#♜ . LIKES .

[kassgender]

✰ L (DEATH NOTE) ID PACK ; requested by @abandonedknowledge !

NAMES ; — Adam , Ari , Atlas , Blanc , Cypher , Detective , Elias , Elle , Evander , Law , Lawrence , Lena , Lyric , Melchior , Noir , Poe , Rival , Sherlock , Vex , Vie , Zeta , Zero

PRONOUNS ; — ae/aem , ciph/cipher , ey/em , ly/lyric , mask/masks , myst/mystery , puzzle/puzzles , rain/rains , sie/hir , sol/solve , sweet/sweets , sxe/hxr , thou/thorn , xy/xyr , ?/?s

LABELS ; — Caffean , Detectivegender , Detective Aroace , Dymalic , Inklexic , Limindream , Noxvir , Obscurumystic , Ouroborn , Paradox Gender , Uncannything

[nightiingaled]

" The fastest way to a man's heart is by tearing a hole through his ribcage. " / rosie to mel. smh

"Oh well I am so far behind on the etiquette, I definitely thought it was through his stomach. Not that I can cook well - but I'd definitely try!"

[helldustedstories]

@vanaglcria asked: ❛ may i have this dance? ❜ / kasumi @ echo ( they definitely aren't dancing )

emotionally charged starters // accepting

If there was one thing Echo was good at (and there were many things at which they excelled), it was holding their own in a fight. They were wiry, and people tended to underestimate them, but they hadn't gotten this far by being a pushover. Echo used their considerable skills to their advantage, slipping out of any hold someone tried to get on them, shifting into a different shape if they had to.

They hadn't been the one that had started this fight, and despite the fact that they were outnumbered, they were holding their own fairly well.

At least until a familiar voice chimed in, to ask if she could have a dance. Echo grinned, actively dodging a fist that had been thrown their way, springing backwards into a completely unnecessary flip.

"I could probably fit you onto my dance card," they said with a grin, kicking a leg out and sending one of their opponents sprawling. They didn't tend to turn down opportunities like this one very often, after all.

[ruleoftheserpent]

[crescentmp3]

two of him

[ image desc: two pictures of laughing doves (Spilopelia senegalensis) seen outside of a window. the laughing dove is a long-tailed, slim pigeon. it is pinkish brown on the underside with a lilac tinged head and neck. the head and underparts are pinkish, shading to buff on the lower abdomen. a chequered rufous and grey patch is seen on the sides of the neck and is made up of split feathers. the upper parts are brownish with a bluish-grey band along the wing. the back is uniform and dull brown. the tail is graduated and the outer feathers are tipped in white. // end id ]

[xthestormcrow]

we are all moved in. still unpacking, but i am also now off until after new years. so it's time to lurk and chill! haha

[florafound]

sleeper agent kit au when

[furysblade]

tag drop.

♜ ❝ i will never stop complaining and that is a promise ❞ || ooc. ♜ ❝ nothing left but walking down the line ❞ || ic. ♜ ❝ shedding all my old regrets ❞ || headcanons. ♜ ❝ burning like an effigy in here ❞ || vis. ♜ ❝ spirit of my silence i can hear you ❞ || mus. ♜ ❝ questions and rebuttals ❞ || asks. ♜ ❝ do not throw yourself to the waves for questions you beg answers for ❞ || prompts. ♜ ❝ gossip travels fast ❞ || dash com. ♜ ❝ children of the land do you hear echoes of truths that once rang clear ❞ || music.

[uzumakisavior]

It's your moot here, are you alive girl!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!😭

Hi.

Thank you for checking on me, dearest moot.

If you would so kindly use they/them pronouns that would greatly be appreciated. You can also call me Alex.

Let's just say I have plenty happening. A lot of struggles and inner work. A large betrayal, radical acceptance, therapy, and recovery. I want to come back to rp, I REALLY REALLY DO- but I think I run the risk burdening other rpers by letting my personal problems get in the way. I love all my threads, and I miss them dearly. I find myself spreading thin and picking up the pieces of certain life changing events.

I have to remind myself that everything will fall into place in due time; even if it means starting anew; be it a new muse or new blog. Secretly, I am afraid everyone will move on, and I won't be able to continue any threads by the time I return from hiatus. All in all I will be OK.

Im sorry for my lack of engangement. It's just the "summer heat". It's "sweltering".

Thank you again, Anon.

[nightiingaled]

Warning Sign | Tae-mi & Cass

Blackwatch Years Tae-mi when a mission goes awry. Trigger warnings for mentions of blood, momentary gore & near-death. @quick-drawn

The desert is alive with the sound of gunfire.

“One left!��

Tae-mi Jin is in the process of placing her final clip into her gun, licking her lips and whispering a soft prayer. She has her back against a collapsed stone wall, long worn from time.

“You’re talking about targets, right?”

Across from her – on the other side of the crumbling entryway into the long-destroyed building – Jesse McCree aims and misses one of the remaining soldiers creeping closer and closer to their position.

“Not with that aim!”

“You’re one to talk!”

Sure enough, the moment Tae attempts to take a shot at one of the soldiers, they open fire in her direction, and she misses her shot as she takes cover once again. She grumbles something to herself, but she knows that of the two of them she is the weaker link here.

Gunfights have never been her thing. Hand-to-hand, close combat has always been where she excels, if her continued wins in the fighting rings had anything to say about it.

“You think if we ask nicely, they’ll line up easy to let us punch them out instead?”

She can hear him thinking across the space between them and it almost makes her laugh.

“Can you two take this a little seriously?” Commander Reyes’ voice cut through their radios with a crackle of faint static.

A tight-lipped smile stretches across Tae’s features despite everything. “Not to rush you, Commander, but how’s it coming?”

“We’re in the clear. Light them up!”

Tae gives Jesse a thumbs up, Jesse returning the gesture. Tae thumbs the detonator in her other hand, pressing it with more force than probably necessary. The ground rumbles around them as multiple bombs go off in a location less than a mile east. Tae can see the haze that has erupted in its place as she dives into her hideaway.

 There’s the sound of screaming and shouting of orders and suddenly the soldiers assaulting them are leaving hurriedly in two vehicles towards the direction of the compound in the distance.

“Can’t believe that worked.”

Tae laughs, having crawled out of the crevice in the wall and crossed to Jesse’s side of the entryway. She offers him a hand up which he accepts with a smile. “I owe that man a dri—”

Gunfire breaks out once again, shattering the moment. Tae throws herself back to the wall, dragging a startled Jesse with her. “Damnit,” she spits.

“What was that?” Reyes clips through.  

“They left someone behind. Can’t be many we got—Jesse!”

Jesse is semi-conscious, flopping over as his body struggles to hold itself upright.

“Flesh wound, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his eyes flickering open and then closed again.

Crimson red is seeping through holes in Jesse’s vest and Tae swallows thickly.

“Stay still.”

The building around them has gone quiet. Tae is sure they couldn’t have left more than three behind. They would send as many as possible to see to the supposed attack on the compound and the two agents had done their best to leave few to spare.

Tae slips her knives from their sheathes.

The first comes through the entryway – poor thing was practically bait. Tae takes him out at the knees, quite literally taking her knives and slicing away at the back of his legs. He lets out a wailing scream and collapses as the second comes around the right corner. Tae knocks the soldier’s aim down towards the ground with one arm, using the other to slice up under and into his jaw. She lets him keep the knife as she turns the other on the third soldier hurrying through the entryway to help. Again, and again and again she thrusts her knife into his chest until he’s blubbering blood all over her.

“Three,” she tells herself, “They left three.”

The fourth doesn’t exactly take her by surprise so much as uses a different approach than the others. He rushes through the doorway and subsequently towards Tae herself. Smaller than him and more practiced, she manages to dodge to the side. It isn’t enough. He launches himself at her and throws her to the ground. Tae doesn’t realize his hands on her throat until they suddenly aren’t she’s breathing fresh air again, ears ringing from the nearby gunshot.

She rolls the body off her, looking over at Jesse. The man is sheet white, but the grip on his gun is surprisingly steady.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

“What?”

“You say, ‘thank you’, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart,” she grumbles as she picks herself off the ground and hurries back over to his side. It’s at this moment that she realizes Reyes is still trying to make contact. His voice had become a distant buzz, a distraction she had to ignore for the time being.

“Jin, I swear to God if you don’t answer—”

“Sorry, sir. The pickup crew is cleared out, but McCree is injured.”

“Stay put. We’ll evac you as soon as we make the rendezvous.”

“Sir, I don’t think we have that kind of time. You still have miles ahead of you – we have a shorter distance we can hit the rendezvous at the same time.”  

While she’s talking, Tae is tearing spare fabric from the soldiers’ uniforms and her pants, wrapping the bandages around Jesse’s stomach, and tying them tight.

“Jin, don’t tell me you’re thinking of—”

“This isn’t a viable rendezvous point, sir. You said so yourself. We just blew up the safest landing zone for miles. And it’s going to be too Hot to land. It’s not worth the risk.”

“Jin, I mean it – do not leave your position.”

“Sorry sir, I’m getting nothing but static. I’ll meet you at the rendezvous.”

And then the line goes silent as she turns off her comms. Tae-mi reaches down, pulling Jesse up by both arms with a grunt and leaning him over her shoulder.

“Come on, Jess – we got a long walk ahead of us.”  

& & &

Tae didn’t doubt her logic, but she realizes that she might have misgauged how quickly she would be able to move with Jesse.  For what it was worth, he tries to help as much as he can. When he’s awake. But the man’s consciousness comes and goes. Here and there she catches him muttering to himself and wonders what delirium he finds himself in. She remembers him saving her so many years ago and it feels like only yesterday. To think she finally gets to return the favor – she hopes it’s worth it.

It's sad that even after all this time, she’s barely let him in. Barely let anyone in. It’s just her and her sister. The two of them have grown together in Blackwatch, different in multiple ways but so similar in so many others. What would it be like to lose him?

Tae swallows. No, she tells herself. Stop thinking like he’s dying.

But he is. He is dying. He’s dripping crimson through the makeshift bandages. He bled through the bandages, even after she ripped more of her pants to add to it. He’s bleeding into the remainder of her shirt, just bleeding and she can’t stop it. He’s paler than he was at the start and that is saying something. His sweat is almost drowning her.

“Gonna be sick…”

“Not on my shoulder you’re not.”

But she hopes it bodes well that he’s saying anything at all. He doesn’t get sick. They keep moving on.

There comes a point – as much as she hates it – that she must stop again, simply to rest. If she doesn’t her shoulder will give out. The two of them are covered in blood. Jesse has soaked through every bandage she’s thrown at him and down his pants. Tae has sacrificed everything but her tank top and enough of her pants they’ve become shorts. There’s no point making herself naked at this point – it’s not going to help, she knows.  

“…Behind…”

She has Jesse leaned against a rock ledge and she leans closer to him. “What’s up?”

A tongue licks slowly over his chapped lips. “Leave me…. behind.”

“Over my dead body.”

She reaches out to grab his arm, but he catches her wrist and holds it. His grip isn’t tight – he didn’t have the strength, but she doubts it would be even if he did. “Don’t die here….with me.”

“Neither of us is going to die, Jess.”

A crack creeps into her voice and she notices her fingers are starting to shake. She needs to get moving again before she can’t anymore, but Jesse’s other hand is touching her hair.

“You’re really pretty with this haircut, you know?”

“Jess – stop talking nonsense okay, let’s get out of here. You’re going to be okay. You’re gonna –”

He cups her jaw and leans forward, and Tae sees what comes next. She doesn’t stop it. It’s not the right time – it’s NEVER going to be the right time for her, but this is next level of not right. But what if they never get another chance?

Their lips meet and it’s so soft and weak on his end, but there’s still a fire behind it that she returns. Tae wraps her now free hands in his hair and leans him forward into the kiss, tears tracking down her worried features.

And then it’s over, but it remains abuzz within her. She thumbs his hair away from his eyes and sighs.  “I hope you didn’t think that was going to convince me to leave you, Jess,” she murmured. “Come on.”

& & &

She turns her comms back on the moment she sees the form of the helicopter growing nearer in the distance. To her surprise, Reyes does not immediately proceed to curses upon hearing her voice back on the radio.

“How’s he doing,” she hears instead and smiles softly to herself.

“Holding out.”

“We see you. We’ll meet you halfway.”

The group of agents do indeed meet them halfway with a stretcher. Jesse’s weight is transferred from her shoulder to someone else and Tae almost loses her balance at the loss. The realization of her own exhaustion settles on her, and it takes everything she has to keep walking towards the helicopter.

“Jin!”

Tae turns to see Commander Reyes approaching her at a brisk march. She swallows.

“Never ever and I mean ever pull that shit with me again, do you hear me?”

“Yes, sir.”

She turns away and keeps walking towards the ship before he calls her name once again. “Tae-mi…”

The woman turns back, and the Commander has a half-smile on his face. “Good job.”

She smiles back at him. “Yes, sir.”  

They pile into the ship as the medic works around them to try and stabilize Jesse.

Tae-mi clutches his hand the entire time. Tae-mi doesn’t care who sees at this point and no one says anything.

[helldustedstories]

@vanaglcria asked: OTPs  +  nOTPs  + Echo & Vox?

to ship or not to ship // accepting

OTPs: Echo/Kasumi, Echo/Molly, Echo/Thatcher NOTPs: Echo/Val (he rubs them the wrong way)

(Like I mentioned previously, Echo is pretty open and pretty easy to throw anywhere/ at anyone, for a lot of reasons. They continue to be a little shit, which will likely never change. ^^)

OTPs: PolyVees!, Vox/Val, Vox/Velvette NOTPs: Probably Vox/Alastor

(I haven't had a chance to do much of anything with him yet, so he's pretty open!)

[eatdearth]

[...] A human? Bit you? Not even anyone you know? Just a random stranger? Unprompted? You accidentally bumped into them at least, right? Probably why they went all zombie on you? Maybe they were having a ridiculously horrible week and that was the last straw?

[...] That sounds terrifying. What did the doctors say? How's the wound? Did you get poisoned? Do you still have your face?

Oh, no, no, nothing like that. Just some absolute stranger. At the corner store. Apparently the human jaw can exert up to 125 kilograms of force per bite. 50-70, on average! Amazing. Just incredible. The things you learn, googling from a hospital waiting room.

[nyrasvoid]

In the Heat of Battle ⚔︎

♡︎ Gwayne Hightower x Fem!Reader

𖤓 Summary: Lady Caswell defies her family to become a healer in the war of the Stepstones. Amid the violence, she forms a bond with Ser Gwayne Hightower.

⚝ Warnings: violence, sexual assault attempt (nothing happens), includes themes of war and injury and explicit sexual content

♜ Things you should know: reader is from a minor house of the Reach (House Caswell), when the news of war are spread the ladies are given the choice to serve as healers. Reader prefers to serve as a healer in the battle camps than becoming a septa or marrying.

⚝ A/N: this is a bit like the relationship between Robb stark and his wife in GOT, just a reminder that my requests are open 😊

- Word count: 6k words (ik I went a bit crazy this time)

The hall of your family’s keep is quieter than usual, though tension hangs in the air.

You sit at the long table, your hands resting om your lap, trying to keep calm as your mother and father exchange worried glances from across the room. The fireplace is the only sound that fills the room. Your sisters sit nearby, their faces show their concern, while your two brothers stand at the back of the room.

You know why you’re all gathered here. It’s a conversation that’s been pending for weeks, ever since news of the war of the Stepstones reached your lands. You and the rest of the ladies were given a choice, but it’s clear that your family doesn’t see it as one.

Your father clears his throat, breaking the silence. "My daughter, you are the youngest of House Caswell. You must understand the choices before you. There are...expectations. It is time to think of your future."

Your mother nods. "We’ve spoken of this before. You could marry, my dearest. There are lords who would gladly take a girl like you. Or, if marriage isn’t your path, the septas will gladly take you in."

You’ve heard this all before. Marriage or the Faith. Those are the only options anyone sees for you. But they don’t understand. You don’t want to spend your life praying in a sept or playing the dutiful wife. You want something else.

“I don’t want to be a septa,” you say firmly. “And I have no interest in marriage, not right now. The war… they need healers. I can help.”

Your father’s brows furrow. He sits back in his chair, eyeing you with a mix of disbelief and frustration. "The battlefield is no place for a woman, especially not a daughter of mine."

“I agree,” your sister, Melissa, interrupts from across the table. She’s always been the dutiful one, her nose always buried in the books of history. “The gods have plans for us. You could do good in the Faith, sister. Don’t let the horrors of war tempt you from a safer path.”

“Safe?” You scoff. “The Faith doesn’t call to me, Melissa. I’m not like you. I do not hear the call of the Seven like you do.” You look at your sister. “I want to do something that matters, to help people. People who are suffering because of this war.”

“Being a septa helps people,” she tries to convince you, “you’d bring the Light of the Seven to those in need.”

“But that is not what I wish for,” you insist, “I want to help with my hands. Healing those who are wounded. Saving lives.”

Your older brother, Ser Arthur, steps forward, his voice firm. “Do you know what you’re asking for, sister? You’ve never seen war. It’s not some grand adventure. It’s blood and death, and it will haunt you long after the fighting is over.” He pauses briefly. “If you think healing will spare you from that, you’re wrong.”

Your younger brother, Theo, who’s barely old enough to hold a sword, speaks up, his voice shaky. “He’s right. I’ve heard the stories from the soldiers who’ve returned. The screams, the smells. The battlefield is no place for a lady.”

You turn to them. “I am not asking for a knight’s life. I know what war is. I’m not foolish.” You glance between your siblings and your parents. “But I will not stand by while men die if I can do something about it, let me help. It is my choice.”

Your father slams his hand down on the table, startling everyone. “And what of your duties to this house? You think you can just abandon them, throw yourself into the mud and blood of battle?”

Your mother’s eyes fill up with unshed tears, and she whispers, “You’re our daughter, sweetling. We just want you safe.”

You swallow hard, trying to fight back the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes. “I know you want what’s best for me. But I need to do this. Not because I want to run away from my duties, but because I want to make a difference. If I can save even one life out there, then that’s worth it to me.”

Melissa stands up, coming closer to you and resting her hand on your shoulder. “Please, sister. You’re smarter than this. You don’t have to go looking for death. The gods have other plans for you, if you’ll just listen.”

You turn to her, “I love you, Melissa. But I can’t live my life praying every single day, locked up in a sept.”

Everyone turns quiet, you could only hear your mother’s sobs and the fireplace.

Finally, it is your father who breaks the silence, his voice rough. “If this is truly what you want…” He shakes his head, sighing. “Then go. Serve as a healer. But do not say I didn’t warn you.”

You meet his gaze, nodding. “Thank you.”

Melissa looks like she wants to keep trying to convince you, but she just sighs in defeat. “May the gods protect you, sister.”

Arthur steps forward, resting a hand on your shoulder. “I hope you know what you’re doing”

“So do I,” you murmur, though you know this is the path you must follow, you still have some doubts in your mind.

As you rise from your seat and begin to make your way out of the hall, you feel the guilt of not listening to them, but you’ve made your choice. The battlefield may not be a place for most women, but you are not most women.

You will go, and you will help. No matter what anyone else says.

The morning you leave for the war, the sky is heavy with clouds, as if the gods were trying to tell you it was the wrong path. Your family stands around you, silent in disappointment.

Your mother is the first to approach you. She takes your hand, into hers. Her eyes are still red from the tears she shed last night. "Please, my dearest, be careful," she whispers, her voice cracking. "I know you think this is the right choice, but I can’t bear to lose you. You’re still my little girl."

You feel a bit of guilt but gently squeezed her hand in return. "I’ll be careful, mother. I promise. I’ll write whenever I can."

Your father stands a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest. He hasn’t spoken to you since you made your choice.

"My daughter," he says, "If you find that this is too much, if you wish to come home, there will always be a place for you here."

You nod. "Thank you, Father. But I won’t be coming home until I’ve fulfilled my duty."

Your sister Melissa approaches next, she’s spent the entire night in prayer. "I will pray for you every day," she says softly. "May the gods guide you and keep you safe."

You smile at her, grateful for her words even if you no longer share her faith in the Seven. "Thank you, sister. But I will be relying on my own hands to keep me safe."

Arthur steps forward as he pulls you into a firm embrace. He doesn’t speak, but the hug says enough. "You’re braver than I thought," he says. "I just hope you know what you’re getting into."

"I do," you reply, meeting his gaze. "and I will come back, brother. Do not worry."

Your younger brother Theo, looks up at you with sadness in his eyes. "If I were old enough," he murmurs, "I would be going with you."

You ruffle his hair, "Well, I am glad you’re not. Stay here, and keep the family safe for me, all right?"

His smile turns into a pout, but he nods, "Fine," he mumbles. "But you better come back in one piece so we can play like we do."

You give him a small smile, although you want to do this, you do not like the idea of leaving your family behind. “I will come back in one piece, I promise.”

With one last glance at your family, you get on the back the carriage. You know this journey will change you. There’s no denying that. But you also know you’ve made the right choice.

As you ride away, the gates of your family’s keep slowly close behind you, and the view of your home begins to fade.

Your journey to the Stepstones begins, it is a long trip, longer than you expected, and after just a few hours on the ship, you’ve already had enough of the sea.

It’s uncomfortable, and filled with rough men, mercenaries, and knights—making their way to the battle in the Stepstones. Among them, you are one of the very few women, and the looks you get remind you of it.

But you are not alone. On the second day of the journey, you meet Lysa, a fellow healer, although her skills lean more towards battlefield survival and self-defense. She is very brave and before long, the two of you find yourselves sticking together, watching each other’s backs.

One evening, you and Lysa sit on the deck, talking about your families and why you both chose to leave them behind for war.

“So,” Lysa says, “you chose to be a healer instead of a septa. I have to say, I would have done the same, given the choice.”

You smile at her. “I couldn’t bear the idea of spending my life in a sept. Too quiet, too… restricting.”

Lysa laughs. “I get it. I couldn’t stand being tied down either. I’d rather be out here, risking my life, than sitting at home waiting for a husband.”

As you share stories, the bond between you strengthens. You find that you trust her in a way you’ve trusted few people in your life. It’s comforting to have a friend, especially on a ship full of strange and dangerous men.

But not everyone aboard the ship is as decent as Lysa.

That same night, as you make your way to your shared quarters, a man blocks your way. He’s an older knight, his face scarred, his breath stinking of ale.

“Now what’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?” he slurs, leaning in too close.

You step back in disgust. “I am a healer, here to tend to the wounded. Nothing more.”

The man chuckles, his eyes roaming over your body. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll be doing plenty more. A pretty girl like you… I’m sure the men will find other uses for you.”

You feel sick to your stomach at his words. “I’d rather be eaten by sharks than entertain men like you.”

The man’s smile fades, “You ought to watch your tongue, girl. Do not forget your place.”

“Trust me,” you say loud enough for the surrounding men to hear, “I know my place. It is not in your bed, and certainly not besides a man who reeks like a wet dog.”

You can hear the laughter from the other men around, and the knight’s face flushes with embarrassment. You ignore his presence and go inside your shared quarters.

Lysa claps you on the shoulder when you reach her, smiling widely. “That was brilliant,” she says. “You put that dog in his place.”

You shrug, “I just hope he takes the hint.”

Unfortunately, the old knight doesn’t. Later that night, while you’re asleep, you hear footsteps in the darkness. Before you can react, a rough hand covers your mouth. Your heart pounds in your chest as you struggle to break free, kicking around as hard as you could.

But before the man can do anything more, he’s pulled away from you, and you hear a familiar voice. “Get your filthy hands off her, or I will slice your throat myself.”

The man growls, but Lysa doesn’t back down, she presses the knife to his neck and slightly cuts it.

“You’ve got some nerve,” Lysa whispers, standing over him. “Try something like that again, and I’ll throw you overboard.”

The knight, humiliated and angry, mutters something under his breath before retreating back into the shadows.

“Are you all right?” she asks, turning to you.

You nod shakily, your heart still racing. “Thanks to you.”

She sits down beside you, her expression softening. “Us women have to stick together out here. There aren’t many people you can trust on a ship like this.”

You take her hand, squeezing it. “I won’t forget it.”

The rest of the journey passes with fewer incidents, though the tension never quite leaves. You and Lysa keep a careful eye on each other, making sure that no one else tries anything again. When the ship finally reaches the Stepstones, you’re relieved to set foot on solid ground.

When you arrive at the healers’ tent, you’re greeted not by the woman you were expecting but by an old maester. He introduces himself as Maester Aegred, and though he is kind, you could see the surprise in his eyes the moment he saw you.

“You’re the healer?” he asks, raising his brow slightly.

“I am,” you reply, straightening your back, “Lady Caswell, sent by my family to serve here.”

Maester Aegred nods slowly, though he seems uncertain. “You’re one of the only women in this camp, I’m afraid. It will not be easy for you.”

“I’m not here because I thought it would be easy,” you say firmly. “I’m here because I want to help.”

The maester gives you a small approving nod. “Very well. Welcome to the Stepstones, Lady Caswell.”

He gives hands you a basket filled with herbs and bandages. “You’ll be starting with the fevered men,” he says, “Boil these herbs for teas, and keep their wounds clean. Watch for signs of infection.”

You get to work without hesitation, the first man you attend looks barely conscious, his face wet with sweat. You dip a cloth into cool water, before placing it gently on his forehead.

“There now,” you whisper, “Rest easy. I’m here to help.”

You prepare the herbal tea as the maester instructed, bringing the it to his lips. He barely sips it, but you’re persistent, bringing him to drink more. His skin is hot to the touch, and you pray the fever will break soon.

As you continue tending to the soldiers, the hours pass by. There’s little time for anything else besides cleaning wounds, applying creams, and offering them tea.

Days pass like this—hard work from dawn until dusk. You grow more accustomed to the sight of blood. Your hands become more skilled.

One afternoon, after days of dealing with nothing but fever and infection, you’re called to tend to a knight who’s been brought in from the front lines. His armor is dented, and his face is pale beneath a layer of blood. His men carry him into the maester’s tent.

“Bring water!” the maestro yells at one of the younger healers before turning to you. “Caswell, I need you over here!”

You rush to his side and assess the knight’s condition. His leg is badly wounded, a deep cut through the muscle. Blood keeps coming through the wrapped bandage.

“I’ll need to clean this and stitch it closed,” you say. The sight of such a severe injury would have once made your stomach turn, but now, you see only the work that needs to be done.

The knight’s eyes flutter open as you begin to work, and he lets out a low groan of pain.

“You’re… the healer?” he rasps, his voice rough from pain and exhaustion.

“Yes,” you reply, your voice calm as you clean the wound. “Stay still, and I’ll cure this soon.”

He’s in pain but does his best to remain still. “Not what I expected,” he murmurs, a hint of amusement in his tone despite the situation.

“And what were you expecting?” you ask, keeping your focus on his leg.

“An ugly old maester with cold hands,” he says gritting his teeth. “Not… someone like you.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” you say in amusement.

He lets out a weak laugh before groaning in pain. “I’m not disappointed… just surprised.”

“You’re lucky to still be alive,” you say as you finish cleaning the wound. “The cut was deep. If you hadn’t been brought in when you were…”

The knight nods weakly. “Thank you… for saving my life.”

“I haven’t saved it yet,” you reply, threading your needle. “This will hurt, but it needs to be done.”

He grits his teeth and nods again, preparing himself for the pain. You work as quickly as you can, stitching the wound closed. Despite his discomfort, the knight bears, only grunting occasionally.

Once you finish, you sit back, wiping the sweat off your face. “There you go. It should heal well if you keep off it and give it time.”

The knight exhales, “Thank you… Lady—?”

“Caswell,” you say simply, not offering your full name. There’s no need for it here.

His brow lifts as if trying to place your family name, and you see the moment he realizes that your house is one of little significance. “Ah,” he says simply, “a Reach girl, then. Far from home.”

“I go where I’m needed,” you reply “as do most of us who serve.” You pause before you realize that you still don’t know his name. “And you are?”

“Ser Gwayne Hightower,” he says, giving you a small smile. “Of Oldtown.”

You pause at the name. You’ve heard of him before, of course—who hasn’t? The eldest son of Otto Hightower, the hand of the King.

You nod, standing up to gather your supplies. “Rest, Ser Gwayne. You’ll need your strength.”

As you turn to leave, he calls after you. “Lady Caswell?”

You pause, turning around. “Yes?”

“Will I… see you again?”

You can’t help but slightly smile at the question. “Only if you’re foolish enough to get yourself injured again.”

With that, you leave the tent, though his words linger in your mind.

The days pass on, and Ser Gwayne Hightower stays in the maester’s tent, recovering from his wounds. Despite the chaos and demands of the camp, you find yourself drawn to him more often than you’d expected. Every time you pass his bed to check on other patients, his eyes follow you. Sometimes, he even offers a tired smile.

You tell yourself it’s nothing. Just another soldier in need of care. But there’s something about him that keeps him in your mind.

One morning, as you tend to another patient, you hear his familiar voice call out from across the tent. "Lady Caswell!"

You sigh, trying to focus on the soldier’s arm, but Ser Gwayne does not give up.

“Lady Caswell,” he says again, this time louder, "I am dying of boredom over here. Come and put me out of my misery."

You finish your task, shaking your head, but you can’t help but smile. This has become routine, Ser Gwayne calling for you whenever you pass by, always with some comment or complaint. You try not to encourage him, but the man is relentless.

As you approach his bed, you find him sitting up on the bed, looking far better than he did when he first arrived. The color has returned to his face, and his leg, still bandaged, seems to be healing well.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” you ask, crossing your arms as you look down at him.

He shrugs. “Resting is boring. I’ve been staring at the ceiling for days now. I think I’m going mad.”

“And what would you have me do about it?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Talk to me,” he replies, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re the only one in this place with anything interesting to say.”

You roll your eyes, but the truth is, you like speaking with him. “And what exactly do you think is so interesting about me?”

He leans back against his pillow, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “For one, you’re the only woman I’ve met who’d rather patch up wounds than sit in some lord’s castle or pray to the gods.”

You tilt your head slightly, furrowing your eyebrows. “Is that your way of saying I’m strange?”

His smile widens. “Strange? No. Unusual, perhaps. A good kind of unusual.”

You suppress a laugh. Despite his status, he doesn’t seem to carry the same arrogance as some of the other knights you’ve tended. Still, you remind yourself why you’re here. You’re a healer, not some maiden looking for a knight’s attention.

“Well,” you say, “I’m here to heal wounds, not provide entertainment. If you’re well enough to chat, perhaps you should be focusing on getting better so you can leave the tent.”

“Leave?” Gwayne looks offended. “And abandon the finest healer in all the Seven Kingdoms? Never.”

You smirk. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Ser Gwayne.”

He chuckles but falls silent as you reach for the bandages around his leg. Carefully, you peel the cloth to examine the stitches. The wound looks clean—no signs of infection, and the stitches are holding well.

“You’ve been keeping your leg high, I hope?” you ask, meeting his gaze.

Gwayne nods, “Mostly.”

“Mostly?” you repeat, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugs, “A man can’t lie around forever. I’ve been getting up—only for a short walk around the tent, of course.”

You sigh, “You’ll undo all my hard work if you push yourself too soon.”

“Aye, but how else am I to win your favor?” he teases.

You shake your head, standing up. “You’d better focus on getting well before you concern yourself with winning anything.”

As you turn to leave, he calls after you again, this time more serious. “My lady.”

You pause but don’t turn around. “Yes?”

His voice is softer this time. “Thank you. Truly.”

You nod once before continuing on your way, trying to push the thought of him from your mind. You don’t have time for distractions, not with so many lives depending on you.

Over the next few days, Ser Gwayne’s persistence doesn’t fade. Every time you pass his bed, he finds some excuse to speak with you, to ask you how your day is. You try to remain professional, to keep your distance, but it becomes harder and harder to ignore the way his presence makes your heart skip a beat, even if only for a moment.

One evening, you find yourself alone for the first time in what feels like weeks. You’re sitting outside the maester’s tent, the cool breeze making you feel relieved at least for a moment. For a second, you allow yourself to close your eyes and breathe.

But, as if summoned by your thoughts, Gwayne appears, limping slightly as he approaches. “Lady Caswell,” he greets you.

You open your eyes and look up at him, surprised to see him outside of the tent. “You shouldn’t be walking,” you say.

He lowers himself onto the ground beside you, groaning as he does. “I needed some air,” he says quietly. “And I think you could use some company.”

You sit beside Ser Gwayne in the quiet of the night.

“You know,” Gwayne begins, his voice soft, “this is the longest conversation I’ve had in a while that didn’t revolve around injuries or strategy.”

You chuckle lightly. “I can imagine. It’s not easy finding moments of peace in a place like this.”

Gwayne nods. “I’ve been thinking about what you said before. About how you came here to make a difference.”

“Yeah?” you reply, looking at him.

Gwayne meets your eyes, “You’re doing more than most of us, you know. You’re saving lives, giving hope.”

You blush slightly, “It’s not always easy. Sometimes I wonder if I’m making any real difference.”

“You are,” he insists, reaching out to gently touch your hand. “I see it. I’ve seen the way you care for everyone, how you give everything you have.”

You feel a shiver at his touch, the warmth of his hand against yours.

Gwayne leans closer, his eyes searching yours. “I know this isn’t the place for… this,” he says softly, “but I needed to tell you how much I admire what you’re doing. And how much I appreciate you.”

Before you can say more, he gently closes the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours. You respond, feeling the passion and longing in the moment.

But as the kiss deepens, a wave of realization hits you. This isn’t the time, and it’s certainly not the place for such feelings to complicate matters. You pull back gently, your breath quick.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly, standing up. “We shouldn’t… We’re both here for important reasons, and this—” you gesture between you, “—isn’t right.”

Gwayne looks at you with understanding, his expression a mix of regret and affection. “I understand,” he says quietly. “It was a mistake.”

“No,” you correct him, “not a mistake. Just not the right time. We both have too much to focus on right now.”

He nods, his eyes filled with warmth and a touch of sadness. “Goodnight, Lady Caswell.”

“Goodnight, Ser Gwayne,” you reply, offering him a soft smile before turning away.

As you walk back to your tent, your mind is a whirl of emotions. The kiss was a moment of connection, but the reality of your situation settles in. You need to stay focused on your duties and not let personal feelings distract you from the important work ahead.

The next morning you found Lysa outside the tent, sitting on a barrel.

“You know,” she said as you sat down besides her, “I’ve seen the way that knight looks at you.”

You sigh, not in the mood for this conversation. “He’s recovering, Lysa. His mind is clouded with fever and pain. He probably doesn’t even know what he’s saying.”

Lysa chuckled, shaking her head. “No, his fever broke days ago. Trust me, that man knows exactly what he’s saying.”

You glance at her. “It’s nothing.”

“Is it?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “I see the way you talk to him. You like him.”

You roll your eyes, “Lysa, I didn’t come here for this.”

“Maybe not,” she said, leaning back, her gaze shifting to the distant horizon, “but sometimes life gives you things you didn’t expect.”

You and Lysa were still talking near the tent when the distant thud of footsteps reached your ears. The sound wasn’t normal. It was too loud, too fast. Then, the shouting started.

“Attack!” someone yelled from the other side of the camp.

Soldiers were rushing to grab their weapons as a group of enemy soldiers burst through the camp, moving with terrifying speed.

You turned to Lysa. “We need to get the wounded out of here, now!”

Together, you rushed into the tent where the injured men lay, Ser Gwayne among them. He was awake but clearly in no condition to fight.

“What’s happening?” Ser Gwayne asked, struggling to sit up.

“The camp is under attack,” you replied quickly, moving to help another soldier out of his bed. “We need to move everyone before the raiders get here.”

Ser Gwayne tried to get up, but his leg gave out, and he collapsed back onto the bed. You hurried over to him, “You’re coming with us. No fighting.”

He frowned but didn’t argue.

More healthy soldiers rushed into the tent, and together, you began lifting the wounded onto a cart that had been brought to the entrance. You worked quickly, heart pounding, as the sounds of the attack grew closer.

One of the soldiers, helped you carry Ser Gwayne onto the back of the cart. “Let’s get them out of here!” he shouted.

The man climbed onto the driver’s seat, grabbing the reins of the horses. You and Lysa jumped up on the cart sitting with the wounded.

The horses raced forward, pulling the cart through the camp. You could see the flames now, the camp had been set on fire.

The wounded moaned and shifted with every bump, but there was no time to stop.

“We’re almost there,” the man muttered, his eyes scanning the horizon. You could see the cliffs that bordered the camp, and just beneath them, the mouth of the cave you had mentioned earlier.

The cave was deep enough to hide in, and for now, it was your only chance of getting everyone to safety.

As you neared the entrance, one of the soldiers riding beside the cart let out a sharp scream. You turned to see him clutching his side, an arrow protruding from between his ribs. He fell off his horse, but you couldn’t stop.

“No!” Lysa screamed in disbelief.

“We need to hurry!” you yelled, gripping the edge of the cart.

With a final burst of speed, the cart entered the cave’s mouth.

“We made it,” Lysa breathed, her voice trembling with relief.

You jumped down from the cart to help unload the wounded. The soldiers who had made it into the cave with you began pulling the injured men off the cart, laying them down on the cool stone floor. Ser Gwayne was the last one off, his face pale.

“Thank you,” he said quietly as you helped him to his feet.

“You can thank me when we’re safe,” you replied. Outside, you could hear the distant sounds of fighting in the camp, but for now, the cave was safe.

“We need to stay quiet,” Lysa whispered, moving to stand beside you. “If they find us here…”

“They won’t,” you said. You turned to Ser Gwayne, who was leaning against the cave wall. “How’s your leg?”

“I’ll manage,” he replied through gritted teeth. “But what now?”

You looked around the cave, your mind racing.

“We wait,” you said after a moment. “Just long enough for the fighting to stop. Then we move again.” See Gwayne nodded, although you could tell he wasn’t convinced.

The wounded soldiers groaned softly as they tried to make themselves comfortable on the rocky floor. Lysa sat beside one of them, her face tight with worry as she tended to their wounds.

The night dragged on, and the once distant sounds of battle now sounded closer every moment. You and Ser Gwayne sat at the back of the cave, listening to the clashing steel and the cries of men in the distance.

You stared up through the small opening at the top of the cave’s ceiling, where you could perfectly see the moon high in the sky. You glanced at Gwayne, who was leaning against the wall, his face pale and tense as he listened to the battle. His leg was stretched out in front of him, still causing him pain despite the bandages. Every now and then, you saw his hand twitch toward his sword, as though he were ready to fight again despite his injuries.

"They're not going to stop," you said softly, breaking the silence.

Gwayne looked at you, "No, they won't."

The battle was drawing closer. You had been hiding for hours, and the hope that the fighting would stop had vanished. Even if you went back, the camp would likely be destroyed, the supplies either burned or taken. There would be no help, no rescue.

"We might not make it through the night," you whispered.

Gwayne's gaze softened. He reached out and took your hand, squeezing it gently. "We might not," he agreed, his voice quiet.

“You ever think about how strange it all is?” Gwayne whispered after a moment. “One minute you’re fighting for your life, the next you’re here… staring at the moon.”

You smiled. “It is strange. But I suppose that’s life. Never quite what you expect.”

He laughed softly at that. “You’re far too calm about all of this. Most people would be panicking out of their minds.”

“Trust me, I’m frightened,” you admitted, meeting his gaze. “I just hide it well.”

He reached out, his hand brushing against yours, the touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you found yourself shifting closer to him.

“You’re something else,” he said softly, his voice low. There was an edge to his tone, something raw and unguarded.

You felt your pulse quicken. “Is that a compliment, Ser Gwayne?”

“It might be,” he replied, a teasing glint

You looked down at your joined hands. "I never thought it would end like this," you murmured, "In a cave, with nothing left but a few wounded men and no chance to save them."

Gwayne’s grip tightened. "It's not the end yet," he said, "But if it is…"

You took a deep breath, "If this is it… if this is the last night…" You said with a shaky voice, but you forced yourself to meet his eyes. "I don't want to spend it in fear."

Gwayne looked at you, he gave you a small chuckle. "You know… I've thought about that too. If we're going to die, why waste the time we have left in misery?"

You look at him, your gaze fixated on his lips "Then let's not."

Gwayne's eyes searched yours, and then, without another word, he pulled you toward him.

His lips met yours in a kiss that was both desperate and tender, filled with a need that went beyond mere desire.

He pulled you closer with his good hand. The kiss deepened, growing more desperate. You pressed yourself against him, your heart racing as his lips moved down pressing soft kisses against your neck.

He looked back up to you, “My leg’s no good for much, but I’m not about to let that stop us,” he whispered.

You smiled, “Then let me take over.”

Gently, you guided him down to the ground on his back, careful of his injured leg. He watched you with desperate eyes as you sat on top him, adjusting yourself carefully so as not to cause him pain. His hands instinctively slid to your hips, his touch firm but gentle.

Your hands rested on his chest, you could feel his heartbeat racing, matching the wild rhythm of your own. You leaned in close, pressing your lips to his with a tenderness that contrasted with the fierce urgency you both felt.

You broke the kiss for just a moment, sitting up to pull your shirt over your head. His eyes roamed over you with raw hunger, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing across your sensitive nipples.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, leaning up to press his lips against your collarbone, kissing his way down.

You gasped softly as his lips found a tender spot on your neck. Your hands moved to undo the ties at your waist, slipping out of your pants, leaving you completely bare before him.

With his help, you shifted slightly to tug his trousers down. He was already hard, his length pressing eagerly against your thigh as you settled back atop him. The tension between you both was almost unbearable as you pulled yourself up, the tip of him brushing against your wet entrance.

He groaned softly as you lowered your body and began to roll your hips against him. His hands gripped your waist tighter, helping to guide you as you moved.

“Does it hurt?” you whispered breathlessly.

He shook his head as he looked up at you. “No… it feels good. Don’t stop.”

“You’re perfect,” he breathed, his voice filled

with pleasure. He tilted his head up, capturing your lips in a kiss. Your bodies moved in sync, the sound of your panting breaths and the sounds of your bodies clashing filled the cave.

Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging gently as you kissed him harder, your hips rolling harder. You could feel yourself nearing your climax.

“Gwayne…” you gasped his name, breaking the kiss.

He groaned again, his eyes locked on yours as he thrust up into you with what strength he had,“I’m right here,” he whispered, his voice low.

That was all it took for you to come. Your body trembled as you reached your peak, your head falling back. You felt Gwayne follow moments later, his grip on you tightening as he came too, his body trembling beneath yours as he filled you.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, your breaths in uneven gasps. You collapsed against his chest, your bodies still connected.

His hands moved lazily up and down your back, a gentle, reassuring touch. You lifted your head, pressing a soft kiss to his jawline.

“That… was worth it,” Gwayne murmured, his lips quirking into a tired but satisfied smile.

You chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “I think so too.”

“I think I can die at peace now.” Gwayne sighed gazing at the moon.

“I think so too.” you nodded smiling at him.

Pt.2???

[xthestormcrow]

hihihi. so holidays have me tired and this weekend we're finishing up our move into the new place. but i am lurking. hmu if you wanna plot!

[florafound]

tag dump #1

[pastorfutureletthembe]

Checkmate ♚

Apparently a temporary AR (Otome) game is coming soon and the artwork for it is just breathtaking! It is also full of details I want to explore OF COURSE. My brain is doing tetris things again, oops.

Looking for a senseless meta about chess pieces? You're in the right place, come on in~

>> Chess Theme

White vs Black

The first topic is obviously the chess theme. Of course, this part is to be taken with a grain of salt since the pieces aren't correctly disposed on the board. However, the characters themselves are walking on their respective squares except for Vein (because he's all powerful and he's above your stupid rules. Probably). Notably, Liu Xiao himself seems to be leaving a white square. And if there is any meaning to it, I'd like to believe it makes a gray character out of him.

Now, what can we say about the chess pieces themselves?

White: rook, pawn, knight

Black: rook, mystery piece, king

Each character is paired with a chess piece.

The most reassuring clue to me is that a white piece has been given to Xia Fei. Which, there is a fat chance this makes an ally out of him. He might be only a Pawn ♙ for now. For those who are not familiar with chess, a Pawn can only move ahead, never back, one square at a time. It has some cool moves too but it depends on the game you want to play. If the path is open, a Pawn can reach the other side of the board, turning it into a Queen ♕. If a Pawn can only move ahead in small range, a Queen literally rules over the whole board. She's quick, vicious and dangerous once she has enough space to move as she pleases. Of course, he can also be a mere Pawn, a tool to manipulate Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi.

[Edit: since I always turn mine into Queens because I like to inspire fear and admiration from my brother, a Pawn can also turn into a Rook, a Bishop, or a Knight. I like to think of Xia Fei as a Queen but it's very interesting that he could turn into either Vein/CXS, Liu Xiao or Lu Guang by the end of Yingdu Chapter. ]

Cheng Xiaoshi and Vein both getting paired with a ♖ Rook ♜ could mean they use the same kind of power or are equivalent in some ways. Rooks have a large range, can move horizontally and vertically, ahead or back. They are better used when paired with other pieces, though, cause a lonely Rook ♖ is an easy pray. I think the main focus here is the similarity more than the piece itself. Lu Guang seems to be the one being punished and haunted, but Vein probably offered his power to Cheng Xiaoshi (or Lu Guang, according to the last Yingdu Chapter PV). My personal theory is that Vein mirrors or shadows Cheng Xiaoshi's shape because he is the source of his power. Vein's position, if there is any relevance to it, keeps Lu Guang's Knight ♘ from moving at the center, his natural and most efficient position.

Toppled King

Liu Xiao has two pieces by his side, a King ♔ and a mystery piece. The merch revealed the later to be a Bishop ♝.

Note that only amateurs tend to topple the King. It is regarded as some kind of pop culture-only approach to chess. Because of this, let's take a look a what an actual checkmate is (where we don't get to step on the vainquished).

Checkmate is any game position in chess in which a player's king is threatened with capture and there is no possible escape. In chess, the king is never actually captured. Checkmating the opponent wins the game. The player loses as soon as their king is checkmated. In formal games, it is usually considered good etiquette to resign an inevitably lost game before being checkmated. (cf. wikipedia)

If Vein, the current character we might recognize as the ultimate villain of the season, is only a Rook ♜, equivalent to Cheng Xiaoshi, who does the King ♔ represent? My personal opinion is Time, Fate itself. The song "Mastermind" supports this theory, and Lu Guang himself really is defying the natural order to save Cheng Xiaoshi, after all. It would make perfect sense. Stopping the clocks at a tournament is the sign of surrender. So basically, the game is over when one gives up and stops when the King has nowhere to go.

The character of Liu Xiao is given a lot of care in this specific artwork. He actually always stood out, since his very first appearance in the season 2 artworks, walking past Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi's portrait, looking away from us. Here, again, he's not interested in the audience, focuses on the photograph of what fans reckon as Lu Guang from "Dive Back in Time".

The truth is, he's playing the long game, he has no time to spare, and he regards people as puppets. There has been theories about him having a hidden agenda, independently of Vein, using/working with Li Tianchen and Li Tianxi for his plan. His intervention in "Trial Train" speaks volume of his strategic mind, "they wanted to escape but didn't realize I blocked the exit a long time ago". Also, one hundred years wouldn't be enough to escape.

This merciless sharpness makes the Bishop perfect for Liu Xiao. Funny story, the Bishop ♝ is not actually a priest, but it represents a war elephant. Historically, the war elephant's main use was to charge the enemy, break their ranks, and instill terror and fear. That's fitting.

Another possibility regarding the toppled King could be that it refers to Liu Xiao's background. The fallen piece could be a resolved situation but the motivation behind Liu Xiao's intent to manipulate the timelines. Perhaps he played this game before and lost. Does Lu Guang know him or is Liu Xiao a mere stalker? Did they play this same game together or against each other?

There's a lot that can be speculated but it is hard to say what these pieces represent for now. As I said before, this read is based on popular imagery of what chess is, not on the actual strategy on the board itself. Secondly, these three new characters we have yet to meet, they don't have a defined role in the canon, not until Yingdu Chapter finally aires.

>> Tokens

Each character is giving a object. I guess it might be relevant to the type of gameplay the AR game will offer but for the sake of this meta, we're still gonna try to understand why those in particular.

Cheng Xiaoshi has a camera. I don't think it deserve further analysis, his powers exist through the lens after all.

Xia Fei has a clock. Guess the time? 10:10. For those unaware, it is a very recurrent time. Put the promotional poster aside, I recommend you pay attention to the time on the clock in the Studio, above Lu Guang's head, right before the gang gets a ominous call from Xu Shanshan's phone at the end of 1x09. If it should mean anything about Xia Fei himself: I won't say it enough but, really: DO NOT TRUST HIM. Or, you know, perhaps he's doomed: it is worth mentioning that except for Xia Fei's Pawn ♙, each character is affiliated to a piece which can move forward and backward on the board.

Liu Xiao has a gear. I find this one intriguing because, so far, this object has belonged to Cheng Xiaoshi's imagery (cf. "BREAK!"). For someone on an ambitious project such as controlling timelines, he is giving a small tool that cannot be used on its own, is part of a machine. Could be relevant to the way he does things, never getting his own hands dirty, working through others. Or it could be that he's himself just another player, played by Fate. Or perhaps, he has the missing piece that Lu Guang needs to save Cheng Xiaoshi, who knows?

Vein is already using his own item: the pipe. He's the only one owning his object and aware of it.

>> The Case Study of Lu Guang

Because of course, our favorite character is actually the shadiest of all, I will dedicate a whole section about him specifically. Why do I insist on calling Lu Guang shady? We know and we see his chess piece is white. But you have to take a closer look to make out the White Knight ♘. The value of a Knight ♘ is equivalent to the Bishop's ♝. But ultimately, its worth less than Cheng Xiaoshi's Rook ♖.

L shaped path

Moving only in an 'L' shaped path, Knights ♘ are the most effective from the center of the board. This is because they get a broader reach in all directions from the central part.

Now, this is very important. Why should it be a mystery that Lu Guang's piece is a knight? What is a Knight ♘? The answer resides in the mechanism of his maneuver.

Part of the idea of the knight maneuver is to flank. And since the Knight is not a horse but a man on a horse, the odd maneuver reflects the knight's ability to guide the horse he's riding (to an extent). In other words, since the Knight comprises two entities (the man riding the horse), the move should sensibly consist of two parts as well, to reflect the added agility of the athletic horse. Conversely, the Knight has access to a maximum of 8 squares (as opposed to the "equal" Bishop's maximum of 13) because the horse is still an animal with a mind of its own.

Note that if you place a Knight ♘ somewhere on the margins, its efficacy will diminish exponentially. Additionally, if he only moved two squares, straight or diagonally, the Knight ♘ would always be restricted to the color squares that he started the game on.

Lu Guang being the Knight ♘ doesn't only means that he moves unconventionally. It is reflective of his duality. Perhaps, the fact he's using his power and Cheng Xiaoshi's. There is another aspect of him we could address here:

Burning Palace

For one thing, "BURNING PALACE" brings back the theme of strategy board game with the checkers this time (you see black pieces falling). It also introduce the Four Heads from playing cards. The fact they bothered to mention it implies a Fourth character.

Xia Fei: ♠

Liu Xiao: ♣

Vein: ♦

The fourth color ♥ is missing and I'm secretly convinced that it's Lu Guang's color.

Enygmatic Tokens

The portrait behind Lu Guang is Lu Guang himself, from "Overthink". This image appears in the first bridge, when the lyrics goes "how did my sight got stolen once more?", superposing Lu Guang's face with mysterious shapes, erasing his eyes/power. This particular line comes to confirm what we already know: Yingdu Chapter isn't a resolution, let alone a happy ending, but a repeat of a tragic event in an unchangeable node. The end is the same, once again. Lu Guang's hope and happy ending has been stolen once more. And STOLEN also implies that there is an intent behind this failure.

A portray is still a photograph though, and it can be used to dive back in time.

What is the most curious to me is the familiar eagle on Lu Guang's chest. Eagles belongs to Cheng Xiaoshi's imagery so why does Lu Guang is wearing them here?

An interesting take would be that Yingdu Chapter isn't actually from Lu Guang's perspective, but from Cheng Xiaoshi's, diving in a picture taken by Lu Guang. This would be some kind of plot twist and would definetely makes the big reveal easier but not less painful.

I'll probably make a whole meta about this symbol at some point but in the meantime, I'll let you know the eagle is associated with strength, power, wisdom, and freedom. The eagle's ability to soar high in the sky was believed to be a symbol of divine protection and spiritual guidance. Additionally, eagles are tied to the sun. Some people see them as signs of a bright future on the horizon. As a symbol of light, they embody both the intensity and heat of the sun as a fearsome force of nature, as well as the warmth and benevolence of the heavens.

This positive symbolisms are deeply rooted in Cheng Xiaoshi's nature, but if Yingdu Chapter actually brings us back to one earlier repeat, we can assume that Lu Guang had initially a brighter outlook on his mission.

The glasses are back and I'll say it again: once is weird, twice is a coincidence and thrice it's a pattern. The portrait shows Lu Guang without eyes but his item is a pair of glasses. Might be a subtile hint of denial there. As far as glasses go, pink is a peculiar color. It helps to 'voir la vie en rose', as the french says: "look at the world through rose-coloured glasses." Meaning, being delusional.

Might it be the eagle or the glasses, I'd say they're both representative of Lu Guang's state of mind at the time: hopeful.

~

[Edit: I recommend you take a look to these threads regarding this very same artwork: | X | X | X | I don't agree with everything but it's always cool to have other perspectives.]