#IM SO GLAD YOU GOT THE REFERENCE

[caretaker-of-the-toys-au]

NOT GUY FIERI KICKINCHICKEN

INTRODUCING US TO THE NEXT DINERS, DRIVE INS AND DIVES

[tonariofjananda]

Based on a this ask

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

The Sword of Kaigen

standalone fantasy set in a rural mountain village at the edge of an empire that still holds traditional values, with families of powerful water/ice magic warriors

follows a powerful young heir who begins to question his beliefs about the empire when a new boy comes to his village from the city

and his mother, a housewife who has tried to forget her youth as a warrior and vigilante in the city since she moved back home to a loveless marriage

when there’s a violent attack on their village that they’re unprepared for, everything changes, and she has to embrace her old skills to protect her family and people

[envy-of-the-apple]

Hi!! This is my first time messaging a writer I really like but I’m high and have enjoyed your work for a while now and just wanted to share my appreciation especially after reading RAST. Sorry in advance for how unorganized this may look.

As a reader, I enjoy your story telling so much. You switch between past and present so fluidly and it makes the “world-building”feel natural while still keeping my interest and moving forward the plot.

I also wanted to compliment you on your ability to story tell so well while also staying true to the personality of the characters you write about. (I have specific examples I will detail later in this message from RAST because you did such a wonderful job of translating dynamics from the JJK universe into a Mafia AU)

I just wanted to share Little Details From RAST I enjoyed/made me really think

1.Grabbing Gojo’s wrist when he reaches for your skirt/panties happens both at the beginning and the end. I like how there’s a difference in Gojo’s reaction. The first time, he lightly dismissing your actions when he doesn’t have any genuine interest in you. The tension between Gojo in Ms. Gem later on is so telling because now Gojo knows all cards have been revealed and expects to be rewarded. It’s like when a dog finally gets their jaws on a toy and growls when you try to take it away.

2.(This detail I noted is an example of themes from the JJK universe translating well into your Mafia AU)In the JJK universe, there is definitely a patriarchal system in place which leads misogyny displayed in characters like Naoya. Your AU does a good job of portraying this culture as well from the start. It’s shared that the men of the organization don’t like women with “nasty attitude. It’s def implied that most men hold higher positions of power. It results in the events where we see other men laughing at Gem when she’s being groped by guards or being humiliated by Geto during his meeting.

3.(This goes for all your SatoSugu fics but especially in RAST) I love love love your characterization of Geto and Gojo. You’re very good at capturing personalities of characters but it’s especially clear in the SatoSugu fics you write because the dialogue is true to how they would speak to their darling AND eachother.

4.Through RAST, I was actually able to understand the personalities of Geto and Gojo in the manga better!It makes sense for Geto to be so controlled in personality because a controlled/calculating demeanor would only way for Geto to move up in ranks within the Yakuza and eventually meet and be on equal footing with Gojo. In the JJK world we see that Gojo really values Geto because Geto is on the same level as Gojo, but I forget that Geto must’ve clearly worked really hard to get to that level both in terms of skill and respect because he was born to a non-sorcerer family.With Gojo being apart of the sorcerer world/yakuza family by blood and always being reminded of how much power he has, it makes sense he would be so uncaring of social norms and so freely in Ms. Gem’s personal space.I can also see why, as you mentioned in another post, Geto doesn’t like to get his hands dirty, he’d be the type to see how to milk a situation for the most benefit rather than lashing out as Gojo would. (i.e. Gojo immediately throwing hands when the other yakuza family member touched Ms. Gem while Getou immediately seeing a chance to push Ms. Gem into their arms without a fit)

5. The car scene is actually lowkey funny bc they really do treat her like a pet on a road trip and ofc Gojo is the one watching cat videos lmaooo

7. You have this pattern in your writing (I like to think of it as a writer’s signature) of having questions by the reader go unanswered by the yandere while having phrases of affections by yanderes be barely acknowledged and I LOVE it. Every time I see it I eat it up because it’s so… akdjsjd

8. I love to see the SEM and EKM make an appearance in the last scene

Please correct me if any of my analysis in my thoughts are wrong and sorry in advance if that happens!! I truly enjoy the effort you put in as a writer

[welcometoteyvat]

nahida dialogues, sethos dialogue, and some optional dialogues (mostly just sethos) from cyno's sq2 for reference (chinese and english transcriptions just for fun)

warning this is long as fuck

after talking to ??? (sethos) at the oasis:

nahida lines:

carefree desert dweller: Huh. those guys are pretty cautious. They just sent one person to try to talk to us. 那些家伙还挺谨慎的吗，只派一个人来跟我们搭话，哈。

irritable desert dweller: These are the guys we’re been waiting for, huh? They ain’t what I expected. 这些就是咱们要等的人？和我想的不一样啊。。。

after meeting sethos and entering the temple of silence

>nahida lines:

Sethos: These guys clearly care a lot about each other. This is a long way for them all to come. 这群人彼此感情还挺深的嘛，难怪都跟来了。

Tighnari: The situation's even more complicated than I expected. I should make sure I know the way out before we go any further. 情况比预想的更复杂。得提前观察一下出去的路线。

Cyno: Professor... 老师。。。

>talk to Sethos, pick 1 of 3 dialogue options:

>You were the one who tricked Urraca, right?

Sethos: Yes, that was me. Although, "tricked" is a stretch. He was asking everyone in the tavern about ways to make some easy money. He insisted that nothing was off the table, even if it broke the law. So I told him that Cyrus had embezzled a large sum of Mora from the desert. 嗯，是我。不过你说得不准确，我没有骗那个学生，是他自己在酒馆里打听有没有来钱快的办法。他还说什么都可以，只要能弄到钱，违法也没关系。于是我告诉他居勒什偷藏了一大笔从沙漠搞来的钱。

Paimon: So you framed Cyrus for a crime that he did not commit! 那不就是栽赃居勒什吗！

Sethos: No no no, that's not entirely true. Let me jog your memory — the letter just said that he had uncovered Cyrus's secret. It didn't say what secret that was. 话不能这么说，回忆一下，他只说自己知道居勒什的秘密，又没有说是什么秘密。

>Did you tell him to use that wording? Sethos: Of course. Urraca was a great accomplice, really. Very cooperative with a little bit of wine in him — did exactly what he was told… And not much of an original thinker though. It doesn't surprise me that he struggles academically. 当然。乌拉卡真是个好帮手，喝醉了很听话，对出主意的人言听计从。。。这么没主见，难怪在教令院混不下去啊。

Paimon: Why did Cyrus leave for the desert as soon as he received the letter? 那为什么居勒什一收到信就连夜离开了？

Sethos: You'll have to ask him that one yourself. Certain things I can't answer for him. I'm neither judging nor defending him. All you need to know is that he recognized our emblem, and it was his own choice to take the bait. 这个嘛，你们自己去问居勒什吧。有些事我不能替他回答，好话坏话都说不得。你只要知道居勒什认识我们的纹章，他是愿者上钩。

>Do you know Cyno?

Sethos: Ahaha, what kind of a question is that? He's the General Mahamatra, everyone in Sumeru knows who he is. 啊哈哈，瞧你问的，须弥谁不认识大风纪官赛诺大人啊。

Paimon: Right, but back at the oasis, you can't have known who he was for sure, or you wouldn't have asked him. So what we're really asking is... Have you never seen him in person before? 可是刚才在绿洲，你还特地问了一句谁是赛诺。。。难道你从来没见过他？

Sethos: I've lived in the desert my whole life. Guess you could say... I've never had the pleasure. 我又不住在雨林，大风纪官哪是想见就能见到的？

Paimon: Ugh... Why does Paimon feel like this guy's not being straight with us... 唔。。。总觉得这家伙瞒着什么没说。。。

Sethos: C'mon, we've only just met. If I give you all the answers up front, you'll have nothing left to look forward to. 我们才见没多久，现在就把答案全都告诉你，以后的日子怎么过啊。

>Have you ever been to the Akademiya?

Sethos: No. Not once. 没进去过。

Paimon: Really?

Sethos: I have no need to go there — not when the taverns are full of the Urracas of this world. Besides, we're well aware of what goes on at that place. 我没必要去教令院啊，乌拉卡这种人酒馆里多的是。再说，教令院的作为我们也不是不清楚。

>Are you saying you have spies inside the city? Sethos: Spies? Heh, it's not as clandestine as that. The city gates are wide open, anyone's free to walk in. You can find out all you need to know just by walking around town and hearing the word on the street. 须弥城就在那里，谁想进就能随便进的嘛。每天那么多人在街上聊天，到处逛逛就知道了。

after bamoun's death

>nahida lines:

Sethos: Did you see, Grandfather? Cyno chose me to succeed you as leader of the Temple of Silence. I will now serve in his stead. It's still early days, and I can't say that I know him that well yet. But after that battle, I now understand why he came here with a whole group of friends. Companionship means to trust and be trusted. Just like Cyno and his friends, we too will fight side by side and support each other in times of trouble. 爷爷，你知道吗？赛诺选择我代替他成为缄默之殿的新任首领了。不能说我多了解他，可经过那一战，我完全明白了为什么赛诺和他的同伴会一起前来。信赖他人，也被人信赖，这才是同伴的意义。并肩作战，互相扶持，呵，这点上，我们和他们没有区别。

Cyrus: All these years, I've felt like I'm still young, I still have lots to look forward to in life. But now… I suddenly feel… I too have grown old, Bamoun, just like you. 这么多年，我经常觉得自己还年轻得很，还有很多事可以做。但现在，居然觉得。。。我和你一样，都还是老了啊，巴穆恩。

>talk to sethos:

Sethos: Grandfather, we did it. We achieved what we set out to do. From this day on, the Temple of Silence has the chance to work with the Akademiya once more. Real change, real opportunities... They are now within our grasp. 爷爷，目标达成了，就像我们期待的那一样。从今天开始，缄默之殿可能再次与教令院合作。改变和机遇，我们都已经得到了。

>talk to cyrus:

Cyrus: … *sigh* The people of the desert are stubborn folk, fiercely loyal to their heritage, even if it means suffering years of hardship and pain. You said this yourself. But why did you feel the need to go this far? You never were the fearsome leader you made yourself out to be, Bamoun. … Being stubborn and unyielding is bound to send you to an early grave. Haha... 。。。唉。沙漠人的固执决定了他们将忠于传承，也决定了他们要承受坎坷。这话是你自己说的。可为什么能执着到这种地步呢。。。你从来都不是可怕的人啊，巴穆恩。顽冥不灵的人，难免死在前头。哈哈。。。

after talking to cyrus as cyno

>nahida lines:

Cyrus: ... I can't treat my students like kids anymore. I have to admit, Cyno has matured far beyond my expectations. From now on, I'll just enjoy life as a retired sage. The future is safe in the hands of the younger generation.

我也不能把学生当小孩子看了。必须承认赛诺已经成长得超乎我想象。以后我啊，当一个退休老贤者就好啦。年轻一辈会负担起未来的。

Cyno: Joke... how do I make this a joke... 在想了，我在想了。。。

didn't transcribe the following conversations: collei and asfand when looking for cyno, zaha hadi dialogue, alhaitham and kaveh at the house of daena, dehya and candace, naphis and cyrus after returning, and the dialogue for cyrus and cyno at the end.

bilibili cn video of most of the missable scenes and nahida thought voicelines (i didn't know collei had one too until this lol). the english dub is all in the genshin wiki

[hollowedpurple]

Toji deep down thought that Megumi would be better off in the clan because as long as he has the desirable technique he will be treated good, unlike what he went through due to the lack of it. Because being part of one of the most considerable clans must have been better than living with a discarded dad, right? So he not only sells him but also distances himself from him completely. And after all this he shows nothing but relief that Megumi isn't actually part of them and is still a Fushiguro. He might have forgotten his given name but it didn't matter more to him than the fact that he is still a Fushiguro and not a Zenin.

[partystoragechest]

A story of romance, drama, and politics which neither Trevelyan nor Cullen wish to be in.

Canon divergent fic in which Josephine solves the matter of post-Wicked Hearts attention by inviting invites four noblewomen to compete for Cullen's affections. In this chapter, read the first line.

(Masterpost. Beginning. Previous entry. Next entry. Words: 3,380. Rating: all audiences. Warnings: fighting and blood mentions.)

Chapter 39: Duel Purpose

“The Commander is going to duel Lady Orroat!”

Trevelyan almost spat out her tea.

Lady Samient had burst through the door of the Baroness’ chamber, disrupting the quiet morning conversation being had within. Both women whirled on her, but—before they could query what she had said—Samient was already gone.

Trevelyan locked eyes with the Baroness, their faces equal in confusion. With nary a word spoken between them, they threw down their tea, and gave chase.

They pursued the sound of Lady Samient’s vanishing footsteps along the corridor, and down the stairs—tumbling out into the Great Hall, where they at last managed to catch her.

“What is going on?” asked Trevelyan, to no answer. Samient hurried them out of the door instead, to the courtyard beyond.

Emerging into the glare of the sun, they caught sight of a crowd below, forming around the training ring. Soldiers, servants, visiting nobles: most of Skyhold had turned out for the event. Word, as always, had spread rather quickly.

Yet, within the ring, Trevelyan saw only two individuals of note: a battle-ready Lady Orroat, plated in iridescent obsidian, preparing to fight—and a flailing Lady Erridge, who tugged fruitlessly at her arm.

“Really, Lady Orroat, it is quite all right!” she pleaded, as the Ladies neared. “I suffered no injury from the Commander’s rejection, I assure you!”

Lady Orroat fastened her pauldrons.

“I am completely fine—I swear!” continued Erridge, to seemingly little effect. “I don’t mind at all! This is surely unnecessary!”

Lady Orroat turned. She hooked a finger beneath Lady Erridge’s chin, and tilted her face towards her own. Soft morning light trickled around them, motes of dust dancing through the air. The crowd almost melted away; time appeared to slow. Just their silhouette, in the shape of two lovers.

Gentle as her touch, Lady Orroat spoke:

“My dearest Tam, though you may bear the insult, I cannot. No man shall walk this plane and feel entitled to so callously discard your treasured affection.” Her thumb traced the curve of Erridge’s jaw. “Please, my Lady. Allow me this.”

Trevelyan’s mouth fell open. Lady Samient gripped her arm. The Baroness fanned herself. All those romances Lady Erridge had read, and somehow, she had failed to realise that she was, apparently, living in one.

Naturally quite helpless to do anything but gaze back at Lady Orroat, her eyes—wide and innocent as a doe’s—fluttering rapidly, Lady Erridge assented:

“Oh, well—um, don’t hurt him too much, I suppose?”

Lady Orroat took a step back, and bowed low. “Anything for you, my Lady.”

She strode away, to meet her foe. Lady Erridge listlessly waved her off, before stumbling over to where the Ladies had gathered. She was a mess of giggles and squeaks, unable to say anything that was not in relation to her dear Lady Orroat.

The Baroness took to helping her regain her faculties; Trevelyan and Samient shared a smile at the display. Certain that Erridge would recover from her stupor, they were able to return their attention to the ring.

Lady Orroat—sword drawn—had taken position at its centre, and performed spectacular practice swings, to the adoration of the crowd. Yet, while all eyes were on her, Trevelyan’s drifted, to the other side of the arena—in search, perhaps, of the Lady’s opponent.

Her breath caught.

There he stood. Soldiers flanked his sides, aiding him to prepare. Armour was placed upon his body; leather straps were pulled taut by his iron grip. He tested his breastplate with a beat to the chest; it clanged against the metal of his gauntlet.

His mantle was brought, and draped over his back, amplifying the broadness of his shoulders. His helm was presented—a lion’s roar, frozen in steel—and lowered upon his head, his fearsome glare framed within its maw. His sword was last, offered in its belt and sheath. He strapped it around his hips, good and tight. His fingers curled around the blade’s hilt.

The sword was drawn; he needed no practice. He was the Commander of the Inquisition—and Maker, did he look it, in the entirety of his regalia. Intimidating, unwavering, he stalked towards his opponent.

“Hey.”

Trevelyan startled, quite unaware how how enraptured she had been by the display. She glanced about for the source of the voice, and found Varric beside her, holding up a pouch of coin.

“I’m taking wagers on who’s gonna win. Want in?” he asked.

Lady Samient, whom Trevelyan had definitely not forgotten was beside her, took an interest. “What are the odds?”

“Winning side splits the pot.”

The Baroness tossed a coin to him, which he caught with ease. “One crown on Lady Orroat.”

Lady Erridge applauded. “Oh, good choice!”

Varric noted it down, and moved on to the next group of punters. Trevelyan watched him go, then returned her gaze to the arena. A Captain addressed the combatants; both nodded in agreement. Satisfied, the Captain withdrew, and raised an arm.

Hush fell over the crowd. Anticipation slowed the air around them. A breath spilled from Trevelyan’s lips. The Captain’s arm dropped.

They charged. Swords clashed.

It was the Commander who dominated first. His muscular build and experienced arm were a force to be reckoned with. He struck out with a barrage of blows, each one ferocious as the last. Each one as confident. Each one as precise. He commanded the battlefield, as was his right.

Yet Lady Orroat showed no signs of yielding. She was a fleet-footed fighter, taking each hit and turning it into momentum. Dodges and blocks; no counters. It seemed she was not interested in fighting back—not yet. She was biding her time. She was waiting for something.

Whatever opening this was, the Commander would not give it. He stepped back only to return, with even greater force. Trevelyan admired the arc of his sword through the air, its flash in the sunlight, as he thrust hard toward her abdomen.

Lady Orroat deflected it away. The crowd gasped. The Commander was open.

She delivered a swift slice to his arm, before it could straighten. The Commander’s grip weakened. She moved in, butted her pommel direct into his helm. The Commander stumbled back. A mighty kick to his chest, and he was thrown to the ground.

The crowd roared, the Ladies cheered. The Baroness was going to get that crown back.

Lady Orroat strode to where the Commander lay. Before he could recover, she knocked his helm away, with the tip of her blade—and then held it to his throat.

“Yield.”

The crowd waited, for the reply.

The Commander let his sword fall from his grasp. “I yield.”

The Captain’s arm went up, on Orroat’s side. The crowd began to holler and cheer. Soldiers, trained hard in this same ring, applauded the satisfaction of seeing their Commander humiliated.

Lady Erridge burst out from the masses, running to Lady Orroat’s arms. The Lady dropped her sword, and embraced Erridge entirely, twirling her through the air.

Over the noise of the crowd, one could barely hear what was said between them in that moment. But as their dance ended, and Orroat set Erridge down, she sank onto one knee—and the crowd fell silent once more.

“Lady Tam Erridge, of West Coldon,” said Lady Orroat, loud enough for all to hear. “My dearest friend. My most ardent love. I have been enamoured with you since the day we met; in the years I have known you, my love for you has only grown. I have always cherished our friendship, but I wish to cherish you, as well. Please, I beg—will you marry me?”

The pause afterward felt as though a lifetime. Though no one suffered it as much as Orroat, the Ladies held their breath. They looked to Erridge—as did the entire crowd—and waited.

Erridge, fixed in place, blinked. “Oh, Lady Orroat,” she gasped, “well—of course! I could not think of anything more wonderful in all my life!”

Lady Orroat shot to her feet, and collided with Erridge. The Ladies screamed, joyous and in sheer disbelief. The crowds applauded. At long last, a kiss that had waited for years to exist, finally came to be.

The Ladies rushed the arena, and many more followed. They met and embraced both Erridge and Orroat, smiling, laughing, squealing in delight. The world became nothing but noise and happiness. Congratulations were given, and received with joy. Invitations to a wedding, promised and assured.

Never had Trevelyan seen such mirth, and such festivity. Though very few of Skyhold knew the significance of the event, they celebrated nonetheless. The happiness of others was enough motivation.

And yet, in the crowd, Trevelyan found one face to be missing. As her friends continued their revelry, she continued to sweep their surroundings. Somewhere, in this maelstrom of merriment, surely—

“Your winnings!” came Varric’s voice, not quite the one she’d been looking for. He passed a handful of coins to the Baroness, who tucked them discreetly into a pocket, and told some joke about starting a fund for her wedding attire.

Yet before he moved on, to pass out his next prize, he stopped—for but a moment—beside Trevelyan.

“Armoury,” he said.

Trevelyan looked out, over the heads that surrounded her. The vaguest shape of red wool and silver plate disappeared into the building nearby.

“Thank you,” she said to Varric—but he had already gone. She made her excuses to her friends, instead, and began to find her way through the crowds.

It was difficult, to move against the flow of excitement—but soon enough, she found herself at the edges of the hubbub. The armoury door lingered open, just a crack, in the distance. She hurried over.

Peeking just her head through, Trevelyan took in the space. She’d not been here often. It acted as a second smithy, with forges and furnaces along the back wall, swathing the room in their warmth and light.

Yet, unlike the smithy of the Undercroft, soldiers would frequent this place. Armour and weaponry lined the racks, ready for use in training. A long bench, where they would prepare for exactly this, waited below.

Today, however, it boasted only one occupant.

The Commander had collapsed upon the bench, wrenching the plate from his body. Each piece clattered to the floor as soon as the straps came free. With all outside celebrating, there was no one to attend him.

And so he continued the task himself, stripping his mantle and laying it over his lap. Arms free, he tugged at his gorget until it came loose; removed it and the breastplate beneath. Just a gambeson, now, and his helm.

He discarded the latter first, his face at last revealed—exhausted, and panting.

Sweat-streaked skin glistened in the glow of the fires. But not mere sweat alone. Trevelyan gasped. Blood. There was blood.

The Commander must have felt it, for he raised his hand to his upper lip, and pulled it away, red. Bloody nose. That strike to the face.

He sighed, and, like the weight of the world was holding him down, leant back against the wall—

“Forward, Commander!” blurted Trevelyan, before she’d even thought of what to say next. “You... need to tilt your head forward.”

His eyes widened at seeing her there, but he followed the instruction regardless. “Thank you.”

Trevelyan watched him a moment, then glanced back to the door. She stepped for it—but, out of the corner of her eye, saw a drop of crimson splash against the floor.

She could not leave him like this.

She let the door shut, and turned back. A hand dipped into her pocket. From within, she produced a small cloth.

“Commander,” she said, creeping closer, “use this.”

Head still forward, the Commander’s hand clumsily found hers. Their fingers overlapped for the briefest of moments—before he took hold of the cloth, and fled with it.

Yet he hesitated, in bringing it to his face. “This is from the banquet,” he muttered.

Surprising that he’d somehow remembered. But he was right. It was the napkin he’d given to her that night, to dry her tears.

“I had it cleaned,” said Trevelyan.

He held it back out. “I... can’t use this.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to stain it.”

Trevelyan sighed. “Commander, you’re bleeding. Please.”

His hand withdrew, and he pressed the napkin to his nose. Trevelyan took a little step back, and watched him. Her hands twisted around each other, unsure of what to do with themselves.

“Commander?” she whispered.

He started to raise his head.

“No, no—keep it forward,” Trevelyan instructed. “Please.”

This order came not only for the benefit of his bloodied nose. She wished his gaze to be upon the floor, instead of her. She could not have him look at her, when she said what she said next. And thank the Maker, he did as asked.

“I’m... so sorry, Commander, for my behaviour, last we spoke,” she murmured, breathing through the words so as not to let them falter. “My response to your situation was entirely unsympathetic, and undeservedly harsh. My temperament at the time was not balanced, and it is you who bore the brunt of that. I am sorry, truly, I am.”

He was quiet for a moment. A terrifying, excruciating moment. Until, that is, he said:

“You needn’t apologise to me.”

Trevelyan blinked. “What?”

“Nothing of what you said to me that day was incorrect or undeserved,” the Commander told her, voice firm. “You had every right to despise me. I treated you all disgracefully.”

He lifted his head, if only for a second, to look at her—despite the pain it seemed to bring.

“It was not your fault, but mine. There is nothing for you to apologise for. I am sorry. For everything I did.”

She waited until his head dipped back down, and moved a little closer. “But even if I were upset, even if I were right, I needn’t have been so wicked in how I addressed you.”

“No. I deserved to know the consequences of my actions, in as clear and difficult terms as possible. I was cruel, and ignorant. I needed to understand the hurt I had caused. Especially to you. And... I am sorry that I did, cause it.”

Trevelyan sank to her knees before him. Gently, she took the napkin from his grasp, and examined his nose.

“The bleeding’s stopped,” she told him.

Unable to meet her eye, he nodded, head still bowed.

“I understand why you did it,” she muttered. “Lady Montilyet explained to me, what the court of Orlais has put you through. Were I faced with the same, I cannot imagine I would have acted differently.”

The Commander’s head shook. “You would. You would never have done what I did to all of you.”

“Oh, come, Commander. You’ve seen my less savoury side, now.” She folded the napkin, so that she made a clean little square. “You should have heard the things I called you the first night we met.”

“Deserved, I’m sure.”

“Stop punishing yourself, Commander.” Trevelyan raised the napkin to his face. “May I?”

He nodded. She placed her fingertips beneath his chin, and tilted his head. The cloth was dabbed upon a small cut, lancing across his cheek.

“Besides,” she said, “I hear you’ve had punishment enough.”

The mere mention was enough to eke a little smirk from his mouth.

“Yes, the Ladies made quite sure of that,” he murmured. “I... ought to have listened to you, and Lady Montilyet. They are good women.”

“Impressive, even?” she suggested.

“Yes.”

Trevelyan smiled. She turned his head, and brushed dirt from his other cheek.

“Their ‘punishments’ were more endearing than I believe was intended,” the Commander confessed. “I quite enjoyed their company.”

“Finally.” Trevelyan withdrew her hand, let him face forward once more. “I told you.”

“You did. Though… I was right about one thing.”

“What is that?”

He smiled, eyes askance. “I still much prefer yours.”

“Oh.”

Trevelyan stared at him. No longer seeking his skin for wounds, she took in his face, closer now than it had ever been. Every prick of stubble was in perfect focus. The exact curve of the scar that marred his lip. Each lash that framed his honey eyes.

She caught their gaze.

“Um…”

“Commander!” came a shout, from just outside the door. As it burst open, Trevelyan scrambled away, to her feet, and hid the napkin in her pocket.

Lady Orroat—half-out of her own armour, as well—strode in, with Lady Erridge hanging upon her arm.

“Oh!” gasped Erridge, eyes wide at seeing Trevelyan. “Lady Trevelyan is here. Um, dearest Hul, perhaps we should leave them, for a moment—”

Lady Orroat, apparently as oblivious in nature as her fiance, continued marching in.

“But we must make certain the Commander is all right,” she begged, heading for where he sat. She winced, upon seeing his face. “Oh, Maker—I am so sorry, Commander.”

“It’s fine,” he said—though Trevelyan could not help but note a tone of confusion in his voice. He mouthed, to Lady Orroat: “Does she know?”

‘She’ referring here to Lady Erridge—who promptly began to giggle.

“I’m afraid I do!” she confessed. “My dear Lady confessed all to me after the duel had ended—though I had suspected it might be a ruse. Dear Hul would never truly be so insistent upon fighting if I objected so!” She took Orroat’s hand, and squeezed it tight. “Oh, it was so terribly romantic. Thank you, Commander. I am ever so sorry that it got you hurt.”

He waved it off. “Perhaps that makes us even.”

Erridge nodded. “I believe it does.” She glanced between Trevelyan and the Commander once more, and tugged at Orroat’s hand. “Come, my love, we’d best be off.”

Orroat finally allowed herself to be led away—but as they left, called out:

“There’s been some kind of impromptu party arranged at the tavern nearby! Do come along!”

“No, no,” said Erridge, hurrying Orroat out of the door, “stay here as long as you like!”

The door swung shut, and silence fell again. Trevelyan looked to the Commander. He had begun to occupy himself with the removal of armour once more, now busy loosening his greaves.

“Is that why you invited Lady Orroat here?” she asked.

He glanced up. “Hm?”

“You conspired with Lady Orroat to stage a duel?”

The Commander released the straps, and straightened up. “Not originally. I invited her because I realised Lady Erridge cared for her. I thought it might be a start, at making amends. I spoke to her privately after she arrived. She told me of how she and Lady Erridge had met—through a duel, between a boy and Lady Orroat.”

Trevelyan nodded. “Lady Erridge told me the same story.”

“I suggested we recreate the circumstances, to provide Lady Orroat an opportunity to reveal her affection. I thought it... might be poetic, in some way.”

He shrugged. Trevelyan smiled. A little warmth gathered in her chest.

She moved closer.

“Will you be attending the party, Commander?”

He shook his head, and continued working off his greave. “I am unsure the loser would be welcome at the celebration.”

“I believe it would a show of humility,” Trevelyan teased. “You do have an arrogant streak.”

“I’m working on it.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

The Commander glanced up at her, hand finding the back of his neck. “I, ah…”

Trevelyan giggled. “Here,” she said, offering him the napkin, sullied as it was, “in case you need it. I’d best get to the party, before any rumours begin.”

He took it, and nodded. “Yes, of—of course…”

“Perhaps I will see you,” she said.

“Perhaps.”

She smiled, and bid him farewell, with a curtsy. He bowed as best he could, and watched her go.

Trevelyan had thought, that when she spoke to him again, she would know what she wanted. Whether she wanted to forgive him, whether she wanted to trust him.

She was right, in a way. For when she glanced back, one last time, before slipping through the door—she knew exactly what she wanted.

It was simply not an option she’d expected.

[chilapis]

Last post before I crash and no-one hears from me until I return from my first final the morrow’s eve (a changed man no doubt) but there’ll never be anything funnier to me than consistently being viewed as a composed and calm saviour by peers while I’m, actively and uncontrollably losing it.

[scorpiusmalfoylovesoscarwilde]

I love 😍😘😆 being dead 🪦🥀 named 🏷 by my mother 👩‍🍼👩‍🍼👩‍👦👩‍👦in front of ‼️‼️ people 🧍🏻‍♂️🧍🏻‍♂️who previously only knew my chosen name 😍😍🥳🥳😆😆🤩🤩😝😝🤗🤗

[aliceofclover125]

FINALLY we know what the fuck goes down after NieR Automata ending E

Took all my willpower not to sob lmao

[thatstroubling]

when your favorite character makes it to the finale

As a fellow Danganronpa fan, I'd like to imagine that if Pre-game Shuichi wasn't, you know, gone forever because he'd given up his life to become an anime character like a dumbass and could somehow witness our Shuichi kick So Much Ass in Trial 6, he would be the one cheering him on the loudest. After all, Shuichi is his perfect little detective guy and the person he once hoped he could become. That's why I can hear the "You tell them!" in his voice in my head so very clearly. And in spite of being responsible for ending Pre-game Shuichi's favorite TV show in the world, at the core of it, Shuichi was ultimately fighting on behalf of his friends for what was right all the way to the end.

And who wouldn't want to get behind that?

[dragscore]

sneaking around at night for a lil tryst are we

[turtlemagnum]

one of the things that was said as i was excommunicated from my last friend group was that i "say the most out of pocket things", and in retrospect i think it's just a matter of me always being a tumblrino at heart even before joining this site and being around people not suited for that

[boxwinebaddie]

nina do you ever plan on posting the remainder of pep?

this is nonsensical but this is how i feel ig

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

NVM FUCK ALL THAT ACTUALLY. KANEKI'S BACK

[cinnonym]

Hi there :) A year has passed (or close enough) so: how are the feelings about "This Is How You Lose The Time War" now? ;-)

My brother (genderneutral), you'll be so glad to hear I literally just bought the book a week ago because I need to devour it whole