard me, you're not going to come back later."

kariat chuckled, "i don't think that's really your decision." he then turned to looked at you. you were still sitting down on the grass, you looked like you were so lost- because you were. "do you want me to come back later, y/n?"

"uh-" for the third time today neteyam cut you off- which you were getting extremely annoyed at- moving to stand in front of you. blocking kariat's view of you, standing protectively. you sighed rolling your eyes- but you would be lying if you said you didn't find him being protective extremely attractive.

"don't talk to her."

kariat smirked as he suddenly realised why neteyam was being like this- he liked you, just like he did. kariat narrowed his eyes not breaking eye contact with neteyam. taking a step forward, as he stood up straight mimicking neteyam's body language. "yeah? what are you gonna do about it- she's not your mate."

neteyam hissed, baring his sharp fangs dangerously at kariat challenging him. kariat hissed back standing his ground. you thought kariat was extremely dumb, challenging turuk maktos son. you stood up quickly off the ground, putting your hand on neteyam's shoulder from behind him trying to pull him back but he didn't budge. "neteyam- what are you doing!" you thought he was just being ridiculous at this point.

"i've got this, y/n." he replied turning to look at you then turned back to kariat, speaking so he could hear him. "gonna show this skxqwng what a real man is." kariat hissed in reply.

"now is not the time to compare dick sizes, nete!" you whisper yelled over his shoulder at him gritting your teeth frustratedly, still trying to pull him back. you came into the forest to peacefully weave a basket for hunting, not to watch two na'vi fight.

"oh yeah? now is the perfect time to." you sighed frustratedly, you knew he wouldn't back down. neteyam was usually not the one to get into fights-but if it involved someone he loved, he wouldn't hesitate to knock some sense into a na'vi.

"don't try and protect him, y/n. this skxqwng is asking for it." kariat spat, you weren't trying to protect neteyam from him. he was one to the best warriors in the clan- if not the best. you were trying to protect him from neteyam, but kariat was the one asking for it now.

"i told you before, don't talk to her!" neteyam growled venom laced through his words, he turned his head slightly to you, his tone completely changing to a soft loving whisper. "go sit down y/n and finish off that beautiful basket, i don't want you getting hurt." you removed your hand hesitantly from his shoulder and slowly moved away picking up your half woven basket and went to go sit down on a log not far away from them.

neteyam watched a you sat down and turned back to kariat, "i know what this is all about, you heard everyone talking didn't you?" kariat smirked at him. "thought i would tell everyone, so i didn't have to when it actually happened."

neteyam's blood boiled, the two of you weren't even mates. he had gotten worked up over nothing and had gotten mad at you, and told everyone you were his. oh, he was gonna get it. with one final hiss neteyam charged at him, throwing a hard punch to kariat's nose making him fall back- neteyam wasn't going to hold back, he had been holding in his anger all day and kariat was going to be the one to get it all.

kariat stumbled back, regaining himself throwing a punch at neteyam, landing on his jaw. neteyam stumbled back and reached up towards his lips swiping one finger across it, looking back down to his finger seeing blood on it. he smirked as he looked back up to kariat who had a bruise forming on his nose already. all of kariats confidence washed away quickly, being replaced with fear as neteyam threw multiple punches at him- landing a hit every single time.

you winced looking at kariat's bloodied face from neteyam's hits, kariat did not look too good. neteyam kneed him in the stomach then threw kariat onto the grass harshly, they were only a few seconds into the fight and kariat already wanted to withdraw from it. neteyam bent down and got right in the na’vis face, “if you even so as go near y/n again, i’ll do worse than this. and you better go back and tell everyone that you and y/n are not mated, understand?” he didn’t responded. “i said, do you understand.”

“ye-yes.”

neteyam was about to hit him again when he felt a hand pulling him back, “okay, that’s enough neteyam. i think you’ve proved your point.” you looked down at kariat who sent you a thankful look. neteyam sighed as he got up sending one last glare at kariat- who pounced up quickly and limped away, scared that neteyam would do more. as soon as he left you turned to neteyam, “okay, now. care to explain to me what just happened?”

“oh uh..” neteyam trailed off, he didn’t really know what to say. “i didn’t like him?”

you gave him a blank look, obviously not believing him. “right.” you shook your head, rolling your eyes. “i’m leaving.” you went to turn around but by a firm grip on your hand.

“he told the whole clan that you two had mated.” your eyes widened in shock, everyone in the clan thought you and kariat were mates? oh eywa. “and- and i was mad and hurt because i…” he trailed off.

“because you?..” you asked softly wanting him to finish off his sentence.

neteyam met your eyes and gulped. “because.. i wanted you to be my mate.” your mouth fell agape, you could feel a smile starting to form on your lips. “i’m sorry for believing everyone and not asking you before and getting mad at you earlier, i should’ve never raised my voice at you. i was just really hurt and jealous that you chose someone else, i know it’s no excuse though and- you can choose whoever you want to be your mate, because you can obviously choose anyone-” he rambled on until you stopped him by crashing your lips on his, he was taken back a bit but quickly returned the kiss. his whole soul had been longing to meet your lips, to kiss every inch of you.

the two of you broke the kiss, neteyam cursed himself for needing to breath- he didn’t want to ever stop kissing you. “for being the smartest person i know you really are dumb aren’t you?” you chuckled, neteyam still speechless from the kiss. “do you really ever think i’d choose anyone over you, nete? it’s always been you.”

he grinned widely like a child who had just had his first clean kill, “can i please kiss you again?”

#neteyam x you #neteyam x y/n #neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully #avatar way of water #avatar #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #way of water #kiri sully #jake sully #neteyam sully x reader #sully family

[ddarker-dreams]

Nexus III.

Yandere Blade x F Reader.

Warnings: Explicit not SFW, mommy issues galore, some psychological horror elements, yandere themes, and unhealthy relationships. Word count: 15.6k.

Nexus index.

When you dream of your mother, it’s in a lotus field.

Everyone’s psyche manifests itself in a distinct way, echoes the teachings she left behind. This is yours. 

The bioluminescent petals cower inward as if hiding a terrible secret. Some bloom along the hazy ground, others swing in the air, suspended by strings hung from a glass dome overhead. 

In this dream, you cannot speak, though you have much to say. 

Gentle as you may be, each step you take to close the gap between you and her demands a sacrifice. The flower’s vibrancy drains like color from a dying man’s face. From the stem upward, it decays. To try and save it is to kill it faster. Brittle fragments crumble into ashen piles that scratch at your bare feet. 

Her back remains facing you. 

You have no way of earning her attention. She is blind to the frantic waving of your arms, deaf to the eroding necropolis you leave in your wake. 

You’re certain you’ll never reach her. Still, you try, only to fail all the same. 

With each passing dream, a crack along your glass dome spreads. It started too small to see and is now too large to fix. Is it best to let it shatter? Could it be the silent warden that cordons you off from a universe you know yet have never experienced? 

Or is it the final bastion that shields you? 

A devastating attack on the Thelx’s main guide causes cataphoric damage to the quadrant’s sixth residential district. The aftershocks resulted in the collapse of multiple buildings, resulting in injuries for hundreds and a rising death toll that currently stands at 34. Local residents have filed complaints for years now, listing concerns that the most recent building inspections have not resulted in appropriate measures taking place. 

“We all knew something bad was bound to happen,” said one woman who happened to be visiting family in Ade during the incident. “We knew, but where else are we supposed to go? Our choices were to stay put and take our chances or try surviving in Arc. No one wanted that. But now…. seeing this… maybe Arc would’ve been better.”

An investigation into the matter is being spearheaded by Chrysus, Ade’s Exalted Regent. 

We reached out to Chrysus’ team for a statement and have yet to receive a response. 

Rumors are swirling online that the attack was targeted at Thelx’s Exalted Arbiter, [First] Phaeales, the single daughter of the deceased Ania Phaeales. A spokesperson for Thelx’s fledgling matriarch has confirmed her safety, though she received minor injuries. Thelx is expected to endure further economic hardship due to the IPC’s recent travel ban. The LOTUS-EATER and similar establishments constitute up to 43% of Thelx’s total gross domestic product—

“It’s rude to read when you have a guest over,” Nona chides. 

“Sorry.” 

You turn your phone off and place it beside the other ornaments atop your vanity. Makeup, jewelry, hair ornaments, and one of the only gifts your mother ever gave; a lotus made of iridescent crystals. It’s sat untouched for years and you assume it will continue to do so. 

Nona, who has helped herself to lying on your bed, rolls over onto her stomach. Both her cheeks squish together as she holds her head up by tiny fists, her elbows digging into your comforter for support. She draws her lips into a thin line. There’s a hollowness to her gaze that rivals the mask she wore when you first met. 

“Why do you care so much?” 

Her inquiry leaves you temporarily at a loss for words. “... What?” 

“About people you haven’t met,” she clarifies. “Whose names you don’t even know. To them, you’re nothing but a glorified mascot to blame when things go bad and praise when things go right.” 

Your mouth is too dry for you to swallow. “Each life in Thelx has been entrusted to me.” 

“So? Did everyone come up to you one by one and ask for your stewardship?” 

“Of course not, don’t be unreasonable.” 

“I’m the one being unreasonable?” Nona barks a caustic laugh. “Have you seen what these people have been saying? ‘Let’s pack up the family and move to Arc!’, as if any of them could survive there for more than the instant their foot crosses over the divide. It’s hilarious! The funniest joke I’ve heard in some time.” 

Your eyes narrow. “That’s enough. The community is understandably hurt. Frightened. When tragedies happen, we each have our ways of making sense of things.” 

She pushes herself up and sits crisscross. “I’m just saying I’d like to see them try. Me… I would’ve given anything to have been born here. An organ, a limb, whatever. At least I’d be hobbling around where there’s light and warmth.” 

“Nona…” 

“They don’t know. They have no idea,” Nona trembles. “People make Arc out to be something it isn’t. ‘Look at how free they are, they can live as they please, answering to no one but themselves!’ Funnily enough, the IPC said the same thing when they built Perianth, didn’t they? Got the whole universe feeling warm and fuzzy. The poor, the wretched, the damned; they’re hideous up close, so let’s tuck them far away from the light. Then we don’t have to see them.”

She hangs her head. “Experiencing rejection from the rejected… that’s what they can look forward to in Arc. Anything else is a pipe dream.” 

You get up from your chair and sit down next to her on the bed. Finding a blanket, you toss it over your shoulder, extra prudent to avoid any accidental contact. Glassy amber eyes blink slowly as you pat the cushioned spot. She starts leaning in, only to pause a few inches shy of her intended target. You don’t need to be in her head to guess what reel she’s flicking through. When the feature film’s end credits roll, she rests her head on your shoulder. 

“Lear’s worried about you, y’know.” 

“I know.” 

“Loopy would be too, if it were sentient.” 

“It’s possible.” 

“...” 

She whispers your name, hesitant, as if she were a child preparing to ask their parents for a gift they know they can’t have.

“If I could, I’d wish that all the stars in the universe would burn so bright, so hot, that each person would melt away like ice until only us three remain. The poor, wretched, and damned. Our happiness would be unrivaled if there were no one else to compare ourselves to. You don’t know misery if no one ever tells you you’re miserable.” 

Or maybe you invent new miseries for yourself, you think. Then, with no one to compare yourself to… would you not be the most miserable person in the universe? 

You could voice your musings but to verbalize them now feels wrong. Instead, you choose to let her live the wish that will never come true. In this pocket dimension, beyond the four walls of your room, nothing exists. No Thelx, Perianth II, Stellaron Hunter or IPC. There are only two jagged shards who have abandoned being whole again. You might not click together like puzzle pieces, perfectly falling into place to form a seamless image, but you can look at the pane you broke free from and decide for yourself if the result was worth it. 

Choosing between two evils is better than being stuck with one. 

“Nona,” you break the silence. If there’s anything you’ve been doing too much of lately, it’s dwelling on factors beyond your control. 

“Hm?” 

“That flower bouquet,” you nod toward the magenta-colored roses on your vanity, which she brought in earlier. “There was a message attached to it, wasn’t there?” 

She stiffens. 

“... Possibly.” 

You knew a ‘gift’ from Miss 10.899 billion wouldn’t come without some poisonous flourish. The roses don’t have thorns, so the sharpness must lay elsewhere. 

“What did it say?” 

“You really want to know?” 

“I’m asking, aren’t I?” 

She deflates like a balloon pricked by a needle, then mumbles, “The tag said ‘Get well soon.’”

Ah, you think. If I could have anyone melt away… she’d certainly be high on the list.

You haven’t spoken one word to Blade since he carried your unconscious body back to the LOTUS-EATER. 

Regardless, he’s still around. He isn’t some option in your settings you can turn off with a single button press. He hasn’t initiated contact while you healed from your injuries, which consisted of a sprained ankle, two broken ribs, and minor abrasions peppered throughout. Your high position ensured you’d receive the best medical care Eris has to offer. 

Fourteen total cycles have passed since the Thelx nectar guide bombing. 

Fourteen dreary cycles filled with nothing but eating bland food, taking bitter medication, and dreaming the same gloomy dream. 

During this festive stretch, Nona has been your primary visitor. Lear restricted himself to electronic communication, fearing the emotional reaction he’d experience from seeing you in this state might harm you. They’ve both taken to distracting you in their own fashion. Nona shows you pictures, such as the googly eyes she put on Loopy, or discusses the strangest psyches she’s seen from clients. One client’s mind manifested itself as a drumstick. 

“Not even a pair, just one,” she giggled. “Hey, don’t start lecturing me about our privacy policy. I see you fighting back a smile. That absolves me from breaking my NDA.” 

Then there’s Lear who laser focuses on your health. At least 80% of his texts follow the ‘Have you x’ format. Stretched, taken medicine, slept, eaten; you half expect him to start asking if you’ve breathed enough. 

The timer you’ve set for your tea goes off. 

You pull the teabag out, dispose of it, and then stir the ruby-colored concoction. Golden flecks swirl in a violent vortex. Content, you throw on a diaphanous, cape-like outer garment over your loungewear. The fabric is deceptively delicate to the eye yet has been synthesized to preserve heat. 

The components that open your bedroom door at your behest emit a low hum. The lack of use must’ve spoiled them. This is the first time you’ve emerged from your hibernation. The light system in your office whirs to life upon your return. You wave off the visual assault. Your eyes have become so accustomed to the dark that you’ll need to build your light tolerance back up. 

After inputting the proper passcode, you pass through to the balcony. 

And then immediately regret it when Blade’s back is the first thing that greets you. 

He’s in a meditative stance. The gales of loud emotion that normally engulf him have quieted down to a hush. From this position, you can see how his long ebony strands cascade down his back, the tips taken on a reddish hue. A pearlescent sheen shimmers along the outline of his body, the moon’s personal gift. When one thinks of a stereotypical warrior, certain biases culminate in the rough image of some brute, like a brigand from a child’s fairytale. 

However, seeing him like this, exuding poise and temperance, you think he fits the role of prince. 

You take a step back. 

“You can stay,” his voice slashes through your entangled thoughts, “I’ll go inside.” 

A beast slithers in the calm waters as soon as he stops his meditation. It isn’t voracious or on the hunt. No, you get the distinct feeling it finds pleasure in lurking just below the surface, not creating so much as a ripple to deter its prey. Waiting and waiting. By the time some poor soul enters and realizes they aren’t alone, it’s too late. Multiple rows of pointed teeth have already pierced their flesh. 

You block his path with your body, an act that’s equally confounding to him as it is to you. 

“I wanted to talk to you,” you say. Your boldness fizzles out beneath the weight of his stare. “If… that’s alright.” 

He considers you briefly. You expect him to walk away without sparing you another glance, but it must be his turn to foster confusion. He turns around and sits on the chair to the left, as he did when you first became acquainted. After what feels like a delay in your neurons providing information to your brain, you sit beside him. It occurs to you that your little balcony is in excellent shape even though you haven’t been able to maintain it. 

You look at him from the corner of your eye. 

Has he been keeping this area clean? 

Oddly enough, it’s Blade who prompts further conversation. “How are your injuries?” 

“My ankle’s fully recovered and my ribs only hurt if I move too much. I’ve got nothing to complain about.” 

You take a sip of your concoction. A sweet, herbal flavor dances on your tongue with a hint of spice. These tea leaves are one of the few that can grow on Eris in an artificial environment. You added a spoonful of the Nectary’s tonic to complement the taste. It’s a drink popularly referred to as ambrosia. 

“How about you? Have you healed— oh, um.” You raise your hand to cover your traitorous mouth. It can prevent more words from coming out, but it can’t take back what’s already been said. 

“I have, unfortunately.” 

“‘Unfortunately?’” You repeat back, though the sound is muffled. You wince. So much for putting an end to your bluntness. 

“You’re acting reserved,” he dryly notes. “Is this the same woman who takes every chance to tell me off?” 

“Hey, I don’t take every chance to—” You throw your head back in exasperation upon seeing the beginning of a self-satisfied smirk. “... I shouldn’t… have behaved as… candidly as I did. It’s unprofessional.” 

“‘That part,’ huh,” Blade mutters. “You don’t have to section off parts of yourself, you choose to.” 

The tea’s aftertaste turns bitter. 

To be whole is a privilege Blade doesn’t have, you think. If he allowed that, then… would he really be ‘Blade’ anymore? 

You stare down at the distorted reflection the tea provides, ripples distorting your likeness before you can confirm his claim. Your hands must be trembling. 

“I advised against it for a reason. My mind is unsightly.” 

“It isn’t that!” you turn your head toward him, catching how he furrows his eyebrows at your outburst of emotion, “What I did… it wasn’t right. I took advantage of your vulnerable state and tried to manipulate you. Control you. A violation like that… it’s unforgivable.”

Anytime a situation threatens to spiral beyond your control, you resort to what you supposedly swore off. 

I’ll only do it this once, the circumstances call for it, you’d tell yourself. No more after that. I mean this time, I really do. It won’t happen again.

Until it does.

Alister with his weapon. Blade after he saved your life. Lear when the loneliness felt excruciating.

Your chest feels like it’s hosting a colony of crawling maggots ready to burst through your flesh. It hurts, this slimy, despicable filth that you scrub raw only to dirty again. Not trusting yourself with the fragile teacup, you set it down. 

“So that’s what you consider a sin,” Blade says. “You oppose incarceration and yet you're a prisoner to your own guilt.” 

“That’s different.” 

“Even so, one is far worse than the other. I should know; I’ve experienced both. If I could choose between a physical prison or my mind, I’d pick the former.” 

You recall the gargantuan structure that is Blade’s repressed psyche. The oppressive atmosphere, how it stood alone, far removed from anything resembling hope. 

If it’s of Xianzhou build, it must be none other than the Shackling Prison. 

“The injuries you received when protecting me,” You work through each word slowly, as if testing their validity. “They should’ve killed you. But instead… you ‘defied the natural order’ — death itself.” 

Blade doesn’t move his gaze from the four moons in the sky. 

The Xianzhou Alliance’s intolerance for those who follow the Aeon of Abundance, Yaoshi, is infamous throughout the universe. What the followers consider blessings, they reject as curses. For the Xianzhou, it’s personal. The ink the Aeon has left behind hardly has time to dry before more transgressions are added to the ledger. 

Those who live on Eris, yourself included, most commonly follow the Noct, the Aeon of The Ideal. Noct is thought to be the one who blessed this planet with the Nectary. Without it, the first generation of prisoners left to fend for themselves by the IPC would have perished. Your Aeon is in what the Genius Society calls ‘an indefinite hibernation’, not interacting with the material world yet not fully removed from it either. Some revere their Aeon enough to die for them, others despise them enough to dedicate everything to their destruction; neither side makes sense.

To you, the Aeons feel almost as distant as the stars. 

“Can it really be considered a sin if it’s beyond your control?” 

“It won’t always be,” he replies. “Until then, I can’t allow myself to forget. You must get why.” 

You wish you didn’t. 

A few moments pass. They flow into each other smoothly, lacking acidity. You resume drinking your tea. It’s lukewarm, but you don’t mind. 

“You truly aren’t afraid of me,” you remark. 

“What’s there to be afraid of?” 

The deep bass of his voice temporarily adjusts to allow bemusement. It takes you a moment to realize he isn’t mocking you, it’s more teasing than anything. The reminder does serve you well. Physically, the gap in your strength is insurmountable. He could snuff out your life before you realized your appointment with death had been expedited. 

“Most people are put off by my company in a casual setting. Being around someone who could peer into your mind, past all the pretenses we work so diligently to build… it’s frightening. Unnatural, even.” 

He focuses on the abyssal horizon. It’s as if your Aeon swaddled this planet in a pitch-black blanket with the four moons acting as a nursery mobile. You can reach up to grasp them as much as you’d like, but the cosmic entities will never be yours. It is you who belongs to them. 

“My mind has a will of its own,” Blade tells you. “It’s loud. Something about you quiets it down.” 

You blink. “Really?” 

He stares at you blankly instead of repeating himself. You take it that’s his way of communicating he has no reason to be dishonest. 

“This affliction you’re suffering from… it’s called mara, correct?” 

The instant the word leaves your lips, his demeanor shifts. It’s subtle, the tightening of his muscles and his frown deepening, yet the physical signs aren’t what tip you off. The pervasive air shrouding the beast inside his psyche is twitching. It longs to permanently rid Blade of control and loathes each rejection it’s endured. 

“I think I saw it. From what I’ve heard, I thought it’d be more self-destructive. Yours, though… how do I put it… it’s vicious, but it’s like a muzzle has been forced on it. I assume Kafka had something to do with that?” 

He doesn’t deny your conjecture. 

“Hmph, figures it’d be her handiwork. She can poke around in people’s heads, but her techniques are more effective in the short term. It lacks staying power,” you cross your arms. “I wonder why my presence deters your mara.” 

“It’s never functioned normally. I’ve long abandoned trying to make sense of it.” 

“I can’t accept that,” you huff. “You’ve saved my life twice now. There has to be something useful to be gleaned from this, even if it isn’t a complete cure.” 

The groundwork has been laid out. You were able to scrape together enough to give his psyche form, an act that’s no small feat, since he didn’t go through the typical interview process. Initiating physical contact with him was a risk, but you’ve yet to notice any consequences. 

While considering the best methods, an epiphany sinks its claws into you. 

You bite your lower lip. “I’m— um. Getting ahead of myself. After what happened, I understand if you don’t want me in your head.” 

The terms of atonement crafted by your own hands can’t be sufficient penance. 

“Multiple influences have fought for control of my mind,” he reveals. Your breath catches in your tightening throat. This isn’t a wound you’ve inflicted, it’s a wound you’ve reopened. Mara’s madness, Kafka’s adjustments; how much tampering has he been subjected to? There have been foreign elements inserted and his original self shifted around, if not removed entirely. His psyche is strung together like fraying patchwork. 

You don’t know what to do. Should you apologize again? Leave him be? Form some sort of arrangement where he doesn’t have to interact with you directly? 

These frantic thoughts halt when you examine his profile. 

Blade isn’t stewing in animosity or grief. He’s simply sitting there, living in the present. Swarming torments don’t caw and peck at him. He isn’t smiling, but his facial features express contentment, the way a laborer would after a toiling day. Flowing with the current instead of struggling against the tide. 

“Out of all of them, though,” 

The brilliant luster of his eyes takes you hostage.

“Yours… wasn’t so bad.” 

Unknown 

You’re there, aren’t you?

Unknown 

Don’t be shy and ignore my messages. 

Unlike some people, I’m busy 

Unknown 

I assure you I’m busy with various preparations too.

Unknown 

Never too busy to check in on my favorite Arbiter though. ♡

Unknown 

Did you like the roses? 

I would’ve liked them more if they weren’t from you 

Unknown

💔

Unknown

So, it’d be different if they were from someone else? Hm… I might get jealous if that’s the case.

It wouldn’t make much of a difference, anyway They’ve already wilted

Unknown

That’s a shame

Unknown

I suppose what I find beautiful doesn’t suit Eris’ climate very well

Unknown

I know you’re not going to respond anymore, so I’ll stop pestering you for now

Unknown

Take good care of yourself, little Miss Arbiter ♡

It’s become a tradition for Lear to join your and Nona’s training sessions. She’s in her highest spirits when the three of you are under the same roof, even if you’re all doing different things. Presently, Lear is replacing Loopy’s hardware with an older operating system. The latest update downloaded automatically and fixed the bug that caused your favorite robot’s premier quality. Having a robot named Loopy who no longer loops is inconceivable. 

Since the LOTUS-EATER is closed for the foreseeable future, you accepted Nona’s idea to have her training on the first floor rather than the second. According to her, The Lounge has ‘distracting’ vibes, so you hoped a change in scenery might recenter her. 

However, you’re beginning to seriously question your judgment. 

“Lear, can I please have a drink?” 

“Lear, don’t pay her any mind. She needs to be sober during her training.” 

“Sobriety is a concept invented by the prohibitionists!” 

Lear’s attention darts between you, standing imposingly with your arms crossed, then to Nona, who mimes what she must think to be a sympathetic countenance. 

“Um…” he trails off. Unable to withstand the immovable object and unstoppable force, he retreats to the motherboard he’s been working on. “I’m technically not on the clock, so I shouldn’t handle merchandise that doesn’t belong to me.” 

Nona wads up a piece of paper and throws it at him. 

It misses. 

By a lot.

“Stop pestering Lear and take your assignment seriously,” you frown. Then you realize what paper she used as ammunition. “Hold on… don’t tell me you just crumpled up and threw correspondence from Chrysus.” 

She shrugs. “That discount hound probably didn’t have anything worthwhile to say, anyway.” 

“Is Eris’ future not ‘worthwhile?’” 

“Not if we hop on a spaceship and never look back.” 

Lear sets his tools aside, unfurls the letter, then returns it to you. Nona sticks her tongue out at him and he flips her off.

… Maybe you need a drink.

“Hey, Stellaron Hunter,” Nona waves her arms wildly. “You must have a ship, right? How about it? Got room for three more? It wouldn’t even disrupt the arrangement. You can keep watch over [First] to your heart’s content.” 

The ‘Stellaron Hunter’ in question has stationed himself on a barstool, where he blatantly ignores Nona’s request. He had been standing against a far wall as you’ve learned he’s apt to do, but this made you feel bad. After some needling, he caved and sat down at your behest. It’s been a little over a week since your conversation on the balcony. Your free time since then has been sparse. An injury doesn’t make your work disappear, it just causes it to pile up higher. 

In light of what Chrysus deems a terrorist attack, you are to have a hearing with him and Caicias. Blade staunchly refused any request for you to meet them in person. For once, you agreed with the strict measures. The nectar guide has been repaired, but the mere chance that more people could be injured at another attempt on your life is unacceptable. After some bureaucratic back and forth, it was agreed upon that the risk of a cyberattack would be the lesser of two evils. 

Chrysus insisted on handwritten correspondence delivered through trustworthy sources until the hearing. The message Nona flung consisted of him tiptoeing around every serious query you’ve brought to his attention. Your most burning question concerns the residential district’s building inspections. More specifically, how the dire reports never made their way to you. 

Initially, you thought it may have fallen through the cracks. Your mother’s sudden death two years prior plunged Thelx into chaos. She wasn’t expected to retire for another fifty years. As such, you were woefully underprepared for the mantle forced onto you. She hadn’t even told you the passcode to unlock the LOTUS-EATER’s front doors. Data restoration from some old hardware she never disposed of provided enough login information for you to keep things rolling. That theory crumbled when you recalled that in 2150 AE, building permits and inspections were made to be public records. 

Upon checking, from 2150 AE to the present, everything has supposedly been up to code. 

The employee who signed off on the inspections is under an Ade company, which falls outside your jurisdiction. 

You wrote to Chrysus detailing your concerns. His response can best be summarized as him telling you that he’ll handle it. 

That did little to put your doubts to rest. 

“I’m telling you, this is impossible,” Nona grumbles. “Can you reset it?” 

“I’ve already reset it four times.” 

“Well, you know, fifth time’s the charm.” 

You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve sighed throughout this training. 

“Let’s not give up so soon, okay? Which part do you feel is impossible?” 

You sit down beside her to get a better look. The blue, holographic screen fills you with nostalgia. This program was developed by a retired Arbiter to aid in their training. Essentially, it generates a ‘person’ with traits indistinguishable from their flesh and blood counterparts. Physiology, disposition, every experience they’ll go through from birth to death; it misses no detail. 

The trainees are supposed to go through the steps as if they were interacting with a client. They must establish a link by piecing together the simulated psyche, giving it an interactable form. 

Nona’s a rare case. Most Arbiters struggle with establishing and maintaining Synalinks, an area she excels at. It’s the first step that presents an issue. She has a difficult time establishing links. It’s a foundational part of the process that can’t be haphazard. 

“He’s so whiny. He’s a bigshot vocalist, traveling around the galaxy to sold-out shows, and he still complains that no one will ever ‘understand’ him or his art when even he doesn’t get it! He’s just coming up with fake deep lyrics.” 

“Did you look at the childhood fragments? For insecurity, that’s a good place to start.” 

“Oh, don’t get me started on that,” she grimaces as if she bit into something sour. “He came from old money. Opera star for a mom and a successful businessman for a dad. He wanted for nothing. But no, apparently he still needs to change his profile picture to black and the about section to ‘gone’ whenever he wants attention.” 

You pull up a critical childhood fragment. “Here you can see his father leaving a recital early to take a phone call. Then, after the performance, his mother is quick to point out the areas he needs to work on.” 

“So? He was screwing around on his phone during his singing lessons, what did he expect?” 

“Consider what happens when his tutor leaves. His face falls and he’s fighting back tears. He’s acting out to get the attention his parents don’t give him. The tutor is older and in a position of power, which makes him a perfect surrogate.” 

“That happened when he was six, though. He’s had decades to get over it.” 

“Even if that were true, it wouldn’t make a difference. A person’s experiences are real to them. Say I think there’s a hidden compartment in my bedroom due to the wall making a peculiar noise. I have lived my entire life believing this. If you saw that fragment while trying to piece my psyche together, then dispute it because you know there’s no hidden compartment, there’d be disunity. Every belief, no matter how small, connects in a complex web. Why did I make that inference? Did I read it in a book? Did my mother scare me into following curfew by saying a secret monster hiding there would get me if I stayed up too late? The mind is a fragile thing and we must treat it as such.” 

Nona puts her hands up. “Alright, alright, geez. Make sense of the events through their lens, not mine. Got it.” 

Unexpectedly, it’s Lear who speaks up next.

“What would happen if those fragments were altered?” 

You place a hand on your chin. “It’d depend on the fragment’s importance. In the example I gave, it’d cause friction in maintaining a link, but it wouldn’t fundamentally change everything I’ve ever known. As for a fragment more significant, well… I’m not sure.” 

“You aren’t?” 

“Without credible data to pull from, I’d only be speculating.” 

A frigid draft whirrs through. You shiver. 

“You’re better at this than I am, Lear. Wanna switch places?” Nona asks.

Lear stands up, his palm covering his mouth. It’s as if the vitality has been drained from his face. He transitions through multiple expressions, each more agonized than the last. Your heart twists violently against your ribcage. You want to call out to him, comfort him, but there’s no combination of words that’d douse the raging fire. 

Is it happening again? You think. No… this has to be the worst one yet! 

It’s before you again. 

A simple stage in a modest auditorium. 

There are no performers or stagehands. The lights in the theater are dim, the chairs are folded up. Pamphlets clutter the ground in disorganized heaps. Looking up, you realize they’re falling from the rafters like rain. One lands by your feet. You pick it up, squinting to make sense of the words. It’s a playbill advertising a show titled The Idiot. 

Directed by

ANIA PHAEALES

THE CAST

(In order of appearance)

The Servant…………………………………………………………………………..UNNAMED

The Fool…………………………………………………………………..…………..UNNAMED

The Coward…………………………………………………………………………...UNNAMED

On and on the list goes, ascribing every unflattering role to an unknown party. 

Mother’s name is here? Why? Was she that influential over Lear?

Spotlights flick on. Hot streams of light illuminate you in a blinding assault, which you try to block with your hands. The light’s intensity overpowers your meager attempts. A spectral crowd cheers, rousing applause and whistles emanating from empty chairs. Champagne glasses clink, men guffaw deep from their diaphragms, and women shriek like banshees. 

It gets hotter and louder, again, then once more; suffocating you in a cacophony of sensory stimuli. 

The audience makes passing comments. 

“... A shame, it couldn’t work out…” 

“Though what did they expect, truly…” 

“... Know how it is…” 

The finale rings crystal clear.

“Some people born will die never knowing love.”  

A wet, metallic-smelling substance drips from your nose. The softness of a rag replaces this feeling. It remains there, tickling your senses. There’s that floral scent again — subtle and pleasant. The flower it’s derived from may be toxic, but the strands of vermillion that curl outward like spider legs look so inviting. The petals are streams of blood frozen by time. Every time they wither, they’re forced to bloom again, perpetuating a cycle from which there’s no escape. 

You’ve seen sunsets in pictures. There are two of them glaring down at you now, circular, as if viewed through a looking glass. 

“How pretty,” your words blur together. “‘ve always to see… a sunset…” 

You never will, though. Eris is far, far away from any brilliant stars. The aloof night sky will be your lullaby and your dirge. 

Sluggishly, you sit up. You’re on one of the nice leather couches in The Club. A headache thumps in your head like a landlord who raps against the door of a tenant late with rent. You’re about to stand when an authoritative voice stops you.

“Stay still.” 

You open your mouth to protest. Blade must know your demeanor when you intend to be petulant, for he cuts you off. 

“That wasn’t a request.” 

You murmur something incomprehensible and melt back into the cushion. Regardless of your obedience, Blade stands close, as if you’re planning to bolt, trip on an uneven floor panel, then hit your head and die instantly. Glancing around, you note no one else is here. 

He follows your eyes and accurately surmises your intentions. “The quiet one ran out and the noisy one ran after him.” 

Any other time, that deadpan delivery mixed with his personal interpretation of Lear and Nona would’ve made you laugh. Presently, though, you’re fighting off a headache that outclasses every other that’s come before it. Top of the class and then some. It helps to know that Lear won’t be alone. Why exactly he experienced such an intense emotional eruption is a mystery to you. Then there’s the chaotic state of his psyche to consider; if you were disoriented from the aftershocks, the epicenter must’ve been cataclysmic. 

You’re so swept up in your thoughts, that it takes you a while to notice how Blade’s been staring at you. This in and of itself is nothing new. He’s been your shadow ever since forced this arrangement. It irritated you at first, but that blistering offense eased into acceptance. His vigilance felt befitting of a guard. Taking in your surroundings, assessing any threats; such is his prerogative. 

How he’s eyeing you now feels different. It’s as if he’s looking through you, not at you. 

“Is something wrong? You’re making such a scary expression,” you joke. 

No visual reaction. 

“I’m waiting for your explanation.” 

“About…?” 

Blade doesn’t bother hiding his displeasure. He glowers down at you, the difference in your height further exacerbated because you’re sitting down. 

The impromptu staring contest comes to an end when he speaks up, his voice carrying less hostility. 

“That idea you proposed,” he begins, moving back to return your personal space, “Are you still willing to try it?” 

He has to bring this up now of all times? You don’t want to loudly announce a deeply private matter, especially if there’s a possibility the information will make it back to Kafka. Your best shot is to downplay the severity of what you went through. He might be doing his job, but you don’t want him cordoning off Lear as a precautionary measure. You don’t blame Lear in the slightest — this punishment is appropriate for your past hubris. 

“Of course.” 

“I accept your offer.” 

Ah, you think. So this is the game he’s going to play.

“In that case… when should we get started?” 

You can guess his next sentence before it comes out. 

“I’m ready whenever you are.” 

Nona

hey hey

Nona

we’re all good here

Nona

lear’s quiet but he’s doing better. he keeps apologizing 

Nona

i thanked him for causing a scene and getting me out of class 

Nona

he kinda maybe let out a sound like a laugh

Nona

i’ll be hanging with him until things simmer down a bit more

Nona

man. i have to say though. sword guy had the most abominable vibes when it all went down

Nona

i yelled at him that if he hurt lear you would turn his mind into goop

Nona

soooo if you wouldn’t mind please tell him that was a joke and that i don’t deserve to get stabbed on sight. 

Nona

anyway. take care of yourself. call me when you feel up to it

It took three hours, a couple of painkillers, and more glasses of water than you cared to count to be ‘ready.’

You change into formal garments, consisting of an ivory gown that flows down to your feet, and a chiffon, indigo cloak that encases you from your shoulders to your knees. You fasten the heavy fabric into place with a broach your mother wore when she served as the Exalted Arbiter. It shows different stages of a moon, connected by four silver spokes. The highest point is the first quarter moon; to the right, the hollow outline of a new moon; the lowest point, the last quarter moon; then lastly, the full moon is to the left. 

Blade sits across from you in the chair designated for clients. He’s silent as you make your preparations, his eyes following you like a haunted painting. His ulterior motives are irrelevant. Inside this room, you’ve carried out your work as an Arbiter hundreds, if not thousands of times. You’ve heard the most clandestine fantasies that wouldn’t even be uttered on a deathbed. Devoid of judgment, you’ve filled your mind with the overflowing desires of their heart, careful not to lose a single drop. 

“Are you comfortable?” 

He nods. 

“Good. Let me know if you need anything.” 

An ornate tea kettle made from Eris’ dark stone sits atop the Nectary’s gemstone. It’s bronze in color and emits a warm, calming glow. Once the water inside is brought to a boil, you pour it into an opal goblet. Next, you add ambrosia leaves that have been ground into a fine powder. It sizzles upon contact with the water. Finally, you procure a vial from a pouch inside your clothes. Four drops of the Necatary’s tonic descend into the concoction. 

“I’ve seen you drink this before,” Blade notes. 

“Now you’ll get to try. Don’t worry, it isn’t poisoned.” 

It could be the low lighting and exhaustion, but you swear you see his lips curl upward. 

“Add however much you please. My only condition is that it works permanently.” 

“It’s a tempting offer. Sadly, I have to drink after you. Maybe another time.” 

After stirring the ambrosia, you hand the goblet to him. His eyes remind you of burning embers. Their radiance fascinates you. You shift in your seat, suddenly conscious of yourself. Has his gaze always held this weight? When he pulls the goblet away, you notice the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows, how there’s a pretty sheen coating his lips. 

Where is this onslaught coming from? Why couldn’t it have waited until later? 

You hurriedly take a sip from the goblet. Noct’s ichor tastes sweet and spicy.

It’s tradition to repeat an incantation so as to invoke your slumbering Aeon’s blessing. You’re about to say it, when there’s a cool, smooth sensation against the corner of your lips. Every muscle in your body goes taut as if you’ve been turned to stone by some wicked spell. 

Blade’s gloved finger ghosts over your skin. 

He’s leaning over, still sitting down, close enough that you can see your reflection in his eyes. You see how high your eyebrows have raised, the ‘o’ shape of your mouth. 

“B-Blade?” Your voice comes out like a squeak. 

He says nothing. Goosebumps litter your skin, the hairs on the back of your neck stand. Your heart is a ferocious war drum. Whether it’s sounding an alarm or an invitation, you cannot tell. A beast made in your image has life breathed into it. You thought you slayed it, watched the light drain from its beady eyes, but it’s resuscitating. 

Then again, maybe you’re a fool for thinking lust can stay dead. 

He sinks back into his seat, completely impassive, acting like what he did carried no significance. 

“Some of the drink got on you,” he explains, entirely nonchalant. “I cleaned it off.” 

Being thrown into a furnace wouldn’t compare to the heat ensnaring your body. 

You cough into your hand. “Oh, yeah, that’s— thank you.” 

The awkward jumble of words flounders out before you can stop them. Your lessons in etiquette and oration have hidden themselves, somewhere beyond accessibility, scurrying to the shadows like mice when a cat approaches. If you were to make a list of your dumbest statements, this would make it far in the rankings. 

This time, you’re certain of it. That little smirk. Maybe he’s getting back at you for withholding information earlier. 

Whatever the case, you have a goal you’re determined to see through. You resume the incantation, although your voice lacks assertiveness. 

“To dream is a sacred thing. Don’t fear it. Welcome it, rejoice in it, and shed no tears when it is finished. We’ve been granted your purest blessing. As you slumber, we find rest in you. Allow us the sweetest of dreams.” 

You close your eyes…

… And when you reopen them, the Shackling Prison looms above you. 

This link is far more stable than its predecessor. There’s no ticking timer hurrying you along, you’re free to examine every nook and cranny. You notice how desaturated your surroundings are. The blades of grass closest to the prison blend in with the stone, the only hit belying their true nature being how they sway in the breeze. There isn’t any vegetation or ambiance that suits the surrounding environment. Birds don’t sing, rushing rivers are silent, and bugs refuse to perform their melodies. 

Nothing regresses or progresses; he’s wedged in a constant state of inertia. Your heart aches. 

You make your way to the impenetrable gates. After thinking about it, you hypothesized the seal you previously encountered was an emergency defense he unknowingly created. At that exact moment, Blade didn’t want you puppeteering him. He may be enigmatic, but what you know for certain is that he takes his assignments seriously. The Stellaron Hunters want you alive so he has to as well. 

That’d explain why it acted hostile to your interference. You’ve never established a link in such a high-stakes, volatile setting. You were bound to encounter oddities of some fashion. This explanation reassures you as you get closer. 

Only to ruthlessly get debunked. 

The seal is still here. It’s styled in the outline of a circle, overlapping the doors that keep you from studying Blade’s mara. Frustration floods you. This can’t be Blade’s handiwork. The one comparison is how it emanates steady energy, similar to how he is in a meditative state. The similarities stop there. 

It's grown paler, you realize. Its potency has waned since I’ve last seen it, too. 

To test this, you push against it. 

The gates creak back. 

This gap lets you steal a glance at Blade’s mara. It consists of multiple tumor-like abscesses that writhe against each other, forming a pulsating, fleshy mass. This ebullition isn’t consistent. Different sections have a will of their own. Some try consuming their adversary, others suffocate what’s beneath through their bulk alone. The horror extends down into a pit whose depth you couldn’t possibly guess. Killing, devouring, gorging, and digesting; only to experience a rebirth that will perpetuate the cycle. 

It pushes against the windows and seeps into the structure’s cracks, of which you count many. The mara’s repairing him, vigilant in its upkeep. It is a ghastly glue holding fractured pieces that long for respite together. 

Your intrusion causes it to gurgle and retract. The mara doesn’t break down or weaken, it gradually oozes down like bile in an esophagus. 

The seal repels you, cutting your grotesque investigation short. 

The last thing you see before the gates slam shut is the mara reclaiming its territory. 

…

Blade’s fully conscious while you need some time to refamiliarize yourself with your surroundings. Your head raises its thunderous complaints about how it’s being overused lately. You down a cup of water, careful not to get any on your lips, so your earlier weakness isn’t repeated. 

“Alright. Let me get my thoughts together,” You take a deep breath, then continue, “I only caught a glimpse of your mara. It did retreat after noticing my presence, although I’m not sure why.

Blade doesn’t say anything. You’re beginning to get used to that. 

“And another thing. I didn’t think it was worth mentioning, since everything about our previous link was messy… but this time and the last, there’s this seal preventing me from going deeper. Do you have any idea what that’s about?” 

“You’re the expert here.” 

That must mean he doesn’t. 

“Hah. I’m starting to wonder about that.” 

You don’t mean to sound so defeated. You have some years under your belt — 120, to be exact — but you’ve realized how many areas you’re lacking in. Nymphalians live anywhere from 500 to 700 years. Your mother was 200 when she’d been anointed as Eris’ new Exalted Arbiter. She tried stamping out the quiet pride your prodigious abilities instilled in you. All it did was form a gaping chasm neither of you ever tried to mend. 

You have the materials now, but it’s too late. There’d be no one waiting on the other side once you crossed.

Blade leans forward, presses his elbows to his knees, and rests his chin on his fists. 

“Would it help if you touched me?” 

You shoot up straight from your chair like it just stabbed you. Heat infuses into your cheeks, then spreads throughout, momentarily stupefying you. His monotonous words loop in your head. How can he sit there so collected after making an insinuation like that?! Especially when you’re not at your top performance. 

“That’s highly inna—” 

“You avoid skin-to-skin contact,” he interrupts, his visage unreadable. “The one time you didn’t, you made it far.” 

It’s a mistake to underestimate his perspicacity just because he doesn’t actively flaunt it. 

“What did you think I meant?” 

Why can’t his voice have a little more intonation? If he’s being playful, his delivery is too dry for you to tell. 

“Nothing, nothing at all,” you sit back down and cross your legs in an attempt to look professional. “What you’re referring to is a precaution my mother suggested. In the past, strange reactions have occurred after I came into direct contact with someone. Not always, though. No one could determine the how or why.” 

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Honestly… you Stellaron Hunters should’ve just waterboarded me, you would’ve gotten this information faster, if that’s the objective here.” 

“Lie if you want.” 

“I don’t want to lie to you,” you admit. He knits his eyebrows together, an act that accentuates the dark lines beneath his eyes. “You deserve to understand what I did. If I hadn’t resorted to that, it’d be different.” 

“Hm.” 

No one can ever claim Blade doesn’t have a way with words. 

Suppressing a yawn, you refocus the conversation. “I think we made some good progress here. I’m willing to keep at it if you are.” 

“No. That’s enough for now,” he says. “Go rest.” 

“Eh? I can keep going, though.” 

“I know. Rest anyway.” 

Your body is letting you know that it’s finished, your exhaustion has crossed the semi-tolerable threshold to unbearable. There’s a hearing to prepare for, Nona and Lear to reach out to, and about another million odds and ends. This flurry of activity won’t get done any faster if you’re crawling around like a host controlled by a parasite. 

“... Fine, have it your way. Lear’s always getting on me about my sleeping habits too.” 

You sense an irregular fluctuation from him. However, there’s no shift in his body language, so you decide it isn’t your place to pry. 

“Blade?” 

He turns his head toward you. 

“This ability of mine, it’s only ever provided entertainment for others, which is fine, of course… but… the chance to help someone directly… is a first,” you give him a bashful smile. “Thank you for trusting me. I mean it.” 

For a brief moment, his gaze doesn’t feel so intense.

Nona

hey hey 

Nona

please tell me the sword guy didn’t confiscate your phone. if that’s the case it’s so over

Nona

i’m not going up against him to get it back

It’s me texting from [First]’s phone. I remember what you said about the brain goop. Lock your windows and sleep with one eye open.

Nona

!!!

Nona 

gg

Nona

oh btw. the dust has settled

Nona

it’s weird… this doesn’t happen for years, then suddenly, twice in such close succession? 

Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that too I don’t get it

Nona

welcome back from being held hostage btw

Wow thank you

Let me know if you both need anything I actually have no idea how I haven’t passed out yet

Nona

it’s because you haven’t given mushroom mania a chance. their music is so chill

Nona is typing…

Please don’t spam the link to their album again

Nona

alright fine whatever

Nona

i am bored though if you want to play connect four hmu

Nona has invited you to play Connect Four™©®.

Nona

[first]? come back my queen

Nona

wow you fell asleep fast </3

Nona

rest up. you deserve it

There are two monitors in front of you.

To the left is a man with a graceful physiognomy — Chrysus Ophídion. He has hair white as snow, pulled back into a long ponytail that stops at his lower back. His eyes are sharp, cunning, hidden behind thin glasses that reflect his monitor’s shine. He’s already asked you the questions courtesy demands, such as your health and how the LOTUS-EATER is faring during the IPC travel ban. 

“It’s nothing but a power play,” he had reassured you. “I’ve had productive negotiations with their chief financial officer, he’s insinuated that a proposal to remedy the dispute isn’t far off.” 

While you’d often be remiss to take Chrysus at his word, there is one sacred objective he’ll never work against — money. 

He isn’t exactly subtle. His office’s backdrop is a hulking conglomerate; a screen that shows everything from graphs of Eris’ most prominent businesses to stocks throughout the universe updating in real-time. There must be around a hundred different squares dedicated to this flashing panoply. Before Chrysus’ repurposing, it was a wide window from which one could view Eris’ mountain range to the northeast. Your mother detested the change and the room itself. 

Then to the right, there’s Caicias Rex. He’s a burly, bearded man, with dark hair going silver from age. Rumors have been circulating that he’ll announce his retirement on his 500th birthday. Between the two, you prefer dealing with him. Caicias isn’t verbose or prickly. If anything, he’s a little too brazen. 

“How are you holding up, little Miss Arbiter?” 

Caicias’ gravelly voice is at a deafening volume, made worse by the fact you’re using in-ears. His microphone peaks at its own leisure. 

“Caicias, please, your microphone,” Chrysus grits out whilst wincing, “Did you not have your assistant set it up beforehand as I suggested?” 

You both take out your in-ears before he responds. It’s loud enough that you can hear what he’s saying even while holding them far away. 

“Oh, the dial’s screwed up. Alright. There. Any better?” 

You put your in-ears back on. “I believe so.” 

“Great! Let me repeat myself then. Are you feeling any better? Ready to do all that mind magic stuff?” 

“I’m doing much better, thank you. If you’re referring to my capacity to establish links, I haven’t encountered any issues so far.” 

Caicias takes a moment to respond. “That way of speaking, your posture… you’re the spitting image of Ania.” 

The call falls silent. While you’re thinking of something to say, Chrysus takes the initiative himself. 

“May Noct grant her blissful rest,” he repeats the platitude you heard spoken aplenty at your mother’s funeral. “I apologize for changing the topic so abruptly, but there’s a sensitive matter at hand to discuss. I ask that you both listen until I’m finished without any interjections.” 

Sensitive? What could he possibly mean by that? 

You feel a churning in your soul. 

“Thank you. As you’re both well aware, the position of Ade’s Exalted Regent isn’t limited to operating as Eris’ primary treasurer. Caicias and the belated Ania Phaeales agreed to my proposal to form a coalition that’d combat Eris’ uptick in crime decades prior. The coalition has seen great success. 

With Miss Phaeales injured and Mister Rex preoccupied with investigating hazardous mining conditions in the Nectary, I was appointed head of the Thelx nectar guide bombing investigation. My team and I have spared no resources in uncovering the culprits behind such a senseless act of violence. 

Initially, we turned our attention toward the IPC. At this point, we’ve found nothing to implicate them. On the contrary, evidence from the preliminary investigation suggests the involvement of Arc citizens. I am well aware of the prejudice certain people have against those who come from Arc, so I wanted to be absolutely certain. You’ll both receive digital copies of the documented evidence, but for the purpose of this hearing, I’ll focus on the most relevant evidence. 

Through data restoration and witness accounts, two main suspects have been identified. Felix Laurence, a nectar guide engineer who was granted Thelx citizenship by Ania Phaeales, and his nephew, Ryker Laurence, unemployed. A standard employee-issued passcode assigned to Felix accessed the NGT, or Nectar Guide Terminal, three cycles prior to the incident. Logs show he spent considerable time eyeing the schedule of the cycle when Miss Phaeales was to depart.

Felix’s co-workers have corroborated that he offered to take their shifts, as the trip was scheduled on a cycle he doesn’t work. His offer was accepted by the second person he asked. Audio logs recorded in the common area corroborate this. Surveillance places Felix’s arrival at 0100 hours, where he claimed that an emergency malfunction notice was sent to his pager. The NGT confirms no such notice was issued. 

The fragments recovered from the explosive device show it to be the kind that activates on contact, which simplifies the installation process. Felix is seen returning at 0112. Co-workers report he seemed ‘unlike himself’ and was drenched in sweat. Miss Phaeales’ cabin departed at 0200, the tragedy occurred at 0223. A reconstruction of the device reveals a minor malfunction that delayed the device’s detonation, a blessing from Noct, I’m sure. 

The Laurence residence was promptly raided, where materials matching those inside the explosive crime were located. Testimonies from those who know Ryker attest to his hobby of making strange contraptions that never work as intended. I have personnel ready to detain Felix and his co-conspirator Ryker at a moment’s notice, in compliance with Eris’ No Involuntary Confinement Act, where they’ll be extradited to Arc unless they make an appeal.” 

The pictures of the two suspects take up Chrysus’ screen. Caicias strokes his beard while viewing them, whereas you remain motionless. You remember the name Felix Laurence. You attended the event where his special citizenship was awarded, some twenty years ago. What could have driven him to this? Where did you fall short? If it was your mother in charge, would things have gone differently? Chrysus, Caicias, Kafka… none of them take you seriously. They consider you a child playing make pretend. 

Is that not what you are? 

Mother would’ve held her own if Kafka tried coercing her. 

She would’ve found out about the building inspection dilemma through her own channels. 

Blade’s seal, his mara — she would’ve helped him better than you ever could. 

But she can’t. She’s gone and you’ll never be her. 

“I understand it’s a lot to take in,” Chrysus states. It doesn’t sound like he means it. “In truth, the account I gave is highly summarized. I felt I owed it to Miss Phaeales before I arrived at my next point.” 

“... What do you mean by that?” You ask. 

“It became clear to me that an investigation like this couldn’t be limited in scope. For instance, how did Felix know Miss Phaeales was due to use the nectary guide at that specific cycle and that specific time? As I said earlier, he accessed the NGT, but your name isn’t visible there. Only the Director of Operations knows when you’re set to travel. All Felix would’ve been able to see is that a private cabin was scheduled to leave at 0200, which isn’t a rare occurrence.” 

“Please place aside certain biases to the best of your ability,” he says. “Ryker’s correspondence these past two years showed some red flags. Specifically, he had frequent correspondence with an unknown person whose IP was traced back to the LOTUS-EATER. These conversations were largely written in code, but from what we’ve decrypted, this unknown person has been leaking information about you and Ania Phaeales. Based on available information, it’s highly likely that this unknown person is who you refer to as ‘Nona.’”

Caicias closes his eyes and exhales. 

“That… that’s absurd,” your voice is weaker than a breeze. “There’s no way I’ll accept a baseless accusation like this.” 

“Allow me to once again request that you place aside your bias. Nona, whose birth name is unknown, was born and raised in Arc’s most hostile faction. At the self-reported age of 74, she submitted a request for Thelx citizenship. Your mother, in her benevolence, granted the request due to seeing Nona’s potential as a future Arbiter. Do you deny any of this?” 

You think you might be sick. 

“... No,” you grit out. 

“Why would she suddenly abandon an extremist group and request citizenship in Thelx, a quadrant they’re especially hateful towards? Or, did this faction see an opportunity in Nona, who was widely known to have a talent close to yours in establishing Synalinks?”

“Little Nona is what, 113 now? That’s a long time to be acting as a double agent,” Caicias points out. 

“Can indoctrination like that ever be fully deprogrammed?” Chrysus challenges. 

Your horror gives way to an icy rage. 

“If you’re determined to pursue this ‘lead’, so be it, I guarantee my staff and I will fully cooperate. That doesn’t mean you can implicate one of my Arbiters for such a serious offense with nothing but circumstantial evidence.” 

Chrysus sighs. “I’m sorry you see it that way. You’re right that there’s no direct evidence yet — I bring this up to err on the side of caution. It’d deal a severe blow to Eris if anything happened to the Phaeales bloodline. Is it at least fair to say that out of everyone at the LOTUS-EATER, Nona would be one of the most familiar with your itinerary? Did you tell her about your trip to Perianth II?” 

You draw your lips in a thin line. You had told her. 

“Alright, Chrysus, this isn’t an interrogation. This is Ania’s daughter you’re talking to,” Caicias frowns. 

Ania’s daughter, huh?

“... You’re right. I just wish to ensure Miss Phaeales’ safety. I got ahead of myself.” 

“There are better approaches. Let’s call it for now. We won’t get anywhere bickering like this,” Caicias says. He steeples his fingers and looks directly into the camera. “Have your men keep watch on those two. We’ll meet back again in a cycle; that should give us enough time to flip through all these documents you’re sending.” 

This suggestion is for your sake and you all know it. Caicias has good intentions, but you’ll never earn the respect necessary for a leader if you back down now. You imagine you’re preparing to establish a link. The steps it entails, how your mind must surrender its solid form. 

“To dream is a sacred thing. Don’t fear it. Welcome it, rejoice in it, and shed no tears when it is finished. We’ve been granted your purest blessing. As you slumber, we find rest in you. Allow us the sweetest of dreams.” 

“It’s alright, Mister Rex. I can keep going,” you reassure with a smile. Your cadence has lost its vibrato and transitions into a steady timbre. Every dissonant note is scratched out to recite the sheet music lying before you. If you’re to get through this, it’ll be the performance of a lifetime. 

“Hm… are you sure?” Caicias asks. He squints, trying to get a better read on you through the screen. 

You consider a conductor’s baton, how it glides through the air, commanding absolute obedience from its orchestra. Your heart, your lungs, the feeling of static buzzing in your head; you demand a decrescendo. 

You might not be your mother, but you can play in the same key. 

“I am. Mister Ophídion, would you please go over everything from the beginning without paraphrasing? There’s a great deal to examine.” 

You’re occupying a space between reality and fantasy. 

Cogency of any kind flees from you. Chasing after it has become tiring, a prospect that instills dread. There’s no affliction worse than uncertainty. You envy fortunate fools who can cling to a belief from their first breath to their last, what a blessing it must be to never reside in doubt’s shadow. 

You don’t know what to think, what to feel, what to do. 

Chrysus had an explanation for everything. The file he’s built up on Nona? That’s standard procedure, anyone in such close quarters with you must be vetted. The employee who signed off on an unsafe building? A full investigation will be conducted, you need only be patient. Why hadn't he contacted you sooner about any of this? He didn’t want to risk any leaks that’d tip off the enemy before he was prepared. 

You don’t know what was worse. Being treated like an idiot by Chrysus or a sniveling child by Caicias.

Ripping your mother’s broach off, you walk over to the balcony’s edge and raise your arm. 

The inky night spreads out like paint spilled across a canvas. This is the only view you’ve had throughout the years — a cold void that never wanted to host life. The nameless planet must’ve counted itself fortunate to have been passed up by settlers. No one will ever want to settle here, it had thought. I will make my surface so terrible that those who come here will certainly die. 

You lower your arm. The broach is set on a table you subsequently push out of sight.

In a way, this balcony is your cell. You’ve sat here and contemplated freedom as any inmate would. What would it be like to feel the sun? Does it burn, does it sting? Is it true that you shouldn’t stand in it for long? What about the sunrise? How lovely it must be for such a sight to be there every morning, greeting you with its gentle colors and soft edges.

You hug your legs to your chest and rest your head on your knees. 

The door behind you opens without warning. 

You don’t need to look to know who it is. You can pick up on his taciturn presence without trying. It’s inevitable, so long as you’ve been exposed to a person enough.

Blade’s footsteps make no sound, he’s almost like a levitating wraith. You assume he’ll take his place on the leftmost chair. It's become an unspoken ritual. Those who have experienced the sun are ever so enchanted by the moon, he’s no different. Rather than sitting down, however, he lingers behind you. You can feel him staring. After a few seconds, he comes closer, so that he’s beside you.

Wordlessly, he holds out a teacup you’ve never seen. It’s porcelain with a glossy finish, boasting intricate blue designs painted along the sides. The inside contains a bloody ocean that glistens beneath the moonlight. The aroma clues you in — it’s ambrosia, just without the Nectary’s tonic. 

“Is this for me?” You whisper, incredulous.

His flat expression seems to communicate, ‘Who do you think it’s for?’ 

You cradle it in both your hands. Warmth seeps through and becomes acquainted with your skin. Likewise, the steam wafts up, tickling your nose. It’s as if the drink is a pocket watch and you’ve been hypnotized. 

Once it’s secure in your grasp, he pulls back. 

Then he starts to walk away. 

He’s leaving? Why is he leaving? 

Your body springs up of its own accord. You balance the teacup in one hand and reach out to him with the other, your fingers fanning out, ready to sink into whatever they can. Everything happens in the blink of an eye. Your free hand succeeds in finding a destination — settling on the abrasive finish of his bandages. 

You feel another texture alongside it. 

It’s smooth, cold, and visible through the interstices of his winding bandages. 

His skin. 

Realizing this, you withdraw your hand in panic. Then you wait, bracing yourself for a brutal rebound. What horrors could a mind like his prepare for you? Would it cross the threshold of mental anguish to physical harm? You squeeze your eyes shut. 

When you find the courage to reopen them, there’s nothing abominable waiting with bated breath to drag you through a mental purgatory. 

Instead of a consequence, there’s only Blade, fixed in place. He hasn’t moved an inch. 

You’re okay. Nothing’s wrong.

You let out a relieved sigh. 

“Let me at least get the words thank you out,” you insist, desperate to refocus his attention. “I… thank you. You don’t have to be… in such a rush…?” 

There’s a beat of silence. 

Much to your chagrin, Blade takes your teacup by the rim and lifts it. You tilt your head. Did he… did he just repossess your drink? That’s a low blow.

“You were about to drop it,” Blade deadpans. “Quit pouting.” 

“Wh—?! I’m not pouting!” 

He raises an eyebrow. 

To think you went through all that anxiety for this. 

“You Stellaron Hunters are the worst,” you grumble. 

“Hm.” 

Fed up beyond measure, you spin on your heel and start walking back to your chair. You deserve an uninterrupted night of listening to depressing music while thinking depressing thoughts. It’s your right, having endured so much lately.

“[First].” 

A chain reaction goes off in your chest. You’ve made it one measly step away and a blackhole threatens to reel you back. His voice, that deep, resonant tone, stirs something inside you, beckons it out to play. He spoke your name. Has he ever done so before? You don’t know. If someone were to ask you the most basic question right now, you’d be physically incapable of responding. 

He doesn’t have to ask you to come back. You do so willingly. 

Blade brings the teacup back down to your height. Confusingly, he doesn’t return it to your hands, nor does he give any indication that he plans on doing so. He’s holding it level to your face. You want to ask what it is he wants from you. It’s best to have everything out in the open, so that no misconceptions arise, and yet, that rational thinking presents itself as a nuisance. You don’t want anything to ruin this moment. The ambiguity entices you and holds your soul captive while the key is within reach. 

Tentatively, you press your lips to the teacup’s edge. 

The emotions teeming inside of him are palpable. They curl around you, these tendrils of unadulterated carnality squirm against your flesh. It isn’t a fair comparison to say you’re playing with fire. No, you’re laying down at an altar as a voluntary sacrifice. 

He inclines the teacup toward you.

It’s a harmonic union between saccharine and spice, a robust flavor that leaves your tongue tingling. He rebalances the cup while you swallow your first sip. Pulling back, you look up at him through your eyelashes.

“It’s delicious,” you compliment. In a coquettish act, you wet your lips as if you’d made a mess. 

His eyes glow like molten magma. 

Slowly, you stand on your tiptoes, both your arms coiling around his neck. You pull him closer and he lets you. Your lips almost connect, only for you to move back at the last second. He tries remedying this by leaning down further. You prove stubborn by dodging him once more. His nostrils flare and he lets out a sound akin to a growl. 

“Aw,” you coo, a condescending lilt present. You twist your head to the side and jut out your lower lip. “Who’s pouting now?” 

He descends on you like a rabid dog. 

His lips are relentless, demanding more and more, driven by a fervor that belies his seemingly apathetic disposition. It isn’t sensual so much as it is voracious. You’re taken aback yet find it titillating all the same. His bandaged hand flies to your nape, then drops lower, following the ridges of your spine. Subconsciously, you arch your back. He shudders at the softness of your chest pressing against him. His hand eventually settles on the back of your thigh, squeezing and grabbing the flesh with blatant greed. Without warning, he hikes your leg up, an act that causes you to temporarily lose your balance. 

Blade’s chest rumbles in a low chuckle. The husky sound sends heat straight to your core, you may have left out a debauched noise if your lips hadn’t been preoccupied. 

Regardless, you won’t let him off that easily. Who knows what he’ll start to pull if you’re lenient. You pull away and glare at him for the infraction. Considering your messy hair, heaving chest, and swollen lips, you doubt you’re very frightening to one of the universe’s most notorious criminals. The mirth dancing in his eyes confirms this. 

“Still you,” he muses. 

You release an audible yelp as he effortlessly picks you up. Manhandling you must be a newfound delight of his, his satisfaction is readily apparent. You doubt he’d drop you, but your instincts aren’t allowing the risk — you cling yourself to him for extra security. It occurs to you that both his hands are in use. Recalling the teacup, you glance around, curious about its whereabouts. You find it sitting beside your broach, perfectly intact. Wasn’t he holding it seconds ago? 

“How did you do that?” 

He grabs your chin and turns your head back to face him. 

“Strange, clumsy, and distractible,” he mutters, though not without a certain fondness. “Keep your eyes on me, girl.” 

“It’s a legitimate question! Also, hold on,” you jab your fingers at his chest in accusation, “I’m most certainly older than you. Are you familiar with the adage, ‘respect your elders?’”

“Are you?” 

“Well, obviously, otherwise I wouldn’t have said it— ohhh.”

He’s gracious enough to wait as you piece everything together. Xianzhou attire, an ability that could reasonably be classified as immortality… 

“On second thought, ideas like that are outdated. They perpetuate a cycle of complacency. Respect is earned, not given.” 

“At the end of the day, past that haughty exterior…” Blade trails off, his lips nearing your outer earlobe. You swallow while he keeps you in suspense. The pointed tips of his canine teeth drag against the sensitive flesh, sometimes sinking down, only to let up before he leaves behind so much as an indent. 

He plays this game for as long as it pleases him and not a moment longer. 

Finally, he bites down, almost eliciting a whimper. It takes considerable self-control to hold it in. 

“You’re something of a brat, aren’t you?” 

He accentuates this remark by grabbing the tips of your hair and tugging them to the side. Not enough to hurt, but enough to give him a canvas to work with. His teeth trail down from your ear to your neck, settling on your racing pulse point. He nibbles at the area just enough to leave behind marks. Meanwhile, your breathing picks up to an erratic pace. You lull your head to the side so that he has unrestricted access. He rewards your obedience with a kiss, soothing the tender area he’s been working on. 

Amazing as that feels, you swear you’ll go crazy if you don’t receive more stimulation. Whether or not he’s aware of this, you can’t say for sure, but you do know that he’s taking his sweet time sucking and nibbling the second place you want him most. In this position, there’s little you can do to encourage more friction. It’s too awkward an angle to grind against him, not to mention how damaging that’d be to your ego.

You tighten your grip around his broad shoulders in what you hope to be an obvious tell. When that doesn’t get you anywhere, an agitated noise slips by before you can stop it. 

Finally, he pulls back from his assault on your neck. “What?” 

How has his voice deepened in pitch?! 

“Just— don’t you want to, you know, inside?” 

“I don’t know. You’ll have to be clearer.” 

This bastard is deliberately toying with you. Huffing, you move back, unsurprised by the sight of supposed neutrality. He might be able to keep his facial expressions in check, but his eyes give him away. There’s no mistaking it. Those are the eyes of a starving beast. The intensity makes you shiver. Whether it’s from primordial fear or lust, there’s no telling. It’s most likely a warped combination of the two. 

This is a feeling you could get addicted to. 

Your dominant hand rises to cup his cheek. Exhaling a shaky breath, you allow the taut muscles in your face to relax. Your leering gives way to something softer. You familiarize yourself with him, running the pad of your thumb over his cheekbones, then lightly kissing the same cheek. His palms dig into you tighter. Acting as if you have all the time in the world, you pepper his face with featherlight kisses, loosely following a line that ends near his mouth. Finally, having arrived at your spell’s conclusion, you place a chaste kiss on his lips. 

You bat your eyelashes in a show of faux coyness. 

“Please?” 

He audibly swallows. 

Testing your limits, you throw in a sly comment. “Don’t you have a soft spot for me?” 

Blade scoffs. He doesn’t say anything for or against your claim, but you do notice how the tips of his ears turn red. 

“If I’d known this was the best way to deal with you Stellaron Hunters, I would’ve considered doing this with Kafka.”

Blade’s eyes narrow into slits that, realistically, should unsettle you. It does to an extent. Especially considering the maelstrom of heightened emotions swirling around him, and, by extension, you. He’s glowering, sizing you and your intentions up. He lets out a harsh laugh, shaking his head while doing so. 

“What a mouth,” he remarks. 

Unbothered by the vitriol, you shrug. “You’re the one who told me to speak ‘normally.’” 

“My mistake.” 

You don’t get to respond — his lips are on yours again. He steps back, somehow mindful enough to input the door’s passcode while never breaking away from you. His tongue doesn’t ask for entry, it demands it. You’re happy to comply. He takes pleasure in ravishing your mouth, tasting the lingering flavors from the gift that brought you to this. 

You’re back on a solid surface after he pushes some writing implements to the side. You decide that this will be the one time you allow someone to make a mess of your desk. He urges your legs open with his knee, a request you’re quick to fulfill. 

His lung capacity must be otherworldly, you have to give his shoulders a push for him to get the hint. A throaty noise leaves him, expressing his disgruntlement at the prospect of parting. Still, he grants you respite. A thin trail of saliva sees to it that your contact isn’t completely severed. 

Blade doesn’t let you recuperate for long. He presses his hard length against your core, creating heavenly friction. You no longer have the means to muffle your noises, which must’ve been his intent. His hands find your hips in a frenzy. He grabs the flesh, pulls you closer, and grinds against your clothed cunt. 

It doesn’t take long for you to teeter close to the edge. The guttural noises near your ear, the steady stimulation, his scent, and shameless thirst for you; everything envelops your head in an intoxicating haze. Your problems that stack high into the sky seem so far away. The stress evaporates away, the tension you’ve held in your body dissipating alongside it. He’s doing most of the work for you. 

Your peak gets closer, you’re right on the precipice—

—And he stops. 

You can’t say you didn’t see it coming. Blade has a penchant for riling you up, delighting in the vivid reactions he gets. 

This cruelty earns him a whine. 

“You’re awful.”

“And you’re impatient,” is his rebuttal. 

“I am,” you agree. You learn that your equilibrium is askew when you get up. After steadying your wobbly legs, you grab his wrist and tug. Your sulking must be more tantalizing than any destination you could take him to. It isn’t until the fifth pull that he relents and follows along. You pull up the lock specifications for your bedroom, inputting that an unregistered person has permission to enter. Your fingers lack the dexterity to complete this adjustment on the first try. 

And the second. 

And the third. 

“Say anything and I’ll… I’ll…” 

“You’ll…?” he encourages.

“I’ll practice celibacy,” is your final threat. 

“Mhm.” 

Your bedroom door opens on the fourth try.

After fiddling with your do not disturb settling, you point to the edge of your bed. 

“Sit there.” 

He takes off his shoes first then listens to your request. You unfasten your outer cloak. The long fabric falls into your grasp and is put aside. You’re left in nothing but your loungewear, a simple button-up shirt and leggings. Turning around, you anticipate an annoying expression to be sprawled over his face. You even have an insult on standby. 

These thoughts crumble into dust. 

Blade’s gripping your comforter hard enough for his knuckles to turn bone white. He’s leaning forward, as if ready to pounce, yet lucid enough to exercise some semblance of self-control. He reminds you of a starved animal trapped in a cage, salivating over a piece of meat hanging outside the bars. Goosebumps cover your body. This isn’t simple lust… it’s visceral, some primitive desire too overwhelming to be understood. 

You’re the one he’s staring at with this unbridled yearning. 

Yes, he’s teased you. Pushed your buttons and riled you up. Not so subtly flaunted the strength that lets him maneuver you like you weigh nothing. You might have status and mastery in your given field, but he’s participated in the annihilation of worlds; the end of civilizations that span back since time immemorial. 

He should be the one in charge. 

Yet as you stand here, witnessing how he tortures himself by not pouncing on you like he easily could, a thought is planted. 

He’d really do anything you asked if it kept this from ending. 

The adrenaline rush this realization brings is enough to turn any cognition you still possess off. 

Your trembling hands hover above your topmost button. Your mattress dips as he slants forward, his fraying patience almost snapping. You hear the leather of his gloved hand creak from how hard he’s clenching it. You shake your head to deter him. The room’s atmosphere has a headiness to it that renders you breathless. Had you seen this expression without context, you’d think he was in physical agony. 

A button is undone for every step you take toward him.

The thin shirt flutters off your shoulders when your knees hit the bed’s edge. 

Blade gazes at your body as if he’d find salvation in it. 

Since you were planning to relax, you’d discarded your bra earlier. The exposure to the cool air causes your nipples to harden. He can’t settle for ogling any one part of your bare torso, his eyes flitter from your collarbones to your chest, your navel, then back up again. You start bending over. His eyes widen slightly. It takes you a second to find where his mind has wandered off since you were just going to remove your leggings. 

“What? Was there something you wanted from me?” You hum. 

If looks could kill, you’d be a goner. 

You decide he’s suffered enough. Your leggings are thrown aside, you’re past the point of caring to be tidy. You both exhale shakily as you sit your clothed cunt directly over his prominent bulge. Your arousal seeps through your panties and onto his pants; there’ll be no pretending that you aren’t as excited as he is. 

“Are you finished?” 

His low, grumpy voice has no business sounding as good as it does. 

You play with his high collar and pretend to ponder. “Hm… I guess.” 

No sooner than the words leave your mouth do you get flipped over.

Blade’s large hands fondle your chest, memorizing how soft and pliable the flesh is for him. He’s quick to remove one so that he can attach his lips to your pert nipple. He sucks the tender area, releasing sounds that’d have you thinking he was the one being pleasured. Meanwhile, his free palm flattens against your stomach. 

You’re lost in a myriad of sensations. His hot, wet mouth sucking your nipple, the cold smoothness of his gloved hand fondling what isn’t in his mouth, the coarse texture of his bandages sliding along your skin. He’s obsessed with your body and it shows. Whether he’s worshiping or desecrating it remains to be seen. 

“Blade, please,” you roll your hips against his so he can get the message. 

He delivers his punishment swiftly — he tweaks one nipple and nibbles the other. 

Unexpectedly, this extracts a mewl from you. 

Blade pulls back. A self-satisfied grin spreads over his face. 

“Poor needy thing,” he chuckles. Your glare doesn’t last long, for he brushes his fingertips over your clothed clit. He draws featherlight circles. “Soaked too. What? Was there something you wanted from me?” 

His reciting of your previous taunt antagonizes your pride. Rather than responding verbally, you try grinding against his stupidly stationary fingers. He holds your hips down to prevent you from misbehaving further. Having not learned your lesson, you try again. He barely needs to exert any more strength for your body to be pinned to the bed as if you were a butterfly on a collector’s wall. 

He clicks his tongue. “Have you forgotten how to speak?” 

“M-Maybe.” 

“Hm. A shame,” he says. He shifts back and parts your legs. You close your eyes as he nudges his nose against your inner thigh, his warm breath fanning over your skin. He leaves a trail of sloppy, open-mouthed kisses as he leisurely makes his way to your cunt. 

“I’ll have to pry other sounds from you instead.” 

He kisses your covered core, once, then twice, a growl leaving him when your hips desperately raise for more friction. Much to your disappointment, he revisits your inner thigh, this time nipping at it. He subjects the soft flesh to the conquest of his teeth. You prop yourself up on your elbows, intending to remove the last piece of clothing that separates you from him. He pushes you back down and mutters something incomprehensible. 

The sound of fabric tearing reverberates throughout your room. 

You’re not left wondering what he’s done for long. Blade pulls you against him by your hips, attaches his lips to your clit, and sucks.  

He’s relentless, almost as if he’s chasing his release instead of yours. His tongue licks from the bottom to the top. He feasts on you, his face pressing as close as he can get. The rapidly mounting pleasure leaves you incapable of forming coherent words or thoughts. All you can think about is Blade, how he’s grinding himself against your bed, fucking you with his tongue. 

Should you be doing this? Are you using him? Is he using you? These pesky little concerns fade into the foreground. 

He slurps your clit like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. Your previous sensitivity has your release imminent. You thread your hands into his hair and throw your head back. Tugging on the long locks in encouragement has him groaning against you, sending vibrations straight to your core. 

Your release builds and builds. The muscles in your thighs tense, your voice elevates in pitch, pleasure diluting your senses. 

“Gonna— mm—” 

You come on his ruthless tongue and ride out your high, ecstasy rushing throughout your body. 

Once you come back down to reality, you realize he hasn’t stopped. Your nerves are sensitive enough to almost hurt. You keen as he messily kisses your cunt. You can’t move your legs and your arms feel like jello. With some difficulty, you urge his head away. Your slick glistens along his parted lips. He greedily licks up the remnants since you’ve deprived him of the source. 

Blade takes off his overcoat. He then removes his golden shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing both garments aside. Next, he undoes the buckle that hangs across his hips. His silver pants join the heap of his clothes not long after. You drink in the sight of his toned figure. You’ve always thought him to be handsome. His sharp jawline, long, silky hair, and those blazing eyes. You never thought you’d get to see what’s beneath his clothes. Scars litter the expanse of his otherwise pale skin, their shape perplexing you. He catches you staring and gives you a look you can’t place.  

“Is it more unsightly than my mind?” 

You push yourself up, wrap your arms around his neck, and pull him close.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you murmur against his lips. “All I see is a handsome man who I want to fuck me senseless.” 

“Hm. There’s that mouth again.” 

He kisses your forehead while bringing you back down to the bed. Once your head is on the pillow, he lines himself up at your entrance. Abundant pre-cum leaks from his tip, which he smears against you, stimulating your clit in the process. You gnaw on your lower lip to stop a moan from sneaking out. He just barely pushes the head in. As it’s been a while, you hold your breath in anticipation for the stretch to come. However, he doesn’t go any further. He's just staring at you, his eyes like that of a madman. The intensity has you averting your gaze. 

Your cheek barely grazes the pillow before he speaks up, his tone chastising. “[First].” 

You feel your walls clench around nothing. 

Sheepishly, you turn your head back to face him. 

“That’s all it takes, huh?” 

You guess it did work for him twice. It isn’t your fault. Hearing someone call you by your birth name is rare. To everyone else, you’re a title or notable last name. You aren’t an individual. The characteristics that define you remain purposefully hidden from sight. You’ll just be another line on a long list, perhaps a topic for disinterested schoolchildren to write a report on. 

“Yeah,” you admit as he gradually sinks into you, “That’s all it takes.” 

He’s thick enough to make you wince, regardless of how slow he goes. Your walls struggle to accommodate his size. He stills until you recollect yourself, taking deep breaths to relax your tense body. The dull ache fades. You nod at him to continue. He pushes his cock deeper, exhaling shakily by your ear as inch after inch slips in. It’s hot and heavy inside you, occasionally twitching. 

Your legs wrap around his waist, eliciting a choked sound from him. Though you’re panting, you still have enough audacity to let your self-satisfaction show. He doesn’t chastise you or revert to teasing. No, he laughs, low and from the diaphragm. The room is almost unbearably hot and still you shudder. 

Blade slides out of you and thrusts back in. The pace isn’t too fast, but he insists on pulling all the way out and filling you to completion again. His pelvis smacks against yours as he fully stretches you. This time, he lets you throw your head back, his teeth sinking into the bruises he left earlier. You hear your headboard hit the wall from how forcefully he fucks you. It’s raw and brutal, but you love it. For once, you don’t have to think or do a thing. All he wants to do is ravish you and you’ll gladly let him. 

Your eyes shoot open when his gloved hand finds its way to your sensitive clit. He rubs sloppy circles against it, causing your walls to clench around his cock. He groans into your neck. This unrestrained expression of the pleasure you’re providing him is almost too much. You never would’ve imagined he’d be so vocal, panting hot by your ear, holding absolutely nothing back. You could spend an eternity listening to him. 

A second orgasm creeps up on you. Your moans and delighted gasps grow loud enough to let him know. He squishes your cheeks in the coolness of his gloved hand, demanding that your attention wander nowhere else. 

“Open your eyes.” 

What he’s asking of you feels personal, almost too intimate. You hesitate for a moment but ultimately give him what he wants. He rewards you by revisiting your throbbing clit, rubbing and rubbing until there are spots in your vision. You chant his name, sometimes getting through the entire word, or barely stumbling through the first few letters. He hastens his pace. 

You clench down on him hard and cry out. 

He grits his teeth from how you tighten around him throughout your orgasm. He fucks you during its duration, not letting up for a second, chasing his own end. His hands clench on your hips, digging into the flesh hard enough to leave bruises. You collapse onto your pillow, your energy spent. He has no problem adjusting you exactly how he wants. Your leg is thrown over his shoulder and you keen at the change in angle. The head of his cock finds a sensitive, spongy area that you hadn’t realized existed. You arch into him and whine. 

“B-Blade,” you whine, barely audible over the sound of skin slapping against skin, “Too much… It’s too much…!” 

Tears form in the corner of your eyes. One trickles down your cheek, which he promptly licks off. 

“I know. Be good,” he pants.

The insults you set aside earlier form on your tongue. They die a swift death again, for his breath hitches and he groans by your ear. 

Heat floods your tender insides. He forces your hips flush against him, his thrusts stuttering and then stopping entirely. Wave after wave of his thick cum coats your walls. It never seems to end — his throbbing cock continues releasing the viscous substance until it has no choice but to form globs that leak out of you. 

Meanwhile, he slants his lips sloppily against yours, almost growling when you whimper. He pulls back and thrusts in one last time, pushing his release as deep inside as it can go. 

You both heave desperately for air. He still doesn’t pull out, even when his cock goes soft. Something tells you he’d be content to leave it there for as long as you permit. 

“My blanket… I’ll have to wash it.” 

“Mm.” 

Blade fixes the strands of hair sticking to your temples. You tilt your head toward his hand. It’s been so long. A small, malicious fragment of yourself taunted how you’ll never enjoy another’s touch again. That your fate would be one defined by solitude. How could you take a lover with such a risk looming over your head? The last time had been disastrous. It haunts you more effectively than any ghost. 

He pulls out. 

The newfound emptiness feels strange. 

Blade rolls off of you and slides his briefs on. You watch his every movement through heavy eyelids. The scars along his chest seem like nothing compared to the amount on his back. They lay heavy along his neck, shoulders, and spine. The off-color stripes are all similar in length and width. Your stomach churns violently as you realize it must’ve been intentional. 

He must know you’re staring, but he doesn’t utter a word as he finishes getting dressed. 

A petal falls from the bouquet of purple roses Kafka gifted.

The slight movement earns his immediate attention, a reminder of how sharp his senses are. 

You grab a nearby blanket to cover your chest and crawl over, curious about what’s caught his interest. 

Blade picks up your crystal lotus. Its multiple surfaces change color depending on the angle he holds it at, refracting the low light in your room. He inspects it with furrowed eyebrows and a frown. 

“That’s from my mother,” you explain. “She was never big on gift giving, but… for whatever reason, a few years before her death, she started leaving me little trinkets like that. I have a whole drawer full of them.” 

You smile as best as you can, not wanting to be a downer. 

“Pretty, isn’t it?” 

His eyes find yours in the mirror.

He nods.

#oh boy i sure do hope nothing bad happens! #blade x reader #yandere blade x reader #honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #yandere hsr x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #nexus #my stuff

[miley1442111]

slolwy- a.hotchner

a/n: i imagined a fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)

summary: aaron is there for you during your toughest time.

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader

warnings: angst, parental death, mentions of an affair, comfort / fluff at the end :)

You were infamous for refusing to take sick days. Everyone knew you practically worked till you were on the brink of death, and even then you’d still just work from home. So Aaron was extremely worried when he heard your message saying you were calling in sick for 4 days. After work, he swung by your house, wanting to check on you. You’d been ignoring his texts all day, not answering his calls, and you hadn’t texted anyone else. Aaron couldn’t help but let his mind wander. What if you were really hurt? What if an unSub had targeted you and forced you to leave a message? 

Truthfully, Aaron knew his worries were probably an over-exaggeration, but in both your line of work, it didn’t seem so outlandish. 

He knocked once, no answer. All the lights were off- not strange considering the time, and all curtains were pulled. That was strange. You always refused to close your bedroom window, so your blind was never closed. 

He knocked again, no answer.

He finally decided to just use the key you’d given him and walk inside. He was met with the sight of the TV on and… a man on the couch?

Aaron pulled his gun from his holster and slowly approached the man sleeping on the couch. Once he recognised him as one of your friends, Richard, he lowered his weapon and left the house, more confused than before. He looked down at him phone and almost did a double take when he saw your name. 

Sorry I haven’t replied, I’m fine please don’t worry about me. I’m just sick.

No smiley face. No message to pass onto Jack. None of the cute drawings you did. Nothing.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So what is this then? Is it an affair?” Aaron asked David, a sigh following his sentence. David chuckled as Derek rolled his eyes. 

“That girl doesn’t even have time to entertain one man, let alone two. She’s sick, Aaron. Calm down,” Derek chuckled, leaning back in his seat. You’d been MIA for the past 2 days and Aaron was worried. 

“But why was Richard at her house?” That bugged him. Why hadn’t you called him? He was your boyfriend. He was meant to take care of you. Not Richard. 

“To take care of her. She probably didn’t want to pass it onto you and Jack. Hotch, you really have to stop freaking out, she’s a big girl, she’ll be fine,” Derek rationalised. Aaron wasn’t convinced.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You heard your doorbell ring and you groaned. You got up from the couch you hadn’t left since you’d gotten home and opened it. There he stood, your Aaron. 

“Aaron? What are you doing here?” You questioned as he let himself in, walking into your kitchen. Your voice was hoarse from crying, but could be passed off as the flu.

“Do you know how worried I was?” He paced your kitchen. “I thought you were missing, I-I thought that you were-”

“Slow down,” you cut him off. “I’m sorry, I was just sick Aaron.”

“Why was Richard here?” He demanded and you looked down. 

“Fuck,” you mumbled. This gave Aaron a second to look at you and the house. It was messy, you were in comfortable clothes, the kitchen hadn’t been cleaned all week- that was unlike you. He noticed the 4 bouquets of flowers on the counter and squinted enough to see the notes. 

Sorry for your loss…

His heart stopped. You were hurting, and here he was demanding answers like a dictator. You’d lost someone. “Honey,” his voice broke into a softer tone and you looked up, tears in your eyes. “You could’ve told me.” 

He pulled you into his chest and you sobbed against him. He whispered words of love and comfort, then relocated you to the couch, sitting you on his lap to hold you properly. Thousands of questions swirled through his head but he allowed you to cry to him. He felt like an asshole. 

Your crying quietened down after a few minutes and you looked up at him. “I’m sorry,” you sniffled. “I-I didn’t want to worry you and I had to travel. M-my mom was so sick and she just… y’know. I know I should’ve told you-” He quietened you with a kiss.

“You don’t owe me an apology. I’m so sorry I wasn't there,” he whispered into your hair and tucked your head into his neck again. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you,” you whispered into his neck. The last 3 days had been hell. Getting the call, getting on a plane, helping your siblings with the funeral prep, attending the funeral, last minute having to read the eulogy, getting back on a plane, getting home. All you had wanted to do was be with Aaron. “I love you so much.”

“I love you so much honey. I’m so sorry.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next weekend was spent at Aaron’s house with him and Jack. Jack had made you a card that said ‘get better soon’ and you practically cried when you read it. He was such a kind boy. The weekend was full of movies and watching Jack’s soccer blitz on Sunday. It still hurt, but you were beginning to heal. Slowly. 

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #bau team #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotcher #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch imagine #thomas gibson #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner smut #ssa aaron hotchner

[pichirobi]

put your hands together for yet another hualian college au 🥳🥳🎉

once the star valedictorian of his high school, xie lian is now a broke, failing college student surviving on packaged ramen fished out of cafeteria garbage cans. his luck turns for the better when he meets the mysterious art student who's filled his canvases with portraits of xie lian.

fic series | au tag | notes under the cut! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

xie lian (he/him, asexual)

xie lian's parents laid him off so he takes odd jobs, tutors, and does homework for anyone he can get to pity him. all of his money is spent on rent, and a cheap gym membership he abuses so he can at least look like he's functional on the outside. he bodybuilds his stress away.

his grades are terrible. xl's actually a greatly diligent student and does all his work, he just keeps misremembering due dates, and his professors are the kind that give zeroes on assignments typed in the wrong font.

he's kept fed by his roommate, shi qingxuan (she/he). xie lian's saved her ass from academic probation enough times for it to be embarrassing. their bond is more of a silent agreement to look out for each other.

hua cheng (he/they, demisexual)

his parents died when he was young but they left him a small fortune. he doesn't show off his money, unless it's to dress opulently outside of class and treating xl to expensive restaurants.

hua cheng takes like six courses a semester, four of which are obscure electives. he says it's because he likes to keep himself well-rounded and busy, but he has a ridiculous amount of free time anyway.

he's a perfect student but his professors are wary of him. he thinks very little of most professors and talks back to them in such a way where they can't tell if they've been insulted or not.

hc chooses the same art concentration every semester. portraits of the same beautiful boy at various ages. sometimes his art professor can get him to paint butterflies feeding on flowers.

hualian's backstory

their story begins on a playground. 10-year-old xie lian scares off mean kids bullying 8-year-old hua cheng over his heterochromia (one of the mean kids is qi rong). xie lian tells him he thinks hua cheng's eyes are pretty. xie lian wears earrings and has long hair that he braids with flowers, and he doesn't care what other kids think of him. he won't let anyone be bullied for their appearance.

we know what comes next—endless pining. hua cheng's infatuation grows as, from a distance, he watches his noble, gracious, special classmate defend kids who are easy targets (with the help of feng xin and mu qing) and earns the title of teacher's pet. hua cheng gains the bravery to stop covering his eye, until hualian are separated in chuzhong (secondary/middle school). the bullying returns and hua cheng swears to never take off the eye bandage again.

hua cheng's "young soldier" moment is at a halloween party in their last year of gaozhong (high school). hc's dressed as a ghost, face painted and almost unrecognizable. xie lian's dressed as a rabbit. qi rong spikes his cup of water. xl's top is sleeveless and it's unintentionally drawing unwanted attention to his shredded arms. some asshole teen girls won't leave him alone and keep flirting with/grabbing him. hua cheng tells them to fuck off and scares them away. although xie lian is indeed incredibly gorgeous and hua cheng is incredibly flustered, after the party, he makes sure to escort a drunk xie lian home.

some guy xl's never seen the face of starts rumors that xie lian paid off the administration to name him valedictorian, and that he sweet-talks his teachers into bullshitting his grades. he's the understudy for the lead role in a school play. the girl who was meant to lead falls horrifically sick and is in the hospital for some time. the guy who hides his face spreads another rumor that xie lian is the one who put her in the hospital so xl could have the attention/spotlight. other students gradually join in on the fun of bashing xl, knocking an admirable figure down to their level, until people start avoiding him, and his popularity is lost. feng xin and mu qing distance themselves from xie lian. hua cheng gets more detentions than usual for picking fights with anyone who dares to insult xie lian in front of him.

hualian in college

their third-first meeting is when xie lian is down on his luck, drenched from the rain as he just barely misses his bus to campus. hua cheng appears, stands next to xie lian with a red umbrella, and wordlessly waits with him for the next bus.

xie lian doesn't see the kind stranger again until he needs to track down the dean of xianle university, jun wu. jun wu is chatting with the head of the studio art department. while xl politely waits for their conversation to end, he looks around at the art students milling about, and catches that tall, handsome, kind stranger staring at him. the stranger smiles, looks down, and leaves. xl wanders the room to check out the art pieces scattered around, and comes to an easel in the corner. xl is faced with a painting of...himself. the signed name is written so poorly he can't read it.

hua cheng comes to him next. he introduces himself as "san lang" and asks xie lian for tutoring—not for any subject, but to improve his handwriting. cue montage of soft-spoken critiques and hands gently touching and hua cheng confessing his admiration via the poem they're practicing writing together. xie lian doesn't recognize hua cheng from their childhood but fixates on that lovely deep voice, trying to place where he's heard it before. hua cheng tries to overpay him but xie lian refuses, saying hc can tip him by grabbing lunch with xl. they meet up for calligraphy practice once a week.

san lang is generous and protective and patient. san lang is flirty and dependable and mischievous. he's also very, very handsome, distractingly so, "how can it be that no one's fought for the affection of a guy like you?" throughout the wild events of xie lian's life, hua cheng is right by his side. from helping ling wen the librarian organize hundreds of books and scrolls, to uncovering the schemes of pei ming's vengeful ex, to stopping the dangerous "pranks" of xl's insane cousin qi rong.

xie lian and shi qingxuan's dorm is falling apart at the seams. hua cheng spends a day and night with them helping to clean and renovate. he sleeps over (AND THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED ?!). xie lian wakes up to a new canvas painting on his bedroom wall. it's a beautiful portrait of himself, as a child, with flowers braided in long hair. in the bottom right corner is a signed name that xie lian can now read, the handwriting marginally improved.

xie lian finds that he stops expecting misfortune. he gains friends. his grades improve. at one of shi wudu's lake parties, xie lian nearly drowns, and hua cheng gives him totally unnecessary mouth-to-mouth. (they take this as inspiration to find completely bullshit excuses to kiss in the future.)

later on at the same lake party, they find a moment alone, warming/drying up by a fire pit. hua cheng alludes to being in love with someone who saw him at his worst. xie lian is envious of that. he firmly tells hua cheng that what matters is him, not the state of him.

misc

hua cheng has been going blind in his right eye for over a decade, and by college, he can just make out changes in light with it.

hualian definitely have a "draw me like one of your french girls" scene while their relationship is ambiguous. feng xin walks in and has prayed every day since then that he's knocked on the head so hard he gets amnesia.

hua cheng gradually leaves more and more of his belongings in xie lian's room until he practically lives there ("oh gege, how silly of me, leaving my toothbrush with you for the 23rd time this month 😇").

feng xin still calls xie lian "dianxia"; it was xl's nickname throughout primary school because he was such a beloved little prince 😌

feng xin and mu qing insist they're sworn rivals, but sign up to be each other's dormmates every semester. ("i know mu qing's every move. how many pillows he enjoys sleeping with. how he likes his coffee in the morning. you have to keep a vigilant eye on the enemy, dianxia.")

shi wudu offers xie lian an absurd amount of money to spy on report back weekly updates on shi qingxuan's life. xie lian politely refuses.

pei ming and lang qianqiu are gym lunks. sometimes they workout with xie lian, barely disguising their true intention of competing with each other.

hua cheng will occasionally waste time at a bar owned by he xuan. he plays poker and wins nearly every game by sheer luck. he doesn't bet money, but instead has the losers do something embarrassing for his own entertainment. he gains a fearful reputation, and mixes drinks when he's bored of playing or when no one in the room is brave enough to bet with him.

hua cheng makes up increasingly ridiculous stories as to why he covers his eye when he's asked. "it shoots a deadly laser." "a bear scratched it out, but i took its skin after. it made a nice rug." "my eye is right there. what are you talking about? are you okay?"

xie lian rescues a small, hungry cat he names banyue. he asks hua cheng to house her as he lives off-campus. the conversation goes like this:

"gege..."

"san lang 🥺"

"FINE."

qi rong buys a cat just to copy xie lian and names it guzi.

#i've only just finished book 4 so i'll probably add to this as i read more :D #if you're a writer you're welcome to reach out and ask to use this!! #hualian modern au #modern hualian #hualian college au #college hualian #xie lian #hua cheng #san lang #hualian #shi qingxuan #feng xin #mu qing #jun wu #ling wen #qi rong #tgcf #tian guan ci fu #heaven official's blessing #my art

[mahou-furbies]

I like behind-the-scenes character trivia, so here is a copypasted compilation of that from Precure wiki, and also some bits I was able to find on Pixiv. The Pixiv stuff is based on google translate and my own faulty Japanese so take them with a grain of salt (and I’m not fact checking any of this anyway).

Cure Black

Cure Black's outfit was upgraded in Max Heart due to parental concerns about how her previous outfit might have been too revealing for children.

Nagisa's name was originally going to be Kuni (クニ), as revealed in the concept art book.

Yes! Precure 5

There were initial plans to have all five Cures be in a student council (with Nozomi as the president), but it was scrapped due to not wanting everyone to be on the side of power. (from Pixiv)

They were supposed to appear in the Healin’ Good anime first before going to the Tokyo trip in the movie together, but this was scrapped due to covid. (from Pixiv)

Milky Rose

According to an interview with the producer of the Yes! 5 series (Washio Takashi), he didn't expect the series to last for two years and also never meant to make Milk have a human alias. However, when the production of the sequel started, he wanted to make a new character become a Pretty Cure who would have been familiar with the Cures from the start and eventually chose Milk.

Cure Passion

In the book "Drawing Fantastic Female Fighters", it’s revealed that she was originally going to have a similar look to Cure Peach, save for an increase in hair volume until her costume was changed to look like armor to help her stand out.

Additionally, in early stages, animators played around with things like the position of the ribbon and different headband shapes.

The same book also revealed two things regarding Setsuna as Eas: 

The diamond-like cross on the back of her outfit represented the burden she bore before her defection.

Her original hairstyle lacked a headband and looked a bit too much like bedhead. But a hairstyle borrowed from a newscaster didn't appeal to Toei's target demographic.

Cure Blossom / Cure Flower

According to an issue of Drawing Fantastic Female Fighters, Cure Flower's design is based off how the staff imagined a grown-up Cure Blossom.

Cure Marine

According to character designer Umakoshi Yoshihiko, she was originally to have an updo hairstyle as Cure Marine

Cure Rhythm

In prototype concept art, Cure Rhythm was originally going to be a purple Cure.

Cure Happy

Miyuki was originally planned to be in cheerleading club. (from Pixiv)

Cure March

Her theme colour was originally planned to be purple, but was changed so that the characters would form a bright rainbow colour when lined up. (from Pixiv)

Cure Diamond

In the Official Complete Book of Doki Doki! Pretty Cure, it was revealed that Rikka does not have romantic feelings towards Ira, though there were initially plans to develop it. "On romantic feelings: I don't feel that Rikka has romantic feelings toward Ira, though there were plans to develop it. But that would be overdoing it for Pretty Cure."

Instead, it was confirmed by the director of Doki Doki! after the finale aired that Diamond was in love romantically with Heart, in turn how she freed herself after becoming frozen by her own attack is considered as a plot hole. Therefore, in theory Diamond sacrificed herself for Heart.

Cure Rosetta

Alice was initially planned to have an older brother named Hiromichi, who was the former student council president of Oogai Middle School and was the one who led Mana to become president herself. He was eventually cut due to the idea of Mana having a crush on him, which went against her "charity" character idea. This is mentioned in the Official Complete Book of Doki Doki! Pretty Cure.

Cure Sword

She was originally going to join the team halfway through the series, but the idea was scrapped due to her appearance in New Stage 2.

DokiDoki was supposed to be a 3-person team, with Sword joining as the mid-season Cure. When her joining was pushed to episode 6, a lot of plot elements had to be changed, such as Sword originally having a lot of senpai Precure from Trump Kingdom. (from Pixiv)

Cure Lovely

According to her official TV Asahi profile, she had made 100 friends during elementary school.

Her mother was planned to have an incurable disease, with the end series conflict being that Megumi has to choose between world peace and curing her mother, but it was scrapped due to being too heavy. (from Pixiv)

Cure Princess

Was originally going to be named Cure Brave (from Pixiv)

Cure Honey

Was originally going to be named Cure Tender, which later was reused for Iona’s sister (from Pixiv)

She was planned to have a plotline about some unspecified insecurity, but it was removed because her character turned out to be too mature for that to fit. (from Pixiv)

Cure Fortune

Was originally going to be named Cure Mercy (from Pixiv)

Her original design looked too much like an office lady, but elements of it (like the pencil skirt) were reused for Cure Tender (from Pixiv)

Cure Echo

She had her own 10th anniversary greeting storyboarded, but it wasn’t animated due to her position as a special character (from Pixiv)

Cure Twinkle

During early development, her transformation background color was yellow instead of purple.

Cure Miracle

Mirai was originally going to be revealed to have Magic World ancestry, but this concept was eventually scrapped by writers who wanted her to be the more normal member of the Mahou Tsukai team, making her the only of the main Mahou Tsukai! Cures not to come from the Magic World.

A handsome boy who was popular among girls was supposed to be Mirai’s classmate, and a story line where Mirai and Riko aren’t swayed by him was planned. (from Pixiv)

Cure Magical

During the production of Mahou Tsukai, Riko was originally going to have a rival named Shiina Ryuuichi, who was scrapped and ended up being a background character instead.

Cure Mofurun

According to an interview with movie director Tanaka Yuta, most of the staff of Mahou Tsukai Pretty Cure! originally thought of Mofurun as genderless. She became a girl through the development of the series and the characters - as a fact file states, they even wanted to include a line about Mofurun saying that she is “a girl, mofu!”, but did not get the chance to.

The fact file includes description of original plans for Mirai to have thought of Mofurun as a boy in her childhood, but Mofurun deciding otherwise after she became alive and telling her so in the above line.

A rough sketch by Miyamoto Emiko reveals that Mofurun was originally going to wear an overall-like garment.

Cure Chocolat

Early character exploration art by Ino Marie, the character designer, shows her to be scared of bugs and ghosts. 

Cure Yell

According to an interview with Kawamura, the character designer, in the January 2019 issue of the Japanese magazine Animage, the tragedy version of Hana from the future where George and Hugtan came from had never transferred schools. Because she never met Saaya or Homare and was stuck in such a hostile environment, Hana saw no reason to better herself at all.

According to staff member Tsubota Fumi, she based Hana's personality on her voice actor, and she even asked Hikisaka Rie about Hana's feelings for George, adding that it was the beginning of budding feelings. She also asked Rie about whether Hana would like Amano Hinase back, but Rie said that it would be impossible for Hana who prefers men that are older and more mature than him.

Cure Ange

According to an interview with Kawamura, one of the writers, in the January 2019 issue of the Japanese magazine Animage, the version of Saaya from the future where George and Hugtan came from never got to pursue her ambition as a doctor as she would be pressured by the high expectations set by her mother.

Cure Etoile

According to an interview with Kawamura, one of the writers, in the January 2019 issue of the Japanese magazine Animage, the version of Homare from the future where George and Hugtan came from is indicated that she would've remained a delinquent or worse after succumbing to the despair caused by her failed skating experience.

The original concept design for Homare had her wear pigtails in civilian form before being changed into her bob cut. Additionally her near final concept design was meant to don pigtails instead of the side tail hairstyle.

Cure Macherie

According to an interview with Kawamura, one of the writers, in the January 2019 issue of the Japanese magazine Animage, the version of Emiru from the future where George and Hugtan came from would never achieve her dream of becoming a guitarist and singer, because she and her elder brother, Masato would still be living under the oppressive mentality of their grandfather.

Emiru was originally going to be named "Utau", but the staff thought it sounded too old fashioned.

Cure Star

According to head writer Murayama Isao, a producer from ABC suggested the name "Akari" as an alternative to Hikaru, which he viewed as "too strong." Murayama thought "Akari" would be interesting since the character would share a name with the producer, Yanagawa Akari, but Hikaru was ultimately chosen.

Hikaru originally had glasses (from Pixiv)

Cure Milky

Although she has claimed to be an adult, and is considered one on her home planet, her voice actress stated in an interview that in terms of her character's actual maturity level, “It was a lie.”

In the January 2020 special issue of Animage, primarily focusing on Star☆Twinkle Pretty Cure, series composition Murayama Isao stated that Lala's name was chosen because it felt right and "alien-like."

Cure Soleil

According to head writer Murayama Isao, Elena was originally going to be the student council president. However, as "pink and purple are more popular from a business standpoint," he was asked to keep the colors pink and purple as components "certain to mesh well," meaning Hikaru and Madoka were to be interconnected as opposing forces. As a result, Madoka became the president instead.

In contrast to Hikaru and Madoka, Lala and Elena were given more leeway when creating their characters, which is why the latter has a big family and a foreigner for a father. In terms of audience perception, Murayama admitted Elena was the most challenging as he predicted Lala would be perceived well for being an alien. That's why he and producer Yanagawa Akari were happy to hear that Elena's popularity grew as the series progressed.

When coming up with Cure Soleil's name, Murayama noted that the word "Elena" first came to mind. However, since Elena is a normal name for girls, it would have been like naming her "Cure Hanako," so they used Elena for her civilian name instead.

Cure Selene

According to the January 2020 special issue of Animage, primarily focusing on Star☆Twinkle Pretty Cure, series composition Murayama Isao was the one who came up with the name "Madoka," and that it would be written with the kanji "円" which indicates a circle, or full moon in this context.

Cure Cosmo

Murayama noted that Yuni's phantom thief element was primarily pushed by the female staff of the project. Producer Yanagawa Akari admitted to this, as she grew up watching anime where a girl transforms into a phantom thief, those who have a stylish image such as Mine Fujiko from "Lupin III." She wanted to create an image of a "cool, independent woman" in Yuni.

According to the Kamikita twins, who draw the Pretty Cure manga, Yuni grows up to be 175cm during the 15 years time skip.

Cure Grace

According to an interview from Animage 2021, Ikeda confirmed that Nodoka had been ill for five years until the middle of her first middle school year.

Revealed in the Official Complete Book, Cure Grace was the hardest character for Yamaoka Naoko to design, as she had revised her design 13 times.

Cure Sparkle

According to an interview in the magazine Animage, Hinata's character development was affected because of the hiatus the season had to take due to the COVID-19 pandemic. In fact, there was going to be a Hinata fashion episode, but it never made the cut.

Furthermore, as mentioned in the Official Complete Book, Hinata's mother was meant to appear in the fashion episode as well as the Christmas episode.

Cure Summer

An interview from Animage revealed that Manatsu's theme color was always meant to be rainbow with white from the start because the Producer wanted Manatsu to stand out even amongst all the Pretty Cure.

In the Animage January 2022 issue, it was revealed that Manatsu's name was originally going to be Natsu, then Natsuki, followed by Natsumi before the staff finally settled on Manatsu.

Nakatani Yukiko revealed that Manatsu was not only designed with her origin in mind, but also as if she was a protagonist for a boy's series.

Cure Coral

An interview from Animage revealed that Sango's personality is a bit toned down compared to the other girls, but she is also the closest to the audience because she is the normal one. She has a role in being an audience surrogate, but her personal charm points will also be highlighted throughout the show.

In the Animage January 2022 issue, it was revealed that the kanji for "Suzu" in Sango's surname was originally going to be 鈴, as it looked cute and Sango as a character loves cute things. However, the staff changed it to 涼 because they wanted to match the show's ocean theme and give her a name with a water radical.

The same 2022 issue also revealed that Sango was written to be a city girl that Manatsu can look up to, which contributes to her fashionable personality.

Nakatani Yukiko also admitted that she gave Coral many hearts because she's the "leader of cute". She also looked at fashion magazines for teenagers to get inspiration for Sango's civilian design.

Cure Papaya

In the Animage January 2022 issue, it was revealed that Minori's surname "Ichinose" was chosen due to it sounding girly.

More importantly, when the staff were selecting the Japanese pronunciation of Papaya between パパイヤ or パパイア, they chose the latter option as the former sounded like "Papa iya!" which means "I hate my father!" in Japanese.

This issue also revealed that her signature eye beam attack was not created until after the production of the Tropical-Rouge! short movie.

The staff had initially considered keeping her glasses even when she transformed into Papaya, before eventually abandoning the idea.

Cure Flamingo

An interview from Animage revealed that Asuka's Cure name was going to be either Cure Phoenix or Cure Volcano.

Cure La Mer

An interview from Animage revealed that in the first draft of the story, Laura had a more typical role and was a gentle girl to tone down Manatsu's outlandishness. But Tsuchida Yutaka was concerned that she was going to get completely overshadowed by the other girls, so they changed her into a character with a strong personality and with a big presence in the story.

In the Animage January 2022 issue, it was revealed that "La Mer" was Laura's Cure name before it also became her surname, but it was added because trying to be "Laura Hyginus" would've been difficult to pronounce once she started attending school.

The same issue also revealed that La Mer's nails were originally going to be multi-colored, but the staff eventually scrapped the idea as the end result did not satisfy them.

It was also revealed that Laura's role as the queen candidate is intentional. Tsuchida Yutaka believed the idea of becoming a queen by succession is a similar message to becoming a princess by falling in love with a prince, as it relies too much on someone else.

Cure Precious

In Oops! All PreCure Animage interview, Cure Precious' name comes from Yui's own appreciation for food.

During the Delicious Party Kanshasai, Hishikawa Hana (Yui’s VA) said that Yui's ideal romantic partner is somebody that loves cooking and making food together with her.

Cure Spicy

In the Oops! All PreCure Animage interview, Cure Spicy was chosen as Kokone's alter ego name as it sounded cool.

In the same interview, Kokone's first name was originally going to be either Tsutsumi or Hasami to match her sandwich theme.

Yufu Kyouko (character designer) also remarked in the interview that Cure Spicy's circular braid is meant to resemble a donut.

During the Delicious Party Kanshasai, Shimizu Risa (Kokone’s VA) said that Kokone's ideal romantic partner for a date is somebody she can have a calm conversation and exchange books with. Pam-Pam's voice actor, Hioka Natsumi also pretended to be Kokone's date in the same scenario.

Cure Yum-Yum

In the Oops! All PreCure Animage interview, Cure Yum-Yum was originally going to be named "Cure Yummy", but was changed to make her sound cuter. Mem-Mem was chosen to be her partner to match both her Chinese motif and the food "ramen".

In the same interview, Yufu Kyouko originally drew Cure Yum-Yum wearing a Chinese hat in her first draft design.

During the Delicious Party Kanshasai, Iguchi Yuka (Ran’s VA) said that Ran's ideal romantic partner is someone she can go on adventures with.

Cure Finale

As stated in the Oops! All PreCure Animage interview, Cure Finale was originally going to be called "Cure Gorgeous" but her name was changed to match her dessert motif.

Yufu Kyouko also stated in the same interview that she wanted Finale to look like a fighting princess.

During the Kanshasai, Kayano Ai (Amane’s VA) said that Amane's ideal romantic partner is someone she can train martial arts with and watch sunsets afterwards.

#precure #what a stroke of genius from toei about elena's cure name #prototype magical girls

[impossible-rat-babies]

— B A S I C S

name: eyrie kisne nicknames: none. they inherited the title "the ephemeral shepherd" after the end of the pandaemonium raids age: 150~ years old nameday: 22nd sun of the 4th astral moon (07/22) race: veena + rava viera gender: nonbinary orientation: do not particularly care profession: adventurer + craftsman

— P H Y S I C A L     A S P E C T

hair: reddish brown with streaks of pale blonde + a few grey hairs at their temples and near their ears. there are a few bald spots near the base of their ears from an intense trichotillomania flare up ~15 years ago eyes: warm dark brown skin: well worn and lightly tanned with copious amounts of sun spots, freckles and moles. a section of bleached white skin runs the length of their spin, spreading out across their shoulders and lower back. tattoos/scars: light brown tattoos of the same design as their maternal grandmother decorate their fingers and hands. their hands and forearms bleached to a pale white—almost marble like to the touch. they have too many scars to dare count them, but a notably large scar stretches from just below their sternum to right above their belly button from a reaper scythe through their chest.

— F A M I L Y

parents: their mother--yelva--is alive and well back in the forest. tending to her great grand children and her goats. their father, azmi, died in an accident during the later parts of eyrie’s wood warder training. siblings: two older sisters named lilja and brita, and one fraternal twin brother named odvirn, all of whom are alive grandparents: deceased/unknown in laws and other: none they are close with. they do have copious amounts of nieces and nephews from their sisters, but their brother has no living children. they also have seven children of their own. pets: cricket (a ferret familiar, unknowingly summoned) + flower (a carbuncle inherited upon the death of the first WoL in the coils of bahamut) + gingko (their chocobo who chose them once they finished their paladin training)

— S K I L L S

abilities: brd + smn + war/drk + ast. also trained in the tradition of the disgraced paladins of ishgard. they have some small talent in conjury, but refuse to pursue the matter further on account of “personal issues” hobbies: whittling, landscape drawing, playing various instruments (lute and pan pipes), gardening, sewing + embroidery + mending clothes

— T R A I T S

most positive traits: selfless, compassionate, loving, paternal

most negative traits: selfless, quiet, liar, shameful and guilty, vindictive, patronizing

— L I K E S

colours: russet brown, maroon, olive green, ivory, pale gold smells: oil pastels, aether, chamomile, blood textures: linen, feathers, homemade paper, oil, silky fur and rough wool drinks: mead, mulled wine, fermented sheep's milk

— O T H E R    D E T A I L S

smokes: briefly and socially some 25 years ago. they have some fleeting happy memories associated with the smell of garlean cigarettes. drinks: very occasionally and only socially with familiar company drugs: mild relaxants to help them sleep when the terrors get really bad + occasional pain meds to ease chronic pains mount issuance: "this note just says you can do what you want." been arrested: yes, several times by the brass blades in ul'dah after the calamity. mostly for petty crimes, but also inciting violence + bar fights + violence against members of the brass blades. (to which that was mostly violence in defense of the poor and the refugees the brass blades took for easy targets. they didn’t kill anyone though)

--

@redwayfarers and @galpalaven tagged me in this meme ages ago and i finally got around to doing it! im gonna tag: @fourteenthz, @gatheredfates, @hinganskies, @aethergazing and whomever else!

#tagging other ppl bc i know a lot of ppl have done it alreayd #oc: eyrie kisne #ffxiv

[bat-besties]

Who is Lili? (1)

Rose Wilson’s mother’s backstory is primary revealed in Deathstroke #15 by Marv Wolfman. I’m going to do a close reading of the first half of the comic, with the addition of some panels from Deathstroke #48, also by Marv Wolfman, recapping the events. I’ll follow up with her actions in the current comic timeline in my next post. 

Inherently, Marv Wolfman has crafted a story which relies on Lotus Blossom/Miss Saigon tropes around Asian women, and sexualises a survivor of political and military sexual violence. However, I think that even within the comics canon, it is possible to read the character of Lili differently by engaging directly with the text and putting aside authorial intent. To do this, I am treating Slade as the unreliable narrator he is. I am contrasting his narration with Lili’s on-panel art, dialogue, and actions, as well as a light touch of Cambodian history, to imagine a more rounded and human character. It’s creative criticism, rather than strict analysis. 

Right from the cover, Lili is literally described as “exotic”, and sexualised with a torn dress and unrealistic proportions. She’s also helpless, clinging to a white man in fear and unable to help herself. As if to add salt to the wound, there’s a large, purple flower in the background, illustrating the tropical setting and connoting beauty and fertility. It’s not a lotus blossom - but it’s close enough. 

But the answer to who Lili actually is gets more complex as the comic progresses. 

CW: discussion of sexual assault and sexual imprisonment, discussion of the Khmer Rouge atrocities, discussion of sexist and racist tropes around Asian women

The drawings of Lili continue to be sexualised and orientalist, with her next appearance set in an imagining of an exoticised Cambodian brothel, a world away from the brutal realities of women’s experiences under the Khmer Rouge. 

She introduces herself as “Sweet-Lili”. I’m not sure where this came from - it could be a ‘working’ name of some sort during her imprisonment, or a direct translation of part of her name, or a nickname. Whichever way, “Sweet” evokes the Lotus Blossom tropes of demureness and innocence set against sexual knowledge and experience. It also evokes her being consumable, even edible, for white men. 

She is fluent in English, showing a high level of education and also that her word choices are very deliberate. 

The next thing she says is “these are my girls” - this is where we immediately get introduced to the character’s priorities which will unfold over the next decade. In #48 it is revealed these women were once her servants, and have now been subjected to the same fate as her. Still, she never uses the word servants for them, throughout they are “my girls”. She equalises herself with them, emphasises their youth and innocence when Slade uses the derogatory “whores”. Most of all, despite being captives of the Khmer Rouge, they are hers. While she used to be their employer, in this dire situation where her nobility makes her a target rather than a social superior, she continues to lead them with a sense of responsibility. Now that a rescue party has arrived for only her, she isn’t going to leave her women behind. She steps down the stairs in front of them, opening her arms and making herself the centre of attention - she is relatively confident that Slade and his men are here to rescue them, but as these are women who have lost everything in a brutal civil war, I do think putting herself first is a precaution. 

When she greets Slade, it is by putting her hand on his chest in a flirtatious manner, something which the other women mirror with his soldiers.

This is to show her sexualised nature, and suggest gratitude towards Slade which will develop into romance. However, as someone who has survived the (implied) killing of her family through her captivity in a brothel, this could be read as a deliberate action she takes to both flatter Slade, and encourage her women (who are not meant to be saved at this point!) to use the attractions of the American soldiers to help rescue them.

She interacts with Slade as a fellow leader, and he asks if she is the princess.

 Slade calling Lili a princess is not his fault at first, it has been common historically for English translators to simplify the complex Cambodian royal titles into Prince/Princess even for very distant relations to the king, like Lili. (Without knowing her grandmother and mother’s titles I can’t work out what her exact title would be, or if she is entitled to one at all. Please tell me if you can work it out!)

She corrects him very politely, affirming she is royal and his target (“my father’s father was third brother to the king”), but not actually a princess. Despite this, both Slade’s narration at the very beginning of the flashback and throughout his recollections of her in #48, he uses the term “princess”. Once was a mistake, but his continual use, and later adaption of the term into an endearment for Rose, seems to replace the realities of Khmer Rouge’s political purges of the royal family with Slade’s Orientalist fantasy. 

However she corrects Slade with the brilliant line “But I am princess only to my girls” [sic], which elides her position from one of blood to one of responsibility. He has been sent to save her because she’s a royal, but she is extending her own protection over these common women. While missing out “a” could be a translation error, given how good Lili’s English has been so far I doubt it. Instead, I think she is transforming princess from a noun into a more active term; she is a princess “to” them, and being a princess to women is an active choice and responsibility. 

She quickly follows this with “You will save me now, yes?” which is just such a bold line in which she takes control of her own rescue. 

And surely - without even thinking about it, the Americans save her fellow captives as well. She’s achieved her goal without Slade even realising what she was doing.

He does observe her leadership as they escape, “Sweet-Lili kept them in line”, and the women are able to cook “incredible meals” from the surrounding nature, showing how efficient and well-organised the women are, in large part due to Lili. Slade says he doesn’t think he “ever had better”. 

And then we have the key key line, something which would be so easy to miss. “Could say the same for the nights”. 

The American heroes, the oh so noble saviours, are sleeping with the women they were sent to rescue from sexual slavery. Not only that, but it’s viewed as idyllic and part of their reward. I think that Slade does deep-down know this was wrong, as when he recaps the story in #48 after Lili’s death he claims they “trekked through the night and slept during the day”. This doesn’t align with this quote, or the fact that the women cook during the day, and all of the panels of the party walking and fighting in #15 are in daylight. This could be a continuity error, but I want to be consistent and not assume authorial intent.  

The women are so far from being safe from male sexual violence. Without guns, they can’t run into the jungle alone, so they have to stay with the “rescue” party and do what they want. What is an exoticised memory for Slade is any woman’s nightmare - including for Lili. 

The party comes across the Khmer Rouge enslaving and murdering villagers, and sadly Lili is unsurprised by these conditions, telling Slade the exact diet of such prisoners. As Lili hasn’t experienced these conditions herself, I think this shows how she’s tried to stay updated on the suffering of her people, despite the brutal repression of information and killings of journalists. She feels deeply for every person suffering during the civil war. While she’s empathetic but unfortunately has to be practical - she doesn’t ask Slade to try to save these villagers. 

However, when an American soldier cries out at the murder, their cover is blown and all the Americans other than Slade and the women other than Lili are murdered. Slade fights the most brutally of anyone, killing all the Khmer Rouge and trying to protect the women before succumbing to his wounds. 

After years living alongside these women and protecting each and every one through their imprisonment, Lili watches them all be killed in front of her, by the very group which tortured and terrorised them. It’s horrific. These are the only people she has left from her old life, and they’re gone. 

She protects Slade, who comes down with a fever, including from the Khmer Rouge - we are never shown her fights, because Slade was not conscious for that. This is a much-needed reminder that Lili is only shown from his perspective. 

Over time, the two talk and share personal information, growing closer. I do think that she was honest with Slade about herself, more so than she could be with other people after the experience was over. She doesn’t have anything left to lose, is an ambush away from being killed, and Slade is a mercenary who cannot be shocked by anything she tells him. They’re going through a huge trauma together, and it forges a bond. He describes their relationship as “formal”, a strangely nice adjective from Slade which shows his respect for her (as much as Slade respects any women), and the fact that he did not make any advances before Lili did.

So Lili definitely still has some walls up.

One thing that never comes up is that Lili has her grandmother’s necklace on her the whole time. In Deathstroke #46 Rose runs to get it after Lili is murdered in the US, wanting her mother to be buried with it as it’s the only thing she has left of her family, so it’s clearly very important to her and was taken with her from Cambodia personally.

Now, it’s entirely possible that Slade does know about it but it isn’t important enough to include in the story. But it never appears on panel, nor does he ever mention her grandmother. I think it’s likely she kept it hidden, even as she dressed and undressed in front of him. It isn’t monetarily valuable, so she can’t have been scared of Slade stealing it. 

If it is an amulet, her grandmother would have personally had a Buddhist priest bless it for Lili, and this 1970 article shows how important this traditional item became during the war. It’s the most sentimental item she has - and she never shares that part of herself.

The two share a moonlight kiss, after an in-depth discussion “about the war, about her, even about me [Slade]”. She is shown to be the one leaning in, and I do think that she genuinely wanted to kiss Slade and share that moment with him. Interestingly, this kiss is only revealed in #48, when Slade feels more sentimental as she has just been killed. It does not factor into his initial recollection, showing how his focus is on sexual, not romantic, memories of Lili, distorting his view of her. We will never know what she said “about her[self]” to this American mercenary who saves her women and sleeps with them, kills for money and for protection, and could be the last person she ever knows. 

This is where we get to the most complex part of the recollection - the two sleeping together. 

Unsurprisingly, I’m going to reject Slade’s reading of this as a natural development of their closeness which was romantic and spontaneous. However, I do think that Lili does consent, and would not have maintained a future sexual relationship and friendship with him if she had not. 

One reading, building on what I’ve said above, is that Lili has been through these terrible traumas, is at risk of death or recapture, and has found a surprisingly sympathetic companion in Slade. As an unmarried Cambodian royal woman in the 70s, she would have been expected to be a virgin, and likely did not have much sexual experience before being subjected to repeated rape as a captive. The most positive reading of her relationship with Slade would be a reclamation of her own body and sexuality in a pursuit of fleeting joy in the most dire circumstances. 

Alternatively, and in my view more likely, you can read Lili as engaging in self-protection. She is unlikely to be able to get to Thailand as a lone woman, even with Slade’s gun. Slade has already almost died, he could easily decide the reward isn’t worth the risk and abandon her, or sell her back to the Khmer Rouge. She can’t know what he’ll do, and therefore she maximises her chances of being rescued by having this sexual relationship, the same way she survived in the brothel. Either she initiates proactively, or he does, and she is in no position to safely reject him. 

I don’t think this is antithetical to her conversations with Slade and continued relationship with him post-war. People are complicated, and ultimately Slade does save her, and would have saved her women, as well as being the only person who has shared her specific war trauma and heard her feelings at the time. 

[It’s really important to note here that, textually, none of these arguments hold true. In the text of the comic, Lili’s body becomes a reward for the white American rescuing her, and why she would desire him is not a question that occurs to Marv Wolfman.]

“It took us another two weeks to make it into Thailand. Wish it’d took two years” is up there with the most heinous things that Slade has ever said. 

It also shows that she didn’t keep a relationship with him the moment she got to Thailand and safety. Whether she was escaping him to freedom, or wanted to leave the unhealthy coping mechanism of him in the jungle, she did leave in the immediate aftermath of her rescue. Slade lets her, something which must have been a concern in the back of her mind after her previous imprisonment. 

I’m going to go into Lili’s life post-Cambodia in my next post, covering themes including tropes around Asian women as sex workers, her success and wealth, and her loving relationship with Rose. 

Here are some sources on representation and trope history I drew on to write this:

Before that, here's a post about her life between Cambodia and America and the Dragon Lady trope

https://www.washingtonpost.com/arts-entertainment/2021/03/26/asian-women-hollywood-portrayals/ 

http://unveilingthesilverscreen.digital.brynmawr.edu/tropes/lotus-blossom/

https://www.hercampus.com/school/american/the-dragon-lady-the-lotus-blossom-and-the-robot-archetypes-of-asian-women-in-western-media/ 

https://www.nytimes.com/1970/09/09/archives/amulets-are-a-vital-part-of-a-cambodian-soldiers-equipment.html

https://www.sbs.com.au/news/article/women-speak-out-over-khmer-rouge-sexual-violence/j5wwh30x1 

https://www.unwomen.org/en/news/stories/2019/11/feature-survivors-of-sexual-violence-in-cambodia-speak-out  

#rose wilson #ravager #lili worth #[i couldn't find the source for that surname so haven't used it so far] #lili #dc comics #this is so long but i wanted to do a really deep dive #and this is the edited and shortened version #i hope it's interesting!

[mechanicalriddle]

the moment weve all been waiting for EXALTED SECRET 2023 BIOS YAAAAAY

Heres my bios for the secret santa ! this years theme is Girls Who Rot, Have Rotted Previously, or Are Rotting Right Now

I like to provide some little details, tidbits, tone and setting ideas in my bios in case you want to draw them in like a little scene; don't feel obligated to get that fancy, though!

without further ado.

Pleione (Plin for short, she/they, roughly equivalent to early 20s) is a Marrow Aspect forged from the remnants of a young royal from a long-forgotten kingdom, resuscitated from the depths of the mausoleum in which her body was interred by (accidental) necromantic means. She's spent the past two decades quietly living on her Anchor's manse-estate, indulging in her passions for art and botany.

Plin is a big chicken who is deathly terrified of conflict and does a lot of screaming and cowering when things come to blows for someone who

Her personality is particular, peculiar, and holier-than-thou. She's got dynastic sensibilities, snobbish and disinclined to associate with 'the proles'. Get her on the subject of one of her special interests, though, and you might find each other fast friends.

Motifs- Plin has an orchid motif on account of the fact that she needs a dose of a special tea made from a (formerly) extinct orchid several times a day in order to NOT DIE. She hasn't died yet. She doesnt know she can come back give her a break. Some other motifs include glass, terrariums, spiders & fireflies; marble & porcelain, old-timey anatomical drawings, delicate floral and baroque patterns; antique-white, minty green, deep purple, and black.

Ideas- If you want to draw her doing something she is equally likely to be found reclining on a huge pile of pillows with a book or with her knees planted in the dirt rooting around in a thorny shrub. She loves to dissect and draw plants and is liable to be found at a desk or behind an easel doing one of those activities

Anima- Currently I am thinking... a grove filled with ghostly-white plants twining over enormous bones (hopefully of the animal variety, but hard to say, really) and probably features giant flowering orchids that are shaped suspiciously like skulls... Also its hard to say but the ground does look an awful lot like meat, and those stringy bits look an awful lot like connective tissue... hmm

---

Desert Fang Grim Devil Lioness (Grim for short, she/her, 36 yrs old) is a renegade Midnight caste former-warlord-turned-backwoods vampire-MILF. upgrades!

Grim was fazed a lot as a child (being pawned off by your family as a slave will do that to you) and vowed to grow up into a woman who Wouldn't Be Fazed By Anything. Having achieved this (with a few notable exceptions), she mostly gets her way by via being larger, stronger, and scarier than as many of her problems as possible. Sometimes problems don't and can't have physical largeness, though, which is annoying.

One of these problems included being counter-merc'd by one of her targets and dying of exposure under the desert sun. She didn't... quite... let this stop her, though. There are people in need of her skillsets, and dying isn't really a disqualifier for their service. She was raised as a deathknight and for several years served as one of the First and Forsaken Lion's most fearsome officers.

Another problem is... More recent. Having run off with her lunar mate and tried to start a family far, far from FAFL's stomping grounds, it turns out toughing it out in the wilds of the North can kind of suck.

Motifs- Pretty normal deathknight stuff. Black iron of the wrought variety, and soulsteel; tattered and blood-drenched fabric, rough-hewn basalt and dark masonry. Honestly got stronger canid than felid vibes, to spite the name. Black-and-red is an obvious throughline but grimy grays and natural tones complete her overall color scheme. Things that are totally inert and lifeless, and will always remain as such.

Ideas- Riding her terrifying steed (basically just a half rotting perma-permafrosted elk corpse with a broken antler), slicing something in half with her awesome reaver daiklaive, hovering over a pot of survival-stew boiling over a crude hearth, walking thru the woods in the dark covered in blood. Or maybe hanging out with her awesome baby (pictured) if youre inclined to draw something... Nicer :)

Anima- A bit stereotypical, I think like. a blasted land with bloodsoaked earth so barren and expansive that it blends with the crimson sky, as well as off in the distance banners that tower like skyscrapers which only flutter by virtue of their enormity. Not even Mela's breath will touch this forsaken place.

Grim is the current wielder of Gorgon.

---

(WHOOPS forgot the tattoos in the second thing but like hell im fixing that at this point)

Last but not least, the Gunstar Autochthonia Girl Hirudana Siithavari (Siithi for short, she/her, 32 y.o.) a No Moon ostensibly still answering to the Deliberative; at heart, a roustabout and a scallywag. She crawled deep into Authochthon's world-body on a suicide mission and then beat all odds by sheer cockroach-style stubbornness, earning her Luna's favor. Also, terrible death-sorcery (necromancy is sort of an unknown factor in our rendition of the Gunstar shard but she somehow managed to make contact with the neverborn and stumble into its practice)

she likes drinking, and gambling, and yelling, and generally being a nuisance. Sometimes a little bit of heart-of-gold shines through, and quite frankly everyone is probably better off with the secrets of necromancy in her hands rather than someone slightly less grounded in reality.

theres more pics of her in her tag if you want to poke around.

Motifs- Bronze, brass, grimy earth tones mixed with bright accent colors. Black leather, studs, needles, teeth. Tubes, pipes, gears, grates and various industrial junk. Worms, bugs, and other vermin. Dankness, darkness, the sickly shadows of Black Non. Smoke-haze and drug paraphernalia.

Ideas- Generally she spends most of her time at the bar, the gym, in her lab, or asleep. you could draw her pumping iron, or taking a toke on a decrepit sofa in her dingy weed-cave (not a literal cave though that would be kind of fun), or sitting at an industrial workbench pouring over a half-disassembled chainsaw. or corpse. or both at the same time.

Anima- Her lower-level anima is kind of gloopy like a lava lamp. Iconic is a swamp with oil for water, populated by mangroves assembled from pipes and black plastic tube-vines, with the moon reflecting brightly on its surface. Her spirit shape is a Buffalo Leech, one of the largest species of leeches (on earth at least). i'll attach a pic of her hybrid form if you wanna draw that instead!

(necessary disclaimer for these sorts of things) youre welcome to take this as an opportunity to do some experimenting but if you don't think you can passably represent a certain characters body shape i would recommend picking one of the other options. thank you!

#exalted secret santa #exalted secret santa 2023 #exalted rpg #waaaagh im here. hi

[rusquared]

Life, rudely, interrupts my mourning.

Walking up and down my most familiar part of the city, podcast blaring in my ears lest any Silence creep in, I am rudely interrupted by the fireflies coming alight. It’s a gentle twinkle, a passing flicker in one’s periphery, and so you feel compelled to look. Even the rainbow, just faintly visible outside my window after a brief thunderstorm - or the remnants of that lighting to the east half an hour later, illuminating clouds that looked something out of a childhood film - they interrupt me. They interrupt me.

Back to schedule, I pass by a science building and I think, “I should’ve gone there more often.” Or I think of the emails still left unread and go, “I shouldn’t be in this position.” or the uncomfortable envy that occasionally takes over, that I know to be selfish and cruel, but tantalizing nonetheless. This is my daily routine, permeating every moment, interrupted just briefly by the Present.

Sometimes I get sick of mourning Me (the perfect, untouchable, lovable Me) and I turn to other avenues. A piece of art that will occupy my time (I have emails to send, I have work to do) or even the occasional poem, never really written out of joy anymore. Or a paper flower, a crane (I haven’t called my mother in two months).  A dog greeting me in boundless joy every morning  because I can manage the bare minimum of kissing her soft head.

Walking downhill from my evening walk, and determinedly ignoring any person whose silhouette could be someone I know (and therefore someone who will hear of my failure), I read an essay on mourning. Actual mourning, mind you. Of death that is not simply the loss of a possible self, but the loss of a person you could touch and hug and tease relentlessly over a misspoken phrase. I have not, thus far, become familiar with that sort of mourning. I know it will arrive, I can only hope for it to take its time.

But the essay was still gripping. I haven’t even finished it, but it’s echoes are already becoming noticeable in the way I write this poem tonight.  Twice during this reading I paused, took a screenshot, and thought of the story that I love. And immediately I was filled with a slight shame. This beautiful piece on loss and love was probably not meant to be shared with a fictional name by someone who spends most of their waking hours avoiding reality. I wasn’t the target audience, though I know and fear that I one day will be. When that day comes, I wonder if my mourning of Me will finally cease, become silly and ridiculous. How could I mourn a nonexistent self when I’ve lost someone I actually knew and loved?

I digress. The slight chill of the rain is still in the air and the dog once again welcomed me home with her tail wagging furiously. I still have a laundry list of tasks and I still have the aching guilt of shame. Or the aching shame of guilt. The terms tend to get juggled around in my head. I know there is no point in dreaming every minute of a life re-done, much better, a regression, if you will (hah). I only have this life and its mundane hurt, the way the clock doesn’t humor my desperate attempts to stop it, the way the days on the calendar got lost to me even as I was acutely aware of them. Even as I stared at the calendar.

There we go. I’m back on track, fireflies and stories be damned. My imagination is once again active and if you could only see the beautiful plans I have for when that time machine is complete. A life of no mourning except the inevitable mourning that will take its time, because I asked it to. 

I want to draw again.

#did u know i used to write poetry p often and even thought id write a novel? #so sooyoung core of me fr f rfr #anyways #my poetry

[p4pert0wle]

Ever just had moments where you get so focused on something that you just can't bring yourself to do anything else that you were planning to do.

Bruh I've just been fighting my own brain rn,like all I can think about rn is how bad I wanna watch the new episode for helluva boss and how much I can't wait.

So like art,talking,all of that?Gone.Out the window.

But I did it,I art :D

Every time I draw her I always somehow end up drawing her demon form-

Anyways more art

That's human her-

I remember how much I cherished her as a kid,she was like the first or one of the first creepypasta ocs I ever made.Now I was shit at storytelling but those ocs were basically my only thought process for three whole years.

I both cringe and think nostalgically back to these characters alot,and I've been reworking the things in her backstory that younger me came up with.

All that I can truly remember is a few things.

-She was killed and turned into a slender somehow

-she hated slenderman and had a group that was actively against him(I remember a few of the people that worked with her so I might redesign them too)

-She was really strong,physically strong.Idr if she had any powers back then,I don't think she did qwq.

-Her sister was a slender as well???

-Her whole thing was roses,she was flower themed.Why?Idk I just liked themes,still do.But back then it was like alot of alot of flowers.

-She spoke fluent Spanish

-She had two daughters(one of wich I focused on the most and inspired later ocs)

-Bisexual

I never had a reason for exactly how she had become a slender like being,and I'm still trying to figure it out.

But basically,plot convince demon :]

My own excuse for how she litterally became a slender like creature,was because a demon attached to her at a young age and was planning to trap their soul in their own body and taking over.

She said no and cheated death.

And then she chose a slender like form out of pure spite.She can change into a demon like form and has some shapeshifting abilities,she basically trapped the demon instead.

(This might change bc I know nothing about creepypasta lore qwq)

She and her sister were killed around the time slenderman started first showing up like litterally thousands of years ago.And she's been trying to avenge her own death and that of her sister.

She's also taken up protecting the innocent,mainly his soon to be victims.Often hiding his targets from him and,she also tends to scare away people who try to enter the woods.

In like my first try to redesign her,she had the ability to sense right and wrong.But I'm changing that to she can sense bad intentions and wrong doing.

She was always more of a silent and vengeful character,her heart in the right place but not exactly the greatest at expressing it.She was an introvert who was very observant wich made it easier to hit were it hurts,but also using it for those she cares about.

Not the best with words but likes expressing her love through small little details she picks up on.

I tried a generator to try and give her some hobbies and then I just pick a few but to name some,I was given ferret racing.Planking,and spreading fake news on Facebook-

....

No-

Ima take the ferret thing and just say she particularly likes ferrets and also rats as well bc come on rats are adorable-

Hobbies ima have to think on another time.But yeah,her.Love her.

If ya see this,hi!Hope the rest of your day goes well! :D

Have these :>

And also blurry dog

#creepypasta oc #creepypasta #The only thing I've ever made that was actually creepy in this fandom was a creepy shapeshifting dog that had eyes and limbs in its mouth #I made that thing and then got a dog who looked just like how I imagined that thing to be #Old oc #Nostalgic oc #Pixel art kinda #At the very bottom at least #Art #original character

[hawkinsp0st]

march 21, 1986.

~~~

mike flops onto his bed in exhaustion. it should be satisfied exhaustion, a happy tired, but it’s just… exhaustion. the game at hellfire tonight was pure excellence. radiance. dustin’s sharp strategy and erica’s pride and eddie’s smile and he sees el tomorrow and—

mike stares at his neatly packed suitcase and the flowers he picked for el this afternoon during lunch. why isn’t he happy?

i miss lucas, mike thinks. i miss the Party. i miss how things used to be. but he swallows down the creeping, crawling thought that even if lucas had been there tonight, he’d still feel like this now. like he’s missing something. like he’s missing… will.

mike grips the sheets on either side of where he sits at the edge of his bed, forcing the thought away, knowing it leads nowhere.

well, nowhere good.

god, he’d been stupid the summer before will left him—left the Party, mike thinks, shaking his head so it would clear like an etch a sketch to correct himself. left the Party. he misses his best friend, that’s it. if he’d spent more time with will before he left, then maybe he wouldn’t be feeling like… like…

like there’s something wrong with me.

he needs something more to do with his hands than twist the fabric at his sides. el’s letter from this morning—he’d hardly gotten a chance to finish it when nancy barged in. he resolves to reread el’s letter, like he often does at night when he’s feeling alone, tracing his fingers over her signature at the bottom. love, el.

he rereads the letter, but he’s got this nagging feeling that he hasn’t finished it, like when you’re reading your science textbook and you keep looking over the definition of “mitosis” again and again and the information just won’t go into your brain.

two lines in the middle of el’s paper feel unread no matter how many times his eyes follow them.

“will is painting a lot, but he won’t show me what he’s working on. maybe it is for a girl. i think there is someone he likes, because he has been acting weird.”

he rationalizes it, tells himself that el seems to have sharpened her pencil at that point in the letter, because the words are thinner, the handwriting cleaner. that’s why he drifts back to it like gravity to the earth’s fucking center.

but he keeps reading it. and reading it. and reading it. he knows he should stop, but he can’t help himself.

he finds his fingers itching to trace will’s name, but his eyes flicker to love, el and he pulls his fingers back because it feels downright…

he can’t find the word, until he remembers the talk show his mom was watching the other day, where a couples’ therapist was interviewing a woman whose husband had cheated on her. “he’s been adulterous,” the host had said.

it feels adulterous to touch that name. with love, el sitting there on the same page… mike swallows hard. he scrapes at a hangnail on the side of his thumb.

what is wrong with me?

mike clutches the sides of the paper like a vice—as though it can help him somehow—wrinkling it before letting it drop off the side of his bed.

mike can’t—won’t—put a single thought to any of these emotions, so he does what he does best: runs down the stairs. to the basement. doesn’t make eye contact with the drawings hanging over the sofa. throws shit.

no, like really, throws shit around the basement. doesn’t think, just kicks pillows. throws darts at the dartboard again and again—none of them stick. they fall and fall and it’s almost satisfying, the rhythmic pace with which he misses the target every fucking time.

he paces, pretending to tidy the place but really just moving things from one wrong location to the other. he even gives his nintendo a light kick, and it gives a thud as it slides into the wall. it shakes the bulletin board over his desk, and he notices there’s papers scattered all around his desk from god knows what. he hasn’t touched any of this, apart from the video games, in 185 days.

he squats down and picks up the miscellaneous papers, messily, not really caring, just needing to move. he finds a math test with a D-minus from last year that he had been hiding from his mom—it’s 6 pages thick—and shreds it and shreds it with his fingers until it’s only tiny pieces. he stands and shoves the chair onto its side, jumping a little at the loud noise as it clatters to the floor. wondering if his parents or nancy woke up but ultimately not caring because—

there’s an old doodle from will under the chair, a little dragon in a wizard’s hat. without thinking, mike picks it up. his eyes burn. he blinks and realizes what he’s doing. he drops the drawing on the desk. he wipes the tear out of his eyes before it has a chance to run.

he steps backward and trips over an empty VHS case. he doesn’t resist, doesn’t try to hold himself up, just falls. he pulls a pillow from the floor next to him and punches it once, twice, three times, again and again, more tears coming, and this time they fall, and he might be waking his parents up, but he doesn’t care, not about anything. he can’t think right now. it could kill him.

he wears himself out and he doesn’t remember falling asleep but suddenly he’s blinking awake and the digital clock on the desk glows 1:45am. he manages to get through two rounds of duck hunt on low volume before going back up the stairs, shutting the basement door gently. he’s got an hour before he has to leave for the airport.

in his room, he stares at the letter from el that’s still lying on the floor. he squeezes his eyes shut when he remembers what’s lying there in the middle of the letter. he glances down to love, el.

that’s what matters right now. he trudges to his closet, rubbing his tired eyes, and picks out an outfit he thinks she would like.

he attaches a note to her bouquet of flowers, writing with careful letters:

TO EL. FROM MIKE.

#he’s so repressed like i cannot emphasize this enough #sorry about the angst he’s so in love he can’t have thoughts about it without his whole world crashing down <3 #byler #mike wheeler i know what you are #byler fanfic #byler ficlet #all i know is mike pov eat hot chip and lie #duffers #if ur the duffers seeing this #i just wanted u to see it bc i felt like i kinda nailed it w the characterization here LOL #like remember when he kicked the little el hideout when will ‘died’

[081314]

­­­­­­Glorious Masquerade - Episode 4

Following is a summarized translation of Episode 4 of the Glorious Masquerade event from Twisted Wonderland. Spoilers below the cut!

Also, please note this episode actually contains spoilers for Book 6 of the main storyline! Namely, a character’s Unique Magic that gets revealed in Book 6 is mentioned a few times in this episode. 

The episode starts in the underground waterways. Malleus says are going to set off for the belltower now, and they will leave the city in Trein, Grim, and Yuu’s care. Trein recommends they enter the NBC campus from the south gate since it’s the closest, and Yuu asks the boys to please be careful. Malleus tells Yuu they will meet up later, and the boys depart.

The boys arrive at the gate and see the whole campus is now overgrown with the crimson flower everywhere they look.

They stop to consider their next move, since it will be hard to get through to the tower like this. Idia says every step they take, the flowers will weaken them until its Game Over.

Malleus wonders if they should use some sort of tool to get by, like using some of the brooms propped up against the wall nearby to just fly over. But Ruggie points out that if they do that, the flowers will detect their magic as they fly over and start targeting them. The flowers have these long vines they can whip around and they’ll get snatched up if they aren’t careful

Azul would very much not like to get there by flying, and they try to think of something else. Malleus thinks he could be able to use some of his remaining magic to clear out the flowers in this area, but Azul says this isn't the time for something like that. He tries to use a chess analogy to explain that they shouldn’t send the king piece into the enemy’s territory just to get a pawn, but Deuce and Epel don’t understand. Riddle gets embarrassed and asks everyone to please excuse Deuce lol.

Idia chips in and explains that Azul meant they need to choose what pieces they can toss and which ones they need to advance They will need to choose someone to stay behind as a decoy so the rest of them can move forward. Whoever gets chosen, it’s not guaranteed they will make it out alright.

Silver is about to volunteer himself, but Riddle interrupts and says he will do it. He will fly over the flowers and draw their attention in order to let everyone pass through undetected.

Malleus asks Riddle why he wants to do this, and Riddle explains that since they are still pretty far away from the belltower, whoever takes the role of bait will need to have enough magic to distract the flowers long enough for the others to make it through and ring the bell. 

Riddle has the confidence he is strong enough to do it, and he also wants to follow in the footsteps of the Queen of Hearts, who was known to personally set forth into the battlefield in order to levy punishment on those who broke her rules.

Deuce also wants to say behind, but Riddle won’t let him. Riddle asks Deuce if he really thinks Riddle isn’t aware of what happened during their last flying exam. It turns out Deuce and Ace were messing around and fell from their brooms, and they had to take supplementary lessons as a result. 

After scolding him, Riddle tells Deuce he needs to find a more suitable opportunity where he can bring honor to Heartslabyul, and Deuce apologizes and agrees to go forward with the others.

Azul says no matter how fast Riddle flies, there’s still no way he can draw away the attention of all the flowers in the area. They will need at least one other person as bait. Epel volunteers, but Riddle is adamant he will be fine on his own. 

Epel has good grades in flying, and he says the Evil Queen would also go into battle herself, like the Queen of Heats would. He says that Pomefiore isn’t going to lose here, either. Rook agrees, and says that no one will be able to stop Epel from making this choice. This unwavering, powerful, and beautiful choice! He says just like the rightful judge believed in the kind bellringer and let him go save the town, he also believes in Epel, and he knows Epel will be able to protect Riddle.

After confirming one more time with Epel that he’s okay with this, the other boys watch as he and Riddle grab some brooms and fly off.

The flowers sense their magic and start flinging their vines towards them, and they narrowly avoid the attacking plants. Eventually, Riddle gets weakened from fending off the plants and one grabs his leg with its vine. Epel flies over to help but Riddle tells him to stay away, or else he will get trapped, too. 

Riddle begins to loses consciousness and gasps out for Epel to escape while he can. But this only makes Epel get fired up even more. Epel uses his Unique Magic “Sleep Kiss” and encloses Riddle in a magic barrier to protect him from the flowers.

Seeing that Riddle is safe for now, Epel tells him to rest up and leave the rest to him. He tells the flowers to catch him if he can, and flies off.

Next, we see the boys made it past main street and into the courtyard, away from the flowers. Deuce worries if Epel and Riddle are okay, but Sebek and Ruggie say he shouldn’t worry and that they will be fine. Idia isn’t so sure, and Silver says they need to hurry to the belltower.

Rook adds that with Epel’s unique magic, they should be able to protect themselves with Epel’s barriers since it can work on plants, too. Jamil says that Epel’s unique magic is very convenient, unlike another certain someone’s unique magic since he can’t have the plants sign contracts. Azul agrees, and says a certain someone else’s unique magic wouldn’t work, either, since the plants don’t have eyes he can hypnotize.

Ruggie says he’s never tested his UM on plants before, and Deuce doubts his UM would have any effect on the flowers. Ruggie adds there’s a lot of UMs like his which aren’t suited for the battle. Azul disagrees and says that all UMs can be put to use in battle, it all depends on how you use it.

Azul continues and says they will need to make a battle plan. Their enemies don’t have consciousnesses so they won’t be able to take over their minds or control their movements.

Sebek wonders if they actually are conscious, as he saw some plants that had taken the shape of humans. Idia thinks the plants were gathering up in the robes of the NBC students since the clothing contains traces of magic.

Just then, they hear a NBC student screaming, and they see crimson flowers spilling out from one of the nearby buildings. The flowers quickly spread and cover the whole courtyard.

Ruggie and Jamil end up getting separated from the others and get surrounded by the flowers. It will take too long to try and save them, and Jamil tells them to go on without them. Azul asks them to swear they won’t ask him later to pay them back or thank them for this :///

Jamil swears it, and the others move on. Ruggie says Jamil probably regrets getting stuck like this with him, since Ruggie’s UM isn’t much help here and he isn’t very strong. But Jamil says he’s actually glad that Ruggie was the one he got stuck with. 

Jamil says if he’s with Ruggie, then he certainly won’t mind using a less than scrupulous method here. Ruggie asks if he means they should take advantage of the chaos and steal a bunch of valuable stuff from NBC and Jamil says No!! lol. 

Jamil beings to explain his plan, and then we see some NBC students entering the courtyard. They are looking for other students who might need help and come across Jamil and Ruggie.

The NBC students are glad that Jamil and Ruggie are safe, but just then a bunch of flowers appear behind Ruggie and Jamil. The NBC pair begin to flee, but Jamil and Ruggie both use their UM on them. Ruggie controls one student and makes him face the flowers and fight them, and Jamil uses his mind control to do the same with the other.

The flowers take the bait and turn their attention to the NBC pair, and Jamil and Ruggie are able to escape from their entrapment. They turn to run off, but don’t make it very far before tiring out from having their magic drained by the nearby flowers. They look back and see the NBC pair have reached their limit and are about to pass out. They decide to look around for other NBC students that they can use as shields 😭

Next, we see the other NRC boys have made it back to the lecture hall. Rook noticed before the stairways between the bell tower and this building are connected at the second floor, but flowers are blocking their path.

The flowers have been continuing to drain the magic of the students collapsed in the lecture hall, and Rook sees Neige nearby. Chenya is next to him. Malleus says they won’t be able to save them right now, and they only thing they can do now is continue heading to the belltower.

Silver and Sebek go ahead to make a path to the stairs. Before they make it, Rook notices the flowers have overloaded the huge chandelier hanging ahead and it’s about to fall. Deuce pushes Idia out of the way just as it crashes to the floor. Silver asks if everyone is okay, but Deuce twisted his ankle when he saved Idia. 

He can walk and the bone isn’t broken, but he won’t be able to keep up with them. He asks them to leave him behind. Rook says that’s out of the question, but Deuce wants to buy the others some time. Azul is impressed and asks if he could borrow some of Deuce’s power and they begin to talk.

Idia butts in and says he also doesn’t want to run anymore. Rook asks if he got hurt when the chandelier fell. Idia says he’s fine, it’s just that whenever he watches disaster movies. he always thinks that he’d rather just give up and accept his fate instead of trying to run away and meeting a painful end. So he wants to stay behind.

Rook is moved by Idia’s kind heart, choosing to stay behind with Deuce so he doesn’t have to be alone! Idia tries to tell him it’s not like that, but Deuce steps in and also tells Idia to please not worry so much about him. Idia can’t get a word in edgewise and Rook decides to stay behind with Deuce, instead.

Idia gives up and agrees to go ahead with the others. Sebek barks at them to hurry up and they head to the stairs.

Then, the scene transitions back to the NRC campus. We see Ace and Jack are setting up for the Halloween party, and it’s late at night. They wonder how things are going with the students that went to the city of flowers. Jack bets they’re probably all sound asleep by now after stuffing their faces with food and going sightseeing. Ace says he’s jealous that Deuce and the others are probably having a blast right now.

The scene then changes back to the NRC lecture hall. Deuce and Rook are fighting off the flowers, and they’ve just about reached their limits. Rook tells Deuce not to worry as he will protect him. Deuce stays still for a moment and Rook asks if he’s okay. Just then, Deuce lets out a roar and starts ripping the flowers out of the ground with his bare hands. Deuce says he’s going to keep fighting until the end, no matter what. Rook is inspired by Deuce’s passion and says he will also join him until the end.

Thanks to their efforts, the other boys make it to the stairway. Idia mutters that this is seriously turning into a disaster movie with them getting taken out one after another. He’s tried of running and wishes he’d been able to stay behind at the lecture hall. Sebek yells at him to stop his complaining and they start arguing. Silver tires to get them to stop, and Azul adds they are supposed to be trying to be discreet here.

Malleus says it’s no wonder for humans to be stressed out in this type of situation, and Sebek finally quiets down. But then Azul and Idia get into another argument and Silver finally snaps and tells them they all need to calm down. If they keep letting their nerves get the best of them, then they’ll just keep getting riled up like this. He tells them to look at Malleus, who is completely calm and is only focused on moving forward.

Malleus says that’s right, he’s only thinking about moving forward…and also what all he’s going to do to Flamme to make him understand the error of his ways. (lit. “a method to make him realize the severity of the crime [of sending] a false invitation”).

Silver is taken aback at Malleus’s anger, and Azul says he’s quite the vindictive one. Sebek yells at them to keep moving and they trudge on.

They come up to some doors, and one must lead to the belltower, but they are all locked. Sebek goes to break one down and they go inside. They look around and see they’ve entered the student council’s meeting room.

Idia looks at the fireplace and notices there’s a brick on the right end without any soot on it. Malleus pulls it out and they find a book hidden inside the crevice. Azul gets excited thinking they’ve found the council’s secret ledger so that he might uncover the school’s weaknesses.

He flips through the pages and it looks like someone’s diary. It’s filled with notes about the different books the author has read. The author has been reading a lot of books about extinct flowers and what not, so they gather it belongs to Rollo. Not even Azul, but also Idia and Malleus get excited to read it, thinking they can dig up some dirt on Rollo.

But as they read through it, the room gets quiet.

The scene changes to upstairs in the bell tower. Rollo looks over the town and remarks that it has been painted crimson. He says he’s never felt so at peace before. Soon, the flowers will spread throughout the world, and magic will be wiped out from Twisted Wonderland forever. And then, no one will have to suffer anymore. No one will have to end up like “that person” anymore. He says that this is duty, and continues gazing over the town.

We switch back to the NRC boys and see they have finally reached the bell tower. Now they just need to climb the stairs up to the top. Silver asks Idia what’s wrong, since he’s been quiet for a while. Silver wants to know what was in Rollo’s diary that made him react like that. Malleus and Azul tell Idia that what was written in the diary doesn’t change the fact that Rollo is their enemy.

Idia says it’s not that. In fact, he’s determined now more than ever that they can’t let Rollo get away with this. Just then, the room is flooded with crimson flowers. Azul figures Rollo left them there to guard the bell.

There are flowers everywhere they look. They can hardly take a single step forward without risking touching one. Silver and Sebek volunteer to stay back and clear a path for the others. Silver and Sebek say they were entrusted by Lillia to watch over Malleus, and they couldn’t show their faces to him if they fail. They apologize for not being able to protect him until the very end, but they are prepared to do whatever it takes. Silver asks Azul and Idia to please watch out for Malleus for them, and Sebek yells at them to not hold Malleus back.

Malleus smiles and says he’s got a couple of good vassals with him. Sebek tears up at Malleus’s praise, and Silver says they will ensure Malleus won’t regret his words.

Standing in the background, Idia and Azul whisper that it feels like they’re watching a period drama 😭

Malleus turns to Azul and Idia and tells them that they mustn’t look back, and hurries them further up into the bell tower.

Back downstairs, Silver and Sebek are fighting off the flowers with all their might. They start to tire, but they remember how disappointed Malleus looked when he figured out his invitation was just a trap and they keep fighting on. They watch each other’s backs and cut down the flowers left and right, but they just keep regenerating. But they don’t give up, and instead shout together that they raise their swords for Lord Malleus before jumping back into the fray.

In the next chapter, we’re back with Malleus, Azul, and Idia. The latter two are already out of breathe from climbing the stairs. Malleus frowns and wonders if he really should have taken Silver and Sebek with him instead…

They look outside and see the town is covered in crimson flowers, and they are continuing to spread. At this rate, the flowers will have spread beyond the town by dawn.

Azul asks them if they remember what Rollo said when he first brought them to the belltower. Rollo said that flowers grown by the magic of the bell will wilt and die if brought outside the town. However, Idia adds that these flowers will probably just feed off mages outside of town and continue to spread.

Azul says if their plan is to overload the flowers with the bell, then they don’t have much time left since the bell’s magic doesn’t reach beyond town. In other words, if the flowers spread beyond the town before the boys can get to the bell and ring it, then it’s too late.

As they talk, the flowers suddenly appear in the room. They fight back, but the flowers continue to multiply and surround them. Malleus decides he has no other choice but to use his powers to clear the flowers out the room. He will do the same thing he did back at the underground waterway and let out a huge blast of magic energy all at once. Azul asks him to stop, since he could end up destroying the belltower in the process and ruin their plans. Azul says to leave this to him, and asks Malleus and Idia to get behind him.

Azul takes a deep breath and starts gathering his magic and clears away a path with one strike. Azul says he’s not able to let out a blast of magic like Malleus, but he is very skillful at manipulating is own magic and he cut down the minimum number of flowers needed to allow them to reach the stairs. Malleus praises his excellent skills and Idia starts teasing Azul for being all giddy at the praise, and Azul tells him to zip it and keep moving.

The continue up the stairs and Azul figures they’ve made it about halfway up the tower by now. Idia notices a sweet smell in the air and the flowers burst forth into the room. Malleus tells them to book it but Idia and Azul are already going as fast as they can. So instead, Azul offers to take up the rear and fend off the flowers as they continue up the stairs.

Azul is able to keep the flowers at bay for a little while but notices things are getting tight with his magic supplies. He asks if they could please move faster, but Idia is slowing them down. Malleus pokes at him to move faster but Idia is at his limit already. 

Azul yells at him to hurry up to the next floor so they can change their order. (the stairs are narrow so they have to move in a single file line). Azul suggests that he take the lead, Malleus will be in the middle, and Idia will bring up the rear and fight the approaching flowers.

Idia balks at the suggestion and Azul gets mad since Idia hasn’t been helping at all this whole time. Idia finally relents and Malleus wonders what Idia has planned. 

It turns out he brought along the handkerchief with him that he bought while in town. It’s the ones that let out sounds and fireworks when you blow into it. Since they have a bit of magic in them, Idia figures they can use it as bait. As he suspects, once the flowers enter the room they spread to the hanky and leave the boys alone.

Azul is surprised there was so much magic packed into the handkerchief since it’s supposed to be just a toy, and Idia reveals he did some tinkering and increased its magic capacity 100-fold. He starts saying he did it because it would be boring if every hanky made the same noise and lights every time and that this way even Silver’s dad would feel like he was a kid again when he plays with it.

Malleus smiles when he hears this but then his smile disappears once Idia says he has no intention of giving it to Silver and that really just did it cause he had some time to kill and thought it would be interesting :///

Malleus and Azul start complementing his quick thinking, but when Idia starts to brag about his smarts they suddenly lose the desire to thank him and say they should move on.

Next, we see Rollo watching over the city from the belltower. He knows the NRC boys are climbing up the tower, and calls them a bunch of persistent scoundrels. He wonders why they are doing something so futile, and why they are defying him. If only they would abandon themselves to the flowers, they would be at peace. The flowers would cleanse them of the sin that is their magic. They would be released from that dark and cold despair at last.

The scene switches back to Azul and the others. It looks like the stairs have been broken off ahead of them. They are stuck, and Malleus suggests they just break open the ceiling. Azul warns him not to, and just then they hear something. They look over and see a gargoyle. It’s the same one that Sebek and Silver found earlier. They wonder why it’s down here, as it was up on the top floor before.

Malleus starts to complement the gargoyle once again, and a voice from somewhere thanks him for his kind words. Idia and Azul look around confused, both thinking the other had made that voice, but it was actually the gargoyle speaking! 

The three NRC boys are shocked. 

The gargoyle says it has long watched over the City of Flowers from atop the belltower.

Idia says it must be like the talking portraits they have back at NRC, and Azul is pleased that he was right when he thought he saw the gargoyle moving earlier in the day. Idia notices that Malleus looks frozen. He’s just starting wide-eyed at the gargoyle, not saying anything.

Finally, Malleus unfreezes and starts to frown. The gargoyle sees Malleus’s horns and says it feels a sense of familiarity with him. The gargoyle says they could become great friends, and it goes up and nudges Malleus. Malleus doesn’t say anything for a while until he suddenly jolts with a start. He apologizes and says his emotions got the best of him and he got disoriented for a moment there.

Idia is like you were so happy that it made you lose consciousnesses??? 

The air starts to sparkle and shine, and Malleus smiles joyfully as he introduces himself to the gargoyle. He says he’s delighted to be able to speak with the gargoyle and asks if he can shake its hand. The gargoyle happily agrees and Malleus gasps and clutches his chest as all his dreams come true 😭

Azul cannot comprehend what he is witnessing, but Idia understands completely and is glad that Malleus got fan service from his oshi.

The gargoyle asks why the students are in a place like this and Malleus explains the situation. The gargoyle said when those flowers appeared they attacked it and its friends, and it was the only one that was able to make it out and hide out down here. Azul says the gargoyles must have magic in them like the talking portraits back at NRC do, and that explains why the flowers targeted them.

Malleus is angered that Rollo would endanger the precious gargoyles. The gargoyle wonders why Rollo would do such a thing. The gargoyle says they’ve all known Rollo for a while. 

Everyday, through rain and wind, Rollo would climb up the tall belltower and polish the bell of salvation until it shined. He would also come and clean off all the moss from the gargoyles that would grow on them whenever they would get wet (Malleus pipes in that he’s jealous Rollo got to do that.)

From the gargoyle’s point of view, it looked like Rollo really treasured the belltower and the bell of salvation. It can’t understand why Rollo is doing all of this.

Malleus, Idia, and Azul all look down in silence. 

Malleus then says that no matter Rollo’s reasons, they can’t let him get away with this. They will ring the bell of salvation, destroy the flowers, and stop Flamme. That’s what they came here to do.

Malleus asks the gargoyle if there is another way to get to the top floor, seeing as it made it down here even though the stairs are broken. The gargoyle agrees to tell them a secret.

It says that long ago, the righteous judge and the kind bellringer used to study together in the room they are in. Ever since then, there’s been a secret passage in the belltower that only those two and the gargoyles know about. The gargoyle says it will show them the way there. The gargoyle starts to lead the way, but just then the crimson flowers spill into the room.

The gargoyle says if the flowers drain it of all its magic, it will no longer be able to move and turn into a normal gargoyle. It cries out for them to please help, and Malleus tells it not to fear and to leave everything to him.

Malleus goes to prepare a huge magic blast and Idia and Azul rush over to stop him (again). It won’t do them any good if Malleus accidentally topples over the belltower with his magic blasts and they agree to fight their way through the flowers together.

They clear out the flowers in no time and the gargoyle shows them to the door to the hidden passage. It’s a door in the ceiling, and they can get right up to the next floor through it and reach the bell. Before they can get through, the flowers spring up from behind some crates and entangle the gargoyle in their vines.

Malleus tries to save it, but Idia says he’ll just end up damaging the gargoyle with his magic, since it’s made out of ancient stone. The gargoyle says they need to go on, and asks them to please stop Rollo. The flowers drain the gargoyle of its magic and it goes quiet.

Malleus calls out to it, but it’s too late. It’s already been turned into pure stone.

Idia asks if Malleus is okay, and he tries to reassure him by saying there’s a chance that if they go ring the bell they might be able to bring the gargoyle back to life with the bell’s magic. Malleus understands that Idia is just saying they need to keep pushing forward, and he tells the gargoyle he’ll be sure to save it and all its other gargoyle friends.

The episode concludes with a determined Malleus saying he’ll take down Rollo with his own hands.

Episode 1

Episode 2

Episode 3

Episode 5, part 1

Episode 5, part 2

Episode 5, part 3

#glorious masquerade #my tl #twst #twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #idia shroud #azul ashengrotto #riddle rosehearts #rook hunt #epel felmier #jamil viper #ruggie bucchie #yuu #grim #rollo flamme #silver #sebek zigvolt #deuce spade

[moxie-moon]

I guess this is my intro post lol, It’s lengthy

So, this is almost a role play account, with exceptions for things like fan art, or side story’s. On posts or rebloggs that don’t have anything to due with the role play, OORP will be marked in the captions.

The role play is a girl named Moxie Moon, who’s technically really old and ancient, but in human years is only 19. She’s from a planet called D66, and is technically what we would call an Elf or Witch, but a very spiritual creature is the best way to put it. (Spoiler alert, she’s based off of my DND character lmao-under the class of wizard)

She has short, almost choppy, dusky purple hair above her shoulders. It is usually in two French brains or tucked behind her ears, though would leav it down and wavy for a nice event. She has very pale, rosy skin and grey colored eyes. Four mains scars, one across the left side of her lip, one from right below her left eye, crossing her nose and ends on her right cheek. On her left cheek, directly below her eye, is an almost perfectly star-shaped scar, from something that only could occur on D66, and the smallest bullet scar known to man. Ironic, and almost too comical to Moxie. Though this happened before she traveled, or shall I say, got banished to now earth, so she was only 10 in human years.

Being a witch, she was able to learn the culture and languages of earth very quickly, and adapt to the new normals. On D66, it was cold, and very futuristic. Unthinkable technology the human mind could not comprehend, nor have the supplies to ever conjure up. Though she had to leave her home behind, she had no choice of going back.

She was always a curious girl growing up. Never satisfied, and constantly felt the need for more knowledge of what she hadn’t learn yet. So, after she attempted to search for books on the history of D66, the Overlord known as Haintess, bounded Moxie to earth as punishment. Though, due to her found cleverness and awareness, she quickly adjusted to her surroundings. She grew in woods, finding her needed supplies for survival in abandoned, or small villages. The one weapon that was the same from D66 and earth however, was a bow and arrow. Though there were no such thing as multiplying arrows, she gained such control of a bow that she could split six in half in one target. (If you don’t understand what I mean think of the Merida scene in Brave where she splits one down the middle of another) this, and throwing knives were her strong suits. Though, you wouldn’t want to see her near a boxes of matches, because she would some how find a way to set the whole village on fire just by looking at a flame. Because of the extreme cold on D66, fire was never a concept, and long story short, no one there was aware of the flames, causing her to be TERRIBLE at dealing with it. Because she was only 10 when she was banished from her home, she never underwent any spell classes nor had any access to the right books, though if she could lay her hands on one, we all know she’d be able to figure something out.

Moxie is quick and witty, though not the most graceful. Even though technically she COULD run fast, she’d face plant within two steps. So, she might be clever, but not agile whatsoever.

Special Interests of Moxie because why not!

Likes

-drawing/art

-romantic poetry

-books

-the color purple

-unique style

-gothic buildings

-her found cat Elliot

-sleep and coffee beans

-flower crowns

-crows

Dislikes

-SLAM POETRY

-most men.

-D66

-barbariens

-hats

-screams

-her perfectionism

Anyways, that’s all:) I will post art and stories!

#love poem #reading #role play #moxie #moon #original character #oc #backstory #3am #witch #tumblr #pls somebody see this #:3

[hoeratius]

I’m doing my dissertation with Flowers in the Attic as a case study! Penny for your thoughts?

Okay, with the caveat that I haven’t a clue what your dissertation is on so not sure how relevant any of these thoughts are – here I go!

Note – this contains spoilers for Flowers in the Attic.

Who is the target audience for Flowers in the Attic?

This is not me describing the target audience.

This is me not having a clue what the intended audience is for a book that features phrases like "Oh, golly-lolly!" as well as erotic descriptions of a toddler’s underwear.

I read this for the first time when I was about 12 and again now I’m nearing my thirties. The first time round, it felt naughty and like I was reading something that was clearly Adult Literature. Now, I see the childlike phrases and excessive use of exclamation marks and think it’s not just because of the narrator, but because of the audience as well.

Like, this book is twee.

It’s about so many layers of incest and child abuse and neglect and religious extremism and repression and it somehow manages to be twee. HOW?

The incest (let’s just get that over with)

Everyone in this family is into everyone. My edition has questions at the back for a book club discussion, and one of them goes:

Had their father not died and they were all still living together, do you think Cathy and Chris would have instead developed sexual feelings for their parents? Why or why not?

And like, those sexual feelings are there the entire way through.

Cathy wants a husband like her father, who gives her a ring and ‘vows to forever love my Cathy just a little bit more than any other daughter’. When their mother calms Chris down, you get a paragraph like ‘Kiss, kiss, kiss finger his hair, stroke his cheek, draw his head against her soft, swelling breasts, and let him drown in the sensuality of being cuddled close to that creamy flesh that must excite even a youth of his tender years.’

Like – Okay! Cool! That is a way to describe your mother! And your brother! Like, this could just be an embrace between a mother and her son and instead it becomes this incredibly loaded, sexual passage. And that happens constantly. The narrative is obsessed with sex, with the sin it might bring and with the changes bodies go through to make it happen. I didn’t count how often Cathy thinks with jealousy of her mother’s breasts but it’s a recurring theme, and I’m kind of glad their father died before Cathy hit that part of puberty because I do not need to hear whatever feedback he’d have given her when she first goes shopping for a bra.

The Aryan perfection

Did you know they are blond? And blue-eyed? And so pretty, prettier than anyone else their age? Perfect? Like dolls? Did you get that??

Maybe it was a eugenics plan to maintain the most Aryan family in the universe, but good lord, has Cathy internalized it.

The good bits

After Cathy and Chris have a sexual encounter where he kisses her breasts after stabbing her with scissors, Cathy asks:

“Chris – what we did just now – was it sinful?”

Again, he cleared his throat. “If you think it so, then it was.”

I’m too early in my thoughts to have anything very coherent to say about this, but it does show their complex relationship with sexuality in a really interesting light. Does anything other than P-in-V count as sex? What is the boundary between normal familiar affection and incest? (Personally, I’d say the family cross the line from ‘normal familiar affection’ constantly but equally, I can see why kissing people on the mouth doesn’t have to be inherently sexual or inappropriate. It’s just that V.C. Andrews’s prose makes everything sexual.)

I also thought it was very bold of VCA to have Chris describe the sex as ‘rape’ immediately after it has happened. Keeping in mind that this book came out in 1979, he is the romantic lead, and it was (I think???) aimed at teenage girls, I was not expecting them to name the beast by its name. Even if Cathy assures him it wasn’t rape (and let’s not get into the victim blaming paragraph, jfc), having it out in the open immediately? Actually sensational.

On a different familiar note, I loved the way they kept waiting for their mother to return and the way their love faded differently for all of them. Cathy’s turning to bitterness sooner (prompted by jealousy over Chris’s affection?), versus the twins becoming alienated and addressing her as ‘Ma’am’ by the end… And yet that constant hope that she’ll show up, the disappointment when she brings gifts rather than freedom…

Corinne’s wilful closing of her eyes to justify the neglect haunted me– the way she stops looking at the twins, doesn’t see how Chris and Cathy are maturing. Especially because Cathy is in exactly the age where so much is changing in her body and there is the horror of being perceived (the paragraph where she describes wearing loose clothing to hide her new curves and feeling like she’s being seen anyway – I remember that.)

And at last: the reveal of the arsenic. Iconic.

The bad bits

Other than the writing (so many exclamation marks!! What the fuck!!! The action of going down the stairs doesn’t need this emphasis!!!!!), I just want to say, with my whole heart, that the twins are the most annoying characters in literature. And their insistence at the start that everyone will surely love them, they are so cute and perfect?

Honestly, if I’d been the grandmother, I’d have thrown them out of the window during their first tantrum.

Overall verdict

Do I like this book? I don’t know. I tried to come up with more bits that I disliked, but everything – the twee-ness, the weird sexualization of everything, the “Oh boy”s and stilted dialogue – it all feels very organically entwined. I definitely understand why it became a middle school obsession when it came out in 1979 and it’s going to haunt me for quite a while to come, I think.

I don’t think I’ll read any of the follow-ups, but I might (might) treat myself and reread the De Beers series one day, or that one set in New Orleans with the evil twin. VC Andrews(‘s ghostwriter) was not afraid to go big and there is a certain appeal to such shameless commitment to drama.

#flowers in the attic #fita #I've got my book club on this next week so might come back with more thoughts later #Because I'm finding I do have a lot of thoughts #This is gonna haunt me pals #VC Andrews #< Might as well start a tag in case I do ever go back to the De Beers series